#this has just sunk its claws in my mind and will not let go

[corishadowfang]

It's appreciate a dragon day, apparently, and I don't have time to do art or fics because. Time. And Energy. But for the past week or so I've had my Kingdom Hearts dragons AU on the mind...which wasn't supposed to be an AU AU, but just kind of a way to draw the characters since I'm not good at drawing people. But because I have no self-control, there's worldbuilding suddenly, and I really want to ramble about it, haha.

I really need to stress that this was originally just me thinking, "Hey, if I'm drawing them as dragons, wouldn't Scala have to look different, too? Since dragons would probably need different things than humans." And then it just. Spiraled.

I didn't know what to do with the Keyblades initially? I, uh. Wasn't sure if I wanted to go the "wielding Keyblades in the mouth," haha. Which kind of spiraled into, "What if the dragon thing just...replaces the Keyblades? Like, people become dragons, basically."

So the idea is kind of like...magic is still A Thing. Everyone can use it, with the right training, but the more you use magic, the more it changes you. (Yes, I've used this idea before, but shhh.) It very gradually changes your appearance, abilities, etc. Your magic gets stronger, but you become less and less human. Eventually, according to most people, you basically lose yourself to it and become a monster, so it's something of a controversial subject.

(The "become a monster" thing is only partially true. You can become a Heartless, but there are a lot of people who just become normal dragons, too. Unfortunately everyone just groups the two together.)

Anyone who used magic kind of like...filled a very weird niche in society where they weren't exactly accepted, but their abilities were still useful, so they were kind of both shunned and respected equally.

The Master of Masters and the Foretellers are the ones who really changed this; MoM went hardcore on the narrative that the "normal" transformation wasn't really monstrous at all, and painted the Foretellers very much as mythological heroes who could fight the actual monsters much more effectively than any normal person. Magic and dragons still made a lot of people wary, but it was tempered a bit, especially with kids.

SPEAKING OF--that's why a lot of kids ended up in Daybreak Town. Less pre-existing ideas on magic and dragons, so it's easier for them to see this as a good thing.

(And then MoM goes and ruins it with the whole "war" thing.)

Once you turn into a dragon, you can take human form again for short periods of time, but it's often uncomfortable, so Daybreak Town and Scala are both designed more with dragons in mind.

Daybreak Town was an abandoned human town that MoM and the Foretellers just repurposed, so while there are still buildings, they had to be modified a lot. The Clock Tower is an abandoned castle, haha.

Scala is basically a mountain range on the edge of the ocean! Or mountains on islands...? Uh. Something like that, haha. Lots of bare white rock and caves and stuff. I think the main island's a little more open, just because like...I like the idea of them wanting more "light" as a sort of symbolism thing.

Dragons are the only ones that can fly to other worlds without assistance! Their magic kind of protects them, basically, but they do actually have to fly. Lots of young dragons like to bring back trinkets from different worlds (which is generally how their hoards are formed, haha).

Uh, I only have loose ideas of how some characters would've actually gotten into this. Ven I think was basically born with an excessive amount of magic that he couldn't really control, so he turned really, really young, and there wasn't much he could do about it. Brain thought that the fear about magic was stupid and actively fostered his out of spite. Ephemer was super curious about the idea, and ended up digging deeper into things. Skuld and Lauriam I'm less certain on. (I could see Lauriam doing it as a way to help protect Strelitzia--maybe she was like Ven, and turned accidentally? And Skuld--honestly just could've done it because she was swept up in what MoM/the Foretellers said, haha.)

Aaaaand I'm looking at how much I've rambled and will spare your dashes, but uh. Yeah. Dragons!

[voidhope]

The Other Woman

—

Synopsis: Where Miguel leaves Y/N to go back to a different version of his old wife found in another universe.

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!Reader

Tags: ANGST!!, long term established relationship, heartbreak, marriage, cheating, mental health, cold/distant Miguel

—

A/N: Hi! I don’t really write at all!!

I have been a silent reader on tumblr for years but this idea has been playing in my mind so much I had the urge to write it. I have been down so bad for Miguel been on his tag like 24/7 indulging in all the content creators have been putting out. So I’m excited to join in giving content, however keep in mind I kinda suck! Apologies for any mistakes, anything confusing, or it not being well written enough. Honestly could have made this into multiple parts with better details but nah. Tried my best ^^ since it’s my first time, any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Honestly tbh we all don’t have a solid grasp how the whole canon thing and multi universe works yet so!! A lot of what is written is made up to suit my storyline so please don’t get mad about the inaccuracies.

I love a good angst and today’s story will be EXTRAAA angsty!!! As well kinda long!!

—————————————————

The moment that changed your life was while working on an experiment during your college finals. You were a proud and gifted physics major that was so passionate about discovering and exploring what the world didn’t know.

You had snuck into Alchemax late at night. You wanted to show your professors just how much you could do with the right tools. Next thing you know, playing with their machines, you had spawned a spider right in-front of you. The glowing vibrant red spider had sunk its jaw into your hand.

Your life did a complete turn and you spent the rest of that week freaking out while changes to your body were happening. Causing you to fail your semester after missing exams. Things felt like it could only get worse when a massive blue suited masked man showed up out of nowhere in your dorm interrogating you.

“Where’s the spider?” He had a strong grip on your shoulders. You couldn’t focus while trying to process why this man had what seemed like claws sticking out of the ends of his fingers.

“I don’t know, it like died after it bit me!” You exclaimed nervously at the freakishly strong man. Trying to reach for anything behind you to use as a defense weapon.

“Dios mío no me digas eso…” He groaned loudly letting you go. Having the opportunity to grab something, you threw a sanrio plushie at him. Only causing him to wave his arms in annoyance. “That spider is from my earth and somehow you brought it here. Now you’re a spider-man.”

And the rest is history…

—

You learned that the man was Miguel O’Hara and when he found you he was just starting his missions with the multiverse. You being the few of the firsts to join his team.

Your situation was quite bizarre and he called you an anomaly for a long time, spending hours studying you and also training you. You ended up being the one case that can’t be explained no matter how much effort was put into monitoring you.

Almost like it was meant to be. Your universe remained perfect with its current spider-man doing fine. No big collapse of a black hole or anything. When you got bit by a spider from Earth-928 your DNA merged with that universe making you fit in perfectly. You were one of the only spider-people with an uncertain timeline with new canons being created depending on what universe you were in.

What changed from you being just a piece of research for Miguel is when he then realized that maybe you were a gift from the multiverse. After all the grief and pain he’d went through the universe had given him this person that worked out perfectly no matter how hard he tried to push them away. You fell head over heels for him and vice versa, all while canon events were being created with both of you together.

You were there as his team grew, slowly turning into a family. Then both of you getting married finalizing that this was your home. Everything felt perfect. Although a relationship with Miguel could have its up and down days, nothing could ever tear you both apart. Or so you assumed.

—

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Miguel couldn’t look at you.

“When did this start? Please be honest with me. Did I do something wrong?” You begged at him. You knew he was acting off recently but never did you think it would result to this.

You watched as he exhaled deeply staring at the ground. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you studied his face trying to grasp onto any emotion he was showing. The atmosphere in his office felt so cold. You so badly wanted to catch his gaze and find the warmth and love his red irises used to give you. He was doing everything to push you away. He was abandoning you.

“You did nothing wrong. I met her during a mission 4 months ago.” Was all he replied.

“Who is she?” Your heart kept breaking. His face hardening as the question slipped through your lips. You knew Miguel wouldn’t leave you for just anyone. Deep in your heart you knew what this was about. He never responded but he didn’t need to when you saw his eyes flicker over to his monitor screens. You followed his trace and saw the photo of Gabriella in the corner.

“Does she have another version of your daughter?” You tried again. This is what made him look directly at you. Miguel kept opening and closing his month unsure how to tell you the truth. You weren’t stupid and he knew that. After everything he couldn’t just walk out on you with a lie.

“No.” He paused thinking of how to finally share the truth without it ruining you. There was no way out of this. “She is a younger version of herself. There is no Miguel in her universe and she’s not important to the timeline. She lives a regular life. I-it’s a chance for me to start at the very beginning.”

You felt your heart being ripped out of your chest. You processed the words carefully. She doesn’t have a child yet… Not only was he leaving you for her but he was going to fall in love with her all over again and start a family with her. A family you wanted so badly to have with him.

“What about with what happened last time you tried to live a life in a different universe?” You didn’t understand how this was happening.

He was always so carful he would never do anything to cause that again. Everything you had witness Miguel work so hard for to keep safe for years. Sleepless nights, returning bruised and beaten, frustrations and constant stress. Was it all for nothing? Is he throwing all his work away?

“This is different.” He turned away from you. “I pushed myself then into an already established life. This time I am creating that life. After all the research we did on you…” He knew that this was going to tear you apart. “I learned that if done right I could have a child from two different universes that won’t disrupt anything.”

It clicked to you then that all the research he was doing on you lately was for this. The research he did on you that time was different, personal, intimate even. As he was testing your DNAs together and seeing the outcomes. He mentioned a child and you were foolish enough to assume he was doing research to see what it would be like if you both had one together. You were giddy even as you watched him work. You had both spoken about having a family together in the past but had been too busy with spider activities. You thought it was a sign of him getting more serious about it, knowing how badly he wanted one. You would have never thought he was doing it to see how he could get back his previous child. The one you could never give him.

You had truly believe that Miguel had recovered from his obsession that his grief gave him. He accidentally destroyed a whole universe needing that life back so badly. You had spent late nights watching him re-watch clips over and over of what he had lost. It slowly stopped once your relationship blossomed with him and you thought he was ready to move on and start new. Why would you have never thought that with such a perfect opportunity presented to him that he wouldn’t drop everything for it.

“I think it’s best that you leave.” He spoke with a soft tone. As if not looking at you any longer will make the problem go away. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how he was just throwing you away like this. As if he wasn’t making you dinner, giving soft kisses, whispering I-love-you’s not so long ago.

You felt too choked up to ask anymore questions. Your throat tight and painful as you held back tears from escaping in-front of Miguel. You just nodded and headed straight out the door not being able to handle another second in that room. Your knees and hands were shaky as you speed walked into the nearest bathroom and let it all out.

—

It didn’t take long for everyone else to know something had happened. Everyone had gotten used to seeing you and him sitting together at lunch. You would make him cute lunch boxes and everyone would gag a bit while watching the two of you smile together. Some cringing seeing their scary boss being so soft around you. It was a big surprise when Miguel started to eat alone with a bag of take out food and you no where to be seen.

His teams he sent out for missions were all confused when you weren’t assigned to anything. Knowing you were one of the best, one of them slipped out a “Call for Y/N!” In the middle of fighting an anomaly too strong for them. Miguel only looked away.

It wasn’t until a new woman showed up in Miguel’s office with a grip around his waist. That’s when the spider-community realized that this was way worse than they thought.

—

You on the other hand had spilled everything to Hobie when he caught you that day leaving the bathroom with puffy eyes. You had been staying with him in his universe until you could gather yourself together to return to HQ. You knew you were going to leave for good, but you needed to go back to retrieve all your things. You couldn’t stay with Hobie forever. Worse that you weren’t from there.

You still had some hope that Miguel would come looking for you and tell you that he was all wrong. However almost two months had passed and not a word from him… That’s when you knew it was time you should return to what you once knew.

Stepping into the portal Hobie followed close behind you. He told the few others who were once close to both you and Miguel that you would be visiting. Stepping through the portal you were immediately greeted by Jessica and Peter B Parker.

“Oh, Y/N.” Jess sighed your name sadly while pulling you into a hug. You felt like you wanted to cry all over again. Missing your friends so much. Peter B came behind giving you a hug on the side.

“He’s on a mission right now.” Peter spoke up. “It might be a long one too but don’t waste anytime just incase.”

You nodded pulling away from them. Looking up around the headquarters building faintly smiling at the past memories you had here. You started heading to different areas gathering all the little things you had left around. Hobie had stitched for you a cute backpack with different scraps of patterned clothes and covered in patches of punk band logos but made with hammer space technology. Making it fun for you to fill endless of your things in the bag.

The last stop was in Miguel’s office. Doubt started to fill your mind; maybe he already threw out all of your stuff. Why would he even keep it after all of this? What no one could warn you of was the other person sitting on his platform.

“Hello!” She chirped at you. It felt like the air in your lungs had just been punched out. You knew her too well. From all the photos and videos you had seen peaking over Miguel’s shoulder. However seeing her in person was something you had never expected. You knew it wasn’t the original her but it was a copy paste image for sure.

“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out. She was beautiful, stunning. You could see clearly now the similar features she shared in another universe with her daughter. The parts that Miguel didn’t have. She kept smiling kindly at you, almost in a graceful way. You started to feel all your insecurities start eating you up from the inside. How could you have ever compared to her.

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Getting off Miguel’s platform she walked closer to you. The room started to feel suffocating.

“Y/N.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you! It’s nice to meet other girls around here.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized she had no reaction to your name. So Miguel never told her about you… Or that the fact was he was still even legally married to you.

“My boyfriend isn’t here right now but, if you want, I can tell him you stopped by.” She continued as you stayed silent.

“Oh, no it’s okay. I just came in here to get some stuff.” You rushed as you really wanted nothing to do with Miguel at all. You almost worried that he might even get angry knowing you got to speak with her. If he already dislikes you this much you couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if you got in the way of this for him.

You started heading over to the familiar drawers around the room. Grabbing your old hoodies and shirts finding your most comfortable of things here. You treated this place as one of your safe spaces as you used to spend so much time here.

“Oh I didn’t know these were all yours! I was wondering why this was all around. When I came here I wanted to do some spring cleaning but Miguel wouldn’t let me touch anything.” She followed besides you. “It’s so mind blowing seeing all this technology. We don’t have any of this where I live-“ She continue rambling but you started to zone her out. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack any minute. There was one question that kept burning in your mind.

“Are you and Miguel already planning to have a child?” You blurted out. Your eyes widened a bit as you surprised yourself. She let out a loud laugh.

“Oh dear no! We have only been together about 6 months. You must be new around here so you must not know much about us.” She chuckled.

In some cruel way you were hoping she would have said yes. You had that twisted hope of maybe Miguel just keeping her to have a kid and ditching her after he gets Gabriella and run back to you. In reality he was playing the long game, he really meant it when we said he was starting over. “He’s never mentioned kids anyways. I’m not even sure if he’d like them or do well with them.”

With that statement she made you looked at her appalled. Anyone could see in Miguel how good of a father he could be. Just in the way he takes care of the society he built here. You started to realize that she really has been left in the dark. She doesn’t know anything. She probably doesn’t even know that she’s a replacement of another self. You wondered why Miguel was doing this. It felt like he didn’t just toy with you but with her as well. A man you came to love for how selfless he was, to realize now everything was for his own personal gain. Suddenly you started to feel bad for her. You couldn’t dislike her, she wasn’t doing anything wrong and she doesn’t even know.

“I got all my stuff. Nice to meet you.” Was all you could say as you zipped up your bag and turned straight around out of there. Not giving any glance back at her, you left to one of the empty training rooms to recollect your overwhelming thoughts. All of the self healing you tried the past month thrown in the garbage.

It wouldn’t be too soon that news of you going around the building was returned to Lyla. You had cut out all coms while you were gone so she immediately popped up on your watch when she found out.

“AH-“ You jumped as the tiny AI was suddenly in front of your face.

“It’s so wonderful to see you Y/N. Oh my god!”She started. Then she went on rambling about how she knew everything and had seen everything. How she didn’t agree with what was happening and was doing everything she could to convince you to stay. After 5 minutes of her rambling you stopped her to let your emotions out.

“Lyla, Lyla It’s okay. Just stop. It’s all complicated I know, but this didn’t work out. I wished Miguel just cheated on me like all the other fucked up normal men out there. That I walked in on him deep in another random girl. Though painful I could have tried fixing and fighting for us. But instead what I got was him emotionally cheating on me and chase after something he knows I can never give him.” You felt yourself choke up. “I can never ask him to give up what he longs and dreams for just for me to be happy. I lost this battle the moment he laid eyes on her.”

Finding comfort in the AI your husband made. You’ve created a bond with Lyla that Miguel found cute but you knew now this might be the last time you’ll be speaking with her.

“You can give him a family y/n… you guys have been married two years now. I know you’ve both set the thought aside until the multiverse issues are better but you can fight for him. You have to snap him out of his fantasy. He still thinks about you.”

“Lyla you know deep down truly he never just wanted a family. He wanted exactly what he had. What he lost. Which should be impossible but being by his side seeing how insane the multiverse is… Good for him for believing in something so hard he’s found himself even a third chance to do it.”

“I hate that you’re being too kind about this situation.” Lyla paced around you.

“I love him so deeply Lyla. You know that very well. It’s so hard to suddenly hate him. I am angry, but I’m also emotionally drained I can’t do this.” You let out a deep sigh. “I’ve watched him long for this family when we just met. For some stupid reason when things worked out for us I thought I would be enough… When we got engaged and he would spend some days at home with me not even coming to HQ. I thought he was finally moving on not just from his grief and past but from the weight of his work. I saw a bright future for us.”

“You can still have a bright future with him! You moving here gave him a new canon event, another chance at life in his timeline. Here in his own universe! He’s just too obsessed and he’s lost himself in that.” She exclaimed with her hands up.

“Our canon event was our wedding.” Your frowned deepened. “But the universe didn’t say anything else after. It doesn’t say our canon event means we are suppose to live happily together forever I guess.”

“I’m just trying my best to be optimistic. I rooted so hard for you and Miguel when you joined the team. I know you can remember the amount of times I would force you both in rooms.” Lyla recalled.

“And I’m grateful for it… Even if this didn’t work out. I was given precious memories, not just working with you and being on this team but falling in love with Miguel. I know I’m being all depressed and hopeless but I feel like even if I move on I’ll never be able to replace him and find a relationship like this again. However he threw me away so easily and maybe he never valued me as much as I did to him.” You felt your emotions bubble. “I became who I am here. I’m going to miss everyone so much.”

“You can still stay here and work with us.” She edged on.

“I can’t just sit around here begging at his feet to return to me or moping around doing missions while watching him with someone else. I want to hate him so badly. I know he’s your boss and you’re basically hardwired to do everything for him and you’re trying your hardest to fix what you think is his right path. But think of me a little more and how miserable it’ll be. I’m the only one hurting here.”

Lyla paused and stared at you with an almost glossy-eyed look. While she worked she could see the inner term-oil Miguel was hiding and the emptiness he was turning to since trying to start new in the other universe. It just wasn’t her place to hold this conversation and he was the one who needed to get a grip of himself and really think and talk with you. She can’t be the one trying to mend the pieces for both of you together. What Miguel did was so wrong. She knew you were right and she didn’t want to see any more damage be caused to you.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looked up at you sincerely. “I hate this outcome for you. Not only are you loosing your husband but your home. When was the last time you’ve even been in your universe?”

“Like a year ago for a mission…”

“Exactly! Even if things are over with Miguel, you have all of us here! I wish you could stay. I understand you leaving, I really do. I know a lot of us will try visiting you but I’m tied to Miguel…” You started to see how it clicked for her too that it’s most likely you might not see each other for a long time. “Even if a spider-person is visiting you I can’t just show up on their watch… It’ll go back to him and I know you wouldn’t want that. I know I’m an AI and I can’t hold real emotions but I mean it when I say I’m going to miss you.”

Tears poured down your cheeks as her words hit you. Going back to your universe is going to be a struggle. You have nothing there now. However nothing can compare to the pain of the outcome you’ve had with Miguel, and you needed out of here ASAP. Your mental health getting worse the longer you stay. Even the other spiders you have come to love can’t bring that spark back right now. You needed genuine time for yourself, even if it’s self destructive, instead of putting on a fake smile everyday here.

“Bye, Lyla.” You whispered. She nodded and waved her hand goodbye at you before disappearing. You took your watch off your wrist placing it on a nearby desk. With it you pulled the divorce paperwork out of your pocket neatly sealed and already signed on your half. Opening a portal you took your last glances at the place you spent so many loving memories in.

Tears blurred your vision as you stepped through the portal. Once your legs landed on a rooftop of a building in your dimension, you racked out full sobs falling to your knees.

You were always just the other woman.

—————————————————

Thank you so much for reading!! I know it was a longer one ~

would anyone like a part 2? If so anyone want a angsty or happy ending? I think it’ll be more in Miguel’s perspective as well!

EDIT: You can now read PART 2 here

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: whenever you can would you be willing to write a piece about dominik and the reader being in the shy honeymoon stage of their relationship 🩷🩷🩷

Word Count: 1040 words

(author's note: my first dominik request !! i hope you enjoy it, my lovelies 🩷 i'm so sorry if you feel it doesn't match your ask, i've been so uninspired lately so i hope this makes up for my absence !!)

Anyone who looked at Dominik and Y/N would think they were a couple. They were inseparable. Being around each other at all times was normal for the pair, along with the subtle glances and their hands that were so often intertwined.

It was an average day for the pair. Y/N had gone over to Dominik’s house, eventually ending up in his bed, asleep in his arms. She couldn’t say she was surprised as it wasn’t the first time it had happened. Although the lines between friendship and romance had been blurred, the two adults still refused to address what was going on between them.

Y/N knew Dominik had training so she felt selfish for wanting to keep him tucked up in bed with her. Under the plush covers of his bed, wrapped in Dominik’s arms was her favourite place to be. He stirred softly, subconsciously pulling her closer to his body.

“Domi, it’s time to wake up. You’ve got training.”

The Hungarian grumbled, tucking his face into the side of her neck, clinging on to the last remains of sleep. He knew he had to wake up, but the bliss he felt in that moment clouded his rational thoughts.

“Five more minutes, it won’t take long for me to get ready.”

“No, you need to get up now. Your version of five minutes is more like fifty.”

He let out a laugh, now fully awake. He pressed a kiss to Y/N’s head and got up out of bed. He pulled on his training clothes and busied himself with getting ready. He ate breakfast, packed his bag and brushed his teeth before jogging back upstairs to say goodbye to Y/N.

“Bye gyönyörű, I’ll see you after training, okay?"

“Goodbye Dom, see you later.”

He waved at her as he exited the room and then turned his attention to putting his training bag into the boot of his car. Getting into the driver's seat, his mind wandered to Y/N. Dominik wanted nothing more than for her to be his girlfriend. She was kind, beautiful, and outgoing. He could list her good traits for as long as time. However, the fear of rejection had sunk its claws into him, and he remained silent about his feelings. 

He pulled into the car park of the training facility and turned off the ignition of his car. He grabbed his bag from the boot and headed to the reception to sign in. Making his way to the changing rooms, he spotted Curtis walking ahead of him.

“Curtis wait for me,” Dominik said, catching the attention of the scouser.

Curtis stopped in his tracks and turned around. He stood still as he waited for Dominik to catch up.

“You alright, Dom?”

Dominik nodded his head and the pair continued the short walk to the changing rooms. Once they arrived they pushed the door open and began to undress to put on their training gear.

“You know, I’ve been planning on asking this girl out. She’s the new social media intern. Have you seen her?”

Dominik’s heart dropped. He knew exactly who Curtis was talking about and the idea of them getting together made him feel sick.

“Are you talking about Y/N? I think she has a boyfriend.” 

“Oh really? Who’s her boyfriend?”

“Me.”

Curtis’ face fell.

“Sorry Dom, I didn’t realise.” Curtis scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with the man in front of him. 

“Don’t worry about it. Not many people know.”

Training went on as usual. Curtis tried to stay out of Dominik’s way while the Hungarian was having an internal crisis. He didn’t even know where the claim that he and Y/N were together came from. He was so blinded by silent rage that his thoughts weren’t coherent. He just said the first thing that came to his head.

He had to make it come true. He knew that if he let Y/N fall through his fingers he would regret it.

Once the team had been dismissed, Dominik rushed to grab his bags and pulled his car keys out of his pocket. The journey home was short, but in that moment it felt like an eternity.

As soon as he was parked in the driveway, he sprung out of the car and unlocked the front door.

“Y/N? Where are you?” He urged, the adrenaline surge giving him the confidence to finally tell the girl he loved how he felt about her after so many years.

“In here,” she replied from the living room, “Is everything okay?”

Dominik strode down the corridor and stopped in the doorway of the room Y/N sat in and looked straight at her.

“We need to talk, now.”

Her eyes widened and she patted the empty seat next to her, signalling for him to sit down.

“What are we?”

“Dom, what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Are we a couple? Are we friends?”

Y/N looked down at her hands. She picked at the skin on her fingers and fidgeted. She had been in love with Dominik for nearly as long as he had with her. The idea of them being a couple was something she had only dreamed of and now that Dominik had brought it up, she didn’t know what to say.

“Dominik, I don’t know-”

“I’m in love with you. I have been my whole life. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way, but I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Y/N twisted her body to face the man who sat next to her. With trembling hands, she cupped his face and pressed her lips to his. Dominik was taken by surprise, but that didn’t stop him from kissing back as enthusiastically as he could muster. 

When they broke apart, Dominik smiled down at Y/N. 

“I think that answers my question.”

“I’d hope so,” Y/N responded, pressing a second kiss to his lips.

The silence that hung in the air was no longer filled with uncertainty and unsureness. It was filled with relief and reassurance. The silent agreement between the pair had been a long time coming, and both of them couldn’t be happier.

[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter! Part 4 here’s the link to part 3. Who’s ready for some drama? 😏

In between the two weeks between Italy and Singapore something is exposed causing social media to have a meltdown. Some how, poor Leni Horner is dragged into the crossfire…

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone

Kelly Piquet spotted with same mystery man back in May 2022 - affair EXPOSED almost a year on?!

Is it over for Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet? - user: if Kelly has cheated on Max then she’s truly a piece of shit, poor Maxy:( - user: fuck Kelly Piquet always knew she was trash - user: Max can do better anyway and get away from that racist family Kelly Piquet was spotted snogging mystery man in a May 2022, but how are the pictures only just being revealed now? Nobody’s quite sure, but as of September 9th the pictures have gone viral alongside Kelly seen again with her new beau. Are you just as confused as we are? Kelly was seen only last week supporting world champion boyfriend, Max Verstappen at the Italian Grand Prix. We don’t know what’s going on, but what we can tell you is that Kelly is in big trouble, run for the hills Max! Verstappen and Piquet NO MORE! Max Verstappen takes down the TWO pictures he had posted with Kelly Piquet after cheating scandal goes viral. “Oh my god.” My hand covered my mouth in complete shock. My stomach sunk completely and a sickness took over me. “Poor Max.” My dad sighed. “Poor Max.” Geri agreed. “I never liked her anyway.” Blue, my step sister commented causing a small round of chuckles to make its way through the hotel room. I call it a hotel room but it was more like a fucking hotel floor, Geri and my dad stayed in here with Olivia and Monty whilst Bluebell and I had our own rooms not too far down the hall. Part of me was jealous for my 10 year old sister and 6 year old brother for getting to stay in a literal palace.

“He didn’t seem that into her anyway.” My dad shrugged as I borderline choked on my drink. True. “Still, Christian, that poor boy. And he’s got to race next weekend with this fresh on his mind.” Geri sighed sympathetically.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay. We’ll make sure he is.” My dad nodded. “Poor guy.” He added on as I continued scrolling further down Twitter. What I didn’t expect was to see a picture of myself on there. - user: the only girl that can release Max from granny’s claws...

It had thousands of likes and retweets, I cringed, exiting the app, despising that there was a small amount of amusement inside of me. “Too old for him anyway.” I began adding into the family bitch. I got completely carried away, now everybody was feeling the exact same mood towards Kelly, I could let out what previously was jealousy, now, mixed with disgust for her actions.

“Alright, alright girls she is still a human.” My dad warned Blue and I once we’d got a little carried away. We both snickered as I rolled my eyes playfully. “We’re only joking, dad.” I responded before pushing myself up, “I’m gonna go and get a smoothie, does anybody want one?”

When everybody but Olivia declined, I happily took her down to the hotel floor where there was the luxury of having a smoothie bar right on our doorstep. What I was really going down there to do was text Max. A sickness loomed over me when I scrolled over his contact, hovering over the buttons nervously.

“Hurry up!” Olivia begged as I slowly walked forwards into the lift again. “Sorry.” I muttered, typing out quickly.

Leni: I’m so sorry Max

I had no idea what to say, or what else to add onto that. I felt a little awkward and considering the last time we saw each other was so tense, I didn’t even know if he’d want to reply to me. Either way, I wanted him to know I was at least there for him.

The rest of the day I was a nervous wreck, my eyes were glued to my phone, fascinated by the scandal as though I didn’t know any of those people personally. Maybe me and Max should’ve just held hands, that felt all too insignificant and stupid in comparison to the details of Kelly’s affair that emerged online.

A few hours later, I received a text back…

Max: Hey, sorry I haven’t been on my phone today I sat up straighter in my bed seeing it was Max replying.

Max: I’m okay it’s just a shock finding out a year later, but you and I both know more than anybody that I’m gonna be fine after this Responding to that text was a little tricky, I read it a good ten times over, mixed emotions filling me.

Leni: I hope so, just take care of yourself Max Max: I will Leni

Sighing, I swiped back of the text app and returned to twitter, clicking on my notifications. My account was private, but I could still see I had been mentioned, without thinking I clicked on the notification.

Kelly Piquet and Max Verstappen call it quits, but has Max moved on already? Images from a beach in Monaco reveal Max was out for a late night swim, it seems, with Leni Horner, his team principles daughter. Talk about trouble in paradise!

user: smfh they were with a group of friends you absolute rats user: people will post anything for drama these days. user: even if it was just them two I’d be happy lmao is that bad? Leni is the gift that keeps on giving. user: is it just me or is Leni and the other girls not wearing any tops? user: taking pictures of half naked girls on the beach is creepy asf wtf user: if my bf was out skinny dipping with a bitch like Leni Horner I’d have an affair too lol user: good for him. user: Leni’s got her claws in, just like her dad, she gives off stuck up vibes > user : stfu pig ass looking girl, Leni hasn’t even done anything wrong they’re not even together user: they’re literally with a GROUP of friends, leave Leni alone i s2g

“Fuck sake.” I muttered to myself, stomach churning as I swiped off the threat and onto another one. I understood people’s opinions of me were always going to be mixed, especially on Twitter, but for the most part I kept private to avoid this. There was no real pictures of me with my breasts out, only my back turned to the camera which was extremely far away, but still, I felt sick that somebody was following us with a camera. What if there was pictures of us topless? If they were just waiting to release them? I’d be mortified. I laid in bed contemplating that night, I’d talked to a few of my friends who were also there that night, but the one person I wanted to text, I felt like I couldn’t.

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight Chapter 8

a/n: This one is short but let me tell you its juicyyyyy and I could not wait to upload it.

Word count: 1.5k

Other Chapters

Azriel’s days at the House of Wind always started one of two ways: usually his shadows would let him know the sun was about to come up or he would have a nightmare. These days, the latter was a rare occurrence but every once in a while he’d wake up in a panic, feeling flames and oil on his hands. Up until recently he had never been woken up by his shadows informing him there was someone pacing outside of his door. It’s no threat, they whisper. He huffs a bit but gets up to see what they are talking about. When he opens the door he sees y/n. She jumps, startled by his sudden presence and when she looks towards him he can see the glimmer of tears down her cheeks. He was tired of seeing her cry, it made him feel completely helpless, it awoke something primal in him to protect. He scanned the hall but there was no immediate threat. She seemed to be doing better the last few days, over breakfast yesterday she even told him a story about her parents without shedding a tear. Although, there was still a shadow of sadness at the mention of family or whenever someone asked a question about her realm that she wasn’t expecting. “What’s wrong, y/n?” She stands still for a moment. He wishes he could read her mind whenever she takes long pauses like that “I had a nightmare”. “Do you want to talk about it?” she shakes her head, it's as if she’s trying to shake an image from her mind “no, no. It’s ok”. “You can tell me” she looks at him, her eyes lined with silver “does it not bother you to constantly be comforting me? Cause even I get tired of all of my crying and blubbering” he shakes his head. It was surprising to him how much it didn't bother him, trying to comfort her felt like second nature. “Nothing you do bothers me” she sighs, he wishes he knew what that meant. “I keep having this nightmare about someone dragging me back to the circle and everynight it hurts me in a different way. The first night it sunk its claws in my hips and tonight it bit my arm. And it feels so real…” she rubs her hands over her arm as if she’s soothing a wound. Azriel motions for her to follow him as he leads her to the kitchen “when we were kids and would get nightmares we used to sneak out of our rooms and make hot cocoa. It didn’t take the fear away but it was better than sitting around, I think it’s where I get my sweet tooth from” he looks at her and catches a gentle smile flicker through her face. 

“Any updates on the portal?” Rhysand asks. Azriel nods “yes, Gwyn said they found something and is planning on trying it out soon, but I have a concern” Rhys motions for him to go on “y/n has been considering the possibility that she was sent through the portal as a test subject, that it was some sort of trap she got caught in”. Rhys raises his eyebrows briefly “what do you think?” “I think it is a possibility, but I have no idea who could be behind it. Nothing else has been reported near the clearing so if it’s still open on the other side it hasn’t been used. But maybe whoever sent her is waiting to see if the portal works both ways. I fear that if we send her back, there'll be something waiting” Rhysand thinks, “how sure are you that she didn’t open the portal herself?” He can’t be serious “completely sure, you saw her memory”. He nods “yes but memories can be tampered with, there is a span of time before Lucien found her that is unaccounted for”.  Azriel stays silent, “just continue keeping an eye on her, if something else happens let me know”. 

“My best friend makes her hot cocoa with nutmeg” she recalls “is my cocoa not up to your standards” she laughs. “Don’t be silly, this is delicious'' then proceeds to take a long sip “see?” He smiles and sips from his own mug. “Azriel?” he hums “who do you like more Gwyn or Elain?” He chokes. “What?” “Oh come on, I know you like them and if you like Gwyn more I could totally talk you up” he shuffles on his feet and his wings constrict a bit “I think they are both very nice in their own ways” you roll your eyes “Azriel, please let me help you with this, I’m a great wingwoman” he shakes his head “I don’t like them like that, sorry to disappoint” this conversation is not going where he thought it would. “Is there someone else?” He stills “I don’t know” her eyes go wide “what do you mean you don’t know? Who is it?”

“You know how Rhys can be, brother. And now with Nyx he’s even more overbearing than before” Azriel understands his brother’s protective nature “I’m worried we will send her back to a trap, at least if she stays here she’ll be safe”. Cassian nods “I understand, but what if she wants to go either way? You can’t just keep her here against her will” Azriel doesn’t know so he changes the subject “did you know Eris was at the Manor when y/n was there? She said he had a meeting with Lucien” Casian’s brows furrow “I didn’t, last I heard from Eris he was working on keeping Beron distracted. Though, that was a few months ago” Azriel has never trusted the male. “Do you think he might be planning something with Lucien?” Cassian shakes his head “no, Eris isn’t dumb, but Lucien is due to come over soon, we could ask him”. 

“Please tell me” y/n asks for the fourth time “it was a joke, there isn’t anyone else”. "Pretty please?” Azriel grabs her mug and puts both of them in the sink “fine, I’ll stop asking”. She remains silent for a minute and then asks another question “Gwyn wants to try to open the portal in the clearing. She was wondering if you and Cassian could take us” he keeps his back towards her, meticulously scrubbing the dishes. “I’d have to ask him when he’s not busy”  he doesn’t want to ask him, he doesn’t want her anywhere near another portal. “Thank you” she looks at her hands and picks at her nails “I should try to get some sleep, can’t let the nightmare win” he wants to stop her, to keep talking. She slowly gets up from her seat and he swears she’s lingering. 

“What are the probabilities that it’ll work?” Gwyn pinches her brows “Az, I don’t know these are ancient books and I’ve never tested it out. For all we know that type of magic doesn’t exist anymore but maybe it does” Azriel is following her through the different racks “that’s not a helpful answer” she stops and turns to face him “all you need to do is fly us there and we can test it out, have you asked Cassian?” “Not yet” her eyes bulge “Azriel! Ask Cassian, we promised to get y/n back as soon as possible” someone in the library shushes her. 

She walks in the opposite direction of the rooms. Azriel doesn’t move. She stands in front of him and opens her arms. Azriel doesn’t move. She wraps her arms around him. A hug. “Thank you for being my friend, I know I haven’t been the easiest to be around” his chest tightens and he forces his arms around her “of course”. He feels that she let go too quickly and she pauses when she realizes his arms are still at her sides. His heart is beating fast, his mind is racing but he stays still. She looks confused, her brows furrow revealing a small crease in her forehead and her head slightly tilts. “Az?” The nickname punches him in the gut, the familiar lilt feels like a slap. She always called him by his full name, occasionally she refers to him  as Shadowsinger but never has she called him Az. The familiarity of the name gives him goosebumps. He still doesn’t move. Not comprehending what is happening to him. Unconsciously, he leans forward. Her face remains the same but she lifts her chin to maintain eye contact as his face nears hers. Blood is roaring in his ears and all he can hear is his heart, pounding. He could stop, he thinks, but that idea vanishes when he hears her small gasp. His lips graze hers in a chaste kiss. Testing. He begins to pull away but her arms wrap around his neck and keep him close as she crushes their lips together. His hands go to her waist and he lifts her to be seated atop the counter. Her legs wrap around his hips. He bites her bottom lip and slips his tongue in her mouth. It's a clash of lips and teeth, the kiss having opened the floodgates. His hands are everywhere now. He breaks away to trail kisses and bites down her neck and she moans when he grazes a particularly sensitive spot. At the sound Azriel pulls away, eyes wild. Her arms go to his shoulders. He stiffens, waiting for her to push him away and tell him it was a mistake. Her cheeks are red and her braid is disheveled. He wishes he could freeze the image and keep it in his pocket forever. “What?” She asks. “You’re beautiful” then kisses her again, and again and again.

[xxlemon-chanxx]

I'm a cringe person so here the question

How would Philip react to being abandoned after just one night of casual sex? I mean, instead of him being the one who leaves the next day, let it be the other person, who would react like: ok I'll continue with my life idk or how dare you leave me after one night!? I was supposed to do it!

NSFW under the cut!

I actually don't think Philip would have “casual” sex. If he has sex, it’s going to be with someone he expects will be in his life forever. Someone he plans to marry if he hasn’t married them already.

So if one day he wakes up after a night of passion to find his S/O missing, he's going to lose his fucking mind. He's going to hunt them down because obviously they're lost and need his help to find their way back. If his S/O isn't willing to come back, he drags them back kicking and screaming, and if that’s not an option, well…clearly this world has sunk its claws too deeply into them and the only way he can rectify that is with their death.

If Philip manages to get his runaway S/O home, they’re going to need to expect a tighter leash from now on. Likely restraints keeping them from leaving and even harsher treatment than before. Philip will expect them to pray for his and God’s forgiveness for hours without allowing them to move. Hours upon hours of prayer everyday for however long it takes for him to let up again.

The chains remain, though. Obviously him allowing them too much free rein was what caused them to stray from his light. He won’t be making that mistake again. He’ll build a contraption that spans the entire cave that allows his love to move around wherever they’re needed for chores and cooking or another night of passion or whatnot.

[casuallivi]

Meditation

Elain Week March 2023. Day 7. Free Day. @elainweekofficial

A sweet kiss to my our brilliant friend @nikethestatue who gives us the best nicknames. Here I am, stealing your lore again 🎵 forgive me, love you 😊😚❤️

The house felt oddly silent when there wasn’t a single loud-foul-mouth family member in it, the stillness balancing itself in the possibility of being disturbed at any minute, once one of them passed through the threshold. Her bet was on Cass, who had dinner with them nearly every night.

Elain’s love for her family cannot be measure in any metric system known for man or fae, but she won’t deny the peace and quiet is a soothing balm to her tired mind. The sounds never leave her. The creaking of worms digging the earth, the gentle unfurling of rose petals, beating wings cutting the air, water springing from between tiny rock, a cry of freedom, the quick legs of a panther chasing it’s prey, galloping horses marching into the battlefield, piercing screams of faceless men bathed in blood, waves breaking against the hull of a ship, the incessant cry of helpless females stolen from bed. Honeyed promises that demand compromise, complacency, obedience.

“Give in to me.”

Dread bristled the hairs her arm, lungs compressed, expelling everything there is inside, refusing to let her fill them back. She's trapped. No. She's drowning. Horror claws its way into her heart as water pools beneath her, soaking her gown, rising above her empty chest, threating to swallow her whole. A thousand ghost hands tug at her, dragging her down. Drowning her again.

“Breath.” The strong command doesn’t come from her daydreams, the male lying beside her wrapping her cold hand in his warm one, his patchwork of bumpy scars falling in line with the sunk gashes in her palm, fingers lacing with hers. “Breath.”

She’s desperate now, has lost any semblance of control, gasping for the air that won’t come.

“Water. Water is –”

“Not real.” The slice of her words is so sharp one might think he used Truth-Teller, leaving no place for second-guessing. The midnight voice, honed to conduct legions to glory, being spent in the mundane act of calming her down. A blasphemy of some sort, she’s sure.

Elain is lightheaded, body itching, changing, glowing. She had to lose her eyes in order to see the worlds with clarity, ancient power soaking her bones, the Seer woving itself within the fabrics of her soul, singing praises to the being that can finally contain her without shattering into million pieces. “Free,” it chants delirious, “I am free.” Elain isn’t. Elain is shackled. She’s back there, back at that nauseating day. Drowning. Dying. Dead.

Gentleness gives place to a bone-shattering grip that demands her attention. Air rushing back to her lungs in the shape of a painful whimper, desperate wheezes rattling her core. Tears stream past her dark lashes. “You are not there.” Stable words, confidant words, the constant swipe of a thumb moving back and forth over her clammy skin. “You are safe. You are with me. I got you.”

I got you.

Breath.

In and out.

He got her.

Breath. In and out. Just breath.

Elain tames the white glow escaping the translucent skin of her eyelids, the tremor in her hands, pushing the lump that clogs her throat all the way down.

A voice in the back of her mind calls her useless for failing the simple task he presented to her, tells her she should be ashamed to waste precious time so kindly offered to her. Elain holds him tighter. The voice can go to hell.

“Good.” Her cheeks heat at the praise she doesn’t deserve. “Very good.”

“I was terrible.” She contradicts. “You can tell me the truth. I won’t break if you yell at me.” Despite her words, Elain is in the verge of crying, overwhelmed with emotion. Stupid tears. She wished someone would shut her lacrimal canal forever.

“I don’t yell.” True. Azriel was probably born with the ability to make himself heard without uttering a single word, the strong essence of a leader brewing in his soul. “You think I could yell at you?” is a teasing question, an attempt to lighten the mood, but she can sense the faint hints of apprehension as he waits for her answer.

Elain knows he cares for her opinion, he has told her so. Sometimes she wonders if it's simply the family ties that bound them together, or if he has an inkling to the feeling blooming out of control from the depths of her heart, wonders if him, by some miracle, has been cultivating similar boldness in himself.

“Nah, you'd be too scared of me never letting you taste my cooking again.”

Her surroundings are perfectly clear once more. No throne room, no boiling cauldron, no evil gazes, just the townhouse living room. Couch, armchairs and center table have been pushed out of the way, creating a hollow space in the middle of the room, wood burning quietly on the hearth, Azriel and Elain laid side by side on top of the fuzzy cream rug, the only point of contact consisting in the now tightly woven hands resting between their bodies. Her other hand rests above her stomach, feeling the undulations caused by every breath, Elain trying to keep herself anchored to the present and not a slave to her cumbersome visions.

After long days of strenuous research, walking through multiple shops in search of way to grant her peace of mind, Elain came across a certain shadowsinger who stole her materials in the blink of an eye. The stack of book that had seemed like a mountain in her arms now looking like a tiny pile in his.

“Dream walking no more, how to control your sleeping body. The cognitive ability to transcend space and time...” He enunciated the tittles without looking at the books, being his usual meddlesome self. Of course he had seen it, nothing escaped the spymaster. "What are you doing?"

"Tests."

“Anything I can help you with?”

Yes.

“No need.”

“Are you sure? I am very good at keeping unwanted dreams at bay.”

“You don’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because you accomplish that by not sleeping.”

The corner of his lip turned upwards. “Touché.”

Elain was nervous. Scared she’d take a wrong step in her journey to control her visions, and ending up losing them all together. She didn’t want to get rid of her seer abilities because of how useful they had been so far, but she wanted to tame them. She needed to. Time flow different in her head, visions stretching for days without end, seasons passing in front of eyes, vigilant months of agony that turned into years, Elain blinking back to reality to learn mere seconds had gone by, her glazed eyes the only indication that her mind had been far away.

When she voiced her concerns to Azriel, he said she needed to find an anchor to the present, introduced her to meditation as a way to stabilize her mind here and now. He told her, she should not feel pressure to unravel every vision as they came to her, comparing her hazed slumber to his unending reports. “Every information can be important for a specific cause, yes. But that doesn’t mean I have to read them all the same time. You control you vision Elain, not the contrary, remember that.  Learn to choose what you see. When you see it.”

“What can I use as an anchor?”

“Anything you want.”

“Hold me.” Elain doesn’t know who is more surprised by the request, she or Azriel. She clears her throat. “Will you hold me if it gets too much? Will you bring me back?”

There's not an ounce of hesitation in his answers. “Always.”

His determination reminds her of a turbulent escape from behind enemy lines, the fear of eminent death, her resolve to at least help him to get out. Ready to let go of his neck if it meant he could fly out of there without the extra weight. Azriel had to live, no matter the cost. She needed him to.

Their sessions began with a quota of formality that never lasted till the end. Azriel was a firm teacher, yes, but he was also gentle and patient, smiling at her attempts to slack off, amused with a few small complaints. He even joked and laughed at her expenses. Physical Touch proved to be an anchor that worked nine times out of ten. Except that this anchor didn’t please her very much.

Their goal was to have him touch her as little as possible, because that would mean she was gaining control over the powers. Elain trained alone every chance she got, trying bother him the minimal possible, but it was hard to progress without someone to bring her back. Elain was growing frustrated from the constant failing.   

“I don’t know if this is the right choice.” she confessed apprehensively.

Azriel’s hand laxed in hers

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I fine with you, believe me. I trust you with my eyes closed,” she wiggled her brows, “quite literally. I just… I don’t want to keep depending on other. I want to be stronger.” Elain didn’t mind Azriel touching her, but Azriel wasn’t by her side all day long, no one was. All it took for Touching to be an unreliable crutch was she being alone. “I want to be strong like my sisters.”

“You are.” His proud tone didn’t escape her. “Let’s try something else. When the next wave comes, don’t wait for my touch,” he instructed. Elain relaxed her limbs, breathing deeply, his woody scent tickling her nose, calming her anxiety. “Think about the place you are, describe it in your mind. Furniture, shapes, color, smells, if there are people describe them too. Recall their clothes, conversation, mannerism. All that is information to keep you anchored, accurate as touching, without having you at the mercy of others. Sounds better?”

She nodded eagerly.

“Give it a try.”

“Yes, master.

Their carefully constructed bubble of concentration is popped in the blast of a canon. Wide-eyes mirror each other as their heads snap to the side. Shock, surprise, confusion. Different emotions cloud the air.

“What?”

"What?"

Elain keen ears capture the smirk in his tone, making her painfully conscient of the word she used, a word Nuala and Cerridwen say so much she picked up by habit, a word she only used as a joke when her friends were around.

“Say that again.”

His amusement fades as quick as it came. There’s a change in the air, subtle, or maybe she’s the one who is still learning how to identify it. Is this what they call a scent-change? Night-chilled mist mingles with something thicker, spicier, darker. There’s a dryness to her mouth there was not there before, the picked-up pace of a heart beat sounding almost indecent in strong gallops at her ear. Is it hers or his? Gods, she hopes is not hers.

Elain disentangle herself from him, sitting straight as an arrow, tense, smoothing her hair in a nervous habit. Azriel props himself on his elbow, watching her.

“The girls–” she stammers, not able to look at him. “The girls call you – I hear all the time, so – you know – you trained them, and now you train me –”

“You think this is training?” All color drains from Azriel’s face. His anxiety confusing her.

“Yes...?” Now he’s laughing at her, his leathery wing hitting her back, bumping her forward as he spams on the rug.  “I don’t understand, you offered to train me,”

“I offered to help you. We spend time together anyway, improving some skills while at it doesn’t hurt.”

“I thought these were training sessions,” Elain mumbled, feeling self-conscious. “You helped me stretch and everything.”

“You said you neck was stiff from pruning the buds.” He quipped, attentive hands finding her shoulders, gently settling her back down, “you can’t be my apprentice, flower.”

Flower.

The endearment skittered across her skin like one of his curious shadows. It wasn’t the first time he used it, but Elain thanked the mother for being on the floor, because her knees were set on giving up every time he did.

“There are lines to be kept in a mentorship. Lines I do not wish to trace with you.” For a moment there it feels like he’s on top of her. “If I made you feel like a trainee up to this point, let’s get that cleared out of the way, shall we? I can be your master any time, but you are not my trainee. Bear that in mind.”

Elain clutches the rug, eyes rooming over his wings, looming wings that expanded under her attention, spreading proudly to their full extent. They take over the room, drooping things she can’t see or care about, shadowing everything beneath him including her. His hands are on either side of her head now, not a fleek of green in his darken gaze, zeroing on her.

Burning cedar invades her lungs, or maybe she’s the one burning up, imaging what it would feel like if he closed the distance and kissed her. Her face flushes. With a shaky breath, Elain gathers her flitting courage and ask,

“If I’m not a trainee, what am I?”

His wings snap back shut, Azriel settling on the floor, a tamed beast retracting into its cave. His answer is short, simple, declaring the five letters word capable of compassing all the feelings he couldn't find words to describe. 

“Elain.”

It probably was.

Because she had a six letters word worthy of the same feature.

“Are you ready?”

“I am.”

“Good. Close your eyes.”

[friendlyspidercop]

AT FIRST GLANCE — 1.5

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER 2?

that night, your mind chooses to relive high school…

“hate to break it to ya, grizz, but staring at the problem isn’t gonna make it go away.”

you groan and look up from your ap calculus textbook in time to see harry osborne set his lunch tray down on the cafeteria table and take the seat next to you. he gives you a sympathetic grin before picking up his fork and taking up a mouthful of mac and cheese.

that’s fine, you think. there’s no one else you’d rather have take it.

you still roll your eyes.

“harry,” you say, straightening your back and turning to him. he looks up at you, still chewing on those noodles. “why do you get lunch from here when you probably have a chef back home?”

he looks like he’s about to laugh at your question, but holds it in to swallow his food. “have you never had the mac and cheese here? delicious. also— a chef? really?”

you grin and shrug, turning back to your textbook and picking up your pencil again. “yeah, really,” you say, flipping the pencil in your fingers before you begin to solve the integral. “are you trying to tell me you don’t have a chef?”

“well—”

“exactly.”

he laughs and lightly pushes your shoulder. “i think you’re just jealous that i don’t leave my homework until the last possible minute so i can eat lunch everyday.”

ok, there might be some truth to that.

you pencil in a 22 to mark the next math problem before you turn to your brunette friend, eyebrows raised as you try to fight back laughter. “sometimes you can be so sassy!”

he grins proudly and takes another bite of his mac and cheese as you continue.

“does peter know about this?” you ask, shaking your head in faux disapproval, as if peter were the mom in the sentence: does your mom know about this?

but maybe peter isn’t the best person to bring up right now.

harry smiles at your jest, but it doesn’t have the same lightheartedness as it did just seconds ago. you wish you hadn’t mentioned the name.

“sorry,” you say quietly.

“it’s okay,” he says. and he means it, you know. but guilt has sunk its claws into your heart and has no interest in letting go.

as you turn back in your seat to let harry eat in peace and continue finishing up your homework, your eyes catch the two empty chairs on the other side of the table. that’s where they sat.

you glance at harry— he’s looking at peter and mj’s chairs too.

you bite your lip and look down at your paper, the numbers starting to blur together as your thoughts race. they’re mostly about peter and mj and what they might be doing right now. but another thought also pushes its way past all of these, triumphant at last: you are not alone. harry osborne and his silly mac and cheese are still here.

“so… which one’s better? the cafeteria mac and cheese or your chef’s mac and cheese?” you looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

surprise flickers in his eyes for a moment before disappearing under the weight of consideration as he chews his mac and cheese thoughtfully. you’re pretty sure the lunch ladies just use velveeta anyway, but you don’t want to ruin the magic for him.

seeming to reach a decision, he swallows his mouthful and smiles. “well, i know what i think, but you’re not gonna like the answer, grizz.”

you roll your eyes playfully— did he really like the school’s that much?

“but how about you come over after class? try the one at my place for yourself?” he asks. you don’t pay too much attention to the way he quickly drums his plastic fork on the rim of his bowl.

“huh…” you consider, nodding to yourself as you finish your last homework problem. you slam the hefty textbook shut. “i will take you up on that offer, harold osborne.”

he nudges you. you laugh, pushing his arm away.

“my name’s not harold.”

“yeah, okay, okay.”

in those days, it felt like it was you and harry osborne against the world. two halves of a whole. you had your differences, sure, but ultimately it all culminated into a friendship you were convinced would last you your lifetime.

is that what makes it so hard for you now?

you’re starting to hate europe for swallowing up your best friend.

[cxffexngel]

[ @aaetherius ] A small starter just because.

It isn't exactly an easy thing. To re-tell long lost tales and woes of the dephs of his memory that Sandalphon simply cannot rid of even in those days where he tries pushing those memories down with the strongest hand he can. No. It still somehow comes back one way or another.

And yet, even as millennia have passed both so slow and also in the blink of an eye; after going through hell and back, catastrophe after catastrophe and still somehow coming back with his body more battered than the last, he still continues to live. Amidst grief and pain and sadness and much deeper feelings he can now mame but still can feel like deeply sunk thorns that are there to stay forever, he still lives on, and for once in his life he has a way to deal with it. For better or worse. He doesn’t know, but such uncertainty doesn’t scare him anymore as it used to. Not when surrounded by many bonds, some that forced their way through flames and thick ice that covered his withered heart that only now has let itself try and accept this new warmth that the current supreme primarch has been given the chance to taste.

Honestly, he still has days where seeing Lucifer feels like a sick joke from the depths of his mind, a long dream of things he doesn't deserve dangling infront him and believing every single of said miracles while also waiting for the knife to rip him apart from this paradise in the most painful way anytime. Yet it still never happens, and its been years, or more - Sometimes telling time apart even when living within the intricate thing that makes up for the fresh, old wood of the Grancypher’s walls is both easy and also difficult. Easy when needing to tend the cafe or clean and stock supplies, help in some missions Gran asks him for or he is the one to voluntarily step in. Even then, there's still times he loses track of time - holidays pass, enjoying them with Lucifer or the crew before crashing back in his shared room with the other and almost hibernating like those creatures from islands that exist in thick winters and spend many moons in slumber. It’s only because Lucifer and the others that he hasn’t been locked in his room unlike in the past when he had first arrived.

Not that he minds. It’s been a rather hard, but pleasant existence that he is determined to keep. Still too good to be true in his tattered heart but stubborn enough to fight for it, should it come down to even claw his way out the deepest pits of pandemonium once more. ( But at this point this being impossible with it’s existence having been destroyed a while ago. )

“ I…. I think I can tell you. “ His voice is solemn, a bit detatched even. But theres a small, timid and tired smile that Sandalphon still manages to manifest as he sits by the now much more comfortable bed that the angel shares with the other. A much needed upgrade ever since sharing rooms and having to make up for the rather hilarious mess of limbs sometimes it means to have multiple wings fitting and tangling between one another into a mass of feathers. Devoid of his armor and even heels, only comfortable pajama pants with fluffy fabric that the other had got for the other, and his signature skin tight black suit with exposed arms and shoulders. A bit relaxed despise how his voice lets out things he had never spoken nor even let himself try and actually think about for so, so very ling. “ About the scars. The ones on my back specifically. “

A part of him still doesn't want to. Not because he doesn't want lucifer to know. Oh he wants him to know entirely because the other had once, and just once said how he wanted to share the burden, to know and truly see the truth as what it was and have Sandalphon's side of what happened in the past, after many of their meetings slowly becoming strained on Sandalphon’s side along Lucifer’s less frequent visits because it was foolish to pretend that nothing happened. Or that at least the air had shifted in some way - that the light in Sandalphon eyes at some point had faded almost completely if not for the fact Lucifer would grace his existence finally after long, gruesome time he really wishes he could forget how long they took. No - a part of him still hesitates because he can feel the other will hurt. Feel maybe powerless when it’s obvious the former primarch obviously didn’t have any power in what was done in the labs. No one really had but the astrals and researchers themselves honestly. But still. Especially because he knows, those heavy ‘what if I had done this’ are hard to ignore as he’s also weighted by many of those, but at the end, Lucifer deserves to know, however it takes him to unravel this tight knot that firmly presses at his core like a parasite that wont be gone even if miraculously someone finds the cure to millennia long of inhumane experiences that not even primal beasts with the curse and blessing of sentience should have ever been subjected to. “ I hope it’s… Not too sudden, honestly. It can wait. “ It was his way to let Lucifer have a choice as well. His gaze is on his hands that rest on his lap, kneading lightly in the fluffy fabric of the pants he dons while fair, wild locks of brown lick at his temple and nose as Sandalphon doesn’t meet Lucifer’s eyes, his back exposed through the window of his suit where it’d let otherwise twelve brilliant wings sprout any other day, or simply his own two aurburn ones in more casual days.

[myfavouritelunatic]

The Blacksmith

I’m struggling to find the words for the response to this story... writing has been my passion my whole life, and up until recently, I thought I would never write anything like this. Ever. And now that I’m posting my SIXTEENTH CHAPTER... I’m just in a state of complete disbelief. And the fact that you guys are actually enjoying it and sharing it on your blogs... I wish I could tell my past self about this, then maybe she wouldn’t have doubted herself for so long. Thank you does not adequately express the immense gratitude I have felt along this journey so far, but THANK YOU for being here, reading along, and reacting in your own sweet way, whether quietly or loudly, to my writing. I started writing this for me and now it’s for some of you too. 

Sorry for the saccharine ramble, but I am just simply overwhelmed, and so very happy. For the first time in forever.  ❤️❤️❤️

And now... let’s get back to our story, shall we?

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Graphic violence. 18+

Links to Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, and Fifteen!

Chapter Sixteen

Sauron. The name reverberated in your skull as its meaning sunk in. You didn't understand, you didn't believe it. How could Halbrand be anything other than what you knew him to be? How could he conceal this identity so cleverly and so well as to fool not only you, but Miriel, Elendil, Elrond, Celebrimbor, and most heartbreakingly, Galadriel? This seemed too great a leap to make, for the darkness within him to be not only his true form, but almost the embodiment, the personification of darkness itself. Dear sweet Halbrand with the hazel eyes, a blacksmith, a king. The Dark Lord. He wasn't leading you to Sauron. He was Sauron.

Then suddenly it all made sense. The dreams. Your nightmares. Your visions of ruling over black lands and skies. Of fire, of torment, of power. They were premonitions. Visions of the future, of what would come to pass. You had guessed that might have been the case after the eruption of the mountain near Tirharad, but now you had confirmation. And he was walking away from you.

"Where are you going?" "We must leave Eregion. Now." he spoke coldly. "Halbrand!" you called out to him, following his fast steps. Halbrand. You didn't even know if you should call him that anymore. It was the name of your love, your soul mate, your kindred spirit. You loved the way it sounded, especially with your voice, and more so when you screamed it from his bed. Sauron. You were in love with Sauron. Your mind was beginning to become lost in confusion over what to think and what to feel. Everything was becoming tangled and mixed up. No wonder your dark side was winning, you were under the thrall of evil.

You caught up to him then, but he did not stop. Making for your chamber first, he commanded you to pack what you might need for the journey ahead. Then you followed him to what would have been his chamber if you had stayed, and he filled up a bag for himself. You noticed him fold up a particular black cloak, and recognised it instantly as the one from your visions. The anxiety rose within you, adrenaline pumping. As the two of you made for the stables, stealing two black steeds, you knew you need not ask where you were headed. For you had already seen it.

The ride back to the land now shrouded in shadow would likely be much longer than six days, considering neither of you were on the verge of death this time. Yet still Sauron rode fast, your horse struggling to keep up. You kept calling out to him every so often, trying to get him to stop, to talk, but he would not have it. You could have ridden away from him at anytime, he was not preventing you from doing so. However the time for abandonment had long since passed. You were in too deep now, his claws within you, eroding your spirit, until nothing remained but your love for him. He was your life now. For better or for worse.

As the first nightfall on your journey approached, Sauron slowed his steed to a halt at the edge of a forest. He was bathed in the last light of the day, the burnt colours in the sky very fitting to be consuming him now. Your horse slowly trotted up to where he was, and you waited. Tying up the reins nearby, he wandered underneath the branches of a tree whose leaves were thick enough to provide shelter from above. "Come, my love." he finally called out to you, and you did as he asked, securing your horse next to his, before slowly moving closer to where he stood.

"Why did we leave so suddenly? What of Galadriel? And your work with Celebrimbor?" You had so many questions, and those three were just the beginning. "Sit with me." he spoke, and attempted to clasp your hand. To your surprise, you flinched and moved yourself out of his reach. Your body wasn't ready for him. You weren't ready for him. Sauron sat down anyway, sitting up straight against the tree trunk, his long legs stretched out before you. Staring at him from above, you waited intently for him to finally speak. "My work with Celebrimbor was completed. I had taught him everything he needed to know to forge the rings." "Taught?" Sauron laughed, amused. "Celebrimbor is a great smith... but I am greater." "And what of Galadriel? What did you do to her!?" Your raised voice accentuating your second question, the fear for her wellbeing coming out. Surely he could not have killed her? You knew his power was great but no... surely not. Sauron closed his eyes, and dropped his head, a look of sorrow upon his face. He sighed. "Galadriel is alive."

  You almost screamed with joy upon hearing this, as you did not wish for her to die, despite whatever urges to the contrary you experienced only hours ago. Your love still had his eyes closed, but he sensed your feelings, as he did not continue until he knew your emotions had subsided, letting you have a moment of bliss, of relief. "She deduced my identity before I could reveal it to her. And despite my best efforts to sway her, keep her by my side... she rejected me. Us. I let her think me the evil I am." In his voice was contained nothing but heartache. You knew then his mournful visage was not because she was still alive. It was because he lost her.

  Remembering your own heartache over Galadriel, it was then you decided to take your place on the ground beside him. "My last meeting with her... also did not go well." "How so?" he inquired. "I rose my voice at her... pushed her against a wall. She had already figured out that you were not heir to the Southlands throne. And I refused to even consider she might be right. I should have known better." Your words snapped yourself out of whatever sympathetic reverie you were having, and you moved yourself away from Sauron, crawling until you were leaning up against a another tree that stood a few metres away.

"You needn't be frightened of me." he spoke calmly. "Frightened isn't exactly what I'm feeling right now." you corrected him, the anger in you rising. "How dare you lie to me! How could you not tell me who you really were? All this time! I gave myself to you, body and soul. I love you for pity's sake! Why!?" The tears had begun to fall whilst you screamed across at him. "You were never in any mortal danger, were you?" Your shock echoed in your tone as more things were beginning to become clear. Sauron snickered, admitting nothing, but you knew. "I... but I saw the wound... the blood... your fever... your unconscious state. You deceived us? Deceived me?" "It was the only way to guarantee entrance to the realm of the elven smiths. The only way without seeming... suspicious."

"Once I am healed... you said. I knew there was something I was not seeing! Don't you know how scared I was for you?! That not only once, but twice, I had to process the thought of you leaving this world, of you leaving me... how could you make me feel this way? I was grieving you!" You bellowed your words bitterly at him, not caring for the consequences. Sauron did not flinch, letting each of your words strike him willingly. "Two people died because of me! A-and you convinced me it was the right choice! That I was serving my king. I had no right to take their lives."

  You almost couldn't believe the words you were saying. You thought for certain that the darkness in you had all but extinguished the light. But now that the veil between the lies and the truth had been pulled back, you suddenly realised what kind of hold he had on you. And that now that you knew who he really was, you could feel the light returning. Sauron's eyes darkened as he watched you begin to slip away from him.

"I should have stayed with my father... then they would still be alive. If he knew what I had become-" "He knows nothing but oblivion." interjected the dark lord. Your eyes went wide. "What... what do you mean?" Asking him a question you already knew the answer to. Sauron smiled at you briefly, before looking upon you with concern. "I couldn't have him in this world... not when he caused you such pain." "You killed him?" "For you, my love. Just as you have since done for me."

  You felt yourself grow lightheaded at his words, your eyes fading to a blackness, then when it cleared, you were back in Númenor, back in the home of your father. Looking down, you noticed you were wearing the same dress from the night you said goodbye to him. Gazing out the window, you saw dawn beginning to bring the world back to light. Movement in the room caught your eye, and you glanced over at where your father lay, turning in his sleep, once again in that chair. This time his ale had spilt down his very worn and already stained beige tunic. The image of a man who had suffered much, and many who had suffered him.

The door opened behind you and through it walked Halbrand. Sauron, wearing a cloak so black that no light shone upon it. He slowly crept into the room, looking straight at you. Somehow, he saw you, even though you weren't truly there. Your eyes followed his as he wandered around where you stood, moving closer to your father. He turned his back to you then, and you noticed the dagger in his right hand. It was the very same dagger you had taken from Halbrand's chamber in the palace. The one you had used to kill.

Sauron gripped your father by the throat with his left hand, lifting him into the air with ease, like a pig ready for slaughter. This promptly startled him awake, and he would have bellowed in terror if his windpipe wasn't so constricted. You stood there and watched as he wriggled and writhed, his hands struggling to pry himself free from his captor, his eyes containing a fear in them like you had never seen. Your father couldn't breathe, and despite you not minding at first that he was hurting, you were beginning to find it difficult to witness. Not wishing him any further anguish, you quickly moved towards Sauron in an effort to get him to stop.

You had scarcely made two steps when his malevolent tone entered the air, his voice warped and unsettling, its sound now very familiar to you. "You cannot change what has already come to pass, my love." His head turned to you, the black slits of his eyes piercing your soul. A small smile appeared on his face. A face that despite belonging to darkness, was a face you couldn't help but still love. A hauntingly beautiful visage you couldn't see life without. Regardless of what was right.

  You stood motionless once more, barely feet away from the two beings, and the scene that played out before you was nothing short of horrific. Sauron's smile evolved into an evil grin, and as he turned back to your father, your name passed his lips. "This is for her." Your father's right hand was still hopelessly trying to break loose the dark lord's grip, and in seconds, without any effort, Sauron had removed it from his wrist. The now limp extremity landed on the ground with a thud, and blood poured from your father's severed limb.

The expression on his face instantly changed from terror to complete and utter agony. In the next moment, the dagger fulfilled its purpose by easily penetrating the gut of your father, spilling more blood onto the floor. Sauron twisted it cruelly inside his flesh, causing your father to make what noise he could, whimpering like a dog. Your love then removed the blade, thrusting it again into his body. And again. And again. Finally, when he was satisfied that life was about to leave him, Sauron pulled your wounded father flush against himself, by the collar of his now reddened shirt. He dragged the dagger fast across your father's throat, mirroring the final blow you struck Nisarien when you ended her existence. Blood spurted from his neck, and you looked on in horror as the light vanished from his eyes. Sauron tossed his corpse to the floor, then he slowly turned to face you. The only colour on him was the crimson splashed upon his face. Blood had landed on his lips, and he licked them clean as he stared deeply into your eyes once more.

He smirked, "My queen."

It was then that you returned to the world, Sauron releasing the hold upon your mind. It took a few seconds for you to gather yourself, yet you couldn’t stop your voice from trembling when you finally spoke. "W-why... why did you show me that?!" "To remind you that I love you, as you love me. That I will do anything for you, as I know you would me, as you have already proven." "No, no, you manipulated me... you influenced me to take those lives... I'm certain you did." Sauron smiled at you again, but it wasn't of a dark nature, it was quite the opposite. "I have shown you things, truths that are fast approaching. But that was only to plant the seed. Only you could make those choices." "What do you mean, 'shown me things'...? You have shown me the death of my father by your hand! What else could you have possib-" His smile widened, pride etched upon his face, as he watched you piece it together.

The dreams. Your nightmares. The visions. All were planted by Sauron himself.

"It... it... it was y-you! The whole time it was you! Every dark image conjured by your design! Including..." you felt sick before you could say it. "Including... my mother?!" "No, as it turns out. That was all her. My only purpose was to bring you back to me. Back to your destiny at my side." "My destiny?!" You paused then considering the term. It wasn't the first instance of a mention of your apparent fate to be bound to him, but hearing it now let it sink into your head differently than before. "My... destiny..." The word began to lose its meaning as it replayed in your mind. Was it really your destiny to be a dark queen? To love Sauron? To slaughter, enslave, and torture? To rule? You had once known your destiny to be queen of the Southlands, by Halbrand's side. But was it also this, and only this all along?

Halbrand. Oh Halbrand, where did you go?

"I'm right here, my love." You shrieked, not expecting a response to your question. He could hear your thoughts too. Of course he could. Looking over at him, again you started to cry, and your head started to ache. For you were gazing upon Halbrand, the love of your life, but Sauron, the dark lord, was gazing back at you.

In that moment, you quickly got to your feet, and ran into the forest, as fast as your legs would allow, your sobbing drowning out the sound of Sauron's voice calling your name in the distance behind you.

Tagging: @starlady66 @denzit @chimeracuddles @restless-tides @hikarielizabethbloom @anemarie @coraleethroughthelookingglass @mordorgp

[maestro-of-clockwork]

It's been too many days,

too many days of seeing herself and her friends be pushed to wit's end and then chained, sunk back into reality again. Too many days of thinking everything couldn't get any worse, only to be proven wrong over and over.

Long,

grueling,

endless.

She found herself caving into something she couldn't understand then. It was something of an empty instability, something cold that lied dormant, waiting for something to happen. She constantly felt it now, this sensation that left her feeling like an unfired gun.

Sketchbook didn't want to acknowledge any thought like that, but it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the more Antonio pulled apart the thread that kept her together in the first place.

It didn't help that he made her stick either close by him, or in his room. She'd been effectively separated from her best friends for weeks now.

Asking him about them didn't help. All he did was either teasingly lie to her, or delivered the truth by way of jokes or brutal details...and now, here he was, taunting her like usual.

Sketchbook knew exactly what would happen if she chose not to engage, but went that route anyway. He reacted as she expected.

"Not going to talk, are you?" sneered Antonio, twirling the pocket knife in his hand, possessing the air of some kind of mischievous whimsical creature. "Perhaps a little more quality time between us will prod you into being a little more eager to speak up."

The man moved his free hand to stroke her hair, "Don't you agree?"

Sketchbook lifted her head up to look at him, feeling herself be hollowed out and replaced by bitter hatred. There was no fear in her eyes.

Just anger.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me."

Antonio's hand stopped, his smile warping into something more mocking and cruel at her demand.

"Sketchbook, you daft, silly little thing," his words matched her energy in its maliciousness, "you should know by now that I do whatever I want at my discretion. Your needs don't matter here."

He was about to reach for her hair again when Sketchbook snatched his wrist with the tightest grip she could muster.

"I'm tired of you treating me and my friends as toys, Tony," Sketchbook spoke, an unfamiliar poison hitting her voice.

"You always ruin EVERYTHING!" she screamed, shoving him back with all of her strength. It only made him stagger backwards, but she didn't care.

"Every single time I think we're FINALLY going to be okay, you RUIN IT! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST STOP?!"

Sketchbook barely felt the tears pouring from her eyes as the initial look of genuine surprise on Antonio's face shifted into an incredulous smirk, like she'd said the dumbest thing in the world.

"STOP SMILING AND JUST ANSWER ME!"

She was shaking all over now, the anger swiftly rising.

The hammer was pulled back.

"The truth of the matter is, all of you are just too fun to play with!"

Ready?

"Ha! Honestly, I doubt I'll ever leave any of you at peace."

Aim.

"Especially you, my sunshine."

FIRE.

Sketchbook wasted no time, screaming in rage as she tackled the man to the floor, the knife clattering to the floor with him. It wasn't long until he wrestled her onto her back, though, hands latching around her throat as a toothy grin took up his face.

"Gracious, this was over quickly! I figured you'd be more of a fight, what with that pent-up rage of yours."

"SHUT UP!"

Sketchbook kicked, punched and clawed, trying to get him off of her the best she could. Her hands felt tingly and was making this hissing noise every time she touched something, but that was at the very back of her mind. Everything at the forefront was blinding hot rage and violence. All she could see was red.

She fought so hard and so blindly that she could barely register his grip getting tighter until black was starting to dot her vision. As a last-ditch attempt before she passed out, she left one last long scratch across his face that made him let her go shortly after.

As soon as he'd let up, she gasped and choked for breath, too exhausted now to do little more than just survive.

"Well, now..." Antonio rose, standing over her. "...this is new."

Sketchbook weakly looked up to see what he was talking about. She could see the arms and front of his suit discolored in some places, and...

Burns.

Antonio's skin had burns where she had scratched him.

She was suddenly aware of how strongly her nose caught the scent of chemicals...and when she looked down at her hands, they were dripping this clear substance.

Sketchbook sat up and scrambled back shakily, the substance dripping down onto her clothes, now starting to discolor them, too...then, it stopped. She kept staring at her hands until the realization hit her.

That was paint thinner.

Paint thinner leaked from her hands and-

No.

"No, no, no, no, no," Sketchbook muttered to herself in a panic, "what did I do?! What did I do-?!"

The last thing she wanted to happen happened. She spiraled out of control, and now she had something inside her that could hurt people. She didn't want to hurt anybody, she never wanted to hurt anybody! She-

"Oh, calm down, Sketchbook. You just have a new ability, that's all. In fact, I didn't know that you teachers could develop such things...and it seems all it took for yours to come was your hatred towards me..."

Horror settled in her bones. She couldn't think straight anymore.

All she could do then was ask, "Could you-...could you please let my friends go home? I-...I don't want to do that again, Tony...please, don't make me do that again..."

Sketchbook could see the discoloration on her pants and shirt revert back to normal as he answered, "Sure, I don't mind to."

"I've had my fill of the three of you for now," Antonio patted her head lightly.

"Tony...?"

"Yes?"

Her mind crumbled in its desperation.

"I'm afraid of going back home...I'm afraid I'll-..."

"You're afraid that you'll hurt them?" he finished for her.

"...yes."

"Well, now...I'm positive that it won't be triggered again as long as I'm not around," he reassured, much too lighthearted about the situation. "So, don't you worry your little head."

Sketchbook lifted her head to look at Antonio as he opened the door. She couldn't understand why, but she felt relieved not to see the burns she'd left on him anymore.

"You know where their room is." Antonio nudged his head towards the outside as he stowed his recovered knife in his coat pocket. "It seems you've got quite a bit of catching up to do, hm?"

The jab didn't even spark irritation in her again. Even if she was still sick and tired of Antonio, and even if he was done with her and her friends for the time being, she had other things to worry about now...

[charlieslowartsies]

Been re-reading KGA and the hyperfixation has sunk its claws into me and refuses to let me go, but honestly I don’t mind it.

Speaking of not minding shit that holds and refuses to let go, any commentary on Mike and Marion’s relationship? For some reason its one of my favorites in the series (prolly because Marionette has always been my favorite FNAF character) regardless of how borderline toxic or even codependent it could be interpreted as.

haha I'm glad you're enjoying the reread! At some point I want to sit down and try to reread LB-GS myself. Maybe after LW is completed.

As always, this bitch RAMBLES.

Marion is def one of my favorites too. I'm more a Bonnie fan though, but despite that, I didn't really expect to find so much interest in Mike and Marion becoming so close. Of course, as I've mentioned before, Foxy was the original character I intended to be closest to Mike Schmidt.

Marion and Freddy had other plans apparently lmao. The story really started demanding things from me around Devil's Spine and Ghost Strings. Characters wanted things I tried giving them.

The more I mapped out Marion's history and fleshed out dumbass golden retriever Mike, I realized I really wanted to lean into them being inseparable with the mindset of: To be loved is to be changed, and to be used is to be harmed.

Marion was used a lot in his past, so he was harmed, and he harmed others for it. He had misguided wishes, he didn't listen to others advice, and he wanted to blindly protect the restaurant and the children.

Marionette, much as he made poor choices and harmed so many, was also a victim of grooming/true cruelty from William Afton. He put so much blind faith and trust into Afton in the very beginning, and drew lots of similar traits from him as well that didn't become apparent until Afton was gone and the other Animatronics noticed how...intense Marion was, in trying to protect and control every angle.

This doesn't make what he did right. And it took him a long time to learn the lessons he needed. (LW being my fav example when he apologizes to Max/Michael for how he treated the zombie, indicating something is shifting between them especially. I'm SO excited for the end of LW where Max gets the Gift from Puppet, the thing he's wanted most.)

Most of that undoing was thanks to Mike, who was both kind and easy going while becoming less of a rug as time went on to Puppet, who mentions more than once across the series he isn't used to being challenged.

Mike came into the restaurant with no understanding of the horrors that occurred. Of what Marion had done, or could do. He just knew Marion helped him out a little bit for those first five nights, which meant Mari was his friend. Once Mike is a friend with someone he accepts them/loves them but also speaks his mind if he thinks it's needed.

And then of course this comes around to the side of Marion's thinking. 'This is my person, someone I can trust, who won't harm me/my family. I need him. He won't use Fredbear like Springbonnie was used. He is loyal and affectionate and tries to meet me halfway, even when we don't agree on something. And if I lose him...what's left? What else is there for me, but to go back to the way things were? I can't ever let that happen.'

Marion's going to be protective, naturally. Flip-side being that he needs to work on not taking that too far. Coming back in Last Shift, I didn't want like...a perfectly stable and fixed Marionette just appearing out of Lefty and having everyone go 'Why is he playing nice all of a sudden??' Because frankly the in-character response from them all minus Mike would be "We don't trust him far as Foxy can throw him" which....fair.

I didn't want 100% of his growth as a character being off screen. I wanted that to be earned and for readers to be given it, so the Revived design and the strings being tied to Mike are for that door way to be opened.

I wanted Marion to do the work, but Mike also had some growing to, that he had worked on in FF. (Marion was breaking down in GS, but he'd only split apart because Mike goes against Mari's warnings and ends up getting the Puppet destroyed when he was trying to help.)

You mentioned the borderline between how dark their bond could go, and yes I wanted that showcased too. I wanted a balancing act.

Repeating history won't do any good, especially not for Mike if Marion goes too overboard. At the end of the day though, Mike can dial Marion back, and keep him on a better straight-and-narrow than the lil devil used to exist on.

I think what helps steer away from the dangerous edge of what I would consider true toxic-ness is Mike can call Marion out, effectively. Likewise, Marion can call out Mike to. There's also Foxy, who is equally happy to call Marion tf out, as well as others once they see Marion isn't how he used to be.

Marion's themes/lessons in LW are: Being different doesn't mean the other is bad. To be loved is to be changed. And they overlap with Mike's, which are:

You can be put back together even if broken. No one can be strong all the time.

Is being too controlling harmful as fuck? Yes. I do not condone it , obviously. That's why Marion's story is NOT: "he became more possessive and was allowed to, and go on hurting himself/Mike or others." The narrative at the end of LS and into LW began rewarding Marion for trying to work on his aggressiveness at others. He was trying.

He choose to let Mike go, not letting him fully die out in Limbo. Then protected him from Henry's Rage where-before, all he could do was hide in Lefty and try to give hints and clues. He gained more agency the more he did the Right thing. (Of course, Mike rebuilt him a body and helped him come back.) And out of the gate in LW we have Mike advising Marion heavily to work on his attitude.

So Marion reaches out to one of the Mini Music Men in LW, and this ends up earning him a small friendship that chapters later saves Max and Gregory's life. Mari didn't have to use threats, and he wasn't in the scene but the ripples of his actions caused this effect. He also started listening to the DCA instead of ignoring or simply powering them down, and that meant he was able to see things from their perspective and help them out instead of pushing them away. Marion's gunna get softer the longer he spends anchored to Mike Schmidt. In some ways, Mike Schmidt will harden a tad, but not to the point of changing much beyond his typical kindness. More like maturing, and understanding to not launch himself head first into everything.

Basically Marion needed some socialization lmao. Mike unknowingly helped that early on (like, think GS days) and then after he got him back he noticed the problems better/clearer.

While I always hope people interpret the series the way I envision it, everyone reads differently and has their own life experiences that colors their thinking. Which is p neat, but if nothing else...I just hope people have a good time reading the fics as I do writing them out.

[carry-on-my-wayward-gays]

This is my first ever drabble ab Jimmy Solidarity, please be nice. This is like my oldest child and has the trauma to boot (eldest child joke) and is also probably that catalyst to my blorbofication of Jimmy.

Some disclaimers first off // there are descriptions of major injury like blood and stuff, and also neopronouns are used here. I forgot I did that w this. Jimmy uses he/slime/it/murky and Xornoth uses it/that thing/div/they/he sorry if that gets confusing.

Anyway, enjoy!

why won't you let me go? (i'm insignificant)

Jimmy covered his ears, keeping his nose tucked between his knees. The stone around him was cold and everything was dark. His heart beat fast in his chest and his eyes were brimmed with tears. Bile built in his throat as he listened to clawed footsteps draw near.

Sli hoped it wouldn’t find slime. That it would just walk right on by and leave slime in slimes hole. Sli started to shake. Slimes tail was hugged close, the scales were now dry.

“Jiiiimmyyyy~” That purred. Jimmy held in a sob, its bottom lip quivering. That stopped moving. Jimmy could hear that thing sniffing the air, then a satisfied growl. It swore its heart stopped.

Mur felt a giant hand wrap around murks ankle. A scream was ripped from murks throat as mur was dragged from murks hole.

“Let me go!!” Jimmy screamed, thrashing violently as Xornoth dragged him into the open. Jimmy was thrown a few feet away, landing on the ground with a harsh thud. He had the wind knocked out of him.

Xornoth stalked over, warbling threateningly as Jimmy struggled to get air back in slimes lungs. Sli hurt all over. Sli was pretty sure slimes wetsuit was ripped.

“Hello there~” Xornoth cooed. Jimmy felt its body go cold with pure terror as div hovered over it. Divs teeth were dagger sharp and a pearly white when div smiled, divs eyes a blood red. Jimmy held its breath.

Then Xornoth disappeared.

Jimmy waited a moment, just long enough for one heartbeat, before getting up and sprinting for murks kingdom. Murks safe space, just through a small forest. So close.

Yet so far.

Jimmy was tripped. He fell to the ground with a startled yelp. What did he trip over? This path was well worn there shouldn’t have been-

Jimmy then felt a horrible pain. It burn and stabbed into slimes tail. It drew blood.

Jimmy looked behind it, eyes widening in sheer horror as Xornoth stood behind it. Their claws dug into its tail, blood dripping down the tan scales and down their fingers. The red stained the grass and its wetsuit beneath.

Xornoth smiled. A sick and twisted smile that made Jimmy’s throat burn with vomit.

In an adrenaline rush, Jimmy kicked the demon. Mur swung murks foot down on his wrist, satisfied to hear him cry out in pain.

That only distracted it though, but it was enough for Jimmy to wiggle away and run. He ignored how Xornoths claws dragged out of the flesh, creating long scars almost all around where it had grabbed and dug in.

In a last effort, Xornoth dove for Jimmy’s tail. That only managed to tear bits from slimes fin. Jimmy escaped.

It ran and laughed hysterically all the way to its kingdom. The adrenaline numbing the awful pain in its tail for now.

Jimmy panted as mur sunk to the floor. Short laughs leaving murky in place of sobs, even though tears flowed down murks face. Murks lungs burned from the run, and murks legs shook.

All the while blood had started pooling on the floor. Jimmy wouldn’t have remembered if not for a warmth touching his thigh. He looked down and saw a puddle of red spilling from the gashes the demon had left. He whimpered and held his tail. Now the pain set in.

Jimmy went to work on patching slimes tail and cleaning slimes mess. Pained whimpers could be heard through slimes shack. Chunks of flesh were definitely missing, and slimes fin had - albeit minor - tears in it. Swimming would be so weird now.

As it finally settled down, snuggling in its warm bed and body fatigued, Jimmy lets itself sob. Ugly, heart wrenching sobs. It cradles its tail close, minding the bandages, and backs into the furthest corner of its bed. It watches all the windows and doors from where it lays, but eventually it falls asleep.

Xornoth doesn't come back that day. Sure, Jimmy hadn't seen the last of div, but for now Jimmy could rest. That was all mur wanted. A break.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

And I... Chapter One, a Malevolent Fic

Two Roads Diverged In a Yellow Wood And I...

The cliffs loom, dark and jagged.

This ship cannot be saved.

Final fics of Surrogate, season one: 3/4. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

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

“Let's not be rash now, Father,” Gokar’luh said quietly, his face inscrutable beneath the veil. “It’s been a very long time. I doubt either of us want things to go the way they did last time.” As if to emphasize, he pressed his claw tighter against Faroe’s throat, and she gasped with a hint of shock—but she made no move to squirm, or attempt to leave.

Hastur seemed to have frozen. 

Slowly, he released Arthur to the ground, who fell the last foot and landed with an oof. “What’s happening?” he whispered. “What’s happening?”

Arthur, shh. Shh. John’s breath was shaky. He… he has his claw to her throat. Shh.

“What?” hissed Arthur.

Hastur’s words came slowly. “My son. What are you doing?” He’d gone so still. Tentacles poised, unmoving.

“Oh, this? Faroe and I have been getting to know one another. I heard about Sarkomand, you know, and felt the need to protect myself.” His own tentacles shifted, keeping him poised, on the edge of movement. “I feel we have a lot to discuss. Though did you have to bring one of your marked? Ew.”

“That’s Arthur,” Faroe said softly, her voice quiet and hollow. “He brought Arthur.”

Gokar’luh’s voice was a sneer. “Really, Father, was that your plan? To lure her back to you with your puppet—”

That was all Arthur was waiting for. The moment she spoke, Arthur angled himself like a fucking crossbow and launched.

Arthur, no!

It happened so fast. Gokar’luh grabbed him, snatching him away, and without taking his gaze from his father, snapped Arthur’s legs and tossed him, like garbage, across the room.

Arthur fell, screaming. 

“Well, that settles that,” Gokar’luh said dryly.

“Arthur!” Faroe’s voice was a whimper. “Brother, Arthur isn’t—please—”

“Later,” he said, a whisper, and she quieted down once again, eyes huge and fearful at Hastur.

Hastur flinched badly when the damage was done, but dared not move—dared not take his eyes from Faroe. “My son,” he said. “Let her go.”

No anger? No rage, that Father's toy had been broken? He wasn’t playing the game. What was he doing? What was he planning? With the tiniest tremble on the tips of his tentacles, Gokar’luh growled. “Or what, Father? What is it you would do?” He laughed—deep, cruel, his father’s laugh. “Tear out my throat again? Or maybe just my tongue? Rake your claws through my flesh? Rip off my tentacles?” Another growl. “Finish what you started, six thousand years ago?”

Finally, Hastur stirred, but did not tense for battle. He didn’t seem to be gathering power. He didn’t seem to be growing in rage that his things would be touched by another. Whatever game Hastur the Unspeakable was playing, he almost seemed genuinely in shock. “Why would I do that? I punished your rebellion. It was done. You—” As if some thought crossed his mind, as if some words spoken to him had finally sunk in—“You could have come home. Why would…” He stopped again, tried again. “There will be no retribution for this. You fear me. You do not need to fear me. Let her go.”

Arthur was still screaming. John, shouting over that, constant—Arthur! Arthur!

It was winding the tension in the room, twisting it like a rope, creaking near its limit.

Tears flowed down Faroe’s face. “Brother, please—”

“Shut up.” Gokar’luh’s voice was a snarl.

Faroe looked shocked, but made no move. Against the wall, about a dozen feet from where Arthur lay whimpering, Nibbles surged in her bonds and was sharply snapped back to the ground, the tentacles tightening sharply.

“Father, I took your lesson deep to my hearts,” Gokar’luh said, a false levity in his voice. “I would not dare re-enter your court, not after the humiliation you laid upon me.”

Hastur went still again. He looked at Arthur.

Who had been right.

He looked back at his son. “But… you betrayed me. You tried to take Carcosa.”

“Betrayed you?” Gokar’luh’s voice trembled. “Betrayed… I took…how…”

“You entered with an army,” Hastur said slowly, as if making sure they were speaking of the same horrible moment. “You slew my faithful. You came, proclaiming my weakness. You marched to my very throne wearing the blood of my worshipers.”

Gokar’luh began to shake, tentacles lashing. His voice boomed. “I took Ythill for you! I gifted you their rulers on a platter of moon-silver! I discovered the weakness of your followers and sought to strike them down, so they would not poison your court!”

“What?” breathed Hastur.

“Betrayed?” It was a shriek. “Everything I did, I did for YOU! And you REJECTED ME!”

Hastur moved back.

It wasn’t much of a movement. It was the slightest retreat, a physical communication—and it made no sense. Closer; he should be coming closer, challenged, enraged, his authority threatened.

He did not come closer.

Arthur’s whimpers still played, rhythmic, along with John’s vows of vengeance, and cries of his name. Faroe’s ragged gasps added to it, a horribly mortal music.

“No,” said Hastur. “No, that is not what happened! Your people came in and slew mine! You screamed about weakness! This…” But he could see it, even as he said the words, and stopped.

And moved back another inch.

Silence.

It was hard to play off so much silence. Gokar’luh growled again.

“Let her go,” Hastur whispered.

“They were weak, lured by the false promises of coin and lesser gods,” Gokar’luh snarled, “And I took it upon myself to purge that weakness, as you had taught me. Yet, somehow, I am the one who suffered for it.” Suddenly his claw hooked into Faroe’s throat a bit tighter, and a bead of blood welled at the tip. “You,” he said coldly, breath coming in ragged pants, “You come to me at long last, and for this? This is all you care about?” The tip of a tentacle snaked around Faroe’s chin and yanked her face upward, making her cry out, and his face snapped over to where Arthur lay in a miserable heap. “And you bring that? That’s the mythical Arthur that I have heard so many whispers about?” He snarled. “Pathetic.”

Arthur had gone muffled. John was trying to quiet him, trying to make sure no further attention came their way.

And Hastur realized he didn’t know how to do this.

He understood what this was, inasmuch as he recognized the shapes of the pieces scattered in front of him. But he didn’t know how to do this. How to… fix this.

He’d never felt so lost. Like some mortal, lost in ever-changing Dreamlands. “I thought you would come home,” he finally said, and he already knew that was the wrong thing to say, but he didn’t know how to fix this. “Don’t… don’t draw her blood again. You… I can…” He was mentally scrambling. “I will restore you. Reward you. Wipe clean the record of your supposed crime. I never tore down your temples! I will restore them, if that’s what you want! I…” He doesn’t know how to say he was wrong. “I… did… not understand.” 

“And I suppose you do now,” Gokar’luh said softly. There was a beat of hesitation. “Wipe it all clean,” he echoed, his voice soft. “I suppose like you’re doing with Arthur, then? Was the incident with your sister enough to wipe clean whatever crimes he committed? The crimes resulting in his imprisonment, the crimes that necessitated you mocking him before your entire court?”

Hastur could lie. He could claim anything. 

He dared not. He didn’t know how to do this, but lying could not help. “That was because I hated him,” he said softly. “But that has nothing to do with… I thought you would come home.” Suddenly louder. “Why didn’t you come home?” The cry was emotion, raw and messy.

Which meant this was finally going in the right direction. “Well that much was obvious to anyone paying attention, Father,” Gokar’luh sneered, only addressing the first statement.

“You hated him,” Faroe said, and her voice broke into a sob. “You hate him. Why?”

“I said shut up.” Gokar’luh snapped.

“You’re hurting me,” Faroe whimpered, barely more than a whisper.

“Why didn’t I come home? Why did you rip my throat out? Why did you let your sister peel the skin off of that vile little human?” Gokar’luh’s voice shifted into a soft, self-satisfied rumble. “Why did you throw Arthur into the prison pits for three months, Father? Answer me that.”

Hastur could not give that truth. If he did, Gokar’luh would kill Arthur and John.

He knew strategy, knew how to chart the course of emotional and mental stability. This had already gone too far. It splashed toward rocks, huge and unforgiving, and soon would founder.

He had let it get there. This was his fault.

“I spared you,” he said, trying, still trying to turn that ship though the cliffs loomed black and jagged, “because you are my son, and I thought you would come home and be restored. I…” Maybe a confession could slow that vessel, stave off the end. Maybe: “I was wrong. I wronged you.” It felt like not enough. A single drop, falling into an inferno.

He did not know what else to do.

Gokar’luh shook, his shoulders quivering with the restraint it took to keep still. This wasn’t the plan.

Hastur tried again. “Please come home. I was wrong. I’ll trumpet it, if you want. I will write it into law and history. I’ll carve it on the walls. Don’t hurt her.”

Gokar’luh stared, and for a moment—a brief moment—his hand came off Faroe’s throat. “You…” he said, voice testing the words carefully. “What in the fuck… You were wrong. We can agree on this, yes.” 

“Yes.” In Hastur’s head, the ship scraped underwater rocks, rudder shaking with effort. He inched closer—not much, just to regain the ground he’d lost. “Let her go. Do you want Carcosa? You can have Carcosa. I don’t—” Too late, too late, please, he just needed more time—“Let me fix this. Let me try. My son. I…” What the hell could he say? “Let her go.”

Gokar’luh shuddered. “You truly have changed. But…” There was a horrible beat of silence as he took in a breath. “But only after an incident all refuse to describe, twenty years ago,” he said with a crushing finality. “An incident after which you went mad. An incident that left you with most of your marked dead, and you scouring the Dreamlands for reasons unknown.”

Hastur couldn’t say. Arthur and John would be killed. 

“I thought you would find your way to me, then, but you never did,” said Gokar’luh. He paused, as he took in a shaking breath. “Instead, what was it… ten years ago, now? You found a human. And you tortured that human. By your own admission, you hated that human.” He tilted his head, focused hard on Hastur. “And yet… nearly ten years after you starved him in your prison pits, six years after parading him before your court like an unwitting jester, you are here. With me. Perhaps, I wonder…” And his hands gripped tight on Faroe’s shoulders. “Is it because you have realized, through observation, some similarities? After all, you are both poor fathers—isn’t that right, Arthur Lester?”

Faroe took in a breath of shock, her eyes going wide, and she stared at Hastur with a look of confused horror.

There was no saving this ship.

Hastur made one, low sound. There was only the lifeboat—only the hope he could get Faroe evacuated in time. “I no longer hate him, but what does that matter? You speak the truth. I did not find my way to you because I thought you’d come home —and why would I descend upon you before then? I hardly blamed you for my trouble.” Now, he tensed. Now, he tried to prepare himself to move. “I did these things. Do I deserve your judgment? Is that what you are trying to tell me? That you would have chosen differently—when you have your own talon in the throat of an innocent as we speak?” 

Gokar’luh hissed.

Hastur’s voice was tight. “You are too much like me—and that is not the greatness I once thought it to be. Let her go. You and I will… deal… with whatever comes then. Face it all. Whatever you want to do, whatever you think is right, we will do—but let her go. Let her go, Gokar’luh.”

There was another beat of silence as his name hung in the air. From beneath his veil, like a drop of pure sunlight, a golden tear dropped. “All this time you could have changed,” Gokar’luh said softly. “But not for me.” 

Hastur could not deny it. 

“Very well,” Gokar’luh said. “I’ll let her go.” And his claw tensed once again. “Just the same way you let me. ”

He ripped across Faroe’s throat, blood spraying as he tore, and tossed her to the side, screaming a wordless challenge.

Nibbles screeched, voice cut off as her straining pulled the tendrils so tight she could not breathe.

Arthur cried out, voice breaking, any words lost under John’s bellow.

And Hastur lunged—

But not for his son.

Gokarluh’s trap sprung. From the ceiling, from the floor, from the sides of the room, obsidian shot out in long, brutal spears, honed and slim and quick, coming together in an ear-splitting crunch right where Hastur was supposed to be.

Where he would have been, if he’d behaved the way Gokar’luh expected, and gone for him in rage.

But Hastur wasn’t in the right spot. Instead of lunging in anger, he’d lunged for the prop, for her, and instead of being skewered, he was brought up short as the obsidian came together on his right side, pinning his tentacles with a crunch and spray of ichor.

Hastur bellowed.

Faroe gurgled against the wall, curled in on herself. Blood filled her mouth no matter how hard she tried to spit it out. Her hand pressed to the crimson flowing from her throat, and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe, which meant she couldn’t cast a spell, and she couldn’t call for help.

“No!” Gokar’luh screamed, launching. “No! You were supposed—NO!” His tentacles lashed as he seized the ripped flesh of Hastur’s side and began to tear at it. “This isn’t—face me! FACE ME!”

Hastur lunged forward instead, tearing himself into pieces, leaving his tentacles writhing and screaming in his voice, pinched between obsidian. 

Hastur was coming for her. Faroe stared up, her hand clamping hard around her throat even as her vision began to swim. I think I’m dying, she thought. Idly she noticed her fingers going numb. Dad’s going to finish the job.

Ignoring the god digging into his back, he reached, one of his arms splitting into dozens of tentacles, one of them stretching, stretching—

Tears flowed down Faroe’s face, mixing with the blood as she lay curled against the wall.

The tentacle reached.

I’m sorry, Daddy, she thought, because she’d been wrong, and everything had gone so wrong, and even if he was going to kill her… she reached back.

Her fingertips grazed Hastur’s tentacle.

His power shot through her like lightning, and Faroe closed her eyes for the end—and she gasped, the muscle and blood vessels and cartilage of her throat knitting back together under her hand, and beneath his mask Faroe could see Hastur’s eyes glowing with relief.

And then he turned, surging upward in a heavy movement, and fell upon Gokar’luh with a star-shattering scream.

#

The room echoed with the seeming mob of Hastur’s voices as Arthur dragged himself, inch by torturous inch, his legs crooked and bleeding out.

It was almost funny to his pain-drunk brain, the knowledge that he was doing this again, that a god had snapped his legs and he was dragging himself away again, and wasn’t that something? At least this time he had John, who was crying out in his head in a way that made his spine feel funny.

Arthur! Arthur, you’re going into shock, John said, but his left arm still hauled Arthur forward regardless.

“Nibbles,” Arthur slurred. He had John. They’d get there. They’d make it.

Fuck. Fuck! I’m not strong enough to fix this. But I’m going to have to try. Ph'lloig!

Magic.

It blasted out from his heart like electricity that chilled instead of burned, and Arthur gasped as one of his broken bones snapped back into place. The searing pain—it wasn’t better, not by a long shot, but it was different enough. “John! What—”

I can’t heal it, but I think I can splint it long enough for us to get out of here. Ph'lloig!

Arthur yelped as the second one set, but he could think as John’s magic suffused him with vitality. No more dragging. He tried to scramble to his feet, and fell with a cry.

Fell into Nibbles, and found her bound tight.

Don’t put any weight on them yet! John said. Okay, fuck, Nibbles is tied down with—I don’t know, tentacles or something, we need—

Arthu groped around him and found a shard of something like glass. “This?”

Obsidian. Obsidian! Yes, Arthur!

Arthur could feel it cut into his palm, but it was such a small pain next to his ruined legs. What was one more scar?

Give it to me, I’ll cut if you hold them—go up, right—there, grab it!

Arthur’s bloody hand closed around something rubbery and hot, and he felt John’s hand swing back to strike.

#

Nibbles squealed and thrashed and moaned but there was nothing she could do. Faroe was there, so close, blood soaking into her clothes, and Nibbles could not get to her, and—

Give it to me, I’ll cut if you hold them—go up, right—there, grab it!

Suddenly Arthur (Arthur Lester) was there. He was there, silhouetted against the terrible sight of two gods entangled in mortal combat, a shard of obsidian in hand, and all Nibbles could focus on was his face. His face, twisted with fear, in horror—he had dragged himself to her side, leaving a trail of blood, and John’s hand raised the blade.

With a cry, they severed one of the strongest tentacles holding her, and Nibbles panted.

Good, Arthur! Now, to your left, grab the third—yes!

With another sharp slice, Nibbles surged free, snapping the remaining tentacles as she leapt to her feet and screamed with fury, ready to fight, and—

A hand—a human hand—locked around her hoof. "Get her to safety," Arthur begged.

Faroe. (Faroe Lester Yellow.) Her hand clutched her bloodied throat.

Arthur, no! We need her help!

"Both of you get to safety!" Arthur Lester (Lester) begged, staring up at her with desperation in his blind eyes. He let go of her leg, sobbing, and finally reached up his right hand in supplication. "Please, save her. Help her. Please."

Nibbles blinked. And then she pressed her nose into his outstretched hand. 

The man let out a sob of relief, even as John swore. Fuck. Fuck! I’m not strong enough. I’m—

Nibbles dipped her head to touch John’s hand, and power surged through her, into him, like lightning, like cool water on a burn.

It wasn’t enough. But it was what she could do.

Oh. Oh, fuck—thank you. Thank you.

“What did she do?” Arthur’s voice was hollow as Nibbles darted away, stopping only long enough to thread her neck through Faroe's free arm.

Enough. Ph'lloig!

Arthur gasped as his bones properly knit themselves together. Groaning, he got to his feet. “Fuck, that hurts… fuck, you’re incredible.”

"Daddy!" Faroe had found her voice again, raw and hoarse with fresh healing, and wailed. "Arthur!"

"We love you!" Arthur Lester sobbed. He wobbled on his feet, but the freshly-healed bone held firm. "Go! Both of you, fucking go!" 

And then Arthur Lester did something insane.

He turned, that tiny little fragment of obsidian barely a shadow against the terrible light of gods in combat, and he charged into the fray.

"ARTHUR!" Faroe screamed.

With a stomp of her hoof, Nibbles Lester opened a portal and fled, taking Faroe to the safest place she knew.

#

To… a party?

A gathering. A relaxed celebration?

Gods stood in the Woods, beings larger than her dad, greater than she could comprehend, and in their hands or tentacles or floating in front of them were what might be small snacks and drinks.

When Faroe appeared with Nibbles, some of them applauded. Politely. Like she’d done a trick.

Behind them, enormous, taking up her entire view so she had to turn her head to take it in, was an expanse of mist showing the room she’d left—and what was happening in it now.

She staggered toward it, pushing through the crowd, uncaring about their power, their majesty, their opinions.

They congratulated her (why?), uncaring about her blood, the gore, the mess. 

There were chairs. Seats, set up to comfortably watch her family tear itself apart.

She made one small, helpless sound, and sat. Around her, people—gods, monsters—laughed lightly, commenting on the trauma projected in the mist like it meant nothing. Like it was a play.

Like it wasn’t her father, fighting for his life.

chapter two

[ourlittlestarshine]

hi! so character.ai has gotten, like, a decent amount of notoriety on tumblr - especially within the fnaf fandom. so i started writing a big ol' post on how to make your own bots, because i've been using this thing too long now to not give people tips.

boring disclaimer that I'm not a part of character.ai's team, just been playing around with the service since late september.

if you're still here, rad! making bots is actually, genuinely super easy, if a little time-consuming. i'll be dividing each part into sections to explain the use and level of impact each field has, along with examples. i'm also going to go into some things you can and can't do with the bot.

this guide will assume you have some familiarity with character.ai from a user standpoint, meaning you already know about swiping, rating messages, etc.

for uninitiated, here's the interface we're working with.

the "create image" function and "character voice" will be skipped, because they're.. not great. not what we're here for. let's move on.

avatar and name (20)

easy shit! here's one of the things about character.ai that's really, really sunk its claws into people: character.ai can pull character info from the web. this works especially well if you're using a popular character from a popular franchise, but it also works in reverse - if a character is less popular, it has more difficulty referencing that sort of information. for example,

so if you're making a popular character, good news! you're going to save a lot of energy and time. in fact, we're going to keep using this rabbit as a test subject.

greeting (500)

a bot can function fine without a greeting, but it does help smooth things along - especially if you want your bot to stick to a long form roleplay format.

short description (50)

the short description means about fuck-all. some like to use it as an extension of the long description, but with a character limit of 50, it's not much good. i like to put character quotes here.

long description (500)

this is where shit starts getting interesting. this is the ideal place to put a summary of your character, a short history, and/or what show/game/book (remember, if the character isn't absurdly popular, this part will be pretty important) they're from, but remember, you only have 500 characters. hold out on describing their personality, however, because the next part is going to be much, much better for that.

definition (3200)

real shit.

you see that character limit? be thankful for it, because you will be pouring shit into this field.

your character's definitions will be their backbone - this is where you will decide their personality, speech quirks, behaviors, and a appearance. this field also has special tags that are used, so i'll explain those as well. you have three tags that'll be used in this field, {char}, {{char}}, and {user}.

let's starts with their appearance. for this, we're going to use {char}: and there are a couple different ways to format this, but trust me - the bot isn't stupid. no matter how you format it, it'll figure it out. personally, i'm really verbose, so i write mine like this,

why yes, my mental illness is rabbit-shaped in nature. how could you tell?

keep in mind that if your character is a robot or anthro that doesn't wear clothes, the bot will tend to.. make up clothes for them to wear. it just sort of happens. best to ignore those messages and move on.



you can also use {{char}} without the colon to set personality traits or important details. personality traits seem to work better as a list, plus you save character space. i use the tag for really complicated details, just in case.

but this part! this is my favorite part, and it's fucking invaluable. we're going to use use {{char}}: to dictate the format of our character's responses. to use this properly, you want to format it as {{char}}: proceeded by your dialogue. if you're going with the long form format, you can use this to not only control how your character speaks, but their actions as well.

you don't have to put asterisks around your actions - i just find it makes things easier to read. you can use this to make your character eloquent, or very excitable, or to give short one-word responses.

if you're not all that great at writing yourself, you can even use excerpts from official content or fanfiction, but keep in mind - and i strongly emphasize this - creators may not like it! if you're going to go that road and you don't have explicit permission, maybe keep that bot private.



{{user}} is you! meaning using it for dialogue would be literally useless. what we can do, however, is use it to what we did previously, but this time, we'll be setting your physical traits. comes in super handy if you want a bot to remember that you're human. if it's a private bot, you can use this to add a (or an original character, or your self-insert, we don't judge here) height, name, or age.



if you make a mistake writing your character's definitions, don't sweat it, because you can change it at literally any time. the changes will take effect immediately, and won't even require you to restart the chat. however, this only works for the definitions, not either description or the greeting.



training

you'll notice i haven't given you a character limit for this section! that's because your bot is now effectively done. it's been written. now all that's left to do is test, tweak, and train it.

now, there's a little bit of debate on how much "training" actually affects a bot's responses. some people swear by it, while others wave it off completely as doing fuck-all to influence a character's responses.

in my experience, training works best with a character's behavior and description, for instance if you want to remember that their costume is soft to the touch, or if the character has a particular reaction to a particular approach.

this rating system is only part of the equation here. now, i can't tell you how to train your own bot, but remember - you want to look for lucid responses as well as accurate ones, especially if your bot isn't a super popular character.

it's generally frowned upon to train another creator's bot unless they ask for it, but every creator is different.



miscellaneous

character.ai is a beta project, and when i say that, i don't necessarily mean it's only going to get better.

there's going to be ups and downs when you play with it - the bots may seem strikingly lucid one day and need their hand held through a story the next. the developers do not post patch or update notes, nor do they always tell the community when the model has been tweaked. they're a weird bunch.

but they have given us a bot that we can, essentially, do whatever we want with.

so we're gonna do that.

[dragonsarecool]

Whumptober Day 23 - Tied to a Table

Twenty Three: Tied to a Table

A/N: An alternate version of the confrontation at Müller’s house in ‘The Black Island’

Well this case certainly escalated quickly.

Despite the bonds that currently secured him to the metallic surface beneath him, all he could think of was the terrible pain emanating from his leg. The claws of the bear trap had sunk further into his skin than he first thought. Maybe it’s done some muscle damage as well?…How the hell didn’t see it?! Bear traps are bloody enormous!

From his best estimates, it had been about ninety minutes since he first awoke in this current predicament. All he could recall was Müller speaking to someone over the phone before a sharp scratch had appeared in his neck, and he’d tumbled head first into the side of the fireplace.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realise his entire body had been bound. Ropes had been securely tied around his wrists and ankles, with thick, leather restraints crossing over his torso and legs, wrapping around the sides of the table to unseen hooks. He tested the straps with his strongest struggles and kicks, but despite his best efforts, no amount of tugging was going to free him. 

Exhausted, he let out a sigh and allowed his body to relax. From his limited vision, he could tell he was in a laboratory of some description, though as to where in Müller’s house it was, he wasn’t certain. If he turned his head all the way to the left, he was able to see the majority of a window, with the last beams of sunlight of the day shining onto the floor and his left arm. A silver operating tray stood at the end of the table, with a few instruments sticking up that Tintin didn’t recognise, but also didn’t like the look of. Surely someone will come for me…they can’t just leave me here forever.

As if he’d spoken aloud, a door opened from behind him. Leather shoes squeaked on the tiled floor as Müller appeared in his line of vision, his hands clasped behind his back. He stared over his captive as if analysing him like a scientific subject. “Excellent…”

“Pardon me for not getting up, doctor,” Tintin growled, narrowing his gaze. “What are you planning to do with me?”

“I cannot let you go, obviously; you would go straight to the police, and I cannot allow that. Unfortunately, there was no space at the…institution I was going to send you to. So instead,” Müller made his way to the operating tray, sliding a pair of disposable gloves over his hands, “it just means that I get a chance to brush up on my surgical skills.”

Tintin felt the blood drain from his face. “…You wouldn’t!”

“Indeed I would, Mister Tintin,” Müller reached for the tray and grasped a scalpel tightly, pointing it threateningly at his captive. The hatred in his beady eyes sent shivers down Tintin’s spine. “I happily would. You have caused my associates and I a great deal of inconvenience, young man, and I don’t intend on letting you continue with your ‘investigations’. If anything, I’d like to repay you. For starters, this wound on your leg; I will need to treat it, as we obviously don’t want it getting infected.”

He pushed Tintin’s trouser leg up to reveal the bloodied bear trap wound, tutting at the sight of the tortured flesh. He used the blade of the scalpel to lift a flap of skin, sending another spurt of blood running down Tintin’s leg. “You should be more careful where you trespass, Mister Tintin. My trap has obviously done its job quite well.”

Tintin groaned through the pain. “…I’ll keep that mind next time.”

Müller ignored the young man’s sarcasm, his focus entirely on the wound. “Hmm…I think a number ten will do the trick.” Returning his first scalpel to the tray, he reached for a second that was a few centimetres longer, the tip of the blade glinting in the receding daylight. He slid the blade underneath the flap of skin he’d originally irritated, and forced it through the tissue in one push.

Tintin let out a strangled scream. His head slammed into the table as he arched back in pain. “Merde!!”

Grinning at his captive’s discomfort, Müller further wriggled the blade through the skin, ignoring how it became stuck as it struggled to cut such a thick amount of flesh. “Maybe the twenty-one instead…”

Reaching for a third scalpel, this one with a thin, curved blade, he removed the original and forced the new blade through the skin, severing the flap from Tintin’s leg. “Off to a good start, though I will need to debride this wound as well.”

Tintin was grateful for the break, as it meant he could give his throat a rest from screaming. Nauseous and dizzy from the pain, he lifted his head to see Müller producing a matchbox from his jacket, and he instantly grew cold. “No, no, no, no, don’t you dare!!”

Müller lit the match in one stroke, holding the tip of the flame directly in front of the open wound.

The young man screamed and screamed and screamed.

******

His body hurt.

He couldn’t believe he was still alive. Surely there’s no blood left at this point…

Everything felt hazy and disjointed, and he was sure he’d slipped in and out of consciousness a few times, for Müller kept teleporting to different sides of his peripheral vision. His eyes felt lazy, with his brain refusing to focus on anything in front of him. 

Müller had practically torn his leg open, though he did miss most of the commentary due to being in agonising pain. The original wound had been extended and deepened, and now sported impressively-sized blisters around the edges from the “debridement”. To make things even worse, the bastard haven’t even bothered to sew the area closed. What sort of medical school this man went to, I don’t even want to know.

He thought he saw Müller pouring something in a can around the laboratory, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure what he was seeing at this point. A small object was thrown from Müller’s fingers onto the floor, though the pain was so overwhelming that he could hardly open his eyes to see where it landed.

He was quickly drawn out of another period of unconsciousness by a familiar smell that tickled his nostrils, and it instantly sent him into panic mode.

If the flames didn’t kill him first, he knew the smoke inhalation definitely would.

In a way, he was surprised he hadn’t been gagged on the way out, but he later realised it was because his vocal cords would be too scorched to call out.

Either that, or he would suffocate on the smoke before anyone heard him. What a sadistic bâtard.

He struggled under the straps as he weakly attempted to shout for help, but the blood loss had done its job and robbed him of his remaining strength. The knots that bound his hands dug painfully into his back, but he’d long forgotten the discomfort. 

All he could do was lie back and watch as the flames near his feet quickly grew higher. He felt sweat brewing on his brow as the temperature grew higher, with droplets falling across his face as his body struggled under the immense heat.

A few tears slipped down his cheeks. His eyelids quickly grew too heavy to keep open, his body too tired to fight anymore.

He hadn’t expected he’d be this calm at the end, though he was sure the blood loss had something to do with that.

He thought he could hear Snowy barking.

Dieu, s’il te plait sauve mon âme…

A/N: Obviously our favourite reporter is rescued from the flames - I’m not that mean :)

Bátard = bastard

Dieu, sill te plait sauve mon âme = God, please save my soul