#this is a very slow slow slow start but whatever

[manorinthewoods]

((This fits, almost exactly, the current ending of a character in one of my many start-and-finish-only plotlines I've come up with.))

Fifty years.

Fifty years I tracked Magister Bellos. Fifty years I grew up, fatherless, motherless, without guardian or bloodmate. Fifty years, adrift in the seas of the earth, without purpose except revenge. Fifty years training, working, honing whatever meager scraps of power I had, the sight of my mother's flesh melting from her bones in the fires of his army.

Twenty years I spent helpless, watching that man as he took control, went from nobody to everything. Twenty years watching every nation overthrown by this nobody. Watching him set the world like dominoes. Divide Kandemark. Conquer Maredan, weak from its new acquisition. Take that strength, and invade Laene, and Ellada, and Ishar.

I watched him burn cities. I watched him slay hundreds without a thought. I watched his men, armed with the fellest of magics, burning the corpses of those they slew to fuel the rings that gave them the strength of a hundred in the hands of ten.

And then he vanished. His castle fell. This Emperor - worshiped like a god! - gone, just like that. And yet his Empire did not fall. It stood, stronger than ever, the ghostly hand of the king of kings rendering it unassailable. I knew then, and know now, that nothing I can do can break what he forged. But I can punish him, if nothing else. I am strong enough. I know how he gained his power. And I have replicated it.

So what am I to do when I find old Nennos Corven, painting in the square, teaching children how to capture time? What do I do when this harmless old man looks at me and says, "Welcome"?

I am tempted - so very tempted - to simply strike him down. But something stays my hand. And so, I say, "Bellos." And he looks at me, cocks his head, and says, "Who?"

I scoff. The children look at me, concerned. They look back at the old man. But they think nothing of it. I am disheveled, weakening in my age. And he looks nothing like the statues.

"Don't kid me. I know who you are."

Nennos turns fully, setting down his brush, and says, "I'm not sure what you mean. Surely you must be mistaken? I'm certainly not the Emperor. Couldn't be!"

"You fell from your castle, and used a spell to change your appearance. Magister Akulesta identified a stranger fitting your appearance as possessing immense magical power, but revised the report two days later to state that this was a false alarm. An alarm repeated by two other magisters, both of whom assumed you to likely be a member of the Emperor's inner circle in disguise, given your level of power. They also revised their reports to false alarms.

"Those in the court believed you to likely be Archon Nimiter, hunting for the Emperor. But I happen to be aware that Nimiter was posing as Queen Cassidia IV of Maredan at the time, until her daughter was of age to inherit the kingdom. At the timeframe of your travel north through Kandemark, Archon Barley was preventing the succession crisis from destroying the Empire, of which he succeeded, and Archon Silverthorn was suppressing revolts in Laene. I suspected that you were Archon Kaul, but five years ago word reached the Continent that he had been captured and imprisoned in Cathay. None of the other Archons had the level of power mentioned in the suppressed reports. It would have to be you."

Nennos looks blankly. No - not blankly. It's calculated. The appearance of a blank look. But his eyes aren't quite blank enough. I can see a mind working back there.

I notice, too late, that he's watching my eyes.

A shadow falls upon the square. The children gaze blankly, then walk away, their trains of thought lost, returned to a carefree nothing. They skip away, and slow, and stop, some mid-stride. The whole air has turned dark, clammy, still and sludgy. Fires have ceased motion. Leaves hold in the air, wind silenced.

The Adamantine Emperor of the Hundred Kingdoms of Mediterra looks at me, all pretenses dropped. His eyes are cold. Very cold.

"...Why are you here?"

"Revenge."

He chuckles. It sounds sincere. It shouldn't sound sincere.

"Understandable. I'm sure I've wronged all too many people over the years."

"You killed my family!"

"Oh, did I? I've forgotten. I've killed a lot of people, you know. I was rather violent in my youth. Somewhat like you, I suspect. Only you never grew out of it."

"You're calling me violent? The blood of millions is on your hands!"

"The law judges men, but history judges kings. For it is the place of the common to work for the present, and kings to work for the future. I killed many, yes - perhaps too many. But the Empire I have forged has saved the lives of many more. Famines occurred thrice a decade before I reigned. Now, there has been one, in forty years, in an Empire I no longer rule. And consider all the petty wars that are not fought. It is impossible to know how many would have died had I not taken the throne, or whether the great war would have been bloodier, or less bloody, had I not seen fit to act. But I did act. Thus, the Empire."

I set my hand on my blade, that I have cultivated for thirty years. "And when the people came to strike you down, you fled your judgement."

"You can hardly call that band of ruffians 'the people'. Did you not see how they mourned me? They would not have deified me after my fall, if they had hated me, like you do. And besides - what good would judgement do?"

Bellos gestured to the frozen town. "Here, I am harming nobody. I have not used magic in thirty years - until now, thanks to you. I have not taken up arms, even against burglars. The people here trust me. I watch their children, and teach them.

"When I am not painting, I mix medicines, and take care of the ill. The plague twenty years hence slew only one man here, and I mourned him as much as everyone else did. All others survived, because I remembered an old potion my teacher taught me how to brew. And I sent word to my local magistrate that physicians should be taught to use it, and the magistrate sent it to the local prefecture, and the prefecture wrote it into law. And so we survived the next plague.

"What would be gained by punishing me for the crime of forging such an empire? What would be gained by striking me down, when I do not intend to hurt a soul?"

"Do you expect me to believe that? Believe that you wouldn't hurt anyone ever again? Believe the word of an immortal? You have a thousand years to change your mind, and then we're back to where we started. Better to strike you down now, and end this."

"What is the point?" He looked pained. "Killing me won't bring anyone back. I've tried resurrections before, and it's strictly two or more sacrificed trying to bring back the dead, killing one man wouldn't be enough. Do you want to set an example? To who? There is nobody on this earth who holds the power I held. Certainly there is nobody who would believe you for a righteous avenger and not a maddened, traumatised, murderous vagrant. And even if you could somehow make this truth appear to the world, nobody who walked my path would be deterred. I know this because I walked the path, and I know all too well how much such a conqueror can dismiss all doubts, ignore all risks and the inevitability of the fall. It was only twenty years after I fled my post that I realised how great the risk of my own death would be, had I retained the crown. I left because I was bored! No precedent would have kept me from the throne, and only unshakable dissatisfaction or a stronger foe could remove me.

"Besides, what would be the trade, to an aspirant? A century, two, of ruling like a god? The final days wouldn't be pleasant, but such a man would have already well outlived the time allotted him. They would find it a fair trade.

"So, you see, there is no real reason for you to strike me down, here. You would not reduce the risk of a tyrant like myself from rising again. I will teach no students the arts I learned. And if I were to die - how would that help? I would bind myself to an oath, if asked. In fact, I left a rather comprehensive one in the Book of Contemplation, and thirty years of discussion will have dealt with the holes. Any that remain can be patched, there's a clause for it. So demand I take the oath of my own design. It would keep me from harming others, from seeking power, from working for my own gain, from seeking to outwit the oath, from causing destruction, directly or indirectly, for any reason, with any justification, save the prevention of greater destruction, and even then only if no alternatives appear. And if my knowledge was needed, it could be used for whatever great goods are conceived.

"But, of course, that's not why you're here. You don't want to make this world better. You just want to satisfy yourself, to quell the urge of revenge, an old, fleshy thing, to keep the law in a lawless earth before kings proclaimed their kingdoms. You just want me to die."

"Yes."

I strike.

The most ancient blade of the House of Kandemark, wielded by hero after hero in service to the realm, until it ended in the hands of Archon Silverthorn and then myself, dissolves into ash. The hilt flies from my hands and lands, with the softest of noise, into the palm of Bellos. The dust of its blade collects there, and forms again, the sword renewed to its highest glory in an instant. He contemplates it, almost with contempt. Then he speaks, quietly, and I see the runes bind it, its edge shimmering.

"...I expected more of you," he says. "Please, give this blade back to Peregrine. It belongs to him, as the heir to Kandemark - you'll find the records, if you look. It does not need to kill. It is significant enough without that."

I howl in wordless rage. But it is nothing. The great viridian fire of my magic is gone. I cannot draw it forth. I remember how the power filled me, lent me a totality. But there is nothing now. It is there, but I cannot reach it.

"So presumptuous. You heroes always are. If you see me as deserving of death, merely for having the risk of rising to conquer the earth, then there is nothing you can do, for only those with a greater risk of doing so would be able to defeat me. So unless you wish to follow my path, and seek the throne of the earth, I suggest you walk to the city, and become a potter. I have much respect for potters. They do more good than a warrior can."

When you were a child, a mercenary made you watch as he killed your entire family in front of you. You swore revenge. Decades later, you've finally tracked them down- …only to find they're now a pacifistic geriatric who's beloved by his community.

[a1ecmcdowell]

coincidence — rafe cameron x pogue!reader!

part of the short n' sweet x obx collection, found here!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, pogue!reader. cheating. sad!rafe :(. i promise i love sofia.

❛ what a surprise - your phone died, and your car drove itself from l.a. to between her thighs! ❜

you and rafe were a bit tumultuous. he loved you in private, and he loved you so much that it sometimes ached, like the sweetest form of violence. 

but in public, he could never manage to switch off the part of his brain that rejected every pogue he came across like he did when you two were alone. it was like he was more concerned about what his friends thought of him and his relationship than he did about your feelings. 

he was pulling back. you could see the signs of it in the ways he started having excuses to keep you from coming over, how his hand would subtly slip from yours when you were out together. 

and you couldn’t just pick apart his brain and fix whatever the problem was, because he didn’t talk to you enough anymore to let you in. 

you didn’t know if you were even still together, but he wouldn’t just ghost you a year into your relationship. he couldn’t. 

you’d decided the night before that you were just going to show up and demand an answer from him. it would probably be a fight, you knew; but what could hurt more than being with someone that didn’t want you any longer? 

that next morning was cloudy gray and speckled with misty raindrops. it didn’t feel like a very good omen about what was coming, but it didn’t slow your footsteps up his porch.

your hand raises to knock on the door at the same moment that it pulls open, and out stumbles — a girl. short brown hair, pretty glossed lips, wearing nothing but a pink bikini top and denim shorts. 

and behind the open door, strong hand wrapped around the edge of it, is rafe. smiling at her like he hadn’t smiled at you in weeks. 

the smile falls the moment his eyes lift to you, and the girl apologizes as she dodges running into you, and it all feels like a big fucking slap in the face. 

he’d been the best part of your life for so long. this hope that you could be more than the cut. and all of this time, he was waiting for the moment that he could dump you back off on your side of outer banks.

“why didn’t you call?” he asks, like that’s the first thing anyone should say when they’re caught cheating. 

you can’t tell if you’re more angry or hurt. both emotions feel like a hot, heavy weight sat right on your sternum. “you don’t answer anymore.” 

“because i’m busy.” 

there’s no remorse in his eyes. actually, you can’t even tell if there is, because he’s looking away from you like he’s already cut you from the picture of his life. 

“what, screwing other girls?” you snap, your voice biting and raw. 

his jaw flexes, tongue pressing into his cheek. “it’s complicated.” 

“i don’t think it is, rafe.” you shake your head, your lips pressed into a tight line. “you were cheating, and you’re mad you’re caught.” 

“oh, you think it’s that simple, huh?” he takes a step closer, his frame taking up the entirety of the doorway. “y’think overnight i just started thinking about wanting to fuck someone else?” 

you falter. no, he’s not going to get away with flipping this on its head and blaming you. making you apologize. 

“you can’t just blame me because you don’t want to take responsibility—” 

his fist slams against the wooden doorframe, and you flinch, because this really was going to be as volatile as you thought. you’d hoped that you were wrong, but you were right, and he was angry that you weren’t just some stupid little pogue he could manipulate. 

“i am taking responsibility. yeah, i fucked sofia,” he seethes through his clenched teeth, “yeah, i’ve been sneakin’ around, what the fuck else do you want to hear?” 

your arms wrap around your chest, and you have to resist the urge to stumble backwards. sofia, sofia, sofia. it plays in your head on a loop, the girl he deemed worth ruining what you had for. 

“why?” is all that you can manage to say. 

his eyes finally drop down to look at you. they’re so blue in the dawning sunrise that you wish, wish, things were different right now, so you could smooth the creases in the corners of his eyes. “m’not good for you.” 

“bullshit.” you spit it out before he’d even finished speaking. “if i thought that, i wouldn’t have stuck around as long as i have. i wouldn’t be sticking around now.” 

“you shouldn’t,” he says just as violently serious as the last, “i’m— i’m trying to push you away, sweetheart—” 

sweetheart. 

it shouldn’t affect you like it does, after how he’d just hurt you like this. but it does, of course it does, because you loved him like the sun loved the moon, and even when he was trying to break this, you’d always be in his orbit. 

“you can’t,” your voice is small as it leaves your lips, but your words aren’t, “i’m not goin’ anywhere. this is one good thing you can’t ruin. not on my watch.” 

he stares at you with that intense blue gaze of his for a long minute. the seconds tick by like hours while you wait for him to say anything. 

and he doesn’t — not with his words, anyway. his arms move from the doorway and encircle your waist, tugging you into a tight embrace. 

you’d known about how much he struggled with wanting acceptance, craving validation that he never got. you’d never expected him to be so used to rejection that he tried to cause it himself, just to be in that familiar place again. 

“m’sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the crown of your head and leaving them there. “don’t deserve you. i don’t.” 

“you will, and you do,” you push, your fingers curling tightly against his spine. “when you go wash her perfume off of you.” 

his laugh cracks, but it’s a laugh, so you feel better about this. about him. about where he’s at in his head. “of course.” 

“and delete her number.” 

his hands raise to your face, framing it between his large palms. “already did it, baby. but you’re real cute when you’re jealous.”

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

Soooooo I did a thing, even after the post I madddeeee. It's not much, but it's a start!! Also, this is a scenario I think about very, very often, tbh, so writing it out seemed like a fun idea. I hope you like it!!

Word Count: 285

TW for Consensual choking and NSFW content!!

~*~

"M-Mammon-" Whatever was about to be said is cut off with a moan.

Mammon groans, his head buried in the crook of MC's neck, one hand on their hip and the other higher up on their side.

"Mamms." MC breathes out, reaching for one of the demon's hands and dragging it upward until it's right at their neck.

The avatar of greed doesn't need any further instruction. He immediately wraps his fingers around the human's neck, squeezing lightly, a low growl slipping past his lips as he does.

MC gasps and digs their fingers further into his hair, holding onto him tighter.

The only sounds in the room are the sounds they both make for each other and the sounds of slick bodies sliding together. They're in the middle of the HOL common area and everyone else could be home any minute, but none of that is either of their concern right now.

All Mammon can think about is how good he's making his human feel, how good they feel around him as he slowly pushes them closer and closer to their peak. He'll keep filling them up and bringing them to the height of pleasure over and over again until he's had enough. He doesn't know if he'll ever have enough.

All MC can think about is the way this demon of theirs fills them up so well, moving so slowly it's almost torture and yet they'd never ask him to speed up, not anytime soon. A slow, heat-filled stretch that happens over and over again. Like the sweetest of slow burns. They can do nothing but continue to cling to him and allow him to give them exactly what they need from him.

[bipolarandbisexual]

Midnight Visits -Smut-

She makes her way down the hallway from her bedroom to her kitchen. It's dark, except for the little nightlight in the hallway, and the one in the kitchen. It's close to 2:30 in the morning, so she's in her pajamas: a too big t-shirt and little pajama shorts with little fruits on them. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and frizzy from restless sleep, making a messy halo around her tired face. She's wearing her glasses, but still squinting in the very dim lighting. Her curtains in her living room do a great job at blocking out the city lights.

She gets to the kitchen, and turns on the light above her sink. She turns to get her favorite mug from its place on the shelf above her electric teapot, only to see Logan, standing frozen near her little table tucked away in her little corner window. She's about to scream, but Logan darts across the kitchen to cover her mouth and pull her against his broad body. She tries to speak, but Logan can’t understand what she’s saying, as his large hand is still over her mouth. He shushes her, and mumbles quietly in her ear. “Hush, darlin’, it’s just me.”

She huffs, and wraps her hand around his wrist, and pulls, so his hand comes away from her mouth. She backs up, flinching a little when her back hits her counter. Logan can’t stop looking her up and down, his eyes lingering on her little shorts. But, she isn’t happy, glaring at him until he realizes. “What the hell, Logan? It’s two in the morning, you can’t just break into my apartment!” Logan shrugs, walking forward to press her up against the counter, hands falling to her hips, before quickly moving under her shirt to caress her soft skin, creeping up to her breasts. She’s trying to be annoyed with him, but it's hard when he’s mouthing at her neck, and one of his big hands is sneaking into her shorts, where he finds her bare and wet already. 

“Wet already, baby? This why you couldn’t sleep?” Logan chuckles, swiping two thick fingers through her wet folds, and pinching her clit harshly to feel her hips jerk. She pouts, but whatever retort she has coming is cut off by her soft moan, as her head falls back, exposing more of her neck to Logan. He quickly takes advantage, kissing up and down her throat, nipping harshly to match with his rough pinches to her clit. He doesn’t care about marking her up, he loves to see her all marked up. Logan’s hand slips from her shorts, as he wraps an arm around her waist to lift her up onto her counter, the other hand yanking her sleep shorts off and tossing them somewhere behind him into the kitchen. It’ll be a later problem, because right now, all he can think about is her. He’s kissing at her throat again as he works to get his belt unbuckled and off, his pants and boxers getting shoved around his ankles, too eager to have her he can’t even be bothered to take his clothes off properly. Logan toys with her for a moment, tapping the tip of his leaking cock against her clit, grinning when she whines, her hands tangling in his hair and pulling, urging him on. He obliges, pressing his tip against her entrance, going slowly so he doesn’t hurt her as he slowly pushes in. He groans, his head dropping forward to be nuzzled against her neck, as she buries her face against him, moaning softly. She’s so warm and tight around him, he wants to move so badly, but he waits until she starts wiggling her hips, signaling she’s ready for him to start moving. Logan is rough but slow, each thrust hitting that spot inside her hard, but he’s gently cradling her in his arms as he wrecks her on her kitchen counter. It’s not the first time, and most definitely won’t be the last. It doesn’t take long before she’s whimpering and clamping around him, eyes closing as she pulls him close, her orgasm hitting her hard. Logan follows right behind her, pulling out to cum over her thighs. She’s dazed, but Logan bends down to clean her up with his tongue, before grabbing a washcloth to clean up her thighs. He finds her shorts, after fixing his own pants, and slips them back on her with ease. She just lays against his body, enjoying his warmth, but making a noise of protest when he picks her up off the counter. “Shhh, sweetheart. I’m taking you back to bed.” Logan does just that, he carries her back down the hallway, past the little nightlight, and into her bedroom. It feels like her, a big bed, lots of pillows, and the room is full of her favorite things. He gently lays her down onto her bed, pulling at the covers until he can get her covered up. Logan grabs her stuffed animal laying on the bed and tucks it into her arms. But, before he leaves, he gives her one last kiss, a gentle one to her forehead. "Good night, darling." When she wakes, sun shining into her room, she’s not sure if last night was even real, or it’s something her mind made up in her sleep, not until she gets to the bathroom, and sees her neck in the mirror. She’s covered in bite marks and hickeys. She gently touches one that sits right over her jugular, wondering how Logan got in. She always locks her doors. Oh well. She’s not going to complain about his midnight visits.

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

I have a request honestly I like your writing style so I was wondering how would papyrus,edge,cash,mutt,stretch reacts to the reader asking for a kiss

@sharkie-ds your request is my pleasure >;)

I'm assuming it's not their first time kissing, also, I added Rus and Coffee too, hope you don't mind!

Featuring: Papyrus, Edge, Honey, Cash, Rus Mutt and Coffee.

Masterlist

Papyrus

Oh my, you want a kiss from the great Papyrus?? He's flattered!

Grabs you up and gives kiss after kiss, making a "muah!" Sound every time he starts another kiss.

He doesn't like being still, even in bed, so, if you want more, he gives you some smooches in between what he's doing,

Edge

Of course you'd want a kiss of the great and terrible Edge!

Bends down, gives you a slow and long kiss, being careful because of his sharp fangs, and goes back to whatever he was doing.

However, if you want some more smooches... Then you're not getting out of this place until he decides to stop.

Honey

A lazy smile appears on his face as he looks at you.

Wraps his arms around you and gives you a slow kiss followed by smooches.

Well, looks like now he's the one who wants more... And who are you to deny?

Cash

Oh? A kiss you say?

This dirt bag will tease you a LOT until he finally gives you a kiss, and knowing him, he's only going to give you a very quick smooch and laugh when you ask for a proper kiss.

Though when the night arrives he's kissing you until he can't breathe anymore, oh wait he doesn't have lungs- Guess he'll just have to continue the kisses.

Rus

Another fucker who teases.

But unlike Cash he doesn't wait to kiss you, oh no no no, he teases you yet he's spreading kisses all over your face.

He doesn't even care if Rasp or anyone is near, he now wants his (not so) well deserved smooches.

Mutt

You don't need to ask twice, he's already kissing you passionately, hands on your waist and sited on his lap.

He's touch-starved, so this moment may turn into a cuddle + smooch session on the couch.

If Mal doesn't call you, then enjoy his cuddles, because you're going to be there for quite some time.

Coffee

Blushes like crazy, especially if his brother is near, even after years of dating a simple kiss still makes him flustered.

But Coffee likes the feeling of your lips pressed against his, so despite his shyness he bends down and gives you a pretty quick kiss.

If you want a smooth session, he'll happily give it to you! On the comfort of your shared room of course.

[mister-mykal]

9-1-1 8x06 Thoughts on the Buck, Eddie, and Tommy of it all

Okay I have like almost no followers, which makes sense because I usually only normally lurk here. I'm also sure none of my followers are into 9-1-1 here, but I just need to scream into the void on the off chance someone sees this. None of my friends watch this show so I really just hope even just one person reads this and makes me feel a little less foolish because a lot of the discourse here is so "us vs them" and black-and-white. This is gonna be obnoxiously long, so I don't expect anyone to read all this, if any of it, but I'll put a TL;DR at the end. I will not be bashing Tommy or Eddie in this post! Also I'm typing while it's late for me and my ADHD makes me a horrible proofreader, so sorry for typos and the such.

I hate fandom drama, I cannot care less about whatever beef bucktommy stans and buddie stans have I've been trying to mostly ignore it. I'm just upset if this ends up being sloppy writing on the 9-1-1 team's part. I'm gonna try to be nuanced about how I felt about 8x06 because I feel like there is a way to do this and not completely screw the writing for either Tommy or Eddie.

Tommy does not have to be endgame, that is fine. I think Eddie is definitely more popular with the fans and plenty of people love a good slow burn. Their chemistry is also undeniable. But plenty of people enjoy Tommy too, despite his cavalcade of haters. And to have thrown away what seemed like a character arc in the making for him seems like a waste if this is the last we see of him? I hear he's going to be in at least one more episode, so I hope they do that justice. I don't need them back together, I just need this to make better sense.

I know people really hate Lou and Tommy, but I'm pretty neutral about him. (Idk how true the very little things I've see about Lou is because I keep hearing he's homophobic, misogynistic, racist, etc. but I have not be able to find any receipts. If it is true, that sucks and I get why they would try to write someone like that out of the show. However, just I'm gonna focus on it from purely a story perspective right now.) I enjoy seeing Buck happy after all the shit he's gone through in his past relationships. I was cautiously optimistic from the interviews that said he was finally "getting of the hamster wheel". But yet again, Buck loves with his whole heart and has his hopes dashed. It would have been one thing if Buck was the one who ended things, but really? This again? He doesn't need his heart broken AGAIN. I don't care who Buck ends up with, I just want him to be happy and secure with whatever partner he chooses.

Why bring back a previously established character who has some growing to do and then throw them away again? Boooo, if they wanted Buck and Eddie's queer awakening arcs to happen separately, and weren't interested in expanding Tommy's character, they should have just set up Buck with random throwaway guy. Otherwise it's just drama for the sake of drama instead of something that's in greater service to the narrative or character writing. Tommy becoming Eddie's friend first especially feels too intentional. Tommy already having established relationships with Hen, Chim, and Bobby feels too intentional.

Tommy's insecure feelings over Buck eventually choosing someone else, likely Eddie, over him is incredibly real and make sense. He's never felt like he's had a place to belong in general. He's jealous of the 118, he's jealous and threatened by Eddie's relationship with Buck. Honestly, I also wouldn't be surprised if Eddie was the one who caught his eye at first because it's not that hard to clock Eddie if we're being honest. It's pretty clear Tommy was baffled that Buck was fighting to get his attention over Eddie's. Why set up this arc and end it before it's even started? If there's a ever a starting point for Tommy to grow, it's right here and now. Otherwise it makes no sense.

At the same time, Eddie's character writing makes ZERO sense if he isn't a deeply closeted gay man (or at least asexual, but that's unlikely, especially with the way they've been positioning Buck and Eddie for the longest, and especially the way they position Eddie and the Hot That whole interaction with the hot priest and the mustache, beard, fruit juice, plenty of metaphor we all picked up on that. Never has an actual straight character said "no offense, I'm straight" like that within the context of the surrounding narrative. Like come on? Denying yourself FRUIT JUICE? Denying yourself joy?? which gay used to be a synonym for? Girl, please. And even with Josh's speech a bit? I think it's obvious enough that it could also be extended to Eddie, even though he's closer to Buck's age. Growing up Catholic is pretty rough for queer people.

On top of the fact that there are plenty of other hints while he did/does have love for Shannon, it was almost always in the context of that she is the mother of his child. He literally had a panic attack over someone mistaking Ana for his wife, and over their relationship starting to get serious. Ana is a lovely lady that most men that are attracted to women would be happy to have... so what's the issue, really? And then he only thinks about staying with her simply because she could be the new mother to his child. Be so for real.

And Eddie honestly has been pretty awful to the women he has dated, and you can either choose to read that as him being a chauvinistic, exploitative pig (doesn't really align with the rest of his character), or someone deeply in the closet who doesn't really want to be with a woman. (yeah, that's sounds more accurate.)

We can reconcile all of this though. Buck more than likely has romantic feelings for Eddie, I think it'd be silly to think otherwise, but even though Buck has figured out who he is, it doesn't mean Eddie has yet. He's made progress, but he has at least a little ways to go left. As far as Buck knows, Eddie is straight in this moment. He's never hesitated to write him off as his "best friend", while Eddie... well, he'll realize he's in love with Buck soon enough.

Still, I feel like it's a bit disingenuous to say that Buck doesn't care about Tommy at all, he is clearly hurt by the break up. At the very least, even if they don't get back together at all, they need to talk this out like adults and have Tommy explain himself better, because it's obvious Tommy has walls from from past experiences. Doesn't make it okay that he did Buck like that, but no one on this show has been perfect so... 🙄 At the very least we should get that one episode from that "See you around, Buck" (Ouch, Tommy. Though I feel like that was more so Tommy distancing himself to Buck to protect himself more than to hurt Buck.) Though just as easily, we might only ever see him here and there again on calls that require air support so who knows. 🤷🏾

There were some pretty obvious parallels set up between Abby and Tommy this episode. Abby and Tommy were both firsts for Buck, they're both around the same, older age. Both of them are experienced and life and deeply lonely, so how could they possibly turn away someone who has as much love to give as Buck does? Both of them are, seemingly, just stepping stones on Buck's way to self discovery. Buck even says it himself, he calls their relationships "transformative", but obviously because the experiences Tommy has had as an older queer man, he's probably not a stranger to beings someone's flyover until they get to their actual destination. I understand why he would want to protect himself like that.

Even if that's the case, I don't think Buck would want to leave things like this. I know in one of the interviews Oliver says Buck is be heavily considering if he wants to fight for this or not, but at the very least I hope they've shown his growth and showcase his emotional intelligence by calling out Tommy that it's not fair to him to sorta decide how he feels, even if it is Buck's first relationship with a man.

It's far from Buck's first relationship and idk, it feels a little icky to tell the bi person to go fool around a be a slut when he's said that he's tired of sleeping around and wants to settle down. That can just be a character flaw with Tommy (I've met plenty of biphobic monosexual queer people), but at the very least can't Buck call him out on it? Let them have a more mature, complete conversation and let Tommy say the quiet part aloud. At the very least, I get Tommy's intention, he doesn't want Buck to have any regrets, but I don't think he knows just how much he's hurt him and how many times he's been through the situation.

Something really upsetting, even though Tommy has had his problems and hasn't been the greatest person, really sad about any closeted queer person who's been nasty, but much of it came from circumstance, not getting a chance to grow after they literally set that up with the script. Well, you do you I guess. At the very least if Tommy is nothing more than a plot device, couldn't you have let Buck come to conclusion they should break up and give him even an ounce of power in his romantic pursuits for once? Instead of the one loving too hard and too fast and hurting from it? The interview where (I don't remember who exactly) said we wont be seeing much more of Tommy, if at all really annoys me because if this is it? Ugh. That break up didn't feel conclusive at at all.

TL;DR: Wasting a previously established character as a plot device after setting up what seemed like some sort of character arc for him even if he wasn't Buck's endgame seems like really sloppy writing if you decide to discard him back into the obscurity for the rest of the series. It feels like a cheap way to add extra drama and the implications and situations you could create from at least dragging this out a little bit more could create a more satisfying resolution to this at the very least. Why retread old ground again when you said that you wouldn't and waste all the potential you were setting this up with this scenario? It still seems unresolved, so hopefully this tie this up, regardless of who Buck ends with in the end (because the focus really should be on Buck finally getting the love and care that he deserves in a romantic relationship, or at least getting to end one amicably.)

Anyway tear me apart, ignore me, whatever. IDC anymore.

[nyankochan]

Kissing You💋

Content: Fairy Tail Men x gn!reader and how they like to kiss you, fluff, mentions of sex in Sting’s part

A/n: this was in my drafts lol

Lazy Kisses

Some of your favorite kisses from Rogue are those first thing in the morning ones that he gives while he’s still somewhat drowsy. He’s so pliant and gentle when he kisses you in general, but first thing in the morning he’s like a big teddy bear.

Usually, if he wakes before you due to the rising sun peeking through the curtains, Rogue will usually stir, and feel around the bed to make sure you’re close. You usually are already pressed against his chest, but if you happen to have moved during the night, you’ll either roll back over or Rogue pulls you to him. He’s especially clinging in the morning.

He’ll press fluttering kisses against your jaw and cheek on the search for your lips. You’ll nuzzle up against his neck, your legs intertwining with his and the messy sheets. Rogue drapes his arm around your waist and inhales your scent continently. If you guys don’t have a job to take, you’ll fall back asleep for a while before getting up to start the day

“5 more minutes. I wanna hold you longer.”

Passionate Kisses

Sting is very passionate when he kisses you. He can be quite impatient at times, but overall is very gentle. Especially after you two have sex. You both will be hot and sweaty, tangled in each others arms and he’ll kiss your lips long and slow, savoring your taste.

He loves your body and finds any part of you attractive. He’ll kiss your neck. Your shoulder. Your chest. Don’t be surprised if he leaves little bite marks along the way. Sting does it honestly to just memorize the way you feel in his arms.

If you’re not going another round, he’ll just slowly make out with you, his touch intense yet sweet as he mumbles how much he loves you against your lips.

“You’re so sweet. I want to taste you more.”

Heated Kisses

Kissing Natsu is always exciting. He’ll find any reason to kiss you. In fact, he really doesn’t need a reason. He just likes PDA, and will kiss you out the blue even if it’s embarrassing. Natsu though, can get really heated and passionate with his kisses, especially if he hasn’t seen you in a while.

If you or him are separated for a while due to work, expect him to be all over you when you reunite. He grabs on to your chin, pulling you close as he groans into your mouth when your lips meet. Your hands find the front of his clothes, having to hold on to them tightly because Natsu will quite literally leave you breathless.

Natsu’s the type to never want to let you go. He always kisses you as if it’s his last time, so they’re always filled with such love and emotion. Sometimes, you have to remind him that you need to breathe.

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

Breathless Kisses

Gajeel definitely likes to tease you. He’ll pull away just out of reach so that you can’t reach his lips to kiss him if you’re shorter than him or turn his face at the last second to mess with you. He likes to catch you by surprise, kissing you when you least expect it.

When he does kiss you, he’s fast, rough but still sweet. His kisses don’t tend to last long. Instead, he pecks your lips multiple times, leaving you breathless and flustered. In between kisses he grins, and you realize he’s messing with you again which makes you laugh.

He can be passionate when he wants to, pulling you in by your waist and capturing your lips gently. Either way, he always manages to leave you breathless and gasping for more.

“You really take my breath away. You know that?”

Comforting Kisses

Gray has been through a lot and often leans on you for support when he has his tough days. You can usually tell when he gets in his head as he’s more moody. Even if words aren’t exchanged your comforting touch and gentle kiss against his lips soothe the aching feeling of guilt in his heart.

The same goes for you when you’re having a bad day for whatever reason. If you’re crying, he kisses away your tears, all while whispering soft reassurances in your ear. He’ll take your hands into his, caressing your knuckles with his thumb before too giving them a gentle kiss.

The sweet and sensual feeling of kissing Gray is always endearing. You very much complete him and he does not hesitate to let you know how much he values you. Through the good and the bad, his love is always comforting.

“Everything is going to be all right. I’m here.”

[a-memory-a-distant-echo]

ok, you know what, fuck it, fic recs post. historically i try not to rec works in progress or things i haven't commented on and i'm throwing that fully out the window for this because honestly, fucking whatever.

if you're on this list and i haven't been fully unhinged at you in the comments, please know that it's because (1) i'm the worst and (2) i'm trying desperately to calibrate so i hit 'enthusiastic' and not 'kind of frightening, actually'. i swear that i have written at least several sentences of a comment for every fic on this list, it's just that i'm genuinely impossibly slow, sometimes. it's me, not you.

my previous rec post is here, in case you missed that. as a bonus, special for this rec list and as a concession to the horrors, i am attempting to guess how much any given fic will fuck up the average person. obviously this is a ymmv kind of situation, but i'm trying, at least?

everything else under a cut because i am longwinded.

and found by @dangerouscommiesubversive, explicit, every possible combination of di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua | li xiangyi; bless, but i am not typing all that out. starting off with a wip where i haven't left a comment in like four fuckin' chapters, breaking those rules real good. this fic is a fucking ride. i will admit that i wasn't entirely convinced by the premise when i saw the blurb, but i am nothing if not willing to admit when i was wrong, and i was—once again—totally wrong. this is the fic where i was like 'ok but…is anyone really, like, desperate for gen z li xiangyi?' and then i read it and i was like 'ohhhhhh fuck yeah, ok, i get it, i was actually fully desperate for gen z li xiangyi.' he is. such a little prick. i love him. there has been something unexpected and delightful in every single chapter of this so far, plus a number of impressively memorable one-liners. this fic is fun and distracting and at least as of chapter seven, i'm gonna say it's not even gonna fuck you up. (please note that this is only through chapter seven!)

and the days are bright red by @junemermaid, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. rip to my beloved tumblr mutual @junemermaid, because they're getting called out twice in this list, but: tough. this fic is so delightful. featuring: memories of slut era li lianhua, the mortifying ordeal of being known, an entire box of historically accurate sex toys, fang duobing and di feisheng communicating (sometimes silently) in a way that unsettles li lianhua (back from his months-long sojourn), some very hot sex that is both very much about sex and also about trust and being perceived, casual intimacy, and fledgling tenderness. there are Emotions in this, and they get moderately intense, but it's a very kind and surprisingly gentle feel-good fic.

a drink under a clear window by @momosandlemonsoda, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing and fang duobing/qiao wanmian. a fic that tackles the dreaded v-shaped polycule and makes it work. it seems like perhaps it shouldn't: fang duobing as the hinge, with di feisheng and qiao wanmian on either side, but actually it works perfectly, and is a lovely little glimpse at who they could become and the relationships they could have. i love the thought of qiao wanmian having come into her own as a leader in her own right, as more than just the representative of the ghost of li xiangyi, and this does a wonderful job of letting her be her own person. also, yes, ok, passing fang duobing back and forth like a party favour. this is a post-canon fic in which li lianhua is dead, but the fic itself a straightforward delight that is not at all fucky uppy.

the floating clouds, no resting place, again by @junemermaid (not sorry), technically gen and no ship, but functionally pre-di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. the hair-washing fic. ohhhhhh. i started jotting notes for this post the day that i finished this fic, and i really thought that they were in any way comprehensive, but instead, what i typed and left as a note to myself was this:

and honestly. you're right, hypothetical reader, that doesn't totally make sense, but i stand by it regardless, because i apparently had that thought in [checks date i last saved the file] fucking august, and i'm still nodding along with myself. that is that this is like. this fic is very beautiful and will make you ache and will leave you slightly better at the end of it than you were at the beginning. it may also make you cry; this seems to me a fair enough trade.

the floating lotus by @anndramarama, not rated, di feisheng/li xiangyi. pre-canon stuff doesn't always work super well for me, but i really enjoyed this one, featuring di feisheng and li xiangyi when they're both so young and arrogant and full of themselves—and stupid and naïve and young and almost hopeful in a way that they're often not, in fic, for all that they were barely but children at the point of the donghai fight. they just seem…vulnerable, i guess, in this, in a way that i find touching. seasonal bonus: a ghost story, of a sort. given that this is set pre-canon, i think it's hard to come in any softer than bittersweet, which this very much is.

from here one's hand could pluck the stars by @howlingmoonrise, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing. sex pollen fic! also featuring, a little surprisingly, given the premise, incredibly explicit and enthusiastic consent. look, this does what it says on the tin. di feisheng gets sex pollened. fang duobing is left to stay with him. the obvious ensues. unfortunately, it is also devastatingly charming? fang duobing is earnest and sweet; di feisheng is suffering beautifully terribly and trying so hard not to impose on fang duobing. they're both trying so hard to be respectful of what the other person needs, but they're also still bratty and argumentative and exasperated/exasperating, and it's very entertaining. this will fuck you up none percent, and may even make you laugh.

my war is done by @orchisailsa, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. another wip, with the first of three chapters posted, but please understand that this chapter is nearly 15k and so fucking good and compelling. li lianhua lives! and returns to find that things have changed in his absence, and perhaps that he has also changed in his absence, and now wants things that he had told himself he didn't mind not even having to lose. bonus: road trip and—delight!—only one room at the inn. also some other stuff that i'm not spoiling, but that made me absolutely gleeful. this is definitely a work in progress, and while i don't think there's anything particularly upsetting in the chapter, it does end on something of a cliffhanger. i personally do not feel that this is an upsetting cliffhanger, given the information about the fic that's presented in the tags, but it is technically a cliffhanger.

awkward paragraph break, but it's also important, i think, to mention the absolutely stunning (and not at all safe for work) companion piece to my war is done, you'd be there calling my name, by saki the cup bearer, who i don't think is on tumblr. it's fucking incredible; i am very decidedly not an artist but i cannot begin to imagine how much effort went into this. just. holy shit.

not unlike him in shape and form by @philologicalbat, explicit, fang duobing/li lianhua. ok look. i fucking love when things are deeply emotionally messy, and this is so emotionally messy. li lianhua who's been attracted to fang duobing and not doing anything about it, then discovering that fang duobing is shan gudao's son and is very much going to do something about it. he wants in this, and he's cunty and manipulative and mean about it, and sometimes also almost sweet, almost tender, and i love that, because i feel like li lianhua is very often an object of desire and very rarely gets to desire. i love how human he gets to be in this fic. this is not a sweet or gentle fic, but it does end in a moderately tender place that is tentatively hopeful, i think.

unbecoming heir by @bettercostume, explicit, di feisheng/princess zhaoling. i am taking your hand in mine and begging you to trust me. i know what this fic looks like. it's noncon and a weird pairing and you might look at it and expect it to go in the obvious direction and: it does not. this fic is so good that it makes me angry. it makes me miserable and everyone in this fic is trying so miserably, miserably hard, and it's fucking devastating. i spent literally thirty minutes earlier today yelling at my wife about it. i cannot rec this fic strongly enough. this is not a happy fic, but it is a good fic. it will absolutely fuck you up. this is very complimentary but also you will be fucked up.

until you are its primary evidence by @ilgaksu, mature, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. the single most effective use of what is effectively a prologue that i've ever seen in fic, are you kidding me. this fic is nothing at all like what i expected it to be, and is something far better than what i could have imagined. it's fang duobing's point of view, which is a rarity already, and it's so well done, and it allows him so much humanity and so much anger and grace alike. there are so many tricky things about this fic—the prologue, the fact that it's set in the amnesia arc, fang duobing's pov, the fact that it actually addresses canonical disabilities and illnesses without being fucking weird about it, the tension between the three of them—and it's all balanced so well. this has some emotionally heavier moments but ends tentatively happily; tentative only because it's set during the amnesia arc, and, well. we know what comes next.

as a final note: if you wrote one of these fics and feel that i've wildly misinterpreted the emotional tenor of the ending, please message me in whatever way you prefer and i will correct it. i would not normally presume to guess how things are likely hit people, as i am in many ways not anyone's ideal reader, but today it seemed like it was kinder to at least try.

[bropunzeling]

53 Quinn/Brady?

holding the other's jaw

"It's not that bad."

"Hold still."

"Quinn. C'mon." Brady laughs, then winces. The cut on his chin, which had finally seemed like it would stop bleeding, opens up again.

Quinn swipes at it with the pad of his thumb, blotting the blood away. "I said, hold still."

"So demanding." Despite his complaining, Brady obligingly continues his slouch against the bathroom counter, letting Quinn tilt his face this way and that. Quinn has to stand between his legs in order to get close enough to see, but he doesn't have room to think about that compared to the cut still sluggishly dripping along Brady’s jaw, threatening his t-shirt.

"I'm not the one who got smacked in the face," Quinn says. He reaches past Brady for the Kleenex, running the faucet and getting it wet before carefully dragging it along Brady’s jaw. Brady hisses, then bites his lip. "Can't believe you let Lukey get you like that."

"He’s the one waving his stick around," Brady huffs. As Quinn dabs at his chin, he closes his eyes. Brady's eyelashes are so pale they're almost colorless, only visible from this close. His throat bobs as he lets Quinn tilt his face again.

The bleeding has slowed again, but Quinn keeps touching Brady, unwilling to pull his hand away Like this, Quinn can feel the flutter of his pulse under his fingers. It might be the most fragile thing about Brady.

"Okay," Quinn says, a few seconds later than he should.

"Yeah?" Brady’s eyes open. They really are very close together. The insides of Brady’s knees are pressed against Quinn's thighs. Despite how cold the bathroom is, Brady’s warm. "Think I'm gonna make it?"

Quinn swallows. He looks at Brady’s chin, scratched up, at Brady’s lips, red from his teeth tugging at them. "I don't know," he says. His voice is husky. "Could be touch and go."

Brady’s throat clicks. Quinn looks up. Brady’s looking at his face, expression open in a way that's unfamiliar. Like he wants something from Quinn, something newer than friendship. His heart races under Quinn's fingertips.

The screen door slams. Voices start yelling. Quinn jolts back, looking around. No one's found them yet, but maybe no one should. Not like this, close enough that they could be -- Quinn doesn't let himself think about it. "I, uh," he says, coughing. "I'll go see who won."

"Yeah." Brady’s voice rasps. When Quinn looks at him again, whatever that expression was, whatever it is he wanted -- Quinn can't figure it out anymore. "Report back."

"Yeah," Quinn mumbles, and bolts.

There's still a bit of Brady’s blood smeared on his thumb. It tastes metallic when he sucks it away.

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again- Part Two

Azriel x Rowaelin daughter reader

Summary: Y/n woke up in a strange foreign land surrounded by strangers that she couldn’t understand. Alone and desperate to get home.

Series Masterlist

-Part Two-

Y/n kept her dagger pointed at them. The two males and the small female didn’t seem to mind that fact, they seemed more concerned about the Wyrd mark on her brow.

“What is that,” the beautiful male with violet eyes asks, “how did it toss me out of your mind.”

She glares at him, “that was rude of you, trying to look into a ladies mind without her permission.”

She’d felt those talons at the edge of her mind, hitting that ice cold wall that had grabbed him and threw him out without hesitation. She’d felt his shock when that ancient power had flared, she’d felt his pain as it ripped into him just as viciously as he’d attacked her.

The corners of his lips tug, “my apologies, we’ve had bad experiences with random females falling into this world.”

She couldn’t hide the surprise. So she wasn’t the first they’d encountered. How many gates had been opened here? How many had been wrenched from their home worlds against their will. How did the gates get unlocked.

“I don’t take kindly to strangers messing with my head,” she says, memories of sitting in her mother’s office, learning of the valg queen who’d held her mother captive during the war, torturing and twisting her mind, the queen who had gone into her father’s head and convinced him another was his mate just to get her killed, “this mark is the mark of my blood, and protection against beings like you.”

Her mother had woven the protection into her skin the moment she was born, the mark upon her brow no longer just a warning of the price to be paid. The mark will continue to pass down through the bloodline, and it will protect them as it had protected her.

“Who are you?” She asks, “why did you bring me here?”

“My name is Rhysand,” the violet eyed male introduces, his casual stance not moving an inch, a preformance, she was well versed in those, “We didn’t bring you here, Azriel over here found you laying in the dirt.”

He gestures to the male with the dark bat like wings who’s scent had woken her. The scent was familiar, something she couldn’t quite place at first. She’d felt him draw close and that’s when she struck without hesitation. He fought well, countering each of her moves, not attacking, just blocking. When she’d pulled away and truly looked him over, saw those shadows that reminded her of her uncles’, she had recognized that he smelled like the libraries of Orynth. It’d shocked her enough to let the grip on the air go, and when he’d sighed in relief she’d unconsciously warned the air even more. It was strange, very very strange, that reaction to his pain. Her father would bite her head off for the slip.

“There was no one else with me?” She asked the male, Azriel.

He merely shook his head, “just you.”

The small female who’d yet to introduce herself steps forward, “who would’ve been with you?”

Y/n eyes the female warily, she looked like a normal fae, but something told her that this female was more than she seemed, “I was sparring with my father when the gate opened, a force I couldn’t see pulled me down, my head smacked the ground and then I was waking up here. Whatever it was seemed to have just wanted me.”

She could hear her fathers yell as she was pulled away, she remembers the flash of light as he shifted and then everything went black.

“The Wyrd gates have been sealed for 25 years,” Y/n continues, “it shouldn’t have been possible.”

Her mother had almost given her life to lock those gates, she’d given almost everything she was to do it.

“Wyrd gate?” Rhysand asks, shakily testing out the word, it existed in their language, given the way she was able to say it with ease, but obviously it hadn’t been used in a very very long time.

“A gate between worlds,” the small female answers, “gates opened with marks like that.”

She gestures to the mark still faintly glowing on Y/n’s brow.

“Nameless,” the female slowly reads, “you’ve got quite a long name to have nameless stamped on you, girl.”

“Amren play nice,” Rhysand chides halfheartedly.

“Wyrd marks are used for many things,” Y/n says, “it’s the language of worlds, like I said, this one is the mark of my bloodline, passed on from my mother.”

Ever the silent figure, Azriel simply watches, his eyes not missing any details. It’s almost enough to make her squirm, but instead she holds his gaze, refusing to back down even an inch. He’s unfairly beautiful, dark hair curling slightly at the ends, his face unreadable, his eyes the shade of whisky in fire light. Several inches taller than her, she’d have to crane her head back to look him in the eye standing next to him. A warrior, built with lethal muscles that she could see beneath his black shirt, large yet he moved with speed, like one of those wisps of shadows at his shoulders. And those wings, large and foreboding, wicked talons at the beak and on the ends, if he stretched them open they’d be twice, maybe even triple the size of him. The shadows around him dance, more sentient than her uncles, more wild too, they swirl around and whisper in his ears, she wonders what they have to say about her.

“Should we move this conversation somewhere more comfortable?” Rhysand asks, a glimmer in his eye as he breaks the stare down between them.

He takes a step towards Y/n and that dagger is back up in an instant, “I’m perfectly happy to talk here in the open, rather than whatever cell you have in mind.”

Rhysand quirks a brow, “who said anything about a cell.”

Her answering laugh is as cold as ice, “you would invite me into your home? I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“We’ve been down this road before,” Rhysand says, “our last guest was keen on escaping anyway she could, I’m sure you would be as well. I’d like to be able to keep a closer eye on you. Azriel here would be more than happy to fly you up to the house of wind.”

Azriel sends him an inquisitive look, “I would?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Y/n says quickly, examining those bat like wings, “where is this house of wind.”

Rhysand grins as he points across the garden to the looming cliffs hanging above the city beyond, “up there. I promise flying will be much better than the ten thousand steps up to the door. Azriel won’t bite.”

She grins, showing off those sharpened canines, “who says I won’t.”

Azriel subtly examines those teeth, she could easily rip out his throat with them if she wished. Based on the way he shifts back on his feet, she’s sure he’s come to the same conclusion

“I’ll get there myself,” she continues, “just need a guide.”

With a flash of blinding white light, she shifts, taking the form of a large hawk. Surprise lights in the three fae’s eyes, Azriel’s wings flaring in shock. He takes in her form, her red tinged wings, those same cold eyes staring out at him.

“Well isn’t that something.” Rhysand’s head angles, “follow Azriel, he’ll show you to your room. We can continue this conversation in the morning.”

They glance at each other, a silent conversation passing between them, before Azriel spreads his wings and launches into the sky. She bows her head towards the two remaining before she’s shooting into the sky behind him.

She’s fast, faster than him in that nimble form. Azriel flies quickly to the house, yet she surpasses him and circles around to keep pace. He can’t help but feel like she’s stalking him, like he’s a field mouse that she’s picked out for dinner, waiting for the moment she decides to strike. Whatever sort of fae she was set him on edge, her power felt older and wilder like she was closer to the beasts the fae used to be, the ones with raw magic that drew directly from the earth beneath them. That wind could pull the air from beneath his wings, pull it straight from his lungs, that fire could burn him to ash from the inside out. It was the most unsettling feeling.

They land on the balcony, a bright flare of light and she is back to that fae form, cold eyes assessing every inch of the house around her. It fells like a mistake to turn his back towards her to walk inside, a mistake that could end with that red hot dagger in between his shoulder blades, maybe even one of those small throwing knives sheathed by her ribs. He can’t help but glance at the leather vest, it was tight to her skin, laced in the back to fit her form. The evidence of the way she’d been ripped from her world shown in the rips in her clothes, in the blood around her collar from the healing wound on her head. It’d started stitching itself together quickly considering how much she’d been bleeding when he found her.

“After you,” he says gesturing towards the hall.

Her eyes wisely slip towards truth teller at his side, but no complaint rises to her lips. She holds her head high as she walks past him, close enough that he could easily grab her and put his blade to her throat, close enough that he caught the scent of pine and snow and embers. She wasn’t scared of him, and with the way she fought, she had every right not to be.

He drifts behind her, giving her single word directions down the familiar halls until they were standing before the door he’d chosen as her room.

“The house will give you whatever you need,” he says, “simply ask and it will appear. If you need anything else, I’m right across the hall.”

If the sentient house was a surprise it didn’t show on her face, instead she asks with a small smirk on her lips, “are you my host or my keeper?”

The teasing tone takes him by surprise, “I’m here to keep a close eye on you. Our last guest had a tendency for surprises.”

She eyes him in that predator like manor, gaze drifting over his shoulder to a wisp of shadow, “keep any wandering eyes to your side of the hall.”

That shadow moves on its own accord, drifting towards her like she’s a magnet. She bares her sharp teeth at the little wisp, scaring it back to Azriel’s side. It hides like a scolded child and he finds himself holding back a chuckle.

“You’ve seen shadows like this before?”

She shakes her head, “not quite. Two of my uncles can control shadows like yours, but they’re not sentient creatures.”

He wasn’t surprised that there weren’t more like him in her world, he’d spent a long time looking for other shadowsingers to help him master his power, in the end it was just him and his shadows who’d figured it out. Even Quinlann’s brother wasn’t like him, not completely.

“They whisper to you,” she states, not a question.

“How’d you know that?”

A breeze drifts past him and she says, “I can feel them in the wind. Can’t quite understand what they’re saying, but I can feel their whispering in your ears.”

“It’s called shadowsinging,” he supplies, he’s not quite sure why but he tells her, “if you spend enough time in the shadows you learn their language.”

She hums, stepping towards her door, “keep the little busybodies close by, I don’t take kindly to little spies in my rooms.”

“As you wish, your highness,” he’s not sure where the title comes from, or the taunting tone.

She throws a look over her shoulder, those eyes blazing instead of cold, “Goodnight, shadowsinger”

The door slams shut behind her and Azriel simply watches. Watches as her shadow fades from the crack beneath, as a cold wind blows through his hair, as his shadows dance with that wind. He stands there for several moments until an amused chuckle sounds in his head.

Don’t let a pretty face distract you brother.

Shut up, Azriel scowls, closing the doors to his minds and turning to his bedroom. The breeze follows him and it gives him the strangest feeling of being watched.

Y/n found that Azriel wasn’t lying when he said the house would give her whatever she asked for. She’d barely thought about a bath before she’d heard running water in the adjacent room.

The bedroom was huge, to her right a large bed centered on the wall that looked like it could comfortably accommodate several people. A seating area to her left with plush couches and low backed chairs, made for winged males like her keeper across the hall she presumed. The red stone walls warm and adorned with a lit fireplace and giant windows overlooking the city far below. She’d admired the view on the flight to the house, but standing there looking at the twinkling lights below, the bright stars above, she could really appreciate the beauty in it. Yet, it didn’t hold a candle to the lights of Orynth in her eyes.

And just like that, the homesickness hit her. She could picture her family, her mother and father raging through the castle, looking for any clues as to where she’d been taken. She could see her uncles barking orders at warriors to search the castle and city surrounding from top to bottom. She could see her distraught aunt shifting into the snow leopard that would tear apart whatever person or thing that would dare harm her niece. What time was it back home, would they work until dawn, would they rest and come back in the morning, would her father hold together the pieces as her mother finally broke?

Y/n stared and stared and stared at that glowing city, wishing she was home, reading a book by the fire in her mother’s sitting room as she listened to her parents bicker back and forth. She’d been reading a romance her uncle had brought her from the castle library in Adarlan. It would still be sitting on the table, the scrap paper bookmark halfway through the well worn pages.

A tray appears on the table next to her, full of meats and cheeses and fruits. She could feel the curious presence around her, the house it seemed was a busybody.

She eyes the plate, “I’m not hungry.”

The tray stays put, and she huffs, pushing away from the windows towards the attached bathing chamber. That presence seems to sigh, clearly frustrated with her but she paid it no mind.

Her body ached, the adrenaline wearing off enough that she could feel each cut and bruise from the vicious way she’d been dragged through that gate and thrown to the garden floor in this strange world. Her head ached, pulsing with pain each step she took, everything ached, her head, her body, her heart.

A giant bath was drawn, steaming water with frothing bubbles that smelled of lavender. There were plush towels on the small stool by the bath, and clean clothes on the counter beneath the mirror. Soft light illuminated the space, she didn’t care to think where it came from, how it all worked. All she cared about was stripping off her tattered and bloodied clothes and submerging herself into that water. She felt each cut burn as she went down, felt the wound on her head scream in pain as she drifted down beneath the surface.

She burned, and kept burning, and burning and burning, and burning.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

the way u tuck charles hair behind his ear like a dainty elf princess whenever u draw him sends me every time, i know erik would agree 🙏🏻

i fear im adopting 'dainty elf princess' into my vocabulary here on out thank you for this wonderful gift anon

might you accept my small gift in turn ... i was inspired ...

[wtfforged]

i was supposed to post these ummm. whenever i did that poll eons ago. but then i didnt because i was ❤️ shy ❤️. so im dumping them all now

[mayhemspreadingguy]

Today I woke up and chose silliness!

(yes, the mood of my posts is all over the place but this is what you signed up for, it's literally in the name x'D)

This is another contribution to the silly rabbit au (by @cuubism ) featuring @magnusbae 's Dream in a hoodie.

[4lph4kidz]

i was thinking about your dirk and hal poll and i want to mention that i think your concept for ink and iron where dirk creates hal from his reflection by enchanting a mirror is so cool 😌

thank you! hal's predicament and purpose within the canon narrative is so fascinating and i felt it was really important to find a way to explore what i find most interesting with him. i can't take full credit for the concept though i took inspiration from a few placees (one of my friends pitched the idea of the mirror accidentally dumping him onto jake's doorstop for example) but overall i think the idea is very fun and i'm really excited to write more hal stuff!!! also i'm going to take the opportunity to share this oldish doodle i found:

the mispelling of angel as angle was NOT intentional (<- dyslexia haver) but it probably explains a lot. he's pointy

[icewindandboringhorror]

finally finished all of one character's entire quests/optional dialogue/questions/etc.... 100,000 words... .... aughhh

[thepandalion]

help I'm going insane over deltarune and Undertale stuff again