#too much for the meager amount i give you...

[winter-jay-official]

You guys don't even know how much I think about my ocs...

[mayaree-darling]

just a bit of luck your way // Self Aware Wuthering Waves (Jiyan)

Pairing(?): SelfAware!Jiyan and Player!Reader

Synopsis: You're one of the many players who started playing Wuthering Waves on release and of course the main thing you waited for is pulling for Jiyan.

From Mayaree: celebrating rn coz i got Jiyan and his weapon on my first 10 pull on each banner (dont know if that's supposed to happen but still a celebration).

CW: self aware au; no concrete spoilers because i just reached a little past level 20; swearing; second person pov (you, your, etc.)

Word Count: 2.8k (unedited)

Surely, surely there was something wrong with this game. You know for a fact you ain't that lucky - especially in these anime gacha games - so either there was something wrong with this game or the devs were just that giving to their players.

You had decided to play Wuthering Waves on a whim, caught up on the excited chatter you've been hearing all over the internet at its coming release. Patiently waiting for the servers to open worldwide, you sat down on your cozy chair with some snacks and a drink, ready to play. A grin ticks your lips upwards as you're taken to choosing your character.

You gotta say, the game is pretty amazing on your first run. Attack, parry, dodge. Seems simple enough. With a few fights, you were getting used to the routine and the enemies' patterns. If you had to nitpick something, though-

"This feels a little too easy." You were by no means an overly skilled player, as far as you were aware. Maybe it's because you're just barely past the start of the game, but it feels like the enemies were dying a bit too quickly. And you were only dealing like 10 damage per swing.

But just as you say it, you sit up in your chair in attention. Did… did they just get harder to kill? No, wait, you did just raise your Union Level, so maybe that's why. The enemies' attack patterns are slightly more advanced and although you're dealing more damage, their health bars are keeping up with you. Well, you were complaining earlier, so maybe this was a good thing? You keep playing, now being kept on your toes during combat.

After grinding a bit more - how much time have you spent already? Not enough, you think - you finally unlock what you've been waiting for this whole time.

The gacha system.

You're no stranger to gacha games. If anything, it's the reason you played this game in the first place. Sure the combat was nice, but what was better than collecting these prettily designed anime men and women and running around with them on the open world map? Nothing was more fulfilling than staring at your growing roster of playable characters the longer you played the game.

And for Wuthering Waves, the first addition to your would-be collection appears on the screen.

You'd be lying if you said you were going into the game blind. With the amount of Jiyan videos you've seen from the betas and leaks, you may as well have played him for a month now. From idle animations to his forte attack, you watched as many videos available as you could. And each one solidified for you that you needed to pull for him. That man was coming home one way or another.

Grinding a little more astrite by doing a couple of missions here and there - you had 1,300 astrite, just a little more for the home goal and then- you were ready. Sure it's just a meager 10 pulls but it was definitely a start. And you never know… right? You click the 10 pull button and-

OH??? SHIT, WAS THAT GOLD JUST NOW???? YOU KNOW FOR A FACT GOLD IS A GOOD THING, RIGHT??? You click through the 3-star results as quick as you can and- YEAH YEAH THAT'S HIS ANIMATION IT'S HIM HE'S HOME IT'S JIYAN!

You all but kick the chair away and bump your whole lower half on the table as you jump up in joy. You may as well be doing backflips while you're at it. You got him??? On the first 10 pull, no less???? This game was spoiling you holy shit. And it's only been a day.

Immediately heading over to the characters screen, you go to Jiyan's profile and just. Stare at him. Basking in the fact that you played this game on day 1, got the first available limited 5 star, and on your first fucking 10 pull.

Holy shit.

You scream into a pillow and hope your housemates don't hear. Or maybe they should hear because this has got to be the luckiest day of your life and you'd flex it on their faces if they understood the gacha game hype. Going back to the screen, Jiyan is doing one of his idles, twirling around his spear. My god, he looked glorious. His whole appearance was both beautiful and imposing. He looked so cool, hot damn.

"I'll be relying on you from now on, general." You grin once more and spin your chair with a whoop.

You level him up as high as you can, using all the leveling materials available at the moment. He's capped out at 20 right now because you did just start playing and still haven't unlocked character ascension, but you're willing to grind more just to raise him. You even move him to the first spot in your team (sorry, Rover, you can take the next spot).

You head on over to training, to gather some weapon and leveling materials but also because you want to test him out in battle. Damn it all, those beta videos of him didn't disappoint. He was just as good, if not even better since you're the one playing him right now.

He was definitely fun to play with. Of course, all the characters are fun to play with, but Jiyan was twice as fun. Would it be bold to say it was like you were meant to play as him? Suddenly the game is easier again. But not because the enemies are easy to kill, more so you feel like you're able to move better. You seem to be able to time dodging and parrying a lot better, even knowing when to attack at the best moment. Clearly, it was a really good decision to pull for him.

When you've grinded enough - he's level 40 now and you've fully accepted you're in this game for the long run - you go to level up his 4-star broadblade and then stop. You've saved up enough astrite for another 10 pull, right? Maybe you still have some luck left from the Jiyan pull, so… maybe?

"What do you think, Jiyan? Do I go for it?" You laugh at the absurdity of your one sided conversation. "I think you deserve your main weapon."

To your surprise, you watch as he laughs once, shaking his head and looking away with a barely noticeable smile (it's hard to tell with your gadget's graphics, but you definitely heard him). Was… was that part of his idle animations? You make a split-second decision to check his profile. Uh, no? No, it wasn't? Where'd that come from??? Well, maybe it was a secret animation plugged in by the devs. Game devs did like adding a little secret every now and then, right?

Anyways, although indirectly, Jiyan just gave you his answer. You were pulling for his weapon. You mean, there's still like 20 days left for you to pull if you don't get it right away, so there's no harm in building pity right now. Right? Right. To the gacha you go.

Breathing out - maybe a small prayer to the gacha gods in your head - you click the 10 pull button on the limited-time weapon banner-

WAITWAITWAITWAIT WAS THAT FUCKING GOLD??? AGAIN??? THERE'S NO SHOT. THERE'S NO FUCKING SHOT THAT THIS IS-

You stare at the golden glowing weapon on your screen in disbelief. A second passes, and then another as you stare at the green and gold broadblade. Verdant Summit. In the flesh. Excitement follows soon after like a tidal wave. You're off your chair in the next second again, fist-pumping the air like no tomorrow. You don't even care if your housemates hear you jumping around this time.

"JIYAN, LOOK, WE ACTUALLY GOT YOUR WEAPON!" You think you hear someone knock at your walls but you could care less right now.

When you're seated and back to your screen, you immediately equip the blade to Jiyan and stare again. Fuck, he really did look cool. With the sword, he's even twice as cool. Okay, he was hot, you're not gonna sugarcoat it. He was both in equal measure. You try swinging the blade around and breathe out in awe.

"It looks like it was made for you," you laugh. Well, surely it was. The blade was designed for him from the moment it was created, but still. You hear his little laugh again, but the animation seems to be cut short when you accidentally slash. Whoops.

When the excitement dies down, exhaustion sets in. You look at the time. Damn, it was that late? You really played the game for a whole day? Woof.

But you think it was well worth it as you watch Jiyan with his weapon in action. You finish up battling with a few more enemies before leaning back on your chair, content. Silly as it may be, you wish your team goodnight before logging off for the day.

Jiyan waits until he can't hear your voice or feel the warmth that overtakes him whenever you use him before he moves. He groans as he stretches. You really did enjoy using him to explore Solaris 3, no doubt about that. Not that he was complaining.

Far from it, really.

"Cheater." Jiyan blinks once before turning around. Rover stands there, arms crossed with a frown set upon their face. Jiyan could tell there was no real bite to their expression or words, but he still found it rather funny.

"Are you talking to me, Rover?" Jiyan's voice is calm and collected, but he can feel the corner of his mouth tick upwards ever so slightly.

"You know what you did." Rover scoffs, still lacking actual bite. It was more like teasing, if anything. "You wanted to make them happy that much?"

"Is it not possible I just wanted to visit Jinzhou for a bit? Their goals and mine simply aligned at the moment and I used the opportunity." A lie, but not quite.

Yes, he did want to visit Jinzhou. Word had reached him of the new Rover who even the Magistrate had taken a keen interest to. He wanted to make sure they weren't anything dangerous, despite the prophecy. Jué knows the last thing they need is the Midnight Rangers at the Norfall Barriers and an ambush in the main city.

But the moment he arrived, things were very different. For one, the very Rover he was so wary of ended up working with him in a small team of three. The Rover was no normal person, either. Yes, Jiyan could tell that they were strong and would be able to get stronger at a rapid pace. But they also seemed too observant. How should he put it? It felt like they were seeing something else he couldn't. Or they were seeing everything differently.

And then he felt it for himself.

Your voice is warm but thunderous, and yet it was not painful for the ears. Loud with excitement he can't quite understand. You're excited… that you have him? You even said you would rely on him from now on. He could laugh at how easy you were to please. Something so simple and you were already so happy. Maybe it's simply your emotions leaking into his own soul, but he could feel the genuine joy that you were feeling. He prides himself for choosing to come home as soon as he could if only to share in your happiness. He wanted to understand whatever it is that makes you so excited. After so much bloodshed, your joy felt like a breath of fresh air he hadn't taken in so long.

As you use him to walk around the world and fight Tacet Discords, it felt like he was seeing the world for the first time again. Maybe this is what the Rover was seeing with their observant eyes. Jiyan felt like he was experiencing Solaris 3 for the first time once again. Whenever you gasped at the sights of high cliffs and the boundless sky, he may as well be sighing in amazement with you.

"Right… Took the opportunity. Sure." Rover raised an eyebrow. "And the broadblade?"

Jiyan shrugs. "I find that I work better with a familiar weapon." Another lie, but not quite.

He didn't mind using another weapon. His skills lay in his own sharpened abilities, not in whatever object he had on hand. He could manage fine with any other broadblade you gave him, and he trusted you to help him fight. You fumbled a little bit here and there, made him attack a little recklessly at times, but you were doing your best. Jiyan could count on you in battle.

However, when you asked him if he wanted his weapon, he stopped. Having his sword on hand would do him good, of course. As he told the Rover, he fights even better with Verdant Summit. But, there was something about you asking his opinion. He knows you cannot read his thoughts. And yet you asked. It felt rather nice… A connection between you both. A familiarity he did not expect but was definitely not unwelcome.

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. To his surprise, you actually hear him. He frowns at the short panic this causes (did you not want to hear from him after all?), but thankfully you move on from it quickly enough. You take his laugh as a good sign and decide to acquire his weapon.

When he saw the shooting stars alight the waters below, Jiyan pondered for a second. Surely, there won't be any harm in helping you a bit, right? He reaches down and touches one of the stars, immediately making it light a glowing golden light as it shoots to the sky. He feels your joy before he hears it and with it, his own chest is filled with warmth.

There's a silence that overtakes you when you see the weapon that makes Jiyan worried. Did… you not want his weapon after all? But that can't be right, you even asked him for his thoughts. Or did you sense that you received it without effort? Did you realize he helped you get it? Maybe he shouldn't have meddled with your abilities.

Before he can overthink and sink into a spiral of doubt, your screams of joy and the sound of you jumping around in pure happiness fill his ears. Jiyan breathes out in relief, another small smile making its way to his lips. He was worried for nothing. Maybe you were just shocked for a little bit. Did you think he would not help you get it? He knew you would, he just helped you receive it earlier than you would have. He may or may not have simply wished to hear your joyous laughter at the moment.

As you give him Verdant Summit, he tests its weight and familiarity in his hand and perform a couple of swings (maybe he wanted to show it off a bit for you, just a touch). You think it was made for him? Well surely it was, and yet the comment makes him laugh a little more. You've been making him a laugh for a while now.

You enjoy a few more moments with him, battling together. He enjoys them as well, if he was honest, as you spend the time praising him and being in awe. It was rather embarrassing if he was honest, but he appreciated it all the same. Before he knew it, time had flown in an instant. You bid him and the others goodnight before leaving, and he knows you leave with a smile on your lips.

"Uh-huh. Right. I definitely believe you." Rover laughs. "Don't think I didn't see you smile, General Jiyan."

Almost on instinct, Jiyan covers his mouth with a hand, looking away. It barely concealed his embarrassment. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Be careful the others don't catch you helping them too much." Baizhi suddenly speaks from the side. She was so quiet Jiyan almost forgot she was there. The Rover smiles teasingly, before they turn around with a small wave. Baizhi follows soon after with a nod. "Chixia's already complaining that they're showing you too much favoritism."

"I- yes, of course. Thank you for the advice, Baizhi." Jiyan clears his throat.

Was it that obvious? Most likely. Rover and Baizhi may have seen too much considering they've been traveling together for a while now, but if even the others were noticing his closeness to you then he was doing a poor job at hiding it. However, was there really a need to hide it? The others did not try hiding their favor for the warm voice they hear and who guides them. So, there was no need to hide it himself, was there?

He spins his newly obtained sword - an old companion, but he felt like he was seeing it for the first time all over again, with better memories attached to it - and smiles softly. Yes, there was no need to hide how he favored your connection to him. It wouldn't even be a bold claim for him to say he was happy that he had made the decision to come when you called for him.

Jiyan hopes you stay with him for a while longer, if only to see what you see, feel happiness the way you do. He'd like that a lot.

From Mayaree: Said I was gonna write Self Aware Star Rail but I just got too excited. Thank you, WuWa.

✨ Masterlist ✨

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

[trashytoastboi]

Day of Greed - Mammon

~NSFW Alphabet~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning: NSFW content ahead (whole bunch of this and that)

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?) 

💰 Mammon is the self proclaimed best and boy does he pamper you, you wouldn't even need to lift a finger and he’s got you covered. Hot towel, cold towel? He’s on it. Sore? Massages. Thirsty? Water, juice, a variety of other equally refreshing beverages. He’s a little overbearing with his care but he really means the best and just wants to make sure that you’re as comfortable as possible. You’d remind Mammon that sometimes you just want to snuggle and that’s enough. 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partners.) 

💰 He loves everything and he cannot make a distinction for one or the other. Mammon loves, appreciates and worships all of you. Everything about you is perfect and his favourite. Your eyes whenever they look up at him, your nails digging into his back, your hips that he loves to hold onto. It feels like Mammon just wants to touch every part of you whenever the two of you are together. 

💰 On himself? His hands and mouth because he loves being able to touch and kiss you. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically) 

💰 With Mammon brain he prefers being able to cum inside you, or have you swallow. Makes him feel even closer to you in a strange way but who can really decipher this demon’s brain when it comes to stuff like this. Trust he was quite eager to learn about where his cum looked best on you, and would experiment by making sure to always cum somewhere different. He just thinks it’s the best when it’s leaking out of you or you swallowing it. He’s got an average amount with his loads, not that thick and pretty general taste. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs.)

💰 Mammon loves spending money, mostly on himself. Until he finds that he loves to pour it onto you. Buying toys, lingerie, outfits, jewelry. He doesn't see it as anything bad because it's the gift that keeps on giving. He's starting to coin some weird new phrase he calls a money kink. Of course, it's not just the act of spending money. It's enjoying the pay off that comes from it. Seeing you using all these lavish gifts he gave you. Sometimes without your knowledge. How, you ask? Well those toys were good for when he was away, maybe busy with modeling work and you got lonely. He could feel the burning of his pact mark whenever you thought about him, the amount of times he'd secretly watch you getting off. While laying in his bed, using the toys that he bought you and none the wiser that he was watching you right now. Mammon had to exert so much self control just to insure that he could hold himself back from appearing and fucking you senseless.

E = Experienced (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

💰 Has some experience from a few casual hook ups and he knows what he’s doing. Only appreciated his meager experience when it came to you because he knew enough of the basics to take the lead. Honestly felt like he was learning everything from scratch because he wanted to know what you like, what got you going, what would push you over the edge and so he basically forgot everything he knew to allow himself to learn your tastes.  

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

💰 Tabletop - I mean he loves fucking you on his pool table, and with how often he does you feel this position deserves to be mentioned. Drives Mammon crazy when you get needy and wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer. 

💰 Pressed up against a wall -�� Mammon loves having you pressed up against a wall while he’s fucking you, makes sure you can’t run away from him. You have a tendency to move away from him whenever he overstimulates you too much but this position ensures that you can’t go anywhere. Just be good and let the great Mammon pleasure you.

💰 Lotus - Loves this position because of the intimacy it provides, holding you close and helping you move your hips while he’s kissing you and catching those pretty eyes looking at him with so much love and desire. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc)

💰 He’s so silly in the best way. He’s not trying to make it goofy but he’s on cloud nine whenever he’s with you and he’s all smiles. It’s an infectious happiness. Sometimes he’d do something that makes you chuckle and he’ll stop to look at you asking what’s making you laugh.Trying to explain the way all his jewelry makes a sound every time he thrusts like a shaker only made him wear more and louder things. 

H =  Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc) 

💰 No consistent style really, sometimes he’s trimmed, other times he’s completely clean and sometimes he leaves it to get a little more natural. Certain shoots could have an impact too depending on the client, some might want him to be shirtless and no happy trail must be present, others prefer the look of them. Curtains match the drapes too. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect) 

💰 Romantic in intention and tries to show it through his actions. He always holds you close and will tell you how much he loves you, again and again. He’s kissing you, moaning into your mouth about how good you feel and holding you in some way. He needs you close, it’s rare that his hands aren’t holding onto you in some shape or form and Mammon needs a lot of kisses, his kisses are greedy and insistent they demand you, beg for you and you know you could never deny him. Not when he loves you that much. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)

💰 Surprisingly not the biggest fan of it, not when he’s got you. Will only do it when he can’t handle how hard he is, if it’s unbearable. He’s not ceremonious about it either. He’ll go somewhere private and take care of it. He’s so nonchalant about it to you’d think he’s bored (lowkey kinda is) Mammon always compares it to how he feels when he’s with you and it doesn’t measure up. 

K = Kink (One or more of the kinks)

💰 Praise kink - Call him a good boy and Mammon will be complete putty in your hands. He just wants you to praise him, tell him he’s doing a good job. He’ll literally beg you to praise him, giving you those sad puppy eyes that just want a compliment or two. Goes a little bit of a second way because he loves complimenting you, in everyday life and during the more intimate moments together. 

💰 Overstimulation - He’s greedy, he can’t stop after the first time you cum. It just sets something off in him, he needs more. Mammon needs to watch you losing your mind, watch you cum on his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He’ll beg for one more, just one more (it’s never just one more) Has you all dazed, thinking you’re about to faint and so painfully sensitive as he just wants to give him more. 

💰 Biting - He’s always giving you little love bites, marking you up so everyone knows that you’re his. Gets all pouty when you cover them up. Never bites you hard enough to hurt badly but enough to leave marks, loves biting your neck or shoulders while he’s cumming. Always making sure that there’s a prominent one on your inner thigh and he’ll give you a new one when it heals. 

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

💰 His bedroom - Preferably bent over his pool table, or he’ll fuck you on his couch, or in his bed. I mean the floor is an option too- that wall over there looks inviting. (Honestly he’s had you on about every possible inch of his bedroom…Even the ceiling…) 

💰 Not opposed to public ventures - He’s not super risky about it though, (I mean aside from the obvious) will only really initiate if he knows there’s a very low risk of actually getting caught. Can’t risk having anyone else see how pretty his partner is all for him. 

💰 There’s a specific closet in RAD that’s become something of Mammon’s secret hangout and it’s where he bunks classes, also where he’s pulled you in for a little quality time before.  

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

💰 Basically anytime he watches you being a badass, doesn’t know why it just turns him on. Likes when you kiss him and get all heated and desperate. The way your kisses grow sloppier, deeper and more urgent for him. Mammon loves feeling like YOU want him and there’s no greater turn on than being wanted by you. (Also if you tug on his hair while kissing him) He’s open about what you do to him and now knowing that, you still do those things knowing it will turn him on. 

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

💰 Sharing/threesomes/exhibitonism - He’s literally incapable of sharing you with someone else. His greed could never allow it. Or having others see you in a way only he can. Yeah you’ve taken a few photos and videos together, you can rest assured no one else will ever see them because those are Mammon’s guilty pleasures and you’re pretty ‘nd stuff that he can’t allow others to catch on because they’re definitely gonna fall in love with you. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

💰 He isn’t called the great Mammon for nothing. He’ll never admit all the research and times he practiced against his hand to make sure he had the technique down. He just would pretend to naturally be that great at it while driving you crazy, having you cumming non stop while doing all those insane things with his tongue. His fingers would dig into your hips, hold you in place until he was satisfied. Mammon likes receiving too, especially when you surprise him out of the blue and just go straight for the prize. He likes seeing how greedy you get, trying to stuff all of his cock into your mouth when it’s clearly too much but you’re still trying and taking him like a champ. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc) 

💰 Slow, sensual and hard. He has a tendency for those hard thrusts that make your entire body jolt, and then drag out with the slowest pull feeling everything inside and then another hard thrust in. He’d be kissing you, listening to how you gasp every time he slams against you, bottoming out and just being so so deep it feels like it’s knocking the air out of you. Can be fast and rough if he’s desperate enough or pressed for time.  

Q = Quickie (They opinions on quickies, how often etc)

💰 We’ve established the existence of his secret hideout in RAD, best believe it’s a popular quickie spot for the two of you. Mammon never fails to impress and makes quick work of you and himself. Thinks quickies are the literal best thing when he doesn’t have a lot of time but needs a little recharge on his person. Love how much you seem to enjoy them too. (You’re adorable) Go to position for quickies is having you sitting on top of a surface or bent over it. It’s what he’s best at. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc)

💰 He’s game to take risks and try out new things especially with you. It may end up being something the two of you really like, or hate and that’s okay. You’ll laugh about the fact it was terrible. Mammon is eager and adventurous which makes for fun experimentation. Things he learned he liked included spanking and bondage. “Hated” edging, only because it was you edging him and you kept telling him he was a good boy even while you denied and ruined his orgasms for hours.  

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

💰 Got a lot of rounds in him, you accredit his stamina to his work, running (away from Lucifer) and partying. A deadly combo that gave him so much excessive stamina. Doesn’t need to work out all the excessive energy though and will usually stop when you’re tired. As for the rounds he’s got pretty average time for individual rounds (you’re honestly thankful the multiple rounds are enough to already push you to the limit physically.) 

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or on themselves?)

💰 He doesn't have any toys himself but he’s bought you A LOT. Loves seeing you using them and enjoys using them on you. It enhances the experience and makes things fun. He’s a little evil about it, he’ll be chuckling asking what’s wrong when you’re trying to force his hand away while he’s borderline torturing you with the vibrator on your sensitive spots and has you whining. You did convince him to try cock rings though, especially the vibrating ones (little bit of revenge) 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease?)

💰 He teases a lot, gets you all riled up and then just a little more. He loves the slow build up, it’s not to the point of denial but he knows how to pace himself for foreplay and after your first orgasm then it’s non stop, that’s when he gets serious about things. His teasing is just giving you everything except his dick- got you all fucked out before he’s even put it in. 

V = Volume (How loud they are? What sounds they make? Etc)

💰 Moans, groans and curses a lot. He curses so much, his vocabulary gets a little limited when he’s in pleasure brain mode and his friend downstairs is doing all the thinking for him. You think he’s got some of the sexiest moans you’ve heard and when he’s biting, marking you all up and he groans in bliss at seeing his marks and your expression. He can get loud if he makes no attempt to keep it down (another reason he sinks his teeth into you while cumming, mostly to prevent himself from getting too loud) 

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character?)

💰 He’s a switch. Mammon has equally dominating and submissive tendencies in the bedroom. He’s not dead set on having you always being the one to submit to him, and if you take the lead he’s happy to follow. He’s good at reading the room and will act depending on what he’s reading, some days you want to be taken care of and just want to fall a little into sub space and he’ll take care of you during then. He’s definitely a pleasure dom and service sub.  

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes?)

💰Human form: Dark bulbous tip, thick and girthy from the head to middle and narrows out at the base, a little longer than average. It’s a stretch every time he pushes in. 

💰 Demon form: Maybe a little ironic that he swells at the base, and gets longer, shape alters a bit and you were pleasantly surprised. Call it a bonus, the first time he came in you in demon form- his dick swells, not at all like knotting, it’s the entirety just swells enough for you to notice it. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

💰 Average and high - His yearning for sex is normal but his yearning for YOU... Permanent all time high. Sometimes it gets a little confused and you’d think he’s permanently turned on and ready to go but he just wants to be close to you and smother you in hugs, kisses and maybe something else. If you weren’t around, it would be a desire for you he’d be feeling not so much the physical urge of sex. His drive is 90% because of you. 

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards?)

💰 He’s still willing to go out and party afterwards, stay in and watch movies with you or something. He doesn’t feel the instant tug of sleep even if it did last hours, unless he’s intentionally trying to fall asleep he probably won’t just fall asleep with the exception being he was exhausted beforehand. 

Taglist: @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

[just-a-creep-babe]

53 and 65 for some posessive HABIT action, if you're still doing the prompt thing?

Will I ever get sick of writing nasty smut for Habit? Mmmmh no, I don’t think so 😌🫶

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

53. “You can hate me all you want, but you can’t deny how good I make you feel.”

65. “I’m going to fuck them out of you. I’m going to make you scream my name so hard that you’ll never think of them again.”

He has you in a mating press, your thighs pressing against your chest, your body folded in half with your legs up over his broad shoulders

Both his hands are around your throat, his fingers tight around your neck, granting you just the right amount of airflow so that you don’t pass out on him

And despite everything, despite how overwhelmingly good he feels, you’re still pissed at him

“F-fuck you—“

It’s pathetic, the way you gasp the words out

You’re clawing at his hands, writhing and squirming beneath him, but you can’t escape the bruising way he keeps driving himself into your sopping-wet cunt

You shouldn’t give in to him—you can’t—for your own sake

“You still upset, rabbit?” he grunts, and as he says it, a wide, sharp grin spreads to his lips, “You can hate me all you want, but you can’t deny how good I make you feel”

It’s like he angles his hips on purpose to hit a spot that almost has you screaming

Your back arches, vision going white, mouth parting in a borderline obscene cry

“Yeah, that’s right~” he encourages, “look at that. Look at how fucking good you take my cock”

He emphasizes his words with brutal thrusts, his pace hard and shameless and entirely unrelenting

Your cunt squelches noisily around him, wanting more, wanting to feel the thick head of his cock pulse deep inside your fluttering walls until he releases the entirety of his load into you

Some indignant slew of curses get caught in your throat, escaping only as a few choked moans when he applies more pressure to your vocal cords

“Don’t worry, rabbit. You’ll forgive me soon enough—“

He interrupts himself with a grunt as you tighten around him

You’re practically gushing around his cock—oh so unbearably close to an orgasm but trying desperately to resist it

You won’t give him the satisfaction

You won’t cum around him after everything he’s done, after all the horrors he’s committed in the name of his obsession for you

“I’m going to fuck them out of you” he snarls, “I’m going to make you scream my name so hard that you’ll never think of them again”

He jams his cock so hard into you that it nudges against your cervix

You want to scream—it’s too much, he feels too good—but all you can manage is a pathetic little submissive whimper

“That’s right—take my cock, rabbit. Take every. Fucking. Inch of it”

His voice splits, demonic nature permeating through, and you think surely he’s getting close as well

Surely he can’t keep this up for much longer

One hand leaves your throat, and you gasp, trying to swallow in the air that’d been withheld from you, but he applies more pressure with his other hand, and all you can do is lay there and take it

You’re trapped beneath him, forced to let him use your drenched little cunt as hard as he pleases

You don’t want it, don’t want to cum around him, but he feels so fucking good; whatever meager willpower you have left is crumbling apart

“Once I cum inside you,” he grunts, “I’m going to mark you—head to fucking toe—and everyone’s gonna know who you fucking belong to”

Your toes curl, tears springing to your eyes

Every ruthless pump has his tip kissing your cervix

Waves of ecstasy crash into your system, tensing your muscles until you’re squeezing his cock so tightly it’s all you can feel

He’s all you can focus on

With his free hand, his fingers dig into the flesh of your cheeks to force your lips open

And just as everything’s becoming too much, just as your vision’s blurring and your thighs start shaking, he spits a thick glob of saliva into your mouth

It’s humiliating—the way you cum for him despite your best efforts not to

You’re helpless to resist him as even through your orgasm, he doesn’t once relent his brutal onslaught

He spits into your mouth one last filthy time, then takes both of your wrists in that one free hand and pins your arms above your head

“F-fuck—fuck! H-Habit—fuck!!”

You want to tell him to stop, tell him to at least give you a break, but he’s impossibly persistent

You're practically gushing with arousal—you can feel it making a mess between your thighs

You’re too drunk off his dick to know for sure, but there’s almost no way you produced that much slick without squirting

You whine his name, over and over again as he imprints the shape of his cock into your convulsing walls

“Good little bunny—good—fuck—good little rabbit. My little rabbit. My slutty fucking bunny”

His filthy nothings grow increasingly possessive as his cock keeps tensing and twitching inside you

“Habit, I’m—‘m yours!”

Your cry has a snarl rippling through his chest

He buries his face into your neck, and then your body’s thrashing as his teeth sink into skin

He keeps you nice and pinned beneath him as he rides out his orgasm in eagerly satisfied thrusts

And even once he’s released everything into your cervix, once you feel utterly stuffed with his seed, he doesn’t pull out

Instead, he keeps nipping at your neck, alternating between licks, bites and kisses

“That’s right, good bunny~” he hums the words out, and even then, his praises have your sex fluttering weakly around him

“Let’s get you all nice and marked so you don’t forget who you belong to~”

[dell-amor-te]

“Three For a Girl”

Word Count: 3,029.

Warning(s): No beta but I try my best, slight language.

Pairing: F!Rook x Lucanis Dellamorte.

Summary: A look into a typical (very early) morning in the Dellamorte residence. (AKA the winner of that Dadcanis poll from a month ago, finally up and ready for reading.)

🐦‍⬛Read on ao3.

One for silence.

A single fussing sound—not even a proper cry—disturbed the otherwise placid night air. Perhaps it didn’t wake Lucanis in and of itself, but it certainly did nothing to ease him further into unconsciousness.

Maybe she’ll go back to sleep.

It was wishful thinking, and entirely misguided.

More fussing soon followed the first. Lucanis sat up, blinking a few times to allow his eyes time to adjust to being open for the first time in hours. Despite only having moonlight that snuck in through the windows to illuminate vague outlines and shapes of furniture in the bedroom, he knew his way around well enough to carefully pry himself from underneath the covers.

Despite his lacking sleep routine, he still found himself hesitant to leave the warmth of his shared bed. While it may not have been as lavish as some magisters, it was still a far cry from the meager cot shoved into the corner of a pantry he had slept on, an even further cry from the Ossuary’s cage that had acted as his home for a year before he was recruited by the Veilguard.

He rolled his shoulders, further unwinding from his rest.

Everyone had opinions when it came to babies. Lucanis learned that lesson before their daughter had even been born.

Let them cry, otherwise they’ll become too dependent on you. Pick them up and soothe them so they go back to sleep. Don’t sleep with them in your bed. Keep them between the two of you until they’re big enough for a crib.

It was endless. For a while, Lucanis had been sure it would end once the baby was born; when she became tangible and all too real and there was no more time before he was a father.

Her father.

When the newborn continued to fuss, Lucanis sighed in defeat.

His love’s sleep-heavy voice drawled out a yawn from the opposite side of the bed, pulled from sleep by their fussing daughter. In the dark, he leaned over the bed to plant a kiss against warm, familiar skin. He would never grow tired of being able to give such affection, just as he would never grow tired of receiving it in return.

“I’ve got her, anima mia. I’m awake, anyway.” A yawn interrupted him. “You stay put.”

A noncommittal groan assured him that his offer would not be fought tonight.

Between the three of them, it was hard to say who was getting the least amount of sleep these days.

Lucanis pulled himself up from his leaning position against the bed before retrieving and redressing himself in the housecoat he had haphazardly shrugged off before falling into said bed just hours ago. The Crow raised his arms above his head, catlike in comportment while he eased cramped muscles back to waking limberness. He rounded the bed and carefully freed his disquieted daughter from her bassinet.

“Now, now, diavolina. You’ve already woken us up, hm? No need to get louder.” His teasing was gentle and warm, not that she could have understood him, anyway.

He was rather pleased. She was growing everyday, but her changing weight was just as familiar to him as any weapon of choice. He certainly enjoyed holding her more than any of his treasured daggers.

Two for surprise.

He pressed a kiss to one of her round cheeks, both because she deserved it and to make sure she wasn’t too warm. He placed another one to the center of her forehead. She was warm, as always, but not feverish.

“Sweet Andraste, this is quite the tantrum.” Despite the chastising nature of his words, Lucanis’ lips were pulled upwards in a gentle smile, and his tone remained impossibly soft. “What’s the matter, my pearl?” He all but crooned, muttering a string of Antivan that she understood as much as she did any other language at this point.

He had done so since before her birth.

Having one parent fluent in Antiva’s famous tongue and one who still kept the language of the elven people alive, they did their best to introduce her to both, along with the common parlance she would need more than anything. After all, she was both elven and Antivan. Why should she not know both parts of her lineage?

Lucanis studied her, thinking better of his actions with a quiet hum, then he pressed another kiss to her other cheek.

“Three for good measure.”

She was quieter in his arms, thankfully, though she remained far more awake than he anticipated. Dark-bright eyes stared up at him, fully alert despite the lateness of the hour.

Or was it considered early now?

Either way, if she had no designs to return to sleep, then he was going to need coffee.

And soon.

Four’s exercise.

Rather than fussing, Lucanis listened with a half-smile as his daughter’s vocalizations became more agreeable, now that she had gotten her way.

Barely a month old, and the half-elf already knew exactly how to get her way. But, to be entirely honest, she had managed to wrap Lucanis around her little finger the moment he first held her in his arms. With her safely in his arms once again, he made his way out of the bedroom, leaving his love to continue sleeping undisturbed.

She babbled softly, entirely nonsensical, though each sound meant the world to Lucanis.

“Is that right? Well, forgive me for presuming such a thing about you, my pearl. However, I feel I should tell you that your mother is a very good sleeper, unlike we two. And you’ve given her quite the time this past month…and the months before that, too. I think the least we can do is let her sleep tonight, don’t you?”

He stopped at the door to the room just down the hall, opening the door with a slight push using one of his knuckles.

There was no one to greet him on the other side of the door, though the room was plenty filled.

A menagerie of different gifts from Teia (and Viago) to mark the occasion of her birth, sat alongside, well, not gifts, but offerings from other Crows who wanted to sit well with the Dellamorte’s. A large, entirely too oversized plush bird—a crow, of course—from her Uncle Illario, headed a small army of other toys and other playthings from her other aunts and uncles.

A carved dragon accompanied by a wyvern that Davrin had made, each holding a griffon feather in their mouths. Gold relics that acted more as decor than anything a newborn would be interested in beyond their shine. They were courtesy of Taash’s own private collection. An intricate mobile was suspended in the air above the unused crib, crafted and enchanted by none other than Bellara. A bundle of books had been a gift of Neve’s, while Varric had also supplied a tiny collection of his own.

Harding had also gifted a myriad of frames that now hung all over the room. Not one was empty, each one contained a pressed flower or other such plant, each collected along the course of the adventure that had led to the little girl’s parents meeting (again), and arguably to the existence of the little girl at all. The girl’s mother had insisted it was simply due to her elevated and inconsistent hormones, but it has certainly been the gift that had made her cry the most.

Well, apart from Emmrich’s gifts.

The crib was one of a kind, and Dalish made. Made by Nöa’s late mother’s clan to celebrate Nöa’s adoption, treasured all the same as any birth. The blankets, too, were Emmrich’s doing—handmade, soft but tapestry-like. One sported the colors of the Volkarin family banner. One was patterned with the sigil of the Dellamorte house. Another denoted Nöa’s two clans, as well as her allegiance to the Veil Jumpers.

The knitted halla penned in the crib were gifts from different Veil Jumpers. The only one to wear a scowl was apparently meant to mimic Strife, no doubt gifted by Irelin, though she had never admitted to it.

The room was more like a shrine to the infant’s very existence rather than a nursery proper. The crib hadn’t been slept in once yet, as instead she had been routinely settled in the cot (a gift from Emmrich) at the foot of their bed, and only then when she wasn’t where she was now—in one of her parent’s arms.

Lucanis had never allowed himself to dream of a life like this before. Death was his calling, and his desires did not exist outside of that calling. And yet he had hesitated, any time he saw an infant, his mind would try to wander. He would wonder.

He never could have dreamed of this, though. Not of how much he loved her mother, nor how much he loved her, their daughter, and certainly not how much she was loved by people who also loved him.

While the rumination meant the world to him, the muse behind his considerations was less than enthused by their stop.

“As you wish, my pearl.”

He turned to leave the room, shifting her to one arm so he could pull the door closed behind him.

The house was impossibly still in the liminal hours of night, almost like a crypt. Lucanis found it comforting, this quiet. No demon in his mind, or hanging on his ear.

He made his way down to the kitchen easily enough in the dark, though he remained mindful of each step until the light of his beloved’s enchanted candles licked against the flooring to illuminate the rest of his path.

“Alright, now.” Lucanis said with a quiet sigh. “We’ll have to wrap you up so I can use both of my hands, hm?”

The brightly-woven sash-turned-sling—an impromptu gift from Bellara from the night of the infant’s birth—had been thrown over the back of one of the kitchen chairs after its last use, and there it still hung in half-draped glory, ready for its next wearing. With one hand, Lucanis slid it over his shoulder before settling his daughter within, securing her to his chest with a deftness that had not come as immediately as his current proficiency would belie.

The sling had been the first gift their daughter received after her…well, less than ideal birth.

Born a month before she was due—by their estimations—in a magister’s home after said magister’s failed abduction attempt. While Lucanis would never regret the active role he got to play in bringing her into the world, he had wished more than once that the ordeal of bringing a child into the world hadn’t further compounded on his wife by happening in a house that had played the stage for so much of her trauma.

Not to mention Nöa’s immediate detainment after the body of said magister had been discovered, or the subsequent two days she had been incarcerated while evidence was collected to prove her innocence. Two days where a newly postpartum Nöa had been forced into an unearned cell, left to tend to her own postpartum care while Lucanis fought both to prove her claim as well as care for a newborn who had been ripped from her mother.

Lucanis was often glad to be rid of Spite, but that was the first time he was truly thankful to be disconnected from the demon. He could only imagine what sort of reaction to the entire situation the demon could have come up with, his own emotions having been a dark storm enough on their own without Spite’s additional support.

Even weeks later, it was difficult not to look at his wife and daughter from time to time and remember those emotions. He would do anything for them and their safety. And he had proven it time and time again.

But it was hard to tell where he would be today if he had given in to his own desires that day.

Five for a slaughter.

Lucanis yawned, setting to work preparing his coffee. The motions were familiar, comfortable.

Once everything was said and done and Nöa was emancipated and they were reunited to adapt to life as a family of three, the issue of what to name their daughter finally presented itself.

During the course of the pregnancy, they must have discussed hundreds of names, for sons and daughters alike. But in the end, none of them matched up to the beginning their daughter had, nor did they reflect what continued to be a theme in her parents’ life.

And so they had named her Judex, their judgment—their justice, just like the blade of old Tevinter law.

A fitting irony for the freeborn daughter of an emancipated elven slave.

Six for the thrill.

“Now, the trick to any good cup of coffee is to make sure you’ve got the right balance, Jude.” He told her.

Taash had been the first one to call her Jude, and the nickname quickly caught on.

Judex remained unfazed by his explanation of proper brewing techniques, already half-asleep again, her half-tipped ear pressed to the skin right above his heart. No doubt lulled by the familiarity of being wrapped against her father’s chest, and, Lucanis liked to think, the smell of fresh Antivan coffee beans.

Seven means more sovereigns.

He was pouring a stream of fresh coffee into his favorite mug not a moment too soon. He didn’t wait for it to cool before he took a first savoring sip. He nodded, approving of his work.

And once the sun had risen, Lucanis set to work preparing a morning cup of his wife’s drink of choice.

By that time, Judex was properly awake again, and had quickly taken an interest in testing her lungs. She didn’t cry, no. She took to yelling, chirping, babbling. And Lucanis indulged every sound as if it were the most profound conversation.

The chatty little girl let out one particularly loud shout, and then quieted, staring up at Lucanis intently, as if waiting to gauge his reaction.

“Well, good morning to you, too.”

Lucanis spun around just in time to see his beloved coming through the front room, joining them in the kitchen.

“Oh, I’m sorry, amor. Did we wake you?” Lucanis asked before giving her a good morning kiss.

Nöa hummed. “No. I smelled tea.” She told him.

“Green tea and peppermint.” He confirmed. “It should be done steeping by now.

“Maker, you’re too good to me.” She kissed him again, then pressed a kiss to their daughter’s forehead. “Good morning to you, too, little fledgling.”

“And that particular nickname, my pearl, is your Uncle Illario’s fault. Yes, it is.” Lucanis nodded emphatically, earning himself a laugh from Judex.

Nöa chuckled at her husband and daughter’s not-so-one-sided conversation while she took one of her mugs out of the cabinet and poured herself a generous portion of the prepared tea. She watched as Lucanis noticed the letter she had sat on the counter when she came into the room.

“The courier already came?” Lucanis raised an eyebrow at the letter.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear him knock.” Nöa admitted, cradling her mug in both hands to warm them. “That’s what woke me, actually. The tea was just a better incentive to get out of bed. And I figured since I actually kept my clothes on for once, there was no harm in grabbing it.”

Lucanis held the letter between two fingers, looking up at his wife.

Her half-wakefulness still playing on the corners of her half-cocked smirk. “The Crows send their regards.” She said with a shrug.

Sure enough, the letter was sealed with the Crows corvid wax seal, with Teia’s handwriting on the front.

Lucanis sighed, kissing the top of his daughter’s dark-haired head. “No rest for the wicked, eh, Judex?” He mused. “It’s not a contract. Teia doesn’t sign those.”

Nöa leaned against the counter, intrigued.

Lucanis offered her the letter.

“You want me to open official Crow papers?”

“Well, you married into the house. It says Dellamorte, not specifically my name. You’re a Dellamorte. I don’t see why not.” He reasoned, one hand going up to support the Judex’s head when he sat her upright against his shoulder. “I don’t think this one quite has the hand-eye coordination for it yet.”

Nöa hummed, feeling a little smug as she broke the seal easily enough. She read the letter quickly enough, and then laughed.

Judex made a similar sound.

“What does it say?”

“It’s an invitation from Illario.” Nöa said, still laughing as she slid the letter across the counter for him to read.

Lucanis read it quickly before snorting. “An invitation written by himself to stay in our house.” He amended for his wife. “Mierda.”

Nöa laughed again. “If you’re not careful, that’s going to be her first word, vhenan.”

They needed to joke. They both knew Illario’s arrival would bring with it updates to the ongoing situation between the Crows and the Crown. In the weeks since Judex’s birth, maybe even more so given the circumstances of her birth, they had been given a bit of relief from their assistance with Illario’s project.

Nöa moved around the counter to rest herself against her husband’s side so she could have access to their daughter once more. She still got caught up in the shock of it all sometimes. She never pictured herself here—as a mother. And yet she couldn’t imagine life without Judex any more than she could imagine her life without Lucanis.

The Crow rested his head against his wife’s, both of them lost in their daughter’s world, all the while said daughter remained peacefully oblivious to her parents’ mooning.

Judex had been with them every step of the way so far, and they both knew that wouldn’t change now that reality beyond her was knocking at their door once more. They would simply have to do everything in their power to see things through before she was old enough to remember any of it it.

Even better: before she was old enough to speak, let alone curse.

Eight marks the final kill.

[yandere-fics]

♡ Their Little Sister Is In Love With Them ♡

(We have seen them trying to woo their sisters, now prepare for their sisters actually wanting to jump them!)

♡ Miriel is slow to catch onto you being in love with her, sure the both of you are mates and so obviously you're going to be together for the rest of your life's but she always assumed she was way more into you than you were to her which was completely fine in her mind, one soulmate always feels the bond just more intensely so her initiating anything further than cuddling or a small kiss was very rare, one because it flustered her too much, but also because she just wasn't sure her baby sis would even be interested in her that way, until one night you got fed up with the meager amount of affection you were receiving and jumped her, riding and pegging her until she couldn't form words anymore and then nibbling on her ears as you whispered how much you adored her just to get it into her head and ever since then you jumped her every chance you got just so your stupid sister wouldn't forget that you loved her quite a lot. She's not the most braggy about it, she wouldn't want to embarrass you. ♡

♡ Werewolves are not very smart, as her sister and thus also a werewolf this also applied to the both of you growing up, you were always chasing after her, thinking she was leaving you behind on purpose when actually the reason she was running so far ahead was to chase a deer or something to give to you as a mating present but whenever she dropped the deer in front of you, you would always cry because you just assumed she loved hunting more than she loved you which would result in a day of you sulking and hiding somewhere until Eliza found you and would have to reassure you that she loved you so much and she didn't understand why her silly puppy would ever doubt her love. Needless to say when Eliza finally understood that you were insecure she became a lot more vocal in voicing her love, a bit too vocal actually but you didn't really mind, sure it was embarrassing when she proclaimed in front of the pack how much she wanted to mount you right there, eventually it came time for her to go to the city and well you didn't take it well, running away thinking she was going to leave you behind with the pack which lead to some very rough mating when she finally caught you. She doesn't brag intentionally but she'll say things like "Sorry I was late, my sis wouldn't let me leave the bed and I had to mate her until she fell back asleep." Which makes the other supernaturals grit their teeth because their mates aren't that clingy, it's no fair. ♡

♡ You were spoiled honestly, you always got everything you wanted handed to you by your sister's loving hands because you were the only thing she still had left after the war, the thing you wanted most though was your sister and you seethed in rage at the thought of her having a mate one day, glaring at the other gods when you saw them for giving her one while they just laughed, knowing something you didn't know yet. You didn't mind her flings, well that was a lie, you did mind them but she would always obey you so what did it matter if she slept around a bit, if you just pretended to be sad she would always stay home and cuddle you on her lap, giving you a perfect excuse to innocently rubbing against her bulge, internally smirking as she reacted to you immediately, sure she slept around but you could get her rock hard just by sitting on her lap, she was yours. Plus she never ever would bring her flings into your home, your home was a sacred place for the both of you and when her mate came you would drive them out too, make them seem like they were a horrible person who was jealous of Selene's little princess of a sister, who she adored more than she would ever adore her mate, you were sure of it. When the curse ran out you hadn't realized it, you thought Selene had just given into your mutual love because she pounced on you to mate you immediately, you were very happy when you found out you were her actual mate. Selene would brag but she doesn't really have many people around to brag to. ♡

♡ Similarly to Selene you were a bit spoiled, not nearly to the same extent though since unlike Selene, Kassien was never afraid to put you in your place if you were being too bratty and whiny, good little sisters ask for what they want instead of just whining incoherently, if you wanted a kiss you had to be a good mate and tell her, she wouldn't just give into your tantrums as quickly, but you liked that about her, when she was scolding you for throwing a tantrum her attention was all on you though you did have to learn to use tantrums for her attention sparingly, you liked being scolded but you didn't love the actual punishments, after all you wanted her to love you, angering her wouldn't exactly get you the results you needed. She likes to take you around her office so she can show everyone that she has the best most obedient mate ever and you like to whine and act like a brat whenever she brings you into work with her so then she'll fold you over the desk in her office to get all your brattiness out of your system and behave for the rest of the day, then she'll take you down for lunch in the cafeteria, not letting you cover up the marks she just left all over you, not that you would want to, bragging even more that her mate actually loves and wants her while everyone else is a mateless loser or has a mate who doesn't obey them. ♡

♡ Like Nikki you naturally love napping as an angel but unlike Nikki you don't have many responsibilities so you mostly just sit at home all day waiting for your sister to return and fall asleep with you, of course you love her, as an angel is was only natural for you to love her and want to be with your mate, you could never understand why humans didn't want their mates. Growing up you were always called her little mini me because you just had such a similar attitude to hers and didn't understand when lower demons would try to run away from their angel mates, was that some sort of mating ritual. You had tried it a few times, hiding from her to try to get her attention but honestly it just exhausted you and you would always wind up sleeping in your hiding place until Nikki would come pick you up and bring you back to where the rest of the angels were, leaving you to quiz the other mates you had tried to run away on why they thought this game was so fun and if there was anything you could do to make it more fun, you didn't understand why they glared at you when you said that. Nikki is also not the type to try to brag, she just does it on accident, talking about how her mate is waiting for her at home so all these slackers need to get their work done quickly so she can sleep with her mate. ♡

♡ Runa much like Miriel is a bit dense about how you feel about her, obviously you do love her but she thinks of you as her sweet innocent sister who she's always protected and became a killer just to feed, she still thinks of you as someone she needs to protect and can't be too rough with and that she needs to take things slow, though her idea of taking hings slow is sneaking into your bed when she thinks you're asleep and touching your chest and stuff, satisfying her desires when she thinks you're asleep just so she doesn't pounce on you in the day time. You think your sister is somewhat of an idiot for not making a move yet, you're soulmates so OBVIOUSLY you would very much like to fuck her but since she won't make a real move on you first outside of when you're sleeping, you realize you need to jump her first. She's very surprised when one night when she'd rubbing against you, trying not to wake you up, your eyes snap open and she realizes you knew the entire time and never said anything which sort of upsets her and so she decides to pin you down and get rough with you since you always knew and never reciprocated her touches but that was exactly what you wanted. After that she still comes into your room at night but now it's a bit rougher, not exactly what you wanted but a step in the right direction towards her being bolder. She'd probably brag on an online forum for supernaturals mated to their sisters or something weird and gross. ♡

♡ You knew Nora had made the deal to make the both of you immortal, and while you had been actually thrilled about it, you decided you would never let her know how happy you were that she was in love with you, constantly guilt tripping her about what she'd done to you so that way Nora would feel like she'd have to always be at your side to make up for the grievous sin she had committed towards you, spending every day acting sad for the first few centuries to convince her to hold you, acting devastated you'd never be able to have a soulmate to convince her to sleep with you and act as your mate, telling her that the only way you could forget your sadness was when she was touching you so she'd initiate sex way more frequently to help you forget your sorrow. Eventually you get a little bit too obvious though and Nora catches on and asks you why you hurt her like that cause she really thought you hated her and you explain you just loved her too much and wanted to guarantee she would never leave you and so to make up for making you feel like she might leave you one day, she obviously ties you up and fucks the shit out of you, chaining you up in the house for the rest of eternity. Nora has no one she could even brag to. ♡

♡ The epitome of a smug bastard. She will take you and rail you literally anywhere in the office and in the penthouse because she has a mate who takes her knot every single time, the employees want to complain but they can't so they just seethe quietly, wishing they either had a mate or that their mate would let them do that, later trying to talk their own mates into it. When she's not mounting you she is calling employees into her office to ask for gift suggestions, she obviously needs to get you something amazing just to show you how lucky she is to have always had her mate right by her side, the worst part is she usually calls the mateless employees up for that because she just loves rubbing it in peoples faces that you have always loved her and wanted her. It's an actual problem but she is the leader of the city so no one can say anything about it even though it's super obnoxious. It's both a good and bad thing when you join her in the office, good because they won't have to hear her bragging for a bit and can focus on work but bad because now everyone who comes to the top floor can hear and probably smell her pheromones and her pheromones smell actually repugnant to anyone who isn't her mate sooooo. Everyone in the company would hate her even more than they normally do. ♡

[angstigone]

WARNINGS: mention of barf in your mouth and unwanted advances (from drunk himeno), reader is fem-coded and used adjectives typically female, this was prompted by this post by @noven-warsh saying that aki is always in others' personal spaces and I am still cackling about it, she-her pronouns/afab character

«can't you tell him something?».

«if it bothers you so much, why don't you?» himeno shot back your way with the exhale of smoke falling right into your face. you waved it off annoyedly and sending her a disimpressed look.

still, you didn't say anything; it did feel childish in the worst way to ask to your superior to intervene in a problematic that was between you and a colleague. a colleague that wasn't aware of his staring problem, nor of his excessive disruption of your physical boundaries.

to say it simply: aki hayakawa was always too close to you, invading your personal space as if you had invited to such a thing.

it wasn't something that happened only with you, as you had noticed him getting in the face of a few of the colleagues that bothered him; for somebody who prided himself onto being utterly cool with any outcome, he undoubtedly could be quite hotheaded in temper and such a thing endeared him to you infinitely.

and that's where the problem laid when it came to also his closeness to you. it wasn't necessarily uncomfortable but it was decidedly... too much.

too much for you.

who wouldn't mature the slightest crush towards aki hayakawa: he was just the right side of hotheaded to seem passionate although the obvious death wish he beheld. and maybe that's why he felt so attractive to you.

«... unless...» himeno's implication felt dangerous and you shot her glare although she was far gone past this point «... you like it».

«it's just improfessional».

«I literally kissed you on our first outing together» himeno reminded you and even in that case aki had invaded your space as you had gone out to cool out after the terrible incident; he had brought your face up and suddenly he was too close - the sole person you had wanted to kiss too night - with his lips moving but you didn't hear anything but 'kiss me, kiss me' «... and you didn't report me, but you want me to have a chat with aki about reinforcing personal space».

«he's the sole one who does it among us. while on the clock» you pointed out.

«and you are the sole one complaining» himeno shot back «... if it bothers you so much, put on your big girl pants and tell him that it bothers you. he's strangely obedient when it's a woman he likes giving him orders. and we all know it's either your or miss makima».

you both reddened and paled at the mention of the ghost among you all, but held back.

what himeno had said was the truth: if aki had gathered from a different source that you had said something like that about him, it'd have pissed him off.

«so you are implying that I should discuss about it with miss makima» till you teased your superior as she ditched her cigarette after having stubbed the meager end against her shoe.

«you are smart on the field and yet a pathetic loser outside of it» she teased you as you were about to protest that she was the one who had brought the whole 'pathetic' reputation «... I am sure you'll figure out what I truly mean».

and like that she had moved off although your small talk wasn't finished.

and neither your problem solved as you found yourself out for drinks with the squad, with aki inevitably pressed against you to ask you which drink you'd like.

it wasn't uncomfortable, but it had you flustered and giddy without the need for anything stronger than water.

«I'll be fine with a can of coke» there was no way you'd get drunk after the realization of your own small crush for aki hayakawa, too worried that just the right amount of physical contact and you'd pounce onto him no better than himeno.

that's why you had to keep your distance: himeno was the sole one that matched aki hayakawa's invading of others' spaces and whenever she'd be the one doing it to him, it had him balk in obvious rejection.

he wasn't interested into being returned with such behavior, although you thought it unfair.

you breathed in relief when he went to get everybody's orders as the first turn was on him, but not without feeling himeno's eyes strongly onto you, which you ignored in favor of starting a chat with the person on your side, glad that it continued through the night even when aki settled right beside you - just on the edge of his pillow - as he settled onto talking with who was by his side.

still, the lingering warmth was enough to make you hiss in your mind as you tried not to picture how such a warmth would feel against your body, complimented by aki's own weight.

it had you stammer through your 'goodbye's as you realized that it was almost closing time.

mechanically you got up and were startled when aki held up your coat to you. as you went to get it off his hands, though, he stopped you, instead opening it as a father would do a child and helping you into it much to your embarassment and a drunken himeno's smirk.

«want to make a part of the road to your house together?» all the devil hunters lived near the offices and incidentally most of the izakayas in the area were right near their houses. so you and aki weren't that far apart «... didn't get to talk to you all night».

you flustered as if called out and you wondered whether aki had caught onto your actions of the night of trying to ignore him as you were sure that you'd have to have an uncomfortable conversation. you had to eventually broach the topic that he was close to you in a way that had you uncomfortable because you knew you mistook it for more than it was.

«shit... I didn't realize» her lie was bad but aki allowed to get away with it as they moved onto the road for their apartments while saying 'goodnight's to their colleagues «... sorry».

«it's alright, I just...» and he stalled in his words, enough to get you nervous «... wonder whether I have done anything to make you... uncomfortable».

for a moment, you wondered whether himeno had let her mouth speak up although she had told you to 'deal with it', still, aki's eyes were genuinely concerned as if he didn't know what he had done.

«it's... it isn't anything bad» you started, sure that hiding it any further would have been a bad way to avoid an obvious conversation, although the way with which «... it's just...».

and suddenly he was too close, proving exactly the feeling that you had been harboring for the whole night, as he pushed right in front of you turning around and lightly crowding.

«... I... what have I done?».

«I was about to tell you, idiot!» you felt spurred on by the sudden close quarters, reacting angrily if anything to hide your obvious embarassment «I... you are always in my face, you know?».

was it... that easy to admit it?

although the way aki's face dropped from confusion to something different got you feeling immediately ... worried.

«I mean... I... it isn't that bad, I just...» have the biggest crush on you and yet, you aren't interested in relationships but the way you are always onto me makes me think the contrary?

«... I didn't... realize... I was making you uncomfortable» aki muttered taking, indeed, a few steps back.

"more like you make me feel hot and bothered" you wished to say but held back as an uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you, eventually aki moving in the direction of your apartment out of his own memory.

«it isn't... well, it isn't like that» was that all you could say? «... it's just... it feels... confusing».

and yet, you should have stuck with the phrases of circumstance, because aki turned lightly, turning his head lightly down as if he was confused himself.

«confusing?».

«I meant...».

«if you could tell me that I was bothering you, you can also tell me why you think it's confusing» wasn't he a meanie and didn't you like him more like that?

«because colleagues don't act like this» you shot back, thinking of taking the long road.

«I thought we were friends» and somehow that hurt so much more.

«... neither do friends act like this».

and finally realization seemed to hit home in aki's mind as he looked at you intensely, scrunching up his eyebrows and you were sure that he'd have called you off.

maybe shut down your bullshit or told you that he'd have let you down slowly. instead, he was closer again.

«then I think that my message got across quite well, although I hadn't meant to» was that... was that a confession?

you felt confused even more now, although the way that aki's hand lingered onto your cheek, awaiting for your consent and you nodded softly, now that you knew that you might not be misinterpreting touches.

«... can I get even more in your space, darling?».

[splendsay]

COD Fic // Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 8: Dancin' is a Dangerous Game

^ that's me rn cuz I have so much planned for this fic muahahaaa my asks are OPEN rn and I'm workshopping a few more fic outlines so be prepared for a metric fuckton more of me

.............................................................. Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 8: Dancin' is a Dangerous Game

Huzzahhh we made it to a time jump. hope you enjoy a lil bit of sunshine (or shall we say, ace???) and ghosty's growth.

.............................................................................. CWs: Explicit language, vague mentions of past trauma and recovery

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader (You)

Chapter Excerpt:

You spend the next several weeks in a rhythmic pattern of training, eating and sleeping, the gray mornings gradually giving way to sunnier and sunnier afternoons. The weather itself remains crisp. You're not sure that Scotland experiences true heat, though it's still not quite summer. Maybe you'll be proven wrong.

It takes time to come back to life. But the old you is in there somewhere, and little bit, by little bit, she resurfaces. After the first week, you'd regained a semi-normal amount of energy, able to push through a full day without too much difficulty. That had only improved with time, but you still fall into bed each night utterly exhausted. Your sleep remains dreamless and heavy and all-consuming. 

You wake every morning with a roaring start, momentarily forgetting where you are. Hell, who you are, some days. But you're rested. You're groomed -- well enough, at least. You're fed. Though...

You're an awful cook. Ghost is somehow worse. The best the two of you together can scrounge up is a meager spaghetti dinner -- jarred sauce, of course. The cookies you'd made after that first day of sparring had turned out okay -- mostly edible, at least. Only a few bits too burnt to enjoy. But you found yourself eagerly awaiting Gaz's return, if only to eat something not made of years' old tomatoes. 

Plus, you feel it might be nice to see a face besides your own. Ghost doesn't count. At a minimum, he's always got the balaclava pulled up past his nose, but most of the time, he's wearing the full get-up. 

"Do you ever take it off?" you'd barked at him one day during a particularly grueling sparring session. He'd run you ragged that morning -- pushed you to finish a 5K without walking. You'd hissed and spat and growled at him the whole way, but you'd done it. Slowly. He'd celebrated your accomplishment by lording over you as you trembled through a couple dozen pushups, sit-ups, squats -- a whole menu of calisthenic torture techniques. 

By the time you'd made it to spar, you were entirely fueled by contempt. 

He hadn't answered you, of course. Merely looked down at you with his blackened eyes, arms crossed behind his back. Waiting for you to swing. You had -- too wild and wide -- and he'd put you on the ground with a solid whack to the armpit. You'd released a stream of more and more colorful swear words in retribution, but, as usual, they had bounced off him with no consequence.

And this was your pattern. Day after day after day.

............................................................................. Links to: Spotify Playlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

[putschki1969]

Hello dear Sarah, I hope you are well, I want to ask you a question since you are very expert on the subject, When kalafina existed (it hurts to say that😭) I was a teenager I couldn't buy their merchandise now that I can I want to know if I buy something from them, do they still make a profit or not?My friend says not anymore, if I want to support them, I better buy their materials as soloists. Please give me some advice.

Hello there!

I am so, so sorry! This reply is long overdue. I had this in my drafts for way too long. These days, I've really been struggling with summer fatigue and can't get motivated to do anything except the bare minimum. As a result, lots of asks have remained unanswered in my inbox/drafts.

Without further ado, let's get to your question��(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

Disclaimer: Take everything you read here with a grain of salt. Even though I would consider myself to be quite knowledgeable on the matter, I don't have all the facts.

I think your friend is correct. If you are buying Kalafina releases (CDs, DVDs/BDs/etc) or merchandise (live goods etc) right now, it is very unlikely that the girls will profit from it.

The way the Japanese entertainment industry works, idols/singers often don't have any rights to their music (especially in a case like this where they don't have an active part in the creative process). From what we know, the members of Kalafina were most likely managed in a very common and traditional "employment dynamic" with their talent agency "Space Craft" , meaning that after the label (Sony/SACRA MUSIC) got its sizeable share, the agency basically pocketed all remaining earnings from Kalafina's activities and then distributed a contractually agreed upon percentage to the members in the form of a monthly salary. As the creative force behind everything, I would assume that Yuki Kajiura probably had a more favourable arrangement with Space Craft along the lines of a client <=> management relationship and therefore received earnings directly with a certain percentage going to the agency but I'm only speculating here. Considering the amounts of money that went to the label, the agency and Yuki Kajiura, it is likely that the girls received a quite meager share compared to everyone else involved. Not saying they weren't paid decently, it was obviously more than enough to allow all three of them to live comfortably (or luxuriously in Keiko's case - keep in mind tho that her family is well-off) but certainly nothing too crazy.

After leaving Space Craft, I very much doubt that Keiko and Hikaru would have financial gains from any Kalafina-related sales. Wakana on the other hand might profit indirectly from such purchases because she's still signed up with Space Craft. Some official Kalafina merch is still available in the Space Craft online store so if you buy anything from there, the money would obviously go to the agency. All other merchandise items that are floating around online or in stores are almost certainly second-hand goods so no profit is made except by the seller/thrift shop. As for music releases from official shops or distribution partners, I'm actually not sure if Space Craft would still receive a cut from that. I guess it depends on their arrangement with the label. I definitely wouldn't rule it out. (YK is probably getting something).

Long story short, if you want to support the girls, the best option currently is to buy their solo stuff. However, that doesn't mean that you should give up on your dream to buy Kalafina releases and merch. Even if the group is disbanded, it is a good thing to signal that there is still demand for them. Also, if you ask me, nothing feels better than to own physical merch/releases. My Kalafina shrine is one of my biggest sources of happiness and pride.

[sstormyskyess]

Pitch Black - Prologue

author's note: hello hello everyone!! welcome to my first long form series on this blog! i'm excited to share this story i've been cooking up since summer last year and i hope everyone likes it as much as i've had fun brainstorming it 😊 this is gonna be a little short prologue to set the mood and give a little context for reader so things make sense later on! please enjoy 💜

cw: descriptions of injury, mentions of vomiting

word count: 1400+

Everyone and their mother knows that Russian winters were ruthless. It was a widely accepted fact, even for those who hadn’t personally experienced one of said agonizing winters. Snowfall was common for six months out of the year, and the temperatures could reach —44 degrees fahrenheit.

Cold air seeped in from under the door of the tiny room you were confined in. You shivered while you sat on the old, flimsy cot against the back wall of the solitary prison cell. Your vision was unfocused and blurry, though it was hard to tell because it was too dark to see anything. The walls were made of dark concrete and half-rotted wood slats. It smelled musty and stale, the air circulation in the room severely lacking.

You wince when the door suddenly opens, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to block out the blinding LED lights beaming into the room out of nowhere. Your breath catches in your throat from the surprise, your chest stinging from the feeling. You peek an eye open when a metal food tray clatters to the floor. The sound was deafening as it cut through the murky silence you had been wallowing in, making you bring your hands up to cover your ears. The man that dropped the tray barks something at you in Russian before slamming the door shut once again.

Konni Group.

An up and coming Russian private military company, the target of your squad’s operation, and the people that had taken you prisoner.

The stated goal of your team was to clear out a known Konni base and to capture or kill the colonel they knew was posted up there. The POI had led a recent attack on a U.S. arms convoy and taken a number of highly lethal weaponry from the wreckage. The weapons were likely hidden somewhere in the base, and it was imperative to locate them before they were used anywhere.

The operation had gone less than optimally. It was doomed to fail from the start; the intel your squad was given was faulty, you had your cover blown by an ambush, and to cap it all off, the chaos allowed for Konni to get their hands on you and whisk you away.

 The only thing you could think of was time. How long had it been since you’d been thrown in here? Days, weeks, months? You couldn’t tell. Just thinking about it made your head hurt.

The only measurement you had was how long it was between the miniscule amount of food you were granted by your captors on a seemingly random schedule. You were practically able to feel your body consuming itself, your stomach growling at you angrily. You would cry, but the waterworks had run dry ages ago. You couldn’t afford to lose any more water; you didn’t have that privilege anymore. 

Years of active service in the U.S. Marines had gotten you used to grueling conditions, but nothing like this. Even out in the field, dispatched from whatever base you were stationed in, you knew you’d be able to secure some kind of sustenance. Food and water felt like a luxury now.

Despite the cold, the hunger, and the wear and tear on your body, both internal and external, the worst part was the lack of contact. You couldn’t even hear anyone moving outside, no matter how hard you strained your ears. There was no light peeking from under the door, so you couldn’t track shadows moving. The only indication that someone was behind the door was the meager rations being put into the cell. Between those meals, for all you knew, no one was present in the facility anymore.

Too much time had passed for anyone to still be looking for you or trying to rescue you. It hurt, at first. The feeling of being forgotten or being considered disposable had been crippling for a while, so painfully debilitating that it had you weeping endlessly for days, maybe even a week or more. The muscles of your stomach ached afterwards. Mixed with all the kicks and punches you suffered from interrogations, your heaving sobs had you nauseous and throwing up bile frequently.

You ruminated over what could possibly be the reason you were still being kept here instead of being executed. You weren't being interrogated anymore by now. You were just left with the wounds that you sustained from hours upon days upon weeks of interrogation. The bruises had healed, but the cuts were infected from the shoddy cauterizing job they had attempted. It felt like the bones that were broken were healing incorrectly.

You sigh shakily, your perpetually shivering body getting uncomfortable, so you try to shift a bit. The only thing you accomplished by trying to roll over on your tiny stone cold cot was falling face down onto the floor. You wince and give a weak groan, curling up and holding your stomach. You try your hardest to just close your eyes and get some sleep, no matter how restless it was.

When you woke up, you were finally back in the present. You were finally back in the little old house that you found after escaping that Konni facility, the sun just barely rising over the horizon.

It had been two years since you were abducted. The realization hit you hard. Two years you spent in that dark, cold, suffocating cell. Two years you spent withering away, slowly but surely. Two years you spent in your own special hell, alone, battered and beaten, left scarred for years and years to come.

You roll over and get out of the bed, a headache already springing forth in your head, making you rub your temples. You sigh and amble over to your rucksack full of all the essentials—well, most of them at least. You frown at the sight that greets you. Only a few MREs left and all of them were your least favorites. But, you’ve been through worse.

You pace around the room as you eat, reading some of the files you pulled off the rickety table in the corner of the tiny one room cabin. You scan the files and run a thumb over the insignia on the front of the manila folder containing everything you needed for your next job.

Al Qatala.

A terrorist organization based out of Urzikstan, the current boogeyman of the western world, and your current contractor.

The life of a freelance intel agent was an interesting one, to say the least. You had been around the world making problems for a countless number of political and military bodies, but the money was worth it. Not to mention the anonymity that came with not being tied down to any one organization.

You went off the grid after you escaped from Konni. You wanted to go back to normal life, but something in you told you to stay away from it all. Maybe it was the fear of being found and captured again. The logical side of your brain told you that there was no reason they would want you back, but it was hard to reason with a brain torn apart by the sort of trauma you went through.

You hadn’t cared to check up on any of your old teammates. There was an underlying resentment present in the back of your mind. You were betrayed by them, after all. They left you for dead and didn’t look back. Thinking back on it made you frown. You watched them leave you behind with no hesitation, run away without looking back. So much for no man left behind, right?

By the time you snap out of your frustrated thoughts, you’re already finished with your food. Your headache has gotten worse. You groan and pinch the bridge of your nose. You would really have to invest in some painkillers.

Based on how high the sun has gotten, you figure it’s about time to get moving. At least focusing on this job would keep your mind off the events that led you here. You flip through a folder and look at the location that was printed on one of the papers. Then, you take a peek at the pictures of the people you were meant to track.

Task Force 141.

A multinational task force recently founded, a team dedicated to making the world a better place, and ones that had been causing problems for your current contractor.

You take a deep breath and pack all your things away, ready yourself for the trek to the task force’s current location, and leave the cabin with the determination that kicks in whenever you set out on a mission.

𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[llondonfog]

Hi!! Feel free to ignore, but I was just thinking about kid silver being adorable AND Halloween because of the upcoming event...and this thought was born—

(This is so long I'm sorry 😭😭)

So, Silver gets de-aged (bear with me here lol)—maybe due to a potions mishap or a spell gone wrong, it doesn't matter which. It's during Halloween week, so everyone's kinda frazzled due to everything being set up, etc. Lilia gets called to deal with it while Crewel tries to figure out a counter-potion/spell wears off because nobody can get in touch with Malleus, and therefore goes to Diasomnia's vice to help take care of Silver (not knowing that they're father & son).

Silver spots Lilia and yells "Papa!" while running to hug Lilia—while Lilia tries to cover up what Silver said. Regardless, he still picks Silver up and cuddles him—he's a silly old man who loves his kid, who can blame him?

Anyway, kid Silver hijinks ensue: running off with the animals on campus, taking naps surrounded by deer, birds, squirrels, etc., calling Malleus "big brother" and Lilia "papa" while around other Diasomnia students (they wouldn't say anything, because Malleus looks so endeared by the little human and Lilia glares and hisses *unknowingly* at any of them who DARE to interrupt their family).

Silver sees Sebek and looks back at Lilia. He's like, "Why did you make him so tall?? Papa, change him back, please!" *cue puppy eyes* he genuinely thinks Lilia pranked him. As much as Sebek says that he dislikes Silver's behavior, he's actually the one to take him everywhere. "You shouldn't miss so much school, Silver! I won't let you besmirch Waka-sama's good name!"

OK, but back to Halloween—Silver dresses up as a knight, or a prince. Maybe a unicorn??? DRAGON?? Any of them are cute tbh. Anyway, they end up going to each dorm to trick or treat (on Halloween night ofc) and Silver charms everyone, because he's Silver. Then, you have Lilia behind him just being the creepiest little demon fae you've ever had the misfortune to see...

As they're going to one of the dorms to get more candy, Silver sees another kid pouting at the lack of candy said dorm has, and their meager amount. Silver, despite having only a few more pieces himself, gives the kid most of his, and gives the other kid a hug. "There, there, you can have some of mine."

Honestly, you can do whatever you want with this, but I'd love to see this written out more coherently, if you want lol

I've been thinking about this for a while, and I NEED more kid Silver being cute and adorable and pure!! He deserves to be cuddled by his family and to eat candy :D

oh my goodness, this whole entire prompt was adorable and thank you for practically writing the premise into my inbox!! i'm not sure this is coherent.....or cuddly....but my mood with lilia has been in a pretty introspective place for sometime so i do hope you find something to enjoy :')

(and i did end up keeping that paragraph after so many of you seemed to like it akaldjll what do i know about anything)

for a fae as long-lived as he, the concept of time is an ephemeral thing. one does not count the years in a decade nor the decades in a century; a fae knows time by the erosion of a mountainside, by the loneliness of an abandoned settlement, or even by the chance meeting of a human wearing the face of another long since passed. 

silver fills his arms, helmet askew and heavy with satisfied slumber, and lilia feels the ache of every day that has gone by since he was last able to cradle his son so tenderly in his embrace. 

he may be the only fae that now minds his days by the sharpening of his son’s features, a change emerging far too quick and now, strangely, unwelcome.

beside him, serene, the heir apparent to the valley of thorns— looking most pleased himself in their resplendent costumes so artfully reminiscent of the admirable long, yet any dignified mysticism is rendered charmed by the plastic pumpkin bucket clutched in his crimson-tipped claws, brimming with brightly wrapped candy. the overflow is nearly double the amount given to the visiting children, even with silver eagerly dispensing his sugary treasures to any who asked, for no dorm had been able to resist his solemn request coupled with those adorably drowsy eyes and plastic sword when he had so politely asked for one piece more so that their prince might experience trick or treating for the first time. not wanting to be the dorm known for stiffing the fae heir on the most magic-blessed night of them all, both toddling knight and noble dragon walked away, tiny hand in careful claw, with a bounty piled high between them and matching smiles on their twin eager faces. 

lilia had been so torn over which to get a photo of first, cheeks aching from stifling his laughter; the vulnerable delight on malleus’ face as silver so kindly presented him with his share of candy, or sebek’s ill-disguised fussing as silver’s sword had slipped from its sheath to drag across the ground. 

what kindness to be able to share such precious memories with them once again.

what cruelty to remind him of what would disappear tomorrow morning, crewel’s antidote ready and waiting for them in the dorm. 

“...i can see why silver enjoyed such a night of festivity and why he spoke on those memories with you so fondly,” malleus’ reflective tone scatters his wandering thoughts, leaving him to pull his focus back to the present with no small amount of difficulty. “I wish i could have participated in the revelry, but i understand now why you might not have invited me, lilia. the presence of their prince would have dampened any carefree spirits, and i would not have wanted to spoil the fun.”

a wry smile tugs at his lips at malleus’ inaccurate assessment, crooked and out of place, and he can feel the prince’s gaze weighty upon him with surprise, brows furrowing and lips parting with the question on his tongue— 

there had been no such festivities, no happily shrieking village children for silver to scamper among, sharing in the night’s delights and trickery with all the innocence of youth. 

there had only been an old fool of a general, taking it upon himself to fumble through the recreation of a human spectacle, for no other reason than he could not bear the sight of the boy’s features even mildly unhappy. 

he might have wondered how far he could have fallen to find himself repeatedly affecting surprise as he opens the door time and time again to a giggling child, but he knows better now; he had always been steeped in a miserable, lonesome darkness, and to nurture the vulnerable child curled into his chest was to bask in an undeserving light. 

without consent, his arms tighten around the slumbering boy in his arms, and malleus is wise enough not to comment. 

“I do wonder if silver will be able to remember tonight’s events,” lilia comments lightly as they continue their walk to the dorm, seemingly apropos of nothing and unbothered by the watchful gaze of his young companion. 

and he wonders which is more selfish; to wish it so, to have his son’s head filled with such saccharine-sweet dreams of a proper halloween as only a sweet and darling boy like none other deserves— or to cling to the lonely truth of the past, in which a bruised and battered soldier finds a purpose too kind for his bloodied hands in protecting that high and clear laughter of his child, delighting over and over again in the simple fact of his father opening the door.

[bestworstcase]

re: talk of Burn, do you have any idea why Yang's aura clearly broke when Neo struck her in V8 (right after activating Burn)? my theory is that perhaps activating her semblance does something like Tock's where it makes her aura manifest more solidly on her body (which is how it can make her hair light on fire) and therefore also, like Tock, means that her aura is more vulnerable. to me this would also explain why Yang would use it as a finisher at first; using it when she's already going to run out of aura makes it, in a sense, less dangerous because she's already gotten most of the other uses out of her aura that she can get.

would love to know if you think this is accurate, or what you actually think is going on with yang's semblance on a mechanical level (if you're interested in that anyway)

first, a general point about aura and aura breaking. the characters’ use of meters has led to a sort of popular fanon that aura works like hit points in a video game, where you have this many and taking damage reduces your HP by a certain number until you hit zero and then your aura breaks; (dark souls splash screen voice) YOU DIED.

i do not think it works that way.

from world of remnant:

aura is a manifestation of the soul, a life force that runs through every living creature on remnant—whether they are a meager shopkeep or a renowned knight. however, what sets true warriors apart from all others is their ability to amplify and control their aura.

aura is the power of one’s soul. it’s guided by emotion, self-knowledge, and spirituality. in its purest form, it becomes a semblance.

defensive aura is not a passive effect. we know this for a fact. in V5, oscar finds it physically exhausting to engage his aura in this way and ren tells him that’s normal—it requires intense concentration at first, then becomes second nature with practice. in V7, jaune’s aura-training demonstrates that recovery, regaining aura once it has been depleted, is a conscious action that can be improved through practice. this is because the “aura level” tracked by those meters is not a measurement of how much aura you have in the tank, as it were, but something like the density of the aura-field you’re pushing outward, or speed of flow, or something along those lines.

(the way i’m handling it in TDT is there’s a hard upper bound to how much aura you can hold in your skin, like a sponge not being able to absorb more water, and what auraleric gauges attempt to measure is % of maximum saturation because everyone’s aura will break around 5-10% saturation even though the amount of aura you have at 100% varies. anything you push out above that threshold is projected as transient bursts of energy and that’s where you start getting into offensive techniques.)

hazel’s phenomenal endurance is noted to derive from his rapid recovery, not the basal amount of aura he has. (he even just shrugs off being impaled.) i believe his semblance gives him an edge here, because it requires concentration to amplify one’s aura and hazel can’t be distracted by physical pain.

which brings me to aura-breaking. it doesn’t happen when the proverbial tank is empty. auras break when you can’t sustain the mental effort of generating enough aura; this might happen because the well you’re drawing from really has run dry (<- think this is what happened to nora with the high voltage door), but it might also be because you’re too tired, or you took a really painful or unexpected hit that shattered your focus, because you’re panicking or furious.

i think tock’s semblance is in the same ‘family’ as hazel’s and ironwood’s in that it puts her into a state of intense focus by blocking out anything that might shake her—with hers being far, far more potent than theirs but so potent she can’t maintain it for longer than sixty seconds, and possibly needs the ticking clock to ‘anchor’ her focus.

(fic stuff again, because tock’s alive in TDT for butterfly wing flaps reasons: sixty seconds is not a hard limit of her semblance; she can and on one occasion did go for much longer. to project an aura field you draw aura out of your reserve, which is the aura that naturally ‘pools’ around your soul; if that runs dry and you’re desperate enough, pushing hard enough, you can wring more aura out of your soul. blood from a stone. it hurts a lot, it will mess you up, and it can do permanent damage similar to what the aura transfer machines do to pietro. sixty seconds is how long it takes for tock’s semblance to drain her aura reserve, rounded down to allow for a margin of error.)

so. yang.

i think, mechanically, when the average person with aura training gets hit, their aura burns up to disperse most of that energy. (<- when they’re swatting gunfire away, the bullets bounce; the energy is reflected.)

but yang’s semblance absorbs energy—which is to say, if you had a ball throwing machine shoot a tennis ball at yang and someone else with equivalent training from the same distance, it would hit yang harder because her aura is less reflective; more of the ball’s kinetic energy flows into her body. then, like a battery, her aura converts that energy into some other form that can be stored.

sort of like dust, in fact. dust has a lot of potential energy, which is released when the material reacts with aura. given the literally explosive firepower yang gains from burn, i think that she’s storing this absorbed energy in the same form as occurs naturally in dust, which would put burn in the same ‘family’ as coco’s hype or arrastra’s equilibrium…

…and would also mean that this statement:

some prefer to use dust in its raw form: elegant, yet destructive. those who choose to wield dust in this state must possess a certain level of discipline to ensure that their resulting powers do not break free of their control.

is true of burn, too. and that tracks with who yang is and how she uses her semblance—even in V1-3, yang takes a more head-on approach to fights and tends to soak up more damage before exploding bigger vs her increasingly nimble and even acrobatic style post-beacon, but her control over those massive volcanic eruptions is immaculate.

the way burn works in general requires that yang be very, very in control of her aura at all times because she needs to balance between absorbing energy to charge up her semblance while reflecting enough to prevent injury, and this is one reason why i think yang is probably the best out of the cast when it comes to using aura. ren might have her beat on the more spiritual, extra-sensory perception side of things, but yang has to keep her focus while getting hit harder than anyone else Because Physics.

and that brings us to neo one-shotting yang’s aura. here is what happens: cinder is gloating from atop a pillar of fire while people scream and run in a panic all around them, and out of the corner of her eye, yang sees a glint of steel and realizes that neo is about to stab her unsuspecting baby sister in the back, she’s too far away, she can’t get there fast enough—burn is, in that moment, a reflex. instinct. she panics and hurls herself in between neo and ruby without even thinking about it because the only thing in her mind is GET TO RUBY NOW.

and that’s why her aura just shatters. it requires concentration—you practice until it becomes instinctive, until you don’t need to think about it, muscle memory. but it still takes focus. intention. yang has incredible self-control and thus incredible control of her aura, but everyone has limits, and hers are “holy fuck that guy stabbed blake” and “neo is going to kill ruby go go go.”

her semblance in itself doesn’t make her defense any weaker—but when she’s terrified enough for burn to activate reflexively like this, her aura will break if she gets hit because she’s freaking out.

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 7: Quest for Answers

In which Danny does her best to learn more about her new living situation from a smug giant and a cheery, possessed house. Contains: ~2.2k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

Danny wasn’t disturbed the next morning as she expected to be—whether it be from Christopher coming to rectify Sam’s mistake and return her to her cage, or for her to learn what it meant for her “service” to be required. Instead, she was free to lie amongst the blankets that spanned a bed larger than anything she could have ever imagined before. She had no issues with her toes sticking out from under the covers, or rolling too far towards the edge of the bed in the middle of the night—and she certainly didn’t have any problems involving not having enough blankets to keep her warm. 

If it hadn’t been for the latent anxiety pestering her all night, she was sure she would have gotten the best sleep of her life.

She was content to lie there as the sun came up—not that she had much of a choice. She supposed she could call for Sam to help her down, but where would she go? What would she do? It was much more pleasant to submit to this small amount of comfort amidst a sea of uncertainty and fear.

As if he could sense this comfort of hers and absolutely could not let her have even this small moment of peace, she heard a set of giant footsteps approach her room, followed by a knock at the door. 

“May I come in?” 

Danny glared at the door. Asking for permission. Cute. “No.”

There was a pause, a silent moment of the giant possibly contemplating his next course of action, before the doorknob turned and the door opened ever so slightly. She rolled her eyes and flipped over in bed, facing away from Christopher as he entered. Of course he was just gonna come in anyways. Why did he even ask?

She half-expected to be picked up and dragged from under the sheets, but to her surprise, Christopher seemed to stop just before the bed, and she remained where she was.

“What do you want?” she growled, still stubbornly facing away from him.

“An apolog–ah!” Christopher’s sentence was cut off by a small yelp of pain, which intrigued Danny enough to turn around and give him an amused smirk. He seemed to be rubbing his ankle with a withering glare directed towards the rug.

He placed something down on the nightstand next to Danny—a human-sized tray of breakfast food. She looked slowly between it and the giant, narrowing her eyes in such a way that it suggested she was calculating the necessary velocity to toss it at him again.

Almost as if he could sense her intent, he took a courteous step backwards. “What I meant to say was, I brought you something to eat.” He spoke in the same stilted manner as someone who was mildly annoyed that they had a knife held to their neck.

She just glared at him silently, filling the dead air between them with the meager weight of her animosity. Silence, at least, would have the same impact on a giant as it would on a human. 

Christopher stared back at her with a much more dead-eyed expression, like she was boring him more than anything. He gave her a curt nod. “I’ll leave you be.”

He turned to exit the room, but as he did so, she found herself breaking the silence and calling out after him. “Hey!” 

He stopped in place, but didn’t turn to face her. 

She sat up in bed, crossing her arms. “Stay here for a minute. I’ve got a few questions for you, bastard.”

Sam said give him a chance, right? Fine. This is me, giving this fucker a chance.

Christopher turned around and met her eyes again, although this time, the seeming apathy was replaced with…surprise, and even a hint of amusement as a small grin crept up his face. He pulled a nearby chair up next to the bed, and sat down a respectable distance from Danny, folding his hands into his lap. “Well, I’ll try to answer as best as I can, doll.” 

“Danny,” she corrected him, already beginning to regret extending an olive branch. “First. I want to know what you did to Nathan yesterday, when he came here. He was terrified, and I’m still not buying your fucking story about him ‘trespassing.’ Did you hurt him?”

She kept her voice even, though there was enough deadly venom laced in her tone to drive an unspoken point home. 

Christopher blinked a few times, like this was an odd question somehow. “...no, I didn’t hurt him. A lot of people are…frightened of me simply due to my size, and I imagine your friend was one of them. Nathan is perfectly fine, I assure you.” 

Danny’s eyes flicked mercilessly over the giant’s face for any hint of deception, finding the inscrutable, seemingly sincere expression nearly impossible to read. She didn’t want to believe him, even if what he was suggesting was the best possible explanation in terms of Nathan’s wellbeing.

For now, she’d have to take his word on it. She could question Nathan when she got back home.

“...you say that, but you sent him off in the middle of winter, at night, alone. Not only that, but he’s having to take care of the whole house by himself for a month. How do I even know he made it back okay?” Her voice broke—speaking it aloud made her realize her fears even clearer, and it made her heart clench in fear. 

Christopher returned her worries with what appeared to be a genuinely sympathetic look. “I had someone make sure he arrived back home safely. And,” he grinned, “because I’m so generous, I’ve arranged for a small donation to be made that should tide your friend over through your absence. I’m not heartless, Danny.” 

She found the suggestion laughable. “Generous? You’re keeping me prisoner here. Why the fuck are you helping us? Isn’t this supposed to be some sort of punishment?” 

Christopher sat up a little straighter in his chair, although she caught what seemed to be a sort of weariness to his posture. “There are simply rules that must be followed. I don’t delight in torment. Only one person needs to repay the debt that is owed—there is no need to punish further than that.” 

She snarled back at him unkindly, loathing the impersonal, matter-of-fact way he spoke about punishment and rules in such a way that it almost seemed to make sense—when in fact, keeping her prisoner here for Nathan’s “trespassing” was actually insanity. 

But if what Christopher was saying was true, then she could at least put the thought of Nathan struggling on his own out of her head…somewhat. Surely, he would still be worried sick, frightened, and alone.

It’s just a month. That’s all. 

“So what am I expected to do here, exactly?” This was the real mystery to her—what, honestly, could a human even do in a place so large?

“Sam will be the one to direct you on what needs to be done. I expect they will be here shortly.” He stood up, and nodded towards her with a cordial bow of his head and a placid grin. “Until then, be well, and enjoy your breakfast.”

“Hey, wait!” 

Her protest didn’t stop him this time—Christopher turned and left the way he’d come, leaving her alone with the tray of food nearby. She regarded the door he closed behind him curiously, somehow more confused about the giant than when she’d first sat him down to ask her questions. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

She hoped that she’d finally get some answers from Sam, who rolled into the room a while later as the same cart from yesterday once she’d finished her tray of food. “Hey, Danny, good morning! How did you sleep?” 

“I’m…fine, thanks, Sam,” she grumbled. “So you’re gonna tell me what I’m supposed to be doing here, right?” 

“Well…look, Christopher’s just a little old-fashioned about that whole ‘working off your debt’ thing. It’s just a formality. My advice? Just ride it out for a month and then you can, y’know, be on your way and everything.” 

Irritation bristled across her skin. “So I’m not even supposed to do anything? Are you serious? Nathan’s going to be on his own for a month while I just sit here?” 

The rolling cart almost shrugged with the way its metal handle bent inward. “I mean, I guess I could have you clean something if you really wanted to, but I’ve kinda got things covered. We could do something fun instead.” 

“Fun?” she scoffed. “Yeah, sure. And what is there to do for fun around here, exactly?” 

“Well…” the cart moved a little back and forth, like someone rocking on the balls of their feet. “There’s all kinds of stuff in this house that the family’s collected over the years. Most of it’s just gathering dust now, but I’ve had plenty of time to familiarize myself with everything. I could show you around the place!” 

Danny wasn’t sure how something without a face or limbs could seem excited, but the cart seemed to give off such childish glee at the idea that she couldn’t stay irritated for long. She sighed. “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. Sure, Sam.” 

Before she knew it, Danny was riding on top of the cart as it wheeled around the house, going down seemingly endless corridors as Sam gave Danny a personal, very detailed tour of every single painting, bust, and random piece of furniture they came across. Danny didn’t understand half of what Sam went on and on about, but she couldn’t find it in herself to interrupt their enthusiastic narration. There was something almost…calming about it, in a strange way.

Halfway through a monologue about a fancy fruit bowl’s significance in belonging to the ruler of a now-dead civilization, Sam stopped themselves. “Sorry,” they mumbled sheepishly. “I know I’m going on and on. I just haven’t had anyone to talk to like this in a while.”

Danny chuckled lightly. “No, you’re fine. I guess this beats cleaning floors.” She chewed idly on her bottom lip as she considered the rest of what Sam said. “Have you and Christopher…really been alone here? He doesn’t, like, invite people over or anything? No family?”

The cart began to roll down the hallway, although it moved at a much more somber pace than before. “Christopher’s parents died a long time ago. He doesn’t have any other family. And, well…you can imagine how hesitant most people are to visit the home of a giant.” 

The wind that whistled quietly outside sounded eerily like Sam sighing. “He’s been alone here for a long time.” 

“Sounds lonely as fuck,” Danny muttered. Sam didn't reply, but she could feel a silent weight to the air that felt like agreement. 

Her face scrunched up in confusion. “How did that even happen, anyways? Him being a giant? How does he like…get out and walk around?”

“Uh…somewhat complicated to answer, but the long and short of it is that Christopher can’t leave the house. It’s a…spell. The same one that makes it look small from the outside.”

Danny didn’t think she was going to get a better answer on why there was a giant living out in the middle of the woods. Her thoughts turned to something almost bordering sympathy—thinking of how miserable it must be to be stuck out here by yourself, not even able to leave your house. Even if your house was this massive and full of so many comforts most people could never dream of. From her perspective, already dwarfed by the smallest of things in it, the mansion started to seem…lonely. 

Her mind then turned to how such a thing would work on a practical level. “How does he get food, if he can’t leave the house? Do people, like, deliver stuff here?” 

Sam’s next pause somehow seemed a little more awkward than the ones before. “The kitchen is actually magically stocked. But, uh, giants don’t really need to eat food like most people do, so it’s a little useless unless we have guests. Like you!” 

So I’ve been eating…magical grapes? She shook her head, almost distracting herself from a stranger revelation. “He doesn’t need to eat at all?” 

“Nope.” 

“...huh.” Danny wasn’t exactly learned in science, but something about that notion didn’t make sense to her. “How is that even possible?” she asked the temporarily sentient trolley cart who she was riding on through the massive hallways of a magical, giant mansion. 

The cart shrugged as much as such a thing could. “Don’t ask me. That’s just how it works.”

After that, the conversation diverted to much more mundane things, and Sam became much more interested in explaining things not related to giants—like the identity of a heavily mustached man in a painting further down the hall, and the fabric that the rug beneath them was made of coming from some far-off land, and actually it was quite a funny story how the family came into possession of it, and it all started with a dispute over chicken ownership—

Danny listened along, even though she couldn’t help but feel as though there was something in the conversation earlier that Sam had tried to avoid—she just couldn’t figure out what. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next chapter ->

Sam's not done with the tour yet! Do you think they'd pass up an opportunity to force Christopher and Danny to interact? Just wait for next week's chapter 8, Judging by the Cover!

Thank you for reading!

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter thirteen)

Gone with one issue on to the next, post haste! It was like this year was pelting him with problem after problem. Of course, a quantum destination would be the next space on his bingo card of disasters! Why wouldn’t it be?! If there’s one thing the universe would never give him it was a break. That nap was a curse! He made up for too much of the sleep he’d lost back home. Now, there was karma to pay for those extra few hours of sleep. 

Granted, he felt better than yesterday, but was it worth the quantum detonation? Temptation says yes but logical thinking says no. Logical thinking also said nothing he could’ve done would’ve prevented the damage to the drive core. It would have already started to degrade from seawater pouring in before he even got there. It was nice to know this one thing wasn’t his fault, but it wouldn’t soothe the anxiety of knowing the Aurora was going to explode.

The damage a drive core from a ship the Aurora’s size could cause would be catastrophic. The radiation alone was a planet-ending event. Could he prevent this with his limited access to his powers? There were no blueprints for a radiation suit in his PDA and he doubts he could make one himself. Building what was essentially a hazmat divesuit strong enough to protect him from the lethal doses of radiation the aurora was dishing out wasn’t the same as building a table. Did he still have any kind of immunity to radiation? 

Regardless, he’s a Fenton! He got irradiated for breakfast! 

Swimming back to his base, Danny began pilfering through his storage. If he’s even going to try attempting to stop a quantum detonation, a seamoth would be helpful. Not only did it sound cool as hell, it’d make traversing through the waters a piece of cake! Only… The blueprints wasn’t there and data corruption was to blame. Cursing, Danny collapsed to the floor, scrolling desperately through all the blueprints over and over again. He’d regained the blueprint for the mobile vehicle bay, but there was no amount of tampering that’d give him the Seamoth. The mobile vehicle bay was useless without a vehicle! 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Danny decided this was the perfect time to check the radio. Any information concerning the rendevuos would be a life saver!

Swimming back to his pod, a cloud of rot spilled into the ocean. The foul odor of the remaining goo assaulted his nostrils. Nausea bubbled in his stomach, bile crawling up his throat. He crawled back into the pod. They say the smell of human decomposition was one the human body was hardwired to recognize and Danny could now say with confidence that rotting halfa was the same. Even if he’d been completely unaware of the lifepod’s contents the smell alone sent a shiver down his spine. It was easier to dissociate the pile of goo on the floor before it’d decomposed to this extent. Dried blood stained the floor any green that’d been there was gone without a trace.

This…This would be a gruesome site for whoever was going to collect the life pods after this was over. It’s a difficult scene for him to see for ancient's sake! It was funny to think that despite the horrid smell and blood, he’d rather have found something like this in Lifepod 3. Bodies, or at least more than a PDA entry to prove someone was here! He’d perfer finding blood and rot than have the dead be forgotten so easily. They’d died within the meager three hours Danny had been unconscious, and been torn into by local wildlife until nothing remained before anyone could respond to their distress signal.

Tearing his eyes away from the puddle, Danny sucked in a deep breath, regretting it instantly as putrid air filled his lungs. His PDA screamed, biohazard warnings taking over the screen, begging him to leave. With a shake of his head, Danny covered his nose with his hand toddling towards the radio. The device was flashing and Danny couldn’t hit a play button harder than he had today. 

“Playing pre-recorded distress call…” Waiting on his tippy toes Danny stared at the device with hope-filled eyes as a human voice sounded through the pod.

“This is Ozzy from the cafeteria. What the hell guys?! They didn’t warn us this might happen!” Danny’s heart sank as the message continued.

“Our pod was almost crushed by the seamoth bay on the way down, now we’re hanging on the edge of a cave system and this grim-looking snake thing’s trying to eat through the hull! Come get us already!” 

Saying that didn’t sound good would’ve been an understatement. How many hours had it been since this message was sent? A grim-looking snake thing? He has someone like that outside. Chances were they weren’t talking about the same snake thing.

 Dami has a snake-like body, but he resembles more of a dragon or a sea serpent…Dami hadn’t even made an attempt to hurt Danny or his little base. Sure, he scratched the glass but Danny had a feeling those claws were capable of much worse. Trust was a strong word to use when talking about a giant sea monster but Danny was confident Dami wouldn’t freak out and try to kill him for no reason.

All he’d done since seeing him was give reason after reason to kill him! Honestly, Dami just seems confused by his existence, but to be fair Danny is too. Logically he should be permanently dead, erased from every plane of existence but something gave him a third chance at life. Now he’s everyone’s problem!

Updating the signal to his PDA Danny crawled back out the lifepod, a signal to follow and materials to gather.

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim @dragongoblet @noxcheshire

[ashs-reverie]

Helloooo

I saw your post about being super anxious about going to Uni and I related to that a lot, but I’ve made considerable progress with that as my studies went on. So I decided to share the things that helped me :)

• Getting to know the town. I moved somewhere entirely new for university and I was so terrified of getting lost and interacting with people. Everytime I had to leave my apartment I would be an absolute mess. I worried about taking the wrong bus or getting off at the wrong stop and basically everything that could happen. Walking around with low stakes and learning the bus routes and just getting used to where everything was helped a lot. Going somewhere entirely new still sucks but at least I’m comfortable where I live.

• The above also applies to knowing your campus. I used to arrive about 20mins early for most of my classes cause I was so scared of walking in even a little late cause most of the doors are in front in my Uni💀. The first time I went to the canteen I was such a wreck cause I had no idea how it worked. So I went very early so I could figure out how to load my student card in peace, then I hung back for a bit to see how other people got their food lmao. This is till something I do a lot, if I don’t know how something is done or I’m scared of messing it up, I just hang back and watch other people do it first.

• As for talking to people…. I can’t help much there😭. I didn’t make any friends till my 3rd semester, and even then it was more of a I sat with them in class, but they wouldn’t sit with me💀. Anyway, everytime I had to talk to a stranger it was really tough and I had a very hard time maintaining normal back and forth conversations. The anxiety around this kind of eased with time. As I got more comfortable with everything else, the loneliness kicked in so hard and then anytime anybody spoke to me it made me so happy, alongside the anxiety. So the experience wasn’t all negative anymore and I wanted to drag the conversation for as long as I could. I started looking up things to talk about on Pinterest💀💀💀. I’m still not sure why speaking to people makes me so anxious, so I haven’t solved it completely yet. But try to remember that most people do want to make friends too. Things may get awkward but most people have good intentions and I hope that helps to ease your mind.

Give yourself time to get used to the new environment. I can’t even imagine the jump from being home-schooled to this. I hope my meager advice helps in any way at all and I wish you all the best!!!🤍🤍

Girl you have no idea how much i relate to thiss i thought ppl just miraculously just fit in and make friends and its all butterflies and rainbows...i hv the same fears, i was even going to take a major in which there was least amount of talking (presentations,speeches,etc) but i didnt cos my main goal to go to uni was to get out of my shell and comfort zone so here i am still freaking out :,) Thankyou so so much girl i really appreciate you typing all this out for me 😭 that is a really great tip to reach earlier to places to familiarise myself (i used to but i wl pay attention to that more) Now i feel a lot at peacee :)) i will definitely keep all this in mind thankyouuu <33

[friskynotebook]

Tears You Up But Sets You Free

CW: grief, death of a loved one

Summary: Padme believes she's in unrequited love with Obi-Wan—until one morning when she finds him sleeping in a closet

did I really spend all day writing almost 3,000 words of a Padme lives post ROTS Obidala angsty love confession and posted it unbeta'd? yes

The title is from the song Memphis Lives in Me from the musical Memphis ✨ You can listen to it here

Also on AO3!

Padme rolled over, blinking the sleep from her eyes as the Dantooine morning sun filtered through her bedroom window. She reached over to the other side of the bed and patted the cool sheets, hoping that this morning would be different than the others.

It never was.

She sighed. Ever since she and Obi-Wan had escaped to a tiny village on Dantooine with the twins nearly three years ago, they had grown closer. Living on a remote planet required them to rely on each other, both physically and emotionally. The friendship long-ago established on Naboo deepend further in the past three years than it had in the previous thirteen. They may have been legally married on Dantooine to maintain their cover, but for Padme, Obi-Wan Kenobi had become something deeper—her very best friend.

And perhaps something more . . .

On her end, there had always been something simmering beneath the surface when it came to her relationship with Obi-Wan, but he was so dedicated to the Order and so much of a Jedi, it never seemed like a real possibility. So he remained a dear friend and ally, nothing more. And when things presented themselves with Anakin . . .

But that was then. Now, however, as the years had passed, she found herself growing more and more fond of Obi-Wan every day. Of course she knew he was a handsome man—Padme had fully functioning eyes, after all. But she never really saw how gorgeous he was until she had to spend endless amounts of time with just him and her children. 

The children. Watching him interact with Luke and Leia—that was probably when she started to fall in love. Even when her heart was shattered in a million pieces mere weeks after their arrival, the pain lessened just a little when she saw Obi-Wan gently soothing little Leia’s cries so Padme could get a little more rest.

As the twins got older, Obi-Wan threw himself into fatherhood the same way Padme had thrown herself into motherhood. It surprised her—not his capability to love her children, because she’d seen first hand how much he’d loved Anakin and the rest of the Order, for that matter. But for someone who’d never had a traditional family structure of his own, he’d been committed to caring for the children and her as if it had ben ingrained in his very soul. Even though they had meager credits to their name, she and Obi-Wan were committed to giving Luke and Leia as normal a life as possible—from birthday parties to day trips to the mountains to sleepovers with friends, where the twins were right now.

Padme sighed. They didn’t often get long stretches of time alone together, and she wanted nothing more than to simply be with him and show him just how much he meant to her. But instead, he continued being his annoyingly perfect self and made her dinner, sat with her in the living room as he read a new arrival from the town library, and settled into the bed they shared with barely a kiss on the cheek.

And now she was waking up alone. Again

Padme shook her head. She wasn’t going down this path again. Obi-Wan had so many of his own burdens to deal with and the last thing he needed was to deal with her . . . feelings. They were best friends, nothing more.

Best friends who shared a bed. 

Purely for our cover, Obi-Wan had reassured her. We can’t have the children telling their friends their married parents sleep in separate bedrooms. It would draw too much attention.

Selfishly, she had agreed. If only for a little more time spent in Obi-Wan’s warmth.

She rolled out of bed and slipped into a robe. She wasn’t used to early morning quiet with two five year olds running around—she was nearly startled by the sounds of her own footsteps as she padded to the kitchen to brew some caf.

As she went through the motions of preparing the hot drink—two creams, two sugars for her, one sugar for Obi-Wan—Padme glanced at the door to a small storage room beside the twins’ bedroom. Obi-Wan converted it from a closet when they had first arrived, needing a hidden space to store the few remaining relics of his Jedi life as well as a quiet place to meditate away from the others. Every morning, he’d rise before the sun and meditate for an hour or two before the rest of the family got up. This morning didn’t seem any different, even without the children, so she settled at their small kitchen table and sipped at her caf, waiting for Obi-Wan to finish.

But as the minutes ticked by, he didn’t emerge.

After half a standard hour, Padme grabbed Obi-Wan’s rapidly cooling mug and approached the closed door. She knocked softly.

“Obi-Wan? Is everything alright?”

Silence.

Padme tried to quell her rising nerves and knocked again.

“Obi-Wan?”

Silence.

Padme swallowed. “I’m coming in.”

She opened the door—only for it to stop halfway through. “What—?”

The door was caught on what appeared to be a bundle of robes and—was that Obi-Wan’s foot?

Padme frowned and pushed the door all the way open as gently as she could, kneeling down beside the long lump of robes and brushing a lock of hair back from her husband’s forehead.

Obi-Wan was snoring softly under the robe-blanket he had carefully tucked around him, his head resting on a robe-pillow. Padme’s lips quirked. He must have fallen asleep while meditating this morning.

But . . . That didn’t explain the state of the storage room. His makeshift bed looked lived-in, more so than his actual bed. A small chest beside his robe-pillow acted as a nightstand, with his latest holo book and the glasses he swore he didn’t need resting on top. 

Why is he sleeping here?

It couldn’t have been comfortable. Obi-Wan wasn’t a particularly large man, but this storage room was tiny. Padme was sitting half outside the room as it was. It can’t be good for him being cramped in this space all night long—how many nights does he do this?

Padme thought back to their past three years in Dantooine—she couldn’t remember a single morning when her husband woke up beside her. Surely he must have in all their years but her mind kept coming up short. She brushed her fingers delicately along his bearded jaw, then gasped as she saw, seemingly for the first time, how dark the circles under his eyes were, and how deep his crows feet went. How had she never noticed this?

Before her thoughts could derail any further, Padme heard Obi-Wan whimper, his brow furrowed even in sleep. “No . . . no, please . . .”

Padme set the caf down on the chest and leaned forward, gently shaking her husband’s shoulder. “Obi-Wan, wake up.”

His breathing became more erratic and he started whimpering. The fear Padme had been pushing down started creeping up her throat.

She brushed her hand through his hair. “Obi-Wan, please. You’re safe, you need to wake up.”

Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s eyes shot open and he sat up, panting heavily. 

“Shhh,” Padme soothed, stroking his hair. “It was just a dream, Obi-Wan. You’re safe.”

He blinked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. “P-Padme? What are you doing here?”

She swallowed. “You didn’t come out for your caf. I got worried.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan ran a hand through his damp hair. “I”m sorry for worrying you, dear one.”

Padme pushed down the flutter in her chest at the pet name. “What’s going on?”

“Hmm?” He looked up, his blue eyes looking more dull than she’d ever seen them. 

“Why are you sleeping in here?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Oh, I must have fallen asleep while meditating again—”

Padme raised a brow. “So you made yourself a bedroom?”

He blushed. “Padme, it’s not—”

“Don’t tell me what it’s not, Obi-Wan. Tell me what it is.” Padme kept her voice soft but left no room for arguments.

“This is wrong.”

Padme furrowed her brow. “What’s wrong?”

“What I’m doing—my life—what I’ve done—it’s wrong.” His breath hitched in his throat.

Suddenly realizing this issue was far deeper than he had let on, Padme settled on his robe-bed, nestling closer to him. “What’s so wrong about our life?” she asked gently.

“I shouldn’t be living it!” he blurted out. “I k-killed him—”

“Obi-Wan no—”

He was getting lost in his thoughts. “I failed him and then I killed him. He was my brother, my apprentice, I should have helped him—”

“He was beyond help.” Padme soothed, repeating all the things he told her over the years. “There’s nothing wrong—”

He buried his face in his hands and Padme’s heart shattered even more. “Everything is wrong! I’m living his life—the life I stole. Don’t you see, Padme? This is all wrong! It should be Anakin here—”

“No it shouldn’t.”

That got Obi-Wan to stop right in his tracks. “What?”

Padme took her best friend’s face into her hands, stroking his beard with her thumbs. “No. It. Shouldn’t.”

“Padme, h-how can you say that? How can you want this life with me—”

“How about you let me decide what I want and what’s good for me?” She softened the blow of her words with a raised brow. 

Obi-Wan took a breath, not meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She forced his eyes upwards. “Don’t be,” she insisted, closing her eyes. Now or never, Padme. “I—Obi-Wan—”

“I’m not the family you need.” His voice was deadly quiet.

Her eyes snapped open. “What?”

He tried pulling away, but she wouldn’t let him go. “I’m not—” He swallowed. “I can’t be what you need.”

“And what exactly do I need?” Padme wasn’t going to lose her husband to his own mind, not if she had anything to say about it.

“Someone who can handle sharing a bed with you, being your husband, your children’s father, sharing your life, being in love with you—”

Padme’s eyes widened. “You’re in love with me?” she whispered.

Obi-Wan’s expression mirrored hers as he tried to back away, reminding Padme of a skittish animal. She pulled him closer. 

“Padme,” he rasped. “I’m so—”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she murmured, running one of her hands along his shoulder. “Is this why you’ve been sleeping here?”

He nodded. “It was too much,” he whispered. “Feeling the way I did and being in your bed. But I couldn’t bear to leave you either. I figured this was the best solution.”

The hand on his shoulder drifted down to his chest. “All this time? You were sleeping here all this time?”

“Mostly,” he nodded. “I’d wait until you were asleep and then come here. It was better this way,” he added, seeing Padme’s crestfallen expression. “You needed your rest and my nightmares would wake you—”

“I don’t give a bantha’s ass about your nightmares waking me,” she insisted. “And what about your rest? Obi-Wan you don’t even fit in here! You must be so sore—you’ve been doing this for years?”

Her fretting brought a tiny smile to his face. “I’ve survived worse.”

“I don’t care—no more of this,” Padme declared. “You’re sleeping back in our bed, where you belong.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes grew distant again. “I can’t, Padme. You don’t need an old Jedi complicating—”

“What did I say about letting me decide what I need?” Padme smiled. “And . . . what if I wanted you in my bed?”

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow and Padme wanted desperately to smooth it out with her thumb. “What?”

She took a deep breath. “What if . . . I loved you too?”

His face went ashen. “Padme, no . . . How . . .?”

“How can I love? Or how can I love you?”

Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth a few times before answering. “Both,” he choked out. “With everything that’s happened.”

“Just because I’ve loved and been hurt in my past doesn’t mean I can’t love again, Obi-Wan. I’m still human,” she murmured, stroking his cheek.

“But with Anakin—”

“Not him.”

“What?”

She sighed. “I wasn’t talking about him.”

Obi-Wan leaned into her touch, waiting for her to continue.

“I cared for Ani, truly, and I did love him—just not the way a wife should love a husband,” she said, finally confiding in him the realization she had come to long ago. “The Anakin I loved—the Anakin I thought I loved—never existed. At most, we had infatuation. We never had time to explore anything else. And . . . if we had . . . I don’t think our marriage would have worked. Even if everything hadn’t happened.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. “But—you were both happy—”

“Obi-Wan,” she murmured, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “I’ve been happier with you on our worst day than with Anakin on our best.”

His eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Padme.”

“Out here, I’ve had nothing but time to think about our lives before, all the mistakes I made, everything we’ve been through . . . Luke and Leia are my world, but marrying Ani was a mistake. Rushing things was a mistake. I wanted us to be happy so badly I convinced myself we were.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Perhaps we were both blinded by love.”

“Both?”

“I’m not a fool, Padme. I’d known about you and Anakin long before you realized I knew.” He sighed. “You both had been through so much . . . I wanted you both to be happy.”

“We weren’t.” She squeezed his hand. “Not truly.”

“I think we both saw what we wanted to see.”

Padme wrapped her arms around his neck, letting out a sigh of relief when her husband wrapped his own arms around her. She kissed his neck, settling into his embrace.

“Did you ever think about this? Before?” Padme asked.

“I was so committed to the Order I never truly considered the possibility,” he answered honestly. “I couldn’t allow myself to think about . . . anything I could feel for you. I didn’t think any relationship was an option until you and Anakin were married.”

“And then it was too late,” she finished his thought, her breath tickling his skin.

“This wasn’t the way I’d have ever wanted us to become a couple,” he murmured.

“I know,” she reassured him. “But—if it was an option. If we could have explored our feelings. If everything hadn’t happened. What would you have done?”

“I’d have left the Order,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice so soft Padme barely heard the words.

She lifted her head. “Obi-Wan!”

“I couldn’t fulfill a commitment to you and to the Order,” Obi-Wan replied, the torment in his voice replaced by an eerie calm.

“But your duty—”

“—was to the Republic. I didn’t need to be part of the Order to serve the Republic.”

After a moment, Padme responded. “And if I hadn’t returned your feelings?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” he whispered. “As you can see, I’m not very good at effectively repressing romantic feelings,” he smirked.

Padme beamed. “And now you don’t have to.”

She leaned in ready to finally kiss her best friend, her husband, for the first time—only for Obi-Wan to turn away.

“What is it?” she asked, lifting his chin to meet her eyes. “Please, tell me. Let me care for you the way you’ve always cared for me.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, his tormented blue eyes filling once more with tears. “Have you ever . . . have you ever wished it were Anakin here instead of me?”

Padme closed her eyes and cupped his face in her hands, pressing her forehead against his. “Once, a long time ago. When the babies were six months old.”

He started to nod his head, accepting this, but Padme refused to let him leave her embrace. She opened her eyes. “I was in so much pain I couldn’t think straight. Trying to deal with the pain of losing Anakin while raising twins . . . it was too much most days. And one day, you were bathing Luke and I remember thinking, you’re the wrong Jedi. It should be Anakin here bathing my babies.”

“But you know what?” Padme continued, wanting to chase the pain out of his eyes. “The very next morning, I heard one of the twins cry and I started to roll out of bed. But then I heard you talking to them and you sang a lullaby with your beautiful voice and you know what I said?”

“What?” Obi-Wan whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks.

She tightened her grip on his jaw, kissing his tears. “I said, oh good. Their father’s taking care of them.” She swallowed. “Luke and Leia may have Anakin’s DNA, but you are their father, through and through. One intrusive thought I had when I was deep in the throes of grief does not take that away and it never will. I love you, Obi-Wan. Our children love you. And even though the circumstances are never what I would have wanted, nothing has made me happier than being here with you and our children. Nothing.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. “Padme,” he moaned, his nose brushing against hers.

“I love you, Obi-Wan,” she murmured against his mouth. “You’re my home.”

“I love you,” he repeated, pulling her closer. “I’ll never grow tired of saying that.”

“I’ll never grow tired of hearing it,” she beamed.

“Padme, I—ow!” Obi-Wan broke the kiss, rubbing the back of his head.

“Are you alright?” she asked, reaching over to inspect his head herself.

“I think I hit my head on this shelf,” he frowned.

Padme snorted. “I can’t believe you’ve been sleeping in this closet for years.”

“In hindsight, it does seem rather foolish, doesn’t it?” Obi-Wan grinned.

Padme’s heart fluttered when she finally saw Obi-Wan’s beautiful smile. “Come on. Let’s head somewhere a little more comfortable . . .”

No-pressure tags: @saradika @obiknights @alabama-metal-man @cypanache @your-dose-of-obidala @justsaysomethingjayj @written-musings @celestial-alignment @darlingamidala