#unburnable book

[azrielstherapist]

The Things We Keep in the Dark

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

One-shot, Smut with little to no plot [18+]

Warnings: knife play, shadow play, oral s*x (on both parts), face riding, not protected penetration (p in v), fighting, dirty talk, Dom!Azriel, Switch!Reader, (if I forgot something, pls let me know).

It always started with a blade.

Tonight was no different, cold steel glinting beneath the moonlight, the dull thud of boots circling on stone, and Azriel’s golden gaze locked on mine like I was prey he’d already chosen but hadn’t yet decided when to devour.

The training ring atop the House of Wind was deserted, the city far below glittering like stars scattered across a velvet cloth. I moved in silence, muscles humming, sweat trailing down my spine as I twisted and swung. He blocked. Pivoted. Parried. Again.

“You’re holding back,” I said, breathless, catching the flat of his dagger with mine.

Azriel didn’t answer. He never did, not unless it mattered.

Instead, his shadows coiled near his shoulders, shifting like a creature half-asleep. Watching. Listening. Waiting for his command.

I shouldn’t have liked the way they watched me.

But I did.

And that was the problem.

“You’re smirking again,” I said, ducking his blade and aiming a low kick. He caught my ankle mid-air.

“I’m not.” His voice was gravel and silk, soft but scraping. He stepped forward, forcing me to hop on one leg unless I wanted to fall on my ass. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m trained to observe. You’re definitely smirking.”

“And I’m trained to lie.”

Something like a laugh caught in my throat, but it didn’t make it out, because suddenly, he yanked my leg higher, and I lost balance. I went down hard, blade clattering from my hand. His knee pinned my thigh, one arm caging my wrists above my head, and gods, he was close. Heat radiated off him, sweat and shadows and the kind of tension that made every part of me tighten.

Azriel’s mouth hovered just inches from mine. He hadn’t smirked, but now, he looked like he wanted to do something far worse.

“Tell me what you see,” he murmured. “Since you’re so observant.”

My chest rose against his. His free hand reached for his dagger, not to threaten, but to lift it. He turned it flat and pressed the side of the blade gently to my collarbone.

I stilled.

The metal was cool against my heated skin, slow as it dragged across the curve of my throat. My pulse jumped, and his eyes locked on the fluttering beat beneath my jaw like he could feel it too. His shadows slithered low, almost possessive, curling around my thigh beneath my leathers.

“You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” he asked, so softly I almost missed it.

“No,” I whispered.

But I didn’t move.

He smiled then, not smirking. Real. Devastating.

“Liar.”

The blade slid down to my sternum, stopping just above the swell of my breasts. No pressure. No pain. Just the unbearable promise of what he could do.

Of what he wanted to.

My breath hitched. His shadows stirred again, brushing the inside of my thigh like a question. I spread my legs just slightly, testing. Daring.

Azriel’s gaze darkened.

And then 

— he pulled back.

The dagger vanished into its sheath, his body retreating like nothing had happened. Like my skin wasn’t still tingling, like I wasn’t still wet from the brush of his shadows and the look in his eyes.

He stood, offered me a hand, and said flatly, “We’re done for tonight.”

I didn’t take it. I climbed to my feet on my own, jaw clenched.

“You do that again,” I said, brushing off my pants, “and you better fucking finish it.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes lingered on my mouth for one second too long.

Then he vanished into the night.

Three nights later

I couldn’t sleep.

The House of Wind was quiet, too quiet, and I was too keyed up, every inch of me aching with unburned energy. I’d tried to distract myself. A book, a bath, a bottle of red from the cellar. None of it helped.

All I could think about was the weight of his body, the whisper of steel on skin, the look in his eyes like he wanted to ruin me slow.

So I went to the ring again.

Midnight wind howled over the cliffs, but I didn’t feel cold. I needed to move. To hit something. To—

“You never learn,” a voice murmured behind me.

I turned. He was already there, leaning against the archway like some ancient god sculpted from shadow and silent hunger.

“Neither do you,” I said, heart thudding.

Azriel walked toward me, slow, deliberate. His shadows wrapped around his boots like mist, and I hated how easily they obeyed him. How easily I wanted to.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

“I think you know.”

“I don’t want to train.”

His eyes scanned my body once, lingering at my throat. “Neither do I.”

And then we were on each other.

His hands were on my hips, slamming me against the wall of the ring as his mouth crushed mine. No teasing. No testing. Just teeth and tongue and heat, like he’d been starving for me and I was the only thing that could satisfy it.

I moaned into his mouth, grinding against him, and fuck, he was hard already. I felt it through his leathers, thick and hot and demanding, and my hands fumbled to unbuckle him, desperate and shameless.

Azriel grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the wall.

“Slow,” he growled.

“You’ve made me wait long enough.”

“I’m not rushing this. You want me to use the blade again?”

I shivered.

“Yes.”

His lips curved against my neck. “Then behave.”

He dropped to his knees.

I gasped, grabbing his shoulders as he tugged my leathers down and off, peeling them like a second skin. His shadows slid in to help, teasing over my thighs, brushing my entrance.

When his mouth finally touched me, I nearly screamed.

Azriel ate like he had all the time in the world. Like he was memorizing every tremble, every whimper. His tongue circled, pressed, licked into me slowly, possessively, while his shadows held my legs wide, my arms above my head, keeping me open for him and only him.

“Fuck, Azriel—”

He groaned into me, and the vibration sent stars behind my eyes.

I rode his face like I was drowning and he was air, one hand tangling in his hair as his shadows slipped lower, curling between my ass cheeks and teasing just enough to make me writhe.

My orgasm hit hard, hips jerking, legs shaking. He held me through it, licking me slow as I came down, not stopping until I whined from overstimulation.

Then he stood.

His mouth glistened. His eyes were molten.

“Your turn,” I said hoarsely, sinking to my knees.

I knelt before him, still trembling from the orgasm he’d just wrung out of me, still high on the taste of his shadows dancing over my skin. My legs ached, my throat was dry, but I wanted more. I wanted him.

Azriel stood still, silent as a mountain god, watching me with melted gold eyes. His cock strained against his leathers, thick, leaking just enough that it had left a darkened patch. I reached up, unbuckled his belt with hands steadier than I felt. Each movement slow. Deliberate.

“I’m not breaking,” I whispered.

His head tilted, shadows curling around his shoulders. “You look like you already have.”

I smiled, wicked and slow, as I pushed his leathers down just enough.

His cock sprang free.

Hard. Thick. Veined. Long. So long. The tip was flushed, slick, perfect. My mouth watered.

“I’m going to ruin you,” I said, wrapping one hand around the base, giving him one firm stroke.

Azriel hissed through his teeth. “You can try.”

He didn’t touch me. He let me do what I wanted, which made it worse somehow, the stillness in him coiled like a viper. A male who knew his power and didn’t need to flaunt it.

So I used mine.

I licked the head first - just the tip - teasing my tongue around the slit until I felt him twitch in my palm. Then I licked lower, dragging the flat of my tongue down the underside of his shaft, savoring the weight of it. His cock jumped again, and I smiled against it.

“Stop teasing,” he growled.

But I liked teasing.

I took him into my mouth slowly, inch by inch, until he hit the back of my throat. I gagged a little, swallowed, pushed farther. He grunted, one hand finally tangling in my hair, not forcing, just there. Anchoring.

“You feel- fuck-”

I moaned around him, letting the vibration buzz through his length, and he swore again, this time in Illyrian.

I didn’t stop. I bobbed my head, sucked harder, used my hand where my mouth couldn’t reach, twisting at the base just as I hollowed my cheeks. His hips started to move, just slightly, a shallow thrust that betrayed how close he was to snapping.

“Don’t stop,” he said, voice hoarse.

I didn’t plan to.

But his shadows had other ideas.

They slid behind me, brushing between my thighs, again, teasing my sensitive, still-throbbing core. I gasped, and in doing so, nearly choked on him. Azriel pulled out instantly, hand cupping my cheek.

“You alright?”

I nodded. My eyes were glassy. My lips wet. I had never wanted someone like this, not like a lover, but like a fire I wanted to throw myself into.

“I want more,” I said, licking my lips. “All of it.”

Azriel’s shadows curled tighter.

And then - he stepped back.

He pulled a small, narrow blade from the sheath at his side. The one he’d pressed to my neck before.

My breath caught.

He walked around me slowly, until he stood behind me. I was still on my knees, bare, flushed, wet.

“Hands behind your back,” he said.

I obeyed.

He crouched behind me - close enough to feel the heat of him on my spine. I felt the kiss of the blade first - the flat edge sliding up my back, lifting strands of hair away from my neck. I shivered, but didn’t flinch.

“You trust me?” he asked.

“With the blade?” I said.

“With all of it.”

I turned my head to look at him. “Yes.”

Azriel kissed the back of my neck, just once, and that simple act made me ache.

Then the blade slid forward, tracing my collarbone, down to my sternum.

“I could cut the strings of your soul,” he whispered, “and you’d thank me.”

“I’d beg for it,” I said.

He hissed. “Fucking hells.”

The blade trailed down to my stomach, then lower, a whisper over my hip bone, the curve of my thigh.

Then he flipped it, pressed the hilt between my legs.

I gasped.

“Look at you,” he growled. “Dripping. Just from my shadows and steel.”

I whimpered, grinding against the cool hilt shamelessly.

Azriel’s hand snaked into my hair and pulled my head back gently.

“I want you on my face,” he said. “Now.”

I turned, breath ragged, eyes wide. “You want me to—?”

He was already lying back on the stone, wings spread, cock still hard and glistening against his abdomen.

“Ride my face,” he said. “I want to feel how sweet that cunt is when it’s smothering me.”

Mother Above, I moved.

I climbed over him, straddled his face slowly, and the second his tongue touched me again, I shattered.

He licked me like a starving man, his nose buried in my folds, tongue flicking my clit with practiced precision. I ground down against him, moaning loudly, openly. His hands cupped my ass, guiding me, pressing me harder against his mouth.

The shadows came again, swirling around my nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. I was overstimulated, overwhelmed, undone. My thighs trembled, my head fell back-

I came again. Loud. Wet. Shaking.

Azriel drank every drop.

When I finally collapsed beside him, gasping, he turned his head and said, “You think that was everything?” he asked, voice low and rough.

I smiled, dazed. “You mean you’re not done?”

“Not even close.”

He flipped me onto my stomach in one fluid movement. His cock pressed to my soaked entrance, ready, thick, desperate.

He leaned over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other steady on my hip. His voice was gravel-soft in my ear.

“Tell me you want this. Say yes, and I’ll give you everything.”

I turned my head just enough for our eyes to meet. “I’m yours,” I whispered. “I want you. I need you.”

He slid in slow. Deep. One inch at a time.

And fuck, he was huge.

I arched, groaning, clawing at the stone as he bottomed out.

Azriel leaned over me, mouth at my ear. “Now you’ll feel what my shadows already know.”

Azriel filled me slowly, a deep, grinding thrust that split me open in the most delicious way. I gasped, clutching at the stone floor beneath us, my cheek pressed against the cool surface as his hips met my ass.

“Fuck,” he groaned against my neck. “You feel…”

He didn’t finish. He just growled, low and hoarse, and started to move.

Slow at first. Purposeful.

Each thrust was a stroke of fire, thick and hard and dragging against every nerve inside me. My thighs were already sore, my body slick with sweat, my skin tingling from the memory of his shadows and tongue.

But Azriel wasn’t done with me.

He braced his hand beside my head, his other palm sliding beneath my waist to lift my hips just enough, angling me perfectly. When he thrust in again, I yelped.

“Right there?” he asked, voice rough, amused.

I nodded furiously, barely able to form words. “Don’t stop. Please-”

He didn’t.

He pounded into me with a brutal rhythm, all control gone, shadows writhing around our bodies like living threads of heat and silk. Every sound he made was raw - panting curses, moans that turned into snarls.

I wanted to crawl inside that sound.

His name tore from my throat as his fingers reached around and found my clit, rubbing tight, perfect circles that made my vision blur. The pleasure climbed too fast, unbearable.

“Azriel, I’m- I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me,” he ordered. “Let me feel you.”

I shattered.

Everything went white, the force of it so intense I collapsed beneath him, body convulsing around his cock. My pussy clenched so tight it pulled a broken groan from his lips, and he faltered, losing pace.

He didn’t stop thrusting. If anything, he slammed deeper.

Azriel’s rhythm became frantic, harder, rougher, until I could hear the slap of skin on skin, the wet sounds of my arousal coating him. His breath was ragged at my ear.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled. “So wet. You were made for this. For me.”

He pulled out, just in time, and flipped me again, dragging my legs over his hips as he lined up and slammed back into me from above.

I cried out, overstimulated, sensitive, but hungry for more.

He kissed me, messy, deep, open-mouthed, as he fucked me through my third orgasm. I arched beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes from the sheer intensity of it.

And still, he didn’t stop.

“You’re going to make me cum,” he hissed. “Where do you want it?”

I whimpered, biting his jaw. “Inside.”

His body shuddered.

“Fuck- are you sure?”

“I want to feel it. All of it.”

That did it.

Azriel groaned, long and broken, as he pushed in deep, buried to the hilt, and came. I felt it, hot pulses flooding me, his cock twitching deep inside as his body trembled above mine.

It was devastating. Beautiful.

He stayed there for a long moment, panting against my neck, shadows curling around us both like a blanket. One of his wings draped protectively across my body.

I stroked his hair gently, kissing his temple.

“I didn’t know shadows could be this… tender,” I murmured.

“They’re only tender with those they trust,” he replied, breath warm against my skin.

We lay tangled together, a sweaty, spent mess of limbs and pleasure and silence. His scarred fingers found mine, lacing them together over my stomach.

“You really didn’t hold back,” I said with a breathless laugh.

“I don’t when it matters,” he said simply.

He looked down at me, eyes half-lidded. “You’re not going to walk straight tomorrow.”

I smiled. “Good.”

His shadows hummed in agreement.

After a while, Azriel sat up, muscles rippling as he stretched. He reached for the blade, still gleaming faintly nearby, and sheathed it again with reverence.

“Do you want to go another round,” I asked, voice hoarse, “or are you finally satisfied?”

Azriel gave me a look that made my whole body tighten.

“Not even close.”

And just like that, he pulled me into his arms again, shadows rising like smoke around us.

This time, it was slower. More intimate.

But no less intense.

Because with Azriel, the dark wasn’t something to fear.

It was something to worship.

A/N: My first smut!!! Hope you guys like it, and if you do pls let me know in the comments.

Dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics

[milfshotss]

Title: Weight of the Crown

Pairing: Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Summary: After a heated argument about Ambessa’s emotional distance ends in her accidentally hurting Reader.

Warnings: Neglect, angst, emotional distress, accidental physical harm and emotional withdrawal.

MEN & MINORS DNI: 18+ ONLY!!!

————————————————————————

The palace halls were quieter than usual.

You stood by the window, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared out over the marble courtyard. The silence between you and Ambessa had stretched thin over the past few weeks, fragile as glass. You’d tried to tell yourself she was just busy. That running an empire demanded sacrifice. That her growing coldness wasn’t intentional.

But tonight?

You couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“I’m not asking for everything, Ambessa,” you said, voice strained. “Just something. A moment. A sign that I’m still more than a fixture in your life.”

She didn’t even look up from the scroll in her hands.

“That’s unfair,” she muttered.

“What’s unfair is loving someone who’s only present in theory.”

That got her attention. She turned, eyes hard.

“You think this life is easy?” she snapped. “You think I have the luxury of emotion every time you feel neglected?”

“It’s not about luxury, Ambessa… it’s about trying!”

Her voice thundered back. “And maybe I am trying. Maybe you’re just too fragile to see it.”

You flinched.

Her words cut sharper than any blade. But it was the way she stepped toward you, fist clenched, not to strike, but too fast, too furious, that made you instinctively step back and stumble. Your shoulder hit the edge of the stone table behind you. Hard.

Pain shot through your side.

She froze. Color drained from her face. “I didn’t mean…”

But you were already blinking through tears.

Not from the pain.

From the look on her face. From the realization that the one person who made you feel safest… had just made you feel small.

You didn’t say anything.

Just turned and walked out.

Locked the door behind you.

⸻

Later That Night

She knocked for hours. Whispered apologies through the door. You lay curled on the bed, silent.

By morning, you opened it.

But you didn’t return to her arms.

You passed her without a glance, lips pressed into a line, heart cracked open but sealed shut.

She reached for your hand.

You pulled away.

“Don’t,” you said, calm and cold. “Let’s not pretend.”

Her eyes glistened with something dangerously close to grief.

But you let her sit with it.

Just like you had.

⸻

The palace hadn’t changed, but Ambessa had.

Her posture was still proud, her commands still absolute, her image unshaken to the outside world. But behind closed doors, she was quieter. She hovered near you like a shadow, waiting for an opening that never came.

You ate meals across long tables in silence. She’d reach for your hand on occasion, once at dinner, another time in the garden but you gave her nothing but a glance. Not cruel. Just… indifferent.

She started sending flowers to your quarters. Rare desert blooms. Peonies from Piltover. A poem once, hand written and pressed between pages of a book she once caught you rereading.

You tucked them away.

Unopened.

Unburned.

You wanted her to feel the weight of what she had done, not just with her hands, but with her distance. The chasm she created.

And she did.

Ambessa was unraveling beneath your silence.

⸻

One Week Later

She stood in your doorway.

Rain tapped the stained glass like it was trying to fill the silence between you.

“I miss you,” she said finally, voice hoarse. “I miss your laugh. Your fire. Even your sharp tongue when I leave dishes in your study.”

You didn’t look up from your journal. “That version of me doesn’t exist anymore.”

Ambessa stepped inside slowly.

“Do you hate me?”

You closed the book. “No.”

That seemed to hurt more than yes.

Because if you didn’t hate her… then your silence was deliberate.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. She’d said it a dozen times before, but this time her voice cracked. “I was scared. Of needing you too much. Of letting you see how much this crown costs me. But I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve never…”

She stopped herself.

You watched her, carefully. “You should’ve heard me.”

She nodded, shame dragging her shoulders low.

“I don’t want you to beg, Ambessa. I want you to understand. That loving me comes with the cost of letting me in. Or you’ll end up ruling alone… surrounded by silence.”

Ambessa stepped closer, but didn’t touch you. “What do I do to earn you back?”

You stared at her for a long time.

“You start over. Slowly. Honestly. Without power games. And you sit with the ache like I did.”

She nodded.

And for the first time in weeks… you let her sit beside you.

Not in forgiveness.

Not yet.

But in hope.

————————————————————————

[blondebrainpowered]

Become unburnable. Read banned books, ask yourself why they don't want you to know or think about the subject matter.

[atinyjules]

Love, Unburned Ft. Werewolf!Jisung

A/n: The title omfg, I'm running out of ideas. 😭🤣🫶🏻 y'all are gonna have to bear with me.

Genre: Fantasy au, supernatural au, werewolf au, fluff, romance, comfort

Pairings: Werewolf!Jisung x Vampire!Lia

Warnings: She gets attacked, mentions of blood and maybe some strong language? (I don't remember lol)

The cicadas were screaming outside like they had a vendetta against silence. The sun was ruthless, blazing through the glass panels of the classroom and turning everything into a slow roast. Even the breeze that occasionally slipped in through the half-open windows was warm and useless—like someone breathing on your neck instead of cooling you down.

It was the peak of summer.

Jisung sat in his new seat—not directly by the window, but close enough that the sunlight pooled at the edges of his desk, casting sharp lines of heat across his notebook. Sweat dripped lazily down his forehead as he leaned on his right palm, eyelids heavy. He could barely hear the teacher’s voice as it buzzed somewhere in the background, mumbling through names and rearrangements.

This was the first lecture of the semester, and already, it was exhausting.

Every year it was the same—new seat arrangements, new weather to suffer through, and the same question echoing in his head

Why do I live like this? Why do I go through this heat every. Damn. Year??

Everything was warm, uncomfortable, and borderline unlivable.

Until—

“Seo Lia with Park Jisung.”

The teacher’s voice rang a little clearer this time, cutting through the haze in his head like someone flipping a switch.

Jisung sat up straighter, blinking once.

Did he hear that right?

He turned his head—and there she was.

Lia.

Gathering her things from across the classroom, quiet as ever. Her dark hair was tucked behind her ear, her eyes down as she carefully stacked her books. She didn’t look particularly thrilled or upset. Just… calm, like always.

Jisung swallowed.

Seo Lia. He hadn’t heard her name in a while, but it still stirred something in his memory. They had been classmates since high school—hell, even in the same cram school—but they had never once spoken. Not because of some drama. Just… things never lined up. Maybe it was timing. Maybe it was the fact that werewolves and vampires didn’t really mingle back then—not seriously, anyway.

It wasn’t that he had anything against vampires now. That whole tension thing was outdated. But still… being seatmates with her? For the entire semester?

He scratched the back of his neck as she approached, glancing at him briefly before sliding into the seat beside him.

He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t great at talking. She looked like the type who preferred silence anyway.

But still.

The buzz of the cicadas returned, louder than before.

And for some reason, even under the heat, he felt… a little more awake.

Every day was the same.

They’d come into class.

He’d nod at her. She’d nod back.

That was their form of “good morning.”

Then they'd sit in silence. Side by side.

Jisung would half-focus on the lecture while Lia quietly fidgeted with the sleeves of her blouse—always long, even in the unbearable heat. She’d tug at the hem, twist the fabric between her fingers like she was trying to ground herself, and always after ten minutes—almost like clockwork—she’d raise her hand.

“Professor, may I go to the washroom?”

She’d slip out the door quietly, disappearing for a good five minutes before returning. Her sleeves would be wet at the ends, sometimes even dripping faintly.

It happened so regularly that even the professor stopped acknowledging it.

But one person didn’t.

“Some bladder she has,” an annoying voice would mumble from the back of the class—usually that guy from the rugby team, another werewolf with a permanently smug expression. He laughed at his own joke every time like it was new.

Lia never reacted. Never even looked back.

Jisung didn’t laugh either. Not because he was defending her. He just… didn’t find it funny.

But he also didn’t understand.

Not until that day.

Exactly two weeks into the semester.

It was hotter than usual. The kind of heat that made the air shimmer near the windows. Jisung was slouched in his chair, completely unbothered by whatever the professor was droning on about. His eyes drifted lazily around the room, until they landed on her.

Lia.

Sitting beside him like always, face slightly turned away from him.

But her skin—her skin was smoking.

His posture straightened immediately.

The exposed side of her face and arm, the side directly facing the window, was flushed, red—and worse, there was actual steam rising from it. Not just redness. Not just a sunburn.

Her skin was burning.

Jisung’s heart skipped.

He didn’t think.

He just moved.

"Hey—" he said sharply, reaching over and grabbing her arm. She flinched, startled, turning to him wide-eyed as he pulled her away from the light.

And that’s when he saw it up close.

The side of her face was raw, blistering slightly, and her arm looked like she’d pressed it against an open oven door. The smell of singed fabric lingered faintly in the air.

He stared at her, stunned. “You’re burning.”

Lia looked just as shocked that he was speaking—to her, let alone this panicked.

Her voice was small, like she hadn’t used it in hours.

“...The sun. It burns a little.”k

A little?

A little?

He stared at her for one more beat, and then stood without another word. In one motion, he dragged his chair with one hand and gently tugged her seat away from the window with the other, swapping their places.

She gasped in surprise, chair squeaking across the floor as she found herself suddenly where he had been sitting a moment ago.

Before she could speak, he dropped back into the seat by the window, resting his elbow on the sill like it was no big deal.

“Tell me next time,” he muttered, eyes forward. “You don’t just have to sit here and burn.”

Lia turned to look at him, completely stunned.

He didn’t look at her. Didn’t ask for thanks. Didn’t ask if she was okay again.

But she couldn’t stop staring.

No one had ever done that before.

No one had noticed.

And even if they had, no one had moved.

But Jisung did.

Just like that.

Like it was nothing.

After that day—the day he switched seats with her and told her not to “just sit there and burn”—something quietly shifted between them.

Nothing major.

Just… their routine.

Every morning, Lia would now softly greet him with a “Good morning” the moment she slid into her seat beside him. Her voice was still quiet, still unsure, but it held a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

And every time Jisung accidentally dozed off during class—heat making his thoughts melt into mush—she would nudge him gently with her elbow and pass him her notes, pages already underlined and corner-folded. She didn’t say anything, didn’t scold. Just… helped. Like it was natural.

And every time he cracked another pen in half (usually during his bouts of dramatic boredom), she'd sigh under her breath and slide an extra one onto his desk without a word. Different colors every time.

It felt nice.

Unexpectedly so.

Because suddenly, the girl who had always existed in his life—same schools, same cram center, same Tuesday time slot—was now present in it. Like she’d stepped into focus.

He didn’t know if it was because of that seat switch or just timing. Maybe they had never really crossed paths before because they weren’t meant to—until now.

Not that Lia had been ignoring him before. They’d just… been parallel lines. Living near, never intersecting. Different circles. Different kinds of quiet.

But now?

Now she was right there.

A soft presence beside him that didn’t demand attention but made him want to give it anyway.

Even in the unbearable heat of midsummer, when the air felt like thick honey and the cicadas screamed their anthem from the trees, Jisung didn’t mind.

After all, his skin didn’t burn and smoke like Lia’s.

So he didn’t complain.

—

It was another sluggish afternoon when boredom crept in like a second skin. The professor’s voice buzzed like a broken speaker, and Jisung was already three blinks away from slumping fully onto his desk.

Instead, he turned slightly to his left, pencil in hand, and tapped her arm with the eraser end.

She glanced at him, curious.

He leaned in a little and whispered, “Do you… remember me from cram school?”

Lia blinked at him once, then nodded.

“Yeah,” she said simply. “We were classmates, too.”

That caught him off guard.

“You knew that?”

She tilted her head. “Of course. You had the loudest pencil taps during mock exams.”

He looked half-offended. “That was focus tapping.”

She arched a brow. “That was annoying tapping.”

Jisung paused, lips parting to argue—then he thought about it.

“…Okay,” he said eventually, “I guess it would be annoying if it wasn’t coming from me.”

That made her smile.

Not the quiet polite one, but a real one.

Her lips curled, her shoulders relaxed, and a soft chuckle escaped her throat. Just for a second. Barely even a sound.

But it was enough to set off a small explosion in his chest.

What the hell.

What the actual hell.

Since when did awkward vampire girls make spring bloom in his ribcage?

He blinked once. Twice.

She was still smiling.

And he wasn’t breathing properly anymore.

“Wha—” he started, but no words came out.

Lia turned back to the lecture, as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t just reached inside his chest and flipped every emotion switch on at once.

Jisung leaned back in his chair slowly, blinking at the ceiling.

“…She smiled,” he mumbled under his breath.

He wasn’t okay.

Jisung had never really thought about it before, but now that he was paying attention—he couldn’t help but realize something.

It wasn’t just that he’d always known Lia. It wasn’t just because she was good at everything, especially academics, and had the air of being too good for everyone else. She was a vampire, for god’s sake. That should’ve been enough of a reason for him to stay at arm’s length.

No, it wasn’t just that.

He’d always known her because, maybe, just maybe, he had actually found her cute.

He had never thought about it before. She had always just been there—that quiet girl who sat in the back and did her thing while everyone else ignored her. But now that they were seated together, exchanging notes, passing pens, he noticed more. Her small, graceful movements. The way she fiddled with the edge of her sleeve when nervous. The way her eyes would narrow slightly when she focused, making her look like a person with an entire universe in her head.

She was cute, he realized.

She was the only girl he’d ever really looked at.

The thought made him pause for a second.

But just as quickly, he shoved it away.

It was no big deal. It was just a classmate, right? A seatmate.

He wasn’t some lovesick fool.

He shook his head and tried to focus on rugby practice, but his mind kept drifting back to her.

—

Later that afternoon, after the usual run of drills with Jeno and Jaemin, Jisung jogged off to the side of the field to catch his breath. The air was thick, humid, but at least it wasn’t as suffocating as the classrooms. His teammates continued chatting, but Jisung found himself glancing around without thinking.

And then—there she was. Or, rather—there she wasn’t.

He blinked.

Where was Lia?

She was always the one to keep to herself, but Jisung never really noticed until now that, during every break or free time, she was always nowhere to be seen.

Even though they’d started to talk more, even though they shared this whole routine of passing notes and pens, he still didn’t really know where she went when they weren’t together.

He muttered under his breath.

“Where does she go…?

Jaemin, who had been laughing at something Jeno said, turned at the sound of his voice. “Who?”

Jisung didn’t mean to blurt it out. It was just a passing thought.

But now that it had escaped, he froze. “Uh… Lia. My seatmate.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “Lia? Who’s that?”

“Lia,” Jisung repeated, his voice a little louder than necessary. “My seatmate. The vampire . You know, the one with the long sleeves and—”

Jeno, who had overheard, snorted.

“Ohhh. That vampire.”

Jisung’s heart skipped a beat.

“That vampire?” he repeated, suddenly defensive. “She has a name, Jeno. And her name is Lia.”

Jeno waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, whatever. Who cares?”

The words stung more than he thought they would, but Jisung didn’t have time to react before Jaemin leaned in, a teasing grin lighting up his face.

“Aww, Jisungie’s got a wittle crushhh,” he cooed, practically rubbing his hands together with mischief.

Jisung’s face went red as he shot Jaemin a glare. “Shut up.”

“No, no!” Jaemin’s grin widened. “Come on, man. We’re just messing with you. We see the way you look at her.”

“I don’t—” Jisung started, but Jaemin was already nudging Jeno, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Ohhh, this is good,” Jeno said with a teasing wink. “So, Jisung’s got a crush on a vampire. This is gonna be fun.”

Jisung felt like his face was on fire. His thoughts were jumbled as he desperately tried to explain himself, but all that came out was, “I—I just—what are you talking about?!”

Jaemin just laughed, ruffling his hair. “I’m just saying, man. You’ve got it bad.”

The teasing continued for a few more minutes as Jisung tried to deny everything, but deep down, he couldn’t ignore the flutter in his chest.

Did I really have a crush on her?

He didn’t know.

But something about the way she smiled at him—actually smiled at him—made him think that maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this whole “seatmate” situation than he’d realized.

And that thought alone was enough to make him feel more than a little confused.

After practice, the teasing continued in waves—Jaemin’s “wittle crush” joke echoing in his head long after they’d showered and changed.

But what lingered more than the embarrassment was that gnawing question.

Where does she go?

It wasn’t like he was obsessed or anything. He was just curious. He had never really seen her eat lunch in the cafeteria or hang around under the shade like others did. And the heat today—damn, it was unbearable. Even for him, a werewolf.

So how was she handling it?

With that question clinging to his chest, he turned down the hallway, slowing his steps as he neared their classroom. The corridors were quiet now—everyone was either passed out in their dorms or tucked away in the common room, soaking in whatever breeze the ceiling fans could muster.

He pushed open the classroom door.

And stopped.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

Lia was there.

Collapsed on the floor beside the desk they shared—her body slumped, back pressed against the wall right beneath the window. The sun streamed in mercilessly, and even though her face was turned away, he could see it—she was barely holding herself upright.

“Lia?” he said, voice sharp, more urgent than he meant.

She looked up slowly, eyes a little glassy, her face pale under the shadows of her bangs.

“It’s… too hot,” she whispered, breath thin. “Sorry. I just needed to—rest a little…”

Jisung didn’t wait.

He dropped his bag and was at her side in a second, knees hitting the floor as he reached into his backpack, pulling out his water bottle and a small sachet of electrolyte powder. He always carried one during summer sports training.

“Hey, hey,” he said gently, popping the cap open and tearing the powder with his teeth. “Don’t apologize, okay? Just—here, drink this. Slowly.”

She blinked up at him, dazed, as he tilted the bottle and gently brought it to her lips.

He helped her sit up, one arm supporting her shoulder as he eased the water into her mouth, careful not to spill.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice oddly soft even to his own ears. “You’re burning up…”

She swallowed weakly, the cool drink finally seeming to pull her out of that fog, and a shiver ran down her arms as the heat broke in her system.

“I didn’t want to be out in the sun,” she mumbled, barely audible. “But the hallways were too full, and I… didn’t want to bother anyone…”

“Are you serious?” Jisung said, more harshly than intended. “You were burning. You passed out, Lia.”

She flinched slightly at his tone.

He bit his lip aa àa.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he added, voice low now, almost a whisper. “I just… got scared.”

There was a long pause.

She stared at him.

The heat buzzed outside. Cicadas shrieked in the background. But between them, it was quiet.

“I didn’t know you’d come looking for me,” she said finally.

Jisung looked down at her—at the way her lips were dry, the way her voice shook slightly.

“Neither did I,” he said honestly.

She blinked.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, suddenly aware of how close they were sitting, of how her skin still sizzled faintly where it had been exposed.

“I just… got this weird feeling,” he added. “Like something was off. And when you weren’t around, I—”

He paused.

“I wanted to know where you were.”

Her glassy eyes softened slightly.

“Why?”

Jisung didn’t answer right away.

He could’ve lied. Said something casual. Made a joke.

But she was looking at him like she wanted the truth.

So he gave it to her.

“Because you matter to me.”

The words fell out.

He didn’t mean for them to come that easily—but they did.

Lia blinked once. Twice. Her lips parted.

And Jisung could feel his pulse racing like he’d just played another game of rugby, except this time, the stakes felt personal.

Too personal.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The classroom was empty again. It was the kind of stillness that only came during a canceled class on a weekday—the echo of cicadas humming outside, the overhead fan clicking lazily as it spun, and sunlight flooding in muted gold from the far side of the windows.

Jisung was sprawled out halfway on his desk, his head resting on his folded arms as he let out a long sigh. Next to him, Lia sat upright, sleeves down as always, carefully writing something in her notebook.

He tilted his head just enough to look at her.

“…Hey,” he said, voice soft and a little sleepy. “Can I ask something?”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, blinking slowly. “Sure.”

Jisung sat up a little, turning his body so he was facing her more directly.

“I realized something recently,” he said. “I’ve… never actually seen you around during breaks. Even back in high school. Not once.”

She stopped writing.

He continued. “Like—not even accidentally. Everyone else was running around, playing on the field, hanging near the vending machines, but you… it’s like you just disappeared.”

Lia slowly closed her notebook.

There was a small pause before she responded.

“…It’s because of the sun,” she said, almost plainly. “I’m a vampire, Jisung.”

He blinked. “Well… yeah. I know that.”

But the moment the words left his mouth, they hit him harder than he expected.

Oh.

His eyes widened a little in realization.

“You can’t go out in the sun,” he muttered.

She gave him a tight smile. “Not without consequences. My skin burns. Not always instantly, but under harsh sunlight for too long—it smokes, then blisters. Gets painful really fast.”

Jisung leaned back in his chair slowly, processing it.

He remembered the red on her arms. The faint sizzle. The pain in her eyes.

“You were serious when you said the sun burns,” he said, half to himself.

Lia nodded once. “Mm-hm.”

He turned fully toward her now, interest piqued and concern bubbling underneath his calm voice.

“Then… how do you come to uni every day? Or get home?” he asked. “I mean, it’s summer. It’s brutal out there.”

She shrugged lightly, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “I carry an umbrella. One of those UV-proof ones. It doesn’t stop it completely, but it helps enough for me to get from home to class or back home.”

“That still sounds awful.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded, worn black umbrella, placing it on the desk with a small thud.

Jisung stared at it.

“You’ve been walking in this heat… with that tiny thing protecting you from being literally cooked?” he asked, voice tinged with disbelief.

Lia chuckled softly. “It’s not ideal, but it’s better than roasting alive.”

He leaned his chin on his palm, gaze still on her.

“So… that’s why you always stay in the classroom during break?”

She nodded. “Too bright. And honestly, too many people.”

That last part made Jisung smile a little.

“Fair.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “You know, I never really… thought about how different it is for you.”

Lia tilted her head. “Because I’m a vampire?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, we all know about vampires, werewolves, and all that, but we don’t really think about it. Like… what it’s actually like.”

He paused, eyes drifting back to the umbrella.

“How hard it must be. Every single day.”

Lia blinked, looking down. Her voice was small when she answered.

“…You’re the first person to say that.”

The words hung in the warm silence for a beat.

And Jisung felt that flutter again—the one that tugged something in his chest.

Like her words mattered more than they should have.

He looked over at her again. Her eyes were cast downward, but a faint smile touched her lips.

The sunlight didn’t reach her side of the desk anymore. But even without the light, Jisung thought she still glowed.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The next day arrived with the same unbearable heat, the same dry buzz of cicadas, and the same golden glow bleeding in through the classroom windows. Students filtered out as usual after the last class before lunch—laughing, chattering, heading toward shade or cold drinks or anywhere with even the slightest breeze.

But Lia stayed.

As always.

She pulled out her book and her umbrella, propped it nearby just in case, and got comfortable in her usual seat near the back. The fan above barely worked, spinning with a weak whir. The warmth made her a little drowsy, and she blinked slowly, fighting the tiredness.

Then—

The door slid open.

She looked up, expecting someone to have forgotten their notebook or water bottle.

Instead, Jisung stepped in.

She blinked once.

Twice.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised, sitting up straighter.

He walked over casually, his long frame moving in a lazy, unhurried way, like the heat didn’t affect him one bit. Instead of heading to his usual spot—either by the vending machine or wherever Jaemin and Jeno were goofing around outside—he walked straight toward her.

Then he sat down on the floor beside her desk, back against the cool wall, legs stretched out.

Lia stared.

Jisung caught the look and tilted his head slightly with a soft smile.

“What?” he asked.

“…You usually hang out with your friends,” she said carefully. “Jeno. Jaemin. Rugby boys. You know.”

“I do,” he said, resting his head back against the wall with a sigh. Then he looked at her again and added, “But I wanted to hang out with you today instead.”

Lia’s heart hiccuped.

“You… wanted to?” she repeated, blinking.

He nodded once.

“No offense to the pack,” he said, glancing out the window briefly, “but it’s too hot to pretend I care about who wins at rock-paper-scissors for drinks.”

He turned back to her.

“And I figured it might be more chill here.”

Lia just looked at him for a long second, like her brain was still buffering.

“…You’re strange,” she said finally, though her voice wasn’t unkind.

“I get that a lot.”

She turned her gaze away quickly, hoping he didn’t notice the small smile that tugged at her lips.

But he did.

He saw it, and it warmed something in his chest.

They sat in a gentle silence for a while, the hum of cicadas like background static. Lia occasionally glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but Jisung didn’t say much more. He just sat there, comfortable, leaning back, eyes half-lidded, letting the moment stretch.

Eventually, she broke the quiet.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Jisung turned his head to her.

“Do what?”

“Sit here. Keep me company. I’m fine alone.”

He looked at her for a beat, then smiled—softer this time. Sincere.

“I know you are,” he said. “But I didn’t want to be alone.”

That made her stop.

Her fingers paused against the edges of her book.

He turned away again, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“It’s just nicer… when you’re around.”

The quiet stretched between them again, warm and comfortable now. Jisung let his head rest lazily against the wall, eyes roaming around the nearly empty classroom until they landed on the book in Lia’s hands.

The cover was pastel pink, a little creased at the edges, and had a simple illustration of two people holding hands under the stars. Definitely not a textbook.

He squinted at it.

“What are you reading?”

Lia blinked, a little caught off guard. She glanced at the cover like she’d forgotten she was still holding it.

“…It’s just a silly book about love,” she mumbled, brushing her thumb across the corner.

Jisung tilted his head. “Why silly?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know… It’s just a fantasy, I guess. The main character’s human, and she falls in love with this spirit guy. It’s dramatic. Cheesy. They’re always whispering in forests or gazing at the moon. Stuff like that.”

Jisung grinned, amused. “Sounds kind of nice, honestly.”

She looked at him, surprised.

He shrugged. “Love stories aren’t silly. I think wanting something soft is kind of… brave, actually.”

Lia blinked.

He leaned a little closer, peeking at the page.

“Let me read it with you.”

“…You want to read this?”

“Yeah. Scoot.”

And so, they did. For the rest of that break, they read from the same book—her holding it, him leaning in slightly, close enough to smell the faint trace of lavender on her clothes and ink on the page.

It became their new thing.

Every day after that, Jisung stopped going out for breaks. Jaemin teased him. Jeno rolled his eyes. But Jisung didn’t care. He liked the quiet. He liked the soft way Lia read aloud sometimes without realizing, barely a whisper. He liked how she always saved the page with a little red thread she kept in her pencil pouch. And he liked her.

More than he knew how to admit.

—

One particularly scorching day, with the fans barely working and the light outside blinding, Lia sat curled slightly in her spot, the book resting open on her lap. Her eyes had fluttered shut, her breathing light, but she wasn’t quite asleep.

Jisung watched her for a moment from his spot beside her on the floor.

At first, he thought she was asleep, but after a few minutes, her shoulders twitched. Her fingers kept curling and uncurling, like she was trying to relax but couldn’t.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said softly.

Her eyes opened—barely.

“I am,” she whispered.

He raised a brow. “Not really.”

She shifted and sat up a little, rubbing her eyes gently. “…It’s hard to.”

Jisung tilted his head. “Why?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes drifted toward the window, toward the rectangle of blinding sun that poured across the floorboards just a few feet away.

And then she said—

“I’m scared that if I fall asleep… I won’t notice when the sun shifts. And it’ll burn me.”

Jisung blinked.

Something tightened in his chest.

“I usually nap in small bursts,” she added softly. “Just to be safe.”

He looked at the sun patch near her feet, then at her tired eyes, and then—he reached into his backpack and pulled out his hoodie.

Without a word, he stood, moved beside her, and gently pulled the curtain wider so the sunlight veered away. Then he draped his hoodie over the curtain rail to block even the gaps.

The room dimmed slightly.

He sat back down, cross-legged, and looked at her.

“I’ll keep watch,” he said simply. “So just sleep."

Lia stared at him, eyes wide.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“…What if you fall asleep?”

He gave her a lazy smile. “Then I guess we burn together.”

She chuckled at that, just a little—quiet but real.

Her eyelids fluttered again, slower this time. Trust had a funny way of sneaking in, warm and unnoticed—like how sunlight filtered through closed curtains.

And this time, Lia didn’t fight it.

The classroom was dim now, the buzzing heat softened by the shadow Jisung had carefully made. The book still rested open on her lap, pages fluttering in the breeze from the weak fan.

She shifted slightly.

Then—hesitantly, almost like she was scared she’d get pushed away—she leaned over and gently rested her head on his shoulder.

Jisung froze.

Just for a second.

Not in discomfort.

But in the kind of way someone freezes when they realize something is happening that they never expected to—but desperately don’t want to end.

Her hair brushed against his neck. She smelled like old pages and lavender fabric softener. Her weight was light, like she wasn’t even sure she could lean fully.

So he leaned into her. Just enough to let her know it was okay.

His shoulder tucked against her head.

“Comfortable?” he asked quietly, like his voice might ruin it.

“…Mhm,” she murmured, her voice already fading into sleep.

He swallowed.

Then, quieter:

“Good.”

The fan hummed above. Distant laughter floated from the open hallway. The sun stayed behind the curtain.

And for the first time in a long time, Lia slept—not in bursts, not half-watching the window, not worrying.

She slept.

Because someone was there.

Because Jisung was there.

And Jisung?

He didn’t move for the entire break.

He didn’t want to.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The usual calm of break was there—the quiet fan spinning, her head gently resting on his shoulder, the book open between them.

Jisung could feel his pulse a little louder today. Not because of the heat. Not because of the book.

But because he’d practiced what he was going to say at least fifteen times in front of his mirror last night.

Clearing his throat softly, he tilted his head, just slightly, enough for her to notice.

“Hey,” he began, his voice steady but a little tight, “I… have a match after class today.”

Lia didn’t move, but he could feel the shift in her attention.

“It’s nothing big,” he added quickly, “just a casual one—like an internal practice match.”

She lifted her head a little, blinking sleepily.

He scratched the back of his neck. “I was thinking… since the forecast said it won’t be too hot today, um, maybe—if you feel okay and it’s not uncomfortable—you could come?”

He glanced sideways, trying to play it off casually. “Only if you want to. Totally fine if not. Like, no pressure or anything.”

Lia looked at him quietly for a second, and then gave a small nod with a soft hum.

“Okay."

Just that.

A small word that lit up his entire face.

Jisung looked away quickly, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

---

That night, he practiced passing drills till late.

He even dragged Renjun out for advice.

“How do I say it like I don’t care but also kind of care a lot?”

Renjun had laughed. “You want her to know you want her there, without making it a big deal.”

“Exactly.”

“Then just ask like you did with me just now,” Renjun said, shaking his head. “You're a mess.”

But it worked.

—

The sun was unforgiving that day. Jisung had hoped the weather report was right, but it was almost worse than usual. His jersey clung to his skin, sweat dripping down his jaw as he warmed up with the others.

He kept glancing at the sparse crowd. Mostly pack mates, a few classmates, some faculty.

No sign of her.

And he didn’t blame her. Not one bit.

He shook his head and told himself:

Her comfort matters more. You said it yourself.

The whistle blew. First half began.

He played well. Kept his head in the game. But there was a slight tug in his chest—one that felt suspiciously like hope.

Half-time arrived and Jisung jogged to the benches, towel slung over his shoulder as he chugged some water.

Then—

A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye.

A black umbrella. Familiar. Small.

Shielding someone petite and very much real.

His head snapped up.

There she was.

Lia. Standing among a handful of quiet supporters, black umbrella over her shoulder, shielding herself from the sun even as it made her cheeks flush from the heat. She looked deeply uncomfortable… but she was there.

She came.

Their eyes met.

She smiled. A soft, real smile.

And lifted her hand in a small wave.

Jisung felt his ears burn so hard he was surprised steam didn’t come out.

Still—he smiled wide, cheeks aching as he waved back like a goofball.

She giggled, mouthed something at him.

Good luck.

And held a thumbs up.

His heart skipped an entire beat.

Then maybe two more.

The whistle blew.

Jisung’s chest heaved as he bent over, hands on his knees, soaked in sweat—but grinning like a fool.

They had won. By just a few points. It was tight, rough, and exhausting.

But he didn’t even care about the win itself.

Because the moment the game ended, his eyes shot back to the crowd—to her.

There she was, still under her black umbrella, pressed just outside the shade line of the bleachers. Her eyes widened the second their gazes locked, and she straightened as he immediately bolted from the field.

Not to his team.

Not to the coach.

Not to the crowd cheering the last goal.

Straight. To. Her.

The wind from his sprint nearly blew her umbrella sideways. Lia barely had time to adjust it before Jisung came to a breathless stop in front of her, sweat-slick and flushed, jersey clinging to him and hair sticking to his forehead.

She blinked at him, a little startled—not because he was here, but because now everyone was looking at them.

But Jisung didn’t care. His gaze was fixed entirely on her.

“You came,” he said, chest still rising and falling with effort. His voice was bright and hoarse and stunned.

She blinked again, slowly. “You asked me to,” she said softly.

He swallowed, eyes searching her face like he couldn’t believe she really stood there.

Then—

“Still,” he said, voice cracking a little with the weight of it, “the weather’s awful and you’re out here… for me."

“I wanted to,” she replied.

And just like that—his heart exploded.

He couldn’t hide the smile that bloomed across his face, all teeth and bashful joy.

Before she could say another word, he gently reached up and took the umbrella handle from her hand, holding it steady above her head.

“Let me,” he said. “You came for me. The least I can do is make sure you don’t melt.”

Lia’s cheeks flushed deeper—partly from the heat, partly because now it really did feel like all eyes were on them. And Jisung, with zero awareness of the gawking onlookers, just… beamed.

“You played really well,” she mumbled, adjusting her sleeves. “It was… cool to watch.”

He grinned wider, shrugging. “Pfft. I only won ‘cause you came.”

She blinked. “What?”

“True story,” he said, nodding solemnly. “Your presence gave me unmatched strength. I felt like a main character. It was all you.”

And somehow, despite the ridiculousness of it, she smiled—tiny, quiet, but real.

The sun was beginning to dip. The heat still lingered, but the moment had its own warmth now.

Jisung looked at her under the umbrella—her pale face framed in soft shadows, a shy smile curving her lips.

He wondered, just for a second, how he had ever thought she was scary back in high school.

They didn’t head straight home.

Jisung gently tugged her along—his hand still lightly holding the umbrella over her head as they walked past the fading field and up the sloped path behind campus. It wasn’t far, just a few minutes to the old tree that stood tall near the outer edge. Everyone called it the big tree, its wide branches and leafy crown providing the best shade in all of university.

They reached it in silence, save for the sound of cicadas in the grass and the soft shuffle of their shoes.

Lia blinked in surprise when he led her right to the wooden bench tucked beneath the branches, its surface old but still sturdy, half in shadow and perfect for escaping the summer sun.

He plopped down first, sighing as he stretched his legs before glancing up at her.

“Come on, it’s safe here,” he said with a small smile, patting the spot next to him.

She hesitated only a second before quietly sitting beside him.

He gently closed the umbrella and rested it against the bench.

The air was cooler here. Still warm, but without the sting of sunlight on skin.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment.

Then, almost out of nowhere, he turned to her, gaze soft.

“You look really pretty in daylight,” he said.

Her head jerked slightly, stunned.

Eyes wide, lips parting just a little. “What?”

Jisung blinked, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud—but it was too late.

“I mean it,” he shrugged, looking out ahead of them at the swaying grass. “Most people don’t get to see you like this. But I think you look… really nice in the sun. Not just the whole vampire-in-daylight thing. Just… you. You’re pretty.”

She turned her face away, flustered. She’d been called a lot of things before—scary, strange, too pale—but pretty? Especially in the context of daylight?

Never.

He didn’t press it. He just leaned back, hands resting behind him, squinting up through the leaves.

And after a moment of silence—so natural it didn’t need to be filled—he shifted and leaned sideways.

His head gently landed on her shoulder.

Lia tensed up a little at first, eyes wide in surprise. But she didn’t move away.

Not even when he quietly said, eyes half-lidded:

“Just let me rest for a sec. You’re a good pillow.”

A small, stunned breath left her lips, followed by the tiniest huff of amusement.

She glanced down at the boy beside her—sweaty, tired, and still smiling just a bit in the shade of the tree. And maybe for the first time since entering university, since hiding away from the sun and people and voices—

She felt completely seen.

Not as a vampire. Not as someone to avoid.

Just… as Lia.

And she didn’t mind being someone’s pillow today.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The walk home felt lighter than the air around them.

The sun had begun to lower, painting the streets in golden orange. The light hit the buildings gently, almost romantically, and for once Lia didn’t need her umbrella. She held it loosely in her hand, walking side by side with Jisung, their shadows stretched out in front of them.

They talked.

Nothing deep—just lazy, tired thoughts. A silly thing Jeno said during practice, a weird dream Lia had about biting a lemon thinking it was an apple, and how Jisung once accidentally knocked out a classmate with a dodgeball in middle school.

Lia laughed softly, and the sound made Jisung glance at her with that same fond, dumb grin he was starting to wear around her more often.

But as they neared a quieter neighborhood, she came to a stop.

“I’ll go from here,” she said quietly, turning to him with a polite smile. “My neighborhood’s mostly vampires. Older ones. They’re… not too fond of werewolves.”

Jisung’s lips tightened. “I can handle old grumpy vampires.”

She shook her head. “No. They’re different. It’s safer for both of us if I go alone from here.”

He looked at her for a long moment, conflicted.

But he understood. Some boundaries hadn’t been broken yet—no matter how much they wished otherwise.

He nodded. “Alright. Text me when you get home.”

She smiled and turned to go—but before she could take a step, he reached out and gently caught her hand.

She looked back, surprised.

“Thanks for coming today,” he said, eyes sincere. “It really meant a lot.”

Her chest fluttered.

“It’s fine,” she murmured, cheeks warm. “I had fun.”

And with one last smile, she walked off.

—

She walked through the quiet streets, the orange sky fading into dusky grey. Her heart still lingered back at the field—at Jisung’s smile, at the way he looked at her like she was human. Like she wasn’t some cursed legacy with fangs.

But that hope faded with her sigh.

She couldn’t wish for more. Not when the world was still painted in old bloodlines.

And especially not when her father was one of the most influential vampires in the region.

Suddenly, something shifted.

A chill passed through her spine.

She stopped.

From the dark mouth of a narrow alley, a glint of red eyes stared back at her.

She tensed, backing up slightly. Her powers—normally sharp and precise—felt slow. She’d stayed out too long. The sun had weakened her more than she realized.

Before she could react—

A growl.

A blur.

And then—

Pain.

The werewolf lunged, jaws sinking into her shoulder as she screamed, its weight slamming her to the ground. She tried to thrash away, but it was strong—too strong. Its claws tore at her side, and its teeth gnawed like it wanted to rip her apart.

“STOP—!” she gasped, blood spilling across the pavement.

The beast grabbed her leg and yanked, dragging her toward the alley.

She clawed at the ground—fingernails scraping the stone—but it didn’t stop.

Until—

“LIA!”

His voice.

And then—

A snarl. A crack. A storm of black fur.

The black wolf slammed into the attacker, tearing it off her with a bone-crushing blow. The two werewolves crashed into each other, claws and fangs clashing in a blur of fury and muscle.

Jisung’s wolf form towered over the other, eyes glowing with rage as he growled through his teeth, “You think you can just attack her?!”

He bit down, forcing the other to yelp and stumble.

The scene broke into chaos as more figures emerged from the shadows.

Vampires.

And not just any—her father at the front, face pale and sharp with fury.

He rushed to Lia’s side, kneeling, lifting her into his arms.

“Lia!?” he barked, eyes scanning her injuries. “Who did this—?!”

He looked up to see two wolves still fighting. And without hesitation, he barked, “End it! Kill them both if you must!”

But before anyone could move, a bloodied hand caught his wrist.

Lia’s.

Weakly, she whispered: “Jisung.”

The name rang like a bell through the stillness.

The vampires paused.

The black wolf stilled for a moment, before letting go of the attacker and stepping back.

The other werewolf growled low but Jisung didn’t let him retreat. He shifted right there, in front of all of them, back into human form. He was panting, shirt torn, skin streaked with blood, but his eyes were wild and furious.

He stepped forward, fists clenched.

“You don’t get to touch her,” he snarled at the other wolf. “Not her. Not ever.”

The vampires stared.

A werewolf—protecting a vampire. Bleeding for her. Fighting his own kind.

And Lia, in her father’s arms, watched with wide, trembling eyes.

Because no one—not even her—had ever fought like that for her.

The attacker—now human, exposed, and bruised—lay on the ground, barely conscious.

It was Minhyuk. The loudmouthed jock. Jisung’s own classmate. A fellow werewolf. A dumb bastard who played rugby like he ruled the field and walked the school like he owned it.

Jisung’s fists crashed into him again.

Once.

Twice.

“You thought it’d be fun?” he growled, rage consuming him. “You think she’s prey?!”

Minhyuk coughed out blood, trying to lift his arms in defense. But Jisung wasn’t done.

He grabbed the collar of Minhyuk’s shirt and threw him hard against the alley wall, eyes glowing bright yellow even in his human form.

Before he could hit him again, a cold hand caught Jisung’s wrist.

A vampire. Then another. Two more behind them. Minhyuk was quickly restrained by the clan that had appeared—his strength nothing compared to theirs.

“Enough,” one said sharply.

Jisung didn’t care. He turned, sprinting back to the motionless figure curled on the ground.

“Lia?” he called, dropping to his knees beside her, his voice breathless and panicked. “Lia?”

He barely noticed the figure already crouched by her side—a man with eyes like ice and presence like death. Her father.

But he didn’t register the danger.

All he saw was her.

“Are you okay? Oh god—” he murmured, eyes scanning her bloodied skin and torn clothes. “I should’ve never let you walk home alone.”

“Why did I let you—? I should’ve— I knew something felt off—!”

His voice cracked as his hands hovered over her, trembling.

The vampire lord stared, stunned.

A werewolf.

Panicking. For his daughter.

Her.

A vampire.

A soft sound escaped Lia’s lips as she whimpered in pain. Her skin was clammy, her lips pale. Her breathing was shallow.

Her father turned to the vampires behind him.

“She needs blood,” he said sharply. “Get the attacker. We’ll force a blood draw—”

But he froze.

Because Jisung—without hesitation—had already pulled out a Swiss army knife from his pocket.

He didn’t even hesitate.

With one swift motion, he cut his palm open, blood pooling fast in the curve of his hand.

“Lia,” he said softly, kneeling beside her, cupping the back of her head. “It’s okay. You need to drink. Just—just take some.”

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and faint.

“Jisung,” she whispered, horrified. “You’re bleeding…”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, offering his palm, voice calm and warm despite the panic under his skin. “I trust you. Just take it. Please.”

The vampires behind them tensed. Even her father looked rattled.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” one vampire growled.

“Saving her,” Jisung snapped without looking back.

Lia hesitated, shaking, but the scent of his blood—fresh, strong, warm—hit her like a wave. Her instincts screamed at her to take it. Her mind screamed not to.

But Jisung leaned closer.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

And with tears in her eyes, she gave in.

She gently placed her lips to his palm—barely a graze at first—but the moment his blood touched her tongue, she inhaled sharply, and color began to slowly return to her cheeks.

Her trembling started to still.

Her breathing evened out.

And Jisung just held her.

Letting her drink, even as pain shot through his hand. He didn’t flinch.

Because it was her.

And only her.

Lia’s lips trembled as she pulled away from his palm, the blood still warm on her tongue. Her breath was shaky, but stronger now. Her heartbeat, though faint, had steadied. Her fingers clutched the fabric of his sleeve weakly.

Jisung didn’t say anything at first. He just watched her with wide, worried eyes.

Then, without another word, he gently pulled her closer—wrapping his arms around her, carefully but firmly, like she’d break if he held her any tighter. One hand on the back of her head, the other across her shoulders. His chin rested lightly on the crown of her head.

She gasped softly into his shirt, startled.

But it felt… safe.

For the first time in a very, very long time—she felt safe.

Like the noise of the world, the danger, the heat, the tension between their kinds—none of it mattered.

His arms were warm.

His scent was grounding.

His heartbeat—strong and steady—drummed against her cheek.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve got you now.”

Her hand slowly rose to hold the front of his shirt, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“You’re okay,” he added gently, as if repeating it would make it true.

Behind them, the gathered vampires and werewolves looked on in stunned silence—no one daring to speak.

Even her father didn’t interrupt.

Because in that moment, no one else existed.

Just her.

And the werewolf who held her like she meant the world to him.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

A few days had passed since the night Lia was attacked.

Minhyuk, the werewolf who attacked her, had gone missing. Whispers said he’d been taken by someone from Lia’s side, but no one knew for sure. The university sent an apology to Lia’s family—formal, full of hollow regret and promises of stricter regulations.

Everything felt like it had gone back to normal. Students laughed in corridors, the sun blazed on, and teachers rambled on about coursework and deadlines like nothing had happened.

But Jisung knew better.

Lia hadn't returned to university. Her family insisted she rest, even though she didn't want to. And how did he know that? Because they’d been texting. Every day. She’d complain about how boring it was at home, how she missed class, how annoying her overprotective relatives were. How she wanted to sit under the old tree again and nap with her head on his shoulder.

Jisung smiled every time her name popped up on his phone. But today… today was different.

He was sitting in class during break, alone, the fan buzzing above him, books untouched. That morning, as he entered the building, a figure cloaked in shadows had appeared briefly, pressing an envelope into his hand before vanishing into thin air. No words, just a nod.

Now, his fingers held the envelope delicately. It was cream-white, expensive parchment with edges gilded in gold. A red wax seal pressed into the back bore the unmistakable insignia of Lia’s family.

His heart skipped a beat.

Carefully, he broke the seal and opened the letter. The script inside was neat, precise, elegant. The kind of handwriting that had lived through centuries.

He began to read.

---

To Park Jisung,

I have always despised werewolves. Not entirely, but deeply enough for the sentiment to run in my blood. It is a disdain I was raised to carry, as my fathers before me, and theirs before them. I held it like a torch in the dark, believing it necessary to protect what I love.

But throughout the many centuries I have walked this world, I have come across werewolves who challenged that belief—few, but memorable. And among them, you now stand at the forefront.

That night was chaos. Unforgivable and terrifying. No one could have predicted what happened. No one could have prepared. And yet, it was you who stood between death and my daughter. It was you who bled for her. Who fought one of your own, not as a werewolf for a vampire, but as a soul protecting another.

In all my years, I have never witnessed such a moment.

I have lived through wars, through centuries of hidden battles between our kinds, through the endless cycle of distrust. And yet I found myself frozen in that alley, watching a werewolf defend my daughter as though his own life meant nothing compared to hers. Watching you offer your blood when she needed it, shielding her, holding her like she was the most fragile thing in the world.

I will not lie and say everything I believed vanished that night. But I will say this—

You have my respect.

You have my gratitude.

And you have my blessing.

Thank you, Park Jisung—not just for saving my daughter, but for showing her, and all of us, that perhaps there is still something better waiting for our people than silence and hatred.

I am glad she has someone like you in her life.

From me, my family, and the people I lead—thank you.

Seo Doyun

Patriarch of House Seo

Father of Lia

Head of the Crimson Court

—

Jisung stared at the letter long after the words stopped. His heartbeat thudded in his chest like a drum. A blessing. Her father had given him a blessing.

And for the first time in his life, the wall between werewolves and vampires didn’t seem so unbreakable anymore.

—

After class, Jisung was walking back home with his bag slung over his shoulder, earbuds in, lost in thought. The streets were still a little hot from the late afternoon sun, the sky slowly dimming to golden orange. He was thinking about the letter, about her—always her—when suddenly he heard a soft “psst” from the side.

He blinked, pulling one earbud out and glancing around. Again, a sharp “psst.”

His eyes darted to a nearby alleyway, and there, in the shadows, stood a small figure—umbrella in hand, sunglasses covering half her face, hoodie pulled up loosely.

“Lia?” he said, stunned but already grinning.

She pulled her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose and smiled at him, eyes crinkling. Even from here, he could still see the fading bruises, the healing scars that lined her cheek and jaw, but they disappeared in the light of her beam.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hurrying into the shade beside her, eyes wide and a little confused but unmistakably happy.

She twirled the umbrella slightly, cocking her head. “I was bored,” she said simply. “So Dad said I could come meet you.”

His chest tightened. That meant a lot more than it sounded.

As she lowered her sunglasses, her eyes dropped to his palm. Her smile faltered as she gently reached out and took his hand.

“This isn’t even tended to properly,” she murmured, frowning at the barely scabbed-over cut from that night.

He laughed sheepishly, “It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt.”

She shook her head at him, not buying it. With soft fingers, she ran over the skin of his palm—and Jisung gasped as the wound closed slowly under her touch, vanishing like it was never there.

He stared at his hand, flexing it. “That’s… insane.”

She grinned, teasing, “You’re welcome, big strong wolf.”

He chuckled, ruffling her hair as she squeaked in protest. They stood there for a while, talking in the cool quiet of the alley, her umbrella angled between them. She told him how dull the past few days had been, how annoying it was to be waited on, how she missed their breaks together.

When the sun dipped low enough that the shadows began to stretch long, he reached for her umbrella gently and took it from her hand.

“Let me hold it,” he said with a soft smile. “I’m taller anyway.”

She blinked but nodded, warmth blooming in her chest as they walked side by side down the sidewalk. They didn’t say much—just soft conversation and gentle laughter—as they made their way to the familiar old tree on campus, where the shade had already claimed its throne beneath the branches.

They sat beneath the old tree on the bench, the world still around them. The sun had almost disappeared now, leaving the air warm and tinted gold. Jisung shifted slightly, shoulders brushing hers before he turned to her, voice softer than usual.

“I missed you,” he said, eyes trained on the ground before glancing at her. “A lot. Too much, actually.”

Lia’s lips parted, her heart tightening with a kind of sweet ache as she smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. “I missed you way too much too,” she whispered. “That’s why I kept flooding your DMs with those ridiculous spams.”

He chuckled, but his throat tightened with the emotion blooming in his chest—something that felt like spring breaking through cold earth.

His fingers twitched nervously before he gathered the courage to slowly take her hand in his. She flinched, just slightly, surprised—but then she relaxed, her fingers curling gently around his. He began to trace soft circles on her knuckles with his thumb.

“You know…” he started, voice light but laced with nerves, “there’s this werewolf. My friend.”

Lia tilted her head slightly, hiding a smile.

“He likes this very cool, adorable, funny—and pretty—vampire from his class.” His thumb paused for a second, then resumed. “Just asking you since you’re also a vampire… would she ever, you know, like him back? Are there chances of it ever happening that they could go out together?”

His ears were already flushed red as he avoided her gaze, rubbing his nose with his free hand, trying to play it off.

She bit her lip, hiding a grin before she softly asked, “Is that werewolf… you, or?”

He glanced sideways, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “No, no. Just asking for a friend.”

That made her laugh—warm, airy, and real—as she turned toward him and leaned in. Without a word, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His breath caught in his throat.

“She likes him too,” she said, her voice quiet and sure, her forehead resting lightly against the side of his.

Lia froze for a second—just a heartbeat—before slowly pulling back enough to look up at him, her hand still in his.

Jisung’s heart was pounding in his chest like it wanted to break free. Her kiss on the cheek had given him enough air to breathe, enough strength to say what had been sitting in his chest forever. Maybe even longer.

He smiled, shy but steady and said, “Well, since that’s possible for my friend…” He looked into her eyes, cheeks dusted with warmth, but this time, no hesitation in his voice. “Let’s say I like you. No, not like— I love you. What would you say?”

He felt exposed, vulnerable and bold at once. His thumb was still gently brushing over her knuckles, grounding him as much as it was comforting her.

Lia blinked at him, lips parted slightly. The silence stretched only for a second—but to him, it felt like forever.

And then, she smiled. The kind of smile that made cicadas go quiet and hearts swell.

“I’d say…” she whispered, tightening her fingers around his, “that I love you too.”

And just like that, the last breath of summer heat didn’t seem so unbearable. Not when she was next to him, not when the distance between vampire and werewolf didn’t matter—not when their hands were tangled, hearts finally speaking the same language.

Jisung gulped, eyes wide and heart stumbling as he asked, “Wait… for real?”

Lia chuckled softly, the sound like wind chimes in early spring, and nodded, her eyes twinkling. That was all he needed.

In a second, he pulled her into a warm, almost trembling hug—arms wrapped around her like he never wanted to let go. “I love you… a lot,” he mumbled into her hair, voice small but honest, full of all the emotion he’d been holding back.

Lia’s heart bloomed. She closed her eyes, arms tightening around his waist. “I love you a lot too,” she whispered into his shoulder, and he broke the hug slowly, as if parting from something sacred.

His hands came up to her face, cupping her cheeks gently. She looked up at him, still catching her breath, and he pressed a soft, adoring kiss to her forehead.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he did.

Then he kissed her right cheek, and her left, so tenderly it made her cheeks warm. A little laugh escaped her when he kissed the tip of her nose, then her chin—each one slow, full of affection and awe.

And then he stopped.

His gaze shifted to her lips, lingering.

He didn’t move. He didn’t rush.

His thumb brushed her cheek and his voice dropped low, nervous, quiet. “Can I…?” he asked, unsure if he should say the rest—but his eyes held it all. The want. The love. The fear of messing it up.

And the hope that maybe, just maybe, she wanted the same thing too.

Her eyes shimmered under the soft light filtering through the trees, glassy with emotion and something tender. She gave the faintest nod, cheeks flushed, before softly humming, “Mhm…”

That was all the permission he needed.

Jisung leaned in slowly, like the moment might break if he moved too fast—his hand still gently cupping her cheek. His forehead rested against hers for a second, his breath warm, his heart loud.

And then, with a softness that made time slow, his lips met hers.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hungry. It was warm. Sweet. The kind of kiss that says "thank you for finding me," and "I’ll protect you, no matter what."

When they pulled apart, her eyes were still closed for a moment longer, and when she opened them—he was smiling at her. Ears red, heart full.

“You’re really mine now?” he asked quietly, still in awe.

She nodded, leaning in with a soft giggle, brushing her nose against his. “I’ve always been yours. You just didn’t ask sooner.”

She giggled, the sound light and full of joy as she leaned into him, arms wrapping around his middle. He let out a breathy laugh, completely enchanted, and hugged her back tightly, swaying them gently side to side under the shade of the old tree.

“You’re so warm,” she mumbled into his chest.

He grinned, resting his chin on top of her head. “Perks of dating a werewolf.”

She snorted at that. “Hmm. Guess I’ll keep you, then.”

“Forever, please,” he whispered.

She tilted her head up, eyes twinkling. “Okay, forever.”

And just like that—with cicadas buzzing in the background, the heat of summer lingering in the air, and two hearts finally in sync—they stood wrapped in each other’s arms, the world soft around them. Just Lia and Jisung, under their favorite tree, where everything felt right.

That's it for this one!

I hope y'all liked it 🥹🫶🏻

It was very soft and fun to write tbh!

Likes and rebloggs are appreciated 🤍✨️

[the-missing-number]

i can make a better intro paragraph to a book. watch this

The Orcish city of Ninestone, near the western border of Fulmora, was a bustling capital of travel and trade. Its central location on the continent made it an important rest stop for many travelers of many creeds—which, in turn, made it an excellent place for any enterprising merchant to appeal to a diverse, ever-cycling array of potential customers. The city itself was named after the landmark it was founded upon; a constellation of nine great boulders, each one more than three stories tall. The boulders themselves, along with the land around them, were made into a public park of sorts at the center of the city, a place for locals and visitors alike to meet, wander, or simply rest and enjoy the scenery.

Ninestone's namesakes were the only thing in the city left unburned.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

| Not Yet | part one

An Anakin Skywalker X FemReader Oneshot

18+ MDNI

Warnings: Eventual Somnophilia, Cockwarming, oral, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, etc. (More warnings to come in part two)

Aggression, anger, biting, pinching,

Info: Unburned Anakin, Darth Vader Anakin - No Mask, Established Relationship, Anakin is broody but he adores you. He destroys something of yours he’s not sorry. NOT proofread❤️

Anakin Skywalker, leader of the Empire. A powerful Sith, a harsh and unforgiving presence looming over the galaxy. Known for his anger, his hatred, his ruthlessness.

No one would suspect that behind the mask, underneath the intimidating vocoder, is a soft smile. All boyish charm, beautiful sky blue eyes with just a hint of yellow. A scar across his right eye, a token of his past that he wears well.

The dark web of his blighted path is littered with holes of light shining through with the memories of his younger years. You see him for what he truly is. A master weaver.

And weave he did, straight into the missing piece of your soul.

Anakin, The Lord Darth Vader, would be seen as a weakened man if any one were to discover how he acts behind closed doors. The web of lies stretches far and wide, but never into the confines of your shared quarters. When the mask is removed, your Anakin emerges. Your sweet boy, loving, caring, considerate, everything that Vader is not.

The vastness of space always seemed to calm you, it was peaceful. The stars seemed close enough to touch as you pass the planets hanging in the surrounding darkness, watching them slowly shrink as the Death Star made its way to the next destination.

The long curved window of your living room was your favorite spot to sit and read, Anakin had a large oval shaped lounge chair designed specifically for you just for this very purpose. He couldn’t understand why you’d remove the couch cushions and place them on the floor just to be near the window, so he’d surprised you with the beautifully made black velvet seat. If you could call it that, really it was more of a day bed.

As you lay there, book in hand, the door opened abruptly causing you to jump.

“Ani?”

There was no response from behind you, just the hissing of the release of his helmet followed by the soft thump of hard plastic against the plush carpet. It was rare that he returned in a foul mood, and clearly this was one of those days. You knew better than to ask questions, he hated talking war and politics with you, work was work and home was home. He kept them entirely separate, no one dared to bother him with questions or updates once he’d stepped foot into your quarters.

You heard him huff in annoyance as he stomped off to the bedroom. You sighed and placed your book aside, making your way to the kitchen. A nice little glass of whiskey worked wonders on him on days like this. You poured a generous amount, grimacing when the smell hit your nostrils. You sat the glass aside, sliding the whiskey bottle back into its place.

You prepared his favorite snack, peanut butter and bananas, a strange pairing for whiskey… but he liked it so who were you to judge? You left the plate and glass on the counter for him and made your way to the bathroom.

You drew a steaming bath, complete with bubbles and fragrant oils, placing two fluffy towels and his robe beside the sink. He never asked you to do these things for him, but you knew he enjoyed it. It was a habit you’d started and followed religiously after the first time he’d returned home in a sour mood like this.

You undressed allowing the fabric of your dress pool at your feet. Slowly sinking into the hot water, you closed your eyes and waited for him.

Soft footsteps alerted you to his presence, a small smile upturned your lips as you opened your eyes to see him standing above you already nude. Whiskey glass in hand, he stepped into the tub in silence.

He settled in, taking a sip from the glass before setting it aside, letting his head tip back against the high wall of the porcelain tub. His hand felt for your ankle, pulling it to rest on his thigh, he rubbed his thumb gently back and forth against your skin.

He tugged at your ankle slightly, trying to get your attention after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“M’ sorry I’ve been grumpy.” Anakin whispered, watching you with a pout as you opened your eyes.

“Had a rough day?” You asked him, earning a groan and a nod as confirmation.

He shifted, trying to crawl into your lap. His cheek rested on your chest, nestled between your water slicked breasts. His left hand came up to lazily circle your nipple, watching in fascination as it hardens under his touch. With your legs on either side of his torso you took the opportunity to trap him there with your thighs. Smirking at the low rumbling you felt his chest make against your abdomen.

“How can I make it better?” You asked, twirling a strand of his damp hair around your pointer finger.

“Neck.” He grumbled shrugging his shoulders to encourage you.

“Mhm,” you grinned, placing your hands on his shoulders but not moving. You were waiting for a ‘please’.

“C’mon, you asked how to help and this is how.” He picked up his hand and flicked water at your face.

You let your fingertips ghost across his skin, hearing him sigh, you guessed it was a mixture of gratitude and impatience. You pressed a little harder watching his skin dimple beneath your touch. A small strangled moan left his lips from the sensation, just like you’d hoped. A smirk crawled up the corner of your mouth as you stilled your movements.

“Fucking stop doing that!” Anakin pinched the skin on your ribs harshly.

“Ow!” Before you could think you had smacked the back of his head. “Oh shit oh Ani I’m sorry!”

He slowly raised his head and you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the golden flecks in his eyes that so intensely burned into yours. Ani had a temper, that you knew, you rarely fought and it was never caused by something as small as this. A little teasing was just part of your love language but occasionally you’d find yourself stepping over the fine line of ‘cute annoyance’ and straight into ‘Jesus FUCK! Where’s my fucking stun gun!’, followed by laughter from the both of you.

Though this time, he wasn’t laughing.

He lifted himself up with his hands firmly planted on either side of your hips, a glare in his eyes that could’ve burned through beskar as he dropped his line of vision to your chest. Before you could think of a good apology for bothering him, your brain short circuited from an intense sharp pain.

It took longer than expected for your mind to catch up with what you were seeing. Anakin had bitten you right on the softest most sensitive part of your breast. He was merciless with it, sinking his teeth in and leaving a perfect impression on your skin. It was already bruising as you ran your finger over it gently. You looked up to see Anakin watching you with a glazed look in his eyes, no emotion on his face.

“What the hell Anakin?!” You shrieked.

He stood sharply, making sure to completely douse your face and hair in water as he kicked his legs up and over the edge of the bathtub. He snatched his robe from the counter and stomped off, leaving puddles as he went.

“Fine. Whatever.” You mumbled, knowing it was not fine and it was not whatever.

You drained the tub, taking extra time to pamper yourself once you got out since someone had decided that you were enemy numero uno. You wrapped your hair around a soft silk strip to create waves once it dried. Lotion and oils applied to your legs and arms gave your skin a delicious scent and a shine that almost glowed in the dim lighting. The bite mark was throbbing and warm as you rubbed bacta-gel over it with a wince.

Normally you wouldn’t mind sporting a bitemark like this. But right now, looking at it didn’t give you a shiver as you remembered an intimate moment, it brought a red blush of anger to your cheeks.

You exit the bathroom in your towel, peering cautiously into the bedroom. Anakin was no where to be found so you went in, throwing on the first nightgown and panties you could find. Your mind whirled with reasons for his anger, but there were none. This wasn’t something you’d caused. But it was something you’d fix.

Anakin POV

Everything was so constricting. My robes, my shoes, my gloves, the stupid fucking mask. My hands flexed into fists over and over as I walked.

“I can’t wait to get home to her.” I thought.

That breifing was shit. Absolute shit.

That moron Tarkin had gotten eight, eight Imperial Cruisers, damaged and one completely destroyed beyond repair. How did this happen?

“My apologies Lord Vader”

“Those fighter pilots came out of no where!”

“You don’t understand Lord Vader! It was just a routine visitation to the Outer Rim, we weren’t aware there were Rebels gathered there!”

If he wasn’t someone who’d never made a mistake in the entirety of his career under my supervision I would’ve crushed his windpipe while he dangled above the conference table. What a way to achieve your first mistake.

The moment I walked through the doors of my quarters I dropped my helmet, shedding my outer robes as I trudged to the bedroom.

“Ani?”

I sighed when I heard her sweet voice, smiled when I heard her set aside what she was doing just too brighten up my terrible day with my favorite guilty pleasure. I dropped my clothes to the floor, kicking them out of the way before walking out the door, not caring that I was stark naked.

We must’ve just missed each other in the hall because she wasn’t in the kitchen when I got there, and the sound of water running hit my ears a moment later.

I didn’t deserve such a woman. Someone so gentle and caring. But here I am, graced with her presence every day.

I chuckled when I saw she’d made a smiley face with the banana slices.

Her body.

Her gorgeous body lay before me in the bath, she looked so serene with her head resting tilted back, her slender neck exposed. Her gentle breathing lifting her chest from the bubbly water, exposing her naked breasts with each inhale.

The water was so warm that it drew an involuntary groan from me as I slipped into my spot across from her. Soon finding her ankle, rubbing my thumb across her soft skin, doing this to sooth myself more than her to be honest.

“M’ sorry I’ve been grumpy.” I mumbled, knowing my attitude was horrible since the moment I returned.

“Have a rough day?” She furrowed her eyebrows, always concerned for me, always worried.

I nodded, it was a rough day. Horrendous actually. I groaned and lifted my head hit the porcelain behind me to make my way over to her open arms. Melting into her body as I rested my head against her chest, centered between her soft, supple breasts. I couldn’t help but reach out and tease one, just to watch it rise from the simple touch.

She squeezed my sides a bit, gentle enough but much to hard for me after the day I had. I bit back my complaint, by bruised ribs not worth ruining the sweet moment between us.

“How can I make it better?” She ran her fingers through my hair, gently massaging my scalp.

“Neck.” I replied, a bit more gruff than I intended. I wiggled my shoulders hoping she’d take the hint.

Her fingers slithered across my skin, palms resting on my shoulder blades.

“C’mon you asked how you could help, this is how.” I flexed my hand, bringing above the water to throw little droplets at her face.

That seemed to do the trick, I relaxed against her under the light pressure of her fingers. Letting my hands travel up her waist to rest my thumbs in the crease created under her breasts.

Though I love her massages, sometimes she takes too long to begin to really work out the knots. She kept lifting her fingers, removing them completely, bringing them back for soft pressure only to take it away again. Finally she really dug in, hitting the spot that ached the most, it was almost satisfying. It would’ve been if she hadn’t ripped her hand off me again.

“Fucking stop doing that!” I growled, pinching the tender skin on her ribs a bit harder than intended.

“Ow!” She shrieked in pain.

I went to immediately apologize but before I could make a sound her palm delivered a swift ‘whump’ to the back of my skull. Something deep inside me snapped. My breathing stopped as I felt an intense streak of rage run through my spine.

“Oh shit, oh Ani I’m so sorry!” She yelped out, she clearly did it from reflex. But the apology fell on deaf ears.

I lifted myself above her, steeling my gaze into her eyes. Normally I wouldn’t mind being smacked around by her, I encouraged it actually. But this wasn’t the bedroom, and today wasn’t a normal day. Before I could stop myself my impulses controlled my movements.

My mouth clamped down into her breast, digging my teeth in harshly. Coming to my senses I quickly released her, feeling immediate shame as I looked in her eyes again. She was hurt, physically, emotionally… it only intensified when she inspected the wound.

Her eyes snapped up at me, fire burning in her irises.

“What the hell Anakin?!”

She sounded as hurt as she looked, I couldn’t bare it. But I also couldn’t force my mouth open to speak. So I did what I do best, avoided it. I left the tub in a hurry, not caring that I’d left a lake of water in the floor as it splashed over the edge.

“Fine. Whatever.” She whispered under her breath. It wasn’t fine, and it wasn’t whatever. It was wrong of me… but I couldn’t say that right now.

I grabbed my robe and headed to grab some pajamas, hoping to hide myself away so I could contemplate which way I’d prefer to grieve the loss of my marriage when she served me with divorce papers tomorrow morning.

You had searched every corner of your shared quarters, and Anakin wasn’t sulking in any of them.

“Anakin!” You yelled and waited but got no response.

You threw on your slippers and grabbed a throw blanket to wrap around yourself as you left the warmth of your quarters to search for him in the cold corridors.

Once you’d made your way to the end of the hall, you turned left in the direction of his office. You passed a few troopers on your way who gave you a wide berth as they passed, not daring to make eye contact.

“Hey!” You said, trying to get their attention.

You startled them so badly that they collided into each other before they quickly turned to face you.

“Y-yes ma’- sorry.” One cleared his throat and started over, “Yes Empress?

“Where is Vader, I need to speak to him please?” You asked your polite tone never ceased to shock the subordinates and it shows.

“Oh-uh he…” one started, and another cut him off.

“Last I know he was headed in the direction of your quarters Empress. Shall we escort you?”

“No that’s not necessary. Thank you boys, carry on.”

You turned on your heels, padding down the hall back in the direction of your quarters. Leaving the stunned troopers behind you.

Soon after arriving home again you searched the apartments. Finally giving up when you realized his helmet was missing from the spot it landed on the floor. You resigned to crawling into bed alone, for the first time in years.

Tag List:

@tsugumiholic

@kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed!

Thanks for being so understanding. I’m truly devastated that I lost part of this post. I’ll do my best to re-write it better than the original😭

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly - Chapter 4. The Wolf

Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: cursing, smut (masterbation) - Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. F!OC was recommended to me since there's a lot of description of her but I'm writing her as You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: You are Joel talk a bit more and you figure out what your job is going to be. 1.3K

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the book line divider. :)

Chapter 1 Here Chapter 2 Here Chapter 3 Here

Chapter 4. The Wolf

It’s been three days since you got to Jackson, and it’s starting to finally feel real. No longer like a fever dream at the end of your life. Tonight is movie night, Jurassic Park, one of your favorite movies, and you’re going with Joel. You wake up on that Friday like a kid on Christmas morning, bouncing down the stairs to the kitchen, but Joel and Ellie are nowhere to be seen. You notice a plate covered in a cloth napkin the color of the sky on a spring day, under it, eggs, bacon and even toast, still relatively warm. You smile to yourself thinking maybe Joel did this, but you think better of yourself and decide it must have been Ellie, it still warms your heart. You’ve only known these people three days and they’ve woven into your soul already. Then, by the coffee pot, you see a mug with a wolf painted on it, one with an owl is washed and sat to dry by the sink. This gesture, you know, is Joels.

One of the few times you two have spoken since you arrived was the other night when you couldn’t sleep. You find Joel downstairs by the fireplace carving another animal for his wooden menagerie, you suppose. You pick up the carving of the light-colored wolf you noticed your first time in the house and say, “Wolves have always been my favorite.” Joel grunts and you take that as a sign to keep going. “They have a pack, they take care of each other, and they howl at the fucking moon, they’re cool.” You put the sculpture back on the mantle and when your eyes find Joel’s he’s looking right at you, no longer cutting into the wood in his hands. The light from the fire dances in his eyes and it feels like a spark igniting something in the quiet. After what feels like an eternity, you say, “Well, I guess I’ll try and get some sleep. Night, Joel.” And you scurry up the steps, while Joel watches the fire, never again to resume his carving that night.

But as you return to your room, you still can’t sleep. Every time you close your eyes you see his face, his eyes, his mouth, his hands. Before you can stop yourself, your unburned hand finds its way into your sleep shorts, grazing the wet material of your underwear. Causing you to moan out loud. Shit. You have to be quiet! You bite your lip to keep your whimpering contained as you push your underwear to the side and truly feel the slick between your legs. You haven’t felt this way in so long. Actually, turned on. Maybe a constant fear of death messes with your libido. You bet there are studies on that from before. But now, oh you are so wet, and it feels so good. You use two fingers to bring your wetness up to your clit and swirl it around. Your head and shoulders lurch forward as the pressure to your nub almost makes you cry out. You bring your other hand up to your mouth and bite into the back of it to keep from making noise as you slip those same two fingers down to your entrance. You’re so soaked that your fingers just slip right into your tight hole. Fuck, did this always feel so good? You close your eyes again and with two fingers deep inside and your thumb rubbing against your clit, you picture him. You picture him pushing you against a wall. Hovering over you. Standing over you while you’re on your knees. You imagine what his thick fingers could do instead of your small ones. And then you imagine his voice, telling you to come for him and that’s all it takes. Your sex squeezes down on your fingers and you bite so hard into the back of your hand you taste blood. As you start to come down and regulate your breathing you hear the door of Joel’s bedroom close loudly. Even though you’re terrified he heard all your whimpers and moans, you’re so relaxed you end up falling asleep with a smile on your face. You almost kind of hope he listened.  

You come back to yourself in the kitchen holding the wolf mug thinking about the night before and what it could mean moving forward. If he heard you, maybe he liked it, maybe he’ll want more? You know it’s probably wishful thinking, but you let your mind go there anyway. Today is your first day of work at the library. Joel suggested that since you like books and movies so much, that might be the place best suited for you. Except for the quiet part, since you have such a, quote, “Loud Mouth”. But Jackson’s library didn’t really follow the old rules, you’d come to find out. You get dressed in the clothes Maria gave you and look at yourself in the mirror. A disgusted look on your face as you take in the bright pink polo collared shirt you’re wearing.

There’s a knock on the door and after you answer, Joel opens it but stays standing in the doorway. He gives you a once over in your new clothes and then takes in the look on your face. “You gotta get to work soon, I walked Ellie to school and thought I’d come back for you. What’s with the face?” He asks, his hands on his hips, one knee jutted out. “It’s nothing, it’s fine. Let’s go.” You turn to face him, and he rolls his eyes, what is his deal, ugh. He stops you by putting a hand up, palm facing you, “No, none of that, what is it? Spit it out.” You look down at your shoes knowing this is going to end in you getting told you’re a spoiled brat, but he asked so you explain, “Look, I am really thankful for the clothes, mine were gross and falling apart and it’s really no big deal but,” you pause, “I don’t wear pink. Okay, I wear like black if I can find it or other dark colors, this just makes me feel weird and off. I know it’s stupid and it doesn’t matter in the scheme of things but, yeah so, that’s what’s wrong.”

You’re still looking at your shoes when you hear a snort. Looking up at Joel who’s smiling and trying to keep from laughing. “You asshole, don’t laugh at me,” you pout. Trying to regain his composure Joel says with a chuckle, “I’m sorry, Ash, ha, it’s just, oh god, now that you say it, you do look a little outta place in that pink.” You can’t help it; you start laughing too. And you swat at his arms and chest, and he puts his hands up in defense. “Well, don’t just laugh at me, help me, old man,” you say. Joel, still laughing slightly, responds, “Oh, not you too with the old man thing.” You smile, “Ah, you’re not that old, you’re what 50? I’m 40 so I guess I’m old too.” He finally starts to calm his laughter and catch his breath. “40, huh? I wouldn’t have thought that. I woulda thought 60 maybe,” he says completely deadpan. You squint angrily at him and start to brush past him when he huffs another laugh and grabs your upper arm to stop you next to him in the door frame. You’re so close, and he’s towering over you and his hand on your arm feels like fire. “Stop, there’s a place in town, we’ll go see what we can find for you to wear that isn’t,” he grabs at the hem of your hot pink shirt touching the skin of your belly with his calloused fingers and you think you might melt into a puddle on the floor right in front of him, “this.” His eyes trace from where his finger touches you up your chest to your lips that just happen to be parted and then to your eyes that are wild. He looks at you like he might think you’re beautiful. Before you can think to move or say something or breathe, he’s walking down the stairs and yelling back at you, “Let’s go, you’re gonna be late!”

[nothoughsheadempty]

Posting a pov character from asoiaf until winds of winter drops ✨ shitty doodle edition ✨:

Daenerys "Stormborn" Targaryen. (And baby dragons).

I finally did another one! Speaking of when things are finally done, hoping that in the new book she can start making some sort of comeback after that whole oopsie daisy bouquet at Mereen. 

(Ps: In my mind painted vest equals the dothraki have a hobby besides pillaging, and they paint little drawings and patterns in their stuff).

(Another headcanon: Daenerys get's super sunburned easily on acount of the Targaryen being albino adjacent.

Because the irony of being the unburned, and looking red as a crab if the sun so much as grazes her is strong).

[liltalle]

Sorting The Stormlight Archive - Sorting Hat Chats

Here's a long overdue sorting of (some of) these amazing characters, now that I just finished Wind and Truth. A short explanation of this system can be found here. (Spoilers below the cut)

Kaladin Stormblessed - Badger Lion. Omg, our poor Windrunner. Kaladin has a textbook Badger Primary arc: He starts out burned, he's tried to protect everyone around him, he can't help himself, but he's failed so many times that it's destroyed him, and... he can hardly muster the will to live without being able to protect anyone. His moment at Honor Chasm is when he starts to unBurn, when he tries again for Bridge Four. He succeeds, then needs to learn what to do with himself when his people aren't in constant danger. He learns how to expand his circle of care in Book 3, to accept his limits in Book 4, and to take care of himself in Book 5. But he doesn't become a Snake at the end, he asserts that protection can still be important to him, and he can choose to sacrifice himself if he wants to, it's just his choice, for himself, and it's not all he is. Beautiful end to his Part 1 arc, even to a Snake like me. (The Windrunners as a whole are very Badger Pri-coded, down to threatening innocents being an easy way to distract them. Lirin is a Bird Pri who tries to pass on his dispassionate morality, but Kal can't stop seeing people as people. Hesina seems like a Snake secondary.) As for that Lion secondary, boi. Charging into the dueling pit, "I'll see what I can do". Abandoning the plan to go back for Dalinar's army. Going after Helaran. This tragic impulsive meow meow, he's so dangerous and powerful, but again a Badger sec like me has to shake her head.

Shallan Davar - Snake Badger. A central part of Shallan's childhood was her protecting her brothers via warmth and kindness (and thoughtful gifts). She goes after Jasnah for them, and hesitates about stealing after becoming attached to her teacher. Keeping her brothers remains a priority for her throughout the story, even when they're in the background. Shallan's deeply guilty about the people she's killed, but they're all people she knew (her mentors, as WaT draws the pattern). She's drawn to the Ghostbloods' promises of power and secrets. And when she's cut off from the Physical Realm at the end, her husband seems to be her most pressing concern (and she lets go of her conflict with the Ghostbloods very easily). Secondary-wise, she devises a cunning multi-step (if naive) plan in Book 1. When Jasnah rejects her, she doubles down again and again, gets all the books, and tries an emotionally open appeal that nonetheless is shaped to what Jasnah is looking for (textbook Badger Sec mirroring). She's deeply persistent with her art, and her drawing more hopeful depictions of who people might be also feels very Badger to me, mirroring people in a biased way that you want them to see themselves. When she wants to learn a new skill, she becomes a new persona that embodies that skill, and loses herself in Veil somewhat (a relatable problem). (She house-matches me, so predictably is in my favorites, along with Jasnah and Navani.)

Dalinar Kholin - Bird Lion. The motherfucking Blackthorn (thus said Elhokar). Dalinar does the Bird Pri thing where he sees updating his moral system as kinda making him a new person. He's obsessed with the Codes and honor and propriety. Oathbringer is all about his system shattering and being remade. Any guy who writes a tell-all manifesto about his new philosophy of how God is dead and also he burned his wife alive is probably a Bird Lion (He's got the Lion sec is common with Hamilton). And that Lion secondary, do I need to explain? It's a meme in-universe. He kicks Elhokar across the room, he smashes through everything, he's frequently thinking about how he's a soldier and he solves everything directly and he needs to be more subtle and thoughtful but is bad at it. He wants to act with what he thinks is right, and has a very hard time waiting for other people.

Adolin Kholin - Double Badger. This ball of sunshine. Adolin Kholin's superpower is remembering everyone's name and being so relatable and kind he inspires people. He's so respectful to his sword that she comes back to life. He can get Kaladin out of his depression. He's concerned with authority and what his father thinks of him, Badger Primary. When Maya calls him a slut, he says that he ought to consider his options thoroughly, which is a hilariously Badger Sec way of looking at dating. His distinction between a promise and an oath feels like a gentler, more humanized, less rigid variation on what his father taught him, Badger following Bird. He makes time for everyone, but when he feels he isn't good enough for others' expectations, when he can't protect people (Kholinar), his self-worth, which seems so good because he's so bright and shiny, collapses. Glad he has the Unoathed with him now.

Jasnah Kholin - Double Bird. Jasnah's rather self-consciously defined by her philosophy. She seeks the greatest good. She's a Veristitalian. She's a heretic. (She spends time with the apocalypse approaching to spar with ardents about religion.) She takes her inference that the world is in danger and builds her life around it even though no one believes her. Her midnight stroll with Shallan is all about taking abstract ethical philosophy viscerally seriously. And her methods are all about her tools: her research, finding the right books, analyzing every new experience with a scholarly perspective. If only she had the right evidence, she could surely convince everyone. She doesn't declare like a Lion Sec, or community-build like a Badger, or dance like a Snake. She has connections with assassins in her back pocket just in case. She's got that Double Bird detachment/self-definition. Taravangian's takedown of her in Book 5 broke her system, which leaves her devastated, and I'm so interested to see how she rebuilds. I don't think there's another Primary underneath, I think she just needs to rethink her priorities, but something Burnt under a Bird model is possible.

Szeth-son-Neturo - Double Bird/Bird Badger. Szeth's obsessive question growing up is "how do I know what's right?" He wants rules, clarity, something infallible. And he has maybe the deepest conviction and durability of any Bird Primary I've seen, it's breathtaking. His "I'm Truthless" system endures through hell, he does not break for any of his horrific trauma, he only breaks when Kaladin presents information that contradicts what he believes. His arc in Book 5 is updating his system more kind to himself, and in swearing the Fifth Ideal he recognizes himself as the author of his own system. His secondary is a thorough mastery of his tools, which could point to either of the Built Secondaries. He does not have the Courtier Badger skillset, but I could see his neurodivergent social difficulties manifesting as a Bird model over unstoppable Badger toiling. He mentions casually his mastery of a barehanded martial art, which feels like a Bird tool, but the way he makes himself into a weapon, the self-abnegation... His survival despite all he's been through fits with the ability of both of these sortings to stand alone.

And those are the characters I'm confident about off the top of my head. Obviously, there are so many more. I'm particularly curious about Navani (my gorgeous engineer), Syl, Eshonai, Raboniel... Maybe I'll reblog with more when I've thought more, or one of you is welcome to add your own or contest what I've got.

[nixalegos]

Lingua Mortua

The remains of Tannatar Valgolor sat empty upon the ritual table. It was only a little dinged up. What falls and travails that had befallen it since leaving the possession of, as he found out later, one Doctor Dracone had been minimized by the fact mortal skulls weren't exactly easy to break. Just a handful of cosmetic damages. Gave it character.

Phrenology was a hogwash of a science. But as a sorcery, well. Nixalegos frowned at the fact the former 'Blackguard of the Brightwoods' skull was an ideal vessel, not just on paper, but seemingly in truth as the wash of necromantic energies filled the grooves carved into the stone surface he was using, and the skull rose, the lines of silver fashioned to the bone just so and bolted down where ritual conduits needed to be to function as a Rolo-Hex.

"Felscythe, you miserable reprobate!" Came the echo of a dead mans voice from the skull as the shadow of a soul animated it. The process was already stunted. Fel flames should have been invoked the moment the skull rose from the stone. Memories, personality burned out, their occupancy freed for more pressing information.

Books. Scrolls. Images. Recordings and evidence. The Rolo-Hex was his great repository of information, easily on par with any Titan designed computational device or logic engine. The dead were said to be the only ones to be truly trusted with secrets, and he, in his maligned brilliance, saw fit to turn that adage inside out.

And yet, the skull remained unburned. Sentimentality stayed his hand.

"Valgolor." The living man said. They'd not seen each other since Tanaris, years ago. The world was a very different place then. Especially for a warlock.

"Did you kill me?" The skull asked without much acidity. "I did not no. But I did claim your skull by bullying who I believe was responsible for your death." "HA. You softie. So, my body is destroyed?" "Likely surgically dismembered, drained of blood, and being put to use in abhorrent experiments." "Oh." "…Were your affairs in order?" "I'm not giving you my shit." "I wasn't asking about your ugly little redoubt in Duskwood." "BRIGHTwoods." The skull corrected. "No one calls it that. Family?" "Daughters. Adults." "Lover?" "Wife." "Taken care of?" "Haven't spoken to her in years. Not since the Barrens." "Should I have them contacted?" "I'd rather give you my shit then have you reach out to my wife." "Ex-wife, and I'm married now anyway." "What number is this one? Seventh, eighth?" "I'm regretting not hollowing you out already." "Fuck you. Get thicker skin. I can't."

Warlock, former and living laughed at this. "Alright then you bastard. We know how this works. Making a trophy of me then? You said hollow out. And we both know im not really here." The skull said with an air of acceptance. The conversation a formality. Warlocks, novice or master, knew that eventually, their tickets would be punched.

This was true. The majority of their soul was likely in the hands of their demons. Snatched away to the, well, not Maw. Revendreth most likely, maybe Maldraxxus. Or some lesser better suited punishment plane.

"You're being refashioned into a gift for one not of our leanings." "Trying to recruit?" "…No. I think they lack the grit to dominate and control." "Well fuck that, I'm not being fashioned into a toy for some fucking nobody who has no spine." "And the curated collection I was going to send you along with would be rather…light reading. You were a most adept shadow mage. Perhaps one of the finest the Argus Wake ever produced." "Is that a compliment and a pun? You HAVE gone soft."

The hooded man scoffed. "I'm going to start drip feeding you in two dozen select manuals, treaties, and manuscripts regarding the void and shadow manipulations."

"I'm insulted. Like YOU could ever educate ME on such matters?" "Maybe, maybe." The warlock said as he plucked the first gallon of jet black ink up and flipped the cap open. If he'd poured the ink onto a blank page, it would have seeped into the exact lettering and shapes they'd been gleaned off of. A little ink magic of extreme usefulness. Didn't even damage the originals. "But you'll have every page and image plucked from this select collection memorized. Retrofit you with a Moss Agate in the eye socket to display images when needed. Maybe they'll come to enjoy a surly egotist with a bad sense of humor they can turn on and off."

"Well that's an improvement over your company, I at least have a sense of humor."

The first gallon of ink was poured onto the skull, and the information was literally seeped into the bleached white of the bone before he decided to change his mind about removing the skulls personality. Gave it character.

Now he just had to have it delivered, and by a particular courier at that.

@wraheathcliff @eluviannaa @safrona-shadowsun for overt or indirect mention!

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you so much for the tag @ironheartwriter @heartstringsduet

@whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafe @nisbanisba @reyesstrand

@strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @thisbuildinghasfeelings 🧡

In the upcoming chapter of Rhythms, Carlos is having a lot of feelings at once. But then, when isn't he?:

He clicks the end of his ballpoint pen, the nib springing out like a hidden dagger.

With the dagger, he writes. 

“La Tormenta

There was a battle to fight.

In the end, I didn't win.

In the end – in the ruins –

I found my unburned finger bones

scrambled within the ashes.

With these, I could still write.”

He writes it in Spanish, too. It’s important to him to take both his languages and do the same thing with them, yet create something different with the translation. This is where words stop being words and start being tools with which to bridge worlds. In English and in Spanish, he is defiant. He is in love. He is gay. He is terrified. He is braver than he’s ever been. He’s exhausted. He keeps going. Keeps pushing. The poem ends up twenty-six lines – he reads through it and cuts eight of those, then re-writes the whole thing on the next page, omitting surplus, giving it a polish. This feels like the start of something. He imagines a whole book of poems. He doesn’t know yet that he will write them. He can’t imagine the joy of it, the pain that will topple onto pages, the ones he will burn, the ones he will cherish even in his adulthood. So many secrets that nobody will see. Nobody, until he has a husband, a man he doesn’t dare to dream of, but who is real.

Open tag and tags below!:

@paperstorm @goodways @liminalmemories21 @alrightbuckaroo

@lightningboltreader @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @ladytessa74

@welcometololaland @rmd-writes @irispurpurea @pimento-playing-hopscotch

@eclectic-sassycoweyes @herefortarlos @carlos-tk

@chicgeekgirl89 @freneticfloetry @theghostofashton @honeybee-taskforce

@tellmegoodbye @orchidscript @three-drink-amy

@literateowl @butchreyes @captain-gillian @nancys-braids

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi

@corsage @the-126-family - if you want to share/ haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 22: Earendil (and very vague Elwing)

Earendil rules the people in the area. Elwing, despite being the heiress of the crown of one of the two groups who joined in there, is simply his wife. Huh.

Also, he's got sea-longing and wants fo find his parents (not a good reason to leave your wife and kids) and find Valinor and ask the Valar for mercy (ok, this is a better reason). So, Círdan makes Vingilot (from birch tree) and Earendil sails off. Elwing is sad.

But… his sailing is still a good thing, because he wants to ask the Valar for help? I guess? I have a hard time with Earendil, I'm not a fan of absent husbands. But I guess his mission is important.

And also, maybe they did discuss it with Elwing before they got married ("I dream of sailing far and for long periods of time." "ok, I may be sad with it but I still want this marriage.")…. You know what? I am going to HC that they did have this talk. It makes him 20x more sympathetic to me.

Meanwhile, among the Feanorians… Maedhros is restraining himself (again!) because he is remorseful for Doriath. But. the oath tornments them all (ok, so it is a compel, but not absolute. Not "dominate person", but it does give them mental damage for not following it. Unless it is just honor and stuff, but it doesn't sound like it.)

The Feanorians gather. (Which is a bad sign). They send messangers to Elwing, demanding "politely but clearly", the Silmaril. Well, you should have tried "politely" with Thingol, now, after Doriath, your politeness feels a bit empty.

[Also, Maedhoros' life would be much, much easier if he had the ability to just throw C&C under the bus and blame everything on them. It was even mostly true! And might have worked. But he is loyal to his brothers. And this is a good thing. This is tragic: he has one good trait, but can't manage another (not murdering people), and so he fails both morally, and fails at his chosen goal.]

Elwing, and the people of Sirion didn't want to give him the Silmaril. Because:

people have died and suffered for it (the usual argument, which I feel is increased by the nature of the Silmaril)

their ruler was not home, and they didn't want to make the decision without him (this is stupid, on a very mundane level. Earendil should have chosen someone to make important decisions when he's away. Also, Elwing seems either very indecisive / shy, or not respected by the people. My bet would be on "shy", or eldritch/shy, somewhat Varda-style)

it seemed to them that the Silmaril was the reason of their health and prosperity (this is a new idea)

So: it is not Elwing's decision. And it is not based mostly on "we hate them, they killed our people", but on survival needs (and a misconception). And again, there is no textual evidence that the people of Sirion know about the Oath.

Yes, there are people from Gondolin there, but who exactly? Turgon died. Idril was a child when the Oath happenned. They may not know, or they may not share the knowledge (but the later would be unwise).

Based on what the people of Sirion know and assume, their reply makes complete sense to me.

(Also, it seems like it was less a clear "nope" and more of a "umm, let's wait till Earendil returns, but we can't give you an ETA for that".)

The remaining soF suddenly attack the poor people of Sirion and the book is pretty clear that this is bad. It's so bad that some of their followers change sides and die trying to protect Elwing (because of course they do die, we can't have any characters getting any sort of redemption… yea, I understand, it makes sense realism-wise that they all die. But still, non-lethal wounds causing unconciousnes are a thing and I think it was a thing among the Elves? I can't remember an example)

Anyway, A&A die (because this is the unburned version).

Oh, and also Gil-Galad comes to the (too late) rescue (with Círdan). Which means that the mainstream Noldor are (for the first time) willing to fight the Feanorians. They just miss the party. Hmmm, this one detail makes me more fond of G-G son of Fingon. Because: think of the angst. (Or even better: G-G son of one of the Feanorians. But this has other problems)

There are a few survivors who join G-G.

It is told that E&E were captured. It is told that Elwing jumped to the sea with the Silmaril.

For the capture we later get a confirmation. But not for how exactly Elwing landed in the sea.

No info on how much she knew about her sons (already captured? assumed dead? hidden? whatever?). No info on whether she panicked and run blindly, or tried to distract M&M from killing other people, or wanted to maneuvre them into falling into the sea too, or one of myriads of possible scenarios. Or just even fell by a lucky "accident".

You want a perfect, flawless Elwing? The text doesn't contradict it (though she is at least a bit indecisive or not in such a position of power that would make sense given her parentage).

You want a stupid, indecisive Elwing who does a random thing? The text doesn't contradict it.

You want a young, lost, completely panicked Elwing? The text doesn't contradict it.

You want Elwing putting the prosperity of her people (which is assumed to be based on the Silaril) and them not dying of hunger above her own children? The text doesn't contradict it.

(No, we can't have a canon-compliant terrible mom Elwing, we'll get a counter for this.)

She joins Earendil and they are really terrified about their captured sons. So yes, they do care about their sons. they fear that M&M will kill them.

Kidnap fam mentioned, Maglor is sad and tired because Oath. :,(

Earendil wears the Silmaril on his forehead. So… what happenned to the necklace? Did Ulmo take it when he shapeshifted Elwing? The text very much sounds like the necklace is now gone, it's just the gem.

It is said among the gnomes wise, that the Silamril was what guided them to Valinor and let them pass all the magic barriers/traps.

Elwing has Lúthien vibes of "No, I am your wife, you aren't going to do the deadly risky thing alone!"

Earendil comes during a celebration and we are reminded that it's just like Morgoth and Ungoliant did (but he does it by accident). Nice bracketing, I guess? He is scared that even if Valinor something bad happenned. I like this scene.

Eonwe gives him a really cool (however very formal) greeting. "the looked for that cometh at unawares, the longed for that cometh beyond hope." I love this line. Yes, a lot of Tolkien's good lines give the vibe of "wrote it as part of a prayer, rewrote it to fit in his fantasy book". It's not a flaw. But I do find it a peculiar kind of funny.

Anyway, stuff is happenning. The Valar summon even Ulmo for a conversation. They talk. Námo plays the bad cop, which peronally I don't like but ok. I guess somebody has to, it is his job.

Manwë goes "we won't punish them, because they took this risk out of love" which is a solid argument. Earendil&Elwing (and by mention their sons) get the choice.

Also, interesting wording (or translation): they will be judged according to the laws of the species they chose. Huh. Interesting phrasing, I'm not sure what to think of it.

I totally forgot Elwing chilling out with the Teleri in the meantime.

Anyway, Vingilot gets an upgrade, the three sailors get a new ship. Also, doors of Night mentioned. Also, Earendil comes back to Valinor at sunrise and sunset. And it does seem like he does land, he is banned from the mortal lands, but not from Aman? So I guess he does spend some time home with Elwing. When she flies to him it's just to meet him earlier.

But I may be wrong.

Estel / "High Hope" mentioned.

M&M notice a new star. Confirmation that they saw the Silmaril sinking in the sea. Mae is like "Sure it's the silmaril." Maglor is like "we are supposed to rejoice." Anyway they do, at least they are no longer despairing.

And Morgoth is freaked out. :D But he doesn't expect the war (as they say), because the Valar were upset at the Noldor, and he doesn't get what pity is.

The army has white banners, the Vanyar are there (all of them? I suppose Ingwë stayed with Manwe, because before we were told he never went back to ME? Maybe only some Vanyar went to war.) And so are the non-Exile Noldor.

There are some Teleri in the army of the West!!! Just not many. At least that's how the Polish text reads. "Not many wanted to go to war" — so, some did want? some went?

More Teleri (convinced by Elwing) join as sailors, but those Teleri stay at the ships and don't touch tha land. (So yes, it seems there were other Teleri there)

I will leave the War of Wrath for later, maybe for the Morgoth into the Void day 1. Maybe not. Maybe i will do it sooner.

[boatemlag]

Grian rerun — build guide/is she worth pulling?

This patch has the long awaited rerun of the pyro Archon 5* sword user Grian, but how do you build her? And is she still worth pulling? This guide will walk you through my opinion on her current worth in meta and how I would build her now that we have so many pyro applicator and sub-DPS options. Let's dive in! [GrianBOOM]

✦✦✦ Breakdown ✦✦✦

Grian is a pyro applicator that is unique to this day because she cannot be played to full effect with another pyro character in party, meaning that her kit is built primarily to facilitate reactions. Her skill works well for generating particles for her burst, but doesn't do major damage on its own without her signature weapon. Therefore, she requires a decent amount of ER, since her energy cost is higher than many other supports.

Grian is still considered to be one of the best options for reverse melt and vaporize teams in terms of supports, but because she is a version 1.1 character, her burst uptime is a bit hard to maintain without skillful rotations. I would say skip if you have a C6 Katherine, as she does a similar thing to Grian without the DoT. But if you're looking for a fun pyro support, Grian is fun to play even at C0, in my experience.

✦✦✦ Explaining the kit ✦✦✦

◇ Basic Attack: Awakening Blade

He's a sword user, nothing special. Does 5 consecutive strikes.

◇ (E) Skill: Ready, Aim, Fire

Hurls an Evil Eye at the nearest target, marking them, and dealing pyro DMG. Hold to enter aiming mode to control where the Evil Eye is placed. This skill has 3 charges. When 3 Evil Eyes have been placed, or the skill no longer has charges, press the skill again to detonate the eyes, dealing pyro DMG and generating particles. If the skill is not tapped again, they will detonate after a fixed amount of time.

◇ (Q) Burst: Slash and Burn

Creates an AoE referred to as an Annihilation Zone and dealing AoE pyro DMG. Depending on how many enemies are marked with Evil Eye, the area gains additional buffs, meaning it's tactical to use the E skill, then burst, then use the E skill again.

Allies within the zone receive an all DMG type boost of 5/10/15% for 1s when hit.

Allies within the zone receive an EM boost of 50/100/200 when receiving overflow healing.

Additionally, the zone continually applies pyro to enemies within the zone for the duration.

◇ Passives

To The Death: When Grian uses her burst, Ready, Aim, Fire CD is reduced by half.

Independent Streak: If Grian is the only Pyro character in the party, increases the ATK of all party members by 10% and the EM of all party members by 80.

To Infinity!: Gliding stamina reduction passive (stacks with other similar passives).

✦✦✦ Constellations ✦✦✦

C1: Let's Go Again!: Reduces Slash and Burn energy cost by 25% when in party and not on field.

C2: Foresight: Increases max number of Evil Eyes and charges from 3 to 4.

C4: Archon's Blessing: Imbues her basic attacks with pyro.

C6: She Who Writes Her Own History: Increases the bonuses from Slash and Burn to 10%/15%/20% DMG boost and 100/200/270 EM boost, and, additionally, applies Smoldering Flames to enemies within the Annihilation Zone.

Obviously C6 is insane. I'd say C6>C1>C4>C2, with C1 having insanely good value. I'd even say C1 > C0R1.

✦✦✦ Ascension & Talent Materials ✦✦✦

◇ Agnidus Agate

Duh. Luckily, her boss drops these. Thank god for early region boss consistency.

◇ Drops: Ghasts

These spawn all over the world, but can be found in large clusters in the northern parts of Ention, especially close to the Grumbot Containment Site. You will need:

Sad sliver x18

Smoldering droplets x30

Ghastly tears x36

◇ Unburning Branch

Unburning Branch can be claimed by defeating the Young Dragonspawn in Ention. You will need x46.

◇ Diligent Lily

Diligent Lily is Grian's local specialty, and you will need x168. They can be grown in the teapot and found in large clusters by God's Nursery in the east of Ention.

◇ Fun Talent Books

Can be gotten in the Ention talent domain on Mondays, Thursdays, and Sundays.

◇ Continuous Stationary of Wisdom from the Surveillance Prophet weekly boss.

Unlocked by finishing the Ention Archon quest. This boss cannot be done in Co-Op.

✦✦✦ Artifacts & Stats ✦✦✦

Grian's best and signature set is 4-piece Cat's Calling. The 2-pc bonus increases ER by 20%. 4-pc bonus increases Overloaded, Burning, and Burgeon DMG by 40% for the whole party, and increases Vaporize and Melt DMG by 15% for the whole party. This effect cannot stack. Using an Elemental Skill increases 2-Piece Set effects by 25% for 10s even when switched off-field. Max 3 stacks.

Sands: ER

Goblet: Pyro DMG

Circlet: CR=CDMG (ER only if you're really struggling with uptime)

Substat priority: ER > CR=CDMG > EM

ER goal: 160%+

You could alternatively run her on 2pc Cat, 2pc Fated Strings for the ER, but the 4pc bonus from Cat's Calling is suggested.

✦✦✦ Weapons ✦✦✦

Grian's signature weapon, Incidental Blazing Breath, increases her ER and elemental skill DMG. It is considered her best in slot (duh) because it is specifically built around maximizing the DMG from her skill, with 8 stacks of bonus available, matching the suggested rotation. I do not suggest pulling on weapon banner this patch because Martyn's signature weapon is VERY SPECIFIC, giving a DEF and swirl bonus, and Grian's constellations outweigh the value of her weapon. Though it does look dope as fuck.

For other options, the five star standard weapon Gross Misuse is great for its ER bonus as well as its energy particle production. If you're looking for a 4 star weapon, the event weapon Glory Glory is good, and the craftable weapon Scribe's Pen at R5 is her best 4 star option. If you absolutely must use a 3 star, Whispering Blade (gotten from speaking to an NPC in Ention City) is the best choice.

✦✦✦ Talent Priority ✦✦✦

Burst > Skill >>>>>>>>>>> Basic ATK

Recommended not to level Basic ATK. 9/7/1 is a good place for talents to be.

✦✦✦ Team Comps ✦✦✦

Basically the only teams you don't want with Grian is any team with additional pyro characters.

Do You Even Vape Bro - Lizzie as a reaction based DPS, BDubs for heals and hydro battery, and Zedaph for crowd control/swirl/DEF reduction

Sahara+ Melt Team - Stress as reverse melt DPS, Mumbo and Grian for support and application (Mumbo as a Cryo battery) and Iskall for more battery and sub-DPS

Grian Driver Burgeon Team - This requires you to build your Grian with EM instead of CR/CDMG, but is a good option for how versatile she is. Pearl (or Beef), Netty, Skizz, Grian. Pearl/Beef for dendro battery and off-field application, Netty for heals and dendro resonance/battery, Skizz for consistent hydro application and shield, with Grian as the main driver for reactions.

Grian works well with teams who do multiple reactions as well, so freeze/melt is also a good choice.

◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆

That's all! Comment down below if you're pulling for Grian, pulling for the new 5 star Martyn, or skipping the patch. I personally want more Mumbo and Cleo cons, so I will be pulling on the banner anyway LOL. Good luck and happy building!

[mtheland-lockedmartian]

"Ratchet nods sympathetically. "It must be difficult having a lump of unburned coal for an emotional processor. Why don't you go bury your nose in that nice book of mostly-romantic poetry Megatron bought for you?"

[xzaddyzanakinx]

| A Gift | part one

Darth Anakin x Brat!Reader

MDNI 18+

Warnings: phone sex kinda? mask kink, masturbation, some exhibition maybe?

Info: Darth Anakin, Unburned Anakin, masked/unmasked

There will be a part two!

Anakin had been gone for almost three days and you were beginning to get impatient. He hadn’t called a single time, no messages left on the Holopad, no pre-recorded videos. Nothing. Absolute radio silence.

You’d quickly grown bored of your shared quarters, every book on your shelf had been read. So you had taken to roaming the halls of the Death Star in search of something else to do. The troopers actively avoided you at all costs, the droids were not exactly programmed to have a lengthy conversation and the echo of the throne room could only entertain you for so long.

Upon leaving the throne room you had decided enough was enough, if Anakin was to be gone for much longer you’d have to remind him what he had at home. You.

Re-entering your quarters you headed straight to the bedroom and set up your Holopad, adjusting it until you had a perfect view of the bed. Anakin didn’t allow you to keep sex toys at your disposal after the last time he left on a mission. You’d done something very similar to this.

But this…. was more than a teaser video. This would bring him embarrassment, anger, jealousy, and most importantly it would bring him home immediately.

You began recording, crawling onto the bed seductively. Gripping the sheets as you pushed out your breasts, letting them overflow from your dress. Shifting into a comfortable sitting position you spread your legs, keeping your feet in front of you.

“Ani… You’ve not called me once this whole time!” You huffed, unlacing the bodice of your dress as you spoke.

“I had a gift for you when you returned you know?” Your sleeves fell down your arms, exposing your breasts to the camera.

“I suppose I could show it to you now since I don’t know when you’ll be back.” You sighed dramatically, hopping off the bed and letting the dress hit the floor, showing him that you had chosen to forgo underwear.

You walked off camera to your dresser and grabbed a red box complete with a little bow on top. Bringing it over you stood directly in front of the camera to give him an up close view. You carefully undid the bow and let the ribbon fall, opening the lid you discarded the box and held up a helmet.

“I thought you’d appreciate a new helmet considering the last time you left me for so long you came back with a crack or two.” You lifted it up and placed it over your head.

“Can’t have the great and powerful Lord Vader traipsing about the galaxy like that can we?” The vocoder in the helmet made your voice sound weird, not intimidating like his, but just gruff.

“But since you’re not here to receive it, I figured you wouldn’t mind if I broke it in for you right?” You giggled, backing up the foot of the bed.

You unclamped the helmet with a hiss and resumed your open legged position on the bed, now with the helmet laid in front of you. You shifted until your pussy was hovering directly over the mask, where the ridges begin under the nose piece.

“Just think, this could be you under me.” You sank down on the mask, jolting with a gasp for dramatic affect.

You rocked your hips gently back and forth, dragging your clit across the pointed nose piece. Reaching up your stomach slowly until you gripped both tits in your hands and gave them a rough squeeze, letting out a loud moan as you did.

“Oh Vader!” You yelled, glaring into the camera lens, knowing he hated it when you called him that during his off hours and despised it during sex.

You rode the mask harder, feeling a familiar knot forming in your stomach and decided to push his buttons a bit more.

“Mpfh… oh fuck.” You let your head fall back, your slender throat vibrating with a loud moan.

“Ani… god your mask.” You huffed, snapping your head back up to the camera and placing your hands in front of you on the bed.

“Gonna make me cum quicker than you can!” You squealed, your pace quickened as you ground down onto the ridges.

You could feel a hot jab in your mind, Anakin was probing your thoughts. He must’ve sensed what you were doing. You grinned as you hear his voices echoing in your mind.

“What is this? What are you doing?” He sent a stern feeling of disapproval along with his words.

“Fucking myself, since you won’t.” You thought back and immediately severed the link.

The rush from deliberately shutting him out, mixed with the pleasure you were giving yourself brought on your orgasm much faster than you’d expected.

Your legs shook as your mouth gaped open in surprise, a hot wetness flooded from your cunt as you frantically chased the feeling until you were numb. You would’ve liked to collapse against the pillows immediately, but your need to piss off your husband trumped that.

You shuffled on wobbly legs to the Holopad with his helmet in hand.

“See what a mess I’ve made? It’d be a shame for everyone to see the mighty Lord Vader’s most infamous mask on display in this state wouldn’t it?” You gave a sly smile before turning off the camera and sending it to his Comms aboard The Executor.

You donned your robe and began the short walk to the hangar, passing plenty of confused troopers on your way. They all averted their gaze to the ground, knowing better than to look at the Empress in such attire, but you gave them a friendly wave regardless.

Once you’d entered the hangar you walked across the platform to Anakin’s podium where he would give speeches and important orders. Gently setting down his helmet on the cold metal you applied a bit of red lipstick.

Once satisfied with your display you grabbed the nearest trooper and ordered them to stand guard of his mask.

“Here. Just stand right here and guard this mask okay? It’s a gift from yours truly.” You patted his shoulder.

“And I shall remain here until Darth Vader returns?” He asked.

“Yes,” you smiled and stood on your tip toes to press a kiss to his helmet where his forehead should be. “Thank you!”

“R-right.” He stood still, at attention and ready for Vaders return.

“And trooper? Don’t dare remove that lipstick.” You called over your shoulder as you headed back toward your quarters, smiling as you felt an insistent buzzing on your comms link bracelet.

Tag List:

@tsugumiholic

@kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch

@cherrylooney

@star611

@tahliac11

@exquisit3corpse

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed!

[missbrunettebarbie]

Descendants Sortings

Mal

Mal is a burned Lion Primary. It isn’t obvious at first, but the more her character developed over the course of the series, the more clear it became she is not a Snake -frankly, this girl would have been better off if she would have taken a more self-serving Snake mentality (uo, I know!) in the latter movies- and no Bird, as she shows none of the signs. I did debate whether she might be a Badger primary or no, but both her ‘I want’ songs (If Only and My once upon a time) show she is a burned Lion who is desperate to unburn, but well, her internal compass has been skewed by being raised by Maleficent: “I can't decide/ What's wrong, what's right/ Which way should I go?”/“You had a cause to serve, but did you serve it?”

Mal really really needs a Cause to work for. In Descendants 1, her Cause is making her mother proud by stealing the wand. In Descendants 2, her new Cause is to be the perfect lady of the court and girlfriend for Ben. And she feels like she’s failing miserably at it, which is why she lives for the Isle. This and the fact that Mal is pretty much facing an identity crisis here and feels like her entire life is being caged by the life everyone else is planning for her. Both nightmarish situations for a Lion who isn’t entirely unburned yet. In the third movie, Mal’s Cause is to be a good queen for Auradon, no matter the price. I personally find Mal’s arc very compelling and intriguing as I think we rarely see a protagonist who is loved by the narrative supporting a point of view the narrative disagrees with, but still be treated with empathy by it.

Her Secondary is even more interesting to me cause before rewatching, I would have never thought she is a Bird Sec, but yet it is so plain! Mal uses magic as a very efficient tool despite never being formally taught. She just gets handed a book and is told to figure it out on the fly. And she does it spectacularly … by paying attention to the instructions like with the love potion. She’s also the planner of the group, some of the plans being better than others (drugging Ben, giving Uma the fake wand etc.). And last, but not least: Mal is an information gatherer. One seemingly insignificant scene that showcases a great lot about Mal is in the car in the first movie, when she asked which button opens the barrier. They almost died, witnessed magic for the first time and are leaving their homes, yet this is on her mind.

Evie

Evie is the textbook Badger Secondary. She is defined by her sewing and hard work. The girl is so good at it, she manages to buy her own castle with the money! I do think she has a Snake Secondary Model in order to play the role of The Temptress that was forced on her.

I had a harder time figuring out the primary, but one thing is clear from the start: Evie is a Loyalist. She’s the one who is more or less keeping the group together and she sometimes clashes a little bit with Mal, as Loyalists don’t see the bigger picture the way Idealists do, which in Evie’s case, is a very good thing. I contemplated Badger, but I’m pretty sure she’s a Snake actually. Evie may be one of the biggest advocates for the Isle kids, but she only becomes one after she says Dizzy again. In D2, Evie is willing to go to the Isle to save Mal even though she’s afraid she might get stuck there. And yet she still volunteers to stay with Mal there, because Mal is her best friend. Evie is a Snake through and through and I think it’s very interesting how in the third movie, which shows the darker side of Lion primaries, it’s Snake!Evie (and Uma) that are framed as being right.

Jay

Jay has a Snake secondary he uses to steal and charm people. And sometimes to exploit loopholes eg. making Lonnie captain in the second movie. He is a Lion Primary, of the Glory Hound variety in the first movie. His entire arc there is to learn how to work inside a team.

Carlos de Vill

Carlos is also an immature primary, but unlike Jay, he is a Hedonistic Snake. When they first arrive in Auradon, he’s mostly interested in eating chocolate and playing video games. He’s also the one most annoyed later on by Evie and Mal always going off to chat amongst themselves leaving him and Jay out of the loop. Bird secondary: he is a tech genius and knowledge gatherer (see how he tries to see if his clapping can make the statue change in D1).

King Ben

Let’s make one thing clear, D1!Ben is smart. And a troll (see him introducing Mal to his parents or how he tells Mal he knew about the love potion). He is framed as the Big Damn Hero in both the first and the second movie, which of course made me think he had one of the ‘heroic’ primaries: Badger or Lion. I settled on Lion, as it is incredibly easy for him to go against the grain. Something not a lot of people can say in this franchise. He’s also extremely concerned with upholding his role as a good king. He forgives Mal for the love potion because she risks her life to save him, which convinces him she is not an evil person. Ben has very firm convictions. He is the only one who stands up for the VKs at Family Day despite being the one with an actual reason to hate them.

He definitely has a Fluid Secondary, as a huge part of his charm is the fact that he tries to make himself liked. But he’s also a hard worker who disapproves heavily of taking shortcuts (see his fight with Mal over her using magic for everything) which made me go with Badger.

Uma

Uma is a classic (exploded) Snake primary. It seems to be all about Mal in D2. She’s enraged when Mal says she’s never given Uma a thought since she left. Ben offers her to come to Auradon and be part of a solution for saving other VKs. But Uma refuses. And I think it’s both because she wants to do things her way, but also because Uma is not exactly looking at the bigger picture here the way Ben is. ‘You don’t get to win everytime.’ These are her words to Mal when she realizes she had been tricked with a fake wand. Her secondary is a little trickier but I’m going with Bird because, here’s the thing, Uma is Mal’s mirror. Ben clocks it almost immediately: “She’s an angry girl with a bad plan. Not so different from you when you first came to Auradon.” Mal also constantly shows that she understands Uma and her methods better than anyone. Uma even uses the same plan as Mal when she uses the love spell on Ben. These girls are two sides of the same coin. (A bit of a side note, but I’m really curious how they are going to handle Uma as the Principal of Auradon Prep in D4. The clips we’ve seen so far make me really optimistic. Plus, since I’ve been hopelessly contaminated by TVD and never cured, Uma as principal reminded me of Caroline as headmistress in Legacies and yeah, I’m very optimistic this means good things for Uma xDD).

Li Lonnie

Lion Secondary as she is extremely honest and straightforward: “I know you hate us. And you are evil. But I’ve got money.” she says when she wants Mal to give her a new haircut. You don’t really get more Lion than that. Her primary was harder but from the first movie she looked to me like an Idealist with the way she saw the world: “Even villains love their kids.” I’m thinking Lion as in D2, she clearly goes to the Isle to prove herself by saving the king. Sounds familiar? Well, Lion primary Mulan did the same.

Princess Audrey

Audrey is another Lion Secondary girl in Auradon. Seriously this girl’s attempts at manipulation, make Mal look subtle: “Make me your queen and I’ll wake everybody up.” Villain!Audrey was a hammer: all raw power, no finesse. D1!Audrey was no better either, see her very blunt introduction to the VKs.

Audrey is a Badger Primary, no doubt in my mind about it. She’s very upset when the VKs disturb the Auradon Prep hierarchy and she exhibits some very typical Badger prejudices. “And then everybody looks good. So where would I be?” Audrey asks when she realizes Mal is giving the other girl make-overs, because she needs the social validation from being the prettiest princess there. In D3 it kills her that she did everything right and still someone else gets to be queen. I find it super interesting that Audrey asks Ben to ‘make [her] queen’ when she definitely had the power to crown herself. You might think it was because she loved him, but Queen of Mean ,which is her ‘I want’ song, shows very clearly that it was never about Ben the person. What she wants is his validation, because Audrey was raised to believe that his opinion, as the King, is the most important one. Audrey isn’t a Snake looking to have Ben for herself, a Lion seeking glory or a Bird trying to ‘rectify’ a system that is wrong; she is a Badger who is working within the confines of her society to achieve the status she wants.

Jane

Jane is so so Burned, I can’t help but wonder what the hell was Fairy Godmother doing cause she sure as hell wasn’t parenting her daughter the way she was supposed to. Jane is a Badger Primary who was ostracized by her only community so of course she latches onto Mal and Evie the first time they show her kindness. But D1 is a story about the failings of Badger primaries and the sheep mentality, so when she gains status and the VKs lose it following the events of Family Day, of course Jane aligns herself with the popular kids. She’s not gonna risk becoming an outcast again. This is also the driving force behind her stealing the wand. Her secondary is also super burned, but I’m betting on Lion. Not only is she extremely honest and impulsive, but Lion seems to be the default secondary for Auradon girls. Which is super interesting since generally Lion is not the secondary framed as the most feminine, but here it is.

...I just realized Jane is the burned version of Audrey. Oh, the irony!

Harry Hook

Double Snake, most likely. He is loyal to Uma and Uma only. He also has the ~vibe of a Snake secondary.

Prince Chad Charming

Chad is such a Snake Primary with Audrey as his person. He’s also pretty hedonistic as seen in D2: Ben might be dying, but the most important think is well, could Chad be second in line for the throne? I was a bit unsure of his secondary, but I think it is Badger as the only two times he’s successful (getting Evie in trouble for using the mirror, snapping at the VKs at Family Day) is when he involves other people.

Doug

Another Badger Primary. After Family Day, he gives into the peer pressure and shuns the VKs like everyone else. Maybe Badger Secondary too? Who knows, honestly this guy doesn’t have that much of a personality. But he seems to be a Bookkeeper Badger with the way he and Evie understand each other.

Gil

Gil doesn’t get to shine much, but I think he may be another Double Badger, and probably one of the sweetest Badger in the whole series. And considering he is the son of Gaston, I can’t help but appreciate the irony.

Dizzy

Dizzy is framed as a mirror for Evie in the second movie: the girl who could be so much more, if only she got the chance. This makes me think the two house share and Dizzy is a Snake Badger too. Which honestly tracks with the way she works at the salon and seems to hold no grudge on Evie getting to achieve her dreams while she doesn’t. Because Evie is her person, so of course Dizzy can’t be mad at her.

Celia Facillier

Celia is a Snake Primary who wants the guarantee of being able to see her father after she comes to Auradon, because she loves her father. It’s that simple. Considering how she throws the ember in the water out of rage when she realizes Mal has been lying to her, I’m thinking Lion Secondary.

Tl; Dr

Mal - (burned) Lion/Bird

Evie - Snake/Badger with Snake model

Jay - Glory Hound Lion/Snake

Carlos - hedonistic Snake/Bird

Ben - Lion/Badger

Uma - (exploded) Snake/Bird

Lonnie - Lion/Lion

Audrey - Badger/Lion

Jane - burned Badger/bunred Lion

Harry - Snake/Snake

Chad - Snake/Badger

Doug - Badger/Badger

Gil - Badger/Badger

Dizzy - Snake/Badger

Celia - Snake/Lion