#but one of my rings lost all of the stones and is all scratched up i think it’s time to get rid of it

[erggggggggg]

do i buy myself a new ring? yes or no????

#besties help #i cant decide if i want to do it or not #but one of my rings lost all of the stones and is all scratched up i think it’s time to get rid of it #and it would be a fun little treat

[honeyhenry]

Apple Pie and You and I

A little story of the Seresins aka Hangman being a softie for his girl. Fluff, no warnings, please enjoy!

Jake Seresin, a lone star state boy through and though, always found himself feeling closer to home with a warm apple pie and a country song playing with a gentle thrum on his Pop’s old record player in the room next door.

The only time he felt closer to a sense of home was with you - his lovely lady who had managed to lure and capture the Hangman hook line and sinker by batting her pretty lashes and making him work hard for her attention. It had taken him 3 weeks of smirks that turned to smiles, and insistence that turned into nothing shy of begging, for you to agree to a date. The only holding back he’d done was in omitting to state the thought that had urged him to act in the first place; “Oh, she's gonna be my wife someday.”

The typically cocksure brazen pilot hadn’t the need to utter those words for another 14 months, past the utterly exclusive dating period, nor in between months of loved up sweetness and the pained inevitability of month-long deployments. He’d told you the very moment after his 1 month deployment - which had extended into 7 and a half weeks - of a monogamous routine, where a few pictures and fond memories were just not cutting it any more.

The tarmac had scratched the khaki material of his bags as he'd dropped them with a heavy thud to the ground, only eager to reach your arms sooner. Your little sundress catching in the soft wind, the warmth of the sun heating your cheeks and nose as he engulfs you in his arms, holding tight before he'd pulled his head away to take a proper long look at your pretty face - and then brought your lips to his. He'd kissed you over and over and over, the smile on his face growing every time, your eyes clear and watering, having waited for this moment.

And quietly, once the decision was made to catch your breaths, he'd whispered, lips ghosting over yours, that you were it for him. That he was going to marry you.

According to the Navy, Hangman had no one at home, no next of kin unless you provided the contacts of his parents down in their ranch a few states away should there ever be the need for the passing over of belongings and dog tags to fatefully occur. But Jake Seresin? He had a whole life to get back to; one he needed to kick start with a ring and a question.

The ring itself would be an heirloom, no doubt about it, and had required a trip back to Texas to see his family and share with them his upcoming plans. Having met you a handful of times over Christmas and on big family birthdays, the Seresins were entirely on board. Jake's Momma had given him a close hug with tears in her eyes while his Dad and siblings cheered and grinned the classic Seresin smile. Their family often grew each year, but his Momma and Grammie had worried that their headstrong, flirtatious boy would get too caught up in the ways of the world to settle down. He was a softie at heart, and you had been the best thing to ever happen to him.

They adored you. Enough for Grammie to take her grandson into her study, and open the jewellery box safely nestled inside a locked cupboard door. "This one is a diamond", she'd said as she'd taken out a piece." It's been in the family since before I was born. It's even got the family name engraved inside." Jake had taken it, listening respectfully to his Grammie but still lost in the thought of how the ring would look so beautiful on your finger. Thinking of you being his, forever.

That had been 18 months ago now, and the glinting stone on your ring finger, alongside a shiny golden wedding band, showing that all had gone to plan. Hangman proudly wears his ring too, occasionally looping it around his dog tags if need be. However currently, in the Lone Star state, the dog tags are off and his ring fits snugly on his fourth finger as he holds you close.

It's campfire night at the ranch, and you sit on his lap, curled in and admiring the way his face has caught the sun, inspecting every detail of him in the glow of the fire he had helped to start. He looks between his family; uncles, cousins, grandparents, now and then but his main focus is always you. Your hands clasp his left one as he uses the other to nurse a beer after working up a sweat teaching his youngest nephews to play football earlier that day. It had been so endearing to watch as you'd prepared the barbecue and baked fresh cookies using the special Seresin recipe, with his Momma and sisters.

"I got the recipe from your Mom, for the cookies, so we can have them at home." You'd whispered sweetly as the chatter around the fire continued. "Do you know", Jake murmured, looking deep into your eyes as his green ones pierced into your soul. "Do you know how much I love you?"

Your giggle had been soft and the eye roll that followed made Jake smirk lovingly. Still in awe of how he got the girl that barely spoke to him but was still batting her lashes and playing hard to get. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing the point just above where your rings lay on your finger.

"The kids'll love 'em. You're gonna be a great Mom." He stops smirking and now looks at you, fully focused with a soft, genuine smile. Placing the beer down, he rests his hand on your stomach, underneath the sweatshirt of his you've borrowed that splashes the words University of Texas, Austin on the front. It's old and thinning out but it smells of Jake, so it's something you will happily bask in and nap in and snuggle in until you have to leave his family home once more.

"Shhhh. I already think Grammie knows", you scold him. And she does. Grammie knows and as his Momma watches the two of you interact now, she's certain that she knows too. Call it a Mother's instinct. Jake's little check-ins throughout the day had not gone unnoticed, nor had your daily naps that you blamed on the heat, despite it only being the middle of May.

"But Grammie knows everything, a few more days and I can finally tell 'em all. Been dyin' to sweetheart." His hand rubs your stomach gently, not to raise suspicion but also to comfort you. Sure, as the cookies and apple pie were brought out, he had felt a little nostalgia, but with you in his lap wearing his ring, and his baby in your belly, Jake Seresin had never felt more at home than in that moment.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick fic #unsure what else to tag but i wanted to write a little something #so surprise ? i need a snack now so i'll post and hope for the best

[youronlylie]

hello people in my phone

BOONE head cannon list, just a mix of stuff that'll probably change later ( THERE WILL BE MORE ) 1/?

• He undoubtedly was ripped/heavily worked out being in the ncr, after moving to novac and loosing his wife he undoubtedly lost a lot of muscle but...guys he still is literally like beefed.

• He cannot fucking cook for shit, he understands what shouldn't be put in your body but from there he has no clue.

• Going off of cooking, he has strict times where he eats, like routine from the ncr.

• For some reason he strikes me as a guy who really enjoys fruit whenever he can get his hands on it.

• Cannot tolerate any sort of spice.

• Smells very mettalic, sweaty, like man must.

• Has a soft spot for cats.

• 1000% is not bald, just shaves his head as he probably prefers the look.

• I feel like with a romantic partner, since he isn't one much for talking his love language would be physical touch or gift giving, I could imagine him seeing stuff he knows they'd like and saving it for later, excited to see how they'd react.

• He would definitely have a special place in his heart for fantasy movies, he doesn't seem to be able to express himself well and I feel like the creativity of something like lord of the rings would get him going.

• I seriously cannot pick so I'll include both, he is either an extreme cuddler with a romantic partner or on very rare occasions, he's just terrible at expressing emotion.

• If the courier and him are something like romantic partners he'd definitely never be able to sleep, often awake staring and listening for noises, waiting for the next cascade of legionares but it never happens and he eventually learns that.

• I don't think he'd ever get married again unless it'd be over 20 or so years in the future, it's a type of commitment that I don't think he could mentally handle whatsoever unless he is totally over Carla.

• I definitely do think boone could find love again in another person, he's scared and alone, fearful for any sort of attachment.

• 10000% has really really nice man hands, like large hands with nice fingers.

• Is definitely tall but not close to arcade tall, 6' ish at MOST, I just feel like looking at his build and concept art that he is definitely a tall man.

• Secretly really has a thing for drawing whenever he can, especially when he was nested at novac, sitting up top the dinosaur scribbling stuff on old receipts or whatever else it helps him get his emotions and thoughts out.

• irl he would be so patriotic it's not even funny, like he'd go all out for fourth of July but is the somber type so he'd cook hot dogs and whatever else then sit in the corner and watch everyone else.

• Has a thing for memorizing features, very very very intuitive and will remember almost anything you tell him.

• He is so the type of guy to enjoy snow, like yeah he'd probably be kinda pissy for a bit but if you pushed his buttons enough I feel like he'd mess around with the courier.

• He absolutely like no doubt has nightmares, like the ones where you erupt in cold sweat and your throat is sore.

• If he does sleep like ever, along with nightmares he grips the sheets, rolls around a whole lot, mumbles. In the ncr he was the total opposite, stone faced, layed straight and slept some what peacefully until later on in his ncr years.

• Yearns for someone, even platonic, to just sit beside him, no words and scratch his back and kinda just touch him lightly. I don't think he'd cry but it's something I could imagine would bring him close to tears.

• He absolutely probably finds almost everyone annoying, like, he just is done with everything and doesn't give two shits about what anyone has to say unless the courier puts some sense into him.

• Really disagrees with gambling, just doesn't like it.

• Wishes he had a nice farm house, out somewhere away from everything, where it has everything he needs and could be away from absolutely everyone. ( of course after extracting revenge on the legion )

• He wants to learn how to play guitar, either he has tried and is horrible or has just never gotten the chance, I have a feeling he'd really be into (irl) like classic rock or something smooth.

• Cannot look at people with features his wife had the same, down to personality or looks.

• Absolutely dreads deep down without realizing going back to novac when the courier disbands him.

• He would like having books read to him, he's a listener not a reader, likes hearing people's voices just not his own.

• At a point probably had a nickname for his rifle, something like Beth or something that was a joke between him and Manny.

• Manny 1000% at a point tried hinting to boone or even confessing his love for him, either the point never got across or they got over it together. ( somewhat ish at a point )

• In all reality I play him out to be a really sweet guy, which I can imagine and he can somewhat tend to be but he ultimately really doesn't care, he'll kill in order to get what he wants ( so be it revenge or whatever else ) even if he isn't necessarily fond of it.

• At a point, consumed by guilt he forgets what Carla looks like and that eats him up inside, like the teeth gritting soul crushing ache for revenge, and a year or two leads him to completely forget her complexion.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #craig boone #arcade gannon #new vegas #boone #vulpes inculta #headcanon #benny fallout #veronica fnv #rex fnv #fallout 3 #fallout 1 #fallout 4 #fallout show #fallout shitpost #shitpost #ncr #new california republic #writers on tumblr #writing #writblr

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Four

☁︎ notes: these dummies are so smitten

☁︎ warnings: usual talk of injuries and Beron's abuse. Injured animal (he's okay though)

☁︎ word count: 2.2k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @imma-too-many-fandoms @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor

The next summon interrupted Aya’s day off. Her promised day of nothingness; no lessons, no jobs, no meetings, and no Court dinners. She planned to curl up in a corner of the green house and read, surrounded by the scent of healing herbs and flowers. Until that infernal ring began to glow once more. She could not ignore it, but she could grumble to herself all she wanted about how talented the Heir of Autumn was at collecting near-death experiences. 

She was still silently complaining while she winnowed, while the world righted itself, and while Edana’s garden appeared before her eyes. What finally stopped the chain of complaints was the sight of Eris standing before her. 

Hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side, he smiled as her gaze met his. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, eyes bright and unclouded by pain or alcohol. The sunlight gilded his copper hair and kissed every freckle. 

Aya found herself unable to remember what she had been thinking about. No memory of her difficult weeks, her reluctance to return to this land of cunning and deception. She was lost in his smile. Something in it made her feel like she knew everything and nothing all at once. 

Eris watched her eyes flick over his form, still struggling to focus after winnowing, and he took the time to study her in turn. Her height surprised him, the top of her head barely level with his shoulder. She had lovely curves, hugged by flowy, pastel fabrics as per the Dawn Court fashion. Her ears were lined with piercings, a gold ring with a gem dangling from her septum. Her wings were a soft glimmering gold dappled with darker brown, feathers rustling in the light breeze. She kept them tucked in tight to her body. And her eyes-

He thought of the sun rising, the blue fading into the orange and leaving that strange greyed-out tone in between. Somewhere in that softly painted sky was the color of her eyes. A brilliant silver, not quite blue, hints of orange. Purple in some lights. Somehow conveying all the loveliness of a misty dawn. Perhaps he had not appreciated the sunrise as much as he should in his five hundred and something years alive. 

In short, they spent entirely too long staring at each other. 

“At last, I meet my savior,” Eris broke the silence.

“I’d hardly call myself a savior,” Aya said, clutching her bag a little tighter. Her voice was as soft and melodic as he remembered from his dream. 

“You deserve countless thanks, nonetheless,” He smiled, and Aya admired the way his freckles moved and dipped to make way for his dimples. 

The crisp air combined with her thin clothes pulled a shiver from her. She had begun to wonder if he had called her there just to thank her when he swept an arm toward the door to Edana’s rooms. 

“One of my hounds is injured,” He said, his expression slipping into something more solemn, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to know it’s nothing serious. If you’ll follow me.” 

In the daylight, she could see more details of Edana’s rooms. The trim, doorways, and furniture were cut from the same dark wood as the rest of the Forest House, but the Lady had her walls painted light colors. Her decorations ventured outside of the familiar autumn color palette, a few daring shades of blue scattered throughout. 

Aya also noticed for the first time that the door to the stone hallway was different from the rest. Aside from being situated in a strange place, it was older, warped and scratched. It had been left slightly ajar, and she could see from its faint purple glow that it was enchanted. When the door was shut, it would disappear from the wall entirely. 

She followed him through the doorway, watching the fae-lights in the dim hall illuminate his muscled shoulders and well tailored shirt. As the ever present silence of the stone hallway wrapped around them, it finally hit her that they were alone. 

“This is a private passage?” She asked softly, “There’s never anyone here.”

“Yes,” He answered, his voice strangely tense, “It’s an old passageway either unknown or forgotten by my father.”

He did not elaborate and she did not pry any further. It bothered Eris that she had been here twice before and he had not been conscious of it. He had no idea what she had seen and heard and learned. Things he should have been there to shield her from, no doubt.

When she stepped through the doorway, Aya shivered, her wings ruffling. Eris’s brows knit together. He had never seen anyone react to wards that way before. He watched as she scanned the room and locked in on the hound laying on his bed, needing no instruction. When she approached, she offered him the back of her fist to sniff, and he seemed to have no qualms with her coming closer. She soothed him before moving to his wound, smoothing down his dark fur and massaging his ears, all the while murmuring kind words and praise. 

Eris almost smiled, wondering if she understood how ferocious that beast could be. He had seen the same dog with eyes hollow and hungry, blood dripping from his jaw. Not many would go near him. On his feet, he probably stood almost to her shoulder. And here she was, turning him to putty with her pets and kind words. His tail wagged as she spoke to him and he didn’t protest when she finally began to clean and dress his wound. 

“What happened?” Aya asked, eyes remaining focused on the work before her. He admired the dance of her hands, swift and coordinated. 

“He tumbled near the river bank, silly beast,” Eris answered. 

Aya noted the affection in his voice and the embroidered collar around the dog’s neck. A thought also prickled at the back of her mind that Eris was not telling her the real story. Why have her come all of this way if the cause was not something that Beron must not know? But it did not matter, because she wasn’t supposed to sleuth. 

“He has a name, doesn’t he?” She said instead, smiling. 

“Juno,” Eris admitted, a bit sheepishly. Embarrassment crept up the back of his neck, the feeling of being caught at something he tried to hide. Her smile was too knowing, she definitely recognized it as another figure from mythology. 

“I wish I could give you something to thank you properly,” He continued. 

“Well you did interrupt my day off,” She flashed a sly smirk, eyes still on her hands.

“Oh, did I?” His eyebrows raised, lips twitching up into a smile. Something sparked in his veins at her playful tone. “I suppose I’ll have to figure out something special then.”

“If you think that’s fair,” She let out an exaggerated sigh, eyes glittering. 

Eris was distracted by a golden glimmer, catching the light as she worked. It was the ring on her forefinger, a simple gold band that fit snug against her skin. His stomach dropped. 

“My mother bound you?” He whispered, and from his tone she could practically see the embers burning in his throat.. Aya paused and looked up at him, the color draining from his face. 

“Yes,” Her brows furrowed. She thought he would have known that. “Her contract seemed fair. I asked for a written copy.” 

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he said in that same quiet fury, “Will you please send me a copy?” 

“Of course,” Aya said, gaze still stuck on his as she searched his face for answers. It was almost too long before she turned back to the hound, who had begun to whine for her attention. The silence in the room had begun to squeeze.

“I understand that this situation is…delicate,” She continued after a moment, swallowing hard. It was always too quiet here, sounds of arguing and pain the only things to interrupt it. It was unnerving, like balancing a glass ball on each shoulder. 

“I wish she would not have dragged you into it,” He whispered through his teeth. He stood with his arms crossed, looking a little taller than before. This was closer to the image of the Heir she had heard stories about. Though he was certainly less intimidating since she had seen him drunk and smitten with a fictional angel. 

“I can handle it,” Aya said, giving Juno one last pat before rearranging the supplies in her worn leather satchel. 

“You shouldn’t have to.” 

She faced him, bag in hand, tilting her head back to look at him fully. Eris drew in a deep breath, trying not to stare at the reflection of the light on her long glossy curls, in her misty eyes.

“Thesan gave me a talisman,” She pulled up one sleeve to reveal a tattoo on her bicep. A stylized, swirling cloud. “It will give me protection against magic if your father tried to use any against me.” 

The sight of it did strange things to Eris’s heart. He felt the relief of her protection. She was not another liability, another piece on his chessboard that he must keep under his watch at all times. But there was another feeling there, too. Like he resented this thing that separated her from him. That ugly desire to control and protect everything he felt a fondness for reared its head. She belonged to the Dawn Court. She was Thesan’s creature. She may be Eris’s healer, bound to his mother by that horrible ring, but she was not his. She was not loyal to him. Unless she chose to be. And nobody ever chose Eris of their own accord. 

“Good,” Eris said, in another tone that Aya couldn’t read. 

“Oh,” She said, in an attempt to avoid another awkward lull, fishing a corked bottle of green tablets and holding it out to him. “Juno can have these for the pain. They’re mostly herbs so they’re very safe for him.” 

“You’re very kind,” Eris smiled, his voice softened by the kindness she had shown his beloved pet. It was, of course,  a risk to show any affection for his hounds. They were meant to be ruthless weapons. Just like the seven sons. 

“What are your mother’s guards names?” She asked suddenly, brows drawing together. 

“Why?” He swallowed an urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkles between her eyebrows with his thumb, swiping away whatever worried her just to see her smile again.

“I just think I should know. It seems to rude to refer to them as anything else. They’re not my guards.” 

So she must not know about Thesan’s order for Eris to protect her while she was present in the Autumn Court. He had extended that order to the guards. 

“The older one with dark hair is Caspian, and Asher is blond and bearded,” Eris answered. Aya nodded, and he could practically see her tucking the information away in her mind.

Against the dark wood and warm colors of his room, he thought she looked like a sparkling gemstone. Vibrant Amethyst among common stones. They watched each other in silence for the third time until, reluctantly, he led her back to the winnow spot and let her return to her world. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

The next morning, Aya was pulled from her sleep by a knock on the door. A courier waited on the other side with an envelope and package wrapped in brown paper and string. She thanked him and returned to her bed, holding the parcel in her lap. The paper and string fell forgotten to the floor as she opened it eagerly. 

Inside was a new leather satchel, the same shape and size as her old one. The sides and edges had been dyed a rich mulberry, the leather carved and tooled into an interlocking, curving design. The golden clasp, shaped like a leaf, gleamed in the morning sun. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of it, so lovely and new compared to the one she had carried daily for years now. The leather had been worn so thoroughly that it drooped and sagged.

Aya opened the bag, finding it lined with pockets and sections the perfect sizes for bandages and vials. There was also an envelope nestled inside, her name scrawled on the front in curly script. She opened it gingerly, planning to add the paper to the box of ephemera under her bed. Mail was a rare treat. 

Aya,

Thank you again for your help. Juno is doing much better and I suspect you have made a friend of him. I hope this gift will be of use to you.

As for retribution for your missed day off, you may also find that your instructors received a strongly worded letter from some anonymous busybody complaining about the state of cleanliness in the healer’s wing. I believe the buildings are being deep-cleaned over the next few days. Enjoy your long weekend. 

Eris

Aya buried her face in her hands, covering her silly, involuntary smile and burning cheeks. She finally bothered to open the other envelope, finding Eris to be truthful. The head of the school had sent a note announcing that classes had been canceled, though they did include a list of assignments to complete and log in the meantime. Assignments that she could complete in the greenhouse, between dozing off and basking in the sunshine the green, herbal scent. Somehow, against all the odds she battled with, Aya had made a friend.

#acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #eris vanserra #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra fanfiction #eris acotar #eris fic #eris fanfiction #eris fanfic #eris x oc #eris x healer #dawn court #dawn court oc #dawn court healer #acotar oc #acotar healer oc #the dawn court #dawn court fanfiction #dawn court fanfic #thesan #lady of autumn #autumn court #beron vanserra #the benevolent #acosf #acomaf #acowar

[moodymisty]

Mayhaps some Angron/fem reader with 7+12+54 from your kink list if you’re up for it? He seems like the kinda guy that would bite and definitely wouldn’t be gentle about anything in the slightest

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Authors’s Note: Suedo-continuation of this fic. Time to ride that massive Nucerian dick all the way to the pearly gates. Or at minimum to the infirmary. I've been beating my head on this for ages and it has dust on it, but enjoy.

Summary: Angron returns to Terra from a crusade, and finds himself wanting.

Relationships: Angron/Fem!Reader (reader from my StolenHistoritor!series)

Warnings: NSFW, Rough sex, Biting, That World Eaters dick hit different and by different I mean it rearranges your insides like a blender

Word Count: 1227

Lady of the World Eaters.

You don't like the title; But no one knows what else to call you. Simply put it was the only title that appealed to your current stature, even if it doesn't perfectly fit.

You aren't his beloved, you don't know if he can even utter such a word, but you know there is something here that he deems special. Perhaps there just isn't a word for it, in High or Low Gothic.

Angron’s Macgragge-born Historitor just doesn’t ring quite as well, either. Is a bit of a mouthful as well.

Angron's wing of the massive Imperial palace is its own world in an of itself. You could only assume that the other Primarchs have similar living quarters that are appropriately grandiose, though it's only speculation; You haven't seen them and probably will never will.

But you had just gotten out of a bath when Angron returned. The loose piece of clothing you put on simply to prevent from getting cold hit your mid thighs, shapeless and thin. It wicked up the water against your skin slowly, until you felt mostly dry.

The loud thud of boots on the stone floor had gave him away, but for a moment you had assumed it was simply the sound of patrolling Custodes; Until it continued closer and closer, and then stopped.

Angron entered, lacking the brushed and scratched bronze armor you're so used to him wearing. Instead he wore a more comfortable- at least you assume so- pair of trousers that tucked into thick, furred boots. He lacked any sort of top, as despite Terra being quite frigid currently, he had little care about it. If he's anything like his Astartes, his blood runs so hot it would take a chill beyond what Terra can produce to make him shiver.

You stood there frozen, half dressed and standing damp in the middle of a dim room. He looked down with an unreadable expression from his overwhelming height. It felt like minutes, but it was more than likely only a few moments.

But you'd never felt so small as you had then; Unable to know what he was thinking. It was always hard to, but even then it seemed like he was impossible to know where he was in his own head.

As while you've kissed him, and he's returned it, it's never gone much farther. You had assumed the Nails had taken it away; His ability to feel something as intrinsically human as desire.

But apparently, he still can.

“A-Angr-“

Your voice comes out in short gasps has he fucks you, fists clenched. It feels like he’s in your stomach, and he can only just bury himself to the hilt. You’d fear what would happen if he pushed it even farther. If he lost just a bit of restraint.

Perhaps it’s another part of the Nails’ torture. That the one person he's found that actually loves him he can’t even touch to the fullest, that they aren’t made for him and could crack under the slightest misuse.

He hasn’t said a word, other than sharp breaths and grunts, his hand on your hips bruising as he pulls you to him. You had been on your knees, but it was not long before your fell to your stomach and laid nearly flat on the massive ocean of a bed.

Your neck aches, you know he's broken skin and blood probably trickled down your neck, only now having relief that he can no longer reach it. The angle would be too severe, he stands too tall to be able to press his face into your neck while he fucks you.

It had felt good at the time, now it complains and aches, and you'll have marks serving as an easy reminder to you'll need to cover up.

Your hands grip the bed with your nails threatening to tear the fabric, intricate and expensive; Far beyond anything Angron is used to. You know he's refused most of Terra's more frivolous things. Perhaps that's yet another reason why his fellow primarchs have been so surprised by your existence, perhaps.

Your face feels hot, skin boiling as your stomach ties itself in knots, tight like it’s going to snap. You haven't looked towards him in awhile, you can see his shadow and feel his bare skin against your own, but for some reason you can't gather the will to look over your shoulder. Perhaps it's the embarrassment, as he brushes against nerves to deep inside of you that you gasp and squirm underneath him. His grip keeps you held firm however, as even though escape is the last thing on your mind, you'd never be able to do so anyways.

He is still be going to leave your battered and bruised for days, however. Even with his grip on your hip being so soft for his own strength. But his gentleness in context has left you trying to swallow moans instead of screams.

You attempt to keep most of the swears you utter under your breath as you cum, fingers tight around your one mouth as he simply continues to fuck you.

It’s so close to pain, but you’re used to teetering that knife’s edge with him. That how it feels at almost every moment you're around him. You barely notice it, anymore.

You can feel the moment he finishes inside you from the way he slows, and you hear his fist clench around the metal of the bedframe tight enough to crunch it. More restraint. He's always trying to keep the Nails held back.

You can also tell just how much; When he pulls out you can immediately feel it leak from you, slick against your thighs.

He pulls away, and you can still hear his sharp exhales through his nose. You don't know if it's because he's actually winded like yourself, with a racing heart and flushed skin, or that the Nails are biting at his mind again.

You roll, giving a soft groan in pain as you look up from underneath him.

You feel so small.

One of his hands reaches towards you and grips your jaw tilting it; You barely manage to hold in a wince as he observes your battered neck.

He’s silent. Angron is surprisingly so whenever you’re around. You always wonder what he’s thinking. He notices the bruising and droplets of blood on your neck, at minimum. That even the most gentle abused caused it. You hear him let out an exhale.

“You should go to the apothecary.” He’s blunt. You lay more comfortably in the bed underneath him, but you still feel pinned under his eyes. If he was someone else you'd think he was wanting you to leave, but from the way he's looking at you and keeping you caged, that seems to be the last thing he wants.

“It doesn’t hurt,” You say, and he hums. “I’ll wait till tomorrow.” The blood has stopped, anyhow. It'll be more painful to leave him and spend an hour there than it would be to just lay here. The entire time you've still felt his hand on your hip, skin warm. It drifts down slightly more towards your thigh.

He shifts and moves to once more press his mouth against your neck, but gives you little more than an accepted noise of understanding.

#Angron x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #Angron/Reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[chaoticbardlady99]

Lethal Woman (Astarion x GN! Daywalking Vampire)

Chapter 11

Synopsis: You find yourself in a cave with creatures you've never seen before. Astarion becomes compromised and you fall apart.

CW: Smut

This is still more of a filler chapter- I wanted to do a couple small chapters as I relearn their respective personalities for this story again lol

AO3

  Your head is throbbing when you finally wake up and the air smells like the docks in Westgate- fishy and nauseating. 

  There is loud chanting ringing through the air and your fingertips scratch against a cold, marble stone. You feel incredibly dizzy and the chanting isn’t helping either.

“BOOOAAALLLLLLLLL!!!!”

 You blink the blurriness away and you are met with bulging, fish eyes staring at you as they chant to-

“BOOOAAALLLLL!”

 Don’t they mean… Bhaal?

  A scream of rage and ‘power’ comes from another stone slab and you groan in irritation. 

 Fucking Red caps- why does it always have to be a Redcap? 

 “I DEMAND A BLOOD SACRIFICE!”

    Oh good- you’re sure that’s your cue. 

 The weird fish descend upon you and you use Misty Step to get back onto your feet- stumbling ungracefully upon the ground as you try to get your barrings again. You really really feel like you might throw up. 

 The fish creatures are looking at you- their Priest with large, unblinking eyes approaches you with an awestruck expression.

“Are you… a goddess?”

  Your morals say tell them no and free them from this idiot. Your lack of morals says this is going to be very fun and you should still save them from this moron.

 “Sure am!” you say with far too much enthusiasm, thankfully these creatures do not seem very bright.

“Who are you, Lady in White?”

 Lady in- wait is he referring to your scales? Huh, you really may be able to pull this off. Scales on a half-drow are rather rare.

 “She lies!” the red cap shrieks, it’s blood stained appearance dissipating as the creatures stop chanting,” that- that is my Chosen! Who has come to usurp me!

“I will give you one last chance to be in my good graces, my Chosen- otherwise, you shall feel the wrath of BOAL!”

  You tilt your head at the tiny, pathetic little man and you use your vampiric stare. The creature immediately recoils and bows down to you. You walk over and behead the creature- turning dramatically towards the fish. 

 You hold your fist in the air with one of your hidden daggers held high.

 “My name is Rowan the Great! Goddess of Happy Accidents!”

“ROWAAANNNNNN! THE GREATTTT!”

 “Okay, that’s too long. Just Rowan is fine.”

   The fish begin to cheer in worship of you and you can’t help the cackling that escapes your lips. This might be the best accident to ever happen to you- a whole group of fish people? Cheering your name because you basically told them too? You really shouldn’t be getting so high on your own fumes. Karlach is going to get a kick out of this. 

  Clanging from behind you alerts you and the fish people to someone’s presence. 

“Soldier!?”

 “I’m in here!” you shout before looking at the fish people, “I present to you- my Chosen!”

 “What in the nine hells?”

  Karlach and Shadowheart are wide eyed and horrifically confused. They begin to cheer your name again and you flash a cheeky grin at the two women.

 “I’m officially a Goddess.”

 “Ooooo,” Karlach says while trying to contain her laughter, “of what?”

 “Happy accidents.”

 “That works maybe too well.” 

  Shadowheart looks like she’s swallowed an entire bowl of lemons by the time you resurface from the odd Cavern you ended up in- she isn’t thrilled that you impersonated and announced yourself as a Goddess. You simply say you don’t give a hoot.

  You tell them of what transpired under the water and they tell you the horrifying news that they made Astarion and Gale team up. When Karlach tells you she offered to pay Astarion for this favor, you almost lost your mind. Why didn’t you all just remain together!? Cazador is hunting Astarion!

 You immediately begin to look for the two men- your heart is thrumming with worry and there is a sick knot in your stomach. Something is wrong- you just know it and you hate that something is wrong because that means you are going to have to fight.

  A crash above your heads and Gale yelling Astarion’s name in fear is more than enough for you to launch yourself up the rocks. You slide a few times, but are able to rebound it by jumping and using Spider Crawl. 

  A massive beholder beast has it’s eye on Gale and you notice a statue that looks very familiar standing not that far away from you. Casting shroud- you walk over and you bite your knuckle to keep from sobbing. 

  It’s Astarion, frozen in fear and solid stone. You know Halsin has something back at camp to reverse the condition, but you are completely frozen. Instead of fighting or fleeing, you fall to your knees and are stuck staring at his petrified face. 

 You feel like you are going through everything with Tessa all over again- everything sounds like it’s underneath the ocean. 

 “Soldier,” Karlach says panicked, “you have to get up, we have to stop this thing then we can get Halsin.”

 You just shake your head and continue to refuse to get up. You feel like a lead weight.

  He has to be so scared right now and you can’t leave him alone- not like this. Karlach and Shadowheart leave you there and go to assist Gale. 

 You don’t notice the battle ending or your companions racing back to camp. All you could do was sit there miserably, waiting for him to become unpetrified.

 There has to be something you can use to unpetrify him. 

 You consider blood magic, but you don’t know of any spells that help with petrification. You haven’t felt this helpless in a very very long time. 

  You used to know Greater Restoration- Tessa had taught you it before, but you fear you might butcher it. 

  But camp is also a day and a half away- you had led a scouting mission and the rest of the group stayed behind to help the creatures and individuals in the grove. It allowed more people to be helped and more money made. 

  You have to try- if only this once and if it doesn’t work- it doesn’t work. 

  You have to focus extremely hard on the magic that flows through your body and focus on channeling it towards solving the current issue. 

  No change. Absolutely none. 

  You sit up against a rock and just put your face in your hands. 

 “I am utterly worthless,” you whisper in disappointment.

 “Stop saying things like that to my partner,” a familiar voice says hoarsely, “you are entirely worth it.” 

  You leap up and throw yourself at Astarion- his own arms holding you equally as tight. You don’t want him to see your tears or know how devastated you are.

 Or how happy it makes you to hear him call you his partner. 

  Astarion pulls away from you and you are disappointed, but only for a nano second. 

  Astarion kisses you with need, want, desire, sadness- a fear that he will never be able to kiss you again. You return it with equal amounts of vigor. 

 Both of your armor and clothing is off within seconds- Astarion thrusting up inside of you with your back against a large rock and your legs wrapped tightly around his hips. 

  This was an occasional occurrence after one of you had a particularly close call- there is this feral need to reconnect and feel that the other is still there. As if sight would never be enough. 

  He nips at your neck, you give him permission to drink from you and his hips stutter before he is pounding into you with as much power as he can. You love it- every second of it. You could not be more sure he is okay even if you tried.

 You are full of him and your hands are needily in his hair- it’s sloppy and disastrous, Astarion even less composed than you are, but you’re both cumming already through the needy display from both of your bodies. 

 You continue to cling to each other- your nectar and his juices coating your thighs and his stomach. You feel lost in him- the way he smells, the way he tastes. His cool skin underneath your fingertips feels like heaven and his lips against yours makes the world feel right side up again. 

 Your lips are swollen and your mound throbbing with pleasure. You stare into his eyes and his stare hopelessly back into yours.

 “I am so grateful you’re okay,” Astarion whispers, leaving a soft, long kiss against your lips, “I- I was so worried I lo-”

  Astarion’s voice cuts off with a choked voice. You cup his face with your hands.

  “It’s going to take a lot more than that to kill, my Star,” you say while wiping his tears, “I’m so grateful that you’re okay and I don’t have to wait two days to be with you again.”

“Oh? You don’t want to spend extra time with Gale,” Astarion teases, “I am sure he has lots of Kraken facts to share with you.”

 You groan, “the less I hear about Krakens over the next century- the better.”

  You both get dressed again and begin to walk- hand in hand. You are grateful when you find an old abandoned arcane tower- the two of you using Dimension Door to get to the third floor where an old, old bed is. 

  Astarion looks at the bed wearily and you notice how he becomes entirely rigid.

 “I have had to get on my back and take it for two centuries,” he said one night while you were curled around him, “I never want to go back to doing that ever again.”

 You could see how a bed might be triggering- considering this is the first bed you have encountered in your journey.

“Gods!” You exclaim, “this bed is positively filthy! I would rather eat dung than sleep in it!” 

 Whether Astarion believes you or not, doesn’t matter. He looks relieved when you decline the bed. 

  Both of you lay out on the ground- staring up into the dark, night sky. You feel excruciatingly tired. Your body and psyche has been through far too much lately. Astarion is curled up around you this time- his head on your chest and listening to your barely discernible heartbeat.

“Oh- I’m a Goddess now.”

“I already knew that, Darling,” Astarion peers up at you with a flirty smile, “but do tell me how you came to this realization.”

“Oh no- not a realization! I am actually worshipped now!”

 You tell Astarion your misadventure from earlier today and he laughs, giggles, and snorts the entire time. He especially loves Shadowheart’s reaction. A comfortable silence falls over both of you afterwards, Astarion is tracing circles along your hip. 

 “Rowan?”

  You hum in response.

 “I don’t think I could ever live without you again.”

 “I share the same sentiment.”

 “Is that healthy?”

  You think about that for a moment.

“I think that depends on the nature of the relationship- we can be apart, but one of us being temporarily dead to the world feels like suffering,” You say thoughtfully, “I think as long as we respect each other and let each other create our own friendships, not control one another-

“I think it’s okay then.”

 Astarion nods his head and you look at him- trying to hide your worry that he has changed his mind about you entirely. He seems to notice your train of thought without you saying anything. He hovers above you and puts one hand on your cheek- placing a soft, long kiss on your lips.

“I adore you,” Astarion says earnestly, “I just want to make sure I’m not smothering you. I don’t want you to feel like you are under Dahlia’s thumb again.”

 You smile brightly at him and shake your head.

“Silly man,” you press your lips to his, “I may be under your thumb, wrapped around your pinkie- whatever analogy you want to use, but I know that I can ask you to unravel me, release me, whatever it is.

“I’m not afraid of you- I’m only afraid of living without you.”

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x you #bg3 #karlach #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn! reader

[victoria-daydreams]

The Hare and The Tower

AN: When I tell you I am treading in unfamiliar waters trying to write for Game of Thrones, I truly mean it. I was hoping there would be more Otto Hightower reader inserts by now, but there isn’t so now I have to be like Thanos and say, “fine I’ll do it myself”. I just hope to god I’ve done it somewhat right.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I’d like to believe that between his scheming and willingness to sell his daughter to the highest bidder, somewhere inside he’s still a romantic. Depending on how I feel, things may change in the story to how I see fit and if even I want to continue with this story. I’m happy to make a taglist if this garners traction.

Summary: A single butterfly sets off a chain of events for the minor, noble House Clarick and the eldest daughter, Jesmyn Clarick is the cause behind it.

Trigger warning: age gap

Word Count: 1.2k

Chapter One: Of Butterflies & Sketches

112 AC, Westeros

It was from the most mundane action which altered the course of young Jesmyn Clarick's life.

Seeking peace and quiet, she had found herself venturing to the castle garden, needing the fresh air to clear her head. The day was cool and the trees in the courtyard were full of red and gold leaves, many of which that were ready to drift gracefully to the ground. Lowering herself onto a stone bench, she lifted her face up to the sun and let her skin soak in the rays. Her soft, raven coiled hair danced across her back over the blue silken dress she wore. Another breeze swept across the courtyard, blowing strands of her hair over her face, but she made no move to fix it knowing it would be no use.

The moment Jesmyn's eyes reopened, a new chapter had begun to write itself.

A sketchbook comfortably rested on the lap of Jesmyn as she sketched the scenery in front of her. Light scratching filled the air as her quill traveled across the paper in light strokes. That was until the quiet fluttering of wings reached her ears. Jesmyn lifted her head and watched a butterfly land on the corner of her sketchbook.

A soft laugh passed her lips, "Well, hello little one," she greeted, studying the deep violet wings of the insect.

Jesmyn smiled while observing the butterfly slowly crawl across the paper. Placing her finger gently on the page, she silently invited the butterfly closer to her. To her surprise, instead of shying away the little insect moved onto her forefinger and she brought it level with her eyes. The manner in which the butterfly's wings slowly flitted up and down was calming to Jesmyn, enchanting even.

"Some days, I wish I could be just like you," she said softly to the creature. "When things become too much for me, I just want to fly away and leave all my worries behind," she murmured.

With great care, Jesmyn raised her right hand and extended it to the air letting the insect to take flight again.

"Be free," she whispered, watching as the butterfly gracefully flew away.

Jesmyn, still enraptured with the gorgeous creature climbing higher and higher, didn't notice someone had slowly approached her from behind.

"Do you possess knowledge of the language of butterflies, Lady Jesmyn?"

The sound of the King's Hand voice made Jesmyn rise to her feet immediately, dropping into a curtsy.

"Lord Hightower, my apologies," she said, her words rushing together. "I wasn't aware of your presence, I was lost in my own thoughts," she continued, her fingers tightly gripping the edge of her sketchbook.

"Well, do you?" Lord Hightower asked, as her eyes met his once more.

Jesmyn was slightly taken aback from The Hand's tone. Everyone in court knew of Lord Hightower's demeanor. He was never one to show any type of emotion on his features, other than the calculating gaze which never seemed to leave his eyes. Even after the Lady Hightower's death his gaze didn't waver in its sharpness, perhaps the skin beneath his eyes were a slight shade darker from the rings that formed, but nonetheless still the same. Now, however, Jesmyn thought she could see the faintest of lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Unless, the sun was playing tricks on her mind. Dare she think it, but it was almost as if he was amused, which for a man like him was a rare expression.

Her lips quirked up, "It is a dead tongue my lord," Jesmyn answered. "I've taken to locking myself in the library for hours, poring over pages of books to learn the intricacies of such a difficult language," she quipped shyly.

The moment the timid joke passed her lips, the voice of her mother echoed in her head.

“Shyness never attracted any men, Jesmyn."

A smile stirred at his lips, "If your presence is not required elsewhere, you must indulge me in your findings Lady Jesmyn,"

Jesmyn grinned and bowed her head, "Of course, Lord Hightower," she agreed.

Side by side, they strolled through the expansive courtyard passing brightly colored flowerbeds.

"The flowers are beautiful this year," Jesmyn commented, letting her fingers run across the velvet texture petals. "The gardeners have most certainly outdone themselves," she added, throwing a side glance at Lord Hightower.

"Do you come here often Lady Jesmyn?" he asked, his arms folded behind his back.

"Whenever I want to get away," she said, briefly pausing. "Which is, often," she admitted, with a light chuckle. "I do my best work in the outdoors, not cooped up inside the Keep," Jesmyn explained.

Lord Hightower gestured to the sketchbook, "May I?" he asked, outstretching his hand to her.

Jesmyn nervously glanced down at her book before hesitantly handing the drawing to the older man. She felt like her heart traveled to her throat as his eyes scanned over the page.

"It's not finished!" she informed hurriedly.

In response, Lord Hightower only glanced at her briefly and returned his stare back to her drawing without uttering a word. One long, bony finger lightly traced the outline of the sketch, studying the details of the drawing up close. Jesmyn kept her eyes straight ahead, her posture rigid, but she could sense the quick glances Lord Hightower would intermittently send her from the side of her face. It went on like that for another minute before Lord Hightower came to a stop in front of a large, ornate fountain in the center of the garden, still admiring her work. Or, at least she hoped so.

"This is not my best work," Jesmyn commented, before he could say anything. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Lord Hightower," she apologized, her thumbs twiddling against her stomach where they were resting.

A slight frown formed on the man's face, lifting his eyes to look at her. Jesmyn could only imagine what her appearance was, her cheeks were hotly flushed in embarrassment internally.

"Lady Jesmyn, this is wonderful," Lord Hightower said, and Jesmyn let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Your attention to detail is to be commended," he complimented, returning her book to her.

A slow, yet delighted smile broke out across Jesmyn's face and she dipped her chin.

"Thank you, Lord Hightower," she said, pride swelling in her chest. "It will be grander once it's on a canvas, and yours to keep when I am finished," she continued. "If it would please you, my lord," she added quickly, not wanting to be offend The Hand by sounding too overly familiar.

His gaze flickered across her face before settling on her dark brown eyes.

"It would please me very much, Lady Jesmyn. Thank you," Lord Hightower said, with a small nod of his head. "Though, I do believe you'll find it most difficult to do so without your most important tool," he pointed out warmly, before producing Jesmyn's quill from behind his back.

"Indeed my lord," she agreed, laughter escaping her.

Grabbing the quill, Lord Hightower's finger brushed against her own and the sensation caused her whole body to tingle with heat. With a shudder, a reaction she couldn't decipher whether it came from the breeze or the contact which was made; she realized it had been the first physical interaction that happened between them. Jesmyn's gaze was slightly downwards, but her eyes bashfully looked up to Lord Hightower through her lashes.

For a moment, she thought that she saw a twinkle in Lord Hightower’s eyes, but before she can be sure, it was gone.

Chapter Two: Heart’s Desire

#house of the dragon x reader #game of thrones x reader #otto hightower x reader #black!reader #black!oc #game of thrones imagine #house of the dragon imagine #game of thrones oc #house of the dragon oc #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #otto hightower x oc #house of the dragon #game of thrones #hotd x reader #got x reader

[kino-rogers]

He is always a call away (Tangerine/Reader)

Word count: 825 (reasonably short and sweet)

Song: 0800 HEAVEN | Nathan Dawe, Joel Corry, Ella Henderson (listen, I know the vibes don't fit but the lyrics inspired me to write this aha)

Short summary: Bullet Train happens and everything goes down as it does in the film. Reader is trying to process that Tangerine won't come home again.

Warnings: Canon typical swearing, angst, (light) past trauma mention

notes: thank you @nocturnest for jumping on this to fix my broken English and being a wonderful beta!! what an intro but uh [coughs] i'm already excited to write more for this fandom (bits in which Tangie is very much alive ehehe) anywaayyy, hope you guys like this!! - 🥝

It's not been the… easiest time - it has to be said.

Since that phone call from Lemon, you've been struggling with sleep. It doesn't show in your work, of course. Keeping up appearances has always come to you rather naturally. Some of it being from your repressed trauma, that even years of therapy barely scratched the surface of, but also because of your line of work too. It doesn't sit well to be an emotional wreck after every kill you're paid to do.

The call was from a number you didn't recognise. The passing sound of traffic suggested it's from a payphone as Lemon sighed heavily down the line.

"You lost your phone? On a train?" You answered the call lightheartedly and you recognized his sigh immediately, you hoped it was just a release of pent up tension over a job well finished. Although, the fact that Lemon was the one to call, put you on edge, hoping it's not coming through your pretend jolliness.

"He's gone." His statement was simple and sudden. The tone, stone cold, as his voice was raspy, possibly from crying.

"Who's gone, Lemon?"

Your throat ran dry as you swallowed around a lump. Your chest quickly tightened as you tried to piece together what he could have meant. You couldn't- no, didn't want to think about the most likely possibility.

"Tan-" He took a pause, cleared his throat before continuing. "Tangerine, was shot in the neck, he is gone."

It's not like you guys were dating, no, it wasn't anything like that. Neither of you had the emotional capacity for that. What, with your jobs requiring you to spend weeks, months away from each other at a time, sometimes in different countries, opposite sides of the world. But he was the first person, in a long while, that you genuinely cared for.

~~~

You turn to your bedside table, glance at the alarm clock there. Its digital display shines in orange numbers, 01:54.

It's a month, today.

You suddenly have a stupid idea. What would happen if you called his number? Last time you checked it was still live, it'd probably just take you to voicemail. Weirdly, your therapist at your last session suggested writing letters to him, in your bereavement. Bereavement. Such a weird word. You're not even sure that's what this is. But maybe leaving a voicemail would be an equivalent. Maybe he can listen to his voicemails, wherever he is. You scoff at the fleeting thought but reach for your phone anyway.

Tangie is still in your recent calls. You tap the saved contact and wait for it to ring.

You're not expecting anyone to answer, of course not. Your grief hasn't driven you completely nuts. But as the phone rings, you can't help but think about getting to talk to him, just once more. By some divine intervention, you'd be connected through to him, in the afterlife and you could tell him everything you couldn't the last time you spoke.

"-after the beep BEEP"

"Hi Tangie," You scoff in embarrassment, not really sure why you're doing this anymore. "I uh,"

You sigh heavily, all too aware of the silence the machine is expecting you to fill. You sniffle as you start to speak again.

"I know you won't hear this. That… Isn't really the point." You draw a shaky breath. "I know who did it though. Well, knew. Lemon and I took him out last week. What kind of an assassin's name is Ladybug anyway?" You snicker. Can't avoid the tightness in your chest though.

"I just… I dunno. Apparently I should be writing letters to you, as if I could send them off with a pigeon and they'd get to wherever the fuck you are. So, this is the next best thing. If this was anyone else, you'd tell me to fuck off and to suck it up. We always were on the same wavelength, when it came to feelings." Your chest deflates with a long exhale as you realise you need to stop dancing around whatever it is you're trying to say here.

"I guess I just wanted to tell you I really fucking miss you." You sniffle again, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. "I miss your stupid grin, your teasing, your annoyingly cocky attitude, your… The way you looked at me."

"I wish you were here right now so I could tell you I love you. I wish I didn't, I really goddamn wish I didn't care for you so much but I fucking love you. And I hate that I can't see your face as I told you, for the first time. Please call me back."

You bury your face in your pillow and you howl into it, sobs shaking your body as the voicemail recording is saved and you continue to wallow in your bereavement. You're supposed to be feeling better. You need to stop paying your therapist.

#oh *boy* first fic for the fandom and it's a sad one cause ofc it is LMAO #anyway #tangerine/reader #tangerine x reader #reader #reader insert #bullet train reader insert #bullet train #tangerine bullet train #lemon bullet train #bullet train fic #bullet train fanfic #bullet train angst #bullet train canon inspired #bullet train canon #uhhh how do i tag this

[hum-suffer]

We'll say hello again (Nevermind the chasm between us) 6

They're going to be fifteen soon and the fact seems to entertain both of her brothers way too much than it does her.

Gauri rolls her eyes as she spars against a smiling Bahu, her leather urumi clashing against his wooden longsword. Behind them, Bhalla is sparring against Katappa and his mace rings loud as Katappa retaliates, with his own mace in return.

"Faster, Gauri!" Amrendra yells at her laughingly,"You're my sister, be better than this!"

She doesn't reply but raises her eyebrows and twirls out of reach of his sword point and kicks his bicep in one step. Bahu stumbles but stays standing on his feet. He looks at Gauri in what she assumes to be a reluctantly impressed look. She smirks at him.

He stands up in a flourish of limbs and his sword point comes dangerously close to her torso but Gauri ducks and rolls away, the pressure at her knees and calf almost knocking her out. Laying down, Gauri swipes at Bahu's legs and he dodges, jumping away.

Panting, Gauri rises. Bahu moves to loosen his shoulders and gives her a cocky smile. Gauri shakes her head and adjusts her grip on her urumi and charges. Bahu charges back at her and she's aiming to hit his shoulder in a fatal attack but he ducks at the last moment and his foot kicks out. Only, instead of hitting her elongated sword hilt, Bahu's armoured shoe lands on her knuckles.

Gauri yelps, embarrassingly enough and everyone around them seems to still.

"Good match," she tells Bahu, who looks like he's on the threshold of panicking. Gauri feels the blood slither from her split knuckles as Bhalla jogs over and pats Bahu on the back.

Katappa smiles at them and shakes his head. Gauri gives him her leather urumi and he looks taken aback at the blood on her knuckles. "I'm fine," she lies before he can worry about her,"I'll see the healer and then see you all for dinner."

"You know that you also lost the bet, right?" Bhalla says, grinning from ear to ear. Gauri rolls her eyes. She enables her brothers too much, she's extremely aware of that. Just this once, Gauri protested against the idea of spending Bhalla's birthday in a forest, hunting a wild bear and they made it their mission to gain Gauri's assent, free or forced. She shouldn't have taken a bet for sparring but why not make things memorable, even if she knew she was always going to agree with whatever those two wanted?

The blood on her knuckles drops on the beige stone of the courtyard and Gauri smiles. Her voice doesn't work, the instinctive lump in her throat that is a reaction to the pain won't let her speak. She nods and Bhalla punches the air, a grin on his face.

She looks down at her hand. The blood looks like liquid alta.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Bahu crawls into her bed that night.

"I'm sorry," he whispers in a broken voice as he had done all those years ago. He kisses her knuckles. Gauri wonders if he feels the blood there. If he tastes it.

She smiles at him and brushes his hair away from his eyes. He's growing his hair longer these days, it suits him, but this is the awkward phase where even Gauri needs to acknowledge that he's looking awkward. "I'm alright, Amar," she whispers in the air between them.

He hiccups and burrows closer to her.

"Don't cry, beta," she coos at him even though he's older to her by ten minutes, "it's alright, I'm not even hurt. See?"

She flexes her fist and the jolts of pain that run along her arm are suppressed in her throat because she can't see guilt in his eyes again.

He's laying lower than her, face burrowed in her shoulder. Gauri presses a kiss to his crown and slides an arm under his head as a pillow. "I didn't mean to," he says, trembling still. "I can never see you hurt, not because of me, never."

"Oh, brother," she sighs and pulls him tighter to herself, cradling him. "I know you would never hurt me, I know. It's just a scratch, Amar. It'll heal by Bhalla's birthday, you see. I'm fine." She pushes his hair back again and kisses his hairline tenderly. "You fought so well, I'm so proud of you."

Bahu shifts his head on Gauri's hand that he's using as a pillow, and lays more comfortably in the crook of her elbow. His hand goes to his neck and pulls at the chain he always wears.

Gauri gifted it to him when they were twelve, a simple and dainty gold chain. Bhalla had received a similar gift, but he had refused to wear it because he felt that it was too feminine. Bahu hadn't taken the chain off once and over the years, he developed the habit that he's currently perusing.

He pulls at the chain, hard enough that had it been a lesser craftsmanship, the chain would end up broken. He learns it from Gauri, she thinks. She does the same to the rudraksha mala she wears, only, her habit is born out of a need to ground herself and his is born out of a need to reassure himself.

She takes his hand, with her harmed hand, and gently pulls it away from his chain. Her fingers envelop his and she feels the heavy impressions that the pulling has left behind.

She kisses his forehead again. "Do not worry, brother. You could never hurt me."

Bahu lowers his gaze and tightens his hold on their joined hands but doesn't say anything.

Gauri keeps her eyes open until she hears the telltale snoring of her brother. "I love you," she says in the air between them like it is a secret that will stay buried between them. He is the moon to her stars, he is the sky to her sun, he is the heart to her ribcage. He is her brother.

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By the time they do go out on Bhalla's birthday, Gauri's hand is healed, almost, barring the spasms of pain she feels if she lifts heavier objects. The cancellation of her sitar learning classes has put her in a mood so foul that even Maa knows the reason.

Still, Gauri and Bahu ambush Bhalla in his room, jumping on his bed to wake him up like they've been doing for years and years on end. She doesn't even remember when the tradition started and she's well aware that they're getting too old to be jumping on beds, but every year she thinks of declining and every year she gives into Bahu's big eyes.

Bhalla hits them both with his pillows— any and all pillows he can get his hands on are flung at the twins, who dodge or even return the attack. Bhalla laughs loudly and finally pulls them down, Bahu by his foot and Gauri by her pallu.

They sit on his bed, huffing and puffing, big smiles on their exhausted faces.

"Happy birthday, Bhalla!" Gauri and Bahu say in unison. Bahu once again tries to attack Bhalla with tickles but falls face first on the mattress when Bhalla rolls over. Gauri snickers, wishing she could capture this moment forever.

Bhalla, never gone to let an opportunity go, rolls back again on Bahu's back, laughing rowdily when Bahu squeaks.

Finally, when Bahu pinches Bhalla's ear and they both untangle themselves from the mess they've created, Gauri pulls out her pouch from her waist and passes it on to Bhalla. He gives her a smile and rushes to open it, grabbing out the Mahadev idol that Gauri herself made from clay. Bhalla whispers thanks with teary eyes and gives Gauri a half hug.

Bahu pulls out the bag that he had earlier stowed away under the bed and passes it onto Bhalla obnoxiously. Bhalla hits Bahu with the bag first before opening it and pulling out a pair of golden and blue mojdis that perfectly suit the favourite outfit that Bhalla has.

"Thank you," he says to Bahu, giving him a hug as well. He reverently puts the Mahadev idol at his bedside table and gently puts the shoes on the floor before he tackles Gauri in a hug that sends her sprawling on the mattress. She laughs loudly and tickles him in retaliation, to get him to let her go. Unfortunately, Bahu, that traitor, joins Bhalla and just laughs.

"I'll never do anything for you!" She threatens the two of them.

Bhalla sticks out his tongue at her,"You will, you love us too much."

Before she can spew out a lie about declination, there's a knock on the doors and Maa calls out Bhalla's name and enters.

She takes one look at them, Bhalla and Gauri faux wrestling as Bahu has a pillow in his hands, ready to hit the two of them, and raises her eyebrows. Bhalla scrambles off of Gauri and Gauri sits up so fast that she's dizzy with the sudden blood flow for a moment. Still, she snatches the pillow from Bahu's hands and puts it back near the headboard.

Behind Maa, uncle Bijjaldev stands. He scoffs,"What are you, children? Getting into the room of your elder brother and ruining his sleep is what you do for his birthday?"

Regret makes Gauri look down instantly. Bhalla shares a lot of his thoughts with his father. He's a good man, Bhalla, but really, if he only tolerates their presence and doesn't anticipate it? Is it even any good?

Maa gives uncle a look but smiles at them. "Get ready for breakfast, my children." Gauri nudges Bhalla and he breaks out of his trance to stumble towards his parents and touch their feet.

"May you always be brave and glorious." Maa blesses him with gentle eyes and cups his face as she kisses his forehead. Uncle pulls Bhalla to embrace him roughly and blesses,"May you be a worthy King."

The word suffocates the levity in the room and Gauri slips off from Bhalla's bed.

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They have a successful hunt, they do. They capture the bear— injured from Bhalla's multiple arrows— and they're going back towards the city when it happens. Gauri's horse, Ratan, balks and jerks suddenly.

She's nervous about the sudden behavioral change in her faithful horse but everything she tries doesn't work at all and Ratan doesn't move forward at all. He shifts jerkily even when Gauri turns forceful to make him move.

The forest they're in is at the edge of the state of Mahishamati and the river that flows through the forest, which is as near to them as possible since it is a landmark of their way home, as well as the impending waterfall all make her extremely jittery.

Bhairavrath appears beside her, walking on foot, and tries his hand at gently caressing Ratan. Ratan neighs loudly and now they've finally gained the attention of the rest of the party. Bhairavrath tries his damnedest, but gentle ways isn't what Ratan is understanding. Gauri doesn't know what's wrong with the horse but she knows what dangers she's going to wade in if she keeps riding him.

"My princess," Bhairavrath says, extremely serious as he has an eye on Ratan and one on Gauri. "May I suggest stepping down."

"That's exactly what I'm planning, my archer." She quips back as she begins to rise. But at that moment, a foot soldier approaches them, his spear parallel to the ground and tries to command Ratan. Ratan, who shares the temper of Gauri, snarls and rises in an obvious challenge and Gauri— Gauri falls.

The ground is already slippery because of the season as well as the river flowing mere feet away and she rolls off the rock laid terrain, her dominant hand colluding with a boulder in an attempt to steady herself.

She falls into the river, mouth open in a silent scream as agony burns through her hand right down to the lungs and she can't breath. She can't see anything and all she feels is water on her skin, on her clothes, in her nose and she can't breathe. Panic bubbles in her chest and the darkness under the water makes her fear larger still as the water begins to flow. Gauri kicks her feet in an attempt to rise above or swim but her right hand isn't responding well to any pressure and every moment, even ones made by forceful waves, becomes hurtful.

She doesn't know if it's mere moments or hours but the next thing she knows is there's another person near her and as her eyes are beginning to droop and head starts to buzz, a hand laces around her waist and pulls her up.

As soon as they are above the water surface, Gauri gasps, greedy for the air in order to calm her lungs as much as she can. Her rescuer is saying something but it doesn't make sense to her and she realises some water must have gone into her ears as well.

The words sound far away but she recognises the voice.

"You're alive, my princess," Bhairavrath says,"just hold onto me and we can go back to safety."

Gauri does as she's told because she has no energy. There's a headache blooming in her mind and the throb behind her ear makes her wonder if she hit hear head somewhere.

"Gauri!" She hears Bahu shout, because she will always hear him, no matter what happens, his voice is always going to be loud and clear to her. And then, as the water turns shallow, there's another, more familiar arm around her shoulder. Gauri slumps against Bahu.

"Her hand is swollen." Bhairavrath says somewhere. She hears someone say something in retort but can't make out whatever is being said.

She buries her face in Bahu's shoulder. "Amar," she whispers,"my head."

His hand instantly goes to the back of her hand and in a light caress, travels to her nape. Her eyes continue to droop.

"The Princess needs immediate medical attention," Bhairavrath says somewhere.

Bhalla barks an order to Katappa, oddly sounding like his mother in tone. Gauri scoffs at the thought and her eyes close completely.

____________________________________________________

Hola, amigos!!!! What do you think?

Tagging: @vijayasena @alhad-si-simran @o-merebholebalam @multifandom-boss-bitch @ambidextrousarcher

#bahubali #baahubali #devasena #prabhas #anushka shetty #desiblr #suffer ye suhana nahi #desi tumblr #ram charan #sai pallavi

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Sorry about that! I requested the Rindou getting caught! Maybe by like Sanzu and/or Ran?

Oooh this is a great angst smut prompt mmkay finally gettin' around to this....

Scratched Up: Sanzu Haruchiyo & Rindou Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 602

tw: smut, angst, Kanto Manji timeline

masterlist

Please leave a voicemail message after the tone. When you are finished--

Straight to voicemail. Again. Sanzu grips the steering wheel of the car and grunts, biting the inside of his left cheek. If anything, this reaffirmed his feeling since the beginning of this month. You were growing distant, it seemed.

Hours would pass by before a text was answered.

You wouldn't return his calls at all.

You even ignored his invitation to go out and party until the morning after.

So what were you doing?

Or... who were you doing?

Sanzu drives lazily, willing himself to obey the traffic laws for once. It isn't like him, but how you make him feel fuels his desire to walk the straight and narrow path for all of twenty minutes. Maybe this would encourage him to stop doing illicit substances. Or clean up his act and quit posing as a "valuable gang member" to Kanto Manji.

"VIP, my ass," Sanzu growls, lighting the cigarette in his hands and inhaling deeply. He makes it to the apartment before the cigarette is gone, but even that is discarded before he enters, his eyes lidding as he steps on the butt and drives it into the concrete.

A cigarette butt. Sanzu chuckles as he stares at the abused and destroyed item ground to nothing against the pavement. I feel like a cigarette butt. Overlooked, stepped on, disregarded, trash... He's the cigarette butt. And you're the shoe coming down to snuff him out.

"Fuck." The keys on Sanzu's little ring jingle around as he looks for the only one that matters now: your apartment key. When he locates it with a shaking set of fingers and tears threatening to spill over his lids, he jams it roughly into the tumbler and yanks on the door handle.

The scent that hits him used to make him happy. It used to rouse him from a long, endless night of getting high as fuck and encourage him to get his shit together for half an hour.

But right now, it makes him want to vomit.

The smell of sex and noisy moans spill out from somewhere in the apartment, each driving a stone into Sanzu's gut. And when he looks toward the living room, he sees the back of Rindou Haitani's head - that blonde and blue mess of shit Sanzu's offered to have his stylist clean up for months.

Sanzu knows your sounds of pleasure by heart, but just seeing Rindou standing there and you're crying out for him and he's not moving anymore but he can't stay here and watch anymore and it's over and it's over and Rindou is grunting while calling out your name and Sanzu's body is frozen there in the doorway as Rindou cums and smacks your ass so loud that he flinches at the echo it makes and and and--

"Sanzu?" You're facing him now, your clothes clutched against your chest. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Yo, man," Rindou calls out, hurriedly pulling his pants up around his waist and paling as well. "Dude, I'm really sorry about this, but--"

Sanzu just stands there, akimbo and lost.

"Get the fuck out of here! Get lost, you freak!"

Freak.

Right.

Sanzu doesn't do what would be "on brand" and leaves, even closing the door behind him. Perhaps it's the shock, he rationalizes, driving out of the parking garage and turning on some light music to which he can tap his fingers on the steering wheel. Or maybe he'd finally gotten the will to be better. He'll have to thank you later.

#sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo revengers sanzu #haruchiyo sanzu #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani smut #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers

[duckies27]

My boys lost the poll and therefore you will get hurt/comfort to mourn

Spoilers for Season 2!!

Trigger warning for PTSD attacks, death, guilt, mentions of jail time, and overall issues with recovery

It was early in the morning and Normal still hadn't stopped shaking. Taylor and him had been married for only a few months, he still didn't know how nasty these attacks could get. He was just so broken, so violently broken. No way for him to know, no way they can talk this through. Taylor was finally clean, he was finally free from all three monitors and the officers. Why drag him back down?

His eyes looked over to his sleeping husband. Taylor resting with his tail switching and horns resting against the pillow. He seemed so peaceful. So happy. Normal pushed himself off the bed and headed to the bathroom. Looking in his reflection he just saw an empty man. The only scars he was proud of were the top surgery ones. Others were just painful reminders.

Every failed attack, every bad heal, every mistake. The failure of a man, who's own father isn't proud of him unless he saves the damn world. He ruffles his hair, messy curls falling around his cheeks. "I...I look like my father, I should get a hair cut." He mumbled, going through the normal routine. Make sure all the scars were still closed, all the new nicks and scratches from his clumsy behavior weren't anything serious enough to warrant a healing spell. As he moved his hand to check his horribly scarred cheek from the flame walls that almost took him down, his eyes glanced at his wedding ring. Instead of diamond, it was made of obsidian. Taylor insisted, have a piece of hell with him. Be together always. He turned from the mirror, rubbing the stone softly. His mind went to Taylor's vows, their wedding day.

"I promise to love you through the good and the bad. Through the heavens and the hells. When we got married in space, I didn't really mean it. I mean it now. I want to be your husband, I want to be yours. And I want you to be mine."

He weakly sighed, tears pricking at his eyes. "He has to be lying, right? At least a little, no way he would take all of this-" he motioned down to himself, almost to an invisible camera. "I'm more than just a little broken, I'm a whole bag of shattered glass waiting to burst out!" He sat down and hugged himself tightly. Single tears turned into rushing waterfalls. He couldn't stop crying, everything quickly came back, all of it rushing back. Lark's angry cries after he let out that thing, code purple, Sparrow's eyes as he said he wasn't proud, Willy, Hermie's death, the battle in hell, both times falling unconscious, the last battle, years alone and struggling. Even therapy could only do so much.

Taylor shifted awake to an empty bed. A cold, empty bed. He sat up, his tail swishing. "Norm?"

No response. He sighed, getting up. Maybe he left, maybe he was in his office. Grabbing his cane, he carefully fumbled to his feet. Lately his hip had been worse, maybe because he was up and about more. It was hard to explain how strange things had become as of late. Normal and him dated for 2 years, and then he suddenly proposed. Cut a few weeks later and they were wed! Yet they were so separate. Normal was quiet the majority of the time, he kept to himself. He normally smiled most after work, but it would fade after a few hours. It has taken him this long to just get Normal to actually sleep in the same bed as him. It was as if he was afraid.

Who could blame him? After his high school crush was shot, then brought back, then disintegrated right in front of his eyes. The rest of his high school career was miserable. He hated everything, he hated the people, he hated the world. Before the reunion, he literally didn't talk to anyone. He shut off, he shut down. Then again, so did Taylor. Jailed in 3 separate dimensions isn't easy. Thankfully Nick pulled some strings and got him working instead of on house arrest, saved his life.

After a moment of thought, he carefully started moving out of the bedroom to take a quick check around the apartment. The only light on was the bathroom, and he could hear heavy sobbing on the other side. "Normal?"

The sobbing stopped for nearly a moment, almost hoping he would leave, before resuming. Once you start, it's hard to stop. Taylor carefully sat on the other side of the door. "You don't have to talk to me but I'm here. I married you for a reason, I love the good and the bad." He set his cane down, twiddling his thumbs. "The really bad. Even if I don't know it all, I know you're worth it." He gently knocked his horns on the door, a weak smile on his face. "You're real fun to cuddle, much better than a body pillow."

Soft footsteps were followed by the door swinging open. Taylor would've fallen if Normal wasn't there to catch him. The half elf was sobbing, uncontrollably so. He dropped to the ground quickly and wrapped tightly around Taylor. His face was shoved into Taylor's shoulder and just kept sobbing.

"I-i-i-i'm so b-b-b-broken, Taylor, W-w-why am I so broken?!" He squeezed the demon under him, completely lost in his pain and fear. Taylor carefully shifted so they were hugging chest to chest. They sat for a while, just letting Normal get everything out. His hands gently ran through the blonde curls of the shaking elf.

"I mean...you did almost died...I almost died." He gently cupped Normal's cheeks. "In that flame ring, pitted against each other...when I got out and I watched you go down so many times..." He sighed, kissing his forehead. "I hated it. I hated all of it. We spent 6 months fighting and hiding and putting our all into attacking and hurting. But you...you were made for love." Taylor felt tears pricking at his eyes. "And someone tore it away from you. Your father, Willy, even me...I don't know. All I know is that you didn't deserve any of it." To hide how hard he was about to start crying himself, he pulled back and held his hands nice and tight. "I want to make you feel safe again and loved and like you deserve love. Even with the scars and the burns that never fully healed. Even with the stupid mascot suit and all the issues, I want to love you and take care of you!"

All Normal could do was weakly sputter in response. At this point, his glasses were fogged up and he could barely see. He couldn't see the warm smile on Taylor's face. Warm, demonic hands reached up and gently cupped his cheeks before little horn nubs pressed against his forehead. He melted, especially on his burnt side. Anyone else who touched the scar got shouts of frustration or a guiding bolt to the hand, but Taylor always got a melty kitty. The few tears that were left were gently wiped away as the pair shared a short kiss. More of a peck that Normal quickly pulled back from.

"...too much?" Taylor quietly asked, ready to pull his hands away.

Normal shook his head, quickly wiping his eyes. "I-i-i'm tired...and thirsty. Plus, I have work in the morning..."

Taylor pouted. "No you don't, you're taking care of your disabled husband!"

That seemed to catch Norm's attention, his hand shooting to Taylor's hip. He felt around the bone, then the joint, then around the general area. His hands started to glow with magical properties, but Taylor stopped him.

"Hey now, you know that doesn't work. I just have a doctor's appointment in hell and I hate going alone." He smiled warmly. "Plus gets you out of state testing~"

For the first time since the wedding, Normal smiled his smile. The dopy one he always had after doing Teenie routines or after a spell fired how he wanted. Before everything with his father. It was crooked now thanks to his burn scars, but he looked just as happy that he used to.

"Fine, fine. I'll call out." He carefully stood up, hands out to help Taylor back to his feet. The demon was shtakey, but he managed it with his cane. "...it's worse than I thought." They slowly shuffled to the bedroom, getting water for both of them in the process.

Taylor was first down, setting his cane down. Head first into the pillow with a pained groan. Normal followed, gently sitting while chugging down a water bottle. He set it down before resting a hand on his husband's back.

"Come cuddle meeeeee" Taylor giggled, reaching to grab at Normal's hands.

With a soft giggle, Normal fully laid down and wrapped around Taylor for the first time in their married life. He finally was fully there, fully safe.

He may not be all better, but he sure as hell feels less broken with Taylor by his side.

#dungons and daddies #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads season 2 #dndads s2 #dndads spoilers #cheerweeb #tayoak #taylor swift dndads #taylor swift (not that one) #normal swallows oak garcia #normal oak #mini fic #hurt/comfort #favorite niche/unpopular ship bribery #favorite niche/unpopular ship propaganda #i know it's over but they're so cute #they've taken over my brain

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (11/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.1k

Feyre faces her first task Under the Mountain.

Some dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from ACOTAR book one.

Read on AO3 or you can find the eleventh chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11 - she underestimated just who she was stealing from

I heard the crowd before I saw it. The passageway reverberated with the roaring, which could only mean that everyone Under the Mountain was here to witness this. As long as Rhys was among them, I didn't mind.

As the guards hauled me closer, the floor became slick and muddy. That was strange—all of the rooms and passages down here had been hewn from dry stone. I suspected it had something to do with the task ahead of me, but I couldn't imagine what. There hadn't been any mention of mud when I'd gone over maps of Under the Mountain in Velaris, and Rhys hadn't mentioned anything about it, either.

The shouting grew louder as we approached, and the faces of the fae closest to me were twisted in feral, bloodthirsty delight. I kept my chin high. Amarantha sat on a wooden platform erected above the crowd, surrounded by all seven High Lords. I didn't bother to look at Rhys or Tamlin, as much as I was tempted to.

Instead, I turned my attention to the strange labyrinth of tunnels and trenches along the floor. I was to be thrown into it, I realized. Perhaps there was something for me to find without getting lost, traps to avoid…

Then Amarantha raised a hand, and the crowd went quiet.

I looked straight at her, doing my best to seem faintly bored. She wore that usual mocking smile that was becoming far too familiar. Rhys kept out of my head, so I just waited for her to speak.

"There's not a scratch on you, Feyre. Don't tell me Rhysand decided to be a gentleman last night and make your first time soft," she said.

"Daemati don't leave marks," I said coolly, "but I'm not surprised you'd forget, considering how utterly unremarkable your whore turned out to be in bed."

The words were out of my mouth before I thought to warn Rhys I was about to insult him. He knew perfectly well that I had to keep up appearances, but to use that word that had been spat at him for fifty years…it might have gone too far. I sent a pulse of regret down the bond.

He slipped into my mind just long enough to say, Unremarkable in bed? It's difficult to be offended when you're being such a liar.

Good—he saw through the mask I was wearing, too. Forcing myself not to let my relief show, I kept watching Amarantha. Even from a distance, I caught the way her eyes flashed and her lip curled in the beginning of a snarl. My words had been a touch too defiant—I braced myself, ready to bear the brunt of her anger.

She merely rested a possessive hand on Tamlin's knee, a clear display of dominance that flaunted the ring with Jurian's eye. It was a miracle I managed not to look irritated. Even with the power of all seven High Lords at her disposal, she clearly seemed to consider my apparent devotion to Tamlin a threat. Pathetic, really. She could have him for all I cared.

"Did you solve my riddle yet?" she said, voice dripping with false sweetness. I said nothing and kept my face blank. "Of course not, and what a shame. It was so simple, but I suppose humans just can't handle faerie wine. You don't even remember it, do you?"

"No. I don't remember it at all," I lied, cheeks burning.

That, at least, seemed to satisfy her. She sat back in her throne contentedly, and I did my best not to look too relaxed.

"Then you'll have to face my tasks, I'm afraid. Though I suspect you'll like this one—Rhysand tells me you're a huntress."

I held back a smile at the confirmation Rhys had come through for me. I might not have a bow or supplies to make a snare, but I was by far the the best hunter Under the Mountain. I'd all but proven that on Calanmai.

My sense of relief was short-lived as claws dug into my armpits and lifted me into the air. I let out a shriek. The crowd laughed. I twisted to see what had grabbed me—the Attor. I was dangling from its claws like a mouse caught by an owl.

Two more powerful wingbeats, and it dropped me into the trench.

I fell to my knees, mud soaking through my pants. The muck seemed to suck me down, and I prayed I'd tied the laces of my boots tight enough to keep them on. I struggled to my feet and tried not to gag at the smell.

The smell—if I was hunting, I'd need to cover my scent. The mud itself might not be overwhelming to a creature that lived here, and it seemed safe enough to assume whatever beast she'd have me fight would have an acute sense of smell.

The sound of Amarantha's voice pulled me from my thoughts about the possible direction of the airflow through the arena. "Hunt this, Feyre," she said, then called, "Release it."

I barely kept my balance as a grate rose, sending rumbling vibrations throughout the trenches. Heart pounding, I bent my knees, ready to push off and run in any direction. Amarantha was saying something else, but I ignored her.

My quarry appeared.

And it was a worm.

A giant worm, surprisingly fast, with a mouth full of rings of sharp teeth, but a worm nonetheless. I barreled down the trench to put space between us, to give me time to think and come up with a plan. I'd hunted plenty of game in the woods, but I hadn't the faintest idea how to hunt a worm.

Rhysand had to be out of his mind if he thought this was part of my skillset.

I kept running, veering around corners and hoping it was enough to give me space to breathe. There were no weapons down here, nothing but mud. Perhaps I'd be able to hide myself in it, but that wouldn't do any good if all I had to kill the worm with was my bare hands.

After turning enough corners, the worm was nowhere in sight. I risked stopping in the middle of a long straightaway. It seemed safe enough to pause here, somewhere I'd see it coming. Bent forward with my hands on my knees, I considered what I'd seen. Most of my attention had been on that terrible mouth and razor-sharp teeth, but then I realized—I hadn't seen a pair of eyes.

The worm was blind.

It had to rely on smell to navigate, and it was almost certainly used to the mud. And the first rule of hunting was to conceal your scent. I dropped into the mud and rolled. There was precious little time before the worm came slithering around a corner, but I made sure every inch of me was covered—my hair, my face, my neck—even as the damp seeped through my clothes and chilled me down to my bones.

The crowd tittered, clearly confused by this turn of events, but I tuned it out. I was invisible now, but I still didn't have a weapon or a plan. Until I did, I couldn't waste a single shred of my attention on anything else, though I couldn't help but notice Rhys saying my name and something vaguely smug.

Now that I'd caught my breath, I hurried through the labyrinth and looked for something that could be of use other than mud. I had no weapons on me, nothing to use as a projectile beyond the clothes on my back. And my shoe would hardly be enough to fell the worm, no matter how hard I threw it.

I skidded to at stop at the end of another long straightaway, nearly falling into the pit before me. The Mother only knew how deep it went. If I fell in, I'd be trapped. But there was nothing in this labyrinth for me but mud. And the worm was coming.

So I dove.

I dipped my chin, tucking in my head to avoid landing on it just as Cassian had trained me. The mud softened my landing as I rolled, then got smoothly to my feet. There was some scattered applause from the crowd. I ignored it, intent on finding a tool. Or at least a way back up.

My eyes hadn't adjusted yet—I couldn't see what it was, but I nearly wept for joy when something hard crunched under my foot. I crouched down and dug it out. Bone. Piles of bones came into view, the remains of whatever the worm had been eating. But more importantly, my way out of here.

I could retreat farther into the darkness—there had to be a second way out—but I wouldn't be able to see. To get out, I'd have to scale the the mud walls. There was nothing to grab but mud that fell away in my hands. The bones would have to do.

I found a long, thin bone and broke it in half over my thigh. It snapped in half, even as my own body protested at the effort. But the ends were sharp. Deadly. And I felt better with a weapon in hand.

I fastened one half to my belt, then got to work setting my trap. I cracked as many bones as I could, breaking them over my knee until my thigh was probably dotted with bruises under my mud-soaked pants. I stuck them into the ground, sharp side up. When the pain of snapping them over my thigh became too much to bear, I broke more with my foot.

The crowd was roaring above me—at some point I was vaguely aware of a taunt from Amarantha and something else smug from Rhys. But I was too intent on what I was doing to care.

By the time it was done, my hands ached and stung, covered in scrapes from bone shards. The trap was set, but I still had work to do. None of this would matter if I didn't have a way back out. I pressed the last few long bones into the sides of the pit, a makeshift stepladder to haul myself out. That is, if they didn't snap under my full weight and send me falling onto the spikes I'd set up below. I fastened as many more bone fragments to my belt as I dared, hoping they'd prove useful later.

It had to work, if only to spare me the embarrassment of being killed by my own trap in front of an audience.

The bones wobbled under my weight as I scrambled up the makeshift ladder. My stomach flipped, the feeling too familiar after climbing up trees with too-thin branches. Before I could fall, I heaved myself upwards. I flopped forward, landing inelegantly on my stomach. But I'd made it.

Pulling the bone-spears from my belt, I pressed them into the mud so they jutted out sideways. They'd force the worm to slow down as it rounded these corners. It would buy me some time, a few precious seconds.

Now it was just a matter of baiting the worm into the trap.

I unfastened the last bone, holding it out like a sword, and stalked down the trench. With the dull roar of the crowd and my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, I could barely pick out the slithering sound the worm made as it moved. My instincts were screaming at me to go faster, but years of hunting had trained me to ignore them, to look and listen before every single step.

As I rounded a corner, it slithered by, completely unaware of me. I'd change that in a moment. Gritting my teeth, I cut open a gash along the side of my arm. It was small, but if the worm's sense of smell was as acute as I suspected, a few drops would be enough.

Leaving blood behind me in a trail, I ran.

The mud sucked my feet down, and my legs were groaning with the effort to pull my feet out with every step. The squelching sound seemed to echo in my ears, drowning nearly everything else out. I'd kick off my boots and run barefoot if I had to. I prayed it wouldn't come to that.

The trench didn't seem to end, and I'd half-convinced myself I'd spent the rest of my immortal life running from the worm when the pit opened up wide before me. I dove again.

But this time, my energy was sapped. I put every last drop of strength into the leap, but I didn't travel quite far enough, landing too close to spikes. I barely managed to remember to tuck my head and avoid slamming it into the mud.

A bone shard dug into my arm as I flipped myself over, crisscrossing the first gash with another one, tearing open the flesh all the way from my shoulder to my elbow. I screamed. Tears pricked at my eyes.

I scrambled back, away from the mouth of the pit, not thinking, just seeking the darkness on instinct. Even with pain clouding my mind, I knew darkness was safe. Bone-spear in hand, I pushed myself deeper into the worm's den.

I turned around just in time to watch the worm plummet after me into the pit. The wet, crunching noise that followed would replay in my nightmares for the rest of my days, the worst thing I'd ever heard since that very first snap of a rabbit's neck.

But the worm didn't move.

Out of habit, I reached towards my thigh for a hunting knife, ready to fight through the exhaustion to skin and butcher a kill, the way I'd done at the end of countless long days in the woods. But for once, I didn't have to.

I staggered forward, still clutching the bone-sword in my uninjured hand. The crowd was cheering, but the only thing I could focus on other than the pain was the gentle brush of talons at the edge of my mind. I let my shields down—it was a wonder I'd even managed to keep them up this long.

The wave of relief down the bond was so strong I nearly lost my grip as I climbed back out of the pit. But Rhys wasted no time, pressing his talons deeper to take away the pain from the wound in my arm. It cleared my head, at least somewhat.

As I walked back through the labyrinth, Rhys said, I have never been more grateful to have the bravest mate in Prythian.

And I had never been more tired of being brave. Yet again, I'd found myself in danger, setting a trap and killing a beast just to keep myself and the people I cared about alive. Rhys had been right that the task had played to my strengths—at the end of it all, the worm's labyrinth of muddy trenches wasn't any different from the labyrinth of snow and ice I hunted in each winter. For a while in the Spring Court, I'd thought I'd finally put hunting behind me, but after finding out that had all been a lie, ending up right back where I'd started was so much more infuriating.

"Well," Amarantha said with a little smirk as I approached the platform, "I suppose anyone could have done that."

The words broke the dam that had been straining to hold back my overwhelming rage. My lips pulled back from my teeth, I snarled like a faerie, took a few running steps, and hurled the bone-spear at her.

It landed just in front of her, embedded in the mud, quivering and splattering filth onto her gown. I nearly screamed in frustration—I'd been aiming for her heart, but my strength was too depleted to throw the bone far enough.

But then Rhys dropped his shields completely, and from his side of the bond, a wave of the best feeling in the world washed over me. I didn't recognize it at first, but it was warm and golden and beautiful, something far too good to exist in this hellhole Under the Mountain. Even as I wanted to let myself melt into the feeling, I struggled to find a name for it.

A sob nearly escaped me when I realized what it was: love.

Amarantha was picking up a piece of parchment and saying something about it, but I paid her no attention, just focused on the way Rhys's mind curled around mine. I love you, too, I said back, wishing that as I did it, I could look at him and not the see the mask, just this once.

But before that he'd called me brave, and something about it had been familiar. As Amarantha continued on with some nonsense about wagers, I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what it was about the word "brave" that had stuck in my mind. I'd heard it before, somewhere significant.

I drew enough strength from the feeling of Rhys's mind against mine to remember. But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare. I had been brave enough to dare to come Under the Mountain, and there was only one thing that had truly felt like a blessing since I'd arrived, the feeling he'd just sent me through the bond.

And it was the answer to the riddle.

I turned my attention back to Amarantha, who was saying, "…and just one person said you would win." I knew exactly who that person was, and it was all the confirmation I needed that I was right.

"By the way," I said, my voice strong as it rang through the arena and carried over the crowd, my cocky tone making me sound just a bit like my mate, "the answer to the riddle is love. And Tamlin isn't my High Lord—that honor belongs to Rhysand."

The whole room was instantly plunged into darkness. There were screams of terror from the crowd, but I wasn't the least bit afraid. This was the darkness that sang in Rhys's veins, the same power that had greeted me like an old friend the first time I'd set foot in the Night Court.

On the platform where Rhys was standing, I could just barely make out the outline of membranous wings, razor-sharp talons, and raven feathers, as if the darkness was letting me see through it, allowing me a glimpse of the monster that lurked underneath it all.

I smiled at it.

I could feel the sense of victory, though I wasn't sure if it was entirely mine or Rhys's or something that belonged to the magic I'd just released. But regardless of where it originated, I knew exactly what it was.

This was Night Triumphant.

#feysand #feyre archeron #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home

[camlannpod]

Character Playlist: Gwen (Shújūn) Liu

Number four in our character playlist series, this time for episode 4, which is focused on our beloved Gwen / Shújūn. Like the other playlists for Dai, Morgan and Perry, I'll be going through track by track and talking a bit more about Gwen's character and why I included these specific songs. Enjoy!

1.Mirror Mirror by Juniper Vale

Followed me into a dream And twirled me out of time Down a trail of twisted tales That mythemized my mind All my memories they ring a bell But taper with each toll Mirror, mirror who am I now? I don't know

Like everyone, Gwen is struggling with identity in this apocalypse. Especially as a woman who grew up in Hong Kong and is now stranded in the UK, with no way to know what's happened to her friends and family, being judged and shaped by a British story, she's being pulled in a lot of different directions at once. For her, it feels like a very strange waking dream. She's probably the most Alice in Wonderland character in the series.

2. Paper Mache by Iris Lune

I almost lost everything I got to this Scratch at my soul, I clench my fist Counting the lights on my way out There is no time to lose, must replay the scene

Fundamentally Gwen is a survivor. She was alone in a monster-infested wilderness for far too long, and as to what happened to the other survivors she was with? It wasn't pretty. Gwen is the definition of that quote about hope being covered in blood and mud and getting up again anyway.

3. Eastward of Eden by Amelia Day

Our children, they spread to outnumber the stars Oh, Eastward of Eden, where day turns to dark Dark Leave it all, leave it all, leave it all behind

The world ended. And again, Gwen in particular feels lost in an alien and foreign landscape, completely disconnected from the world she knew. She has family in the UK - aunts and cousins, but she only moved to Leicester for university. Now she's 6,000 miles from Hong Kong and trapped, forced to forge a new path for herself with no one there to help her. And on top of all of that, she's inherited this strange, massive power that influences her interactions with everything and everyone she meets.

4. All Things Devour by aeseaes

worms and spiders spin inside her like the story make me holy this thing all things devours

Gwen, like the others in the gang with Names, has a very conflicted relationship with Guinevere. She sees the name as a tool, a weapon in her arsenal that's helped her survive. But she's also painfully aware that she's dancing with fire, and she's seen the ways that her Name puts her and the people she loves in danger, too. She worries that one day she'll put the costume on and not be able to take it off.

5. Sad Forever by Lauv

'Cause lately, I've been in the backseat to my own life Trying to take control, but I don't know how to I don't wanna be sad forever I don't wanna be sad no more I don't wanna wake up and wonder What the hell am I doing this for?

Gwen is a woman whose actions speak louder than words. She has to be careful around Perry, Morgan and Dai because she's a stranger and she needs the shelter they offer. But privately, she's determined not to give into fear or despair, despite all the grief and horror she's suffered. She's so frustrated by the way she's being pulled around this apocalypse like a puppet, and she's determined to take the reins.

6. Only Lonely by The Ballroom Thieves

She knows I have a tendency I make mountains out of stones And with that timber, burn a hundred fires

The first time they meet, Morgan brings Gwen back to reality. Morgan's stubbornness, her directness and her anger help snap Gwen out of the daydream of the story and back into reality. Gwen finds Morgan fascinating, and funny, and grounding like nothing and no one else she's ever met. Whenever Gwen is scared of getting lost in the clouds and being unable to come back, Morgan anchors her.

7. On Board by Alana Henderson

I'll be the figurehead On your ship's bow I'll be the last glimpse of a topsail As we go down I'll be waiting on the seabed Repeating the words Don't forget (you said), ships were not built to be safe

Gwen is maybe more conscious than Morgan of how explosive and dangerous to both of them their closeness can be - the way that others might see it as a threat, the way their own stories might react in ways they can't predict. And despite this, despite knowing that Morgan is an objectively dangerous woman to her, Gwen can't help but be drawn to her.

8. Throw Me in the Water by WILD

Pushin' away Only gets me closer Fallin' fast Can we move it slower?

Morgan is not good at creating relationships. Gwen is amazing at making new friends, and Gwen can see all the ways that Morgan prickles and pushes her away. Gwen chooses to ignore the spiky armour Morgan wears. If anything, she finds it an interesting challenge. Morgan is the wild untamed stallion and Gwen is the horse girl in this movie. Gwen desperately wants to untangle the knot that Morgan is and see what lies underneath, again, despite all the danger that presents.

9. We Will All Be Changed by Seryn

We look for home, but we'll never know Distance will grow, but I'll always know

What happened to Hong Kong and her dad, Kai, is a huge unanswered question that lingers over Gwen's head every day, this unresolved grief that she has to get up every day and live with. But she keeps going, in the hope that one day she'll answer it.

#gwen liu #Shújūn Liu #camlann #camlann podcast #we're gonna pretend that this was on time it's fiiiiine

[scienceoftheidiot]

Prompts? Snippets? Love while ao3 is down? Maybe some badass Ed after he lost his alchemy? Something self-indulgent?

Aaahh thank you !

So I don't write much Ed BUT I was actually planning to have exactly that (Ed being badass after he lost his alchemy) in a Royai fic. Except the fic is in two parts, and this would be the second part, and first part is not posted yet because not finished yet xD

Soooo I guess this counts as a snipper even if I wrote it just now (thanks!)

Spoiler warning for an upcoming fic of mine, I guess, I'll add more context under the cut, I'm sorry about this, I still hope you like this and Ed is badass enough 😁

So the fic is an AU where Roy stays blind after Promised Day, the stone doesn't work/Truth refuses to heal him. He's thus dismissed from the army, but is asked for his help (new powerful alchemy !) by Scar and Miles. Roy being Roy he jumps on the occasion (doesn't work that well of course but that's another story).

Anyway, second part, Roy asks for Ed's help : Ed knows alchemy, even if he can't practice it anymore, it'll be far easier for him to take soil samples and do reconnaissance alone, Ed is restless in Resembool and Roy doesn't want to show himself too much in Ishval. Except to actually use alchemy he needs to be there.

So here they are :

"Fuck, why did I agree to this."

"Change the record, Fullmetal. You've said this over fifty times since we boarded the train."

"Wouldn't have had to suffer the train if you'd let me drive."

"My car, my rules. Only one person gets to drive it, and it's not you. Now, where --"

"Well at least it's not you either."

"Thanks for that, Fullmetal. Where is --"

"Stop calling me that. That's my state alchemist name. No alchemy, no alchemist name. And above all, I am not a dog of the military anymore, Colonel."

"Well, me neither, so you can ditch the Colonel. Where's the damned field, Edward?"

"You're walking on it, Mustang."

"Ah."

Roy sighed and shook his head, then crouched, placing his hand on the ground. The dirt was dry, flaky. Not sandy -- that was a bit of improvement, at least -- but it did feel barren.

"How does it look?"

"Like nothing. Just dirt and stones, all the way until the cliff. It's half collapsed, by the way. Doesn't look like anything has ever grown on there."

Roy got up and brushed his pants.

"Registers say it was an orange tree orchard, before the war."

Finally, Fullmetal -- Edward, call him Edward -- fell silent.

For a short while.

"You're sure? There's not even a tree trunk."

"If you can read a map, then yeah. I guess the last bits were scavenged as firewood by survivors. Or else it was burnt to ashes."

"Did you --"

"I don't know. It's possible. I have been to these parts. But I've burnt a lot of places, and the name didn't ring a bell. Can't use visual cues to trigger my memory, so I can't tell you."

Ed stayed silent, until he growled.

"I don't understand how you can speak so lightly of this."

Roy shrugged.

"Thought you'd be used to that, after all this time. Now, shall we get to work, or ...?"

"Fine." Silence fell again for a little while, and Roy could have thought Ed was pouting, if he didn't hear him rummage through his things.

"So, about the samples I had collected during my last trip here. Your notes say the dirt lacks a great deal of accessible nitrogen and phosphorus to be able to grow anything. By the way, I'm glad you're using Hawkeye for this. Reading your chicken scratch has always been a struggle."

"Says the right handed boy who wrote his reports with his left. This was the fastest way. And you know her last name is not Hawkeye anymore, don't you?"

"I'm never calling her that. She's too good for it."

Roy scoffed.

"Gotta tell her that. Okay," he frowned. "What was in there, then?"

"Silica. Ammonia. Wait, doesn't ammonia contain --"

"You didn't read the notes before we came here, did you? It's about the availability. Most plants can't do anything with ammonia. Usually you'd try and plant specific ones who will make it into a useful nitrogen compound, using fungal symbiosis. But we don't have time for that, it'll take years. And those need a lot of good irrigation, which we don't have."

"You become a botanist, lately?"

"I've had a lot of free time. And my wife has the most beautiful reading voice."

Roy heard Ed choke on a groan, and smirked.

Ed ranted again : "You're the all powerful alchemist, now. Why not pull humidity straight from the air and water it this way?

"I'll do it to kickstart it, but this is not feasible long term. You want me to stay here and play sprinkler all summer? I hope you are bulletproof. Riza would never --"

As if on cue, something that was definitely a gunshot rang, and Roy was violently pushed to the ground. Roy coughed in the dirt, trying to push himself back up, only for Ed to crush him back down as new shots fired.

"Don't move, moron, we're being shot at, from up front. The cliff."

Fullmetal was half laying on him, his left leg crushing Roy's right. Damn was that automail heavy.

Adrenalin kicking in -- he realized he was getting back to his old self, panic being only a buzz at the back of his mind -- Roy thought fast. He was supposed to protect them both. He was the one who could. He wriggled to free his arms, clapped, and slammed his hands to the ground, hiding them behind a wall he hoped would be thick enough to stop bullets. And set in the right direction.

Gunfire kept raining against it.

"Can you see them?"

Roy was free of Edward's weight, and he heard him shuffle, close.

"Ishvalans. Seems like there's only two of them, and they look like kids."

"Yeah, I bet. They're wasting ammunition like crazy, there. Tell me. Where are they, precisely?"

"You're not using alchemy against them."

"Oh, sure, watch me."

"No killing on my watch."

"I never kill if I can avoid it. Not anymore."

"You're a blind flamethrower. I wouldn't bet on that. Don't move." Edward shouted "HEY! Hey, guys!"

He was answered by a new burst of gunfire.

"Fullmetal!" Roy frantically felt around until he caught Ed's trouser leg. "Stay put --"

"Let go of me! HEY GUYS!"

"For fuck's sake, Ed --"

"Shut! Up!" Edward walked away from him. "Guys, maybe you don't want to annoy us too much. See, my friend, here --"

"He's the flame alchemist!"

"He's killed our family, and now we're going to kill him! Give him to us and we'll let you go."

Roy's insides twisted. The voices sounded very young indeed. He was opening his mouth to answer, anything, when Ed kicked him in the ribs.

He was lucky he used his right foot. Ouch.

Fullmetal was right. Maybe it wasn't his time to speak.

"Haven't you heard your elders --"

"Fuck the elders. If they want to mingle with the enemy, fine for them. Death awaits the collaborators as well as the perpetrators."

"Kids, we --"

"We're not kids! Not anymore! We want his head, now!"

"You've heard of the Flame Alchemist, kids, alright. You even know what he looks like. You know who I am?"

"We don't care. Give him to us, now."

Ed's foot nudged Roy.

"When I hit you next," Edward spoke from between his teeth, "you clap and make me a weapon. Scary one. I just want to freak them out."

"Right," Roy got his hands ready, frenetically thinking about what he could pull from the ground that could make a good weapon, that would also be scary. Wait, if it needed to be scary, then he wouldn't need it to be a good weapon, right?

"Ever heard of the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

The kids didn't answer immediately.

"Prove it!"

Ed shoved his foot into Roy's ribs again, and Roy clapped, hearing the kid clap just a split second later. Time for the static to subdue, Ed's feet sounded against the dry soil, two steps. There was a high pitched sound as he picked the weapon Roy had thought to make.

"Wanna fight?"

"We have guns."

Their voice was less assured, now. Edward was walking, probably towards them.

"You think I can't deflect them with my all powerful alchemy? Look at this! I could probably slaughter you from here. You don't want to see how good I am."

Ah, Fullmetal knew how to brag, alright.

He seemingly kept walking, until a scurry of running feet sounded, running away from them.

"We'll come back when you're alone, Flame Alchemist. We'll catch you, tie you up and burn you!"

"It's all you deserve!"

The shouted threats were drawing away.

"Go help rebuilding, kids! Killing him won't solve anything!" Edward yelled at them.

Roy couldn't help but smile. Ed, too, was still a kid. A good one.

Silence fell again. Roy stayed put until Edward dragged his feet back next to him -- his left leg adding a characteristic sound he had learnt to notice.

"Obsidian? A fucking obsidian sword? You had nothing else?"

Ed grabbed Roy's hand and unceremoniously pulled him back on his feet.

The kid had strength.

"I wasn't working with much. What do you want me to do with silica --"

"Fuck, Colonel, you need to think outside the box. I could have pulled so much --"

"You're insane. If Riza learns about this --"

"I saved your fucking life, she will hear about it, believe me."

"Oh, and remind me who made the weapon?"

"It'd have broke as soon as I tried to slice anything with it! Come on!"

"You wanted to scare them. A black blade --"

"Whatever would have scared them." Ed's voice dropped. "They were barely fourteen. Not an age to hold guns."

"Rich, coming from you, Fullmetal," Roy said, his expression, he hoped, betraying his words.

"I never used guns," Edward snickered.

.

If you've read until here thank you ! Feel free to send me prompts while AO3 is down 🥲

#prompt #writing #fma #edward elric #roy mustang #sassydefendorflower #fanfic

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

im not sure if ur still accepting some h/c with god!reader themes but a brainrot just wouldn't stop in my head

reader, a god who fell from Celestia, had roamed the place where they could not find then--Khaenri'ah. Khaenri'ah, having been found out to have hidden reader, was cursed.

Reader roamed what turned to be the abyss for years and years until they stumble upon a lost boy, scared and poisoned by the deep darkness.

God reader, taking pity, had helped guide the poor boy into managing that accumulated poison and slowly form into a monstrous form.

you called it foul legacy. foul legacy likes you.

time passes by and you didn't know how you've changed the fate of a young boy and an abyssal power in one fell swoop. years later, you've come out of your hole to wander around.

you come across the boy, now a man, wandering around the geo archon's land. he invites you to tea and you accept.

he transforms into the creature you had helped give life to and said creature hugs you like an old friend.

you journey with them, the man and the abyssal creature, heading towards his homeland.

you are stopped midway by a pillar overhanging where you are stood. the creature tries to intervene, to help you, its cries and whimpers amongst the storm of heavenly kaleidoscopic waves lost to you.

"you are a danger to this world."

gods, fallen even like you, are not destructive or strong because of their grand ability in combat.

they are destructive because they do not follow the world's laws, the world's fate.

"Run!"

teyvat has its own laws and one of them is that all who reside in it have a set path that cannot be changed.

you ignored that and changed someone's fate, a boy named Ajax who was destined to meet Skirk and swore loyalty to the Cryo Archon.

"we shall correct this path, starting from you."

the last of your vision was a lone blue orb staring desperately into your own resigned eyes.

*eats this in one bite* anon, you are brilliant, i adore this <33

"You are a danger to this world." those were the words you heard when you fell from the heavens, down to earthly soil and rock. it hurt coming down, as gods are not exempt from feeling pain and woe, yet when you hit the ground the only thing you felt was a quiet sense of relief, thankful to be released from your Celestial shackles at least. no longer would you have to deal with the stuck-up ideals of your older brethren, nor their judgmental stares from behind as they whispered about you and your useless, uncanny ability to change fate

you had been freed that day. but time catches up with everyone, even gods, and out of all fates your own is the one you can't alter

the last thing you say before you tell Foul Legacy to run is "I'm sorry", a teary smile spreading across your cheeks, and then you're buried beneath heavenly stone and principles, where no mortal could ever find you

but as a god of Celestia, you cannot die so easily, even underneath all those cages and chains of punishment, so instead you sleep, perhaps forever. you can faintly sense your surroundings- a distant, cold melody of starlight and raindrops and- ah, the Abyss, of course that's where they'd send you. sudden loneliness struck your heart, being taken away from Ajax and Foul Legacy, who you've come to love

should gods love? probably not, but you've never been good at following the rules

at least it's peaceful here, your mind drifting eternally. you're not sure how much time has passed, only that it's been a while, your consciousness waxing and waning like the moon. perhaps this was your destiny, as a Heavenly Sinner, the rest of your life doomed to silence and solitude until you eventually give up on thinking at all

you're dreaming when the scratching noises begin; dreaming so deeply at first you think it's just a trick of sound. but they get stronger, gradually, until they're positively ringing against the stone around you, clawing and tearing at the rock cages, and suddenly something cracks and light flows around you. you vaguely feel your body being lifted into the light before the pain sets in. it hurts to move, hurts to breathe, have you even been breathing the time you've been asleep? and yet even as you struggle to inhale and clench your fingers, your body feeling weak and frail, you're surrounded by a sense of undeniable security. when you finally have the strength to glance up, you meet a familiar, crystalline gaze filled with adoration and relief. Foul Legacy leans closer to bump his head against your cheek, claws cradling you like glass as he simultaneously purrs and cries at your presence, and you hear a growling, rumbly voice speak in your ears

"Found you..."

ah, the gods forgot about the Abyss- the chaotic, wild Abyss- which aspires to tear fate to shreds and leave it in the dust

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #chit chat #anon #i LOOOOOVE you as a god there's just so much to DO with it!!!! #i'm not sure exactly where i was going with this but it turned out cool methinks!!! #foul legacy did not stop looking for you #he willingly went back into the Abyss to look for you and he found you and now you're reunited #hehuehehe yes i like this this good delicious #short scenario #other's stuff #FAVE

[starry-blue-echoes]

So, before I get into some of the specific ideas I have about the StarSwap AU, I would like to get a general clarification first.

Specifically, when do the swaps happen? 

Because in the posts I’ve seen about Jotaro in Josuke’s body, the Jotaro involved is the one from the beginning of Stardust Crusaders, having just discovered Star Platinum. 

This matched my original assumption, that the Joestars were swapped to and from the beginning of their respective adventures.

However, in the many posts about Jospeh in Gionro’s body the writing suggests that this Jospeh has been already been through part of his bizarre adventure, at least to the point of getting the poison rings.

This goes against my initial assumption. 

So, when do the swaps take place? At what point in each bizarre adventure to the Joestar swap from, and where do they swap to?

(because I imagine Giorno won’t swap to partway through Jospeh’s adventure, since that would rob him of even more context for what is going on)

In addition to the Josuke/Jotaro and Giorno/Jospeh swaps, this will also have a pretty big effect on the Jolene/Jonathan swap. Depending on if the swap happens before or after Jolyne scratches herself with the stand arrow, either Jolyne or Jonathan won’t get a stand imeadiatley, and if Jonathan swaps away two early, he might never learn hamon. 

(Hope this doesn’t come of as me being too critical. I really like this AU. But I also like a consistent timeline.)

Don't worry, I'm honestly surprised it took someone this long to ask about it, I haven't been that clear about it jsrbvjsbrjvs-

The one solid consistency through all of them is that the Jojo in question is sent over at minimum a week before the adventure kicks off properly, and..... admittedly how much they remember from their respective parts is a bit more inconsistent, but this is the general outline for each:

Jonathan gets sent over sometime after his training with Zeppeli begins but before the fight with Tarkus and Bruford. I wanted the Hamon Users to be able to actually use their Hamon and to give them something to put them on equal footing with the Stand Users. When he's sent over into Jolyne's shoes, he's either in jail awaiting the trial, or he's sent over a day or two before the accident that landed her in jail in the first place

Joseph, similarly to Jonathan, is sent over pretty late in his training on Air Supplena. He also knows about the existence of the Aja, but it's still before the fight with Esidisi, which I think is about a 3ish day window. He then wakes up a week before Giorno would've met Koichi and Bucciarati and spends most of his time generally trying to figure shit out and doing what he can to make Giorno's life a bit nicer for when the kid gets back

I'll admit..... Jotaro's exact Send Over is a bit more difficult to pin down. I want it to be at least a few days into the journey to Egypt so he has at least a basic understanding of Stands but is still very very lost and inexperienced in the matter. He arrives in the Higashikata's house a week before the first episode and thus a week before the first day of high school starts

In contrast to that, Josuke's is much easier. He hasn't started any of Part 4 since he's already familiar with Crazy D, and wakes up a week before Holly gets sick. While he doesn't lock himself in a cell, his Off behavior and the minor things he does with Crazy D eventually get Holly to call her father because she knows he's more experienced with Magic Shit

Giorno's is also pretty easy, he gets sent over a few days before the start of Part 5 because he's also already aware of Stands, and wakes up a few days before Part 2 kicks off but after Joseph and Erina had moved to New York

Jolyne though....... that's where I'm a bit more unsure. Definitely a few days into the prison stay, so she's got Stone Free, but I'm torn between having her come from before or after Jotaro's visit. And then the exact when she arrives in the past is even more undecided. Definitely after Danny's died, but honestly it could be anywhere in between the days afterward and a few months before Dio attempts his second patricide (Jolyne's really getting the isekai experience isn't she-)

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