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sonofthesaiyans · 1 year

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Unpopular AOT Opinions

Not that I have ever held much in common with the rest of the AOT fandom, especially as someone who has called themselves an Ex-Fan for the last five years.........Nevertheless, a few thoughts that sure to leave the typical AOT fanatic a bit salty.

* Eren Yeager is actually one of the worst anime protagonists. Even back when I was on his side, I never found him to be an especially phenomenal character. There was a time I liked Eren Yeager, but I was never ever enamored by him. And you know a character is bad when he has his foolish fans insisting that he was completely in the right to wage genocide on the earth and should have finished the job.

* Likewise, Mikasa is still one of the worst anime female protagonists. While not an outright awful character, she is far too one-dimensional due to her singleminded fixation on Eren. Even after he goes off the deep end. I don’t give a damn about her feelings about Eren. And you should not either, Eremika fans.

* Attack on Titan’s worldbuilding is crap. We don’t even know the name of some districts of the Walls yet and there’s much of them still unexplored. We know about the nations of Paradis, Marley, and Hizuru, the last of which NEVER made an onscreen appearance. And we certainly didn’t get enough development of Marley as the main enemy faction, they never felt like a fully fleshed out plot point. They’re one-dimensional. And never grew beyond an explanation for the Titans’ origins. That’s to say nothing of the world beyond Marley, or of other Eldian survivors worldwide. Or the Mid-East Aliiance!

* Erwin should have inherited the Colossal Titan. Armin doesn’t utilize his nearly enough to justify his possession of it. Erwin almost certainly would never have wasted such a powerful advantage.

* Annie was revived too late. Far too last minute for her motivations to feel organic and her arc to feel properly played out. She should have died in Season One and her Titan consumed by one of her captors. Plus her popularity is unwarranted, especially once we learned how unremorseful she is over her crimes.

* I don’t care about Onyankopon. I’m not saying he’s a bad character, he’s not even a character with any characteristics we can really hate. But I can’t be bothered to remember he’s there half the time. Probably because there’s little he can do to balance out the many bad elements of the final arcs. He’s hardly a critical player.

* NicoSasha is one of the WORST pairings ever conceived, mostly because they got zero onscreen time together aside from a single flashback. See this is the stuff you idiots need to consider before you kill off one half of a pairing you want to push as a relevant plot point.

* The Uprising Arc is largely irrelevant. I can’t be bothered to even look at that part of the story with more than passing acknowledgement. Why do you people get your rocks off at the sight of Kenny Ackerman, anyway? Is he somebody I was supposed to care about either?

* The Warhammer Titan, as I touched upon in an older post, is a total waste of time. If you’re gonna round out the Nine Titans, you can’t afford for any one of them to be a footnote in the story. And that’s all it and its wielder Lara Tybur are; a footnote in the story. Does it honestly even need to exist in the narrative? Kind of makes me wonder why Liberio was even a part of the story. Could’ve saved us a TON of grief on that one.

* I hate Mikasa’s S4 redesign. She looks far too masculine and not in a good way. I have no problem with such things, but in her case she just does not look good. And Sasha’s S4 look is one that sits poorly too with me now. Probably because of its obvious association with the miserable events of that season.

* Falco..........More on him later.

* Ymir Fritz is one of the LEAST engaging plot points of the series and I think a shoddy explanation for the Titans’ origins. It’s already a needlessly complicated story as it is, but I feel nothing for this walking little spoiler. And don’t get me started on this idiotic revelations in the finale.

* Lindsay Seidel’s performance as Gabi is every bit as abysmal as the character she agreed to play. And I never want to hear her voice in anything to follow her work on Titan ever again.

* And that goes equal ways to Bryce Papenbrook and his overrated ass.

* They did Hange Zoe dirty in Season Four. I am PISSED they framed her as such an inept commander as they did. It definitely hurt my otherwise warm opinion of her. Fucking disrespectful that they’d waste her like that.

* Fuck this grey morality BS the fans keep pushing. I do NOT appreciate being made to hate Paradis by the end of the series, the faction we were supposed to be rooting for early on. I am REALLY not kosher with this at all. Not having any true heroes to root for by the end destroyed my ability to hold on to even a speck of genuine investment. * I did NOT approve of Artur Braus and his family forgiving Gabi Braun. You do NOT place the murderer of your child above said child. That wasn’t a show of moral integrity. That was failure to honor the memory of the person who they owed justice to. Treating them in the right for how they handled that situation is not as noble as Isayama frames it as. Anyone want to try to disagree? * The Thunder Spears are actually pretty pathetic weapons, rarely ever landing an outright kill. * The Rumbling by SiM? DOGSHIT. I hate it because of the season and opening it’s attached to. You can’t polish a turd with this grunge crap.

* My War is also an extremely forgettable AOT theme.

* Hiroyuki Sawano’s music is the only consistently good element of the series aside from the aforementioned. And it too is poisoned by its association with this. Guilt By Association.

* Jean Kirstein isn’t nearly as interesting as fans have been making him out to be in S4. I dare say I stopped caring if he would die well before that disastrous finale. The same goes for Connie Springer, who had no business surviving this due to having zero plot. Does that count as an unpopular opinion? I know some people tire of Sasha’s potato gag, but Connie’s hardly a funny character on his own.

* Hajime Isayama is DEFINITELY a closeted fascist.

* Studio MAPPA’s animation is hideous compared to WIT’s.

* People like Yelena. I do not. Why does she exist again? * Eren’s descent into villainy is one of the worst bad calls in anime history, right up there with everything involving Gabi Braun. Both of these characters brought down AOT.

* Gabi Braun’s fanbase represents some of the biggest fucking ASSHOLES I’ve ever put up with. If you’re a fan of this character, fucking get help, because I’m not listening to your pathetic attempts to defend something so unnecessary as if she’s the second coming of Christ. The fanaticism from her end is incomprehensible.

* Pieck Finger is a wholly unnecessary character. She’s not even that cute. She’s just there. No plot, no point. * Ymir’s reasons for leaving Historia and getting eaten for her troubles? Total horseshit. Like this was an egregious waste of someone set up to be a much bigger presence in the story. This was when the fanbase should’ve deserted the entire thing. Just the first of many abandoned subplots and character arcs. Is that an unpopular stance? I don’t know, but I’m going to count it anyway.

* And finally.........THIS STORY ENDED WITH THE OCEAN.

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literalliterature · 4 months

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🎯 🍀 🍩 for the oc thing, and all of them bcus i love your ocs lmao

Hiiiiii Opal sorry for the wait on this!!!

🎯 -What do they do best?

Keet: She would like the answer to be "fighting," because she feels that that is her only real utility, but given that once again she was kicked (temporarily) out of officer training she can't really make that claim yet. She is actually excellent at singing and doing shit like, fucking, memorizing entire epics and learning languages on the fly, but these skills come so naturally to her that she almost doesn't feel like they count.

Yonder: Answered!

Aisling: Connecting with animals. She gravitates toward them, they gravitate toward her, she has a lot of practice reading them and is naturally empathetic toward them. If she only ever had animals (and Cassius) to interact with for the rest of her life, she'd be more than happy. She's also a very good dancer, albeit out of practice and without the stamina she used to have.

Onyx: Oh......probably screaming like an absolute madman to intimidate anyone and anything around them lol.

🍀 What originally inspired the OC?

Keet: So, the current version of Keet is actually not the first one to exist. She was originally created for a different game, specifically using the Dungeon World system, and was not a selkie but a different kind of merfolk shapeshifter at the time--specifically a Scottish creature called a ceasg. Long story short, my GM at the time (hi Gray!) and I made a homebrew race that was effectively immortal, with the caveat that coming back from the dead cost the individual their memories. Everything else rose from there.

Yonder: I'm gonna keep it real with you, at the time I really wanted to make a character based on the song "Rainmaker" by Bruce Springsteen vksdjbdljvbslb. Also, yk, religious trauma and eco-anxiety, as ever.

Aisling: Listen. Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002) rocked my shit when I was 8 years old and I have not gotten over it since. I will not elaborate (except in DMs if you want lmao).

Onyx: Another character originally from a Dungeon World oneshot! In DW, druids have powers based on the specific type of biome to which they are connected (a bit like non-revised rangers in D&D), and one of the biome options that you can pick is the Stinking Mire. I interpreted this to be a tar pit, gave them as much fossil theming as my heart desired (a lot), and off I went.

🍩 Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

Keet: I'm not sure she has any specific individual that she considers to be like, a personal enemy, with the exception of one of the members of the cult the gang has been fighting. This is because said cult member murdered her friend Alcaeus quite gruesomely and in a way that was pretty traumatic for her. (They Raised Dead on him though he's fine now lmao.) She does have a friendly rivalry with someone back home as well.

Yonder: They are going to rip the Raven Queen a new asshole if it's quite literally the last thing they ever do.

Aisling: I haven't quite fleshed out who this person is yet but one of the wardens in particular.

Onyx: There was a faction of people who betrayed them and framed them for regicide, many of whom were fellow nights whom they trusted or admired previously, and they all had their shit wrecked when Onyx fulfilled their insane vengeance quest.

Thank youuuuuuuuu ily

oc ask meme

#keet #yonder #onyx #a #thegempage #ask meme

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theaceofskulls · 1 year

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This is going to be a weird one because I have to start by addressing the other War- in the room. That’s right, a Warhammer book talk that looks over and says “Hey, let’s talk about World of Warcraft”

Anyways, before I get to that, here’s the subject of this post, Dynasty of Monsters by David Annandale.

And here’s where I immediately begin talking about another book, Before the Storm by Christie Golden.

Both of these book involve the tense relationships between undead and their living counterparts and attempted reconciliations and potentially finding a new path forward as well as the forces that undermine those attempts at peace.

In Before the Storm, there’s a lot going on as it centers itself between two expansions of WoW, tracing how relationships between the two major factions are breaking down after their battles alongside each other to save the world.

This is almost the exact inverse of that, being released right before the new edition of Age of Sigmar where the setting shifted to here, Ghur the Realm of Beasts. Instead of major factions, it centers in on a smaller group, even though one of them has a named character (Lauka Vai, the Mother of Monsters) involved, further focusing on characters within the factions trying to either aid or break down the tenuous peace as they’ve joined together to repel an approach army of Beastmen.

David Annandale loves his vampire stories and as such the feel of this book is more centered on the monstrous lurking within a city built on pistons that adjusts itself on an ever shifting landscape that itself wants to eat and consume. As such a the political intrigue is slightly diminished in favor of the atmosphere of this book, evoking gothic horror alongside bestial horror, not just from the vampires.

Still, I wanted to make the comparison because the book at times feels like what I wished Before the Storm could’ve been. You can feel how fragile the peace is but it doesn’t come down to the ego of one named character (I’m so sorry Blizzard did all of that to you Sylvanas), there’s a lot of tension resting on each side, and it’s actually interesting to see how the two factions taking center stage are divided into different groups.

Sadly, while I do think it has moments of greatness, I feel like the novel doesn’t have enough breathing room and the plot moves quicker than it feels like it should at points towards a great conclusion but with a lot of events occurring rapidly. The book itself begins moving shockingly fast from Ghur’s landscape shifting and cutting off a caravan to it being set upon by beastmen far quicker than I feel like it should’ve been.

The book needed a little bit of the fat that feels like was trimmed for its political intrigue to fully flesh out, but it almost seemed worried about the audience getting bored and bouncing off.

There’s glimpses of a fantastic novel here that could’ve been given more time to unfold but what is there is solid and plays to its strengths. It’s hard to describe but this left me feeling slightly disappointed and yet I could easily recommend it as a book for someone looking to fill some time or get a look at the setting of the Realm of Beasts or the weird vampires that inhabit it.

#Warhammer #age of sigmar #ace's bookclub reviews

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luckhissoul · 2 years

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it’s cold outside. he’s not sure when the last time was that he had seen the sun rise, felt the warmth of it on his face. light, it felt like ages ago. the cell that they had kept him in had a small window on the stone. too high too reach, too small for anything but to know for certain that the sun was no longer coming up. was that why it was there? or was it for the times that they had seen him struggling to see through it? as they dragged so many people to their deaths just outside and he couldn’t do anything. not that he would’ve. no, he liked being alive. even in a bloody cell. there was air in his lungs, there was - light, there wasn’t anything to look forward to. the shadow has won, darkness had taken over, and anyone who hadn’t surrendered, who hadn’t turned, who still held tight to their weapons as the victory was declared. they were imprisoned, tortured, sent to die. the air outside was thick and heavy with the smell of burning flesh, death, the pitch dark of the whole world.

the dragon was defeated. they had declared it, burning the bloody dragon banner everyone to see. the dragon was defeated. and the whole world had faded. slowly until the light had gone out. the darkness swept through. and every so often people would gather some place or another to watch the dragon be paraded about. collared, he had heard. but he hadn’t seen it himself. rand had not been brought to this faction yet. he had counted the days, gone over the weeks in his head. they had subdued him, broken him, was what the whispers had said. the champion of the light had been extinguished. but then he had come to the faction, he had been paraded through the streets. and they had let mat watch, not go near to him. but watch. and light, it would seem that he was broken. making him think that he wouldn’t be able to pull any of it off. nothing was going to go according to plan. all that bloody ta’veren business, the pattern, the rolling dice in his head. all of it pointless.

but it had happened. in spite of the doubt creeping in every bloody second. they had gotten him out. they, as if the group was very big. more than half of the band had fallen in the last battle, the rest had been strung up along with any one else who had fought for the light. elayne was being held in andor, collared, too, trapped. the aiel were either slaughtered or scattered, he had heard talk about aviendha being among the scattered and the slaughtered. the wolves were restless beasts endless searching for their king. the asha’man had been turned the shadow or killed. the same with the aes sedai. egwene had fallen in battle, nynaeve, light, what had happened to her? the group was a few soldiers, min, and a bloody forsaken. who had been a go between, light, had it gotten so bad that they latched onto anyone willing? a forsaken! but lanfear swore no oath to the dark one anymore, only to herself. not the light, not the dark. the worst place to be in, wasn’t it? in the in between? but she had lived up to her word. she had gotten rand and min out and rand was no longer collared.

the collars. the aes sedai who wore them had been given them by the seanchan. they had been the few who had not fought when the light fell. just like that. the dragon’s peace broken, the world turned over. he could still feel that like a gut punch inside of him. but he had to shelve that for another day. he could’ve been protected there. that’s what tuon had said. she would keep him alive along with her people. a rare moment of vulnerability when she had reached her hand out to touch him. had she almost said please? he had left and ended up in that bloody cell. but the choice was made and he would not unmake it. but the dragon was out, the bloody dragon was out, wasn’t he? and that meant there was hope again? light, that’s the way some of them would see it. this underground ragtag army waiting for what? another last battle? that sort of defeated the whole bloody point of calling the first one that they had fought the last flaming battle.

they were alone now. min reluctantly being dragged away to gather some supplies above. she had not been a prisoner. she had been proof though, hadn’t she? that the pattern was not completely undone, not destroyed. her viewings still came. it was just him and rand now in this dank and troublesome place. light, it’s cold, the candles flicker wildly. rand sits there in silence. they had been out for nearly a week now. the eight days passing so quickly. but they hadn’t made a move. it was too dangerous to make a move. lanfear had gone. off to where? perhaps to lead the dark one right to them. perhaps. but still they waited even it mat wasn’t sure for what? his mind feels weary, light but all that stress and worrying only ever suited rand not him. but it wracked his mind almost viciously now. trying to come up with a plan but they seemed to wilt in this damp room.

he gets up from where he’s sitting to go over to rand. quiet and shaken. he looks defeated. he looks every bit the broken hero. only in the stories the hero always gets back up. even when you think he’s done. but rand wasn’t a bloody story. a light blinded fool, ugliest face he had ever seen. too flaming serious with a savior complex mat found terribly annoying. but rand was bloody human after all. he could see it all over him. human. he lifts the blankets in his hands and sets it over rand’s shoulders. “it’s wet down here.” he says quietly, before moving to sit next to him. he leans forward to catch rand’s eyes. a small smile on his face then. it feels a little forced on his face then. an amused sound comes from his throat. “think that you could do something about that?” he waits, almost eager for rand to look at him. just a look. that would be enough for him to know. know what?

he’s not expecting rand to be alright. light, how could he? but he’s expecting - he’s not entirely sure. blood and ashes, he’s not sure what he wants. maybe he should try at running an idea by him. but how would he feel about going to seanchan, maybe he could - what? convince tuon to break whatever flaming deal she had with the bloody shadow? lift the dragon banner and go to war again. that was a stupid idea. but most of his ideas started that way. all a toss of the dice really. he didn’t know he was that bloody lucky. “they told me that you made the sun shine where ever you went. you really can’t spare me some bloody consideration.” he says, tugging a little to put some of the blanket over his own lap. he waits for him. waits. - @caracarnn

#v; under the shadow #caracarnn #add to tracker #starter

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justagirl-andherbooks · 11 months

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Welcome to my first post for "Dusting Off the Bookshelf"! These posts are all about those books purchased years ago that I placed upon the shelf and never actually read. It's a problem we all have, right? The very first one that I've dusted off is:

Jill Kismet: The Complete Series by Lilith Saintcrow

Not everyone can take on the things that go bump in the night.

Not everyone tries.

But Jill Kismet is not just anyone.

She's a Hunter, trained by the best --- and in over her head.

Welcome to the night shift...

The omnibus edition of Jill Kismet contains: Night Shift, Hunter's Prayer, Redemption Alley, Flesh Circus, Heaven's Spite and Angel Town.

Started: April 24, 2023

Finished: June 8, 2023

World: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

The mechanization of this world is interesting. A whole supernatural faction of the police force always fascinates me and I would have enjoyed to read more of how they work together. Also, there is the demon underside of the city that comes alive at night, that was thrilling.

Plot: ⭐⭐⭐

There is a juicy opening that pulled me in. A mystery that left a bloody mess in its wake. I felt like the middle was muddled with the ending having to be spoon-fed to me, though. Because I hadn't been circling that at all.

Leading Lady: ⭐⭐

Jill Kismet is complex, that's for sure. She has a history of being a sex worker, of being "rescued" by a man who trained her to be a hunter of the supernatural. The same man who kinda, sorta made her make a deal with a demon so that she would never be the same afterwards.

On retrospect, she is hella interesting. It's just, I don't feel like I gained anything out of the first person point of view other than annoyance. A lot of proclaiming of badassery, exhaustion, hunger, and denial of that hunger for alcohol and liquor. It was a little like being beaten over the head that she is jaded. So much so that I was distracted from the plot and I don't feel in a good way.

Romance:⭐

She's the city gal, he's the country bumpkin who happens to be smoking hot and a werecat. They start on the wrong foot but work together, with her in the lead. And gradually he gets attached. Jill is so caught up in her own shit, though, she doesn't even realize it until it's too late. The thing is, I felt so caught up in Jill's trauma and exhaustion and snark that I didn't feel the romance either.

Side note: There is a romantic subplot outside of Jill that I would have definitely enjoyed reading.

Action: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This has plenty of action. I think there were some reviews that said the fighting scenes were difficult to follow, but I think that everything is so fast-paced that it wasn't something that distracted me.

Also, I think having a background in enjoying Anime/Manga helps flex the imagination when reading the action here.

My Personal Overall Rating: ⭐⭐

I'm honestly not in any hurry to jump back into the series.

What's keeping me from dismissing the series entirely is a hope that Kismet starts at this much of a mess on purpose and that the rest of the series will have her healing from the trauma of her time before and with her mentor Mikhail and growing into a confidant woman who can take care of herself so that she doesn't repeatedly almost kill herself while trying to solve supernatural mysteries and keeping the night side in line.

The world is interesting and I would love to see what other things can go bump in the night here. Also, the several different people that are only mentioned that Kismet regularly works with from the exorcists to the detectives who are apparently more trained than the ones she worked with in this book.

However, if I don't enjoy the main character, especially when everything is from her point of view (first person), then I may end up cutting my losses and move on.

My final thought is that I should have read this when I first bought it, twenty-somethin' me might have enjoyed it more.

Picture in the banner is of the book cover for the omnibus edition.

#readblr #bookblr #night shift by lilith saintcrow #book review #justagirl andherbooks #dusting off the bookshelf

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movedvalor · 2 years

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@diesalot, touch. for your muse to rest their forehead against mine’s.

she wears it well — disenchantment, heartbreak, grief. hope had been torn from her grasps, shoulders carrying the weight of what she formerly assumed the world to become following a life of living in factions. she believed the rumors to be true, the ill-conceived notion that solely parts of the middle and east were in ruins, entirely controlled within the confines of government-sanctioned experiments. but she’d been wrong, it may have only been pockets of the world subject to a disguised prison, but little did she know that there wouldn’t be hope elsewhere. it was long gone, prospect decimated and ripped from the depths of her ribcage. you could say it was her heart that was torn, broken, but it’s more than that. it’s as if her soul could no longer rise in aspiration or love, there’s nothing left for her — not in there, not out here. for it wasn’t long after the fence opened that her father passed, the one person capable of grounding her when she felt herself to be too much of various things, reflecting one too many traits. it would get staggering when she was younger, especially when made to conform to a mere one following a choosing ceremony or be perpetually factionless. if she hadn’t known of the experiments, factions wouldn’t have become a source of aggravation for her. it was all she’d known, it maintained order ( for the most part ) therefore she adjudged it a way to maintain peace and societal order. then the enlightenment came, and she was unable to push away the incoming feeling of betrayal, resentment.

now she resides outside chicago borders, somewhere called the jungle, in a world ravaged by chaos. vincent mancini, he’s been kind — patently determined to keep not merely himself but others alive as well. dasia could relate. she sits in a pool of roving blood, regrettably not her own as their friend lay lifeless five feet away. vincent aside, she trusted one other, and that trust met its end as soon as her friend’s throat had been chomped and severed directly from her neck. dasia isn’t revolted by the sight of blood or ravaged flesh, she’s sickened at the sight of a friend now dead. ❛ vin. . . . ❜ hands tremble against tensed quads, tear-filled eyes trained on the dirt around her knees. vincent kneels before her, she isn’t sure how long he’s been there, she hadn’t noticed when he’d approached.

without warning he’s in her space, forehead pressed to hers, their ragged, warm breaths fusing in the dead of night. overcome by the initial shocks of grief, she hadn’t recognized what had just transpired. not until the heat of his skin adapts her own temperature, not until she can nearly taste the warmth of his breath on her tongue. her pulse skyrockets, near misfires within her breast as beads of sweat collect at her nape. his touch bleeds sympathy, benevolence, it’s a touch she’s shied away from since the first time another’s hand struck — a hand she once thought to be kind and just. where she’d typically jerk away, now she doesn’t move, she’s paralyzed in a trance of triggering distress. she wants his touch to bring her peace, a touch she’s undeniably come to trust, but it only serves to fuel her chaos. maybe if she doesn’t move away, maybe if she lets this prove to her that it won’t betray her. maybe then.

#i. incoming transmission ‚ answered meme.#v. threads ‚ dasia aguilar. and there is freedom in resolute courage.#blood tw #gore tw #diesalot #mel i'm not sorry. <3 #q.

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gohyuck · 3 years

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pairing: head knight!jeno x monarch!reader (reader has genitals attributed to those considered biologically female but no pronouns are actually used)

genre: fluff, mild angst (they discuss an oncoming battle they must prepare for), smut (it’s mostly smut)

word count: 6.5k

warnings & notes (nonsexual): mentions of war/battle, mentions of injuries retained from past skirmishes, jeno is as tall as you need him to be in order to rest your head against his chest without leaning down, it’s kind of cheesy tbh they are disgustingly head-over-heels in love with each other, also a peryton is a fantasy creature that’s essentially a stag + a bird, also i know y’all must be tired of royalty aus but i swear this is almost pwp (except there’s context so there’s plot) so give it a chance (if you’re legal) i guess

warnings & notes (sexual): oral (giving and receiving for both parties), fingering (reader receives), spit kink (lmao sorry), general messiness honestly, mild knife kink (no blood drawn, he just uses a dagger to tear apart clothing), gratuitous usage of the name ‘lionheart’, jeno has a big dick because i cannot stop myself from doing that to y’all for some reason, some choking

special thanks to @moonlit-jeno @domjaehyun @waithyuck for reading parts of it/all of it beforehand!

the soft hours of twilight have their holds on you, chilling you to your bones even as you pull the heavy fur cape tighter around your body. you should’ve pulled something over your thin nightgown, you suppose, something to act as a middle layer between silk and skin and peryton fur, but it’s too late for that. you’re already out on your private balcony, overlooking a kingdom you’d do anything to see the sun rise on day after day.

far, far past the outskirts of your humble realm, barely visible to your own eye, an unsettlingly large camp of soldiers is finishing setting up camp for the night. you watch as tiny, tiny orange pinpricks - no doubt the fires they’d set to make food, to alert you of their presence - begin to get snuffed out. finally, they sleep.

if you were any worse of a person, of a ruler, you would send your army after them now, hours before the battle is set. perhaps, if you were any less selfish, you would do so regardless of keeping your status as a good and just monarch. if you were any less selfish, you would shake awake the love of your life and hand him his cape after shedding it from your shoulders. you would tell him to rouse his men and women, to arm them to their teeth, and to fight for what is right using means that are entirely wrong.

as if privy to your thoughts, your head knight stirs in the too-large bed behind you. you turn just in time to see him sit up and twist his body left, right, left as he stretches to rid himself of sleep. it’s too late - or maybe too early - for either of you to be awake. maybe you should have stayed within his warm embrace rather than gotten out of bed to size up the army of the kingdom of crithage.

even now, you can’t help but strategize, at least on a basic level. crithagians are unused to the cold of your beautiful - but often frigid - ekoria. they won’t expect your people to fall upon them from the icy cliffs that surround their camp, nor will they be able to see over the oncoming blizzard your royal sky-reader has predicted. she has not been incorrect in many, many years. ekorians have, over the years, grown accustomed to heavy snows, among other weather phenomenon, so your army’s visual acuity is not to be questioned.

that, and your troops are in the hands of the best warrior ekoria has ever had.

jeno. your jeno. your lionheart. you rein your thoughts in just as he pulls open the balcony door, closing it behind him with a soft click as he steps over the threshold separating in from out and warm from cold. goosebumps rise across his bare flesh the moment his skin meets air, and you don’t hesitate to slide his cape off and thrust it towards him, knowing full well that his arms will provide more than enough heat for you. he fastens it with ease, seeming slightly amused at how you’d been using it as a blanket, and gently grabs ahold of your wrist before pulling you into his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist. with his other hand, he takes a corner of his cape and wraps it around you, leaving you enveloped in both his hot-to-touch skin and the comforting fur.

“they’re out in the valley, aren’t they?” he finally murmurs, leaning to place his mouth against your ear. jeno’s voice is thick and sleep-ridden, still raspy in a way that settles around you, inside you, within you. you lean back slightly, raising a cold hand to rest against the tattoo of a lion that adorns his left pectoral, mane stretching up to his collarbone and encroaching on his bicep. the lion has a scar on its right cheek. you pull away more, eyes landing on the thin discolored line underneath your lover’s same eye.

it had been a longsword, meant to slash across your throat. jeno, with the speed of a star falling from grace and enough adrenaline to fuel a hundred men, had leapt across you in order to take it across the face. for crown and for country, bard’s songs later regaled of him. for you, he’d whispered to you that same night as you’d stitched him up, using the threading tactics you’d learned from the castle medic as a child. for you. always for you.

“my love?” jeno prods, and you realize you haven’t given his rhetorical question any acknowledgement. you hum, meeting his eyes with your own, and watch as he allows one corner of his mouth to turn up.

“they only just put out their fires.” you finally respond, moving to be against his chest again. you rest your head against the intricate ink against jeno’s skin, finally letting out a breath of what one might consider worry. the air that leaves your lungs manifests into wisps out in the cold world that surrounds you. your lionheart pulls you ever closer.

“you need not stress.” he says simply, and an outsider to your relationship would see no cohesion between your statement and his. still, you know precisely what jeno means, why he’s said what he’s said. you turn, pressing your lips against the lion’s forehead. above you, your own lion brushes his lips against your temple.

“i have an army, a kingdom, even, to worry about, and yet i only fear tomorrow for whatever outcome befalls one man.” you whisper, and even you are surprised to find tears catching in your throat. you do not cry easily, not when you know firsthand how cruel the world can be.

you only reign because your parents no longer breathe.

tomorrow’s battle could easily bleed into next year’s war, and while your kingdom is prepared for such a thing, your heart may not be. your people are not belligerent, and neither are you. crithage had been the one to throw the first stone, had sent word that if you refused to relinquish your throne and bow your head, they would aim the first arrow, draw the first blood. no tears had been shed then, not even when you’d paced around your bedchambers, reading and rereading the note signed with blood red ink until jeno had physically pulled it out of your tight grasp. you hadn’t cried, not even when he’d said that he was willing to die if it meant keeping crithage out of ekoria, out of the kingdom you’d both built from ground up after the war that had taken your parents, out of the home you’d created together.

“wherever you take us, i will follow. wherever you need me, i will lead.” he’d murmured the words against the lobe of your ear, standing beside and slightly behind your throne as you’d written out your reply to crithage in a room full of your advisors. nobody else had moved a muscle then, not even as you closed the envelope with hot wax and the royal seal.

you’d sent back a much, much shorter letter than their own in response.

a time and date for battle. nothing more and nothing less.

that had been so many months ago, so far away that the concept of time dissipates when you attempt to organize it in your harried mind. with a hostile army on your doorstep, everything suddenly feels far more real than it has before. your people have been evacuated, your troops have been trained. your lionheart is unafraid to the world, standing tall and proud at your side as he always has.

a sigh that starts from deep in jeno’s chest brings you back to the present. tomorrow is it, you’re reminded. crithage has seiged almost every other state between themselves and your beloved ekoria. if they get to you, they’ll have your head, raised high on a stake they’ll erect outside of the gates they’ll install to the place you call home. if they get to you, it means they’ll have gotten through jeno.

you can’t live in a world without him. it’s a dangerous attachment for a ruler to have, you’re well aware. if other kingdoms find out that your weakness is a person, one that lives and breathes, you’re not likely to ever see your love again.

it’s little comfort that jeno can’t live in a world without you, either.

“i worry about not being here, at the castle, to protect you,” he mumbles into your hair. “i know that you are perfectly capable, and that you’ll have your own faction of our knights with you, but i- it feels as if i’m about to open my chest and leave my naked heart unguarded, right there for any arrows to pierce.”

jeno’s confession is simple, beautiful in the way the most ornate of daggers are: that is, you feel as if he’s just dragged a sharp edge down the length of your sternum, taking you apart piece by piece. his words cage you in, force you deeper into your own head in a way you can’t afford, not right now.

“eloquent,” you hum, unable to resist teasing him even as the moment does not call for it. it’s to save yourself from your heavily beating heart. “it isn’t too late to make you my poet laureate, you know. no need to wield a sword tomorrow then.”

“and who would be your head knight then, hm? the current laureate? you want renjun to lead the charge against the crithagians? to be your lionheart?” your lover draws back to ensure that you can see his eyes, glimmering with mirth. renjun is an able man, and one of your best friends, but he is not the warrior jeno is.

nobody is the warrior that jeno is.

“such a foolish thing to say,” you smile up at him, lips folding from joking to earnest within moments. the merriment fades a little from jeno’s eyes at recognizing the change in your expressions. “you’re my only lionheart. always have been and always will be, even when you’re too old and gray and slow to be my head knight.”

“someone seems confident of that happening.” he says quietly, raising the hand at your waist to come up and rest over your own hand that lies against his chest. you swallow, your own spit feeling too heavy for you to stomach, your throat dry and scratchy.

“who else can have confidence of a victory rather than a monarch?” you ask, a smile that isn’t quite sad - but isn’t quite self-assured either - resting on your lips. jeno raises your hand to his lips, pressing one, two, three chaste kisses to the back and then repeating the pattern against your palm. he does not let go.

the two of you stand there for a stolen moment. you lay your head back against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat below the ink and skin and muscle and bone. he is real, and he is here.

he is real. he is here.

“the monarch’s lionheart, of course,” he murmurs, finally dropping your hand to reach back and push open the balcony door. “we only have four more strokes of time until i must go, my love. is this truly how you want to spend it?”

it’s evident that jeno no longer wants to mull over the what-ifs, not when he prefers living in the present more than anyone you’ve ever known. unsurprising, you suppose, for someone whose livelihood involves strategizing away his own mortality. you allow him to pull you back into your bedroom, immediately more comfortable when the door closes behind you, keeping you in with the body heat of your lover and the warmth of the crackling fire on the hearth in the corner of your room. jeno sheds the cape, draping it over the nearest chair, before bringing you back to his chest by placing his large hands against your waist.

it takes feeling his fingers against your skin through the thin silk of your slip to remember that jeno has nothing on. he’s always preferred to sleep naked, unlike you. though you hardly have any undergarments on, you at least wear a sheer gown most nights.

you’d ridden him passionately before bed, tiring both of you out in order to get any semblance of sleep. as your lionheart pulls you flush against him, though, it’s difficult to avoid the way his cock hardens against your hip once more. you want to quip about how jeno’s insatiable, but he trails a hand up, up over your body to swipe a thumb over one of your hardened nipples, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes through your prettily parted lips.

“will you get on the bed for me, love?” jeno’s voice is smoother now that he’s more awake, though you can’t help but miss the low growl that had come with the earlier rasp. he may be asking you a question, but you know that it’s an order in disguise. wordlessly, you step back, back, back until the wood of your bedframe presses against the soft plushness of the back of your thighs. jeno has not moved, choosing to stay put and appraise you instead. his eyes are hooded now, and as his gaze trails from your neck - he’d marked it up earlier, the kiss-bitten bruises not yet having faded from your skin - down to the curve of your chest, over the expanse of your thighs, he can’t help but reach one hand down to his dick, swiping two fingers over its head to collect his precum on his skin.

jeno says nothing else, makes no other move. it’s to give you an illusion of control, you suppose. not that you need one.

“should i rid myself of this, lionheart?” you ask, the words coming out breathier than intended. the nightgown leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and you’re sure he can even see the slick wetness that’s pooling against your inner thighs. jeno adores seeing your body more than anything, but the gown does not inhibit that.

it’s no surprise, then, when he shakes his head no, instead finally moving to stand at the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs as they naturally move apart to fit him in. his clean hand slides up under your gown, resting just above your cunt, as he raises his other hand to your face.

“lie back, and open.” jeno states, no air of leniency about him anymore. you oblige, and your love leans over you, his dark gaze centered on your parted lips.

he lays his two precum-coated fingertips against your tongue, pressing in and then down and revelling when you don’t gag but instead run your tongue over his fingers, cleaning them off for him. you haven’t gagged in a long time, your reflexes getting used to him in the way the rest of you is. when he withdraws his hand, your mouth stays open, and jeno can’t help himself as he leans over you and, after gathering it in his own mouth for a moment, allows his own spit to fall from his own tongue and onto yours.

your eyes go wide at the action, and you know that he notices it even as he does not acknowledge it. even so, you don’t miss the smirk that crosses his face upon hearing your breath hitch. jeno has you in his palm.

satisfied, he stands, and you close your mouth and swallow a part of him with a part of you. jeno’s no longer looking at your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s ruching up your nightgown with growing hunger, not when he’s kneeling on the stone ground just to make himself eye-level with your pretty, pretty pussy.

“i took you hardly any time ago,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin as his mouth nears where you so desperately need him. “and yet here you are, laid open once more, all for me. only for me.”

“always you, jeno, please - ” you can’t get any more words out, the air being pulled out of you as he dives in and circles your clit with his tongue, bringing his two spit-soaked fingers up to press into you with almost no resistance. your reaction is instantaneous, walls clenching like a vice around his fingers as he lays a filthy kiss against your bundle of nerves, hips jumping up only to be kept down by jeno’s other hand, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach.

“patience.” he pulls off of your clit just to growl the word out against the skin of your inner thigh, and the wet heat of his mouth directly against your flesh has you practically gasping out. when jeno sinks his teeth into your thigh as he’s often wont to do, you let out a full-bodied whine, the kind that starts in the back of your throat and rises up through the inner column of your neck, meant only for your lover’s ears. jeno laves his tongue over the marks he’s just created, as if to wash the pleasurable pain from your body.

he does not reattach his mouth to your core, choosing instead to fall back and watch, eyes trained, as he scissors you open. with hardly any warning rather than his gaze jumping up to meet your own momentarily, jeno presses his thumb into your clit, using your slick wetness to eliminate any raw friction as he rubs slow circles against your nerve endings. he’s never failed to bring you to the edge with ease, and now is no different. you’d be embarrassed at how easily you fall apart just from his simple simultaneous motions, in and on you, but it’s jeno, and he knows your body maybe even better than he knows his own.

keening, a loud, gasping wail, falls from your lips only for jeno to rise from his place in between your thighs and swallow your sounds with his open mouth, his clean hand coming up to cage you in against your sheets. the way you raise your arms to loop them around his neck is akin to the way a drowning man would grab on to a lifeline, and once he rises you pull him back into a longer, filthier kiss, where your teeth click against his and his tongue opens up your mouth the same way it feels like his touch opens up your body.

you feel as if you’re being flayed, as if hellfire is the only thing comparable to the heat against your skin. jeno steps closer, just by the tiniest bit, and you feel his hand - the one shining with your arousal - brush past your hip before he uses it to wet his cock with one, two, three firm strokes. copious amounts of precum arise from the tip before being pulled down against his flesh with expert downstrokes. your mouth waters as you watch.

“my mouth, lionheart, please?” you finally gain the courage to ask what is on your mind, sitting up on your elbows as you begin to slowly find your strength. your love raises an eyebrow, and not without reason: jeno is a big man, making even you - a literal monarch - feel small at times, and this does not end with his personality or his person: you have never been able to take all of him into your mouth. the ache borders on painful, frankly, and jeno himself refuses to harm you in that way.

“this, now, is about you.” he responds, and your heart cracks as you register that as a ‘no’. still, you speak again. you need him in your mouth, suddenly. it isn’t just a want. something has to anchor you to the here and now, it may as well be the head of his cock, heavy against your tongue.

“what is about me is about you as well,” you respond, and before he can lay his refusal down out flat, you slide onto the floor - warmer than expected - and tuck your heels behind your bare ass. “i need this. please.”

you’re directly in front of him now, face parallel to his strong thighs. jeno strokes up, squeezes tighter just below his frenulum, and you watch, struck, as precum beads at the tip and then splits into two streams, half sliding down his hard dick and the other slowly-but-surely falling to the ground, hardly a quarter of a step from one of your knees.

“give me your hand, then,” your knight murmurs from above you, drawing your gaze from his leaking cock up past the dainty curve of his lip to his hard eyes. “now.”

when you raise your hand up, you only put it up limply, unsure of what he means to do with the limb he’s asked for. your eyes must be swimming with questions, because jeno gives you a hint of a sweet, reassuring smile before allowing his expression to become stoic again… right before he grasps your given hand and straightens it out, gentler than expected from such a great warrior but harsher than he truly ever treats you.

he’s passionate. this demonstrates it.

before you can react, your body following your hand up off of your heels, though only slightly, as he yanks up your hand, jeno leans down and licks up your hand, from the bottom of your palm to the top, all while maintaining eye contact with you. he lets go, though you keep your hand raised, your gaze obviously dumbfounded.

“a dry hand would rub me raw,” he explains, though the smirk that’s tugging at one corner of his mouth shows that he finds your wide-eyed expression at least mildly amusing. “we do not want that, do we?”

it’s amazing how easily he can get you under his thumb when you give out orders that hold his life in the balance on a day-to-day basis. maybe that’s why he finds taking charge in private so easy. maybe it’s his way of evening your dynamic out. even now, as he asks you an innocent question with no hidden meaning or reaction, you find yourself shaking your head along enthusiastically. no, of course you don’t want to rub him raw. of course you and him don’t want that.

you raise the hand now deemed ‘not dry’ up as jeno watches, finally, finally wrapping your hand around it. your thumb and middle finger do not meet, no matter how tight you squeeze. your lover lets out a fulfilled groan at finally feeling a touch other than his own on his hard cock, and it’s a beautiful sound. you want more of it. you want more of him.

as if mesmerized, you lean closer, darting out your tongue to lick experimentally at his slit. he holds his breath, a large hand coming to rest lightly against the back of your head and base of your skull, waiting. you take this as a sign to stretch your lips wider, engulfing the entire tip of his cock in your hot mouth. his grip tightens in your hair, and, in return, you clench around nothing.

as you struggle to take more of jeno in your mouth, you do your best to stroke the rest of his cock with a tight enough grip to make him feel everything, but not tight to the point where you’re hurting him. regardless of how little you can take on your tongue - not your fault, by any means - jeno seems happy, barely able to stop himself from bucking up into the back of your throat. at this point, you’re essentially just warming his cock, so you pull off with a slick pop to look at him with slightly watery eyes. a string of precum and saliva connects your bottom lip and his tip, and when it breaks, you’re acutely aware of the mixture dripping down your chin and onto your nightgown. it’s no matter.

jeno’s thumb runs over your scalp, just above the bottom of your skull. you close your eyes momentarily to take in a deep breath.

“you can force yourself down my throat, you know,” your voice is raspy when you speak, eyes fluttering open almost drearily. “i’m not too delicate for it.”

there’s something simultaneously raw and pure about the way you speak, and jeno recognizes that your headspace has changed, just a little. your need truly is all-encompassing now. he must tread more delicately than usual.

there’s so much love, so much adoration in your wide-eyed gaze. he only wishes to return it with the same intensity and double the care.

“i know, love,” jeno responds, finally moving his hand in order to place two fingers under your chin. he tilts your face up, taking note of the way your eyes run over his tattoo before looking at his chin, then his jaw, then his nose, then his forehead, until, finally, you land on his eyes. you’re a tad bit unfocused, full of need, but that’s okay. you’ll always come back to him. he continues speaking. “you’re so strong. always so strong for me. that’s why you deserve to be rewarded, yes?”

“rewarded?” you’re confused, to say the least, though you do not dislike the direction jeno is suddenly moving towards. he only smiles, gentle and kind and good and yours. all yours.

“on the bed, (name).” he tilts his own head, jutting his chin towards the bed you’d slid off of earlier. you don’t hesitate to follow, pushing yourself up onto your feet and all but scrambling backwards to be seated against the soft mattress. the blankets are all haphazard and the pillows aren’t straight, but that’s the least of your worries right now. jeno gives no other orders, only stepping closer and, without warning, winding his arms underneath your thighs and propelling you backwards, causing you to land, back flat, in the center of your bed.

it had always felt inescapably large when you’d slept in it alone. now, it feels welcoming. safe.

“you’re ready for me, yes?” the tone of voice jeno uses is soft, even as his rough palms push apart your thighs. you nod, murmuring a small ‘yes’ once you realize he’s waiting for you to verbalize your thoughts. this is all jeno needs to climb onto the bed and move in between your spread legs, settling back on his calves as his hands smooth over your hip bones and waist. it’s evident that he’s bent on taking his time with you tonight, likely under the illusion that that is what you want.

it is not what you want. it is most definitely not what you need.

“i need you within me, lionheart,” one of your hands clutches at the sheets beneath you while you stretch the other towards your lover, imploring. “soon. now. please.”

“absolutely impatient,” jeno only chuckles in return, drawing an indignant whine forth from the base of your throat. he looks over your barely covered body once more before finally - almost in slowed motions as if to tease you further - rising up onto his knees. his hands stop moving against your skin, finally circling around the soft meat of your upper thighs. swiftly and fluidly, jeno pulls your body towards his, wrapping your legs around his own waist. his wet cock lies heavy against your pelvis, leaving slick precum against the apex of your thighs and the bottom of your stomach. he smirks. “is this what you wanted?”

the motion of being pulled into your knight had forced the air from your lungs in a surprised yelp, and the feeling of his warm skin - he’s always supplied so much heat, it baffles you to no end - against your own momentarily blanks your mind. jeno repeats his question twice, cocky grin growing with each utterance, before you nod vigorously and sputter out something vaguely affirmative. yes. yes, this is exactly what you wanted, exactly what you want.

you’ve been growing steadily wetter the longer your foreplay had drawn out, but jeno, ever-caring, still pulls back - his cock sliding against your thigh has you moaning - to slip two thick fingers into you, adding a third when he’s absolutely sure that you can take it. in no time at all, you’re grinding your clit against his rough palm, the friction absolutely heavenly. jeno makes no move to stop you, only gently forcing his fingers in deeper.

a fourth finger is added just as your abused clit can’t take anymore, and you spasm on his hand as you fall past the point of no return. your second orgasm of the night washes over you, and you can’t help the muted but harried gasps you let out as your hips buck up, driving your head back into the mattress. jeno draws his fingers out slowly, licking your essence off of them with practiced ease. once your body has calmed down, you can only let out a small whimper, still basking in the intensity you’ve just experienced.

jeno knows your limit, and knows damn well that you haven’t reached it yet. it’s because of this that, even as your walls are still clenching around nothing due to aftershocks that wrack your body, he places the fat head of his cock against your hole and slowly but surely slides in. the hands on your thighs move up to wrap around the sides of your waist, and his grip is bruising as he pushes deeper and deeper. even as he goes at a snail’s pace, you feel as if you’re being pulled apart only to be pieced back together again. you hold your breath.

jeno is halfway in when he realizes you still aren’t quite wet enough. he shifts slightly, carefully moving one of your legs up just a little bit higher, before swiping over your raw clit with a thumb he’s wetted with his own tongue. a moan flies forth from your mouth immediately, and a gush of wetness coats jeno’s cock anew as he circles over your bud with abandon. he’s finally free to surge forward and bury himself within your warm walls without fear of repercussions on your own body… so he does. the breath you’d been holding in is punched out of you, replaced with an honest-to-god wail. tears bud at the corners of your eyes at the stretch, falling as he pulls out almost entirely and slams into you again.

jeno does everything in his life in order to live up to the name you’ve given him: lionheart. he is just and loyal and thoughtful as an advisor, and analytical and fearsome and ruthless as a warrior. sex is where both sides of him meet. it is where he is not just the kingdom’s bravest knight, or the crown’s right-hand man. it is where he is your lionheart, and yours alone, where your souls intertwine at the place your bodies meet.

he notices how your hands come up to reach for him, leaning down so you can place one hand against his heart - against his tattoo - and throw the other one over his other shoulder. jeno’s nose is almost touching yours, though your bodies shift continuously as he keeps drawing back and driving his hips into yours with force.

he never ceases to make you feel full.

your walls grip his cock tightly, amplifying every movement jeno indulges you in. the slide is slick and wet and perfect, but it is not easy. the head of his dick catches on your clenched walls every time he pulls out just to slam back in, forcing you to feel him with everything you have. it’s exactly what you want.

he slows down his thrusting for a moment as he moves forward slightly, leaning closer still as he places one forearm against your head and raises his other hand to fondle your chest over your sheer clothing. somehow, this is no longer enough for you. jeno’s cock is fully sheathed within you as he swipes a thumb over one of your nipples, and the feeling of his skin pushing the cloth against one of your most sensitive areas has you shuddering in a way that causes you to squeeze even tighter around him. his hips stutter slightly, driving him impossibly deeper into you.

“jeno,” you rasp out, tongue heavy and dry. “my pillow. beneath my pillow.”

his eyes go wide as he processes what you’ve just said, his shallow thrusts slowing down. jeno gulps audibly.

“your- love, your dagger?”

“need you to touch me.” you respond, holding his gaze and watching it clear up from confused to comprehending you entirely. he pushes himself up from his forearm to his hand, sliding out of you in the same movement. you whine sadly at the loss of contact, but jeno mutters a good-natured ‘be quiet’ almost immediately.

“you know,” he starts, voice teasing, even as he pulls your dagger - black steel, quillions and hilt encrusted with blue jewels, black tempered glass at the pommel - out from beneath your pillow using the hand that had been fondling you earlier. he moves back down to his prior position, and your breath hitches as he presses the apex of the knife against the collar of your nightgown. “i’m already touching you.”

“more,” you moan out, the end of your word coming out almost breathlessly. one of your hands slides against his tattoo once more, as if feeling the lion will make it roar to life. “touch me more.”

jeno chuckles, albeit darker than he had been earlier, and digs the dagger into the cloth in front of it without any further ado. you hold your breath willfully this time, not wanting to actually nick yourself on the blade, as he moves down your body, cutting the sheer gown open down its direct center. your lionheart dots his lips against your flesh in a trail in his wake, scraping his teeth against your skin as he sees fit.

he leaves a quick, but filthy, kiss against your clit for good measure, eyes lighting up as you attempt to close your legs around his head on impulse, only to have them pushed apart even farther than before by his strong hands. once he gets to the hem of the slip, he throws your dagger somewhere on the stone floor - neither of you pay any heed to where it clatters - and rips it apart with his bare hands, hardly able to bear not feeling you around him for much longer.

before you can do anything or say anything or even think anything at all, your lover surges forward and presses himself back into you with a grunt that sounds almost like a growl. his hands knead at your thighs as he finds his rhythm with ease, pounding into you with practice as if you’re an art medium and he’s a skilled master. he’s everywhere, all around you and inside of you and in the air and in your skin, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“touching - ha - touching you enough now?” he asks, resolve crumbling bit by bit as he fights to keep himself from tumbling over the cliff’s edge before you do. you can’t dignify him with a response, unable to do anything but claw at his back and pin yourself further against his chest as if it’ll make even more room for you in his heart than there already is. he doesn’t need a response, anyways. jeno already knows.

he knows just how close you are, too. just as close as he is. it’s because of this that jeno moves a hand up to curl around your throat just as he circles your clit with two fingers of the other hand, continuing to fuck into you at the same rate as best he can. with a sharp cry and the arching of your back off the bed, you clench around him for one final time before he comes to a halt, barely holding himself up over you as he releases within you with a shuddering, gasping groan.

moments pass, stretching into longer than they typically are. jeno takes care as he slides out of you, climbing onto the bed and flopping down next to you right after. the feeling of his release, sticky and wet against your inner thighs, is unpleasant at best, but you can’t bring yourself to clean up just yet. instead, you turn your head to your side, your nose immediately brushing against jeno’s sternum as you realize that he’s turned his entire body towards your own. he lets out an airy laugh at the sensation, pushing half of the sliced cloth off of your body in order to run a wide open palm down your naked side.

“good?” he speaks first, asking an arbitrary question. ‘good enough to make you forget?’ is what he means, knowing full well that you could never lose thought of what awaits the two of you. the sentiment is what’s important, though, and you let out an agreeable hum as a reply. the sex itself was great, of course. he’s well aware.

“sleep, lionheart,” you say just as silence attempts to cloak the two of you. “we must be ready soon, as it is.”

jeno gives you no response, and you do not require one from him. instead, he pulls you even closer into his chest as if doing so will protect you from the crithagians across your kingdom. his entire world rests between his arms. you are both tired enough that sleep forces your eyelids closed swifter than expected, and as you fall asleep to your lover’s slowed breathing and muted heartbeat, you can’t help but, just this once, allow your worries to slip off your body as your torn nightgown does.

just before the rise of the sun, jeno will have to get out of bed and clean you up as best he can before donning his clothing, his armor, and his cape. you’ll put his helmet upon his head, pull his visor down over his face after sharing a kiss that could be your last. it is always like this. jeno will rouse the army, you will dress and arm yourself, and meet with your own private troops.

as the sun begins to take its place in the morning sky, luckily opposite your gaze, jeno will lead his people into battle, riding his steed far, far from you. you will watch him go, but he will not look back. doing so is unfortunate luck at best. you’ve ingrained this into his mind.

you do not know whether he will be back or not.

you desperately need him to come back.

all of that will happen in due time, but now, you drift to dreamland, safe in the arms of the man you’ve sworn to be with until the end. he tightens his hold around you, and that is how you spend the night before battle, in total comfort and full of love. no matter what tomorrow brings, at least you have this now. at least you will always have this moment.

the lionheart and his liege. your lionheart and his love.

for now, you are at peace in the calm before the storm.

#first #five #tags #dont #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno x reader #nct jeno #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream

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dabi-does-cocaine-fight-me · 3 years

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Hallucinations

Dabi x Shigaraki One-Shot

Warnings: So ooc, bugs, slight gore if you squint really hard, swearing, rOmAnCe, fEeLs, omg cliché

Shigaraki strolled into the League of Villains’ bar, wiping the blood off his hands with a discarded, musty towel. His gaze swept over those present in the room, hidden by the obstructing hand on his face. Toga was sitting at one end of the bar with Spinner, giggling obnoxiously at his dramatic hero imitations. Twice perched on a barstool at the opposite end of the bar, staring sullenly into the distance while puffing leisurely on a cigarette. Meanwhile, Kurogiri stood behind the counter, polishing glasses in a dutiful, restless manner, while Dabi lounged on an old moth eaten couch. Across from him, Compress made a move on the chessboard the two shared.

All of them eyed Shigaraki as he stepped further into the room, clearing his throat to get their attention. The effect was immediate. Toga and Spinner fell silent, Twice came out of his trance, and Dabi’s posture straightened slightly.

“News, Tomura?” Mr. Compress questioned. Shigaraki’s head turned in his general direction and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Different factions of the yakuza are still at war, competing for control now that they’ve removed Overhaul. One of the factions was delivering me a shipment of illegal drugs…I was expecting to use it to create more of those quirk destroying bullets, but it was intercepted by Ryukyu, Selkie and a few U.A. brats,” he reported in a bitter tone. He clearly wasn’t happy about how events had transpired.

“And all that blood on your hands, you slip and fall into Kool-Aid, boss?” Dabi snickered. Shigaraki turned to him and flexed his fingers, the unspoken threat apparent.

“How would you like to find out?” Tomura intoned quietly. Dabi scoffed, unfazed by the hostility.

“Well, you know, if you weren’t an insufferable dick and gave us straight answers…” he shrugged maladroitly. An unsteady and tense silence had fallen over the room, and everyone present was waiting to spring into action, should the need arise. Kurogiri inched closer, recalling the volatility present in the two’s previous encounters. Shigaraki and Dabi were continuing to stare at each other, Tomura’s demeanor calm and collected, Dabi’s wary yet relaxed. As they eyed each other quietly, Dabi realized Shigaraki was balancing all his weight on one leg and holding-no, more like nursing- his right arm. His gloves were absent. Tomura detected his examination and shot Dabi a nasty glare as their eyes met, daring him to say something. Kurogiri observed this interaction and decided it was time to step in, before things went any further.

“Tomura, where did all the blood come from?” he inquired, making sure to keep his tone level and to keep from sounding interrogating so as not to anger Tomura further. Shigaraki tore his gaze away from Dabi, muttering a response.

“One of the yakuza factions at war with the one I employed recognized me. Overhaul followers…one had a paralyzing quirk,” he seethed. It had hurt his pride immensely to have been surprised so easily, pinned so effortlessly, paralyzing quirk or no, and having that scarred idiot examining him only pissed him off worse. Kurogiri’s mist blew slightly, a draft from the open door causing him to dissipate and then reform as he spoke again.

“I see,” he soothed, “why don’t you go lie down, I’ll prepare you some food.”

Tomura nodded, looking rather beaten. He began to shuffle off to his room, Spinner and Twice both averting their gaze out of respect to their boss. Dabi sat thoughtfully on the couch, sweeping a hand through his hair as he rendered Compress checkmate.

A few hours later, Dabi was sauntering to his room in the evening, but as he passed Tomura’s room he heard muffled cursing. He turned around and rapped the door. The sounds quieted, and Tomura muttered gruffly for him to enter. Dabi obeyed, leaning against the doorframe.

“You okay in here?” he interrogated, already knowing the answer. Tomura was in bad shape. His food sat untouched, his laptop shut on the desk, no online gaming visible. He was sprawled on his bed, sweatshirt hood up, panting slightly.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, his face obscured by his hair in the dark of the room.

“Cut the bullshit handyman, what’s got you sitting on tacks?” Dabi shot back. Tomura huffed.

“Why the fuck would you care? Get out,” he barked. Dabi scoffed.

“No wonder no one wants to be around you. You’re so kind,” he murmured sarcastically, turning to leave. He was halfway to the door when Tomura spoke again.

“The attack….there were three people. One paralyzed me, another rendering me mute, I’m assuming those were their quirks…”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “The third?” he questioned.

“The third…didn’t move until the other two started leaving…as they walked away, he threw something at me….I flinched, so I didn’t see what it was but I felt it hit me…like…worms eating into my brain. I didn’t think anything of it, because there were no unusual effects but now I…”

He trailed off, glancing at his food before quickly turning his gaze elsewhere once more. “When I try to eat the food is all…full of maggots, and mold. When I try to patch up my injuries from the encounter, all I see is…blood. So much blood…gushing, squirting, blood. Bugs. Lots of…”

He shuddered. “In the mirror…my nails turn to beetles and crawl away…my eyebrows, spiders…worms for-for lips. My gloves…they’re rats…”

His voice broke slightly, and he stopped speaking. Dabi sighed, observing him quietly. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that Shigaraki was trembling, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was scared. The kind of fear that you know is irrational, but it’s bone-chilling anyway. He knew that fear, he felt it roll through his body, consuming his thoughts every time he heard his father’s footsteps near his bedroom door when he was a small child. Something inside him tugged at his consciousness, telling him to comfort the man in front of him. He gave into it, strolling over to Shigaraki and perching hesitantly next to him on the corner of the bed. He clenched his fist, opening it to reveal a small, flickering blue flame.

“Focus on it,” he suggested quietly, softly nudging Shigaraki with his shoulder. Shigaraki turned his head, hyper fixating on the fire, anxious for his mind to be anywhere but on the events of the day and their effects. After a while, he sighed softly.

“Thank you, Dabi,” he murmured, looking up at the raven-haired male. His shivering had eased, and he felt slightly calmer. Dabi noticed the hand wasn’t on his face, as usual, and was surprised by how red Shigaraki’s eyes were. He’d been crying, for a long while. Dabi nodded.

“Anything for you, boss man,” he replied truthfully. He may act abrasive towards Shigaraki, but there was a fondness for him, somewhere deep inside. Shigaraki had accepted him, however slowly, and had given him a place to stay, a family, somewhere he belonged. Maybe that platonic feeling of respect and devotion had turned into something else…something more serious. Seized by a sudden inexplicable urge, he tucked a small portion of Shigaraki’s hair behind his ear. The smaller male turned to him, a soft vulnerable in his eyes that Dabi had never seen before. It made Shigaraki seem…almost fragile. Dabi slid his thumb over a scar on the man’s cheek, frowning slightly. Two imperfect beings, two scarred, broken creatures, adapted to the circumstances of the cruelty they were subject to…so perfect. Almost poetic, how they were frozen together in anarchy, yet the world kept spinning on its axis around them. And they were safe. Safe from it all, because, all though unspoken, now, they had each other.

He never thought Shigaraki would be so soft, so fragile, so carefully built. He wanted to accept Shigaraki as a part of him, to take him in, take his bones, his flesh, his mind and make the two of them one. To protect him through anything and everything, always. He’d break himself to keep Shigaraki intact, he’d never let the world touch him again. When his thought process broke, he looked up, only to find Shigaraki’s face mere inches from his own. The blue haired male exhaled slightly through his lips and Dabi could feel it on his own. Unconsciously, his tongue darted out to wet them.

“Why are you such an ass to me?” Shigaraki questioned bluntly. The flame in Dabi’s palm flickered once, twice, and blew itself out.

“I’m…afraid of what I feel.” The hand that had been holding the flame came to rest on his upper thigh.

“What do you feel?” Shigaraki asked, a note of gentle yet earnest curiosity in his voice. Dabi licked his lips once more, swallowing heavily. Shigaraki seemed much too close…

“Tell me,” he whispered when Dabi failed to answer. Dabi hesitated, visibly struggling before leaning in to capture Tomura’s lips in a gentle, tender kiss. Shigaraki gasped softly, but didn’t pull away, instead lifting his hand to hold the back of Dabi’s neck, pulling him closer. Finally. Finally, they both thought. Shigaraki’s hand came up to brush the stubble on Dabi’s jaw gently, and they were no longer aware of the passage of time. The stars whirled, the sun rose and set, a million years passed, and it made no difference. Their souls merged, never to be torn apart. They pulled away as one, exhaled as one. Their gazes caught each other, holding each other in a silent embrace, one that said everything…and nothing. They never left that place, that space of eternal bliss, where for once, everything was right.

THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE I’M SO SORRY- If you like this story, drop a request for part two, and if you like my work so far, send a request in for another story!! Remember to name the characters (or if an x reader story, who you wish to be paired with) and a situation I can build on; i.e hanging out at the mall. I love all of you, regardless of whom you are and I hope you all have a wonderful October!!

#shigaraki x dabi #shigaraki tomura #dabi #touya todoroki #shigadabi #oneshot #fluff fic #I'm so proud-

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kaseysgtnonsense · 3 years

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So. I mentioned having an idea for a g/t video game in this post and people seemed interested, so here it is!

It takes place in a setting where giants live in deep, underground cave systems, and their numbers are dwindling. The home you live in is running low on supplies, and in the end they decide that to lower the amount of resources consumed and improve their chances of survival, they’re going to kick someone out.

Unfortunately, that someone is you. You are cast out of the caves and into the surface world, on a continent ruled by several human countries on the brink of war. In their eyes, you are a monster, and you are severely limited. You need to hunt to survive, avoid injuries or else risk infection, and avoid areas where giant-slayers might see you as a threat and try to sneak-attack you while you’re resting.

Every faction is wary of you, and unless you’re particularly good at convincing others you don’t mean any harm, you won’t be able to ask for help early on. Doing things like rescuing random travelers, ending conflicts non-violently (like picking up someone who’s being chased by bandits and then bringing them to safety and setting them down), and leaving gifts all will help you start to establish yourself as a helpful person and not a monster.

Rescuing someone and making it clear you don’t mean any harm could lead to them wanting to travel with you, meaning they’d be able to talk to other humans and convince them to trade with you, cooperate with you, etc.! Plus, you’d get dialogue with them from time to time, letting you say how you feel about having been kicked out, which faction you want to support, how you feel about other giants, how you feel about being a giant in a world like this, etc. (basically it’s where the majority of the g/t interaction happens)

I figured I’d put all the more boring + ramble-y gameplay ideas under a cut, just so I’m not tossing a massive wall of text on people’s dashboards:

Additionally, acting recklessly would have some rough consequences. Like, say you decide to go to the evil empire, pledge allegiance to them in exchange for armor, then betray them and escape.

At first, you might feel heroic and proud, and it’s definitely good that you stole from the bad guys, but most people are just going to end up wary of you. Word would get around fast that the mysterious giant showed up, blatantly lied to the evil empire, and then betrayed them. Even people who vehemently hate the evil empire are going to be worried you’re lying to them when you show up.

For visuals I kinda pictured it being like those old RPGs where your character looks big on the overworld map, but then that’s actually just how tall you are. I imagined the player character being like, 50-70 feet tall? (15-21 meters)

Combat would be kind of similar to a roguelike: based around avoiding long-lasting injuries, buying (or stealing) medicine and bandages to prevent infections, avoiding hidden archers who’ll aim for your eyes, dealing with enemies who set traps (like sharpened stakes used as big caltrops, leading to you being slowed and having a risk of infection), and dealing with enemies who lob fireballs and other spells at you, damaging your armor and yourself. I can’t imagine a way to make it especially fun and action-y, so I’m just imagining it like Cataclysm:DDA, where it’s kinda turn-based but you’re able to position yourself around the enemy and run away, and different weapons give you access to different attacks. Like, a tree might give you a sweeping attack to hit multiple spaces at once.

I’d wanna add a talk option for combat kinda like in Shin Megami Tensei or Undertale, so you could try to end fights without anyone getting hurt by being like “wait, wait, I don’t mean any harm!!” or “if you don’t back off, I’m going to devour you all alive.” depending on the type of character you wanna roleplay. Maybe the clothes you make/buy and wear could factor into whether diplomacy or intimidation is more effective: a dorky cat-like hat is gonna make you look a lot less threatening, but a helmet that covers your face is gonna make you look way more menacing.

The game would end once you’ve finished a faction’s questline. The ending narration would be affected by what faction you’re allied with, whether or not you have access to food and medicine, and what you picked in dialogue regarding how you feel about the giants who kicked you out. (Aaaand I haven’t written up any factions yet. Whoops.)

In the ending, you might decide you prefer the company of humans rather than giants and live peacefully with them, or maybe you’ll go back home to get revenge, or maybe you’ll return home with an armful of food and supplies and hope to create a new era of peace between humans and giants with the support of your chosen faction. Maybe you just decided you preferred being the mysterious giant who lives in the mountains.

I’d wanna work on fleshing out the RPG mechanics in a way that lets you RP a character, kinda like how New Vegas does: letting you pick special dialogue if certain stats and skills are high or low enough. Maybe you wanna put more points into strength and endurance and play a super tough scary figure, or maybe you wanna put more points into charisma and perception and be a friendly and caring person. Maybe you know how to farm or hunt or cook, maybe you know how to build or invent...

And sorry for making this so long, but I’d wanna add flaws you can pick, too. Maybe you need glasses but giants don’t have them, so your character starts with terrible perception (meaning they won’t notice traps or hidden enemies) until the human faction they join helps make glasses for them. It’s cute to think of things leading to friendly interactions like that...

I’d wanna add multiple solutions to any one problem, too. Like, early on you could just talk to the guards outside a major faction’s location and if you made a character with enough points in persuasion, you could convince them to let you trade with them or join them. But if you aren’t persuasive enough, you could ask someone you rescued to vouch for you.

It’s WAY too ambitious for me to make and I’m already busy so I’ve got no intention of making it anytime soon, but someday in the future it would be fun to use this idea for something...

#g/t #giant/tiny #gianttiny #g/t community #giant/tiny community #gianttiny community #tw eye injury #tw burns #tw eye damage

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literaryfic · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/?  Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV)  Rating: Explicit  Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Italian Mafia, (i know nothing about the mafia so this will be very inaccurate!!!), basically vincenzo & cha-young being mafia bosses in italy

 Summary: When Vincenzo Cassano came back to Italy, no one expected to see someone by his side. Or how Cha-young and Vincenzo became the head of the Cassano family. a mafia couple au inspired by a discussion with @ourgalaxybangtan @ghostrights & @whovie-reloaded

Vincenzo had been handling most of the family business since their adoptive father’s health had started to decline. As the consigliere of the Cassano family, he was Fabio’s most trusted man, his advisor, his lawyer but also his second-in-command.

It hadn’t been easy, all these years, to climb the ladder. He wasn’t a native, he wasn’t blood, and so not many people had welcomed him at first. That’s why he had to become ruthless, so that no one could deny his authority or even dare to try. He had killed and tortured many men, broken their minds and their bones, burned their flesh and cut off their limbs, ashes and screams trailing behind him. If he wasn’t proud of the blood on his hands, he was at least proud of his work. All the hours he’d spent training, fighting, preparing, scheming, studying, all his efforts to erase Park Joo-hyung from the face of earth had paid off. The scared, weak little kid was gone, buried with all his other victims. ‘An eye for an eye, and then some’, Vincenzo lived by that, and he would stop at nothing except killing the innocent. There was no doubt he was the best at what he did and anyone who did not respect him feared him enough to not threaten him. His success was the Cassano family’s success, yet he knew that members of his own clan would not hesitate to have him killed if they could. Two clear factions had formed in the past five years, those who supported Vincenzo as the next head of the family, and those who supported Paolo, his brother. Paolo and Vincenzo had never gotten along, and Paolo’s inferiority complex and jealousy grew deeper every time his older brother had to clean up after one of his rushed job. Paolo had a particular taste for violence. Whereas Vincenzo killed and tortured because he had to, Paolo got a kick out of hurting others, be it children, women or elders. He loved to assert his dominance, to feel almighty. Vincenzo didn’t think himself much better than him, (regardless of the reasons behind his murders, he’d probably killed way more than him), but he wanted Paolo to be punished for his sins. It was only a matter of time before some influential family members whispered plans of assassination and of ‘restoring the rightful heir’ into his ear. Paolo was an angry, frustrated man who wasn’t particularly good at his job, an easy puppet to control. He’d been watching them carefully but he knew that as long as his father was alive, no one would dare to touch him. Back then he had thought he would take care of them when it came to it, become the head of his family, and continue to rule the underworld. Then, the incident happened and everything changed. He hadn’t been able to sleep for weeks, his victims’ screams haunting his dreams. He started avoiding mirrors, his reflection taunting him. He barely ate anymore, and Fabio had reminded him to get a grip. So he had done just that. He drank himself to sleep or took sleeping pills, and he went on. He knew, however, that he could not go on like this much longer. He had to get out before he buried himself next to Park Joo-hyung and all the others whose lives he’d taken. He’d started to plan his escape secretly. He would wait until his father died, staying loyal to him as long as he was alive. When the time came, he knew Paolo would try to kill him. The power struggle between them would start as soon as the head of the family would die, but instead of destroying his opponents, Vincenzo would seize the opportunity to leave. He would go back to South Korea, get the gold and leave to an island, where he would spend the rest of his days. The death of his previous Chinese client was perfect timing. As expected, Fabio, his boss and adoptive father, had named him the next head of the family in his will. It came to no surprise to most members, but murmurs spread quickly, “Can you imagine? A foreigner, as the head of our family? What has the world become?”. After wrapping things up in Italy, Vincenzo promised himself to never return, throwing away the key to the graveyard of his sins. …. There’s no going back from this, he thinks. Vincenzo is still holding Cha-young’s face, unable to look away from her lips, still wet from the kiss. Her pink cheeks, her smeared lipstick, the freckles under her fondation. Her. Hong Cha-young. His heart is soaring in his chest, all the emotions he had desperately tried to silence erupting all at once. There was no point in denying it, he had fallen in love with her. All he could do now was break his own heart, hoping it would heal. …. He realises he can’t live without her after she gets injured. They’re trying to get more information on Jang Han-seok’s paper company, and this time they’re trying to prove that some of the transactions made to European bank accounts were bribes. They’re breaking into none other than the Minister of Economy and Finance, Cha Do-won’s house. Miri had made sure to deactivate the security system and cameras, and Vincenzo was in charge of securing the place while Cha-young searched for the secret ledger the Minister kept hidden in his office. Cha Do-won was making a speech right now, and they had assumed most of his personal security would be with him. Vincenzo had quickly incapacitated the few men around the house and Cha-young looked for the ledger. After a few minutes, she found a hidden drawer in his desk. There it was, a thick documents labelled 'Accounts’. Subtlety wasn’t one of his strong points, apparently. They were about to leave when suddenly, a dozen men started to raid the place. Vincenzo fought them off as best as he could, and he was grateful that Mr. Lee barged in to help. They thought they had them all beat, and so Vincenzo made a mistake. He turned his back to the door to look for Cha-young, who he thought was behind him. “Vincenzo!”, he heard her shout his name. He sees her across the room, about to get struck by a man. He rushes to her and knocks him out quick enough. “Oh my God”, she says, “Did you see that? I almost died! He had a knife as well, and I dodged it, and then I ran—”. She keeps rambling while they get out of the house and into their car, clearly in shock. She’s getting paler as time passes, and he only notices the blood that pooled on the seat when she tries to get out of the car. She was stabbed, but the shock and adrenaline had prevented her from feeling any pain. “Oh”, she says, looking down at her wound. Vincenzo jumps out of his seat and rips the bottom half of the T-Shirt he’s wearing. “I don’t think now’s the time for that, Darling.” Even in a life-threatening situation, Cha-young is joking around. Vincenzo’s mind stops, he feels paralysed by fear, the fear of losing her, of her dying in his car, because of him. He pushes those thoughts away as he holds the fabric to her wound. “Hold this, as hard as you can.” The rest of the car ride to the hospital is a blur of running red lights, speeding in between traffic and repeating “Hong Cha-young, stay with me.” Vincenzo had faced death everyday for the last 20 years. He had killed, had seen people kill and had almost died countless of time. “There’s no limit to fear”, he’d once said to Jang Han-seok’s informant. Only now, waiting for Cha-young’s surgery to be over, does he understand what those words truly mean. During 6 hours, Vincenzo pleads and begs God, the devil, anyone willing to listen (Don’t take her. Everyone but her). He makes empty promises (I’ll do anything. I’ll stop hurting others, I’ll disappear from her life) and meaningless threats (Don’t you dare take her. I’ll kill you, too). In the end he doesn’t know who answers his prayers, and what promises seals the deal, but Cha-young wakes up and he doesn’t care. He holds her hand, stays by her side, and vows to never leave her. He starts to plan for an escape route shortly after that. In case they can’t stay in South Korea and need to take off. First, he thinks of Malta, or another island. But they would need to go somewhere they have allies, somewhere with an easy access to emergency money and resources. Italy. He contacts Luca and sets everything up, a two bed-room apartment, two bank accounts, and everything they could ever need like cash, some guns, and a car. “Consigliere, will there be another person with you?”, Luca asks. “Hopefully it won’t come to that”, he avoids the question. He knows he promised not to come back, but some promises need to be broken out of necessity. He needed to make Cha-young was safe, at all cost. His brother’s betrayal had made it easier. He’d been caught in the crossfire of their fight against Babel, killed by Choi Myung-hee in order to frame Vincenzo. But they had proved his innocence, and sent back his corpse in Milan. After Fabio’s death, Paolo hadn’t been the best replacement, and after he was killed in South Korea, they’d put in charge one of their cousins who had neither Fabio’s experience, nor Vincenzo’s mastermind. The family was in a crisis, which didn’t go unnoticed by their rivals. Soon, business started to slow down, their clients stolen by the competition and their allies started to switch teams. Money ran low. For that reason, Vincenzo didn’t run into much opposition when he came back. Most members and people in their business thought he had killed Paolo after he’d unreasonably followed him to South Korea and tried to finish him. Paolo only left disappointment and resentment behind him, and so no one missed him much. What they had not expected, however, was for Vincenzo Cassano to come back with someone.

#vincenzo #vincenzo fic #chayenzo #chayenzo fic

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jezy · 3 years

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My Ben 10 Reboot/Grim Dawn OC-- Libra Renov! :D

Warning! Some of these parts have uncomfortable stuff, so if you don't like it. Might wanna either scroll down faster or endure it if you still wanna read it.

Libra has a lot of expertise with being a Sage of Illusions but she's also a healer and wild card in case missions go south. Which is about 50/50 percent most of the time.

She's also one of the smartest sages there is. But she sometimes focuses on the puzzles way too much so she doesn't notices anything going on around her.

Libra has a few friends but they're just a bunch of royal jerks. Except Hex, she liked him when they've met. Disa and Libra are friends too, but she trusts Hex more than anyone.

Before Libra died, she was a human with wavy chocolate brown hair with deep blue eyes and fair skin. Now, she's an aetherial with messy black charcoal hair with glowing green eyes and her skin's pale white.

She is an adopted royal, let me elaborate : Her real parents' kingdom got dethroned by another kingdom in ledgerdomain. The king and queen who has a tomboy daughter which they don't like, and resulting for said daughter to left them with no heir. So when they dethroned Libra's parents, they took toddler!Libra under their wings and taught her how to be a girly-girl princess.

At first, Libra loved it but when she grew older she became a rebellious child (in secret) and would often read her adopted father's books about magic without permission.

When she met Hex (when she first sneaked out for the first time), she realized she can be so much more than just be a useless princess in her kingdom. She could help people on the front instead of doing it behind the walls of the castle.

So ever since then, whenever she gets the chance to do something rebellious, she would do it using illusions as distraction then she helps the people in need with a disguise. (Like Robin Hood).

Her adopted parents didn't liked it obviously and were trying to figure out who would do such a thing. They still haven't found out it was her.

Libra & Hex are the "friends to lovers" couple. They're glue you can't easily separate and will hurt you if you hurt one of them.

When she found out that she's getting arranged marriage to Hex's younger brother, she didn't liked it. Yes, she knew about Hex's younger brother, Spellbinder, but she didn't liked him like that.

So when Libra & Hex became 18 years old, they eloped to Cairn and became Sages since then. They're not exactly married in legal standards, but they don't mind it one bit.

When Hex gets pissed at someone, its Libra's job to calm him down.

Since she's the only thing that stands between Hex and his anger to the whole multiverses. That is, when she died in the first cataclysmic war.

Libra deeply cares about Hex and is deeply hurt whenever Hex does something he regrets. Like, cursing his brother when Spellbinder forcefully kissed her lips.

Of course, Hex hid away from her for a few years because of the fear he'll hurt her too.

This made her depressed and longed for him, even to the point on not eating or sleeping because she misses him too much. Till Disa slaps her from her depression and yells at her to get a grip.

Libra was slightly thankful for her, even though it hurts like hell. She now learned a lesson that Hex would come back. Which he did, and Libra basically sprung out to crush him with her hug.

Libra cried rivers when Hex came back, as well as him.

After that, they now have more love to each other. Which is a blessing for the other sages since they now feared/despised Hex because of what he did.

They were peaceful, until the cataclysmic war....

Now, the cataclysmic war isn't just some war, it was a war between The Gods of Cairn and The Aetherial. (I'll probably make a post about the Aetherials and Gods of Cairn, since I can't explain everything in here)

It affected everyone even The Sages, half of the faction died including Libra. Who got trapped inside the spell of the Handmaiden Shield and burned alive by the aetherfire the aetherials had caused.

When she died, her soul got flung down deep into where the aetherials (now just spirits) had now reside. When they noticed her and found out she wasn't one of them, they tortured her for eons till they came back to take over the world. But she held it together for as long as she can take.

That was until... Theodin Marcell, The Master of Flesh, had began experimenting & reanimating the bodies of humans. He searched for test subjects (alive and/or dead) and found Libra's corpse in an ancient graveyard, and decided they will make her their most perfect masterpiece.

And so he did, first they forced Libra's soul to go into an aether crystal (a sort of physical form of aetherials). Then, he sliced open Libra's body's chest and planted the crystal inside her heart. Then he started reanimating her.

When she first came back to life, she was strapped naked in an electric chair. She tried to get out obviously until she saw Theodin Marcell coming down.

"Ah, so you're awake..."

"What do you want with me?!"

"The higher ups of the Aetherhold has accepted my request to test on you, Miss Libra Renov..."

"That still doesn't my question bastard!"

"The higher ups also want you to join our army. A special soldier, if you will."

"I'll never join you! Not after what your kind has done many eons ago!"

"Of course, I know you won't accept, so we'll do it the hard way instead..."

"Wha--" Then she screamed. Theodin had activated a switch that activated the electric chair. There were iron nails, nailed through her hands, and seemingly connected to the wires up to the switch. Making her feel the pain through her nerves system.

It hurts like hell, it felt like she was on fire. Her organs felt on fire, her brain-- Everything felt like on fire.

Theodin kept doing this to her till she threw up bile onto herself. Coughing up the remaining bile in her throat.

"Hmm, interesting, a human body can take so much of electricity before they perish. But you however, since you were blessed by the gods, you can take so much more..."

"What the hell does that mean?!"

"That means, I have to do more experiments on you. But since you just woke up, I'll let you rest. Tomorrow, we will continue, and by then... You will sooner or later become a masterpiece....."

She only glared daggers at the possessed man as she was dragged away to a cell. They threw her and pinned her down, then they chained her up against the wall to make sure she doesn't escape.

Her hands felt numb from the electrocution, her body was shivering from the cold and shaking from the electricity. Her brain felt dizzy, if she focuses too much on an area, she would throw up.

Whatever the hell Theodin has in store for her, she'll endure it. She won't break from him. She'll get out and escape as soon as she finds a way how.

Besides, how worse can it get?....

Surely it won't be too much for her? Right? She's seen disturbing things, she has the confidence that she won't break.

Oh how wrong she was...

How very wrong she was...

The next day, when she was being escorted to the experimentation room. She tried to escape.

There were many aetherial possessed soldiers and once they saw her, they started shooting at her. Unfortunately, she was hit multiple times and died.

But that wasn't the worse part, the worse part was when she started to wake up. What she saw was scarring.

Her body's opened up like some frog in a science class, she could see her organs and everything from her perspective. Bloody equipment on a table, her beating heart, and Theodin poking and putting something inside her. It was enough to make her nauseous.

"Oh? Awake already?"

She was freaking out and started to squirm a lot.

"I suggest you don't squirm, unless you want an important organ to get cut from your recklessness."

She immediately froze from his words.

"Good pet." She growled at that nickname, she was very disgusted by him.

She tried to look around for any places where she can run, or anything nearby that she can use to break out of her confinement.

But she couldn't do anything, she knows that. She can't escape and she'll just bleed out if she somehow miraculously did. She was trapped.

She had no choice but to stare at what Theodin's doing to her for hours, mortified. And when he finished stitching up the slices he made, he did one more thing.

"Oh, and since you tried to escape. A little torture will be necessary."

And so he did, by stabbing her leg unexpectedly, in which she screamed. He kept doing this to different parts of her body until she began crying and whimpering.

Her face was covered in cuts and limbs that have stabs all over them. There were a few close calls to her neck making it look like scratches.

"Oh, you're crying? That's pathetic."

"...."

"Still not answering?"

"....."

"Whatever, because of your recklessness you got shot down by our troops. So I suggest you stop being stubborn and just accept it. You can't escape. And if you do, we'll be coming after you."

Those words slowly drilled down into her brain, she tried to ignore it but couldn't. In the next few days of those horrible electrocutions and mortifying tests that include getting her shoulders dislocated in the process, she was beginning to starve.

Theodin doesn't cares though so he just ignores Libra's whimpers of starvation and continued on the experiment. Even if it means Libra gets slammed like a bruised ragdoll.

There's more, more worse than that. When Theodin realized he couldn't do more experiments on Libra due to her lack of energy. He feeds her near-expired food, by literally shoving it down her throat till she chokes on it.

She absolutely doesn't likes it and tried to escape once after that. But she got stabbed from behind her and died once more.

Everytime she tried to escape, she keeps dying. And everytime she was brought back to life, she was punished. Either it was electrocution, beating her up, stabbing her randomly, or really painful whips in the back.

Her brown hair became darker until it was charcoal black due to getting electrocuted many times, her skin was so pale that you would barely see the cuts in her face. She has spots of burns on her skin when aetherfire was shot at her, body that has stitches everywhere, and her hands was beginning to glow bright green due to prolonged exposure to electricity.

Her head hurts, a lot and her chest feels funny every time she exhausts herself.

She cries in her sleep everytime, she can't take it anymore. She is in so much pain, so much stress. That she didn't even saw the worst part that happened to her.

"Fuck you..."

"Oh my, how dirty your mouth is."

"Screw. You. I can tell whatever I want to say."

"Oh my... Don't tell me you've forgotten one of the rules of your faction... That would be very disrespectful of you."

"Wait, the rules??"

"Yes, don't you remember the faction you joined and its rules?"

"My faction? Yes, my faction!... The err... S..So...The Sorcerers!"

"You meant 'The Sages'?"

"Wait, 'Sages'??? I thought--"

"Oh don't tell me you don't remember, The Sages of Cairn? The faction you dedicated your whole life into."

"Of course I remember! Its just err..."

"You seem to have forgotten your faction."

"N-No I don't! I do remember them!"

"Oh then please, tell me all about it."

"Its..erm, ugh! Why can't I remember?!"

"So you don't remember anything? Anything in particular. Your friends, your family, even your lover?"

"I...I don't remember....." Then laughter erupted from the man, as she tried to remember.

That was the worst part, she couldn't remember anything. Her memories full of holes, fuzzy dreams with no meaning to her, and sometimes nightmares would crawl into her mind. The only thing that she held onto was her name and the name of her lover, Hex, but memories of them being together was long gone.

And soon, Theodin had managed to succumb Libra in her weakest point. Where she was easily manipulated by the aetherial....

After a couple more years of experiments, torturing, etc. She was empty both inside and out. Her eyes were dull of life, her vision (sometimes) was such a haze but she didn't really cared.

Theodin had turned the once stubborn Sage into one of his mindless (very scarred soldier) soldiers for battle.

She couldn't feel pain no longer. After what she went through, she slowly became numb to pain. Which was good for Theodin Marcell, as they now have a perfect masterpiece, ready to go and do their bidding.

But the downside is that she became a masochist so every wounds inflicted to her, was a pleasure for her instead of pain. So she had to wear a mask, so people won't find out she loved the pain on herself.

She became a Mage Hunter, a mixture of an Inquisitor and an Arcanist. She disguised herself using illusions (that she vaguely remembers) and infiltrated the barracks of The Black Legion.

She then proceeded what Theodin tells her to do, smuggle the aetherial spirits to people who are the weakess mentally and with most negative emotions.

After Malmouth had fallen she continues hunting down humans for Theodin to "make a masterpiece" out of them. That was until Hex arrived.

One day, she received a mission to protect Warden Krieg in his home. So she used a rift to get there quickly, and when she did...

She saw none other than Hex who's fighting aetherials at the moment.

She stood there staring at him, thinking about how familiar Hex is to her. Though, she didn't know it was him. Until she decided to call out for him when he was finished with killing the aetherials.

"...Hex?"

That immediately caught Hex's attention and saw Libra standing there, shock mixed with confusion.

"How do you know my name?"

"I..I don't know, but I remember someone named Hex.... I'm not sure.... I just called out to you..."

"Well people don't know my name unless--"

"I'm Libra..."

That made Hex shut up quickly and come up to her with widened eyes before hugging Libra. Her mask was quickly swept to the side as Hex kissed her.

The hug and kiss really made her feel nice and warm. Like, they've been doing this for who knows how long.

But soon, the warm feeling disappeared when he let go, "How can I know you're Libra??? She died eons ago..." He said with sadness in his voice. That was a good choice, being skeptical was a good choice.

"I don't know either.... I can't remember anything, my memories are filled with holes..."

"Can you remember maybe a little bit?"

"Well, I've been getting nightmares more recently... My dreams were always different but I think I remember burning in one of them..."

"So it really is you... What happened?"

"I'll tell you, but first, we need to go somewhere and then we can talk."

Hex only nodded and followed her to a hidden place. That was when she told him everything she remembers so far, after the end of her talking Hex looked like he was going to rip Theodin Marcell into two. Which makes her scared.

She doesn't want to lose the only warmth that she has now, she needs to protect him. That was how she betrayed the aetherials and helped Hex with his missions.

This doesn't please Theodin though....

But she doesn't care, she's obsessed with Hex's warm feeling and she doesn't want to lose it.

Even though her memories is filled with holes, Libra felt like she belongs to Hex.

And since Hex is now together with Libra again, he can help her with those hole-filled memories.

And maybe now she can slowly remember what they used to be...

Here's the current gacha design for Reboot!Hex and Libra (Since I can't draw, lel)

Hope you enjoyed it!

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mamahersh · 3 years

Text

The Road to Hell (is Paved with Good Intentions) Chapter 7

“Season 8 was well underway, and the server’s first conflict is bubbling just under the surface. But BDoubleO can’t worry about that right now because he has an Etho to find so they can work on the Horse Course together. However when Xisuma calls a surprise server meeting on behalf of EvilXisuma, BDubs gets his answers about where Etho’s been in the worst way possible.”

(CW: angst, mild torture)

Chapter rating: T

Nice long conclusion chapter to make up for the short one yesterday! From BDubs view, plus nHo hurt/comfort (emphasis on comfort)!

As in all the previous chapter posts, if you’ve enjoyed the ride I took direct inspiration from this oneshot on AO3! Please give them some love and appreciation.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

It had taken days before Xisuma figured out what EX had done to the server that had caused the respawns to break in the way that it had, and how to fix it. However, figure it out and fix the problem he did, and with respawn mechanics back to normal, everyone who had died and respawned during the glitch was able to reset their health completely. And properly set their respawn points as well, since part of the glitch seemed to be that people’s respawns were being set as they were dying. But the biggest adjustment in the days after EX had caused havoc was trying to help Etho recover.

While Etho seemed relatively ok once he was able to talk again (his tongue and all his other lingering injuries were fully healed with the fixing of the respawn, though figuring out a way to get him to respawn was both more difficult and less difficult than BDubs had expected); BDubs was hearing from Iskall that all was still not right with the world. Normally, Hermits would let current season basemates/regional allies/faction mates do the heavy lifting of any emotional or mental stress that a particular Hermit experienced on the daily unless the Hermit asked for help from specific Hermits. But in this case, BDubs felt he should invite Etho to an nHo reunion/get-together. Even if Etho didn’t necessarily need the reunion, BDubs knew the rest of the nHo did.

They had all been in various states of hysterics by the time they had gotten Etho out of the restraints and the death loop he had been locked in. BDubs had been the first person to breach the room, with Iskall and Beef right behind him. Beef had blocked up the water to stop the cycle as Iskall and a recently arrived Cleo began breaking restraints while BDubs clutched Etho’s freed hand (thinking back, he probably shouldn’t have. Etho’s hands had looked hardly better than the rest of his mangled flesh. He also wasn’t sure how they managed to get his wrists detached from the cuffs, as his arms and wrists were still solidly clipping into the restraints). Hypno had fiddled with the camera and looked over the speakers, before he managed to get everything deactivated and convinced the remaining Hermits to gather at Cleo and Joe’s base. By the time the Hermits were assembled at Joe and Cleo’s base, and Etho had been safely transported from the floating box, Doc was a hissing mess, Beef was greener than normal as his stress seemed to activate the alien transition, and BDubs had resorted to constantly checking his clock (a nervous habit he had picked up from 3rd Life, but the less he thought about that hell server the better). Etho had been quickly whisked away by Iskall to their shared base, but was just as quickly relocated to the Spawn Egg; as neither had wings, and Etho wasn’t nearly healthy enough to try and scale his own base in the sky. Plus, being at the Spawn Egg had the added benefit of easy access by the rest of the server so that other Hermits could stop by and check in on Etho’s progress while they all waited for Xisuma to fix the respawn mechanics. BDubs stopped by once while Etho was recovering. It was a little out of his way when trying to visit the Yes Wings Club, but figured he might as well since he hadn’t seen Etho since they had saved him 2 days before.

Etho looked about what he had expected to be honest. Since they were worried about whether a normal respawn would register his tongue being gone as normal if they healed it properly with potions, the other Hermits had determined to wait on healing him till after he had properly respawned. That left him bedridden till the server was fixed though, which no one was happy with. BDubs was told later that supposedly Etho had understood during the few times he was lucid enough to listen to someone during that time. While he had been there though, Etho had been solidly asleep, Iskall asleep himself by Etho’s bedside. BDubs had taken a moment anyway to sit on Etho’s other side and just quietly talk to him about what he had been up to in the day or two since they had saved him. Iskall had come to briefly to see who had been talking, before settling back into his chair to rest.

BDubs had left pretty quickly, if he were being honest. Seeing Etho as vulnerable as he was left BDubs feeling a bit ill. After that, it had only been a day or two more of anxiously waiting for Xisuma to fix the server before they had been able to get the other Hermits respawned properly. (There had been several deaths during the time the respawns had been on the fritz, including a couple during the search from fall damage.) But when it came to Etho, they had tried to explain what needed to happen during one of the next times he was awake, but he had been becoming more unresponsive the longer he had been bedbound. So with heavy hearts, it had been decided that Etho needed to respawn as soon as they could decide a way to do so. After much debate between Iskall and Xisuma, it was decided that a quick anvil to the head would suffice.

It was told to BDubs later that Etho had respawned a few paces from the bed he had been sleeping in at Spawn looking incredibly confused and lost. It took close to a half hour to explain what had happened to him before him and Iskall went back to their shared base. And if Iskall was to be believed, it sounded like Etho hadn’t slept since the first night back. Which was almost a week ago. Not that many of the other Hermits were doing better. From the sounds of the grapevine, Mumbo still blamed himself for what had happened to Etho, and despite apologizing and promising Etho a cut of all his profits that season to make up for his decision (which he had been told Etho had forgiven Mumbo for and told Mumbo to keep the profits as he was just respecting Etho’s choice) he insisted on trying to find ways to make it up to an increasingly exasperated Etho. (Which BDubs noted was somewhat out of character, since Etho almost never missed a chance to keep someone in his debt and exploit them for his own projects). Other than Mumbo, Doc had been reported also to not have been sleeping as much, but instead he worked on his most recent engineering marvel. Beef had been throwing himself almost entirely into setting up his own shop outside the Derpcoin market to sell his own brand of non-evil cat food. BDubs knew that Beef was taking the whole: “Derpcoin is actually evil not even a meme” thing incredibly hard, since his whole thing this season had been going over to the dark-side as an alien (which BDubs still didn’t understand how that had started in the first place). BDubs himself was doing just fine thank you very much! Sure, he’d been struggling with sleeping at night himself (every time he closed his eyes he could see Etho strapped to that chair and drowning again), and yeah, he’d been trying to work on the shopping district by the mountain instead of the Horse Course (he had heard from Iskall that Etho had been working on something outside the base, and BDubs had a sneaking suspicion he knew at least one of the projects Etho’d been working on). But he definitely wasn’t nearly as bad as the other members of the old nHo. Definitely. He couldn’t lie to himself, they were all having a bad time.

So, as BDubs was wont to do, he took things into his own hands and sent invitations to all the nHo members to come by his base for a get together. The date was set, and he visited every member in person leading up to the event to make sure they were coming, no excuses! (He knew it was particularly urgent as when he went to check on Etho, he finally found him sleeping in one of BDubs’ builds next to the horse course, and when he got Etho awake, he cracked exactly 0 height jokes until he tried to get Etho to come by later and it was a height joke every minute. The height jokes were BDubs’ way of figuring out how nicely Etho wanted to play. The less the better.)

But now the day had finally arrived, and BDubs welcomed each one of his friends into his base with open arms and a smile. First to arrive was Beef, seeing as he was closest. Then Doc. Then as BDubs was debating messaging Iskall to find Etho for him, the man himself showed up on BDubs’ doorstep. Everything went off without a hitch in the beginning. They all were able to reconnect and chat about bases and projects they were working on; Doc with his redstone magic he was getting from his friends on another server, Beef and his efforts to create a new kind of cat food, Etho and his many projects ranging from an inventory sorter to the horse course, and BDubs with his latest shop attempts in the Big Eye Crew shopping district. (It was good to see Etho making fun of BDubs’ attempts at making a redstone shop. Etho hadn’t heard of it yet, and it was a delight to see him light up while joking about what BDubs could possibly make with redstone that even someone like Grian couldn’t do themselves.)

It all comes crashing down when Etho asks Beef more about the cat food. Specifically what was wrong with the old cat food.

Now Beef hadn’t expressly said that he had been working with EX for having a cat food stand at the Evil Emporium; but he had implied that his previous cat food flavor would be going on the back burner. What they all had assumed was that Etho at least generally knew most of the gossip on the server. But what BDubs should have guessed was that Etho had been very absent this season, and unless the current events were directly affecting his plans, he had never been one for being up to date on server events. So BDubs should have guessed that Etho asking about cat food would only end in a bittersweet ending.

“So Beefers, you said something about your cat food getting a new recipe… What happened with the old recipe? Not up to snuff?”

“I will have you know that all my cat food is premium and delicious, and I will not have you slandering it in this way,” replied an overdramatic Beef.

The nHo chuckled at his antics before Etho came back with, “Well if it wasn’t the quality then what was it? Now you have me intrigued.”

Beef shrugged. “I just wanted a cat food to really call my own is all.”

Etho gave him a look. “Wouldn’t the other cat food be yours too?”

“Well…” Beef looked deeply conflicted. BDubs decided to say it for him. “He was working for the Evil Emporium since he started to change into… I guess it’s an alien?”

Etho stilled at the name, and the rest of the group held their breaths. “Ah,” he replied, suddenly tight as a bowstring.

“Which is why I’m making a new brand of cat food, one which I’ll be selling from a shop near my base for diamonds,” soothed Beef, trying his best to keep Etho away from bad memories.

“I can see why you changed brands then,” replied Etho through a forced calm. He was not subtle in the least however. Bdubs wondered if the hurt in Etho's eyes was from the idea that his closest friend had supported the monster that had hurt him, or the idea that his friend would completely change his plans for the season due to one off script incident? Bdubs had a feeling it was definitely the former.

(BDubs had asked Xisuma after all was said and done if he remembered anything leading up to them being in front of the screen at his base. X had said the last thing he had remembered before that was meeting up with EvilX to discuss business strategies before blacking out after their customary greetings. He explained it had happened before, but he had somehow never thought much of the memory gaps. However, he agreed with the rest of the Hermits that had talked with him about it that it was a problem that would need to be investigated because it sounded like mind control. And a player that could control the server admin was a force too powerful to allow free. Or at the very least, a player that needed to have some very hard limits as to what they could do placed upon them.)

“You know, Etho, have you been ok?” asked Doc hesitantly. BDubs hoped that Doc knew what he was doing, because Bdubs was definitely lost.

Etho looked a bit like a cornered animal at the moment as he looked between the 3 of them like they had betrayed him. “Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?”

Doc gave him a look that BDubs thought was completely justified. “Etho, you went through an incredibly traumatic experience only a week or so ago. It is completely fine if you aren't doing ok.”

Etho sighed. “And what would you even do if I wasn't ok?”

Doc gave a hissy whine and moved from where he had been situated to sit close beside Etho. “Well, we'd figure out what we can do to make it a little closer to being ok.” He looked down at his lap. “I know I've been struggling with sleep recently, so I understand at least if you aren't sleeping either.” Etho looked vaguely stricken.

“You were part of the group that was watching, weren't you?” BDubs watched as Etho began to close off. Doc just nodded miserably. “And the two of you?”

BDubs felt gutted, knowing that Etho either didn't remember him breaking in to save him and holding his hand; or was purposefully ignoring the memory. “I stopped you from drowning more by blocking up the source block...” muttered Beef, looking pretty hurt himself.

“I found your enclosure and got the search party together to come finish breaking you out; and was there next to Beef when he was saving you,” finished Bdubs, a bit more of the hurt shining through because he couldn't hold a poker face even if his life depended on it. But also, Etho needed to see that he wasn't alone, in a lot of ways.

Etho looked appropriately chastised, if also incredibly grateful. “Thank you, all of you.” He leaned lightly into Doc's shoulder; the most affection he would normally show to anyone. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you 3, so thank you. Thank you so much.” They all politely ignored the sniffling coming from behind the mask, though Beef situated himself on Etho’s other side, and BDubs decided to try and strategically place himself on the floor in front of Beef so that if Etho wanted to lean a leg against him, he could. BDubs was so tempted to drape himself over Etho’s legs, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Etho probably wouldn’t handle being immobile in a sitting position well for the foreseeable future. However he was vindicated when his hair was playfully ruffled by an Etho hand as the 4 of them devolved into just sitting with each other.

BDubs should have guessed that Etho wouldn’t stay down long however, as Etho (after inconspicuously wiping the corners of his eyes dry) said, “so, who wants to help me prank the Boatem Crew?” BDubs could feel the devious smile creeping across his face.

“Now you’re speaking my language Canada boy!” Etho wheezed a quiet laugh above him.

“You sure you want to be slinging that kind of slander at me short stuff?”

“SHORT STUFF?!?!” BDubs got up in a huff. “I’LL SHOW YOU SHORT STUFF, YOU DAMN BEAN POLE!” Beef, Etho, and Doc all burst into chuckles, leaning into the couch as they tried to get themselves under control. “YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY, DO YOU? Ooooooh, you are all playing a dangerous game!”

Etho and Doc proceeded to laugh harder, leaning against each other. “What are you going to do BDubs, bite our ankles?” asked Beef before breaking down laughing again.

“I’LL BITE YOUR ANKLES JUST WATCH ME!” and with that, BDubs was all over Beef, trying to get a solid shoulder punch in, but being thwarted at every turn. A stray punch at Doc, and suddenly everyone but Etho was rolling around the floor trying to playfully murder each other. Etho wheezed in laughter at their antics, and expertly avoided getting added into their mischief by eventually hopping up a ladder to the next floor and watching from the opening.

Eventually they managed to settle down, and by the time they had gathered themselves enough, it was night time. BDubs, with a lighter heart than when he had let in all his friends earlier in the day, said goodbye to them with promises that if Etho really was serious about pranking the Boatem Crew, the nHo would be right by his side. They left one by one, first Doc (who complained that he was already behind schedule on his build), then Beef (who playfully recommended Etho come help him run his shop if he wasn’t too busy helping Iskall dye prismarine), and lastly Etho. But before Etho departed, he said, “you know, I already thanked you, but I feel I should do it again.” He met BDubs’ gaze. “Thank you so much for finding me. I don’t know how that would have ended if you hadn’t caught sight of that place”.

BDubs was humbled by Etho’s gratitude, though he still replied with, “You’re my friend Etho, of course I would give it my all to find you. I’m just happy we were able to do so before it was too late. And if you ever need to get away from it all, it’s pretty nice out here once you get past all the big eyes.”

Etho wheezed a chuckle in response, a hidden smile brightening up the corners of his eyes. “Sure, I’ll keep that in mind. You take care of yourself now, you hear? I don’t want to be hearing of too many shenanigans from you, ok?”

BDubs laughed in response, and nodded. “Can do! And you do the same, ok?” He let the humor drain a bit, a more serious tone shining through. “If things get bad, please let someone know. Doc knows what happened, and he would be able to tell you who else was there that you could talk to if you needed it.”

Etho nodded. “Yeah, yeah. If it gets bad I always have Iskall and you guys.” Etho glanced at a clock in his inventory. “Looks like I should be off. If I start now, I should be able to get back before sunrise.” Etho waved goodbye as he turned to go.

“Stay safe! I’ll see you around then,” called out BDubs as he watched Etho quickly jog to the nearest source of water. Then, once acquired, he flew with the flick of his trident, starting his way back to the nether portal so as to make it back to his base safely.

BDubs went to bed that night content knowing that if Etho ever needed the help, he knew who he could reach out to.

-fin-

#bdouble0 #ethoslab #docm77 #vintagebeef #xisuma #iskall #hermitcraft #hc fanfic #hc fanfiction #hurt/comfort #my beloved #finally #zombiecleo #hypnotizd #final chapter #I hope to have this mirrored to AO3 soon if it isn't already #if AO3 would ever get me off the wait list orz

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