#Decency Sentry

[rexscanonwife]

NAWWW not a video ranking the dateability of tf2 mercs calling Engie BLAND and SAFE 😤😤😤

#jane journals #self insert talk #silly #🛠 my boy builds sentries 🛠 #ahfjfjg im PRETTY sure its the same guy who said aran would be a cheating partner too 🙄🙄 #like engie doesnt have an edge?? he's got edge #hes just also a GENTLEMAN and he has some sense of decency #also saying that hes bland because hes a scientist and 'spends more time on machines than talkkng to other people' is part of his edge!! #hes honestly probably on a similar level to medic when it comes to his morbid curiosity #scientific research to the point of being morally questionable is a huge facet of his character!! #he just cant resist fucking around and finding out if the mann comics are anything to go by #he looked his boss in the eye and said he was gonna BREAK HIM if he laid his hands on him 😤😤 thats not bland #and also im not like actually mad about this #really its just an excuse to talk about engie a bit sjfjgk

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 5

Summary: Trapped Under the Mountain you're trying you best to learn to navigate Amarantha's Court and your own, budding powers.

Content Warnings: Allusions to assault, slavery, mild cursing

Author's Note: This one hurt me to write, but my depression got the better of me and I needed to let my angst out somewhere; I'm so sorry.

Pt 1, 2, 3, 4

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It’s been three weeks since you’d been dragged under the Mountain, each day counted with a little tally scratched into the wall behind your bed post where no one can see. Two weeks without word from your uncle. Two weeks without sunlight. Sometimes you sit in the dark wondering if, when this is over and you finally get to step into the sun again, if your eyes will be able to bear it, or will they be permanently altered?

The weeks are taking a toll. The girl you see in the mirror each morning is paler and paler each passing day, the lines of your face a little thinner as hunger becomes a constant companion. Amarantha has tasked someone with feeding you, but meals are few and far between, save for the assortment of stale snack Rhys has been sneaking into your training sessions. The male has spent hours each day running you through shielding techniques, followed by sparring sessions to “keep you limber” he’d said, and has only just begun to touch the well of power that sleeps beneath your skin. He’s still tight lipped about what he suspects it was, no matter your questioning. Things are, well you wouldn’t say pleasant necessarily, sometimes he still makes you want to hurl things at his head, but there has been no more threats from Amarantha to enforce upon you and so things are fine between you. The Queen has kept to herself for the last three weeks, until the Attor came knocking on your door.

The creature has the decency to not attempt to carry you by the back of the shirt this time. Instead, it walks ahead of you, leathery wings and talons scrapping the floor, it’s every breath a horribly, squeaking, rasp through it’s crooked teeth. It’s only spoken to inform you that you’re being summoned to the Queen’s chambers and than it clamps it’s thin lips shut and shoves you into the hall.

No throne room today, for that you’re relieved, most nights you can still see the bodies pinned to the wall when you shut your eyes. Instead, the Attor leads you up and up, the climb stealing your breath as you head to what you can only assume is the Mountain’s peak. Someone has painstakingly carved steps into the rock, each stone smooth and worn down over time. The door at the top is the same carved stone as all the other doors, but this one is guarded by masked sentries, both armed to the teeth. Spears glisten in their gloved hands, and you keep your questions about how well those could be wielded in such a small space to yourself. Questioning Rhys about her operations is one thing, the Attor and the rest of her cronies is another.

The sentries knock twice before pushing the door open for you.

Unlike your room, the space of her chambers is cavernous, the walls smoothed over and held by pillars of marble and sandstone. Faelights glitter and twist around each pillar, bathing the room in an unnaturally red glow.

Red seems to be her favorite color.

Her sleeping chambers are set in the side of the space, hidden from you by a crimson curtain. The rest of the room is left open, decorated with plush couches and chairs around a roaring fireplace in the shape of a lion’s head. Beneath the worn coffee table, currently plated with tea cups and scones, is a pelt of some sort of monster, the head bearing curling horns and an open mouth of jagged teeth, the glassy eyes starring right at you as the Attor all but shoves you into the room.

There’s a heavy scent of mirthroot and incense in the room that makes your head feel fuzzy.

The Queen emerges from behind the curtain wearing little other than a silk robe, the bare expanse of her legs on full display.

You reign in the disgust you feel at seeing her, try not to picture what she was doing back there, so flippant after she’d ordered an innocent male killed simply for knowing you. She’s a monster. But she’s also the monster with the power of the High Lords and you’re not so foolish as to upset her here in the quiet of her chambers where no one will hear you scream if she decides she wants to punish you for any slight you might offer.

“Y/N,” she says with a grin that looks wrong on the sharp planes of her pale face. “Glad you could join me! Come, sit.”

The Attor watches you move towards the couch opposite her like he thinks you might pounce on her and drag your claws across her throat.

The couch sinks in when you sit, like it’s been used a lot. You try not to think about why.

“Tea?” She asks as she grabs her own cup, her red lipstick smearing across the rim as she takes a deep drink.

Your stomach rumbles, a reminder that they’d forgotten to feed you again. You pull your hands into your sleeves, trying to keep your hands from reaching out to take what’s offered on instinct. “No.” The chances of you being drugged in here are high, you’re not taking any chances. Mentally, you do a quick check of your shields, just as Rhys had shown you, to ensure the doors of your mind are shut from whatever power of his she can wield over you.

She frowns. “I can see that you’re scared of me.”

You lean back in the couch, arms across your chest.

“I wish it didn’t have to be like that,” she says as she sets her own cup down. “I’ve been training with Hybern for many years, I’ve often thought of him like a father, and so I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward when I say I hope that some day you’ll see me like a sister.”

The urge to unleash your claws and slash them across her face is overwhelming. You’re thankful you’d had the good sense to pull your hands into your sleeves, it hides the way you dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself still. “Oh?”

She clasps her hands together, the eyeball in her ring swiveling to look at you. “My relationship with my own family was… rocky, I’d like to think fate is giving me another chance with you.”

You’re not so desperate to get out that you buy it, but you know, from somewhere deep inside of you that if she’d waited a few more weeks, if the hunger and the dark were really starting to get to you that she could have been convincing. That’s what scares you the most.

“I know I come across extreme,” she continues like she hasn’t noticed your reservations. “But, girl to girl, I really want to see you thrive. Rhysand has been telling me of your progress. He says you’re a fast learner.”

He’d told you that too. “He’s a good teacher,” you say carefully. You mean it, he’s very patient with you, even if he is an ass about how he gets results, he’s never been harsh, never pushed too far--not since that first day had he come into your mind uninvited--but you can’t have her getting suspicious of why you’ve been such a dutiful student. If she suspects you’re trying to awaken your powers too soon, you’re as likely to end up chained to her as the High Lords are. Hybern needs a weapon, not a time bomb, you have to play your cards steadily to unsure you can get out of here at the end of this.

“Charmed, are we?” She asks in what feels like it’s meant to be conspiratorial girl talk, but the look in her eyes... You swear the eye on her finger widens in warning.

“I haven’t had any training before this. It is nice to have a guide for my questions.” As close to the truth as you can get.

Amarantha leans back in her seat, arms spread across the back of the couch, as she studies you. Her eyes are so dark they’re almost black, nothing but cold calculations in a gaze you know has been wielded with extreme precision on the battlefield. It’s like she’s pinpointing all your weak spots when she looks at you. You can’t look her in the eyes, not without fidgeting, you find yourself picking at the fraying edges of your shirt sleeves instead.

“You poor thing,” she coos. “You must have been so confused.”

That much is true too. You still haven’t been able to figure out why they’re doing all this. What terrible power does she think you posses that she’s so desperate she’ll invite you into her personal chambers instead of attempting some dramatic event in the throne room?

You stare at the wall. You can’t give her the satisfaction of asking her those questions. Maybe she does have the answers, but they’re from her mouth and you know better than to trust a damn think that comes out of it.

“I thought everybody was ahead of me,” you admit. “We travelled a lot so regular schooling was out of the question.”

“Oh I’m sure your uncle was a master at weaponizing your naivety. Most males are.” She brings her hand with the ring up to her chest and begins to trace a pointed nail over it, as if she’s thinking about something else.

“He’s a good male,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

She huffs a laugh, “Good males do not steal children from their parents.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek.

“Your parents were very powerful people once, and your uncle had always been jealous of your mother. I wish you could have seen her, Y/N, when she stepped onto a battlefield, males coward. I watched them piss themselves just at the sight of her. She was everything I hoped to be as Hybern’s general.”

You’d always imagined your love of books and ancient things had come from your mother. In your mind she’d been a soft woman who grew gardens and was always reading books under big oak trees. In your mind she was kind and gentle and had lost you tragically in some sort of accident. To hear anything else, from Amarantha of all people, made you want to throw your hands up over your ears. Your uncle had alluded to your father not being the best of people, but you had never imagined it would be this bad either.

“Your uncle couldn’t stand it,” she continues, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “I tried to warn them that he was a jealous and dangerous male, but your mother loved him too much to see it. And when he stole you out of your room that night, well, her heart couldn’t handle it. That’s our curse as women, I suppose, we care too much.”

You look into the fire. That can’t be true! You don’t want it to be true. Because, if it is, you’re not only wrong about your parents, you’re wrong about your uncle too and then you will have no family left at all.

“And look at you, following in her footsteps,” she presses. “Caring so much about him that you’ll sacrifice your own peace of mind to spare his miserable life. He’s a monster, Y/N, why are you protecting him? All he has ever done is hurt you.”

The flames dance in the fireplace, reaching towards the carved teeth of the lion’s head. You trace the ash that’s dusted up the creature’s face with your eyes, anything to avoid looking at her. Your shields might be in place, but your face will betray you all the same.

She stands and comes to sit next to you, the heavy scent of earth and incense a cloud around her. “Your powers could have driven you insane without the right teaching. He very well could have killed you. You want to protect a male like that?”

 Maybe it is all true, gods above you can barely stomach the thought, but even if it is, you can’t sell him out to her. “I already told Rhys where he would be. I’m not protecting anyone.” These last few weeks, no news of him had been a relief, it meant he was safe, but as time ticked on, the doubts were starting to get to you. None of her huntsman had even heard whispers of where he’d gone. Was it possible he’d abandoned you?

She reaches out and places her nails under your chin, turning your head until you’re looking into her eyes. “You poor thing. I feel for you, I really do. I know the terrible sting of betrayal all too well.”

The eye on her ring swivels to stare at her, like it’s questioning the statement.

Maybe it really is alive; the thought makes your stomach roll.

“What do you want?” You ask.

She laughs like you’d told a joke. “As I said, I want us to be friends.”

“You killed a male to threaten me into submission and suddenly you want to be friends?”

She stiffens a little.

“This is about the twins, isn’t it?”

“Do you smoke?” She asks instead.

The shift makes you pause for a second, long enough for her to shout for someone behind the curtain leading into her sleeping quarters. A moment later, the same male from the throne room appears, shirtless, wearing nothing but his boxers and a glittering, golden collar. In his hand is a small, silver tray and as he seats himself on the arm of the couch, he holds it out to her. A rolled cluster of cigarettes sits on the tray next to a golden lighter and she grabs the nearest cigarette. Out of what can only be habit, the male sets the tray on the table and lights the cigarette for her as she brings it to her mouth. You’ve been in enough taverns to know mirthroot when you smell it, the smoke making the room hazy.

“Helps with my headaches,” she says, holding it out to you.

You glance at the male, now draped over the edge of the couch like this is normal. Like it’s normal that there are scratch marks across his chest; a collar clinging to his throat. So much had happened the last time he’d been around you hadn’t really noticed what was happening, but now…

Amarantha is speaking again but you honestly can’t hear what she’s saying.

What kind of female does this to people?

There’s something prowling beneath your skin, a caged animal pacing the bars of it’s enclosure. The first bits of your talons poke through your skin, digging into your palms to keep it at bay.

“Y/N?” She asks, and by the tone its clear this isn’t the first time she’s called you by name.

You force yourself to draw a breath, then another. You cannot fight her here like this, no matter how badly you want to. No matter how much the sight of that collar makes you want to destroy everything she’s ever touched. She has the power of the High Lords and if you fight her here in her chambers, untrained, you will loose.

You draw another breath. Rhys had said that half the battle was knowing when to throw the first punch. It isn’t time yet.

You repeat it to yourself, to the thing that slumbers in your chest until it quiets.

You know Amarantha is watching, can feel that oily gaze on you. You draw another breath and force yourself to look at her. “I’m sorry, I… I was just wondering…” You should placate her, pretend your just some untrained, naive little girl she found on Calanmai. At the start of this conversation you might have, but the shift you feel beneath your skin…

You need to get out of the room before you implode.

And you need her to know you’re not just some stupid pet.

“I was just wondering what’s so bad about the twins that’s got you rattled, Your Highness?” Maybe you can’t meet her gaze yet, maybe you can’t win a physical fight, but you’re not some helpless toy at her whims. The last couple weeks have weakened you, but they haven’t beat you.

She growls at you, eyes flashing dangerously.

The male on the end of the couch scatters out of range, ducking behind the curtain long enough for you to get a flash of the room, see another body laying in her silk sheets.

You’re going to rip this mountain apart brick by fucking brick if you have to.

“Is this what you’d rather do, little mouse?” She asks, her voice dangerously low. “Play games with me?”

It's too late to take it all back now. The words are out and despite the shiver running down your spine, you know if you back down now she will hold it over your head forever. Might as well stand your ground and see what she'll reveal to you if you keep pushing. “I’m bored in my cell,” you counter.

She takes a drag of the mirthroot. You'll ask Rhys later why she needs so much of it. Is it possible that holding all that power is effecting her physically somehow?

“How forgetful of me to not keep you entertained.”

“Isn’t that what friends do?” You over emphasize the word, put all your venom into it. You can’t spar with her physically yet, but you’ve always been quicker with your words than your fists anyway.

She flicks the cigarette away. “You should come to dinner tonight, if you’re so bored.”

You hope she can’t hear the way your heart thunders in your chest. This is dangerous, so very dangerous. You’re almost sure you can hear Rhys screaming in your head. “I’d be delighted,” you say as sweetly as you can.

Amarantha motions the Attor over, a dismissal. “I was hoping to protect you from the cruelty of this court until you were ready. My subjects aren’t always as kind as me, but since you’re so keen on getting out of your room, I suppose I can’t help you.”

She’s going to throw you to the wolves.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’ll have to get acquainted with my father’s court eventually.”

“You’ll remember this conversation after dinner,” she hisses as the Attor grabs your shoulder and lifts you off the couch.

“I’m sure it’ll be a good laugh for both of us,” you say like you don’t hear the threat.

As the door opens, you throw over your shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight.”

The powers she’s stolen rumble as the door slams shut behind you, the mountain shaking.

You tuck your trembling hands into your pockets as you walk back the way you came. At least no one is dead this time, but still you can’t shake the feeling that you’re royally fucked.

Doesn’t help matters that, as you turn the corner back towards you room, Rhysand is there, frowning as he leans against the closed door. That intense violet gaze roams over you as you approach, as if he’s cataloging every detail of you, then the Attor.

“Why is she out?” He snarls at the Attor.

“Well hi to you too,” you grumble.

You’re not entirely sure what powers come with being High Lord of the Night Court, but you’re sure he once was able to burn holes through people’s heads, judging by the intensity of the anger in his eyes. He won’t even make eye contacting with you, only the Attor, who lumbers past you, chuckling.

“Her Majesty requested an audience.”

“She’s only to leave her room with me,” Rhys snarls, pushing away from the wall so he’s standing at his full height. Wisps of darkness unfurl from his shoulders, thrashing behind him like living things.

You shiver a little. These last few weeks had made you forget the male you had seen on Calanmai--what Darkness Incarnate was capable of given the right push.

“Funny,” the Attor rasps, unbothered by the display. Maybe when you spend so much time with Amarantha, only big, powerful displays matter. “She hasn’t mentioned you all morning. Maybe she’s gotten tired of you.”

“And maybe,” Rhys prowls forward, the stars you can sometimes see glittering in his eyes winking out with each breath he takes. “I was out dragging Tamlin’s sorry ass in for you.”

The Attor pauses, wings twitching. “Spring surrendered?”

“His time is up,” Rhys snarls. “He didn’t even fight me.”

Shit shit shit. She’s actually done it. Tamlin had been the last High Lord on his throne. When Hybern came in a couple of months, there’d be no one standing in his way. Amarantha would have all the High Lords sitting and waiting for him to do whatever he wanted with them.

You look at Rhys, really look. There’s no damage on him, no cuts or bruises, not even dirt, no hint that he was lying about bringing Tamlin in. He doesn’t look at all bothered by it either, as if this is just another part of the job.

The Attor makes a hissing sound, “Guess we both didn’t get what we wanted today, lordling.”

“This will be the last time you take her anywhere,” Rhys snarls, his voice wholly taken over by a High Lord. Not the male that sits on the floor in the training room, showing you how to shield; not the male who sneaks you snacks to ensure you’re not starving to death in the dark. There is no room for argument, no room for a fight, he is High Lord and he will get his way. “And if I find out any harm came to her while she was under your watch I will take my gods-damned time flaying the skin from your measly bones.”

Measly? The Attor is twice Rhys’s size, yet you know, just by looking at him that he’d win. It’s no idle threat.

“You talk a lot of game, whore,” the Attor snarls as it backs away. It knows it’ll loose too. “But lets see you put that same energy out in front of Her Highness when she has her new pet out for dinner tonight. I’m sure with the Lord of Spring joining us, things will be interesting.”

It scurries away before Rhys can ask what that means, or before you can tear it’s ugly face off it’s bones. Yours claws are piercing into your palms, blood pooling between yours fingers. You hadn’t realized you’d done it, they’d slipped, your control waning at his words. Rhys hadn’t seemed to notice them, hadn’t reacted at all, just as he hadn’t that night in the throne room, but you can’t stand it. And you can’t even explain why.

“Are you hurt?” Rhys asks as soon as the Attor is gone. The wisps of darkness disappear in a rush, like all the energy needed to summon them had suddenly vanished.

“No, I’m fine,” you reply, but you can’t stop yourself from looking down at your hands, the indents you’d left in your palms. Little tendrils of your own darkness slip from them, like it’s leaking out of your skin.

Rhys is on you in an instant, taking your hands in his own, looking at the damage.

“Guess I was clenching my fists a little tight,” you say.

The world tilts and spins, the sound of wind rushing in your ears, and then you’re standing in another bedroom. It’s as barren as your own, lit with a dozen, half melted candles, most of the space taken up by a bed with black silk sheets. There’s some furniture covered in dust around a cold fireplace; it looks less used then your own had been when you’d arrived.

Rhys’s hand is around your wrist, pulling your towards the bathing chambers. He’s breathing hard, as if the winnowing had taken a lot out of him; his skin a little more pale, dark circles around his eyes. How much of his power does Amarantha steal on the daily?

“What did the Attor mean about tonight?” He asks as he motions you to sit on the edge of the tub. It’s bigger than your own, not by much, but there’s enough of a lip around the edge that you can sit without falling completely in. He lets the water run until it’s warm.

You pinch your eyes shut. “She gave me this whole speech about how she wants to be friends.”

He guides your hands under the water and you wince against the sting.

“I was going to wait her out, just not say anything at all, but…” but you kept seeing that male in that godsdamned collar, and the bodies pinned to the wall of the throne room, and the male who had been murdered on the floor.

You know you should be careful here too, no one has explained what his role in all of this is. Was he like Tamlin once? Dragged in when he ran out of options? Or had he come on his own? And you can’t shake the queasiness you get in the pit of your stomach when someone calls him a whore, because all you can do is wonder if Rhys has any say at all what happens to him down here?

“But?”

“But she’s a monster and the last fucking thing I want to be is her friend.”

He steps away long enough to get a towel and dab at the open wounds, still bleeding, the water red as it runs down your hands.

“So I guess I kinda goaded her into doing something with me instead of leaving me in my room all the time.”

Rhys huffs, but you can’t tell if it’s annoyance or anger. He doesn’t say anything beyond that as he shuts off the water and start rummaging through the cabinet under the sink. There’s a lot of vials and bottles and hand towels organized in the small space, the only real sign that anyone ever stays in the room at all.

“You’re lucky she didn’t tear you apart,” he growls as he comes back with a bottle of what looks like antiseptic. He dabs some on another towel and presses it to your palms, ignoring the hiss you make at the sting. “She’s ripped off people’s arms for less.”

“Yeah well one of the joys of being me is she needs me alive,” you drawl.

He tosses the used rag in the tub and then opens a small bottle of salve. It’s half empty, the contents clinging to the sides of the container. It’s applied to your hands with the care of someone who has done this over a dozen different wounds.

“How’d you find all this stuff?”

He’s got gauze too; wraps your hands carefully. “One of the joys of being me is she needs me in one piece,” he returns.

When your hands are all wrapped, he puts all the stuff back and washes his own hands.

“What…” this is dangerous ground, it sounds an awful lot like you care about him. You run a finger over the bandage, trace the sleeve of the shirt you only have because he’d given it to you. You’d still be in a shift in this frozen place if it wasn’t for him. You’d be a lot worse off, if it wasn’t for him.

“What exactly do you do for her?” Do you even want to know? Why torture yourself with the truth when you find out he’s done all of this for her because he wants to? Because he was born a monster just like she was and had only decided to latch onto you because maybe you were as much a ticket to Hybern’s graces as you were for Amarantha?

You watch the way his back shudders as he draws a shaking breath.

Something in your chest cracks and you jump off the edge of the tub.

“Whatever she wants,” he says so softly you almost can’t hear him.

You take a step closer, then another, until you’re right behind him. “And do you… want to do that?”

He turns slowly, head to his chest.

You take the final step so that you can look up into his eyes. So you can see him. There is so much there, in his eyes, in the shadows across his face that you’re pretty sure you have an answer. But you can’t be pretty sure of anything Under the Mountain. You need to hear it said.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he whispers.

“Yes it does,” you press.

He shakes his head, onyx hair falling over his eyes. This is the most rumpled you’ve seen him, he’s always so put together. “Not with what I stand to loose.”

“What could be worth all this?” You’ve unconsciously brought your bandaged hands up on his chest, the beat of his heart quickening beneath your palms. He lets you, as if that pulse might show you that he really does have a heart that works under his shirt.

He brings a hand up slowly, gently running his fingers over the back of your knuckles. His mouth opens, and closes without an answer.

“Rhys-”

He pulls your hands away, straightening, whatever emotion had been on his face before is gone, that cold mask of indifference in it’s place once again. “I am High Lord,” he explains, “my duty is to protect my people at all costs.” Whatever he was going to say before will remain buried behind that mask. You don’t know how he does it so easily. Just when you think he might open up, might let you in, might show you that the male you had met on Calanmai was real, he shuts it out behind this mask.

“And who protects you?” You dare to ask, because even though you know you can’t get past that mask, you can’t stop yourself from trying.

“I don’t need protecting,” he says, but it’s not confidence in his voice, nor pride, it’s… broken, as if he doesn’t think he’s worth protecting. “Careful, Y/N, I might think you care about me.”

Caring in a place like this very well may get you killed. But if you stop, if you find your own mask and shut down every piece of yourself behind it, aren’t you just as bad as him?

 “Would it be so bad?” You whisper. You can’t help but feel small in a place like this, would having a friend be so terrible?

“Yes!” He snarls and darkness leaks from him again. “The more people you care about in this gods forsaken mountain the harder it is to get out! You might only get one shot and if you don’t take it, you’re likely to get stuck here forever.”

Somehow this is worse than Amarantha asking to be friends, this feels an awful like some sort of rejection and that chasm you often feel after Calanmai, when you’d ignored him, cracks and splits wide open in your chest. You feel yourself tumbling down, down into the dark void.

“Why do you care so much if I get out then?”

“Because you’re-” he bites down on the rest of the sentence, shakes it off with a deep breath. “No one else will tell you the truth, so here it is: You will be the death of all of us if you stay. So yes, I want you out of here. I want you as fucking far away from here as possible!”

You can’t breathe.

The chasm swallows you, drags you under until you don’t know what way is up. You know you’re crying, but you can’t stop the tears that stream down your cheeks. Rhys doesn’t bother to try and wipe them away this time.

“Fuck you,” you whimper.

“It’s not my fault you were so damn isolated the first scrap of attention you got you confused with something else,” he replies. “I’ve kept you alive out of necessity and I will continue to do so until it is no longer required of me. And when the time comes for you to get out, you’ll take it and not look back, understand?”

The world spins again and you’re suddenly back inside your own room.

“Do you understand?” He repeats again.

“Perfectly,” you hiss.

“Good. Now let’s fucking hope I can get you out of this gods-damned dinner before your throw away your chance.”

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Tag List: @mariahoedt, @lovelydove, @twsssmlmaa, @sleepylunarwolf, @judig92, @willowpains, @annaaaaaa88, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @myheartfollower, @uniquecolorwizard, @eternallyelvish

*I've seen that some of my tags aren't working for this list, I'm trying to figure out why it will let me tag some of you and not others, but I'll keep trying until I figure it out. :) As always, if you want to be added to the list, let me know! :) Thank you all for your support in this fic you guys are amazing! <3 *

#rhysand x reader #Rhys x reader #rhysand x reader angst #rhysand x reader smut (eventually) #rhysand ACOTAR #ACOTAR fic #utm!rhys #datura #my fanfic #my writing

[deejadabbles]

The Handmaiden's Fox (Fox x Fem!Reader) Chapter One

Summary: You have been by Amidala’s side since she was the queen of Naboo and no one will shake you from your duty. Not even a handsome, red-clad commander who seems quite taken with the friendship you’ve forged. Commander Fox x fem handmaiden reader. Slow burn, friends to lovers. Rating: Mature A.N: So for those of you who don't know: all of Padmé's handmaidens take new names ending with " é " as a sign of loyalty to her. I never mentioned the reader's é name as I want that to be personal, but I wanted to mention it since it comes into play in the story <3

I've also made a playlist for this series, in case you want to set the mood with tunes. Word Count: 6,284 Warnings: just some blaster fire and canon typical danger Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up  /// AO3

Prologue /// Part One /// Part Two /// [part three coming soon]

Chapter one

The roaring of the senate chamber was deafening. You had thought that years of exposure to it would harden your hearing, but no petty debate between dozens of senators could have prepared you for the screaming of the last two weeks. Two weeks. Not even fourteen rotations had passed since the battle of Geonosis. Since the start of the Clone War. Every day more and more planets were leaving to join the Separatists, and the destruction of chaos was spreading fast. So, you supposed it was little surprise that every single debate in the Senate was automatically a vibrant verbal brawl now.

And here you had hoped that fewer senators in the hall would lessen the noise.

As always, you stood sentry behind your lady, your Amidala, who had fought in the first battle of the war. Who had been thrown into a pit for execution, and blasted her way out like a warrior. Now, she was in a whole new type of pit, instead of fighting starved beasts, she was now fighting numerous senators who seemed content to throw out any shred of decency in favor of war.

You watched as the senator from Corellia made their argument, that they needed to cut off relief aid funding in favor of the cloning facilities. Just two weeks in, and the need for more clones was already apparent. In the seat in front of you, you watched Padmé stiffen at the way the other senator implied that ‘lesser’ worlds needed to help themselves before asking the Republic for aid. She was raring for a fight, and fight she did.

You never got tired of watching Padmé put someone in place with a few carefully chosen words. Never tired of the way she fought for others…even if it didn’t always work in the end.

“Motion passed,” came Chancellor Palpatine’s voice. 

You closed your eyes with the smallest sigh, knowing that even more suffering would come to pass now. At least this was only a motion to start talking about cutting funding. Padmé would do everything she could to make sure the next bill was as fair as she could manage.

When the sound that indicated the end of the day’s session rang through the chamber, you almost slumped with relief. You didn’t of course, no handmaiden ever lost her composure under the watchful eye of the senate. But you were glad that it was finally time to return to your lady’s office. A headache was coming on strong.

Padmé had more grace than to storm out of the chamber like a woman on a war path, but your trained eye could see she was exactly that as she walked calmly out into the hall. She didn’t try to hide her expressions nearly as much now, her queen persona having faded quite a lot in the passing years, but she still knew the value of looking calm to her colleagues.

The hallways were a buzz with activity, aids and senators alike calling for associates and running here and there for their next task. That, and it was filled with the sounds of armored boots. 

As you and the Naboo guards followed Padmé, several groups of the new clone trooper units passed by. All of it was still a little disconcerting, having such heavily armed men tramping around. It brought back memories, wounds a decade old still felt fresh as the sound of marching feet reminded you of droids taking over Theed. 

You were proud that you had fought for your home world all those years ago, fought the Trade Federation (who now were now ironically a head of the Separatists) and took back your planet and your people. But that didn’t mean the battle was easy. 

And these men, these soldiers bred for war, would see far worse in the coming days. 

It might be easy, to look at their identical armor and expressionless helmets, and see them as something akin to droids, but they weren’t. They were flesh and blood under all that plastoid and, while their new and overbearing presence may be unsettling for now, you refused to dehumanize them in your mind like that.

A call of your name drew your attention back to the present, just as Padmé reached the door to her office.

“I have that meeting with Bail and Mon in about an hour, but there’s still so much work to do,” she sighed as the door closed behind her, “I hate to ask, but-”

“I will stay here and file anything you need, my lady.” You had anticipated this, things were still adjusting to the new war-time normal, and Padmé’s workload was more overwhelming than ever, and that was saying something. To ensure she got any rest at all right now, you had to do much of the paperwork she would see to personally while the committees and meeting ate up her time.

She sighed with relief and gave you that small smile that always held her deepest affection. “Thank you, I’ll get a head start on it for you at least, since I still need you to research the Chabrill and Cordia incidences.”

And so the two of you got to work. Your first tasks were easy enough, you’d lost count of the number of info packs you’d written for her on import events over the years, and they were done by the time she and the guards left for that meeting. You stayed behind in the office, her atmosphere controlls set to play your favorite soothing sounds for white noise as you worked.

Padmé trusted you to answer most of her mail and requests the way she would and save the dire ones for her personal attention. You polished up and filed her pending motions, and a dozen other mundane things that made you want to pull your hair out despite your never waving composure. God, you hated politics sometimes. More or less than paperwork, you couldn’t say, but it was always a close running between the two.

You were just answering a far too flirtatious message from Senator Dobo and almost, almost, missed the way the sound of armored feet got louder just outside the door.

Eyes flashed up to the entrance, just as it was slid open without so much as a knock.

Three clone troopers came charging in as you jumped to your feet behind the desk.

“What is the meaning of this?” you demanded in a cool tone, hands slipping into the sleeves of your tunic in a neutral dignified posture. “Troopers are not permitted in here without permission.”

“Are you Senator Amidala?” The one in front asked, tone clipped, not the monotone you had heard a few clones use over the past weeks.

“I am her aid, and I demand you answer my question, trooper.” 

You saw it, the barely-there way his shoulders stiffen, before he clasped his hands behind his back, and feel the eyes behind the visor bore into you.

“We need to see the senator immediately, we’ve received intelligence that there’s been a threat made on her life.”

…Oh, was that all? You almost laughed. Though you did appreciate the man’s obvious dedication to his job.

Your eyes took in the freshly painted red on the white armor, having heard that the higher ranks of clones had adopted the marking to indicate their legions and ranks. This one had the vaguely sword-like symbol of Coruscant emblazoned boldly on his chest, while the two at attention behind him had simpler red markings.

“You must be the new Commander of the Coruscant Guard,” you said.

“I am.”

“Then, Commander, you will soon learn that there is always a threat made on Senator Amidala’s life. It comes hand in hand with her tendency to put dangerous people in their place.”

Again your keen eyes picked up on the tightening of his arms, so subtle under the armor even you almost missed it. One talent you’d learned in the Naboo royal court, was reading body language, especially the body language of those who always hid theirs. It was an even more useful skill in your new position, though you’d never thought to use it on these men. The clone was either shocked at the candor in which you spoke about the danger, or annoyed with how you were talking to him. Maybe both.

“All the same,” his tone was measured now, but you heard the hint of gritted teeth behind the polite words, “I must speak with Amidala about the threat. Personally.”

Had you not been schooling your expression like you always did here, you would have raised your eyebrows at him. You weren’t annoyed, not really, in fact, you found the way he stood his ground almost admirable. He cared about his job but…maybe it was more than that. Maybe he cared about the safety of others on a more personal level. You weren’t sure yet, but, the commander had made his way onto your list of potential allies, one you may pursue in the future.

If he was annoyed with you, there was no need to vex him further. You gave a small, respectful incline of your head. “Very well, Commander. I will escort you to her.” 

He did not thank you as you made your way around the desk and walked past them through the door, but he fell in step behind you without protest. You sent a quick message from your small wrist unit, using a code phrase that would warn Padmé to be alert.

You could practically feel the tension in the troopers behind you and normally, you would ignore it, but, if you were being honest, you liked the opportunity this gave you. To learn more about the men who were now protecting the senate.

“I did not catch your name, Commander,” you said, keeping your eyes forward.

“CC-1010.”

You actually faltered a little at that, “Excuse me?” This time you actually looked over your shoulder at him, and let your brow lift up in question. You didn’t miss the way his body shifted under your gaze.

“It’s the only name they gave me, ma’am.” His tone was just a notch lower now, another thing of note.

A number. A number, like a droid. 

That didn’t sit well with you, not one bit, but, you supposed it was none of your business, for now. “I see,” you said after a moment, then turned your eyes back in front of you. “Well, Commander, if you ever decide to take another name, please do let me know.”

“I didn’t get your name either.”

You almost smiled at that, and gave him the name you had taken when you took on the role of handmaiden all those years ago. Very few people here on Coruscant knew your birth name, and none used it. The commander would have to become an extremely close friend to ever earn that honor.

A few minutes of silent walking passed before you finally reached Bail Organa’s office. To his credit, CC-10- ugh, no, you were not calling him that, even in your head, unless he asked you to. To his credit, the Commander listened to your advice when you asked him to ring the doorbell before barging in on a private meeting.

You graciously gave an apology for the interruption when the four of you entered, then swept out of the way as the clones gave their report to Amidala. Admittedly, the threat was not quite as laughable as you had first thought it was, but it was hardly the worst one Padmé had faced, even just in the last year. Apparently a small-time thug in the mid-rim thought he might ingratiate himself to the Trade Federation by ‘taking out’ their most hated senator. He couldn’t afford the prices of the Bounty Hunter Guild and  so, had posted smaller sums of money for anyone to take should they manage the job.

Considering Padmé had survived actual guild level assassin’s for a few years now, you weren’t that concerned.

Still, you admired the troops doing their jobs to the letter, and your lady accepted the Commander’s advice of a personal Corrie Guard escort as a precaution for the coming days. It was hardly needed. You, Dormé, and Captain Typho had always been more than enough security, but, it made the clone Commander feel better, than it couldn’t hurt.

All in all the conversation was somewhat short, and soon enough the man took his leave, ordering the other two clones to stay behind with Amidala. After that, Bail, who was amused at Padmé collecting yet another enemy, said that the rest of their meeting could wait until next time. The senators bade each other a good night and you followed your lady out of the office along with the new red painted guards.

Neither of them had said a word this whole time, but you supposed that was their right. That didn’t stop Typho from giving the clones a run down of how his guard details worked, and how he wanted the clones to integrate into that routine. 

As they talked, Padmé fell back to meet your steps. “So, you’ve met the Commander of the new Coruscant Guard,” she started, tone quiet so no one would overhear you. “Did you talk to him at all while escorting him?”

“A little, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist.”

“And? What’s your opinion of him so far? Besides his lack of extroverted tendencies, that is.”

You felt the urge to bite your lip. Overall, you hadn’t spent enough time to get a decent read on him yet, but it was still odd how much of a blank slate you were drawing when thinking up your opinion. Maybe it was his armor and helmet, how not seeing his face made it harder to gauge his reactions and thoughts. Or maybe, he was almost as good as the handmaidens when it came to hiding himself through stoicism. 

The fact that you couldn’t decide which was more likely annoyed you a little.

“Honestly? I’m…not sure what I think of him yet.”

That sentiment continued over the following week. You hadn’t expected to see the man in red quite so soon, after scheduling shifts for his men to rotate in and out of Padmé’s service, you had assumed he would move on to other tasks and concerns. 

So, imagine your surprise when you found yourself once again in the Commander’s company without Padmé. 

Once again you were in her office, working on her latest project while she and Dormé attended a charity dinner, when there was a chime indicating someone at the door. Your eyes needed a break in any case, so you pulled yourself out of your favorite armchair and rubbed your eyes as you walked to the door. Then, you felt your interest piqued when you checked the security cam and saw that red and white helmet staring expectantly at the lens. Well, at least he knocked this time. He should be glad of that for his own sake, as you were in no mood for rudeness tonight.

After straightening your back and putting on that stoic mask, you opened the door. “Good evening, Commander, what may I help you with?”

“May I speak with the Senator?”

“I’m afraid she’s out for the evening, but I should be able to help with whatever you need.”

“Very well,” He reached behind him and slid a datapad from a pouch on his belt. “I’ve reviewed the Senator’s security details based on reports my men have given me. I have some changes I’d like to make.”

A sarcastic, ‘oh you do, do you?’ almost left your mouth, but you held it in, you really must be well past tired now. He held the data pad out to you and you began reading it before you even took it in hand.

“Please, come in,” you offered with a wave, “take a seat if you’d like.” You had a feeling this was going to be a long back and forth.

He said a polite “Thank you, ma’am,” as he stepped in, but did not even glance at the various chairs in the room, opting instead to stand at attention in the center of it all.

“She won’t agree to this,” you concluded after a moment, not having even scrolled halfway through the document. “She would be appalled by the mere idea of you searching her staff’s rooms without probable cause.” Another tap on the screen. “She’d also deny the proposal to lengthen guard shifts, she tries to keep them down to 7 hours to avoid stress and,” you almost laughed at this one, “and she has never allowed guards to stay in her room at night.”

“My men would never do anything inappropriate-”

“I did not say they would,” you assured with a raise of your hand, “Amidala doesn’t even let handmaidens such as myself stay in her room anymore, it’s nothing personal.” The last thing anyone needed was a corrie guard to shoot Skywalker the next time he thought he was sneaking into her room unnoticed.

The clone was silent for just a moment, his unreadable visor trained on you as you stared back. “Are there any of my suggestions that meet your approval?”

You didn’t know if he meant to say ‘her’ and mentioned you by mistake, or if he thought that you were making it your personal mission to thwart him at every turn. He meant well, you knew that, but you could picture exactly how the conversation would go if you gave this over for her to review, and you respected his time too much to waste it.

“How about this, Commander, would you allow me to tweak these suggestions into ones my lady will consider? I will try my best to keep the heart of them intact for you.”

He shifted on his feet a little, before clasping his hands behind his back. A faint crackle of his vocator said that he might have been holding in a sigh. “I suppose that’s an agreeable compromise.”

A part of you had hoped for a thank you, after all, you were taking time out of your already heavy workload to help, but you supposed the polite nod of his helmet would do. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get comfortable in your oversized chair with him standing there like a tall armored gargoyle, so instead you sat at Padmé’s desk and began typing.

Looking back, you probably should have read the whole proposal through the first time, if you had, the last bit of it wouldn't have come as such a shock.

“I’m a subject of one of your new plans?” you asked, looking up at him and allowing just a sprinkle of incredulity onto your expression.

“Yes.”

“Care to explain why I need a clone guard of my own?”

A slight roll of his shoulders, arms still behind his back. “I researched you. You’ve been in the Senator’s employ since before she came here.”

“I have.”

“And you don’t live in the senatorial apartments like the other staff. You live alone.”

“I do.”

He was silent, which only made your annoyance flare.

“And?” it came out far more snapping than you’d meant it to, and immediately you reeled the annoyance back in. Then, much more kindly, you added, “Please, Commander, speak your mind with me.”

At that, you noticed his shoulders actually lower just a bit, a controlled version of relaxing. “Isn’t it obvious? Your close relationship with the Senator makes you a target. If any of these thugs realized how close you are to her, they’d use you to get to her. I’ll have one of my troops escort you home every night and stand guard at your apartment to ensure your safety.”

Well, wasn’t that sweet. 

In truth, his suggestion actually took you by surprise. You hadn’t thought much about what living alone for the first time in a decade might mean. The condo was a new gift from Padmé, a token of her ‘thanks’ for all your years of service, a chance to have something of your own since you had lived with her since the day you stepped foot in her palace. In truth, you knew it was a peace offering, she had to change so much of her life to accommodate that tempestuous young Jedi of hers now. 

It didn’t matter that you knew the basics of their relationship, Padmé still couldn’t hold her handmaidens as close as she once did, or the secret of her marriage might be jeopardized. So she offered you your own space, your own home while she had to push you away. It had hurt, it still hurt a little, but you understood, and loved her too much to complain. She loved that Jedi and, if putting space between you and her was what she needed, then you would give it to her without question.

You hadn’t even had time to think about what living away from her might mean regarding safety.

“I’m very impressed with your work, Commander,” you admitted eventually. “You obviously take your role to heart and Amidala herself would appreciate your thoroughness. But, I promise you, there isn’t any need to waste one of your men on me. I can take care of myself.”

“I disagree.”

The annoyance came back with a vengeance- how dare he assume that-!

“Disagree about there not being a need, ma’am,” he quickly amended, and you realized your anger must have flashed across your face. “I don’t know what your personal training has been like, but all the same, my men are trained to protect and serve. Let them do their jobs.”

You allowed yourself a calming sigh. For all his stiffness, he really was trying to be polite and you supposed you could tap into your inner politician for him. 

“Please take a seat, Commander, I see no reason for you not to be comfortable while we hash this out.”

It had been nearly a month since he, the head of the Coruscant Guard, warned that senator about the threat on her life, and the way she made no changes to her daily routine was, frankly, starting to piss him off.

“What do you mean she’s still going to attend that rally!?” He hadn’t meant to yell, especially at the brother who had just gotten off a twelve hour watch shift outside Amidala’s residence. But damn it, was he annoyed.

At least the trooper didn’t seem shaken, “Sir, I expressed my concern, but she just reiterated that-”

“That ‘no one is going to scare me into hiding’ right right, so she’s said,” the Commander finished, having heard that same line several times from the woman- and her bossy little handmaiden, over the last month. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, mind wandering over the dozens of security weaknesses this rally was sure to have. Why was it so damn important that she make some speech at a gathering for- kriff, he didn’t even remember what the topic was. Not that it mattered in the end. He was quickly realizing that this willful senator was going to give him endless migraines.

“Perhaps, assigning more troops to her will help, sir?” the shinny offered, obviously trying his best to help.

“No, we’re already stretched thin, even if I hadn’t made up the schedules for the week.” At least he managed to sound less grumpy that time, it wasn’t the kid’s fault that his new job wasn’t what he’d expected. He thought he’d be out putting blaster holes in droids right now, freeing innocent civies from seppie control in a blaze of glory. Instead, he was bowing to the simpering pleas of the chancellor and corralling feral senators like cadets in their first shooting lesson.

Alright, maybe ‘feral’ was a little harsh for Amidala, and her bossy aid. Truthfully, despite their tendencies to brush off his concerns, they at least showed some respect to him and his men, more than a lot of the politicians in the building. Not that it was his place to care about said things in the first place, he had to follow orders no matter who treated him in whatever way.

He let out a sigh. “I’ll escort her personally,” he eventually concluded. 

It was the best answer, he could put off reports or the couple of hours the rally took, and his skills were more finely honed than a majority of his men, meaning he’d more than enough. 

“Dismissed, trooper, you’re off duty.”

An attentive ‘yes, sir!’ followed that, with the familiar sound of armored feet marching out his office door. The Commander rolled his shoulders and picked up his personal data pad to double check Amidala’s schedule. He’d have to let Thorn know he wasn’t going to be in during that time slot, and ask him to take on any in-house emergencies, but, other than that, it shouldn’t be an issue.

This was going to be an interesting day.

About two hours later, his shuttle was landing on the platform outside Amidala’s residence. Always vigilant, he was greeted by her personal guard dressed in traditional Naboo attire- how nat-borns felt safe wearing nothing but cloth, he’d never know.

“Commander,” Typho, the captain of her guard, greeted, “what brings you here this time?”

“I was informed of the Senator’s plans to attend that rally,” despite my warnings and advice, “I’m here as extra security,” since, apparently, I care more about her safety than she does!

Typho smirked, the skin near his roguish eye patch crinkling, “If you insist, though, if you have more important duties to tend to, I assure you, we have everything under control.”

“If my other duties were an issue, I wouldn't be here.” The words came out more flatly than he’d intended, but Typho didn’t seem bothered as he led him through the transparisteel doors into the apartment proper.

As always there were aids and household staff running about, along with that gold protocol droid who seemed to find something to fret and cry about at all hours, according to his men. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in the residence himself in the last month and, just when a particular handmaiden came striding out of the bedroom chamber with that cool collected expression, the memory of the previous time came flooding back. 

Not many people stood their ground against a man like him, but you seemed to do it as if it were nothing. He had been demanding to see Amidala, to update her on his latest information regarding the mercenaries, but you had planted yourself between him and her door like a statue. He still remembered that blank stare you gave him, that told him everything and nothing at the same time- that somehow said a rude ‘take a hike, boy’ and a polite ‘the senator will answer your concerns at a later date’ simultaneously. It was only when he had made to shove past you a third time that you told him why he couldn’t go inside yet. Honestly, if you had just said that Amidala was undressed in the first place, he would have understood! He wasn’t that unfamiliar with nat-borns and their boundaries.

Standing in the same room again now, he felt his face get a little warm at the memory, especially when you approached him.

“Good evening, Commander,” you greeted in that smooth, even tone of yours. “Senator Amidala is getting ready for the evening’s events, and wants me to thank you for your offer of extra security.”

How did she- how would you- how could either of you possibly know why he was here already? He recovered quickly enough, clasping his hands behind his back. “Just, doing my job, ma’am.”

“Would you like anything while you wait? Something to drink perhaps? Or…a lengthy report on the event hall and its security weaknesses?”

He blinked behind his helmet, unable to tell if you were joking. Ever since that late night of debating security in Amidala’s office, you seemed a little less careful with your words when talking to him. Even if he still couldn’t always discern their actual meaning.

That was another thing about you that he noticed, his own inability to puzzle you out sometimes. One moment you were all bossy, demanding answers and actions out of him in a cooler tone than most of his COs, the next you were rather pleasant, all respectful nods and considerate questions. Like asking about his name. His name, you were the first nat-born to ever ask him if he even had one.

Even after these little encounters, he still couldn’t quite figure you out, and it was honestly starting to annoy him a little.

“I already did thorough research on the venue, so there’s no need for that,” was the answer he finally settled on.

There was that polite bow of your head again, “Of course, Commander.”

“Fox.”

He almost saw your face twitch in confusion as you looked back up at him. “Pardon?”

“You said that if I ever chose another name, to tell you. I’m Commander Fox now.”

There was the smallest little lift at the corner of your mouth. “Then, I am pleased to reacquaint myself with your name, Commander Fox.”

Fox wasn’t sure if that was some particular Naboo saying or not, but he didn’t have time to wonder as Amidala came striding out of the bedchamber. Fox snapped back to attention fast, and put everything except for protocol out of his thoughts as the evening went on.

All in all, the rally had gone… well. 

Fox stood on the sidelines, scanning the perimeter, repeatedly checking the entry points, and when Amidala gave her speech he made sure no one got even an arm’s length from the podium. You and the other handmaidens were at the woman’s side the whole time, never wavering, always at attention, always watching. Seeing all four women together for the first time, and noting how they positioned themselves around the Senator, made him realize something. 

When the handmaidens moved together, they used a formation that he and his men often did. A military formation. He’d recognize it anywhere, even if the bodies were swathed in velvety cloth instead of hard armor and the hands were tucked into sleeves instead of gripping blasters. Maybe he had more to learn about the training nat-borns went through on various planets.

Oh and…had he said the rally went well? There was an amendment to that: it went well until it all went to shit.

The meeting was over and Fox waved for the senator’s group to follow him through the back room of the venue, to where the transport was waiting outside. His eyes were keen, as always, watching, searching, but even when he didn’t spot anything, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

His fingers were just about to open the door to the outside landing pad, when your voice called out behind him. He turned and saw your brows pinched together as you pressed your finger to your ear.

“I’m not getting a response from our driver,” you said, “I think somethi-” 

He saw your eyes go wide in shock before he registered the door sliding open behind him. Fox’s body was turning on instinct, but he thought he saw a flash of silver being pulled from the velvet of your sleeve before he came face to face with a thug lifting a rifle.

Hands went to his pistols a second before the goon fired, but it was still too slow- until the thug got hit square in the chest from shot fired somewhere behind Fox. That left the Commander free to fire at the two others who where closing in on the door. The second they fell he slammed his elbow on the control panel, eyes darting across the platform to assess, even as the door slid shut.

Another punch with his hand and the door resealed itself, but it wouldn’t hold them for long. 

“I counted five,” there was your voice again, as you crouched opposite him of the entrance, holding a elegant silver blaster at the ready, “five, besides the ones we already stunned.”

“Obviously they thought they could overwhelm us with numbers instead of skill,” he heard Amidala say, completely surrounded by her guards and other handmaidens, all with blasters in hand. 

“This door won’t hold them for long,” Fox could already hear shouts and feet closing in.

That’s when he saw a mischievous kind of determination glimmer in your eyes. “Commander, if they want to trap themselves on that small platform while we hold a choke point, I say: let them.”

Despite himself, Fox smirked behind his helmet. He liked the way you thought.

“We’ll watch your back,” Typho offered, signaling his own guards to cover the only other door in the room.

“I take the left, you right?” you asked, face set, ready.

Fox gave you a second’s long look, and nodded, before he opened the door. 

The moment it hissed open there was chaos. Thankfully, the idiots on the other side couldn’t aim worth a shit. Fox had to trust that you could cover the left, which was, admittedly, not easy for him, but you had been quick enough to shoot the first gunman over his shoulder, and that gave him a little confidence.

Instead, Fox made himself focus on the two who had been trying to get the door open, their closeness making them easy pickings. Later, he might actually laugh at the sheer lack of skill and coordination the group had. He couldn't laugh, though, idiots with guns were their own kind of dangerous and he shouldn't underestimate that.

“Fox, straight ahead!” he heard you shout over the blasterfire, just as his second target fell. 

He looked up and saw a mountain sized lassat, charging at the door with a riot shield in hand, taking all their blaster shot. With barely enough time to dive out of the way, Fox didn’t even see that you had jumped up to grab a shelving unit beside the door.

Your timing was perfect.

The lassat had just barely cleared the door as you pulled on the shelf and sent it slamming into his side, the shield falling useless from his grasp. It wasn’t quite enough to fell the large man, though, and Fox- as well as the other handmaidens in the room, opened fire as the enemy rounded on you with a shout. You ducked under his large fist as the first volley of stun bolts hit him.

By Fox’s count, it took 17 shots to bring him down, and when he fell it was with a resounding thud.

Everyone held their breath for a moment, heart beat thudding in his ears. Not another shot sounded, even as you moved to sweep the doorway one last time. When you confirmed that all was clear, the room breathed again.

Fox was just about to clamber to his feet, when you walked up and extended your hand. “Are you alright, Commander?”

He grunted in reply, taking your offered hand, and felt a jolt of surprise when you hauled him up with almost no effort. A quick scan of your body assured him that you hadn’t been hit, so he turned to the room at large.

“Is everyone else alright?” Fox asked, just as he heard sirens closing in.

“We’re fine,” Amidala announced with pride, “it takes far more than a few would-be bandits to shake us, Fox.” 

“Our driver was finally able to reach us,” Typho interjected, “she managed to escape their ambush and call for back up.”

That explained the sirens. Fox pulled out the wrist binders from his belt pouch and knelt to cuff the lassat. He would have to give his report to the others when they landed, but, before they did, he had one other duty to tend to.

He straightened up, standing practically chest to chest with you as you finally relaxed and lowered your blaster. Fox liked your fire, and hadn’t misplaced his trust when he let you help him. Honestly, if today was any indicator, he’d be proud to fight beside you any day. But, rules were rules.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” his hand shot out to snatch your blaster before you could react, “but you’re in violation of code 187-24.”

“E-excuse me?!”

Fox had never seen a strong emotion on your face to date, so the look of completely anger and incredulity that crossed your face almost made him laugh.

He pushed the thought away as he waved his hands at the other handmaidens, “Neither you, or any of them are registered as personal guards in our records. Under the new Coruscant Guard Regulations, aids are not permitted to carry firearms. Now, given the newness of the codes, I can let all of you off with a warning, but this is a serious violation and further investigation may be needed.”

“Now wait just a moment, Commander!” Amidala said through her teeth as she rushed forward.

Quite a bit of squabbling now mixed with the sounds of sirens, all of it giving Fox a headache. He sighed through he helmet, honestly, he was just doing his job.

And, it was only because he was nice that he wasn’t forcing you into cuffs right there. But no one thought of that while he cleaned up this mess- the mess that also could have been avoid, had everyone just listened to him in the first place!

No one ever listened to Fox.

You should definitely be thanking him for not arresting you.

.

Tag list: @blueink-bluesoul @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @lightwise

#commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #so nervous about this and IDK why #Fox has been hard to write but I'm nervous about how i did! #clone x reader #clone wars reader insert #star wars reader insert #series: the handmaiden's fox #deeja writes

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: The Seat of Ravens

“While some may call them “heroes”, it is in my estimation that the average adventurer is no better than those beasts that scavenge for carrion in the wake of war. They can only sustain their lives through gore and death, subsisting off the pickings left over from great men fighting for righteous cause. The birds at least have the decency to only feast on corpses left behind on the battlefield, whereas the adventurer has no qualms about violating a sacred burial in search of plunder.”

-Trivilen Perenton, moralist philosopher and pamphleteer.

A haunt of bandits, beasts, and worse, these ruins and the plains they overlook have seen countless battles, as they preside over valuable territory oft-contested in the territorial squabbling of the powerful. As the locals like to joke, the generations of ravens that dwelt within the old fortress had eaten the flesh of so many fallen lords that they’d become nobles by proxy, laying claim to the ruins by bloodright.

Hooks:

Rumors of travellers going missing on the road lead the party to investigating the ruins, coming face to face with a gang of blood-drunk redcaps who’ve been combing through the old battlefields looking for weapons. They’re apparently on the lookout for something special to present as tribute to some distant lord of the feywild, but in the meantime they’ve amassed quite the arsenal and fashioned what they can’t use into traps and stockades, in which they keep the innocents they intend slowly bleed dry. Worse yet, it seems their leader has struck some deal with the local ravens, using them to scout out potential targets and keep sentry watch over their expansive lair. 

Just as the party is finished clearing out the dungeon and on their way back to town, they are confronted with almost a score of armed riders bearing the livery of the local baroness, Rikko. According to the baroness, the seat of ravens rests within her holdings, meaning everything in it is her property, including the loot the party has just stuffed their packs with. While apparently content to let the fey pick off those who travelled through her domain without paying for her protection, she’s unwilling to let the players ( and the people they’ve just saved) go without handing over the treasure... plus anything else they can squeeze out of them. Making a stand here means the party risk becoming outlaws, not to mention going toe to toe with seasoned warriors who have the advantage in numbers and speed.

Even with the fey gone the ravens of the old fortress continue to plot and scheme, having fallen under the sway of a chaos sowing war-spirit since they ate the flesh of one who was pact-bonded to it in the aftermath of the last conflict. The redcaps got them weapons, now they must simply find new hands to wield them to pave the way for their master’s return.

#dungeon #Dungeons and Dragons #Lowlands #low level #dnd #fey #bandits #noble #outlaw #field #Curse #pathfinder #ttrpg

[yanderes-galore]

*Slides into your in box*

Yandere engineer with a darling whp is the blu engineer? Lits shake this shit up! TWO southerners who go from enemies to onesided lovers lmao

In battle they first started by shouting insults from across the field to engineer building little trinkets for the Enemy engie only for them to kill him out of discomfort

Have a good spooky month! 😈

*Slides out of your inbow*

You all really like BLU Darlings here ^^. Sure! I'll see what I can come up with.

Yandere! RED! Engineer with BLU! Engineer! Darling

Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Rivalry, Enemies to one-sided lovers, Blood, Murder, Gun mention, Obsessive behavior, A sadistic sense of relationship, Your love language is murder and violence I guess 🤷‍♀️, Implied masochism.

- Yeah, how it starts out is you and the other Engie throwing insults at each other.

- It's a competitive pass time with you both in battle.

- You're just seeing who's the best at building defenses and competing while your teams go for the objective.

- In a way, it's your form of fun.

- Your medics just heal you of your injuries afterwards, next battle you're back at it again.

- You don't expect much to happen between you until the RED Engineer gets softer with you.

- Even for being on RED he was always soft spoken and amiable. Only taking little joy from seeing his enemies gunned down.

- You respected him for having the decency to make his kills efficient and not drawn out from what you've seen.

- You were not prepared for him to be so kind to you during cease-fires or even during battle as time goes on.

- It made you reluctant to shoot him at times, but competition is competition.

- You may harbor little to no feelings for Dell, him on the other hand ends up falling for you.

- It's hard to have a proper relationship in this setting, the whole opposite side thing puts a metaphorical wrench in things.

- The only time Dell is able to be near you, not combat-wise, is cease-fires.

- He probably does build small trinkets for you when not busy and gives them to you during cease-fires.

- I can't really see you killing him out of discomfort as he is just so amiable?

- It's not like he's a flirter, or at least not to the point of Spy level flirting.

- Dell hopes you keep such trinkets he makes for you, although he will be quite upset when you toss them.

- He is hopelessly in love with you even if you don't like him.

- You want to keep your relationship as enemies that taunt each other.

- While Dell wants a softer and secret relationship.

- It's a situation where it's one-sided enemies to lovers.

- You could kill him over and over but he'll just be back.

- Nothing really wavers his obsession with you, if anything you make him more intense.

- Dell may get more intense if he feels he isn't getting anywhere, however.

- Maybe his sadism really shows when you fight him.

- Perhaps he wrangles his sentry to clip your leg, leaving you unable to walk.

- That or he works together with his Spy to sap your buildings, leaving you vulnerable.

- Dell can be cruel if he feels he needs to.

- He is still RED, after all.

- You may regret catching his attention once he gets sadistic.

- Every RED is capable of such a trait, it's just Dell is the one of the ones less likely to show it.

- You may regret starting this rivalry once you're the one bleeding on the ground, Dell staring down at you with a confident smirk.

- You started this...

- Your actions will have consequences.

- "Sorry, doll, take this as payback for the previous times you pushed me away for trying to be friendly."

#yandere team fortress 2 #yandere tf2 #yandere tf2 engineer #yandere red engineer #yandere tf2 red engineer

[isolatedphenomenon]

“For Rupert,” said Laney.  “Do you have another boyfriend that might be lurking in the Graves’s dungeon?” said Spider. 

...

“You and your girlfriend having little secret conferences without us?” said Grey. 

...

The sound made Rupert shiver. “Your girlfriend’s the one who nabbed me,” she said. “Didn’t invite Farris for some reason.”

...

“I need to get to work, and so does Doc,” said Susie, as Doc nodded gruffly. “Jack, you got your people?” “Yes’m,” Jack told the woman.

...

“They’d left Dadlus alive. Your people."

...

“I’m hurt, Jack. Don’t you think, if I stole one of yours, that I would have the decency to make sure you knew all about it?"

...

“But also, yes, Jack, you’re special. You’re Rupert’s,” she explained. “That matters to me.” “Me, too,” he said

...

“Marian understands sticking with your own; she and I just both didn’t know that you lot were mine.”

...

“I’m a stranger.” “You’re Uncle Jack’s,” she said. “You’re not.”

...

“I don’t want it to be like this,” said Rupert. “I don’t want to leave holes in people, good people, my people.”

...

Laney lifted her head and told Jack on the upper bunk, “He’s bright, this adopted kid of yours.”

...

“I have a feeling,” Laney croaked into the darkness, “that was our boys.”

...

The sentry Jack was relieving glanced at Jack as he climbed up onto the platform and said, “This yours?” Grey looked up at Jack. 

...

“They’re not strange, they’re mine,” said Jack.

- Leagues and Legends by E. Jade Lomax

#obsessed with the main crew getting called each other's partners and just like fully not acknowledging it #and the related phenomenon of them going 'mine. ours.' #anyway i'm on lal lockdown for the foreseeable future pals #leagues and legends #beanstalk #echoes of a giantkiller #remember the dust #1

[medaknight4]

Frozen Assets

Chapter 1: License and Registration

Matua paced to one of the larger holding cells, blank tablet and chisel clipped to his hip. The scars of recent battle made his frozen home (and his joints) creak but such things wouldn't dissuade the sentry from doing his job. Instead of mulling in the anger and massive headache, the warrior pondered – something he was very good at. Odd that there isn't anything on the Wall about these people. Thousands of years of proven history and not a single mention of this ragtag team. I have to be the one to add them to it! Who they are, who they've been; what can they tell me about this world? I just wish it were under better circumstances. The Toa of Plantlife approached the door and was about to enter when he realized that he was still pretty much livid at said circumstances. Oh Matua – your mask may be calm but you still feel it. Can't question them with blurred vision. Breathe in… breathe out…

He closed his eyes and let the cold stone and air surrounding him temper the fire in his heart. It was embers now, more manageable, more useful. Matua swung open the door with practiced panache and eased himself down into the chair opposite the prisoners. Good, they haven't destroyed anything. I'm thankful that they surrendered their weapons but I have the feeling they don't need them to do some serious damage. Some of those things never stood a chance. Without missing a beat, he initiated the interrogation: “Name, base of operations; license and registration.”

The trio looked to each other, masks plastered with confusion. “We can give you our names if you wish but, respectfully, what are you even talking about? Toa don't need to announce themselves like that.”

So Silver is the face. Might be the leader but I've known the type to let their deputy do the talking. He might just also like hearing the sound of his own voice. We'll see. “Please don't feign ignorance in a Toa Fortress of all places, Sweet and Low. The Code states that we do things by the word. Our word. So I'll ask again: license and registration.”

“We have no such identification on us, Brother. Also, Sweet and Low?”

“The three of us agreed to this meeting and have observed your strange customs because cooperation is paramount.” Lime paused. “Lesovikk, Nikila, Vinik.” He pointed to himself and his comrades in turn.

Matua couldn't keep his eyes from widening but he wrangled them back into place in short order. So that explains it! The standard line of questioning doesn't apply to the Toa Cordak in the slightest but I'll keep on track, see how much they'll reveal on their own. The Brotherhood is not gonna like this…

“Base of operations? Having some corroboration with your assignment would be greatly appreciated.” Matua let slip a little menace on his last word, his favored poison. Not enough to kill, of course, but hopefully some agitation will get him somewhere.

“We don't have a base. We sort of, um, wander around…” The one known as Vinik said sheepishly, rubbing a hand on his patched up arm. “We're looking for something. Something important to us.” The Toa's eyes glazed over in a pained look.

It's not the arm doing that. No amount of healing I could do would fix losing one's Matoran. I just hope the stories are true and I can feel bad about using that inflection on them.

“So no references of any kind?” Matua sighed and shook his head. “Ghosts on the breeze. Might as well ship you off Nynrah with a pat on the back.” His eyes darted to the final unknown in this equation to gauge her response.

Navy – or Nikila, rather – has yet to speak. Her eyes are hanging on every word; she's extracting information, just like me. Gotta be careful about this one–

“Look, uh…”

“Matua.”

“We didn't ask to get involved with this,” Vinik pleaded, practically throwing his hands in the air. “I can understand you're on edge but I was hoping for some common decency. We were tailing a couple of ne'er-do-wells; we didn't sign up for a Frostelus invasion!”

“Nor the cave in that followed.”

Matua raised a brow. Ah, she speaks. With her own venom no less! On the offense to counter my own, laser-guided. I have a feeling this lightning lass is going to prove useful for the Wall; might even fill some gaps if we're lucky. The Toa of the Green let his facade melt as he put one hand on the table, the other massaging his aching head. “I want to trust you all, it's the least I can do after saving who you could save, but–”

“You were knocked out.” Nikila leaned back in her seat, satisfied with herself. “Can't be a character witness if you didn't see anything.”

Matua almost smiled. Almost. “Have you interrogated before?”

“Not at all,” Nikila replied, shaking her head. “It's simply what makes sense.”

Vinik beamed with pride. “And that's why she's the strategist.” Lesovikk nodded with the assessment but Matua had the correct assumption that the he was smiling just as hard as his teammate on the inside.

The Toa of Air eventually piped up. “We couldn't save the others but we were able to protect this.” His masked glowed a spectral green as he pulled out a spherical stone from his back. “What is it?”

Matua's face darkened as Nikila's lit up. “Look at you, deft-hands! You've been favoring the Brakas lately, huh Les?”

He nodded as the Faxon dimmed, his concentration subsiding. “Nightmares aside, they're a fun bunch of Rahi. Useful for playing tricks–” Lesovikk turned to face the frowning Toa in front of him. “–or to do some reconnaissance without interference.”

Oh, so they're all clever. Fan-freaking-tastic. Flail and Mace need to pay more attention during the tools check. Matua sat there, silently seething. He was tempted to simply swipe the stone from the more senior Toa but that would've sent the wrong message, namely that it is, in fact, important. An easy lie of omission. Maybe now is the time I play my hand.

“Excellent job stealing a fortress key, Toa Cordak. Since you've been the only ones in the dungeon as of late, it's pretty much useless. But, inventory is inventory.” Matua held out his hand as he gauged the masks in front of him. There's hurt in those eyes. But I expected… more. Poison stings less with repeated exposure; perhaps they're inoculated to the revelation.

Lesovikk returned the Makoki stone without a word. “How long have you known?”

“He's known the entire time. Ever since we gave our names.” Nikila eyed her interrogator, both impressed and miffed.

“It was the eyes, wasn't it?” Matua replied. “The real interesting thing is that we have absolutely no record of you all, just hearsay from our fellow Toa. Now I can't judge you for what you've done, or what you've been through, but what I can grill you for not knowing the Code. Seriously, have none of you heard it?”

Vinik chuckled despite himself. “I think we predate both the Code and this Fortress by a couple thousand years.”

“Or at the very least,” Lesovikk offered, “in its current state. The last time we heard of the Code, it was a single edict: Heroes don't kill. Has it changed at all since then?”

Matua stroked his chin as he quickly formulated his response. “It certainly has expanded beyond that one parameter, that's for sure. A series of social norms grew out of that idea, gaining leaves every few hundred years, being codified every half millennia or so. I suppose when you've been steeped in it, these things don't seem to change that quick.” Imagine how it must be, then, to be dropped into this brand new world with not but a lifetime of sorrow in your shoulders. He sighed. “We can help each other. Information is hard to come by in this leg of the woods, and from what I've heard, you've been in several thickets of your own-"

"Maybe we can prune these plant metaphors if we agree to help? It might be worth it for that alone." Nikila rolled her eyes but she was clearly enjoying herself.

Matua shrugged in kind, a faint smile finally gracing his mask. "You got me there." The Toa of Plantlife gently laid a couple of fingers on Vinik's arm as he continued, his Kanohi Kaosa beginning to brighten the dark chamber. "I'll show you three to our temporary quarters and get you up to speed. But you are coming with me afterwards." His attention shifted from Nikila back to his new patient. "How's the arm?"

Vinik flexed apprehensively, and then once more with glee. "I'll be. You've got my mask's counterpart!"

"The only thing it doesn't heal are broken hearts and myself, and Brother, I've dealt with both plenty." Matua extended his fist, offering a Toa's greeting. "Welcome to Toa Fortress Outpost 42. Apologies for the new decor; the Frostelus are lousy renovators."

Prev | First | Next

#bionicle #my shitty writing #fanfic

[whoneedsapublisher]

Conscripted

Debt fic. Crime Love Live.

Words: ~2050

Summary: Nico Yazawa screws up, and gets dragged into trouble that she never asked for.

Also on Ao3

***************************************

Clink. Clink. Rattle.

Click.

The lock is the first line of defense against the outside world. The stalwart guardian keeping your possessions safe and your sleep undisturbed. And against most people, it does its job as well as any sentry. A normal person might try the knob, but without the key, if it’s locked they’re stuck.

Nico Yazawa is no ordinary person.

Ever since she was young, Nico had charmed fingers. Her father had bought her a practice lockpick set for her birthday when Nico was obsessed with the idea of being a detective, and Nico had taken to it immediately. By mid August, she could open the lock in seconds.

Nico’s family hadn’t been well off. Her father couldn’t really afford to keep buying her new locks to practice with. So Nico had snuck into the junkyard with her picks on weekends, cracking any lock she could find. Car door locks. Strongbox locks. Padlocks. Even a safe, once.

Her originally picks had eventually broken, but by then she had no trouble making new ones out of wire and cracking all those locks again with her cruder replacement. 

It was inevitable that eventually Nico wouldn’t be doing it just for practice. After her father died, Nico had gone to the junkyard again, not too many days after the funeral, desperate for a distraction. She’d found it closed and the gate locked.

So she’d let herself in.

That was the first time she’d ever done proper “breaking and entering”. But it wouldn’t be the last. Nico broke into her first house when she was fourteen. A rich classmate had openly sneered at Nico for being poor, and bragged about the holiday they were going on. Nico was already deeply aware of the unfairness of the economic system she found herself stuck in. But that moment had pushed her that little bit too far.

It was easy enough to find where that classmate lived. It was even easier to crack their locks when they were out of town and make out with a bag of their expensive trinkets. The hard part had been finding a way to sell them, but eventually Nico managed, although she suspected the fence had taken the opportunity to rip him off- a courtesy she’d repaid by never selling him anything again. Once she’d found a way into that underworld, finding another fence was easier than finding the first.

An anonymous donation later, and her mother finally could take a few weeks off work for the first time in years. And all Nico had needed to do was use her skills to rob someone who deserved it.

She knew that it wasn’t as morally clear as she made it out to be. She wasn’t Robin Hood, here. She might steal from the rich and give to the poor, but charity rang a little hollow when it was to the head of your own household. And once she’d moved out, she’d started keeping more of what she stole. Just because the houses she was hitting had rich people in them who could afford the loss didn’t make her a paragon of moral virtue.

But it did make it very easy for her not to give a shit.

Of course, robbing assholes that Nico knew personally was something of a limited pool. Eventually she had to branch out to robbing rich people she didn’t necessarily know were bad people. But they were still all rich enough that even if Nico had stripped the places down to bare walls, they wouldn’t exactly end up in the poorhouse. Hell, they were probably rich enough that Nico could burn the place down without making them go into the red for the month.

And the same was true of the place she was breaking into this time. It was in a ritzy area filled with people with a whole lot more money than common decency. There was no car in the driveway, unlike every other night that Nico had watched it. The perfect time to stroll in and pick up enough gold trinkets to pay her rent for the next year.

The lock had already given way to her magic touch and the wires she hid in her hair ribbons. Replacing them in her ribbons, Nico strode inside and carefully closed the door behind her, turning the bolt shut again. She pulled out her small flashlight and padded softly through the hallway, looking for a promising room with valuables. Trusting her intuition, she entered the second door she found, stepping forward into the room and casting the beam of her flashlight across one of the walls. Jackpot. No end of tacky little statues with plenty of gold and jewels on them.

She reached out and picked one up, turning it over in her hand to judge if it was real gold.

“Good evening, Miss Burglar.”

Nico froze. With a click, the lights suddenly came on, and Nico turned to find a purple haired woman sitting comfortably in an armchair with a remote in one hand… and a pistol in the other.

Nico gulped.

“Oh, you don’t have to look so panicked,” the woman said, smiling in a slightly insincere sort of way as she set the remote down on the table in front of her, next to a deck of cards. “So long as you behave, I’m not going to shoot you or anything.”

“Right. Sure.” Nico didn’t believe her for a second, but on the other hand, doing something stupid and getting shot seemed like a much worse idea that listening to the woman had to say.

“Now then,” the woman said. “I suppose you won’t be in any mood to chat, so I’ll get down to business. You, Miss Burglar, have an obvious skill that I don’t, which is to get into a house that’s locked without happening to possess a key for it.”

Nico watched her warily. The woman paused, as if waiting for Nico to say something, then gave up and moved on.

“I’d like you to use that skill to help me out,” she said. “You see, a friend of mine was killed recently. And the police, who I am entirely sure have no intention of properly investigating her murder since there was a pathetically poor forgery of a suicide note on the scene, have locked down her house and won’t let me investigate the scene with my cards.”

“With your cards?” Nico asked.

“Yes, the tarot can unravel all sorts of mysteries,” the woman said, and then frowned. “Although it didn’t see fit to warn me of this tragedy in advance. At least not with sufficient detail to intervene.”

She sighed.

“Anyway, with your infiltration skills, my spiritual powers, and another friend’s investigative skills, we’re going to discover who killed my friend together. And after that, you can go on your merry way and continue your life of crime for all I care. Heaven knows that someone planning to interfere in an active investigation has no right to lecture you.”

“So you want me to break into a house that the police are guarding?” Nico asked.

The woman smiled.

“Yes. Yes I do.”

“That sounds dangerous and like an awful idea.”

“Maybe,” the woman agreed, and then picked up her phone with one hand and snapped a picture of Nico.

Who… was still holding the tacky statuette.

“But between my little friend here and this lovely little compromising snapshot, I don’t think you have much choice, do you?”

Nico sighed and set her entirely not worth it potential loot down on the mantle again.

If she didn’t end up dead or in prison by the end of the week, it would be a miracle.

***************************************

After that the woman, who introduced herself as Nozomi, had shooed Nico out of the house and given her a time to meet up the next day for the operation.

If Nico had any sense, she’d have just not shown up. It wasn’t like Nozomi had any way to find her.

But that photo was bad news. Even if it wasn’t necessary damning evidence on its own, combined with Nozomi’s testimony and the fact that Nico obviously didn’t have an alibi for that period of time could get her in a lot of hot water. 

As crazy as Nozomi’s plan was, if Nico just picked one lock and didn’t get caught, she’d be off the hook, right? If she had to bet on her ability to defend herself in court compared to her ability to get into a guarded house, it was obvious which she had a better chance at.

So when the appointed time came around, Nico found herself at the address listed on the card, slinking up sullenly and trying to attract as little attention as possible as she ducked into the alley.

“Niccochi!” Nozomi said cheerfully, waving to Nico. She’d extorted a name out of Nico too, threatening to call her “miss burglar” in pubic if she didn’t have a better name. Nico probably should have given her a fake one, but what could a first name hurt? And besides, Nozomi had butchered immediately with that nickname. “You came!”

Nico glared at her. As if she had a choice.

“Who the heck is this?”

The woman next to Nozomi gave Nico a suspicious look, which Nico was all too happy to return. 

“Maki, this is Niccochi. She’s going to help us get inside poor Chicchan’s house. And Niccochi, this is Maki Nishikino. She’s the investigative talent I mentioned before.”

“Nishikino?!” Nico spluttered. “As in the daughter of the police commissioner?!”

Maki crossed her arms defiantly. “So what?” she said. “I didn’t make it on my name alone, you know.”

“That’s not my concern,” Nico said. “Nozomi, you brought a cop’s daughter?”

“She’s well aware of what we’re doing here, Niccochi,” Nozomi said.

Maki frowned, uncrossing her arms. “...The department wants to brush this all under the rug and rule it as suicide,” she said, grasping her arm and looking down at the street. “They think it’s going to be too complex an investigation, and the note gives them an excuse to skip it all.”

“Anything to keep that closed cases percentage up, huh?” Nico said.

Maki’s frown deepened and she grasped her arm tighter, but she didn’t deny it.

“Well, look on the bright side, Niccochi. The next generation of police commissioner is out here trying to solve the crime, right? The future is bright!”

Nico snorted.

“Well, what about you?” Maki snapped. “What are you doing here?”

“...I’m here on Nozomi’s request, that’s all,” Nico said.

“And how are you supposed to help?” Maki demanded, putting her hands on her hips. Geez, this woman really liked to use her arms to express herself.

“Well, your father’s brave officers aren’t very likely to leave dear Chicchan’s house open to the public, are they?” Nozomi said. “Niccochi here is going to open up the door for us so we can take a peek inside.”

“How the heck is she going to do that?” Maki asked, raising an eyebrow. “Does she have Chisato’s keys?”

“Not exactly,” Nozomi said.

“I’m a locksmith,” Nico said quickly, before Nozomi could reveal anything that a cop’s daughter didn’t need to know. “I can open a standard household lock easily enough.”

“Where’s your toolbox, then?” Maki demanded.

“I’m not lugging that heavy-ass thing out here to open one house lock,” Nico said. “I can do it with some wire.”

“That doesn’t sound like something a locksmith would do,” Maki said suspiciously.

“Oh? You know a lot of locksmiths, do you?” Nico snapped back. “Little miss legacy admission to the police academy is an expert on all trades now?”

“That’s not what I-”

“Or what, are you saying you think Nozomi wouldn’t know anyone who works for a living? So sorry for having to actually do something useful to put food on the table.”

“God, shut up already!” Maki said, massaging her temples. “Fine, you’re a locksmith. Whatever. Spare me your class warfare speech.”

“Yeah, god forbid you listen to the peasants complain,” Nico muttered.

“Well, now that you’ve gotten to know each other, let’s get to work!” Nozomi said, clapping her hands together.

Nico sighed.

And took her first steps into a mystery that would change her life forever.

#love live

[devouredbyghosts]

NO MATTER WHICH WAY WE TURNED • BRIAN EVENSON

No matter which way we turned the girl, she didn’t have a face. There was hair in front and hair in the back—only saying which was the front and which was the back was impossible. I got Jim Slip to look on one side and I looked from the other and the other members of the lodge just tried to hold her gently or not so gently in place, but no matter how we looked or held her the face just wasn’t there. Her mother was screaming, blaming us, but what could we do about it? We were not to blame. There was nothing we could have done.

It was Verl Kramm who got the idea of calling out to the sky, calling out after the lights as they receded, to tell them to come and take her. You’ve taken half of her, he shouted. You’ve taken the same half of her twice. Now goddam have the decency to take the rest of her.

Some of the others joined in, but they didn’t come back, none of them. They left and left us with a girl who, no matter how you looked at her, you saw her from the back. She didn’t eat or if she did, did so in a way we couldn’t see. She just kept turning in circles, walking backwards and knocking into things, trying to grab things with the backs of her hands. She was a whole girl made of two half girls, but wrongly made, of two of the same halves.

After a while we couldn’t hardly bear to look at her. In the end we couldn’t think what to do with her except leave her. At first her mother protested and bit and clawed, but in the end she didn’t want to take her either—she just wanted to feel better about letting her go, to have the blame rest on us.

We nailed planks across the door and boarded up the windows. At Verl’s request, we left the hole in the roof in the hopes they would come back for her. For a while we posted a sentry outside the door, who reported to the lodge on the sound of her scrabbling within, but once the noise stopped we gave that up as well.

•

Late at night, I dreamed of her, not the doubled half of the girl we had, but the doubled half we didn’t. I saw her, miles above us, in air rarefied and thin, not breathable by common means at all, floating within their vessel. There she was, a girl who, no matter where you turned, always faced you. A girl who bared her teeth and stared, stared.

[patriarchyfail]

Can you think of a single guy that doesn’t jerk off to objectifying, demeaning, mysognistic porn?  Can you ladies?  How about you men?  Would you do any better?

#origional PF #TECED #Decency Sentry #Gender Reparations Act #Gynarchy

[good-beanswrites]

Day 2: Discovery

I'm here to promote my ace Niles agenda with some good rarepair thoughts! The art goes with the drabble under the cut -- I meant to just write out a super quick scene but it actually got pretty long haha

I tried to explain it in the writing without saying it specifically, but I headcanon Saizo as a sex-repulsed ace and Niles as a sex-favorable ace :)

For the first time since the war began, Saizo hesitated after an order. 

“Are you… certain?” He tried to be as casual as possible, but the man wasn’t known for his nonchalance. 

“I am,” Corrin gave him a look. “There’s not an issue, right? I mean, I thought I was doing you guys a favor, seeing as –”

“ – No issue. I’m on it.” He swept away before they could utter another word. It didn���t take him long to find Niles through the bustling of the everyone making camp. It seemed all the mages were tired from the day’s battle, because the man was lighting the fire by hand. Saizo appeared next to him. 

“Niles.”

The man hardly flinched. “Hey sexy.” The ninja grit his teeth behind his mask. Sure, the two had been spending a lot of time together (one would call it courting if you could court during wartimes), but that didn’t mean the entire army had to know. He was still growing used to Niles’ tendency to make everything private awfully public. 

At least the others had the decency to leave him be about it. 

“Corrin says the way the numbers and the night shifts are, we’re sharing a tent tonight.” 

“Oh?” Strange, something flickered across his expression at that moment. “Just the two of us?”

“Sounds like it.”

“How exciting…” No, Saizo’s mind must be playing tricks on him. Niles was already smirking and batting those eyelashes just as he’d anticipated. “So I’ll have you all to myself, mm?” A spark leapt from the flint in his hands. 

“Just focus on lighting that.” Saizo turned on his heel.

Niles chuckled, “oh, this isn’t the only fire I’ll be lighting tonight. I look forward to –” but the ninja was gone.

---

Night fell. Saizo had tried to take up sentry watch from each of the three shifts, but they all turned him down. Perhaps they knew about the sleeping arrangements, and were also trying to help. He cursed Niles’ chattiness once more. 

He stepped cautiously into the tent; he was alone, thankfully. He changed from his traditional garments into his nightshirt with the same speed he applied to his movements on the battlefield. With stiff motions he layed out the bedroll – just the one, he discovered. 

The thoughts went whirling through his mind: what was he to say?

Of course, the issue wasn’t in being blunt. That was easy. He had no problem in saying “no,” or “shut up,” or “get those damned hands off of me” (he’d certainly said such things to Niles plenty of times out on the battlefield. The problem came in saying it now, when there were no more excuses of duty and professionalism. 

He knew he would have to say the final no. And he knew what would follow. He could practically see the other man’s crooked smile, poised for doing the most damage. “Never?” he’d say. Or, “not even Kagero?” which would only open old wounds. Or maybe he’d go for the classic, “well, maybe I’ll change your mind.” Or perhaps he’d simply remain in disbelief. Either way, this was not a situation to drag out; he must suffer the blow quickly and be done with it. 

He’d hardly finished laying out the bedding when Niles appeared in the entryway. Candlelight flickered against his grin. He made a grand show of entering and closing the tent flap securely behind him. He began removing layers of armor and padding ever so slowly. Saizo’s eyes flicked away. 

His voice took on its usual playfulness as he stripped down to his undergarments. “My, my, you got the bed set up already. Eager are we?” He clicked his tongue, coming to stand before Saizo. “But I’ve got some business before pleasure, darling. I thought we told each other everything” The other’s entire form was tense. What was he getting at? “I can’t believe you strung me along for so long like this…” When Saizo finally brought his eyes up to the near-naked man, Niles could see the confusion in his expression. “Kagero pulled me aside earlier tonight.”

Fire flared in Saizo’s chest. Rage, mortification, regret, pain, then rage again. But Niles continued before he utter a single word. 

“Alas, I suppose it’s only fair.” He shrugged. “There are quite a lot of secrets I have kept as well. Maybe it’s high time I let you in on at least one of them, really expose myself.” 

The last thing Saizo expected him to do was pull on his nightshirt with a flourish. He sat down on the bedroll, gesturing for Saizo to join him. His eyes grew distant, his voice became gentle. It was rare to catch the man in such a state. Saizo knew to keep silent or risk losing it. 

So he sat down, carefully sliding into the blankets as Niles spoke.

“You learn a few things, growing up as I did. You learn how to charm someone with one hand while the other picks their pockets. You know how to lie through your teeth and make it work. You learn when to stand for your fellow criminal, and when to hightail it.” He let out a long breath. He still hadn’t laid down, sitting with one knee tucked towards his chest. He removed his eyepatch, placing it nearby. His crooked smile returned, but it looked as hollow as the socket above it. 

“You learn… to become someone who fits in with the other crooks and killers, ‘cause it’ll cost you if you don’t. So, you get rid of those differences. You tell them that you want the same riches, the same thrill of a fight, and the same pleasures. And then you learn to actually be like that, to flirt and to tease and to please your way into anything you want.”

There was a faint pause as the words really sunk in.

Saizo knew the man well, but he had no idea if it was complete apathy or the crushing weight of emotion that caused Niles to blow out the candle, settle into the sleeping bag, and give a curt, “so don’t worry your pretty head about it, okay? Let’s get some rest.”

The ninja kept his lips pressed tight for another minute. He could feel the previous intensity dissipating from his tense body. He could practically feel the weight lifting from his strained muscles, but moreover from his spinning mind. 

He breathed, “thank you. For telling me, I mean. I never…”

“I’m a good actor, huh?” Niles was unfazed by Saizo’s rare moment of stumbling over his words. “Maybe I should go into theater when the war’s over. Or politics.”

“Oh gods, as if.” He was glad the other was back to a joking mood, but he wasn’t quite ready to drop the topic yet. The realization had him stunned where he lay. “All this time,” he said, more to himself than anything, and “you and I are the same.”

“Well, given I have years of experience, I’d say I’m far better at it than you –”

“Niles.”

“Heh, yeah, we’re the same. Loads of people are. You know,” he gave the other a nudge, “if you’d just told me earlier, I could’ve saved you a good deal of trouble, I think.” He leaned close. “Mmm, but when have I ever been anything but trouble?” He gave the most gentle, most chaste kiss Saizo had ever seen from him. Then he rolled over, leaving Saizo to contemplate a newfound world, an opening future, and an unknown feeling of peace he’d never known before.

#fe ace week #fe niles #fe saizo #fe fates #fire emblem fates #fire emblem niles #fire emblem saizo #fanfic #i know ace niles seems like a stretch but i really like the idea - it Works #it was my first time writing either character so bear with me but i had a lot of fun! #are they a rarepair? i feel like i havent seen anything for them

[fyeahcreepyshit]

No Matter Which Way we Turned

Brian Evenson

No matter which way we turned the girl, she didn’t have a face.  There was hair in front and hair in the back—only saying which was the front and which was the back was impossible.  I got Jim Slip to look on one side and I looked from the other and the other members of the lodge just tried to hold her gently or not so gently in place, but no matter how we looked or held her the face just wasn’t there.  Her mother was screaming, blaming us, but what could we do about it?  We were not to blame.  There was nothing we could have done.

It was Verl Kramm who got the idea of calling out to the sky, calling out after the lights as they receded, to tell them to come and take her.  You’ve taken half of her, he shouted.  You’ve taken the same half of her twice.  Now goddam have the decency to take the rest of her.

Some of the others joined in, but they didn’t come back, none of them.  They left and left us with a girl who, no matter how you looked at her, you saw her from the back.  She didn’t eat or if she did, did so in a way we couldn’t see.  She just kept turning in circles, walking backwards and knocking into things, trying to grab things with the backs of her hands.  She was a whole girl made of two half girls, but wrongly made, of two of the same halves.

After a while we couldn’t hardly bear to look at her.  In the end we couldn’t think what to do with her except leave her.  At first her mother protested and bit and clawed, but in the end she didn’t want to take her either—she just wanted to feel better about letting her go, to have the blame rest on us.

We nailed planks across the door and boarded up the windows.  At Verl’s request, we left the hole in the roof in the hopes they would come back for her.  For a while we posted a sentry outside the door, who reported to the lodge on the sound of her scrabbling within, but once the noise stopped we gave that up as well.

•

Late at night, I dreamed of her, not the doubled half of the girl we had, but the doubled half we didn’t. I saw her, miles above us, in air rarefied and thin, not breathable by common means at all, floating within their vessel.  There she was, a girl who, no matter where you turned, always faced you.  A girl who bared her teeth and stared, stared.

#creepypasta #scary #horror

[hankwritten]

And She Dresses Like a Scoundrel

Engineer/Spy, 2k

Part of the DontNeedADiscord Pride Week, Day 4: Fashion

“Thank you, Engineer,” I said gratefully, accepting back the once again functional disguise kit.

“No problem, partner,” he replied, gracious as ever. “Must have been a hard three days without it.”

“Indeed.” I sighed, recalling how many sentries had gotten the better of me with a grimace. “To think, less than a year ago I was relying entirely on my own skills of camouflage to create my disguise. I would even do it for fun! But here I am, ten months working for BLU and I’ve become completely dependent on their technology.” Another sigh, this time more beleaguered. “Truly, I have let myself slip.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Spy,” he said, consoling.

I raised my hand. “No need to be patronizing, my friend. I know the writing on the wall.” I waved, preparing to exit his workshop. “Thank you again for the repair, Engineer.”

But as I was halfway to the door, Engie blurted, “why don’t you?”

“Come again?” I asked, turning around.

“Why don’t you make your own disguises anymore?” he repeated, seemingly genuinely confused.

“As I said, I haven’t needed to,” I shrugged. “And thus, my skills have lapsed.”

“But if it was for fun, why’d you stop?”

At that I paused. It had been fun, one of my greatest prides was coming up with a new face and a new identity to fit any particular occasion. There was no greater joy than reintroducing yourself to someone under a new guise and seeing them have no idea.

“…I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “Probably because, despite my enjoyment, I associated the activity exclusively with work.”

That satisfied his curiosity, though it did make him rather dour. “Makes sense.” He thought for a moment. “But you could always pick it back up again?”

“I’d be horridly out of practice,” I waved off.

“So? We all gotta start somewhere.”

I tilted my head. “Why does this interest you so?”

He pushed up his goggles, chewing on some thought until it left a peculiar look about his face. “Just seems a shame,” he said eventually, “All that talent going to waste. You seem mighty busy all the time, never see you do anything just because you enjoy it.”

I pressed my lips together. There was a certain truth to that, and I wondered internally if I was being resistant for no reason. “...Hm. I... suppose you are right. Even if I do have access to a near flawless disguise kit, there’s no reason to set it aside entirely.”

“There you go! You sound gung-ho already.”

I didn’t, but he was familiar with my habit of faint praise to cover up genuine enthusiasm. “I appreciate the suggestion,” I told him honestly. “…Maybe when you see me next, you won’t even know it is I.”

Engie grinned, and it was charming how vicious he looked when he was trying to be encouraging. “Looking forward to it.”

Of my old wigs, only the black one with its loose curls had managed to survive its year in storage. Even still, there was frizz on a good portion of it, and after a half hour of teasing I gave up and began tearing apart the rest of my wardrobe for something to lesson its imperfections. What I found was a scarf, red and silken, and decided it would have to do.

A full-length buttoned coat, and pair of striped legs. Yes, these would be serviceable.

But first, makeup . I remembered that much at least, though I failed to recall the first rule of application: always begin with the eyes. The result was that I was left with a perfect pair of heart lips and a disgusting smudge across my sockets, the latter of which I had no interest in starting over on. Instead, I retrieved a pair of sunglasses from my trunk. I deserved to cut a few corners after so long, and anyone who said differently could try their makeup after a year without practice and see if they could do better.

When I was done, a perfectly lovely woman stared back at me. The stare turned into a frown. A perfectly lovely woman a year out of fashion. What was I wearing? Leggings? Good god, those were on the way out last fall.

I began to examine myself in the mirror, cursing myself for ever becoming so woefully outdated. I’d had my finger in the crease of Dapper Cadaver without pause for the past hundred issues, but I hadn’t even bothered to pick up a single magazine on women’s fashion? Disgraceful. Something would have to be done about this.

By the time I made it down to breakfast, someone had already made the first pot of the morning. I filled a mug and sat down.

Medic didn’t so much as blink. He lifted his eyes, greeting, “Guten Morgen, Herr Spy,” and returned to his medical notes. By the spots of blood, they were likely fresh.

Soldier was another story. “By God! You finally did it, Nurse,” he said, gripping the back of Medic’s chair and shaking him slightly. “You turned Spy into a woman!”

“I did not,” Medic said, peeling one of Soldier’s hands off his shoulder. He then considered for a moment, and addressed me, “unless this is your way of making a statement?”

“Non,” I shook my head. “Not entirely, at least. Soldier is right, but this is not permanent: I simply wished to get back into a more…flexible mode of presentation.” I paused for a second. “What did he mean by ‘finally’?”

“Are you implying I have been working secretly in my lab for the past two years on some sort of sex-change ray that would be sure to result in wacky hijinxs should it ever be completed?” Medic sipped his coffee. “Because I’m not and that is ridiculous.”

“…I see.”

If Soldier’s reaction was passionate, Engineer’s was somehow even more so. Before he even fully entered the kitchen, he stopped dead, his eyes locked on me. A few times he tried to speak, failed, and settled for scratching the back of his neck.

“Seems like you took my advice on the whole disguise work,” he said eventually. Now he had trouble looking at me altogether, a deep blush forming along his cheeks.

“I did,” I smirked, amused at his state. “Though unfortunately I’ve found my current wardrobe is not what I’d like it to be. I was hoping to use today’s ceasefire to do some shopping.”

“You want some company?” he asked, then immediately got flustered again. “Just uh…cause I know you don’t like taking your car though all the dust ‘less you absolutely have to, and nearest city with a shopping mall is pretty far…”

“Ah, so you are offering to drive,” I mused. “And here I thought you believed I suddenly needed assistance carrying my bags.”

Medic snorted, though when Engie shot him a glare he showed no indication he’d even been listening.

“…I can give you a lift, sure,” the Engineer affirmed slowly, still frowning offendedly in Medic’s direction.

“That is unacceptable!” Soldier chimed, brining his fist down on the table and making the silverware tinkle. “You two are not yet married! You think you can just go on a trip into town while unchaperoned? It is indecent!”

Engie sputtered, losing the bit of coffee he’d had the misfortune of drinking. “Soldier! What hell are you talking about?” he sputtered. “That ain’t- it’s still just Spy.”

“Exactly,” Soldier agreed. “That is why the two of you cannot be left alone together. Do not worry! I volunteer to accompany you on this shopping trip.”

Medic was laughing, having a much more difficult time hiding it now.

I grinned placidly. “You heard the man, Engineer,” I said. “It would go against decency to be about without a chaperone.”

“Fine,” he said, pulling his helmet further over his eyes. “Guess I’ll make the truck up for three.”

As much as I wanted to see if he would pop like a balloon if any more blood went to his face, I decided he’d had enough for the morning. I kept our conversation within acceptable subjects on the way up, and refrained from commenting on his new collection of odd mannerisms. It was quite adorable actually, especially when Soldier would lean out of the back seat every now and then to remind him ‘no funny business’.

When arriving at the glorious superplex that was the Santa Fe outdoor mall, the first thing on my agenda was a new jacket. The one extracted from the bowels of my old wardrobe was such a drab mauve, and with some help from the assistant at Loveman’s, I was able to find a few acceptable pantsuits. One could only expect “acceptable” when shopping chic in a department store—and a department store in America no less—but hopefully the rivers of fashion had trickled down enough that I wouldn’t embarrass myself too badly. The white plaid one was even quite fetching.

Next were hats.

“Engineer! Spy!” Soldier arrested our attention with. “I have located something I would like to purchase.”

He was wearing a newsboy hat over the top of his helmet.

“You needn’t ask us for permission,” I told him. “You have your own funds.”

He straightened like he honestly hadn’t thought of that. “Okay!” Then he was off again, sorting through the seemingly never-ending headwear.

“Some chaperone,” Engie remarked as he disappeared.

“I’m sure we can be trusted alone for but a few minutes,” I said, turning with a blue cloche hat in place. “What do you think of this one?”

“As pretty as the last. I mean-” He coughed. “Looks just fine.”

I smiled. “Here I thought you’d had enough teasing, but it seems you’re doing all the work for me.”

“Dang it Spy, I just meant-” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You know what, let’s just head to the jewelry.”

I shook my head. “Unfortunately jewelry is too much of a hazard. Rings and bracelets make removing gloves difficult, and necklaces are extremely useful for strangling your target from behind.”

“Terrifying that you put it like that, but remember you ain’t doing this for the job,” he prompted. “This is you getting a chance to try something different. D’ya want to wear a necklace?”

As he said it, he moved closer to the jewelry counter. I followed him, peering through the glass at all the trinkets I usually dismissed when assembling a woman’s portfolio. They were lovely…

��Mademoiselle,” I called to the woman behind the counter. “Might I be able to try this on?”

Engie whistled. “Nice choice.”

“I happen to have exquisite taste in jewelry,” I told him, gazing at my reflection in the glass as it wore the blue teardrop pendant I had picked out. “Both when selecting for a lover, or for myself.”

The attendant gave me an odd look, but it was worth it to see Engineer chuckle in a way that no longer uncomfortable.

“I have located another!” Soldier informed us as we took our bag. This time he was wearing a Viking helmet. From where he had obtained it, I had no idea.

“Then finish up paying,” Engie said. “We’re heading out soon.”

“Not so fast, Engineer,” I stopped him as he’d taken a step toward the door. “We still have not gotten anything for you.”

“Me?” he balked, craning his neck around like he was suddenly intimidated by the voluptuous mannequins surrounding us. “I don’t need nothin’…”

“And why not?” I asked. “We have dedicated the whole morning to me, and Soldier is finding ways to entertain himself, why shouldn’t you acquire something nice?”

“I…”

“Please, my friend,” I said. “My treat.”

“…Alright,” he sighed. “Sorry Sol, looks like-”

Soldier had acquired a bowler hat, which he wore on top of his Viking helm.

“-Well okay then.”

The Engineer provided an interesting challenge. The first thing I noticed was that everything in his size was far too long for him, and it made me question how he’d even found fitting clothes in the first place when everything in the store simply wanted to fall off him in tubes. He explained that he usually had to hem up his pants after buying them. I thought that was adorable, to which he muttered a string of ‘aw shucks’.

In a montage where Engie grew more flustered by the minute, I managed to get him into a delightful pair of corduroy pants with a mustard button down, an orange sweater with matching slacks, and a simple floral print button down that might go under his overalls. However, my absolute favorite was-

“Well now you’re just being rude,” he said, holding up the jacket.

“Howdy partner,” I mimicked. “Why don’t we just give up?”

“I don’t sound like that,” he complained. “And I definitely don’t wear things like this.”

The cowboy leathers were the sort of pink you saw from a mile away, genuine cow hide wasted on the monstrosity in his hands. There were more tassels than a man could ever want, and they went wonderfully with the white chaps and matching white Stetson.

“This is an eyesore,” he said.

“So are your regular clothes,” I reflected. “Please, I only ask that you try them on.”

He grumbled, and stepped into the changing room. That was good. I’d hate to have to bring out the, ‘for me?’.

“It’s certainly…something,” I said six minutes later.

“A trainwreck,” Engie said.

“You’re smiling,” I pointed out.

He grinned a little wider. He turned in a circle, the hundreds of tassels swishing around him, and then for good measure did a little two-step. I couldn’t help but chuckle with a hand over my mouth.

A shopper with a mustache passed by and gave us a strange look, and for some reason I started laughing harder.

“What’s got you so tickled?” Engie inquired.

“Nothing,” I waved off with a smile. “I was just thinking: after the thirty-five times the two of use have appeared in public together, this the first that you’re the queer one.”

He paused for a moment, looking down at himself. “Heh, I guess so.” Then he started to laugh. “…So. You been counting the number of times we’ve gone out together?”

“Is it so odd that I enjoy your company?

“No but…” he studied me for a moment. “Would you like to do this again some time? Assuming we can ditch the chaperone.”

“Mr. Conagher, how scandalous!” I said with mock horror. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He gave me one of those charming smiles again, and my heart fluttered ever so slightly.

Soldier greeted us on the way out, hat boxes stacked so high we couldn’t see his face anymore. “Operation successful! Move out troops!”

“Soldier,” Engie asked as he began securing boxes in the back of his pickup so there wouldn’t be a colossal hat pileup on the highway, “how long until you stop following my ‘n Spy around?”

“I do not know. Spy! How long are you going to be a women?”

I adjusted my new hat in the side mirror. “Until I feel otherwise.”

“Well then there you go!” Soldier declared. “It is perfectly acceptable for two unmarried men to be alone together, so you may resume making moon eyes at each other then.”

That, for once, got us both to flush.

#dnadprideweek2021 #engiespy #tf2 fanfiction

[nikethestatue]

Why doesn't Tamlin deserve a redemption arc? He is not the only person who made mistakes, and I think that he should be forgiven. It's not all about Feyre and his existence doesn't begin and stop with her.

Hi Anon,

It’s an interesting question. 

Do I, as a reader need Tamlin’s story? or his ‘redemption’? I personally don’t. He served his purpose back in ACOTAR and I don’t see great need for us to go back him. Maybe you do.

Now, in terms of redemption. I think that there are actions that are redeemable and those that aren’t. 

Tamlin’s problem is that he is selfish. All his failings stem from his selfishness, because it’s all about him. His entire life evolves around how he, Tamlin, will be perceived and what he’d gain from every relationship. His relationship with Feyre was based on that--SHE had to save him and his court. He stole her for that reason, he kept her, and yes, Rhys scared him enough to release her, but once she was UtM, he again, reverted back to his usual self-obsessed ways. Basically, he made sure that he never got hurt, while everyone else did.

Once his court was restored, he didn’t change anything. It was still about him and how he was viewed. So he re-instated the Tithe (from people who were literally SLAVES UtM!), he took away Feyre’s agency because she was ‘his’. Then, once she wasn’t, he went all the way to Hybern and sold his Court out to them, because it was about him and his wants. He didn’t give a shit about his court, or Feyre’s desires, or the bond. Later on, he whipped his sentries, because again--how would this ‘weakness’ reflect on him?

Were there glimmers of decency? Sure. He helped her when she was rescuing Elain and he ultimately joined the armies against Hybern. Does that though excuse his other failings? Does it excuse betraying Rhys and aiding in the murder of his mother and sister? Does it excuse him in treating Lucien like crap whenever he feels like it? Horribly shaming Feyre during the HL meeting? Neglecting his people?

For him to be ‘redeemed’ (I hate that concept, if I am being honest) he’d have to monumentally shift his entire personality and worldview, which I don’t see happening. 

At best, what he needs to do is stop obsessing over another man’s mate, who now has a kid as well, and start taking care of his territory. Step up, get things in order, establish a functioning government, and stop being a selfish asshole who let everything go to hell because he couldn’t have what he wanted. Also, there is just NO WAY that he loves Feyre THIS much. He doesn’t. It’s still all about him. It’s all self-inflicted, and mostly the choices he’s made. 

Perhaps a better question is--does Tamlin himself wants to be redeemed?

#anon ask #tamlin #anti tamlin #asked and answered #feyre #rhysand #acotar

[holdmyowos]

(Mature) A Taste of the Night Switch Eren Yeager x reader TW: oral (reader receiving), unprotected sex, fingering, foul languageSwitch deprived virgin Eren x gender neutral reader (Mature Content) Guys I found this playlist it is very underrated. If you like Eren, check it out. https://youtu.be/zZ-LmC5_OjI Eren Yeager. Your hero. It wasn’t his fault he was a titan, but everyone treated him as a monster, even though he had shown his loyalty time and time again, serving the scouts. They kept him in a dungeon. It looked normal enough, but perhaps it was slightly titan proof. They feared him, but trapping him wasn’t going to make him more likely to help their cause. No doubt if he wanted to, he would easily have destroyed the place by turning into a titan. “You can’t be too careful,” people said, whenever talking about him. Some, the religious, crossed themselves in his presence or when talking about him. This imprisonment isn’t careful, it's stupidity. You always thought that. Eren was treated like an animal, only let out of his cage when they needed him for something, which, most of the time, was for fighting, and the other part was interrogation. He never had any leisure time, only staring at the walls of his cell, thinking of who knows what. You were often the person sent down to give him his meals, or supervise during baths, though you didn’t look at him. There were always one or two guards, too, staring him down as if he would do something any minute. He could, but you knew he wouldn’t. Just because a king has the power to kill innocent people, if they are a good ruler, they’ll try not to. When you gave him his food, which you were often told to do, since you were one of the few people not terrified by his existence. You always slipped notes in from his friends with the napkins, sometimes writing on the undersides yourself, telling him to bear it, keep up the good effort, what a great person he was. If he ever actually got to read any of it, you didn’t know, considering how the guards always watched. He always slipped them under his pillow case before the sentries could see the writing. Perhaps he pretended to sleep while actually reading them. After working for the scouts, being kind, everyone trusted you. This was his one night of release, where he could leave the cell and do anything he wanted. As a ‘gift’, they let him out for 8 hours. Something others would take for granted, thinking nothing of it. Night, not day. It made people much less likely to notice him. You were told to secretly guard him, report back if he did anything suspicious. You wouldn’t tell on him, no way, no matter what he did, but if they were giving you permission to go follow him on his one day to keep secrets, you were going to see what he was up to. The sun was down, and the sky was dark. You gave the signal. The guard unlocked the gate, and Eren stretched, and slowly walked out of the door, as if a house cat, seeing the door open for the first time, the possibility of the outdoors calling. From there, cautious, he set a fast pace of walking away. You followed him out of the barracks, and he seemed to have a place in mind of where he was going. You almost lost him a couple times, a combination of his fast walking and you trying to be stealthy. You had borrowed a plain scout cape with a hood on it, concealing you. You saw him duck into a bar, and you stopped your feet, disappointed, but not entirely surprised. Wasn’t he 19? Could he even drink? You shook your head. If you were in his situation, wouldn’t the first thing you’d do is go and get drunk? You walked in cautiously, if they hadn’t stopped him, they wouldn’t stop you. Everyone stopped to stare at you, and you looked around. Eren wasn’t there. How did he give you the slip? You turned back around, headed out, and bumped into someone. They were so close, they must have been an inch or two behind you as you were walking in. “Boo.” He said. You looked up, and it was Eren. He flipped your hood, revealing who you were. He pressed you against the gray stone wall as a couple walked into the

bar, their faces in shadows. He took his hand off your mouth, instead grabbed your hand, and pulled you with him. He started walking, slower this time, allowing you to easily keep up. “I knew they’d send someone after me. Pointless to try to hide. ” Instead of being angry, he replied, “I suppose I can’t put it past you for following orders. Well then, be my guest. Follow me all night. I’d much rather have you than another guard. Who knows, maybe we can do something fun.” He put an earbud in the ear opposite from you. Where did he possibly get that? What was it attached to? Was he communicating with someone? You realized that you had stopped walking, and he was looking back at you, gently pulling on your arm. “Come on, I don’t have all day,” he complained. You apologized, and kept up. You heard some loud music, the beat dropping hard, it was blaring, but quiet to you. You looked around, and saw nothing. It sounded far off. You realized that it must have been coming from his earbud. “You’re going to lose your hearing, like that,” you muttered quietly. “Maybe,” he hummed. “But I heal so quickly, I doubt it.” You walked a bit, and he stopped in front of a house. He opened it, and stepped aside for you to enter. Was this his? It was small, and looked like it had been recently cleaned, but no one lived here, since the place wasn’t decorated at all, and the only furniture was a dresser, a lamp, and a bed. There wasn’t even a fridge or television. He shut the door and locked it. Should that be a red flag? He pulls open the dresser, and you try and peer in, but he pushes you away. He takes a bottle of something, probably wine, out, and lays it on the top of the dresser. “You can have some, if you want. It doesn’t work on me, as much as I wish it did. You take the bottle in your hands, turning it over. Maybe later. “Come on, hurry up. We don’t have very much time. I only have a night off.” He pauses, his shirt halfway off. What is he doing? You can see his nipples. You look away, blush flooding your cheeks. You had just wanted to talk, but if he wanted to do this instead, could you say no? You had never thought of him in a sexual way, but now that you looked, probably the only thing he could do in that cell was exercise, push ups and sit-ups. It showed on his body. His dark hair was messy and long, no one had bothered to help him with it. It wasn’t too bad, though. Under his eyes, lines showing that he had recently been in titan form. Every second, they faded a little bit more. In a couple hours, they’d be gone. His eyes were halfway closed, and you could tell he was thinking bad thoughts. He sighed, a breathy, needy sound. The noise made its way down to your core, and you were sure your cheeks were flaming. He sat you down on the bed. “You were the only one that was kind to me, this whole time I'd been there. Even my friends can't visit me. Please, let me return the favor. If not, I’ll just take matters into my own hands.” His hand traveled up your leg, but you flinched away from him. His eyes hardened, disappointed. “Fine, be like that. But if you don’t want me, then have the decency to act like it. Yes or no, I’m still having a good time tonight.” You looked down at his crotch, if he was this horny, then, how long had he been planning this? Did he know you liked him that much? You felt your underwear was no longer dry. “No, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself later. I just want to taste you. Eat you. Please, let me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to resist grabbing your wrist and keeping you in the cell with me. But I couldn't do that. It’d put you in danger, since you would be with me. It has to be a secret. You are my candle in the darkness.” On his knees, he has fully taken off his shirt, and you can’t help but stare. He grabs your hips. “Please, I need you.” You cracked. “Of course, I’d do anything for you. I’m just surprised you’d want to please me instead of yourself.” The words slipped out of your mouth. “Don’t think so lowly of me.” He growled. “I recently. Turned 19. A whole year being

legal, and I wasn’t able to do anything that whole damn time. I was so desperate for someone.” He slid down your bottoms and gently took off your underwear. He thrust a finger in your hole and you cried out. "S-sorry. I… haven't done this before." You guided his fingers, and he had you feeling good in no time. He seemed so desperate to learn, to make you feel better. You could feel that you were close. He must have seen something on your face that gave it away, or perhaps it was the way you squeezed around his fingers when they slid out. He placed his mouth between your thighs, and you felt his hot breath hit you. He was staring, a starved man waiting for the prayer to be over, to finally be allowed a meal. You held the back of his head and pushed him towards you. He didn't hesitate, he stuck out his tongue and went at it like a pro. You couldn't help the noises that came out of your mouth. Even better, he really seemed to be genuinely enjoying it too. When you came, he gulped it down. He stayed there, at your knees, staring up at you, as if wanting more. "Want to… actually… do it?" You put the offer out there. "If you really want. Are you sure? I might not be able to help myself-“ you cut him off. “Yes, please, I want you. You’re my idol, Eren. You don't know how much you mean to me.” He pushed you into the bed and suffocated you with his kisses. You had never dreamed you’d end up like this with such an amazing person. He let out a couple of loud huffs as you sat on his lap, slowly taking him in. “Damn, I’m already- fuck, I don’t think we should do this. I might spend my whole night like this uhf.” His words were stopped as you rocked gently on him. “I’m warning you, if you don’t get off right now, I’m going to do something that’s your fault.” You just kept doing it, enjoying him underneath you. He was probably a virgin, never having the chance of doing stuff before. However, he was obviously well educated. “Go ahead, I don’t mind.” He brought his face up to your ear, and you felt his body rubbing against you. He huffed in your ear, and slowly fell still under you, and let out a shameless moan in your ear as he released, trembling. He clutched you tight, knocking your breath out, and gently lessening his pressure on you until he was hugging you gently. “That was so fast. I wasn’t expecting that. I have all night. I wonder how many times you can make me do that. I've never felt like that before, never done that, but you felt so good. I need more, baby.” Your hands were all over each other, grabbing, needy. Knowing you might not be allowed again, perhaps ever. Every second you were together, you got wetter, everything he did, sexy. He would never have a supervised bath that you weren’t staring at ever again. He spent most of the night shoving you into the mattress, fucking you from all the positions you wanted to try. In total, he made you cum four times, and he did at least twice that many. You were drained, but happy, when the sun rose, and he walked back into the barracks. You followed about five minutes later. “So, how was he?” Your supervisor whispered to you later in the day, after allowing you time to rest. “He didn’t do anything I wouldn’t approve of, sir.” You answered truthfully. “Well, I’ll be damned. Who knew? Perhaps we should give him more free time after all.” #erenxreader

legal, and I wasn’t able to do anything that whole damn time. I was so desperate for someone.” He slid down your bottoms and gently took off your underwear. He thrust a finger in your hole and you cried out. "S-sorry. I… haven't done this before." You guided his fingers, and he had you feeling good in no time. He seemed so desperate to learn, to make you feel better. You could feel that you were close. He must have seen something on your face that gave it away, or perhaps it was the way you squeezed around his fingers when they slid out. He placed his mouth between your thighs, and you felt his hot breath hit you. He was staring, a starved man waiting for the prayer to be over, to finally be allowed a meal. You held the back of his head and pushed him towards you. He didn't hesitate, he stuck out his tongue and went at it like a pro. You couldn't help the noises that came out of your mouth. Even better, he really seemed to be genuinely enjoying it too. When you came, he gulped it down. He stayed there, at your knees, staring up at you, as if wanting more. "Want to… actually… do it?" You put the offer out there. "If you really want. Are you sure? I might not be able to help myself-“ you cut him off. “Yes, please, I want you. You’re my idol, Eren. You don't know how much you mean to me.” He pushed you into the bed and suffocated you with his kisses. You had never dreamed you’d end up like this with such an amazing person. He let out a couple of loud huffs as you sat on his lap, slowly taking him in. “Damn, I’m already- fuck, I don’t think we should do this. I might spend my whole night like this uhf.” His words were stopped as you rocked gently on him. “I’m warning you, if you don’t get off right now, I’m going to do something that’s your fault.” You just kept doing it, enjoying him underneath you. He was probably a virgin, never having the chance of doing stuff before. However, he was obviously well educated. “Go ahead, I don’t mind.” He brought his face up to your ear, and you felt his body rubbing against you. He huffed in your ear, and slowly fell still under you, and let out a shameless moan in your ear as he released, trembling. He clutched you tight, knocking your breath out, and gently lessening his pressure on you until he was hugging you gently. “That was so fast. I wasn’t expecting that. I have all night. I wonder how many times you can make me do that. I've never felt like that before, never done that, but you felt so good. I need more, baby.” Your hands were all over each other, grabbing, needy. Knowing you might not be allowed again, perhaps ever. Every second you were together, you got wetter, everything he did, sexy. He would never have a supervised bath that you weren’t staring at ever again. He spent most of the night shoving you into the mattress, fucking you from all the positions you wanted to try. In total, he made you cum four times, and he did at least twice that many. You were drained, but happy, when the sun rose, and he walked back into the barracks. You followed about five minutes later. “So, how was he?” Your supervisor whispered to you later in the day, after allowing you time to rest. “He didn’t do anything I wouldn’t approve of, sir.” You answered truthfully. “Well, I’ll be damned. Who knew? Perhaps we should give him more free time after all.” #erenxreader#erenyeager

#erenjaeger

#aot

#smut

#erenyaeger

#erenyeager

#aotsmut

#anime

#aotxreader

#erenxreader

[ahsokasanity]

Chapter Ten

A Court of Shadow & Ribbons           Wanna start at Chapter One?

                                                            *

Mor apologised the moment they entered the sitting room.

“I’m sorry for the subterfuge, but Azriel knows about me and he…..”

Emerie had not let go of Mor’s hand and as she spoke, Mor found herself being turned toward the female who had captured her attention at the party, and even before that. Mor was staring into Emerie’s hazel green eyes and losing any capacity to finish her sentence.

Emerie said “Now, I know too” and kissed her. Not a passionate kiss, a request of a kiss. Mor sizzled and held tight to Emerie’s hand, putting her other around her waist to hold her there. She didn’t let Emerie move back from that touch, Mor licked her lower lip and went back for a more intimate meeting.

Emerie sighed and felt herself going pliant and loose. She stepped toward the lounge, pushing Mor backwards to sit facing each other, stroking her hands in Mor’s hair, around her waist and over the perfect lines of her cheek and jaw.

“Oh I’ve never known what this felt like”

Mor stopped kissing Emerie’s ear lobe

“Just you wait” she whispered, Loving the shiver that ran through the female with her

“I just want to feel you and have you here with me, but tell me what you want” She hadn’t stopped touching and feeling and kissing, and Emerie’s eyes were closed when she murmured

“More of this for now, please don’t stop”. There they stayed, on the lounge as the sun rose and they discovered each other. Mor stopped at one point to ask if they should move from the sitting room

“Nope, this is it for now, I want to fall asleep here with you Mor” Emerie answered. So they did.

                                                            *

The training ring was pink with the streams of sunrise when Azriel landed. He found the rose with it’s chain in his pocket and strode into the house and his room. He couldn’t believe that Nesta and Cassian had not fallen asleep yet as he heard the low murmur of Cassian’s deep voice followed by a higher demand from Nesta. Mother save him from having to hear much more of that.

The house seemed to respond with some modicum of decency and muted the increasing sounds from their room. As Azriel closed his door, the moaning was left behind altogether.

He went to his armoire and opened the furthest right bottom drawer. In to it, he placed the jewellery beside a small cedar box. The only item that he kept from his childhood – a gift from his mother created when he was discovered to be a shadowsinger. She had placed a few items in it as he grew, even when he was imprisoned and she was unable to contact him. A lock of his hair, a note she’d written and a tiny dagger that she hoped he’d be able to learn to wield as he matured.  

He picked it up for a moment. Re-promising that his children would be loved in person, daily, and never would come to hurt whilst he breathed

He closed the drawer with his foot and changed into training gear. His body screamed at him for some sleep but he kicked back at the need and told himself “after training”.

                                                                       *

Most of the girls were already at the roof by the time Azriel arrived. Emerie was of course not there, nor were Nesta and Cassian. Apparently you do not have to train the day after your mating ceremony. All of the others were there including Lorelei and Roslin who had perhaps drunk more alcohol than they should at the celebration.

Those who had not attended the festivities were happily listening to the stories from the ceremony. Many of them had heard the tale of Gwyn’s singing and were congratulating her as they warmed up.

“Gwyn”. Azriel got the attention of the entire group. He indicated that Gwyn should join him at the front and she was nervous.

“We are a little short on instructors and members today, so I thought it might be nice if Gwyn led us in a warm up”

“Phew” Gwyn sighed inwardly and took a big breath. The best moves that she and Nesta and Emerie had found to get moving everyday were easy. She felt comfortable with the trainees and not pressured by Azriel. She could see him out of the corner of her eye correcting stance and core strength movements.

Everyone was flushed and perspiring by the time Gwyn finished the last rhyme. Azriel broke the females into three groups of three and had them sparring with staves, the third person of each group was the watcher to help with their feet and defence in-case anyone was having a particular problem.

Funnily enough, that left Gwyn and Azriel. Azriel handed her a heavy shield and led her to the area with a little more room.

“Sometimes, you won’t have a weapon but you may have some protection. Learn to use it to stay alive longer against an armed opponent”

Gwyn stood awkwardly holding the wooden metal plated implement on her left arm. Azriel attacked with deliberate slowness, signalling where he was going with each strike of his staff. Gwyn dodged and held, shuffled her feet and moved her weight to take every blow. Azriel sped up and reduced his warnings until they were both running with sweat and one of the other groups had stopped to watch them.

Azriel did not yell as Cassian could sometimes drag on his General’s mask, he merely indicated with a hand and “Ladies” -for the females to gather to watch.

“You see how you can fight without fighting? Defence can be the best way to stay alive until help arrives or until you are able to locate something more like a weapon”

Gwyn stumbled as Azriel spoke, attention lost in a memory of desperately waiting for help to arrive. Too late. Help came too late, even in the form of the winged assassin standing before her now. She dropped her eyes and Azriel continued to address the others.

“Get into a line and you can each have a moment to attack me with your staff, one at a time. Let’s go.”

The Idisi formed up immediately and began an assault on Azriel, giving Gwyn space to step out of the ring to get a drink. Why couldn’t she just get over this? How could the mention of being in danger make her stop thinking? Stop fighting? It had not happened on Ramiel. She thought that she was Valkyrie and unstoppable. Breathe she told herself, just breathe.

Once her heart rate had calmed both from the exercise and the panic, she returned to the line of staff wielding priestesses. It was time to have her revenge on Azriel’s earlier attempts at her. She would not be cowered and would never again be simply left waiting for help to arrive.

Azriel looked pleased to see Gwyn reach the front of the line and the others had begun to stretch and to drink water before the cool down.

“Apologies if I triggered something there, you were doing really well”

Gwyn stepped right then left and slammed the staff toward his exposed left wing. Azriel ducked and laughed at her audacity, but got his shield up in time to block the next blow.

“Now that was serious” – he blocked a third hit, but with effort and when Gwyn spun and angled the staff at his shins, he had to jump back to protect himself.

“You’d better give Azriel, I can do this all day” She grunted as she threw another two-handed attack at his neck and shoulders. Her feet were actually getting faster as she became more comfortable with the longer weapon. Azriel knew he could out manoeuvre her without a time limit, but she was so strong, so resilient he knew working her to exhaustion today would not be helpful. She needed this confidence and she needed more training and further fitness, but Cauldron was she a warrior.

After a resounding clash of staff and shield, Gwyn aimed a particularly good weight at his upper arm and connected. It was not enough to take Azriel out of a sincere fight, but it was a move that deserved reward.

“Give. I give” Azriel admitted freely. He was not winded, while Gwyn was pink and panting slightly. She knew without commenting that Azriel had forfeited. She didn’t mind. She had hit him after all!

They both drank greedily and Gwyn wondered if she was doing anything useful toward gaining Azriel’s affection. He was just the epitome of trainer today, although he’d focused on her a bit more than normal. She looked over at him and smiled, he gave her a nod of appreciation and she lowered her eyes.

“Form up Idisi” Azriel’s voice carried easily across the rooftop.

“Gwyn, please lead the cool down?”

Gwyn stepped out of the line sideways and began the relaxation chant.

Azriel stood sentry still, but took it all in, tensing and relaxing different muscle groups as the trainees breathed steadily and stretched. He was just nodding off, his wings held slightly open and his eyes closed. A stiff breeze nearly knocked him over and he realised that he was asleep. Thankfully he had no more appointments for the day and could just wash and sleep.

The females were saying goodbye and thank you to him and Gwyn was storing the staves and shield and tidying up around the ring as Azriel went to enter the house. He called out

“And thank you Gwyn for your help. And for reminding me to protect my upper arms!” He smiled at her and she grinned.

“Anytime. You are certainly training me to keep up my guard”

He turned again to look at her and she made a face like she had not meant to say that.

“Oh. You’re doing really well, so, you ah, you should feel good about that. I’ve gotta go, I haven’t been to sleep yet. See you tomorrow”

Gwyn nodded and headed off, embarrassed that she had dragged that information out of him. Where did he go after he dropped her here? He must have been back by dawn, he had got changed for training. Did he go to the nightclub? Did he hook up with someone? Gwyn cursed herself for a fool. He’s an experienced male who is your trainer. Why would he curtail his fun just because you spent some time with him? Why indeed when she’d given the gift back?

                                                                                   *

She used the library to forget all about thinking and re-thinking through last night and her memories of Azriel. The other priestesses, especially Merrill, wondered where she got the energy to run from place to place and help others with heavy tomes.

She just wanted to be exhausted by dinner time. Just wanted to sleep with no tossing and turning.

Azriel slept. No dreams, no startling awake. He drifted off hearing Gwyn singing in his head and woke up having barely moved. It was pitch black outside so night had fallen, but it was hard for him to surface from the total relaxation that he’d found. He merely checked his windows and his connections to Rhys – no emergencies, and stretched his wings. Laying on his other side, he fell right back to sleep.

                                                                       *

#acosf #acotar #sjm #Mormerie #Nessian #Gwynriel #Angsty #training #valkyries