#like what do you do after being ruled by a fire lord who was cold and callous with his people

[fiction-is-life]

Congratulations on 500 non-bot followers! I just joined the ranks after reading the angstly little treat you did for @eleanor-bradstreet 🤩

I would like to request a blurb for Anthony from your prompt list. #8 - "Looks like we'll be trapped for a while."

This is so fun!

Trapped and Titillated

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the follow, love, and for your kind words! I am so glad you liked Touchstone of Our Character!  I had so much fun writing this request; it is quite a bit longer than a blurb, but I hope that makes up for the fact it has taken me so long to write it!  Enjoy!

Summary: You are trapped with the Viscount.

Warnings: Angst, getting locked in a room, verbal fighting, steamy make out session, brotherly teasing

~

The door wouldn’t budge.  Oh, I knew when that latch clicked, I was doomed.  Utterly doomed.  And it was all his fault.

“Well, you have done it now, my lord,” I seethed, letting the veneer of polite reserve fall away.  It was always thin around him anyway.

Anthony Bridgerton had the audacity to raise one perfect, dark brow.  “I have done it?” he intoned, his voice cutting through my rising panic, reinforcing who I was angry at.

“Yes,” I hissed.  “You shut the door behind you, and now it is jammed.  It may be hours before someone comes by and finds us, and what then?”

He took a step towards me, matching the one I had subconsciously taken, bringing us closer than society would deem acceptable.  “As far as I am concerned, I have only done what was my right.  This is my library in my home, and I may shut any door I please.”

“Not when an unmarried young lady is in said library - unaccompanied.  Or have you forgotten the rules of the Ton while you were busy raking about the kingdom?” I knew I had struck my mark when I saw the Viscount’s eyes darken, his whole body tensing.

“Miss (Y/L/N), you do not know of what you speak,” he said through clenched teeth, and I shivered from the ice in his tone.  Anthony certainly did not miss it.  “I was raised a gentleman, Miss (Y/L/N), as a member of one of the most respected families in all of England, no less.”  

I scoffed and raised my chin and matched his stance.  We were practically nose-to-nose with each other.  “Well, there must be an exception to every rule, my lord, and I suppose you are it.”

I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them, terrified at the way his features turned from red-hot anger to a cold, stony silence.  I took a shaky breath.  “M-my lord, I apologize.  I believe I am overwrought from the events of today.  Please forgive me,” I spoke in a rush, not daring to make eye contact with those dark depths again.

A long moment passed before he cleared his throat, his complexion returned to a more normal hue but his posture still stiff.  “It looks like we'll be trapped for a while, Miss (Y/L/N).  We may as well make ourselves comfortable," he spoke in a clipped, quiet tone.  For some odd reason, I wished he would have yelled instead.

He must have noticed the look of panicked confusion on my face as I alternated between staring at him and the couches near the fire.  “Do not fear, Miss (Y/L/N), I shall strive to reign in my more ungentlemanly urges.  Your virtue is safe from me.”

I bit my lip, nodding at his words.  They were what I wanted to hear.  Right?  Oh, dash it!  I had never been prone to hysterics before, but something about being this close to the Viscount was making my thoughts and feelings a muddle.  So, I did the only thing that felt safe.

I pretended to read.

I believed it was working, too.  That is, until the Viscount cleared his throat again.  I wanted to roll my eyes at the realization that the smallest of his gestures still commanded attention.  I was looked over during a one-on-one conversation, but Lord Anthony Bridgerton could simply breathe in a certain way and every head would turn.

“Is there something you need, my lord?”  I asked, my eyes still blindly trained on the pages in front of me so that I missed his growing smirk.

“You must be a great reader, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said.

I raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.  “Yes, I do love a good book,” I returned, turning the page.

“You are most certainly a more avid reader than I.”

That made me look up at him, confusion wrinkling my brow.  “Why do you say that, my lord?” 

He openly smiled now, allowing me to see that little dimple in his one cheek.  “I have never mastered the art of reading words that are upside-down.”

“What?”  I looked down and finally saw what book I had picked up.  It was a tome on new farming practices, and it was indeed upside down.  

Well, I could not let him win that easily.  “I find I absorb the words much better when it is more difficult to read them.”  I looked down my nose as I had seen many women do.  “I believe it is important to challenge oneself, so one does not become ignorant and vain.”

His features twisted into a wry grin.  “Very true, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said in a tight voice.  He crossed over to the sofa I was sitting on and sat down - far too close for comfort.  “What are other pursuits that you find are challenging enough, may I ask?”

I knew he was goading me, but I simply could not back down from his challenge.  “Any activities I find rewarding, I suppose.”  I closed the book and tilted my head, staring him in the eye.  “Making sound investments, helping run the household, volunteering for charities,” I listed, not even trying to mask the smugness in my tone.  “Basically anything that contributes to society, unlike spending every night at gaming hells or with ladies of the night or -”

His lips crashed onto mine, cutting me off.  I felt positively surrounded by him as he crushed me into the back of the sofa, his strong arms encircling my waist and pulling me into him.  He smelled of bay rum and mint, and it was utterly intoxicating.  

At first, I was too shocked to react, but as his lips moved insistently on my own, I started to follow his lead.  He growled when I parted my lips, and my eyes shot open when he darted his tongue into my mouth, but it felt too good to pull away.  So, I pulled him closer.

My hands tangled in his dark locks, and when my fingers caught on a knot, Anthony pulled back slightly, moaning.  I gasped and pulled back.  “Did I hurt you, my lord?” I asked, concerned.

He groaned again, his eyes darkening further.  “Call me that again,” he growled, panting heavily.

My face twisted in confusion.  “My lord?”

“Yes,” he breathed, his lips finding mine again.  His hands wandered this time, sending pings of pleasure straight to my core.  I couldn’t hold back my own noises when his strong hands found my breasts, my nipples pebbling embarrassingly.  

I lost track of time as Anthony peppered wet kisses down my neck and over the swells of my breasts where my dress did not cover them.  He started to work his hand under the skirt of my dress when a crash was heard on the other side of the library.  

“Brother! Are you in here?  I need to get away from all of the matchmaking endeavours mother has concocted,” the voice of Anthony’s brother, Benedict, was heard.  Anthony’s head snapped up, a panicked look in his eyes.  

“Stay here.  I shall get rid of him,” Anthony whispered before rising from the sofa, straightening his jacket where I had mussed it.  “Brother.  You find me at an inopportune time.  I was just leaving,” he called out to his brother, trying to prevent him from seeing me.

“Why?  You already met with the steward this morning.  You have nothing else planned until dinner.”  Even I could hear the skepticism in Benedict’s voice as it grew closer.  

“Well, yes, but I thought I might go for a ride,” Anthony hedged.

“Wonderful!  I shall join you!”

“No!” Anthony shouted.  “I mean, I was wishing to ride out alone this time,” he finished in a more tempered tone.  

There was a long pause where I thought Benedict just may have believed the lie.  “Are you sure you want to be alone?  Because I think Miss (Y/L/N) might disagree.”  I gasped.  “I shall see you at dinner, brother, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said, a door closing behind him shortly after.  

I sat up with a huff, my cheeks flaming a brighter red than they had been before.  “I am sorry; I did not think anyone would follow me here -”

“What door did he come through?” I interrupted what was sure to be a very eloquent apology.

Now, the Viscount’s cheeks turned red and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.  “Well, um, he used the hidden entrance in the south wall.”

“Oh, you cad!” I screamed.  “Open it.  Now, my lord.”

Anthony silently moved toward the south wall, pulling a certain book back to reveal a hidden door.  I gathered my dignity about me as I fixed my skirts.  I caught a whiff of his cologne once more as I passed him, and for a brief moment, I wanted to turn back.  Instead, I held my head high, giving the Viscount one of those superior looks other ladies had mastered.  I wanted him to know I was not to be trifled with.

But I knew this was not the end of my encounters with the Viscount.

~

My Masterlist

#500 Followers Celebration #answered asks #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton smut #bridgerton fanfiction

[teddie-bear420]

Swap Au!! I call it “cold hazbin hotel”

Emily moonstone wants to redeem sinners and get to heaven with the help of her butler lute!

Lots of doodles and ramblings under the cut,

if you have any input or jokes or questions send them to me!!

So this swap starts at the very beginning! Lucifer is a big goodie two shoes who doesn’t express his real feelings and is kinda just heavens doormat. Sera on the other hand is driven by fairness and when she sees Adam mistreating Lilith she intervenes. This gets her sent down to hell with Lilith and they start ruling hell with all the sinners. At some point both Lilith and sera stop caring about the state of hell and the sinners establish the overlords that rule territory’s and all that. Around the time that Emily is born sinners like alastor and husk are well established overlords.

Back in heaven, corruption spreads to leadership and Lucifer (as head archangel) kinda just lets it happen. He still runs the show but he doesn’t stand up for what he believes in anymore. Very weak man, thin wrists… dainty even. Adam is still the general of the Exorcist army and nobody holds any one accountable in heaven and the requirements to get into heaven are raised to in unachievable amount!

Sera and Emily are very close, they talk almost everyday, when Emily starts to grow into an adult sera kinda panics and strains the relationship (Emily’s got mommy issues). Emily’s time spent in sin city leads her to starting the hotel with the Dino chick to hinder the overpopulation in hell (jk she just really wants to see heaven)

So Emily is the heir to a stolen kingdom

Lucifer still has Charlie in heaven and she fills Emily’s role of keeping everyone happy. In this swap he shelters Charlie for any hardships or even having her work for anything, so Charlie is a nepotism baby (in the normal show Charlie went no contact with her dad and built the hotel ground up) her job is to keep everyone joyful!

Charlie is ignorant to the horrors

Vaggie and lute are a little harder to explain cuz I still have no real idea how to approach making lute a sinner cuz uhh.. she already is one. I do know I wanna keep her antennae bangs…Pink to blue….Bug motif…Transition allegory?? You decide

Lute will probably have butler butch vibes, she’s very servant like

But! I see vaggie getting to second in command and becoming a beast. The most ruthless demon slayer ever man, she fights the biggest demons she can find just for the fun of it. She still bulks up (you can take buff vaggie from my cold dead hands)!! She is assigned to protect the arch angel Charlie from quote…

“naughty individuals” -Lucifer (he means Adam)

Their dynamic is very silly, vaggie has to keep Charlie safe from things like assassins, perverts, technology and a goose. We all know that lute struck vaggie down cuz she was gay right? Well that still happens, but vaggie wins the fight (also being egged on by Adam) and ever since she’s looked for a fight so bad she ends up joining lute (warriors bond and all that)

EMILY IS A LAWYER HAHAHAHAHHA AND A BUTCH

Basically she wants to change the heaven standard the lawful way (sera was a court judge after all) think musicals like legally blond, that one Hamilton song, and the death note musical.

She and Charlie get along well enough, it does gag Emily when she finds out that Charlie doesn’t know what a minimum wage job is.

Ok so the main cast gets swapped with the over lords as you can see, the overlords I chose now look much younger, tho carmilla and Rosie are my milfs forever. Velvet is now an intern trying to get out of hell (she hates the heat) vox is now kinda just an obsessive fan boy, carmilla wants to go to heaven to see her daughters again. That Dino chick is the first guest, Emily wants to tame her inner fire (girl style)

Emily has always wanted to see the garden of Eden, so when she comes up with a way to redeem sinners she hopes to visit heaven with them! I’m gonna doodle around with her demon bits,

THATS IT FOR NOW

Will maybe post more

#teddz stuff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #charlie morningstar #vaggie #hazbin hotel emily #charlie x vaggie #lute x emily #swap au #cold hazbin hotel

[rippersz]

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

(Rebel Angel who somehow doesn’t know who Lucifer is)

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

It seemed that the Almighty had reached his limit. His breaking point. His last straw. You exhausted him- worried him- pushed him too far and he had had enough. Too many broken rules. Too many annoyances. Too many thises and thatses and one or the other. So many complaints… so many arguments… so many accounts of general public disruption…

God never allowed insolence. God never allowed anything less than perfection.

And you were terribly flawed.

That was the reason- surely- as to why you found yourself waking up on a dark cold marble floor instead of in the cool holy waters of your ivory bath.

The wings at your back ached and something in your chest was bruised, swiftly gathering atoms of divinity to weave the pain away. Too, your hands were red when you turned them over - stinging with the remnants of a hard fall. And your knees were skinned; epidermis peeled back and raw. It looked as though you’d been brought to the pearly gates and pushed off of the silver city’s edge. It felt like you’d been brought to the pearly gates and pushed off of the silver city’s edge.

“Stuck up- bastards-,” you grunted, pulling yourself up onto your hands and knees.

The fucking lot of them - every other single fucking angel up there in those clouds… they were morons. Idiots. None of them knew how to have a good time. None of them knew how to have fun. There were no parties in Heaven. There were no parties in paradise. There was no difficulty in Nirvana. And you loathed that. Hated that. For years you sat on your ass, from childhood to adulthood, watching with wide bright eyes as the world went on around you. Your parents made you the way you were, keeping you sheltered and happy and strong while the other little angels played outside and were born with glowing lights around their bodies. They learned all sorts of things out there - mingling in the ‘real world’ - watching as guardians.

But your human died one day after being born - and you had no one to guard. And God sort of looked at you after that and thought ‘Meh. Do what you want with her.’ and that was the end of it. From that point on you were just- there. A distraction for the others. A nuisance for most. A good time for few. But it seemed God decided you’d fucked around for the last time - and he cast you to-

…well. You weren’t exactly sure where you were.

Unlike Eden, the place you were in was dark. Desolate. Lit with something… unsettling. The air smelled of sulfur and burn - and you swore you could see ash float about in the nonexistent wind. There were no clouds either, and no subliminal gentle hum that typically played on a loop within the city - meant to carry the angels and souls through their hours. Inspiring joy. Happiness. Obedience. The tune was bloody annoying was what it was - you’d always held some type of disdain for it. But there, surrounded by a very sudden eerie quiet, you wished you could hear the choir singing again. It would, perhaps, only slightly lessen the sudden feeling of being entirely out of place. The metal bowls of flame fixed between long marble columns… the strange fire-pit you faced upon standing on your feet and shakily turning around… the- oh… the color of the sky… no such phenomenons existed in Heaven. Flames were rarely seen. And the sky was never- well you would have remembered if it were ever red. Or a weird mix of fiery orange and black. Or even grey. But it wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t. There were no silver pathways leading from this place to the other; and there was no distinct shine to the universe itself. No… divinity. No divinity at all.

So where in the Lord’s name were you?

“How peculiar…” a voice purred, “…an Angel? In my realm?… It appears you have fallen quite a long way.”

You turned, body tensing with discomfort. You didn’t know anyone else would be present. You hadn’t even heard them come in. Yet when you looked around, searching and curious, having to do a complete 360, you found there was someone present.

Something present.

The fire in the great pit that separated you had grown into an inferno. You could barely make out the creature’s face through the heated disruption. The blonde curls, you saw. The way they fell just so across a pale forehead. And the wings… by God, the wings. You were drawn to them almost instantly. A set far different from your own, laying poised behind the thing’s strong back. Dark, you noticed. And sharp. Leathery? Yes - definitely. Nearly… bat-like… and powerful, without a doubt. You squinted, trying to see through the flames, but it was to no use. The stranger was tall but drowned in shadow. Hidden, almost - even though you could see the midnight color of their silk robe.

How intriguing… You blinked, wondering if there was a chance that you were possibly hallucinating (and ignoring the fact that angels couldn’t hallucinate), but you weren’t. It was real. And it was silent. And you were staring.

“Who are you?” The volume of your tone made you wince. In Heaven, everyone had to raise their voices over the soft din of the choir, eventually giving them the natural disposition of talking loudly. But in the silence of that strange land, it sounded like the ‘gunshot’ some humans described when first stepping into the silver city. Noisy, booming, and honestly embarrassing.

Though the creature didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they didn’t seem to care. Not at all. Instead, you noticed the slightest shift in the robe’s sleeve and could just barely make out the velvet outline of long fingers floating delicately through the ashen air before the fire in front of you- the fire separating you- the only thing keeping you strangers and safe- disappeared. Went out. Settled into heated coals and sizzling sounds. And thus, revealed the monster.

The very… very… very… very attractive monster. The handsomest of monsters. The most beautiful monster. With shining crystal eyes, blue like the holy water you rested in during times of sleep, and soft pink lips, putting human flower petals and sunsets to shame. And with a pale pallet, nearly… nearly glowing…

“I am in no mood for games, little Angel,” the pretty monster hummed, tilting its head as it began moving.

Slow step by slow step, you watched in awe as it grew closer… and taller… and more glorious. You’d never seen anyone like them. No soul, no divine thing, no creature in the silver city looked like that. Looked so- so- well you didn’t even have words. Literally and figuratively. Your mouth dropped open and you floundered, searching for something to say, trying to find your sense as each thought in your mind began fraying - destroyed by their proximity. Destroyed by the soft hard line of their jaw and the curve of their chin and bridge of their nose. So glorious… so holy…

“I-” your voice croaked, “I don’t- I don’t know… who you are,” you confessed, voice softening into something innocent.

It was the truth - the honest truth! - but for some reason you felt… stupid. For not knowing what it was or who they were. From a young age, angels were expected to know everyone and everything. Nearly every other angel’s name by heart; every religion and each God; every world and all things in between. Including greater entities. Anomalies. Beings with great power - like Dream of the Endless and his friend, Desire. And most angels did know such things. Most angels did retain such information. But of course, as it goes in any walk or form of life, one must always slip through the cracks. And that was you. There were many things you didn’t know and many things you didn’t care to know. But standing there in front of them, below them, looking up to see the way some stray beacon of light made their fair curls shimmer, you realized you probably ought to know them. Their presence felt so… intoxicating… it was hard to understand how you hadn’t come across anything like that before. Especially when you felt your hands shake as you realized just how much they loomed over you… Like Azrael. But they- it?- was not Death. You knew Death. You had tea with Death once… before trying to poison them. Just to see what would happen of course! Just to know. (Nothing happened, unfortunately. They just sort of blinked and gave you an exasperated look and told you to go away. There was no more tea after that.) But despite not being Death, they still held that air about them. That distinct aura of doom. Of glorious defeat. It swelled in the pits of those icy eyes.

And such glorious icy eyes they were. So beautiful. So intense. You felt frozen beneath them, any hint of scorn directed at the Almighty suddenly gone in the face of the new creature. Entirely overshadowed by morbid curiosity… and the tiniest hint of fear. You’d never really felt fear before. But the rushing in your heart, and the sound of golden blood in your ears, and the whimper that nestled in the depths of your throat could only mean terror, couldn’t they? You watched realization slowly dawn on the creature’s face. You watched their brows furrow slightly, then you looked down to see those peach lips parting - slowly, softly, god-like.

“Intriguing…,” their breath smelled of wine and dying stars, “…you really have no idea, do you?”

Their tone was lilting; their accent sublime. So pronounced, so gentle, sounding almost like a song within the crackling silence of the fires going on around you. It had you leaning closer, drawn like a foolish sailor to a siren’s whims. Just utterly transcendent. Just inexplicably marvelous. It had a weight to it that you’d only seen in God… but the creature before you was most certainly not God. Not in any religion. No, it was something else. Something more abstract. Something darker. But you couldn’t place even a single fingertip on it.

“No, no clue.” You sounded breathless.

Hearing that seemed to please the creature in some odd way. There was a glimmer to their eye that wasn’t there before - and they appeared… delighted?

“Well,” it sighed, sculpted pale hands poised in front of a soft abdomen. “I believe that calls for an introduction.” And then there was a pause. An ominous, strange pause - as if the being was silently telling you that you had one last chance to be honest; coaxing you into admitting a truth that you didn’t know nor understand. But when you just blinked at them, hanging onto their words for dear non-life, quite unsure of what they wanted, they seemed to finally accept reality and internally concede.

“Lucifer,” they cooed, voice ringing and smirk evil, “Morningstar.”

Morningstar…

…The Morningstar.

The one whispered about… the one gossiped about… the name passed from one seraphic mouth to another… the occasional ‘talk of the town.’ Everyone seemed to know about them but you. They were formidable, yes, but that was the extent of your knowledge. Their origins were unknown. Their story was a shot in the dark. Perhaps that’s why you felt so odd within their presence - like a sweating blushing thing that wasn’t sure of its place in the Heavens. Or in any realm, for that matter.

You sort of felt the need to bow. It tingled in your shoulder blades, wormed beneath your ribcage, but refused the instinct. You were an Angel. You bowed to no one but God, and even then you rarely did so. Everyone in the clouds knew you to shirk such an honor. A brave few even murmured about the Morningstar and how you’d ‘fall’ just like them. At the time you ignored them, having no clue what they were talking about. But looking around you then, feeling the weight of the burning air, you knew you were a long way from Heaven. Perhaps in its very antithesis, though you had no name for that just yet. Did everyone in that realm have a figure like Lucifer’s? Did all of their hair shine like that? Were all of them fair-skinned and untouchable? Was it Heaven reversed?

You couldn’t control the way your eyes slid over to their wings. They were far larger up close… and taloned, you noted. Was there a chance they were soft? They looked soft. Leathery and strange, with skin stretched over bone, but soft nonetheless. And as if sparked by your thinking, they twitched, flaring for just a moment before relaxing once again. You looked back up into Lucifer’s eyes, not at all surprised to see the lingerings of malice. They did not look like they wanted to kill you, but they did not exactly look welcoming either. No, there was no warmth there. Just curiosity. And openness. You were no threat to this being… and that irritated you. Every religion knew to respect the angels. Every religion knew to understand that they did the bidding of God. Every religion knew to welcome them with open hands and a smile.

But you were not welcome. Not with open hands and certainly not with a smile.

So how dare they? How dare it? How dare this- this- Lucifer? You felt your back straighten, renewed with energy as you found your mental footing. The ache in your body was gone, whatever wounds you’d sustained just faded memories of some minutes. That’s right - you were angelic. Divine. This Lucifer had no idea who it was speaking to.

“And I am Y/n,” your voice was hard, “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

You were expecting bared teeth. A growl, maybe. Perhaps the full extension of those glorious wings. A hand around your neck would have done enough all on its own. But the only response you inspired was the slightest twitch in the Morningstar’s right cheek. It tugged at the corner of their lip, making them smirk and sneer all at the same time - but only for a moment. A very quick moment that wouldn’t have happened at all if you hadn’t been watching. And just as swiftly, they were back to neutral; a pleasant little expression on their face as their eyes suddenly ran over your body - from top to bottom and back again. You were grateful that you were still wearing your toga; pristine and white, draped over your one shoulder and tucked under your other arm, tied tightly at the waist with a thin golden band - divine in nature and very handy. Your feet, on the other hand, were bare. And the golden cuffs that usually graced your wrists were gone. You felt disheveled. You felt less than pristine. You looked… exactly as you had always felt. Like a mess. Like a bright glimmering mess. Like a pile of abstract art that existed among the carefully carved statues of Heaven. You felt… you looked… far more beautiful than you ever had before.

It was hard to tell if Lucifer agreed.

“No I suppose it doesn’t,” they hummed, referring to your earlier response. “Though I should hope you know that’s the point.” The Morningstar spoke nonchalantly- as if they weren’t the most strangely intriguing thing you’d ever come across.

Their words, on the other hand, were confusing.

“No. I don’t know where I am,” you glanced around for a moment, still stuck without a clue, “so I wouldn’t know. Care to enlighten me, Morningstar?”

“You will address me as ‘Your Majesty’ or you will lose your tongue,” they replied quicker than light, voice deep and sharp enough to cut.

It felt like the air changed then, becoming nearly suffocating in its depth. It crawled into your lungs, into your veins, making you swallow around a sudden lump in your throat while your eyes started to water. Clearly, Lucifer was powerful. Not someone to be messed with. And not nearly as patient- nor ‘kind’- as God. At the brief thought of him, you glanced up; like you’d suddenly see the city gates open again and you’d be welcomed back and lightly chastised before being sent on your way around the clouds; like you’d somehow be saved. But there was no reckoning. There was no call. There was no miracle. There was only Lucifer.

“Do you wish to return to the silvery city, little Angel?” You turned back to those calm frozen eyes, resisting the urge to get lost in them.

“Yes, of course,” you said as though your answer was obvious (which it was).

“Interesting,” they hummed, tilting their head to the side slowly - like a hungry snake, “…I felt that way once, too.”

You frowned. Just what in Heaven’s name was the Morningstar talking about? No, you’d never heard of angels being cast from Eden, but you assumed that it was maybe like a one time thing? Like a mini punishment and you’d be summoned in any coming minute? For a second there you even considered the dark marble and flames and strange domed ceiling and weird cave walls were all part of an odd dream. But the sincerity in the Morningstar’s hushed tone said otherwise. Like they- like it was the truth. Like they truly had done what you did (though many more times) and looked to the sky in hopes to hear the choir once more. Like the weight of whatever happened to them would become a similar weight for you. Their words sent your head in circles.

“What do you mean?” You finally demanded, crossing your arms over your chest.

That seemed to amuse them as they smirked, eyelashes fluttering slightly. “I fell too. Once upon a time,” they paused, watching your eyes for any understanding. When they didn’t find it, they continued. “Right after succumbing to defeat.” A flicker of something dark rushed through their gaze. It unsettled you.

And sparked more outrage.

“What- what are you talking about?!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in clear exasperation.

What ‘defeat’? What ‘fall’? How long ago was all of that? What even happened? How did they get those wings? Who were they really and what were they capable of? And honestly, dear God, would someone just tell you where the fuck you were?!

“Ah,” they pursed their pretty lips, “It’s no surprise you’re here now. Angels are not meant to be so foolish,” the Morningstar declared, still lilting and song-like and beautiful and terribly insincere.

Their insult had your blood boiling. Who the fuck were they to say that? They were no Angel. They didn’t understand a damned thing. They didn’t know you and they didn’t deserve to know you. No matter how sublime a creature - such glory only existed on the outside.

“You wouldn’t know a fuckin thing,” you spat, giving them the best glare you could, “you’re no Angel.” A sneer painted your face.

“Foolish and blind, it seems…,” they mused as they began walking around you, lining your arms up at one point before continuing their small trek around the round bowl of the fire pit.

They paid you virtually no attention as they went, keeping their eyes trained on what appeared to be a balcony a few feet away. Interestingly enough, although their realm was warm, they seemed to be ice cold. There was not an ounce of heat that passed through the silk of their robe when they brushed past you. The proximity to something so powerful again had that feeling of needing to kneel traveling up your spine, but you pushed it down and worked on keeping the Morningstar in your sight. If you stopped looking at them, it was only a wonder as to how easily they could catch you by surprise.

“But you don’t look very…,” you trailed off, knowing you were going to say ‘angelic’, but realizing that you were… well you were wrong. Quite wrong.

Lucifer kept walking, not caring to stop for your reconsideration. But you didn’t need long. Those curls actually seemed rather… familiar. The way they surrounded the head, covered the ears, accentuated the cherubic features, glowed despite there being no light; and the willowy glide of their body, slow, methodical, full of undeniable beautiful grace; and their voice, distinct and delicate and precious and captivating; and their height- and their jaw- and their lips- and eyes- and proud nose- and perfect posture- and heavy wings- and… well… every bit of them seemed almost… holy.

Seemed almost like… like… like something you’d seen before. Briefly. In a painting and in a scroll. Only once or twice.

“Samael.”

It came out as a whisper but the monster still heard. And it made them stop in their tracks, wings swaying while the world paused.

You sucked in a heavy breath, feeling a very small shot of fear run down the curve of your neck.

They were Samael. Or they used to be Samael. God’s favorite. God’s best creation. The wisest, handsomest, strongest, most glorious Angel to ever be. The staple of divinity. The most beloved and the most cherished. There was a time once where you walked past an elder and heard them murmur about Samael. They had called you the antithesis. They had called you, in short, the most un-divine angel. If the fallen Samael was the best, you were the worst. And though you did not fully understand the story, though you did not know how they fell or when they fell or why they fell, you knew that their power had changed. The light had gone out and made room for the dark. Their wings shed their feathers and their skin lost its warmth. And they changed. They rebelled.

You frowned, feeling a tug in your heart at the sight of them standing there - glorious and tall and never beaten down. Never one to be truly defeated. They chose that risk - they knew of the consequences. But you? You? You were young. You were not wise, no, but you were clever. Smart. Hot-headed. Wasn’t Samael hot-headed once too? Wasn’t Samael flawed once too? Your small pathetic acts of rebellion were nothing in comparison to all that the Morningstar did.

So why did you wake up in their realm? What did God mean to say?

“Things have changed, little Angel,” their voice grasped you by the throat and brought you back to the present, “dwelling on the past reaps no benefits.”

“But I-” you swallowed, looking around wildly, finding that the gravity of what happened had begun to sink in. “No. No no no, I don’t belong here. I didn’t- I didn’t choose this. I don’t belong here!”

“Why shout when he has closed his ears to you?” The Morningstar asked, turning to face you with curious innocent eyes. “Why fret when you know what you’ve done?”

You squinted, confused, finding yourself taking panicked steps backward.

“That’s the thing, I didn’t do anything!” You insisted, hands clenching and unclenching into fists at your sides. “I didn’t lead a- a- a fucking rebellion against God! I didn’t hurt him! I’m- I’m pure! I want to go home!”

Lucifer stared at you, face blank.

“…This is your home now.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

:) - Ripley x

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

#fanfictionwriter #fanfic #rippersz #fanfiction #sandman #the sandman #the sandman netflix #sandman netflix #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar sandman #sandman lucifer #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie lucifer #samael #lucifer morningstar #x reader #reader insert #one-shot

[captain039]

Part 5 Lord and lady

Vampire lord Astarion x spawn!reader

Warnings: possessiveness, jealousy, gore, vampire things, eventual smut, swearing, hurt comfort

Previous part <-

“I can’t wait to taste you” he whispered and your whole body went hot. He licked his lips eyes in that daze before someone cleared their throat. You quickly pushed off him, hands hands leaving you and his daze leaving him.

“My lord I have important news” The vampire said and Astarion frowned.

“Well?” He asked.

“We may have found him” he simply said and you frowned, found who?

“I’m afraid he’s been turning more and leaving them unsired” the vampire explained and it clicked, he was looking for your master.

“Bastard” Astarion hissed.

“Find and capture him now” Astarion ordered and the vampire left with a curt nod.

“You’re trying to find my master?” You asked.

“If I do I can ascend you” he said eyes shining.

“Ascend me?” You asked confused.

“As I did” he added.

“Ascend me how?” You pressed.

“A ritual, you’ll be stronger, you can rule by my side” he breathed out and you faltered. Rule at his side? Rule what? This court? The world?

“I don’t want to rule, I’m no leader” you said and he frowned.

“You are mine, you were made for me, made to be by my side and rule” he said sharply and you flinched slightly. Maybe it was his blood in your veins, maybe it was selfish thinking, but your body thrummed at the thought of being by his side as a queen almost.

“I see you want it” he whispered coming closer again and twirling your hair around his finger.

“You enjoy the power” he added eyes dark. You nodded hesitantly and he smirked with satisfaction.

Astarions spawns made quick work of finding whoever did this to you, and the ones he turned. They were brought in and tended too. You hadn’t seen him yet, you waited in the court standing by the throne, Astarion seated in it. Finally they brought him out and you frowned not recognising him or his smell.

“My lord” the vampire who dragged the unknown vampire nodded.

“Darling?” Astarion said and you glanced to him.

“It’s not him” you said and the lords jaw clenched.

“Kill him anyway” Astarion waved off, you tensed briefly before you glanced to the hall sensing someone there. A little girl peered out from behind it and your heart shattered. Red eyes staring fearfully as the vampires dragged the man off. You saw Molly usher her back down the hall and a new hatred spread in your chest.

After a few weeks, no one you caught matched your master, either he was dead or in serious hiding. Astarion had indulged your every need, sometimes at night you’d go to him begging for another taste. He’d smirk and simply lay back baring his neck or offering his wrist. You’d climb atop him and bite down, feel the power flooding your being and greedily taking more. You could always feel how riled up he’d get, the hand gripping your hip, nails piercing your skin, his cock aching under you. You’d never indulge ion him though, you’d simply leave and feel his frustration. He hasn’t fed on you yet though, you could feel his strength weakening and you realised how selfish you’d truly been.

It was night again and you tossed in your bed, gods you felt like a different person, you were a caring child at home, you helped cook, tend to the garden with your father, read with your mother on cold nights by the fire, you were kind, not this monster you’d become. You had tears down your face as you went to Molly’s room, hesitantly knocking, the door opened by itself and you saw Molly by her desk reading over a book.

“What are you doing up so late?” She chuckled as she turned before her smile fell.

“Oh dear” she said as she ushered you over and sat you down on her bed.

“What happened?” She asked arm around your shoulder as you cried.

“Did Astarion do something?” She whispered and you shook your head.

“Me” you cried and you frowned.

“You what?” She pressed worry in her voice.

���I’m a monster! I’m a selfish monster!” You said loudly and she hushed you cradling your head.

“Oh gorgeous what’s happening? What brought this on?” She hushed.

“I’ve been feeding off him, not thinking about him, ignoring his needs, his frustration, focusing on the feeling of power I get everytime, watching those he brings in get killed feeling hatred for them, I don’t even know them!” You sobbed as she gently rocked you.

“Oh sweety” she whispered kissing your head.

“I’m more of a monster than I was before” you whispered.

“My life before I was turned, I was kind and compassionate! I was human!” You leant into her comfort feeling your world come crashing down.

“Let me see” she said and you thought back to then. You felt a hum in your mind as she entered and went through your happy memory’s.

“Who am I” you whispered as she left.

“That is for you to decide” she said softly.

You stayed with her for the night, she let you sleep on her bed while she continued with her reading, she gave you pleasant dreams and a restful sleep before you awoke. You were exhausted still, she offered her blood again and you took it. It felt strange no flooding power, just the feel of magic and warmth. You drank little thanking her as she smiled and healed her wound instantly.

“Come, I think some time outside will do you good, I won’t tell Astarion” she winked and you smiled.

You both left unnoticed, thanks to some magic and disguises. It’d been a while since you felt the warmth of the sun, you went to the markets in the village, you smelt the spices and fruits wishing you could enjoy their tastes. Molly brought some things for you, some clothes you liked and a few hair accessories along with a bracelet that reminded you of your father. It was leather with a little blue flower charm on it, he loved blue flowers, said they were so unique like you compared to the reds and pinks. As you wandered the markets you felt your body tense, every hair on your body stood up and you felt him, your master.

“He’s here” you whispered and Molly frowned looking to you.

“Who?” She asked.

“My master” you muttered seeing red eyes staring at you. Molly followed your gaze and before he could do anything she caught him in a magic trap. Everyone gasped and she quickly teleported him a magic glowing wave going over everyone as they continued their day like nothing happened.

“We must return” she said and you nodded rushing back to the castle with her. You headed to the court seeing your master struggling in the air bound by red runes. Astarion sat on the throne anger in his eyes as he saw you and Molly.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t suck you dry” he said voice deadly low.

“She’s done nothing wrong, you won’t harm her” you fought and he growled, but didn’t argue back.

“What is this?” He asked pointing to your master.

“My master” you whispered and Astarion stood wide eyed. You watched him circle him like prey while your master struggled.

“I don’t even know you!” Your master yelled as he was brought down onto his knees.

“Don’t even know me?” You whispered standing in front of him.

“You ruined my life!” You yelled anger boiling and magic humming around you.

“I slaughtered my parents, I drank them dry and then I lived like a crazed animal in the woods!” You punched him in the face hearing him groan was satisfaction.

“You left me to fend for myself! What was I? Some sick experiment to see if you could sire a spawn? Do you have more like me? Or do you have good spawns in your little court!” You snarled and beat him. You felt tears sting your eyes as your fists began to hurt, you gave one last cry as you snapped his neck, his head facing Astarion who was behind him. Your old master fell to the floor and you felt like a chain snap off your neck, you groaned collapsing to the cold floor on your knees. You cried softly looking at your bloodied fists your wounds healing, but his blood not leaving.

“Do you want to ascend?” Astarion asked and you shook your head, he was gone. That was all the satisfaction that you needed.

Next part ->

Tags

@luna728

@growingupnrealizing

@perseny

#astarion x reader #astarion #x reader #vampires

[bbygirl-aemond]

Would you say all the lords who supported Aegon's claim over Rhaenyra did it for misogynistic reasons? I know many of them never would have supported her just for being a woman, but do you think any of them had other reasons for not supporting her claim?

oh i could definitely see some of them having other reasons! but in addition to misogyny tho, not in place of it, because i think that was still very much present. people can do things for multiple reasons, after all!

some of the lords might have had older sisters who were passed over in order for them to come into power, and felt that rhaenyra's precedent would put their own positions in danger. the same goes for any lords who had older bastard siblings and who were worried about the precedent that jace might set if he was allowed to come into power. aegon has visibly trueborn heirs, unlike rhaenyra, so both his claim and his succession capitulate to the expectations and rules that are pre-established in westeros, while rhaenyra's claim and her succession defy them. (i know aegon in the show has bastards, but he isn't trying to give them any political power, so it wouldn't be perceived as much of a threat to the current system.)

it's also not a coincidence that we see teenaged rhaenyra behave callously towards powerful houses who we know will later declare against her. she has that snarky line towards lady redwyne, whose husband commands the largest fleet in westeros, yes even larger than the velaryon fleet, and who later declares for aegon. and she's curt towards the lannisters, another massively wealthy house, who also later declare for aegon. (i'm not saying that she was unreasonable for being a bit cold to these people, just that these nobles are very self-important and would have absolutely taken offense to it).

there's also the fact that many of these lords do not like their targaryen overlords/colonizers, for good reason lmao. i love the targaryens as much as anyone but they are very much meant to be the problem. the lords might see aegon as having less targaryen influence compared to rhaenyra because his mother and his grandsire, both of whom are big influences in his life, come from a non-valyrian house with close connections to the faith. the association with targaryen history isn't necessarily a boon to rhaenyra, what with the whole fire and blood thing and what that usually meant for non-targaryens.

finally, rhaenyra made both allies and enemies with her decision to wed daemon. there are people who are very loyal to daemon- but he's very polarizing, and there are also people who are wary of his violent, unpredictable nature. think of vaemond's death; viserys sentenced vaemond to lose his tongue, and daemon killed him in clear violation of the king's sentence, and there were no consequences. and we know later, from blood and cheese, that daemon is happy to follow through on death threats without rhaenyra's approval (and that rhaenyra will not publicly denounce him doing so). the only restraint we really ever see from daemon- agreeing not to go to war right away- is only because he doesn't want to kill off too many dragons. otto wasn't exactly wrong to fear daemon's eagerness to resort to violence; i mean, rhaenyra ended up kind of screwed over in large part because of it. so i can definitely see lords finding out she married daemon and being like "um nope not letting that get near the iron throne no sir"

#ask #asks #answered #hotd #house of the dragon #fire and blood #fab #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon #aegon ii #aegon the elder #daemon targaryen #daemon #team black #team green

[propertyofmilfs]

Home away from heaven

( My first fanfic is a fact, I hope you enjoy this fanfic as much as loved writing it. I will be posting as much and often as I can, chapter 2 is already in the works.

An important note: Lucifer uses they/them pronounce in this fanfic

Enjoy reading

Much love,

~a)

chapter 1: Memories, little rats and vengeance

I remember when I was still an angel. The most beautiful out of all the angels. Gods favorite. I remember not sharing gods ideas about the rules for his mortal followers. I remember telling him, everyone should be forgiven if they wanted redemption. For everyone who just wanted to live peacefully, is a place here. I remember rioting against him. Against his rules for denying the gates of heaven if you merely wanted to be yourself. To love who you want to love. I remember the fight. I remember loosing. I remember the fall. How every bone in my body ached. How my face got covered in the mud. How foul it smelled. How wet it was. How cold it was. I remember how betrayed I felt. I remember my heart growing darker with every beat. I remember revenge. If he wanted a war it was a war he would get. I remember the heat of the fires of hell. I remember not remembering how happy I felt. I remember the emptiness. That hole in my heart that could never be filled. I remember the curse. I remember gaining followers. I remember taking Mazikeen in my humble home, she too disgraced from home. I remember finding friendship in her presence. I remember dream. I remember his helmet. I remember the demon who stole it. I remember him wanting it back. I remember being a champion. I remember loosing the battle. I remember the embarrassment. The hatred for him and stupid bags of sand. That disgusting bird. And his even more disgustingly siblings. Except for one. Desire… My entire life flashed before my eyes. At least the things I could remember. Looking over hell I felt like an embarrassment to the realm. Nothing could irritate me more than the feeling of loosing to him.

“My lord, lord Azazel would like a word”

The words of Mazikeen pulled me from my thoughts. Nothing would irritate me, except that… I thought

And right as I was about to say something the fire roared, and there he was. I turned around.

“I will keep it brief your majesty.” He spoke.

“Lord Azazel, how like you to arrive without an invitation”

“I come for the bidding of the assembled lords of hell”

“You stopped fighting each other long enough to assemble”

“We have. Against your enemy. OUR enemy… dream of the endless. The armies of hell are yours to command, should you wish to strike. “

“You wish to invade the dreaming?”

“If you command it.”

“And then perhaps the waking world… and then, eventually, the silver city”

“Precisely, since none of us can leave hell, we may as well expand its borders, until hell is all there is”

“You have given us much to think about Azazel.”

“I would ask you do more then think, the generals command action”

I raised my brow at his last comment, how dare they command anything. Was I not their superior? The ruler, if anyone should command its me.

“Do they?” I asked.

My tone with a hint of venom. I thought about if for a moment, I can’t snap at them that would weaken my position.

“Then I shall act, you may tell them.” My voice was much calmer this time.

“Excellent! Good day your majesty” he answered and with that he disappeared.

Isleens POV

I was sent here to spy on lucifer by dream. Well not exactly sent, I came on my own accord, after all what is a proper arranged marriage without a disgruntled run away bride. I thought maybe if I could prove my usefulness to him he'd hold off on the marriage, that I wouldn't be forced into loving him that maybe it could happen naturally but deep in my heart I know. I could never love him, I wasn't attracted to him. He was far to demanding and brooding, I wanted someone who made me me happy, not someone who could make me happy which is why I found myself on the run from my fiancé and in the ruler of hells private quarters. I was getting good Intel, but I was naive to think I could pull it off. I was creeping towards the exit when a guard spotted me, I sprinted down hallways and corridors. I knew if I was caught I'd be as good as dead, I darted down corridor after corridor and found myself hopelessly loss. I was surrounded by demon guards on all sides, they snickered darkly, noticing the necklace on my neck like a collar that I could neither remove or take off.

"Lucifer will be delighted to know that one of dreams precious little spies have been caught “

They put me in cuffs and dragged me towards Lucifers room, I fought kicked and scratched like a wild animal. Only when we entered the room I froze tensing completely, I did not expect them to look normal, I began to fight again when the guards spoke.

"LET GO OF ME DAMN IT"

The guards punched me and I went limp, a cut on my bottom lip, a bruise sure to form. The guards bowed graciously,

"we found this one leaving your private chambers my lord, it appears to be one of dreams precious companions”

I thrashed in their grip, my eyes bearing into the rulers head, trying to get away from the guards. They pushed harder on my wrist and their was a loud sickening crunch and I let out a blood curdling scream of agony.

“FUCKING STOP IT!”

“ Release her hands, stand by the door. She can’t run away that wouldn’t be smart… so… does dream know you are here?” They finally spoke up.

I held my wrist to my chest and hissed,

"No thank God, the last thing I want is to be in his presence at this current moment”

“And yet you risk your life for him… you’re not very smart are you?”

"who says I'm doing it for him?" I snapped

"do you think I wear this by choice?"

I gestured to the necklace that basically bound me to him

"perhaps I came here to make a deal with you?"

“Making a deal is not going to work if you are going to run away. Don’t lie to me to try to flatter me it won’t work. I know he didn’t send you so why are you here”

"Because I'm being forced to marry him, he wanted a love that even he couldn't dream up so he went to my parent Desire for help, and here I am a fugitive on the run from the king of dreams... So, yes maybe at first I thought if I gave him enough information about you he would think I'm useful and wouldn't just turn me into a fucking mindless house wife... but I've seen how he treats those who'd disobey him and I'd rather take my chances in hell...hell.... I hate him, and there's nothing my parent or I can do to get me out of the arrangement so I thought maybe I'd take my chances here"

I stammered out a flush of humiliation at my admission of truth causing me to blush and emotion to cloud my eyes

“And what do you think you will be here? A housewife would be better for many”

I snapped, "Maybe in your eyes?!?! You don't know what he wants, what is demanded of me. ... surely you have wings, you know what it's like to be caged up without choice with a billion rules your told you must obey"

I held my face in my hands and sobbed little long scars visible between my shoulder blades.

"you fell from the heavens and were banished from your home, because you didn't believe someone should ever be forced to give love to someone or worship them just because those are the rules”

“That was then, now I don’t believe in anything. I don’t care about anyone, you can cry all you want but won’t make me pitty you nor do I care where you came from. “ Their voice was full of venom, it truly gave me the chills.

“take her to the dungeons, I can’t listen to those cries any longer”

They turned their back and I watched them walk away to the balcony. A fight with the ruler of hell was not exactly on my bingo card for this year. I had to behave if I wanted to survive, so I did.

I went willingly with the guards I did not resist, I gave lucifer one last mournful look,

"You used to be my hero, and now your nothing more then a disappointment “

I went with the guards to the cells they tossed me roughly to the ground and I didn't get up merely stayed curled up on the pavement. I healed my injury the best I could, and lay against the hot stone thankful at least I wouldn't freeze

Lucifers POV

I scoffed at the last words of isleen whatever I thought.

Mazikeen approached me hesitantly,

"My lord what if the girl is the key to dreams undoing?”

I listened to mazikeens comment “I know she is… let her sweat for a bit. Let her drown in her tears. If dream wants her he would come get her. But I hardly think he knows where she is”

Mazikeens brow furrowed,

"Wouldn't it be better to send him evidence of her existence in hell, say the necklace or a lock of her hair? Or shouldn't you at least tell Desire where their daughter has found herself? Or let the girl in on the plan?"

Mazikeen folded her hands crossed her chest

“No… why would I. By not telling desire they’ll blame dream. Which causes a confrontation. It would look like he lost her like a child looses its toy”

Mazikeen nodded, "Still aren't you worried it will cause a rift in your friendship with Desire? Your oldest friend?”

“They’ll understand… if you think telling them would be best you can but I am not getting caught up in their family drama”

Mazikeen grunted in frustration, "You are so stubborn"

“That’s why you like me” I smirked and winked

Mazikeen blushed and walked away,

"at least torture her then, I'm bored”

“I will tomorrow, I need to destress first”

I walked towards my bathtub and let the water run adding some oils in the water.

"but of course your majesty, enjoy the bubble bath"

Mazikeen whispered teasingly before leaving.

I could hear Isleen scream from her cell. Some entertainment at last.

"FUCK YOU ALL I KNOW HOW TO KILL ALL OF YOU”

I chuckled at her desperate cries for help and enjoyed the rest of my bath, dreams demise on my mind…

#gwendoline christie #lucifer morningstar #the sandman #fanfic

[thelustybraavosimaid]

Hey! i wanted to know about your thoughts about how Jon would be like post-resurrection with the time skip grrm originally considered?

So that really took hold of me for the first three books. When it became apparent that that had taken hold of me, I came up with the idea of the five-year gap. "Time is not passing here as I want it to pass, so I will jump forward five years in time." And I will come back to these characters when they're a little more grown up. And that is what I tried to do when I started writing Feast for Crows. So [the gap] would have come after A Storm of Swords and before Feast for Crows. But what I soon discovered — and I struggled with this for a year — [the gap] worked well with some characters like Arya — who at end the of Storm of Swords has taken off for Braavos. You can come back five years later, and she has had five years of training and all that. Or Bran, who was taken in by the Children of the Forest and the green ceremony, [so you could] come back to him five years later. That’s good. Works for him. Other characters, it didn’t work at all. I'm writing the Cersei chapters in King's Landing, and saying, "Well yeah, in five years, six different guys have served as Hand and there was this conspiracy four years ago, and this thing happened three years ago." And I'm presenting all of this in flashbacks, and that wasn't working. The other alternative was [that] nothing happened in those five years, which seemed anticlimactic. The Jon Snow stuff was even worse, because at the end of Storm he gets elected Lord Commander. I'm picking up there, and writing "Well five years ago, I was elected Lord Commander. Nothing much has happened since then, but now things are starting to happen again." I finally, after a year, said "I can't make this work."

George R. R. Martin — The Complete Unedited Interview

You know, this is something that I haven't really thought about. I only haven't thought about it because there's something we just don't know: when was George planning to kill Jon with the gap in place? A year or two into the skip? Later? Earlier, or even after the skip, when he's had a few years of rule under his belt? It's probably more likely that it was going to happen after the skip, so I think the end result would be the same as the current book!Jon.

We know that death changes a character to the point where in some ways, they're not that character anymore:

And as I got older and considered it more, it also seemed to me that death doesn’t make you more powerful. That’s, in some ways, me talking to Tolkien in the dialogue, saying, “Yeah, if someone comes back from being dead, especially if they suffer a violent, traumatic death, they’re not going to come back as nice as ever.”

George R. R. Martin on the One Game of Thrones Change He ‘Argued Against’

And we have this, from Varamyr Sixskins:

"They say you forget," Haggon had told him, a few weeks before his own death. "When the man's flesh dies, his spirit lives on inside the beast, but every day his memory fades, and the beast becomes a little less a warg, a little more a wolf, until nothing of the man is left and only the beast remains." (Prologue, ADwD)

Jon's connection to Ghost takes the front seat in ADwD, so we have moments like this:

Jon expected hot mulled wine, and was surprised to find that it was soup, a thin broth that smelled of leeks and carrots but seemed to have no leeks or carrots in it. The smells are stronger in my wolf dreams, he reflected, and food tastes richer too. Ghost is more alive than I am. He left the empty cup upon the forge. (Jon II, ADwD)

--

He was walking beneath the shell of the Lord Commander's Tower, past the spot where Ygritte had died in his arms, when Ghost appeared beside him, his warm breath steaming in the cold. In the moonlight, his red eyes glowed like pools of fire. The taste of hot blood filled Jon's mouth, and he knew that Ghost had killed that night. No, he thought. I am a man, not a wolf. He rubbed his mouth with the back of a gloved hand and spat. (Jon III, ADwD)

--

Jon smelled Tom Barleycorn before he saw him. Or was it Ghost who smelled him? Of late, Jon Snow sometimes felt as if he and the direwolf were one, even awake. The great white wolf appeared first, shaking off the snow. A few moments later Tom was there.

...

The shield that guards the realms of men. Ghost nuzzled up against his shoulder, and Jon draped an arm around him. He could smell Horse's unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant's overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. (Jon VII, ADwD)

So ultimately, I think the five year skip!Jon would have the same outcome as the Jon we have in the books: a little ruthless, a little different, and far more closer to Ghost.

#sorry this is a little late! #i wanted to get into more detail—about how some of jon's language regarding arya has an air of possessiveness #and how that would potentially intensify when he returns #or how george changed jon's adwd story to be fairly arya-centric #regarding his pain and despair to rescue her #but my head hurts like a bitch rn #forgive me

[bard-llama]

ATLA WiP List

Yeah, it's not Wednesday. Sue me - Wednesdays have actually become a really bad day for me to write/share works in progress. So idk I'm just gonna do it whenever, I guess?

Anyway, every once in a while, I like to make lists of all my too-many WiPs, so that's what this is. Under a cut, because the list is gonna be super long.

So for context, I have 3 categories my WiP docs (fic series, long fic, and fic collection) and within those, have a mix of shippy and gen fics. So I'll break this list out by type and then gen vs Zukaang vs other.

Also, apparently tumblr won't let you do nested bullets anymore??????? wtf tumblr. Everyday, you get less and less usable.

Fic Series

All have at least one story in the series published on AO3.

Gen (2)

Balance (current fic: Earth and Air)

Accidental Shaman Zuko (current fic(s): An Equal and Opposite Reaction, Two Avatars on a Road Trip)

Zukaang (4)

Two Lovers, Forbidden from One Another (current fic: As the Breeze Shapes the Dunes)

Seduction of the Innocent (current fic(s): Book 1: Seduction of the Innocent, Book 2: Fables and Reflections, Book 3: untitled fic where worlds collide)

Ba Sing Se Boyfriends (current fic(s): Facing the Dragon (of the West), Chillin' in Ba Sing Se, untitled fic where they investigate the Dai Li)

Justice, Served Cold with a Side of Vengenace (current fic: The Unlearning of Fear (And the Acceptance of Love))

Long Fics

These fics got long enough to graduate to their own document, but are (probably) not a series.

Gen (4)

Zuko's Odyssey (pre-canon, mostly planning, few words - intended to be a mishmash of atla with The Odyssey)

Helping Hands (chronic pain fic where Zuko gets his hands stomped on by Zhao at Pohuai and has to work with Aang to escape)

A Second Chance at Family (time travel fic where Azula's lightning 'kills' Zuko and sends him back to mid-s1)

Thrice Cursed, Once Broken (post-canon au sorta - Zuko becomes Fire Lord after being imprisoned on the Day of Black Sun)

Zukaang (6)

Once Upon a Dream (soulmate dreamsharing au where Zuko has always dreamed of the cold and dark of Aang's iceberg)

Damned by a Look (s1 soulmate au where the Fire Lord authorizes the arrest of the Avatar's soulmate. Zuko ends up in Zhao's brig during the Northern Invasion when the Ocean possesses Aang and forces him to kill the invading soldiers)

(Going) Down and Out in Ba Sing Se (s2 au where Zuko chooses Aang in the finale and then has to deal with the aftermath)

The Fire Lord and the Avatar (s2 au where Zuko joins Aang early, unpublished)

Dragon Mama Zuko (s3 au where Zuko gets pregnant via dragon, so much written but not fucking ch 2 ugh)

Action, Inaction, and Consequences (post-canon fic where war criminals are put on trial)

Other (4)

The First Reaction to Truth is Hated (pre-canon, Aang & Kuzon & Bumi, Aang & Gyatso left the Southern Air Temple the day before Sozin's Comet. They survived, but now have to deal with the aftermath)

Hope for the Future (late s3 au, Zutaraang, Aang dreams of a future with Zuko and Katara. When Zuko shows up the next day, he's inclined to trust)

A Seat at the Table (post-canon, Zutaraang eventually, fic about recognizing sovereign powers outside the 4 nations)

A Royal Heir (post-canon fic, Zutaraang, Zuko needs a legitimate heir)

Fic Collections

AKA I have waaaaaay too many WiPs for them all to get their own document.

Gen (55)

Agni's Little Flame (unpublished, spirits aren't supposed to play favorites, but they kinda do)

Unyielding (unpublished, never give up without a fight)

Zuko Collects Strays (unpublished, post-canon)

Zuko adapts other bending techniques (unpublished, Zuko accidentally uses an airbending move while firebending, then realizes there's potential in it)

Fire Control (unpublished, it takes a lot of control not to let fire burn wildly)

Those Who Tell Stories Rule the World (storyteller Zuko)

The Consequences of Breaking the Rules (late s3 au, Zuko is scared of messing up and getting punished by the Gaang)

Nightmares (unpublished, Katara is uncomfortable with Zuko's vocal nightmares. It's hard to hate someone when they're suffering.)

Being a Master Means Understanding That You Know Nothing (actually, this might be ready to publish????)

Healing Fire (unpublished, Zuko is in denial about his 'heat technique' actually healing people)

Sibling Rulers (unpublished, Azula and Zuko as Co-Rulers)

Azula and Her Brother (unpublished, Azula character study)

Breathing Fire (unpublished, tho ch 1 might be ready for publishing, Zuko's crew's reaction to this brat breathing fire all over the place)

Katara hating on Zuko (unpublished, set in the Western Air Temple, it's easy to hate Zuko until she learns more about him)

Zhao's Retribution (Zhao heavily injures Zuko, who is rescued by survivors of the 41st, who happen to follow Jeong Jeong. Aang, Katara, and Sokka still walk into Jeong Jeong's camp without noticing)

Viva la Resistance (unpublished, Zhao ends up regretting stealing Zuko's crew)

Aang in the Iceberg: Dreams (unpublished, while frozen, Aang exists in a dream world. Eventually, Zuko joins him)

Aang in the Iceberg: Angst Coma Time Travel (unpublished, when Zuko has his angst coma freakout in s2, he wakes up in the iceberg with Aang)

Punishment (unpublished, the Gaang is horrified when Zuko approaches them at the Western Air Temple, prepared for his punishment)

Muzzled (unpublished, Zhao welds a muzzle onto Zuko's face. The Gaang is horrified when they find him)

The Long Road to Recovery (unpublished, rejected by the Gaang in late s3, Zuko ends up imprisoned and tortured by the EK and the FN. After the war is over, he's found)

Trusted with a weapon (unpublished, Zuko realizes the Gaang trusts him when they aren't bothered at him sparring with Suki with his swords)

Gaang Established Routines (unpublished, the Gaang's domestic dynamic)

The Tournament of Kingship (post-canon, Bumi dies and Omashu's King has to be chosen thru a tournament. Naturally, Toph has to claim the title of Greatest Earthbender in the World)

Actions Speak Louder Than Words (unpublished, s3 Zuko apologizes to the Gaang thru acts of service/thoughtful gifts)

Spontaneous Combustion (unpublished, s2 au where Zuko stumbles upon a mystery in Ba Sing Se when people seemingly catch on fire out of nowhere)

Early s3 AU (unpublished, goes AU in the Sparky Sparky Boom Man episode and Zuko asks the Gaang to stop his Father, who just revealed his plans for the comet)

Choosing Nonviolence: Aang sees Zuko’s Scars (unpublished, Aang's vows of pacifism are challenged with every scar Zuko unveils. Zuko does not understand why he holds strong anyway.)

Choosing Nonviolence: What is Forgiveness? (unpublished, Zuko does not understand how Aang can refuse to kill Ozai)

Ozai is annoyed when his useless son befriends a blind EK noble (unpublished, pre-canon)

Truth Serum (unpublished, during The Chase, a pollen infects them and makes them tell the truth)

De-Aged Zuko (unpublished, s1 au where a spirit curses Zuko and the Gaang does not know what to think)

Flower language (unpublished, Zuko fucks up when he unknowingly burns Aang's friendship offering (a flower crown))

Working Together/Mission Fic (unpublished, s1 au where Zuko and Aang are captured by slavers and have to escape, along with the other kids who have been snatched)

Zuko becomes Fire Lord at 13 AU (unpublished, Zuko fights back in the Agni Kai. This changes everything.)

Toph joins S1 (unpublished, s1 au with bonus Toph, who utterly destroys the pirates Zuko is working with)

A Scarred Foundation (Zuko's badly scarred enough that he hides the worst of it with makeup)

Gifts (unpublished, late s3 fic, each culture views birthdays differently. Air Nomads don't track them, but they're very important on Kyoshi Island)

Katara POV Zuko tortured by Fire Lord (unpublished, in a world where everything went wrong, Katara is forced to admit that Zuko probably is, in fact, on their side - for all the good it does him now)

Ozai finds out Zuko joined the Avatar (unpublished, Ozai is so fucking annoyed with this damned brat getting in his way)

Kanna (unpublished, character study)

Gyatso runs away with Aang (unpublished, series au in which Gyatso gets frozen with Aang and wakes up 100 years later to Sokka and Katara)

Dad Convo (unpublished, Zuko has a few questions for Hakoda)

Shaking it up down south (unpublished, the South Pole has an issue with sexism. This turns out to be a problem in a post-war world where the women kept the tribe running while the men were away)

Something to Live For (unpublished, sometimes when you're in so much pain that it's hard to survive, you just need something to live for)

Earthbender Zuko (unpublished, don't have much, but wanna try to write the trope)

Avatar Zuko (unpublished, likewise, don't have much)

Getting Zuko to Sleep (unpublished, involves forced cuddles)

Keeping the Avatar Alive (unpublished, Zuko is maybe slightly obsessive about protecting Aang. He can't let his fuckup be the reason Aang dies. (Again.))

Self-Harming Zuko (unpublished, why does getting hurt as the Blue Spirit feel right?)

Haunted Toy (unpublished, after Lu Ten's death, Zuko discovers that a toy Lu Ten gave him appears to be haunted by Lu Ten)

Animal Transformation (unpublished, Zuko gets to be a finch hawk that the gaang takes care of in s1)

Time Travel Zuko 2: Electric Boogaloo (unpublished, future!Zuko comes back to s1 to tell Zuko all the shit no one ever said about how Ozai was fucking wrong)

Toph and Zuko’s Life-Changing Field Trip (unpublished, Toph is invited home by her parents and brings the Fire Lord. Turns out, her parents are trying to marry her off and now all the other suitors think they're competing with the Fire Lord. Zuko dgaf.)

Crossdressing Gaang (unpublished, post-canon, a convo about fancy clothes leads to the Gaang playing around with wearing the dresses Zuko's staff stock the wardrobes in their unused private rooms with. (They all pile onto Zuko's bed on the regular))

Oops, we've hit the character limit for this section oops.

Gen Part 2 (30)

Nerd Lords (unpublished, Zuko and Kuei meet when Zuko breaks into the royal library and accidentally end up becoming friends)

Fight Club (unpublished, Zuko has a talent for finding the underground fighting rings as they travel across the EK)

Instinctive Bending (unpublished, Zuko struggles to move the way his teachers tell him he should to bend. But when he doesn't think about it and just moves, his katas aren't right, but they work.)

Southern Water Tribe – why are there so many more men than women? (unpublished, AKA Llama messed up the math and decided to make plot out of it)

Drugged Zuko Rescue (unpublished, s2, Zuko gets caught by the Dai Li and drugged to high hell. He's pretty sure he's hallucinating the Avatar and the Water Tribe boy rescuing him)

Reputation (unpublished, pre-s1, Zuko's reputation is actually pretty positive amongst Earth Kingdomers. He pays a fair price for his supplies, he does odd jobs/investigates weird goings-on, he occasionally tracks down bounties, etc. Unless you happen to be impeding his search for the Avatar, the Prince is usually not bad to have come around town. Then the Avatar reappears.)

Silence (unpublished, Aang gets to enjoy my discomfort with silence)

Hidden Communities (unpublished, what if all the endangered peoples/creatures were hiding out together? AKA the Sun Warriors' Island has some surprises)

Jeong Jeong (unpublished, character study)

Gyatso adopting Aang (unpublished, Gyatso's POV of hearing baby!Aang laugh and immediately knowing this child is meant to be his.)

Crooked World (unpublished, Zuko has always known his world was different than the ones he read about)

Fire, Water, and Government (Know Nothing of Mercy) (Pirate Zuko AU)

Time Loop/Loop Zoop (unpublished, Zuko gets stuck in a time loop during s1 that always ends with his ship blowing up/him dying)

Southern Water Tribe Mixed Children (unpublished, Ten years after the end of the war, the Southern Water Tribe is rocked with controversy as tribesmen who left the fleet during the war petition to return with their mixed blood families.)

Brother (unpublished, Azula has a different understanding of what family means than the Gaang does)

The Truth About the Air Army (unpublished, Zuko reads through the libraries at the Air Temples and discovers the truth of who the Air Nomads were. After becoming Fire Lord, he decides that everyone needs to learn that truth)

Blue Spirit Reveal (unpublished, after the Ember Island Players, Sokka asks about the Blue Spirit that saved Aang in the play)

Post-canon Iroh and Zuko (unpublished, Zuko feels guilty for feeling abandoned when Iroh leaves for Ba Sing Se just after Zuko gets crowned)

Jet Redemption (unpublished, post-canon au where post-war negotiations end up taking place in Gaipan, which is about halfway between Ba Sing Se and Caldera City. Meanwhile, a certain someone has gone through a journey of his own. Earning trust back will take some serious work)

Aang being worthy of power (unpublished, Zuko's research taught him clearly how powerful the Avatar is. Like, frighteningly powerful. And yet, Aang uses that power with caution and delicacy. Zuko reflects on how much control it must take to actively avoid doing harm)

Ursa finds Zuko in his banishment (unpublished, okay this actually has nothing written, but I'm counting it bc it'll be fun)

The Power Behind the Throne (post-canon, Zuko has to deal with people thinking Iroh is controlling things behind the scenes)

Balance (unpublished, set during the Western Air Temple, when The Duke asks what balance actually means, they discover that Zuko's a giant nerd whose research has given him Opinions on this.)

“Come with me.” (unpublished, s1 au where Aang brings an injured Blue Spirit back to camp with him. Zuko is too concussed to protest overly much)

Attacking a surrendered opponent (unpublished, the Gaang discovers that Zuko believes that surrender just leaves one open for the next attack. Then they realize that for him, it always has. Not just with Ozai - but with Katara at the Western Air Temple, too)

Joo Dee (unpublished, Zuko attends Ba Sing Se University, which means he has a Joo Dee tail from the moment he enters the Middle Ring. People avoid him because of it, and Zuko just wants someone to talk over his lessons with. So one day, he decides to actually try chatting with her)

Mid-s3 Dreamsharing (unpublished, Zuko is plagued with nightmares while back at the palace. The spirits decide that he needs the help of those whose destiny is tied to his to figure out where he stands. Only the Gaang doesn't actually know that it's Zuko they're helping as they move through a dreamscape adventure)

Dark Water Spirit Curse (unpublished, AKA Llama nerded out over the deep sea interpretation of dark water and tried to do something with that. Therefore, Zuko is bioluminscent now lmao)

How Zuko Became a Radical Socialist (unpublished, AKA Llama vents about for-profit healthcare via Zuko in Ba Sing Se)

Blue Spirit puts out fires (unpublished, pre-canon au where Zuko tries not to use firebending when out as the Blue Spirit. When he is forced to, he never creates his own flames, he just extinguishes others. This leads to rumors about the Blue Spirit's ability to put out a bender's fire. The sensible firebenders are frightened by this prospect)

Zukaang (44)

Rope Burns (unpublished, Aang reflecting on rope burns and when they hurt and when they don't)

Blue Spirit Tagalong (Zuko ends up haunted by the Blue Spirit)

Relationship Reveal (unpublished, post-canon with Zukaang in a secret relationship - until they get careless and get caught by Zuko's advisors)

I'm Your Fire, Your Desire (s3 au where Zukaang get together at the Western Air Temple, now with a bonus PWP set in the future)

Shirtless Sparring (unpublished, wrestling pwp)

Return to Pohuai (unpublished, pwp Blue Spirit roleplay)

Our Love Become a Funeral Pyre (unpublished, Zuko is Kuzon reincarnated and dreams of Kuzon's life with Aang before the comet)

Gay Bar (unpublished, s2 au where they each unknowingly patronize the same gay bar in Ba Sing Se)

Airbender Blow Jobs (unpublished, pwp)

Fluffy Zukaang (unpublished, s3 fluff)

“My heart feels like it’s dancing when I look at you.” (unpublished, post-canon, Zuko is very dense about his emotions)

Aang Approaching Zuko Morning After (unpublished, s2 au where Aang stops by the teashop)

Rose Petals and Candlelight (unpublished, Aang spoils Zuko with t-rated intimacy)

Treasure (unpublished, on the 3rd anniversary of Zuko's crowning, Aang gifts him a black pearl that he found the first time Zuko took them diving)

"I'm in love with your voice" (unpublished, set during the s1 finale when they're snowed in in a cave and end up having to talk)

First Kiss/First Time (unpublished, when Zuko kisses him, Aang freaks out - and runs to the South Pole. Fire Lady Mai is the one to come beat some sense into him)

Pao’s Teashop Office Sex (unpublished, s2 pwp)

Body Swap (unpublished, s2 au in which Aang and Zuko switch bodies. Aang is not prepared for Zuko's pain - or his retail experience. Might be gen, might not)

Can't Take My Eyes Off of You (Aang likes the way Zuko watches him intently)

Sexytimes - Voyeurism (unpublished pwp, Aang ties Zuko up and makes him watch him touch himself)

Gossip (unpublished, Aang is excited about getting together with Zuko and has to tell someone. Toph is safest.)

Temporarily Genderbent Aang picks up Zuko (unpublished post-canon pwp)

Blue Spirit x Avatar Aang (unpublished, the Fire Nation is a little too invested in the potential relationship between the Blue Spirit and the Avatar, and where the Fire Lord fits in)

“We need to stop dancing around it. All it does is hurt us both!” (unpublished, Aang thinks he's dreaming and kisses Zuko at the North Pole - only it turns out to be real and neither know how to deal with that in the aftermath)

Identity Porn (unpublished, Aang does not know who the Blue Spirit is, but that doesn't stop him from flirting extensively)

“I can’t stop thinking about you. When I wake up, when I’m about to fall asleep…” (unpublished, Aang doesn't know what to think when Zuko confesses without even realizing what he's confessing)

Soulmate Potential (unpublished, people don't have a predestined soulmate. Some people click more easily than others, but the potential is there with anyone. Including one's enemy.)

Ba Sing Se AU (unpublished, this was SUPPOSED to be a setup to write Zuko's POV of Same Side Sex, because mostly it's been Aang's POV when I've done it so far, but uh... setup takes a lot of work and it grows a life of its own. So now we have Aang and Zuko dating pre-s2 finale and the ripple effects of that. Also, might end up Zutaraang)

Dream Sex (unpublished, pre-canon, aged up Zuko dreams about the Avatar having their way with him.)

Author Zuko: Blue Spirit/Avatar Aang (unpublished, Aang is not excited to hear that a new play is coming out about the Avatar and the Blue Spirit. He is unaware that Zuko secretly wrote the play)

Author Zuko: Zuko writes about the Fire Lord and Avatar’s Bond Thru Time (unpublished, Zuko's a fucking nerd who uses primary sources to back up his pet thesis that his destiny is tied to Aang's)

Cheering Up on a Bad Day (unpublished, Aang pines and tries to lighten Zuko's mood after a rough day as Fire Lord)

Masked Affection (s2 au where the Blue Spirit and Aang end up in a secret relationship. When Aang finds a badly injured Blue Spirit, the lines between Zuko and the mask begin to blur)

Post-Canon Hanahaki AU (unpublished, Zuko starts coughing up strange flowers and is in denial about what it could mean)

Gaang in Ba Sing Se with Aang trying to befriend Zuko without telling them who ‘Li’ is (unpublished, Aang explores the Lower Ring by taking Zuko on 'dates'. He tells the Gaang about it, but neglects to mention who 'Li' really is)

Freudian Nightmares (porn with plot, Aang dreams about Zuko, then gets the chance to experience him in reality)

Depression and Executive Dysfunction (unpublished, set in s3 but goes au in s2, Zuko and Aang had a secret relationship in Ba Sing Se - and Zuko chose Azula anyway. He regrets it, but even once he joins the Gaang, he knows he'll never be able to make up for that. The despair of knowing he can never recover what they once had makes it hard to try some days. Aang just wants to help)

Marking: Scandalized Sokka/Fuck “Aang must be protected” bullshit (unpublished, Aang enjoys getting marked up by his lover. The rest of the Gaang is a bit scandalized and it breaks their brains a little when Aang bluntly says he likes the marks)

Facefucking (unpublished, post-canon pwp, Zuko needs a break from being Fire Lord and wants to not think for a while. Surrendering to Aang's control is a good way to make that happen)

Dreamsharing, but it’s all sex (unpublished, au where Zuko has wet dreams about the Avatar even before he actually finds them. Somehow this is supposed to involve them sharing dreams. I don't really know how)

Destined to Love You/You’re the One I’ve Been Searching For (unpublished, Zuko has been overly obsessed with the Avatar for a long time. It's totally normal for him to care a little too much about Aang's opinion. It doesn't mean anything)

Sauna (unpublished, post-canon pwp where Aang convinces Zuko to take a break from ruling to soak in the sauna)

How tf is Li dating the Avatar? A teashop customer perspective (unpublished, an aspiring fangirl/writer in Ba Sing Se speculates on how exactly the surly teashop server managed to become the Avatar's boyfriend)

Artist!Zuko (unpublished, Zuko likes to doodle. His obsession with the Avatar means that they are often his muse - and once he finds Aang, he fixates hard)

Other (23)

What's Yours is Mine (unpublished, the Gaang cause waves when they wear pieces of Zuko's wardrobe. The gossip is hilarious.)

Come to the Good Side, We Have Cookies (sorta gen???? the Gaang kidnaps Zuko to try to befriend him. Zuko is not amused.)

Oviposition PWP (unpublished, Zuko gets railed by dragons)

Reading Lips (Gaang/Zuko, the Gaang all take an opportunity to kiss Zuko, but fail to ever actually talk to him about it)

To Weave a Tangled Web (Aang suggests that Zuko marry Kuei as a step towards their vision for the future. He forgets monogamy is a thing and fails to actually talk about what that means)

Zuko blows Aang while Katara watches (unpublished, Zutaraang(ish) pwp)

Commitment to Balance (Aang/Zuko/Katara/Toph, "Let's get married. For balance.")

Zuko navigating 10 (billion) relationships (unpublished, Zuko as the fandom bicycle lmao)

Zutaraang PWP (unpublished, sparring porn)

Zutaraang Lap Sex (unpublished pwp)

Aang loves his friends (unpublished, idk might be gen, might be full Gaang. Aang just loves his family.)

Katara and Aang decide to pursue Zuko (unpublished, post-canon, Aang approaches Katara to talk about polyamory)

Everyone is in love with Zuko: He catches a clue (unpublished, full Gaang/Zuko as fandom bicycle, Zuko realizes he's in love with his friends and is worried about what his wife will think. His wife thinks "fucking finally!")

I Still Dream About You (Are You Lonely For Me Too?) (Gaang/Zuko, unpublished, the Gaang shared one drunken, half-remembered night ages ago. It still haunts them.)

Sparring for who gets to take Aang (unpublished, Zutaraang pwp)

An Arrangement for World Peace (unpublished, Toph/Zuko, Marriage alliances are as old as time. Why not take advantage of that?)

Fuck Buddies (unpublished, Toph/Zuko, s3 aged up au)

Mai/Zuko/Toph – Post-Canon Fire Nation Trio (unpublished pwp that might grow plot)

The Southern Waterbending Line (unpublished, Kataang/Zutaraang, Aang and Katara both want to revive their people's bending disciplines, but there's no guarantee their children will be benders. Questioning how bending is passed down leads to learning more about Gran Gran Kanna's past)

Zuko is not in touch with his emotions (unpublished, Gaang/Zuko, Mai sits Zuko down for a therapy session with Ty Lee to help him realize that his friends are in love with him)

Aang as a sexual being/Fuck “Aang is so innocent and pure” (unpublished, AKA Llama gets annoyed at fandom's infantilization of Aang. Aang may be young, but he still grew up in a culture that believed in open and unashamed access to information, including info about sexuality)

Masturbation is normal and healthy (unpublished, Gaang/Aang, au where Aang is the one who teaches the Gaang about masturbation)

Attempt at omegaverse (unpublished, Gaang/Zuko probably, hopefully a pwp but it might grow plot)

Total WiPs: 172 🤯🤯🤯

#wip list #atla #wip wednesday

[erdarielthewhumper]

A continuation of sorts to this, but works as its own story without context too

Whumpee: Meldie Tropes and warnings: female whumpee, elf whumpee, fantasy whump, wounds, infected wounds, dislocated shoulders, captivity Word count: 3,189 A/N: Okay yeah I know it's literally been a month since I wrote the first part of this story. I'm just a really slow writer and inspiration sort of comes and goes for me. Again, I have some thoughts on how this might continue from here, so if inspiration strikes, I may write more, but it's likely gonna take a while again. Sorry! ':D Also sorry for any potential grammar mistakes or typos, I just couldn't be bothered to proofread this (and also English isn't my first language but I began to study it like 10 years ago so I guess that excuse no longer really works...)

***

Meldie came to in the grey twilight before dawn. She was lying on her side on the ground, her wrists shackled together in front of her, mud all over her as though she'd been dragged across the ground to where she lay now. She'd been stripped of her weapons and armor and even her boots, left with only her undershirt, too thin for the chilly morning, and her pants.

She shifted, trying to get a better look at her surroundings, and immediately everything flared up in pain. Her body ached with bruises she didn't remember getting, the wound in her thigh felt as though it was on fire, and she had a splitting headache. A quiet groan escaped her lips.

"You awake?" whispered Irk'adl's voice by her ear.

"I wish I wasn't", she muttered back.

"I think they put us under some kind of spell, to keep us out until they could restrain us otherwise", she heard Captain Raghesh say. "Did they hurt you badly before that?"

"Not too badly", Meldie replied. She lifted a hand slowly to feel the back of her head, and her fingers met a patch of sticky blood. "Some fucker hit me in the head, though. Who's "they", anyway?"

"They wear Lord Serdin's colors", said Raghesh. "He was the one we were marching against. The coward. I would accept a defeat on a field of battle by the rules of honor and war, if defeat us they did, but this sort of thing... cruel and disproportionate, that's what it is. And it's not as if we were national troops of the Dawnsea Alliance, either, just mercenaries. The Westmountains lords employ mercenaries too. This kind of thing just isn't fair."

"They wouldn't be employing mercenaries for long if news of this got out", Irk'adl growled. It was well known that most established mercenary companies paid careful attention to what their employers did to the mercenaries fighting on the enemy side. Someone who treated the enemy mercenaries, who were only in it for the pay, after all, poorly, was not always a safe person to serve, either.

Meldie shifted so that she could look at the other two.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice them in time. If I had, maybe we could've gotten away", she murmured.

"You're not the first person whose mind has wandered while on watch. You won't be the last, either. We're all tired and hurt and nearing our limits, it was practically bound to happen", said Irk'adl.

"True enough", Raghesh said. "In any case, there's no use worrying about what-if-I-hads now. I say we should all get what little rest we can before they begin whatever it is they'll do with us."

Meldie didn't reply. She was exhausted, that was true, and despite the cold seeping from the damp earth into her body, she fell asleep quickly.

****

She woke up not too much later to being kicked in the ribs. Before she was conscious enough to react, she was dragged up to her feet, and had to use all her concentration to stay that way. Her head still hurt, a constant pounding headache that made her want to curl up somewhere and never move again.

At a glance she counted fifteen soldiers, their captain, and their mage. One soldier was dragging her forward, another doing the same to Irk'adl. The rest were arranged around two small horse-drawn carts.

On the cart closer to Meldie lay Captain Raghesh, he too looking dazed as though only just awoken from sleep. Beside him was the corpse of the soldier Meldie had killed last night.

A bit further up on the road was the other cart, with supplies - as well as the weapons, armor, and other gear confiscated from Meldie, Raghesh, and Irk'adl - piled on top of it.

There was a length of chain attached to the cart Raghesh was on. The shackles on Irk'adl's and Meldie's wrists were hooked onto it, Irk'adl first and Meldie behind her.

Meldie hoped desperately that the journey wouldn't be long. It was hard enough to even stand with half her weight on her wounded leg. She wasn't sure how long she would walk on it.

Sun was still hidden beyond the horizon, although the light was already turning golden, when they got moving. The soldiers settled into the standard march pace, the sort they could, and probably expected to, keep up the whole day. Normally it wouldn't have been any kind of issue to Meldie, but now she struggled to walk fast enough. She clenched her teeth against the constant pain, but knew it was only a matter of time before the wounded leg would give in under her again.

The sun rose. The light felt far too bright, adding a new layer of stsbbing pain to her headache. She closed her eyes and tried to walk blind, but it helped only a little.

On occasion one of the soldiers would poke her back with the tip of their sword and tell her to move faster. As if she could. She was already staggering forward as fast as her body allowed.

They hadn't been on the road for half an hour yet when her injured leg failed. She fell to her knees.

The jolt that sent up the chain made the horse pulling the cart halt for a second, but before Meldie could even think about trying to stand up again, someone urged it onward. Meldie cried in pain and surprise as she was pulled to her stomach and dragged across the ground by her chained wrists. There was no chance she could have gotten back to her feet now, not even if she'd tried.

She heard Irk'adl yell and growl at the soldiers. They merely laughed at her. Someone threw a small rock at Meldie's back.

****

The next time they stopped was at noon. Meldie was so dazed she hardly noticed it before she felt Irk'adl's hands on her shoulder.

"Meldie? Meldie! Are you alright?"

Meldie rolled over to her back and lay there, gasping. Her wrists and shoulders burned, she was bruised all over, her shirt and pants were dirty and torn, the skin beneath scratched raw. Somehow she had managed to keep her head up enough to avoid any particular damage to her face, but her eyes stung and her throat was dry from the road dust.

Irk'adl gathered Meldie into her arms, and pulled her closer to the cart where they were at least a little shaded from the sun. The soldiers had tossed them a half-empty waterskin, and Irk'adl helped her drink from it.

"Fucking hurts", Meldie rasped when she could speak again, her eyes still squeezed shut.

"Bet it does." She paused and sighed. "I don't think we'll have much time to rest, we'll probably be on the move again as soon as they've eaten."

"Figures."

It was a while before Meldie opened her eyes. When she did, she saw Irk'adl's form beside her, and above them, leaning over the side of the cart, keeping an eye on the soldiers but now and then glancing down at Meldie, was Captain Raghesh.

The soldiers were settled a little further away on the soft grass on the side of the road. They were eating their lunch, and though they weren't deliberately slow, they also seemed to not be in too much hurry to get back on the road. They were confident and at ease; this was their territory, and they knew their captives had no chance of escape.

****

When they got moving again, Irk'adl drew Meldie close to her side. Wordlessly she placed one of Meldie's hands on her own arm. Meldie accepted the offered support with equally wordless gratitude.

It made the moving a little quicker, though still not quite as fast as the pace the soldiers would have wanted to keep. Exhaustion and pain were nothing new to Meldie, and she could struggle through them as long as Irk'adl helped her.

Apparently the soldiers cared more for seeing their captives suffer than they did for speed, however. After an hour or so, they began occasionally poking at Meldie and Irk'adl with their swords again. Irk'adl growled something at them in Orcish, and even chained and captive as she was and blinded in one eye, she was terrifying enough that they backed off for a while.

But eventually a few of them came closer again. They tore the two captives apart, and one made sure to kick Meldie's legs out from under her, too. Meldie fell flat on the ground, and felt the chains once again digging into her wrists and dragging her along the ground.

She felt the jerks and jolts as Irk'adl fought her own chains, but didn't look up to see whether she was trying to get to her or to the soldiers. It didn't matter, either way. Her efforts were in vain.

A couple of times Meldie tried to get back up on her own, but although the pace was slow enough for an armored soldier to comfortably sustain for hours, it was still too fast for her to get to her feet. On every failed attempt, she heard the soldiers' mocking laughter at her struggle. Finally she resigned herself to being dragged after the cart for the rest of the day.

****

They didn't stop until after sunset. Meldie didn't know where she found the strength to stand up and stagger after Raghesh and Irk'adl towards the place pointed out for the captives, but she did manage to make it that far. She all but collapsed to the grass next to them, too worn out to hold on to her pride or any pretense of strength.

She was in agony. Her shoulders felt as if they were on fire, and trying to move her arms was hell. She was sore, scratched and bruised, and somewhere in her struggles to get back to her feet she had torn some of the stiches of the not-yet-healed arrow wound in her thigh. It was leaking blood in a sluggish but constant trickle.

The others didn't look too good, either. Irk'adl's wrists under the manacles were chafed red, and despite her valiant attempts to hide her exhaustion, her shoulders were slumped and back bent as though under a heavy weight. Captain Raghesh was less exhausted from the journey, perhaps, but his skin was still ashen and his breathing at times labored, and his face was drawn with pain from his previous injuries.

"Fucking cowards", growled Irk'adl. "Wouldn't stand half a chance against us in a fair fight, and they know it."

"They want me alive. You two are just bonus, so you they can torment however they please. I've half a mind to try and steal a dagger from one of them. Take the one thing they were actually after from them", Raghesh said darkly.

"And how do you think that would help?" Meldie asked

"No, you're right. It wouldn't. I just wish there was something I could do." He sighed. "Look at what they've done to you, too. Your shoulders—"

"Dislocated. I know."

"I think I could put them back right", offered Irk'adl.

"They'll just do the same thing to me again tomorrow. I'd hate to waste your effort."

"They won't. Not if I have anything to say about it."

There was a dangerous fire in Irk'adl's eyes. Meldie wasn't certain how much there was that Irk'adl could truly do, but she appreciated the intent.

"Fine, then. You can try."

Irk'adl made short work of wrenching Meldie's shoulders back into how they were supposed to be. It hurt horribly, but it was done. Meldie slumped against Irk'adl, gasping from pain. For a long while she barely even registered anything besides the pain.

The soldiers tossed them a few threadbare blankets, a waterskin and some hardtack. They chocked down the food, not knowing when they'd next be fed, and wrapped themselves quietly in the blankets. Meldie laid awake for some time in a pain-filled haze, staring at the star-dotted sky far above. But eventually exhaustion won over pain and she slipped into dreamless sleep.

****

Irk'adl made good on her promise to not let the soldiers torment Meldie any more. She was tall, as orcs tended to be, taller than any of the soldiers, and she was no longer tolerating them. Whenever any of them dared approach her and Meldie, she bared her teeth at them and snarled something in her own language. None of the soldiers seemed eager to find out whether or not she could still manage to sink her tusks in their necks (as was said to be traditional method of fighting in the ritual combat of many orc clans) despite her chains.

The soldiers risked contact only long enough to chain Irk'adl and Meldie to walk after the cart again, but during the day, they left them alone. Meldie felt very bruised and sore, and each step seemed difficult to take, but at least she no longer had to worry about someone tripping her up for fun.

They walked through the day, and in early evening they came to the gates of a fortress. Just behind the main gates stood a handful of utilitarian grey stone buildings of varying shapes and sizes; barracks for soldiers, other living quarters, probably a laundry and kitchen and other such facilities, stables, blacksmith and weaponsmith workshops, and other buildings Meldie couldn't guess the purpose of. And, all things considered, presumably a prison of some kind. But past those buildings, the fortress walls, manned with guards, ran as far as the eye could see, up the hillside and further down the slope, and it was impossible to tell where they turned to join back together.

Meldie was too weary to even think anymore as the soldiers ushered them through the gates. She leaned heavily on Irk'adl to stay up, eyes fixed on the ground before her. They stood there a while as the soldiers apparently sorted things out.

After a minute or so, Irk'adl tapped Meldie's arm. Meldie looked up. In their immediate vicinity there were only people in military uniforms, and a couple of people in typical civilian clothing standing about, looking at them curiously. But past them, past the yard and out towards the hillside, near a few of the larger buildings Meldie hadn't been able to identify, they saw the prisoners.

Varying species, varying genders, varying ages, but all were wearing plain, dirtied and sometimes ragged prisoners' clothes. Most were in small groups, carrying tools or hauling apparently heavy carts, coming and going on a road that led somewhere up the hill. There were soldiers watching them, but not as many as one might have expected.

The prisoners weren't chained, either, but from their mannerisms and their clothes it was clear they were prisoners nonetheless. Occasionally Meldie thought she saw metal glint when they moved or bent over, but it was hard to tell from the distance.

At last some of the soldiers returned to them, and began leading them off somewhere. Raghesh wasn't with them, and Meldie wasn't sure where he'd been taken. But she and Irk'adl were herded towards one of the long, squat buildings with iron bars on the window slits and heavy doors and guards posted at the door.

Right inside the doors was a desk, and a uniformed soldier sitting behind it. He looked up when they were brought in, a flash of curiosity appearing on his face for a moment.

"A couple more stragglers", said one of the soldiers. "Don't think we'll be catching too many more, but we got the captain with 'em. Boss is keeping him, but these two are to be tossed in with the rest."

"Fine, let me see..." The man at the desk shuffled through a pile of papers. "Thirteen and Fourteen aren't full yet, so one to each." He picked up two piles of metal from somewhere behind the desk and placed them on the table. "You know the drill."

The soldier nodded. "Change the chains, let 'em wash the grime off, pick up new clothes for them."

Even as he spoke, some of the other soldiers began opening Meldie and Irk'adl's shackles. They picked the metal pieces from the desk and fit those in place of the chains; one heavy, cold metal band around the neck, and one on each ankle and wrist. There were no chains attached to them, but Meldie could just about see the runes carved into the metal. She had no idea of their meaning, but it had to be some sort of spell.

And then they were shoved away from the desk and along a corridor again. Warm steam hit Meldie's face as they stepped through a door and into what apparently served as the bathhouse. There were large vats filled with steaming-hot water along the length of the room, and smaller buckets by them.

She and Irk'adl were pushed to the farthest ends of the room, away from each other. At least, once that was done, the guards retrested a little, and gave them what little privacy was possible while still keeping an eye on them.

Meldie stripped off her torn and dirtied clothes and took a bucketful of water from the bearest vat. She knelt down on the stone floor to wash herself, not trusting her legs to carry her anymore.

The wound on her thigh, when her hand brushed it, felt hot, and the skin around it was an angry red. Dammit. As if things weren't bad enough already, without the wound getting infected.

Still, she washed herself as best she could. She wasn't completely clean, afterwards, but at least she no longer felt covered in dust and filth.

They were both given new clothes; a tunic and pants of rough, stiff and itchy undyed fabric. They were ill-fitting, and made to last a lot of wear more than to be comfortable. Of their own belongings the only thing they got back was their boots.

Then it was through more corridors, and up a few sets of stairs. The rooms they passed were walled with heavy iron bars. Rushes were scattered on the floors, and there were no furnishings aside from narrow wooden benches by the walls. The cells were mostly empty, though in a couple of them there were one or two figures lying on one of the benches, curled up with their backs to the corridor.

The guards opened two cell doors near the end of one hallway and shoved Irk'adl into one and Meldie into the one next to it. Meldie staggered to the nearest bench and sat down on it, leaning her back against the bars separating her and Irk'adl's cells. She heard Irk'adl's steps behind her and felt her hand on her shoulder.

"Well, if nothing else", Irk'adl muttered, "I guess we found the rest of the company."

"Fat lot of good that does to us", Meldie said. "We're trapped, and so are all the rest, and there's nothing any of us can do to get out."

"We'll see about that. I'm not giving up. Not yet."

---

@happy-little-sadist @whumperfultime @wolfeyedwitch

#whump #meldie #my ocs #my writing #fantasy whump #female whumpee #fem whump #elf whump #nonhuman whumpee #wounds #infected wounds

[talesfromsiteredacted]

Fun and Modded Games with 035, Or... Did You Just Caboose Me? So Wrong, Dude.

My first test with 035 aka Dyo. Just little ol me, the Possesive Mask, and a modded to hell copy of a quasipopular 4 v everyone zombie shooter. What can go wrong? Everything.

Well, it's time to meet the Possesive Mask, for a few "friendly" games. 035 walks in, and sees me setting up my gaming rig. If he could raise an eyebrow, he would have.

"What's going on? I was told I'd be testing. Didn't expect to test with 049's girl."

"Yeah... it's not really an official official test. And I thought since the Doctor is important to me, thought we should actually meet on less formal terms." I smile, extend a hand. "I'm Rabbit, nice to finally meet you, Dyo. Wanna blow up some boomers?"

"Boomers?"

"Big, nasty explody undead bastards. It'll be fun, I promise. And, since we're not being overly monitored, feel free to swear at the lumbering sacks of boom and acid."

I fire up the game, hand him an extra controller. And... break out laughing. My dumb ass forgot to switch off my mods. So, the shamblers are all Bernie Sanders, the spitters are dilophasaurs, the boomers are all the heavy from Team Fortress 2, and the witches... are the most demented version of Princess Peach ever seen. Hell, I still left my character mods on, meaning I'm stuck as a neon green Amongus and Dyo is... Caboose from Red vs Blue. Our weapons are modded, Dyo running with the BFG 1000 from Doom, I picked dual plasma cutters. Our online teammates are modded up too, 'Sarcasm&4Gauges' is ready to wreck shit as Lord Heisenberg from RE Village, and our last teammate is fucking Sailor Moon. Yes, Usagi is in the house. We get to it. After an initial learning curve, Dyo is on it. He took out Peach one shot. Massive legend. But... not without cost. My Amongus died, after Sailor Moon shot me in the back. Twice.

"Ayo, Sailor Moon? You Caboosed my ass. So wrong, my dude. Don't hate on your squaddie for being better as a rook than you, not our fault you suck with aiming."

"Kiss my disco medallion. Not my fault YOU were in my way."

Dyo pipes up. "Dr. Bright? Don't you have more rules to break before they're written? Teamkilling is almost as low as teabagging. Get your worthless ass back to Crystal Tokyo, heard Queen Beryl is on her bullshit again." Sarcasm&4Gauges loses it on the in-game chat.

"Damn, that was both thematic and cold as fuck, dawg. I can see why 049 chills with you. Savage."

"We do work well together, kind of a Beauty and the Beast deal. Of course, I'm the Beauty."

"Not in this chat, Dyo. Rabbit be fiiiiiine."

"And the Killer Rabbit is good with her honey. Back off her, Jack. Go perv on Rights again."

"Damn, Cleffy be dropping bodies without a shot. Thanks, Uncle Alto. Nice spot job on the herd of Bernies. Not into that kind of getting ate out."

We're back on our zombie slaying grind when... a wild tank appears, modded into a mini 682. Clef dies laughing on mic.

"Maybe I need to chill with the mods, the prospect of soloing a mini 682 brought out Clef's Scooby-Doo villain for real. Oh shit... Caboose dropped the BFG, Clef grab that big fucking gun and get nutty with it."

"Naw, Rabbit. I'm gonna Thor this punk ass. Time to drop the hammer." Clef runs up, the wind up is good... but mini 682 tail-yeets his ass into a wall. Dyo nods at me, and I drop a nice little surprise... a Juggernaught from COD. I toggle on theme music, Dyo pumps his BFG, and we see who kills the Unkillable Lizard first. Just as Dyo lobs the first volley, an Enderman pops up behind him, ready to drag him off. I shoot him with my cutters, Ender fall down, go immobile. Bright is back up... throwing his fucking tiara at 682. Who just laughs in 'what part of hard-to-fucking-KILL do you not get, bitch?' He drops like a bad habit after getting stomped. After several rounds of fire, multiple revives, and several death threats against Dr. Bright for friendly fire, the big scaly butt-ugly undead asshole dies.

"I don't even want to play this game anymore."

"Fine by us, Jack. You suck."

"Yeah, well at least I'm not cuddling up to 049."

"You. Did. Not. Just. Besmerch. The. Doctor's. Rabbit. If I get out of Containment, I am going to curbstomp both you and that tacky as hells medallion into the next reality. And not even 343 will save you. Be ready."

"Dyo, chill. Let me handle him. I have a plan."

"Please tell me you're going to freeze his mouth shut."

"Of course not. Why debase high magic for such low intellect?" I give Dyo an evil grin, and mute my mic. "First, I've arranged a nice Tinder date for him, and he won't even have to leave site. I know a young lady who would love having him over for dinner. Then, after dinner... how about a nice 963 under 60 meters of ice, floating in deep space? Far, far away from our galaxy."

"Rabbit, you're cold-blooded, evil, vindictive... and too bad 049 met you first. I'm honestly impressed."

"I learned at the sandaled feet of THE masters of dirty tactics, 076-2 and Clef. Let's just say I'm rolling the Mastermind perks up in here 24/7. After all, you gotta bring your A game to even match Abel. And Clef? Dude literally wrote the book on reality warpers, and I paid attention. After all, it's hard to learn much from the dead, let alone as one of them." I sense my new gaming buddy is a bit nervous. "Tell you what, you play a few rounds of Modern Warfare with me, we'll call it a non-aggession pact. Hey, maybe we can stomp Bright on and offline, heh?"

"Non-aggression pact? Meaning?"

"You don't kill me or 049 attempting to bail, I look the other way as much as I can. Maybe accidentally drop a few helpful items."

"I'll think about it."

"The pact, or the game?"

"The pact. I honestly like playing with you, you're in it to win via chaos. Very entertaining."

"Thanks, Dyo. You're pretty good yourself." I turn my mic back on. "So, gents... who's up for COD?" Clef opts in, but Bright backs out.

"You bailing, Bright? Can't handle playing unmodded?" Clef teases him.

"More like I can't deal with Rabbit. She's brutal, more so than Mongolian death metal, and she scares me."

"Can I train, or can I train? Not my fault you got no game, zero drip, and lo! No maidens."

"Why are you guys so mean to me?"

"Uh... my dude. You. Have. An. Over. 800. Item. List. Of. Things. You. Specifically. Are. Forbidden. To. Do. Do you really need us to tell you that alone got you disinvited from ALL official functions not directly related to your job? Plus, you have all the culture of garden soil 073 danced on."

"Ouch. That wounds me, 035."

"I have not yet begun to wound you, you backshooting idiot. Now, get off our server." Sonic rings, then a message: Admin Clef has booted G04tedwth963 from the server. "Thank you, Doctor Clef. You get dibs on my first care package should I die before getting it."

"The other team better pray to 343 it's not a gunship."

#scp foundation #tales from site redacted #agent rabbit #dr clef #dr bright #scp 035 #game nights at site redacted are wild

[mercurygray]

Thirsty Thursday prompt! “You need to go” for Edith, pretty please? 💕

Friend, this is VERY thirsty. And uses another prompt from you from a while ago - "For the “please” prompts: “please don’t tell anyone” for Edith?"

She hates how desperate she is.

Canute is home from Denmark, and his lady wife is very anxious to welcome him home properly, which means that Edith has been banished to the outer chamber to make an attempt at mending a shirt while the royal couple has their reunion.

The royal bedchamber has not been quite so noisy for a long while.

And Edith is aware, in a way she has also not been for a long time, how cold her chair is in the outer chamber, and how lonely her sewing. She never envied Emma Athelraed - but she does envy her Canute. He is, somehow, a man of infinite tenderness, a welcome respite after Athelraed's cold hands and stares.

The other man she's thinking of is hardly tender, either.

His room feels like a fortress, or a counting house - banded chests and plain furniture. No fire in the grate, but a brazier for the clerk's hands, watery half-light from the window. "My lord, I'd speak with you."

There must be something in her eyes, because Godwin sends his clerk away and bars the door. No sooner is it locked then she shoves him against it, her lips insistant to have their time on his. His hands find her arms, surprised by this sudden intrusion, hardly knowing what to do. But she doesn't want his honeyed words, or his plans - she wants him, the lover he's played at being for the sake of the old Queen. "Don't make a sound."

His smile is pleased and cunning. What, my lady comes to me? And she is all too pleased to try and wipe it off his face. He nearly groans when she rucks up his tunic and takes him in her hand, but she stops, reminding him of her rule, and he presses his lips together and nods for her to continue, closing his eyes when she begins again on his cock. To have a pulsing, living thing in her hand, and his breath in her ear -

She stops before she makes him come, and makes her fingers gentle, stroking his erection like the living thing it is.

"Well?" He asks, his voice ragged. "Are we done speaking?"

"Not half," she hisses back, and his smile looks like it could kill her.

His bed is unkempt, but she doesn't care - it's not like him to have had a woman in his private chamber. It is too much work to untie the laces of her dress and he opts, instead, to push the fabric up around her hips, open her legs, and go straight in.

He is so much that she breaks her own rule and cries out, and he stops, leaning in towards her.

"Make all the noise you like."

Is it an invitation? A threat? But she doesn't want to wait and find out - he can split her in two for it, for all she cares, and so she lets them out, all the pants and groans she's held back for weeks on end when they were playing at being a secret, waiting to be found.

She is so desperate for this that it's just him that gives her release, quicker than she'd like, closing her eyes as he spills inside her. And for a moment, they are what they only pretended. (She doesn't want to see his face, to see if he is pleased by this or not.)

The weight of his body leaves her, and his hands rearrange her skirt, and she opens her eyes again.

He offers her a napkin from the table so she can clean between her legs - a bath would be better, but there's hardly time for that. "You need to go." See - no tender lovers here. "I'm sure someone's expecting you."

She turns around at the door, the lock cold in her hand. "Don't tell anyone."

Godwin's smile is wide and wicked, his shirt still undone, tunic and belt in his hands. "Who would believe me?"

A prick on her finger brings her back to the outer chamber - the sewing still on her lap. The bedroom is quiet now - and there is a wetness between her legs and a buzzing, like her womb is now a hive of bees. Edith takes a breath and tries to steady herself, smoke down the hive. Peace. We cannot have him. There's no honey sweet enough for that.

#i have written a thing #thirsty thursday #edith eadig #mercurygraypresents

[jedijourneys]

The Sith of Mek-Sha

Tatooine was a dusty planet that thrived on its connection to the criminal underworld. In the sandy, hot alleys of my local town, it wasn’t uncommon to see some poor soul, held up by a nefarious gang member, or a desperate, starving thief who just wanted something to get them through the night. I recall, vividly, the sound of boots striking sand, the crunch of heavy heels through scorching grit, the earthen hued cloud that rose from the bone dry earth as a small group of criminals hounded me through the streets. I had been lucky to be so athletic at a young age. It was expected, in a world where you could turn prey in a mere instant. Over time, I learned to watch the eyes of those around me while trading goods, and often enough, it provided ample warning of an attack.

There were some in the town that despised me, in particular. I can’t deny that I’ve always had a nose for trouble, fantasies of heroism dancing through a young girl’s mind. A store owner pinned to the sandstone wall behind his shop, a blaster to his chin. I recall that to be the day I broke my nose, intervening in the attack. Father had been so upset with me when I had returned to the shipyard that night, face bloodied and bruised. The next week I went into town, I recall seeing the store owner’s building, nothing more than rubble and ash. It took years to shake the guilt of what I had done, and I learned a valuable lesson. I learned that sometimes, it was better not to play the hero. Bad things were always going to happen to good people, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

At least as I was before, a teenage girl with no concept of the consequences those around me could face as a result of my own actions.

Being a Jedi makes things different. Being able to help in ways I never could have imagined before, as a neutral party, not a young girl with a family, and everything to lose. I still have to be careful. I still can’t inject myself in every horrible situation I see, as much as I might want to. Now, though, I was being given a chance to do exactly that. To put an end to a horrible operation, and to, hopefully, save lives.

Kethry sprung it on me rather suddenly, after a practice duel, something we often participated in together. I am still working on learning Shien, and countering her quick and acrobatic assault was often quite troublesome. I was learning, though. And dealing with frustration is good, I think. Learning how to deal with it, how to get over it, how to let it go and learn to be better for it. This was something new, though. A trip to Mek-Sha, to handle a Sith Lord who was now heading a slavery operation deep within the seedy mining colony. My first real mission with just myself, and my master at my side. The opportunity to see something new, to explore a new world, even if it was technically just an asteroid, made me all too eager to get started. That thrill soon faded into something grim, though.

I had never imagined a place crawling with more crime than my dusty home planet, but the asteroid known as Mek-Sha was something else entirely. It was a dark, seedy place of long shadows and cold hearts, ruled by groups who laid claim to their own sectors, and cared little for interfering in the affairs of those outside their boundaries. One of these groups had a rather sinister history, a shady sect of slavers with ties to the Empire. They had been weakened after recent events, and their operations had all but stopped, for a time. When Kethry informed me that a Sith Lord had moved in to seize control of this already ruthless gang, restoring them to power within the colony, I couldn’t help the flash of hot anger that shot through my heart. It faded quickly after that.

I have learned, though training and meditation, to breathe these sour emotions away, into the force, and out of my mind. By the time we arrived on the asteroid, I was calm, like a tranquil pool of water, though the temptation to let fire rage lingered within the back of my mind. The discipline provided under the Guard’s training regime had tempered my reactions somewhat. It made control easier than it was before. I had no intentions of giving in to that temptation, nor will I ever. I do wonder if my master ever feels similar things, but she’s probably seen so much worse than a rogue Sith and a group of zealous slavers.

Light is artificial on the asteroid. It’s no planet, with a bright and gleaming sun in the sky. It’s dark, and cold, and I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to live in such a place. Even the structures of homes and shops appeared depressing and gray. The atmosphere was grim as we stepped off the shuttle, onto a landing platform that creaked dangerously underfoot. I got the impression that there was nothing on Mek-Sha worth trusting, not the architecture, and certainly not the people. I tried not to judge too harshly, though. Some people were desperate, and Mek-Sha seemed like the perfect place for people who were in need of starting a brand new life, no matter how foul the working and living conditions. There was a distinct smell of fuel and garbage in the air, but my mind grew numb to it as we continued to venture deeper into the city.

A beggar on the street snagged my attention, and I peered at her beneath my hood and uttered a soft sigh. I wanted nothing more than to slip her a few credits, but it seemed too dangerous out in the open. Others would see, and she’d become a target. We’d become a target. I wasn’t going to make things any more difficult on Kethry than they already were. I tried not to feel guilty as I looked away, but the stinging thorn had already nudged it’s way into my heart regardless. I kept pace with my master, and thrust the unpleasant feeling to the back of my mind. What a horrible underbelly of crime and misfortune.

The casino was even worse. The acrid scent of alcohol burned my nostrils as we entered, but we needed information, and Kethry knew how to get it. I took up position in the back of the room, idling with an unassuming expression among shadows. I might have appeared unfocused and disinterested. In reality, I was both watching, and listening. Hearing the conversations around me, snatching tidbits of any information that might seem relevant and storing it away within my mind. Staying vigilant to insure no foolish criminal was sneaking up on my master’s back. The weight of the Temple Guard lightsaber gave me a sense of security, even as it was hidden beneath my clothing. Knowing it was there if I needed it helped me feel a bit better about being trapped in that smelly, claustrophobic, brightly lit casino full of pirates, smugglers, and perhaps even worse.

When we finally left, breathing in the stale asteroid air outside was almost like a breath of Alderaan’s frosty wind. Almost. Anything was better than the inside of that casino. Even better was that Kethry’s investigations had bore some fruit. Nothing particularly juicy, as to be expected. Mere rumors of a robed figure who few had only ever caught glimpses of. There was fear in the air, and now I understood why. The dark clad figure was only rarely spotted slipping over rooftops and between alleys, snatching unwary travelers. The victims weren’t seen again, and though some local families were desperate to find their missing loved ones, none were bold enough to outwardly announce it.

It seemed blatantly obvious to me that The Brothers would be behind the sudden uptick in kidnappings, but nobody was coming forward to outwardly accuse them, and for good reason, I suppose. They might have been killed for it, or worse. The other groups on the colony were unsettled, but the Huttbreakers were very particular about requiring solid evidence before resulting in anything they deemed rash. Keeping the peace was important for them. I just think they’re scared, just as much as everyone else is.

As for the Sith Lord himself, he was being unusually silent. I always thought of Sith as… egomaniacal sociopaths who basked in attention and reverence. This one, though, was hard to find. He wasn’t flashing his red lightsaber around Mek-Sha, and making grandiose speeches about world domination. I suppose my narrow view of the Sith themselves wasn’t entirely accurate after all. Some of them might actually be cunning about their cruel plots. It never really occurred to me to ask Kethry about her own experiences regarding Sith, and in the middle of a mission in such a dangerous place, there was hardly time for idle chit chat. That could come at a later date, when we returned, safely, to the Jedi Temple. Which we would, of course. There was never a point in time during the mission that I thought for a second we would be killed, even though the threat was so very clearly present. Fear of death had never been anything worth consideration, not since I began training as a Jedi.

The code made it clear that there was nothing to fear from returning to the force.

The night was fairly young when we hatched a plan. The kidnappings seemed to take place in a few particular spots, where the homeless and desperate were known to wander the streets, drunk, or drugged, or otherwise impaired. It made them easy targets for any slaver looking to make some quick and easy credits. So, donned in civilian style clothing, I wandered quietly through one such alleyway, cloaked in the shadow of an antique shop to my right. A single street lamp guided my way, as it flickered within a cracked, dusty bulb.

Somewhere in the cold shade nearby, Kethry lingered, unseen, but not unfelt. I knew where she was, a solid rock in the flowing river of the force that slithered past me. My training served me well.

I felt no ill will for being the bait in the situation. Another thing that was to be expected of me. I was, after all, training to serve as a Guardian. My master was meant to melt into the shadows, while my purpose was to stand tall in the light, where both friend, and foe, could see me with perfect clarity. In a way, I was in my element, and I was not afraid. It never even occurred to me that anything could go wrong, even though it very well could have. I was calm, and if I had been hurt, I was certain Kethry could have finished the mission on her own.

A shadow in the night fell upon me in the darkness, all black robes and chains. I felt the weight of a blaster leveled against my skull, but barely a moment had passed before I had twisted myself around to snatch the man’s wrist and jerk it sideways. The blaster fired, a crimson shot striking harmlessly against the wall as I wrenched his wrist to the side until he cried out, and dropped the weapon. It was almost instinctual, and even I was surprised by how quickly I had him pinned against the wall. I almost didn’t notice the speed at which my own Master had thrown herself toward him as well, but she didn’t even need to intervene. The robed man was disarmed, wrist throbbing as he squirmed in my grip. Despite my fairly small size, I was quite strong, and when he realized Kethry was now standing at my side, he finally stopped his struggles, glaring with quiet defiance.

There was no burning light in his eyes as I pushed back his hood. Just brown irises, gleaming at me in the dim light. I didn’t sense that he was force sensitive either. This was not the sith we were looking for, but I was almost certain that he was one of these Brothers. If anyone knew where to find the Sith, he would.

I turned him over to my master, confident that she was more than capable of handling the slaver. I would keep an eye out for anyone else who might try to get involved, namely, other Brothers looking to rescue their comrade. I never imagined Kethry as very intimidating, but I could sense the fear from our captured slaver. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was of us, or of the Sith Lord he was selling out. I can’t imagine the Sith would be very forgiving to anyone they thought might be a rat. Maybe that meant the guy would leave, and never return. Maybe it meant he’d never snatch anyone else for the purpose of forcing them into slavery. And maybe it was foolish of me to hope for such things, but I suppose it doesn’t matter much.

By the time my master was done, we had the information we needed. Our Sith, and where he was hiding. I could sense that the robed man was telling the truth. He was lucky that there wasn’t a whole lot we could do to him. I’d be happy with tossing him into a prison cell for his crimes, but in the middle of Mek-Sha, well, there wasn’t exactly a local police force we could call to come pick him up, and if we were to escort him to a shuttle, we’d potentially be sacrificing the mission. The Sith might catch wind of his capture, and move somewhere else. I didn’t want to be on that dark rock for any longer than necessary. There was too much suffering, and it hurt my soul.

Deeper into Brother territory, we moved. Kethry was a shadow, flitting through alleyways. It was all I could do to try and remain as unnoticed as possible. I kept my face stoic as we closed in on our target, but it didn’t take long to be ambushed by the zealots. Two stepped into the street behind me, three blocking the path ahead. A well placed force push sent the trio flying backwards and away. One struck his head on a dumpster, and didn’t get back up. Glancing behind me, ready to turn and face the two at my back, I found that my Master had already put them both out of commission. A small smile perched upon her lips, prompting a jolt of relief before I turned back to the other two. They were already rising, dazed, but I sprung at them before they could recover completely. One fell as I tore my saber free, and struck him over the skull with the hilt of it. I didn’t even need to ignite the blade, as I used the force to wrench the other’s blaster from his hands, and sent him running. He didn’t make it far before Kethry got to him. I suppose she didn’t want him raising the alarm. I’d remember that, for the future.

Nevertheless, by the time we reached our Sith Lord, he was already alert and aware of our presence. I suspect a few of the Brothers had spotted us on well hidden security monitors, or perhaps he had simply sensed our approach. Likely both. Either way, we found him in the midst of a large building, various fenced in cages lining the walls, like a makeshift cellblock. I knew instantly who these people were. They were intended to serve as slaves, and no doubt, they would be sold to the highest bidders throughout the galaxy. Or at least, they would have, had Kethry and I not arrived in time.

The Sith, once again, didn’t match my expectations. There was no monologue. Just a wave of electricity that arched past his fingertips and struck me square in the chest. I probably should have expected it, but I had never fought a Sith before. I felt the pain of my body slamming into a hard wall before I crumpled to the floor. By the time my eyes had focused again, Kethry had already engaged, dueling the Sith without hesitation. She moved with agility and grace, quick, precise strikes that bled at her opponent’s strength.

My guard saber ignited as I pushed myself back to my feet, a wash of glow warming my stinging features as I threw myself into the fray. I wasn’t going to let my Master take all the heat. I thrust myself between him and her, and with powerful, disciplined strokes, sent my blade crashing heavily against his own. My movements weren’t as flashy as my master’s, as she danced around looking for openings, but I only needed to keep his attention, while she looked for places to strike, a serpent coiling in the darkness with fangs bared and venom dripping. I could almost swear I saw his legs quake as one of my overhead strikes landed solid upon his blade. I wasn’t nearly as big as Tubal, or some other Guardians in the order, but I made certain that each of my blows counted for something, and my opponent was defending against two trained Jedi, even if I was just a padawan.

The sith drew back his hand, and I knew what to expect this time. The electricity shot past me as I sidestepped, recalling Kethry’s advice during Shien training. By that point, the Sith knew well enough what to expect from me, quick, powerful blows aimed at disarming his own weapon, and the words of my master sprung into my mind. Finesse and deception. I waited until the Sith aimed his own blow at me, but instead of parrying, as I had done up to that point, I ducked beneath the glowing red saber, and pivoted around his side. My golden blade lashed out in an instant as I spun with a twist of practiced footwork, and sliced him across the ribs, a shallow wound that glowed for a mere moment with white hot heat. The Sith let out a grunt of pain, whirling on me, and I could feel the blaze of his fury slam into my mind like a wildfire. A moment later, and a blade was thrust through his chest from behind. Kethry had found her opening.

The red saber dropped from grasping fingers, surprise and shock flooding his fiery eyes as he stumbled to the side, and tumbled to the floor. I don’t know why I did it, but I caught him before his head could hit the ground, my blade dark as it slid back into its sheath. I wasn’t a healer, and neither was Kethry. The man was going to die. He was a cruel, evil, wicked thing. A greedy slaver who found pleasure and amusement in the suffering of others. But we were not the same, and if he was going to die, I would sit beside him, and hold his hand.

It was… a surreal moment. I recalled how angry I was when my parents had been killed, how much I had wanted that Dug and those pirates to pay. Now I was sitting with a dying Sith on a bloody, dusty and cold floor, and I couldn’t even bring myself to tell him that he deserved it. Instead, I told him not to be afraid. I recited the Code. There is no death, there is the force. When he passed, I felt strangely… hollow. As if his death had drained some unknown part of me. But I felt better knowing he didn't die cold and alone.

In the meantime, my Master had freed the slaves. We’d make sure they all got home safely, and if they didn’t have a home to go back to, we’d help put them in touch with programs that could find them one, hopefully on a different world. One that wasn’t as horrible as Mek-Sha.

I was numbly aware of the burns across my chest as we left the planet. Kethry was attentive, though, and soon enough, there was a medic hovering over me with a kolto pack in his hands. I slept the rest of the flight back to the fleet. I don’t think I had realized how exhausted I was until I was finally off of Mek-Sha, and out of danger. I can’t help but hope that The Brothers never recover from what had happened that day. Once again, the head of the dragon had been cut off. They might have recovered with the help of that Sith, but now that he was gone, maybe they would fade away entirely. Maybe the people of Mek-Sha would be safer now. And maybe it was foolish of me to hope so often, for so many things. But I would hope regardless. It feels better that way.

#kallia

[ladyinrainbowglasses]

As They Rise in the East

I am never sure how long it has been, but long enough that I have grown most intimately acquainted with the sky outside my window. I know that it has been years. The stars continue in their exquisite timing, the finest of clocks and the finest of entertainments. I have gotten to know my corner of the sky better than a lord knows his tenants – better than a shepherd knows their flock. When the sun rules the sky, I am able to see an occasional cloud, and if I strain to my top height and the day is clear, I sometimes glimpse the smoke-like smudge of the mountains I once loved. It has become too painful to glimpse those slight remembrances of my lost life. I have long since abandoned the daylight hours, so that I may actually enjoy my view.

I know also that my tower is no longer empty, save for the guards and the cook. It has been only us for many long days, though they seldom spoke to me even before I abandoned daytime wakefulness for nights of stargazing. The walls are thick stone, but the shutters are thin wood behind the iron bars.

I heard them crying for the first few weeks. This winter was undoubtedly brutal. The cold came through the shutters and sunk into the stones. My pail was full of ice every morning and heavy icicles often hung from my ceiling. I do have a small fireplace and wood to burn in it – after all this time, they trust that I could not fashion an escape from such a thing, and any contrivance to end my life using same would be far too painful. I presume the cell next to mine is much alike, so they must also have some small fire. Not the height of comfort, but also not inhuman.

Yet, to be imprisoned in the tower does not suggest that this is any sort of criminal. They are likely much like I: an inconvenient aristocrat who may not legally be killed, but whom they hope will die quietly and most conveniently of despair. As such, I can see my own past in the tower. One does not adjust easily from a silken bed to a straw and board pallet, nor from a blazing fire and swans-down coats on a cold night to a rudely cut firepit and a woolen jerkin.

One does never know what to say in such circumstances. If I can hear them, then undoubtedly they may also hear me. Still, in the confusion and sorrow, they may not realize that these are the sounds of a fellow caged creature and may rather assume that I am a guard or a servant of the tower. Also, it is not exactly a situation ever covered in lessons of etiquette – how does one introduce oneself to their cellmate? My tutor would likely have fainted at the question.

Call it reticence or shyness or even callousness, but it could not last forever. However, on the night of the new moon, I was finally compelled to speak.

“I beg your pardon,” I called, rather low. There was no sound but the usual muffled sobs.

“Excuse me?” I called, a bit louder. “Can you hear me?”

There was finally a hesitant: “Yes?” The voice was muddled by crying, so I had no way to tell if it was a previous acquaintance. Then again, such things hardly matter under the circumstances. My own name is no longer of any account; as such, it is hard to think of theirs being of one.

“Terribly sorry to disturb you, but there is something rather interesting happening that you may want to see.”

“I beg your pardon?” the voice on the other side of the window returned.

“Can you see out of your window?”

“Yes, I can… but there is nothing out there. I can’t even see the fields when the sun is out.”

“Oh, there is nothing to see during the day,” I replied.

“Then why did you strike up a conversation now?” the voice sounded a bit peevish.

“Look up to the sky – turn your head a bit to the right and look more towards the horizon.”

I was able to hear them shuffling a bit as they followed my directions.

“I see nothing. I thought there might be a fire – maybe even a rescue!” the voice definitely sounded peevish now. I realized my own phrasing had created confusion.

“Dreadfully sorry for the misunderstanding,” I hastily apologized. “I mean the stars.”

“The stars?” returned the voice flatly.

“Yes, just above the horizon on the east. That was what I wished to show you.”

There was a long silence on the other side of the wall.

“I suppose you have been imprisoned far longer than I if you are getting excited about the stars,” they said at last.

“Yes, but it is not just them. Look again. Near the edge of your view should be a star of particular brightness.”

Once again I heard the shuffling. They may just have been indulging me, but there was also scant else to do.

“Yes… it is quite bright,” the voice said in a rather placating tone. “Why does it matter?”

“Because, friend, that is Regulus.”

“And that is…?”

“The rising star of the spring. Our first sign that winter is ending. Soon, Spica and Arcturus will be visible in tonight’s sky, shining ever more brightly. I wanted to share them in full glory.”

“But what does that matter when you and I are locked away in this miserable tower for the rest of our lives?”

“They are beautiful,” I said simply.

I heard shuffling again and a loud huff, rather like my compatriot had collapsed upon their pallet. I hesitated, trying to form what I wanted to say.

“If your life was like mine, then the seasons meant a change of fashion and a change of amusements. If we saw the stars at all, it was from a balcony while resting from a ball or walking to our carriages after a play. I never gave them a thought myself. I never thought about the life that is going on, despite me, despite my whole world. I was brought here against my will. I am resigned to my fate but would take liberty if given the chance. I will not tell you this is good for the soul or will teach you divine truth… but there is beauty. There is life. There is an eternity which I had never contemplated before this hermitage. The warmth of the Earth and the smell of the fields and flowers are coming, even to us, the forgotten. I will leave you be, but I wanted you to know of it.”

I lay on my own pallet, which I had arranged so as to best view my

window. The stars continued to slowly rise, with occasional

flashes as one fell through the sky. The night continued to pass in silence, until…

“Which is Spica?”

#historical fiction #flash fiction #fairy tale towers the stars ARE in position

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Love Gauge

“Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of My Father who is in heaven. Many will say to Me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name and in Your name drive out demons and in Your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from Me, you evildoers!” Matthew 7:21-23NIV.

Our text is the scariest verse in the Bible. Why? Because there’ll be people who thought they were alright with God, when they really weren’t.

Think this isn’t possible? Satan is a strategist, trying every moment of every day to get Believers into false religion— serving religion and rules rather than God.

Benny Hinn showed up on my YouTube feed several days ago. Having not listened to him in years— I listened. He spoke of almost dying; being in the hospital quite awhile; and having a dream. In the dream Hinn saw many Believers, renowned servants of God, all in various ministries. Everyone stood in a line before Jesus. As each one approached Jesus, He either shook His head yes or no. Those with the ‘yes’ approval nod entered heaven. All with the ‘no’ disapproval nod were turned away. When Hinn stood before Jesus, He told him to go back to earth and straighten out his life. Jesus said, ‘I’m watching you and want to see the right changes.’ (That’s enough to put a shiver down your back.) Hinn then shared how he’s spent the past seven years sitting with Jesus; becoming reacquainted; falling in love with Him again.

My parents raised me in a holiness church. Their teaching— one could lose their salvation by sinning— (I’m not going to discuss that). I do believe ‘grace’ will wear out, if an unrepentant sin stays in the heart for years and years becoming a little ‘god.’ Assuredly the person knows. God has been dealing with the sinner’s heart continuously.

What I understood Hinn to mean more — Revelation 2:3-4NIV “You have persevered and have endured hardships for My name, and have not grown weary. Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first.” I REALLY have to check my love gauge. How far am I from the white hot love, where I tried to kiss God, danced and praised before Him for hours? —Are you white hot on fire in your love? —Has something longed for —or “Hope deferred makes the heart sick…” Proverbs 13:12NIV caused love to wane? —Perhaps the psychological and the brutality warfare against our minds is taking its toll? “Because of the multiplication of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold” Matthew 24:12BSB. —In this land of abundance have we become like Hosea 13:4-6NLT?— “I have been the LORD your God ever since I brought you out of… (sin and poverty) You must acknowledge no God but Me, for there is no other Savior. I took care of you in the wilderness, in that dry and thirsty land. But when you had eaten and were satisfied, you became proud and forgot Me.”

We must check our love gauge, finding out where we truly are. Does anyone want God to tell them to leave? “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run… Run in such a way as to get the prize” 1Corinthians 9:24NIV. After the persecution, trials, and victories in serving Jesus I absolutely do not want Him to tell me, my race had been run in vain because of my own self-sufficiency, and pride.

Holy Spirit beckons us— “…now, come back to your God. Act with love and justice, and always DEPEND ON HIM.” Hosea 12:6NIV. It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: Heavenly Father where our hearts have grown cold help us to rekindle the fire of yearning for You, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2022 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.

#Jesus Christ #lord of lords #Word of God #Holy Spirit #God #it's your choice #devotional #gauge #abundance #brutality #fire #holiness #grow cold #love #wane #hope #faith

[bluebxlle-writer]

Writing female villains

masterlist. main navigation.

@bluebxlle_writer on Instagram

POV : you’re a female villain in fiction. You’re badass and can beat up a dozen men at once, but you have no other personality besides either being cold or always using your feminine charms to seduce men. You’re also fully devoted to the main male villain. I'm tired of seeing the lack of well-written female villains, so let’s change that, shall we? Here are some tips for writing a good and well-developed female villain!

1. Their personality

I always get excited whenever there's a badass female villain, but then, boom. They're simply two-dimensional women who has no other personality besides being hot, badass and beating up men. Yes, we all love a badass hot lady, but not when she's boring.

Give us someone with an interesting personality, a well-rounded backstory, complex morals, and literally anything else that you would give your male villains. Instead of simply either emotionless or overly cheerful, give us ambitious, creative, and resourceful female villains. Give us a witty woman who cracks jokes in the middle of battle. Give us normal women.

2. Motivations

I've noticed that most of the time, the motivation of female villains is either driven by love or their desire to seek approval from a more powerful man, while male villains have all types of motivations, like ruling the world, gaining immortality, or rebuilding civilization.

See the difference? Why not give your female villains a motivation centered around them, instead of another man? I'm not saying that romance is a bad motivation - but it's just a widely applied stereotype that would be nice to change for once.

3. Make them likable

I can make a list of male antagonists who people love, but would hate their female counterparts. It’s pretty annoying, so give your female villain likeable traits. If she’s ruthless, you can make her a good leader who cares about her people. If she’s cold, you can make her a determined person who’d stop at nothing to reach her goals. You don’t have to make her likable as a person - she’s a villain after all - but please try to make her likable as a villain.

4. Complex morality

Give your female villains a complex morality - terrible things that she doesn’t mind doing and some lines that she will never cross. Maybe she’s fine with killing others, but she would never let one of her people die. Maybe she’s doing evil things, but for a greater good. Or alternatively, you can even make her completely ruthless!

5. Purpose

Please, please give your female villain a purpose in the story besides just looking hot and badass. Think about what will happen to the storyline if she wasn't in it. If the plot will fall apart, then you're good to go. Also, another thing, don't kill her off so quickly if she's the only female villain in the story. It gives the impression that they're easier to defeat than male ones.

6. Examples

The ATLA/TLOK universe has the best female villains I've ever seen, periodt.

Take Azula, for example. Yes, she works for a bigger male villain, but she doesn't need him. In fact, she accomplished everything without the help of that useless excuse of a Fire Lord. She could literally get rid of him and take the throne for herself if she wanted to. She also has a complex backstory which makes people understand her, a rich personality, and is completely ruthless. True, she's a horrible person, but I love her as a villain.

Then, there's Kuvira from TLOK. Unlike Azula, she's doing evil things for a cause that she believes is good. Eventually, she realizes that her actions are wrong, and turns herself in, which was the beginning of her redemption arc. She has a good backstory, complicated morality, and she doesn't answer to any man. She even has a love interest who has nothing to do with her villain arc, which I love.

Writers, give us more female villains whose arc doesn't revolve around men.

#writers on tumblr #writing things #writers #writerslife #writing tips #tips for writers #writersociety #writing help #character tips #writing talk #writing tip #female villains #writing villains #villain #character building #female character #feminism #azula avatar #princess azula #kuvira #toga himiko #toga bnha #toga mha