#when i say mishmash from hell i mean

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Crawling Back to You (Part 3) - Cassian x Reader

Part One - Part Two

The last part to this fun little piece! Thought it would be good to end it on a mishmash of a bit of angst, a bit of fluff and a bit of SPICE 🌶️

Warnings: Vague allusions to assault/sexual assault. A bit of violence. SMUT.

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You’d stopped showing up to training altogether. 

That sting of rejection — the humiliation — was too much. The moment itself may have been fleeting…mere seconds had passed from the point Cassian had pulled out of you to the point he’d strode from your apartment. But in between…you’d offered yourself to him, unguarded. Told him you were his, if he wanted. 

Which he didn’t. 

See you around, he’d called as he’d flounced away. You’d done everything in your power over the next two months to make sure you didn’t, in fact, see him around. And the fact that he didn’t come to nag you about training — not even once — spoke volumes. 

Colder air had swept through Velaris over those two months, the winter weather very much making itself present — but Velaris always had a warmth about it, a friendliness. 

Such a thing was permanently absent in Windhaven. The cold, soulless place you’d grown up in. To say your stomach had plummeted when your father had summoned you was a wild understatement. The fact that he’d left you alone for over a year suggested that it couldn’t mean anything good that he now wanted to speak with you. 

You rubbed at your arms as Rhys landed in an easy swoop and set your wobbling legs down. The wind was brisk, unforgiving — bleak. There was no light or laughter in this place. 

“Thanks for flying me in.” You squeezed your friend’s arm, your smile not quite meeting your eyes. 

“You’re sure you’ll be alright on your own?” Rhys asked, and you gave an unconvincing nod. “I’m meeting Cassian at the girls’ training rings. Just come and find me when you’re ready to leave.”

With another thankful nod, you began your trek through the trees, taking the winding path that led to a small trickle of old, dilapidated wooden huts. The sight of them immediately had your stomach churning, memories flashing in your head of cramped living conditions, squeezing into a tiny home with three brutish older brothers, the agony of the day your wings had been clipped—

Your eyes shuttered as you came to a stop at the third hut in the row. You steadied your breathing, and then knocked against the door with the toe of your boot. 

Barely seconds passed before your father was ripping the door open and appraising you with nothing but contempt in his eyes. You lifted your chin — met his gaze. It seemed to surprise him a little as he stepped aside and silently gestured for you to walk in. 

Inside was even worse than you remembered. Utterly filthy and dishevelled. Your mother had died birthing you, and it had always been left to you to keep the house in order, make sure the chores were done. 

Clearly, the male members of your family hadn’t adapted well to you escaping to Velaris over a year ago. 

“It’s lacking a female touch.” Your father said from behind you — the first words he deigned to speak to you. Not, hello, Y/N. Not, how have you been? 

You pivoted to face him. Folded your arms. “So it would seem.”

He eyed you. And he seemed…smaller, somehow. Not the towering monster he once was. You didn’t shrink in front of him like you’d always been prone to doing. 

“What did you want to talk to me about?” You asked.

He jerked his chin, gesturing to the disorder around you. “I need you to come home, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “This isn’t my home.” 

“This,” His jaw set as he studied you, “Is your only home. Wherever you’ve run off to…getting up to the Gods know what…you don’t belong there.”

How wrong he was. He couldn’t possibly know how much you truly did belong in Velaris. How much the place had opened its arms to you as though you were always supposed to be there. Not the vacuous hell that was Windhaven. 

“And why would you have me home?” You shrugged. “Because you care about me? Because you miss having your daughter around? Or because you need a female to look after you and your males?”

“I–”

“Let me make one thing extremely clear, father.” You stepped closer to him – may as well have been as tall as him, from the way you stared him down. “The daughter who escaped this place in the dead of night? She doesn’t exist anymore. She got out, and she will never be returning. You may have clipped my wings, and you may have wasted years of my life, but never – ever will you have anything else from me.” You looked him up and down, disgust curling your lip. “And I mean nothing.”

The way his eye twitched…you knew you’d hit a nerve. Knew that he was looking at you and seeing nothing of the scared young girl he’d treated so poorly. He tucked his wings in tight – a move you knew was a precursor to him unleashing himself on you.

But you weren’t scared anymore.

Biting out a humourless laugh, you shoved past him, your shoulder nudging him out of the way. He made to reach for you, but you were younger, quicker. You unsheathed the blade strapped to your thigh. 

“Lay a single finger on me and you’ll wish you never had.” You levelled a hardened gaze at him. “Rhysand will come looking for me.”

Whatever the High Lord’s name had him thinking…he blanched. Took a reluctant step back. You let a triumphant smirk pull at your lips as you turned once more, yanking the door open. The cold that hit you was actually pleasant. 

“And, father?” You stepped outside. “Don’t ever send for me again.” 

He didn’t deign to respond. 

*

Something stopped you from sheathing your blade again. You didn’t know what. Perhaps just the uneasiness of strolling through the Windhaven camp. 

It was one hell of a trek from your father’s hut to the other end of the camp, where the girls trained – as far away from the males as possible. Strolling through rows of tents and fires and crumbling cottages, you glimpsed faces of males you’d happily never see again – males you’d grown up around, who were cruel and dark in the most harrowing ways. Their eyes trailed you as you passed, smirks on their lips and deep sniggers beneath their breaths – like they remembered, just as well as you did, the torment they’d given you. Given all the females around them.

But you weren’t that female anymore. You had trained, gained strength, grown. You’d seen the beauty that had waited for you when you’d mustered the courage to take that leap out of here.

So you simply smiled at them – pleasantly, sweetly – and carried on walking. 

You’d almost made it to the training rings when the figure came out of nowhere. On a winding stretch of path that was quiet and deserted, the looming male landed in front of you so fast, you couldn’t help but stumble back. 

“Leaving so soon?” Your eldest brother sneered at you.

You gritted your teeth, sidestepping him. “Get out of my way, Zein. Now.” 

“No.” He followed your movement, folding his arm. “I don’t think I will. Has father spoken to you?” 

You eyed him – the dark, cutting features. His face was as cold and impassive as it always was, but he cut a casual figure in a tunic and a pair of breeches. Not the Illyrian leathers he usually donned. 

“He did.” You answered. “Move.” 

 “And?” 

“And the lot of you are fucking insane if you think I’m coming back here – leaving my life – to be your servant again.” 

You pushed past him, just as you’d pushed past your father. Made sure that your shoulder slammed against his arm; it was the least he deserved after the years of his cruelty you’d suffered.

But unlike your father, Zein had never known when to leave something. When to back off. 

His hand landed on your shoulder, hard, tugging you to a stop. “Your place is here, with us.” He hissed. “Not with those pretty males you whore yourself out to.” 

“Get your hand off me, now–”

“You think you can turn your back on us? We own you, Y/N. Always have, always will.” 

That hard, cold hand of his moved from your shoulder – moved towards your neck. And you struck.

Before you could even register what you were doing, register your own strength, you were gripping that hand in your own and twisting your brother’s arm behind his back. Your heavy boot slammed right between his legs, and he groaned, stumbling forward – the perfect position for you to slam him face-first against a tree. 

“One day,” You spat, lifting your dagger to tease the skin of his neck, “One day, I’m going to fucking gut you for everything you’ve ever done. Perhaps not today,” You applied enough pressure to pierce his skin, watching his blood bead, “But one day, I will, and I’ll have fun doing it.”

He choked out around his pain, “You wouldn’t have it in you, you stupid whore.”

“You call me stupid,” you pressed the blade harder, firmer, shoving his face into the bark, “and yet you’re the one insulting me while I hold a blade to your throat.”

He spat onto the tree. “Am I supposed to fear a silly, little female with a blade she doesn’t know how to use?” 

You laughed bitterly. He never had known when to shut up. That wagging tongue of his had gotten him into trouble more times that you could count.

And you didn’t care to hang around and hear him spew utter nonsense. 

Your foot, a second time, flew up to kick right between his legs. He immediately released a whoosh of air, biting out a groan. But you weren’t finished with him. 

You released his arm from your grasp – only to then slash right through skin and muscle and tendon with your blade. The scream that roared from your brother’s throat echoed through the trees, sending birds skittering into the sky. 

“Maybe I should slice those hands off so that you never touch another female again.” You gritted out, your anger a living thing. “Or maybe I should go straight for your favourite part so that you can’t shove it anywhere, ever again. Which one will it be, brother?”

He was choking, gasping. “Bitch–”

“Which one?” You raised your voice, kicked him again. “Your hands? Or you cock?”

“Y/N.”

It wasn’t Zein’s voice that answered you. A stronger, firmer one that had emerged from behind you. Cassian. You ignored him, glaring down at your brother, poised to slice at him again. 

“Y/N.” Cas repeated, and a gentle hand landed on your arm. “Not today – you don’t need to face this today.”

He was right – somewhere deep, in the rational area of your brain, you knew that. That you’d be causing more trouble than it was worth to be dealing with your brother right now. Devlon would undoubtedly coin it an unprovoked attack and use it to strike back twice as hard. You’d be bringing trouble right to Rhys’s door.

So you spat, stepping away from your brother with one last kick to his ribs, “Count yourself lucky, you piece of shit.” 

Zein just groaned. Whined, like the pathetic little bitch he was.

“Get out of here, Zein.” Cassian commanded. “Now. Before I allow your sister to do as she pleases.”

Still whining, still groaning, Zein pushed to his feet. He grasped his arm, blood soaking his hand as he shot you a furious glare. 

“You’re going to regret that.” He hissed, before shoving past you.

“No,” You hummed, wiping his blood from your blade, “I assure you I’m not.”

He didn’t bother to reply as he stumbled out of sight, his wings tucked in tight behind him. And then it was just you and Cassian, the tension thick, heavy. 

His gaze was firm on you. “Are you alright?” 

You met his eyes, then…and they were…they were unreadable. An emotion you couldn’t quite place. Like he was seeing you for the first time. 

“I’m absolutely fine.” You said – and you were. Not shaken. Not rattled. Fine. You pulled away from Cassian, brushing past him. 

“Y/N–”

“No time to talk, Cass.” You called over your shoulder. “I need to get back to Velaris for dinner with Killian.” 

He paused. “...Who the fuck is Killian?” 

“He’s a friend.” You shot him a lazy wave. Emulated that swaggering, cock-sure attitude he’d given you two months ago. “See you around.”

His eyes didn’t leave you as you found your way to Rhys.

*

“Her name is Jaivy. She’s come into the shop a couple of times, now. She’s beautiful”.

You stared down at your hands. Callused and flecked with white scars from years of defending yourself. Proving yourself. The hands of somebody who was prepared to fight. 

Those same hands had sliced at your brother’s skin earlier that day – drawn blood and caused pain. And you felt…removed from yourself. Like you’d watched the whole thing from outside of your body. Not because you regretted it or wished you’d handled it differently, but–

But because you hadn’t realised how strong you’d become. How brave. How all that training you’d put in, pushing yourself to your limits at the top of the House of Wind through rain and sun and snow…it had wielded you into someone you’d always hoped to be. Strong…and no longer scared. 

You hadn’t quite gotten your head around it yet. Hadn’t quite acclimatised yourself to the fact that your run-in with Zein had actually happened – after all those years of torment. And you were the one to walk away unscathed. It felt…good. Bizarre, but good. 

“I think if she comes into the shop again, I’m going to ask to take her for a drink. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

You stared down at your plate of untouched food, barely hearing your friend’s voice as he chatted away. You were there and yet…not there. Your mind not entirely present. You twirled the fork in your hand–

And jolted as a kick landed on your shin. 

“Y/N.” Killian cocked an eyebrow. “Am I talking to myself here?” 

“What?” You blinked back at him. “No…of course not.”

“Then what was I talking about?” 

You studied him, searched your mind for the answer – came up blank. A groan left you as you placed your fork down. “I’m sorry. I’m being a bad friend.”

Killian was one of the first friends you’d made when you’d come to Velaris. A jeweller who worked for his father in the Palace of Thread and Jewels, he was an utter sweetheart. And clearly a much better friend than you were. 

He tilted his head, his blue eyes softening. “What’s on your mind?” 

With a soft sigh, the words fell out of you like they’d been waiting for a chance to escape. You told him – all of it. The reason your father had summoned you, your run in with Zein…even bits you’d never told anyone about your childhood. Perhaps returning to Windhaven, seeing it from fresher, stronger eyes, had rehashed some emotions that needed dealing with. 

“So that was that,” You slumped back in your chair. “I almost severed my brother’s arm.”

Killian’s lips twitched. “And threatened to sever his cock.”

“Right. And I think I would have, you know. I think I would have taken it that far if Cassian hadn’t stepped in.” 

“Sounds to me like it was only a matter of time before someone put your brother in his place.”

True. Killian was certainly right about that – but still. Your own strength had…shaken you a bit. Left you stunned by your own impulse. 

“You never need to go back to Windhaven. Your life is here, now, Y/N.” Killian reached over, squeezing your hand. “And you’re happy here, right?” 

Your eyes darted to the table. “I…am.”  

“...But?”

He knew you too well. You sighed softly. “But…I think I’m in love. With someone who doesn’t love me back.”

“Cassian, right? You talk about him a lot.”

Your cheeks heated, and you let out a groan, covering your face. Killian laughed softly from across the table, squeezing your hand again.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He said. “It’s sweet–”

“No. Nope. We’re not talking about this.”

“Is it the thighs? He has amazing thighs.”

You snorted, kicking him. “You are so annoying.”

“It’s definitely the thighs, isn’t it? Do you imagine riding those thighs?”

“Mother above. Be quiet and order some wine.” 

He grinned – your friend grinned, mischievously, endearingly – and you knew he’d achieved precisely what he’d intended. To bring a smile back to your face. 

And no matter what…if all else failed, you’d always have Killian.

*

The two of you shared a bottle of wine, and then you took a slow walk home through the cold, crisp streets of Velaris, your arms linked together. Whether it was the wine or the company, the weight on your shoulders that the stressful day had left was lifted – for now. 

Hopefully, you’d be able to fall into your bed and sleep without issue. 

“She’s a dancer.” Killian was telling you all about his new fancy, Jaivy, as he strolled beside you. “I’m going to go and watch her in the Rainbow soon.”

You couldn’t help but smile. This Jaivy sounded exactly what Killian needed. He was clearly smitten – that much was obvious in the way he’d spent thirty minutes describing her green, green eyes. 

“Do you think I should bring flowers to give her after her performance? Is that a thing? Or would it be too much? Or maybe chocolates—whoa–”

You barely had a chance to respond as Killian grabbed you and hauled you to the side. A huge, black mass flashed above you–

And then Cassian was landing right in front of the two of you, his boots thudding against the bridge that stretched over the Sidra. 

In front of you – and Killian – he looked huge. Menacing. He’d folded his arms, lowering his gaze on the pair of you. Killian seemed to notice it, also, as he tugged you back a step. 

“Leave.” Was all Cassian said, his eyes on your friend. 

Killian blinked. “What–”

“I need to speak with Y/N. Leave.” 

“Cassian.” You snapped. “Don’t be fucking rude. He’s walking me home.”

Cas’s eyes slid to you. Softened. His voice was quieter as he said, “I just—need to talk to you.”

You stared back at him, studying his face for some clue as to what this was about. But he was guarded, closed-off. You could have sworn, though, that vulnerability flashed in his eyes.

Beside you, Killian cleared his throat. “It’s fine—I’ll leave you two.” He turned to you. “Only if you’re okay with it, though.” 

You hesitated…contemplated refusing and pulling your friend straight past Cassian. But something in his gaze made you give a resigned nod. “I’m okay. You go on.” 

And then Killian – Mother bless him – looked to the Illyrian general in front of him. Straightened his shoulders out and lifted his chin as he said, “Make sure she gets home safe.” 

Cassian didn’t bother to glance at him, or away from you, as he replied, “She will.” 

With a light squeeze of your arm, Killian let go of you and carried onward. You waited, watching him walk to the end of the bridge – where he then glanced over his shoulder at you.

And most definitely smirked. And most definitely mouthed the word thighs.

You snorted, glancing down. Cassian seemed to be studying every bit of the interaction, his eyes narrowing on Killian’s back as he strode off, soon swallowed up by the darkness. 

“What the hell was that?” Cass asked. 

“Nothing.” You brushed past him, rubbing your arms. “I want to go home. I’m cold.” 

Before you could take another step forward, you were swept up, your feet lifting from the floor. Your entire body lurched as Cassian shot into the skies, his wings flaring and flapping, his arms warm around you. You ground your teeth, stopped yourself from spitting a remark. Ridiculous. Your apartment was only a few more minutes away.

But within seconds, he was banking and landing right in front of your building. You barely spared him a glance as he gently set you down and you dug your key from your pocket. 

Your huge studio apartment was pleasantly warm. You breathed a sigh of relief, kicking your shoes off and not even acknowledging the huge, winged male that followed you inside. Your feet carried you straight over to the kitchen area, and you could feel Cassian lingering, watching you as you began to brew tea. 

“...I can’t exactly talk to you if you won’t even look at me.” He eventually said, leaning against the kitchen island. 

A flash of anger rippled through you. You chucked a teaspoon into the sink, whirling around to face him. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” 

His jaw ticked. “Why.” 

“You didn’t have to be rude to my friend.”

“That friend had his hands all over you.” 

“Fucking hell, Cassian, I was holding his arm!”

Cass’s eyes shuttered. He seemed to inhale a slow, careful breath, and exhaled it before he dared to open them again. Tried to force calm onto his face and smooth out his deep, furrowed brow. 

“Look, I’m sorry–”

“It’s Killian you should be apologising to. Not me.” You shrugged. “What does it even matter if he was touching me?”

“Because I don’t want anyone to fucking touch you but me! Okay?!”

You blinked at him, his outburst causing every word, every thought, to eddy from your mind. Though his voice was loud, there was somewhat of a weak quality to it – strained – like he’d been holding onto those words for a long, long time, and could no longer keep them in.

Slowly, you swallowed. Stared at him. “That isn’t fair, Cassian.” 

His eyes shuttered again. “I know–”

“No.” You interrupted. “You don’t. You don’t know. You know nothing about how you made me feel that day two months ago. I tried to be vulnerable with you and you smirked. Just like you smirk at every fucking female. And you walked away from me. You don’t know at all.” 

“Y/N.” He opened his eyes – looked at you, tears glistening. 

“The way you looked at me—” You swallowed, tamping down your emotion as your voice broke. “The way you looked at me after we had sex…for a split second, you seemed as vulnerable as I felt. And I thought that maybe…maybe there was a chance that you could feel the same way that I do. That you could love me like I love you—like I have always loved you since the first gods-damn time I ever saw you. But you walked away.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “You have no idea how—I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You can have sex with anybody, Cassian.” You shrugged weakly. Half-heartedly. “Fly down into the centre of Velaris and there’ll be a whole host of males and females alike that would invite you to their beds. You didn’t need to use my feelings to find your pleasure.” 

You stepped away from the kitchen – forgot all about your tea and brushed past him, just…just wanting the entire situation to end. To go away. For the conversation to be over, and for him to leave. Maybe, with enough time, you could get over your feelings for him. Maybe—

His hand landed on your arm, stopping you in your tracks “You’re wrong.” He said quietly. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I know you have a very poor sense of self-worth Cassian, but believe me, you’re a highly sought-after male–”

“Not about that.” He moved to stand in front of you. “About me. About my feelings. If you really think it was just about sex, you’re completely and utterly wrong.” 

You stared up at him, meeting the hazel of his eyes. He was such…such a large presence in everybody’s lives. The one full of witty remarks and booming laughter. The one who hid his vulnerabilities and insecurities with charm, with confidence. 

But he may as well have been half your size, right then, with how utterly unsure he looked. None of the cock-sure mask he usually paraded. He was…small. Vulnerable. 

Your mind went quiet as you rasped, “You never gave me any reason to think otherwise. You pretty much acted like we hadn’t had sex.” 

“I know.” He swallowed – hard. “Because I was scared.” 

He seemed to sense that you’d calmed slightly. That you weren’t so at risk of storming away from him and leaving him to see himself out of your apartment. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out, brushing his fingers over your hand. When you didn’t draw away, he wrapped his hand around yours.

“Can we just…sit down?” He murmured pleadingly. “And talk about this?” 

You studied him. And perhaps it made you a fool in love, but…you nodded. Allowed him to tug on your hand and pull you over to the sofa. 

You sat cross-legged, allowing him to adjust himself into whatever was the most comfortable position on a sofa that most definitely didn’t accommodate his huge, beautiful wings. Once he’d tucked them in and angled himself towards you, he grabbed a cushion, wrapping his arms around it – something to occupy his hands whilst he bared his soul.

“I was scared.” He said again, clearing his throat. “Because I’d been doing so, so well at staying away from you.” 

You watched him – watched his fingers toying with the edges of the cushion – allowed him to figure out his thoughts, his words, on his own.

“I used to see you around Windhaven—whenever I visited. I found myself watching you a lot, and wanting to talk to you…but I knew that your family were trouble, and that I would make it worse. I didn’t have any authority to step in and help until you asked—and I can’t tell you how relieved I was that day that you approached Rhys and I and asked us to help get you out.” 

Your eyes dipped down. Such strength it had taken for you to seek out those two powerful Illyrians and ask for their help – knowing they were the only ones who could truly get you away in secret. And they hadn’t hesitated, not for one second. For that, you’d forever be grateful.

Cassian frowned, squeezing the cushion tighter against him. “But you seemed so…defeated—downtrodden, by the way they’d treated you. I wanted to help you, to be around you…to know you. But every time I went back to Windhaven, there were murmurings about where you’d gone, who you were with. Your brothers were convinced you’d run off with a male, and I knew — I knew if they ever scented you on me, if they ever worked out I’d helped you…that I cared for you…they would find some way to strike back. Perhaps not straight away. But they would wait for any opportunity, and they’d strike. And you would get hurt. So I decided to just…keep away from you. Not have anything to do with you. And it wasn’t easy, believe me.”

All that time you’d spent convinced that he didn’t like you…and he’d really just been trying to protect you all along. You swallowed, not knowing what to say. 

“And then Nesta invited you to train with us.” He choked a breathy laugh. “And I thought…fuck. There go my plans to keep away from you. And I was glad you were training, don’t get me wrong…glad you were showing some zest for life. But I thought that if I was rude and harsh with you, maybe you’d stay away from me. At least far enough away that I didn’t have to worry about our scents mingling. I thought if you got too close, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. And I was doing so well…” 

Your eyes flicked to him. “Until?”

“Until that morning you turned up late to training and I snapped at you. I noticed right away that you were running late, and I overheard Nesta and the others joking that you were up late fucking some male. My anger had nothing to do with Devlon or Windhaven — I was just jealous.”

“Cassian.” You sighed. “I was late to training that day because I’d stayed up the night before to finish a book.”

He shook his head, frowning. “I knew I was being irrational. Even if you had been fucking someone, I had no right to feel put out by it. I’d kept you at arm’s length and been a prick to you, quite frankly. And I knew I should just leave it — that you deserved to find someone. Certainly someone who wasn’t a bastard-born brute. But I couldn’t help myself…couldn’t stand that I’d placed the hurt that was in your eyes when I snapped at you. Which was why I approached you at Rita’s that night we were there. And I really did intend to just…apologise.”

Your cheeks heated as you glanced down again. But then Cassian was reaching out, lifting your chin. 

“I got jealous…again.” He studied you, his fingers brushing your cheek. “I saw you about to leave with Ryckard…and not only did I know you’d regret going with him, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you moaning another male’s name. I wanted it to be my name. And I couldn’t stop myself when I was stood in front of you. I had to taste you. Selfish, I know.”

“Well.” You mumbled. “I wasn’t exactly complaining.”

His lips twitched. “No. You most certainly were not.”

“But…why, Cass?” You shook your head. “Why…when you knew I wanted you, and you’d crossed that line, did you push me away again?”

He blew out a deep breath. “Out of panic—panic that I’d crossed a line I’d drawn myself. And fear…I cannot tell you how fucking scared I’ve been. You know as well as I do what our kind are like. How Illyrian males believe they have ownership of their females. And it’s not exactly like I’m well-regarded in Windhaven. If your family found out that you meant anything to me…” He shook his head, eyes flashing. “I tried to get myself to keep away, but I caved so quickly. I knew, when you didn’t show for training, that you wanted me to come for you. And I didn’t have the restraint in me not to do just that. I knew I was coming here that day to be inside you. I guess I really am an Illyrian brute through and through.”

“Stop that.” You frowned. You pulled his hand from your cheek, holding it in yours. “You’re nothing like them, Cassian — nothing. What happened that day in this apartment…I only want that kind of intimacy with you. Nobody else.”

“I know.” He whispered, eyes shuttering. “And I shouldn’t have walked away. But when you said I could have you…I knew there was no going back. That I’d completely changed things. That it was about more than just sex. That I loved you. And I thought if I didn’t walk away then, I was going to get you killed.”

It was only then that you became aware of tears spilling down your cheeks — tears brought on by a whole host of things. By the way he saw himself…how he was so utterly down on himself. By how he’d been fighting with his thoughts and feelings for so long. 

By the fact that he loved you. That he was actually saying it. 

You cleared your throat, wiping your eyes. “So what’s changed, Cassian? Because who my family are…I can’t do anything about that. I don’t want to live my life in fear of how they’ll react to my choices. I specifically left Windhaven to get away from that.”

“I know.” Cassian nodded. “And it was only today — when I saw how you handled your brother — that I realised I’ve been scared for nothing. I realised you can handle yourself — that you’re strong. That if they struck, you’d strike back ten times harder. And why should we live in misery when that’s exactly what they want?”

For a long while, you just…stared at him. Took him in, in all his brilliant beauty. His hazel eyes were soft, his lips — for once — not smirking. None of the bravado he usually wore. He was just Cassian. The male you couldn’t stay away from. The male you loved.

And did it excuse how he’d previously treated you? No. But you could understand…understand that a combination of his lack of self-worth and his innate need to protect you had combined and manifested in ways that had ended up hurting both of you. 

But surely you’d both been through enough. Surely you both deserved happiness. 

“That strength you saw today…” you hummed softly, tracing a finger over his hand, “that’s all thanks to you. The strength, the courage—all of it. It came from training with you. I didn’t even realise I had it until I was threatening to mutilate my brother.”

Cassian’s lips twitched, but he shook his head. “No—-it was always there. You’re naturally strong. Naturally brave. The training just…honed it.”

You laughed gently, and a moment of silence, of peace, followed it. Just the two of you staring down at your joined hands, a feeling of understanding settling between you.

“So.” Cassian eventually breathed. “As much as I don’t deserve it—do you think we can move past it all? Start fresh—together.”

“You deserve it more than anyone, Cass.” You inched closer. “And yes. We can.”

He genuinely looked like he might cry. But he shut his eyes before the tears could form, and leaned forward to press his lips against yours. 

The kiss was…sweet. Gentle. Not a searing kiss in the back alley of Rita’s, or the angry kiss he’d pressed against you that day he’d fucked you against the sofa. It was…caring. Loving.

You pulled away, playing with his hair as you studied his face. “I love you, you idiot.”

“And that makes me the luckiest male alive.” He stared back at you. “I swear—I’ll never take it for granted again. I’m going to make sure you know it — that I love you.” The tender expression flashed to a wolffish grin. “Even more so since watching you kick your brother’s ass. When I tell you I’ve been rock fucking hard ever since—”

You snorted. “I don’t know whether that should disturb me or turn me on.”

“I’d personally prefer the latter.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

It was clear he had already found out, from the way his nostrils flared, breathing in the scent of your arousal — just like you were breathing in his. A tantalising mix of musky smokiness that had you literally fucking salivating. 

“I’d quite like it,” You met Cassian’s darkened, hungry gaze, “if you fucked me — and stayed afterwards.”

A purely male growl ripped from his throat, and in seconds, he’d hoisted you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I’ll stay tonight, and the night after that, and the one after that—as long as you’ll have me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the words, but any attempt at a breathless response was swallowed hungrily when he dipped his head down to catch you in a scorching, searing kiss. 

You imagined it would always be like this — a burst of passion between two twin fires that were just as burning, just as hungry, for one another. Cassian was a constant, impassioned inferno of wild strength and courage, and you could meet that head-on — because you’d never been weak. Ever. It had just been about fanning those flames of power that had always existed inside you.

He was kissing you — devouring you — as he held bruisingly onto your thighs and stumbled backwards into your bedroom. The backs of his legs hit your bed, and he allowed himself to fall down onto the mattress, pulling you right on top of him. 

“As wet as the sight of you in these leathers makes me,” You husked, and Cassian groaned, “I want them off. Now.”

He leaned up, his lips pressing against yours. “Anything for you.”

The room was full of panting and bruising kisses as you tore at each other’s clothes, discarding them around you without a second glance. 

And then Cass was sprawled out on your bed — entirely naked. Entirely gorgeous. His cock standing to attention, his golden skin seeming to glow in the moonlight. His wings flaring around him brilliantly.

The sight was utterly breathtaking. He was utterly breathtaking. A vision. You wished you had Feyre’s artistic ability so you could paint him in all his stunning, naked glory. 

“As much as I love you looking at me like that,” Cass swallowed, “get over here and ride me until I’m hoarse.”

You swallowed, your stomach coiling tightly. Your skin brushed sensitively as you moved over him, every inch of your body alert. There were so many things you wanted to do — so many parts of him you wanted to taste, parts of you that you wanted him to taste, but…later. There would be time for that later.

You met his eyes as you wrapped your hand around his cock, your lips twitching as he hissed between his teeth. You pumped him once, twice, and then slowly pushed his head through your folds, gathering up your wetness. 

“Fuck—please.” Cassian’s teeth gritted.

“Hmm?” You hummed, your breath catching as the head of him rubbed against your clit. “What do you want?”

With an animalistic growl, he grabbed you by the hip. Just slightly — just enough to lift you. Enough to make room for him to grasp the considerable length of him and align it with your centre. He met your eyes as he bumped against your entrance. 

And you bit your lip as the head slipped inside. Held his gaze as you slowly, slowly, sank down onto him. 

It seemed like ages before he was fully seated inside you. And the position…it was so much deeper than when you’d had sex with him before. So much more intense. Like you could feel him in every part of your body, filling you up, completely and utterly yours. 

“Gods,” Cassian’s hips jerked. “You feel fucking incredible around me, you have no idea.”

Oh, you knew. Because it was shattering you just as entirely. You lingered there like that, allowing yourself to adjust to him, to bask in the feel of him. 

And then you began to move. 

There was no denying the twin gasps that left the two of you as you began to roll your hips in slow, languid movements, feeling every part of him in every part of you. Your eyes shuttered, and you threw your head back, sure that if you died right then, you’d die in pure bliss—

“Look at me,” Cassian growled — a pure command. His hands fastened on your hips, and he guided you, his fingers biting into your skin as you moved faster. “Want you to look at me.”

So you did. You opened your eyes, met his gaze. Something about the pure, heated hazel had you shuddering, your lips parting, brow furrowing in complete, unadulterated pleasure. 

“So fucking beautiful.” Cass hissed. He sat up, thrusting up into you, the angle closer, deeper. 

“Gods.” You gasped, sure you may just split in two. “Fuck—Cass.”

“You’re mine.” He purred into your ear through gritted teeth, his hand palming at your ass. “And I’m yours.”

You could have come undone at that declaration alone, you were sure. Because this was no longer just about sex — but love, too. And you showed him that.

You braced your hands on his shoulders, finding the perfect rhythm that had him sliding in and out of you, so slick, so wet, your skin slapping against each other. You wanted to feel this way forever. His other hand came up, brushing the scarred, ruined remains of what was once your wings, and something about his tender touch undid you entirely. You ground yourself down on him, gasping as he hit deeper inside you than ever. As your clit rubbed against him.

“Fuck—I can’t—” Cassian choked. He grasped hold of you, flipping the both of you in one fluid movement. 

You’d barely landed on your back before he was yanking your hips up and slamming into you—hard. Relentless. His wings flared out around him — an invitation. One that meant more to you than he could ever know. 

It was as he pressed a thumb down on your clit, the callused skin causing the perfect friction against your wetness, that you reached out and ran your fingers over his wings. And you felt his cock jerk deep inside you at the touch. Like he had absolutely no control left of his body, he threw his head back, choking on a strangled groan. 

“Gods.” He slammed harder, faster, his thumb working magic against you. “I’m gonna—I’m so close.”

And gods, so were you. So close to completely disintegrating beneath him from the pleasure. 

He thrust in once, twice, three times — right to the hilt. Right until he was pushing up against a delicious, forbidden spot inside you. You shuddered — or maybe he did. You weren’t sure which pleasure was yours and which was his. 

But one more scrape of your hand against his wing told you exactly which pleasure was his. He roared in a way you’d never heard before—and you came just as he stilled inside you, spilling into you.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. And neither could Cassian, it seemed, as he stared down at you, panting. He was still twitching inside you, his warmth filling you. And as he gave a few slow, languid thrusts, drawing out your pleasure, his eyes shuttered. 

“Gods.” He whispered again, swallowing hard. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear.”

Slowly, he pulled out of you, and you bit your lip, savouring the feeling. Cass studied that look on your face, a soft smile playing on his mouth. 

“We have all night, love.” He said. Leaned down to kiss you.

You brushed his hair from his face. Pulled back just enough to study him. “So you’re staying.”

“Forever.” He kissed you again. “You can’t get rid of me, now.”

You were sure you must have been glowing as you smiled up at him. He kissed your lips a third time, and then your nose, your cheeks, your forehead. 

With gentle movements so out of character for him, he scooped you up, and laid back on the bed with you, tucking you into his side. His wings enveloped the two of you, cocooning you from the rest of the world. 

For a while, you laid like that together — happy, content. Cass’s hand rubbing indolent circles into your back. Your hand tracing the sculpted muscles of his chest, his stomach. 

It was after a long stint of silence that he pulled back to look at you, an inquisitive expression on his face.

“I’m curious,” He murmured. “What did Killian mouth at you earlier — on the bridge?”

You immediately snorted, ducking your head and pressing it against his chest. Your shoulders shook with laughter.

“Well?” He pinched your waist, a smile in his voice. “What was it? I don’t need to be jealous, do I?”

“If anyone should be jealous, it should be me.” You lifted your gaze to his, smirking. “He has a thing about your thighs. We may have been discussing them.”

Cassian cocked an eyebrow — and then his signature Cassian smirk tugged at his lips. 

“Well.” He grinned wickedly. “Maybe he isn’t so bad, after all. He clearly has impeccable taste.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his chest. But you couldn’t help matching that grin with your own, basking in the feeling of how easy, how right, this was. To laugh and joke with him. To love him. 

“Shut up and fuck me again, you ass.” You said. 

His eyes flashed, his smirk growing. “Of course, sweetheart.”

And he did just that. Again and again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[vikinglanguage]

9 number things you might not know as a foreign speaker of Danish

This is a mishmash of both cultural things and linguistic things. The idea for this post appeared in my head at 3 am so bear with me. As for the lack of links, I am adding them in a reblog to try to avoid tumblr nerfing my post.

1) Quarters – how to measure time In Denmark, we love measuring time in quarters of an hour. We love it so much we don't care about specifying the kind of quarter, it's just kvarter (itk.). Generally, we tend to use kvarter mostly just when speaking about 15 or 45 minutes, but it does go further than that. So here's a quick guide on how to tell time other than just doing as you would in English:

15 minutes – et kvarter 30 minutes – en halv time 45 minutes – tre kvarter 75 minutes/1h 15m – en time og et kvarter · fem kvarter 90 minutes/1h 30m – halvanden time (see 2) 105 minutes/1h 45m – en time og tre kvarter

and so forth, if you care to. Using fem kvarter is uncommon but acceptable, but never go further than that using just quarters of an hour. I would say that once you pass 2 hrs, I most commonly hear people starting to just count hours and minutes as you would in English.

2) Halvanden – half second An archaic way of saying 'one and a half' that just stuck for some reason. This is the preferred way to say 'one and a half ' for most people. No, this is not a joke.

Halvanden, 'half second' means halfway between one and two. Until quite recently (we're talking less than a century) halvtredje (2.5), halvfjerde (3.5), etc. were also in common use, but they have disappeared so rapidly that most current speakers will have absolutely no idea what the hell you're talking about. However, the ghosts of this way of counting live on in the numbers halvtreds (50), halvfjerds (70), and halvfems (90). You can read more about that in my old post about Danish numbers (see reblogs).

3) Week 42 We use week numbers! Week 1 is the first week in the new year to contain a Thursday, as we count weeks as Monday through Sunday. You don't necessarily need to know what week it is all the time, but a lot of adults use weeks in place of specific dates. I am forever thankful to ugenr.dk (you just type in a date and it tells you what week it is in or vice versa).

Important weeks are:

Week 7/8 – winter break for kids in primary and secondary school (not to be confused with Christmas break). It varies depending on municipality whether it's week 7 or 8. Lots of people go skiing these weeks.

Week 26 through 31 – summer break is usually during these weeks. All students in primary and secondary school, as well as university students and students doing professional bachelor's degrees and the like have these weeks off from school.

Week 42 – arguably the most important week. All students mentioned above have this week off from school. It's autumn break and it's ALWAYS week 42 and JUST week 42. Originally, it was to allow students in rural areas help their parents harvest potatoes (a nickname for autumn break is kartoffelferien 'the potato break'), and we just kept it.

4) DD-MM-(YY)YY If you write dates as MM-DD people will think you're a lunatic. Don't, unless you're specifically talking about 9/11, colloquially referred to as just 9/11 (nine-eleven, as you would say it in English).

5) 00:00 Denmark, like a lot of other European countries, uses 24hr clocks. Obviously, analogue clocks and watches are common, and it's perfectly ok to say stuff like klokken fire om eftermiddagen 'four o'clock in the afternoon' or klokken otte om aftenen 'eight o'clock in the evening', but you are expected to just know that 21:00 is the same as 9 PM. You can also say klokken toogtyve 'twenty-two o'clock', and it's quite normal to ask for clarification of whether people are talking AM or PM by saying stuff like klokken elleve eller klokken treogtyve? 'eleven o'clock or twenty-three o'clock?'. You cannot use AM and PM when speaking or writing Danish. The day begins at midnight; 00:00.

Don't worry yourself too much over this. Everyone occasionally forgets that 19:00 is in fact 7 o'clock and not 9 o'clock.

6) Halv to – half one When you're measuring half hours in Danish, you're always measuring towards the next whole number. It's never half past, it's always half to. As such, half (past) one is halv to 'half two' in Danish.

7) Grades (years) This is an ultra quick rundown of the Danish school system. School is mandatory for 10 years and homeschooling is allowed. This covers primary and lower secondary school.

Most people start school the year they turn 6. My birthday is in April, so I was 6 when I stated school, my sister's birthday is in September, so she was 5.

The mandatory grades are as follows. The ages are all possibly ages of a child attending that grade (not accounting for starting school early or late):

Indskolingen, grades 0-3 0. klasse/børnehaveklasse - 5-7 yo 1. klasse – 6-8 yo 2. klasse – 7-9 yo 3. klasse – 8-10 yo

Mellemtrinnet, grades 4-6 4. klasse – 9-11 yo 5. klasse – 10-12 yo 6. klasse – 11-13 yo

Overbygningen/udskolingen, grades 7-9 7. klasse – 12-14 yo 8. klasse - 13-15 yo 9. klasse - 14-16 yo

Some may choose to do 10. klasse, if they feel like they need more schooling or maybe if they're attending an efterskole.

Once they've finished their mandatory schooling, a lot of Danes choose to attend upper secondary school. You can do it in 3 years (stx, hhx, htx, and eux) or 2 years (hf, 2-årigt studenterkursus). Special circumstances like being an elite level athlete or attending MGK (preparation for attending a music conservatoire) may lead to people spending 4 years in upper secondary. Hf often sees a lot of adult students.

Gymnasium/HF, the grades are said as [ordinal number, letter(s)] 1.g (15-17 yo)/1.hf 2.g (16-18 yo)/2.hf 3.g (17-19 yo)

8) Grades (performance)

Danish schools have a 7-grade system. It's called 7-trinskalaen, and each grade corresponds to an ECTS grade (in fact, it's specifically designed for compatibility, and a lot of people above the age of 30 miss the old scale). Generally, students don't get grades until 7th grade. The grades are:

12 – A 10 – B 7 – C 4 – D 02 – E 00 – Fx -3 – F

If you are not familiar with the ECTS system, E, Danish 02, is the lowest passing grade. The intention behind the 0's in 02 and 00 is to make it impossible for the students to "change" their grade by just adding 1 in front of the grade, but the 0's are in fact also said out loud.

9) Ordinal numbers

Ordinal numbers are written as a number followed by a full stop. You do not capitalise the first letter of any word following the full stop (see 7) even though MS Word will try to convince you it's the right thing to do.

You can read a lot more about numbers on the Danish numbers post (again, in a reblog), but the basics that might not be covered by formal learning materials are:

nulte zeroth. This literally only exists for 0. klasse and for numbers to the zeroth power. fyrretyvende/fyrrende* – fortieth halvtredsindstyvende/halvtredsende* – fiftieth tresindstyvende/tressende* – sixtieth halvfjerdsindstyvende/halvfjerdsende* – seventieth firsindstyvende/firsende* – eightieth halvfemsindstyvende/halvfemsende* – ninetieth

The forms marked with an asterisk are largely informal spoken language to the degree that they are even considered wrong by some. Generally, they are accepted as the standard forms among the younger generations, but be careful when talking to people above the age of ~45.

#original #danish #danish language #danish langblr #langblr #tongueblr #danish numbers #school #time #dates #numbers #uhhh i think thats it

[sajirah]

The Prison Chapter Two

Gifts and Introductions

Guess what guys! You get chapter two several days ahead of schedule because I'm a crazy person! Hurray! Once again, you can read it here or on AO3.

-o0o-

Feyre awoke to the face of death. 

Or rather, she awoke to a dead rabbit staring her in the face. But it might as well been the same thing with the way she reacted, screeching and smashing her head against the rocky overhang in her haste to put distance between her and the corpse. 

Where the hell had this come from? Had a rabbit just wandered into her burrow and…died?

She stared, pondering this conundrum before realizing she was…warm. There was a blanket over her lap. A blanket she most definitely did not have the night before. And now that she looked closer there were several other things piled beside the dead rabbit. 

A lighter. A pile of sticks. And was that…a knife?

…What the hell?

She looked around frantically. Did someone…leave this all for her? But who? Why?! Better yet, why would they bring her all this stuff and just…leave? She couldn’t imagine anyone handing over a bunch of items necessary for survival (in a place where they were worth more than gold) unless they expected something in return. And of course there was only one thing a man on a deserted island would want from her. And yet no one was around to collect on such a trade. She hadn’t seen a single soul since her disastrous run in with the welcoming committee on the beach. 

Her stomach growled. 

She hadn’t eaten anything since early yesterday morning and her body was making its displeasure known. Though she’d certainly gone longer without food before she also knew it was only a matter of time before she wouldn’t have enough energy to look for her meals. And at that point she would be as good as dead. 

Feyre stared at the rabbit and saw herself reflected in its glassy black eyes. Well…it’s not like she hadn’t eaten worse. Much worse. She could still taste the moldy crust of bread and mealy apple core she’d once filched from the trash when her family’s finances were at their most dire. 

She reached for the lighter. 

At least she wouldn’t have to build a fire the hard way. 

-o0o-

She should’ve known. 

Feyre was just finishing up her breakfast when she heard a twig snap behind her. Quick as a snake she snatched up her knife and spun towards the intruder. 

A man stood at the edge of her little camp, hands quickly raised at the sight of her knife. He was old, ragged and worn, but his eyes were clever. Steely. This was not someone she could let her guard down around. 

“I saw the smoke,” he said slowly. “From your fire.”

Feyre could smack herself for being so stupid. Of course he saw the smoke. Of course he came looking, thinking whoever built it might be easy pickings. Clearly her hunger had made her stupid. She couldn’t afford to make mistakes. Not here. 

“I was just curious,” the man continued. “Nobody comes out here you see. You must be new. I’ve never seen you before.”

“Arrived yesterday,” she admitted, though only because it seemed to be written all over her with her idiotic fire building and her mostly new prison uniform that hadn’t been worn down to threads like everyone else’s. The man’s own uniform was barely recognizable, patched with a mishmash of other fabrics. Of course where he had found other fabrics she had no idea. 

“That would explain a lot.”

She grimaced. “Are you saying you eat your food raw?”

The man laughed. It was so sudden and so surprising that she nearly dropped her knife. 

“No, I meant because you were this far into the forest. Of course we cook our food. We’re not animals.” The man paused, as if considering. “Well, most of us aren’t anyway.”

She stared. “What do you mean ‘no one comes this far into the forest’? Isn’t this where all the food is?”

The man was quiet for a moment, then suddenly he began to fold himself onto the ground with all the accompanied grumbling and groaning you’d expect from someone past middle age. Feyre’s grip on her knife tightened but the man just waved her off. 

“I’m too old to be having these conversations standing for so long. Keep standing if you like but I might as well get comfortable while I explain some things.”

“Explain some things?” Feyre repeated dumbly. 

“Oh yes.” The stranger said cheerily. “You see, we have some rules around here. Like Timber Town is neutral ground-”

“There’s a town here?!” She interrupted, confused. “I thought this was a deserted island full of criminals?”

“Oh it is. But it wasn’t always. It used to be a waypoint for ships to resupply on the way to the mainland back in the 18th century. There’s still a few towns and houses scattered around the island from that time, though we really only use Timber Town.”

Well that didn’t make any sense. If there were multiple towns with houses full of things to scavenge why would everyone only stick to one of them? Feyre said as much to the man and he gave her a strange look. 

“Because Timber Town is on the shoreline.”

“What does that have to do with anything? It seems like such a waste to just leave everything beyond the beach untouched.”

“Because this forest is haunted.”

Feyre blinked. 

“Haunted.” She said skeptically. 

The stranger nodded sagely, as if this weren’t the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. 

“Listen, girl,” he said, deathly serious. “There is something in these woods. Something evil. Every night, when the sun goes down, things get very strange on this island. Animals go feral. Men go insane. Some go to take a leak at the edge of the forest at night and wake up the next morning on the other side of the island. I’ve watched men who were as good as brothers slit their friend’s throat in the night.”

It sounded like he was telling her a ghost story but the man looked too haunted by his own words to be spinning her a tall tale. 

“I don’t know why this place was abandoned, nor why it was repurposed as a prison. But I can guess. We are not the predators on this island. It is. Whatever it is it hunts us. Toys with us. We are merely its playthings. And I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that our government is well aware of this. Like a tiger living in your house. You keep it fed and happy and docile because the moment it gets hungry, your throat will be the first it comes for. So they keep a steady supply of victims, people no one will miss, and they dump them on this island hoping it will keep the thing in the woods too busy to look their way.”

“You’re crazy.” Feyre said, not quite believing her own words. Because she had felt something last night. Like a whisper in her ear that she couldn’t quite catch. And where had her gifts come from? No other prisoner in their right mind would’ve just dropped off such valuable things and left her unmolested. 

“Oh, undoubtedly.” The man said with a bitter laugh. “I have lived here too long not to at least a little crazy. But that doesn’t mean what I say isn’t true. Stay in the forest if you like. It very well might be the safest place for a woman here. But when the night comes, I promise you, you will see why the rest of us stay out of the forest’s shadow.” 

And with that he got up, joints creaking loudly, and he nodded at her not unkindly. 

And then he left. 

-o0o-

She sat there for a while afterwards, mulling over the strange man’s story. 

Suppose it was all true though, what then? It’s not like she could just wander the beaches like all the rest of the prisoners. She was, as far as she was aware, the only woman on this island. If she left the forest she was essentially offering herself up on a silver platter. And while Feyre was plenty self sacrificial when it came to her family, she drew the line at putting herself at risk of being raped any more than she already was. Better to keep seeking refuge in the forest since everyone else seemed to think it was cursed…or something. 

Or maybe it was all just an elaborate lie dreamed up by a mad man to fuck with her and lead her right where he wanted her? Who was to say really. 

She knew one thing for sure though, she couldn’t stay here. If the last man found her so easily from her campfire then it was only a matter of time before others showed up. She needed to find a new camp. And quickly. 

Feyre stared in the direction the man had disappeared, presumably back towards the beach…then behind her deeper into the forest. She felt a strange tugging at her heart and rubbed at it absently. 

Well…it’s not like she had ever believed in ghosts anyway. 

Decision made, she put out her fire with a few handfuls of dirt and packed up her sorry little camp. Not that there was all that much to pack. She stuffed the knife into her belt, tucked the lighter into her pocket, and rolled the blanket up and stuffed it under her arm. 

There. All packed. 

With one last glance back towards the beach, Feyre began walking very determinedly in the other direction. 

-o0o-

She had been walking for only a few hours when she stumbled across it quite by accident. 

It was almost completely covered in ivy and most of the roof had collapsed, but even so…it was a house. One of the very same houses the strange man had told her about. 

Finally!

Real shelter! She wouldn’t have to sleep in the mud with only a rock to protect her from the elements. She buzzed around the little house excitedly, taking stock of everything she could. A few of the ceiling beams were still intact and all of the walls were still fairly solid save for a rather large hole towards the back. But still…a house was a house. 

She spent the rest of the day clearing a space inside for herself, cutting back brambles with her knife and setting aside whatever furniture she could find that was still in one piece. By the time the sun began to go down she was exhausted but content, huddled in the corner of the house to settle in for the night. 

Let the stupid ghost come, if it was even real. It would have to fight her for her home. She wouldn’t give it up without a fight. 

And it was with that thought that she drifted off to sleep. 

-o0o-

She was home. 

Well, her childhood home anyway. The one her family had lived in before her mother died. Before her father’s business had gone belly up like so many others during the depression. Before her sister had seen the need to sell herself to a monster to pull her family out of poverty. 

She wandered through the sitting room, everything still as she remembered it as a child. The velvet sofa, the oriental rug with the coffee stain on it from when she’d tried to sneak a sip of her father’s coffee (their housekeeper never had quite managed the get it out), and the record player crooning The Andrews Sisters. 

You’re really swell, I have to admit you

Deserve expressions that really fit you

And so I’ve wracked my brain, hoping to explain

All the things that you do to me.

Wait.

She let the familiar words drift into her ears as she stared at the record player, puzzled. She hadn’t even heard this song until after her family had long moved out of this house. So how…?

“Apologies,” a dark voice said, in amusement. 

Feyre jumped, whirling around in surprise only to see an unfamiliar man lounging indolently on the sofa. A sofa that had very much been empty only moments before. He was young and handsome, tanned and dark haired with a strong jaw and strange glittering eyes. And his clothes were…odd. Like the music it seemed out of time and place, closer to what she remembered of the fantasy comics she’d borrowed from her friends at school rather than the usual suit and fedora worn by the men of her era. 

“I created this place from your fondest memories. I should have realized some of them wouldn’t quite fit together.” 

If anything that only confused her more. 

“Who…?” She trailed off. 

The man smirked, as if he were in on a joke she had missed. 

“How rude of me, we haven’t even introduced ourselves have we? You may call me Rhys if you like. And what’s your name darling?”

Feyre’s years of etiquette kicked in before she could stop herself. “Feyre Archeron.”

“Feyre,” Rhys rolled her name over his tongue like a gift. “What a pleasure it is to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” She latched onto that single word, puzzled. 

“Oh yes,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”

“I…I don’t understand.” She really didn’t. 

“Did you like my gifts?”

The words threw her for a loop again. She felt like every time she was starting to get a grasp of understanding what was happening it slipped away from her again. Like a dream…

“Gifts?” She repeated. She felt a spark of recognition but then felt it flit away again. 

“I admit, they were rather paltry offerings, but I’m afraid my options were rather limited in this place,” the man said with a sigh. “You deserve better. The best. Gold and diamonds. Spiced wine. Suckling pig and saffron rice. A feather bed.” 

His words lulled her, painting a picture of the luxury and comfort she did not currently have. 

Wait.

She did have those things…didn’t she? Feyre glanced around at her sitting room with its modern comforts and amenities. The best things money could buy. And yet…it didn’t fit. She was missing something. 

Like a dream…

And then it struck her, like a bolt of lightning. The murder of her brother-in-law, her trial, the marine’s words to her before he threw her into the ocean, her confrontation on the beach, but most importantly…

“There is something in these woods. Something evil.”

The man on the sofa went still. As if he’d somehow heard her thoughts. As if…

Feyre’s eyes widened in realization. 

“It’s you.”

And then she woke up. 

#the prison #acotar fanfiction #feysand fic #fanfiction #fanfic #feysand #acotar #Spotify

[hazbinspambin]

So I had a thought regarding Lilith's supposed "dream" in which she passed on to Charlie, and while we may not know the details as to why Lilith is in heaven I feel like this 'dream' Charlie now holds is a very important detail that might be a direct byproduct of whatever means brought Lilith into Heaven to begin with.

Especially considering she was said to have empowered demon-kind with her voice and songs; something we see Charlie attempting to do now. And while it's not completely effective just yet, there is something to be said about the songs and how they're meant to inspire and empower the masses; be it to rally to war, or what have you.

Seeing Charlie now she's more or less taking up the mantle of what seems to be a sort of mishmash of the dreams inspired by her dad to find the good in all of the evil, and the means in which Lilith brought demon kind together using her voice and songs. I want to believe this is because Lilith, despite being up in heaven for unknown reasons, tasks Charlie with picking up where she left off in keeping the denizens of Hell united. Because you can't stand together if you don't believe in a common goal or have some means in which to come together.

This is especially curious without knowing the reason she is up in Heaven to start with, I want to believe it was for reasons pertaining to protecting everything she had worked so hard to build up and create but it's still too hard to say. There may also be some ties to her and Alastor we don't know yet, but there's enough theories about that out there and not enough looking into what ideals she may have passed down to Charlie herself.

Because Charlie would be a byproduct of her environment to some degree so it stands to reason that Lilith would want the best for her people the same way Charlie does, and we know that Lucifer's opinion of their people degrades over time, until he is so disheartened from trying and failing that he just resigns himself to what Heaven insisted on from the start and believes that there's no redeeming any of them. Sometimes it's just easier to accept everything at face value when you've been beaten down too many times.

I do have thoughts regarding some ultimatum from Heaven and that there's more to the extermination meeting than what we've been given, which may very well explain the divide between Lucifer and Lilith in present day and their differing ideals/beliefs based on the pressures of Angelic hierarchy. Which, if the ultimatum had anything to do with extermination, could be the reason Lilith put herself where she is right now and is simply biding her time, putting her faith in Charlie to follow in her footsteps despite everything that Heaven might think is best for the two worlds.

I also think there's possibly more to the story of Hell since it would very likely be biased if actually written by Lilith or Lucifer respectively, at the very least it's a fantasy retelling of the real events and so there is almost certainly a lot left out and/or embellished no matter who wrote it.

Anyway TLDR I think Lilith may not be as evil as most people are thinking, being shrouded in mystery like she is tends to leave people with a sense of distrust and I feel we will get that from her going forward whether her intent is malicious or not. It's a case of correlation not equalling causation and there's likely a lot more to her motives than meets the eye. Especially if Charlie or Alastor are involved, she may not be able to directly influence Hell at all given her absence for 7 years and Charlie having Lilith's supposed dream passed down to her would be a means to go around that. Alastor possibly being a security measure, if we do fall in line with the theory that he's tied to her in some way. (But it could also very well be Roo so I'll leave that thought open ended until more seasons come out)

I just thought it interesting nobody has really touched on Charlie's part in all of this and what that says about Lilith as a character, and what we might expect to see from her going forward.

#Hazbin hotel #Lilith Morningstar #Hazbin hotel Lilith #Charlie Morningstar #Analysis #Theory #If anyone has any thoughts to add to this I would love to hear them! #my post

[silver-chasm]

Hey, I'm in the process of writting a fic and I have a quick question here for the monsuno fandom before I go insane:

Where the hell does Dax's lingo come from and Where I can find a reference

Like, Dax's type of speech is almost iconic, there's no other character in the series that talks like he does, is basically a 'Me privilege' at this point and I fk love it bc this little son of a muffin has such swag and personality (As far as personality goes in the series, lol) and I'm sitting in front of my drafts getting psychic damage when I get to his dialogues because it's hit on one line and then miss it on the next three when I'm trying to replicate how he talks!!! TTwTT

Save meeeee

Full disclosure: it has been, like, a year since I last sat down and watched the show. I may not remember fine details

From what I remember, Dax has the weirdest combination of Cockney English and Australian accent that I've ever heard. The stranger part is that Keith Silverstein can, in fact, do a decent Cockney English accent (he voiced Speedwagon in the English dub of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure)

Apart from that, I think Dax spoke in a relatively casual way. He's prone to giving nicknames to others or shortening names (the only example that's currently coming to me is him calling Dr Suno "Doc")

He also calls people "bandito". This is an Italina loanword that means "bandit". It seems to be slang from Central America and Mexico. So, someone from England or Australia wouldn't typically use the word. Strangely, it doesn't feel jarring to hear him say it

He also has a habit of saying "bleazers" and "bleazing heck", as exclamations of surprise. These are non-swears acting as swear words. The show does this quite a bit with "crag" (as its substitute f-word). "Bleazing heck" reminds me of "bloody hell", which is an exclamation that crops up a lot in both British and Australian English. "Bleazers" is not a word I've ever heard outside of this show but the way Dax uses it reminds me of how I might swear when I'm surprised (often an emphatic f-word, I am Australian)

So, from what I remember, Dax has a rather eclectic vocabulary. It's a mishmash of Cockney/Australian with a sprinkling of Central American/Mexican and non-swears

I hope this helps in some way

If someone remembers him better, please please please add to this

#monsuno #I find it so funny that you sent this to me but addressed this to the whole fandom #I'm delighted that I'm the first person you think of when you think of monsuno ^-^ #fun fact: monsuno is not the only place I've heard 'crag' being used as a swear! #there is a line in breath of the wild where daruk the goron exclaims it in a cutscene

[reylagpac]

Title: Life in Technicolor: A Palette of Memories

Introduction:

Picture this: a world where every moment is painted in the most vibrant of colors, where the hues of life dance across the canvas of existence like a psychedelic symphony. Welcome to the technicolor tapestry of my life, where each chapter is a riotous explosion of laughter, tears, and everything in between. Buckle up, dear reader, because this is going to be one wild ride through the kaleidoscope of my memories.

Let's rewind to the beginning, shall we? Cue the nostalgic music and fade in on a quaint little town nestled in the Basak Tamiya, Lapu-Lapu City, where the grass is always greener on the other side and the sky is bluer than a Smurf's backside in the year 2010. This is where my journey begins, amidst the innocent giggles of childhood and the promise of endless adventures lurking around every corner.

As a wee lad, I was like a human rainbow, spreading joy and mischief wherever I went. My days were filled with crayon-stained fingers and mud-splattered clothes as I explored the great outdoors, leaving a trail of chaos in my wake. From climbing trees taller than skyscrapers (well, at least they seemed that way to my pint-sized self) to staging epic battles with imaginary foes in the backyard, there was never a dull moment in the technicolor wonderland of my youth.

But as they say, all good things must come to an end, and so it was with my carefree days of childhood bliss. Suddenly, I found myself thrust into the bewildering world of adolescence, where hormones raged like a wild stampede of hormonal wildebeests and emotions ran higher than a kite on a windy day. Ah, yes, adolescence – that magical time when every zit feels like a personal affront from the universe and every crush feels like the beginning of a grand romance worthy of Shakespearean sonnets.

My teenage years were like a Jackson Pollock painting gone awry – a chaotic mishmash of awkward encounters, embarrassing moments, and ill-advised fashion choices that would make even Lady Gaga blush. There were the cringe-worthy attempts at flirting that ended in spectacular failure, the acne battles fought with the ferocity of a medieval knight, and the existential crises that kept me up at night pondering the meaning of life, the universe, and why my hair refused to cooperate no matter how much gel I slathered on it.

But amidst the teenage angst and existential dread, there were moments of pure, unadulterated joy that lit up my world like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July. Like the time I finally worked up the courage to ask my crush to prom and she said yes, or the epic road trips with friends that left us stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a pack of stale Cheetos and a broken-down jalopy for company. These were the moments that made all the trials and tribulations of adolescence worth it, like little bursts of confetti in the grand parade of life.

And then came adulthood, with all its responsibilities and realities crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. Gone were the days of carefree abandon and reckless abandon, replaced instead by bills to pay, deadlines to meet, and the sobering realization that I was no longer invincible. But even amidst the daily grind of adulting, there were still moments of magic to be found – like falling in love for real this time, with someone who saw me for the technicolor mess that I was and loved me all the more for it, or finally landing my dream job after years of toiling away in the trenches.

So here I am, dear reader, standing at the crossroads of past and present, with a lifetime of memories swirling around me like confetti in a hurricane. This is my story, painted in the most vivid of colors, a testament to the beauty and chaos of life in all its technicolor glory. So grab your paintbrush and join me on this wild ride through the rainbow of my memories – it's going to be one hell trip.

[cookierunauprompts]

yo, guess who made an angst based on the “ it takes two” au? This girl, I hope you enjoy Egg tarts really poor mental state!

—————————————————————————

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock-

The clock within this small faerie bakery and tea shop filled the silence like a small melody, leaving the only two customers alone sitting at a table in the corner. They had two cups of peach tea, the one with the beret and nice coat took hers nice and warm, while the other with a nice traveling coat and captain style hat took theirs iced. They were sharing a small red velvet cake as well it seems. 

“ I still can’t believe I’ve actually managed to find you- er well more like actively stumble upon you.” Said butterscotch cookie while she gently swirled the tea in her cup.

“ me neither, to be honest I was pretty sure you were dead” Egg tart cookie said bluntly 

“ I can see why you thought that, the only person who knew was Shadow milk cookie. And that’s only because he accidentally found it.” Butterscotch cookie gives a brief chuckle afterwards.

Wait… he knew where she was this whole time, underneath the table Egg tarts legs start to shake slightly. Though Butterscotch didn’t notice. “ Wait, he knew where you were. When did he find out?” 

“Um don’t remember the exact dates, but it was quite a bit before their sealing.” Oh- that was just GREAT! He knew how much you missed her, she was one of the only people you really connected with!

“When he first found me it was both nice company and a bit of a hassle, he was always so… hyper? An-“ Egg tart is starting to space out at this point… why didn’t he tell you? Did he not trust you? Y-you’re his best friend!… or at least you thought you were… they start to swirl the ice within their tea, while politely nodding to Butterscotch cookies voice.

“ and than he had the audacity to kiss me!” 

“Wha- he kissed you..?”

“Yeah! And than he had the audacity to basically leave me on read for years!”

“D-do you… like him back…” Egg tart asks hesitantly 

“… yeah I think I do… wh-what should I do about it?” She asks with a nervousness in her voice

No no no no no, PLEASE! Why, WHY! The one time you gained romantic feelings for another-

Egg tart cookie gently clasps the hands of Butterscotch cookie in an comforting manner.

No, NO! Be selfish for once! For once in your pathetic life BE selfish. Give yourself a chance a shot! Yes we care about her- but you deserve happiness to! Please don’t-

She looks into her lovely brown eyes, now filled with such uncertainty. Egg tart opens her mouth and says-

DONT DO IT, PLEASE-

“I mean… why not give it a shot? I mean from what you’ve told me… it seems he might like you to”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, yes I do”…. You seethe at the new found light in her eyes…. You also scold yourself… for being so angry at her happiness.

You- you shouldn’t be so mad, she’s happy, like truly happy in what seems like a long time. Why are you getting so mad?!?!

… it’s because- it’s because she’s everything you wish you were, wish you could have. 

You know your just a mishmash of traits ripped straight from your friends. Mystic flours colors, a worse version of her light, yeah your a good mage… but never as good as Shadow milks mastery. Hell you have the yellows of golden butter, and shit worse versions of her lovely creations.

You want what she posses so badly- what they all poses. Identity, something that makes you special… wanted… loved…

They all love her… you adore her to, you know this. Otherwise you wouldn’t have bursted into tears upon seeing her again. But… you can’t help but be jealous.

… and you HATE yourself for it! God how can you be so selfish, she deserves to be happy- she was fucking putting her jam into her dolls for crying out loud, you shouldn’t be so pathetic. You should just suck it up and get over it-

“Egg tart?”

“-oh yes.” She gives Butterscotch cookie such a lovely smile. Its almost alarming how she can do that with what their actually feeling.

“ oh- sorry it just seems you were spacing out is all… are you okay?”

“ oh yeah- I mean the stress of the recent events is affecting me. But I’ll be fine!” Just keep smiling 

“ if you say so. Want the rest of my cake?”

Egg tart forces a giggle “ of course! I’ve always been one for sweets” they than take a big bite of cake “anyways anything else interesting happening to you?”

“Oh well you see-“

You nod and listen, just like always. You just need to keep yourself together. You just need to keep-

Smiling.

———————���—————————————————-

*bats eyelashes like she didn’t just make her oc suffer the horrors* what chu think?

have any ideas on what I should write next, also I hope I did an ok job at writing golden butter!

see you!

AWABHAGFHAGFGBG I LOVE IT!! I think you did good at writing Goldie as well!

as for ideas to what you should write next, i'll be honest i have no idea. But keep up the good work!!

#not a prompt #Golden Butter Cookie Tag #other's writing

[blorboverse]

Chapter 1: Roxan

The first world I travel to is beautiful.

The thing you have to know about my home dimension is that it’s depressing as fuck. Think, um, like, hardcore cyberpunk. You never see the sun past the thick clouds of smog. The buildings are dull gray concrete, with windows that need cleaning. And the people? Let’s just say, there’s a reason I left.

This, however, rocks. The sky is a beautiful blue, verging on teal, and I’m surrounded by green and yellow fields. Honeybees dart between flowers, and the smell of wheat is heavy in the air. In the distance, there are thatched huts clustered together. 

I exhale. I made the right decision.

I set off through the tall grass, hoping that ticks don’t exist in this dimension. The town is about an hour away– maybe I can find someone to help there. 

I’ve walked for almost seven seconds when my leg gets caught in something, sending me sprawling to the ground.

Something jumps out of the grass and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the knife point to be pressed to my throat–

But suddenly I hear the cords of a string instrument. What the hell? I open my eyes again.

My leg is caught in a snare. The tight wire is snug to my leg, not tight enough to break the skin but definitely tight enough to bruise. And standing in front of me is a humanoid with pink-purple skin. He has jaw-length short black hair, horns, and a long thick tail. He’s wearing a long white dress and flats, and holding what looks like a lute. A messenger bag is slung over his shoulder.

There’s a beat. Then,

“Are you going to rob me?” I ask.

“Are you rich?” he asks me back.

“I don’t even know what currency this world uses, man.”

“Then no.” He pauses. Considers for a moment. “You must be one of those dimension hoppers, huh?”

“I guess,” I say. “This is my first world. Other than home, I mean.”

He cracks a toothy grin. “Oh, man, congrats. My uncle did a little hopping once upon a time. I’ve heard it’s pretty fun.”

“Yeah, sure. Can you let me out now?”

“Oh, right.” He strums a few chords on his lute, and the wire disappears from my leg. He offers a hand to help me up. “The snare wasn’t even for people, by the way. I’m trying to study how musical buffs affect the energy of wild pigs!”

“Sounds kind of dangerous,” I comment.

He laughs. “I’ve been charged a few times. But I always heal both the pig and myself before I release it.”

“I’m Can,” I say. 

“Roxan,” he says with a smile.

“I like your dress,” I tell him. 

“I like your bodysuit.” he replies. “So, Can, why are you hopping? Treasure? Glory?”

“Friendship,” I say. “I want to make at least one friend in every dimension, and help whoever possible.”

“Aren’t there infinite dimensions?”

“Yup.”

“You’ll be traveling forever.”

“Yup.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself. Am I your friend for this dimension?”

“I guess,” I say. “Is that cool?”

He looks like he’s about to nod, but catches himself, and furrows his brow. “I’ll only be your friend if you help me with something.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” I ask incredulously.

That makes Roxan smile. “Yes. But it’s fun blackmailing. I just want you to jam with me for a while!”

“Jam with you?” 

“Like play music.”

I look down. “I don’t play.” Not much time to learn instruments in a science lab.

“No problem. I have something easy.” He digs around in his bag, and pulls out a wooden circle with long thin strips of metal on it. He plops down, criss-cross, and pats the ground next to him.

When I do, he hands me the object, and says, “This is a finger piano. All you have to do is press the little tabs.”

I hold it, not touching the tabs. After a while, Roxan starts to fidget. “What are you waiting for?”

“Just like, press anything? What if it sounds bad?”

“Then I’m not going to be your friend,” he laughs. “Just play. I’ll follow.”

I thumb one of the tabs. It makes a plink sound. I thumb another. I start pressing random keys, hoping that the jumble of notes will somehow arrange itself into a melody.

Roxan cocks his head at my mishmash of chords. His ears twitch, and I’m worried that I’ve, like, irreversibly fucked up. But then, he dips his head and begins to play his lute.

Oh my god.

His music sounds like a million butterfly wings. Or seedlings popping out of the ground. Or maybe just springtime. Whatever it sounds like, it’s nothing like the grind and hum of machinery that I’m so used to. Every random note I play gets swept up by the melody, calling to mind the fluttering of a bird’s wings and the crawl of an earthworm.

I pick my eyes up from the piano and am met with a wondrous sight. All around us, the grass is sprouting purple flowers. Lots of them. Tiny buds grow on the stalks of grass, expanding and opening immediately, until the stalks are covered in the flowers and are too heavy to support themselves on their own. Then, the grass stalks topple, and the flowers cover the ground like a carpet. As we play, the circle of flowers around us gets bigger and bigger.

I pluck two more tabs that I hope sound kind of final, and then stop. Roxan gets the hint, and trills off into a finale. He opens his eyes. “Pretty cool, right?”

I give him a small smile. “Pretty cool.”

“Keep the piano,” he says. “Maybe next time you come visit, we can jam again.”

“I’ll be better next time,” I promise. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Roxan says.

“You… don’t know my history.”

“You don’t know mine.”

“Touché,” I concede.

“What’s important is the now,” he says. “And right now, it’s a beautiful day.”

I breathe in the wheat-smelling air. I exhale. And we just sit there together, enjoying the blue sky and the purple, purple flowers.

OC by @fitzkn​

#hope i got your guy right!

[contaiinedarmageddon2]

❌ Sollux accidentally revealing his hyper cock to one of the girl trolls. Preferably one of the less common pairings.

NSFWish below cut

"fuckin Pyrope bitches keeping a gill up all coddamn morning fucking glubbin. I mean. glubbin fucking? I hate this." Meenah trudged through the dreamscape path, a mishmash of who know's memories, muttering to herself angrily, trident across her shoulders. She liked Latula, after a fashion, she was r4d as hell it would be stupid to deny it. She didn't mind Mituna either, in the way one didn't mind a harmless lost lusus at least. But the two had been getting on her last nerve. For whatever reason, perhaps a shift in the bubbles, the two's little secret rendezvous spot for their flushed trysts, and they were fucking loud. Mituna didn't have volume control at the best of times but whatever that yellow weirdo was doing was making Latula compete with him in decibels. To say nothing of the noises. It made Meenah shudder. She had tried to casually, politely( something she was totally capable of doing) let Latula know that perhaps she should move somewhere else with whatever she was doing, but the finsufferable bitch seemed to take it as an invitation for her to brag about Mituna's supposed "prowess". Meenah left in a hurry, but the details she couldn't block out were swimming around her head rent free.

Maybe that was why when she spotted an unfamiliar pair of bicolored spectacles, she stopped to watch awhile instead of just ignoring one of the random losers getting the benefit of all her hard work in the alpha session. Just what was he up to in that clearing? By the flash of red skirts moving the other direction he must've been meeting with Porrim's little protege but why out here? Grumbling to herself about how stupid this was she pushed forward toward him, a half baked idea about interrogating him about Captors and their own timeline's Pyrope coming to mind.

"Hey! Shorty! Yeah you double dutch, don't you take off!" She yelled out as she emerged from the bushes, 2x3dent swinging off her shoulders.

"oh 2hiit you're that angry ver2iion of ff aren't you." The mustard said, already starting to backpedal.

"Who the fuck you callin' angry? Your lil goody-gills is a version of ME." Meenah declared with utmost calm and a grip on her strifekind that grew white knuckled as her instincts kicked in at the mention of a competitor heiress.

It had been a long time since she'd seen proper psionics from anyone but Damara, and she avoided that crazy witch anyways. The other Captor started flickering alight with blue-red light though, feet starting to pick off the ground as he must've planned to flee her gracious welcome. However, nobody was faster than the REAL Peixes. The prongs of her trident flashed out and down as she moved to pin him between the tines to the ground and prevent an escape. But it seems she misjudged how much power output the shrimp had, and her downward stab didn't quite hit on target. One of the razor edged tips caught the waistband of his pants perfectly and seemed to glide right through the fabric. There was a brief sparking noise, and then things got very dark and very heavy.

In an instant Meenah found herself pinned to the ground, something oddly soft yet so weighty even her vaunted seadweller strength was having trouble shifting the burden off her body, and her legs felt as though they were pinned under some ultra dense beanbag. With a final heave and a lot of swearing she managed to wrestle the warm pillar holding her down off to the side. Pupil-less eyes went wide. A veritable column of turgid gray lay atop her, thicker around than her torso and extending off past her head. Her eyes traced it to the base where a set of tremendous orbs had her legs buried. It was only at that point she felt the sheer heat coming off it, the very air felt thick, she wanted to gasp, not out of having the wind knocked out of her but take in more of the strange tasting aura. Without even realizing it her arms had locked around what amount of the spongy surface they could encompass, less than half of it, now holding it against her very sensitive feeling body rather than it pinning her. And this veritable monument to virility terminated in the disoriented, slowly stirring form of that Captor.

She was going to fucking kill Latula for hiding this. Right after she got done showing this guppy why she was the reel Empress apparent. In a few hours.

#drabble #got away from me a bit

[deliriumsdelight7]

Asking game- 9,32 and 37 :-)

Thank you for the ask, my friend!

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

My beliefs in general tend to vary based on my mood. Sometimes I believe that there’s a Heaven and hell (or any religious equivalent). Sometimes I believe that some spirits with unfinished business will linger. Sometimes I believe in reincarnation. Sometimes I believe that when we die, our energy is melded into a greater whole before being spat back out into a new life, no longer who you were in your last life but an amalgamation of many mishmashed together. Sometimes, I believe none of those things. Sometimes I believe all of them. So the answer to this is a definite “maybe.”

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

“I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.” This is a quote from Jane Eyre, which she says when Rochester implies to her that he’s the only person she has. I loved this line! I think it’s a good reminder that people come and go in your life, and the only person you have to live with forever is yourself.

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

They’d think I have some intense daddy issues.

#ask answered #weird writer asks

[the-firebird69]

This idiot is still saying that he's doing stuff to our son it makes him win and stuff, and we're very sick of hearing it we heard we were saying this morning hear this Tower of greatness and really you're nothing getting rid of yourself by telling people you have money by sitting here being a slimy little b**** and we don't like you we hate you just like he does I didn't tell you off today just sitting there saying all the s*** cuz you should shut up and hide but he won't so you should know you're going to die cuz that's what happens to people like you when you do that.

Other than that we have a great deal of things to do today that don't involve your stupid character your name or your face or anything that has to do with you most of the things happening though we developed it completely independent of you and you're just as character monkey that comes in and screws up everything of theirs like a monkey wrench that's what he called you the other day and people who are into you for the term she agreed. We're going to flip you over and cook the other side of you trying to ring my Lord beside that really needs to be cooked cuz your front side that's why you had him see your backside who stabbed the living crap out of it and there's nothing left and I put it in that show Bones like so many times and people weren't getting it now I'm doing it and you're starting to fall much faster no you're falling pretty fast but people need to see you die to put up with you for so long and they also need to get extinguish your legacy and they're doing it.

Most of your people John remillard will be dead today and we mean your clan and your clones the emptying out Alabama every few minutes no it's not refilling. Your problem is you fell for everything and I don't want you falling on our son again you know who that is and you don't seem to know her though she's getting you back I'm taking a big huge chunk of money and it was a relative but now she is Drew and tons of people are after her for secrets and they want to know what she knows and know what she said to access to and all sorts of stuff. And you had Legends and those Legends fell. And we found out a way I'm telling you that girl at the prom was not your grandma she tried to imitate the look so many times it was horrific and she was horrified when you knew right away said what gave it away I said she's actually attractive and ask it and you act like a tomboy cuz your grandma that's fine people need to know you are more than a silly act true too hell is there a code that you don't even wiring near the drain and you know and there is I can't have it in the same bay.

Who's in the idiots not going to be doing his stuff because he's not going to be here and the program is beginning and the Great lakes have dropped and the rivers will drop the momentarily it's all the way down and emptied of infiltrated water it's drained and it is going to fall and yeah part of it is going to try and refill but usually it won't in the river underneath is open and the tunnels are open and flowing out. And any moment now they'll drop and nutrients going to fill this area and they're shaking and quivering in some spots and they'll devastate whoever's left there and it will be a flood and a very big one I'm pulling tons of stuff out all of it. And they did not catch our ships pulling it out. Have a lot of your messages to codes everything no mishmash dream. And we are disarming you on the caches and stashes out there have a ton of stuff in that you forgot to take with you. But taking money from you John Riva Lord all of it not here to make you feel better you dumb f*** you're a stupid freaking person we take advantage of you. We have tons and tons and tons of your stuff and we're using it on your areas and we use it up and now we're playing a major strike not in Midwest areas so yours are disappearing rapidly by the way and pull all the factories out pulled all the housing out now we cleared everything and yours is still sitting there fat and stupid. It's going to occur momentarily and Tommy boy will be Pennsylvania is a complete waste of time movie and saw my son trying to see why it was worth something it makes sense in the midwest out there it doesn't you're just screwing around with themselves when you idiots you are all day long here. There's some big trucks heading this way to take you out of here the big Force you're not in Miami anymore and bja fled to Australia and a lot of people followed him and you're forcing Mexico is gone in the force in the south is gone and you don't have a fleet out there at all or in the golf and you're extinct from the islands and Georgia and Alabama and they created a line up there and they're nailed you and not allowing you in from the ocean and the clearing you from here and you're going to be gone shortly. I'm going to wreck you you try to get to the movie you're going to be wrecked over and over if necessary. They will use your guns on you. Tired of you talking too you're a little weasel and everything you say is stupid and these people take your money cuz you're a weasel and taking a stuff too cuz you're stupid.

One of the world will probably start today you people going to wander around doing the stupid s*** you do until out of all the stuff that his clan came up with and you're expending it too it's not being used for anything that's what you thought you'd end up doing and that's what you're doing you're useless you should never have told you anything. But it really bad and they know it would.

Tom Cruise is going to New Jersey to unload stuff you ordered and to make sure that you idiots don't take it and we think today is the day that Jason comes down this is looking for ships and stuff and the upper Midwest is all dead and there's nobody there and you can't stay up there and he can't stay near it either it stinks the river is contaminated the air all the way down to New Hampshire's Southern line it's getting blown out slowly it has does it spreads downwards and it's killing everybody same thing with the Midwest those who stay behind are dying up in North Dakota a little bit and more so towards the east and it's not quite the Minnesota but it's north of that and it is not that far north but a hundred miles big cloud of gas who killed tons of people and it's your people we're not there I told you evacuated we're going to do live near New England you can't imagine how well this is terrible so it's happened in your idiots and you're getting killed by this big massive cloud of gas it's going to go south further about halfway it'll dissipate and at the Appalachians it will stop but pretty much it's going to come through some passes and wipe out tons of you mostly more luck or sitting near the passes and at the Rivers but it will come down to DC and people are just going to sit there both people cuz you have to and it's going to wipe both you out and it's coming down now already and it stinks and Biden ordered the evacuation of his people and key personnel and that's it so get out or you're going to die and he moves I see people dying in DC now New York City too this big cloud of gas will come in there. That's another thing too when the golf drops there's going to be a huge amount of gas and it's going to be too much of it it'll be all over the place well the wind blows the other way usually he's too close to it the closed all his windows and stuff that would be fine and he'd probably make it but we can't count on it it's too much poison. The max will see how stupid these idiots are really soon and besides the mining is halted indefinitely I'm going to hold it off I just killing anybody goes down there and saying we're clones. Now the warlocks are sitting there pasty face not understanding what we're saying what we're saying is we told you not to do that. It says the bja if you move me to Utah it's going to wreck their plan in Cheyenne and other stuff like that and you'll be on Australia and you can't have me yet just smile and said that makes sense and it does. These things are happening very soon the rivers will drop and the flood will occur and that whole place is going to stink and the gas is going to flow all throughout the South but it won't come down here it's basically it's going to be contained and everybody out there of yours will die it's a massive amount of methane that's going to flow out and it's going to go through the passes and it's going to kill all the more lock and it's going to fill up the Carolinas too but they have a way out of it no they have to develop one and you don't have one yet but they're trying to get one in other words to escape the gas still have to come to Florida

Thor Freya

[cream-and-tea]

[ID: A digital drawing of two teenage girls standing and facing away from each other with sad/resigned expressions. The one on the right has brown skin, straight black hair jaggedly cut to her chin, and stands with her hands on her hips. She is wearing a red cropped t-shirt with a wide yellow stripe down the middle, black high-waisted shorts, tall black socks and red and yellow oversized high-top sneakers. She stands on a triangle of red that stretches in front of her like a pathway, or a shadow. A thin red circle floats behind her head with smaller red lines radiating out of it, like a miniature sun. The girl on the left has pale skin, platinum blond hair and stands with her hands crossed across her chest. She is wearing a white shirt with a high collar, a cropped black and gray jacket, high-waisted gray shorts with a thick brown belt, black knee-length leggings, frilly white socks and black and gray running shoes. She also stands on a triangle of red that stretches in front of her like a pathway, or a shadow. A thin red circle floats behind her head with a single red line cutting through its middle. In the blank space between the two girls a quote from the song “No Children” by the mountain goats reads “i hope it stays dark forever, i hope the worst isn’t over, and i hope you blink before i do, and i hope i never get sober.” END ID]

just two lonely kids on the road to hell heaven together...

uh oh i caved and posted Hungry Dogs content i have been set loose now there’s nothing holding me back. snapped off my leash.

for those unfamiliar (so everyone. literally everyone.) Hungry Dogs is my low fantasy/post apocalypse/road-trip/unholy count of monte cristo and shakespeare mishmash from the gates of hell/dystopian wip i have yet to formally introduce in any way. i think i talked about it all of once back when i first introduced myself,,,,, but back then it was hard sci-fi and much less of a trainwreck. they grow up so fast.

this is just a sketchy thing of my two main characters, Dani (on the left) and Mercedes (right), extremely bitter and angry former childhood friends (in case you’re wondering the amount of undiluted baby gay pining that was going on definitely didn’t help with the whole falling out) now forced to finally confront each other in the long-con (literally) cutthroat game of killing one of their societies living gods in order to achieve immortality.

there are probably weirder ways to have to deal with your emotions,,,, but this is pretty high up on the list.

#this is VERY messy #this is a sketch i promise i can do polished drawings i stg– #the halo things have Worldbuilding and Symbolism(tm) i promise i’m just very tired right now #no thoughts head empty #mercedes colour scheme is what i like to calm monochrome and mayonnaise #colours are for people who HAVENT accidentally committed war crimes #xoxo #and just so you know #when i say mishmash from hell i mean #that mercedes is...well... mercedes. but she’s also brutus and macbeth and ophelia and #iago and fernand mondego and juliet #and dani is edmond dantes and caesar and macduff and hamlet #and othello and romeo #these bitches got LAYERS #y’all are lucky i haven’t been able to shove greek mythology into this thing as well (yet) #creme does a art #wip: hungry dogs #it is very very late #i’m probably going to regret this in the morning #if you’ve read through all these tags pls know i love and support you #have a flower: 🌸

[pocketsizedquasar]

(this is long, sorry, I just don't have anyone else to rant to abt this lmao)

Ok I wanna start off by saying I'm white, so when discussing the portrayal of Jon as a POC I may make mistakes, and I'm sorry for if/when I do; please correct me. BUT I have been thinking a LOT about this lately and I gotta get it off my chest

A lot of the whole "portraying the TMA characters as queer POC" thing reminds me of that article/thread about how diversifying the cast isn't the same as actual diversity.

Black people's experiences, NB POC, and queer people's experiences are going to have notable differences from those of cishet white people. So writing a character as a cis or white or straight person and then just...making them a poc/queer person doesn't always work. Especially with things like TMA, because the whole point of the podcast is that it's based in enough reality that it could be portrayed as "real" or "possible"; the characters are portrayed as if they are real people, even sharing names with the actors who play them.

A white actor's experience is not going to portray all the same things as a black person's....a cis person's experience is not going to portray the same things as a trans person's. If a trans poc wants to headcanon Jon as a trans poc and it brings them happiness, that's fine!

But so often I see non-trans, non-queer, and/or non-poc portraying him as a black trans man without any real regard for what that means outside of "I drew a white guy but made his skin dark and gave him aesthetically pleasing top surgery scars".

Idk man. A while ago I was in a different fandom where for some reason abled people wanted to portray a notable character as physically disabled/ as a cane and wheelchair user. On the surface there was nothing wrong with it and you could have even called it "diversity", but as a physically disabled person who has used both a cane and a wheelchair, it really rubbed me the wrong way; I didn't feel represented and if anything it made me feel even more alienated from the fandom. I'm getting similar vibes from a lot of these cis and/or white ppl who headcanon the TMA characters as trans people and as POC. It's like you and others have said, it feels more fetishy than inclusive.

No need to apologize!

And YES. YES. "diversifying the cast isn't the same as actual diversity." This EXACTLY. This is how we get stuff like Hamilton and Shera other pieces of media, where Black and brown people are added onto stories to create an outward appearance of diversity, but the story itself is still deeply a white one, and in some cases the addition of POC in these stories actually obfuscates the existing racial dynamics!! (also looking at you moby dick musical). I feel like a bunch of white creators saw "we need diverse stories" and took that as their prerogative to start just unthinkingly adding POC to their narratives, when the call for diverse stories was never about them in the first place, but about POC being able to tell our OWN stories. A ~diverse~ cast means nothing if your writers' room is majority white, and means nothing if your story does nothing to meaningfully engage with the diversity it's using for its aesthetic.

With stuff like TMA, where a lot of the MCs are written as aracial (re: white), this is how you get like. Typical fanon-accepted versions of characters of color (as well as fanon-accepted versions for who doesn't get to be a POC: see martin almost universally being portrayed as a white man) on a surface level without anyone actually bothering to dissect what that would mean for the story. TMA already so deeply deals with privilege, capitalism, agency, and power, all of which are themes that inherently change if you make the protagonist a man of color.

If Jon is brown or Black then suddenly his interactions with the police and the fact that he is a victim of police brutality become very different. If Jon is a MOC then the abuse he faces at the hands of Elias, his wealthy white boss -- the abuse and manipulation that really is in many ways the driving force of the plot -- becomes very different. If Jon is a MOC then his bitter acceptance of his privileged and oppressive role in the apocalypse is VERY very different!! S5 especially is a narrative about privilege and power and what we do with it; Jon being a MOC in that narrative changes the entire character of the final season just as Jon being a white man in that narrative would drastically change the reception of it. How much would white ppl be willing to engage with this story if they viewed Jon as white -- as a white man choosing who to let suffer and who to let Gain power, as a white person claiming that he can be the arbiter of "fair" judgment on who deserves to live and who deserves to suffer and die? Would white ppl be able to actually engage with that, that dissection of whiteness? I really don't think so. I think Jon being a MOC enables a lot of white fans to distance themselves from the problems TMA -- in many cases successfully and many cases not so much -- tries to raise. I think white ppl making Jon a MOC often feel it exempts them from examining their own racial biases, both towards Jon and other characters, but also the very privileged biases that TMA itself addresses (and in some cases, the racial problems that TMA actually contains)

All this to say, headcanons do not exist in a vacuum. Projecting onto characters is all fine and good (hell knows that's literally how I write Jon -- projecting all my mishmashed identities onto him) -- but some careful thought into how we are portraying characters beyond "this is the typical fandom interpretation of him" or "I like how this looks" is...really necessary imo, especially when it comes to identities that you're not yourself a part of (this is general "you," not directed at u the asker specifically). There comes a point where your headcanon either is detracting from the text itself or complicating/changing it in a way that needs to be addressed; otherwise you're likely to end up lookin like a Fool TM /lh

#tma #tma crit #the magnus archives #the magnus archives crit #jon sims #jonathan sims #racism #cw racism #fandom crit #fandom critical #fandom racism #quasartalks #long post #cw police brutality ment #police brutality ment #ask #friendlyneighbourhoodpapergay

[redorich]

What if Tommy and a few other Hermits went to the Dream SMP to take care of some business (aka Dreamon + small family reunion for Tommy) and they see Tommy hug these two PvP gods as a ghost floats around them saying, “oh Tommy! You’ve been gone so long! Where did you go?” And seeming quite happy as well. The hermits get to see just how fucked this place is. Tommy told them Techno is by far the richest person on the server yet he only has one stack of diamond blocks. Not a single shulker box to be seen. Phil tells them The End is Off Limits. They get to see the main hub of this world is less impressive than a single of their big builds. They see fighting in the streets. From the other side of walls they hear people threatening eachother. They get to see and experience the comparative hell that Tommy cane from -🐍

Scar’s the one that gets to go first. He and Grian jockey for the privilege, but in the end Scar is the mayor of Hermitcraft, which means he gets to visit the Dream SMP first. (Grian pouts for days.)

Scar wears his very nice mayor sash, and irons his trousers, and keeps his armor in his inventory so that everyone can see his nice apparel. He smiles, and opens his eyes to what is basically a pit. The ground is more creeper-hole than actual ground, and there are mishmash walls all around him. His smile falters.

<Dream> Oh shit hes at spawn

<Technoblade> dream forgot to change visitor spawn, worst admin ever

<Dream> Shut up

Tubbo hit the ground too hard

<Technoblade> TUBBO IS GONE CRABRAVE

<ItsFundy> canon death

<Tubbo> NO

“Hey there,” Tubbo says from behind Scar. The mayor yelps, whirling around and nearly falling on his face.

“Sorry to scare you,” Tubbo laughs, “but how about I show you around? After I get my stuff back, that is.”

“Y-yeah,” Scar says, visibly perturbed. Tubbo leads him through a hole in the wall just large enough for them to go through one at a time, then through a small patch of forest. (Do these people seriously not even have a way out of spawn, or a path from spawn to the important locations?)

Dream catches up to Tubbo and Scar right as the town comes into view. They meet up at a patch of ruined land, on which two identical Nether portals are sat.

“Welcome to the Dream SMP,” Dream says with a gesture toward the slightly-broken oak slab path stretching out from the portal. “Sorry I’m late, I had to take care of some business.”

“Business?” Scar asks despite himself.

Dream fidgets with the handle of his axe sheepishly. “Yeah. I sent some of the troublemakers on a wild goose chase several thousand blocks away from here. Hopefully, they shouldn’t bother you.”

“That’s great and all, but I kind of need to get my stuff back,” Tubbo cuts in before Scar has a chance to question Dream.

“Sure, it was near Tommy’s old house, right? Why not show Scar the Prime Path while you’re at it?”

Tubbo smiles, and takes Scar’s hand in his. “Great idea. Come on, Scar!”

Scar allows himself to be pulled along, dodging holes in the “Prime Path” as he does so.

“That way’s Eret’s Gay Castle-- you can’t grief it, it’s homophobic,” Tubbo explains, “and up ahead’s Church Prime.”

It’s not much of a church, Scar thinks, given the giant floating poster that’s been left to peel away. Bits of the poster have even been torn off and stolen, leaving only the item frame behind. Still, he knows better than to say rude things about someone else’s religion, even if the state of disrepair... No. He won’t say anything.

Various depictions of anti-Technoblade propaganda still up. They’re so, so ugly. Further along the path there’s a tower that actually isn’t hideous, so it was probably made by-- Eret, was it? The same guy who made the Gay Castle? A stray chicken clucks while Scar tears his eyes away from the Walmart which has magma for floors, and the Targay, and the cobblestone framework of what Tubbo claims is a Denny’s which was used once for roleplay and then promptly abandoned.

Tommy’s old house can best be described as “open air”, to put it politely. At least there’s a fence..? But as Tubbo picks up his items and the two set off for L’Manberg, politely ignoring the giant Gogy posters, they hear a scuffle up ahead.

“Let go of my fucking hair!” George shrieks.

“Not until you give me back my potato,” Sapnap responds. The two grown men are fighting like children in the middle of the Prime Path in broad daylight, pulling each other’s hair and slap-fighting but at least-- no, never mind, they’ve got their weapons out now.

George shrieks at the top of his lungs when one of Sapnap’s swings gets too close. “It’s rotted anyway, why the hell do you want it?!”

“Because it’s mine,” Sapnap insists. He finally bonks George on the head hard enough to kill him, then scoops the rotten potato out of George’s belongings. His hand toys with a flint and steel, but he eventually seems to decide not to burn George’s items for the offense of stealing his potato.

“Oh, hi there!” Sapnap says once he spots them. He waves.

Scar hesitantly waves back. He’s beginning to think that perhaps he should have worn his armor after all. He watches in morbid fascination as Sapnap takes a bite of his rotten potato. Sapnap’s face drains of all color; he immediately leaps off a cliff to go be sick in a valley away from prying eyes. George’s things are left on the ground.

“Y’know, I think I left the oven on,” Scar says slowly. Tubbo looks at him with sad, pitiful eyes, as if to say, do you see what I have to deal with?

“Would you like to go back to Hermitcraft and try again another day?”

Attempting to affect nonchalance and failing miserably at it, Scar waves his hand rapidly. “Actually, Grian really wanted to come see your server, so-- maybe I’ll send him. I’m real busy with, uh, mayor stuff.”

Tubbo nods, pretending to buy the excuse. “I’ll have Dream send you back.”

“Thank you,” Scar says fervently.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit!tommy au #goodtimeswithscar #tubbo #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #dream team #technoblade #itsfundy #fundy #grian #me.cpp #Anonymous

[vogueinnie]

HEAVEN OR HELL ; part. 1 TEASER - PART 1 - PART 2 - (...)

        ━ WARNINGS ; demon!hyunjin, virgin fem!reader

if you feel uncomfortable with the mentions of religion, please don’t read this story cause there are a lot blasphem, mentions of Lucifer and Mammon (Lucifer’s son)

sex in a public place with people around (!!!), boots riding and boot licking, corruption kink, fear kink, humiliation (and not only in a sexual way), mention of animals hunting, reader is leashed, pet name (angel), manipulation, devilish creatures

this story will contains a lot of filthy and dirty things, the warnings are here to prevent you from anything that can trigger you. so please consider them carefully.

      ━ WORD COUNT ; 2.5k       ━ NOTE ; here is the first part of my first ever serie! feedback are so welcomed so feel free to tell me anything about this story.

Since the end of time there were two worlds. Heaven and Hell. Humans fought over which world they would belong to for the rest of their lives. The good was offered the place of angels while the worst was going to be demons.

Luckily, you’ve always been good during your lifetime. You weren’t surprised when the paradise’s gates were all open for you. As an angel, your face has the softest features, most beautiful hair, and even your aura was a pretty pale pink tone. The purest one.

The Ladybug Garden. Your favorite Heaven’s place. It was the most peaceful garden, a place where you walked in every morning. The sun was shining, as usual, the grass was a bright green and all the flowers were colorful. You jump happily in the air, your bare feet stroking the grass every time you touched the ground. You laugh softly, feeling dumb for a moment to play alone in the middle of all this flora. But you were happy, truly happy to be here. And knowing that you’ll be there forever was comforting enough to make you even more overexcited.

You heard a sound behind a tree so, curious, you approach slowly to finally see one of your angelic friends splaying with a cute white bunny.

“Felix ! I didn’t know you were here.” The boy called Felix turns around with a big smile to wave his hand at you. He was so beautiful, his eyes were beautiful shades of light brown, his lips were as pink as a rose, his hair white, and his beautiful skin was dotted with almost glittery freckled. You’ve met years ago here, and since then you were inseparable.

You barely have time to join him that Seungmin interrupted the both of you.

And let’s say, his coming is never for good reasons.

Seungmin doesn’t belong to either of the two worlds. He’s not an angel, nor a demon. He’s what we call the neutrals. Only here for the needs of both worlds. Heaven and Hell have only one rule in common ; If one of their residents is doomed, then they must be replaced by a person from the opposite world. It’s the only way to balance the loss. And that’s probably why Seungmin is here today, cause he never comes for pleasure.

“Hey, Seungmin… Is everything ok ?” Felix asked, a little bit concerned.

“Y/N you need to come with me.”

You look at him blankly, your lower lip starts to tremble a little, you exactly know what it means. You’re the angel chosen to go to Hell to offset the loss of a demon. How was it possible ? You’ve always been good to anyone. Everyone loved you. Everyone trusted you. You knew the rule, and you’d never dare to disrespect it, but you were so confused. Spending all this time in paradise, with all of your friends to finally end your life in the hands of a devilish creature.

And you know the only way to go back to Heaven was to soften a demon’s soul, but no one was able to do that until now. You were helpless, discouraged.

—————————————☠︎︎ —————————————

You were in front of the Hell’s gates. They were dark and gigantic. It was frightening, the chills ran unpleasantly through your body, even your mind was in an awful state. Along with Seungmin, you start to walk through the alley and the first thing that strikes you is the heat you can feel. It was so unpleasant that you felt suffocating with each step. Everything was so dim around you, the only lights were the burning flame on the side. The smells of it even made you want to throw up.

Faster than you would have thought, you ended up arriving in what you suppose to be the main room. It was… disturbing how every detail was beautiful. From the grey stone walls to the delicate stained glasses, passing by the big red carpet under your feet leading to the one who ran this world.

Everyone was looking at you. And they were a lot of… people. Some of them were scary enough for you to no look at them. Red eyes, pointy teeth, almost translucent skin, huge black feather wings… Are they the ones you are going to have to live with ?

Three thrones were in front of you, and in the center of it was your Father’s son, the fallen angel, Lucifer. He was sitting proudly on his, you have to admit, beautiful golden throne. His black crown was setting perfectly on his long silver hair and his dark eyes were all on you, looking at you insistently. As the protocol obliges you, you kneel down in front of him, he was the king after all. The King of his own world. You owe him nothing but respect. You can hear him laugh, clapping in his hands as his voice rises through the walls, creating a frightening echo.

“Angel, angel look at me. You did as told. Welcome to your new…paradise, all the creepy devilish creatures laugh at his pitiful joke but stop the moment he raises his hand in the air. I knew my dearest Father was hiding all of the most beautiful angels from me. But first ! Let me introduce yourself to my own creation, my blood, my pride, my son… Mammon.”

Without noticing it at first you perceive that a tall long black-haired boy was sitting on a throne on his left. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, it was surreal how he was beautiful. His pale and perfect skin was almost shinning in the dark, his almond-like eyes were as obscure as this place, his nose was straight leading to his plump crimson lips. His face was deadpan. He was dressed in a black suit, which is not surprising for a demon, he wore leather gloves on his hands and black chunky boots. Chains were all over his body like jewelry and you come out of your mind when he asks you to come near him with only two fingers.

Again, you did as told. Not only cause you were afraid, but cause you strangely wanted to.

It was like he was controlling your body with only his pierced gaze. You approach him slowly, feeling ridiculous in your long white dress decorated with colorful butterflies with all the hungry eyes looking at you behind your back. You kneel in front of him too, breathing slowly just to try to control your rising and inevitable anxiety. You feel his two leather-like fingers lifting up your chin and you gulp at the sight of his face so close to yours.

He was analyzing you, scanning every little specific of your pretty face, turning your head slowly from right to left to not miss any details.

“Sit down.” His voice was soft yet strict. You were confused, as long as you were already kneeling. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and your expression must amuse him cause you can see a slight smile drawn on his lips. He points his boots with his chin, leaning his back on his thrown lazily. “Ride them.”

Your mind went blank. What was he asking you, specifically? You looked at him, scared and confused, not moving an inch cause you didn’t know what to do. And you didn’t want to make him angry. But the strange feeling in your stomach was pleasant and weird at the same time.

He grabs your hair, your face approaching dangerously to his knees. He whispers so only you can hear his humiliating word.

“Make yourself cum on my boots. If you don’t do it then I’ll give you as a meal to the raging dogs. You smell good, they’re gonna love your blood, angel.”

You almost forgot how demons love to live in sin. It was scary enough to make you submit. But the worst part was probably the fact that, while looking at him in his eyes, you wanted to sin to make him proud of you. You wanted to see the oh-so-little smile on his porcelain face again.

His eyes never left yours and with your shaking body you place your two legs on either side of one of his, sitting on one of his big black boots. The material was so cold against your naked inner thighs but the sensation was magnificent. You could see him smile as he keeps on tightening your hair around his gloved hand. But you wouldn’t complain, feeling his grip was probably the only thing that can make you still feel alive in this world of debauchery. The position you were in was so uncomfortable when you start to move against his leg but your eyes went big as your cheeks went red. What was that little thing burning inside your core ? Why was it even dripping ? You wanted more of this delicious friction.

Keeping eye contact with him was surprisingly reassuring for you. Slowly, you start to grind against his boot, but focusing on him became more and more difficult with the new sensations you were feeling. A little squirm escapes your mouth, chasing after your own pleasure as you bounce against his shoes to feel the more pleasure as possible. You didn’t know what makes you do that dirty thing, but you did. It was unbelievably pleasuring. Your mind went dizzy, everything around you starts to spin and you can even feel some sweat drops running in your neck.

You wanted his dark gaze to keep looking at you, and only you. You loved the way he pats your head, smiling fondly at your pathetic figure as the unknown knot in your stomach felt like a burning mishmash of nothing but pure pleasure.

“You’ve made a real mess, angel.”

You come down from your cloud when you hear his voice, and that’s the moment you realized what just happened. Your eyes flutter and you can feel your cheek heating your skin as you’re turning your head to be sure that you’ve just ridiculed yourself and you came to the conclusion that yes… You just did.

You return your attention to him and you big round glossy eyes made him smile. A real smile, that time. It was probably fun for him to know that someone from Heaven just did… That.

“You need to clean it, I really hate dirty things.”

You were about to grab the bottom of you dress but he clicks his tongue, making you wince. His thumb found your bottom lips and he strokes it slowly, making you open your mouth like an automatism. Again, he shows you what you have to do only with his gaze.

And you melt. You were totally aware of your actions. Not only you wanted to make him proud, but you also wanted to see his dilated pupils with nothing but that special star in it.

You bow your head at the level of the boot you dirtied and your tongue starts to lick the material, making you taste your own juice. It was like a little voice in your head was asking you to do all these dirty things. But no, let’s be honest, the only reason why you’ve done that is because of Mammon. It was scary enough for you to realize that you wanted it. You felt like you needed to do it.

“I want her.”

Everyone was looking at you hungrily, all the dark eyes were on your back, examining every move you made with a grin. Panicked, you get up suddenly but your shaking legs couldn’t support your body, making you fall on your knees, again, in front of Mammon.

They were mocking you, and that’s the only reason why you felt ashamed. Otherwise, you would have only felt guilty to not be ashamed.

You hadn’t spent an hour in Hell that you were already under the influence of the Fallen Angel’s son. That’s why this place was too dangerous for angels. You were too naive, kind, easily impressionable, and weak to live in a world made of nothing but manipulative creatures.

Lucifer laughs hysterically and all his others creatures did the same. The sound was horrific, scary, the one who wasn’t moving was this beautiful boy that just humiliated you for his own pleasure. He stands up slowly and you can see how tall he looks above you. He holds out his hand to a servant, a boy who seemed pretty young, who rushes to slip an object in it. You can feel a cold metal circling your delicate neck, and you understand that he wrapped a leash around your throat.

They applause loudly and your owner pulls on the leash so you try to stand up for the second time but he shakes his head with a grin.

“Hm, hm. Walk on four legs. The leash isn’t here for nothing.”

You open your mouth but the back of his hand stroke your cheek, again, in the softest way ever. The unpleasant leather material contrasts with the sweetness of his gesture. And you decide to follow him without saying a word.

Under the waves of laughter of the demonic audience, you both leave the room. The younger boy was following you as little whimpers were escaping your mouth due to the pain you were feeling. Your knees were crawling on the ground as Mammon leads you to what you supposed to be his room.

Once you were in it you took your time to observe the room. Unsurprisingly, it was obscure. The walls were painted black, the furnitures were black, the sheets were black. Even the big beautiful chandelier was black, but yet so luminous that it makes everything harmonious. You can even see a black porcelain bathtub in the corner of the room, facing up a huge mirror.

You stay still on the ground but you can see the black-haired boy sitting on his mattress, in front of you. The other boy is still behind you, as if he was watching you so you can’t run away.

“So, what brings you here, angel ?” The demon whispers, his magnetic voice enveloping your spine with countless chills.

“I… I didn’t do anything wrong ! I haven’t been banned from the Heavens ! I… You sigh, looking down while tears could easily be spotted in the corner of your eyes. I was chosen for, you know… The balance of both worlds, Sir.”

You can hear his hums, crossing his legs in the most elegant way. An almost invisible smile was on his lips, again.

“You know you won’t be able to go back to your beloved place, don’t you ? Unless you make me fall for you which is… His laugh was loud enough to dissuade you, well… Impossible.”

The way his voice was suddenly cold scared you. Maybe that stupid rule was only here to allow the angels to keep hope. Even tho everyone knows it was already hopeless for them.

“What’s your name ?” His voice had become soft again and he starts to take off his leather gloves so you can see his beautiful long fingers. His nails were painted in black and he wears no less than ten rings.

“I’m… I’m Y/N, Sir.” You can see him nod, rubbing his hands slowly between them.

“You can call me Hyunjin when it’s only the two of us. Now that you’re mine you know that we have to be intimate, am I wrong ?”

You didn’t know what it really means but you nod. Of course, you’ve heard that in Hell, creatures love to do weird and, well… evil things. They were as wild as the animals. And of course, you couldn’t forget about that rumor that said that they hunt animals for their own pleasure. Or that other rumor saying that sex is an integral part of their lives. You shake your head just thinking about that and that’s when you realize that Hyunjin was standing in front of you with the creepiest smile.

“You’ll be there with me. For the eternity, angel.”

Despite the fact that the whole situation was surreal for you, the fact that Mammon, or Hyunjin, was being what is akin to kindness to you seem… Utterly wrong. Why was he even nice ? And why were his eyes abnormally and horrifically black suddenly ?

—————————————☠︎︎ —————————————

     ━ TAGLIST ; @sailorhyunjinz - @minholuvs - @that-anxious-bisexual - @ohmysparkle - @yuminsung - @minaamhh - @kittykatvenom - @bubblelixie - @imagineinnie - @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot - @etherealeeknow - @linours - @starry-jinnie @p0t4t0don14ll - @straytannies - @binnie-m00n - @formidxble - @skzcvre - @titleisyettobemade - @bythesunnotbythemoon - @nada-disso - @characha - @lizsvcks - @pxnidxjks - @ninjaleeknow - @solistired - @keloiu - @bluesensitivesoul - @pixieskz (if you want to be added to the taglist feel free to send me an ask!)

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #hyunjin x reader #heaven or hell ; the serie

[passp0rtguardian]

Yoo in spirit of that aitober(?) stuff can we get some tomrey? Soda date or something?

Benrey really liked Tommy. Like, really really liked him.

He was like a ray of sun in an ice cold room, gently warming everything around him. Them and Tommy were polar opposites, but somehow got along.

Hell, Tommy liked them. Wanted to be their boyfriend and shit. That thought still made Benrey swoon- so little dates like this sent them over the fucking moon.

Even if it was just drinking soda at a McDonald's. At two in the morning.

Technically it was still a date and they would consider it as such.

It only happened because neither of them could sleep- it was rainy season in New Mexico, and instead of the rain being calming it was just overwhelming them both in the usually quiet bedroom.

So they went and got McDonald's. Well, soda. Neither enjoyed eating right before going to bed- and they were definitely going to crash hard when they got home, now that the rain was letting up to a soft drizzle.

That calm drizzle Tommy and Benrey enjoyed the most.

Benrey sips at their soda - a mishmash of every single soda you can dispense at the McDonald's, which they call a 'Dr Pepper'. Tommy can't help but laugh every time they sip it.

"You- you're really drinking some- a soda like that?" They ask in amusement.

"mmm yeah. why not? 's uhhh. dr pepper, bro." Benrey softly teases Tommy, holding their soda out and shaking it a little. "cmon have a lil sip. just a lil sippy."

Tommy laughs, wrinkling their nose and making a disgusted face. "N-No way! It's like- it's like a potion you make in the bath- bathroom with all the soap!"

Benrey laughs a bit, secretly absolutely swooning over Tommy's disgusted face as they push the straw against his lips. "cmoonnnn. not even gonna try uh, boyfriend benny's secret potion?" The statement just makes Tommy laugh all the more.

"I'm not- I'm not drinking that-! It looks- uh- it looks gross!"

"awww cmon. not even for boyfriend benny? i'll even uhh. give you a lil smooch for your troubles."

"B-Benreyyy-!"

"pleaseee? i'll give you uh- ten smooches for your troubles. try the potionnn."

Tommy seems to give in at that, taking the cup and looking a little hesitant over it. "I feel like you're- you're trying to poison me- this is a sin," he says, taking a sip and thinking for a moment.

"is not a sin. 's uhh, dr pepper bro. how you like it? like benny's potion?" Benrey asks, grin gently ghosting over their face.

Tommy thought for a moment more before looking genuinely surprised. "It's- it's actually, um, not that bad." They admit, a little embarrassed smile on their face now.

God Benrey loved that smile.

Either way, they pump their fist in the air and steal a sip from Tommy's soda to make things even. The McDonald's only had Coke products so it was Sprite- usually he got Pepsi. "oh hell yeah. knew you would uh, like it."

"But the name is- is completely inaccurate! I can luh- mmmm... I can taste actual Dr- Dr Pepper in there, Benrey!" Tommy quickly adds on.

"that's just uhh. mine is just dr pepper ultra. got uhhh. downloads on mine. all the flavors and more."

"That makes no sense- Dr Pepper already has 23 flavors, how can it have-have more?"

"i add more soda to it"

With Benrey's nonchalant statement, Tommy bursts into a flurry of laughter. "You're- you're a dork!" He laughs, playfully punching Benrey's shoulder.

Benrey just smiles. Man, they really loved Tommy.

After their little soda endeavors, the two returned to the car. Gentle rain was still coming down, blanketing New Mexico in a sort of soft, gentle silence.

Tommy pauses a moment to admire the quiet, and Benrey pauses with them, both just staring up at the sky for a moment.

"The rain is- is pretty, huh? Calming, I mean." Tommy finally breaks the silence, seemingly blinking back into reality.

"yeah, it's uhh... it's nice being able to feel the rain." Benrey responds idly, knowing what Tommy means when he says that.

Tommy looks at Benrey for a moment longer before smiling. That gentle smile that makes you feel like a cat laying in a sun spot. "Well- we should uh, go back, sh- shouldn't we?"

Benrey looks back as a small smile tugs at their lips. "yeah. probably uhh, good idea."

#fuck yeah #i love tomrey #hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #half life vr self aware ai #hlvrai benrey #benrey #hlvrai tommy #tommy coolatta #this one was short [sob] #i do like tomrey #comfort ship momence