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popamolly · 2 months

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‘INTERNAL REDEMPTION’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. (y/n) continues to spy on Lucifer, preying on the little vulnerability that allows he allows (y/n) to see. Unbeknownst to both of them there is something blossoming with each conversation and shared stolen glance.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, eventual smut, mention of death, slow burn, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder, slow burn, 18+ minors dni

author’s note. italics is for a flashback, just wanted to let everyone know if that isn’t made clear in the text, i finished this up at like 2am. enjoy sinners <3

Lucifer held you captive with his words for hours. Explaining everything you wanted to know about him and his army of ducks. That wall was slowly crumbling as was his resolve. Though that seemed to be in the back of your mind as you found yourself intrigued by him and his story— ultimately finding out that the King of Hell was actually quite charming in his way.

“So these ducks are a manifestation of sinners,” You look toward him as if to confirm his words and when Lucifer nodded you continued, “Every sinner in Hell? No wonder you have so many.”

“And this isn’t even half of it,” Lucifer smiles proudly as he hops up from his chair, gesturing toward the rubber duck piles that almost reached the ceiling, “There are more at my amusement park.”

“I see, I guess I am just trying to understand why ducks of all things?”

“Spiritual progression? Rebirth? New beginnings?” Lucifer taps his chin in thought before shrugging, “A mere duck can mean a lot of different things that’s why, plus they are cuuuuteee!”

You laugh, a real genuine laugh, which was a sound you haven’t made in a long while. The King wasn’t so bad once you got know him. If anything he was an ideal king that you would read stories about. You wanted nothing more than to listen to him talk for hours more.

“What?” Lucifer got a bit self conscious, realizing that his excitement might have came off a bit nerdy or childish, “It’s silly isn’t it?”

You shake your head to ease his insecurities with a lopsided smile, “No, I just had this version of you in my head and seeing you now, in person..it's completely changed now that I have met you.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.” Lucifer chuckles. He fiddling with the top of his cane as if he was scared to meet your gaze.

“It is.” And for a moment you forgot why you were here. If you had to chose between the V’s and Lucifer when it came to deciding Hell’s fate, Lucifer would win by a landslide— but Lucifer wasn’t the one who owned your soul, “Tell me more about Charlie. Your face lights up whenever you speak of her.”

“She is my pride and joy!” Lucifer boasts proudly, “She has this whole Hotel thing going on apparently. I’ve been poppin’ in here and there to help her ya know, being an awesome dad and whatnot.”

“And what of this hotel?” You ask, leaning a bit closer to Lucifer as if he would tell you a secret, “Does she really believe that she can redeem sinners?”

“Yes, she…she does,” Lucifer sighs after a moment, turning away from you to run his fingers through his golden hair. A heavy weight clearly on his shoulders as he thought of his daughter and her fairytale like dreams for Hell. It hurt his heart to know that he couldn’t do more for her. He knew he could make whatever dream of hers come true except for the one she wanted most. This was a whole other thing entirely. This was something between Hell and Earth and the lines have always been blurred— he would never be able to cross it even he wanted to.

“You don’t sound too sure..” You chose your words carefully. There was a tiny crack in his wall of vulnerability and you wanted to crack it some more, “Do you doubt Charlie?”

“No no no! Pfffft, Of course not!” Lucifer quickly says before sighing in defeat, raking his fingers through his blonde hair, “I don’t doubt her..I just— I don’t think she understands the weight of what she is trying to do. I just l don’t want her to end up hurt over this.”

“If all else fails then she will know that you were there for her,” You say, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly, “All you have to do is believe in her, even if you don’t believe in her dreams.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Lucifer turned to look at you. A split moment in time where the world seemed to stop and it was just you and him. Your words might have came from your own selfish need to stay on Valentino’s good side but your kindness remained true. It became clear to you that the King was nothing more than a prideful man that was trying his best. Not only for his daughter but himself and for Hell. In the short time that you knew him it was something that you quickly learned to admire, “Yes, well,” Lucifer clears his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly under your intense gaze, “Thank you for the company. It was nice to…open up a bit.”

“Of course, your majesty,” You nod, taking that as your cue to leave the King to his Kingly duties as the time you two spent together had made day turn to night in an instant, “I will leave you to your duties.”

“Right! My duties! I am a very very busy man! So many souls to collect, tons of sinners to kill, people to torture, the list just goes on…haha!” Lucifer wanted to jump out of his own skin and slap himself silly. Curse him for his rambling, why did he even feel the need to impress you? A lowly sinner that meant absolutely nothing to him.

“if you ever need a friend or,” Your fingertips grazes the doorknob to his bedchambers with the tray of empty plates in the other arm, “…A listening ear, you always call upon me.” Offering one last smile in the King's direction, you slip out into the hall, closing the door behind you softly.

Lucifer couldn’t help but feel how his room suddenly felt cold now that your warm presence was gone. There was a certain emptiness in the air that reminded him he was truly lonely. \

“So the King of Hell’s daughter wasn’t joking about the redemption of sinners,” Vox sneers over the tiny screen of the voxtech watch he gave you, “And whatever the reason for the Radio Demon to be by Charlie’s side, it surely only benefits him.” The watch screen slightly glitches from Vox laughing, “Redemption of sinners?! How stupid is that?”

“It could be possible,” You say, making the watch on your wrist glitch some more.

“If I wanted your opinion bitch, I would ask for it!” The static noise was starting to ring in your ears, its material overheating in the palm of your hand, “Whatever the case is, I need you sucking Lucifer’s dick by next week if we are going to get any valuable information out of him, do you understand me?”

You bit down on your bottom lip, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes from feeling guilty about getting close to Lucifer under such circumstances. Your paths should have never even crossed. You both might be in hell but you were in entirely different worlds. There was this unspoken connection you two shared the moment your eyes met and it was just enough to get the guilt eating away at you.

“Or do I have to tell Valentino that his favorite obedient girl is being defiant?”

“No, I—”

“Good, I’m so glad we have an understanding. Now go get me some actually good information I can fucking use!” With that Vox hung up the call, making you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. You toss the watch to the floor angrily, dropping your head into your hands. This was all just a stupid pointless mission. One that had no satisfying end or results because there was nothing to say. There was nothing to report back. The King, Charlie, and those around him was plotting to do more good than harm.

You leaned over to turn the faucet off, stopping the hot water from filling the porcelain tub completely after nearly overflowing it from being too lost in your thoughts.

Slowly, you began to slip out of your clothes, neatly folding them and putting them aside before stepping into the hot water, the stinging pain hardly anything you would flinch from. That stinging pain felt good, it reminded you that you were present in the moment even when you wanted nothing more than to just to disappear.

Closing your eyes to relax, you sink deeper and deeper into the water until you felt your mind slowly drift elsewhere.

With a melodic hum, you turned the page to your book, intrigued by the ancient text and words of God. Surrounding you were scrolls and other relics that you stole from the council’s library, eager to learn more about God and his mysterious ways. It was all you could do in Heaven after all, live blissfully but you were bored of that. Instead of thriving off the golden city’s pleasures you always found your head in a book, a simply pleasure that you’ve grown to love.

“Boo!” Lucifer suddenly pops down in front of you. Startled, you toss your book up, which he catches with ease, “What ya reading?”

“God’s texts Lulu, what else?” You try to grab your book from him but he holds it above your head, slowly inching upward with the help of his wings to show that he was taller than you. He wasn’t but you’d like to humor him every now and again, “Lucifer! Give it back!”

“Wouldn’t you much rather see the gift I brought you instead of reading a boring book?” Lucifer wiggled his eyebrows in jest, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“A Gift?” You stopped jumping for your book then, your wings tucked back into you with a curious glint in your eyes. Lucifer gave dramatic pause before presenting you a green apple. He tossed it to you and you caught it in your delicate hands, smiling at the kind gesture. “An apple, how romantic.”

“Is it not to your liking?” Lucifer played along with your teasing remark, circling around you as he playfully grabs and twist your hair around his fingers in such a loving way that it had your heartbeat quickening and you breath falling short, "I thought I'd give you something a little bit more nontraditional."

It took everything in your power not to swoon over a damn apple because it wasn't just an apple to you. Lucifer would go out of his way to bring you things whenever you two would meet up at your secret spot under a new sprouting tree. There was something sparking between you two and you weren't sure how long you would be able to avoid it as you were a hopeless romantic. Lucifer had such a way with words that whenever he spoke it was if he was building palaces- cathedrals even. Between that and that charming warm smile, you knew you wouldn't be able to deny your feelings for much longer but until he admitted it first you weren't going to say anything. Call it stubbornness but you simply didn't want to be mistaken and absolutely sure that your feelings for him were one hundred percent reciprocated.

"Next time get a red apple," You said, finding that hidden resolve within you once again as you smirked at him, "They're sweeter."

"Are they now?" Lucifer stopped circling you to stand only inches apart from your face. He was so close that you could feel his breath against your lips. A ball of anticipation formed at the base of your stomach, making you feel as though you have swallowed butterflies, "(Y/N).." The angel in front of you swallowed a lump in his throat, his own body betraying him as he backs you up against the tree, lips only barely touching one another, "Can I kiss you?"

You were breathless. Lucifer had officially sucked out all the air from your lungs- or so it felt like, "Yes." And with your consent, Lucifer crashed his lips to yours passionately. He invaded your mouth and all of your senses. You melted into him, relaxing against his body as you brought your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. It was as if fireworks went off in your head. Even the sound of distant ringing of the bells had you questioning if it was truly meant to be.

You suddenly pulled away from Lucifer, "Bells.."

Lucifer blinks at you dreamily, "You hear them too? It's perfect."

"No, Lucifer, the bells! I'm late for afternoon prayer!" You shove him out the way and continue collecting your things. You have been late to afternoon prayer for the past two weeks and were already walking on a thin line with the Seraphims, you couldn't afford to be late again, "I have to go."

Lucifer pulls you back to him with a slight frown, "So soon? But this might be our last time together for awhile. I have that council meeting today."

"For what? Don't tell me this about your dreams and aspirations?" By the way Lucifer looked away from you you knew it was exactly that, "You can't bring that to the council members, they will see it as a threat to everything they have built."

"And have you ever asked yourself why that is? They should embrace change, not run away from it." Lucifer says, his facial expression serious, "I can prove to them that change is positive, something good!"

You shake your head, "Don't be a fool Lucifer."

"Why can't you just support this? Support me? Is change so bad?!"

"If it's going to cost you your life Lucifer, then I can't support it." You place your free hand on his check. The pad of your thumb grazing his soft skin comfortingly, "I won't support you in this."

Silence falls over you two and for a moment you thought that your friend had finally seen through to reason but it was the exact opposite. Your heart broke and you knew that your support was the one thing he ever wanted from you and you denied him that. There was this quiet heartbreak you felt in your chest, realizing that you had lost not only your lover but your friend as well.

Lucifer's hand comes up to grip your wrist, gently pulling you away from him, "With or without you, I will do this. I will show them. Show everyone." You could only watch as he turns from you and flies away, leaving you to be covered by his shadow and retreating back.

"That pride of yours," You whispered, hands clenched tightly into fist at your sides as you felt tears leave your eyes, "Will be your downfall, Lucifer."

You sat up in the water suddenly, gasping for air as you felt someone violently shake you. You sputtered and coughed up what felt like a lung, water trickled down and into your eyes making your vision blurry for a few seconds before you could blink them away to focus on the person who was kneeled next to the tub, concerned clearly etched across their face as they looked at you. You blinked away the water, the blurry figure now forming into none other than Lysandra.

"Goodness, dear! Do you know how dangerous it is to fall asleep in the bath?" Rushing to grab a towel that was hanging on a rack, Lysandra lets you put all of your weight on her as she helps you out the tub, wrapping the fuzzy warm towel around your nude body, "You're lucky I saw the water coming from under the door! What on earth were you thinking?" "I had the strangest dream.." You start to say, breathless and panting but Lysandra shushes you, helping you dry off and get warm as she leads you out the bathroom, fully intending on not leaving your side for the rest of the night.

"Hush, your mind must be in shambles poor thing," The elderly woman leads you back into your bedroom, "A nice cup of calming tea should do the trick. Now stay here and don't move."

You were still in shock to even register your current reality anymore. That dream you had felt too real, almost as if it had just happened. Why was Lucifer in it? Why were you an Angel? Why were you in heaven? You dismissed it as nothing more than your mind playing tricks on you. This only happened because of your growing connection to Lucifer. It was nothing of importance right? Dreams come from imagination- but there was a part of your mind that knew that dreams could also stem from memories.

@pyromaniac-on-caffeine @froggybich @punching-pentagrams @elleofdragons @futureittomainn @cryptidghostgirl @yelinmarceline @sunnydays-funnydays @theperfectmangovoid @ag-cookiebat800 @lil-bexie @haunt3ddo0ll @hamthepan @delightedtosee @astarionsjuiceboxgirl @fanfictionfans-stuff @hannahrose130

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joelswritingmistress · 5 months

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You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 1

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Eventually Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Abnormal Psychology. It was among the final requirements to successfully complete the Master's Degree I had been working on for nearly two-and-half years.

Slow and steady wins the race. It was a common mantra that I continually used to motivate and justify the turtle-like pace of my educational progress. Working full time and refusing to take online courses were the two main factors contributing to the prolonged nature of my tenure at Woodbridge University. I had nothing against online learning. It just simply wasn't for me. Call me a geek but I genuinely enjoyed the classic classroom setting.

It was mid January. The younger generation of college students were loathing their frigid trek to whatever night classes they had been forced into signing up for the semester before. It was an assumption; though I had been there, done that. I knew what they were feeling on that first night of spring semester classes. As an adult, my feelings had transformed. I was eager.

The seventy-thirty class began right on time and I could still taste the dinner on my breath that I had hurried to inhale in the car on my ride in. The thought exited my mind as quickly as it had entered when the professor walked in, promptly shutting the oversized mahogany door behind him and locking it.

The click echoed off the walls of the stadium-style auditorium and everyone appeared to freeze where they sat. No professor in all of my graduate or undergraduate studies had ever locked the door.

What if there's a fire? That was my first, anxious thought. Again, it swiftly floated away when the finely-dressed stranger before us began to speak. His voice was deep; a bit scratchy. It felt like his vocal chords were made to narrate one of those Planet Earth shows.

"I'm sure you all know by now my name is Dr. Miller. If you didn't know at least that much by now.." He paused as he sat down on the edge of an oversized, wooden desk centered perfectly at the head of the room and removed a pair of glasses. ".. I'd have to wonder how the fuck you made it this far in your education."

My eyebrows lifted at his casual use of profanity in the first introductory sentence. I looked to my left and right, as most of the others in the class did, and amongst the silence there were a few stray chuckles that tested out the room's acoustics.

When I looked back, Dr. Miller was smirking. "Well that woke you up, didn't it?" He rose to his feet again and put his hands out to the sides. "Look.. I know you're all working. Maybe some of you have families. Maybe not. It's seven-thirty at night and you'd probably rather be getting ready to watch The Bachelor with a glass of wine."

There was more collective laughter now and his eyes scanned the room, both amused and almost as if they were searching to see who was smiling and who was still cautious. There was a genuine, curious nature to the way his eyes danced over the crowd.

"This class will be worth your while," he went on. "You're here for a reason and I intend to pump those big brains of yours with all the information I can." Dr. Miller smiled wider now, highlighting a pair of boyish dimples beneath a trim, salt and pepper beard, "Welcome to Abnormal Psychology."

He sure knew how to captivate an audience. The delivery of the first bout of information had me laughing, pondering answers to questions I never would have thought of and desperately scribbling notes down in my yellow, ninety-eight cent notebook as the class progressed.

I was so interested and so intrigued that I hadn't realized that class was on the verge of concluding until Dr. Miller uttered his words of departure. "I'll see you next class."

And just like that, the first Abnormal Psychology class had ended. I sat there for several seconds before rising to my feet, slinging my backpack over one shoulder and then gave a generous stretch toward the ceiling before beginning my slow climb down the wide, oversized steps.

Half of the class had piled out by the time I reached the ground level. I passed by Dr. Miller and, for some reason, didn't have the confidence to look in his direction.

"So, what'd you think? Hooked yet?" His voice cut through the air and more or less grabbed me and spun me around in his direction. I didn't even know if he was speaking to me until our eyes locked.

"Me?" I glanced over my shoulder - another habit that highlighted my inner insecurities. When I saw his smirk, an expression that I knew held all kinds of unspoken wit behind it, I decided to respond. "Yeah."

Say something else. I couldn't think. I never did well with being put on the spot. Still, I was eager to maintain a conversation.

"I'm really interested in Abnormal Psych. I've been looking forward to this class since I started my Master's."

"The delivery.." he went on, "What did you think? Too much?"

"Just right," I responded too coolly. I almost impressed myself. A red blush filtered into my cheeks and the nervous laugh I let out killed any type of confidence I appeared to have going for me.

Dr. Miller smiled and right then I decided that I thought he was handsome. Crimson filled my cheeks a little deeper and I glanced up toward the few stragglers who were still getting their things together halfway up into the seating area. It was my only means of a quick distraction before I turned back to face my new, slightly unorthodox professor.

He hadn't looked away, and I swallowed hard. "Thanks.." It was all I could manage and I gave a fleeting wave before heading out into the hallway.

It was as if I was reentering the world after being put in a trance for two hours.

On the drive home I wondered if anyone else had felt the same effects that I had. Were the other students in my class still thinking about the class like I was? Did they find Dr. Miller to be the perfect combination of intelligent and.. cool? Was cool even the right word?

Smooth, I corrected the description in my mind and then immediately shook my head. What was I even thinking about? I had known the man for two hours.. two.. and here I was passing judgment as if he we had been in each other's company for an appropriate amount of time to match my opinion.

In my final conscious, cognitive thoughts of the night I, again, reflected back on the fascinating opener of Abnormal Psychology and the riveting professor that taught it. No class I had ever taken was ever interesting enough to consume my final thoughts of the day.

Even less, they never made it into my nightly dreamscapes or nightmares. That night, the images that danced their way into the multiple cortexes of my brain where dreams were concocted were a troubling combination of both.

I heard Dr. Miller's indistinguishable voice narrating the ordeal as I was lost in a forest. A sea of fog swallowed me whole though somehow I knew I was visible to something that was out there. It was haunting. I could not pinpoint what my professor’s role actually entailed. Was he trying to guide me? Hurt me? Lead me away from whatever dangers lurked?

It felt all-too-real when his hands clamped down on my shoulders, finally revealing his presence. I couldn't see his face, though I knew the pair of hands belonged to Dr. Miller.

My overemphasized gasp bridged the realms of dream and reality, and I sat up in bed, a cold sweat coating my body as my mind struggled to recognize my immediate surroundings.

“What the fuck..” I whispered to myself, eyeing the red numbers on the digital clock on my nightstand.

3:37. I sighed and laid back down eying the ceiling fan that swirled in circles around me. Yes, I was one of those people who still needed a fan to sleep in the middle of winter.

I closed my eyes again and it was like coming down off a high. Adrenaline made the thud of my pulse pound in my ears, as if actual quarter-sized drums had been implanted there. In that early morning hour my heart palpitated. Half of it was what I could only interpret as misplaced desire. The other half was outright fear. I never fell back asleep.

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years

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Coming Home - Bonus Chapter 2 - Lucien’s Cottage

Lucien x Reader

Okay, I got a tad carried away with with this 🤣 but who cares, it’s Lucien content 🤷🏻‍♀️

The story of how Y/N and Lucien met while she was travelling. Enjoy!

If you missed the other bonus chapter, you can read it here!

Warnings: SMUT. SMUT. SMUT. 🌶️

⧪

It felt like you’d been walking for days upon days upon days.

You didn’t know how mortals did it – how they could stand such slow, dragging journeys on foot.

The Wall surely had to be close by now, if you’d calculated correctly. And stupidly, you’d winnowed so much that your magic reserves were depleted, useless until you stopped to rest. So you had nothing but your feet to carry you to the Spring Court border and beyond.

After the first hour of walking, you were sick of your own thoughts. Tired from days of travel and not much sleep. The weapons you carried on you felt heavier than they normally did.

The only indication that you’d crossed over into Spring was the lush green of the forest you found yourself in – so rich, vibrant, with sweet-smelling flowers and petals and leaves of every shade you could think of. You’d never visited the Spring Court before – never had a particular desire to, after what its High Lord and his sons had done to you – but it was a well known fact that its gardens and landscapes were second to none.

Still, you didn’t plan to stick around in a place where such poison had lived and breathed – the main reason you’d not stopped to rest. Just get to The Wall. Get to The Wall, and cross over into the mortal lands, and then you can find an inn and sleep for as long as you damn well please.

For all the woods, and the sprawling estates they bordered, were beautiful, the sky wasn’t the spring blue that you’d hoped for to make your journey that bit easier. Dark, angry clouds had begun to crowd the sky, painting it with darkness. It made the towering trees feel slightly ominous.

You relented, eventually, and stopped – embarrassingly worn out for a High Fae who should have been able to walk to the ends of the world. But your body was begging for rest – just a small sit-down, you promised yourself – and that was how you found yourself kneeling on a riverbank, dipping your hands into the crystal clear water.

You drank greedily – hadn’t even noticed quite how badly you’d needed it, until the cool water ran down your throat in such a satisfying, glorious way. You used it to scrub dirt and sweat from your face, and savoured the feeling of clarity that washed over you, basked in it–

Perhaps that was why you hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps until they were right behind you.

No, not footsteps. The rhythmic clopping of a horse’s hooves. You turned just slightly, threw a glance over your shoulder.

The male astride the horse was nothing short of a magnificent vision.

Bright red hair that could have given any of these spring flowers a run for their money. Golden skin that seemed to glint and glow, and deep, russet eyes–

No – only one russet eye. The left side of his face was brutally marred, a pink, jagged scar cutting through where his left eye should have been, but had been replaced by a gold, metal one that seemed to move of its own accord as he studied you. The scar seemed fairly recent – even with the brilliant magic of fae healing. With your knowledge of healing, you suspected he’d only received the injury anywhere from a matter of months to a year or so ago.

Stunning. He was stunning.

He took in the sight of you on that riverbank, his thick, defined brows furrowing.

“Can I be of some assistance, lady?” He asked.

“Nope.” You stood up, dusting dirt and leaves from your breeches. “Unless you can tell me how close I am to The Wall.”

He cocked an eyebrow, as if such a question surprised him. “I’d say about a day away – on foot. On a good day.” He glanced up at the sky. “But there’s a storm approaching.”

You swore under your breath, reaching for the small bag you carried with you. You’d thought you’d made more progress than that. Walking was so fucking mind-numbing.

“Dare I ask why a beautiful lady such as yourself is travelling alone in the woods – towards The Wall?” The male asked, rubbing the neck of his white horse as it moved restlessly.

“I’m going to the mortal lands.” You shrugged. “But thank you – for the compliment. I’m honoured that a stranger deems me too beautiful to travel alone.”

He stared at you – and snorted at the sarcasm dripping from your tone. It was as you approached him that you got a better look at him, although the light was rapidly fading with the gathering storm.

But you’d know those famous features anywhere – silky red hair, russet eyes…you didn’t know why you hadn’t clocked it straight away.

“You’re a Vanserra, aren’t you?” You said.

“I am…” He eyed you with a lick of suspicion. “Do we know each other?”

“No. But I am curious to know what a Vanserra is doing across the Spring border.”

“What are you doing across the Spring border?”

“As I said.” You breezed past him, patting his horse as you passed. “I’m travelling to The Wall.”

That perfectly arched eyebrow cocked again. “Not any time soon, you’re not. With the torrential rain that’s coming, you’ll barely be able to see your own hand in front of your face.”

You wanted to throw your head back and let out an infantile groan – but no way would you do so in front of a Vanserra. The males of the Autumn Court were notoriously smooth, dripping with charisma. And though they didn’t exactly have a good history with your own court, you didn’t plan to embarrass yourself in front of the glorious male before you.

“It doesn’t storm here very often.” He said, eyeing you. “But when it does, it’s relentless. There’s no way you’ll be able to travel through it.”

“Fantastic.” You sighed. “I guess I’m finding a tree to shelter under for the night.”

“That’s absurd – you won’t be any better off.”

“Yes, well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t have a pretty horse to gallop me away like you do, so…”

Your words trailed off as he rolled his eyes – and jumped down from the horse. The sculpt of his muscles pressed through the material of his tunic and breeches as he moved towards you, holding out a hand.

“What are you doing?” You stepped back.

“Helping you up.” He said. “There’s an old cottage not too far from here that I was going to shelter in until the storm passed. You’ll be far more comfortable there.”

You studied him, narrowing your eyes. Clearly, he couldn’t possibly know who you were – the High Lord of the Night Court’s sister – or he no doubt would have left you to get soaked and battered by the storm. But you’d learned to be cautious of everyone you’d met on the road, learned to question their intentions–

And with the reputation of the Vanserras…

“And why would you help me?” You asked, folding your arms. “We’re strangers.”

“Perhaps I have a soft spot for pretty ladies with mud and leaves in their hair.”

Your cheeks burned. But before you could reach up and tug your fingers through the knotted strands, he was lifting you into his arms with barely a blink, and you yelped as he set you atop the horse.

“Hold on.” He murmured as he settled behind you, the heat of his body pressing through your tunic. He grabbed your hands, closing them around the reins, and with a gentle command to his horse, you were moving.

“My name is Lucien, by the way.”

⧪

What Lucien Vanserra had failed to mention was that the old cottage was, in fact, an ancient, decrepit, crumbling cottage that couldn’t be much more secure than any tree you would have found to shelter you.

There was hardly anything in there, aside from a few scattered bits of wooden furniture and a soot-sodden hearth. You watched as Lucien trudged in with a pile of wood in his arms, and knelt down before the hearth. With a flick of his hand, a fire had roared to life.

Autumn Court magic. It was rather breathtaking up-close.

“Are you sure this place is secure?” You folded your arms around yourself, studying the cramped area from where you hovered in the doorway. “It doesn’t look like it could weather a storm.”

“Sturdier than it looks.” Lucien glanced at you over his shoulder, his red, silken hair rippling with his movement. “And you’d be more comfortable than you look, if you sat down. You don’t need to worry, lady – I’ve sheltered here before.”

You hesitated – not that you were actually considering running back out into the torrential downpour that had started just as you’d arrived, but because you couldn’t help being suspicious of his goodwill. He had the smooth lexis of a Vanserra, undoubtedly – you could understand why so many males and females alike seemed to worship the Autumn males. But from experience – from what you knew about Eris Vanserra’s behaviour towards your own cousin – you didn’t imagine Lucien was offering you shelter without expecting something in return.

Slowly, you inched over to a small wooden table and perched yourself atop of it. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Lucien rose from the hearth, his back muscles rippling through his white tunic. He rolled the sleeves up as he turned to you. “Which question would that be?”

“I asked what an Autumn Court male was doing across the Spring border.”

“Ah – that.” He strode across the room, rifling through a leather satchel that he’d unstrapped from his horse.

You couldn’t help watching him – admiring him. The growing flames in the hearth seemed to offset the gold of his skin and make it glow, make the corded muscles of his arms visible underneath those rolled-up sleeves.

Something about them – watching them flex and shift with his movements – made you squeeze your legs together.

You’d definitely been on the road too long.

“A Vanserra I may be,” He eventually said, turning back round to face you. “But I’m no longer a part of the Autumn Court. I’m emissary to the Spring Court now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You switched sides? Very scandalous.”

“I have a…strained relationship with my family. Namely my father.”

“Snap. My father was a prick.”

“Oh? Which court do you belong to?”

Many, many times, you’d been asked that question since you’d left Velaris. People were naturally suspicious of an outsider journeying through their lands, and you’d had a run-in with so many guards, Rhys would go spare if he knew.

But you’d managed to avoid answering – to keep your anonymity, lest anyone tip your family off to where you were. Or use you to get to them. When you were nameless, boring, the other courts saw no reason to bother with you; no reason to view you as anything other than a restless young female living a nomadic lifestyle.

You weren’t about to falter now – particularly not in the Spring Court, of all places. Just in case High Lord Tamlin learned of your presence in his lands and came to finish off what his father had started.

So you simply smiled at Lucien. Told him, “I belong to no one.”

He raised an eyebrow, dragging a chair closer and perching backwards on it. “You must hail from somewhere.”

“Must I?”

He stared at you over the back of his chair, folding his forearms against it. The breeches cut close to his legs as they hung either-side. Muscled. Thick. You wondered what they looked like beneath the material.

His gaze was…a combination of different things. Narrowed, like he was trying to puzzle you out and finding it annoying, but also amused, and – and wild. Calculating. Like he was sizing up a challenge. One side of his mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Who are you?” He seemed desperate for the answer.

You shrugged. Casual. Nonchalant. “My name is Y/N.”

“And your family name?”

“Is irrelevant.” You jumped from the table, moving closer to the fire.

His eyes followed every one of your movements. “Is that all I get?”

“Yep.”

A deep, silky laugh rumbled from his chest, the sound of it reaching out to you, caressing your skin that felt like it was already freezing. It was a pleasant sound; warm and sensual. Intriguing.

“Okay.” He murmured, standing from the chair. “In that case, would you like a drink? It’ll help you to forget that you’re cold, if nothing else.”

You rounded on him, shot him that same, close-lipped smile. “A drink sounds wonderful.”

⧪

He’d been right – the rain was coming down, vicious and hard.

Hard enough that it sounded like rocks slamming against the roof. But with the whiskey that was warming your belly, it became nothing but background noise. And the combination of intoxication, and the roaring fire, meant that you barely noticed the cold, either.

Lucien was interesting. Perhaps one of the most interesting people you’d met while travelling – or ever, really. He’d done some travelling himself, having never had any interest in being High Lord of the Autumn Court. He’d coasted from place to place and made friends with people who were supposed to be enemies.

The two of you had taken to sitting on the floor beside the hearth, and you drank – and drank, and drank, and drank, – as he regaled you with tales of his adventures and troubles he’d gotten himself into – and out of. After an hour, it felt like you were talking to an old friend.

You were still laughing at his latest story as he handed you the bottle of whiskey you’d been passing back and forth. Your hands briefly brushed as you accepted it, and he sat back, leaning on his palms as he watched you take a swig.

“You said you’re going to the mortal lands?” He tilted his head. He’d loosely tied his hair back with a leather thong, but strands had already begun to fall around his face again. “Whatever for?”

You shrugged, savouring the muted burn of the alcohol as you swallowed. “I said I wanted to see the world, and I meant it. I want to see all of it. And I have no issue with mortals. The idea of living amongst them, seeing their ways, interests me.”

“They’ll have an issue with you. They hate our kind. They won’t want you there.”

“Well.” You smiled. Took another swig. “I’m well-versed in being unwanted.”

That smouldering, russet stare zeroed in on you, the metal eye moving down your body and back up. The expression on his face – the one of intrigue, of challenge – had only strengthened with each topic of conversation you’d got through. You could practically feel the frustration dripping from him. The need to break through your guard.

“Tell me about you.” He said – not for the first time. He prised the bottle from your hands, taking a swig.

“I told you already.” You smiled. “I’ve lived a sheltered life and I’m ready to see more. Which is why I’m travelling.”

“But there’s more to tell.”

“Of course.” You laughed softly. “Isn’t there always? But why should I tell a stranger such things?”

He smirked. “I’d quite like to know who I’ve offered to shelter with for the night. For all I know, you’ll stab me through the heart as soon as I’m asleep.”

“Well.” You scooted closer. Closer. Until your knees touched. You took the bottle from him, lifting it to your lips. “There’s a solution for that.”

His eyes fell to your mouth. “What’s the solution?”

“Neither of us sleep. And I won’t stab you, and you won’t stab me.”

He snorted. “And how do you suggest, lady, that we wile away the hours whilst the storm rages outside?”

It was you staring at his mouth, then. The way one side of his lips lifted into a lopsided grin, or a sensual smirk, was something that had been slowly driving you mad and heating you all over since you’d sat down together.

You knew precisely how you wished to wile away the gods-damn hours. How you wished to keep warm.

You pushed up onto your knees, so much closer to him like this. Close enough that you could smell the whiskey on him. “You tell me, Vanserra.”

His head tilted. “Well…you could tell me more about who you are. Where you’ve been. What makes you…”

His words trailed off as your fingers brushed his leg. His gaze fell, watching as you danced your hand over his knee, and slowly, slowly up, over his thigh.

“Hmm?” You hummed, coaxing his eyes back to yours. So near – your fingers were so, so near to his crotch. “What makes me what?”

He cleared his throat. Swallowed. “...What makes you…uh…tick. Or…or what interests you.”

“I could.” You nodded, stilling your hand. “I could take my hand off you right now and tell you all the boring ins and outs of my life – if that’s what you want.”

“No.”

The word was almost a snarl. You laughed breathily, your fingers climbing up his leg once more.

“So just to clarify,” You mused. “You don’t want me to stop touching–”

There was no chance to finish the sentence as Lucien surged forward and claimed your mouth in a hungry kiss. His large, warm hand cupped the back of your head, fingers slipping through the strands of your hair. He pulled you closer, nipping your bottom lip.

The pleasant pinch of pain had you gasping – and opening up to him. He slid his tongue into your mouth, invading you with his smoky taste of whiskey and fire. While your hand continued to stroke up his leg, you moved the other to his shirt, fisting the fabric.

“So,” You pulled away just slightly, breathing against his lips, “You want me to touch you?”

That russet eye flared. “I think I may die if you don’t.”

You laughed softly – and pulled away as he tried to slide his lips over yours again. You were faster than him, instead place a kiss to his jaw, and then his neck, and then against the small strip of his skin that poked out from beneath his crumpled white shirt.

“I want this off.” You murmured, unfastening the buttons. You practically yanked the shirt down his arms, baring his firm, muscled chest and stomach.

He shivered as you touched a hand to his chest – and yet his skin was so gloriously warm. You wondered if fire truly lived inside of him, if Autumn Court magic was an inferno in the veins of the Vanserras.

If he was shuddering, in fact, from your touch, rather than the cold.

You dipped your head, licking a stripe across his pectoral muscles, and you felt him jerk just slightly beneath you, hissing between his teeth.

“A tad sensitive, aren’t you?” You chuckled, dragging your tongue lower. Over his stomach, all the dips and lines there.

Lucien bit down on his lip, watching you intently. “It’s kind of hard not to be with a pretty lady licking me.”

“The pretty lady can stop if it’s too much for you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

As if to push his point, he bucked his hips – and you smirked. You locked your eyes with his as you undid the buttons fastening his breeches. Your movements were slow, unhurried, as you tugged them down.

The length of him sprung free. Hard. Taught. Thick and long.

“Lucien Vanserra,” Your voice was a teasing lilt as you dipped your head, blowing a breath against the head of his cock. “Is there a part of you that isn’t beautiful?”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he seemed to be incapable of an answer as you poked out your tongue and slowly, slowly, allowed it to touch the very tip of his cock.

“Gods.” He gritted his teeth, his hips jerking. In an attempt to steady himself, he slammed a hand down on the floor – and sent the bottle of whiskey flying.

Neither of you paid it any mind as the liquid sloshed onto the ground.

“Very sensitive, indeed.” You hummed. And took him into your mouth.

The groan that ripped through his throat was animalistic. His other hand landed on the back of your head, twisting within your hair as you took him in further, further, until the head of his cock touched the back of your throat.

“Oh fuck.” He hissed. “I am not going to last.”

Your answering chuckle was a delicious vibration as you slowly moved up again, tracing your tongue over the bold, sensitive vein that seemed to already be pulsing and throbbing. You wrapped your hand around the base of him and returned your attention to the head, where you swirled your tongue, and put the slightest of pressures on the little indentation just beneath. Lucien’s head fell back, a moan and a string of curses falling from his lips.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He gasped.

“Right there?” You smirked, pressing your tongue against the indentation again.

“You have no idea—gods.” His hips bucked once, twice, and then he was spilling into your mouth, his groans and growls utterly feral, guttural.

You swallowed every drop of him, allowing him to take the reins as he gripped onto your hair and fucked into your mouth, the waves of his release barreling through him with such force, he trembled. His cock was still twitching, his breaths heaving, as he pulled out of your mouth and stared at you.

“Who are you?” He breathed, repeating his earlier words. “The fucking Mother must have sent you to me.”

You snorted. “Well that was fun.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “If you think I’m done with you yet, you’re very much mistaken. I can smell how wet you are from here.”

Oh. You didn’t doubt he could. You were dripping in your underwear, clenching your thighs together for any little, pathetic bit of friction. Lucien smirked wickedly at you.

“Your turn, lady.”

You let yourself fall back, and you were tingling all over as he moved to hover over you. Each bit of clothing he removed was replaced with the brushing off his lips – over your breasts, your nipples, your stomach, as he pulled your shirt off and threw it aside. The cold air immediately made your nibbles pebble, and you felt him smirk against you, his teeth grazing the sensitive nubs.

He was hardening against you already. You reached down, wanting to feel him again, to hear those delicious noises–

“Uh-uh, not yet.” He chuckled deeply, his lips brushing over your navel. “I want to have some fun with you first.”

Any response you could come up with completely eddied from your mind as he yanked your breeches and underwear down in one go – fabric ripping and buttons flying everywhere.

“Oops.” He murmured, chucking them behind him. “Sorry.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as the cold air hit your now-exposed centre. “You don’t sound very—oh gods.”

He didn’t hesitate – not for a second. His breath was warm against you, wayward strands of his hair tickling your skin as he dipped his head.

And licked a strip right up your centre.

You immediately fisted those strands of hair within your hands, tugging just slightly. Your hips bucked as his tongue slowly licked up, up towards your clit.

“Who’s the sensitive one now?” Lucien chuckled deeply, and the sound was pure, molten lava that spread through you and licked its way over your body.

His tongue swirled your clit, the tip of it flicking right over that hyper-sensitive spot. You were gasping, writhing, your head falling back and your back arching.

“Oh fuck.” If this was what a Vanserra could do with his mouth, you wanted all of them, at once, immediately. You bucked your hips towards him, a moan ripping through you as he sucked on your clit – and inserted a finger into you. “Gods–Lucien.”

You were gonna cum—and fall off the world, and not stop falling. There wasn’t a part of you that didn’t feel perfect, and ecstatic, and like lightning all over–

But then he just stopped. Pulled his finger out of you. Slid his mouth off you.

You yanked your head up from the floor, a whine of pure desperation escaping you as you met his eyes.

Lucien was smirking down at you. Fisting at his cock. He pumped it once, twice, and lined it up with your centre.

“As much as I want to taste you cumming on my tongue,” He said wickedly. “I think I want you to cum on my cock more.”

A rasp escaped you as you felt the head of his cock press against your entrance. “Why can’t it be both?”

He chuckled. “We have all night.”

And then he pushed into you.

In, and in, and in. It was never-ending, that feeling. The feeling of being stretched, and filled, and torn apart and put back together again.

Lucien’s mouth fell open, a breath falling from his lips as he glanced down, his brow furrowed in full concentration – and desire – as he watched himself push into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He hissed. He stilled, just for a moment – just to give you a chance to adjust. Because you were tight; tight all over. You grabbed his hand and moved it to your breast, and he squeezed.

And then he pulled back out of you. And slammed back in, right to the hilt.

The noise was like no other you’d ever made in your life. Your head fell back, and your mouth opened with a string of moans. Never had you sounded so consumed, so sultry and raspy and sexy.

And it seemed to be driving Lucien Vanserra wild.

His thrusts were hard and fast, relentless and frenzied, as he slammed into you. You could have sworn you felt it – him – in every part of your body. Could have sworn you just about died as he kissed you, and moaned into your mouth.

You moved one hand to his perfectly sculpted ass, encouraging his thrusts. His lips latched onto your neck as his pace picked up – more and more and more, until you could feel yourself beginning to crumble.

“Fuck,” Lucien choked, slamming his hand against the floor – giving himself more purchase to thrust harder, faster. “Cum, Y/N—I can feel you clenching around my cock.”

And gods, you were. Clenching and writhing and completely falling apart. It was too much, too good–

You broke completely when he reached down and pressed a thumb to your clit. That was all it took.

Release barreled through you, so ferocious that you couldn’t form any words – only moan after moan after moan, and you were shaking, gripping and scratching at Lucien’s skin.

You dug your nails in – hard. And Lucien thrust in once more. He went rigid against you as an animalistic growl rumbled out of him.

“Gods…Holy fucking Gods.” He gasped, spilling and spilling and spilling into you. He was twitching inside you, and shaking against you, his hands hard and bruising on your thighs, your hips.

You could only stare up at him. Try to catch your breath. But you were spent. Truly and utterly fucked out. If your eyes were as glazed and cheeks as flushed as his were, you wouldn’t be at all surprised.

“Gods.” He said again, and pulled out of you with a shudder. “That was…gods.”

“Yes.” You whispered breathlessly. “Gods.”

The cottage was suddenly silent – aside from that hammering rain, and the heavy breathing coming from both of you. Lucien sat back, his golden cheeks a rosy pink. He seemed stunned by the force of his own release.

You turned your head to look at him from where you still lay on the floor, and you smirked.

“This was a much better idea than sheltering under a tree.”

⧪

You awoke to sunlight streaming through the dirty windows.

The sky outside was a cerulean blue — the storm well and truly passed.

You were achy from a night sleeping – and fucking – on a hard floor…but the ache was satisfying. Pleasant.

You rolled over to find Lucien still asleep beside you, beautiful and unguarded. His red hair had completely broken from the knot he tied it into, and it splayed around him like flames. A sudden urge rose in you to reach out and touch it. To trace your fingers over his brow and across the jagged line of his scar.

But you simply watched for a while. Last night was the first time in a long, long time you’d felt so good. So…wanted.

And because of a fucking Vanserra, of all the males in Prythian. The thought made you snort. If Rhys knew about this—or Cassian or Azriel—

No. You couldn’t think about them. Couldn’t let yourself get off course, just because of one night of incredible, earth-shattering pleasure. You needed to get back on track and complete your journey to The Wall. You could be in the mortal lands by night time.

You rose from your spot, moving carefully and silently as you stepped around Lucien’s sleeping figure and retrieved your clothes. A tad dirty and ripped, but you could make do until you got to the other side of The Wall.

You dressed quickly, and then grabbed your bag that sat beside Lucien’s leather satchel. You threw one glance back at him before you headed to the door.

You’d barely set a foot out of it before you heard a rustle behind you.

“You’re leaving?” Lucien croaked, his voice heavy with sleep.

“I want to get to The Wall before it gets too dark.” You told him. “But thank you—for helping me. For offering me shelter. And for…”

“The ground-breaking orgasms?” He propped himself up on his elbow. Gazed at you. “Stay. Tell me more about you. I know your name, but I want to know who you are.”

That guarded, close-lipped smile returned to your face. “Can’t. It’s a secret.”

“But–”

“Perhaps we’ll cross paths again someday.” You smirked, stepping out onto the wet soil. “Goodbye, Lucien Vanserra.”

You didn’t wait for his reply as you shut the door behind you and headed off into the forest.

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

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nejiverse · 2 years

Text

RIGOROUS TRAINING

Tecchou Suehiro

In which Tecchou shows no mercy when training with you. Fem! Reader

cw: kissing, suggestive

700 ish words

With wooden practice swords in you and Tecchou’s hands, you two clashed swords, the smell of sweat and the mahogany floorboards lingering in the air.

Tecchou wasn’t holding back on you a single bit which was quite inconvenient seeing as he had wayyy more stamina and agility than you.

You struggled to deflect his sword as he slowly closed the distance between you two.

“Is that all you’ve got?”, he questioned and at this point, the only thing separating your faces were the x-crossed swords.

You grunted and used the last bit of your arm strength to deflect his sword but it was of no avail. You stepped back, dropping your sword and placing your hands on your hips while you caught your breath.

“You’re too strong for me”, you complained as he also placed down his sword and approached you, one hand on your chin while the other pushed back the hairs stuck to your forehead.

“So you give up?”, he tilted his head.

“No way!”.

“Good, my girlfriend would never give up”, he picked up your sword and placed it in your hands.

“Here i’ll show you”, he moves behind you, two arms on yours and swings the sword, however the only thing you could focus your mind on was his warm breath against your neck.

“Now go again”, he picked up his sword and got into his stance.

“Try to go easy on me this time—”, the man didn’t even give you a chance to finish catching your breathe before he slashed the sword against your stomach. The swords were wooden so it would barely leave a scratch. The second time he did it, you were able to stop it but the force of his sword sent you stumbling back unto the floor.

Tecchou placed his hand behind your head just before the impact just so you wouldn’t get a concussion or anything 😅

“I said go easy on me”, you pouted with a fierce blush coating your cheeks at how he was straddling you with his sword pointed at your neck.

He tilted his head innocently with the most cutest look of confusion on his face. “I was going easy though?”.

Boy…🤦‍♀️

“But you’re really red right now, and you’re still panting, we can take a break I suppose”, he helped you up and placed the swords at the corner of the dojo.

“You suppose?! If we kept going I would’ve peeled over and died!”, you and your dramatic self🙄

Tecchou laughed at this. “No you wouldn’t, but you did make a lot of progress today so well done”, he praised your efforts.

“Where’s my reward?”.

He placed his hand on his chin in thought before he gave you a thumbs up. “Good job”.

You facepalmed.

“I mean this reward”, you figured pointing to your lips must’ve been a obvious clue…but Tecchou was pretty oblivious.

“You want me to buy you new lip stick or lip gloss? I can do that”, he nodded to your request.

“I want a kiss you airhead!”, he ooooh’ed and placed a hand on your cheek and the other wrapped around your waist, kissing your lips gently.

Even though you were the one who asked for the kiss, after you pulled away for air he was the one chasing your lips for more.

“Wait don’t pull away, not yet”, he murmured into your mouth”, you obliged and kissed him again. As he pushed against you, you stepped backwards until your back eventually hit the wall, running one of your hands through his hair.

Here comes the cockblocker!!

“I thought you two were meant to be training”, Jouno cleared his throat and crossed his arms disapprovingly.

“O-oh hey Jouno”, you laughed nervously.

“Ah, it’s just you”, Tecchou dismissed Jouno and placed his lips on yours once again.

“Don’t you ‘it’s just you’ me!”.

masterlist :)

A/N: i live for tecchou and his innocent stupidity🥰

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dr3amofagame · 7 months

Note

hi your art is so gorgeous I’m obsessed with how you shade and texture hair especially. Also can you tell us more about spaghetti strap collar dream (j!dream??) starting with Why is he dressed so fruity

OMG THANK U :D hair drives me a little nuts to draw i wont even lie

j!Dream ... my j!Dreamogie...

j!Dream starts with the JMAH AU, which involves our favorite mans sam awesamdude getting to do a good old do-over of the prison. Which he takes gladly, of course, with a good heaping measure of god has sent me back to do what's right and this is the warden's duty to bear and other related such sam-isms

of course, things go awry with him, but not before a year of (title drop!) just him and dream in the prison and all of the horrid intimacy and violence that came with it. sam wallows in his failure (and his successes...he did things better this time, right? it wasn't his fault, right? he did everything he could...maybe now he can enjoy true freedom...) while dream relearns how to be free (in the belly of the prison that had swallows him whole and spit him out different. the dispensers are a row of teeth above his head.) it hardly matters at the end, though, because XD has other games to play--this brings us to Four Square, which is the prison-themed crossover meetup with canon of their dreams (heh, Dreams) !! All your best hits are here: the clock! Blood! Drama! More blood! Sam giving the Dreams over for Quackity to torture! Sam threatening Quackity for Dream's sake! Technoblade! Camraderie! Betrayals! Gossip sessions! Raw potatoes! Dream grilling Sam about his reasons! Even board games! Four Square really has it all.

(a lot more. under the cut.)

in four square, a certain point, both prisontrios (jmah edition and canon) get to play monopoly together. in the regular version, the dreams manage to win monopoly, (j!dream does, specifically) and quite a bit happens in the aftermath of this--after getting trolled by XD a bit an having to fight for their lives a lot more, they do (with. some complications) manage to win themselves the upper hand eventually. it kinda brings four square to the more "daedalus" era, with the LN confrontation next (we never finished writing that, though: it probably would've ended quite a bit messier than the LN confrontation, with nowhere to run, but i feel like it probably would've ended with the quackitys hogtied in some corner of the prison while the dreams waited for them to get tp-ed out.)

in the bad ending, though, j!sam wins. and there's a lot about four square that does demand...a level of introspection, for better or for worse, and sam has been on quite the roller coaster of emotions (here, you have him: but only for a day.) dream is in the prison, but sam is really no more its warden than anyone else here--four square is first and foremost a game, and that in and of itself is a mockery. more than anything, he's finding that he wants dream and dream alone; he misses the days of just the two of them in this prison, just the two of them and dream is safe and perfectly under his control. when he wins monopoly and XD gives him a wish...well.

enter mayfair. four square had taken a lot out of them both, dream especially--he was told for a year that sam was protecting him from Worse, that sam wasn't really torture wasn't really that bad, and 24 hours with two Quackities each with a Lays family size bag of chips on their shoulder sure has him pretty damn convinced. sam and him and a new prison only this one has brick walls instead of obsidian and wood flooring instead of blackstone...a little cottage with an impenetrable barrier surrounding them. he's more trapped than he's ever been but look, here's a house and here's sam and here's the sun. here's table set with a vase of roses and a candlelit dinner for two.

in a lot of ways, what happens after is the natural progression of jmah, and then four square, and all their combined horrors. dream isn't even sure that they're on their server (they weren't for four square, after all.) he's tired. he's genuinely, wholly, so fucking tired of it all and sam isn't that bad, when it comes down to it, not as bad as he's been having nightmares about for the last few months--not as bad as he expected, should sam ever recapture him. this is his world now, this clearing and this house and this sam. it would be foolish of him to not try and make the most of it.

for a year and a half, they had been dancing around each other. for the entirety of four square, they had been grilled on the nature of their relationship with no satisfactory answers. there is so much about this house that is just so damn unambiguous, and honestly? honestly, dream just wants to know.

(one week, one week and a half into their new living arrangment, dream sinks to his knees in front of sam in their living room.)

(you want this, a question or a statement? you want this, and it goes both ways.)

the walk-in closet attached to their master bedroom had a little selection of clothing when they were tp-ed in. the whole damn place was kind of a practical joke, a picture-perfect romantic getaway. there's like, sex toys in the drawers. stuff like that. the closet itself is also a mess of different things--some copies of sam's clothes from home, some tunics and hoodies for dream...but also suits, and ties, and dress pants, and dresses. croptops and lingerie. a prisoner's jumpsuit tucked in some corner.

their sexual relationship is ummm UMMMM. it's a little dubious. for flavor. in a weird way, both sam and dream are on the same page of wanting to move past the prison? sam in particular is in an awkward position because...dream escaped! he literally Left, he Got Away, and now that sam has him again he's obligated, as his warden, to Do Something About That. at the same time though, he's giddy from the fact that he does have dream again. that he has real, tangible proof that dream is better, that he does need him and knows that he needs him, that he. Wants Him. the house didn't come with a cell--there is no place that is sam's, and then a separate place that is dream's. they are meant to exist together...and sam is finding that he. quite likes the idea of that.

they're also pent up as hell after uh going well over a year without any sexual activity for them both, and they've spent so much damn time thinking about it and dreaming about it and fearing it and wanting it on both sides without being able to admit any of it. so once the line is crossed, things start snowballing pretty damn fast. it's not something either of them can take back, so they. don't. and there's really nothing that exists to put a real boundary on any of it, any brakes to make things slow down or stop, anything that either of them can cling to as an excuse to force them to pull back. sam is pushing limits (how far will dream go to obey him--) and dream is pushing limits (how much can he use this to change what they are--) and neither of them are in a position where they can afford to back down. So They Don't.

birdhouse, or the timeline where we just get Really Silly With It, is where other variables are added in the form of different Dream AUs that kind of interrupt jmah duo's mutual decision to swan dive to hell. the outfits kinda start from mayfair and progressively get more extreme if dream + sam go unchecked--they're a natural consequence of j!Dream going hey how far can i push this to make sam lose his mind because if he's too busy thinking with his dick then he's probably less likely to get mad at me and other such lines of logic. in the version of birdhouse that begins to involve ff AU, the addition of ff!Sam (eventually) to the sexual dynamic does put another added layer of strain on j!dream in terms of the whole. There's Two Of Them Now. that's also where you kinda see more of him embracing uhh sex as the end-all be-all solution to most of his problems, as a means of getting some power back with regards to Sam and making the best out of his situation and the best (and only) leverage he has and the tool that's both the most pleasurable for him to wield and the most effective in making sam treat him better. Etc.

so he's doing great.

#just me and him AU #four square AU #mayfair AU #birdhouse AU #time traveler sam au #my asks !!#JREAM. MY JREAM #sorry for the literal essay #jream is my guy i talk abt him too muhc HES MY GUY #my eepy #c!awesamdream #dsmpshipping #tw abuse #tw dubcon

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crimmson · 5 days

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dude I had a super fucked up dream but it was kinda cool and I desperately wish I could remember some of the context to make it make more sense

tldr weird transferred consciousness repeatedly by force and somewhat grisly deaths

I (not really me, but I was playing someone else) and 4 friends (completely fictional people) were at some weird offbeat hotel bar for some reason I can't recall, but someone swore up and down that they saw something weird out of the corner of their eye, and we started wandering a little into the hallways where things got weird. geometry didn't seem quite right, things were getting a bit mazelike, etc.

we hung around a bit to figure out some stuff and decided to leave ASAP, and then things went full-on weird. There was some slenderman type shit, and something was fucking with my depth perception, and there was this tentacle eye stalk thing that looked like it was coming at me while also being 2-dimensional, and it always seemed slightly out of focus until I managed to grab onto the eyeball part

at some point there are just... limbs. severed limbs. and they were not fresh. I remember grabbing the knobby part of an arm bone, not realizing what I was holding, until I swung it at something that was coming at me and I realized I was swinging a half-decayed arm as a melee weapon. I did pause for a minute to laugh at the absurdity of slapping something with someone else's arm. then I went back to screaming for my life.

here's where shit gets wildly out of order because I CANNOT remember what happened in some parts, or what happened in what order:

we run into some woman who I recognize as being someone sort of famous for reasons I don't totally know; either she was some famous scientist or her dad was, for doing some weirdass research

our whole party suddenly winds up in different scenarios, and we all look like different people but we somehow know who each other is. also there may be an additional person we didn't have with us before but I can't be sure about that.

one of those scenarios was some winter festival concert thing, and everything was nice and fine until some fireworks display went horribly wrong and then everything was on fire and people were getting killed left and right by shrapnel and explosions and panic.

i'd die and suddenly we'd just be dropped into another scenario mid-way like it was already in progress

another one of those scenarios was something like a mall or big indoor shopping center, with a lot of glass windows. actually kinda pretty. then a disgruntled guy showed up with a fully automatic gun and started shooting up stuff. I actually managed to avoid a lot of it for a bit and hide behind something, but eventually I got slammed with like so many bullets.

at some point we were back in the hotel environment, and I remember coming across a half-torn down wall or something, and there were a bunch of these mechanical-organic pods with like, half-grown people in them. the pods were a little opaque and I couldn't clearly see the people, but they still looked kinda translucent and like their features hadn't all grown yet. kinda smooth like salamanders. there was something about them that seemed like I'd seen them before, but there wasn't really time to stop and think about it.

there were some weird jelly hand- and eye-shaped things spilled out on the floor in a pile. something offputting about seeing them. like I'd seen them before but couldn't recall when or why, but knew I didn't like it.

at some point, something seemed to falter and I kinda choked and could look around, and realized that the scientist lady was there, and this mystery other person in our group was there, and we were trapped. and this scientist lady had basically forced us to be friends/playmates/dolls? for this other person. I got the impression they were like, her kid, or her sibling, who was handicapped or something in some way and this was the scientist lady's Evil Scientist Way of making sure they had friends. why that always seemed to involve Horrible Violence and Death is a mystery to me. and it's not clear to me if they were actually IN the group with us, or if they were just watching events like some fucked up television show.

the pod people were basically puppets, they were the bodies we were having our consciousness dumped into over and over. somehow, keeping us complacent and linked to these things involved being forcefed those weird jelly hand/eye things.

there was some sense of like, seeing ourselves in the pod people literally, like I think there was some out-of-body shot of us being in the pods, still recognizable but alongside pods of the puppet people. and there was a question of like, damn, how many people has she done this to? because we definitely weren't the only pods. but this also might have been a metaphorical seeing-ourselves-in-the-pod-people and realizing that we WERE them because we were puppeting them. I'm more inclined to believe that one, just because that was the feeling i got hit with when the realization kicked in. If I had to guess the pods were just for sustaining whatever life was in them for as long as possible. whether they were kidnapped victims, or home-grown salamander people.

it was weird, and wild, and gruesome, but the "OH FUCK, THAT'S WHAT'S HAPPENING??" feeling that hit me when I broke through the haze for a second was *chefs kiss* because I think for a bit there I thought these were just a bunch of unconnected, unrelated dreams. until I think I started to pick up on little patterns and similarities.

also left with the feeling that i'm not 100% sure we didn't actually die originally, and she just scooped up our bodies and remaining consciousness to keep us in limbo.

#crimm has weird dreams

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medicallymercury · 8 days

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A Little Lobbying (12/09/87)

Wow, guys, isn’t it great tuning into the first episode of the second series of that new medical drama that started last year? It’s such a shame that it’s going to END AFTER THIS SERIES. That it will ONLY RUN FOR 30 EPISODES. THE YEAR IS 1987 AND “TEDDY” ISN’T EVEN A CONCEPT.

Another spite review of another series 2 episode. I tried talk about Drunk or Quiet or A Drop of the Hard Stuff so I could compare Teddy’s storyline to Duffy’s but I can’t - here’s what I will say: in A Drop of the Hard Stuff, Charlie tries to tell Duffy how to deal with the fact that her rapist was brought into the hospital, he tells her she’ll have to tell the police eventually, she gets upset at him and tells him she’s been trying to forget it ever happened for a year, he IMMEDIATELY apologises and tells her to “do what you need to do”. There isn’t any kind of suggestion that what DUFFY WANTS could be wrong.

Anyway, A Little Lobbying is one of my favourite early episodes - it’s quite unusual even for an early Casualty episode because most of it doesn’t take place in the ED. There’s a bit of a cliffhanger at the end of series 1 about whether they’ll be able to save their night shift or not, 8 months later and we learn that they weren’t able to save it but they’re gonna fight to get it back and they do and they’re successful and it’s very fun and hopeful and I love it.

One of my favourite things about this episode is the feeling that all the characters are friends. That’s not an Early Casualty vs Current Casualty comparison, because I think it’s just something that has come and gone at different points in the show’s existence. I think it’s probably to do with how long people stick around in the show? If lots of people are staying for years then it’ll feel more like they’re all friends than if lots of people are leaving and being replaced in a couple of months. And early on they got to cheat that because we never see the original characters meet each other, we get lines that imply how long they’ve been working there but because they all already knew each other when the show started they didn’t have to have like believable relationship progression, they could just all be friends already with no real need to build it up. They’re all so great - I love the moment where Kuba shows up for the meeting at Megan’s and just says “My friends!” and all the others cheer because they’re happy to see him :) The scene where they’re all dancing together at the end!!! It’s so cute. I love them <3

There’s a montage scene where they are spreading the word about saving the night shift and it’s set to Walls Come Tumbling Down (“governments crack and systems fall cause unity is powerful”) and at multiple points it cuts to a poster that says “HEALTH CUTS CAN KILL” and I can’t think for a second why the Tories felt targeted by Casualty’s politics! They also have Billy Bragg’s There is Power in a Union playing in the back towards the end and I really wish Casualty would still use songs like that when they feel the need to inexplicably have a slow-mo musical moment.

PARAMEDIC TIME!! One of my favourite moments in the whole of early Casualty happens in this episode and typing it out just doesn’t do it justice:

(At a meeting with their colleagues.) “I want to take you out to a restaurant, have a big meal in front of you, and make love to you with my eyes.” “……….okay!” They are sickening about each other!!!!!!

They are so silly. It’s good that they get to be silly in this one because the rest of the series is really very tragic for them. Let them yell at people and fail to go on dates and involve themselves with saving the night shift and dance while they can, I think. There’s a scene where they kiss in the ambulance station and I’m not sure that it’s the first instance of the ambulance station but it’s definitely got to be one of the earliest if it isn’t because the earlier paramedics mostly just hang around in the hospital staffroom with the other characters, and I just find it funny that the ambulance station was being used for inappropriate workplace relationship purposes all the way back then. ALSO, they went to one of the other hospitals in Holby!?!?!?! It’s like we never see paramedics do that now.

Duffy wanting to progress in her career and worrying that she can’t trust that they’ll get the night shift back is super interesting character stuff but I also love that line Susie gets about how she’s turned down another job offer so she can risk it for the ED. It makes me think of this moment she gets later into series 2 where she says “why don’t you all just go away and ignore me like normal?” after bringing a guy into the ED - that’s a good episode for her…

I love that Charlie spends a large portion of this episode angsting about Baz leaving him.

Goodbye Baz (for now), it was a bit funny that you just like walked out on Charlie, and goodbye Clive (the only regular to appear in only the first series), you were alright.

Hello Mary Tomlinson!! She shows up at the end and… I just think she’s great. I didn’t like her at first but she’s really grown on me since I finished series 2. I don’t wanna go on a tangent here because she’s barely in the episode, I might have to make a post about her, but the episodes towards the end of the series really made me love her - she’s only serious and guarded and ‘stuck-up’ because of her working-class background and as someone from a similarly post-industrial-hell town that just feels very believeable. If there’s any character I want to pick up out of their own series and drag into series 38, it’s Mary.

Also, hello Elizabeth Straker! She’s the villain but she ends up having an old people enemies-to-lovers arc with the freshly-divorced Ewart until he has his first heart attack. I love her! I just love a villain who reads theatrically evil in her first episode getting a redemption arc, it’s so silly.

I’m probably forgetting some things I could say about this episode because I also have today’s actual episode on my mind, but I think this one is great and probably quite easy to understand without watching any of the other episodes.

This episode just makes me happy! It’s a happy ending and how many of those do we really get in current Casualty?

#if you can hear us series 2 casualty please save us #did i come up with a tag for spite reviews?#hmm #mercury’s 80s casualty rants #bbc casualty #shoelace fandom #casualty #tw sa #tw // sa #tw sa mention #tw // sa mention

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sheirukitriesfandom · 10 months

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Snippet Someday "A Change of Seasons: Foe" edition

@elavoria and @miraakulous-cloud-district wanted me to participate (Thank you!!!) and as luck would have it, they got me right as I'm editing the next chapter of my longest fic. It was interesting to see how much my writing has improved since I started writing this fic. I now cringe a bit reading the first few chapters, but I still like them overall ^^; Not tagging anyone because I believe all of you writerly mutuals have been tagged already ^^;. First chapter:

Seeking inspiration for a new story, Rashkan has decided to visit the Frozen Hearth, where he happens upon an unlikely source.

"What I know is that, three days ago, a Stormcloak patrol vanished — Reinforcements from Windhelm. Apparently, they just disappeared into thin air. No signs of battle — Not a trace—, but then again, it did snow quite heavily that night." Rashkan frowned. An entire Stormcloak patrol just vanishing was already reason for concern, but the fact that it had happened at night when they had likely set up camp, been together, and somewhat fortified… "I can imagine just how much this got the rumour mill running. Do tell, what is the word around town?" "You have no idea the kinds of stories people tell," Nelacar groaned and rubbed his temples as if to ward off an approaching headache. "Some say an imperial patrol took them prisoner; according to others, it was an avalanche that buried them; Haran says the dead have risen from the Sea of Ghosts to take the living with them." Struck by the spark of inspiration, Rashkan flicked through his journal and scribbled the words: 'Ghost story — Undead from the sea' onto a free page.

Favourite chapter (Savos 5 & 5.5): My favourite chapters are the ones set in the mine--the segments that got this entire currently-18-chaptered fic started. I loved writing the atmosphere and although I'd now change a few things for pacing's sake, I still enjoy reading them. In this extract, Savos, Kvinna, and Verna (a Vigilant of Stendarr and a Winterhold guard introduced earlier in the story) have just entered an abandoned mine near Winterhold after finding--no, read for yourselves :D.

The mine was warmer than outside and reeked of rotting wood and bat droppings. Step by step, the light from the entrance grew weaker until eventually, the magelight stood on its own against the dark. In its cold glow, shadows slithered along the walls, forming shapes of unknown monsters. More than once, Savos caught himself glimpsing over his shoulder, but every time, he found only Verna. Neither of them dared say a word. They hardly dared breathe as well; too great was the fear of alerting whatever lurked within the depths. As they continued deeper into the bowels of the earth, it became clear that the mine must have been abandoned for decades, if not a whole century. Like the town of Winterhold, it had fallen into disarray and become a grave for old lorries, pickaxes and other equipment; bones of busier days, they lay scattered across the ground or leaned against the walls where time and rust feasted on their marrow. In that forlorn underworld, time became meaningless, an abstract construct for the people above to worry about. Savos struggled to keep his mind from straying, peeking at past regret and putting others in the place of Kvinna and Verna. Atmah and Hafnar… It was as if they had parted only a few days ago. The clever, ambitious Redguard new to Winterhold, who had immediately found a friend in Savos; and Hafnar, the bold, jolly Nord, the brother Savos never had. He hoped they still stood firm after all those years, encasing Morokei in his eternal prison; eternal imprisonment they shared, all of them, in their own right.

Most difficult chapter (Rashkan 8.5): Always the one in progress. I'm one of those weirdos who enjoy editing more than writing, so getting the first draft and structural edits down first is always such a pain in the ass. Since I posted the introduction to chapter 19 (still unpublished) a while back, have an excerpt from chapter 18. It's technically a bit spoiler-y but without context, I doubt one can make much of it.

Rashkan made a clucking noise with his tongue, scowling at Muzgog. The hulking orc glared at him through narrowed eyes, his temple pulsing red. Rashkan ignored him and sat up straight. "And what a life it would have been: A life in fear. Of war, famine, illness, the creatures of the night and the daedra that spawned them. Until she died of some wolf or bandit or vampire—a life without any accomplishment," he spoke coolly, his eyes searching the wooden chicken and finding it still in Muzgog's massive hands. "When I arrived in this land, I was lost. Rejected. By my relatives, by the college. I was nothing; another dreg washed ashore in Windhelm, sobering up to the bleak reality of Skyrim. When I was at my darkest, had given up on life here, in this cold, cruel land, I met her. Licette Vantieve, the woman who made me what I am. She took me in with her band of hedge-mages and vampires. She gave me a home, people I called family, and a purpose," he looked Muzgog in the eye. "It was a bloody, hard life, but I would have rather died than give it up." "And for that you took an ice spike to the gut." "Mhm, exactly. What I am trying to say is: You gave that girl a gift greater than any other. You gave her a life with a purpose." Muzgog sat still as a rock, staring at the fireplace, where, bit by bit, cinders became ash. Then, suddenly, he turned to Rashkan and laughed, a ragged sound like millstones grinding against each other. "Spoken like a true stronghold orc; all that pompous talk of family and purpose. Pah, if I were of their stock, I'd be right with you." His expression shifted, and whatever fleeting mirth it contained vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "But I'm of Markarth. Never seen a stronghold from the inside."

I love that exchange... If you've become curious about A Change of Seasons: Foe, you can check it out here. Like all parts of ACoS so far, it can be read as standalone.

#elder scrolls #skyrim #my scribbles #tag games #my ocs #Savos Aren #college of winterhold #rashkan atheron

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mickmundy · 1 year

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okay so i half-answered this on cc itself, but i wanted to further elaborate and upload pictures to talk about what i mean and to give more of an "in depth" answer/advice so here i am! gonna stick this under a cut since it's a little lengthy BUT i hope this helps! ;__;!! also obvious and necessary but irritating disclaimer i'm not a professional writer (or even among the best out there lol) so this is just what works for me and how i write and how i Enjoy writing (as opposed to it feeling like you're "hitting a wall")!

my writing style is just writing the way I would want to read a fic, if that makes sense? i wanted to read a bushmed fic that read more like a novel and less like a movie or a comic book script (if that makes sense!) that focuses on symbolism, setting and the character progression of each person involved (in this case, medic and sniper) as well as their progression as a couple. i think ship stuff often suffers greatly because one character often ends up diluted down to “Love Interest For Character A” and not portrayed as someone who is Also an important part of the series as, you know, the second main character!

that’s not to say my writing Flawlessly Executes This (or even does it at all! but i hope it does sobs) but that’s a huge goal of my own personal writing. i want medic and sniper to feel "Strong" on their own (because they are!), but not without their own sets of flaws and vulnerabilities that are talked about and dealt with as they fall in love and "become a couple" (... hopefully! >:) heh!). i think doing "character studies" for the characters you want to write about is really helpful! for me, that encompasses a LOT of things so if you were curious about that too, just lmk and i'll happily make that a separate post! ^u^

for Structuring fics themselves and delving into "actual writing advice", i'm someone who LOVES making really formal "essay-like" outlines/charts/etc for my fics, but it's ultimately not something i do until much later as a post-writing notation function (Remembering important plot points/devices as opposed to Fleshing Them Out).

idk if literally anyone else does it this way but i have a discord channel in which i just ramble (to myself and my gf if she wants to weigh in!) and blab just to Chunk Stuff Out. i'll be using some examples from the planning of my completed fic Malus as examples! while Sometimes i can just "sit down and write" my fics (as in just hopping into the doc and Writing Very Formally), a lot of my fic's Key Moments (except for the apricot dream in Fever. that i wrote in under an hour almost exactly as you read it on ao3!) are done very casually! this is quite literally how i plan/"write" my fics:

like just a fucking. MASSIVE series of run on sentences (often because im just Literally typing what my mind is thinking), emoji use and just. as fucking sloppity slapdash as you can possibly imagine. and that's alright! it's the first draft after all! what's most important is that you're getting your thoughts down. so you can read (and be appalled SDFKSFD) at this Extremely Massive wall of text, but i will let you into the Enigma That Is My Mind (that one patrick meme but its a picture of medic and sniper kissing in the thought bubble):

first of all the most essential part of my writing process is having a beautiful femme wife who gives commentary and encourages you to write the butchfemme bushmed romance of your dreams ☝️u__u! so i recommend beautiful crazy-enthusiastic femmes to inspire you as they have inspired Me (both bee and medic of course)! HEHEH

but also, i've notated some parts of that run on mess that Sticks Out (without getting wrapped up in bullet notes, highlighting etc which can feel a bit Too analytical for your first draft imo!):

in red, i'm conveying the "tone" or "emotional pull" i want to have in this scene and in yellow i'm just Notating things that are Significant to the series. the flour print on sniper that medic would eventually catch sight of at the end of the fic and envy, how medic and sniper See and Observe each other, which is obviously important to how i write them because my fics put emphasis on how they see each other and their respective differences (imagined or real)!

so then i usually take these Massive Walls Of Text (this is a short one! LOL) and dissect them and space them out, get a better visual on what i'm trying to say, and then fill things in accordingly. i find it works a lot better than trying to "bullet point" them since i just write how i think, and that's a lot less "stuffy" than trying to work off of a really Formal/"Academic-feeling" outline.

i think it's important to play around with different styles and what kind of method makes sense for you personally and to spend time honing that! even if i just write run on stuff like this ^ it helps get my brain in an easy, "rolling out writing" mode that thoughts just kinda come more naturally!

i also heavily advocate for how i post my fics (ie writing them to completion and treating them as "seasons"/parts and posting one chapter per week) becuase it allows you SOO much time to continue to write and to continue your story while preventing burnout! again i can elaborate on this in a whole other post if you wanted, but i've already prattled on so much i don't want to Ramble! ;-;

as far as keeping writing fun (or keeping it from feeling miserable at least), i sincerely advise just writing about what you like. put aspects of yourself or things you like into the characters you're writing, make your story interesting to YOU! would You want to read your own writing? i think you should!! ^v^ write the writing you want to read, and skill and technique and everything/anything else will come.

in the wake of people literally feeding fics to those stupid chatbots i emphasize even more to please put your heart into what you write and it will show and be wonderful, whether its Epic Novelizations or One Shot Smut or Whatever... it was made by you! and that's awesome! i'm so happy you're here and writing and posting, it's very brave!! <333

I LOVE YOUUUU YOU ARE EPIC AND I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!!! I know what you write will be amazing and i really appreciate you asking me something like this, i hope i can hear from you (anonymously or not!) sometime soon and that this might have been at least a little helpful? ;_; ILYYYYY <3333

#dutchfoolery #thou giveth fever #tehcnicaly?

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eve-pie · 6 months

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Hero au Patches bashful ref

Patches and a few citizens were all running away from the ink threads that were attacking luckily the hero Applewink came down and saved them she thanked him and continued helping everyone get away after that Applewink approached Patches and thanked her for helping the citizens they talked for a bit and eventually started getting closer this was later picked up by howdy (Plague blooison) which led her to get kidnapped etc etc to keep her safe she was put into Frank's lab for a bit she helped around then accidentally spilled chemicals causing her to gain super strength and a sonic voice the strength didn't bother her because before she even got powers she was quite literally the definition of "Stronger than she looks" she was already strong enough to punch a hole in the wall and walk away like nothing happened now with powers her strength is strong enough to throw you threw a building

Now with powers she was given a hero persona

Bellwether is quite a case unlike Rainbow petal (Julie) She is just goofy and energetic which leads to the two not to get along often Patches doesn't really assist in hero work because 1 she's to scared and 2 her powers are defense and not attack she only helps get the citizens away while fighting back the ink threads in a very dire situation she would actually help her and Giant paw (Barnaby) make a great team both have a powerful voice to use so they are often paired together

Horns: Patches does infact have horns their just hidden under her hair for personal reasons but whenever she's bellwether she shows her Horns and uses them as a communicator like how rainbow petal uses her horns as a communicator

Bell: the bell is normally used as a distraction despite that you'll never hear bellwether coming until it's to late it doesn't work sometimes though lol

Bag: the bags attached to her tool belt carry all kinds of supplies and remedy's for emergencies she's supposed to be the healer /assist trophy for the heros

She's still a work in progress though but I'm sure I'll get it

#oc art #welcome home oc #hero wally au #ibs paint x #Patches and howdy may or may not have had a pass relationship *wink wink*#i know og Patches is in a polyamrous relationship with barnaby and Howdy but here she's howdy's ex wife her and barnaby are just friends #and wally and Patches are dating or should i say Applewink? nah same person

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severed-ties-uf · 8 months

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Chapter Seven: Nosferatu

This takes place two months after the last chapter. Chara sits in the living room, alone on the couch, silently listening to their father and brother having a conversation.

Asgore standing in the middle of the room, explains to his son. “Construction on the CORE has begun, and it’s making progress quite rapidly, as you know. However, large amounts of rock must be cleared in order to completely construct it; not to mention the rock that will need to be cleared in order to connect everything to it, and it’s off-site sections.”

“So how are we planning on dealing with that?” Asriel asks, back leaning against the wall.

“I was getting to that. Tomorrow, me and your mother will be having a meeting with Doctor Gaster and members of the Dalv vampire family at their estate. As you know, the Dalv's are arms manufacturers. We are going to see if we can get a mining explosives contract with them.” Asgore states. “You’re free to join if you’d like. We’re leaving at 0900 tomorrow morning. You don’t have to attend the meeting, you can just hang around the area, and chat with the others.”

Asriel looks up to his father. “Alright, sounds good.” Asriel responds; before looking over at Chara, making eye contact with them. “Can I bring Chara with me?”

Asgore looks over to Chara, and then back to Asriel, sighing. “Fine, you can bring it if you desire. But be careful, I’m sure many of the vampires would jump at the chance to taste human blood, and I don’t want anyone getting its soul before I do. Understand?”

“Understood. Thank you! I’ll make sure they’re always within my sight; besides, I’ll probably steer clear of most of the people there anyway. I only really care to interact with Jackie.” Asriel says, looking up to his father.

Asgore makes eye contact with his son. “Good. Then that’s, all.” He says, as he turns around and heads back to the throne room.

Asriel walks over to the couch and sits down next to Chara. He begins to run his hands through Chara's hair.

“Will Sans be there, do you think?” Chara says wide eyed in an excited tone.

Asriel quietly chuckles, ruffling their hair. “I don’t know. Probably, Gaster usually brings Sans with him whenever he goes somewhere.”

“Yay!” Chara exclaims, full of joy.

The next day, Asgore, Toriel, Gaster, and the head of the Dalv family are all meeting in the conference hall of the Dalv mansion. Asriel and Chara walk through the halls, side by side, eventually getting to one of the multiple common rooms, this one located in the basement. On the couch sits a young (12 year old) vampire boy. He has white hair; paper-while skin, with black veins visible through; a mouth full of razor sharp pointy, shark-like teeth; hands with sharp, claw-like nails; red eyes; and stands a bit shorter than Asriel.”

The boy looks over to the pair as they enter. “Hey, Asriel!” He says, turning into a bat and flying over to them before changing back. “How are you, man? Been a while.”

“Hey, Jackie! I’m doing great, how about you?” Asriel responds, giving Jackie a couple firm taps on the shoulder.

“I’m doing alright as well.” Jackie looks over to Chara. “Oh, and this must be Chara.” He says, holding out his hand.

Chara looks up to Jackie, giving a cordial smile. “Yup. That’s me! It’s wonderful to meet you, Jackie!” Chara takes his hand and shakes it, giggling a little bit.

Jackie gives a smile back, before looking to Asriel. “They’re so cute, I can’t handle it.”

“I know, right?” Asriel says, ruffling Chara's hair.

They all move over to the couches and sit down. Once there, Jackie looks over to Chara and speaks. “You know, Chara. Your human heartbeat sounds a lot different than any monster’s I’ve ever heard. Same with your breathing. Not to mention — what I assume to be your blood — smells way different than any monster's.“

Chara looks over to Jackie, and giggles. “Interesting. Monsters and humans are very different, so it makes sense that they’d be nothing alike.”

Jackie looks back to Asriel. “So, your highness, how’s all the royal, boring ass, Prince stuff going?” He says, jokingly.

Asriel laughs, before responding. “Boring as ever. I swear, I haven’t had an exciting time performing my duties, since that one guy tried to assassinate me with a bow and arrow, and missed. That day was actually kind of fun.” He half-joked.

Jackie laughs in response.

Chara looks over to Jackie. “Hey, Jackie.”

“Yeah?”

“Asgore said that your family members would be extremely thirsty for my blood, are you different in that regard, or do you just have better restraint? No offense, of course.” Chara asks, genuinely very curious.

Jackie chuckles in response, eventually looking back to Chara and speaking. “I have very good self restraint, and am also something some would call, y'know, a decent person, unlike most of my family members. Don’t get me wrong, all of my instincts are telling me to attack you, but I’m not gonna listen to them. You’re way too nice, and also Asriel would murder me in three seconds if I tried.”

“Damn, right.” Asriel says, before both him and Jackie begin laughing.

Asriel and Jackie continue to converse for a couple minutes, before Jackie suddenly snaps his head toward the door on the far side of the room. Asriel does the same. Both of them hearing movements (Jackie before Asriel, then finally Chara).

The door opens revealing Sans, who immediately starts looking around the room for Chara.

“Sans!” Chara excitedly yells, running towards him, arms open for a hug.

“Chara!” Sans replies. They embrace in a big hug for a solid minute. “I missed you so much, Chara.”

“I missed you too, Sans!” Chara says, as they part. Chara begins reaching into their pocket; Sans reaches into his pocket as well. Simultaneously they each pull out flowers. Chara has a couple tulips, while Sans has a rose.

They both blush, and happily take each other’s gifts. “Thank you!” They both say, in unison. Smiling at each other.

“How have things been?!” Chara asks, smiling, holding the rose Sans gifted them in their hands.

“They've been… fine, I guess. Not too good, but not too bad.” Sans says, looking down.

“Good, I’m glad! Things could always be worse.” Chara replies. Happy that their friend is doing alright. “Also, you look super tired!”

“Yeah. I guess. Things have just been a bit stressful with father, and the CORE.” Sans replies. “And yeah, like I said, things have been pretty stressful, I haven’t gotten enough sleep.”

“I can only imagine; that sounds miserable.” Chara once again gives Sans a short hug.

Jackie calls over to the two of them “Hey, guys. Come sit over here with us, we don’t-“ Jackie pauses, holding his fist in front of his mouth. “We won’t bite.” He corrects himself, letting out a chuckle, which is reciprocated by Asriel.

Chara and Asriel both head over to an unoccupied couch, and sit down next to each other, close.

Jackie looks over to Sans. “You’re the son of that crazy scientist wackjob, right? No offense, of course. That’s kind of- just what he is. My name is Jackie.”

“Yes, I am. And that’s a very accurate description.” Sans responds, and laughs a bit. “Nice to meet you, Jackie.”

“So what were you doing prior to finding us, Sans?” Chara asks.

“I was listening in on the meeting, but eventually got bored. From what I’ve heard, they’re settling on a twelve-million G contract for something called ‘ANFO’, and detonation equipment.” Sans says, while sneakily placing his hand over Chara's; Chara smiles, and holds his hand.

“Holy shit.” Asriel says under his breath.

“Twelve-fucking-million?!” Jackie yells, sitting up in surprise. “Holy hell, I knew they needed a lot, but I had no idea they needed THAT much. Hell, yeah!”

“What is ‘ANFO’? Is that the name of the mining explosive?” Asriel asks, looking over to Jackie.”

“Right you are.” Jackie says confidently.

Asriel and Jackie continue to talk for a while. Eventually, the tiredness gets to Sans; he lays his head on Chara's shoulder, and falls asleep.

Author’s notes:

Jackie is the ancestor/relative to one of my UF OCs, named Kaiden. That’s where he comes from. Jackie will grow to be old enough to meet Frisk.

The vampires don’t have offensive magic (like magic projectiles) instead, all of their magic goes into their powers. Basically, all classic vampire powers (incredible physical ability, and senses; shapeshifting; telepathy; you name it).

ANFO is a real mining explosive, the most commonly used in the world as a matter of fact. It’s just as powerful as dynamite, but it’s properties make it much safer, much more reliable, and overall just a better mining charge.

Next Chapter

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#underfell #underfell asriel #underfell chans #underfell chara #underfell fanfiction #underfell sans #underfell ship #undertale fanfiction #undertale ship #chans #undertale #underfell asgore #sans x chara #chara x sans #underfell oc #undertale oc #childhood friends au #severed ties uf #severed-ties-uf

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fluffallamaful · 1 year

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Dismantled AU: Recovery.

So the prison has been destroyed. Nuked. Obliviated. Dream has been dragged out kicking and screaming and is now captured, once again — this time, he fears, for good. Punz has stabbed him in the back, Sam is gripping him by the shoulders, the whole server is more united than he’s seen it in years and they’re all against him. The future looks dark.

His cell is made of wood this time. He wonders if maybe he’s not enough of a threat to warrant obsidian walls anymore. He thinks about how easy a break-in would be, here. He considers running, but he’s got nowhere to go. Mostly he sleeps. They gave him a bed this time, for some reason. He dreams of Pandora, of blood and tears and safety made in hell. He wonders if the torture, starvation, pain — if it really was all for nothing. He sleeps some more: it’s the only thing he can do to stop thinking about it.

He has a week of isolation before someone finally comes in.

Sam is even bigger than he remembers, and carries himself with a sort of dignity that he hasn’t seen since before he was appointed Warden. It scares him. It angers him, too, even if he knows it’s stupid. He doesn’t dare show either of these things, submitting quietly and obediently as the man walks in.

Sam is aloof and quiet for the first few visits, but eventually he reaches forward. Dream can’t help but melt into his touch, and then it’s like the former-reinstated-Warden can’t keep his hands off of him. It starts with more basic things — scratches on his head, gentle bumps into his shoulder, hugs — but quickly evolves into hours of cuddles, of hair grooming, of care. Even when he’s not the focus of his attention he’s being cared for: Sam will sit on him and cradle his head in his paws while he reads a book, his heartbeat loud and low like a lullaby drum. Soon Sam becomes a staple of the room, staying day and night and rarely going out into the rest of the world. Dream doesn’t know what to make of it.

(Sam remembers a prisoner who begged for visitors, for someone to come and stay with him for a bit. He’s sworn not to make the same mistake this time around.)

—> edit: this is the link that llama thought she lost (HERE) (edits in purple)

omg this was so confusing because i cannot for the life of me find your first ask for this au??? it was the one with the link right?? wtf did i do with it i just spent the last half an hour determining if i had simply dreamt that that ask even existed 😭 it’s just not even there 😢 i don’t even know if i posted it, maybe i accidentally deleted it during my blog sweeping — i didn’t :( i’ve been trying so many recovery websites lmao i feel awful 😭😭

thankfully you recapped it beautifully here. i think the only bits missing are the fact that dream had to be dragged out of his cell kicking and screaming, and also that he had to watch the prison explode in front of his eyes — his only safe space on the server

(more below):

🦙🦙🦙…

i can’t quite remember who it was that lead the decision to ween dream away from his prison? — whole server but either way we’ve reached the point where he’s been given a lovely wooden house to stay in instead. something far more civilised… and of course dream despises it 😢 he’s just not used to being ‘protected’ by such flimsy material. he in fact feels anything but protected by it

sam appearing much larger than dream remembers ☹️ that’s so cute. he’s just so overwhelmed with how vulnerable he feels, cooped up in a wooden shack with nowhere safe to run even if he wanted to,, and now his warden is standing at his door looking taller and broader than ever

and yet despite everything, his body lunges for affection when it’s offered. i imagine it’d be a rather slow process, but still a process that progresses far quicker than his ego appreciates.

i forget who’s on his side in this au? — everyone is would he eventually get more visitors or has sam just demanded that he get used to one person at a time? i kinda like the idea of the other server members slowly starting to build other little shacks around him? like slowly creating a little village. i want them all to work together nicely in a village lmao. perhaps i need to create a village au 😂

🦙🦙🦙…

#llama asks #soup the destroyer #i’m actually so annoyed that i can’t find the other post >:(#liek unbelievably annoyed i literally ended up looking for it for over an hour #Soups Demolition AU

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pixiemage · 2 years

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[A work-in-progress Renchanting time travel fic that I may never finish but wanted to share anyway...]

When he died at Scar’s hands, Martyn had thought that would be it. He had thought it would be over, that the game of death and betrayal and chaos he had been trapped in for weeks would finally be over. He had thought - perhaps foolishly so - that when he lost his last life and entered spectator mode, all he would have to was wait until someone was crowned the victor before everyone would respawn in the server hub and things would go back to normal.

It was all a game after all, wasn’t it?

True, there were alliances and battles and deaths on all sides, but amidst it all there was laughter and jokes and the occasional poorly-kept secret that another player pretended not to hear for the sake of continuing a bit of roleplaying. There were moments in-between sieges when Martyn would run into Grian or Jimmy or Cleo out alone in the wild, and instead of taking up arms and starting a fight, they’d chat about something funny that had happened the day before, or jokingly vent about how chaotic their partner was, or ask if he planned on signing up for the next MCC Tournament. Grian would follow Scar’s every whim only to dramatically whisper warnings to everyone not to trust him the moment Scar’s back was turned, and Scar would pretend he hadn’t heard a thing even though everyone knew he was fully aware of Grian’s antics. And then Martyn and Big B would make jokes about “saving” Grian from Scar’s clutches, and they’d all share a laugh, and the next time they crossed paths they’d be raring to fight again.

It was all a game.

It was just a game.

…wasn’t it?

But then Martyn died, lost his final life, and instead of respawning in spectator mode he found himself smothered in nothingness, darkness pressing in on all sides and voices whispering in his ears. They spoke of failure, of unworthy victory, of things going wrong, of plans being torn asunder. They spoke of fixing things and making things right and rewriting and repairing and changing it all–

By the time the voices had risen to unbearable levels, Martyn was jerking back to awareness with a sharp gasp, his lungs burning and his head pounding as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Martyn? Man, you alright?”

Martyn jolted at the voice and his eyes landed on Ren, whose face was hovering in front of his and whose expression was one of concern. There was something off about his appearance, though Martyn couldn’t couldn’t quite put his finger on what. There was darkness behind his head, stars painting the canvas of the night sky, and it was only now that Martyn felt the hands that were gripping his arms and keeping him upright. Ren was keeping him upright.

“I–”

“C’mon, down here,” Ren interrupted, his words rushed, and he was dragging Martyn down belowground before he could really protest. (Not that he thought he would have been able to even if he wanted to, his thoughts still too jumbled to think straight let alone speak.) “We can wait out the phantoms for a bit.”

There was digging, and water, and the placement of torches and blocks, and then Ren was pushing him down to sit on a block of solid stone. Martyn blinked away some of the fuzziness from his eyes and looked around - and he went stiff.

He knew this place. He knew it, but it…it was wrong. This was wrong. He hadn’t seen it like this since the first days on the server, since the first day he–

Martyn felt as though all the air had been knocked from his lungs.

He hadn’t seen it like this since the day he first met Ren. The small cave was familiar but still untouched, the walls natural and the floor partially flooded with water. It held none of the things that had eventually turned it into their safe haven below Dogwarts, no villagers and no storage and no beds and no door. A small dirt staircase led back to the surface from which they’d come, and he was sure if he set foot aboveground he’d find himself staring at the very beginnings of Renchanting.

It wasn’t even called Renchanting yet, back then, he reminded himself, and he had to close his eyes and take a few slow, shaking breaths to keep himself from going into a complete panic. He felt as if he was going insane. It wouldn’t be the first time he had time travelled, but Evo was years ago by now–

“...Martyn?”

Martyn’s eyes flew open and he found Ren watching him from across the little cavern, looking more concerned than he had been outside. (He realized now what was so off about Ren’s appearance. The grayed skin and crimson eyes and bloodied crown he had grown so used to were missing, replaced by the lively and colorful complexion and attire that Ren had long since abandoned back when his name had gone red by Martyn’s hand.) Ren was still watching him, growing ever more concerned, so Martyn rushed to find a response.

“Y-Yeah boss?”The confused look that flashed across Ren’s face for a second made Martyn want to slam his head against a wall. Shit. Shit. That nickname wasn’t even accurate yet. They’d only just met, hadn’t they? Martyn had just finished sneaking in some enchantments on his gear and Ren had just appeared out of the forest with phantoms on his tail, and both of them had just run for cover together despite having just met. There was no friendship here, not yet, only friendly acquaintanceship and maybe a short-term alliance for the sake of survival through the night. Ren wasn’t his friend, his boss, his king, his…anything. The thought made his throat go tight and he looked away, unsure how to go forward without a basis for how to act around someone who now saw him as little more than a stranger.

(...)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Totally incomplete, obviously, but there was a prompt I found online (which I won't drop here in case I DO continue this and I don't want to drop spoilers just yet) and I got kind of inspired. Soooo here's a thing! (Also at this point in time I HAVE NOT finished watching 3rd Life, I just know some of the later plot points that happen. Nobody has fully died yet where I'm at and I'm trying to avoid what spoilers I can until I can rush to the ending, but hey, some deaths still slipped through the cracks lol.)

#Renchanting Duo #3rd Life SMP #3Lsmp #trafficblr #trafficblr fanfic #3rd life fanfic #time travel #Renchanting #Pixiemage Writes

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ultramagicalternate · 3 months

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ULTRAMagic Interlude Chapter 20

Previous | First | Shadowland

Master Post

The after-party for the wedding was fantastic. Blood-Wraith felt like he could truly relax for once. It legitimately felt like everything was fixing itself. Of course that was not truly the case for him. Milosh was still out there and the ULTRAMagic Guild was just around the corner. These thoughts crossed his mind as he watched everyone else sing, dance, and have fun. It was supposed to be a happy time, but these thoughts bore down on Blood-Wraith. He had no right to ignore them, or so he felt.

Eventually things came to a close and everyone went home. Blood-Wraith changed out of his formal wear, went downstairs, and sat on the couch to watch some television with a robust documentary. At this point it felt like he needed a month or two to wind down from all that had happened. Ultimatum and the guild would have to be patient and wait. Blood-Wraith was still going to study and practice, he just needed to hold off on the adventures for a bit. To be fair, he was eager to learn the magic Vexation had promised to teach him, which would probably require time to learn.

Before going to bed that night, Blood-Wraith thought he sensed something. Putting down Valentina’s alchemy guide, he got out of bed. Being careful not to wake anyone, he then quietly made his way down to the basement. Blood-Wraith flipped on the lights and looked around. Aside from the secret room being opened, everything was in order. Perhaps Aureolus had accidentally left it like that for some reason. As he approached, he heard the rustling of dust and stones. That was never a good sign. Thankfully nobody seemed to be in the backroom… then the lights shut off.

Feeling his blood run cold, Blood-Wraith quickly turned around only to bump into someone. He could not see who it was, but it looked like… a woman in a top hat? “Oh my, and I thought hiding my presence from the dark angel would have sufficed…” she remarked.

“Who are… you…” Blood-Wraith felt his head go light as he inexplicably fell asleep. When he woke up, he found himself in his temple back in The Roaring Mountains. This left him very confused.

“Good morning, Blood.”

“Dunja? What’s… what’s going on here? How did I even…?”

“How’d you get here? Honestly, I’m not sure. I sensed what happened last night, and hopped on over here. As for your encounter, I’m pretty sure that was Andelin you ran into.”

Blood-Wraith was handed a plate of simple, on-the-go breakfast. “Oh, thanks. Do I need to worry about her?” He asked as he began eating.

“Probably not. From day one, Andelin has had her own ambitions. Truthfully I'm not sure what she’s up to most of the time. What I can say is that if she’s out this far, it’s probably of her own accord.” Dunja sighed. “All the more reason for me to go and fix my blunders…”

“I see. So, have you seen my temple before?”

Dunja stood up. “Back when it was empty. I came here with Andelin on her recommendation. Now it’s quite impressive… and I think I know why we’re here. Take a look at the walls…”

Blood-Wraith turned around and was greeted by vast murals depicting things he had done thus far. “Incredible…”

“It was quite interesting looking through all of this. I see the Lich was deteriorating as time went on, given how progressively freakish he looks throughout all of this…”

“Yeah, I noticed that after the battle at the Metal Oasis. He just seemed… wrong and dead.”

Dunja shook her head. “Milosh is such a moron. Honestly I don’t think the Lich could have handled all that power. He probably would have imploded in on himself and left us up the creek without a paddle.”

That was surreal to hear. “Huh… So what would have happened then?”

She shrugged. “No idea. None of us thought that far ahead… It’s possible that I may have gotten fed up with Milosh and executed him right then and there though. He ain’t worth the dirt he stands on…”

“I guess that means there’s a distinct difference between planning and execution?”

She nodded. “Oh absolutely. Some things are easier said than done…”

“Yeah… hey, what about that part?” Blood-Wraith pointed to a section of the mural that depicted Dunja in an alternate series of events.

“Hmm… that’s Desislav, I think… was I going to try and convince him to join me?”

Blood-Wraith inspected it further. “I think that’s what it’s getting at…”

Dunja sighed. “It looks like history would have tried to repeat itself… Jeez. I can’t imagine being that bad though.”

“Perhaps it would have happened had you not come to our side?”

“Yeah, I think so… good lord, Valerie was right from the get go…AGAIN” Dunja exclaimed as she stepped a few steps away.

That name intrigued Blood-Wraith. “Who is this Valerie person?”

“Oh boy… She is the one who split Deimos. Not me, not Milosh; Valerie. From what I’ve learned over the years, she was originally part of a guild of mages from the Magician’s Labyrinth. After a disagreement, she was kicked out and went rogue. This happened a long time ago and that guild has long since gone defunct. Andelin kept claiming her mother was a member, but I never believed that. In regards to Milosh, he offered to pay her handsomely… Funnily enough I never saw him render payment to her though. It makes me wonder if she found a way to jinx his plans…”

“Wait, if Valerie warned you about Milosh, why did she go through with splitting Uncle Deimos?”

“Spite, looking back on it. Or at least, I assume she probably wanted to spite her old guild. She also probably had a good feeling our plans would go belly up and… which is why she warned me in the first place… ARGH, I HATE THESE REALIZATIONS!”

Blood-Wraith laughed sympathetically. “Is she still out there?”

“Yes, I’m sure of it. What she’s up to I have no idea though.”

As he thought about that, something crossed Blood-Wraith’s mind. “Dunja? Did you ever… um, execute your enemies?”

She paused, then took a breath. “Nope. I couldn’t bring myself to. Milosh frothed at the mouth and Gratiana judged me, but I never killed anyone… just made them work. Maybe death would have been more merciful, but I couldn’t bring myself to take someone’s life. Blood, this is very important, so listen closely: When you look someone in the eye in their final moments, you see everything. You see them, their soul, their sorrow, their joy, their love, their family, and their spirit. Their fate is your hands… and I chose not to enact violence. I could feel my heart get heavy every time someone was brought before my swords...”

“But what about Milosh? He doesn’t sound like he deserves this kindness.”

“That’s the tricky part, Blood. Some people are that far gone. They revel in stupidity and give themselves to evil… and some are foolish enough to go along with it. I don’t know what an ideal world looks like, but I imagine it’s one where we don’t have to deal with Milosh’s. Until that day comes, all we can do is look that kneeling beggar in the eye and see with our eyes wide open.”

Blood-Wraith looked lost and confused. “I never want to kill and I don’t want people to die… but I’m not sure who’s lost and who’s too far gone…” Blood-Wraith lamented. “I don’t want to lose more Leif’s, but I don’t want Milosh's to threaten our lives.”

Dunja smiled. “Don’t worry, Blood. When the time comes, your heart will have the right answer.”

“But what if I make the wrong choice?”

“Well firstly, don’t beat yourself up over it. We all make mistakes. What matters is how we respond to them. Don’t forget what we discussed back in the forest.”

Blood-Wraith sighed. “Right. I just… I have a lot going through my head.”

“Well of course you do. You’re just a kid after all. Look, if you make a mistake in the future, come talk to me and we’ll work through it. And I’m sure Englehart will also have some words of wisdom for you.”

“Thank you, Dunja.”

“And hey, don’t forget that you have your mom and dad there for you. Now come, let’s go home. This place is kind of eerie.”

With that, the two returned to The Iron City. Blood-Wraith still could not shake the anxiety, but that talk made him feel better. This was likewise for Dunja. It was cathartic for her to get some of her grief and regrets off her shoulders. She still had a long way to go, but her future was getting brighter and brighter. All she had to do was keep moving forward.

Shadowland was still looming over her, however. She would have to face the kingdom she sullied eventually. Would the Haugen’s, Barna’s friends, Torunn, and the citizenry even accept her repentance? She never slew anyone, but she did damage nonetheless. So many thoughts also ran through her head. Eventually she felt a compulsion that prompted her to look up at the dragon constellation. Nothing happened until… it winked at her? Was she seeing things?

Either way, Dunja felt a wave of positivity and support wash over her. “Thank you, Leif. I needed that…” Dunja replied as she went back inside. He was right: She just needed to face things head on and not look back.

To be concluded…

Next: Shadowland

#chaotictempleknight #ultramagic alternate #fantasy #sciencefiction #sciencefictionfantasy #literature #fiction #writing #writers on tumblr #story #chapter #final chapter

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