#'no nightingales' You know there’s a bird that never touches ground? It’s born in the air. Never once lands.

[p4nishers]

what is it with queer shows and fucking bird metaphors man i am so tired

[mrpenguinpants]

Diluc: Comfort HCs

Oh no worries anon! We’re getting through everything and I can just see the top. I’m not sure if people saw it - probably not - but my entire blog has devolved into “See this genshin character? Animal.” and I refuse to have another cat character so I’m making Diluc a hawk.  

Apparently (maybe) Diluc’s bird is a nightingale [voicelines]. But I don’t really see Diluc the kind of guy to serenade you at night in secret because your father doesn’t approve of your marriage.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to fulltimeventisimp. Tumblr throws a goddamn fit when I try to tag people (even though I literally have a tag list but that’s apparently not good enough) so I hope you see this^^ You’ve been so nice and caring to me I feel so soft 😭 and I hope you’re doing alright! I’m remembering to take breaks and rest  💕💕

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Semi Part 1: Relationship HCs [I would read this just for the last point]

Diluc Ver: Jealous HCs

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji​  @mikeysbike​ @unionwitch​ @musekala​ @twistedsunnshiii​ @stanzastic​ @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​

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Diluc: Comfort HCs

Diluc has always had either an aloof or professional persona based on who he needed to talk to. In both cases, no matter the subject or how Diluc talked, there would always be some sort of forced distance so no one would mistaken it as familiarity or friendliness. There were only a two cases where he felt comfortable and those were with close friends and his staff. The third case being Kaeya but Diluc prefers to not acknowledge him and stashes that folder away. Even with friend’s such as Jean or Elzer, he could never really relax and let his true feelings slip until you burst into his life. Literally. “An unexpected outcome of an experiment,” is what Albedo had told him but regardless, since you entered his life he’s let himself regress into his younger days and let himself take for once.

Maybe that was why you had gotten so used to Diluc’s touched starved self that, when it was suddenly gone, you were feeling uneasy. Lately Diluc seemed to be spending longer hours at his desk or working at the tavern. You knew that he was just busy and there wasn’t any underhanded reasoning behind it, Diluc wasn’t that kind of guy. But did he seriously have to spend every waking moment, day or night, talking to the same people? When was the last time you saw him for more than two minutes? Diluc isn’t a big fan of idle talking but would it seriously hurt just to catch up? You didn’t even get together to have your weekly chess matches too.

You didn’t consider yourself a very clingy person and you knew what a relationship with Diluc was going to be like so why were you getting so bothered? You decided to take the situation in your hands and go visit him at the tavern only to see him so busy at work. It both made you a bit huffy, you wanted to storm in there and drag the man away from his work so he could stop trying to speed run life - not like that would ever happen because the second hand embarrassment would make you dissolve into the ground and you could never show your face to Diluc if you actually did that - but also making you more upset. Here he was, working and running his business, and you couldn’t go at least a couple weeks without seeing him. You ended up turning around and going home to scream into your pillow and sleep the heavy feeling away.

Your inner turmoil seemed to seep out into the open that Kaeya felt the need to bring it up. As much as Diluc dislikes Kaeya around you, he really does care about you and he still does owe you for the troubles he gave you when you first started going out with Diluc. He catches you while you’re off running errands and manages to coax you into getting some lunch with him. You’ve been bottling up your feelings so much that when Kaeya shows some concern you let it all pour out. At this point you don’t care if it’s Kaeya of all people you’re confessing your feelings to, you just want to get it off your chest because the man you’re in love with doesn’t seem to notice you’re actually there and it’s making you feel insecure about yourself. Kaeya gives you a sympathetic smile and tells you not to worry about it, he’ll personally knock some sense into Diluc.

Diluc’s been hard at work on another possible Fatui plan and business with the winery that he can’t help but feel that he was missing something. Was he overlooking something? He had planned this for a while so everything should be perfect. It wasn’t until Kaeya himself had to walk in, press his hand on the tavern counter, and call him an idiot that he realizes that he had been so wrapped up in his work and personal duties that he completely neglected you. He quickly passes his duties to Charles with a quick apology, throws his coat on, gives Kaeya a very strained thank you, and he’s out the door to find you. He’s already lost so much so he’ll be damned if he looses you. Not right now. 

You gave him the key to your home after a few months of being together, in case his he needed to temporarily hide should his night activities get the best of him. He’s already at your door in seconds as he quickly unlocks and steps in. 

“Beloved?” he softly calls out to not accidently scare you but he receives no reply. It’s dark inside but he can see your shoes at the door so he knows you’re inside somewhere. He softly closes and locks the door as he hangs his coat up. Carefully running a hand down the fabric and beside your coat as he looks around your small home. He’s always felt it was warm even when you weren’t here. The “home” he has will always be the place he grew up in but after everything that’s happened, he feels a bit alienated in there so he always appreciated that you lent him a key.

He catches the sound of some shuffling and follows the sound to see you under your blankets. He breathes a quick sigh of relief that you weren’t in any danger as he carefully circles around your bed before gently placing a hand on your back. He’s never been good at words or communicating his feelings so he’s at a bit of a standstill. Despite his reputation of being a nobleman of high esteem, you’re his first serious relationship. As far as he’s concerned you’re going to be his only relationship for that matter.

“I...apologize for my recent behaviour. It was never my intention to hurt you. I ended up letting myself get too blinded to see you were in pain and that was my fault. You don’t have to forgive me now but won’t you let me see your face my love?” he asked in all his awkward pose, put him in front of massive event and he’ll perform with flying colours but put him in front of his partner and he stumbles over his worlds like a new born fawn. But it seems to bring a small laugh from you as you peek from under the covers. 

He smiles softly as he sees your ears flush pink. No matter how many times he calls you that you always get so shy, he adores it. But he can feel the guilt rise up in his chest, you’ve always been there to support and reassure him that he was doing everything right. That things were going to be okay when he re-took his father’s business and you would be with him every step of the way. So in the best and awkward way that Diluc can manage, he tells you this. By the time he’s done he can feel his own face start to pink but it’s made you feel better so it was worth it. 

“Feeling better?” he smiles softly as you nod up at him as he lays down beside you, opening his arms in comfort, “Good, come here.” 

You shuffle closer to him as he holds you. It’s been awhile since he’s held you like this and even without realizing it, he’s missed this. Just you and him together, basking in each other’s presence. No work that needed to be attended to. No Fatui trying to cause him any more trouble. It was a safe place and one he didn’t want to let go.  

“What if we got married?”

There’s a beat of silence. 

Then a thud. 

You end up scrambling and falling off your bed face first. It’s a bit silent as you give off a pain groaned and climb back up and he can see your face has exploded red. He can almost see steam coming off as you try and nurse your nose. He blinks a bit at you taken aback as you stutter and scream into your hands as your brain seems to process what he just asked. You lift your face from your hands to look at him, somehow go even redder, and scream louder into your hands. He’s not sure if this is something he should be offended or concerned about but the weight he had been feeling earlier starts to fade away as a new and familiar feeling bubbles up. For the first time in half a month, Diluc let’s out a laugh as he tries to console you as you manage out a yes.

---

Gripping my writing hand why is no one stopping me? Diluc you’re literally acting like Childe rn. [if anyone is confused ahem Childe: Fiancé HCs (should be in my masterlist)]

Also, I continue to look away from the lore. Kaeya and Diluc are not on the best of terms but if they can have petty rich lady wine talk then Kaeya can walk in and call Diluc an idiot.

I was serious when I said that I researched hawk behaviours. I have learned the internet is horrible in telling me how hawks behave. But I did find this and I found this hilarious:

In the case of the red-tailed hawk, for example, the pair soar, screaming at each other; then the male dives at the female, who may roll in the air to present her claws to him in mock combat.

[random-sylvari-main]

OC Interview: Aqua Nightingale

Draw (or use an old drawing, don’t worry!) or take a screen of your character in an interview setting and make them answer the following questions! (This is set after LWS4)

INTRODUCTION

Can you introduce yourself?: Blinking a few times, Aqua tilted her head to the side “H-Huh? O-Oh… I’m A-Aqua Nightingale, I’m a-a night b-bloom and a member of t-the Crystal Bloom.”

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?: “W-Why are y-you asking that k-kind of question?!” Aqua lightly glows from shyness, only to softly mutter. “Well… I-I’m female, I g-guess I r-really d-don’t mind who I-I’m with. B-But I’m still s-single…”

Where and when were you born?: “The G-Grove and d-during the night”

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?: Looking somewhat distant, Aqua slowly pulled out her greatsword, adorned with flowers and plants of the alike. “... G-Greatsword… A-And I guess I try t-to defeat my e-enemy as quickly as p-possible…?”

Lastly, are you happy?: Looking up towards you, Aqua gave a sad smile. “... I am n-now”

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?: “Hmmm… I-I don’t have m-much in terms o-of family, a-apart from my mentor Malomedies! W-We keep in t-touch occasionally.”

Have you ever ran away from home?: Sighing, she nods after a moment. Yet, Aqua doesn’t go on to explain why. It was as if her eyes had gotten darker, like storm clouds looming over them. It might be best to move onto the next question.

Would you consider marriage or having children?: “H-Honestly, I d-don’t know… I-If my dearheart d-does, we’ll see.”

Do you secretly hate one of your friend?: “W-Why would I h-hate them! D-Do you not k-know the definition of f-friendship?!”

Which friend knows everything about you?: Closing her eyes in thought, she took a moment before uttering, “... I-It’s a tie between… S-Sage Manssir and…” As her eyes opened, they had a far away look in her eyes once again. With a soft caress of her greatsword, she whispered “... Florence.”

ASKED BY FANS

Are you literate? Have you been to school?: “I was in the P-Priory, you know! S-So I am l-literate.”

The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?: “I haven’t m-made any real e-eerie predictions yet… t-thankfully.”

What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?: Shrugging her shoulders, Aqua looked like she was about to ask for the next question. But then glowed brightly in shame as her eyes blinked with a memory flashing through her eyes. “... I-I mean… I thought the world w-was playing a j-joke on me w-when everything went q-quiet- wait no, n-normal.”

Do you have mental health or physical issues?: “Not a-anymore. With context t-to my p-previous answer, I used to have s-sensitive hearing.” Brushing the petals on her head to the side in a comforting manner. Aqua let out a shaky laugh “... I-It was a little much a-at times.”

What is your current main goal?: Smiling softly, she turned to look at the prisms all around her. Her face seemed to light up with not only the light of the crystals, but of hope. “T-To help Aurene’s c-cause.”

CHOICES

Drink or food?: “D-Drink. Just cause it’s q-quicker to consume.”

Cats or dogs?: “I don’t k-know… Never really t-took time to pet o-one.”

Early bird or night owl?: Giggling, Aqua smirked “Hmmm… I-I don’t know, said the Night b-bloom.”

Optimist or pessimist?: “I try t-to be optimistic…”

Sassy or sarcastic?: Shaking her head, Aqua seemed to really not know how to answer the question.

HAVE YOU EVER

Been caught sneaking out: “H-Huh? I mean… s-sometimes I was caught. I’m just t-thankful the one time i-it mattered I wasn’t caught”

Broke a bone: “Y-Yes, I mess up s-sometimes when s-summoning my friends. M-My poor bone f-fiend hates it when t-the bones break when I summon h-him.” After a few seconds pass, Aqua gained a panicked look as she frantically waved her hands in front of her face “W-Wait! You mean p-personally! Like... m-my own bones!” Shaking her head, Aqua frowns “S-Sylvari don’t really h-have bones… But, in terms of c-context? I haven’t…  y-yet...”

Received flowers: “Yes. I-I have” Aqua looked at the ground for a few moments, only to look up when she noticed you were waiting to explain. “... I-I’m not explaining w-who gave me them or a-anything else about it”

Ghosted someone: “... G-Ghosted someone? What do you m-mean?”

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get: Shaking her head, Aqua looked down at the ground. It seemed like she was trying to make herself look smaller. “... T-That’s… I wish I c-could do that, then things w-wouldn’t get awkward...”

And that’s Aqua’s interview! I thought I would give it a shot. And honestly, it was fun. Thank you to my friendo for the screenshot too

[boneandfur]

Restless Farewell [N*FW][1/3]

Summary: Veronique goes to The City That Never Sleeps to recruit a thief, instead she meets a man with whom she can be ordinary with for just one night. But is he really who he seems? // Pairing: Niles Edison (Thief) x THM F!MC // Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ LEMON. By clicking on "read more", you are verifying that you are old enough to be reading this fic. // Words: 2935 // Notes: this is the precursor to the sneak peek I posted. It is canon-divergent in some places, although it sticks to the canon story-line as much as possible The first fic in this series takes place in NYC, the night before MC and Rye meet with Niles Edison aka Eddie Quick in Washington Square Park. I HC the MC to be in their 30s and Edison to be late 40s. It’s full of angst and smut. If you like those two things, proceed! Lyrics are from the song Restless Farewell by Bob Dylan.

Chapter One

New York City is full of ghosts. 

The first time Veronique, once known as Alaïs Dègas Lionheart, came to the City That Never Sleeps, she was just five years old. She dreams of it, sometimes: Times Square in winter, ice skates and hot chocolate, her mother dripping with rubies and diamonds, a sheik's ransom. The Nutcracker Ballet, sugar plums and chocolate mice, her father carrying her on his shoulders to the castle in Central Park, a fairy tale of turrets and stained glass windows.  

And there are other memories too, darker ones, the kind a child doesn't understand, the kind an adult pushes away. Suitcases of gold bouillon, walking in on her father throwing handfuls of cash in the air as her mother lies on the bed, her mother's bruised eyes and bloody mouth. I walked into a door, ma petit. It was very silly of me. 

Yes, the city is full of ghosts tonight. 

Veronique walks down the city streets without really looking around, yet somehow her feet seem to know where they are going. She passes Times Square in a blur of color and light, Chinatown, with joss paper in the shop windows, botanicas in the Bronx full of colored saint's candles and Santa Muerte, until she is somewhere near Central Park, standing on the path to the castle.

The leaves whisper in the night, their music borne by the wind. Shhh, shhh. She can hear the song in her head that her father used to whistle as he counted stacks of cash, his blazing head bent in concentration. 

"Oh, all the money that in my whole life I did spend / Be it mine right or wrongfully / I let it slip gladly to friends / To tie up the time most forcefully..." 

"Daddy?" Veronique whispers, and only the leaves whisper back. Shhh, shhhh. 

She forgets she is a criminal mastermind, she forgets she is a thief. She forgets about heists in Monaco, and men with cold, flat eyes who stare at you as they kiss the mouths of their guns. She forgets about Rye, the man she loves like a brother, sleeping like a blameless man back at the hotel before their flight in the morning. There is only Alaïs, the Little Robber Princess, and a man's scratchy voice, singing a poet's song. 

"But the bottles are done / We've killed each one / And the table's full and overflowed / And the corner sign / Says it's closing time / So I'll bid farewell and be down the road... "

In the lamplight, the hair is fox-red, and Veronique runs. The man continues down the path, still singing softly. Her hand skims his shoulder, and he turns around. "Daddy?" But it is a stranger's face, craggy and rough and wrong, one eye sewn shut, the other blue as river glass. There is something cunning and strangely hungry in the man's eyes, under the lamplight they flicker for a moment, and Veronique realizes how far she is from the crowds, unable to disappear in plain sight. 

Veronique spins on her heel, and runs. Down the path, into the dark forest ramble, branches scraping her arms. She comes out on a well-lit path of cobblestones, with no sign of the man behind her. Despite her sigh of relief, she stills. She can feel someone, watching her from the dark. Waiting. A beat, and Veronique spins around, whipping her fists up, but the inky shadows remain still, seething with the secrets of the night. 

•••

Three city blocks later, she hasn't lost her tail. She wonders, for a moment, if it's one of the Rooks following her, but brushes the thought away almost as instantly as it comes. They wouldn't be so amateur. 

"Lionheart." That name, the name no one living should know. 

Veronique bolts down the nearest alleyway, and bursts out the other side, her lungs burning, just in time to see a black Lincoln with its lights turned off pull up to the curb. The window rolls down, and the long muzzle of a Berretta points straight at her. 

Time stills, and her mind goes blank. Lionheart. The last time she saw the two of them, it was snowing in the mountains, the sky a dusky purple from the ambient glow of the city. Her father had promised her a golden nightingale that would sing down the moon, and when her mother's lips brushed across her forehead, the little robber princess pretended to be fast asleep. 

"Get back!" Someone yanks Veronique by the wrist right back into the alleyway, hands braced on the brick wall over her head, body pressed up against hers, shielding her from harm. She is afraid to breathe, and all she can feel is his heart thundering against hers, under the cover of darkness. The Barretta aims, and fires, and Veronique bites back a scream as the bullet's impact rains down red brick dust on the pair of them. He grabs her hand, and whispers hoarsely, "Now!" 

Veronique doesn't look back, or up at the man pulling her through the shadows, until they are back in the well-lit streets of Times Square. She is shivering, she cannot seem to stop. Lionheart. That name. How could someone know it, after all these long lonely years? 

"Alright, luv?" The man turns around, looking down at her, and drops her hand in surprise. "Bloody hell, you're not who -- " he corrects himself "-- you're not what I was expecting." 

But who did you expect? Veronique finds herself staring up into the face of a handsome, distinguished older man with dark brown hair gone nearly gray and a trim beard, wearing a brown trench coat and a long dark red scarf. He whips off his glasses, rubbing them with his sleeve, and shoots her a charming smile. His eyes are malachite green behind his glasses, like the pendant she wears around her neck. 

There is something dangerous about this man, she thinks -- Something that could make or break an ordinary woman. He holds out his hand to shake. 

"The name's Eddie." 

She pushes a swath of golden hair behind one ear, and smiles. "Hey." 

•••

"You look as though you could use a proper drink. I know I could." Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. "You almost gave me a heart attack back there. Christ! I thought --" but he bites back whatever it is he was about to say. 

She's still shaking from adrenaline, her skin buzzing, and she realizes they are so close that they could touch, if they wanted. She wants him to touch her, she realizes. To just feel like an ordinary woman for one night, instead of one who can make or break a man. But she doesn't move away. "A drink sounds fantastic. I'm --" Alaïs. It's on the tip of her tongue, and she wonders, for a brief, unguarded moment, what it would be like to be herself with a stranger, just for one night. "Alaïs." 

He raises his brows, giving her an obvious once-over, eyes lingering in appreciation on her legs and breasts. "That's a lovely name -- Alaïs. She was the mistress of Henry the Second." He clears his throat, the distance between them fixed, neither making any move to go off and search for the promised drinks. And then his lips are on hers, the sound of the city falling away in his searing kiss. Her heart rate speeds up, adrenaline pumping through her veins as the kiss deepens, his tongue hot in her mouth as his hands encircle her hips, pulling her flush up against his broad chest. 

When they pull apart, Eddie smiles down at her, so softly that Veronique feels her insides fall apart. "How about that drink, then? I know a place..." 

•••

The hotel bar is well-appointed, with dark, heavy pre-war furnishings, a relic of a time gone by. They sit at the bar, their knees not quite touching, the air between them heady, thick with desire. Eddie levels a wink at her, and catches the eye of the bartender. 

"What'll you have?" Carter, his name tag reads, gold leaf on black plastic. He's blonde, good looking in that slick, clean cut way, and his smile is practiced, white and fake. 

"I'll take an Old Fashioned. And for the lady, a gin and tonic, I think. Make sure it's top shelf, proper gin, none of that shoddy Bombay." Eddie pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, dark green gaze locked on hers for a moment. "Did I get it right, then?" 

Veronique drops her eyes, then looks up at him from under her lashes. "Make it a gin fizzy." 

Eddie hums in approval. "A bird of refined tastes, you are." 

"Citrus Pay, sir, if you'd like to open a tab?" Carter returns with the drinks, bringing out a tablet, and Eddie recoils, a look of disgust crossing his features. 

"I don't go in for none of that bloody newfangled garbage. Cold hard cash, that's what we paid with back in my --" 

Carter rolls his eyes. "Very well, sir. Some of our older guests prefer to pay the old fashioned way, if that's what you prefer." He slides the Old Fashioned towards Eddie, mouth trembling as he tries to hide his amusement. "And for the lady, a Tanqueray gin fizzy, garnished with a fair-trade organic lime wedge, raw unrefined pink turbindo sugar on the rim, hand ground and imported from --" 

Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're not on the pull, mate, you're just serving the lady a drink. No need to slather it on." 

Carter rolls his eyes. "Very well, sir. Signal me if you need another, Old Fashioned." 

Veronique plucks at Eddie's sleeve before he can give the bartender a piece of his mind. She nods to a low-lit booth with a chessboard. "Care to place a wager?" 

Eddie's eyes light up in appreciation at the swing in her hips as she brushes past him, his eyes raking her up and down. "As long as it doesn't involve any of that bloody modern claptrap, I'm all in, luv." 

•••

"Lady's choice." Eddie sets up the board so fast that her head spins. His knees brush hers under the table, and her pulse speeds up erratically, craving each seemingly innocuous touch. "Black or white?" 

His hand lifts the hem of her skirt, caressing her just above the knee. Not so innocent after all. "Black." 

He raises a brow, sipping his drink thoughtfully. "A lady who likes to live dangerously, I see." Surveying the chess board, he moves a white pawn two spaces. "And I suppose this wager of yours is dangerous too?" 

Veronique takes a slow sip of her gin fizzy, seductively licking the foam off her lips, and watches as his pupils enlarge. "You'll have to play the game to find out." 

Eddie inhales sharply as she scoots to the very edge of the seat, parting her legs and moving his hand further up her thigh. "Oh, I intend to." His eyes are locked on hers as she mirrors his move, pawn before the king going two spaces forward. He moves another pawn two spaces forward. "So what brings you to New York, Alaïs -- business or pleasure?" His hand slides up her thigh. 

Alaïs. The name gives her heart a funny little twist, and she realizes she hasn't heard it spoken aloud by another person for almost thirty years. "I could ask you the same thing." Veronique plays with the malachite pendant around her neck, drawing his eyes to her cleavage. "But tonight... It's pleasure." 

Eddie is fighting back a smile. "Are all American birds these days as cheeky as you?" 

Veronique leans forward, long blonde hair brushing the chessboard, and asks in a husky whisper, "And just how long has it been since you've been in New York City?" 

He leans forward, their faces mere inches apart, his lips brushing against her ear, the sound of his English accent making her throb between the legs, like the beat of her heart, aching, wanting. "Too goddamned long enough." 

She turns her cheek, and his lips ghost across hers, the sensation of his stubble on her flesh causing her to inhale sharply, a tiny, yearning moan escaping her. "Eddie." 

He leans back, but his gaze never leaves hers. "You're not bloody cheeky, luv, you're downright dangerous." 

That I am. She thinks of the malachite pendant around her neck, sharpened to a point. 

All thieves live by a code of honor, my little robber princess, her father's voice whispers down the years. Never kill a man just to kill him, for it will always come back to haunt you. But if you need a friend, this stone is your best bet. Lick it and stick it, it'll work like a charm. Keep it close, and it may save your life. But I hope to hell that day never comes. 

Instead of answering, Veronique pulls Eddie's hand right to the apex of her thighs, hot and slick, craving his touch; and with her other hand, makes a move on the board, leaving her queen open. 

His fingers brush the thin strip of fabric, feeling how wet she is. He growls, his voice dark and rough. "What's the wager? We never said."

"That we both win tonight." She slides backwards in the booth, away from his hand, her heart hammering like mad. She must be crazy, she must be foolish, but she doesn't care, she wants -- "Eddie." 

"Right, then." He drains his drink and then throws some cash on the table, holding out a hand. "Shall we?" 

•••

They've barely stepped into the elevator when Eddie spins her around, pressing her up against the wall in a hard kiss. His hands glide up her thighs, cupping her ass, and she rocks against him, moaning as his fingers skim over the damp fabric of her underwear with the lightest pressure, teasing her clit. 

Eddie grunts as Veronique bites his shoulder, and all of a sudden the elevator dings. They break apart, disheveled and erect in all the wrong places. Eddie adjusts his trousers as a dark-haired man with an arrogant look steps into the elevator, followed by a pixie-haired blonde girl who looks as though she's smelled something bad. 

"The ground floor, bellhop," the dark haired man says to Eddie with a peevish air, and turns to the girl. "I didn't know the Waldorf-Astoria was hiring riff-raff these days. I'll have to have a talk with the owner." 

"Oh, Uncle Antoine, don't be such a snob," the girl says. "Like... Oh. Em. Gee!"

"This is your stop, mate," Eddie says with a grimace, slamming the emergency stop button. "'Fraid the elevator's closed for maintenance." He shoulder checks Antoine on his way out, and pushes him and his niece from the elevator into the hall, the pair of them spluttering with indignation. "Stairs are that way, guv." 

"I'm leaving a one star review on Yel--" Antoine is cut off as the elevator door slides shut, and Eddie turns back to Veronique, a smug grin on his face. "Now, where were we?" 

She can't be sure, but when she's sure, she's sure. Eddie has just picked both their pockets. A dangerous man, indeed. 

"Right... here." She tugs on his hand, and notices that there's a slight indent on one of his fingers, where a ring used to be. He can't be married, she frets in her head. But she can't be bothered to worry about it for long, because when Eddie kisses her, firmer than the first time, it feels more meaningful, more right. Like calls to like. It only makes sense that it would take a thief to make her come tonight. 

Eddie's mouth on hers is hot, her nipples are aching for his touch and as he begins rolling one nipple between his fingers, her brain short-circuits and goes blank. There is only this -- his slow, measured kiss, stretching out the pleasurable sensations happening elsewhere in her body. There's the way he tastes, like brandy and citron, and the sound of his deep growl as his hand slides between her legs again. 

It takes her nearly a full minute to realize she's no longer wearing underwear. He must have stolen them. A rush of heat throbs between her thighs, and the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of her slick, wet folds causes the coil of heat to tighten inside of her, harder and harder, biting her bottom lip as his mouth moves down her neck, sucking and nibbling a path to her nipples. The door starts to open, and Eddie slams on the floor button with his free hand. 

"I can't tell you how goddamned beautiful you are," he whispers into her ear. "Because words can't express it." 

Veronique is panting now, unable to catch her breath, and when he swirls his fingers rapidly over her clit, she comes hard and fierce, right then and there. 

"Eddie! Oh, fuck!" Veronique's hips buck uncontrollably, riding the intense wave of her orgasm. He sucks one nipple into his mouth and she screams his name, her legs nearly giving way as she collapses against him, his mouth claiming hers in a hard, possessive kiss. 

"Let's get you to bed, luv." Eddie strokes her cheek with the back of his hand. "Because I plan to shag you until you can't walk for a week." 

"Hurry," she moans.

She's never seen a man slam the elevator buttons so fast in her life. 

•••

Tag list will be in comments section since they seem to only work half the time.

[readbookywooks]

The Broken Arrow

The two daemons moved through the silent village, in and out of the shadows, padding cat-formed across the moonlit gathering-floor, pausing outside the open door of Mary's house. Cautiously they looked inside and saw only the sleeping woman; so they withdrew and moved through the moonlight again, toward the shelter tree. Its long branches trailed their fragrant corkscrew leaves almost down to the ground. Very slowly, very careful not to rustle a leaf or snap a fallen twig, the two shapes slipped in through the leaf curtain and saw what they were seeking: the boy and the girl, fast asleep in each other's arms. They moved closer over the grass and touched the sleepers softly with nose, paw, whiskers, bathing in the life-giving warmth they gave off, but being infinitely careful not to wake them. As they checked their people (gently cleaning Will's fast-healing wound, lifting the lock of hair off Lyra's face), there was a soft sound behind them. Instantly, in total silence, both daemons sprang around, becoming wolves: mad light eyes, bare white teeth, menace in every line. A woman stood there, outlined by the moon. It was not Mary, and when she spoke, they heard her clearly, though her voice made no sound. "Come with me," she said. Pantalaimon's daemon heart leapt within him, but he said nothing until he could greet her away from the sleepers under the tree. "Serafina Pekkala!" he said joyfully. "Where have you been? Do you know what's happened?" "Hush. Let's fly to a place where we can talk," she said, mindful of the sleeping villagers. Her branch of cloud-pine lay by the door of Mary's house, and as she took it up, the two daemons changed into birds - a nightingale, an owl - and flew with her over the thatched roofs, over the grasslands, over the ridge, and toward the nearest wheel tree grove, as huge as a castle, its crown looking like curds of silver in the moonlight. There Serafina Pekkala settled on the highest comfortable branch, among the open flowers drinking in the Dust, and the two birds perched nearby. "You won't be birds for long," she said. "Very soon now your shapes will settle. Look around and take this sight into your memory." "What will we be?" said Pantalaimon. "You'll find out sooner than you think. Listen," said Serafina Pekkala, "and I'll tell you some witch-lore that none but witches know. The reason I can do that is that you are here with me, and your humans are down there, sleeping. Who are the only people for whom that is possible?" "Witches," said Pantalaimon, "and shamans. So..." "In leaving you both on the shores of the world of the dead, Lyra and Will did something, without knowing it, that witches have done since the first time there were witches. There's a region of our north land, a desolate, abominable place, where a great catastrophe happened in the childhood of the world, and where nothing has lived since. No daemons can enter it. To become a witch, a girl must cross it alone and leave her daemon behind. You know the suffering they must undergo. But having done it, they find that their daemons were not severed, as in Bolvangar; they are still one whole being; but now they can roam free, and go to far places and see strange things and bring back knowledge. "And you are not severed, are you?" "No," said Pantalaimon. "We are still one. But it was so painful, and we were so frightened..." "Well," said Serafina, "the two of them will not fly like witches, and they will not live as long as we do; but thanks to what they did, you and they are witch in all but that." The two daemons considered the strangeness of this knowledge. "Does that mean we shall be birds, like witches' daemons?" said Pantalaimon. "Be patient." "And how can Will be a witch? I thought all witches were female." "Those two have changed many things. We are all learning new ways, even witches. But one thing hasn't changed: you must help your humans, not hinder them. You must help them and guide them and encourage them toward wisdom. That's what daemons are for." They were silent. Serafina turned to the nightingale and said, "What is your name?" "I have no name. I didn't know I was born until I was torn away from his heart." "Then I shall name you Kirjava." "Kirjava," said Pantalaimon, trying the sound. "What does it mean?" "Soon you will see what it means. But now," Serafina went on, "you must listen carefully, because I'm going to tell you what you should do." "No," said Kirjava forcefully. Serafina said gently, "I can hear from your tone that you know what I'm going to say." "We don't want to hear it!" said Pantalaimon. "It's too soon," said the nightingale. "It's much too soon." Serafina was silent, because she agreed with them, and she felt sorrowful. She was the wisest one there, and she had to guide them to what was right; but she let their agitation subside before she went on. "Where did you go, in your wanderings?" she said. "Through many worlds," said Pantalaimon. "Everywhere we found a window, we went through. There are more windows than we thought." "And you saw - " "Yes," said Kirjava, "we looked closely, and we saw what was happening." "We saw many other things. We met an angel," said Pantalaimon quickly. "And we saw the world where the little people come from, the Gallivespians. There are big people there, too, who try and kill them." They told the witch more of what they'd seen, and they were trying to distract her, and she knew it; but she let them talk, because of the love each one had for the other's voice. But eventually they ran out of things to tell her, and they fell silent. The only sound was the gentle, endless whisper of the leaves, until Serafina Pekkala said: "You have been keeping away from Will and Lyra to punish them. I know why you're doing that; my Kaisa did just the same after I came through the desolate barrens. But he came to me eventually, because we loved each other still. And they will need you soon to help them do what has to be done next. Because you have to tell them what you know." Pantalaimon cried aloud, a pure, cold owl cry, a sound never heard in that world before. In nests and burrows for a long way around, and wherever any small night creature was hunting or grazing or scavenging, a new and unforgettable fear came into being. Serafina watched from close by, and felt nothing but compassion until she looked at Will's daemon, Kirjava the nightingale. She remembered talking to the witch Ruta Skadi, who had asked, after seeing Will only once, if Serafina had looked into his eyes; and Serafina had replied that she had not dared to. This little brown bird was radiating an implacable ferocity as palpable as heat, and Serafina was afraid of it. Finally Pantalaimon's wild screaming died away, and Kirjava said: "And we have to tell them." "Yes, you do," said the witch gently. Gradually the ferocity left the gaze of the little brown bird, and Serafina could look at her again. She saw a desolate sadness in its place. "There is a ship coming," Serafina said. "I left it to fly here and find you. I came with the gyptians, all the way from our world. They will be here in another day or so." The two birds sat close, and in a moment they had changed their forms, becoming two doves. Serafina went on: "This may be the last time you fly. I can see a little ahead; I can see that you will both be able to climb this high as long as there are trees this size; but I think you will not be birds when your forms settle. Take in all that you can, and remember it well. I know that you and Lyra and Will are going to think hard and painfully, and I know you will make the best choice. But it is yours to make, and no one else's." They didn't speak. She took her branch of cloud-pine and lifted away from the towering treetops, circling high above, feeling on her skin the coolness of the breeze and the tingle of the starlight and the benevolent sifting of that Dust she had never seen. She flew down to the village once more and went silently into the woman's house. She knew nothing about Mary except that she came from the same world as Will, and that her part in the events was crucial. Whether she was fierce or friendly, Serafina had no way of telling; but she had to wake Mary up without startling her, and there was a spell for that. She sat on the floor at the woman's head and watched through half-closed eyes, breathing in and out in time with her. Presently her half-vision began to show her the pale forms that Mary was seeing in her dreams, and she adjusted her mind to resonate with them, as if she were tuning a string. Then with a further effort Serafina herself stepped in among them. Once she was there, she could speak to Mary, and she did so with the instant easy affection that we sometimes feel for people we meet in dreams. A moment later they were talking together in a murmured rush of which Mary later remembered nothing, and walking through a silly landscape of reed beds and electrical transformers. It was time for Serafina to take charge. "In a few moments," she said, "you'll wake up. Don't be alarmed. You'll find me beside you. I'm waking you like this so you'll know it's quite safe and there's nothing to hurt you. And then we can talk properly." She withdrew, taking the dream-Mary with her, until she found herself in the house again, cross-legged on the earthen floor, with Mary's eyes glittering as they looked at her. "You must be the witch," Mary whispered. "I am. My name is Serafina Pekkala. What are you called?" "Mary Malone. I've never been woken so quietly. Am I awake?" "Yes. We must talk together, and dream talk is hard to control, and harder to remember. It's better to talk awake. Do you prefer to stay inside, or will you walk with me in the moonlight?" "I'll come," said Mary, sitting up and stretching. "Where are the others?" "Asleep under the tree." They moved out of the house and past the tree with its curtain of all-concealing leaves, and walked down to the river. Mary watched Serafina Pekkala with a mixture of wariness and admiration: she had never seen a human form so slender and graceful. She seemed younger than Mary herself, though Lyra had said she was hundreds of years old; the only hint of age came in her expression, which was full of a complicated sadness. They sat on the bank over the silver-black water, and Serafina told her that she had spoken to the children's daemons. "They went looking for them today," Mary said, "but something else happened. Will's never seen his daemon. He didn't know for certain that he had one." "Well, he has. And so have you." Mary stared at her. "If you could see him," Serafina went on, "you would see a black bird with red legs and a bright yellow beak, slightly curved. A bird of the mountains." "An Alpine chough... How can you see him?" "With my eyes half-closed, I can see him. If we had time, I could teach you to see him, too, and to see the daemons of others in your world. It's strange for us to think you can't see them." Then she told Mary what she had said to the daemons, and what it meant. "And the daemons will have to tell them?" Mary said. "I thought of waking them to tell them myself. I thought of telling you and letting you have the responsibility. But I saw their daemons, and I knew that would be best." "They're in love." "I know." "They've only just discovered it..." Mary tried to take in all the implications of what Serafina had told her, but it was too hard. After a minute or so Mary said, "Can you see Dust?" "No, I've never seen it, and until the wars began, we had never heard of it." Mary took the spyglass from her pocket and handed it to the witch. Serafina put it to her eye and gasped. "That is Dust... It's beautiful!" "Turn to look back at the shelter tree." Serafina did and exclaimed again. "They did this?" she said. "Something happened today, or yesterday if it's after midnight," Mary said, trying to find the words to explain, and remembering her vision of the Dust flow as a great river like the Mississippi. "Something tiny but crucial... If you wanted to divert a mighty river into a different course, and all you had was a single pebble, you could do it, as long as you put the pebble in the right place to send the first trickle of water that way instead of this. Something like that happened yesterday. I don't know what it was. They saw each other differently, or something... Until then, they hadn't felt like that, but suddenly they did. And then the Dust was attracted to them, very powerfully, and it stopped flowing the other way." "So that was how it was to happen!" said Serafina, marveling. "And now it's safe, or it will be when the angels fill the great chasm in the underworld." She told Mary about the abyss, and about how she herself had found out. "I was flying high," she explained, "looking for a landfall, and I met an angel: a female angel. She was very strange; she was old and young together," she went on, forgetting that that was how she herself appeared to Mary. "Her name was Xaphania. She told me many things... She said that all the history of human life has been a struggle between wisdom and stupidity. She and the rebel angels, the followers of wisdom, have always tried to open minds; the Authority and his churches have always tried to keep them closed. She gave me many examples from my world." "I can think of many from mine." "And for most of that time, wisdom has had to work in secret, whispering her words, moving like a spy through the humble places of the world while the courts and palaces are occupied by her enemies." "Yes," said Mary, "I recognize that, too." "And the struggle isn't over now, though the forces of the Kingdom have met a setback. They'll regroup under a new commander and come back strongly, and we must be ready to resist." "But what happened to Lord Asriel?" said Mary. "He fought the Regent of Heaven, the angel Metatron, and he wrestled him down into the abyss. Metatron is gone forever. So is Lord Asriel." Mary caught her breath. "And Mrs. Coulter?" she said. As an answer the witch took an arrow from her quiver. She took her time selecting it: the best, the straightest, the most perfectly balanced. And she broke it in two. "Once in my world," she said, "I saw that woman torturing a witch, and I swore to myself that I would send that arrow into her throat. Now I shall never do that. She sacrificed herself with Lord Asriel to fight the angel and make the world safe for Lyra. They could not have done it alone, but together they did it." Mary, distressed, said, "How can we tell Lyra?" "Wait until she asks," said Serafina. "And she might not. In any case, she has her symbol reader; that will tell her anything she wants to know." They sat in silence for a while, companionably, as the stars slowly wheeled in the sky. "Can you see ahead and guess what they'll choose to do?" said Mary. "No, but if Lyra returns to her own world, then I will be her sister as long as she lives. What will you do?" "I..." Mary began, and found she hadn't considered that for a moment. "I suppose I belong in my own world. Though I'll be sorry to leave this one; I've been very happy here. The happiest I've ever been in my life, I think." "Well, if you do return home, you shall have a sister in another world," said Serafina, "and so shall I. We shall see each other again in a day or so, when the ship arrives, and we'll talk more on the voyage home; and then we'll part forever. Embrace me now, sister." Mary did so, and Serafina Pekkala flew away on her cloud-pine branch over the reeds, over the marshes, over the mudflats and the beach, and over the sea, until Mary could see her no more. At about the same time, one of the large blue lizards came across the body of Father Gomez. Will and Lyra had returned to the village that afternoon by a different route and hadn't seen it; the priest lay undisturbed where Balthamos had laid him. The lizards were scavengers, but they were mild and harmless creatures, and by an ancient understanding with the mulefa, they were entitled to take any creature left dead after dark. The lizard dragged the priest's body back to her nest, and her children feasted very well. As for the rifle, it lay in the grass where Father Gomez had laid it down, quietly turning to rust.