#And sun and moon seemed the easiest

[camelspit]

happy finitar week everypony : )

@xanadaus

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[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

COMING DOWN

Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary - When Jackson's on a comedown, he can't help but to find his way back to you.

Warnings - ANGST (AHHH), toxic relationship, break ups, attachment issues, past abuse, vague sexual descriptions.

Word Count - 1.7k

Notes - I hate angst.

The black Mercedes Benz flew down the empty highway within a blink of the eye. The sun had set long ago and Jackson felt the darkness infest his empty soul. Jackson was all alone with his thoughts again and it boiled his blood. When he smacked your number in again only to ring out, again, his polished shoe pressed harder on the accelerator. Knuckles as white as snow from his grip on the steering wheel, his teeth gritted together like rusting gears. Why couldn’t you pick up the phone? He knew you were awake, you were always awake. 

Typically, the consumption of drugs, alcohol and reckless sex only expanded the void. Increased the starvation of you. Those solutions never fix anything for him. The images of you flashed across his mind painfully. He needed you, again. 

As he pulled up to your complex, he almost jumped out of the car window from impatience. As he glanced up to your condo, he straightened his jacket, the side of his hand rubbing against his nose as he sniffed deeply. He pulled out your apartment key to get inside. Note, you moved into this condo after you had broken up. Yes, you did not give him this key. 

There was no need for silence, he wanted you to know he was here. The door creaked loudly, his shadow entered your home first. When it was confirmed that you were out of sight, he slammed the door shut. Gradually, the sounds of your footsteps increased so he threw his jacket onto the couch. The only source of light was the moon illuminating through the open windows. 

“Jackson” you sighed, your arms crossed over your chest as you leant against the door frame. 

He mumbled your name as he waltzed through your apartment, his hands running across your furniture. Nothing was in good sight, you could only see his figure, likewise to you. The both of you seemed to prefer it that way, the less seen was the less it hurt. 

“You didn’t answer my calls” he exhaled, leaning against the dining table, only a few meters away from you. 

The comment went ignored as you slowly approached him, only wearing your silk night dress that barely covered your ass. Jackson believed you did it on purpose, wearing those clothes to tempt him, as if he wasn’t already nose deep in infatuation with you. 

“How are you?” You whispered as you stood before him, looking up to him with those tortuous doe eyes and an innocent tilt of the head. 

No answer. The pain was coursing through his eyes, that much you could see. As you teased him by brushing the back of your hand over his thigh, he grunted. His hand ran up his face and through his soft hair as he tried to remain emotionless. The temptation to devour you in this moment was sickening. But Jackson’s ego wanted to stand in the way. His emotions often felt like a broken dog forced into obedience.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked softly, your hand rubbing against his cheek, his lips shifted into your hand as he inhaled the reminder of your scent. It was only ever the smell of sandalwood. He kissed your hand softly, his eyes closed. 

He never liked talking about his profession with you. Vulnerability was a man’s greatest weakness and Jackson was no ordinary man. Blinking back to his common sense, he pushed your hand away and straightened his posture, hoping to intimidate you. 

“Have you done something bad again?” You sighed, planting your hands on the small of his back. 

“Nothing new” he replied coldly.

It was easiest when Jackson was working. All of his distractions were pushed out of the picture. He was able to be his alter ego, a callous murderer whose only concern was a paycheck. However, when he sunk back into society, the morality of it all could hit him like a freight train. 

Your mouth sucked onto his bottom lip. He remained like a statue momentarily, unsure if he really wanted to do this. But he knew he’d always go away with it. He kissed you back passionately, squeezing your ass firmly as his growing erection poked against you. 

“Are you mine?” Jackson murmured, his lips trailing down the skin of your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

“Yes Jackson” you admitted. 

He pulled back slowly as he tried to look at you through the darkness. His breathing slow but heavy as he let his darkest thoughts run free. 

“But you’re not really mine…” Jackson countered slowly. 

“No” you admitted through teary eyes.

“Why did we end it again?” He questioned. If his tone wasn’t full of despair, you’d call him out for sarcasm. 

Jackson knew why it ended, it tormented him. All because you begged him for love. Even though you had accepted him wholly, shifted your principles to be able to include him, he couldn’t give you what you deserved. When you reached breaking point, it pushed him over the edge, he almost killed you in a fit of rage. The guilt smacked him like a truck. You didn’t need him, at all. There was no dependance on him, you had a high paying job, a healthy social network of friends. You had a well off life, he was your only baggage.  

But your ex knew you had a soft spot for him. So he’d always come back, as if this was your shared home. Only because he missed your comforting touch, the warmth of being in your aura. Jackson would always crave your love, the only woman who would ever accept who he was. 

The attachment you were both stuck in - an endless loop - was sickening. No one else could compare to what sensations you have brought each other. Whenever the both of you thought of the concept of love, you thought of each other. But yet again, when you both thought of each other, it never brought positive feelings and emotions over your state of mind. 

His hand trailed over the scar across your breast, the cut he inflicted on you. As he felt the bump, his breathing hitched. A reminder that he could not ever keep his promises with you, no matter how badly he wanted to. 

“Jackson, when you go back to work you’ll remember why” you explained, your tone saddened. 

“What if I don’t want to go back to work?” Jackson brought up, his hands massaging your scalp. 

“You always do” you sighed. 

“I’ve been thinking about you… About us” he admitted, his voice powered by a glimmer of hope for change. 

“Are you still high?” you half joked. 

“No, no” Jackson assured, his lips pressed against your forehead. “I miss you” he confessed quietly. 

You shuddered out softly, the tears swelled at your orbs. Silence filled the dark apartment, you took his hands in yours and squeezed them firmly. 

“You say this every time” you judged. 

Jackson huffed at your answer and pulled his hands free. He shook his head to try to shake the thoughts out. When he took a step back, he stared down at you. 

“You’re not sleeping with anyone else are you?” Jackson questioned, his voice dripping with jealousy. 

It was typical of him to accuse you of that. Not that you had any more obligations to him. Likewise to him not having any towards you.  

“No” you answered blankly. 

It was a lie, he knew it was but it was easier for him to just go along with it. To live out the fantasy that you were both still dedicated to one another. A reality where you were destined for eternity. 

“I want to change for you” he declared. 

“Okay” you answer, a glimmer of hope that this time would indeed be different. 

But yet again, this happened every single time. Both of you just liked to deceive each other to be able to hold onto your past. Jackson Rippner will never change. His name was cursed even though you liked to pretend it was a blessing. 

Slowly, he kissed you again, murmuring against your lips as he remembered your taste. Slowly yet surely, you both spreaded across your bed. He kissed every inch of your skin, wanting to remember every detail of you. As he gradually striped himself, he climbed over your figure and pressed his aching cock to your gushing entrance. 

His hand slipped around your throat. He often wondered if his torment would end if he just killed you. With a gentle squeeze, he buried his large size inside of you. Your sweet moans relaxed his tormented mind as he exhaled in pleasure. 

“How do you want me to fuck you sweetheart?” Jackson asked softly. 

“Slow” you moaned slowly.

He kissed your heated cheek and followed your wishes. He fucked your senselessly. Hearing his name being moaned over and over again was all he wanted to ever hear again. The both of you climaxed multiple times. But you couldn’t get enough of each other. At the back of your heads, you both knew that this wouldn’t last forever. By the time the first peak of light appeared, your bodies were exhausted by pleasure. Both of you smiled weakly as you laid in his arms. As your consciousness tipped over into the depths of sleep, you confessed your undying love for Jackson. He laid stiffly, stuck in a loop of his most conflicting thoughts. 

When he woke up hours later, he squinted his eyes in the sunlight. Turning his head over to you, his cold features analyzed your warm ones. Breathing out slowly, he felt this invisible weight on his chest. Jackson forced himself to get up. Without awakening you, he dressed himself and crept out of your room, giving you one more painful glance.

As he slid into his seat and shut the car door, he opened his phone and looked at his notification. Another job, but these days he just found it as a way to escape the memory of you. He looked up to your condo one last time before speeding off.  When you woke up in your bed, yet again alone. The tears were uncontrollable as you hoped that this was the last time that he was coming down to see you.

[fastboatsmojito]

hiii moon!! can i get a farm or countryside au from the au list with lip? not sure why he would be doing it but... farmhand lip grrr

omfg THANK YOU for requesting this I was actually thinking about this au specifically the other day 🙂‍↕️

Farm/countryside au from this au list for my 100 followers party !

| a/n; threw in a little farmers daughter reader cus it’s fun

| cw; just fluff, fem reader <3

| wc; 540

Being the farmers daughter wasn’t all bad. Sure your days started earlier than usual and helping out with the animals wasn’t always the easiest. But the newest farmhand was making your life a whole lot more interesting.

The first day he showed up you paid him no mind, used to watching new men showing up around the farm and leaving after just a few weeks. Though you couldn’t blame them, always trying to catch your eye and subsequently being run off by your overprotective father.

This time was different though, he didn’t seem to notice you at all and it made him all the more intriguing. After a few days you decided to introduce yourself, draw his attention in the easiest way you could think of — bringing him a glass of iced tea.

It was warm even with the breeze October was starting to bring in, surely even hotter for him, sweat dripping down the back of his neck onto his tank top that was - at least at one point - white. You walked over glass in hand, the fabric of your dress dancing around your mid thigh.

He was working on one of the fences, fully concentrated, only looking up and squinting to avoid the sun behind you when you softly tapped him on the shoulder. You held out the glass toward him and gave him the sweetest ‘hi’ you could muster along with your name.

He took the glass with a nod, calloused fingers just brushing yours, downing it all at once like he hadn’t had anything to drink in days before handing the now empty glass back to you.

“Lip, thanks.” He said simply, wiping the condensation from the glass layered over his hand onto his blue jeans before getting back to work. He didn’t seem too interested in a conversation but you weren’t giving up that easily, leaning against the side of the fence next to him as he worked.

“How is it?” You asked, question only half finished before he looked up at you again, fingers still occupied against the fence.

“Working here, I mean.” You explained. He made you nervous — squirmy under his gaze, words stuck on the tip of your tongue and all. He stood up, once again wiping his hands off on his jeans like that was doing anything but making him dirtier.

“Look, you’re real sweet an’ all but I’m not here for a girlfriend.” You crossed your arms after he said it, offended that he would even assume you were offering.

Though if you were honest, seeing his arms flex when he copied your pose wasn’t unattractive. The dirt on his hands, the scowl on his face half reserved for directing the sun away from his eyes, the way he was still trying to be respectful when turning down an offer he hadn’t even been given. You had to take it upon yourself to ignore the thought of you cleaning him up, giving him someone to be distracted by.

It might take a few days of oh-so-innocently bringing him over a glass of iced tea and compelling him into a conversation before his resolve wears and you’re getting a better feel of the rough palms of his hands, but you were certain this one would stay.

[90sastroglam]

6th house synastry - my experience

This is honestly my LEAST favorite synastry to have with someone else, but only if I’m the 6th house person (which seems ironic, however it’s really true). I don’t know it this is due to the fact that I don’t have any 6th house placements on my chart…

Also I think this might depend on the sign it is in. In my case, it’s in Aries and they honestly get on my nerves. I’ve had this synastry with SO MANY people in my life. Friends AND family. My mom has her moon in my 6th house, my dad has his SUN and my sister has her MARS in my 6th house (guess who annoys me the most... cough cough mars, although sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s worse). I’ve also been gotten romantically involved with a man who’s mercury was in my 6th house, one of my longtime friends has her venus and one of my college friends has her ascendant in the same house.

Based on this, I would say the venus and ascendant synastry in this house is the easiest to deal with (and the moon in second). My problem with these people is that I often feel as though they’re like overly nitpicky, even cruel and unfair in their critiques - they’ll point things out unnecessarily thinking they’re “protecting me” when really they’re just making me doubt myself. I’ve found that they’ll also criticize me for things they do themselves ALL THE TIME - so they’re basically projecting onto me. And I would be lying if I said they don’t make me feel like shit sometimes. Oh and they’ll do it in public too…

Another detail - these critiques are never constructive… hell nah. They’ll just point out my flaws like no other. Then I try to tell them that they’re crossing boundaries and call them out, ask them to stop… yet they don’t stop and keep pushing ‘till I break. Oh and when I break they’ll literally stare at me like I’m the one who’s insane, even though they provoked everything (I also can’t act like them, ‘cause when I do I’m mean and harsh… they’re the only ones who can do it). To me, they just seem like hypocrites, who project onto me and then claim (as an excuse) they were doing it for me… when really they’re being selfish.

Just to give you an exemple… the guy I was romantically involved with began critiquing my looks soon after we started hanging out… he would often point out my break outs (which he knew were a sensitive topic for me and one of my biggest insecurities, as I was bullied for having a lot of acne when I was younger). Soon he started pointing out my stomach when I was bloated and my weight (I literally have a flat stomach and I’m skinny af… THESE ARE MY ORGANS SIR). As you can pretty much tell, it didn’t workout. I started getting sick of his BS and broke it off, as he would also be rude to me out of nowhere sometimes… then pretend he didn’t do anything And this guy is just a light case, as I was done way worse by both my family and some “friends” with placements in my 6th house.

To me, people with placements in my 6th house just seem rude, bitter and insensitive for NO REASON… no really…. NO REASON AT ALL. Yes they CAN be of service… but they can also be so invasive and even controlling. These are the people who have backstabbed me the most and I was so loyal and respectful towards them. See I would forgive them (yet call then out) so many times, but they really NEVER stop. Because they’re Aries placements they probably won’t be the ones who’ll serve you… I feel like depending on the sign this will work in different ways and let me tell you: aries will never be the submissive ones.

REMINDER: this is just my personal experience. This doesn’t mean aries placements are gonna treat everyone like shit either, it just depends on where they sit in your chart. Please tell me the experience with the sign of your 6th house and which sign it is.

xoxo,

lily.

[danwhobrowses]

Spoilers for Critical Role Campaign 3 Episode 104 Below

So with Orym's Seedling getting blessed by the Wildmother to now be Vestige-tier as a 'Relic of the Red Solstice' I thought I'd indulge myself and throw in which of the gods I think/want to bless the rest of the Hells with in order to give them Relics and why.

Imogen - The Stormlord Why - Easiest of the bunch after Orym, she is the storm after all and she likes her lightning magic, flying and projectiles. The Knowing Mistress may be a secondary option but I think the Stormlord has this one on lock, likely enhancing her damage output or overall spellcasting.

Laudna - The Matron of Ravens Why - Given Laudna's connection and affinity for the dark and spooky it seems the best fit. You could go and juxtapose with the Dawnfather given the Sun Tree or have the Arch Heart help her believe in her own magic but I think the Matron would be the best fit. Laudna's enhancement may fall more into damage avoidance than increased damage through the Matron, or something to hinder enemy saves.

Chetney - The All Hammer Why - The god of crafting hasn't gotten any real chances to shine in the past 3 campaigns, but he is the best fit for the toymaker. The Moonweaver may be an option given lycanthropy, and I wouldn't put it past Travis wanting to get a vestige from a Betrayer God but adding more options for Travis to be creative is always a solid recipe. For that maybe a Relic that changes shape or can make some summonings would work for Chet.

Fearne - The Moonweaver Why - While the Arch Heart - forefather of fey, Dawnfather - given the fire powers, or a double dip from the Wildmother are options, I think the Moonweaver best suits Fearne given how they're both known for their mischief and flirtiness. Also the Unseelie Court hate her so it'd be a nice dig at Zathuda. She also has a moon sickle, which may be the thing that gets enhanced if not her staff. Since the Titan shard already increases her firepower the Moonweaver could perhaps help with damage avoidance in an illusionary way, or improve her spellcasting and concentration saves.

Braius - The Lord of Lies Why - Braius is a difficult one actually. The As hole hasn't actually made contact with him so why give a vestige-like power? Problem is that there's not many other options given how he doesn't like the Primes. The Ruiner or Dread Emperor might be an option just for damage output. We've not seen too much of Braius but from what we've seen of him in combat he holds himself pretty well, so you'd probably expect something to enhance that maybe in a more hellish way. We'd also have to figure out how he'll contact a Betrayer in Vassalheim...

Dorian - The Changebringer Why - Dorian is the most difficult imo because although he's naturally good and considerate there isn't really a god he's been seen to lean on. I doubt he'd accept favour from the Matron or Wildmother after the Opal incident, but the god all about finding your own path may suit Dorian's mental state right now. The Lawbearer (to parallel with Orym getting the Wildmother's blessing), Arch Heart and Knowing Mistress are options too, but the latter already favoured a bard once before so you probably don't want to do repetition there. All manner of things can be enhanced for Dorian equipment-wise, it'll likely be an instrument though, which means their relic will likely enhance support and damage suppression.

Ashton - The Everlight Why - While I know the Coin of the Changebringer is right there, the Changebringer was FCG's god, not Ashton's - they have to walk their own path, providing that they are willing to accept a god's blessing. While the Ruiner may offer something to lure Ashton into given the promise of violence, or the Arch Heart proposing an enhancement of unique magic, I am sticking with my earlier mentioning that the Everlight is perhaps the god who can benefit Ashton the most as a person. It seems unorthodox but Ashton at their core wants to protect the people they care about; healing, temperance and redemption are all key to that, and like Fearne since the Titan powers increases their damage output already, perhaps Ashton's relic would be something to help them take more damage so others don't have to.

[saturnsquest757]

Astrology Observations 1.

This is my first time please don’t judge.

I’ve noticed Pisces usually are the self proclaimed, “different and special beings” instead of Aquarius. Pisces Sun and or Venus will openly state how different they are.

A Sagittarius is the easiest zodiac sign for me to spot. It’s just so… obvious??? Even when they’re not the usual extroverted type there’s always this energy of a free spirit.

Scorpio risings are secretive but only for a period of time. Once you get to know them they usually open up. Scorpio moons however… are usually always private/secretive no matter the time frame of knowing each other.

I’ve experienced Virgos being so hypercritical they become hypocritical. Virgos have high expectations of others and themselves, but usually others cannot reach them. They also cannot reach their own standards. Considering, their a mutable sign this is why they can be critical but not back it up with constant action. Their expectations and perception is consistently changing, but still manages to remain high.

Ok… Cancer rising/moon/mars usually moody asf. No chill vibes. Very strict on comfortability and not like fixed signs comfortable. More so a nostalgic feeling or certain things needed to fulfill an emotional need. If those things (people,places,objects) change drastically there is a difficulty to move forward. If anything goes outside of a routine they get very upset.

I wish I could say one sign seems more emotionally mature than the other. I’ve met so many people with all different types of placements and most were emotionally stunted in some form and there were no similarities. So I think being toxic and or unhealthy can happen no matter the natal chart.

I have Neptune 1° degree away from my ascendent🥲. Neptune in the first house/conjunct ascendent is not an easy placement. Very creative. Very unrealistic. A strong and growing imagination. Head in the clouds. Projections. Projections. Even the movements I make with my body or face usually get misinterpreted. Can have a distorted perception of physical form. When Saturn was transiting my 1st house I lost a lot of weight, but I didn’t seem to notice how skinny I looked. People would make commentary and I thought I looked fine. Looking back at photos I realize how malnourished and skinny I was. Neptune in the 1st can also cause a tendency to be addicted to anything. Most would say drugs, but for me it’s usually any hobby that can allow an obsessive escape from reality. Low self esteem can be present considering the elusive nature of the self.

Saturn in the 2nd house folks struggle with making a higher income or a comfortable salary throughout their life. However, Saturn in the 2nd is good with being frugal and budgeting. Usually can save really easily with this placement unless Saturn is severely debilitated.

Venus/Mars in Pisces and being attracted to someone weird, eccentric. They don’t have a consistent type and can date all different types of people.

Mars conjunct Venus aspect I’m so jealous and I want. People with mars conjunct Venus can be very attractive and flirty. Usually a chick/guy magnet. People fall in love with them easily. Attract a lot of attention in some form.

Chiron is very important in the solar return chart. Whatever house it is in will be healed but also broken down and injured in some way. Or there could be a discovery of a wound depending on what house will change the description. Ex:Chiron in 7th, struggle in partnership, may break up with current partner, attract difficult/emotionally stunted individuals. Chiron in the 1st can struggle with intense amount of doubt and low self esteem concerning the body and how they show up in the world. I do believe in a solar return chart the house Chiron resides in either heals in some form or the individual learns a pivotal lesson by the end of the year.

8th house synastry is emotionally taxing. I have this with my mom and other friends and it’s a lot. 8th house synastry usually there’s a obvious power dynamic. Or one person is more obsessed/attached than the other. 12th house synastry can also have unequal dynamics however I do think both individuals will feel a pull towards each other(whether they admit it or not). 12th house synastry although elusive has the potential to make you feel great comfortability and unconditional love.

Venus conjunct mars in synastry wasn’t all that for me. It felt superficial and we mainly connected on a sexual level.

Why does NO one talk about moon conjunct moon in synastry. I love it and it’s nice!! Depending on the moon I guess opinions can differ. However both people’s emotional waves will be similar and easily understood by the other. Allowing an easy process of being seen and heard. I connected deeply with men and women that I had this aspect with. It is sad and painful when the relationship ends because there’s a mutual understanding of each other.

9th house synastry is dope and I wish I experienced it more. There’s an opportunity to learn something or you are more open to learning new things from the other person. Depending on what planet/zodiac sign/ degree it can show what topics tend to expand in the presence of a 9th house intruder. Also morals can be similar or the same on politics, social issues, etc.

Mars in the 4th house synastry is hell. I don’t like it usually the mars person brings disruption or change in the home in some way. They can without trying cause emotional distress or upheavals in the 4th house person. Obviously if mars is strongly and comfortably placed I think this can lessen the effects. Such as if it’s in its domicile or exaltation. However if mars is struggling on it’s own in the natal chart I do think it’s a red flag 🚩. Considering the 4th house is the most sensitive and hidden house.Technically your ancestral background and emotional well being resides in the 4th house which can trigger a whole lot of things.

Usually people see 4th house as good because it’s home and family. However if your family lineage has generational trauma this area can be a trigger landmark. This is the house of your deepest, habitual characteristics that only come out when comfortable. It’s also traditions your family upheld which can be any… kind not just the standard example. Such as tendencies of toxicity or unhealthy habits that linger from previous generations.

[marshmellin]

Star and Stone, Ch. 8 | Long Ago He Rode Away

Gil-galad did not want to show divisions in front of Men and their kings. He wanted to show a unified front. To stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his kin against the darkness, as the Valar would want. To show these Men the true strength of being Firstborn . To show Elven glory and valor and might stretching back before the waking of the sun.  But something stopped him.  Elendil was offering the lives of his people. Their brief, bright, precious lives. And Gil-galad would not return that sincerity with a lie. 

Rating: Explicit for smut between consenting partners (chapters tagged with 🔥). All other chapters PG-13/Teen for language and canon-typical violence

F FOR FIX IT: Gil-galad lives. Fluff and happy ending. Sort of a slow burn, but we'll get there. Gil-galad deserves a little smooch. He's going to get a lot more than a lil smooch. Repeat: Happily Ever After; everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. No beta, we die like Mirdania.

Ch. 1 of 12: Between the Mountains and the Sea

Ch. 2: Mirrored

Ch. 3: Fair and Free

Ch. 4: Countless Stars

Ch. 5: Silver Shield

Ch. 6: Preparations

Ch. 7: Where the Shadows Are 🔥

Ch. 8: Long Ago He Rode Away

-> NEW >> Ch. 9: Wherever the Need is Greatest

Easiest to read and follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60597052 🔥 Here for the smut? Check out the Director's Cut with links to two one-shot Gil-ga-daddy fics 🔥

//

The journey to Greenwood had been long and arduous, the road winding through dense forests and shadowed glades. Gil-galad had journeyed for nearly a full moon cycle with a small group of guards – far from his typical retinue of courtiers as High King – to come here. 

It felt more honest that way, somehow, to come alone. King to king.

The cavernous halls of Oropher’s palace seemed to echo with each step as Gil-galad walked into the Woodland Realm's throne room. Oropher’s courts were much different than the court in Lindon. Lindon was golden light, warm radiance, the sun breaking into dawn. 

Greenwood was the cold silver of night stars peeking through the trees, sharp and keen.

The smooth stone of the walls shimmered faintly under the soft glow of orbs of light suspended in the air. The pillars that supported the vaulted ceiling rose like massive trees, their surfaces carved with intricate patterns of leaves and vines. 

At the far end of the hall stood Oropher’s throne, carved from pale rock that gleamed like moonlight, resembling the entwined roots and branches of an ancient tree. The throne rose high above the dais, its back fanning out into a lattice of twisting branches. 

And there sat Oropher himself. Draped in flowing robes of silver and forest green, his crown intertwining silver branches, studded with green and amber jewels. Leaves caught in mid-autumn moonlight.

If any crown in this room is enchanted, it is his and not mine, Gil-galad thought wryly, remembering Elaniel’s joke.

Gil-galad approached the dias and Oropher rose slowly, his movements deliberate, as if each step was meant to command attention. The two kings stood to face each other, their gazes locking—a meeting of equals, each one proud, each one wary.

“Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor,” Oropher intoned, his voice smooth. He inclined his head slightly, his eyes closing as he did so. “It is my honor to welcome you to the Woodland Realm, High King. It is not often that our paths cross so directly.” Though his expression was calm, there was a quiet intensity in Oropher’s gray eyes.

“King Oropher,” Gil-galad replied, inclining his head with the same respect. “It is my honor to be welcomed. Your halls are as beautiful as I have been told. It is a pleasure to stand within them.”

Oropher smiled faintly, though the gesture carried more politeness than warmth. “And I see the tales of the High King’s courtesy are no exaggeration.” His gaze swept over Gil-galad, evaluating him as a fighter examines his foe’s weapon. “But I doubt you have come all this way merely to admire my halls.”

Gil-galad’s expression remained steady, though he felt the tension beneath the exchange, a subtle dance of pride and guardedness. 

Then let us dance, Oropher. 

“I come seeking your alliance. The Shadow spreads farther with each passing day, and I fear that neither of our realms can stand alone against what is to come.”

Oropher’s eyes narrowed slightly, his posture shifting. “An alliance,” he repeated, the word lingering in the air like a challenge. “Such bonds are often forged with difficulty and sustained with even greater care. What, I wonder, would you ask of me and my people?”

Gil-galad stepped closer, his tone firm but not unkind. “I ask only that we stand together as darkness falls. Your people are strong, your warriors swift and skilled. With our combined strength, we may withstand what Sauron sends against us.”

Oropher’s gaze turned distant for a moment, as though he were peering through the walls into the depths of his memories. “You speak with conviction, High King, but conviction alone can not sway me from my duty to my people. They have already suffered much in wars waged far from these woods.”

Gil-galad nodded slowly, acknowledging the weight of Oropher’s words. Gil-galad’s forefathers had started some of those wars, and they had ended others. 

And finally, he understood that, despite not having committed the wrong, he was duty-bound.  It was not his action, but he had to answer for it nonetheless. 

A silence stretched between them, heavy. Oropher broke it first, shaking his head. “Why should my people bleed again, and leave their families unprotected? And why should I ask them to travel so close to Mordor and death to do it?”

“Because Sauron does not care for borders or allegiances. He will come for us all, whether we face him together or apart.”

Oropher’s voice softened, though the tension in his posture remained. “Your words are not without merit, High King. But I have lived in Middle Earth long enough to know that alliances are forged not only in words but in deeds. Tell me, how far are you willing to go to prove the strength of your commitment?”

Gil-galad met his gaze unflinchingly. “As far as I need. I do not ask for the lives of your people lightly. I come here not as a king demanding allegiance, but as a fellow leader seeking partnership. I can not stand alone against this darkness.” He swallowed and sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I will fail without your people.”

Oropher studied him for a long moment, his sharp eyes seeming to weigh every word, every nuance. When he spoke again, there was a subtle shift in his tone—a glimmer of respect, though tempered by caution.

“Very well,” Oropher said. “I will consider your words, Gil-galad. We will meet in one week to discuss my decision. But I must be plain: my first duty is to my people. Their safety, their survival, will always come before any vow I make. To you or any other.”

“Understood,” Gil-galad replied, his voice steady. “And my duty is to all the free peoples of Middle Earth. It is my hope that our duties align.”

Oropher inclined his head, the faintest trace of a smile flickering across his face. “You speak well, Gil-galad. I will…consider carefully.”

–

Oropher’s private chamber was modest compared to the grandeur of the Woodland Realm’s throne room. Soft beams of light filtered through latticed stone windows carved in intricate patterns, casting delicate shadows on the polished floor. A small round table of pale wood, polished to a mirror-like sheen, stood between Oropher and Gil-galad, who had taken their seats across from each other. A pair of silver goblets, untouched, rested on the table, filled with a pale yellow wine that neither seemed inclined to taste.

We act like it’s poisoned. …. Or maybe we both fear getting drunk. 

The fist fight would be remarkable to behold. If I was able to remember it afterwards.

Oropher’s face was unreadable, his piercing gray eyes fixed on Gil-galad as though trying to discern the measure of his patience. 

“I have considered your proposal,” Oropher began, his voice cool but deliberate, like a blade drawn carefully from its sheath. “And I have decided that I will join your alliance. I speak for King Amdír as well, by his leave.”

Gil-galad inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, though he knew from the cadence of Oropher’s voice that there was more to come.

There is always another request. 

“However,” Oropher continued, his gaze unyielding, “I must make one condition. We request two of the palantíri from King Elendil to be entrusted to us until the Shadow is defeated. We will then return the seeing-stones to the stewardship of Men.”

The words settled heavily in the chamber. Gil-galad betrayed no surprise – there was none to betray. 

So Ristarion had spoken true. 

Gil-galad folded his hands atop the table and leaned forward slightly, his tone calm but firm. “Two palantír ,” he repeated. “That is a significant request, King Oropher. Though I understand their value, such a condition will not be easily met. I will take this request to Elendil, but I cannot promise you what another king might agree to.”

Oropher nodded, as if he had expected this response. “I understand, but I make the request not lightly, nor out of greed. My halls are secluded, and my people live apart from the wider affairs of Middle Earth, as do Amdír’s. We can pledge warriors to this fight, but they will join us on the field of battle at the cost of protecting our people here . Should the Shadow march on Greenwood – should a band of wayward Orcs cross our borders –  we may find ourselves isolated, cut off from aid before it can even be summoned. The palantíri would allow us to call for aid swiftly, to remain connected to you, to Elendil, or to all others who would stand with us to defend our walls against Sauron.”

Gil-galad studied him for a moment. That argument was unexpected. 

Not power. Not loyalty. Not Sinda vs. Noldo. 

But instead, the chance to call for aid. For help.

“Your reasoning is sound,” Gil-galad said slowly, inclining his head. “Though…now that you have shared your request, I must also discuss an issue that has come to my attention. Lord Ristarion mentioned your request for two palantirí — long before you voiced it here. And, he claimed, for much different reasons.”

Oropher’s eyes narrowed, a spark of irritation flashing across his face. “And what, pray tell, did Lord Ristarion, son of Remmirath, claim?”

Gil-galad chose his words carefully – so carefully, he knew, that Oropher would notice exactly how careful he was being. “Ristarion claimed you and King Amdír demanded the palantíri because you did not trust a Noldor king to act in the interests of your people and you required a show of faith. He insinuated that your condition was born from distrust based on the shared history of our people and a lack of history between our people and Men.”

A shadow of anger passed over Oropher’s face, his jaw tightening. “So Ristarion dares to use my name to stoke division between our peoples,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “You have been High King of the Noldor for three and a half thousand years, Gil-galad, and you have not yet gone back on your word. Wounds exist and trust is fragile, yes, but you have honor in my eyes and the eyes of my people.” Oropher clenched his hands. “How convenient for Ristarion to twist my intent into a weapon of distrust. I would have thought better of one who sits on your council.”

Gil-galad inclined his head, his tone measured but edged with the same irritation Oropher showed. “Ristarion has been a thorn in my side, stirring discord where unity is needed. His actions are his own and not representative of the type of counsel I value. That is why I came to you directly – I did not believe we had so little trust between us.”

Oropher leaned back slightly in his chair, the tension in his posture easing a fraction. He sighed and nodded. “Indeed. I am…angered to hear my words have been misrepresented to you, High King. The palantíri are tools of connection, not instruments of power. I would use them no other way than to protect my people and Amdír’s while we and our bravest warriors are on the field of battle with you. Shoulder to shoulder.”

The sincerity in Oropher’s voice struck a chord in Gil-galad. For a moment, he saw not a leader, but a man who feared for his people. His family. A man burdened by the same fears and responsibilities that he himself carried.

“I understand,” Gil-galad said finally, his voice softening. “And I agree. However, my agreement with you does not alter much, unfortunately. Elendil is the rightful steward of the seeing-stones. While I cannot declare what he will decide, I will present your reasoning to him as faithfully as you have shared it with me.”

Oropher inclined his head in acknowledgment, his expression softening slightly. “You honor me with your candor, Gil-galad.”

Oropher rose first, his robes flowing like water as he moved. “I will await word from you regarding King Elendil’s response. Until then, may the stars watch over you.”

“And you,” Gil-galad replied, rising as well. “Let us hope our actions today shape a better future for all our peoples.”

As Gil-galad left the chamber, doubts lingered in his mind. But so did hope. The Woodland king was no less proud or cautious than he had expected, but beneath that pride was a leader who cared deeply for his people—a leader not so different from himself. 

King to king . 

//

The coastal winds carried the tang of the sea as the sun dipped low over the Gulf of Lhûn, casting a warm light upon the freshly hewn stone of the White Towers. Gil-galad stood at the base of the tallest of the towers, his robes of deep blue catching the breeze. Beside him, Elendil looked up at the bricks of the tower.

“Your vision for this place is taking shape, High King,” Elendil said, his voice deep and resonant. His eyes lingered on the soaring spire and the scaffolding that clung to its side like a delicate web. “A beacon for our peoples.”

“Indeed,” Gil-galad murmured, his gaze sweeping over the workers. Elves moved gracefully across the site, carrying stone and smoothing mortar, their movements precise and purposeful. Among them, a lone figure with hair tied back, stood directing the flow of work.

“Master Elaniel,” Gil-galad called, his voice carrying across the construction site.

She turned, a smudge of dust across her cheek and her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. “Erein– ah, uh, yes, High King. How may I assist you?” she asked, her boots crunching softly against the gravel as she approached.

She will never become used to calling me High King. He bit back a smile at the thought.  And at the memory of the names she had called him the night before. 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Master Elaniel, this is High King Elendil of Arnor and Gondor. He has come to see the progress of the White Towers. High King Elendil, may I introduce Master Elaniel, Chief Mason of Lindon. It is her vision and skill that guide these stones into place.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Master Elaniel,” Elendil said richly. “Your work speaks for itself. The craftsmanship is remarkable.”

Gil-galad fought to contain the fierce pride bubbling up in him at the impressed look on Elendil’s face.

Elaniel bowed slightly. “Thank you, High King Elendil. The vision belongs to our High King Gil-galad. I simply ensure the stones hear him.”

“King Elendil has asked for a tour of the keep,” Gil-galad said smoothly, turning to Elaniel. “If you have time to oblige us, Master Elaniel?”

“Of course,” she said quickly, her tone crisp. She motioned for Elendil to follow. “This way, my lord. I would show you both Elostirion, the tower built to hold the palantír .”

Elaniel led them through the wide arched entrance, her voice clear and confident as she explained the design. The air within the keep was cooler, the walls still raw stone in places.

“The keep is the heart of the tower,” she began. “Its foundation was reinforced with quarried granite, brought in from the hills near Mithlond. The lower levels will house supplies and quarters for the keepers of the palantír . On the upper floors, we’ve constructed chambers with narrow windows to allow light but minimize vulnerability for the winding staircase. If you’ll look here…”

She gestured to a staircase carved directly into the stone, its steps wide and shallow. They ascended, the sounds of construction below fading as they climbed higher. Elaniel pointed out the viewing platforms and defensive advantages of the design, her tone even and professional.

Finally, the three arrived at the topmost chamber. The wind swirled around them, carrying with it the faint sound of waves breaking against the cliffs. Elaniel gestured to the circular room. “This is where the palantír will be housed. The chamber is warded with protective runes, etched into the walls and keystone. It is designed to preserve not only the seeing-stone but the sanctity of its use as it points toward Tol Eressëa.”

Elendil stepped to the center of the room, looking out through the narrow windows at the expanse of sea and land. “It is a place of strength and clarity. I am impressed.”

“Thank you,” she replied simply, bowing her head. 

Elendil nodded. “You honor us with such work, Master Elaniel. You’ve given us much to admire.”

“High King Elendil,” Elaniel inclined her head once more. “If you have no further questions, I will leave you and High King Gil-galad to speak.” After both men bowed their heads to her, she left, her boots echoing lightly as she descended the stairwell.

The two kings stood in silence for a moment, the wind tugging at their cloaks.

Elendil crossed his arms, leaning casually on the stone parapet, a smile on his face. His keen blue eyes were piercing. “Gil-galad, my friend. You are troubled. Why have you brought me here?”

Gil-galad sighed, his hands folding into his robes. “I have had difficult conversations with Kings Oropher and Amdír. Oropher, in particular, has requested a sign of good faith from the realms of Men — as well as a means of protection.”

Elendil’s eyes narrowed. “And what is it King Oropher asks?”

“He wishes for two of the seven palantirí to remain under his and Amdír’s care,” Gil-galad said quietly. “He states it is not for himself but for his people, to provide safety to their smaller realms as they dedicate their warriors. They wouls use the seeing-stones to call for aid.” 

Gil-galad hesitated, his shoulders shifting uncomfortably. “I understand, however, that this request is…not small, by any means. The seeing-stones belong to you and were earned by the faithfulness of your forefathers. I understand if you can not fulfill this request, but I am compelled to bring it to you. As one king to another.”

Elendil’s gaze still focused west as though he could see the sea. Perhaps, with his keen eyes, he could.

“From your vantage point, do we need their support to win?” His voice was no more than a whisper, and he had not yet turned to Gil-galad. 

Gil-galad’s reply came swiftly, his voice low and confident and disappointed. “Yes.”

Elendil was quiet for a moment, leaning into the wind. His sharp blue eyes surveyed the land. 

“Can you secure their loyalty without the stones?” he asked quietly. 

Gil-galad looked out as well, the wind stinging his eyes as he gazed at the horizon. 

The moment was quiet. But it hummed like a harp string. 

Gil-galad did not want to show divisions in front of Men and their kings. He wanted to show a unified front. To stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his kin against the darkness, as the Valar would want. To show these Men the true strength of being Firstborn . To show Elven glory and valor and might stretching back before the waking of the sun. 

But something stopped him. 

Elendil was offering the lives of his people. Their brief, bright, precious lives. 

And Gil-galad would not return that sincerity with a lie. 

King to king. 

“No,” he replied, his shoulders slumping. “I can not. I can assure you of my loyalty, but I can not speak for Oropher, even if he receives the palantirí . He seems earnest and I know you have his respect, but…I…” 

Gil-galad searched for what to say, his heart sinking with heavy understanding as he finally settled on the truth of it: “I do not speak for all the elves of Middle Earth.”

Time slowed. 

The moment shimmered. Flickered. So many choices, so many lives, so much hung on this moment. So much so that Gil-galad felt as though the air hummed. He thought the noise was so loud it could shatter glass.

Elendil did not seem to hear it.

Nodding as the wind blew his hair over his eyes, Elendil finally turned to meet Gil-galad’s gaze. Blue and brown, locked together.

“A ship can sail against the wind by tacking back and forth,” Elendil finally declared. “We will change our course. Oropher and Amdír will have their seeing-stones in return for their vow to join us. Their choices are their own, but the Valar will remember.”

And as if Varda herself had been singing her displeasure and was now satisfied, the humming stopped. Gil-galad could not understand it, but he felt something deep within the bones of the world change. 

The sound of crystal being unbroken. Of a cry being pulled back. A spool of thread unravelling only to be wound again, whole and untangled. 

Time moved forward. 

Relief flooded over him, and he knew it showed on his face. Gil-galad could barely contain a grin, but forced his voice to be steady. “Thank you, King Elendil. The trust you show our people will not be forgotten.”

Elendil smiled in reply, clamping a friendly hand on Gil-galad’s shoulder, his voice warm. “We will provide a matched pair so they can communicate with each other or with Lindon, depending on their wish.” He smiled, blue eyes crinkling impishly as they turned back to the tower keep. “I do feel I should mention a minor issue with the sizes of the stones, however…”

// 

He was trying to focus. Truly, he was trying. The stack of papers on his desk was nearly two hands high by now.

And yet. 

He could still feel the way she touched him. The way she invited him to touch her. The feel of her lips as her body fit so perfectly against him. 

And that will be the legacy of King Gil-galad, of whom the harpers will one day sadly sing. All the peoples of Middle Earth fell to darkness because I can not stop thinking with my di–

A soft knock at the study door pulled him from his thoughts. He padded over to the door, already knowing who it was, and greeted her warmly. “Elaniel.”

“You’ve been here too long,” she remarked as she stepped inside, her tone soft but edged with gentle reproach.

“I’ll leave when the world stops falling apart,” he replied dryly.

“Then you’ll never leave, at that rate,” she shot back cheerfully, crossing the room toward the fireplace. Her gaze lingered on the papers cluttering his desk before she turned her grey eyes back to him. “How long will the journey to Gondor take?” she asked, leaning slightly against the edge of the desk.

“A moon cycle,” he said, allowing himself a long sigh. “Perhaps less if the weather is kind.”

“And how often is the weather kind to you?” she teased, a small smile blossoming across her face.

He chuckled, exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Rarely.”

Moving behind him, her fingers lightly brushed his shoulder. “You’re tense,” she observed casually.

“One of my commanders insisted on bringing me yet another argument about resource allocation which, when discussed more, turned out to be a reporting error. An hour of my time over an incorrect number on a scroll. Then Ristarion –”

“Ah-ah,” she interrupted, her hands settling gently on his shoulders. “I’ll allow no mention of that heconna while I’m here.”

He sighed, leaning slightly into her touch. “You’re wiser than I, then.”

“And that is the burden I must carry,” she teased.

Her fingers began to knead the tight muscles of his shoulders, and Gil-galad closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. She lightly kneaded at the knots in his neck, earning a soft sigh from him. Elaniel leaned in closer, her hands sliding down the front of his robe as she hooked her chin over his shoulder. “Better?” she asked after a moment, her voice low and close to his ear.

He meant to murmur in agreement, but the sound came out more like a growl as she started slowly planting kisses along his neck. Her lips made their way down to his shoulder and back to the corner of his jaw. Nimble hands worked underneath the collar of his robes and she ran her fingers across his chest before scraping her nails against his nipples, turning them to stiff peaks. His eyes fluttered shut and it was his turn to reward her with small sounds of pleasure. 

Responding very enthusiastically, she breathed heavily as she kissed his neck again, working her way up to trace the outline of his ear with the tip of her tongue. He moaned again, eyes shut, head falling back against her. 

And that seemed to add fuel to whatever fire was lit inside her. 

She moved into his lap, pulling her skirts up to expose far more of her legs than she needed, to bracket his hips. Heat coiled low in his stomach as she straightened on her knees, bringing her head higher than his to kiss him again. He took advantage of it, pulling her closer to kiss her collarbone, to strive to kiss her neck, to cup her breasts. 

Her hips rolled again and his hands met her, grabbing her by the back of her thighs to rock her against him in a slow — so temptingly slow — rhythm. 

She stilled and he followed her lead, but he failed to bite back an undignified whine, reluctant to stop. “Have you ever heard the old Teleri proverb: Dartha nedh i rhîw, an ir lín i ethuil ?” 

Wait in the winter, for your spring will come. 

Gil-galad narrowed his eyes slightly. “Is that not a proverb about revenge?”

She pretended to think for a moment, reaching out to play with the collar of his robe, loosening it wider and wider to expose more of his chest. He fought back the urge to shudder as her hands roved across him lightly. Maddeningly, she kept rolling her hips on occasion – out of rhythm and randomly, he noted with irritation and want. 

“Mmm. Not quite. The Sindar often think of it more as…returning a favor. Balancing our scales.”

“Oh?” he asked softly, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. 

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed in reply, hands still gliding over his now-exposed chest. Her eyes were bright. “Ereinion, I think you’re still very tense,” she whispered, flashing him a wicked grin. Her hands moved down his abs. “Yes, I’m right, I can feel it. Very tense. I would like to help you relax.” Elaniel found a steady rhythm again with her hips, finally rutting against his lap.

The heat coiled tighter in his stomach and he fought the urge to grip her by the back of her thighs again. He was fully hard and half naked, his robe falling open. “If this is how you wish to spend your evening,” he echoed her words.

Her voice dropped low, but he heard lust and authority creep into her tone. She leaned close, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear as she whispered breathily. “Oh, this is exactly how I wish to spend this evening.” 

His cock twitched. Her lips were swollen and red. His hands had tangled in her hair at least twice. She was well on her way to looking … 

Well, he liked it. 

And then, she hummed against his temple and suddenly moved, leaving his lap. He bit back a sigh again and closed his eyes. 

Why is she always leaving my lap…

Standing next to him, she nudged his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her. Elaniel’s face was suddenly smooth and formal, her hair tucked back, and she flicked her hands down her dress. 

What the –

“High King! An urgent message from the commander of the Eastern Armies, my lord.” The voice outside the door echoed loudly, and the expectant look on Elaniel’s face suggested this was not the first time the message had been announced. 

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. Elaniel was unsuccessfully hiding a smirk. She looked fine. He looked debauched and he knew it. 

Trying not to let irritation seep into every movement he made, he stood and rearranged his clothing before moving to answer the door, peeking his head out into the hallway. “Yes,” he demanded with more annoyance than the poor guard deserved. 

“Commander Arminas has called the full war council to meet immediately, High King. He believes Sauron’s forces now gather for war and prepare to march for battle within the day. Arminas has begun to muster all troops in Lindon for your command and urgently requests your presence in the council chamber.” 

And with that, the guard bowed and left quickly. 

As he closed the door, several thoughts flashed through Gil-galad’s head. Fifteen more minutes. Arminas…I will repay your timing, truly, you have my word, Commander. Mustering all troops – he thinks we must move quickly and does not wait to discuss it. A true threat, then, for his instincts are sound. Elendil waits for us at Amon Sûl, and so does Galadriel and the Northern Armies, but this is far sooner than we expected to march from Lindon. 

Their eyes met, brown and grey, and something broke in his heart. 

Elaniel reached out, her hand lightly gripping his arm, her demeanor shifting to a seriousness he had never seen in her – at least never while they were alone. “I will meet you in council, High King. I will prepare to offer my leadership to Lindon.” 

She left quickly, giving Gil-galad a moment to collect his thoughts. 

The forces of Lindon would march tonight. And he would march with them. 

And she would stay. 

//

The great war chamber of Lindon hummed with energy. Maps of the realms were unrolled across the central table, weighted at the corners with heavy stones, and the faint scent of wax and parchment mingled with the sharper tang of polished steel. Commanders moved purposefully about the room, their armor catching the flickering light of the braziers. The air was heavy with the sound of orders given and received, quills scratching across parchment as plans were hastily amended. Tactics had been agreed upon, but now came the administrative headache of moving thousands and thousands of troops toward a battlefield.

Gil-galad stood at the head of the chamber, his polished chest plate gleaming in the golden light. Aeglos was cradled in his arm but almost forgotten – he leaned against it as he looked down at the maps on the table. To his left stood Elrond, already dressed for battle. To Gil-galad’s right was Elaniel, clad not in armor but in sturdy traveling garb, her hair bound up in her normal bun, a short sword at her side. She watched the proceedings with sharp, unyielding focus.

At the far end of the table, Lord Ristarion sat with his arms crossed, his own armor accented with the greens and silvers of his house. His face bore the expression of someone who had come prepared to start an argument.

Ah. So nothing has changed, it would seem. 

Gil-galad struck the stone table lightly with his hand, bringing the room to attention. “Thank you all. We stand on the precipice of war. Lord Elrond and I will ride at the head of Lindon’s forces within the hour to Amon Sûl, where we will liaise with Elendil and Galadriel’s armies. During our absence, Lindon cannot be left leaderless.”

The room quieted, save for the faint murmur of a scribe taking notes. “Master Elaniel will serve as regent until my return.”

A ripple of agreement passed through the room. Ristarion’s voice cut through the noise. “High King…” He rose slowly, his hands clasped before him in a show of deference that rang hollow. “With all due respect, this is a… surprising choice. Master Elaniel is a skilled stonemason, yes, but she is not a warrior or a leader. Nor is she a noble of long standing. Surely there are others better suited to lead Lindon in a time of war.”

Elaniel’s eyes flicked to Ristarion, her posture unyielding. Before she could respond, Elrond stepped forward, his tone measured. “Leadership in Lindon is not dictated by titles. It is dictated by wisdom and the ability to guide our people. Elaniel has shown that ability, and as you can see,” Elrond waved an arm around the table, “She has the support of the healers, guards, and commanders gathered here who will provide her counsel in our absence.”

Ristarion inclined his head toward Elrond, though his lips tightened. “Yet I must speak what I have heard from others, my lord. There are whispers among the people—questions about her loyalty. They say she is Sindar, not Noldor, and wonder if her heart truly belongs to Lindon.”

Elaniel stood at that, her hands resting lightly on the edge of the table, her gray eyes a tempest. The sight of her fury tugged at the knot in Gil-galad’s chest and it took a moment before he realized he had gripped Aeglos more tightly than before, his knuckles turning white.       

Elaniel’s voice was sharper than the spear. “Do they wonder? Or is it you who wonders, Ristarion?” She spread her hands. “I must confess before you, before this council and before the Valar, I did choose to be born a Sinda, despite my parents asking for my preference several times during my conception. ‘Daughter of a Noldor prince’ was on offer, but, I regret to say, I rejected the opportunity. Much to my parents' dismay.” 

A small chuckle from Arminas, who had already half-drawn the dagger on his left hip. Halion somehow laughed loudly and grunted in agreement at the same time – not subtle, that one . Even Elrond had to hide his smile behind his hand, breaking the tension on his face.

Elaniel pressed on. “But please, Lord Ristarion, yes. Let us litigate the meaning of my parentage. Let us question my dedication to the people of Lindon because I was born in a different realm. Despite having built the fortifications of this realm and working with every leader we have allied with. Despite having planned the travel and troop routes, supply lines, and routes of retreat."

Arminas all but gestured at her to keep going from the corner of the table, rapping his fist on the stone in encouragement. His eyes flicked to Gil-galad, a smile blossoming across his face.

"Lord Ristarion," she sighed softly, her voice low and dangerous. "I am sure many here must agree with you, since you seem to know their minds so quickly. I beg them to speak alongside you, for I very much wish to hear what they know about myself that I do not. And if the lords at this table are too cowardly to stand with you, then that is your burden to bear, unfortunately. I recommend you remain silent until someone is bold enough to second your motion.”

More amusement flittered through the crowd. Gil-galad felt anything but amused. Elaniel put up a good fight, yes -- she had a fury that was wondrous to behold. But she should not have to engage in this fight at all. 

Predictably, Ristarion ignored her, addressing Gil-galad directly. “High King, it is not merely her lineage. There are… rumors that the influence of a simple stonemason clouds your sense of duty. She has snared you, king. And we will all fall because of it.”

The room fell silent. Elaniel’s gaze did not waver, but a bright flush rose to her cheeks. 

       Simple stonemason. 

             Simple.       

                    Stonemason.

                         My duty.

                              Simple.

                                   Duty.

                                        Simple.

                                             Stone.

                                                   Mason.

                                                       Clouds my 

                                                          sense of 

                                                                duty?

                                                                     simple.

Gil-galad’s anger, held in check for so long, finally broke free. The thread snapped. More than one thread. Every thread. 

He frayed past repair.

He stamped away from the head of the table loudly, the armored plates on his thighs clanking against each other, Aeglos in hand. Pulling himself up to his full height — a half-head above most elves — he glared at Ristarion, who at least had enough sense to drop his gaze.

“High King, I meant no disrespect to you personally—”

Gil-galad ignored him, walking past the man to stand before Elaniel. Turning toward her, his broad body blotted out the rest of the council chambers. It was no longer a meeting room preparing for war. 

It was just Elaniel and Ereinion. 

“A king goes wherever the need is greatest. So would his queen.” 

Her eyes sparkling, she teased him, ”What was that, again?”

“Queen,” he repeated firmly, meeting her gaze. 

It was a statement and a question. 

“Mm. A frightening title. But, I suspect, a requirement.” Elaniel cocked her head at him, an adorable, madding look crossing her face as her cheeks burned bright red. “I find I have conditions before I would claim it.” She clasped her hands in front of her, eyebrows lifted, looking all the world as though they were going to finalize a simple construction contract. 

He wanted to gallop and she was coaxing him to be still, to talk through a decision at the one time in his long, long life he did not want to wait one second more. 

He knew it was intentional. 

And he knew he would let her. 

“Of course. Name them, Master Elaniel,” he said quickly, his tone slipping to one of a politician as he shifted Aeglos over his shoulder. 

He knew her well, and he knew how this conversation would end. 

The joy was in getting there. 

“I will lead Lindon as regent. But no — absolutely no, and I am being incredibly plain in this , Ereinion — absolutely no…curtsying, no…crowns.” She crinkled her nose. “Impossible at a worksite.”

“A circlet,” he countered. 

“Small. Formal occasions only .”

“Agreed,” he said, a half smile on his face at their not-quite-a-game.  Their tone was light, but he knew the lines they were drawing were not.  And she had failed to define both ‘small’ and ‘formal occasion,’ which gave him room to negotiate – or at the very least tease her – later. 

“If there is nothing—“

Elaniel held up a hand. “Additionally. You have managed the needs of this realm for thousands of years by yourself, and have proven to be a capable and dedicated leader. I’ve watched you do the paperwork, and I am not helping you with it beyond this. A favor I extend during war only.”

Gil-galad waved a bracer-covered arm. “Ah, that was never in doubt. I will secure another herald when I return. Any other requests?”

“I will attend events, but please do not ask me to be a politician. I am as likely to offend as I am to charm any dignitary you receive.”

“I confess I mourn for their loss, as your charm is a thing to behold. As is your offense, for that matter.” He pretended to sigh in surrender. “Agreed. But you must attend these events so I may admire the aforementioned circlet.” 

“Small circlet,” she corrected him with a raised finger. 

“Small circlet,” he murmured. 

Her eyes sparkled. “Then we have reached a consensus. Please, proceed.”

Gil-galad spoke the words quickly, his impatience at full gallop now that she had let him loose. 

“Manwë, see me. Varda, hear me. Carry my solemn vow to Eru Ilúvatar: I bind my fëa to this woman until Arda is remade.”

Elaniel laughed – a loud, excited sound of joy – before following him. “Manwë, see me. Varda, hear me. Carry my solemn vow to Eru Ilúvatar: I bind my fëa to this man until Arda is remade.” 

And something in them both felt known.

Agelos fell to the polished stones as Gil-galad crushed Elaniel — his wife — into a bruising kiss, pulling her flat against his body. His armor clanked again with the force of the impact. He was frenzied, hands on her waist, in her hair. Free from the restraint he imposed on himself for so long, he continued to gallop. He lifted her up to kiss her and fought a deep, primal urge to carry her from here and make her his in every way. 

But duty hammered in her chest just as loudly as in his, and she managed to pull back. Her eyes were glinting, lips red and swollen – Valar, her lips – and he craned to catch her beautiful mouth again before he saw a nearly-imperceptible shake of her head. She tapped her nails on his chest plate, which he had long ago learned was her request for his full focus.

And he suddenly remembered they were in a room with his closest advisors. Elrond was hiding a grin. Halion was not hiding a damn thing, and he looked delighted. Arminas….well, he looked like he was mentally taking notes, to be honest, in between sneaking glances at Alenya. 

Gil-galad found himself growing increasingly irritated that he had a sense of decorum. And that all. these. people. were in this room.

I find I do not care about decorum. This is my council hall, my palace and my wife. They can leave. 

They should leave before I take her on this table in front of them.

Finally facing Ristarion, Gil-galad’s tone turned brisk and business-like. “We have wed in front of the One, as you have witnessed. Elaniel is both Chief Master Mason of Lindon and High Queen of the Noldor.” He could sense, rather than see, her crinkling her nose at the title, but it did not concern him. She was High Queen. His High Queen. And he would remind her of it later. 

There is more than one way to help her acclimate to the title…and to giving commands…

Gil-galad tilted his head toward Ristarion. “Any arguments regarding her lineage, her capability or her right to lead are now quelled. Are there any other concerns from our people that you feel compelled to raise, Lord Ristarion?”

There was only silence.

“I am pleased to hear it. Lord Elrond wishes your advice on some…important matter, I’m sure. I give you leave to attend to it.” 

Gil-galad’s eyes flicked to meet Elrond’s, whose face had blossomed from a hidden grin to a mix of delight, annoyance that he was chosen to distract Ristarion, and something that faintly communicated, I told you so, in a very self-satisfied way. Gil-galad pretended not to notice. 

Instead, he spoke loudly to the rest of the council, his hands never leaving Elaniel’s hips. “We ride for Amon Sûl in an hour. Prepare your soldiers. Quickly. Council is dismissed.”

As the council hall emptied, Elaniel moved away from him – whywhywhymustshekeepleavingme – and leaned down to pick up Agelos, its blade sliding on the stones with a metallic note. She pretended to inspect the blade edge and nodded with exaggerated satisfaction before handing him the weapon.

“That was not a very respectful way to treat an ancestral weapon, husband.” 

“If dropping it will break it, then it is not a very formidable weapon, wife,” he replied with a smile, gripping her hips again to pin her against him, Aeglos cradled in his shoulder. He teased her gently, leaning to whisper close to her ear so only she could hear. “Half an hour, and we could…” 

She laughed quietly and he felt a shiver run through her as she moved her hands across his chest plate, resting on the buckles fastening it to his shoulders. Her fingers played with the strap. “It would take at least half that time to take off the—”

“So I shall leave the chest plate and bracers on— ” His voice came out as a growl next to her ear. 

“— And once I have you, you will need much longer than an hour to satisfy me as thoroughly as I demand,” she replied, swatting at his shoulder. “You have many responsibilities this evening.”

Gil-galad kissed her again, pulling her up on her toes before fully releasing her. “When I return,” he chuckled, “please do consider my offer about the bracers.”

“Yes, morconinya , your bracers will be on my mind for months,” she laughed, hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. After a moment, her voice sank low, her eyes soft and sad. “Go now, so that you return to me all the faster. I will watch the stars for us both while you’re gone.”

A moment passed between them, and he knew she was right. That this may be the last moment they had together and that he had to leave her. Married for an hour and then parted for…

He didn’t let himself finish the thought. 

“Even when we are apart, our stars will be the same. I will always watch with you. ” His fingers grazed her cheek once more. “ Namárië.”

With a final kiss, he left her reluctantly, attending to the multitude of needs required to move an army as large as Lindon’s as quickly as he now demanded – food and supply lines, housing, healers and commanders and quartermasters and horsemasters and weapons masters and more. Each coordinating a hundred, a thousand, elves at once to prepare for the march to Amon Sûl. There, they were to meet with Elendil’s army. Elendil’s very mortal army, who needed more food, more water, more rest than Gil-galad’s. 

The siege against Sauron would be long. The battle would take years. They would win. But the effort to wage this war had truly just begun. 

And he did not know when he would return.

An hour later, he had mounted his horse, Aeglos in hand. Gil-galad cast a final glance back at the gates and saw a lone figure standing at the top of the wall.

It was Elaniel. She raised a hand in silent farewell as Gil-galad led his soldiers out of Lindon. He could see the tears streaming down her face, shining like gold in the light of the rising sun, as he rode east. 

//

Author's Notes:

It’s a fix it, folks!

Elendil’s quip about the sizes of the seeing-stones is a reference to something not often shown in adaptations – some of those palantir are b.i.g. The one in Amon Sûl was likely the size of a small car or so. It was described as larger than one man could lift, while many other stones were the size we see on screen. In my mind, the stones Elendil has proffered here are from Amon Sûl and the master stone of Osgiliath (also described as a bigg’un). I believe these stones are paired, which would allow Oropher to set up a “family text thread” so to speak between his kingdom and another of his choice. These stones were both lost eventually, so moving them to Oropher’s domain does not alter their use later.

Dartha nedh i rhîw, an ir lín i ethuil or “Wait in the winter, for your spring will come” is fully made up – it’s likely incorrect Sindarin construction, is likely not constructed like a proverb, and it potentially doesn’t even make sense as a proverb used in this context. I needed an excuse for her to stay on his lap and tease him in more than one way. I am but a simple writer, dear reader, here to offer whatever humble aid I can.

My version of the Eldar's wedding oath, specifically “Manwë see me, Varda hear me,” is inspired by a line from the amazing Haladriel series Oathbound by Nenya Business (Cec_Jo): https://archiveofourown.org/works/45771712

//

Rating: Explicit for smut between consenting partners (chapters tagged with 🔥). All other chapters PG-13/Teen for language and canon-typical violence F FOR FIX IT: Gil-galad lives. Fluff and happy ending. Sort of a slow burn, but we'll get there. Gil-galad deserves a little smooch. He's going to get a lot more than a lil smooch. Repeat: Happily Ever After; everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. No beta, we die like Mirdania.

Ch. 1 of 12: Between the Mountains and the Sea

Ch. 2: Mirrored

Ch. 3: Fair and Free

Ch. 4: Countless Stars

Ch. 5: Silver Shield

Ch. 6: Preparations

Ch. 7: Where the Shadows Are 🔥

Ch. 8: Long Ago He Rode Away

-> NEW >> Ch. 9: Wherever the Need is Greatest

Easiest to read and follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60597052 🔥 Here for the smut? Check out the Director's Cut with links to two one-shot Gil-ga-daddy fics 🔥

[bluemoon1331]

Hello, hello! Welcome to my main blog, where the DCA fascination consumes! My alt blog is @sharetheartman, go check it out if you wanna see the amazing art this community has to offer!

My Ko-fi (if you're able to help a struggling writer, very much appreciated. Can request written commissions if you want): BlueMoon1331

Below is a list of all my current fics on A03 and planned AUs! Give them a read if you love fantasy and the DCA! (Updated to divide between the SFW and NSFW stories)

<<<<<First up, the SFW section!>>>>>>

Finished Works:

One Lost Star- You are a bit of a hermit, living solo off the land since the death of your grandfather. Until you draw certain godly attention, that is.

Scarlet Masquerade- The sole heir to your kingdom, you find yourself caught in the tangled web of the automaton emperor's plans. However, things are about to go from bad to worse when you catch the interest of the deadly automaton assassin sent to end you.

WIPs:

Cosmic Journeys- Trapped in the depths of depression, you seek an unfortunate out. The nearby land owner won't let that happen, though. Thus begins a journey of self-worth and finding hope in a world of madness and compassion, monsters, saints, and everything in between.

Come and Go- A Megamind-inspired AU with Sun as Metroman, Moon as Megamind, and Eclipse as Titan, while you are a delivery driver caught in the middle.

Unusual- An oceanographer, there is no place you'd rather be than scouring the depths of the seven seas, studying its plant life and creatures, in particular the infamous mers, beings most of your co-workers are quite wary of. They don't seem to mind you too much, though, a fact you try not to put stock in until an encounter on the beach near your house flips your entire world upside down. Strings of fate and a battle to rule the oceans with you as the key? Ridiculous. Right?

Of Metal Parts and Roadside Shenanigans- You are a trucker traveling home before unwittingly tripping headfirst into a giant mystery. (More of @deceptiveshadow's Blood Moon cause I love him and cannot help myself.)

One-shots:

Party Crashing 101- A piece inspired by the mafia episode from Helluva Boss. Badass, protective reader ftw XD

Blooming In Adversity- You and the princesses were great friends in your youth, until you had to move away. Years later, you return, your friendship blooming anew. However, dark plots turn in the background, and it may be up to just you to save them.

Phantom Tide- You are a siren, crushed under betrayal. Sun and Moon are brothers recovering from the throes of grief. Perhaps you may be just what each other need.

Connotations- Your duties as a druid are fairly life-consuming, but you have happily devoted yourself to them. Keeping the peace is not the easiest, but you do it all the same. Unfortunately, the arrival of contesting priests threaten your efforts, setting you on a collision course to meet three of the forest's most powerful caretakers.

Diamonds and Iron- Being a rather big-time mafia boss, of course Eclipse needs places to stash away his income. As an outdoor enthusiast, you love visiting the local motorsports arena when you can afford it. Oh, who's that standing in the middle of the track, where you can't see?

Birds of a Feather- You are stuck as the basically powerless manager to the newly opened pizzaplex. With problems everywhere you look, you're not sure which one to focus on or handle first. Perhaps you could find a kindred soul in a certain mechanic, however. (Based in the EAPS universe)

<<<<<<<<<NSFW area ahoy!>>>>>>>>>>

Finished Works:

Never Play Cat and Mouse With Vampires- Living alone is a necessity, your skills in hunting, magic, and evasion giving you all you need for contentment, or so you tell yourself. In your newest home you, unfortunately, find that your capabilities only draw the infatuation of three local creatures that are intent to finally capture you and make you theirs. Annoyingly, they may just get that chance.

Dancing In Orbit- The lunar vampire is the last of his kind, a deadly plague on the Earth that refuses to yield despite the uncountable years that have passed since the last of his kin and kind died off. You, running from your intertwined past, seek to finally put an end to that, with some help from friends old and new.

Familiar Constellations- The vampires get a bit quirky about you, especially when you egg them on. Mature. Very, very mature. Good gods they are rough, but you love it. After all, you can get a bit rough with them, too.

Gravity- Featuring another of @deceptiveshadow's lovely OCs, Nova. Normally quite the quiet and cat-like companion, you join him for a round of games in which his behavior becomes increasingly odd. That's nothing compared to when you strangely wake in the tower the next day, having no recollection of how you got there, and what comes after.

WIPs:

Embers and Ash- Ghost hunting is your profession, and you are damn good at it. Which is why you don't think twice when you're hired to cleanse an abandoned mansion of its otherworldly resident. Too bad this job is not the cake walk you thought it would be.

Burning Stars- You run your farm alone on a world teeming with aliens and humans, content with your animal family and helpful community, even if you keep the latter at arm's lengths. Until your peace is interrupted by a certain intergalactic bounty hunter, anyway.

Rosewood's Serenade- The eldest child of your kingdom, you have trained since birth to be all your home needs and more, intent to take the throne when the time comes, marriage or no. However, your parents harbor a secret, a deal struck when disaster threatened to destroy all they hold dear, and you soon find yourself meeting a most intriguing being...

Demonic- The saying of Hell is empty for all the demons are here has never been more apt. Caught smack dab in the middle of the infamous Hell-Day event, you come out with an unexpected passenger woven into your soul. Now, you secretly fight to preserve the fragile balance between mortals and the demons trapped on Earth, all while contending with the fact your new neighbors are the very ones responsible for sealing the gates, the infamous Celestial Graces. They also happen to be the mortal enemies of the one currently living in you. Fun times all around, especially with devil himself on your heels, seeking to reclaim what he lost.

Along the Akesh- Blessed with visions since your youth, you were taken and raised by the temple, becoming one of the highest-ranked priests, second to only the grand heijut himself. With an awe-inspiring festival and ritual that happens only once every five centuries under way, you are eager to meet the moon god, one of the many you have had the pleasure of conversing with throughout your prayers and oracles, in person. Things take an unexpected turn, however, when the temple must pay recompense for an accidental screw up with a gift left by an old friend. You are about to learn just how intrigued you and the moon god truly are with each other.

One-shots:

Bleeding Feathers- You weren't supposed to go into the exclusionary zone, but that's never been a problem for you before. This time, however, you might just get more than you bargained for. Fan piece for @deceptiveshadow's harpy au! (Not TSAMS)

Color Theory- Moving back to your late grandma's cabin, you pray for things to finally settle down. Unfortunately, her myriad of secrets seek to come back and haunt you, but hey, it might not be all bad this time. You could use the comfort of an old friend. Another fic inspired by @deceptiveshadow! Their god Blood Moon this time. (Not TSAMS)

<<<<<<<Lastly, miscellaneous potential AUs!>>>>>>>

Lich King AU- With the three realms in shambles, cut off from each other, it is up to the most powerful warriors of Earth to fend off the lich king and his Elite army, including his own brothers. You, whom offers them a secret safe haven and relaxation when they need it, cannot deny your love for Sun and Moon, nor they you, but with Eclipse hounding for any weakness he can use against his kin, is the danger really worth it? You find the answer may be coming sooner than you would like when the two go missing after a fight.

Spirited Away AU- You have moved to a more remote region in hopes of forgetting a troubled family life. Content to spend your time among the lush jungles of the land, you inadvertently stumble upon an obviously long-forgotten temple. Curiosity eats at you, and you cannot help get closer, initially unaware of the myriad of eyes watching you, until you spot...an icy blue leopard? It's a good thing you helped those snakes and that spider on your way here.

Harem AU- You saved them from certain death, and now the clan of vampire brothers serve you. For years uncountable, you have pulled the strings, quite happy to cause chaos around the world when it becomes too dull for your liking, going from hero to hero. On blood soaked ground, you are content with your helpful vampires, though can things really stay the same forever?

Skyrim AU- Every place has its demons, no matter how reclusive or small. You consider yourself one of them. Seeking an escape, you move to Solstheim hoping for a fresh start. How unfortunate for you that you would arrive during the island's darkest hour. Cults, strange creatures, a frost giant king, and the arrival of two Dragonborns drag you right back into the spotlight, dredging up your past as you all race against time and the greedy daedra of knowledge to stop each other's destruction.

Then There Was One- You wake up to an empty world. You don't comprehend how or why it happened, just that everyone seems to have vanished in the blink of an eye. Cars sit vacant in traffic, meals left uneaten, internet full of messages that abruptly stopped hours ago. You try to live on your lonesome, keeping yourself distracted, and ignoring the gnawing loneliness. Except, well, you might not be as alone as you think, a fact you find out far too late when your page gets flooded with AI messages and bots are suddenly knocking at your day. Just what the hell kind of universal joke was this robot apocalypse you were stuck in? Or...do you have this all wrong? Your new companions may yet help you figure it out.

[comicaurora]

Y’know, I never really got constellations. Like sure, the myths are fun and the night sky is amazing to behold, but like, they don’t actually look like what they’re supposed to be. It just feels like: look up at the sky, see those three stars there? You can draw this weird box around it and it looks like a man! And it doesn’t, it’s just a stupid box or line of stars that don’t look anything like anything. And it isn’t even that the shapes of the constellations themselves are asspulls, it’s how arbitrary they are. There are stars Everywhere in the night sky, why is this star part of dragon or virgo or whatever but not this one? I could just look to the sky, trace some random points and go “hey look it’s the constellation sixtyninus” and it probably would look More like what I said it would look like then the weird ass boxes and sticks that are supposed to be fish and scorpions and waterboys and bears.

Constellations make more sense when you start thinking about them on the timescale of multiple years instead of on a single night stargazing.

The sky changes. This is the number one thing everybody knows about the sky. The sun moves through it, making everything bright and warm. When the sun isn't there, things are dark and cold, but there are stars - untold billions of tiny lights, fading in and out as the sun leaves and returns. There's the moon, moving and changing every night but reliably visible, sometimes even faintly during the day. There are bright stars that move, where the other stars don't.

That is a lot of stuff for the pattern-recognition brain to think about.

It doesn't initially look like the stars move. That is, they move through the night at the same rate the sun does - tracing great circles - but they don't move relative to each other, except for the unusually bright wandering stars that seem to be doing their own thing.

Except over the course of a week, or a month, the stars have moved. Some that used to be visible have set. Some new ones have risen. Why is that?

The moon moves quickly and predictably. The wandering stars move slowly, and some of them are more predictable than others. On rare occasions a star will fall, but these events are unpredictable. The "fixed stars" don't move, except that which stars you can see change during the course of the year.

What does it mean, that different stars dominate the night sky at different times of year? Why does one star's heliacal rising herald the coming of rains? Why does a red star shine before the cold sets in?

It's very important to know when the cold is coming. Maybe it's a good idea to pay attention to some of those stars.

What's the easiest way to keep track of which stars are which? Some are brighter than others, a handful are reddish - but ultimately one star is much like any other, a shimmering pinprick of light. How do you keep track of which stars herald the cold, the rains, the harvest?

You find patterns.

At the height of summer, in the pre-dawn hours, we begin to see a cluster of seven stars that sits behind a large V-shaped pattern that centers on a single red star. If we envision the V as horns and the red star as a blazing eye, we find the Bull of Heaven. If we follow the bull's gaze as the days grow shorter and the nights grow colder, we see another figure slowly emerging from below the horizon. We find the rough shape of a man, one arm raised high over his head, three stars shining at his waist. Perhaps we imagine this man to be a hunter. Perhaps he is hunting the bull, turned back in furious challenge. Perhaps he is hunting the clustered stars on its shoulder. Perhaps we envision the seven stars as sisters, running from the hunter as they arc across the night sky. Perhaps we notice that, where our grandmothers described seven stars, we can see only six. Perhaps we wonder where the seventh sister went.

As the year turns on, the seven stars disappear. The bull fades in the light of sunset. The hunter gets closer to the sun. And far behind him, on the opposite side of the sky, another red star rises as the hunter falls, the heart of a hook-shaped silhouette flanked by two grasping claws. Perhaps we envision this ominous shape as a scorpion, chasing the Hunter from the skies. It sits high in the sky as the warm spring rains turn to burning, arid nights; perhaps we feel justified in imagining it as a dangerous desert creature.

In the north sits a star that does not move, and circling it as its guardian, two rectangular arrangements with long, trailing tails, one large and one small. It is good to know how to find your way, and these patterns can steer you north on moonless nights. Perhaps you see the trailing stars as hunters in pursuit of enormous prey. Perhaps it appears to you as a celestial plough, slowly churning the skies, never touching the earth. You note the resemblance between the large and the small pattern and wonder if they are mother and child. You wonder about a lot of things when you're alone in the dark.

But are you alone? When you look up, it is difficult to feel that way. The stars are the same ones your ancestors walked under, and you think of them and their stories as you trace the patterns they once guided your eyes through. Perhaps you imagine them, gone but not forgotten, warming themself at a stellar campfire in the high, infinite halls of your gods.

And because of them, you know when the rains will come.

[pickastitch]

please tell us your shinyduo thoughts abt sun moon symbolism :0

okay so it all starts in esmp s1 where pearl has such heavy sun imagery and gem literally builds a moon so that one is pretty obvious

and when we get to hc s8 they literally have matching horses with gem's being named sun and pearl's being named moon

admittedly, hc s9 is more vibes based, but eleven seem so much more sunny to me in contrast to pearl's alien themeing where a large majority of it was trapped underground. most people just associate moon with darkness, so bam gem is sun and pearl is moon

now esmp s2 and this one is tricker than the others. in my head they are both the sun which is why they practically never interact. it's like trying to connect magnets by both of their north poles

sl is an outlier to me where they break this pattern of one being the moon and one being the sun imo. some people believe that pearl is the sun and gem is a sunflower, but i like to think pearl is simultaneously the sun and the moon with gem being akin to icarus. here is a very non structured brainrot post

we finally get to hc s10, and immediately we are hit with 'morning sunshine' from gem. she wants me dead. but also, building off of that pearl went for a very peaceful farmhouse as her starter base with farming normally being associated with daylight/the sun. we have a dredge theme from gem which has a daylight cycle in it, and during the night is really when you start getting the horrors. she already has touches of that (floating fish), so following the logic of that game she has been fishing at night and thus moon

the part that gets me the most is how consistent the themeing is and just how close both of them are. most smps have pretty good evidence for gem and pearl being connected to the sun and moon with a few outliers (looking at you nlsmp)

now time for the actual theorizing, like i mentioned in the esmp s2 bit, it's almost like the sun and moon are opposite poles of a magnet. i don't believe they are soulmates, they can live without the other, but when they are in proximity, you bet that they will be inseparable

so they both have been represented by the sun and moon, and i propose that pearl is the embodiment of light, while gem is the embodiment of void. why do i think that? well, pearl's is the easiest to explain with her saint pearla stuff and how her named both have aspects of light in it. pearlescent describes the surface of an object, and both being able to see if something is pearlescent and to see the moon requires light to bounce back into your eyes

now gem as the void, hear me out. her constant connection to the end/endermen/ender dragon. also the connections of gem and traveling across worlds where the thing in-between them is void (see s9 botem ending). with the most solid piece of evidence being hc s10 where her themeing is ocean/water horrors. and the most common reason people fear the ocean is how vast and unknowing it is. like a void

this is great and all, but how does it link back up with sun and moon? they are opposites of each other and their sun and moon themeing is just one way that is expressed alongside light and void. because of how different they are, it makes them more attached to each other. something something opposites attract

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐚𝐱 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

Warnings: some swears, gun ownership, mentions of violence, death of a parent

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ        

🌿ENTP 🍁Gryffindor (in Season 7 you could say he’s a Slytherin) 📜Chaotic Good 🔮Leo Sun, Gemini Moon, Aries Rising  

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・A strong man needs a strong woman, and you’re someone who cannot be told what to do, how to dress, how to act or what decisions to make. 

・I think you would have been brought into the club because your father was somehow involved. Historical ties to the SAMCRO legacy

・And instead of moving around, you stayed in Charming. Maybe you were in your late teens. 

・Whether you went to university or not doesn’t matter, the fact is you stayed in Charming - or close to home

・Because you had younger siblings, who you were very very close to. And your father was now your only parent. 

・Since the death of your mother, you grew even closer to Gemma

・You were always close to her. But then you saw her as a mother figure, and so did your siblings 

・This put you in constant contact with Jax, who always seemed like his attention was on the club. But you never realised his eyes were constantly wandering to wherever you were

・You were always in his mind, either with adoration or with irritation 

・Because you weren’t the easiest person to get along with

・But your strength was admirable. Yes, you cracked, you yelled and broke down. But you always made sure your siblings were fed, dressed and went to school on time. 

・Often they were picked up by guys from the club, particularly Bobby or Tig

・That’s how important you, your father and your family were to the club 

・Gemma actually urged Jax to make a move. She wanted you officially a part of her family so badly. 

・You’re one of the only people who has seen Gemma in a vulnerable state, and it means a lot to her. You’re the daughter she always wanted but never had

・Jax has never been afraid of a gun in his face. In fact, it’s pretty standard for him to walk into the line of fire. But if you’re ever in a dangerous situation, he’s scared shitless

・You know Jax would do anything for you, he’d even die for you. 

・And you would do the same for him. But it’s easy saying you would die for someone - death is quick and easy. Living for someone ... that’s a lot harder

・There’d be a rift with Jax wanting to leave the club, because you ... want to stay. 

・This would create a new dynamic in the club; Jax’s Old Lady encouraging him to take over leadership, to be a new guiding force, rather than leaving the life he’s only known

・Maybe you have ideas of your own that you share with him. In the moment he might shut them down, but over time he thinks about them and ... they work. 

・You’re a strong Old Lady, one that doesn’t let anyone walk over her. Ruthless? Yes, you can be. But you’re also good-hearted and caring. 

・You often helped Gemma with the charity events, especially with the school - since your siblings as well as yourself, went there. 

・So that role was then passed down to you. 

・You’re the glue the club needs

・But you’ve never liked Clay. There was something about him that was darker than everyone else 

・Good friends with Opie. So good in fact, that he feels like he can talk to you about things. Especially his love life. There’s been a few deep conversations where he’s talked to you about missing Donna 

・You help out with some of the other guys’ kids when you aren’t working. There are a lot of playdates and sleepovers while the guys are on runs 

・Having a personal gun - you go to the gun range and Jax teaches you how to shoot. You pick out your own gun as well

・Turns out you’re a pretty damn good shot 

・You’re very close with Chibs too, and laugh together a lot. He’s a great man who has a lot of light-heartedness 

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖: Doll, Doll-Face, Honey, Love, Darling. He isn’t afraid of saying these in front of others either. 

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆: Acts of Service and Physical Touch. 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

House of the Rising Sun by the White Buffalo

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

・You Fell First, He Fell Harder

・”I care about you!” x “You shouldn’t!”

・Belated Love Epiphany

 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆:

 Rebel Prince Meets His Match

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 🔞minors dni!

・Jax is a switch, but he loves to be dominating. Call him ‘sir’ and he’s hard, ready to go. 

・Well, he thought he would always be the dominating one. But then he realised just how much he adored being dominated 

・He loves it when you grab onto his hair and pull his head back, slamming your lips to his. He loves passion. Vigor. Desperation. 

・Jax also adores sloppy head - your mouth over his cock, reaching the back of your throat. He loves making you gag

・His favourite place to have sex is the kitchen. Especially the kitchen table. With you lying face down, pants around her ankles

・He loves to cum inside you, the breeding kink is heavy with this guy

・Sex with Jax is very fun and there’s a lot of humour involved. A lot of laughing and light-heartedness. But on the flip side, it can be very steamy - heated and fast-paced. 

・You’ve had a lot of sex after heated arguments. Clothes ripped off and both of you on the floor, panting and grinding against one another

・He loves when you kiss him on the neck, and wrap your arms around him

・You guys shower together a lot. Not all of it is sex, but it’s a small way to have intimacy and feel close without deviating from your schedules 

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 1

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: Grappling with changes that came along with his newfound freedom, Astarion unexpectedly catches feelings for a socially awkward, yet incredibly sweet, ranger from Neverwinter. Astarion doesn’t want to put a name to those feelings. Doesn’t want an attachment that could be ripped away at a moments notice. But damn, does Cas makes his conviction to remain unattached, to use her as a tool, seem impossible.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 4.5k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of past trauma, manipulation, alcohol use, vampire typical blood drinking.

Fear had a way of leaving scars on the mind like blows left bruises and cuts on the skin. No amount of wine could wash away his nightmare, but that did not stop Astarion from trying.

Crickets chirped into the crisp night air and the occasional frog croaked somewhere deep in the dense foliage bordering the nearby river. Even if running water once burned his skin like acid, Astarion hoped the sounds of the gentle river and creatures of the night would lull him back into some sense of calm. Those failing, however, he could at least count on the alcohol content of the shitty wine he swiped from the Druid’s grove. 

It was better than nothing. 

Astarion let the glass bottle dangle between his fingers as he leaned against the mossy base of an old tree. Between its sparse leaves, the light from the stars and moon dotted the grass beneath his feet with silver slivers. A beautiful night, under any other circumstance. 

As it was, between the nightmare and the novelty of sleeping in the woods, Astarion felt like someone or something was lurking in every shadow, waiting for the right moment to strike. Despite most of his companions sleeping meters away, and another patrolling the area on the lookout for such threats, Astarion had tucked a dagger into his belt before he snuck off alone.

In the days since they escaped the mind flayer ship, Astarion had volunteered to keep watch at night. Brain worm or not, Astarion still needed to hunt. Even if everyone in his vicinity was on the cusp of becoming monsters themselves, he still couldn’t trust them with the knowledge of his affliction. Most didn’t seem to suspect a thing. Even if they did, walking in sunlight kept that suspicion from turning into an accusation.

What would Cazador do to him when he learned Astarion could walk in the sun, and he couldn’t? Astarion took a swig of wine and grimaced. 

Cazador would probably just kill him. 

Being able to walk in the sun would be completely unacceptable to his master. No. His ex-master. Astarion let the wine linger on his tongue for a moment. 

Was Cazador still his master? Did he still have complete and utter control over him? The illithid tadpole had changed so many things. So many of the rules that all vampires had to abide by, no matter how powerful they became. Were Cazador’s commandments among them?

There was nothing stopping Astarion from finding out. The first rule was by far the easiest one to test. Thou shalt not drink from thinking creatures. Four such creatures laid in the bedrolls, helpless in their sleep, curled up by the campfire. The fifth… who knew where the hells Cas went. Supposedly, she was keeping watch, but Astarion had not seen a glimpse of her in the half an hour he’d been up. 

From the little he knew about Cas, she seemed to be the responsible sort. So either something terrible happened or she was just lurking nearby with her nose buried in that journal she always seems to be writing in. Cas had explained it was a field journal. Astarion saw a drawing of a leaf on one page so he assumed it was all nature related, but he did not care enough to confirm.

Closing his eyes, the sounds of nature served as a soothing background to the thoughts trampling through his mind. Would it be worth the risk? To try to bite one of his companions? No. He should just wait until… he had an opportunity that might never come. Something stirred in his stomach, a mixture of fear and anxiety that made him want to get up and do something. Clearly just ruminating on his problems only made them grow.

“Astarion?”

Astarion started, eyes flying open while his hand gripped the hand of the dagger that was tucked into his belt. Embarrassment flooded his face from his cheeks to the tips of his ears when his eyes landed on someone who was very much not a threat. At least, not at the moment.  He was so in his head that for a split second he thought it was Cazador. Not that Cazador sounded at all like that or would speak to him so gently. 

It was just Cas.

Although Cas wore the same leather and hides she did in battle, she clearly was not expecting a fight. For one, her brown hair fell a few inches past her shoulders instead of tied back in a ponytail and her beige coat made from some animal’s hide was tied around her narrow waist, leaving her upper half completely unarmored and vulnerable.

Cas crossed her bow-toned arms, her expression utterly unreadable except for the smallest hint of amusement on her lips. “This is the second time you’ve pulled a knife on me, Astarion,” she said, as if she was admonishing a child for staying up past bedtime. “Is there something we need to talk about? Anything you want to get off your chest?”

Astarion exhaled, tension flowing out of him with the breath. “Terribly sorry,” he said with an apologetic grin. “I wasn’t expecting to see your lovely face at this time of night. You never know what could be lurking in the shadows.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, dismissing his second attempt on her life just as easily as she did the first time. “I didn’t mean to creep up on you.”

Astarion chuckled despite himself and pulled his hand from the hilt of his dagger. “Apology accepted, my dear.”

Cas adjusted her bow over her shoulder and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes following the blinking fireflies that permeated the night sky. Silence fell between them and somewhere near the river a frog croaked over the chirping crickets like a crier over a crowd, but Cas seemed unbothered by the sudden lapse in conversation that Astarion found uncomfortable at best. Unfortunately, Cas could not hold a conversation nearly as well as she could hold a knife or a bow. 

Astarion sat up and cleared his throat. “Did you need something? Or are you just going to stand there like foliage?”

Brown eyes flickered to him. “You should be resting for tomorrow,” she said. “What are you doing up?” 

“I’ve gotten my rest for the evening,” Astarion lied easily. There was no way he was going to share his nightmare with her. Even though she did seem to be the trustworthy sort, Astarion did not want to involve her in his business if he didn’t have to. “Besides, I got a feeling you might need some help keeping watch. You’ve been doing a piss-poor job considering you’ve been missing for the last half an hour.” 

Cas rolled her eyes. “I was checking the fish traps, if you must know,” she said. “With the pemmican I made yesterday, we should have enough food to last a while if we don’t care for variety. But eating the same thing day after day can get tiresome.” 

“True,” Astarion said and tried not to think about the thousands upon thousands of rats and bugs Cazador forced upon him. 

For the first time in two hundred years, he could actually pick what he wanted to eat. The wilderness provided an endless array of entrees to choose from: deer, boars, bears, whatever he wanted really. Maybe, just maybe, even the wood elf standing right in front of him was fair game. Maybe when she turned in for the night, he could….

No. Even entertaining the thought could spell trouble, given the brain worms and their unpredictable tendency to link minds when he least expected it. The last thing he needed was to be chased out of the only group of people that might be able to help him. 

Yet, the thought persisted. Out of everyone in their rag-tag party, Cas seemed the least likely to murder him on the spot. Especially given how she so willingly accepted a Gith into their little group. Surely a vampire was not as bad as a Gith, right?

He needed to hunt. It had been almost a day since his last meal and, although he was used to being hungry, it was still something he’d rather avoid. Going out into the forest was another thing he’d rather avoid given his nightmare. Cazador could have lackeys lurking anywhere, ready to kill him or worse. Between the Gith and the famed Blade of Frontiers, they might think twice before tangling with his new companions. Even Cas, a backwoods ranger from Neverwinter, was a force to be reckoned with.

“Would you care for some company?” asked Cas as she shoved her hands in her pockets, trying much too hard to pretend she didn’t care about his answer.

Astarion raised his brows but gave her a flirtatious smile, inviting her to join him. “What kind of company are you offering, darling?”

“The quiet kind that won’t wake up the whole camp,” she said and settled into the grass next to him, close enough that he could feel her warmth. 

Personal space, he realized early on, was not something Cas was great at. When they had been at the Emerald Grove, Nettie had all but told Cas to stop breathing down her neck while she dug up notes on the tadpole from Archdruid Halsin. Astarion did not take the proximity personally. It was just how she was and, in that moment, he was fine with that. 

“A pity,” Astarion said with a wry grin. “We could always ask them to join us.”

Cas snorted softly and shook her head. “I would rather we didn’t, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Not fond of our companions, are you?”

She shrugged. “I like them when they aren’t talking to me like I’m an idiot.”

“Ah, so not at all then,” Astarion replied lightly. 

Cas did have a point. The Gith talked down to everyone, which was to be expected from her people and her way of life, but the others did not have such a strong excuse. While Gale was polite, he tended to talk to Cas as if she were a child. Shadowheart also acted like Cas was burdened with some inexplicable naïveté about how the world worked. Lucky for him, their companions had set the bar for common decency so low Astarion tiptoed over it without even noticing.

Well, he and Wyll. But Wyll seemed far too focused on finding a devil called Karlach to pay Cas much mind. 

Clearly not wanting to gossip too much about their companions, Cas changed the subject and they fell into easy conversation. Oddly enough, chatting with Cas felt almost natural. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t some unlucky soul he was seducing to bring back to Cazador. Or one of his siblings who would have pounced on the opportunity to stab him in the back. Not that Astarion could trust Cas, but she was pleasant enough that he could at least try to enjoy himself.

For a few precious moments, Astarion even forgot about his nightmare. But it crept back all too soon, like little tendrils of smoke that grew until it completely clouded his mind. 

It wasn’t like Cazador could let him have anything nice. Not even a moment. 

Cas seemed like the type that would have delighted Cazador. Exactly the type Astarion would have targeted whilst prowling the taverns and inns of Baldur’s Gate to bring back for him. Attractive, young, and stupidly trusting. It would have been all too easy to lure Cas back to the palace. Just some wine and a few kisses, he would touch her just right and make her want more, then he would walk her through doors that she would never walk out of again.

Cazador would get a lovely meal and Astarion would be left with nothing but hollow numbness.

But it didn’t have to be that way anymore, did it?

Regret started gnawing at the back of his mind as Astarion noticed a vein on her wrist. He never should have asked for her to stay. Not a slight on her company, of course. He was just too hungry to think straight. 

Were she not the most valuable ally he had in recent memory, he’d have half a mind to pin her down and sink his fangs into her skin. Maybe she would fight him, maybe she would submit. He had never bitten someone smart enough to truly fight back, so he had no idea what to expect.

Astarion swallowed and stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. Just not at her. Not at the lovely veins on her wrists and necks. Trying to focus on only the sounds of crickets contested against the metronome of her pulse. 

He should really leave before he did something stupid. If he even could do something stupid with Cazador’s commandments still ringing in his ears. If he tried to take a bite, could he—

“I’ve been thinking a bit about the other night.” Cas brought her knees up to her chest, snapping him from his thoughts. “When you said you didn’t want me to run off when all of this is over.”

“What about it?” He had forgotten that entire conversation until she mentioned it. It was adorable that she remembered.

“What would you want to do?”

“You know, I hadn’t thought that far.” He hadn’t thought about it at all, truthfully. “Like I said before, you’re an incredible ally. It would be a shame just to go on our merry way once the brain bug is gone. But when it comes to what to do—” Astarion gave her a suggestive smile and lowered his voice “—I can think of a few things.”

Cas rolled her eyes as if she were painfully aware of his attempt to steer the conversation in another direction. “Don’t you have loved ones back in the city? A life you want to get back to?”

“Not one I want to return to, no,” Astarion replied and averted his eyes to the forgotten bottle of wine dangling between his fingers. Though the mind flayers inadvertently allowed him to flirt with freedom, at the end of the day he was still bound to Cazador. The last two hundred years had been focused around that bastard up until a couple days ago. The mere thought of returning was enough to make his throat feel tight. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

“I wasn’t going to pry,” said Cas as she bumped his shoulder good-naturedly. “Put that face away before you wear it out.”

His brows drew together. “What face?”

“The one with sad puppy eyes.” 

“I don’t make ‘puppy eyes,’” Astarion rebuffed, only slightly offended by the accusation. Not that he had seen his eyes in two hundred years, but vampires were better known for piercing, blood-chilling, glares than sweet ‘puppy eyes’. Astarion scoffed at the sheer audacity of the statement. 

“You do too,” she said with a soft giggle. “Even though they’re red like a vampire’s, they’re surprisingly effective.”

His stomach sank. Surely she didn’t mean anything by the comparison, right? No need for the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end, though they did anyway.

Astarion forced a smile as he passed her the bottle of wine. “That’s an oddly specific description, darling.”

“If the shoe fits.” Cas smiled back and tapped her dainty white canine teeth to emphasize that his eyes were not the only things she noticed. “I think they’re very pretty, by the way. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“None taken.” Astarion idly tore at the blades of grass beside him and tried to quiet his nerves. “Hypothetically speaking, what would you do if I was a vampire?”

“You specifically?”

“Humor me.”

Cas stretched her long legs out in front of her and leaned back on her palms, chewing her lip as she took her dear sweet time mulling over her answer. Several long seconds passed. That croning frog started up again, and Astarion briefly considered adding the nuisance to the menu that evening.

“Nothing,” she said finally and took a swig directly from the bottle. “Why would I do anything?”

“Really?” He turned to face her, his eyes wide (and definitely not ‘puppyish’). “You’re confronted with a monster who wants nothing more than to drink your blood, and you wouldn’t want to ram a stake through my heart?”

“Well, I’m assuming you’re not trying to murder me,” she said. “Obviously I would defend myself if you were. But if you’re not trying to murder me, and you happened to be a vampire, why would I do anything at all? It’s not like our situation has changed.”

“Except it has, sweetheart.” Astarion wrapped his fingers lightly around her wrist, his thumb brushing over her pulse, feeling it beat against his skin. “Because if I were a vampire, I would need a source of blood to stay strong.”

Cas looked down at where his ivory skin practically glowed against her rich copper flesh but made no move to pull away. “Plenty of bandits and animals out there,” she said, her voice nonchalant even as he heard her heartbeat quicken. “You’d be doing us a favor.”

“But what if I wanted something a little closer to camp?” Astarion traced his thumb over the dark blue veins of her inner wrist. Her pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the noises of the night. His mouth almost watered just from the gentle throb of her pulse beneath his fingers. 

“I’m not sure how accepting our companions would be,” Cas said, talking as if they are merely picking a spot to have dinner with no regard to what was on the menu.

“And what about you?”

Deep brown eyes locked onto his, both curious and maybe a little hesitant. “Is this still hypothetical or is this a confession?”

“A confession, darling,” he said with a breath of laughter, like she should have known the conversation was never hypothetical to begin with. “What do you say? It won’t hurt, I promise.” His eyes dropped to her slender neck. “Please.”

Her chest rose with a deep and steady breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. “I��m not worried about it hurting.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s risky,” she said. “And I’m not too keen on dying, either by turning into a vampire or by exsanguination. Or having to fight you off of me. I know my limits and you’ll probably win if it comes to that.”

“I’m merely a spawn, so I can’t turn you. As for your other concerns—” he brushed a loose strand of hair away from her neck, eyeing a dark vein crawling towards her pointed ear “— I’ll be careful. If I go too far, I’m sure you’ll figure out something.”

A flicker of a memory passed through his mind accompanied by a needle like prick to his brain as the worm connected their thoughts. For an instant, he saw through Cas’s eyes: a warm, wooden, candlelit washroom with a porcelain wash basin below a rustic mirror framed with tree branches. A handsome male wood elf stooped over the basin. With a blood soaked towel pressed against his neck, his expression was utterly calm in the mirror as he said something muffled by the memory. Astarion couldn’t be sure, but he swore he heard the word ‘mistake’ in the elven tongue. When he dunked the towel into the basin, four deep puncture wounds marred the side of his neck and dragged towards the front of his throat. Blood trickled down the basin and so did the memory, fading into anger, fear, and a strange sense of admiration.

Astarion blinked away the vision and his eyes fell to her neck. To the same spot where the wood elf from memory was bitten. Just below the jawline. 

If the worm showed any of his memories to Cas in return, she did not acknowledge it. Maybe, in some cases, the connection could be one sided. There was still so much they didn’t know about the beasts nestled in their heads, but it had only helped them so far. Astarion in particular. It wanted him alive, and it wanted him to see that particular memory. Astarion did not know what it meant, nor did he think it was a good time to ask. Not when he felt so close to something so forbidden.

“I think if you want to have your fangs at my throat,” Cas began slowly and produced a dagger from a holster latched around her thigh, “then it’s only fair I can hold this to yours. For insurance.”

Astarion eyed the white metal blade he had seen cut through goblins like butter. “That won’t be necessary, my dear,” he said with a forced smile that he hoped was reassuring. “I’m not some monster. I won’t go too far, I promise.”

“Then we shouldn’t have a problem,” she said. “Up to you.”

Astarion gave an exasperated sigh. It was too good of an opportunity and he would have been a fool to pass it up. “Fine,” he said as if she suggested he wash dishes or some other mundane chore. “Come here. Let’s make ourselves comfortable.”

After a short, albeit awkward, conversation, they figured that it would be easiest for Cas to sit on his lap facing him. With her knees dug into the earth on either side of his hips and the side of her face pressed against his cheek, any onlooker would think they were a couple of lovers having a midnight rendezvous.

Though her dagger did not touch his skin, he could feel its presence like a pair of eyes watching from the darkness. Astarion wrapped one arm around her waist and brought his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her hair aside like a silken curtain. He dipped his head and the tip of his nose traced the column of her neck as he inhaled her scents. The salt of her skin mixed with campfire smoke caught in her leathers barely masked the rich aroma of her blood. Saliva pooled in his mouth in anticipation of the decadence beneath her skin.

“Remember, not too much,” she cautioned, her voice low. “I don’t want to be woozy tomorrow.”

He did not dare to move. Not when he was so close. “You can trust me, darling,” he said, his lips hot against her neck as if the ghost of a kiss would soothe her. 

His heart raced and a chill crept up his spine. What if he couldn’t do it? What if Cazador’s commandments still had a hold over him? He opened his mouth and let the tips of his fangs graze her delicate skin. 

Only one way to find out.

Muscles tightened beneath his fingers and Cas gasped in his ear. Blood, the most amazing blood he had ever tasted, filled his mouth and trickled down his throat. 

Warmth blossomed through him, starting at his stomach and reaching his fingertips. His arms wrapped around her small frame tighter, holding onto her like a moment about to fade away. The blood was decadent. Savory. Like the most perfectly cooked steak in the fanciest restaurant in town or a vintage wine a lord would serve his guests on a special occasion. In comparison, an animal’s blood was like boiled rice and watered down beer. No wonder Cazador forbade it: it was just another way to deprive his slaves of any semblance of joy the world had to offer.

Gods. It was wonderful. Incredible, even. The blood still flowed from his bite mark on her neck, but he already found himself wanting to sink his fangs into her again. And again. And again.

“Astarion.” He felt the vibrations of her voice when she spoke, quiet yet commanding. “That’s enough.”

He wanted to pretend he didn’t hear her, but the cold metal against his neck quickly changed his mind. He dragged his tongue across the fresh wound, lapping up the blood with the efficiency of a cat before he withdrew from her. 

“That was amazing,” he marveled as he licked the last of the blood from his lips.

Cas stumbled off of him, legs shaking and face pale as she sank into the grass beside him. She pulled her bag into her lap, retrieved a clean rag and pressed it against her neck. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, and it almost looked like she was going to be sick, which would have completely spoiled the moment.

After a few seconds, Cas asked him to open the water bottle that was in her bag since both of her hands were currently occupied. One kept her from slumping into the grass while the other was red with blood that seeped through the rag.

She splashed a fresh towel with the water and wiped at her neck. “Water can’t take the place of a healing salve, but at least it can wash away some of the anticoagulant in your saliva.” She tried to laugh but it came out more of a pant. “As if nature didn’t make vampires deadly enough.” 

Astarion must have made a face because a weak smile tugged at her lips. ‘Anticoagulant’ was not the most appealing word to hear after the best meal of his life. However, it seemed she knew what she was talking about. The first rag, once a beige color, had already turned a deep red. However, Astarion was too caught up in the exhilaration of drinking the blood of his first thinking creature to dwell much on it. 

Exsanguination be damned, he could not remember the last time he felt so strong. So happy.

Cas scooted back until she could lean against the tree. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as she closed her eyes. 

Something stirred within him, deep and primal, and he found himself leaning over her. The scent of her blood was still so strong, captured in that rag she pressed to her neck. Before he could get any closer, he felt a firm push against his chest.

“Don’t you dare,” Cas said, but without any malice behind her words. Like a playful warning, knowing what he wanted to do yet believing he would not actually do it. 

Oh how wrong she was.

Lucky for her, she still had her uses.

Astarion put some distance between them despite his every instinct urging him to keep feeding. He cleared his throat. “As delicious as you are darling, I should probably find something more filling,” he said. Then, just to be polite towards his most gracious donor, he added, “Do you need anything before I set off?”

Cas shook her head. She pulled the towel away and dabbed at her neck with two fingers, winced, and replaced the rag. “I’ll feel better once I eat,” she said and began to shift through her bag with her free hand. “You probably will too. Happy hunting, Astarion.”

For some reason, the words made him feel warm inside. Or maybe it was just the blood. In any case, he found himself smiling at her. “This was a gift, you know. I won’t forget it,” he said and stalked off into the forest, his nightmare long behind him.

---

Next Chapter

[huntersrequiem-if]

Humans are so interesting. Their lives – so short. Instead of despairing, they live their days to the fullest. And despite – or in spite of how dangerous the world is, they still enjoy it. They dance, they laugh, they sing. And how she loves watching them revel.

Such a shame, then, that the majority of mortals sleep at night. She can't witness the bustling days of those below her as they go about their lives.. Not like her husband, Sun.

No matter, surely she can find something to entrain herself with.

Her gaze sweeps over Sabine, watching the low lights in the streets – help guide people walking towards their homes. Couples strolling hand in hand, while drunkards go to and fro the taverns.

And perhaps, if she paid close attention to the dark alleyways – perhaps she would see a flash of cold steel, a drop of blood running along the edge. Wrinkling her nose, she wrecks her gaze away from the scene.

She is in no mood to see those unsavory types.

From her spot in the sky, she searches for something interesting. Something joyous! She pauses when her gaze sweeps over a bickering couple, curious. Chuckling at the insults the men threw at each other, she finds herself amused. What caused such strife? Lingering, it becomes clear it's over ...dishes?

Shaking her head with a faint smile over her lips, she moves on.

Her eyes land on one of her temples, pleased to see that the priestesses are rousing. They gather in the courtyard, singing and dancing. Some of them play instruments, the dulcet tone of a harp reaching her ears. Humming, she closes her eyes, savoring the sweet tune. Smiling, she recognizes the notes, often accompanying prayers toward her.

Yes, she shall offer them a closer look, tomorrow. If only for how beautiful they revel, dancing and singing the night away. A blessing shall do nicely. …should she remember it tomorrow…

Still pleased, she turns to the one constant source of amusement and entrainment. Past the stone walls and towers – towards the castle. Tonight, it seems to be a banquet.

The nobles dance - women in beautiful dresses, men in tailored suits. The orchestra plays a slow ballad as the nobles twirl in tune with the music. The royal family sits upon their thrones, silent spectators.

Not unlike her, she muses.

Still, she lingers on, watching the mortals dance. Watches and listens to the whispers in the shadows as they plot and scheme to their heart's content.

Mortals. So simple. So complicated. They seem to enjoy – and detest at the same time – a simple life. When it gets boring, they complicate it.

Her amusement gets the better of her as she continues to listen on, the moon shining bright – a backdrop for those mortals. She laughs at their jokes, and she gasps at the thinly veiled insults. She hums and sings when she recognizes a song.

She is filled with bliss, even as the mortals begin to leave - first one nobleman departs from the banquet hall, followed by another couple. Eventually, nearly all of them had taken their leave. The orchestra plays a final mournful song, the notes filled with melancholy.

Despite the darkness of the night, the moon still shines brightly, accompanied by her darling stars.

Even so, she had her fill of mortals. Her gaze wanders away from them, from their cities – towards the wildness. Seeking out her favorite hunter.

Wyldewood is a treacherous place, where the trees reach towards the sky with sharp, jagged edges, and ferocious beasts that lurk in the shadows. The thick tangles of thorns and vines move with a mind of their own, claiming many mortal lives, should the woods be hungry.

Still, she must persist. It would be a shame to end this lovely night without even glimpsing her dear hunter.

First, she looks at the Skytree, the easiest to see with its gentle glow. A sigh leaves her as she finds it empty. She resigns herself to a more detailed search. Her eyes sweep over the scarce meadows – all empty – towards the places she knows the hunter likes to visit.

Ah – there they are! – perched on a branch, nearly obscured by the foliage. Yet, the leaves don’t manage to hide them completely, as moonlight shines through them. Smiling, she admired the way their skin seemed to glow in the soft moonlight. How utterly at ease they seem in the dark forest.

 The relaxed slope of their shoulders as they lean against the bark of the tree. The sinuous curve of their muscles as they rest their hands on their raised knee. The way their horns catch just the barest of light. The way their eyes shine in the dark like those of a predator.

Yet, they seem so soft as they gaze at the moon. Are they thinking of her? Are they talking with Astaroth?... are they content? 

Are they troubled?

Perhaps – she shall ask on the next full moon. She won’t forget, not this.

How she wishes they would speak their problems into the night, she would always listen – no matter how occupied she would be. She would lend a listening ear, and on their next meeting, she could offer more.

She loses track of the time as she looks at them.

The moon is descending – completing its celestial journey. She barely notices – until she can see no more.

[dorothygale123]

I'd say I'm becoming a nerd, but that ship sailed a long time ago. I guess I'm just expanding my nerdiness to other areas.

Anyway, MORE MYTHOLOGY!

So in Journey to the West, the Buddha explains that there are 4 'spiritual primates' that don't fit into any categories for immortals or types of creatures. Fans of Lego Monkie Kid are likely familiar with 2, the Stone Monkey Sun Wukong and the Six Eared Macaque. The other 2, the Long-armed Gibbon and the Red-Buttocked Baboon are a lot more obscure. They only get a brief mention in JttW because the focus of the chapter they appear in is Macaque, but the idea of a set of super powerful Immortal monkeys is just too fun to pass up, you know? So I've been thunking my thinker.

What if each primate was associated with a different realm (mortal, heavenly, lunar, and underworld) and element? I know the 4 elements (earth, water, wind, fire) are a western idea rooted in alchemy and eastern mythology has 5 elements (earth, water, fire, metal, wood), but there aren't 5 monkeys and this is just a thought experiment and not me trying to force western ideas onto eastern culture.

Got it? Good.

Now, Sun Wukong is very solidly earth because he's, you know, a rock. No surprise there. He was also born in the mortal realm and spent most of his life there, so we'll call him the celestial primate of the mortal realm while we're at it.

The Six-Eared Macaque is another easy one. A lot of LMK fannon associates him with wind, inferring that his heightened hearing has something to do with wind magic. He's also very closely tied to the moon because of the line in "Shadow Play" where he directly compares the Warrior (himself) to the moon. So Macaque is the celestial primate of wind and the Lunar realm.

Now here's where we get a bit more speculative and start using information creatively. There are 2 monkeys, realms, and elements left I want to use, so let's start with the monkeys so everyone has a baseline understanding.

The Long Armed Gibbon (Gibs, from now on) is described as being able to "seize the sun and moon, shorten a thousand mountains, distinguish auspicious from inauspicious, and manipulate planets and stars."

The Red Buttocked Baboon (Babs for short) has "knowledge of yin and yang, understands human affairs, is adept I'd daily life and can avoid death and lengthen its life."

Starting with the realms because they seem easiest to assign, I would give Gibs the Heavenly realm because of its ability to move around celestial objects like the sun, moon, planets, and stars. This leaves the Underworld to Babs, which I think fits nicely because their "knowledge of yin and yang" and "understand[ing] of human affairs" would make them a good assistant to the 10 Kings of the Underworld.

Next comes the 2 remaining elements, water and fire, which are a bit tricky because it could go both ways.

Gibs could be fire because the sun and stars are giant balls of burning plasma, but also water because the sky/heavens are often associated with an ocean or other bodies of water in several different mythologies. For example, in Egyptian mythology, Ra sailed his boat through the sky every day, while in early Abrahamic belief the sky was a huge dome with water on the other side, and rain happened when floodgates were opened to let the water through. In Chinese myth specifically, the Milky Way is often depicted as a river that is sailed through by various deities.

Babs could fit with fire as well because underworlds and hell-adjacent places are often shown to have fires to torment and punish the sinful dead, no surprise there. But there is surprisingly a lot of water symbolism in the realm of the dead as well. For example, some people may be familiar with the Japanese idea of the Sanzu River, very similar in concept to the Greek River Styx, as well as the Chinese Huang Quan/Yellow springs.

Personally I would pair Babs with fire because he has red in his name, making him the celestial primate of fire and the Underworld.

That leaves Gibs to be the celestial primate of water and the Heavenly realm.

I feel pretty good about this, but if anyone else has other ideas I'd love to hear them.

Sh*tpost Masterlist

[arcade-chaos]

Day 3: Chill

Subnautica au! Mer sun and Moon, they/them for insert, cuddles

I've been reading not enough subnautica aus, so i went a little feral. you know what thing where someone puts their cold feet or hands on their partner? Ya thats Moon. Anywhos

The base was frozen. That was the only explanation that came to mind as they groggily slipped into awareness, some logical part in the back of their brain knew they should get up and find whatever faulty wire had let the temperature drop so low, but they would be damned if they crawled out of the warm bubble of their blankets. Groggily they poked their head out, snatching up their datapad before diving back under to ignore the freeze that nipped their ears. 

It didn’t give them anything helpful, chiming off that they needed to conserve heat while looking through the paneling with their scanner. That sounded like an activity for someone not in their undersuit, preferably one with thick slippers. And maybe a hat. 

With what could only be described as the world's most tortured groan they rose, stumbling towards their wetsuit as they clung to the blankets last bit of warmth. Their feet were already frozen by the time they slipped it on, going as far as to wear the flippers to avoid frostbite. 

“I knew I should’ve stayed in the shallows.” They grumbled halfheartedly. They knew they needed to get deeper, and the rocky cliff they were clinging to was the easiest way down to the river, but hell if they didn’t miss the warm waters of the shallows. Something distant splashed up in the moonpool, a quiet rumble soothing their concerns. They frowned and shivered as they scanned the bedroom, moving down the hall to meet Moon who was, as usual, tracking water through the base. 

“Rude.” They grumbled, ignoring his purr that turned into a little coo. He shuffled in front of their scanner as it buzzed, looming up to stare at their face. “Ya stinker?” He frowned and stuck out his tongue, though it didn’t last long. Instead he placed his hand over their head, which made them pull back from the chill of the water that clung to his skin. 

“Hurt?” He whined, beginning to nose under their blanket cape for a wound. 

“No, not hurt. Just cold.” He frowned, clicking over the word a few times as he circled them. “Cold, like not warm. Shallows are warm, down here is cold.” He chuffed, his tail wetly slapping the floor as he stared at them. “You’re also cold.” 

“Cold… Bad?” He frowned.

“Not necessarily. It’s only bad if it's too cold.” They gestured to the room, scanning the wall again. “I gotta find whatevers making my base cold and fix it.” Moon hummed, following them for a bit before piping back up. 

“I’ll be back. Get Sun.” They hummed a goodbye, sighing as the scan came up clean yet again. It wasn’t life threatening by any means, they were dry enough, but the combination of flippers and blanket cape made getting around the space difficult. They managed to get through the green house, after fretting over all the plants, and into the moonpool by the time their companions came back. Sun skittered towards them immediately, stopped only by Moon tugging his tail back.

“Wet.” He chided, pulling up to the opposite wall to shake off.

“Oh NOW you respect my wishes.” They snorted, teeth chattering as they shook. It was even worse in here. The scan relieved their greatest worries, the insulation in the left wall was soaked. They pulled off their blanket and prepared to dive in to patch the hull, stopped by Sunny’s warm hands on their neck.

“Cold??” He fretted, purring as they leaned into his hands. Despite the dampness they could feel the heat coming back to his skin. 

“Ya, I gotta fix the outside before it’ll warm up again.” They hummed, content to just stay there in Sun’s grasp to soak up the heat. Sun seemed pretty content with that plan too, pulling them back as Moon snatched up their scanner.

“I'll fix.” He grumbled, clicking the button repeatedly and staring at the little laser grid it lit on the floor. 

“You don’t know how.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Get rock, point, fix.” Okay, maybe he did know. Props to Alterra for making tech so easy they supposed. 

“Only because you’re so nice.” They taunted, trying to tighten their jaw to keep their teeth from clacking. Sun quickly scooped them and the blanket up, carrying them deeper into the base as Moon sank below the water. They didn’t protest when he removed their flippers, wrapping them both in the blanket to lay on the bed. They could feel his heartbeat under his scales, coursing warmth through his limbs as he rubbed little circles on their back.

“Better?” They sighed, snuggling a bit closer to warm their nose.

“Mmhm…” They mumbled, suddenly much sleepier. Their datapad beeped as Moon resurfaced, clamoring into the room with a wet shake.

“Fix. When warm?” 

“Mm…” They squinted at the pad. “An hour or two.” Moon seemed annoyed with the answer, Sun chose to snuggle closer instead. 

“I'm warm.” He purred, seemingly pleased with the situation at hand.

“Yep, very warm.” They snorted, giggling as Moon whined at the foot of the bed. “Why are you pouting?” They taunted, pulling away to get a better look. Moon growled softly, his lure wagging. 

“... Cold.” He mumbled, eyeing the bed and Sun with clear jealousy. Sun clicked something and pulled them a little tighter, eyeing his still damp skin. 

“You can come warm up if you dry off-” They didn’t get to finish their request before he was scampering off and rubbing himself on the towels. He returned even quicker, leaping into bed rough enough to make it bounce. They were glad they opted for the two person size, even then it was squished with two mers around them. At least the blanket stopped Moon’s chill from leaching their heat. Moon purred quietly, curling his tail around their form and over Sun’s back, wiggling down into the blankets quickly.

“Cold!!” Sun squeaked, pressing even closer to the human sandwich in the middle as Moon cackled. 

“Warm.”

[statdical]

The Roaring Trainers PC Design + Rambles about them because I can

C1

So it’s all 1920s fashion for the setting obviously, Atticus had to be full farmer boy vibes obviously and his hair needed to be messy and unkept with an overall red ish color scheme. Eyes are friendly and a warm brown. Hairy. Sen is forever baby face in my mind even though he’s like 18 I think, big pokemon protag energy. Also newspaper boy and canon curly hair, but I wanted him to be a little tan with freckles, big blue eyes, and overall blue color palette. Watery puppy dog eyes vibes. Wesley my beloved. He’s my favorite to draw, fancy rich vibe clothes. And purple color palette all the way, he has such ghost type energy he needs to be purple and none of these pcs have canon design but he is a black man in my mind and I have always drawn him as such. He might have glasses in canon but I don’t remember, I do remember him needing to have tired phd student vibes.

C2

The 1920s fashion continue. Stella reminds me so much of Lilly from Sun and Moon if she was goth and I wanted to lean into that. Big modesty dress, hat, long hair, twin braids lots of purple. Livinia the diva needed to be in a flapper dress, there was no other choice. Dark reds were required to, just full on very elegant and sleek and in the fashion of the time. Mynt is the most off of the fashion, not by much but I thought it fit. Long hair, taller and chill.

C3

This was both the hardest and the easiest one to do because they had canon designs but I also haven’t listened to this season. Debbie I knew was a roller derby girl but still seemed more on the modest side so I wanted pinks greens and also inspired by @lunarspaceartist cause I loved her design of Debbie. Chickenbone I just gave more metal 80s accessories for fun. His tattoo was a nightmare lmao. Mikhal was fun cause he reminded me of actual casual punk people I know irl, also pink mullet pink mullet pink mullet

Anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk