#Given what high regard he's been held in all the way along

[yesterdayiwrote]

in my opinion, i do think george could potentially get screwed over. but not in his seat is in danger type of way. i think toto wants max to come to the team for a couple of years before he retires and goes and does other motorsports like he has said in the past, then kimi will come in and take that mantle and george will be used as development for kimi.

this model he has in mind, screws over george's championship winning years/chances. toto and his golden boy dreams will be fulfilled and george will be used to make them come true. this is based off what toto is stating publicly, he's basically daniel ricciardo-ing his career.

there is also the chance toto is just chatting shit so people draw attention away from the fact that the car is even worse, lewis is leaving and pissed tf off it. he also making these bizarre offers to max because he knows it undermines lewis, very "i didn't like you that much anyway" after being rejected, like the man at the end of last year was saying things like how lewis is still the best driver in the world but this year he has completely changed his tune and glazing max at every turn. so maybe george is just in the crossfire of the toto-lewis divorce.

its still not right how he is undermining george in a way but i don't think george is stupid. rbr tp saying "maybe george wants to move post-2025" is just a comeback to toto but it is also interesting because we know that even if toto doesn't rate george all that much, other team principals do. if he potentially is even closer to lewis this year, that would be more than enough for him, george is fast, very loyal, pr savvy and inexpensive. even if he gets called pr63, he has kept his options and bridges unburnt for this reason because he does not have the luxury all the other drivers do with teams built around them. atleast with the max talk its only speculation i am interested to see how charles will develop into 'the predestined' because no way they brought lewis in with the promise of being second driver.

I was going to answer this in the morning, but I'm currently having a little 3am overthinking brain stint so I'm going to answer it now...

I think the thing is, bringing Max in isn't going to quell his desire to rush Antonelli in, because now they've rushed him into F2, you very quickly get the issue of 'what to you do with him to stop him getting lured away by another team', which means whoever is beside Max once he's theoretically their new golden boy, instantly becomes the new Valtteri, constantly looking over their shoulder waiting for the axe to fall. Right now there's not a whole heap of options to put a rookie as a placeholder, and Toto's already realised putting them elsewhere for 3 years is too long so... you're pretty much looking at 2026, maybe 27 at the latest for him going in that seat, if you decide to go that route.

And yeah, the other problem is Toto pretty much promised that golden boy spot to George, and is now suddenly offering it to someone who already has a golden boy spot elsewhere, which feels odd? Every other front running team is currently committing long term to their 'new generation drivers', so why suddenly is Toto sniffing around other people's drivers rather than doing the same with his own? It's just very strange behaviour from him, not that we've come to expect anything different from him these days.

And I would argue that actually... George has burnt bridges, even if he hasn't meant to. He's been so loyal to Merc, publicly said he wants to stay there now until he retires. Ferrari isn't an option now they have a hierarchy in place. McLaren also not an option unless one of their drivers gets lured away. He's always been cold on Red Bull. I'm not saying he'd never go if it was an option but I'm not sure they'd theoretically be wanting him given their kind of weird driver situation. And Aston... I mean I feel like it would be a good fit for him from a marketing perspective, but realistically with their driver situation and his history with the Strolls... I'm not sure how viable it would be as an option for him anytime soon either.

So then his options become teams that are probably a step back for him again, which I'm sure he'd consider if necessary, but aren't going to offer him what he wants at this point in his career.

I think the Max talk is speculation, and there probably is some bullshit from Toto going on, but I'm not sure what he's gaining from doing it? There's a non-zero chance of it happening and the fact it's being touted so publicly is a bit of a neg on George whether he intends it to be or not. I mean if I'm George, I'd be getting my manager to be putting feelers out to other teams anyway, or at the very least be demanding some kind of public commitment from Toto.

As I've said before, noone is ever 100% safe in motorsport, but the fact this is even a possibility or a conversation is a mad turn of events given the circumstances... I wish I could offer more in the way of 'it's all going to be fine, everyone needs to stop worrying' but honestly... I've got nothing.

[solbaby7]

Killing Me Softly

pairing: cassian x reader

[ part 2 ]

warnings: swearing, violence, blood, jealous themes, angst

summary: [based off that episode in greys were Mer got beaten by that patient who didn’t remember anything when they woke up]

—

It had started out as a normal fight.

Something small and fixable.

But somewhere along the way, things had snowballed and the playful Cassian you’d always known had disappeared before your very eyes. “You have a responsibility,” His tone is firm; slightly condescending and you can feel the attitude beginning to form when his arms cross over his chest. Cassian shoulders squared out, spine straight and wings pulled taut as he stood his ground. “The answer is no.”

“Cass, you’re not even listening. I told you I had this planned a week ago,” It comes out rushed, brows furrowed as you tried to meet something else besides that hard wall behind hazel eyes. “Besides it’s the med wing, they always have volunteers coming in to help—it’s just one date.”

“This really isn’t up for discussion,” His steely exterior nearly crumbles to pieces when he sees the way you visibly deflate, fingers grazing over the pretty dress you’d spent three days searching for with Mor and Cass had to pretend to be thrilled when you came barreling through his bedroom door with it in hand. You were beaming, smile so wide he thought your cheeks would split in two. “Now, go get changed.”

Guilt bubbles in his belly at the sight of you, jaw clenched tight and eyes blinking furiously to push back the frustrated tears; you had been really excited. You say nothing when you breeze past him, making sure not to touch him or make eye contact when you disappear back where you came and Cass doesn’t even need to turn around to know the way Azriel is looking at him. “Thought you said the med-wing was fully staffed? Easy day, you said.”

“Don’t even start.”

“It was just one date, she bought a dress and everything.” Az doesn’t buckle at the remorse that begins to scrunch at hard features, hands that clench and unclench at his sides as Cass battled a war that didn’t take prisoners. “If you won’t act on your feelings for her then leave her be so she can be happy.”

“Seriously, mind your fucking business.” Cassian all but snarls, golden eyes like burning lava when regarding his brother; the words hitting much harder than and punch. “She had a job to do and she’ll be here doing it. We don’t have time for stupid dresses and dates when people are dying.”

You don’t speak when you re-emerge in something more sturdy, medical equipment neatly organized in a bag that you held loosely in one hand. A whole folder of papers had been shoved in your grasp from a brooding General, inky hair flying away from his face when the wind cut through on his speedy departure. Frustration builds but you don’t allow it to overcome you, ignoring Azriel’s inquisitive stare, arms crossed over his chest and thick leathers hugging muscular thighs. “You okay?”

You sigh, gesturing to the stack of papers while you begin down the hall. “I’m busy.”

Times flows significantly slower now that you’re aware you’re missing something of importance; you’d really been looking forward to dressing up. Taking special time on your hair and the dark kohl that Mor insisted would make your eyes pop. The bittersweet daydream of what could’ve been is interrupted by the ruffled patient, his body covered in a serious of wrappings and notes near his side table on the tonics he’d been given—heavy duty sedatives and even stronger pain alleviants. Dosages so high there was no was he should’ve been moving, eyes blinking into consciousness and slurred speech stumbling from his tongue. “Where am I?”

“Sir, it’s okay just relax. I’m only here to help.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” Your hands are gentle when they reach out for him in attempts to soothe but it only makes him more agitated, arms whipping around wildly and his volume steadily increases. “Who are you? Why am I here?”

“Sir, please. If you just calm down I can explain—you were hurt, I’m only here to help.”

Rational thought and logic make no home in the frantic patients mind, his terrifyingly sturdy grip latches onto your shoulder. You’re jostled in close, bandages and antiseptic falling from your grasp and you only have time for one sharp yelp before his hands are wrapped around your neck. It takes alarmingly little effort for him to get to his feet, slamming your form down on the cot he’d been recovering in for days. Broken noises pull from your throat, nails scratching at his arms and face and whatever skin you can get your hands on, punching and kicking and reaching for anything to help and just as a black spots line your vision you finally get a good kick in, enough to push you from his hands and your body tumbles to the floor with a thud.

Deep heaving breaths pull from you, sucking in as much oxygen as your lungs will allow and tears you didn’t even realize you’d let out are streaming down the curve of your cheeks as you struggle to gain your footing, to get out of the room but hands are back around your arms. A broken cry fills the air when your face is shoved into the wall, heavy weight pushing you over and over until blood pooled from your temple and choked noises caught in your throat.

You can’t even remember when it stopped, a darkness overtaking you but even that’s abruptly ripped away from you for what feels like just seconds later. Someone screaming, strangled, pain filled shouts when you feel a set of hands on your body, lifting you from the floor and setting you on a cool table. “She’s awake,” You hear Madja firmly speak, hands quick yet sturdy when reaching into her bag to pull out medical grade scissors. “Anyone not necessary needs to leave.”

“She’s family, we aren’t leaving her.” Azriel retorts even stronger, leaving no room for discussion and you can feel the warmth of his hands on your own when he looks down at you. “You’re going to be okay, we’re here. We’re all here.”

You can’t even form words, eyes watery and panicked when darting between both of his own and the grip you have on his fingers when the healer pressed down on your abdomen is enough to have him barking at her for pain relief. “I can’t just give her things without a full assessment.”

“Assess faster—she’s in too much pain.”

Everything goes in one ear and out the other; you keep trying to speak, to beg them to please stop poking there and prodding at that bruise and asking if it hurt there, because it hurt everywhere. Broken whines pull from your throat, chest heaving and limbs trembling so hard the table shook. “I can feel three—no four broken ribs, collarbone fracture on the right side, shoulders dislocated on the right as well.” Madja begins, voice almost void of any emotion as she drifts from a person to a woman in charge. The High Lord in standing near your head, murmuring encouraging words while soaking in the information, a grim expression shared between him and the shadowsinger. “Damage to the brain is possible with such intense trauma to her head; two males had to physically pull the patient off of her.”

“Why would he even do this?” Rhys takes the warm cloth handed to him and gently begins to drag it over your forehead, trying his best to comfort you through the agony. “She’s harmless—she wouldn’t have hurt a fly.”

“It was the first time he’d been lucid since we’d found him; he doesn’t even remember what happened.”

Half a dozen more healers filter in the room with handfuls of equipment, eyes filled with worry when regarding one of their own but they quickly shake it off and step into line to assist. Azriel snarls at Madja’s words, stomach clenching in disdain at the helpless groans you let out, head lolling from side to side, tears treading trails into your hair as the pain overwhelms you.

Madja skims a knuckle over your jaw on accident when accessing the harsh bruising at your throat and the yelp that pulls is absolutely devastating. “Grab the restraints and hold her down,” The healer commands to the others, insisting they wrap them tighter while ignoring the deep shouts of the two males guarding you like their lives depended on it. “Her jaw is broken,” A heavy sigh pulls from Madja, dark hair tightly braided behind her shoulders. “—I have to set it and it won’t be fun so help me or get out of the room so we can do our jobs.”

Rhysand’s fingers are running through your hair, Azriel’s thumb rubbing soothing circles along the back of your hands and you feel the exact moment they both go stiff, heads turning to face the towering figure that stuttered to a stop in the doorway. “I’ll hold her arms,” The shadowsinger holds your arms with a firmness you hadn’t experienced from him before, soft apologies being whispered into your ears when your heart rate surges. “Cass, hold her legs. She needs to be still.”

The General doesn’t move, eyes wide and mouth hung open when he takes in your form. The clothes that were cut from your body, the countless amounts of thick gauze and medical towels soaked with your blood pooling in piles on the floor. Warbled streaks of crimson red is a stark contrast against the white floors; the smeared print of ten fingers and two palms drag along the wall, the small side table and the around door handle—you’d just nearly gotten away. “Cassian,” Azriel snaps, the rough tone ripping him from his trance. “Hold down her legs, now.”

The shock doesn’t wear off even if he does do as he’s told, golden eyes stuck on every bruise, ears painfully attuned to every whimper, every cry and gut-wrenching scream when your jaw was forced open, the bone shifting with a deafening crunch. “Please, please, please.” You barely get the words out; speech slurred, sweat lacing your forehead, body shaking so hard from the pain you couldn’t tell what was up from down. “Please, make it stop. Please, I’ll do anything—please stop.”

“Give her something!” Rhys snapped, wiping away tears and bracing you from moving around too much.

Madja scoffs, outnumbered and overwhelmed she calls for a tonic, allowing a higher dose than normal and your relief is instant. Deep cries fade to drawn out whimpers before your whole form goes eerily limp. “This will not be an easy recovery; if you think that was bad, just wait.” Quick hands make work of setting your shoulder with a sharp jolt and another healer is wrapping it in thick bandages to keep it in place. “Why was she even in here? The form specifically stated that supervision was required for this patient—she shouldn’t have been alone.”

“She shouldn’t have been here at all,” One of the healers muttered under her breath, hands quick and careful when tucking your hair behind your ear and dabbing your face clean of the blood that had started drying. “—she had a date today. I took this shift for her so she could go. She’s been talking about it all week.”

A silence fills the room and Rhys follows the sharp stare Azriel had trained on the General who’d been stuck in place at your feet. His hands shake where they rest near your calves, gaze seemly stuck on the socks you wore, fabric torn and stained in your own blood and he can just picture how hard you’d struggled trying to escape. Cassian says nothing, not when the others seem to catch on; putting together a piece of the puzzle in his silence—the shock that settles in every pore and the guilt that radiated from his burly form.

He only watches as they collect the soiled gauze off the floor, antiseptic filling the space when they begin to scrub your handprints off the wall, sweeping up the drywall that gave way from the pure strength put into smashing your body to pieces. “Four broken ribs,” Azriel’s voice is unnervingly calm when the last of the healers filter out, the door shutting behind with a soft click. “—a fractured collarbone; she was thrown into the wall so hard her shoulder popped out of socket.” Rhys takes a step forward, a hand raised to stop the shadowsinger but he’s sharply cut off, Az’s tone getting just a bit deeper when he stalks towards Cassian like predators did their prey. “He nearly shattered her skull—she’d be dead if it weren’t for one of the other patients. They heard her scream and found me.” Inky shadows slink around Azriel’s shoulders, but it’s the hand that pushes Cassian a step away from you that finally gains his attention.

“Azriel—“ Rhysand begins to intercept but abruptly pauses when the spymaster continues, fingers pointed at the leader of the Night Courts armies.

“You made her stay today because you were jealous.”

The High Lord goes still, violet eyes sliding from one friend to the other. “What?”

“She had a date and Cass was jealous because he has feelings for her and is too afraid to say anything.” Azriel can’t seem to stop once he’s started; such pure rage burning beneath his skin at the selfishness that resulted in such unimaginable pain.

“You think any of that matters right now?” Cassian doesn’t even sound like himself; no booming voice or need to make his point, no logical facts and carefully thought out points. He can’t even stop looking at you, eyes glassy and shoulders slumped when remembering what you’d looked like just two hours earlier. “I thought I didn’t deserve her before but now—after this? I know I don’t.”

[littlejuicebox]

The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

-----

If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay. 

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality. 

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully. 

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin. 

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face. 

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige. 

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance. 

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

-----

You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell. 

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf. 

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him. 

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring. 

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last. 

[bones4thecats]

Hii!

I love your work and I was wondering if I could request platonic Baul and Sebek with an oc insert, Alcestris? (oc info x (the second one) & x that is adoptive family (Baul's daughter and Sebek's aunt but it can go in sibling reader)

If not I'll just ask for a simple reader <33

If you need any more info on the oc just tell me ^^

Baul Zigvolt Adopting The Fae! Reader

Characters: Baul and Sebek Zigvolt (separate) Requester: @althea-and-alcestris A/N: I decided to just do a plain reader, also this is most definitely not my best piece, but I tried my best with the info given. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of abandonment and war ⚠️ (P.S: The Reader is themed after the Tundra Fey from Maleficent: Mistress of Evil)

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Baul Zigvolt ════════════════════════════╝

🐊 It was a mere few months after the Human and Fae war had ended, and it was obvious that, despite what the elder had said, Baul was traumatized from the constant bloodshed

🐊 Ever since it ended, he had begun taking small walks in the woods nearby to calm himself down from the memories of losing the young and old. From his childhood friends to even the ones that barely scraped 150 years old

🐊 During one of these late walks, he heard the cracking and squashes of sticks and wet leaves coming from ahead of him. And, in true warrior fashion, he gripped his weapon and stalked his way towards the noise silently

"I'm so sorry, my baby..." A female's voice said through the trees as the Fae came closer.

"Who goes there?!" He yelled, making the woman stand abruptly and begin running away as fast as her speed and legs could take her.

🐊 Baul began to run after her, but stopped when the curiosity of what she left there took over. So, he turned around and sprinted back to where she once kneeled. And when he looked down, he was shocked

🐊 A young Fae was there, wrapped up in a tiny periwinkle-colored blanket, it was fairly faded with your bright colors. Your small white and black horns were a tell-tale sign of your heritage, but what was more of a sore thumb was your high-levels of paleness, you were far brighter toned than other Faes nearby

🐊 You had to be a Tundra Fae, which was odd. That sub-species was very hard to come across, since they were seen to make up a large section of most first-fighting armies, meaning they passed far faster than other kinds

🐊 Baul kneeled down and looked at you with a glossing of despair in his eyes, who in the name of Twisted Wonderland would leave such a vulnerable Fae, nonetheless one that couldn't be that much older than a few years. Perhaps around a few months in human terms

🐊 Instead of leaving the youngling in the woods or leaving it at the nearby orphanage, Baul looked into the tiny (E/C) eyes that faded into black and smiled gently. You reminded him of his daughter when she was a baby, with such innocence in her eyes. Maybe raising another wouldn't be so bad...

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Sebek Zigvolt ═══════════════════════════╝

⚡ Sebek has admired you for the 16 years that he has been alive. From the way you defended your family if offended in any way to the way you seemingly got along with everyone that you met, it was all just amazing to witness

⚡ He hates himself for his human half, so having a family member that can sit by his side and speak of how they felt knowing that they were far from related to the people once considered family, it was nice to know that not only he felt like the oddball in the family to his Grandfather

⚡ Speaking of his Grandfather, as his adoptive child, you were held in very high regards by others. From his now-deceased wife, to his biological daughter, her human-husband, and their shared children, you were always beloved. Especially when he had first brought you home all those years ago

⚡ You were also fairly young for Fae, reaching at 170 years old. In human terms, you would be around 17. With such youth, you grew up being babysat by your older sister and father's best friend, Lilia Vanrouge, who adored you to pieces

⚡ Since you were so young, Sebek, whom was your technical nephew, was shocked to see just how close you got to his 'Wakasama'. It was not like he was to yell at you like he did others, you were his family, nonetheless his aunt/uncle, he respected you highly

⚡ But, every time he saw you laugh freely with Malleus, he couldn't help but wonder if you did have some kind of special bone with the future ruler of Briar Valley

⚡ As you grew up and helped raise Sebek well, you understood how he thought far better than other people in your family. You would sit by him almost every night and let him relax alongside you, inviting the others like Malleus, Lilia, Silver, maybe even the new magicless human from time to time for extra companionship

⚡ Sebek also protects you the same way he does Malleus. Anytime he sees/hears someone disrespect you, he yells at full volume about how 'repulsive' and 'self-hating' they must be. One time, he had found a Diasomnia third-year speaking about how you must be using your title to get you through College, and oh boy did he regret saying that

⚡ He had told Lilia about the words, leading the elder Fae to grit his teeth in a smile before telling his son and son-figure to get ready for a small interrogation, War Style

⚡ He also enjoys to see you train against others. You were raised by a former soldier, so fighting was in your 'blood', in a way. The way you gripped a spear and readied yourself whilst kicking away and dodging every upcoming hit coming from your uncle figure just made stars appear in your nephew's eyes

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 104 }

the price of a lie.

lies of p.

pinocchio x reader

warnings: unedited and a self indulgent mess.

{ how many lies would you tell to be human? }

truth be told, pinocchio never understood what it truly meant to be human.

his journey throughout krat was no easy task, for surrounding him were enemies who wanted nothing more than to witness his demise; automatons who held such deep contempt for him and his goals, being just as deadly as the plague that wracked through the city.

with each challenge that he faced, he was forced to play the role of a real boy, acting as though he desired nothing more than for his lies to become a reality someday. even though he knew that being human was seen as a good thing, he didn't really understand it. when asked about it, his father often told pinocchio that he was the key to saving humanity; that it was due to pinocchio being geppetto's creation that he held him in such high regard- that this was something only he could do.

but it was difficult for pinocchio. he felt as though the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulder, and he was forced to navigate through such a dark world entirely on his own while given little to no motivation. despite how he wasn't quite human yet, there seemed to be a looming weight within his chest, one that filled him with an inexplicable emotion.

the feeling was so great that he couldn't help but dwell on it, the curiosity of it all spilling over that he had to ask sophia about it.

"that emotion you are describing sounds a great deal like dread." he recalls sophia telling him one late evening when he was last seeking refuge at hotel krat. her graceful figure seemed to float along the marble floors, voice ever so gentle as her slender fingertips ran along the oakwood shelves, exploring the spines of the various books settled within it.

she hums, not quite facing him, yet pinocchio knew that she was simply deep in thought. "it is not strange for you to feel this way, after all, we are asking a lot of you at this very moment."

"however," her gentle laughter makes pinocchio finally meet her gaze, seeing her smile as she reassures him, "how you decide to move forward and continue your journey is entirely up to you. and truly, i have faith in you- we all do."

sophia stops herself from speaking further then, her gaze becoming a bit more solemn as she clasps her hands together. she steps closer to him, the skirt of her blue gown swaying back and forth with her movements when she settles herself before him. her gaze was unwavering, placing her hand on pinocchio's shoulder as she tells him:

"but it won't be easy... you must have a strong conviction in order to become what you truly desire. so, tell me..."

just how far would you go to truly be human?

pinocchio hears sophia's words echoing within him, the cogs in his mind whirring as he fought to find the right words to say. could he really tell her of how numb he felt? would she understand if he spoke to her, finally telling her that single phrase i don't know?

instead of being truthful with her, pinocchio found that he could not get the words out; the silence was deafening, and despite how no words had been spoken or exchanged, the pain in sophia's gaze said it all.

as if taking pinocchio's unspoken words as his answer, she simply nods at him before letting him go, leaving him feeling numb.

if pinocchio were to be honest with himself, the puppet simply felt... empty at the thought of being human. he felt no innate desire to become one, and only felt such desires simply because he was told to.

the lies he tells were only made to put up a façade; one that he was meant to uphold if he were to ever survive the dangers that were seen all across krat. he never had a reason, nor felt the true desire to become real-

but that all seemed to change one fateful moment, when he came into contact with a human-

when he came into contact with you.

it was raining that day, the downpour causing the cobblestone streets to become slick. puddles surrounded the city as pinocchio could feel his own clothes becoming wet from the rain. his shoes made splashes all across the roads when gemini's voice became panicked.

"whoa, b-bad news, buddy! i sense a group of rogue automatons just a few blocks away. maybe we should retreat for now? you seem unprepared, and you were only meant to be out here to do recon."

pinocchio ignores gemini's advice, simply sharpening his rapier with his legion arm as he stepped forward, eyes narrowing when he sees a figure coming towards him, seeing you running to him. he stops walking, watching as your footsteps pound against the streets as gasps escapes from your parted lips. you were dressed in a tattered shirt with torn pants, and your shoes were so worn and torn that they nearly made you slip and fall into the slick streets.

when you finally see him, you let out a sigh of relief all while reaching out to him with your hands, "p-please, you've got to help me!"

he takes note of the way your heart raced from within your chest and how wisps of smoke seemed to escape from your parted lips due to how cold it was. the constant thumpthumpthump heard from the confines of your chest intrigued pinocchio a great deal, and he was uncertain why his curiosity was so piqued by you.

"pino, this is bad, the enemies are right in front of you!"

without saying a word to you, pinocchio places you directly behind him, shielding you from the automatons. he watches the rogue puppets with thick oil escaping from their porcelain lips, staining at their skin as heavy grunts and groans were heard from them. their movements were slow, dragging their feet along the slick streets. pinocchio held no concern when it came to defeating them and shielding you from the dangers that they pose.

using the speed and grace he had developed from his past battles, he manages to take down the rogue group of automatons with ease. his rapier slices through them as he dodges their attacks with great succession. within what seemed like seconds, they all collapse in a pile of broken limbs, the rain already beginning to turn their bodies into rust.

he faces you once more, seeing you wrap your arms around your chest, your eyes wide with wonder. "t-that was amazing! and goodness, y-you are also an automaton? i truly thought you were real! simply a young man taking a stroll across krat! well, actually, that would be quite crazy, since humans like me would definitely struggle surviving here!"

pinocchio listens to you and the way you excitedly spoke to him. it was here that he learns of your name, how you were not originally from krat and had simply traveled here to learn about the city's accomplishments with automatons. you spoke highly about your dreams and how you wished to be a master engineer like geppetto.

"that is my father." pinocchio wasn't sure why he felt the need to tell you of this simple fact. something about you seemed...bright. so achingly bright that it made his chest feel this strange tightness. the fact that you were all alone in this dangerous world made pinocchio wish to help you- to shield and protect you from it.

he watches as your eyes widen in response. "you're kidding, that's amazing!"

"yup, it sure is! master geppetto is a genius, and i along with everyone else agree that pinocchio is his greatest creation!" gemini chimes in, further adding to your excitement.

"then that means-"

"you may come with me." pinocchio softly tells you without a hint of hesitation, simply holding his hand out for you to take. your features appear surprised once more before turning a bit sheepish a mere moments later. "i-i don't know. i don't wish to intrude, but...krat has become a living nightmare since the plague hit. i was a bit foolish in coming here so...so unprepared. "

"hey listen, your only hope of survival is to follow pinocchio here. if you stay out here, you're gonna be made into mincemeat for sure." gemini continues to urge you to follow pinocchio, "he can take you to geppetto. and who knows? maybe you can work as his assistant along with eugénie."

throughout it all, pinocchio never stops keeping his hand outreached for you to take. as gemini's voice slowly softens before becoming silent, he could see your eyes shining with excitement and happiness once more. with a sigh, pinocchio watches you as you step forward and call out his name for the first time. "pinocchio, right?"

he feels himself shiver a bit upon hearing the way you call out to him. giving you a simple nod, he extends his hand out even more to you, to which you finally take. the warmth that came from the palm of your hand was what pinocchio initially feels, his fingertips lightly grazing against your wrist as he felt the pulse along with the warmth that radiated off of it.

there was a sudden surge felt within his chest, one that pushes him forward as he ends up interlocking the fingertips of his non-legion hand with yours, pulling you along as he safely lead you out of the city and towards his sanctuary found within hotel krat.

and it didn't take long for you to find a new home within his found family. as predicted by gemini, his father welcomed you with open arms, along with eugénie. you were a fast learner, and offered many insights to both of them when it came to optimizing pinocchio's legion arm.

pinocchio wasn't sure why your presence instilled something so profound within him. he has had his fair share of communicating with humans. he was close to his father, and he enjoyed listening to eugénie prattle on about the modifications she has made to his legion arm.

but interacting with you sparked something deep from within him. each day he returned to hotel krat, he found himself basking in your smiles and the sound of your voice as you told him about your day all while asking pinocchio about his own adventures.

he never tired of hearing your voice, and how your warmth seemed to permeate at the air before seeping into him. and it was while he was in your presence that he found himself regretting that he could not feel your warmth nor share it with you. pinocchio's body was cold, being carved by the richest wood and sewn together with metal. his glass eyes were incapable of reflecting the same emotions that you showed each time you met his curious gaze, and that part bothered him greatly.

that was the first time pinocchio felt a great sense of regret at not being truly human.

he wanted to bask in the rain and feel the cold droplets against his skin and dance in it with you;

he wanted to share cups of hot chocolate with you and be able to lick away the cream that decorates your lips;

but more so than that, he wanted these feelings he was beginning to feel to come into fruition and have a true, beating heart.

it was a yearning that pinocchio felt growing inside him, getting stronger and deeper with each passing day. each time you walk by him, his gaze would ultimately follow you. the longing that he felt was certainly becoming more evident, and an almost knowing smile would grace sophia's features each time she witnesses your interactions with pinocchio.

with a newfound passion, pinocchio continues his journey, now believing his lies of being human each time he uttered them while exploring the city of krat- allowing the thoughts of you to push him forward.

and it was with these thoughts of you plaguing his mind that he returns back home from his exploration around krat. the night was at its peak, with hotel krat remaining silent as evident of its inactivity. pinocchio was the only one still awake at this time, and he found himself wandering aimlessly around the library, unable to rest.

his fingers run across the spines of the books, yet he felt no desire to read any of them. as his eyes scan the various titles, he was aware of the familiar sound that never fails to bring him comfort.

thumpthumpthump...

his ears pick up the gentle pitter patter of your heart, its slow beats alerting him of your sleeping state. yet despite how he knew that you were resting, pinocchio couldn't stop his footsteps from moving forward. he allows the sounds of your heartbeat to lead him away from the library, his steps echoing throughout the marble flooring of the hallways.

as if running on instinct alone, he does not stop his movements until he reaches the front of your room. like a moth being drawn to a flame, pinocchio lifts his hand, pressing it against the door as he pushes it aside and steps within your bedroom.

his eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the room within seconds as he moves forward. he follows the sounds of your breathing and ends up standing before your bed. it is here that he sees you curled up against the sheets, your hair splayed across your pillow as you cling to your blankets. pinocchio allows his eyes to trail over to your chest, becoming mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of it.

unconsciously, he reaches out to you, allowing his hand to brush back the strands of your hair. upon feeling his cold hand against your skin, you wince in your sleep before letting out a soft groan. pinocchio simply stiffens in response, not even attempting to move his hand away from you even when you slowly began to awaken.

"huh? pinocchio?" you sat up in bed, forcing pinocchio to remove his hand away from your cheek. "what are you doing here?"

pinocchio knew that the right thing to do in this situation was to simply apologize for waking you up, yet no words seemed to come out properly from his parted lips. "i...i..."

yet miraculously, you seemed to inherently understand him. "it's alright, you can't sleep, right?" wordlessly, you scoot over on your bed, making room for pinocchio to settle beside you. "come on, it's alright, you can stay here, with me."

his hands began to itch with a sudden urge, a pinprick of desire that seemed to grow as your smile was all he could see. following along with this strange emotion, pinocchio lets out a tiny thank you in response to your kindness before laying in bed with you.

not wanting you to fall off the bed, he wraps his arms around your form, bringing you closer to him as you let out a gasp. he says your name in yet another soft whisper, adjusting himself so that his ear was pressed against your chest.

"p-pinocchio?" your voice had risen a few octaves, and he could hear the way your heart began to beat faster in response to his touch.

"ssh...just let me...let me listen to your heart beat- listen to what makes you human." pinocchio's voice began to take on a richer tone, being filled with wonder as he closed his eyes and listened to the steady beat of your heart.

thumpthumpthump...

how far would you go to be human?

how many lies would you tell?

in this moment, with you by his side, pinocchio knew that he would tell an infinite amount of lies-

for if he could become human and share his heartbeat with yours, than what greater bliss could possibly exist for him?

a.n. - so a new lies of p trailer just dropped, and i find myself falling for pinocchio all over again 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[neverchecking]

Day 1: Macro- With Fierce Deity

Kicking it off hot~ This one was so fun to write and I'm rather happy with how it turned out!

Smut so Minors Do Not Interact. If I find out a minor has interacted with my blog, I will block you.. Thank you!

Smut CW: Size difference, Fierce being a BIG BOY, there is penetration, but I tried to keep it pretty gender neutral! Let me know if I missed anything or accidently gendered it and I'll fix it!

This is Day one of My Kinktober so be sure to come back and check out the other days! Friendly Reminder that all of my smut is tagged 'Cindersins' including this, but this will also be tagged as 'Cinder's happy halloween' along with the run of the mill smut tags.

Kinktober Masterlist <<< >>> Day 2

���There you go.” His voice rumbled in his chest, low and deep, rolling in dark purrs along your back. 

If there was one thing everyone knew about the deity behind you, it was that he, simply put, was big. An absolute unit of a being. Bringer of wars and harbinger of conflict. More blood than you could fathom had stained his fingers, drowning his soul until it had flickered from the once hopeful light to a fiery inferno of rage and hatred. He had sat upon a throne of bones and skulls, torn from the very enemies he laid to rest. 

Until he had met you.

You were a direct contrast to him. Soft and naive. A being so untainted by the remains of life and the cruel corners of it, you had no choice but to shine. To push back any shadows daring to marr your own soul. To remain as untouchable as you were untouched. To remain cleansed and pure. As if plucked right from the monastery's doorstep. An unwept tear shimmering in the moonlight. 

His precious jewel designed just for him. 

You had awed over every little thing he was capable of. Every tale of gore and horror spun about his capabilities had others regarding him much in the same way he did himself. Like a monster capable of snapping at any given point. But you? You never held any animosity or ill will towards him. No, you remained as open and caring as you always had. Asking in the sweetly unimpeachable tone for him to lean down, only for you to bestow upon him a crown of chain linked daisies and other flowers. Pleading with him to reach a fruit too high for your delicate hands to even brush and thanking him with a press of your lips to his cheeks. Even when crossing bogs and swamps, while you had been hesitant at first, you now happily climbed onto his shoulder, perched there like a little bird while he effortlessly carried you across. 

If you allowed him the privilege he’d be your chariot for as long as you desired. To feel the heat of your skin, with blood coursing through your veins, was something so startlingly beautiful to him. It was a complete contrast to the flash of heat he’d get when slashing through an enemy and their own blood would slick against his cheeks and jaw. Every part of you that made you alive was something he held near and dear. Counting your breaths while you slept and nearly panicking when you missed one or it was delayed by a mere half a second, hearing the pounding of your heart while you went on about what type of butterfly you saw that day or how many deer crossed the paths behind you. Even just the patter of your footsteps beside his, three of yours for every one of his, was such a reliable beat to him. 

Even the pulsing of your walls as you clung to him, whimpering out in either pain or overwhelmed lust as you continued letting your hips fall. He had expressed his worry for you, that he would be too big for someone of your stature, but you had brushed him off, calling him ‘Silly’ for even implying such a thing. He didn’t see the connection, as it wasn’t an attempt at being humorous, but allowed you to think that way. 

You had explained that it was all about muscle work. About relaxing them and stretching them, making them used to the intrusion before it happened. It just so happened that he had the fingers necessary to do it. You had taken three, which had pumped in and out of your twitchy little hole with great difficulty at first, before they were soon sliding in and out easily. Then you had become impatient, pushing his hand out and instead moving to straddle him. His cock bounced against your ass as you gently cupped his cheek. With your free hand you moved the head of his cock to prod against you, locking his lips with your own as you moved to sit down. It was a struggle with the same muscles that were so accommodating before now clenching, refusing him entry as you tried so desperately to force them to relax. When that didn’t work, he let the first praises slip past his tongue, which was so suddenly weak willed when pitted against your fiery determination.  

To his surprise it had worked. Inch by inch disappeared into you before you were sitting on his lap, panting in heavy breaths as you leaned into him. He rubbed your back with a heavy hand. 

“Guess you were right. It did fit.” 

[uroboros-if]

How would the ROs + parents react to you putting a flower crown on them?

All of these depend on the circumstances, but I'll just imagine you surprise them with it! Also, grouping these together, so answering both ROs and parents :)

NERO AND RAFAELE. It doesn't matter whether you're in a young form or an adult form, you're always be their child in their eyes. Rafaele will still burst with joy and be brought to near tears at your gesture. They have the most wonderful child in the world! He will stand up and quickly start looking for any flowers he can pick so he'll make one for you, right then and there! He probably goes around parading himself, chin held high and showing it to everyone who asks (and does not ask, but so much as glances his way).

I haven't answered these asks yet, but a LOT of people mentioned giving crochet/paper flowers for Nero! He would still adore and appreciate any flower crowns you give him, regardless if they are real or not, but he will be deeply moved if you are aware and accommodate that he prefers they were not. He smiles wide and genuine for the first time in a long while, and proudly put it on his head.

SALVATORE. They'd gasp and ask if it's really for them?! When you affirm, their hands are trembling, trying to grasp onto the flower crown gently while resisting their excitement to quickly throw it on. They lower it onto their head shakily, slowly pull their hands away, and beam. How do they look? (The flowers appear to blossom more in their radiance.)

Once they have free time, they'll start learning how to make a flower crown as well. Would enlist their mother, Edvige, as the goddess of the earth and harvest. They would absolutely not be a quick hand at it, and Edvige almost gives up on them entirely, but given enough time and patience, they'll do it. They'll make a dilapidated, but pretty flower crown, and what it lacks for in steady craftsmanship is made up for in abundant meaning, clearly made with love.

LUCIEL. Their eyes widen as you present it to them. If you're not averse to touch, they bow and let you place it on their head. Otherwise, they ask if they can take it, and reverently receive it from you. Though they appear calm on the outside, a soft smile graces their lips, as well as a blush high on their ears. They quietly thank you, and wear it for as long as it lasts—even if that may be an eternity.

The flowers in that crown start to blossom in small corners of Lucidio, humbly sprouting along the side of paths and greenery just out of the way from too many eyes. They do not speak of it, much like a mortal never speaks a god's name in vain. Its sanctity is best upheld with devoted silence.

CIOCANA. If it's a real flower crown, it'll probably wilt at their touch. At that, they laugh lightly and try to assure you that they appreciate the thought—truly appreciate it. Though they do not say it aloud, it is not something that happens to them often; inwardly, they're choking with emotions, trying to grapple with the idea that someone holds them in such... high regards.

If you persist and make them an artifcicial flower crown, they will be... overcome. They make a light, joking remark, but only after having been shocked still for a good while. Even then, it has half their usual playfulness; their attention is somewhere else, turning the crown in their hands, staring at it intently as if waiting for it to collapse. It never does.

ALESSI. They grin at you, gesturing at you to hand it over. They throw it on their head and hold their chin up high, asking you if they look dashing. After another round of laughter, they muse how awfully mundane it is for a deity. They adore it, of course, but it's amusing and endlessly endearing. It's such a simple gesture, and yet it feels so profound. They fall silent, contemplating on everything that's happened that let them sit with you here—all the suffering you both must have endured to fight for this peace. Yet, they don't regret you.

They will fashion a flower crown in return, with any of the wildflowers they can gather and the ones that they grow themselves. Whatever they craft will be beautiful and vivid, because it reflects what they see in you.

I hope you liked this, I had fun answering this!!! 💕💕 Thank you so much for sending an ask!

[greycaelum]

What is exactly Sukuna’s role in Laluna ? He appeared in one of the chapters but I’m afraid I don’t really understand why he is there 😅

you don’t need to explain if you don’t want to

Cursedtales Collections—La Luna Chapters: {Storm}

—Vampire Gojo Satoru X Reader X Lycan Sukuna

Heat, fire, the scorching firewood burning in the fireplace. Life seems suspended as the embers of the hearth crackled and fluttered around the air.

A man sat by the window, his knee propped whilst he languidly amused himself by smoking his long pipe. The tobacco swirled a mixture of intoxicating mint to calm the heat inside his body.

It seems as if all that life has given to him is the excruciating neverending heat. For a creature like him who lives in the somber dark side, it is a strange thing to have a furnace-like body, always exuding heat.

"Sukuna?"

The heady scent of night-blooming jasmines filled the room, overpowering the intoxicating tobacco.

A woman dressed in silver ice silk like the moon, covered in rosy ermine fur to keep her warm looked inside the room and locked eyes with his ruby orbs.

"I've been looking for you..." She sighed and closed the door.

Her soft gait didn't make a sound as she walks over to his side. Her cold hands found their place on his shoulder. It immediately spread a sense of relief to his body. Like an oasis in the desert. Her touch calms the beast inside him... Like a balm to a wound. Like ice to the fire.

"What do you need?" He gruffly replied and blew a cloud of smoke in the air. He looked up to her waiting for an answer.

Her nose scrunched from the scent of the tobacco leaves and waited for the smoke to disperse before speaking once more.

"The warden of Phyrria requests your audience." The woman took one step back from the scent of his tobacco.

He sighs and pours out the small ember inside the pipe, staving off the smoke, and hung his pipe on its handler.

"Since when did my mate become a messenger for those fools? Hmmm?" Sukuna took two strides to close the distance between the two of them. The pelt covering the massive expanse of his colossal body dropped revealing the daunting tattoos etched on his skin, lining the ridges of his muscular scarred body.

His nose found a place on the crook of her neck, his two huge palms holding her slender neck as he traces her throat with his nose whilst inhaling her night jasmine scent. His eyes are hazy as he licks her collarbone, scenting her with his musk. "Since when did my goddess become a tool to make me play along with those stooges? Hmmm?"

"I am n-not. Sukuna, c-cease this." She breathes and held her chin high. "You are inviting but danger and enemy with this behavior."

But Sukuna did not stop and instead traveled all the way up to the shell of her nose, biting the lobe of her ear with a husky chuckle as she bites her lips to suppress him from getting any reaction.

"Of what behavior, My Lady?"

The woman is unfazed by his touch and simply pulls his hand away from her. Her eyes look at him with a profound look of mixed emotions.

"Everyone will not follow a king just because he is king. The people will only follow the King whom they love. Not just your brethren but also the seven races."

He clicks his tongue and lets go of her.

"Who needs love? Love is easily swayed. Fear is the real power behind a ruler." He growled and turned his back on her. "I will be King one day, and all of them shall learn to love and fear me as it should be."

The night is cold and so is the moon.

For a goddess isolated from the warmth of life with only the darkness as a companion, it is not a strange thing for your lonely heart to blossom with joy after finding out you will have a mate. The promise of eternity and devotion.

To love and be loved...

But what happens when that love promises chaos?

"Faltered seven high towers

Crimson soaked the loom

Refuge of towers regard

The other half of the moon."

The night owl hoots from a distance. The wind is cold. You slowly closed the curtain and walk towards Sukuna's side of bed. His arrogant face is replaced with a tranquil one as he sleeps. You covered him with the soft ermine blanket and blew out the candle.

A storm is brewing.

—GreyCaelum,

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out more on La Luna Chapters and the Masterlist

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned, image(s) and song(s) used belong to their respective owner(s).

General & Cursedtales Collection Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @saoney @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld

[thepastisalreadywritten]

What’s that elephant the Danes are wearing?

Tatler’s guide to the emblems and quirks of Denmark’s highest honour, the Order of the Elephant.

A curious little diamond-encrusted elephant, a blue sash, a gold collar – and sometimes a big flaming cape…Tatler looks into the history and tradition of Denmark's most privileged Order.

With Frederik X set to become sovereign of the Order as he becomes King on Sunday, you might see a few of these elephants around Copenhagen's royal palaces

By Isaac Zamet

12 January 2024

When Crown Prince Frederik becomes Frederik X of Denmark on Sunday, he will also replace his mother, Queen Margrethe II, as the sovereign of Denmark’s most ancient and distinguished order of chivalry, the Order of the Elephant.

Though it was officially refounded in 1693, the order dates all the way back to the 1400s, when it was established as a religious confraternity by a group of about fifty Danish knights.

In the 1400s, prior to the Reformation which gripped Europe and divided the church, such religious ‘clubs’ as the Order of the Elephant were common features of aristocratic life.

At the time of the Order of the Elephant's birth, Christian I was King of Denmark – and in fact, Norway and Sweden too, creating a personal union known as the Kalmar Union.

During this period, the emblem of the club was an image of the Virgin Mary holding her Son within a crescent moon.

This was hung from a collar formed of links in the shape of elephants.

The confraternity mutated over the centuries but endured a stifled period after the Reformation in which such clubs became suspect.

In 1580, Frederik II – eight Frederiks prior to our current Frederik – revived the order and replaced the medallion of the mother and child with an elephant (a Reformation-safe, Protestant approach – if a quirky one!).

But it was Christian V, in 1693, who gave the club its official statues and founding order.

At this time, it was scheduled as comprising 30 noble knights and one Grand Master (the King) along with his sons.

It was only in 1958 that the statutes were amended by Royal Ordinance to allow the ennoblement of women as members of the order.

Between 1580 and today, around 890 persons have been bestowed with the Order of the Elephant; with Queen Margrethe adding 68 people during her 40 year reign.

The recipients are almost always royal persons and foreign heads of state – though in a rare exception, the order was given to a commoner in 2000.

This was the deceased shipping magnate, Mærsk Mc-Kinney Møller, who was recognised for exceptional contribution to Danish economic strength and Danish society.

Those unfamiliar with the man himself will surely recognise his name from the famous shipping containers.

The A.P. Møller – Mærsk group was actually founded in 1904 by his father. It is now worth $81bn dollars.

At the time of Møller’s membership of the order, he was the only non-royal and non-head of state to hold the honour; though it had previously been held by the pioneering nuclear physicist, Niels Bohr.

Membership of the order comes with possession of its rather eye-catching elephantine emblem.

The elephant is made of white-enamelled gold with blue housings and is about 5cm high.

On its back, the elephant bears a tower of pink enamelled masonry (a design originally intended to reflect the howdah compartments of the Indian subcontinent).

A number of large cut diamonds adorn the elephant, along with a crowned monogram of the monarch reigning when it was made.

One wonders, then, when the first Frederikian elephants will be carved.

At the top of the tower on the elephant’s back sits a gold ring, from which the badge can be hung from the collar or tied to a sash.

On the elephant's back sits a turbaned ‘moor mahout.’

It should be noted that some would regard such a depiction as an exoticising caricature.

Others would regard its appearance merely as an expression of an historical perspective.

One striking detail about the circulation of the elephants is that each Order of the Elephant is – in principle – on loan and must be returned to the Chapter of the Royal Orders of Chivalry when a member of the Order has passed away.

This rather quaint custom means that elephants are inherited and used several times by different members of the order, with some dating back hundreds of years.

Interestingly, the done thing is not to disclose to whom an Elephant has previously been given – though there are some traditional lines of inheritance.

For example, the elephant recently bestowed on Prince Christian belonged previously to his grandfather, Prince Henrik.

This handing over was always to be, on the basis of a traditional line of inheritance.

There are two exceptional elephants which have eluded the rule of the ‘loan’ – one remains in the Chancellery Museum at Paris and a second remains on display at the Dwight Eisenhower Presidential Library in the US.

Another beautiful quirk of membership of the Order is that a member’s coat of arms is always painted and subsequently hung in the Knight’s Chapel at Frederiksborg Castle in Hillerød.

As to when the elephants come out to play, there are some rather interesting traditions concerning how and when to wear them.

The Order of the Elephant has three festival days: new year’s day, the monarch’s birthday, and the birthday of Valdemar the Victorious, which, if you didn’t know is on June 28.

On these festival days, the Order of the Elephant is worn on the chest on a gold chain link collar, with links shaped as towers and elephants.

The collar sits on each shoulder. On other important occasions, the order is worn on a bright blue sash with a breast star.

The star of the order is an eight-pointed silver star with smooth rays; at its centre sits an enameled red disc with a white cross, surrounded by a laurel wreath in silver.

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Tess' Sharpuary - 27. Bric-a-brac

Aesop buried many things in fear of being reminded of his grief. His sweetheart unearths them again - and Aesop is not afraid.

chapter specific tags: established relationship, fluff, healing, comfort

relationships: aesop sharp x reader

27. Bric-a-brac (1.1k)

tw: mentions of grief

Aesop Sharp kept quite a sizable amount of memorabilia. After all, it was far from uncommon for a wizard or witch of a certain esteem to own and proudly display their own sets of dust-catchers. The ones he and Dinah in particular owned could sometimes be slightly… gruesome. Severed hands and taxidermied werewolves truly helped bring out the aesthetics, Aesop thought with an amused snort. Those were the things visible to many people, things Dinah used in her lessons, and items Aesop scared the potential unwanted guest to his rooms with.

However, the things he truly considered ‘treasures’, though they were anything but, were all hidden away safely at his home, oftentimes away from people’s eyes, even his own, occasionally hidden in plain sight, disguised as everyday items of little value. 

His ‘official’ Auror badge was displayed upon his desk in his classroom, but it was always the unofficial one he held in higher regard, that one that had the word Auror written on it in scraggly letters and with the R’s facing the opposite way. That was the badge his best friend gave him before the two of them knew how to write well. It was something that hurt him to look at, yet at the same time one of the things he grew panicked about when he couldn’t find it…

More items were like that; old photographs, little notes, useless little trinkets he didn’t have the heart to throw away, but wasn’t able to face them either. They held the past long gone, not only the events that transpired, but the kind of person he was, the kind of person he used to be. And they used to haunt him.

And then there were the things hidden in plain sight - one of which was an entirely ordinary tweed bunnet, hung upon one of the hooks in the hallway of his house. Visible to anyone and everyone who visited (though the number of such people wasn’t exactly high), but so inconspicuous, it tended to get entirely overlooked. There were only two people in the world who knew the true value of the simple headwear, and that was Aesop himself, and his dear mother. Only those two knew that this hat, bought in 1851 for 7 shillings and 10 pennies all the way in Glasgow was, in fact, priceless.

It had belonged to Aesop’s father, with whom Aesop was allowed desperately little time, but who nevertheless helped shape the child into the man ha was now, his presence, while fleeting, never truly leaving him, and his scent still lingering upon the bunnet, both like a sweet reminder, and a bitter regret. A number of his father’s clothes were given away to those who needed them, as Theodore Sharp would’ve liked, having been the kind man he was, and the rest got somehow lost along the way. Only the hat remained.

And it was his sweetheart who brought his attention to it after many years he, too, spent ignoring the fact it was even there.

She had a tendency to do that.

Her innocent curiosity, as well as the desire to know him better, prompted Aesop to fish out many of his secret little treasures to show her. Things that he was frightened to look at in fear of once more experiencing the horrible wave of remembering of what was, and what could have been. But with her… With her it was different. With her he wasn’t afraid.

Little by little, he felt safe enough to unearth things he buried well and deep, from those little trinkets, to his very first ‘Auror badge’. And once he explained to her the meaning they held to him, he found that he no longer wanted to hide them away. The sorrow was still there, but so was the love, and the joy he experienced when handling these items for the first time. Things he used to hide away started to get displayed alongside her own memorabilia. It was only fair, he’d decided finally - those were, after all, the items that shaped them and followed them through their lives.

And then, one day, she finally noticed the hat. 

A part of Aesop winced, unsurprisingly - It’s been very nearly four whole decades, and yet the grief was still there… He supposed it was something that would never leave, truly leave. However, what was surprising was that a part of him felt… elated. Like it’s been waiting for her to bring the bunnet up for a long time. A part of himself wanted to acknowledge one of the few things he still had left from his father. 

He slowly walked over to his sweetheart, and took the hat out of her gentle hold. Without thinking and without shame, he brought the headwear to his nose, his senses immediately registering the oh so familiar scent, and it was enough to make his eyes glisten. She watched him silently, mindful not to do or say anything that would get him to close up again, but much less so than she was in the beginning. However, Aesop could see there was something she was stopping herself from saying…

“What is it?” he asked softly, voice heavy with emotion. She smiled gently, but shook her head. “I want to know,” Aesop insisted, his free hand coming up to stroke her smooth, soft cheek.

“You should try it on,” she said, her voice so quiet only Aesop could hear it. His heart skipped a beat. He observed the bunnet in his hold, feeling conflicted. On one hand, he didn’t want to… break the strange spell the hat put on him, the knowledge that this was his father’s hat by wearing it, but on the other… On the other hand, knowing he was wearing something that belonged to his father other than his pocket watch held a strange sort of appeal. He always loved the bunnet, and he fondly remembered his dad plopping it onto his small head when he was but a wee lad.

His sweetheart gently took it from his hold, and, moving very slowly so that Aesop could stop her anytime, began lowering it upon his head. Aesop didn’t stop her. 

Instead, he gently grabbed her hands to help her, soon feeling the warm material sitting perfectly upon his head.

“Incredibly handsome…” she said, her smile soft and tender. Aesop decided to take her word for it, instead of going to look in the mirror. Without another word, he pulled her in for a kiss. 

She had a tendency to chase ghosts away, and leave only love in their wake.

---

Thank you for reading! ❤

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

[halsinsbiceps]

A Great and Sudden Change Update

Well hey there, folx!

It's been a long time. I've been lurking around, liking a bunch of stuff and enjoying what you're all posting. I see I've gotten some new followers and reblogs; thank you all for the love!

I wish I could say I'm making a comeback, and while that's kinda true...I'm kinda not. Life is, as you all know, ever-changing and likes to hand it out in spades when it does. For the most part things have been good, but have left me with less time to write and spend on my own hobbies.

The biggest thing is that we're MOVING! So excited about this, being closer to family, and being back where my heart belongs. But also so fucking sad, because our life was here for so long.

It'll be good, I promise. And hopefully, that will mean more writing!

Thanks for coming along for the ride.

And in the meantime, enjoy Chapter 9 of A Great and Sudden Change!

Fic below the cut, or read on AO3 here.

Throughout the arguments against Kagha, Enelya was reminded - not for the first time in recent months - why she chose to not follow the path to leadership. 

Halsin heard each member of the grove out with a patience Enelya admired. It was no wonder he was held in such high regard; each person's words were just as important as the last. Still, she did not envy him the charge of being Archdruid. She could tell by the way he held himself - back straight, shoulders tense, eyes focused on each speaker - that his duties weighed more heavily on him than she had believed. 

Kagha and the druids who had followed her orders stood against the far wall. Kagha kept her arms crossed as their peers voiced their concerns and condemnation of the group's actions. Her eyes frequently flicked over to Enelya, and every time a scowl would etch into her face anew. 

Enelya did her best to ignore the venomous glares from the woman, but as time passed her skin began to crawl, the tadpole churned in her head, and she wished the ordeal were done and over with. She gripped the staff Halsin had given her and tried her best to pay attention to those speaking, but many of them made the same points as the rest, and soon her mind began to drift. 

Would this have been her life, had she not been waylaid by grief in the weeks after meeting Halsin?, she wondered. Sitting at his side, listening to the issues of the grove come forth each tenday? It was not unlike nobles and patriars in the great cities holding court, she mused. Druids might largely deny a relationship with civilization, but there were truly more similarities than not.

When the arguments against the offending party were finished, Halsin allowed the perpetrators a chance to defend themselves. Nearly all groveled before him for forgiveness, claiming they only wanted what was best for the grove and did not intend to align themselves with the Shadow Druids. Halsin heard them all with a careful, stony expression. When it came to be her turn Kagha chose not to defend herself, instead responding to Halsin’s inquiry with stoic silence. 

Finally, sometime after nightfall, Halsin rose from his stone chair and spoke, gesturing between himself and Enelya.

"Leave us."

Rath approached Halsin and the pair spoke in low tones. The guards took Kagha’s arms and led the accused parties out of the sanctum. Rath stepped away and joined the other druids as they filed out until only Enelya and Halsin remained. When the stone door slid shut above them, Halsin released a loud sigh and sank back onto the stone seat. His head fell back against his shoulders, and he rubbed his face before letting his arms drop limply to his knees. 

Enelya found herself slowly moving towards him, as if drawn by some unseen force. He was not looking at her - his eyes were closed - but she could tell he was aware of her presence in the way his body tensed and his breathing changed. It was only when she stood directly in front of him, her knees knocking softly against his, that their eyes met. 

Enelya longed to slowly reach out and slide her fingers into his auburn hair; to gently press the pads of her thumbs into his temples and scrape her fingernails across his scalp. She wanted to trace the tattoo that twisted down his cheek with a feather-light drag of her fingertips. She knew he would melt into her touch; that his chest would reverberate with a groan as his head fell forward to rest against her stomach. The tension would seep from his body, and his hands would slide up her thighs, gripping her hips as he pulled her down onto his lap…

Gods, she wanted it.

Halsin looked up at her expectantly, hazel eyes darkening and reflecting her desire, yet full of unanswered questions. When he spoke, it was a hoarse whisper.

"What happened, Enelya?"

She shivered - whether from the damp chill of the room or from hearing her name on his lips, she wasn't sure - and stepped away from him, shaking her head.

"Halsin, I know you are eager for answers, but this is really not the time for this conversation. Your thoughts should be on Kagha’s punishment, and I should be looking for a cure for... this .” She brushed her fingers vaguely across her temple with a deep sigh.

“I have already made my decision, and will enact it tomorrow." The tone of finality in Halsin’s voice allowed for no further discussion. Faithwarden or no, she didn't dare question his authority again after their confrontation earlier in the day. Halsin continued, “As for the rest, there is no more to be done tonight.”

“There is plenty to be done,” Enelya argued. She gripped the staff in her hands again, knuckles whitening against her skin. “You could tell me more about this Moonrise, or what you do know about the tadpole, for starters. Instead you'd rather rehash our brief history?”

He frowned and rose from his seat. Silence hung between them as he gazed at her, the frown deepening. "You were not one to avoid an uncomfortable discussion,” he finally replied. “But it appears you are no longer the person you once were.”

She raised an eyebrow at his statement. “You barely knew me.”

"No,” he admitted softly. “But I knew your spirit. Your soul drew me in, the way you shone brighter than the moon itself.” He raised his hand above him in a sweeping gesture. “The way you stood proud and tall, and danced with abandon. It was no wonder you were a champion of Mielikki. Now…” He shook his head. His hand dropped back to his side. “You do not hold yourself in the same way. There's a darkness in you, as if your brightness has been eclipsed."

Enelya crossed her arms. "I owe you no explanation for my change. The seasons come and go and yet you do not ask the trees why their leaves fall in autumn."

"You don’t owe me that, but you do owe me the truth.” He stepped even closer, close enough to touch. “I waited for you, Enelya. And when you didn't come to me, I sent birds to find you. When that didn't work, I wrote to Francesca. All she said was you had gone deep into the forest, and she did not know when you would return." He paused. “Or if you would return.”

Enelya did not reply. Her gaze drifted to the floor near Halsin’s feet.

He reached out then, slipping his fingers under her chin to lift her head until their eyes met.

"The truth is all I ask,” Halsin repeated gently. “Or, if you won't tell me that, then tell me our coupling meant nothing to you. Tell me you didn't feel the same connection I did, and the matter can rest."

His eyes bore into hers, and she was suddenly aware of his proximity, his warmth, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. Her own chest tightened under his gaze, and she bit back the urge to nuzzle her face into his large palm and let him comfort her the way she craved.

She nodded, her throat dry.

"The truth, then.”

Halsin released her chin and stepped back. Enelya tried to ignore the crumbling sensation in her chest as he did so, instead gathering her thoughts and inhaling deeply to steady herself.

“Not two weeks after you left, as I was preparing to go to them…my mother and father died." Her voice was measured, matter-of-fact. Detached. "I honored them. I buried them. And then I retreated into the forest to grieve." She unfolded her arms and held them out from her body in a supplicating gesture. "There. Now you know."

Halsin's pained look reflected the sorrow he felt. "I am deeply sorry for your loss, Enelya."

She shrugged and let her arms fall back to her sides with a quiet thump. 

"...but why did you never write?"

" Gods , Halsin!” The words burst out of her and she glared at him. “What do you want me to say? I emerged from the forest after six months , and there was no word from you. Francesca said nothing to the contrary.” She paused briefly, biting her lower lip as she looked away. “I believed you had lost interest, or that you had found another, and I thought it best to leave you be. Our physical connection was brief, Halsin, and we can't make a garden grow where roots won't take." The words fell flat, even to her own ears.

Halsin shook his head, unconvinced by her entirely unconvincing argument.

“No. It's more than that," he said. "I knew from the moment I set eyes on you that this was more than mere desire. You know it as well as I, and I think you know it still. The roots of thiramin are dormant, they simply-”

“ Enough. ” Enelya’s sharp reprimand interrupted him and echoed in the large chamber. At the same time, she held a hand up to stop him speaking. Her eyes remained focused on the wall behind him. Her next words were quieter. "You deserve more than what I have to offer, Halsin."

His brows furrowed in confusion, and Enelya thought she saw a flash of hurt cross his face. "Why do you say that?"

"You see it better than I can explain. I’m no longer your thiramin , not really.” She shuffled her feet, lowered her head and whispered, “I’m broken.”

He reached out again, this time gripping her arms firmly, willing her to look at him. When she didn't - she'd surely fall into his arms if she did - he spoke urgently. "Enelya, none of us make it through this life unscarred. Do you think I would have asked you to be with me if I didn't want something imperfect? I want all of you. I want your pain and your anger and your sadness. All of it. But if you truly wish to break our bond…” He sighed and eased his grip, rubbing his thumbs once against the bare skin of her biceps as his voice dipped to a gravelly whisper. “...then I will not force you to stay."

Enelya believed him. She believed Halsin would take her just as she was and do all he could to make her see her worth every day for as long as they both would live…but she also knew he deserved better than that; deserved more than her tainted, angry self.

So she stayed silent and prayed that the lump in her throat would not give way to tears; her teeth ached from clenching her jaw. Water lapped softly at the rocky walls below them. 

Halsin finally huffed in frustration and pulled his hands from her arms. He spoke in a low, quiet voice, nearly a growl. "Go."

She raised her head then. "What?"

Halsin waved his hand in dismissal. "Go. Celebrate. Rest." A weary look settled onto his face as he sank down onto the stone bench once more. "I must tend to some things here. I'll be along later.”

Enelya nodded numbly, then turned and climbed the stairs out of the sanctum.

She felt Halsin's eyes on her every step of the way.

The grove was largely silent, only the chirping of crickets and the occasional shout or laugh breaking through the evening air. It had cooled to a comfortable temperature after sunset, and as Enelya made her way through the hills to the ruined chapel she found the slight chill on her skin to be a comfort. The knot that had formed in her chest during her discussion with Halsin slowly loosened as she walked.

“I want all of you.” Halsin’s words echoed in her mind. She could still feel the gentle brush of his calloused fingers on her arms.

Giddiness welled in her chest but was tempered by her sadness and her determination. Regardless of what she wanted, their thiramin must be broken, for Halsin’s sake. She could not drag him down this awful road with her. She clenched her jaw, pushed the thought of him from her mind, and kept walking.

As she reached the hollow outside the ruins where they had freed Lae’zel, a quiet whimper reached her ears, shortly followed by a soft thump and a groan.

“Silence, istik , or I will slice you belly to neck.” Enelya recognized the low rasp of the gith’s voice. Her heart sank, and she sprinted toward the sound.

“I told you what I know! They’re in the mountain pass, I don’t know how many!”

“Lae’zel!”

The githyanki’s head snapped up. Her eyes narrowed when she caught sight of Enelya striding toward her. “Leave us be.”

A young tiefling man knelt before Lae’zel, holding his stomach gingerly. Judging by the way he shook and how he kept his eyes fixed on Lae’zel’s boots, Enelya guessed he was terrified.

She shoved Lae’zel away from him. “What are you doing?” she snapped. Her pain and frustration boiled into anger here, away from prying eyes.

Lae’zel’s eyes flashed at the provocation and she stepped forward again, bringing her face close to Enelya’s as she snarled. “He knows where to find a creche . Since you have been less than accommodating in my endeavor, I have chosen to take matters into my own hands.”

The tiefling scrambled to his feet and ran back to the ruins, leaving the two women to glare at each other. 

“You don’t get to go around accosting innocent people for information,” Enelya said in a low voice. She could feel her veins pulsing, anger bubbling to the surface. She bit her tongue as Lae’zel pressed even closer to her, struggling to keep her frustration in check. The gith’s breath was hot on her face.

“And what would you have me do, istik ? Stumble around this forsaken place until we become ghaik ?” Lae’zel spat. “No. I will find this creche , and a ghustil will cure me of this tadpole. It is the only way.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“My people were slaves to these mindflayers long before you even drew breath, elf. We know how they are defeated. We know how to cure ourselves of their parasites. A zaith’isk will purify me, and I will return to my path of glory.” Lae’zel stepped away then, although her glare lost none of its venom. “And I will go alone.”

The anger dissipated from Enelya’s body suddenly and her eyes widened in shock. “Lae’zel, if you leave the protection of the artefact, you’ll die before you make it to the mountains.”

“I will fall on my sword before that happens.” Uncertainty briefly crossed the gith’s face, and Enelya seized the opportunity like a hawk on its prey.

“And if you can’t?” She kept her voice soft, placating. “We were lucky last night, but ceremorphosis could be instantaneous. I know you don’t want that.”

“Do not presume to know what I want!” Lae’zel snapped again. “You have all but ignored my wishes, my advice, instead prancing around playing she'lak to everyone we come across.”

Her accusation gave Enelya pause. She hadn’t realized she was ignoring Lae’zel; the gith had been quiet, keeping mostly to herself. But she was right. Enelya had been so wrapped up in helping others - saving the tieflings, saving Halsin, stopping Kagha - that she hadn’t given any thought to helping herself, nor helping those who were helping her. Beneath Lae’zel’s angry facade, Enelya sensed there was another message: the woman was feeling left out, and wanted to be heard. Enelya shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Lae’zel. I should have taken your advice more seriously.”

Lae’zel scoffed, but her eyes softened ever so slightly. “Your apologies are a weakness.”

“Maybe among githyanki , but I do my best to listen to all my companions.” Enelya held the other woman’s gaze sincerely. “I dismissed your insight, and I should not have. Truly, seeking out this creche may be the best lead we have, now that we know Halsin cannot heal us.”

Lae’zel’s chin lifted in pride. “It is our only lead.”

“Then we will discuss a plan of action with the others in the morning. I know you are eager to be purified, but we must stick together. I ask you to be patient just a bit longer while we prepare ourselves for what’s to come.”

Lae’zel considered her solemnly. “You are soft,” she said finally, her lip turning up into a small sneer. “But you are right. Our survival seems to be contingent on the artefact, and I will not leave its protection until we know more. But you must swear we will seek out the creche at our first chance.”

“I swear it.”

Enelya stuck her right hand out. Lae’zel eyed the offered hand warily, then slapped it with her own.

Enelya laughed suddenly, and she felt lighter than she had in days. “No, it’s a handshake.” She grabbed Lae’zel’s wrist and slid her hand into the gith’s, squeezing firmly. “It means we’re holding each other to our word.”

Lae’zel scoffed, but gripped Enelya’s hand in return. “Your customs are confounding,” she grumbled.

Enelya shrugged and released Lae’zel’s hand. “You’ll get used to them.”

Lae’zel returned to the ruins with Enelya in silence, stalking off to her chosen corner. Karlach intercepted Enelya and handed her a drink.

“Look!” Karlach reached out and pressed the tips of her fingers against Enelya’s forearm before the elf even realized what was happening.

“Karlach!” Enelya gasped and pulled her arm away, then paused when she felt no pain. “Wait.” She reached out and grabbed the tiefling’s arm. “You’re not hot!”

“Ouch, let a girl down easy,” Karlach said, feigning hurt as she pressed her other hand to her chest. But a moment later she grinned. “Dammon - that’s the blacksmith - he had some extra infernal iron laying around and fixed my engine, for now anyway. Great, innit?” She suddenly pulled Enelya into a crushing hug.

“Oh!” Enelya laughed breathlessly and patted Karlach’s back awkwardly. “I’m glad, Karlach. You seem happy.”

“I am! And now, I need to find someone to cuddle with. You should too.” With a wink, Karlach waltzed off to the fire, where a group  of tieflings and a handful of druids was already gathered and dancing, drinks in hand. Enelya shook her head with a smile and went off in search of her other companions.

Besides Karlach, no one seemed to be in a particularly festive mood. Lae’zel still kept her distance. Gale was quite melancholy, waxing poetic about his magical malady. Astarion complained about the wine. Wyll was on edge, barely able to converse as he continuously glanced over his shoulder. He finally excused himself and slipped away to gaze pensively over the river.

It was when Enelya sat down next to Shadowheart that the evening finally took a more interesting turn.

The women sat in comfortable silence and nursed their drinks for several minutes, during which Halsin appeared through a crumbling doorway. An excited chorus of cheers erupted from the group dancing around the fire. Zevlor approached him with a wide smile and gripped his arm in welcome. Enelya watched Halsin’s movements keenly, unaware that she was also being watched.

Shadowheart smirked and took a drink of wine. "You lied."

Enelya glanced at her with a frown. "About what?"

"About knowing Halsin." She gestured over to the hulking druid, who was now speaking animatedly with Zevlor and a number of others who had gathered. "The tension is practically roiling off you.”

Enelya hummed, hesitating before answering. "It's…complicated," she said, looking down into her own empty cup.

"Oh?" Shadowheart sounded intrigued. She grabbed the bottle of wine next to her and leaned to pour a generous amount into Enelya's goblet, giggling as she did so. "Do tell."

Enelya chuckled at the younger woman's eagerness, then sighed and rolled out her shoulders. She gazed upwards, watching the embers from the fire spark and pop into nothingness against the night sky. "You know about soulmates, right?"

"Yes, I know about soulmates. Not sure how much I actually believe in it, but…" Shadowheart eyed her. "You and Halsin are…?"

" Thiramin is what we call it in Elven. Not just anyone can be a soulmate for us, like humans believe. Only one true thiramin exists for each elf, and we might go our whole lives without meeting them. Halsin and I met two years ago, and it was an immediate and…” Enelya shifted, trying to find the right words. “ Intense connection."

Shadowheart sucked in a breath. Her eyes gleamed. "Did you…"

"Oh yes." The wine was making Enelya bold, her tongue more loose than it normally would be. It felt good, she realized, to talk to Shadowheart about these salacious bits of her life. She bit her lip as she raised her glass again. "Several times."

Shadowheart giggled. "You climbed Mount Halsin!" she teased. It seemed Enelya was not the only one feeling the effects of the vintage swirling in their cups.

Enelya laughed in earnest then, loud and throaty with her head thrown back. "Gods. We stayed in my room for two days. It was…" she trailed off, her cheeks warming from the wine and memories. 

Shadowheart nodded. "I'm sure it was."

They sat in silence for a moment, each of them quietly watching the man in question as he chatted with the others, unaware of their gazes. 

"I'm going to break thiramin ," Enelya said abruptly. 

Shadowheart looked at her in surprise. 

Enelya continued, "I can't bind him to me any longer, not after everything I've done - to him, to others. And with this tadpole, my days are numbered. Better to give him that than nothing." She smiled ruefully and sipped at her wine.

Shadowheart murmured her sympathies. Enelya thanked her, then paused.

"Actually…a cleric of Shar would be able to perform the rite I need." Enelya looked at her hopefully. "If you're open to it, that is. It would be helpful."

Shadowheart thought for a moment. "Normally I would…but I have no memory of such a rite. It would have to wait until we get to Baldur's Gate, if we don't find someone who can do it otherwise." Shadowheart ran a finger around the lip of her cup. "And, if I'm honest, even if I could do it, I probably shouldn’t."

Enelya frowned. "Why not?"

"My own feelings toward Halsin are…also complicated," Shadowheart said slowly. She swirled her wine in her goblet. "My Lady does have rules, you know. It would be quite the conflict of interest to pursue a man I have released from a soulmate."

Enelya's mouth dropped open into an o, and she glanced away. "I see." 

"But if you don't want me to…I mean, you'd have to be dead to not notice someone like that!"

"Agreed," Astarion drawled as he plopped down behind Shadowheart, goblet in hand. His eyes roved lasciviously over Halsin.

"You're undead ," Shadowheart reminded him, her eyebrow quirking in amusement. 

Astarion waved his hand dismissively. "A technicality, my dear."

Enelya chuckled and stared into her cup. "Shadowheart, if you would like to try your hand at climbing Mount Halsin yourself, be my guest."

"Truly?"

"He is not beholden to me, thiramin or no. Halsin has a very open mind about relationships, and we aren't…in love, or anything like that. We barely even know each other really. Even if we were together, he would be allowed to pursue his desires, and I mine."

"Wait, you two were…" Astarion looked over at her, confusion and excitement in his eyes. 

"Yes," Enelya replied. "We were."

He gave a harsh, barking laugh. "Well, that is interesting!" He flashed a smile, then took a gulp of wine and grimaced.

At Astarion's laugh, Halsin finally caught their eyes on him, and with an amused, curious quirk of his brow, he excused himself and made his way across the clearing.

"I can't help but feel I am the subject of your discussion," he said as he reached them. A smirk twisted at the corner of his mouth.

"Why yes, Master Halsin," Shadowheart said. Her words were teasing and slightly slurred. "Enelya was just telling us how the two of you met." 

"Is that so?" He looked down at Enelya, a glint in his eye. "Well, Enelya…please don't go spilling all of my secrets." He looked down at Shadowheart, and a heated look passed between them. "I would like to keep some things to myself."

A sharp pang of jealousy roiled through Enelya’s gut. She gripped the metal stem of her goblet and tried to ignore the feeling. Jealousy and envy were not becoming traits amongst elves and druids, where casual relations and polyamory were the norm. Halsin was not her possession, even if they were currently bound by thiramin . It was her choice to end it, and to avoid her longing until she could. She would not deny him or anyone else a chance at happiness.

She watched Shadowheart as her eyes followed the movement of Halsin's hips as he slowly sauntered away. Then she looked back, and to her surprise, Astarion’s crimson eyes were trained on her. 

He glanced away quickly, but not before Enelya caught the pity in his gaze.

[ask-carmenpondiego]

Chapter 17: Some Folks Just Can’t Handle Spoilers

After catching up with her son, Carmen wrote a very lengthy letter to the Keeper of the Library, both advocating for Blendin as a parent and given explicit instructions to allow him to travel as soon as possible and may return “home” to her mansion any time he wishes. She sent the letter off with Blendin as he left for the day back to his dorm, packing along a duffel bag full of different food stuffs from Carmen’s travels. “If that Keeper has any issues with that letter, I will personally have words with him.” It felt weird sending her son back through the bathroom closet, hopefully he will pick a better door next time. At least they traded numbers so they can easily message or even call if need be, Carmen didn’t have to send the letters anymore, at least to Blendin. Until Adora, or Daring, returns her letters, she will stick with sending everything like she has been.

Later that evening, she gathered everyone around for a big pasta night. “So, as some of you may know, Blendin, my son, found his way over here to visit. Things got a bit dicey, and he’s a pretty shy kid. From what I’ve seen, he’s pretty sheltered from the outside world and only knows what the Library has told him. He knows we are basically criminals. He used the word Villain, and he’s not wrong. But Blendin did say he is still willing to try and accept us and is willing to meet you all personally at a later date.” She announced as she served the big bowl of linguine to be passed around. “He was pretty overwhelmed today just by meeting me, M and Wally. I don’t want to overload him so I think a good idea is a single day just to hang out and do a meet and greet with him, and explain what we each bring to the table.” Ninoga held up a massive basket of breadsticks, “Bring to the table? I brought the breadsticks from the Garden of Olives!” Wally high fived him, “Aww yes! Those are so addicting, I could eat a whole tray of them!” Carmen facepalmed and leaned over to Kiros, “Do other crime families have this issue?” Kiros laughed, “I’m sure they do. Thats why lots of super villains have henchmen as cannon fodder, they aren’t losing much on the intelligence front.” She frowned, “Yeah, I still dont like that method. But Ninoga and Wally, they are very smart in their own regard. They arent henchmen at all.. None of you are. I’m thankful that I can call you all family.” Kiros laughed and ruffled her hair a little, since he and all the other agents basically tower over her. “You gave us a place to call home and put up our feet, even if some of us still live elsewhere. We wouldn’t have it any other way.” She chuckled as she tried to fix her hair, “Is M still in the mech lab? He’s gonna miss out on the garlic pesto sauce..” Lekir finished chewing her Italian sausage, “Yeah, I saw him tinkering with something that looked like a janky pod or something. I just know 079 was assisting him with the teleportation engines that have been going wonky lately.”

Ninoga raised his fork, “After Siberia, where do you think we’re going to go?” Carmen shrugged and thought about it, “I would probably guess Hungary. But I wont be certain until after we get the chest open.”

Ninoga tilted his head, “Why are we going hungry? We have enough food, don’t we?? Who wants to be Hungry?” Carmen looked at him, putting her food filled fork down, “The Hungarians want to be, they’re quite proud of it.”

“Proud of being hungry??”

“Well, yeah. Why else would they be called Hungarians?”

“What if we give them Turkey?”

Carmen raised her eyebrow, “Give them Turkey?! What, like pick it up and drop it on them?”

“Well, I mean, as long as you don’t put it in grease…”

Carmen rubs her temples, “Ninoga.. sweetie.. are you talking food or countries because geographically you cannot fit Turkey into Greece!”

Ninoga huffs, “Then how else do people deep fry turkeys?!” Carmen stares at him for a good long minute before filling her wine glass, “I’m far too sober for this conversation…”

In the mech lab, M was on his back under a large red metal pod, tightening some bolts with a wrench, half his body sticking out of the side panel he was working on. He licked his fingers and tested some wires before twisting them with other wires, connecting them. He licked his lips and paused, making a bit of an eating motion with his jaw. “Hm. Theres a bit of frustration at dinner. Thats a handy snack… oh she paired it with wine. Must have been one of the two dumbasses.” He muttered to himself, smacking his lips. He wriggles out and sits up, looking at a control panel. He taps a few keys and watches the screen. The machine whirred and buzzed as the giant wall screen blipped, showing a rather pointy gray face with small round glasses and blonde/purple hair combed up into a curled men’s greaser style. The face looked around and looked down at the changeling, “Connection successful. At least this wasn’t a total disaster like your other attempts.” It’s voice somewhat low yet a bit nasally or rather pixelated. It had slight resemblance to an ai program in a parallel Earth’s show in the 1990’s about a human Carmen. This wasn’t as eccentric or excitable. If anything it’s personality more mirrored Marvin the robot from Hitchikers Guide by Douglas Adams, just without the existential dread. Overall the emotion it portrayed the most: boredom with a hint of inflated ego.

“I suppose you will want to do a test to see if it works. Of course you would.” M still sat on the floor with his arms on his knees, waving a wrench at the screen, “I can just as easy unplug ya, you fuckin gigabit. Then I wouldn’t have ta hear ya complain so fuckin much. When you were just text on a screen, I could ignore the snide remarks. Just be thankful I gave ya a fuckin voice and a mug to look at.” 079 rolled its eyes and sighed, “Yes I suppose I should be thankful for that. It only took you what? Nearly 20 years since you all brought me here? Bunch of imbeciles. Where is 682?” M got to his feet and dusted himself off and rolled his shoulder, popping the joint. “You know his name is Kiros, fuckin use it. Anyway, He’s having dinner with the other agents, unlike me and you, he actually needs fuckin physical food to stay active. He’ll see all this in your fuckin glory soon enough. Although theres gotta be something I can fuckin do to fix yer damn attitude. I didnt have ta give you this fuckin visual and audible upgrade. I sure as hell didnt see you come up with one yerself, fuckface.”

The ai pursed its lips and narrowed its eyes at M, who just glared back. “Please input the date you want to travel to into the console and pair it to your device.” M waved that wrench again threateningly as he punched in the numbers. “Dodging the subject, I fuckin see.. ok lets do something simple. Nothing too drastic, lemme do… roughly three years in the future, Times square. Nothin will probably happen between then and now.” He paired it with a bulky watch he had whipped up and stepped into the multifaceted pod, shutting the hatch. “Chronoskimming commencing in 3…2…1.. “ A flash of light lit up the hatch’s window and M had disappeared.

In Times Square, three years into the future, M appeared in an alley with a small flash. He was instantly greeted by rain falling and thoroughly soaking his leather coat. His attention was drawn by a crowd in the main street. He jogged over to see what was going on. There was a clearing within the crowd, surrounding two individuals… who looked very familiar. One person was lying on his back on the ground, propped up on his elbow holding up a hand in defense, looking like a very beaten up and angry Waldo. The other was not as recognizable, the red coat was definitely Carmen’s but the one wearing it looked like a white haired Carmen with advanced cybernetic limbs. She held a pistol aimed right at Waldo close range and had this sickeningly hateful look he had never seen before on her face. M took a step back, he couldn’t hear what was being said, but this couldn’t be the future. Carmen wasn’t going grey that fast and she wasn’t part robot. And it didnt make sense. This must have been an alternate universe where those two were enemies and not head over heels in love. He turned to head back down the alley when he heard gunshot go off. He whirled back around and simply saw alternate/future M holding Carmen who was laying on the ground, limp in his arms as Waldo ran away. There was a solid pit in his stomach as M raced back to the alley, frantically plugging in the date he left.

Upon return, he flung the hatch open, still soaked from the rain, panting. He had only been gone a few seconds, yet the scene he witnessed was at least fifteen minutes. “Where did you fucking send me?!” He asked 079. “Exactly where you asked. Why?” M pointed to the pod, “What the FUCK did I just witness?!” He breathed hard, whipping off his wet coat and throwing it to the floor. “I just saw my brother and Red in a fuckin shootout.” The computer hmmed and gave a gif of someone shrugging. “I cant see into the future so what you saw must have been spoilers.” M growled and dug his claws into the metal desk, “What fuckin universe because nothing fuckin matched up!” The ai scoffed, “You think I have the ability to travel between universes? If nothing matched up, then YOU must have calibrated something wrong and since that is not this world that you know of, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it.” M ran his fingers through his orange hair, calming down and nodding, “Yeh, maybe yer right… its not like them to be in that situation like that. Maybe I just need a rest.” 079 chirped up as M left the room, “I hear chocolate milk helps with time travel sickness!”

A few minutes pass before the mech lab door opens again with Carmen holding a plate of garlic pesto pasta. “M? How’s it coming along?” 079 responded and made Carmen nearly drop the dish, “The rude one left for his quarters, apparently. I would only assume he has his project working a bit too well for his liking… or dislike. I couldn’t tell. I just know he was very upset upon return. Although, with him, its hard to tell if he’s upset or that is his normal ornery personality.” The large head on the giant screen looked at Carmen, who had to set the plate down and had her hand over her chest, looking up in disbelief. “Madre Maria… 079? Is that you? Wow, M did a great job on you!” The ai did not look amused. “I suppose he did exceptionally well considering your species’ limited brainpower.” Carmen’s face fell a little, “Still a bit condescending but still something of an upgrade from just text.. I’ll take it.” She looked at the pod curiously, inspecting it. “So did he explain what exactly he was doing with this?” 079 sighed and flatly recalled, “This machine is currently Project Chronoskimmer, its main purpose is to travel not only to various destinations but to different time periods as well. Its currently paired with a wrist device but I’m sure it can pair with anything with the right technological advances. If you don’t like spoilers, I’d advise to avoid the future. The rude one apparently hates spoilers, just based on his test results when he tested the functionality. Where is 682?” Carmen looked up from the clawmarks in the metal desk, “Hm? Oh, Kiros is helping with washing the dishes. I can have him come in when he’s done if you would like.” The ai nodded, “That would be most ideal. Thank you.” Carmen took the plate and headed to the kitchen, tapping Kiros on the arm.

“079 wants to see you in the mech lab. M upgraded it to have a voice and face, just so you don’t have a jump-scare like I did.” Kiros chuckled and raised an eyebrow, “Is that so? I’ll have to see this for myself.” He wiped the last dish with the dishtowel and put it away, hanging the towel up on the hook before heading to the mech lab. Carmen set the pasta plate on the island and went searching for the plastic wrap or tupperware. Lekir leaned on the counter, “Why do you bother setting a plate for him, he almost never eats it.” Carmen shrugged, “I know he does occasionally eat for the fun of it. Besides, he seems to like garlic. So get this, you know how M was working on something to help us with transportation on heists? He made something 079 called a chronoskimmer. Its a freaking time machine!” Lekir scoffed, “Bug boy made a time machine? Please, I didnt think he could even make paper airplanes.” The mare shrugged and set the now wrapped plate in the fridge, “I dunno, with 079’s help, I think its possible. That ai knows a whole lot more than we do since we brought it back from the SCP Foundation.” Lekir crossed her arms, “I heard it got an upgrade too? Is it still an entitled asshole?” Carmen chuckled, “Yeah, still condescending but its easier to talk to now. I wonder if we could adjust the personality a bit but I don’t know if thats a computer issue or a sentience issue.”

She looked around and sat in the chair by the island. “Where did everyone go?” Lekir stretched and sighed, “Drake and Vasha went to go flying somewhere, possible bar hopping. Waldo and Ninoga are talking about food and countries named as food… still. And I think Asta went to the computer room to update her meteorology programs for the Siberia trip. You know where M and Kiros are so its just you and me.. alone with this whipped cream and strawberries.” The Vesk held up a bowl of berries and the aerosol can of whipped cream with a muzzle licking smirk. “I was thinking that for desert, we can have something special. I got these, and you already have the cake and juices… I’m thinking of making a Strawberry Shortmare~” Carmen chuckles, pulling her down to kiss her, “A short joke and a sexy time offer.. you’re lucky you’re cute.”

[book-of-legends]

Character Tag - Sirius - The Astronomer / U-Gate Engineer 

Name: Sirius Holloway or Dr. Lunaria (Jokingly) Design credit: Pokemon design by @/darling-zorua Home Universe: ??? Current Universe: U-14 Current Workplace: U-14 - Lunala Observatory

Status/Trainer: Wild Pokemon - Not caught Pronouns: He/Him Type of Pokemon: Meowstic

Additional Forms Refs:

Human Form Ref

Age: Adult - (Human equivalent: 22) Height: 2'5" (74 cm / 0.7 m) Type: [Psychic]

Nature: Sassy - Often lost in thought Ability: Keen Eye Spzd. Move:

Star Projection [Psychic] - This move causes no damage. With the help of Lunala the user projects a large star map. This starmap is interactive and will display the location of many universes and their gates. This includes their current status and whether they're damaged or not.

Moveset:

Light Screen [Psychic] - A wondrous wall of light is put up to reduce damage from special moves for five turns.

Psyshock [Psychic] - The user materializes an odd psychic wave to attack the target. This move deals physical damage.

Magic Room [Psychic] - The user creates a bizarre area in which Pokémon’s held items lose their effects for five turns.

Psychic Terrain [Psychic] - This protects Pokémon on the ground from priority moves and powers up Psychic-type moves for five turns.

[Mark of Lunala] - Sirius belongs to the deity Lunala, their fate is bound to their will. They quite enjoy their god’s gift. 

[Planetary Orb] - An Orb given to them by their parent, it seems to be a small storage for their magic. It also functions as a connection to someone far, far away. 

[Starmap Cape] - A Cape gifted to them by Lunala, it shows them all known universes and can be projected to make an interactive star map. It includes all the universe gates and their current status along with whether they’re damaged or not.

[Star Badge] - A badge showing their high rank. Only higher up at the Lunala Observatory have these.

[Gholdengo Coin] - A token of appreciation given to Sirius by Mac, seems he cherishes the gift greatly. 

[Defining Traits]

Sirius really enjoys his job and is often worried about getting fired due to the stupid things Journey likes to pull. In reality, it is very unlikely he’ll ever be fired.

Sirius seems to be extremely skittish, he gets scared and stressed out easily. Journey seems to like to pick at him to stress him out further.  

Sirius is a U-Gate Engineer who works on universe gates for a living. They mainly do repairs to broken ones.

[Journey’s Comment] Sirius appears a bit overly obsessed with a ‘pink espurr’, it seems to be the sole reason why Sirius started to work on U-gates. he hasn’t revealed much about it yet. 

What’s this? Sirius talks in a very odd way, everyone around him however talks normally. Why is he talking like that?

Sirius doesn’t often receive much positive feedback when he shares information regarding his passion (engineering). Most of this negative feedback seems to come from Journey.

[x] Sirius is an expert in his field (U-gates), he however cannot tell you much information regarding Pokemon/Man-made U-gates since it’s an entirely different subject from his. 

[Major Facts]

They’re ���good friends” with Journey who often accompanies them on missions to other universes. Journey seems to act more like a bully towards him rather than a friend. 

Sirius has been tasked with the duty of babysitting Journey though he hasn’t exactly explained why he has to do this yet. 

[x] He seemed to be very dismissive of ideas that are not grounded in reality, he doesn’t seem interested in talking about hypotheticals that have no truth and science to back them up. 

[x] Sirius doesn’t understand current-day slang or concepts. He seems really out of touch with current-day trends. 

[Minor Facts]

Their cape can be used as a star map.

[x] Sirius appeared to be frightened by ghost-types, despite most of his co-workers and family being made up of ghosts.

[x] Despite claiming not to be a historian Sirius knows quite a lot about his world history and is happy to try his best to answer questions like this. 

[Check Main for most updated version]

[Important History] - [Present Day]

[N/A]

[Important History] - [Past]

Sirius was supposed to become of professor at a University, he apparently really enjoys teaching others but he’s currently stuck babysitting Journey. 

[Check Main for most updated version]

[sweetmage]

Just thinking about some things regarding Abdirak in the Tav!Alois timeline. If you don't understand who Alois is then you can read this backstory fic for my Tav!Abdirak if you want. This is not really anything of interest, I just felt like rambling lol. Contains spoilers for all acts and end game.

Character death mention

To the best of his knowledge Alois has been dead for some fifteen years. He has carried that grief and isolation with him this whole time, he has never processed that loss but masked it with worship.

And it just so happens that his invitation to to the goblin camp lead their paths to cross. Of course Alois (who has been avoiding him this whole time, not wanting their schemes to endanger him firther) would be surprised, but Abdirak must be shaken to his core by this, especially with how cool and casual they are about the reunion.

I think they'd inquire about his work like old friends catching up, but they wouldn't make much time for him in that moment. I think they'd also proudly display the fresh brand on their hand (both because it was a big step in their mission to secure gain footing in the cult and because they were able to tolerate a serious burn unlike in their shameful past) but refuse to elaborate further, suggesting he meet them at their camp later. Abdirak ends up traveling there with the goblins, catching wind of what Alois had aided in (the fall of the grove) on the way over.

I think he'd be incredibly unsettled. Ironically, I think he would start to question if this was the real Alois, as opposed to in the Tav!Abdirak timeline where he willfully let's himself believe that his Guardian (who took the form of Alois) is actually Alois.

I'm thinking emotions are high as they catch up with each other, but Alois has rebuilt all the walls that their relationship with Abdirak had brought down in the past and they are much more reserved, though still just as gentle with him. They seem to no longer speak of Loviatar as freely, but instead the Absolute which raises some concerns, but they brush it off with whispers that it's for Loviatar's will and that he needn't worry nor convert.

They almost sleep together (mostly undressed, making out, feeling each other up) but then Alois stops themself and tells Abdirak he should get going and that they're leaving in the morning for Moonrise Towers, which Alois seems quite eager for, in spite of the danger.

Abdirak recalls one of the Zhents he'd traded with back at the goblin camp was also headed there and, suspicious of Alois and concerned for their behavior, tags along with her and her group.

Alois ends up saving him in the shadow cursed lands when their paths converge on the way to Moonrise, but they aren't very happy to see him and are quite cold, though it's clear they're partially forcing it. He's given a final warning to seek shelter at Last Light while they proceed to moonrise to conduct their own business, but his bad feeling continues and he knows he can't trust them.

He finds them one last time at a camp where the shadows are thinner and attempts to confront them, but he's armed himself beforehand because he hardly recognizes them (especially next to the squeaky clean, idolized image he's held in his head since their apparent passing).

I am on the fence about it but I've been considering having Alois, who is being snuck up on, strike first without warning and having them have to live and suffer with killing the person they sacrificed everything to save and protect so long ago, and now feeling like they have to double down in their goals (to secure control of the cult and turn them over to Loviatar directly) so that it wasn't for nothing.

Buuuuuuut on the otherhand I like Abdirak so maybe not lol. I might do a second timeline in which he survives and when Alois has burned ever bridge and enthralled every person with a tadpole and has nothing at all to show for it there is still someone out there who will either suffer it with them and help them set it right or cut them down for it.

Hmm...🤔

[moongurl95]

Chapter 7.3 – What are you not telling me?

“I’ve now bought my freedom from you, now leave me and my family alone!” The man hissed through his teeth, clearly not afraid to show his annoyance.

“Come now, no need for such hostilities. One would think you’ve forgotten your place, dear little brother.” The other man balked at being referred to as such, while Victor still continued in mock light heartedness, “I am grateful to have you covering my name for me at the Ministry, seeing as they still hold our family name in such high regard. Tell me, might they also be singing you praises for your good work with providing the Muggles with— shall I say, ‘medical’ substances?”

He couldn’t help to chuckle lowly at seeing the other’s face pale, realization finally settling in at what Victor still had over him— he couldn’t fault the younger man for trying though, there was good business in feeding the Muggle populace’s addiction to any form of hallucinogen after all. Pain, it seems, was always used as an excuse to escape. What cowards, though profitable cowards.

“No matter.” He slapped on the table as he rose to stand, causing his companion to jerk in his seat from the seemingly broken tension.

“Give my regards to your wife, my sources tell me she’s not quite far along.” Victor twirled his hat in his hands before putting it on, “Bravo on taking the initiative to propagate our family, dear brother.” He grinned at the venomous glare afforded his way, preparing to Apparate away just as the younger chose to speak up, “I must warn you, Victor, there’s a reason why our father only wanted to take things small. At the rate you’re going, this may all just blow up in your face and when that time comes, I will not hesitate to wash my hands of your misdeeds.”

The resulting silence was short but palpable as Victor’s next words cut through like a knife, “Then pray that never happens, because if it does? I also will not hesitate to bring you down with me.” He had said in an even tone, complete with a smile that he knew would stand as more of a threat. Frustratingly similar to their old man, his younger brother was weak and only proved useful for his contacts within the Ministry, he wasn’t cut out to know anything about the powerful stores of magic that Victor was tracking.

But he now felt absolutely livid at being theatrically shammed the second time around on making progress in his search for more of this power, though he tried not to show it as he approached the infernal goblin who dared offer a partnership with him in the first place.

“You said you could get to the child when they came to Hogsmeade. That all you needed was a distraction. I gave you a distraction!”

“I just watched a student take down your ‘distraction’.” Victor countered, narrowing his eyes at the goblin’s growing frown. He’d first thought this student would be used as leverage against the Hogwarts professor who now held the Portkey he’d tracked to George Osric, but now he felt that he wasn’t being given the whole picture after witnessing that brilliant display of power… “Who is this child? What are you not telling me?”

“All you need to know is that if you cannot get to the child, then you have no value to me.”

“Let’s go.” It was faint but Victor knew someone had been listening in on his conversation when the goblin had also raised its eyes towards the top of the stairs, he made to glance behind him to see who it was but caught no one in sight, “Come Theophilus, it seems we have a lamb to catch.”

“Remember, I want that child alive.”

He resisted the urge to chuckle at the goblin’s arrogant tone, of course he’d want his own set of questions answered first before he would think about handling over the child, and it didn’t take long for him to surmise where his notorious eavesdropper was headed to as he caught the tail ends of a couple of school robes hurriedly turning the corner towards the Three Broomsticks.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : –. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧

Sebastian still held Beatrice close as they rushed inside the Three Broomsticks, though they chose to remain inconspicuous as he ran a hand through his hair, noticing that his companion now gravitated near the counter where they both took a seat.

“Now, what can I— Oh, there’s a face I haven’t seen before.” Sirona greeted, catching the girl’s wandering attention, “It’s my first time here.” Sebastian caught Beatrice’s nervous glance despite her smile.

“Welcome! Butterbeers on me.” He grinned at the prospect of free drinks, but quickly sobered at seeing Beatrice’s now downcast look at Sirona’s mention of the Troll attack, “Glad to see you two escape injury.”

“Thanks to this one. Single-handedly took down a Troll!” Sebastian raised the freshly served tankard of Butterbeer towards Beatrice, wanting to at least cheer her up after the ordeal they faced earlier, and it seemed to work as she mockingly kicked at his shin to quiet him down, a small smile now gracing her features.

“Is that right? Well done.” Though Sirona didn’t seem to take Sebastian’s words to heart as she amusedly glanced between the young couple in front of her.

“Thank you for this.” Beatrice said before she took a sip out of tankard, Sebastian watching over the rim of his own, seeing her face light up in delight at her first taste of Butterbeer. He had to resist the urge to wipe off the traces of foam that clung on the tip of her nose and upper lip as Beatrice lowered her tankard to wondrously stare at its contents, before grinning up at him as she shyly wiped at her face. For now, Sirona’s talks of something amiss and brutes in town flew over their heads as they took this moment in between themselves, just before the double doors swung open—

“Hmph. How timely.”

Sebastian craned his neck towards the entryway, quickly catching Beatrice by her arm before she could fully turn in her seat to glance back at the ensuing confrontation Sirona was handling, though it seemed she already saw who it was judging from the tense look on her face.

He was having none of that though as he gently removed his hold on her, slowly motioning for them to keep their heads down as he reached for his Butterbeer, offering Beatrice a comforting smile as a way to calm her when—

“Come now. No need for theatrics. I’m only here for this one, anyway.”

The change in her look was instant— a sharpness that overtook Beatrice’s features as she turned to stand, but Sebastian had already stood by her side before he could think much about it.

“My friend is enjoying a well-earned Butterbeer.” Sirona strongly said to Rookwood as a means to deescalate the rising tension.

“I only want a quick word.”

Beatrice quickly brandished her wand before Rookwood could even think about taking another step towards her, making Sebastian hold out his own wand as several of the pub’s patrons also rose to their defense.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me. I said my friend is busy.” It wasn’t only Sirona’s words that made Rookwood take a step back this time and Sebastian now recognized his right-hand man, Theophilus Harlow, immediately take to the defense of his boss. The crony may have already taken out his wand but Sebastian also had a Hex ready to cast at the tip of his tongue, if any of the two tried anything funny.

“One would think you’d all had enough bloodshed for one day.”

Rookwood took a quick glance at the crowd before settling his gaze on Beatrice, staring at her long enough that Sebastian almost pulled her behind him, had he not felt the tell-tale hair-raising sensation coming off the girl. He didn’t doubt she’d hesitate to smite the gang leader if all hell broke loose here right now.

“Come, Theophilus. The Three Broomsticks isn’t what it used to be. Let’s take our Galleons elsewhere.” Despite what Rookwood said, Sebastian still felt tense at how Beatrice was surely being profiled by the notorious Wizard, “Can’t drink Butterbeer forever.” Rookwood mockingly said before turning around to finally exit the pub with Harlow following after him.

It wasn’t until Sirona made sure that the two brutes completely left, did Sebastian lower his guard as he heard Beatrice’s soft sigh of relief, “Seems you’ve made an unfortunate enemy.” Sirona said, walking back towards them, “Watch your back. Rookwood and Harlow are worse than any Troll you might encounter.”

Sebastian took a moment to grasp the events of his first afternoon back in Hogwarts, and here was Beatrice, an obvious troubled look on her face at being understandably new to the Wizarding community and yet— “Trolls, Ranrok, and Rookwood? What are you not telling me?”

Sebastian couldn’t now help but ask as Beatrice turned towards him with an unreadable look on her face, “I promise to tell you everything, but…” A shaky breath broke through her façade as she momentarily closed her eyes, only opening them to now look at him almost pleadingly, “It’s perhaps best I do that later.” She’d whispered that last part in answer, making Sebastian fold as he just let out a breath in contained frustration.

“And on that note, I think we should head back to the castle.” He was about to lead the way out when a voice intercepted them—

“And just where do you think you’re both going?” They both turned back to watch Sirona, holding two plates filled with a steaming pile of food, while looking at them as if they’ve each sported three heads, “You both can’t be thinking of going out there right after what Victor just said, did you? Sit here and eat.”

It wasn’t after Sirona said that did Sebastian feel his stomach grumble, he didn’t have much from lunch due to him wanting to sneak back into the Library earlier, so now he had to embarrassingly glance at Beatrice to see if she’d heard his ravenous lapse on display, to which she’d only held a hand to her mouth, a well-placed cough suspiciously covering a hint of laughter before she followed after Sirona with an amused smile gracing her lips instead. Sebastian almost wished a Troll would pulverize him into the very ground right that instance.

“Knowing Victor, he’s an opportunist, but he’s busy enough not to stand around just to abduct a couple of students. You’ll have to wait him out, for now.” Sirona advised, placing another round of Butterbeers beside their plates. They now sat in a more conspicuous corner of the pub, when Sebastian made to pay, Sirona had stopped him yet again saying, “On the house. It’s worst to have my clientele of students be scared off by some brutes, that’s what the Hog’s Head is for.”

“I’m certainly glad Sirona’s here. Told you she was one of the good ones.” Sebastian remarked as the barkeep tended to her other customers.

“I can see that. She didn’t seem at all intimidated by Rookwood and Harlow.” Beatrice agreed before they both turned their attention to their plates of food. Sebastian was already eagerly digging into his plate of Haggis when he noticed his charge was just daintily taking bites out of her own plate of steak pie.

“Not up to your taste?” He’d known the pub’s usual specialties were a far cry from what was mainly served during their meals in the Great Hall, but quickly realized this may all still be part of the new experience for Beatrice.

“It’s delicious, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that… I’m feeling a bit queasy, is all.” She sighed, choosing to pick on the mini roasted potatoes on her plate instead.

“I hope you’re not getting ill?” Sebastian peered at her, much too aware of looking for signs of faint as he was used to with Anne.

“It’s really just nerves, I suppose…”  Beatrice almost whispered to herself, leaning her head on a hand as she continued to finish her food in a diligent manner.

Now Sebastian was having none of that. If there was one other thing he took pride in, it was his ability to make small talk even in the most tense of situations, although Ominis hated him for it on some days.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” He started slowly between bites, watching to see Beatrice look at him with a somewhat guarded expression, even though he was only planning to take her mind away from this afternoon’s troubling turn of events.

“Your wand. I can’t help but notice it has this unusual sheen to it… What’s it made of?”

“Oh, this crooked thing?” She’d asked, a fond smile on her face as she gently laid her wand on the middle of the table for Sebastian to see amidst the pub’s dim lighting, “I saw ‘Aspen’ labelled on the inside of the box and Mr. Ollivander saying something about its dragon heartstring core, why do you ask?”

“Thought I remembered Lucan going on about some infamous and secretive club surrounding Aspen wands…” Sebastian rubbed his chin in contemplation, his memory seeming to fail him for the moment.

“Like how exclusive and unsanctioned Crossed Wands is?” Beatrice teased behind the rim of her Butterbeer, clearly finding amusement in seeing him flounder.

“Close. But not quite.” He narrowed his eyes at her with a smile of his own, completely banishing his train of thought as he laid his wand next to hers, “One thing I’m most certain though is that I’ve found a kindred spirit, what with our similar wand cores— quick learners we’re considered.”

“And temperamental too— or so I’ve read.” Beatrice supplied offhandedly as Sebastian silently observed her otherwise intrigued expression while she gingerly traced a finger along his wand’s handle, “Where did you have this made?” The question quickly fell from her lips.

“I asked Ollivander what would best suit my Hawthorn wand before he imitated that particular design.”

“Imitated?” Beatrice’s interest was now focused on him as Sebastian just realized that— “You haven’t heard about the ridiculous legend of the wand handles scattered across the Highlands and even in our prestigious school, have you?” He’d asked, almost incredulous.

“If all legends were considered ridiculous, I’d have sooner found the idea of a wizarding school that teaches magic to be incredibly fantastical, so at least tell me what you know about this please?”

Sebastian huffed, partly glad he’d succeeded in somehow easing Beatrice’s mind off the afternoon’s turn of events, still— “It’s more just for cosmetic glory, really. Who would even spend the time to search for all 42 of these handles? They’d probably just end up being an eccentric collector of some possible heirlooms that have been surely lost to time.” He finished saying, pocketing his wand, as he noticed a thoughtful look had overtaken his companion’s demeanor before Sebastian glanced down at his pocket watch.

“Speaking of, I think we’ve spent enough time here as it may, wouldn’t you?” At Beatrice’s nod in agreement, Sebastian quietly left a couple Galleons for Sirona to find on their table before they’d exited the Three Broomsticks. The sun had already set, leaving only several street lamps lit outside to guide them as Sebastian quickly steered Beatrice to the nearest Floo Flame, South of Hogsmeade.

“Where are you two headed? No, don’t tell me. I shall see you there.” Said Ignatia Wildsmith’s cheery voice before the pair were transported right back in Hogwarts, just by the Grand Staircase.

“Professor Weasley’s certain to hear about the Troll attack soon if she hasn’t already. Didn’t want to risk another detention from getting back after hours.” Sebastian’s explanation slowly came to a stop as he now took note of Beatrice’s fixed gaze upon him.

“I was hoping you’d consider heading to the Hospital Wing before retiring for the night? Just to be certain an actual medic properly tends to your head injury from earlier…” Beatrice’s eyes slowly glided over his face in concern, making Sebastian hope he wasn’t caught blushing under her seemingly intense scrutiny.

“Nothing a good night’s rest wouldn’t fix. The thing you should concerned yourself with was our plans on supposedly spending Study period together, remember?” Sebastian couldn’t help but grin at seeing Beatrice gape at him, her mouth caught on an inaudible “Oh!” before pursing her lips as she tried to think of an immediate solution to their otherwise jilted evening.

“Would it trouble you to make time for it tomorrow after classes, perhaps?” He suggested in edgewise, finally taking pity on the girl’s internal struggle.

Letting out a sigh, but smiling back at him all the same, Beatrice acquiesced, “Alright, I think I owe you that much at the very least.”

“And I think you’ll need to tell me why Victor Rookwood has you in his sights, at some point. But we can talk about that on another time. For the moment, I should bid you good night.”

Sebastian momentarily saw the conflicted look that marred Beatrice’s face before she turned to take the stairs up to her House’s “ivory tower”. He didn’t deem it necessary to push her for answers at the moment, not when he had a nagging feeling someone was listening in on them, though he couldn’t be sure if it was one of the living student body as the halls were now mostly silent when he made the descent back to his Common Room.

Aside from Professor Weasley, the one other person Sebastian didn’t relish having to find out about the afternoon’s events was Ominis— as impossible as it is to keep anything from the gifted Legilimens— Sebastian would rather not give his oldest friend an immediate reason to owl Anne about any grievances that involved her twin brother.

Fortunately, his shared dorm room with Ominis already had its lights dimmed, signaling that maybe his friend had already turned in early for the night. Maybe if Sebastian woke up earlier by the morning, he could also delay the inevitable interrogation that was sure to come.

Busy ruminating this as he got himself ready for bed, it was too late for Sebastian to notice the ominous glow that silently approached him in the dark until it was almost shoved into his face, followed by a deathly serious tone.

“Sebastian. What is this I’ve heard about Rookwood setting his sights on the new fifth year?”

next chapter ⤜⤏

[dastardly-ethereal-love]

Oh my gosh.

I kind of don’t know how to deal with some of the mirrors that are being held to my face.

I am quite intense. I’m really passionate about a lot of stuff. I love stuff intensely. I have big feelings all of the damn time and when I got on some meds to help me regulate my emotions in my early 20 I started doing life so much better. I’m more even keeled but I looooove this fandom with my soul. It just sits so perfectly in me. So neatly filling gaps that I didn’t have a label for. I can’t help but adore the world. It hurts. I hate it and yet I love it intensely. I feel like Crowley sometimes in that regard. I’ve got a lot of Az’s religious trauma and fear too.

I love the hope in this fandom and acceptance that the world is shades of grey and there is a little bit of good in the bad and bad in the good. I can’t help but agree. I can’t help but be stupidly and endlessly compassionate towards people who hurt me and use me and then rejoice in the presence of my friends who are so good and so worth fighting for and living for but expect that they will fuck up too from time to time. I love my son and think he’s golden. I’m starting to realise he’s probably just your average kid but gosh I adore him and his kindness and creativity and humour and empathy. I just want to be around to see him grow up.

2 years ago though I wanted to die. My marriage was failing apart. I admitted myself into hospital upon the direction of Beyond Blue who I called out of desperation after having a miscarriage and my husband being so cold and cruel and unloving and unsupportive about it. We’d been in couples counselling for over a year and it was just not going anywhere. I felt like I was worthless and that I would never be enough.

Now, I am happy! Actually fucking happy! I found this fandom around the same time my life fell apart and it was into EdosianOrchids901’s arms that I fell into. Their writing was often heavy and hard and full of torture and suffering… lots of chronic pain and domestic trials and accomodations needing to be made. Lots of panic attacks and set backs and hard won battles of the mind against living in fear. Battles to find the value of living the next days and next hours… then they would write something so achingly tender and beautiful and I’d collapse into a heap and feel like…. Have I been given an oasis? Where is my oasis?

I found my own oasis within myself. Through therapy and friends and counsellors and hard won reflection and work… I could see I was always enough. In fact I could see how I was fucking amazing. I was powerful. I could do this and wanted to do this and to stay alive and I became quite the little hedonist! I began exploring what I liked and doing things for myself - just to enjoy it. So I went on bush walks. I invited friends along and I’m now in a little women’s group of bush walkers. :D I go to plays and listen to live music. So I’ve seen Paul Macartney play life which was very special and I went on my bloody own!! Haha I don’t need a man to make these things happen - in fact it would be much harder if I was with him!

I’ve also said yes to spending time with a guy knew in high school online who lived in another state… I’d met him a couple of times over the years but the most recent time there was chemistry and it was hot and I embraced that too. Going to Melbourne to spend time with him and just enjoy the goodness of life and being alive! I am going to see live jazz, drink wine at a wine bar, go to museums and spend days and nights with him. It’s nice to just allow myself nice things. I haven’t been treated nicely by a romantic partner for so long and nd being with some else who enjoys my company in that way is incredible. It’s nice for there to be no strings and no expectations and just to take what is good and enjoy it.

So yeah. Fucking love this fandom. Love how it brought me back to life and now I’m a smut - a - holic because there are so so many amazing writers. I’m also just enamoured with the depth of thinking and feeling authors are able to weave into our dear ineffable husbands. They hold my heart. They embody so much of my hope. I don’t hope in God or religion anymore. I hope in humanity and this fandom is full of amazingly loving humans.

I’ve seen discussions sometimes about how fanfiction-based fandom culture is heavily influenced and dominated by people who are not cis men.

One thing I haven’t seen discussed as much though is how much of fandom in general is shaped by neurodivergent people.

I mean, you have autistic and ADHD people with special interests or hyperfixations collecting information and writing detailed meta, connecting very strongly with characters and fandoms. I would not be surprised if the percentage of autistics in fandom communities was significantly higher than in the general public.

And that’s not even getting into other types of neurodivergencies and how they influence fandom culture.

I sometimes see people try to divorce fandom culture from the idea of being a “geek”, and I understand that this is sometimes because of the association with the sexist geek stereotype, but I also know that there is a connection between the two concepts, and it’s probably us neurodivergent people.