#I have much to say on the color theory between them

[quibbs126]

My brain decided to take this idea and make it more angsty, with the idea that they are father and son, but neither of them know it, either because D was born after Sentinel’s betrayal, or the betrayal was like, right after D was born, like only a couple days later. But regardless of which option, Sentinel has this relation scrubbed from records because he doesn’t want to deal with this kid or something or because he’s the son of the High Guard commander, has D’s cog removed and sends him away or something

I mean I don’t actually think it’s legit, it’s just that my brain keeps making this connection between them because of their similar colors and such, but like, pretend it is for this thought

I know the timeline also gets awfully messy with this proposed idea as well, like it assumes Sentinel immediately started stealing T-cogs (though to be fair we don’t know when he started in the first place), especially if D was born before the betrayal. Also it means D has to be like, 50 but we also don’t know his canon age in the movie. Just again, like, walk with me here on this, alright?

Also there’s the fact of D’s helmet only being black in his cogless form. With that, I’ve sort of concocted this headcanon (not just for this but it applies here) of the cogless forms we see being semi-natural for Transformers, considering the distinct differences between their cogless and cogged state, like the color and form of D’s helmet. I’m thinking that, if sparklings/development cycles are a thing here, the cogless form would be their initial appearance, minus the empty T-cog hole, when their bodies are not yet able to transform. Once they reach the age where they can, they have some sort of growth spurt thing where they go from that developmental stage to their normal cogged forms. Since the miners didn’t have T-cogs however, they never had that spurt and had to stay and grow in their cogless bodies instead

So like, in this scenario, Starscream would know his son looks like D-16’s cogless form, since that’s what he started out as, his cogged form would be mostly unrecognizable to him other than Starscream thinking they look pretty similar. Like maybe this D-16 guy is what his son would look like, but other than similar appearance he has literally no evidence to say it is, so he’s not going to believe it until more evidence otherwise, it’s more likely a coincidence. And D doesn’t know anything because he was a baby

While I don’t think this idea holds that much actual water, and I’m not saying this is my definitive theory or take on this version of the two characters, like I legit believe D-16/Megatron is Starscream’s secret son, in a vacuum I kind of like the concept of it. Like I need an fic exploring this concept and the angst potential. Maybe I should do that honestly

No because real talk, whenever I see D-16 and Starscream next to each other, they honestly look related to me

Like D looks like Starscream’s tank son, but white with red accents instead of Starscream’s red with white (and also blue). And the fact that the cogless bots are notably smaller than the cogged ones does not help

Starscream needs to pay his child support

[wheregoodthingsthrive]

dishonour

[sm-baby]

Most exciting part of the trailer for the next TADC episode for you?

More so an Analysis rather than things I'm excited about X3

I watched the sneak peek on loop I can process everything! Waahh!! I'm so excited for episode 2 💞 only a few weeks away! 💕

I wanna get this out of the way, I love Lizzie Freeman and Alex Rochon's Improv work on this promo 😭 they were really put in a booth together, were told to say things to promote episode two, and came up with that 😭 Genius.

The environment work is GORGEOUS! I love the look of everything, the world-building, the colors! It looks like a full-fledged movie guys! Absolutely beautiful and WONDEROUS work from the Glitch team-- it's so beautiful for half a year of work??? God damn!!

Haha! As an in-universe creation, Despite his little gags, Caine is genuinely such a good AI to make something so cool!

You'll also notice that Ragatha is taking charge of talking with the princess! That would make sense for such fellow beautiful well-mannered women!

More on them later at the end! :3

Dream sequence theory

Also, we all agree that these ones are all part of a dream right? Pomni is panicked, the strange sort of "slow woozy wobbly" animation exactly like a dream... even the dolly zoom!

Then she is sent to the cellar with a an abstracted arm, but that shouldn't be the case since Caine could easily fix an abstracted arm with a snap of a finger.

And then she wakes up, freaked out!!

Wahaha! Shout out to the Showtime server for pointing this out while we were discussing!

This is either and "end of episode prize" from Caine, or he jumps in mid-episode to hand them a helpful item, ooorr he's telling them that that's their objective for the adventure :3

also!! people have pointed out that Zooble isn't with the carriage with the others! Either this means that Zooble was given a surprise roll in the adventure, or she's off to have a fun solo adventure with Caine! Ohh! How exciting!

Zooble is a favorite character of Goose's, so to learn more about him and why Goose loves them so much would be so exciting!!

Whats up with Jax?

hunched down, writing in the sand, hugging his knees, this topped with Goose's two-word description of the next episode to be "I"m nothing"... Oh Jax is gonna have a MOMENT...

We all know that no one likes the dude and he's going to get worse. I'm unsure if this will make me like the guy, but I'm optimistic!

I'm open to understanding and seeing another side of him that would make me like him! I already quite like how this scene is framed, how lonely he looks, the acting in these few seconds already tells me what kind of guy he is.

...despite one of the gummis being tied up in the corner

If i had to hypothesize, this probably stemmed with Jax acting out, you know, the usual "being a nuisance" to make everyone miserable,

Then It escalates

This gets on Ragatha's nerves, first starting out as a silly "haha cute interaction" between them and it escalates while the episode goes on where Ragatha genuinely gets mad at him and tells him to stay put while they do the work.

Speaking of Ragatha, She seems to be quite fond of the Princess! There is a part of me that wonders if she wants to sort of-- "prove" herself in a way, as a leader or otherwise. Ragatha does give me the "smart yet nice kid in class that everyone copies off of" energy... TwT This poor woman.

I don't know, just the way The Princess bends down and holds her hand, it's sort of sweetly mentorly or motherly in a way. I'm not saying this to infantilize Ragatha, I respect her so much as a mature 30-year-old adult, I say it as a testament to The Princesses' character. Princesses, Queens, and any sort of royalty have been characterized as the sort of "mother/father of all" sort of character type, which is sweet! And would be quite interesting!

I know that people are quick to do the shipping with these two, but I kind of like the idea of Ragatha wanting approval and validation.

BUT THATS JUST A THEORY!! A FILM THEORY!!! ANDDD CUT!!

[vivwritesfics]

Mr All American

Just cute moments between Logan and his not American girlfriend

Godamn I want him so bad - in something non fanfic that I've written one of my main characters is called Logan and, ugh, it's such a pretty name

1.3K

Y/N held her phone up towards Logan, giggling away as she filmed him. "Can you do your best British accent?" She asked him, phone shaking in her hands as she giggled.

He rolled his eyes, but Logan was unable to hide his smile. "What do you want me to say?" He asked, looking down at her.

If it was possible for a person to have heart eyes, Logan would have. His heart would have been beating out of his chest like a cartoon character. "What do you want me to say?" He asked as he leaned against the wall.

"Fancy a cuppa."

"Fancy a cupper?" He said in his usual American accent.

Her giggles grew into full blown laughter.

Logan let out a huff and rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. "Alright love," he began in an incredibly bad British accent. "D'you fancy a cuppa?" He asked, emphasising the A.

It was hard to see Logans face in the video, not with the way Y/N was laughing uncontrollably. Her tiktok was a goldmine of Logan videos, where most of the fans got their content.

It was rare for a video of Y/N to go viral. Her videos of Logan always blew up, and she was always seen liking the compilations fans made of them. But she never got herself in the videos, that wasn't her style.

But then she logged onto tiktok. Her phone was silent as Logan slept behind her, his arms wrapped around her and his face pressed into his neck.

They didn't spent the entire night cuddled up. As much as Logan wanted to, it was near impossible. He fell asleep holding her, but when Y/N woke up in the middle of the night Logan was almost always no longer holding her. But then she woke up and once again Logan was holding her.

She had a theory. She suspected that Logan would wake up at, like, 5am, just to wrap his arms around her and spend the next the next few hours asleep and holding her.

So, Y/N had her phone on silent as she watched Tiktok. There were a few Logan edits, too many clips of Lando Norris streaming and at least thirteen Charles Leclerc edits.

And then Y/N came across another video. It was from the live sky sports feed that played during the last grand prix, focusing in on the Williams garage before the race.

Logan was there, walking to his engineer. And Y/N was in front of him. He had his arms around her, swaying her from side to side as he spoke. It was subconscious, he didn't even realise he was doing it, but it was so cute.

At least the fans thought so. Careless Whisper by George Michael played in the background of the video as Logan put his chin on the top of her head.

Groaning, Logan slowly woke up. He kissed the back of her neck and sat up slightly, tired eyes looking at the screen over her shoulder. "What're you watching?" He asked as Y/N saved the video.

She showed him. In response, Logan kissed her shoulder and tightened his grip on her.

***

This is a couple who loved to tease each other. It could be about anything, but their main targets were spelling and pronunciation.

Well, it depended what grand prix they were at. If Logan was caught spelling 'colour' as 'color' during the Silverstone weekend, Y/N wasn't going to let it go.

But the same went for her at any of the US grand prix.

When she landed for Miami, the first thing she did was text Logan. 'God, I didn't realise I was so tired,' she texted him as she climbed into the taxi.

'Couldn't hear you, what was that?' Logan responded.

'Lo'

'You didn't realize you were so tired?'

There was no response for a good minute. He could see that she had seen the message, but she didn't reply.

And then...

'I hate you'

'I wanna marry you'

When they got dinner that night, Y/N wanted a burger, something stereotypically American, but with no tomato.

Logan sat opposite her in the restaurant, hand covering his mouth, hiding his laugh as she ordered. "Can I get a burger with..." She looked at Logan, the enthusiasm dropping from her voice. "With no tomayto."

Logan couldn't hold himself back. his sniggers turned into full blown laughs as she gently kicked him under the table. "You're adorable," he said as she glared at him.

***

Oscar had known Y/N just as long as Logan had. He loved her like an annoying little sister that he pretended he couldn't stand but actually couldn't live without her.

He, Lando and Logan stood together, talking before the first practice session. Y/N hadn't arrived yet, set to arrive on Saturday, and Oscar missed her.

Not as much as Logan missed her, though.

He hadn't stopped talking to her, managed to slide a mention of her into every conversation.

Lando hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Y/N yet. "How did you guys get together?" He asked him, and Oscar sighed. He audibly sighed and rolled his eyes.

They'd been friends for years, since Y/N's karting days. But she'd quit to focus on studying, focusing on getting into a good university and landing her dream job.

When Logan was in F3 and Y/N was completing her first year of university, he missed her. Oscar missed her too, but not as much as Logan. So, during the summer, after her first year of university, he invited her to Florida.

It was maybe the most incredible summer of her life. Not because anything in particular happened, but because she was spending time with Logan.

Y/N knew he liked her. She knew she liked him too. But Logan wasn't going to do anything about it.

Actually, he tried. He tried to do these ridiculously subtle things that she was never going to pick up on. So, she took matters into her own hands.

They were in the back of the truck she had rented out for the summer. They'd done maybe everything, from go karting to carnivals. They were underage so they couldn't really experience spring break at its best.

In the back of the truck they looked up at the stars. "This has been sick," she muttered as she laid against him. "Properly, properly sick." (Genuinely can't imagine an american person using sick to be cool, pls correct me if wrong)

"I can't believe you have to go home tomorrow," Logan replied as he wrapped his arms around her.

Y/N snuggled closer to him. It was warm, but she didn't care. Music played from her stereo, and Logan hummed along.

"I'm gonna miss you," he said as Y/N sat up and stretched her arms up.

She faced him, crossing her legs and getting comfortable in her new position. "Are you gonna miss me? Or are you gonna miss me?"

Logan didn't answer, and that told her all she needed to know. "Dude, just ask me out already," she said, emphasising the 'dude'.

Again, Logan didn't answer. His cheeks were red as he looked away from her face, looking back at the stars.

So, Y/N leaned forward and kissed him.

Once Logan finished his story, Oscar shook his head. "You forgot the most important bit," he said and continued the story. "So Rick Astley started playing on the stereo, so Y/N pulled him up from the bed of the truck and made him dance with her. It's disgustingly cute."

Logan was a grinning, blushing mess. Oscar was right, it was disgustingly cute.

Fuck, he couldn't wait for Y/N to get there.

[jessamine-rose]

*gasp* It's me ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

🍵 𝒲𝐻𝒪𝒟ℛ𝒜𝒩𝒦𝐼𝒯? ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚: A Yandere!H:SR x Reader Otome Game

✧ romanceable characters (© hoyoverse): Professor Veritas Ratio, "Your friend" Kakavasha, and "Gallagher" [for now]

✧ content warning: yandere themes, mentions of racial/species discrimination (your character is SEA/Filipino-coded), (y/n) uses they/them, the story takes place in a modern hybrid alternate universe where each planet (Belobog, Penacony, etc) is considered a country.

PLAY THE DEMO HERE (available for download on PC & Mac AND online play for any devices, though download is preferable to avoid pixellated graphics & misaligned textboxes)

You (name changeable) are a hardworking and full-pledged human cafe owner in Penacony City. Your Dreamjolt Cafe has been a go-to for residents and tourists alike. But your loved ones' lives took a sharp turn for the worst when you decided to take a much-needed vacation back to your homeland, Perlas. While your family eagerly awaited your arrival, you disappeared en route. Where did you go? How did this happen? Who did this? Was it...

☕ the prickly yet fascinating Prof. Veritas Ratio, your self-proclaimed avian-hybrid regular,

☕Kakavasha, your longest fellow human friend who always seems to have a secret or two;

☕ or Gallagher, your hound-hybrid roommate whose past is as peculiar as his loyalty?

☕ or are there two more you're forgetting?

... so...

𝒲𝐻𝒪 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝒾𝓉?

Please support this game by reblogging the post & sending asks/comments! I put a lot of time and effort writing, drawing, and learning to code for this. Thank you so much, my beloved yandere!H:SR community and of course, @dreamjolt-hostelry, for being supportive friends!!! - @beloved-brynn

✧ Characters, Background Art and UI Credits

Hoyoverse assets sourced from the-astral-express-archive. I just tweaked em a bit!

Canva freestock images... Haha...

✧ Intro video, sprites & CG art Credits

Me!!! Hi <3 I hope you enjoyed them! I can't believe yall made me learn adobe after effects a bit for this-

✧ Music Credits

The main menu theme (the first song upon booting the game) is made by @naraven!

The rest of the royalty free music soundtrack (such as the music used for the video above) is sourced from Vodovoz Music Productions!!! Please show the creator some love!!! I was actually vibing so hard while listening to them lmao

✧ (Fan)Story

lol hi again!!! man. i feel like Argenti.

If you wish to support my work and want to see more of this in the future, please buy me a coffee! So I can at least prove to my parents that my work is at least worth one dollar ;;;;

[pinkxpantha]

Suspicions, Scones, and Scandals.

diluc x GN!reader

#: synopsis- How the year long secret between you and Diluc is revealed, turns out the greatest bachelor of Mondstadt isn't a bachelor?!

#: cw- 3.4k words, they/you pronouns. Use of Mx, Traveler is left up to interpretation (Aether or Lumine), Kaeya, Venti, Paimon also mentioned, secret relationship, established relationship, Diluc loves like it's the only thing he knows how to do, fluff, Diluc is in mourning (you went to fontaine) no s/o = no life, Donna mentioned for a sentence and lowkey can't decide which one of you to be jealous of, no beta we die like Crepus.

Diluc polished the glass he held in his hand. It was quiet, beautifully so. The loud chatter of drunkards during the usual weekdays were now replaced with the delicate silence of his environment.

Diluc could see his own reflection in the wine glass, it glinted with the casual lighting of Angel's Share. 

Before he heard the door creaking open, he saw the peaks of blue. Who else could it be other than Kaeya.

He waltzed through the door, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards when he saw Diluc.

Diluc turned to face his brother, clenching his jaw in preparation for the relentless teasing he's recieved for the past few days.

Diluc made the fatal mistake of glancing over in your direction when you were talking to someone.

 Kaeya picked up on this immediately. Like a sponge he soaked every single interaction between the two of you to compile into a theory of Diluc's clear infatuation over you.

As much as Diluc wished Kaeya would stop sending him playful glances each time your name was brought up, he couldn't deny some of his words held a hint of truth to them.

Although he wouldn't say ‘his eyes had their own heartbeat’ whenever he glanced at you. whatever that meant.

“Ah, Diluc! Pleasure to see you here.” Kaeya greeted. Flashing him a small grin as he sat down on the stools in front of the bar.

“I wish I could say the same to you.” 

Kaeya only laughed in a placating manner.

“Brother, is that any way to treat your future best man?” 

Diluc deadpanned at Kaeya's audacious words.

“What do you want?” He sighed as he threw the rag over his shoulder.

“Aside from good wine, a fine chat would do.” 

Diluc swiveled around after he got Kaeya's order. 

“I'm not your in house entertainment,” he spoke. “If you wanted entertainment you should've come during the weekend.”

Diluc huffed and placed the empty glass in front of Kaeya.

“Better yet, go elsewhere.”

Kaeya shrugged, “Of course Master Diluc, I'll keep that in mind for the future.”

Diluc continued to prepare Kaeya's drink. The sooner he left, the better. He didn't need to hear his incessant teasing. 

If he glanced back, he might've seen Kaeya's gaze locked onto his gloves. 

Kaeya carefully investigated the lumps of fabric. Was it just the light playing tricks on him, or did that seem like the outline of a ring?

Soon the tavern door opened again, and Diluc resists the urge to sigh. 

Yes this is his job, but that doesn't mean he has to enjoy all parts of it.

Diluc sets Kaeya's drink in front of him, his gaze raised ever so slightly.

Then it locks on yours. You look like how he expects you to. You bring him a warmth him pyro vision could never mimic.

Then he remembered who else was in the room with him. He gave you a curt nod, trying to indicate something to you.

“Suddenly the atmosphere feels a lot colder.” Kaeya said.

You cleared your throat, a small black box in your hand. Wrapped in a gorgeous red velvet colored flat of fabric. You fiddled absent-mindedly with the ribbon. 

“Sorry Kaeya, I was just a bit distracted.” 

He smiled as he turned to the side, giving him a better view of both Diluc and you.

Diluc adjusted his tie, and brushed his hair back. Something he clearly didn't think much of. (Unlike the man that stared at him as he did so.)

He huffed amused. ”Don't worry about it Mx. [Name], at least with your company I won't have to worry about someone brooding anymore.”

Diluc shot Kaeya a glare from the corner of his eye.

‘Don't say anything you'll regret.’

Kaeya only smirked.

‘I rarely regret a thing I've said.’

You cleared your throat at the poorly disguised tension in the room. Snapping Diluc out of his in-between conversation with Kaeya. 

“Good evening.” You greeted the both of them.

You walked over to one of the wooden stools. It was solid, carefully made so that even with the hours of use it acquired over its long carrier of chairness you couldn't find a single trace of weathering or possible splinters.

“So what brings you here? I didn't take you for a drinker.” Kaeya hums, taking a small sip of his wine.

You shake your head, “I'm not here to have a drink, dealing with a hangover tomorrow would be horrible.” You shivered. 

“Do you not handle your alcohol well?”

“Kaeya.” Diluc scolds.

“What? I'm making conversation.”

“Don't make me kick you out.” 

Kaeya sighed, curling his bottom lip into a pout in an exaggerated fashion.

“I haven't even finished my drink yet, surely you'd let me enjoy this first.”

You smiled at the interaction.

And just for a second Diluc's eyes met yours. You were looking at him so.. openly? He couldn't decipher that stare of yours. He could feel the slight amusement in your stare.

You were such a force of confusion in his life, but with you he didn't need much reason. His ears tilted red with each second longer your eyes met together. 

You took pity on him, breaking eye contact first. “I'm not a lightweight, I just tend to go overboard.”

Kaeya chuckles at the clarification. “Aha I see.”

You placed the box onto the counter, the sound amplified by the silence that shrouded the room.

Diluc leaned over the counter of the bar, he used his elbow as a prop for his head. He blinked at the foreign object. A slight intrigue made him want to open it.

But… three's a crowd.

Clearly that sentiment slid out of his brain, bouncing around the room before it pointedly made its way to Kaeya.

He paused before sighing. “As much as I would love to indulge in these tendencies I do have some work to get back to.” Kaeya placed the mora he owed onto the table, before taking out a flash attached at his hip and pouring the rest of the wine down it.

“Ah, already?” You murmured.

“Unfortunately so.” He nods, “Very well then, see you both soon.”

You both bid him goodbye, and he sent a wink(you think??) in Diluc's direction.

As soon as you both hear the click of the door the atmosphere concentrates around the two people in the room. Both of you relax, a breath of shared comfort between the two of you. 

You nudge the box closer to Diluc, his red hair falling against his face slightly as he tilts his head in your direction.

Archons you really need to know how he keeps it so well maintained..? 

“This is?” He picks the box up in his hands, it feels miniscule in his palm.

“For you.” You said simply.

He blinked, “What's the occasion?” 

You shook your head, “It reminded me of you.”

He hesitated. A gift from you wasn't a rarity, yet it still felt odd each time he recieved one just… because?

He opened the box, it was two things. A hairpin. It was a solid metal, the imagery of a flower with its petals dyed red. Golden accents adorned the sides. It shimmered in regality with the dimmed lighting of the tavern glinting against the metal.

The next piece was made in similar fashion. The silhouette mimicked the frame of the hairpin but in a much more minimalistic fashion. It was a gorgeous deep red, a notable tie clasp.

“These.. are beautiful, [Name].” He said. 

You agreed, “So, you're calling yourself beautiful?” 

“...” 

Before he could sigh from exasperation he saw the teasing glint in your eyes. “If that's what you see me as, I can't help but not trust your judgement.” He leaned further into you, a small smirk playing against his lips. 

You felt your face warm up, for a guy that was so content with shrouding himself in intrigue and mystery, his eyes betrayed that reputation. 

They were so clear, if you looked directly into them you might've seen the mini Diluc’s running around scrambling to formulate his thought process.

The ombre of red and orange harmonized into a blazing ichor that threatened to swallow you whole.

He looked back at you, and you swore his eyes burned through your soul. His features were so tightly knit in comparison to his wide red eyes.

“You're not being fair right now.. stop looking at me like that.” You huffed.

 “Don't you spend your time searching for the beauties of this world? Don't tell me you've given up on that goal already.” 

This guy… he could be cunning when he wanted to.

You didn't allow yourself to falter, seeing this as a battle risking life or death. There was no way you weren't going to win this battle of flustering the other. (Diluc didn't even know what the hell you were thinking.)

You used your sword, otherwise known as your hand to stab his heart.(read: grab his tie.) You pulled it ever so slightly closer to you. Ignoring how 

You huff, leaning over the counter to grab him by his tie. He jolted at the sudden action, his torso angled over the bar, his hands moved closer to his waist, holding onto the edge of the wooden panel to steady himself.

Your fingers make their way closer to his neck, never straying from the fabric of his tie. He swallowed thickly as he watched you concentrate on fixing it.

As much as he doubts there was nothing wrong with the way he tied it, he.. appreciates the way you look up at him, just for a split second.

“Of course I haven't.” You said.

Diluc saw your lips move before he could hear you. He snapped out of his daze, the proximity between the two of you reduced to the length of a ring finger.

 “I haven’t taken a picture of you.”

Diluc pulled away, noticing how you already clipped the pin onto his tie. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent the chuckles of amusement from slipping out. He had turned away from you, it was a desperate attempt to hide his reddened skin. 

More than ever is he glad you two are the only ones in the tavern.

You see him rub his face, the traces of red starting to dissipate from his neck and ears. You can't help but smile. You can't tell you're smiling because of his reaction, or the fact he's allowing you to see him like this.

“[Name]..” He turns back to you, his lips pursed together.

“Diluc” You responded, taking in his full appearance. 

The gentle slopes of his face, the harsh curves of his jaw and nose. They all worked together in a polyphony to create the the person you admire so dearly.

“Ah, that reminds me. Unfortunately I have a business trip to attend in a fortnight.” You broke the silence of the room.

He lowered his head to meet your gaze. 

“Should I bring anything back for you? A gift.. a recipe.. I'm sure I could learn to cook something for you.” You offered. Diluc's face paled.

The thought of you cooking something for him used to be a pleasant fantasy. But seeing it in practice turned any thought of you stepping into the kitchen into a nightmare.

You might as well have had a pyro vision the way the stove went up in flames. 

“I… appreciate the sentiment.” He grimaced. “If anything, I wish you to return to me safely.”

You smiled back at him, bemusement tracing the corners of your mouth.

“Of course. I'll make sure to have a good time as well!” 

He hummed. “Don't slack off.” 

“I won't I swear–!” You exclaim, jabbing your finger in his face.

You both continue to talk, in a way only the two of you know of each other. Barriers and walls broken to build a bridge between the two of you. 

These words are a well kept secret between the two of you, at least for now.

You leave the tavern when more people begin to filter in as the sun sets.

Time truly didn't stop for anyone. It wasn't long before Diluc had to bid you goodbyes. Time failed to capture the moments he spent with you leading up to that. 

A month had already passed since you left, his favorite place to be during that time was at the dawn winery. Letters you wrote came to him every other day. 

You were safe, and it sounded like you were enjoying the time you spent in fontaine. He no longer had to relive the first week of sleepless nights worrying about your well being.

He was in the dawn winery again, a newer letter in his hands. Diluc traced the wax seal, one he specially commissioned for you. 

He began to peel it off, a twinge of eagerness coated his fingers in a newfound fervor. 

Just before he could read your letter, he heard a familiar high pitched voice.

“Master Diluc would totally help us!”

Was that..?

“The traveler maybe, but you and I are on the same level!”

He looked up to see the traveler and their floating companion, along with venti matching their pace.

From the corner of the doorway he could just barely make out Adelinde's sheepish expression.

 “Traveller, it's good to see you here.” Diluc greeted, resisting the urge to sigh at the interruption.

He subtly slipped the envelope on the dining table behind him.

“Hey! How come Paimon doesn't get a hello?” She huffed, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

“Hello Paimon. Venti.”

“Told you.” Venti shook his head, ignoring Paimon's pointed glare.

Traveler quickly spoke up before Paimon could get provoked, “We have something to give you.” They handed an envelope to Diluc. 

He quirked a brow as he looked it over, undoubtedly from you.

Diluc hasn't been keeping tabs on The Traveler's journey, but something must have led them into Fontaine.. 

He let himself open it— the wax lifted under the nail of his finger.

Eagerness. Anticipation. You're right by his side– he swears. You play with his senses to a degree he cannot fathom. As he stares at the photocard of a few scones, he imagines he's sat across from you.

He could practically hear your indecisive ramblings about what to get. ‘The beignets sound tasty– oh but what about the blueberry scones? I'm not feeling for blueberries though..”

“Can't believe the traveler's been demoted from honorary knight to delivery service!”

For a second you coat him in a warmth– so entirely reminiscent of you. Diluc grieves the nights devoid of you.

“It's a noble job Paimon, I'm pretty sure you've made Diluc's week!”

Even before he saw your name signed at the back, he knew it was from you. He covered his mouth. He could recognize you in fields towered higher than his gaze. It's yours. You. You. You. You. 

“Eeh? Whaddya–?”

Diluc looks up (unfortunately,) to see the black, amber, and green eyes looking back at him.

.

.

.

“Diluc must really like Mx. [Name]’s letter.”

The traveler breaks the silence.

“Now I'm curious, what could they have written to awoke such a reaction out of him, any theories?” Venti playfully questioned.

“Maybe it's a love letter!” The pixie answered with too much giddiness. 

“It's definitely blackmail.” The blond smirked. (Furrowed brows? Check! Gotta be something incriminating.)

“It's neither.” Diluc deadpanned. “Don't make such uninformed guesses.”

“Uninformed? But Mx. [Name] said they'd sent a buncha letters! But they haven't gotten a response.” Paimon insisted, the unspoken words of ‘Diluc would totally ignore someone's constant love letters if he had the choice.’ underlined her speech. 

“The trip from Mondtsadt to Fontaine is a long one, I only started to receive their letters two weeks ago.” Diluc shook his head, (a poor attempt to quell the fairy's theorizing.)

“We could always pass on a message?” The traveler offered.

“I wouldn't mind!” Venti chirped.. for some reason?

Paimon grumbled, “you're not included in this Tone-Deaf Bard!”

“ Eh? I was planning on visiting Fontaine soon anyways.” Venti replied, pouting only to further provoke the floating child.

Diluc quickly cleared his throat, (just in time to prevent the childish duo from bickering with each other.)

“If the traveller is offering, I do have something I want to give to [Name].” 

Venti squinted, but didn't say anything. 

“Of course,” The traveler agreed.

Diluc quickly drafted a note, not taking long to compile his thoughts into words meant for you.

The group continued to talk amongst themselves, bidding Diluc their goodbyes after he handed them the note enclosed in an envelope. 

He saw them off to the door, leaving them with one final parting message, to not open it.

He saw them walk off into the distance. Diluc sighed as they left– relief admittedly washed over him. 

But it was short lived.

The recognizable high pitched wails of the ivory haired tag-a-long was enough to confirm he'd have a lot to talk to you about as soon as you returned. 

It must've been a millenia till you returned

 The breeze of Mondstadt made each step you took feel lighter. You could smell the scent wafting from good hunter's the moment you passed the gate.

You barely noticed the few pointed looks in your direction. One coming from a hard to remember face. (who was wondering who she was supposed to be jealous of.)

You ignored it, only wanting to do one thing. You practically floated into the tavern where you asked a certain someone to meet you when you came back.

You walked into the tavern, the brazen hours of daylight left behind you.

“Nice to meet you again, Diluc.”

His eyes snapped to your person, widening at the sight despite your predicted arrival. He got out of the area behind the bar to take you into a warm embrace.

No matter your stature, getting hugged by Diluc feels like a blanket covering you, protecting you from the outside world. He takes over your senses, the warmth of being home. 

“I suppose you miss me?” You muttered after he pulled away. He was close enough to hear even the slightest change in your breathing.

“More than I could ever admit.” He breathed out, more than glad to have you back.

“Did anything exciting happen while I was gone?” 

He sucked in his teeth with a slight furrow of his brows. “I wish it was more mundane actually.”

“Huh. Tell me more?” 

You both made your way to one of the multiples of empty tables. You both spoke in hushed whispers despite there not being a single person to overheat. 

“I'm sorry, dear.” Diluc apologized, his head resting in his hand, his fingers covering a bit of his eye. Red bangs would have fallen on top of his calloused digits if not for the familiar hairclip pinning them back.

 “Don't be sorry, it wasn't your fault at all.” You let your fingers rest on the side of his face, tilting his head to look into your eyes.

He had told you about the incident, how Paimon's curiosity led to the whole of Mondstadt knowing the most eligible bachelor wasn't a bachelor at all.

It didn't help that the first line was ‘To my dearly beloved,’ unmistakably written by him.

It wasn't long before the ‘secret’ spread along Mondstadt's greatest gossipers, Diluc was out of stock.

“I understand you didn't want this kind of publicity, but I'm okay with it.” You insisted.

He looked at you, his eyes weary with exhaust. Whether it was because he was worried over your reaction or the scandal seeping his energy, you didn't know.

 “[Name], you don't need to pretend it's fine, we agreed this would be a secret.” Diluc grumbled.

You remember that vow, the publicity of dating one of Mondstadt's most notable figures would have been incredibly pressuring. 

You didn't know if you were ready for that.

 “It was something I expected if I'm being honest. I'm well prepared, love.” After all, if you were to progress your relationship to the next level, it would be an even bigger shock if Diluc was secretly married.

Maybe this was for the best..?

You put your hand onto the table, your palm facing up as he moved his hand to meet yours, keeping his grip on your palm secure.

“No matter what happens, we'll do it together, okay?” You vowed.

Diluc looked at you warmly. Even without a pyro vision, you don't think he'd ever be cold to you.

A beat of silence passed, and he rubbed the back of your palm with his thumb. His glove rubbed against the peak of your knuckles.

“You look tired,” He whispered listlessly. 

You bantered, “I could say the same for you.”

You both stood up, Diluc kept his hand locked in yours. “Let's go home.” 

And you couldn't want anything more.

I HAVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR TOO LONG IM SO GLAD ITS OUT OF MY DRAFTS

[cokezuko]

Red Robin has a podcast

The first episode was made after he got benched from patrol with an injury while quickly getting hundreds of listeners eager for episode two, then he just keeps making them.

They don’t really have any real theme to them, mostly just Tim ranting about what his latest hyperfixation/annoyance/case had taken his sleep schedual away this time.

Viewers have also taken note of this and will have running bets on how deranged this weeks episode would get:

He once gave an hour long rant on how to legally get rid of a shitty neighbor, at one point describing how to make an exploding glitter bomb and giving colorful examples of what to put inside of it, such as rotten milk or fish.

Another episode he was near screaming after dick had eaten Tim’s jolly ranchers and one episode where he seamed to just be too exhausted to emote anymore and so sleepy that his voice was nearly whispering while he talked about the differences between different types of snow before going silent for a whole minute till finally saying “holy shit… I think I just solved string theory…” and then furious white board sounds before finally a thump, the track cuts to a much more awake sounding Red Robin

“It’s the next day. I did not solve string theory, I did however create one of the most algorithmically perfect snow cone recipient in existence.”

[sunshinescribes]

Hi! Can I request how law would react if his partner calls him baby or babe (any pet names) by accident in front of everyone? The crew doesn’t really know but they got a feeling they’re dating

Baby

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x GN!Reader

Warning: Established Relationship, Heart Pirates shenanigans, Soft Law, Reader is stupid in love with Law (as we all are)

You swear you can hear color and see sound…or at least you feel like you can.

Pulling an all-nighter working on internal ship repairs seemed like such a good idea in theory. It felt like pure genius on your part, being able to avoid the headache of having to work around your unruly crewmates—or worse, having to stop completely.

You love them, you really do, but your fellow Heart Pirates are a rowdy bunch. You don’t entirely blame them, though. It’s difficult being stuck in the ocean’s depths for days on end, missing the blinding sun and salty sea air—you hunger for it just as much as anyone, but when denied, you’d at least like to make certain that the Polar Tang is able to get you all to your next destination in one piece.

All your hard work and good intentions, and yet you had failed to consider one pivotal component: how long it would take to complete your repairs. The hours had passed in the blink of an eye, and much to your surprise, your late-night work had spilled into the early morning hours.

 You wonder how Law does it. He spends nights nose-deep in medical texts or hunched over his desk, flipping between scrolls and maps with ease. The dark circles under his eyes are a clear sign that he doesn’t get nearly as much sleep as he needs, but he moves and thinks like a fully rested man. Even when you slip into his room in the late hours, mindful of making sure your crewmates don’t know where you run off to, you find Law at his desk, lost in that brilliant mind of his.

He makes it look good, but you aren’t so sure you can say the same. You trudge down the narrow halls of the Polar Tang like an undead creature—sluggish and half-alert.

But you’re so close. Nearly done with your work. All you need is just one final push, a little boost to keep you on the mend. You can already taste the creamy milk and rich espresso on your tongue, topped with a dribble of caramel, just for that additional burst of energy. Yes, that’s exactly what you need.

You feel like you could float into the mess hall if you weren’t so worn. You nearly stumble as you push your way inside, avoiding Bepo while he rushes to his seat with Shachi and Penguin in tow. The trio is already deep in an argument that you can’t quite make out but know isn’t even worth listening to. You swear those three share blood, even if Bepo isn’t human.

Ikkaku is already seated, protecting her plate from Hakugan, who still can’t seem to grasp the concept of keeping his grubby little hands out of other people's plates, no matter how many times Ikkaku or Jean Bart try to beat it into him.

Others slip in and out of the mess hall, exchanging a kind greeting or snide remark before shuffling to their stations.

You hear Law before you see him, his rich voice carrying through the crowded space as he calmly explains to Uni that the Polar Tang will have to make port soon. You can’t help but stare. Even in your hazy, sleep-deprived state, Law is still the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Reliable as always, Uni nods before rushing to the control room. Law catches sight of you as you stagger towards the counter. His expression is flat, his lips pulled in a tight line, but you notice the softness in his eyes. No matter how convincing his scowl may be, his eyes are always so telling—the singular piece of his soul he can’t hide.

He shifts closer, leaving a respectable space so as not to draw attention to you two. “Good morning.”

You yawn the greeting back unceremoniously, and god, you swear you feel your heart stutter when you glimpse the smile he’s trying so hard to hide.

“Late night?”

Your response is a tired hum. A joke sits comfortably on your tongue, but you can’t compel yourself to say it. You need your morning boost before you fall face-flat on the floor. You glance up at the cupboard, too tired to struggle.

“Baby,” you call, your voice slightly slurred, “can you pass me a cup?"

Law reaches above you, finding the mug you always seem to gravitate to—it’s nearly in his hands before he stops suddenly.

He stands as still as a statue, and you know your confusion is evident. 

The sudden silence that falls over the room doesn’t help. You can’t make out the usual jokes and jabs shared at the tables. No clattering forks. No loud, obnoxious slurping.

Did you push yourself too far? Is this what sleep-deprivation psychosis feels like?

“…baby?” Penguin questions.

Oh.

Oh shit.

The voices come all at once. A shrill cry from Bepo. Shocked laughter from Jean Bart. Shachi and Penguin yell over each other, triumphantly claiming they knew it. The only person who seems wholly unaffected is Ikkaku, who shoots you a knowing grin before returning her attention to her plate.

You glance at Law, who glares at his crew as a multitude of questions are fired his way. Each inquiry is louder than the last, and voices begin to blend as your crewmates shout over each other, desperately trying to get to the bottom of your secret relationship.

Maybe it’s the sleep-deprived delirium that makes the situation funnier than it actually is, because you laugh. Inelegant and uncontrolled. You shoot Law an apologetic glance, attempting to look as guilty as you feel, but from the way your shoulders shake and your lip quivers, you know you look anything but.

You expect his signature scowl—the look that makes marines blood run cold—but you receive something far sweeter—that surprised, uncertain smile that makes Law look years younger. His irritation has a habit of fading when you laugh, as if your joy is contagious.

He ignores the cries of his crew, finally passing you your cup.

“Sorry,” you whisper, trying to sound regretful, but your voice sounds far too cherry, laced with laughter.

“Don’t be.” There’s a devious glint in his golden eyes, and you hear the tell-tale sound of his room being created before you even see the blue film that contains it. “You have to deal with them now.”

You swear you hear that snarky chuckle of his, but he’s gone too quick, replaced with a crumpled piece of paper. There’s a moment of silence, a temporary peace, before all eyes fall on you, and the questions spill forth once more.

A/N: I WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR TAKING SO LONG TO FINISH THIS REQUEST!! Despite that, I hope you enjoyed!

divider credit: cafekitsune

[queerfandomtrifecta]

I’m convinced we haven’t seen Helly R since season one.

I have another short post about a little part of this but just gonna combine it all into one here, but I do NOT trust s2 Helly R yet. There’s a lot of reasons and I’m currently rewatching for mannerism differences between Helly v Helena, but Helly R in s2 has felt very stiff and off in a few places (when she asked Mark if he was okay in the breakroom, telling Irving “we’ve got you”) which felt SO uncomfortable compared to s1 Helly R to me. That bothers me almost more than her lying about what she saw when they did the OTC thing and withholding the knowledge that her outie is an Eagan. Also, it’s Helly who very very quickly (and conveniently) notices the cameras are missing and says “wait, what happened to the security camera?” when it’s suggested Milchick was probably listening.

I think it’s totally plausible that if they can wake the innies up on the outside they can let the outies into the severed floor. I think Helly R saw too much and we’ve seen Helena Eagan pretending to be Helly the entire time.

I fully believe that they’re telling the truth when they say there are no cameras or mics on the severed floor anymore. Why would they need them with Helena Eagan herself there listening to everything?

Also, Mark is trying to find Ms. Casey/Gemma with “Helly” helping him. Helena Eagan and Lumon clearly don’t want that to happen, so with Helena in there acting as Helly R, she could point Mark in every direction but the right one and seem like it’s all genuinely an attempt to help. If it ever didn’t and Mark called her out on it, the fact that Helly had feelings for Mark at the end of s1 and was having a hard time helping him find his wife because of that is a good enough excuse to not blow Helena Eagan’s cover.

I’m rewatching to compare the two characters and see if there’s anything uniquely Helena that’s coming across in s2 Helly R or anything that would definitively rule this out as an option, but right now I don’t think we’ve seen Helly R yet this season.

Bonus theory/analysis that I cannot articulate well yet but am including anyway for some reason: s2 Helly is in solid blue every time weve seen her so far. Blue top, blue skirt. Every episode of s2 so far. She started in that in s1e1 and moved away from it, but that’s not happening here yet. Wish I could wrap up my train of thought here in a way that is coherent and concise, but TL;DR, blue (and green) is a Lumon color throughout, especially when severed characters are involved. (Petey reintegrated then died wearing that red and blue striped robe, the blue and red beta fish in the divided tank in Mark’s house, Gemma’s red and green candle Cobel takes from Mark’s basement, etc etc) I’m working on a longer piece of meta about color symbolism in Severance as I rewatch but yeah for now, im just not trusting the head to toe blue every single day for s2 Helly R.

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.3. USER 7193

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . feels by calvin harris

maybe he should have expected this. 

nearly all of his posts have been overrun with questions about y/n in the comments. the comments range from simple “who was the girl in your cooking stream??” demands to extremely specific ones detailing her exact hair color, height, and voice pitch as if he’s had another mysterious girl on a stream that he’ll confuse her for.

he’s been doing his best to avoid questions about her but it could only work for so long. now there’s only questions about y/n left in the chat and he’s not sure what to do. it was easy to ignore the questions when he wasn’t doing an entire question and answer live stream but he’d promised to do one soon and he thought having shoyo with him was going to help. 

it did for the most part, and everything seemed normal but he was at a loss for words when the chat started to flood with questions about y/n.

shoyo leaned closer to read a question outloud, “‘girl from the cooking stream?’ i keep seeing that, do they not know–”

a reflex kicks in and he slaps a hand over shoyo’s mouth, pushing him away from the screen again before removing his hand trying to act normal.

the ginger looks at him, a mix of surprise and confusion on his face. “sorry,” kenma apologizes quickly, shocked by his own actions. “no, they don’t know anything about her,” he answers, trying to make it clear that he wants to keep it that way.

but the chat is already too far gone, using this one mention to run wild with theories. he can’t blame them, really. sometimes they’re a little over the top and unnecessarily pushy as if they have no sense of respect but in this scenario what else could they talk about besides a mysterious person that just entered the picture? but that didn't mean he enjoyed dealing with it.

messages transition quickly from asking what they “don’t know about” to inferring that he has a secret girlfriend. he groans, looking away from the screen. his mind working fast to try and come up with an excuse or explanation; a single mention of her and they already think he’s dating someone. he’s sure that the internet would go crazy with this information as well, fabricating stories, scandals, and everything in between.

his phone starts to buzz.

speak of the devil.

it’s a notification from twitter, some unofficial update account that’s tagged him about having a secret girlfriend.

he needs to think.

he can see shoyo eyeing him out of the corner of his eyes and he knows he’s been silent for too long on camera.

god, someone was going to find out who she was soon, right? weren’t fans supposed to be good at doxxing each other?

but how does he play off being roommates with an olympic athlete? an olympic athlete whose currently being shipped to the max with the most typical copy and paste guy everyone has the hots for?

maybe it’d be better for him to leave it to a random fan to find out who she is and announce it to the world–no, then he’ll just look bad for hiding things after so much has already come to light. it’s best for him to come up with an excuse right now. if he said she was his girlfriend maybe he could ask them to leave her alone. maybe they’d listen to him.

it sounded like his best option but he couldn’t just make that decision on his own without talking to her.

but he also couldn’t stand up and the leave the room for an unprecedented amount of time after keeping quiet for so long.

he looks at the chat one more time, seeing the word girlfriend in nearly every message. if they already think they’re dating it can’t be that bad, right?

“kenma…?” shoyo breaks him out of a trance, touching him on the back.

kenma looks at him, unsure of what to say. he feels dizzy and his mind won’t stop whirring with thoughts and worries.

“you’ve been really quiet,” shoyo lowers his voice so that only kenma can hear him, “i think you need to say something.”

he glances at the chat again. still stuff about y/n.

she’d be okay with it, right? maybe if she isn’t he’ll just tell twitter that his girlfriend broke up with him because his fans are pushy little shits and he’ll agree with her word for word and then his fans will cancel him and he can move to another country and live a happy little life working in a cat shelter–

no. he likes his life the way it is now. he’s winged everything so far but he’s grown quite a small community for himself this way. he can do this. if y/n doesn’t agree, he’ll figure something out later.

“okay,” kenma finally speaks, dropping his hands that he’s been running through his hair absentmindedly. “since none of you guys are gonna leave this alone, yes. the girl from that last stream is my girlfriend, happy?” he watches his chat run wild with numerous exclamations. he thinks finally about his poor moderators. he’ll definitely have to give them something after this stream. “i’ve been trying to lay low about it because i didn’t want the world to freak out but now it’s out. just try and be respectful, okay? i love her a lot.” the words aren’t hard to say when they’re about her. he can say them honestly and play them off as a joke later, but for now he enjoys how nice it feels to say it.

he can see that shoyo has frozen up out of the corner of his eye. he needs to end this stream before either of them say something else they shouldn’t. he’ll answer a few more questions and slowly ease into a goodbye so that he can end the stream and debrief shoyo.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

this is a long chapter i'm sorry 💀 literally there's more but i tried to split this evenly into two chapters

kenma was literally just going through some random person's account who made edits of ice skating partners to self sabotage himself

yn wasn't sure when they'd be releasing partner pair ups and really freaked out when they were announced

she was texting everyone and tweeting a ton

she messaged her media girl like "hey i'm not comfortable with people sending me writing shipping me with atsumu can we please do something about it" and the girl replied, "what do you want me to do?? report them?? write you a message that you can tweet about your boundaries?? (yes) if that's what they want to write deal with it at least they like u"

and they wonder why she just posts whatever she's feeling on her main unless iwa tells her otherwise

noya has gotten distracted from the main topic of a chat to reply with a <3 to something nice y/n says multiple times

they're fr just best buds holding hand in the middle of a warzone where iwaizumi reigns over all

(the only two soldiers are suna and tsukishima)

suna's a lot softer without tsukishima around

he just feels like he needs his guard up around such a salty person

do not ask me why i made rofltropper an antagonist for no reason

kageyama was really just trying to finally do his english homework while waiting for hinata to come home and then he heard kuroo and oikawa start to yell

he was a little scared but then was like "if they can't reach me i'm safe" and they they slammed the door shut and his room shook a little

someone on the floor probably wrote up a complaint about them

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @whykirbo @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @starxq.zip @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (iii)

THREE - COLOR THEORY

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, descriptions of violence, smut, oral (m receiving), thigh humping, fingering

You have always wondered if being born from Light and Dark was a blessing, or a curse. On one hand, it has granted you the ability to navigate life’s morally gray areas; to question everything and listen to opposing thoughts and ideologies. But on the other hand, your existence was born from a violent affair—and you can’t help but wonder if that Dark inevitably lives within you, shielded by the Light. 

Right now, more than ever, you believe the latter may be true. 

It’s been three days. Three days since you woke up to an empty bed beneath you and guilt weighing heavy atop. Three days since you self-sabotaged your entire mission. Three days since you reveled in the comfort of your enemy’s arms.

You thought the regret would be at its worst the morning after; you figured it would pass with time. But with each day, each hour, each minute that ticks by, breathing becomes just a little bit harder. You can’t even find peace in sleep; not when you are kept awake by images of Eris’s lust-filled gaze and the inevitable heartbreak on Mor’s face. If your own self-stirred panic isn’t enough, you also have the note that Eris left atop his empty pillow to worry about:

I apologize for leaving so soon, Little Bird, but I have some business to attend to. Do write back when you’d like to take a tour of the library. Don’t miss me too much.

The bastard left the proverbial ball in your court. Typically, you like being in control. But with your current frenzied mental state, the last thing you need is yet another convoluted layer to worry about.

Needless to say, you are about one misstep from exploding.

The crackling embers of the fireplace in your cabin stare back at you tauntingly. You hover your hands over the orange flames, letting the heat tickle your skin until the burning becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. You wait a beat, before raising your shaky hands over the fire once again. Albeit brief, the pain seems to be the only escape from the assault of your traitorous thoughts. Yet, with each retreat of your hands, the empty paper and pen sitting on your bedside table glare at you expectantly. They seem to radiate a cruel impatience—as if Eris is slinking in the shadows, watching you.

Your hands begin to burn again, and you abruptly pull them away. Before you can raise them over the flames once again, you feel the scraping of talons against the cobblestone barrier of your mind.

You want nothing less than to talk to Rhys right now. But you know that if you leave him hanging, he will worry. Reluctantly, you let your walls crumble down, and a shiver runs up your spine as you feel his aura creep in.

Everything okay? His voice sings across your mental connection.

You gnaw on your bottom lip until you wince, swiping your tongue across the droplet of blood.

I don’t know, you relent.

He doesn’t respond immediately. But you can picture the cinch between his brows as he mulls over your answer. Be honest with me. I won’t share with the others, if you don’t want me to. Promise.

Your fingers dance over the flames once more. You can’t possibly divulge what has transpired thus far. But you certainly can’t hold it all in without going mad. The fire burns your skin, and you jolt back before responding.

Promise?

He replies instantly, Yes.

You start talking before you can convince yourself otherwise. I think I may be getting a little too close.

Your response is simple, straight to the point. But something about it feels…heavy. 

What do you mean ‘too close’?

You’re careful not to let your thoughts, your memories of what happened in that cottage, to breach your mental connection with Rhys. You stare into the orange flames, admiring how intertwine, before replying.

The ‘seduction from afar’ plan may need to be revised. I’m in too deep to keep my distance for three weeks.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you wait for his response. You subconsciously twirl the silver ring on your thumb, never peeling your eyes away from the blazing fire. Rhys doesn’t say anything for a while. Just as fear begins to creep in, his voice sounds through your mind.

That’s fine. You jolt at his response, and he continues. Between you and me, I don’t care what you have to do. Make him fall in love with you, break his heart, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re out of there, you’ll never have to see him again.

You physically flinch as the reality of your situation hits you like a truck. Three weeks, and you’ll never see him again. Three weeks, and it’ll all be done—there will be no witness to whatever fling you have, no one left to tell the tale. No one ever has to know. Mor never has to know.

Okay, you finally respond simply.

Just tread carefully, you can hear the strain in his voice.

You nod robotically, even though he can’t see you. With a quick farewell, you put up your mental barriers. You stare into the flames for a few minutes longer, until the mere sight burns your irises.

“Compartmentalization,” you mumble to no one in particular.

Finally, you peel yourself off the dust-covered floor in front of the fire. Your legs are wobbly as you take methodical steps towards your bedside table. The empty paper and pen are quivering in anticipation as you approach. Your hand moves with a mind of its own as you pick up the waiting pen and scribble onto the paper.

Does the offer still stand?

The second you set the pen back down onto the table, the paper vanishes into thin air from your fingertips. You wring your hands together as you sit down on the side of your bed and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for exactly, but you wait. 

“Compartmentalization,” you say it again. And you say it a few more times. Enough to trick your mind into believing it and slow the frantic beat of your heart. Enough to don a mask of apathy as a crack sounds outside the front door followed by a sharp knock. 

You twist the silver ring around your thumb once more before standing, this time on steady legs. Your steps are calm and calculated as you tread towards the door. You take one last deep breath, ridding your body and mind of any residual apprehension. With your lips curled into a beguiling grin, you swing the door open.

Eris’s smile is almost as wicked as yours as he scans you from head to toe, drinking in your appearance.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Little Bird,” he smirks.

You pick at your nails nonchalantly, “I’m flattered I’ve been on your mind, but I’m not sure I can say the same.”

His vicious grin only widens, “You wound me, Birdie. But I must admit,” he dips down and lowers his voice to a whisper, “I quite like your bite today.”

You arch a brow and don’t so much as flinch at his proximity, “Are you a masochist, Eris Vanserra? Or does chasing after disinterested females turn you on?”

Your thinly veiled insult only eggs him on. It takes everything in you not to shrink back as he lowers his lips so they graze the shell of your ear.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road? Because last I remembered, you were a whimpering little mess—”

His sentence is abruptly halted by your fingers pinching his lips shut. His eyes widen in incredulity at your childish action, and a giggle bubbles in your throat at the sight. You release him and walk briskly past, leaving him dumbfounded behind you.

“Well, are we going or not?” you snark over your shoulder.

He falls into step beside you, and you jolt as he places his hand on the small of your back. His touch gentle, but commanding. You don’t dare look at him as he warns, “I’ll let this one slide, Little Bird. But don’t forget that my teeth are much sharper than yours,” he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, “And I’m not afraid to use them.”

Your rebuttal is cut short as he pulls you to his chest before winnowing you both out of the woods.

The Forest House is just as remarkable as you remembered it—even more so in the sunlight. The tangles of ivy enveloping the red-brick walls are a vibrant green, and the intricate details of the gate itself seem to glisten underneath the sun’s rays. However, unlike your last visit, this time sentries line nearly every inch of the expansive walls. Their taut faces and intimidating steeds exude a sense of savagery that makes your skin prickle.

Eris’s hand retreats to its spot on the small of your back, and you jump slightly as you are reminded of your purpose for being here. Reluctantly, you peel your eyes away from the curvature of the golden gates and cock your head towards his. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, and you can tell he’s holding back a comment from the twitch in his lips.

“Spit it out,” you feign annoyance.

He shakes his head with an airy laugh, “It’s nothing. I just like the way you look at the world—all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, like you’re experiencing life for the first time. It’s cute.”

You frown. 

His comment, while innocent, puts you on edge for two reasons. The first, and the one that really makes your skin crawl, is his incessant ability to unknowingly point out parts of yourself that belong to you, rather than Athena Ellesmere. With each destination he takes you to, you do feel like you’re experiencing the world for the first time. But that’s not Athena—and with each of your quirks he reveals, he’s one step closer to sniffing you out entirely.

The second, well…

“Cute?” you deadpan.

His teeth flash as his grin widens, “Cute.”

You’re not cute. You’re supposed to be sexy, confident, untouchable—a femme fatale. Not fucking cute.

You know your bubbling frustration is futile, so you simply narrow your eyes into a warning glare and march towards the golden gates. You know that the pout on your face isn’t helping your case—but you can’t seem to wipe it off. The sentries shift on their steeds as you approach but return to their stationed positions when Eris falls into step beside you. They don’t so much as look in your direction as you pass through the gates.

“Once you are formally welcomed inside the gates, you are free to come and go as you please,” Eris’s fingers brush yours as he speaks, “So if you are in further need of the library after today, you can return.”

Your ears perk up at this, but you nod coolly. He leads you around the side of the large mansion, away from the front door, and lowers his voice to a murmur, “But I would prefer if you’d let me accompany you, if you should visit again.”

“Why? Want me all to yourself?” you snort.

He wears a playful grin, but his eyes are vapid.

“You know I do,” he teases, “But the beauty of this place is deceptive. Darkness lurks behind these walls, Little Bird.”

A shiver crawls up your spine, but you swiftly retort, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“I know,” his voice is thick with trepidation.

You bristle at the way he speaks about you like he knows you. Yet again.

His hand returns to the small of your back as he leads you towards a small door, almost completely covered by thick ropes of vine. If he wasn’t guiding you, you would’ve completely missed the hidden entrance. You suck in a breath in anticipation as he pushes it open, wood creaking against rusted hinges. You hide your curiosity as you take in the burgundy carpet lining a hallway so long, you can’t see its end. The walls are built of centuries-old limestone, the darkness illuminated by flame torches.

You peel your eyes away from the hallway as Eris leads you to the left, down a steep, spiral staircase. Just like the hallway, it is built entirely of dark stone which holds a red hue thanks to the flickering flames of torches lining the walls. He steps in front of you, and you follow his lead silently as he leads you down the stairs. The steep wind of the steps is dizzying as you descend downwards, deep into the ground below, and into the heart of the tunnels of the Forest House. With each floor you pass, you picture Azriel’s map of the house. Finally, Eris takes a turn at the ninth floor you’ve descended. You follow closely behind and note the change in architecture. Gone are the limestone walls, and in their place, deep mahogany wood lined with a variety of paintings: family portraits, Autumn Court landscapes, still life’s. This hallway is also dimly lit with torches, but it holds a peculiar warmth unlike the others.

“How big is this place?” you voice echoes down the expansive hallway.

You know exactly how big it is. But you can’t stand the eerie silence. 

Eris’s voice rumbles lowly, “Miles long. It would take you half the morning to walk from one end to the other.”

Your eyes widen in mock astonishment—as if you don’t know that it is exactly 4.2 miles long.

“And you don’t get lost?” you ask.

“You forget I’ve had centuries of practice, darling,” he chuckles.

You open your mouth to fire another question, but a squeal escapes instead as you feel something wet bump against your right hand. You snatch your hand to your chest and look down to find a pair of beady, vermillion eyes staring back at you. You instinctively inch closer to Eris as you stare down at the creature in awe.

You know what smokehounds are. And you know that Eris owns a whopping twelve. But you weren’t quite prepared for the predator standing before you. Its fur is gray and sleek like smoke, and its eyes are the color of blood. Your initial fear fades as you realize, despite their crimson hue, its eyes are not filled with malice—but rather, curiosity. You cautiously lower the hand clutched to your chest back to your side, and slowly stretch your fingers apart. Its wet nose bumps your hand again, and you shiver at the tickling sensation as it sniffs you. A giggle bubbles in your throat as it sticks its tongue out and licks between your fingers. You tentatively stroke the side of its face with your knuckles.

“She likes you,” Eris hums beside you.

The smokehound nuzzles into your side, and you stroke the top of her head with your full hand. You know they are vicious creatures—you’ve read about how they can race as fast as the wind to sniff out any prey. But the creature standing below you seems as harmless as a fly.

“What’s her name?” you ask as you scratch softly between her ears. 

“Sage. She’s my oldest,” his hand joins yours as he strokes the back of her neck.

“I never pictured smokehounds to be so…affectionate,” you wonder aloud, curiosity piqued as she licks your hand again.

Eris laughs softly, “They aren’t. She must be drawn to you—the same way I am.”

You can feel his gaze on you but refuse to look in his direction as you fight the blush crawling up your neck. He withdraws his hand, and you follow suit as you continue your walk down the hallway, this time with Sage by your side. She trots beside you, close enough that your fingertips brush the silken fur on her back and her side rubs against your dress. Even as you continue down the dimly lit hallway, you can’t take your eyes off the elegant creature walking alongside you.

You nearly slam into Eris as he halts abruptly in front of two large oak doors. Just as you regain your footing, you nearly lose it again at the sight before you.

There are seemingly endless rows of books reaching at least fifty feet tall. An ornate rug of red and gold covers the stone floor, and hundreds of flickering candles are suspended in midair. Vibrant green ivy, much like the kind you’ve seen outside, wraps around each shelf. To top it all off, the ceiling is a mosaic of crystalline windows shining golden rays of sunlight down below—some kind of enchantment, you presume, given that you are at nine floors underground.

“Wow,” you breathe. With your mouth agape and your eyes wide with wonder, you know that you are proving Eris’s earlier point. But right now, you couldn’t care less. 

You wander towards the shelves, Sage trailing behind you, and run your fingers gently along the spines of the books. The smell of parchment and wood is intoxicating, and your heart swells with joy as you scan the collection of classics. Some are so old; you presume they must be original prints. Others look brand new, completely untouched. 

One binding in particular catches you attention—well, ‘binding’ is generous, considering the book is barely hanging together by a thread. You carefully pull out the amethyst-colored cover and turn it over. Shattered Realms. 

“Is this an original copy?” you question, unable to peel your eyes away from the novel.

Eris looks over your shoulder, “Yes. It’s been passed down in my family for generations—although it originally belonged to the Night Court.”

Your lips twitch with amusement, but you force down a laugh at the irony. You glance at him over your shoulder, “How did it end up here?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest inches away from pressing up against your back, and runs a finger over the binding of the book in your hands. His scent of sandalwood and nutmeg invades your senses.

“Many centuries ago, my grandfather was in a bit of a tiff with the Night Court High Lord at the time. He stole it during their feud.”

You smile softly and make a mental note to retrieve the book before you return to Velaris as a little souvenir for Rhys. You carefully place the book back in its spot before continuing your exploration. Eris follows closely behind, whereas Sage has found comfort in front of the fireplace. 

“Do you have any favorites?” you wonder aloud as you come to the end of the aisle.

“I have many,” his hand brushes yours.

You hook your pinky finger over his, “Care to share?”

“Any particular genre you’re interested in?” he curls his finger against yours.

You bite your bottom lip in thought as you mull over the options. Asking you to pick a favorite genre is like asking a mother to pick her favorite child. 

“I’ve recently been on a bit of a reading kick of philosophical essays,” you tap a finger to your chin in thought, “Mind-body dualism, introspection, all the good stuff,” you drawl.

Eris’s brows raise in surprise, “I never would’ve thought that philosophy pairs well with filthy little romance novels.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, and you move to snatch your pinky away from his, but he swiftly intertwines your fingers. He’s dragging you down the aisle before you can protest, and you stumble to keep up with his swift feet. Eris leads you past rows of bookshelves, up a spiral staircase, and past even more rows of books. He doesn’t give you a chance to admire the collection of literature as he tugs you along. Finally, you halt at a small alcove decorated with stained glass windows.

Your eyes widen as you take in the collection of books written by countless ancient philosophers. But you force on a façade of indifference, careful not to fuel his already bursting ego even more. You hold your breath as he leans over you and pulls a book at least six inches out of your reach. The binding is tattered—not as badly as the original copy of Shattered Realms, but enough that you can tell it’s at least a few centuries old. He holds it out expectantly, and you tentatively grab it from his waiting hands. 

“I think you might find this to your liking,” he grins, “A collection of Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. It’s not an original copy, but surely the closest to it.”

He releases your other hand, and you clench your jaw to conceal your excitement. You’ve been searching for a copy of this for years now—ever since you stumbled across the collection of the ancient philosopher Tydeus’s works in the Velaris library. Your mother used to love reading the copy of his correspondences in the Day Court libraries, but that feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Tydeus’s ideologies are a bit archaic for my taste. But I suppose this will do,” you lie through your teeth. Eris chuckles lightly, observing the curious glint in your eyes and the way you hold the book with a delicate reverence.  

“There are wards around the house which prevent these books from leaving the premises, so unfortunately, I cannot loan it to you. And given your past thieving tendencies, I’m not sure I would want to,” he teases as he leans against the shelve of books.

Well, there goes Rhys’s solstice gift.

Your lips dip into a frown, “I know Vanserras are cruel, but I never imagined you’d be this twisted—dangling one-of-a-kind copies of ancient literature over my head only to pull them away.”

“Don’t fret, Little Bird,” he purrs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You can read to your heart’s desire—inside the house, of course. I’ll show you to a place with a bit more…privacy.”

You gulp as his fingers linger against your cheekbone. His touch is electrifying, and you fight the instinct to chase after it as he pulls away.

“Okay,” you whisper, “Is it alright if I pick out a few more?”

His teeth flash as he observes the effect he has over you.

“Take your time. I’ll be keeping Sage company.”

He brushes past you, and you remain frozen in place for a moment. Get it together, you scold yourself internally. You will your mind to empty as you continue your stroll down hundreds of rows of books. You try your very best not to pick up everything that catches your eye—only those which really pique your interest. But even so, you quickly find yourself with a stack of books so high they nearly reach your chin. Your arms tremble underneath the weight, but still, you add a couple of atlases to your stack for good measure. You have no intention of reading them—but Athena Ellesmere would. 

Finally satisfied with your collection, you walk slowly back towards the front of the library. You rest your chin on the top of the stack, careful not to topple the tower of books. The winding staircase proves to be a challenge, and you nearly stumble twice. But by some miracle, you make it down unscathed, and approach the blazing fireplace.

Eris lounges on a couch with Sage on the ground beneath him. He scratches her ears nonchalantly as he flips through his own book. His neck cranes at the sound of your uneven footsteps, and a roaring laugh fills the room when he lays eyes on you.

It’s a sight he wishes will be forever imprinted in his memory—your arms wobbling underneath a stack of books nearly as tall as you, and your flushed cheeks peeking out on top.

“Some help would be appreciated,” you hiss.

He sets his book down and glides over, taking half the stack from your arms. You nearly moan in relief at the literal weight lifted off your shoulders. 

“A few more, huh?” he taunts with a wily smirk.

“A few means a small number. Comparative to your collection, yes. A few,” you grit your teeth.

“Whatever you say, Little Bird. Although I except a thorough review of each,” he sings.

Eris balances his half of the stack in one arm and wraps his other around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. You save your own stack from nearly tipping over with a stumble. You aren’t afforded a chance to protest as he winnows you both away, leaving Sage sleeping peacefully in front of the fire.   

This time, you aren’t able to save the stack from spilling out of your arms as you land in a new room. Much to your displeasure, Eris’s pile of books is fully intact in his arms. You drop to your knees with a huff and begin collecting the books strewn about a patterned, crimson carpet.

“You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?” he taunts from above you.

Your head snaps upwards and you open your mouth to retort but pause as you take in the new surroundings. Much like the library, this room holds a golden glow highlighted by swirling patterns of golds and reds along the walls. You can feel another fire blazing behind you, and just past the deep-seated sofa in front of you lies an enormous canopy bed. It suddenly clicks—you are in Eris’s private chambers. 

You cock a brow at the sight and a smirk tugs at your lips, “You know, if you wanted to get me in your bed all you had to do was ask.”

He sets down his stack of books on a small, wooden table in front of the couch and reaches a hand down to you expectantly. You tentatively place your hand in his, and he raises you up from the ground, pulling you to his chest with a sultry smile. 

“Is that an offer, darling?” his breath tickles your neck as he dips down to your ear.

Your cheeks flush as he caresses your jawline with his thumb. You clench your thighs as you are reminded of how his fingers felt inside you, dripping in your arousal. But before you can melt into his touch, you raise your lips to his ear and croon, “I’m not that easy. You’ll have to work harder than that, Fox.”

He presses his nose against your temple and groans, the vibration of it sending a tantalizing chill up your spine. Just as easily as he’s able to get you flustered, so are you able to drive him up the wall. 

You pull away from him, ignoring his whine of protest. He is absolutely shameless in his desire for you, and the thought alone makes your gut churn with delight.

You gather your stack of books from the ground and carefully place them beside the other half on the wooden table. You sift through the titles before finally settling on the Tydeus copy Eris recommended. You don’t so much as glance in his direction as you take a seat on the couch and kick off your heavy boots. The fire is just close enough that the flames warm your skin, and you all but sink into its comfort. You can feel Eris’s eyes on you, but you continue to ignore him as you stretch your legs out across the velvet expanse and open the ancient book. You aren’t even through the first page when you feel Eris’s hands on your calves.

You squeal as he raises your legs, giving himself space to sit beside you, before lowering them again so they are draped over his lap. You glare at him over your book, but he ignores your malice as he leans forward and picks his own book from the pile on the table. He leans back in his seat, his legs spread beneath yours, as he opens the book—a rare biography of one of the original Valkyries. Your own book sits limply in your hands as you study his profile—the plump of his lips, the shift of his jaw. You can’t help but admire the freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose. He is incredibly handsome, which simultaneously makes your job easier, and all the more difficult.

“I know I’m gorgeous but try not to drool on my centuries-old book,” he hums nonchalantly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You raise your leg to kick him, but he firmly grips your ankle and sets it back onto his lap without so much as a glance in your direction. He doesn’t remove his hand, letting it rest on your leg. With a huff, you return to your book. You are halted, once again, this time by his wandering hand. He teasingly pushes up the skirt of your long dress, just below your knees, so he can rest his hand on your shin. Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your calf with his thumb, massaging it gently.

Reluctantly, you succumb to the comfort of his touch and return to your book once more. You page through Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. Their letters begin simply enough. But you quickly find yourself immersed in their debate over morality. Whereas the Lady takes a relative stance, Tydeus takes on an absolutist one. As their back-and-forth shifts to the dichotomy of good and evil, you are eerily reminded of your own inner turmoil earlier that morning.

“Anything good so far?” you jump as Eris’s gravelly voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

You meet his inquisitive gaze and note how the flame of the fire reflects in the amber of his eyes.

“My mother would have loved this,” you reply.

She did love it. You remember how she used to read it constantly in the Day Court—you never thought you’d be able to get your hands on a copy of it again. 

“Why is that?” he asks, curiosity laced in his tone.

You lower the book onto your lap, “She loved all of Tydeus’s works. She was a strong believer in the dichotomous division between ‘good’ and ‘evil’.”

Eris sets his own book down and rubs your leg with both of his hands. 

“And what do you think?” he challenges thoughtfully.

You shrug, “I’m not sure. On the one hand, I think morality is relative—that individuals are not uniform, and thus form their own ideas about what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’. But then on the other, I used to believe that there are some things we universally categorize as one or the other.”

“You don’t anymore?” he counters

You bite your lip and avert your gaze to the fire. The anxiety you managed to dispel earlier that day starts creeping in. Your gut twists uncomfortably as you reply simply, “I’m not sure.”

His hands slow, noticing your shift in demeanor. He studies the furrow of your brows as you stare into the fire.

“I think it is not morality that dominates the situation, but the situation that dominates morality,” he counters after a few beats of silence.

“A moral relativist?”

“I don’t like labels,” he shrugs.

The vibrancy of the fire is burning your eyes, but you keep them trained on the flames as you reply, “I suppose I agree with that—the problem is, it’s not the answer I’m seeking.”

“And what answer are you seeking?”

You long to reach your hands out over the flames until the heat sears your skin. The déjà vu makes your stomach churn.

“It’s not so much an answer as a direction,” you speak softly to hide the quiver of your voice, “I wish there was some way to know if I’m moving in the right direction.”

He chuckles, “Which brings us back to the question of absolutism versus relativism.”

You peel your eyes away from the flame, and your eyes lock with his. They hold a certain understanding, as if he can see straight through you and into your soul. Your body moves with a mind of its own as you sit up and subconsciously inch closer.

 “I suppose all we can really do is justify our actions for ourselves—and hope that others will agree with our division of morality,” you whisper.

His gaze darkens, and he bows his head towards you, “I think life is full of gray areas, and we can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them.”

His response strikes a chord deep within you. Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, just inches away from yours.

Compartmentalization be damned.

You lurch forward to close the gap, and he meets you halfway. 

The moment your lips meet his, every ounce of worry is swept away from your mind. You barely register the thump of your book hitting the ground as his lips glide against yours. His taste is addictive—a sweet peppermint that you can’t seem to get enough of. Your nose bumps against his as you climb on top of him, your legs straddling his lap. You cup the side of his face with your hands, deepening the kiss. He grips the small of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip: a question. Your mouth parts: an answer. 

You snake one hand behind his neck and run your fingers through his crimson locks, tugging sharply. He groans, and just as he moves to deepen the kiss, you abruptly pull away.

His sounds of protest are silenced by your lips against the sensitive skin of his neck. You move tentatively at first, remembering how it felt to have his lips against your neck, and mimic his maneuvers. He tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck, pushing you closer as a sign of encouragement. You become bolder, alternating between open-mouthed kisses, small nips, and swipes of your tongue. His groan of approval spurs you on, and you fiddle with the bottom of his tunic, pulling it up his chest. You draw back briefly to peel the shirt completely off his body before resuming your work.

“Who taught you how to do that?” Eris hisses as you suck harshly at the apex of his collarbone. 

  You grin at the blossoming purple hue on his pale skin and run your tongue over the spot soothingly, “A wily fox too clever for his own good.”

He pulls you back up, abruptly cutting your abuse of his neck short. You eagerly smash your lips against his once more and trail your hands down the expanse of his chest, dragging your nails lightly along his rigid abdomen. His hands loop around you and he swiftly yanks down the zipper of your dress. You eagerly shed the suffocating material, so it pools at your waist, exposing your bare chest to him. Eris moans at the sight of your peaked nipples and doesn’t hesitate to massage your breasts with his large hands. His lips trail down your neck, but before he has a chance to carry out the same treatment you’d given him, you slip from his grasp entirely.

Eris watches, stunned, as you slip off his lap and sink down onto your knees before him. His lips part as you nudge his knees apart, and lurch forward to trail open-mouthed kisses down his chest, to his abdomen, until you finally reach the waistband of his bottoms. He jolts as you brush your hand over the very obvious, and large, tent in his pants.

“Little Bird,” he mumbles as you palm over him, “You don’t have to do this.”

Your eyes flick up to his and you speak with conviction, “I want to.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps and you all but drool at the sight. He nods once, and you begin fiddling with his belt buckle. His hands move to help you, but you swat them away. You make quick work of the fastenings, and slowly drag the material down his legs, inch by inch. You know he’s growing impatient by the clenching of his abdomen. You flash him a sultry smile as you finally pull the material from his legs, leaving him in his underwear. His hands move to the waistband, but you swat them away again. 

 “Patience is a virtue,” you muse before nipping the skin of his inner thigh. He inhales sharply, and shudders as you run your tongue over the same spot, soothing the ache.

“Using my own moves against me,” he croons, but the strain is evident in his voice, “I’m impressed, Little Bird.”

Your heart thumps in your chest as you graze your hands along the waistband of his underwear. You dip your fingers underneath, and your confidence falters slightly. He runs a hand through your hair soothingly, coaxing you to continue. Your keep your eyes trained on his as you inch the fabric down his thighs. He raises his hips and releases a sigh of relief as his erection slaps up against his stomach, free from the confining material. You toss the garment aside haphazardly and take in the sight of his complete bareness.

The first thing you notice is that he’s big—well, you think so, at least, considering you have nothing to compare him to. His dick is much thicker than you’d imagined, with veins branching upwards towards the tip which is a shade darker than the pink of his lips. You can’t help but wonder how it could possibly fit inside you. A blush paints the apples of your cheeks at the thought.

Eris notices your apprehension, and he curls a finger underneath your chin so your eyes meet his. 

“Would you like me to talk you through it?” his voice is soft.

The amber of his eyes is warm, like honey. You nod shyly.

“Okay, darling. Can you wrap your hand around my cock?” the sweetness of his voice is a stark contrast to the dirtiness of the words tumbling from his lips. 

You rest your left hand on his thigh and raise your right hand, delicately wrapping your fingers around his girth at its base. You hold him loosely, and he releases a pleasured sigh at your tentative touch. 

“You can hold it a bit tighter, love,” he hums while stroking the shell of your ear.

You follow his direction with a nod.

“Now move your hand—”

You don’t give him a chance to finish as you slowly begin moving your hand over his cock, from the base to the tip. His lips part and he shudders at the motion.

“Good,” he rasps, “Now can you spit on it? Get it a little wet for me?”

Your cheeks flare, but you follow his request. You timidly lean forward and dribble over his tip, captivated by the way it mixes with the bead of precum before sliding down. You use your hand to spread it around, and the friction eases as your hand slides more freely. 

“I think you’re a natural, Birdie,” he praises through a gasp, “Can you twist your hand for me a bit?”

You twist your hand in time with your strokes, and admire the way his face scrunches with pleasure. You squeeze a bit harder when you reach his base, and his hips twitch. Testing the waters, you slowly lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking over his tip. Eris grunts at the action, and you feel a bit more confident as you wrap your lips completely around the head. 

A guttural moan escapes his lips as you suckle on the head, your hand continuously pumping his shaft. You pull off his tip, and your gut twists with desire at the string of saliva between the head of his cock and your lips. You lurch forward, flattening your tongue against the base and dragging it upwards, before wrapping your lips around the tip again in a teasing maneuver.  

“Fuck,” he groans, “Can you take me a bit deeper?”

You nod, pupils blown. Your hand resumes its stroking movement as you slowly, tentatively, slide downwards. Your mouth burns from the stretch of his girth, but you breathe through your nose steadily. You take him in, inch by inch, until his tip hits the back of your throat, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. You keep your hand around the base of his shaft, pumping and twisting the length you can’t fit.

“So good for me, Little Bird,” he moans. His right-hand digs into the fabric of the couch until his knuckles turn white, and his left brushes the hair out of your face. “Can you move your pretty little mouth for me?”

You slowly bob your head up and down, timing the strokes of your hand with the rise and fall of your lips. Tears spring to your eyes each time his tip hits the back of your throat and spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth, but any ounce of insecurity is washed away by the sinful noises tumbling from Eris’s lips.

“Can you use your tongue for me?” his voice is strained.

You flatten your tongue against his length as you bob up and down, swirling it around his length to the best of your ability.

“Look at me, love,” he gasps through an animalistic groan.

Your eyes flick up and you peer at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown and his lips parted, brows scrunched with a vulnerability you never imagined you’d see.

“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock,” he rasps, “Wish I could keep you like this forever.”

You hum around him, and he shudders at the vibration. He tangles a hand in your hair, guiding your movements but not pushing you, slowly increasing your pace. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the delicious burn in your jaw and the back of your throat.

His chest heaves as he pants, “So close. Just a little more.”

You move with a newfound vigor at his words, finding a rhythm that keeps the noises tumbling from his mouth. You raise your unoccupied hand to the base of his cock. Experimentally, you brush over his balls with your thumb, eliciting raucous moan from Eris. He twitches in your mouth, and you do it again while swirling your tongue in a prolonged sweeping motion around his length.

“Fuck, Little Bird. I’m—”

He halts midsentence with an earth-shattering groan as his cock twitches violently in your mouth. You slow your movements as he reaches his high, thick ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. You splutter at the feeling, but continue milking him, swallowing his load. You stroke him gently, your tongue rubbing along him in a coaxing manner, until his thighs jerk, and his length softens in your mouth. You inch off him, stroking a hand over his thigh soothingly, and press one last kiss to his tip before pulling off completely.

You glance shyly up at Eris, and your chest swells with pride as you find his head thrown back in pure bliss. You rake your nails softly against his thighs, peppering feather-like kisses over his abdomen. His head lulls down towards you, and your heart skips a beat at the carnal look in his eyes. His hands are gentle as he wipes away the tears staining your cheeks before swiping over your mouth, collecting the saliva staining your lips. 

“You are an enigma, Little Bird,” he mumbles while intertwining your hands with his and pulling you back up. 

Your dress falls from your waist to the floor as you rise, leaving you completely bare aside from your panties. He pulls you onto his lap and you eagerly straddle him, connecting your lips to his. He groans into your mouth at the taste of his own release on your lips.

“Good?” you breathlessly ask against his mouth.

He pulls away from your lips with a chuckle and trails kisses underneath your ear as he mutters, “I haven’t finished so quickly in centuries.”

Your eyes crinkle with pride.

His lips meet yours once again, and you marvel at the way you slot together like the final two pieces of a puzzle. Mimicking his earlier move, you run your tongue along his bottom lip and he grants you entry, allowing you to deepen the kiss. His hands run down the curve of your back before settling on your ass, exploring your soft skin. Your gut clenches at the arousal pooling in your panties.

“Would you like to try something new?” he murmurs against your lips.

You respond with an affirmative hum, and whine as he pulls away.

He grips your waist, lifting you off his lap as if you weigh nothing at all, before setting you back down so you straddle just his left thigh. You jolt as your clothed arousal presses against the bare skin of his thigh.

Eris rolls his thumb over your swollen lips and whispers tauntingly, “Are you horny, Little Bird? Do you need some release?”

You nod shamelessly.

“Get yourself off, then.”

Your brows pinch with confusion, but realization dawns over you as he digs his fingers into your ass cheeks, grinding your clothed cunt against his leg. Your lips part in a silent gasp at the wave of pleasure that rolls through you. He guides you as you set a steady rhythm, grinding your throbbing clit against his thigh. The friction is electrifying, but you need more. The thin barrier of fabric separating you from him is suffocating. 

You whine pathetically, and he senses your desire. Eris pinches the flesh of your ass, and you lift your hips slightly. He removes his hands from behind you and you watch as they dip down between your thighs. You throb with anticipation as he hooks a finger underneath the fabric. Your arousal sticks to the flimsy material as he peels it aside, exposing your bare cunt.

“You’re dripping for me, darling,” he croons.

A long moan escapes your lips as you settle back down onto his thigh. With nothing separating you from him, you can feel how every ridge of his muscle stimulates your clit. He continues guiding you with his hands on your waist for a few seconds, before abruptly pulling away. 

You pause, mouth agape, as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. Your cheeks flare in a combination of frustration and embarrassment as he leans back in his seat with a coy smirk on his lips.

He arches a brow expectantly, “Go on.”

You desperately want to wipe the smug look off his face—but your lust, your need for release, is too strong. You brace your hands against his broad shoulders and begin moving again. You groan at the way your clit slides against his bare thigh.

“You like making a mess over my thigh?”

You nod obediently.

He jerks his thigh once underneath you, and you cry out at the sensation.

“I need words, Birdie,” he drawls.

You roll your hips against him desperately and pant between gasps, “I love it.”

He shakes his leg at a steady pace, and the additional stimulation sends you reeling.

“Yeah?” he coos, “Tell me how it feels.”

Your legs tremble as your clit catches against the tensing muscles of his thigh.

“Feels filthy,” you mewl.

He grips your chin firmly, directing your gaze to his, before his arm returns to the back of the couch.

“Fitting for a filthy little girl, getting herself off on my leg,” he purrs, “I’m not even touching you and you’re a whimpering mess for me.”

His degrading words don’t even register, your mind clouded with desire. You can feel the tension building in your gut, and you pant with each roll of your hips. You try to increase your pace as you feel your high approaching, but your legs tremble underneath you, leaving that peak you so desperately desire just out of reach. 

“Please,” your voice trembles.

Eris knows exactly what you want, but he taunts you, “Please what?”

A fat tear escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your flushed cheeks.

Your bottom lip wobbles as you whimper, “Touch me, Eris. Please.”

He swiftly pulls you off his thigh and lays you down on the couch. He crashes his lips against yours, your teeth bumping at the force. Eris doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath as he trails his hand up your inner thigh before sliding his middle finger through your slick, from your entrance to your swollen clit. Unlike last time, he doesn’t waste time teasing as he promptly sinks his middle finger inside of you. 

You cry out at the feeling of his finger deep inside you, and he curls it in response. He doesn’t hold back as he rubs your clit with his thumb while thrusting his finger, curling it against your g-spot with each maneuver. He latches his lips to your neck and sucks harshly while his unoccupied hand flicks over your peaked nipples. 

Your mind whirls at the sensation—the feeling of him all over you. It’s almost too much, having him everywhere. You desperately claw at his back, searching for something to stabilize you. 

Your stomach coils as you feel your high approaching again. He can feel you clench around his finger, and he groans against your skin, “You gonna cum for me, love? Finish all over my hand?”

Another tear rolls down your cheek, “Yes,” you blubber, “’M so close.”

“Let go, Little Bird,” he coaxes while slipping another finger inside of you.

The added stretch sends you over the edge. You all but scream as shockwaves of pleasure roll through your body. Your toes curl and your nails dig into his back as your vision spots. His fingers slow, but he keeps rubbing your clit as you ride through your high. He continues until your hips jerk from the overstimulation, and your hands go limp around his neck. You wince as he pulls his fingers from you and watch through hooded eyes as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking up every last drop of your arousal. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, your mind spinning in a post-orgasmic haze. 

Eris softly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand before dipping down and capturing your lips with his. This time, the kiss is slow—no bumping teeth or clashing tongues. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, relishing in the intimacy of it all, until he pulls away.

An airy laugh passes through your lips as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be the end of me, Little Bird,” Eris mumbles. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before collapsing on top of you. You grunt at the weight, and he shifts over enough so that he isn’t restricting your breathing, but his bare body remains draped over yours.

 “The end is but a beginning in disguise,” you tease as he nestles his nose against your cheek.

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck. 

“How were you made so wise?” he muses.

“Wisdom isn’t born, Fox. It’s learned,” you trace your fingers along the arm draped over you, “And I have a lot more living to do before I can even come close to it.”

“Well, I think you’re plenty wise,” he curves a finger underneath your chin and tilts your head towards his.

Your nose is millimeters apart from his as you gaze into his amber eyes. Their golden hue is vibrant, much like his lopsided smile. But suddenly, something inside them dims, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards. Your brows furrow as you note the subtle change.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, brushing back his crimson locks.

Eris shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

You quirk a brow, “Clearly not.”

His hardened stare doesn’t stray from your eyes, but it seems to be searching for something. A chill crawls up your spine at his scrutinizing gaze, as if he’s trying to read your darkest thoughts. You’re suddenly aware of how exposed, how vulnerable you are to him right now—both physically and emotionally.

“Your eyes…” he pauses, as if searching for the right words, before continuing, “Do you remember the first night we met?”

The crinkle between your brows deepens, “How could I forget?”

He wets his lips before replying, “I told you your eyes were familiar.”

Fuck.

You pray that he doesn’t feel the uptick of your heart and continue stroking his arm steadily.

“I just realized,” he continues, “Who they remind me of.”

Panic washes over you, but your expression doesn’t falter, and you maintain your soothing touch.

“Oh?” you hum nonchalantly, “Who may that be?”

Eris shifts his gaze away from the eyes in question, and instead watches the rise and fall of your bare chest.

“A woman I knew a long time ago,” he finally replies.

You continue threading your fingers through his hair as you contemplate your next words. You are breeching unfamiliar territory, and one wrong step could doom you.

“Was she important to you?” you ask cautiously.

He doesn’t respond for a while, and his body is tense over yours. You wait with bated breath for his reply, your curiosity growing with each passing second.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not what you were expecting—but you aren’t sure what you were expecting, exactly.

You mull over his response, nibbling on your bottom lip in thought. Pressing him further feels like a violation—not only of his vulnerability, but of Mor’s. But curiosity is gripping you like a vice. This is the first time in a week you’ve gotten him close to talking about the Night Court, you justify to yourself, don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.

“May I ask what happened?” you inquire tentatively.

 He grunts and rests his head in the crook of your neck, “It’s not exactly a bedtime story, darling.”

You frown, unsure how to press him further without raising suspicion. 

He must notice your disappointment as he sighs, “I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, Little Bird. Would you really like to know?”

You nod. He traces shapes over the expanse of your stomach as he contemplates where to begin.

“Many centuries ago, my father arranged for my marriage to a daughter of the Night Court,” he speaks slowly, “It was purely political—a chance to strengthen the alliance between our courts.”

This is so wrong, you think to yourself. But you make no move to stop him.

“She did not want the union. So, the night before the wedding, she escaped—into the arms of another male, hoping that if she tarnished her…purity, the wedding would be called off.”

Tears prick your eyes as you know exactly what’s coming next, but you blink them away.

“Her father was—is—a cruel man. As cruel as my father,” the steadiness of his voice falters, but he continues, “When he found out what she’d done, he tortured her with a brutality unlike any I’ve witnessed. He left her, stripped naked, at the border of our court, with a sign that she was ours to deal with.”

You’re grateful for his sparing of the details, because you’re not sure you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I found her that morning, while out with my guards,” he stops, and for a moment you don’t think he will continue. But he releases a deep sigh, and barely speaks above a whisper, “I demanded them not to touch her.”

Anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to scream. You feel nauseous, the reality of your predicament suddenly sobering—the reality that you’re lying naked on a couch with a man who left your sister for dead.

 “If I or any of my guards touched her, she would have been stuck in Autumn—doomed to a life she did not want, according to my court’s laws. If I had…” his voice trembles ever so slightly, “If I had touched her, my father would have killed her on the spot. So, I left her there. I knew her…her friends would come save her. But it was not a decision I wanted to make.”

The fury trembling in your bones settles, and your mind reels over his recount of the events. This is not the version of the story you’ve heard from Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel. He could be lying—but what reason would Eris have to lie to you, when he is blissfully unaware of your relation to Mor? More than that, you’re unable to ignore the sincerity, the distress in his voice. 

“Do you regret it?” you whisper so quietly; you’re surprised he can hear you.

“No,” his response is immediate, “Not for a minute. I gave her a chance to live. Even if she doesn’t see it that way. But I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head…of her pleading for help, and me being unable to grant it.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re sure he can feel the thundering of your heart. Your head is a muddled mess, to say the least. 

“Gray areas,” you whisper simply.

We can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them, his earlier words ring through your mind. But not faulting him feels like the gravest betrayal you could commit.

A humorless chuckle tumbles from his lips as he echoes you, “Gray areas.”

His head sinks further into the crook of your neck and he runs his thumb soothingly over your abdomen, unknowingly combatting the pounding of your head as you process the onslaught of new—and unexpected—information. 

“Do you still align with the Night Court?” you change the subject boldly but keep your tone nonchalant.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem fazed by your question. Unfortunately, he doesn’t entertain it either.

“I like to keep my business separate from the bedroom,” he rasps against your neck, and you shudder at the tickle of his breath.

You purse your lips into a humorless smile, “Compartmentalization.”

“Forgive me, darling,” he muses, the seriousness of his tone gone, “But I can’t bring myself to discuss pompous High Lords while lying atop a beautiful, naked female.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” you tease half-heartedly.

He raises his head from your shoulder and looks down at you, the fox-like grin that had momentarily disappeared back, “I don’t think, I know,” he brushes his nose along your jawline, “You are the most delectable little thing I’ve seen in centuries.”

  You feel his groin twitch against your upper thigh, and you roll your eyes, “You are insatiable, Eris Vanserra.”

He laughs and your heart sings at the sound, despite your reeling mind. He presses his chest against yours and stretches his arm out to the floor. You watch curiously as he rolls back into his previous position with your forgotten book in hand.

“I’m not quite sure if Tydeus qualifies as a bedtime story either,” you arch a brow.

He shrugs with a cheeky grin, “Well if you ever plan on getting through that mountain of books, you’d better get started.”

Eris holds it out expectantly, and after a moment of contemplation, you grab it with your free arm. You untangle your other hand from his hair and wrap it around his shoulder so you can balance the book on your stomach with both arms. He squirms over you, and you squeak he accidentally elbows the side of your breast.  

“Careful,” you hiss.

“My apologies, Little Bird,” he coos as he finally finds a comfortable position on his side. One arm rests underneath your neck, while the other remains draped over your stomach behind the book. He drops his head onto your shoulder, so he has a full view of the book in your hands.

“I’ll let you know when to turn the page,” he nods his head against you, encouraging you to begin.

You squint but relent as you see his eyes moving back and forth, reading the text before him. You can feel him smiling below you as you focus your gaze on the page in front of you and pick up where you left off earlier. 

You’re nearing the end of the page when Eris taps the side of your hand with his finger. He waits patiently for you to finish, and both of your heads shift when you flip the page. You fall into a comfortable rhythm. He taps your hand softly each time to indicate when he’s finished, and you alternate between who finishes first with each flip of the page. The rise and fall of your bare chest moves in time with his breath against your skin, and despite your nudity, you don’t feel an ounce of shyness.

As you read, you can’t help but think that this must be what heaven feels like: orange flames warming your skin as you lounge on a couch reading with a gorgeous, and very naked, male on top of you. But there’s just one tiny problem—the gorgeous, and very naked, male in question.

You feel your thoughts slip from the book and urge yourself to focus on Tydeus’s philosophy rather than dwell on your anxiety. You find yourself so immersed in one passage in particular, that you don’t notice the way Eris’s breathing slows, or how his head lulls against your chest. You reach the end of the page and wait patiently for his signal to continue. Your brows cinch as the seconds stretch into minutes. You look down and realize that the heir to the Autumn Court throne, in all his glory, is sleeping like a babe using your breasts as a pillow.

The book lays forgotten in your hands as you observe him. Even in his softest of moments, his features still hold a certain sharpness. But right now, he looks…peaceful. His cheek is pressed up against the flesh of your breast, and with his eyes closed, you notice that his eyelashes are much longer than you imagined. You long to trace your fingers over the freckles splattered across his nose, to feel the curve of his nose. It’s hard to think that the male before you is capable of any cruelty at all.

But he is. 

And you’re gazing at him wide-eyed like a lovestruck teenager.

 You wish you could speak to your sister right now. You’re not sure what you’d say—maybe nothing at all. Maybe looking into her eyes, which are so similar to yours, would reveal some hidden truth, buried deep under centuries of hatred. Or maybe they would hold disdain—disappointment directed at you, for rolling around with a male who hurt her deeply.

Eris snores softly, halting your train of thought. Your chest tightens and the flames of the fire start to burn your skin. You can’t stay here. More importantly, you have a job to do.

You set the book down on the floor beneath you, and cautiously shift your body. He grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t stir, as you carefully slip out from underneath him. You hiss as you tumble onto the ground below and pause to make sure he’s still asleep. His snores don’t falter, and you rise from the ground.

You make quick work of gathering your clothes, cringing at the dried arousal covering your inner thighs and panties. Just as you’re about to slip out of his chambers, you turn back to take one last glance at his sleeping form. You gnaw your lower lip, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. Against your better judgment, you search for a scrap piece of paper and pen to leave him a note, as he had done for you.

‘Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra

Your lips purse—simple, yet effective. You set the note down on the wooden table and drape a throw blanket over the sleeping male in case he has any unexpected visitors. You don’t dare look back as you creep towards the doors.

The creaking of the rusted hinges has you cringing as you ease them open, inch by inch, and peer into the hallway. It’s empty—thank the Mother—with the only movement coming from the flickering flames of torches on the walls. 

You slink into the shadows as you move to your left down the hallway. Assuming Azriel’s map is correct, Eris’s office is two floors above his personal chambers, about one mile to the left. Despite the sizeable distance, you don’t risk winnowing for fear of someone catching you.

As you move along the walls, there’s a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can’t help but feel guilty for playing with his feelings and using them to your advantage—especially following the vulnerability he showed you tonight. But you remind yourself that, even in life’s dimmest gray areas, your loyalty to your family is unwavering.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you scale the winding staircase, keeping an eye out for any guards or lurking Vanserras. As you make your way down the next hallway, identical to the last, you move as swiftly as you can. The sooner you’re gone, the better—but you can’t deny the unease that grows with each step. On one hand, you hope you’ll find something to report back to Rhys. But on the other, you dread finding something that may contradict your image of Eris thus far.

Your steps are featherlight, and by the grace of the Cauldron, you make it to your destination without any setbacks. You press your ear against the door before slowing pushing it open.

The room is much like Eris’s chambers: swirling yellows and reds along the walls, a blazing fireplace, and a deep mahogany rug carpet covering the stone floor. In the middle sits a large, mahogany desk, covered in parchment. You creep forward, careful not to make any noise. You run your fingers along the polished wood of the desk, glancing over the papers. Nothing stands out as you shuffle through them. You search through his cabinets, rifle through the small bookcase in the back, and even check beneath the cushions of the chairs. All you can seem to find is polite, and uninteresting, correspondences with various courts, and menial to-do lists. You check each possible hiding place but come up short once again. There’s absolutely nothing here.

You’re not sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated—or perhaps, both. You glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the dimly lit room. 3:06. You contemplate redirecting your search to Beron’s office, but you remember from Azriel’s map that it’s six floors down, and approximately two miles away on the opposite side of the house. If you were to go now, there’s a chance the sun would be rising by the time you’re ready to leave, leaving you defenseless without the dark of the shadows. 

With a sigh, you check over the room once more to ensure nothing is out of place before making your exit. You leave just as you came, slinking into the shadows along the hallways as quiet as a mouse. As you navigate the winding tunnels, you wonder if Eris is still sleeping soundly by the fire, or if he’s aware of your absence. And as your thoughts drift to the crimson-haired heir, you find yourself moving faster—as if escaping the walls of the Forest House will erase him from your mind. 

The wind is even more chilling than usual in the dead of night, you realize as you finally make it out through a side door. You make quick work of the courtyard, using the shadows to your advantage to avoid detection by the sentries littered throughout. When you finally make it out, you will the air to twist and fold around you, winnowing you back to your ransack cabin just as the sun begins to peek out from the horizon. Your limbs are tired, but your mind is racing. You know that sleep will not be kind to you. So, you kick off your boots and plop yourself on the dirty floor in front of the fireplace.

You find yourself just as you were before; hovering your hands over the orange embers until the burn becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. Again. Over and over. As if the pain will grant you some sense of clarity. As if nothing has changed since you were last sat here. As if you aren’t falling further into the fox’s trap with no way out.

Being born of Light and Dark can be a difficult thing. But there are far worse evils in the world, some lurking just around the corner. 

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @batboygirlie @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1

[groovyghostnotes]

The Difference Between Red and Yellow Banditos (tøp analysis/theory)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

there’s an interesting lore implication in torchbearer’s FPE letter. in it, he reports that their rebellion has support from both yellow and red, implying there’s some sort of difference between the two. as if they’re two separate groups who have come together to fight a common enemy. this shows the color of tape is not just an aesthetic choice, but marking what “team” the person is on. the evidence is subtle, but there are some indicators on what each side represents. so we’re gonna break it down!

Red

red are the fighters. they are actively fighting against the bishops. they are often found in dema, sparking the revolution from the inside. it also seems like they are being led by clancy. unlike yellow, red is a color the bishops can see. it almost seems like red are mocking the bishops, using their color as a sign of their rebellion. safe to say, they aren’t afraid of being seen. they want to be seen, since they are leading the movement.

another interesting thing about red is the placement of their tape. unlike yellow, there isn’t much variation of the tape’s placement. like clancy, all the reds wear it on their shoulders. this might represent the “cover me” sentiment. since they are charging into battle, it makes sense they would want backup.

just as a side note, i do want to address the yellow banditos who are seen with reds in the overcompensate video. while they’re wearing yellow, it’s still on the shoulders. i can only assume these are the banditos that want to fight, but also want to remain hidden. bishops cannot see yellow after all. perhaps they will change to red once they gain the courage. it’s just a transitional phase from yellow to red. this is also what happened to clancy. yellow to red, but always on the shoulders.

Yellow

yellow banditos are who we were introduced to first, and arguably who we know more about. yellow are the helpers, much quieter in their approach but still important. unlike red, we rarely see yellow facing dema head on. not until paladin strait, which was after torchbearer said they were willing to join the fight. up until that final battle, however, yellow works to help those escape dema. instead of wanting to destroy dema, like red, yellow is more focused on helping those stuck in the city. it seems like only a few yellow (who may arguably switch to red) live in dema. most of them stay in trench, moving into dema only to rescue people.

where red wants to be seen, yellow wants to stay hidden. they wear yellow, a color the bishops cannot see. there’s also much more variation in the tape placement.

we can assume yellow are taping what they want to protect the most. for example, torchbearer taped his heart and his tyler tattoo. marking what’s important with yellow keeps it safe from the bishops. it also seems like torchbearer is in charge of yellow group.

Together

torchbearer and clancy being leaders of both groups may explain why they’re going into battle with their respective colors. clancy is leading red, and torchbearer is leading yellow.

red and yellow have different goals, but they work much better together. red are brave, wanting to fight head on. they wish to be seen, sporting the very color the bishops use. but they can’t fight their battle alone, they need support from yellow. a loyal friend who will cover them no matter what. and yellow needs fighters to end dema for good. in a way, red and yellow complete each other. it’s no wonder why they finally teamed up.

side note: i’ve always been team red myself

[taniahylian]

Ms. Grace: a Foundation spy

Okay, buckle up because this is a wild theory, which was sparked by just a single word, but it's backed up by a lot of facts, so let's dive into it, shall we?

First of, left's look at the description of an event that will become available next patch: Phototaxis in study.

You see it, don't you? Now, let's first remember that we, as the player, see everything through Vertin's eyes. As such, if someone named "Moth" sent intel to us, they're likely affiliated with the Foundation in one way or another.

Moth is likely a codename, however, and not the character's actual name. Why? Because we have already seen a character associated with moths, and her name is Ms. Grace, and she's a spy.

Quite a lot of moths in her design, right? Seems rather intentional. Not to mention that, when she's disguised as Kayla, the only difference between them, aside from the eye color, is that Grace has a moth pattern on her bandana.

Not to mention that, when Vertin encounters Grace for the first time, an odd detail is mentioned; a white moth landing on the flowers Grace was holding.

Okay, so we've stablished that Grace is heavily associated with moths, but how do we know she's a Foundation spy that infiltrated Manus Vindictae? Very simple; a trail found in this event.

First we see this report from Andreas Sylvester who, if you remember, is a low-ranking Zeno soldier that was left behind at the abandoned Texas facility. As such, he is unlikely to be privy to classified information and, although he does in fact seem to know that Grace is a spy, he came to the rather logical conclusion that she's a Manus Vindictae spy that was sent to report to them about Zeno's activity in Texas. However, Constantine's response is very suspicious.

She recommends him to not interfere with Ms. Grace's work, likely because she knows Grace is actually a Foundation spy, carrying out her orders, rather than an actual Manus member.

Also, if Ms. Grace is a spy, that would explain why she was using transformation rituals; she needed to change her appearence into someone the Manus would have no knowledge of (since she's likely a high-ranking Investigator, the Manus probably already knew her original appearence), so she picked a random country girl (Kayla) to change into her, and ended up accidentally trapping her in a mirror in the process... or perhaps it wasn't accidental at all; after all, it'd be very bad if the Manus ever met the real Kayla.

Let's also not forget that, according to Vertin, the Foundation teaches this particular transformation array to their SPDM students, which furthers the connection even more.

There's also what happens at the end of Anjo Nala's trailer. If you need a refresher, after the Manus members give Anjo order after order, she snaps and kills them... but here's the thing: Anjo physically can't disobey the commands given to her by the seal, and she also can't even touch her master, much less harm them. So how could she kill the Manus members? ... Unless she was ordered to.

And who was holding Anjo's seal during that scene?

Ms. Grace, of course. She's also the one who says the final line in the trailer, in the format of some sort of report: "Towards the end of 1990, the succubus left for Sao Paulo". And we know for a fact that, indeed, Anjo followed their orders and ended up going to Sao Paulo.

So, Ms. Grace isn't dead; she's the only survivor of that massacre and, if my theory is correct, she's also the orchestrator. She used Kimberly to kill these high-ranking manus, while at the same time not blowing her cover, and making Kimberly seem unstable/unreliable, so the Manus would probably want to get rid of the seal. Quite a smart move, if you ask me.

But what do you think? Too crazy? Honestly I can't wait for the big reveal that Grace was working for the Foundation all along, if it happens at any point in the future.

[deconstructthesoup]

I will say, one thing I absolutely love about Midnight Burger is that the science fiction makes sense.

Yes, there's things that are left unexplained for wacky reasons, and yes, it's science fiction for a reason. But there's usually an explanation for whatever weird thing that Midnight Burger comes into contact with or creates, and they tend to actually make logical sense. Ava's almost always got a cool obscure physics theory to apply to the situation, Leif's almost always got an encyclopedic knowledge of advanced tech and the spacing life, and between the two of them, they provide so much worldbuilding and immersion through infodumps that feel natural. Because, well, they're smart people who ramble about the things they're smart about! They know exactly how to look at something insane and ground it in reality!

And usually, any sci-fi that has all this detailed explanation for how things work is one of those gritty, hard sci-fi stories that are devoid of the whimsy that this genre should have, but that's not the case with Midnight Burger! It's fun! It's colorful! It's retro! It's madcap! It's got crazy situations and vibrant locations and dynamic characters who bounce off of each other perfectly!

Science fiction can be rooted in real science and still be fun! And this podcast perfectly encapsulates that!

[ifitsnotmethenwhothefuck]

Everyone, but Sanji, is sitting together in a bar.

Nami: Okay, and Usopp, what’s your bet?

Usopp looked over at the bar where Sanji was sitting next to a gorgeous blonde woman with a perfect hourglass body and ocean blue eyes. The both of them had been talking for about an hour. He had made some kind of joke that made her laugh and grabbed his forearm.

Usopp: I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m gonna put 50 berries on he doesn’t get rejected.

Nami wrote down his guess and amount on a piece of paper before turning her attention to Luffy.

Nami: And you, captain?

Luffy barely gave Sanji and the woman a passing glance before he placed his bet; he was too busy stuffing his face with food. 

Luffy: Well, she hasn’t rejected him yet, and they do have the same color hair, so I’m gonna guess they’re related, he said with a goofy grin.

Nami: Honestly, Luffy, you’re an idiot. She said, rolling her eyes. But either way. More money for me: I'll put you down for 2000 berries on the chances of them being related.

Luffy‘s eyes shot open as he almost choked on a piece of meat.

Luffy: Whoa, whoa, whoa. I didn’t say that much. I don’t got that many berries, he said nervously.

Nami: It’s too late; your name is already in the roster.

Chopper: You guys, he’s coming over.

Everyone got quiet and looked over to see Sanji and the blonde woman approaching their table.

Sanji: Hey, you all seem to be pretty rowdy. I could hear you from across the bar, he said with a small smirk.

Everyone seemed to be eyeing back and forth between Sanji and the woman next to him.

Luffy: Hey Sanji, who’s the girl you’re with? He asked bluntly. 

Nami whacked Luffy in the head and turned to look at the woman by Sanji’s side.

Nami: I’m sorry about that. He’s an idiot.

Zoro: No, but Captains right. I am kind of curious how do you know Mr. Nosebleed.

Sanji clenched his cigarette between his teeth in irritation, hearing the insult as the woman next to him got a mischievous smile.

Blonde woman: Oh, you want to know how I know Sanji? She said with a grin as she stepped closer to him, hugging his arm. Sanji looked at her with confusion.

Blonde woman: Well, we actually spent nine months together with my legs wrapped around his head.

The majority of the crew let out a surprised gasp, while others tried to hide a small blush.

Usopp: Excuse me, he said in a soft voice.

Sanji rolled his eyes and slid her hands off of his arm, which almost made the crew gasp again in shock. 

Sanji: What she means to say is that she’s my twin sister. I assume she thinks she’s very funny, but I’ve never seen it.

Sanji’s sister: That’s because you don’t have a sense of humor.

Luffy: So you’re saying you’re related, he asked with a big grin.

Sanji looked at him with a deadpan face.

Sanji: You’re acting more dense than usual, he said, rubbing his temples.

Sanji: Yeah, we’re related. He said, rolling his cigarette between his teeth.

Luffy started bursting out into a loud laugh as the rest of the crew wore irritated faces, especially Nami, who started grinding her teeth in irritation.

Nami: No, this isn’t fair. She said as she stood up and slammed her hands down on the table.

Luffy: This is great. I won! Right, you all better pay up in full. He said with a wide smile and a joyful laugh.

Sanji and his sister stared at everyone in confusion as they all passed their money over to Luffy.



(Thought of this from that scene from the Big Bang Theory)

[ficnoire2]

A Little Legendborn/Bloodmarked (In prep for Oathbound) Who’s Your Daddy? Theory  

*Spoilers for both books ahead and mentions of Oathbound teaser*

We have about 41 days (at the time of writing) until Oathbound drops and what better time than now to explore a theory I have been kicking around ever since we met the illustrious Valechaz.  Those who have hung around my little page are not new to this, but if you are, welcome.  It is no secret that I think Erebus/Shadow King/The Hunter is the father of the one and only Valec AND Selwyn Kane.   There are ideas I have kicked around and figured it a good time to document them, so…

Here goes

Scent Signature Profile

Some time ago I did a scent theory profile for our crew (linked below) and in revisiting that, I noticed that Valec, Erebus, and Sel have a similar profile that falls in the oriental/woody category which brings forth scents of resins, vetiver, leather, incense and smoke.  In addition, the three of them share a similar color profile (also linked below).  There are many instances of black, reds, and golds.  All of them at some point are described as emerging from some sort of shadow.  These are the most shallow bits of evidence but…maybe not.

Valechaz and Selwyn (Who’s the Pappy?!)

“Told you not to mess with that red-eyed devil, but you did, didn’t you?  Ain’t nothing good coming from a man you meet at the crossroads, Pearl. Nothing.”

I have always found it very curious that the identity of both Valec and Selwyn’s fathers is shrouded in mystery.  Not to mention the name of Valec’s bar is referenced here.  In the Oathbound teaser, we learn that Erebus is essentially a shapeshifter who can wear many faces and be in many places at once.  We also know that he has lurked around the Rootcraft community for eons protecting his “investment.”  It is not yet known who the “Red-eyed devil” is, but knowing his capabilities it is not out of the realm of possibility.

“He may look like a baby, but that is their disguise.  They cannot be trusted because it is their nature to lie.  You know this, Pearl.  Just like his father, he will turn on you one day.”

I found this interesting because it suggests that this community had dealings with this type of demon/shapeshifter before.  Katherine says Pearl KNOWS this as if this knowledge is something common and she should know better.

“When I was young, my mother was killed by an uchel while on a mission.  After that, my human father fell into a liquor bottle and never came out.”

Selwyn says this with so much certainty only for us to find out a few pages later that, that was not the truth. It is never stated that he actually met this human father and if he had, it would be quite easy for the Shadow King to impersonate him especially since he was close to Natasia.  In essence, the identity of both boys’ fathers is unknown.

Peek a Boo, I See You

“Poor little cambion, little Kingsmage.  Leashed by the Order his whole pathetic existence and now manacled by them too?”

Valec’s taunting of Sel is top-tier, pure I will flirt with your girl and whoop your ass in front of her, older brother energy.  Their interactions are always tense and teetering on the razor’s edge of violence.  Selwyn despises Valec, not only because he flirts with Bree, but because he can see him for everything that he is.  He highlights his shortcomings and exposes them to the group.  I can imagine Sel felt this being in proximity to Nick in another way.  Nick being all the things he wants to be and be close to, but Valec exposes all of the things he is.

In all of Valec’s taunting (and ass-whooping) he also empathizes with Sel.  For perspective, as a formerly enslaved person, he would be well within his rights to hate Sel and everything he stands for, but he doesn’t.  He shows him mercy and understanding.

“When you’re a cambion, you’re caught between two worlds.  Always.  Not just two cultures or two communities, but literally two states of being.  Life.  Death. This plane, and the one that calls us back home in the middle of the night.  Most of us go a very long time without feeling like we belong anywhere.”

This was not only heartbreaking because we know in bondage, Valec experienced horror, not to mention being cast out.  The fact that he recognized the unique position of cambions in this universe and offered that grace to Sel only comes with the wisdom gained from the life he’s led. 

It does not seem coincidental that Tracy has given them this dynamic.  The line that he says to Bree “You can’t belong to an idea, Bree,”  The idea of slavery, mental and physical bondage, the Order.  You don’t belong to these things.  The idea that you were born as a unique being and that your spirit is autonomous even if your body isn’t.

Shadow Daddy

This brings me to Erebus.  Here is what we know:

He can shift form and travel through time and space rapidly.  He was in a close relationship with Selwyn’s mother (as Erebus) and has followed the Rootcraft community (whoring around if you ask me).  He is an opportunist and slips into bargains and situations that serve his purpose which is to gain power and ultimately get his crown back.  He is ancient.

The Parallels

The parallels and foreshadowing between him and the boys (I know Valec is old as hell) are glaring.  

The SK nameplate on Selwyn’s door

The fact that they have the same three-letters associated with their names (S.E.K)

Similar scent profiles and color profiles

Bree made a deal with Erebus at a crossroads in her journey, after seemingly exhausting every possibility

Valec’s bar being the Crossroads Lounge and he and Selwyn both being described as “Crossroads children”

The fact that Valec knows there is a Shadow Court, but Selwyn describes it as made-up children’s stories to scare young Merlins, hinting that he doesn't know as much history as he thinks he does.  

Also, in the Oathbound teaser, he has two Black children that he describes as his “Wards.”  I have so many questions.  Was Valec a “Ward” at one point?  I find it interesting that they are Black as well.

The lineage comes into play too.  Valec is evenly split.  Pearl was human and his apparent father was a demon *Whispers SEX DEMON*.  He says balanced cambions are rare.

Natasia is split but if Erebus (Shadow King) is Sel’s father that makes him more demon than human, not to mention the “Assload of oaths” he has attached to him, which are wreaking havoc on his life.  

I hope we get more answers to Valec’s and Sel's lineage in book three.  Either way, I am excited as hell.  I believe he will be key in helping our crew gain balance and send his daddy back to where he belongs.  

I would love to hear your thoughts, especially if you have the same theory that I do!  I have also linked some of my other nerdy works below.  Happy reading!

Scent Theory Part One

Scent Theory Part Two

LB/BM Top Ten

*Color theory is linked in one of the scent theories*