#I love bird benefactors

[mebis-art-dump]

"I was embalmed, adorned, readied for the journey."

version without color:

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 12

Welcome to act 2. These are going to be a rough set of chapters for Steve. I hate to do it, but I've got to get him low, to have Eddie build him back up.

If you've been following along to WIP Wednesday, you'll know (or at least suspect) that I'm nearing the end of act 2 and the return of Eddie.

Then I'm not sure how much longer it's going to be. It could be a couple of chapters. But it might be several.

Here we have Jeff teasing Steve and Eddie. Steve decides to spend all his money on movies and popcorn, and at last a wild Birdie appears.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

~

It took a month before Clint Harrington gave up on his crusade to chase his son out of town. That didn’t make Steve safe, per se, just safer. But he took what little comfort in that that he could.

The kids were jealous of the Sunbird, Mike finally admitting that yes, some mysterious benefactor had come in and swept Steve off his feet. He was a kept man.

Steve squirmed at the term. He was going to start looking for work. Just as soon as the dust settled. There was no point in looking when Clint Harrington was just going to come in and throw his weight around get him fired again.

Mike just rolled his eyes when he explained it to the kids, but Max was of the idea to milk for as much as it was worth.

“Seriously, Steve,” Max huffed, “if I could live in a hotel and swim whenever I wanted and order as much food as I wanted, I’d never want to leave.”

He scoffed. “That’s because you’re like ten and actually have friends your age or did you all forget that my dad chased all my friends off?”

“Ooh,” Lucas said clicking his tongue and shaking his head, “yeah, man. That’s rough. And it doesn’t help that this place has one movie theater, an arcade, and a handful of specialty shops none of which scream fun times for teenagers.”

“Yeah,” Will said from the couch, “Jonathan has been complaining about it all summer. There’s Bloomington or Indy, but considering you don’t know which direction your parents went, you’re pretty much stuck in Hell.”

Steve waved his hand at Will. “See? Will gets it.”

So all the kids got their heads together will Claudia and Joyce and tried to plot out something for Steve to do so that he wouldn’t have be staring at the same set of walls every day, no matter how gorgeous those walls happened to be.

Which is how Steve became cinaphile. He started just picking random movies to see at random times of the day during the week. His favorite time to go was Tuesday afternoons before the middle school got out. Not enough time for high school students to evade the place, but later than the moms taking their small children as a way to beat the summer heat.

It also allowed him to find new genres he liked and through all this Eddie stayed his constant phone companion. He loved listening to Steve talk about the plot and how hot the actors were. It was fun.

Steve was also starting to make friends with the rest of the band. He found out who the other person that picked up before thinking it was his phone that was ringing.

“Hey, is Eddie around?” Steve had asked, calling the mobile phone.

“He just stepped out for a minute but he’ll be right back,” the person said. “I’m Jeff by the way, I’m the one that picked up before.”

“Oh hello!” Steve said in surprise. “You’re the other guitarist, right?”

Jeff laughed. “Yeah that’s me. Thanks for not saying ‘the black one’ by the way.”

“Happens a lot?” he asked with a grimace.

“All the time,” Jeff deadpanned. “All the god damned time.”

“That must be shitty,” Steve commiserated. “I guess it’s not quite the same as saying the blond one or the tall one.”

“Yeaaaahhh, no,” Jeff said. “The other two are neutral attributes while being black carries a certain disdain to it.”

“One of the families I used to babysit before this all went to hell,” Steve said, “was a black family and I didn’t realize all the little shit they go through each day. All the snide remarks and sneering glances all the for the crime of existing in the grocery store.”

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed. “Oh wait, your lover boy is back. Hey Ed, it’s Steve.”

“Little Canary!” Eddie said excitedly upon being given the phone. “Jeff didn’t spill any of my secrets did he?”

Steve heard Jeff laugh in the background. “I didn’t know there were secrets he kept... I’m going to have to pump him for information next time.”

‘No, no, no,” Eddie whined. “Not allowed! Shoo Jeffy. Mine! Shoo!”

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Steve giggled. “You can tell all your secrets yourself the next time you’re in Hawkins.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said softly. “I think I’d like that very much.”

“You’re just a gooey marshmallow, aren’t you?” Steve said with a giggle. “A perfectly roasted marshmallow. Hard on the outside, but all melty and gooey on the inside. Sweet and sticky.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “You really had me going there until the sticky part. Yeah, baby. I’ll be your marshmallow and you’ll be my little Canary.”

“Yeah, Eds,” Steve said, “I’d really like that.”

They talked for a little bit longer before Eddie hummed.

“Steve we have to talk about the last month of the tour,” he said seriously.

Steve’s blood froze in his veins. Eddie rarely called him ‘Steve’. It was a petname like baby, sweetheart, or honey, or little Canary, or maybe even Stevie. But never Steve. “Oh yeah? What about?”

“We’re going to be in Canada,” Eddie continued. “I’ll still be able to call, but only from hotel rooms. I don’t get good service there.”

The ice in his veins turned to lead in his stomach. “So while you’re on the road, you won’t be able to call me?” he asked, his voice small.

“Oh, little Canary,” Eddie said sympathetically. “I’ll try to call from payphones when we stop for gas, but yeah. It’ll be pretty sporadic. But I’ve gotten Chrissy to promise that she’ll take good care you.”

“She still doesn’t like, you know,” Steve said, “she thinks I’m distracting you from doing your job.”

“Which is fucking ridiculous,” Eddie assured him. “I shake my ass on stage and sing and play my heart out. I never skimp on that, and never walk out one meet and greets with the fans. It’s her job to worry, but it’s not your problem. It’s mine. Plus I have my little elf in play who will be plying you with as many little bird gifts I can find.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at that. He had gotten in addition to the necklace that he only took off to shower, a couple of graphic t-shirts with canaries on them. A keychain as well as one with his name on it. Three little ceramic canaries and a glass one. All brought in by Eddie’s little elf.

“Yeah, okay,” he huffed. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”

“Well, I’ve got to go, babe,” Eddie murmured, “I’ll talk to later. The change won’t happen right away, but I’ll tell you when the date gets closer, okay?”

“Roger that,” Steve said with a sigh of relief. Then they hung up and he flopped on the sofa like a fainting Victorian maiden. In a couple of weeks, he would go back to being as lonely as fuck.

He didn’t even know who the little elf was or why they never showed themselves. All though, knowing Eddie, it was probably just because he thought it was cute. Which it was. It was also a little on the creepy side. He had gotten to know the porters, bellboys, and cleaning staff very well, so he didn’t mind them coming in while he was out or even in the shower.

But a mysterious person whom he knew nothing about? Yeah that was a problem. He didn’t know if they were male or female, how old they were, were they friendly or just doing their job.

To say it drove Steve nuts would be an understatement.

It had been six weeks since his dad chucked him out for making out with Tommy on the sofa and all that time he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the bastard or any of their friends. It was just then his luck ran out.

He had accidentally spilled almost his whole bottle of shampoo and had to go and get more. He spoke briefly to Joyce and chatted with her about Will and how Jonathan was adjusting to being newly graduated and turned around to run directly into someone.

“Shit!” Steve hissed as the basket he was carrying slammed into his stomach. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

He looked up, right into the green eyes and freckled face of Tommy Hagan.

“Steve!”

“Hey, Tommy,” Steve said with a fake smile. “How have you been?” The unasked question of ‘why did you leave me?’ hung in the air between them.

Tommy reached up and rubbed the material of Steve’s shirt between his finger and thumb. “That’s some pretty fancy new getup you’ve got there. Where you get the money for such nice things?”

Steve took a step back and crossed his arms. “I’m surviving. Like I always do.” He hated how he was already put on the defensive.

“Mhmm...” Tommy purred. “Pretty little slut like you, I bet you’ve got yourself a sugar daddy you’ve spread your legs for.”

Dread immediately pooled in Steve’s stomach. That wasn’t what Eddie was? Was he?

He smacked Tommy’s hand away. “Jealous that someone is fucking me better than you ever could? Maybe I have someone paying my bills or maybe I just have a trust fund. I’ll never tell you jack shit.”

The thing was is that he probably did have a trust fund. He just wouldn’t get it until he turned twenty-one. He had two years of running on empty he would have to do first. At least he had until Eddie came home anyway.

“No,” Tommy agreed, “you were always more of a screamer than a talker.”

Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed. “At least I didn’t run like a bitch when my parents walked in on us fucking. You find another dick to ride or did you go back to Carol like the coward you are?”

Tommy scowled. “You keep her name out your dirty mouth, Stevie boy. You don’t want to see what will happen if you don’t.”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a snort, “you’ll go running back to Daddy to protect you, like always do. Now pardon me, I have better things to do.” His eyes flicked over Tommy’s body. “If you hadn’t been the only option, I wouldn’t have picked you.”

He pushed passed him, bumping their shoulders together as he did.

He quickly bought what he needed and about as much junk food as he could get hands on. Joyce looked as though she wanted to ask if he was okay, so picked a different line to go though, hurrying out to his car. He looked around to make sure Tommy wasn’t waiting for him, but he didn’t see his car.

He drove back to the hotel, ready for a junk food night in front of the TV. He ordered room service and turned on the shower to wash off the slimy feeling of the interaction with Tommy. He had removed his shirt when he realized he had left the shampoo out there.

He opened the door and stopped in his tracks. Because there putting a couple of boxes on the end table was a girl with choppy blonde hair and boxy clothes. She was definitely not staff.

“So you’re my elf.”

~

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[ruanbaijie]

我会保护你，保护你一辈子。无论是你的一辈子，还是我的一辈子。 ARCS OF THE SPIREALM 致命游戏 (2024) [in/sp]

@userdramas event 15 something new: a new show from 2024 @asiandramanet mar creator bingo board ⎈ typography ➻ notes for translations and motifs (spoilers!) used below the cut

Arc 1: 雪村 Snow Village

Quote: 一人不如庙，二人不观井，三人不抱树，独自莫凭栏 One person shall not enter the temple, two people shall not look into the well, three people shall not hug a tree, one shall not lean against the balustrade alone. - the death rules of this door

Motifs: a circle meant to represent the well, split into two to represent (what are assumed to be) the "real world" (top half) and "virtual world" (bottom half). note where rnz is placed

Arc 2: 菲尔夏鸟 Fitcher's Bird

Quote: 小老鼠搬鸡蛋，鸡蛋太大怎么办？一只老鼠地上躺，紧紧抱住大鸡蛋。一只老鼠拉尾巴，拉呀拉呀拉回家。小老鼠搬鸡蛋，鸡蛋太大怎么办？一只老鼠地上跑，紧紧抱住大鸡蛋。一只老鼠拉尾巴，拉呀拉呀拉回家。Little Mouse, carrying an egg, what shall it do if the egg is too big? Little Mouse, lying on the ground, tightly hugging the big egg. Little Mouse, pulling its tail, pulling and pulling and pulling it home. Little Mouse, carrying an egg, what shall it do if the egg is too big? Little Mouse, running on the ground, tightly hugging the big egg. Little Mouse, pulling its tail, pulling and pulling and pulling it home. - the creepy as hell nursery rhyme recited by the three girls

Motifs: broken egg, clock ticking backwards that's formed by the staircase that's rotating clockwise (which I realised was a neat little trick to hint that they were travelling forward in time) and the cut birthday cake

Arc 3: 阿姐鼓 Sister Drum

Quote: 她不见了，找不到她了 She's gone, I can't find her - the words written by the older sister in her diary

Motifs: top view of a Chinese drum, bamboo

Arc 4: 佐子 Zuozi

Quote: 我的腿没有了，你的给我好吗？My leg is gone, can you give me yours? - the death line of this door

Motifs: ripped pieces of paper, handwriting, slowly appearing words

Arc 5: 威福利山疗养院 Waverly Hills Sanatorium

Quote: 已经过了八点了，你们为什么不睡觉？It's already past 8pm, why are you still not asleep? - what the nurse says right before she starts chasing after the players who are outside their rooms

Motifs: room 502, overlapping but non-concentric circles representing a Russian doll

Arc 6: 雨中女郎 Woman in the Rain

Quote: 总不能是你一直保护我们吧 It can't always be you protecting us - what lqs says to convince rnz to let him go into the painting world

Motifs: picture frames shifting from scenes of the players to scenes of the door god and painting world, and back again

Arc 7: 哭儿郎 Crying Baby

Quote: 天惶惶，地惶惶，我家有个哭儿郎，过往恩客念三遍，一觉睡到大天光 Panic in the skies, panic on the earth, I have a crying baby at home, when the kind guest who passes by recites three times, they will sleep till the next morning - the line that will save you in this door. Interesting to note that there's actually a similar line that exists, except one of the changes is instead of 恩客 (ēn kè "kind guest"), it's 君子 (jūn zǐ "gentleman"), and while I translated 恩客 literally as "kind guest" here (what each of the individual characters means), the word itself actually in the past, used to refer to "benefactors" - the customers whom prostitutes fell in love with

Motifs: a lamp with lqs as the flames (vague hint at what rnz always tells lqs) and rnz as the base (note the orientation and negative colours), swirls meant to mimic water as in the book, this door was slightly more strongly related to the river god

Arc 8: 扫晴娘 Rain Doll

Quote: 如果这样，明天还是阴沉下雨的话，我就砍掉你的头 If it's still gloomy and rainy tomorrow, I will chop off your head - the line to recite in this door in order to make it rain

Motifs: umbrellas in the corners, a window (there's this one beautifully framed scene in this arc where they both open the windows of their room at the same time) showing the iconic nanqiu umbrella scene (each of them coloured differently on purpose) vs. the outside of the window with the rain dolls and additional rain overlay layer

Arc 9: 箱妖 Box Demon

Quote: 别看那个箱子，看我 Don't look at that box, look at me - what lqs tells rnz when he gets "hypnotised" to open the box

Motifs: diamonds forming 3d boxes

Full list of scenes used since this gif moves too quickly: rnz waking up from his "hypnosis", rnz and lqs staring at each other after rnz returns from his "death", cyx turning around to look at lqs when they thought rnz was dead, cql being pulled into the box, juxtaposition of rnz (upright) and ybl (upside down) in front of the stained glass windows, one of the box people in the box rnz nearly opened when he was "hypnotised", rnz being full of shit in front of everyone else (as usual)

Arc 10: 无解 Insoluble

Quote: 二人去一人归 Two people go, one person returns - the hint that appears consistently for the 11th door

Motifs: kaleidoscope of the final scene before rnz walks away

I put the two final doors (百鬼夜行 "Night Parade of Hundreds of Ghosts" and the "real" "12th" door) together because I really like how the hint applies for both the 11th door as well as the ending of the show

I also used 无解 "unsolvable" (the original name of the final chapter in the novel) for the name of this arc because of how short and simple it is, but also how it just summarises the 意难平 (idrk how to translate this, but sort of like the bittersweet feelings, being unable to let go of the past) of this arc and the entire show. Just like how there was no way to solve the 11th door with a happy ending for both people (assuming only two people went in lol), there was no way to solve the 12th door and the entire game with a happy ending for both rnz and lqs

However, instead of translating 无解 as "unsolvable", I used "insoluble" instead as it sounds just a little more poetic and is more symmetrical, and also hints at how lqs's memories of and feelings for rnz, whether his whole experience was a dream or otherwise, never dissolved with time 🥲

[natalievoncatte]

“Careful with that! We have to assume everything here is dangerous.”

Lena would have preferred to be anywhere else. The last thing she wanted to occupy her afternoon was dealing with yet another reminder of her brother’s sprawling insanity. Every one of these weapons caches -he probably would have melodramatically called them “hideouts” or “secret bases”- was like a tombstone marking the grave of the only truly sincere, loving relationship she’d ever had in her life.

He hadn’t always been the slavering maniac with an incoherent obsession with killing a superhero. He’d been a protector and a benefactor, a chess opponent and a confidant, the only person in her life who presented an uncomplicated human connection, without any ulterior motives or conditions.

Everyone else wanted something from her. Money. Power. A competitive advantage. Technological secrets. Or just sex. Lena resented that most of all, the gray old men who saw nothing of her achievements or her intellect and regarded her as just another piece of ass with blue enough blood that they had to ask permission rather than simply grope.

Watching her crew load up the equipment in this sweltering heat made her physically ill, and she was glad she’d skipped breakfast. Kara would be upset if she knew.

She’s had to text Kara and let her know that she’d be out of the office and would have to skip their lunch plans. Kara was…

Kara was becoming a complication, because Kara was doing the one thing Lena wished she wouldn’t: She was giving Lena hope. She’d barreled into Lena’s life with an earnest intensity that had been bewildering at first and intriguing afterwards, with her insistence that they be friends, and constant reminders that they were friends, even as her eyes wandered to Lena’s cleavage or she unconsciously bit her lip and stared that smoldering stare just to look away at the last second.

Lena shook her head, clearing her thoughts of yet another Straight Best Friend taking her down that well-worn path of sapphic suffering. She had bigger fish to fry right now.

It was too bad that her relationship with Supergirl had been so chilly lately. It might have been easier to simply tip off the hero and the government agency she worked with and let them handle the clean up.

Lena was deep in reverie when one of the crates, a bulky reinforced one, dropped a good two feet from a forklift and the wood splintered as the locks burst free.

“Idiot!” Lena shouted at the driver. “This equipment is sensitive and potentially dangerous, and…”

“STARTUP SEQUENCE INITIATED.”

A metallic voice ground out of the crate and it shifted as something vast and bulky moved around inside. Lena stumbled back, glad she’d opted for a sensible set of flats for this, and turned to run.

A metallic claw crashed out of the crate, followed by an arm-mounted rotary cannon. The older model Lexosuit, one of the originals that Lex had planned to illegally smuggle out of the country in a fake theft scheme and sell to the Kasnians, stood up in its shaky, clanking way and took a few steps, shaking off planks and nylon straps the way a baby bird might shake off pieces of shell.

There was nowhere to go. The machine scanned the room, moving jerkily as it zeroed in on her.

Lex’s voice, a recording, boomed from its loudspeakers.

“Ah, dear sister, I see you’ve found another of my hidden fastnesses.”

You melodramatic-

“Oh well. I should thank you for setting off the security system. I won’t have to waste my precious time killing you myself. Au revoir, Lena!”

The suit spun its arm cannon and aimed at her. The barrels assembly made a half turn, the electric motor charging up as it cycled the first 32mm mass-reactive exploding shell into the chamber. Lex had once called it a masterpiece in the art of violating the Geneva Conventions. It was about to blow Lena inside out, and the subsequent shots reduce her to a the chunky consistency of a good bolognése.

But then there was a wind that was not a wind, and SHE was there.

Supergirl seized Lena with precision and grace, hands that could crush diamonds pressed just so over Lena’s ears to protect her from the roar of the guns. Lena wasn’t sure who screamed louder, her or Supergirl, as the revolving barrels ripped out their entire supply of ammunition in a few seconds, pummeling Supergirl’s back with explosions that could have shredded a tank, as the hero cradled Lena, sheltering her with her superhuman body.

When the hellstorm was over, the machine charged at them.

Supergirl did scream now, and fell upon the machine in a berserk rage. Lena had seen her in a fight before and knew she could be terrible to behold, but this was different. The empty suit was struck with such unending fury that she reduced it to shreds of metal and oil-spitting chunks of machinery in moments, spreading it halfway across the floor of warehouse.

When Supergirl rounded on her, Lena’s heart skipped. The hero’s chest was heaving, straining at the crest on her chest even as the bunching muscles on her arms and stomach pulled at the material, her perfect hair swirling around as she turned, that angelic face marred by a streak of oil and a sheen of sweat.

How dare she just look like that. It was incredibly unfair.

Before Lena knew it what was happening, Supergirl was lifting her into a heart-skipping bridal carry, pulling her much too close as she took off. On instinct, Lena pressed her eyes shut and buried her face in the Kryptonian’s neck, to hide from the heights.

Moments later they landed, and Supergirl threw Lena’s balcony door back and deposited her on her feet, leaving her stumbling back against her kitchen island in a daze. Supergirl stared at her, looming over Lena with the height difference increased by her stacked heels and Lena having lost her shoes at some point, so her stocking toes were left curling on the cold floor.

“That thing almost killed you,” Supergirl snapped. “If Is been a millisecond later you’d be dead.”

Her voice was tight with emotion, somewhere between anger, exasperation, and terror, and it felt like a fist closed in Lena’s chest.

“Are you sure you just weren’t there to make sure I wasn’t taking Lex’s old suit for a spin myself?” Lena spat, though her voice trembled. “You don’t seem to trust a thing I say lately. If I tell you the sky is blue you’ll go check.”

Supergirl’s face flushed and Lena braced for another booming, self righteous speech about trust or safety or the meaning of teamwork or some such heroic nonsense, but then her voice shattered into a million pieces and tears welled wet in her eyes.

“All I want is for you to be okay.”

A thousand thoughts danced in Lena’s mind. To ask her why, to defy her, to taunt her, to demand what exactly it was that made Lena so damned important that this woman was so intense about her safety one moment and so angry the next.

In the dance of all those thoughts, the more base instinct won out. Lena grabbed Supergirl by the neck of her suit, just below those delightful collarbones of hers, and used it as a handle to pull herself into a hard, aggressive kiss.

The world hung still for a moment, and Lena felt it all pivot around her. Something big was happening here. Something huge, something…

Something forgotten entirely as Supergirl’s tongue roughly claimed Lena’s mouth and her hands raked over Lena’s ass, dragging her skirt up.

Oh God, she thought, this is actually happening.

Lips pressed to her skin, the words burning hot into her flesh like an invocation.

“Is this okay?” Supergirl whispered.

“Yes,” Lena moaned, without hesitation.

To be continued…

[rookfeatherrambles]

What if there was an au where Jon is an undergrad looking to write a dissertation to get a PhD and in order to get that, he agreed to research the ecosystem on a remote and tiny island somewhere off the coast of the UK for a mysterious benefactor named Simon Fairchild? What if he was fine with the isolation, preferring it to being around people, and did his due diligence recording everything from how many eggs were in the nests of the birds on the cliffs to how much garbage washed up on shore. What if he started growing feathers himself, waking up sick every morning. Unable to eat food. Slowly, painfully turning into a bird that throws up plastic and shards of bone. What if Simon Fairchild put him there for a bet? Would that be wild? What if the son of the other person involved in the bet, Peter Lukas, overheard them both talking about the poor bastard they dumped on an island for the world's shittiest Eldritch tug of war, just to see what happens? What if Martin gets it into his head to rescue Jon and hijacks the supply boat they've been sending to the island to keep Jon alive and well stocked for his work. What if Jon has wings now and is very sick. What if Martin absolutely wrecks the boat because he has no idea how to steer and dock it, and Jon rescues him. What if Martin's first words upon waking up in Jon's bed are 'I came to save you'. What if Jon doesn't want to be saved. What if they fell in love. What if they slept together in the same bed and bound Jon's wings so he couldn't fly away and eat weird shit. What if it was domestic but they both know they've been abandoned on the island to die, because whatever Jon is becoming is too dangerous to let live. What if Martin tells Jon he can eat him, if he wants to one day when he's had enough. What if Jon tells Martin that afterwards, he'll just fling himself off the cliff. What if they kiss and spend one final day together? Would that be fucked up or what?

[pyreo]

was sweeping up some map completion for a gift of exploration and just got reminded of so many cool things I like about original gw2/worldbuilding

I love Orr and how weird and alien it is. The ambience of sitting there with everything damp, dripping, made of coral, literally a lost world that doesn't fit above water any more. I love how oily the sky is and that occasionally a huge shadow sweeps over you as something like Blightghast/other risen dragons go by overhead. I love that it looks like this

It's so otherworldly. I especially like the eerie birdcalls (I know it's just a real bird I'm not used to, but it's so unique and strange)

I like that the end of the Pact storyline doesn't feel... hopeful. At all. Orr is blighted and diseased, mottled with decay, with lost journals from people who were never going to survive. I like that the story culminates here, grandiose but mournful. You're trying again but this place you're in was already lost, with thousands of lives, and it doesn't feel like triumphant reclaiming. I like that none of the game through these >10 years has really framed oncoming war, and fighting to survive, with glory. I like that the fight through Orr doesn't really feel righteous. It's no clash against a tyrant or something with belief in good over 'evil'. It's just sad. Trying to get through and survive it.

I like the clearly LOTR-emulating Orr music, particularly how this one goes into a male chorus at the end-

I like how an entire map is called Malchor's Leap and that clues you in to it being named after something and then you can go find out and it's just even more depressing. But at the same time, it reiterates the history of Orr - that human gods lived there and it must have been full of incredible splendour and that's gone and you will never see it, you can only try to imagine based on the wrecks of cathedrals.

And speaking of the human gods, I just like how each race has their own take on religion and they all get something tailored to their outlook. Nobody disputes one religion over the other like in our world - each one is generally assumed to be true on some level, and in some cases, provably real, but each race gets something different from their history and belief system anyway. Humans used to live alongside their gods but have been abandoned and none of them know why (and we eventually do find out what happened). Norn can invoke a governing spirit from any creature alive and choose the one that they'll serve best, but these spirits can be killed and you can see what happens when they mourn them. Sylvari have a stone of commandments from their long-dead benefactor that has completely fucked up their society because they aren't sure if following the tenets is wise or brainwashing. Asura actually believe there is an equation that can solve the entire universe and everything is part of a grand scheme beyond knowing, which is something more like a philosophy than religion but deserves mentioning because it means the Intellectual Goblin Race weren't made into cut and dry atheists as a cliche. They believe in something and have personal interpretations about it. One of them even made a machine to make the Eternal Alchemy viewable that drove someone insane when they used it and I just like how things asura do tend to backfire.

And the Charr. I mean. They're the atheists and it's all because they were duped into technically following a human god for a while and they're never going to get over-- no, wait. They started getting over it and the Flame Legion integrated with regular society again after their leader was deposed, because things moved forward and changed, and I like that too.

I feel like I can talk and talk on and on about this fictional history because it... just.... works? It's all part of a tapestry of cause and effect and meaningful characterisations. And they deliberately set up the basis for their playable races and then made the story NPCs generally turn those expectations around - Caithe being a grief-ridden assassin, Rox being a superstitious oddball, Zojja being irrational, Canach starting out as a pompous asshole.

I like the Ceera is still around in HoT and if you took the personal story route where her husband died, she still hasn't forgiven you and never does.

I loved Zafirah (bring her back!) showing that badly rooted spirituality can be redirected into something healthy and healing without being negated.

I like how many NPCs show up as part of a story step and you can ask if you know them and they'll say oh, yeah I was in the Pact with that whole thing? Or 'I saw you from a medical tent in maguuma and didn't think I'd make it', constant callbacks and the sense that minor characters have a continuous existence independent of you.

I like how solemnly the game takes its wins. The initial campaign against Zhaitan makes sure to kill characters off and made bringing Destiny's Edge along to it feel like its own entire obstacle. Heart of Thorns smashes any confidence the Pact has after the base game and takes an intentional sacrifice to be won, and I still think about him. Going after a literal god in Path of Fire costs you your life. Going after Kralkatorrik, with Destiny's Edge's guilt weighing on you, costs you your own child. Saving the fate of the world by fulfilling the exact conditions for Aurene to ascend costs you your child again, being taken from you so that the whole world stops rocking on its axis, losing your baby as she turns into a deity. Icebrood Saga puts you in the shoes of a relatable, easygoing crew on the opposing side, then sits back and waits for you to kill them all to continue. When you fight the final dragon as the final boss in Dragon's End you don't want to kill her at all, and she begs you to leave and get away so she won't harm you while you try, in bitterness and desperation, to end her unfathomably long life.

And the entire short but brilliant arc with Joko made sure we don't really feel empowered or just about the choices we've made.

It's just. Been really fucking good.

[saiiboat]

behold. the poly fuga au relationship chart that i have spent way too long on. transcription under the cut because wow thats a lot of small text

cell and felps' background and dynamic inspired by @wsdanon's hcs!

from left to right,

Pac and Mike: soulmates. childhood friends. mike has to look after pac and pac trusts mike to look after him. pac takes cues from Mike in most situations; this was true in their childhoods and carries on into their dynamic in the prison and their relationship with cell. pac trusts mike 100% to stop either him or cell if they decide to like. stab each other or something. they've been through it all together and their experience in prison has only brought them closer. When they escape and find a place to call home, it doesn't take long (a week maybe) for the small kitchen counter to be made into a lab in the kitchen table to be made into a workbench. they work in tandem and are never far apart. while there is a lot of mutual guilt (mike getting pac into this mess and pac attempting to sell mike out), felps helps them work through it and they come out stronger on the other side with not only more faith in themselves as a duo, but also in themselves as individuals. they tend to blast music way too loud as they work often forgetting less pressing or time sensitive projects in favor of bad dancing and even worth singing. It's this that evolves into karaoke night.

Mike and Felps: at first, in alcatraz, mike only knows felps as the guard that cell keeps in his pocket and has blackmail on. after the escape any theyre settled down and felps finds them and sticks around, mike is mainly curious why felps came back after he was used by them and cell. it doesn't take much prodding for felps to reveal how he knows cell and why he became a guard in the first place. while mike doesn't totally understand felps and cell's relationship, he's at least glad to see it heal. they eventually become very comfortable in eachother's space, feeling completely at ease with one another. they're frequent confidants and enjoy casual displays of intimacy with eachother. one of mike's favourite things to do for felps is to stand behind him and guide felps' hands as he teaches him something mechanical. felps originally falls a little-bit a lot-a-bit in love with mike after getting to know him (though pac is what brings them together at first, their mutual enjoyment of eachothers company brings them closer), and while mike doesn't reciprocate romantically, theyre both perfectly happy with their situation. they dont make out or kiss on the lips, but they are both very happy to kiss eachothers faces, hands, or any other exposed skin. they fucking kick ass at karaoke and get very serious about the whole thing together.

Mike and Cell: Acts as a balance for pac and cell. pac will let cell do literally anything to him and they both know that mike will stop them before they do anything they'll actually regret. it takes a while but mike eventually ends up trusting cell implicitly, more so than anyone else does. Mike may think cell is creepy and gross but cell is their creepy and gross. cell on the other hand would kill for Mike like a cat would drop a dead bird on your bed. he's pac and mike's protector. their benefactor. he's the hound that gave Mike the controller to his shock collar. after Alcatraz and they're allowed to be actual people, they have the chance to grow extremely fond of one another, and are often found over an enigma or piece of tech, providing entirely unhelpful comments about whichever the other is trying to complete. worsties. besties. they watch bad movies together and laugh and throw popcorn at the screen

Pac and Felps: while felps and pac dont interact much in alcatraz due to being on opposing sides of cell's favour, felps does start to carry a small flame for pac that doesn't have time to bloom before the other 4 escape and felps is left behind to leave on his own. after felps finds cell again (saintly intuition), his world brightens up even more when he discovers that pac lives here too. while sharing a livingspace and with the other 4 already in an established relationship, it doesn't take much for pac and felps to come together, too. felps' introduction to the polycule is what balances everyone out, pac's infatuation with cell fading to affection and the entire group settling into a new normal around them. felps' willingness to simply share space or tangle their hands together is incredibly healing for pac who bases his worth so much on what he can do for others or what he can let them take. felps thinks that pac is incredible, and is enamored with everything pac says or does. theyre both stupidly in love for the world to see

Pac and Cell: ohhh my goddd they want to see each other covered in blood. in Alcatraz and for a period of time after their escape, their relationship is built on their mutual obsession with each other; cell's possessiveness over pac and pacs infatuation if given the chance, cell would do anything to pack impact would let him, and their ability to coexist rests on cell bearing his throat and allowing mike to be the one to pull him back. after alcatraz and felps gets added to the mix, their dynamic and relationship becomes much healthier and balanced as cell learns to function outside of highly traumatic situations and pac starts to see himself more as an individual. they're both still freaks who both fantasize so about that one time they killed jv together and they dream of doing something like that again. maybe to each other. But with distance from prison they are able to heal together, and eventually become rather domestic. pac makes coffee for cell and does his best to drag him away from late nights solving enigmas and when mike's work table in the kitchen out as many papers there in the kitchen so he and pac can share space as pac messes around in his makeshift lab.

Cell and Felps: though through the duration of their stay in alcatraz cell mostly just wants to make felps suffer a bit, perceiving him becoming a prison guard a personal betrayal (not knowing that felps became a guard to continue seeing him), things between them settle after felps finds him again (saintly intuition) and theyre mostly just elated to have eachother again. they were physically affectionate before prison, and while it takes them a bit to get back to that point, they're both much less awkward about it now as adults. they're extremely comfortable in each other's presence and this only strengthens as they both heal. cell learns to laugh when felps covers his face and kisses and felps relearns the joy of cell being the one to initiate shows of affection. their relationship has already hit rock bottom once, there's very little that could tear them apart. now. The best of friends, there's so much love here

Mike and Guaxinim: mike and guaxinim find common ground and bond over their mutual power over cell. while mike pulls the leash and lets cell know when to back off, guaxinim is the one to stand chest to chest with cell, unfazed as cell lets loose on him. they both handle cell very differently but. well. they still handle him. guaxinim and mike also really are just two blokes who share a hobby. they're in completely different areas of engineering but still talk about it together for hours on end and will sit in the garage or lab or boatyard and work and share ideas. while they originally became somewhat of a unit due to their dynamics with cell, they become people that genuinely enjoy spending time together and wouldn't give up the others company for the world. they have a Words With Friends game that does not break a daily streak for 3 years. the only time it happens is because pac catches the house on fire and they have to worry about not being found out by the authorities

Guaxinim and Felps: guaxinim and felps have a shared history through cell, knowing of eachother for years though never interacting in depth. when felps finds them after they escape, it's guaxinim who discovers him at the door and lets him in. he's seen how felps looks at cell enough times to know that felps isn't here for trouble. having nowhere else to go, felps is only a couch crasher for an hour or so before cell gets home and theyre able to reconnect, felps graduating within the same day to sleeping with them on the two large mattresses they had pressed together. guaxinim works at a local boatyard and as an olive branch, he invites felps to come with him and maybe even learn some things about boats and how to fix them. felps wouldn't call himself particularly good at it, but he enjoys the process of learning and watching guaxinim work. romantic attraction between the two of them is odd, somewhere between strong romantic attraction and none at all, often bouncing between the two poles. typically neither of them feel the particular need to initiate acts of affection or intimacy with eachother unless as part of a group, in which case they will engage happily, whether in public or in the privacy of their own home

Cell and Guaxinim: for cell, guaxinim has been his anchor in prison for years, and he continues to be one for him outside of it; a pillar of familiarity that he can rely on. guaxinim knows cell better than anyone and cell takes comfort in knowing hell never have to explain himself to guaxinim. guaxinim is endlessly fond of cell. he knows what and who cell is and doesnt need or expect him to change, loving him even (and sometimes especially) at his worst. while guaxinim is mildly upset about jv's death for minute, he does not hold this against cell, pac, or mike. happens! when given the chance to heal and exist as people outside of prison, they're very much an old married couple. they nag eachother constantly; after a stretch of time as cellmates they have pretty much shame around eachother and will generally be horrifically embarrassing to the others while having their own fun

Pac and Guaxinim: pac and guaxinim really are the same and that they both think that cell is the hottest thing to ever walk this earth and they wholly bond over this fact. their relationship definitely isn't hurt by guaxinim also having a "dangerous appeal" to pac with his inability to back down even against cell, as well as simply being a muscled guy that likes to wear tank tops while covered in sweat and grease. pac is only so strong. guaxinim doesn't understand much of what pac talks about in their makeshift lab (the kitchen), but he's an attentive listener and pac loves and appreciates his questions. guaxinim is pac's worst enabler and somehow they've only had to evacuate the apartment twice. their relationships to cell, while different in a few ways, allow them to strongly bond. after felps is added to the mix and pac's infatuation for cell settles to affection, pac and guaxinim fully settle into their own relationship and dynamic. they aren't overly showy with affection and are more likely to press their shoulders together slightly or lean against each other than to walk with hands held or to hang off each other throughout the day. they both love cuddling though and are perfectly happy to drape against the other on the couch either on their own or with the whole group

NOTE: transcriptions were done via voice to text because i made this entire thing in ms paint without saving the text. so if you spot any mistakes like bizarre misspellings of guaxinim please let me know LMAO

[bayofwolves]

Rereading Tales of the Great Beasts

I'm back after another reread! This time, I'm going over what I've discovered to be my favourite of the special editions. Let's get into it!

Kovo: Rise of the Reptile King

Feliandor talks to animals just like Shane does. Aww.

"[The mongoose's] obvious intelligence left no doubt -- this was a spirit animal." So canonically, Bile-bonded spirit animals have the intelligence of natural ones. That's got to be a crazy experience for the animal. Imagine you're just a normal mongoose, living your mongoose life, until suddenly you have the intelligence of a human. There's some serious psychological horror potential there, especially for the Bile-affected animals at the time of the Second Devourer War, who were presumably reduced to their previous state when the Bile lost its power.

The unnamed Niloan woman proves that humans have had access to the Bile for some time before Feliandor started the war. I wonder who the very first person Kovo and Gerathon entrusted with the Bile was. That would be an interesting story to tell.

"If the bird is not released within five days... my benefactor shall move on to others who may be more interested in his offer." You have to wonder what exactly Kovo's backup plan was. Go to the other world leaders and appeal to their unique problems, I'm assuming. What if instead of the king of Stetriol, the Devourer was an Amayan chief or Zhongese emperor? Infinite AU potential!

Fel's parents were killed? By whom??! My best guess is that they were assassinated, considering Fel blames the captain of the king's guard for not protecting them, but who would want to eliminate the much beloved king and queen? I wish we got more information on this.

Thylacines canonically exist on Erdas, at least in Feliandor's time! Yay!

Kovo was the one who gave Feliandor the title of Reptile King. Paralleling this, Briggan gave the Greencloaks their name.

I wish we learned what Fel named his crocodile. Unlike Shane, he thinks of his spirit animal as something beautiful, so he probably gave it a name.

Since Feliandor probably couldn't be the direct ancestor of the present-day royal family (there's no mention of him taking a queen or having children before his death), I made it so that they are descended from his cousins in A Revised History of Erdas. I believe this is already canon, but I may be wrong. When Fel died with no heir, the throne passed to his paternal cousin, Lysander -- the forefather of all kings to come. I plan to write a novella about his life eventually.

Jhi: Yin and Yu

Yin and Luan's chaotic bond is a good example of how things must have been before the Greencloaks. Before there was an organization dedicated to building upon the spirit animal bond, the Marked and their animals had to figure things out on their own.

I think Yin's father was formerly part of the Zhongese military, or held some other position in government. Yin mentions that her family had once had access to "important secrets" like the layout of the Bamboo Maze, but not anymore. I wonder what he did to lose his position.

Surprisingly, Yin and her family don't seem to know anything about Jhi before being told by the healer. And it's not that they can't remember her off the top of their heads, like Conor in the first book, either. When Yin tells Yu about her, he reacts like this is his first time hearing of her.

In ARHoE, Meilin can trace her lineage back to Teng Yin and Teng Yu. She is descended from Yu through her father. Meilin grew up hearing stories of her many-times-great-aunt Yin's adventures, and idolized her from a young age. The Sword of Teng (renamed from Tang to match their family name) is in their family's possession at the time of the first arc. It passes to Meilin in Blood Ties, after the death of General Teng, and she wields it like her famed ancestor thereafter.

Uraza: The First Greencloak

One of Uraza's titles is the Great Cat of the Grasslands.

I love how Uraza calls Tembo a kitten (although baby leopards are called cubs). I bet she thinks of Abeke as a cub, too.

Very ironic how the first green cloak was stolen from a Conqueror.

"I met in secret with young men and women I knew from other villages and nearby tribes... One night last spring, we all left behind our tribe colours and allegiances and replaced them with green cloaks..." Not all of the first Greencloaks were Marked!

Uraza marvels at how Tembo and Omika have learned to control precisely where she appears when she comes out of passive state, and in The Dragon's Eye, she masters this same skill with Abeke. I love all the little threads that are being woven between these ancient humans and our four protagonists.

We learn a lot about Nilo in this section, which I am over the moon about. Tribe names and customs! Landmarks! It's not much in the grand scheme of things, but it's something.

Getting inside Great Beast Uraza's head has only strengthened my belief that she should have taken a whole lot longer to accept being bonded to Abeke. Sure, she may have learned from her time with Tembo that humans are not all bad, but being one's spirit animal is another thing entirely. Uraza values her freedom and independence above all. Being tethered to a human, no matter how pleasant they may be, should be a hard thing for her to come to terms with. It would have been true to her character if she took a while to warm up to Abeke, wary and aloof until the girl earned her trust, and struggled with being her partner until the rewarding moment when she agrees to work together with her. They gave that arc to Essix, though -- who doesn't think badly of humans or the spirit animal bond in her short story.

In ARHoE, Tembo has three living descendants in present-day Erdas: Abeke, Soama and Irtike. Tembo married Jinta a few years after the war's end, and they had three children together. Chinwe and Ikenne would be born into this line many years later. Abeke is unaware of her connection to the first leader of the Greencloaks for much of the series. When Tembo chose to leave his family to hide the bond tokens and never returned, they grew bitter towards him. Some people on Erdas said he was killed on his journey, attacked by his enemies. Some said he spent the rest of his days away from the public eye on a secluded island, troubled by the war and the genocide he had overseen in Stetriol. Whatever the case, his wife and children never forgave him for abandoning them when they needed him the most. Refusing to speak of him to their descendants, he soon faded from living memory, and future generations would never know the Tembo of legend was their ancestor. (Author's note: This made me really want to write something about Tembo's family, especially since I imagine his kids retraced his footsteps years after he had left to try and find him, so maybe I will do that.)

Briggan: The Packleader

Considering her mission and how she had joined Briggan's Great Pack by the time of the Last Battle, I think it would have been more fitting if Katalin's spirit animal was a canine. I'm thinking a silver or cross fox could have served the same purpose as a black mink. This could have explained why the Marked resistance sent such a young, unassuming girl to convince Briggan to join them -- they thought her being bonded to one of his fellows might make him more willing to hear her plight.

Spirit animals can leave the passive state at will and don't have to wait to be called out by their human partner. Every day, they teach us something new about the spirit bond.

"Received your mark" is a cool way to say you've summoned a spirit animal.

Great Beast Briggan's presence giving people visions of the future, and that affect lasting even long after they've left him, is quite possibly the coolest thing ever.

We don't get much information on the human protagonists in this book, but as you can see, that hasn't stopped me from fleshing them out more. In my mind, Katalin is mixed Euran and western Zhongese (Arab-coded), a result of intermarrying being far more common in the days before Feliandor's war. (I'll go into this another time.) Conor is her direct descendant, through Fenray.

Essix: Fall of the Four

I wonder if the forest Tellun created on Stetriol remained after the Great Beasts had gone.

This section makes it seem like Rumfuss has always spoken haltingly, even though it was said in Hunted that this was likely a result of him going many years without saying a word.

Considering this book was released right before Rise and Fall, the hints pointing to where Halawir's true loyalties lie are nicely placed. It'll be fun for me to explore the full extent of his involvement in the First Devourer War.

"While the Evertree stands, our destinies are tied to Erdas. If one form is lost, another will rise." The Great Beasts always knew they would return to Erdas in some way, shape or form!

I always remembered Uraza, not Jhi, being the one to lend Tembo the speed and agility needed to kill Feliandor.

This section is so painful to read. I will never be fond of the other Great Beasts (besides Ninani, Tellun and Mulop). They were complicit in the deaths of the Four Fallen and the near-destruction of the world. They failed in their duty as protectors of Erdas. (The three I just mentioned can be excused... somewhat.)

I really do wish that Essix got a longer chapter where she encountered a human who convinced her to join the Greencloaks' cause, like all the rest. They might have skipped that with her because Amaya was uninvolved in the First Devourer War, it appears. Still, I want to know how she lost her talisman, and what made her decide to join the fight.

Ninani: Ninani's Nectar

Note: This short story is unfortunately only available online. You can read it here.

Tepin reads like a kid who has an innocent crush on his slightly older babysitter and it's honestly adorable. We only see them interact in flashbacks, but their friendship was beautiful to read.

The bonding sickness affected pre-existing bonds as well as new ones. That's horrible. I was previously under the impression that only the bonds that formed after Kovo damaged the Evertree were at risk.

I believe Tepin would have contracted the bonding sickness as well if not for the Nectar of Ninani. In one of his dreams, he asks Ninani if the Nectar will save him, to which she nods. She doesn't answer when he asks if it will save Ifa, who, as we know, dies from her illness.

Ninani can make plants grow! It would have been nice to show Tasha harnessing this power through their bond.

This chapter was so bittersweet. I'm not ashamed to admit I teared up a little at the end.

And with that, I've finally finished the first arc of Spirit Animals!

Although the arc ended at The Evertree, it has books that directly accompany it, such as this one. And now I'm done! I enjoyed this one quite a lot. I'm very grateful we got a special edition that explored some of Erdas during ancient times, and that gave us a brief glimpse into the lives of the Four's ancestors (to me!). This book had some awesome scenes -- Tembo riding on Uraza's back, the snakes being released in the throne room, the Great Pack tearing the Conquerors apart and, of course, the Battle to End All Battles. Tepin's story was probably my favourite, but I loved Yin and Katalin's, too, despite the relative lack of action in them. I just loved how atmospheric and emotional they were, and the experience of seeing the Four Fallen as Great Beasts through someone else's eyes. The dream-like quality of Tepin's chapter well and truly captivated me. I do think this book should have been told entirely from the Four Fallen's perspectives (with the exceptions of Feliandor and Tepin), but the humans' perspectives were done so well that I can't really complain.

Exciting stuff is coming next week. Stay tuned!

This is part of an ongoing series.

Wild Born | Hunted | Blood Ties | Fire and Ice | Against the Tide | Rise and Fall | The Evertree

Immortal Guardians | Broken Ground | The Return | The Burning Tide

Heart of the Land | The Wildcat's Claw | Stormspeaker | The Dragon's Eye

Tales of the Great Beasts | The Book of Shane | Tales of the Fallen Beasts

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

The Mudman, snippet #3

This one goes out to Julius Root's #1 Fan, @valhelos.

Previous parts can be found here and here.

-=-=-=-

The thunderous report of destruction still echoed through the halls of the otherwise silent research library. Dozens of shelving units laid flat, almost as if they had knocked each other down in a domino effect. Sheafs of scattered papers drifted lazily downward like so many curious birds coming in for a landing. Priceless bits of information, once meticulously ordered and organized, lay scattered in heaps and piles all around. In the middle of it all was a young woman who looked nearly as uncomfortable in the midst of her most recent scene of destruction as she was in the floor-length skirt she currently wore.

The doors at the far end of the archive room burst open, parting to reveal the profile of a man who had already started to shout before he even witnessed what had happened. “Short!” he bellowed, his voice gruff and nearing on obstreperous. “What in the blazes…” his shouting suddenly ceased when he paused to survey the scene before him.

Julius Root was not known for being a particularly patient fellow. In fact, during the back during the Great War the men under his command quickly began to call him ‘Beetroot’ on account of the way his face turned as red as a beet at the slightest of inconveniences.

Holly Short, the incredibly destructive daughter of one of his facility’s most helpful benefactor families, was often the source of far more than slight inconvenience.

“What happened here?” Root bellowed, though by the tone of his voice the question came out as more of a declaration than anything. “On second thought, don’t answer that. I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth until this entire archive is back exactly the way it was. Do you understand me?” As he spoke, Julius’s voice rose in pitch and volume until he was shouting. He glared down his nose at the young woman.

To her credit, Holly didn’t back down. “Sir, it-” she began, but Root cut her off with a raised hand.

“Not a word, Short,” he repeated himself through clenched teeth, his complexion one of such vibrant scarlet that Holly would be entirely unsurprised to learn he could glow in the dark. He worked his mouth open and shut several times in thought, then turned on heel and began pacing about. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asked no one in particular. “I swear, I’ve seen bombs go off that did less damage than you do on a good day.”

He turned back toward Holly, jabbing a finger in her face. “Spotless!” he hissed, his scowl only deepening as he stared down at her. “I want this archive spotless by the end of the day!” And with that he was gone, storming out the door as thunderously as he had entered.

Holly looked around at the wreckage, groaning tiredly. This was going to take half the night… if she was lucky. She was still trying to figure out just how to lift the fallen bookshelves back onto their feet when she heard the door swing open again. “Julius, I’m going to take care of this,” she said, turning around quickly. “Just-”

She fell silent when, in place of a stocky, well-built man with a full head of gray hair, she found herself face-to-face with a slight fellow with a shock of jet-black hair that contrasted sharply with his extremely pale complexion.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” he said, turning over a fallen book with the toe of his extremely well-shined dress shoe. “It is certainly a step up over the previous design structure. More hands-on, as it were.”

In spite of herself, Holly raced forward and flung her arms around the man’s neck, colliding with him with nearly enough force to throw him to the ground. “Artemis!” she gushed happily, “What are you doing here?”

Artemis offered her a rare, sincere smile. “Well, how could I possibly come to town and fail to visit my favorite little sister?” he asked with surprising charm. Maybe his most recent trip home had finally actually done him some good. Their parents, particularly their mother, had always had a way with people. It would do Artemis very well to try to absorb some of their social grace.

Still, Holly knew Artemis better than anyone… and she knew that Artemis didn’t tend to travel across the world just for a social visit. “What are you doing here, Arty?” she asked more seriously, stepping back to hold him at arm’s length and inspect his mismatched eyes - a perfect match to her own heterochromia - for any sign of deception.

She watched the thought cross his mind. A momentary pinch of his brow as he considered lying to her, a tightening of his eyes when he realized it was no use. He sighed, effecting an approximation of bashfulness. “Alright, alright… I have a job.”

Holly lifted one eyebrow curiously. A job. Usually Artemis’s jobs were extremely lucrative, albeit of a… less than strictly legal nature.

And judging by the twinkle in his eye, he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I know how you feel about this kind of thing,” he said quickly, reaching inside his pocket. “But this one is different. I’ve found something… something that I believe is going to help us find a lot of gold.”

Holly’s second eyebrow joined the first on its way to her hairline. “Artemis, you’ve been a lot of things before… but a treasure hunter? That’s a stretch, even for you.”

A vampiric smile crossed Artemis’s lips. “No, I’m certainly no treasure hunter. Though I happened to meet one. An American, quite the swashbuckling and head-bashing fellow. You’d like him.”  As he spoke, Artemis retrieved a small puck-shaped object and tossed it to her. “However, there’s no use hunting down any treasure until we know how my little discovery ties into our expedition.”

“Our expedition?” Holly remarked dryly as she studied the object in her hands. “Getting presumptuous, aren’t we?” Still, she found herself sucked into the excitement. The artifact Artemis had given her was clearly ancient, or at least designed to appear as such. It was octagonal, about five inches across and three inches high. Glyphs ran along the side, and it had a most peculiar symbol on its face. “Where… where did you get this?” Holly asked softly, staring intently at the item as if it might give up its secrets under the proper interrogation.

Artemis only grinned. “The ‘where’ doesn’t matter, dear sister. Even this device itself, fantastic though it may be, is only the beginning.” 

As he spoke, Holly’s fingers hooked on a peculiar notch along the side of the object. “Device?” she asked absentmindedly, pressing against the notch inquisitively. “What do you mean, ‘device’?” Her question was answered a mere moment later when the nub Holly had been worrying suddenly depressed, and the face of the artifact sprung open in a star formation. Nestled inside what turned out to be something of an ancient jewelry box was a folded piece of parchment.

“Do you remember those stories Father used to tell us?” Artemis asked as he began carefully unfolding the parchment on the nearest semi-flat surface. Never one to miss an opportunity for dramatic flair, he pressed on before she had the chance to answer. “Tales of a sunken city, lost to the ancient gods. Of a place so fantastical that it was deemed too powerful for mere mortals to possess.”

“You don’t mean…” Holly trailed off as the paper unfolded and presented a map.

“I do,” Artemis responded smugly. “I’ve already dated it myself - it’s been hidden in that little box for nearly three millennia. The cartouche there in the corner?”

“That’s the signet of King Seti the First,” Holly cut him off, her mouth dropping open in shock. “Artemis that means… this is a map to the City of the Dead.”

“Hamunaptra,” the siblings breathed in unison.

Holly stared at the paper in shock. It certainly looked authentic, if she was reading the hieroglyphs correctly. She trusted no one more than Artemis to root out a fake - he was something of an expert on the subject. Still… the ancient Egyptian city of gold? It was too much to believe. It was a fairytale.

Finally she shook her head and set the map back down. “I don’t know, Arty,” she finally said. “Even if I wanted to go, I have my job here. I can’t just up and leave.”

“Yes you can,” shouted a gruff voice, calling Holly’s attention to the door to find Root’s head poked in. “In fact, you should. Don’t even worry about cleaning up your mess… the sooner you leave, the better.”

Holly’s jaw dropped. “But Sir,” she protested, “that hardly seems –”

“Don’t ‘but Sir’ me, Short,” Root interrupted once again. “Go. Take as much time as you need. Some experience in the field will do you good… not to mention the good it will do for my archives.” Despite his gruff attitude, there was a certain playfulness in his tone. “If you’re gone long enough, I may even be willing to let you come back to your job.”

The young woman’s jaw worked open and shut as she tried to formulate a response. Before she did, Root vanished once more from the doorway.

Artemis’s hand clapped down on Holly’s shoulder. “Well, that settles it I suppose,” he said with uncharacteristic cheerfulness. “You’re coming with me, making a load of money and shoring up the family’s gold reserves, and I’ll try to keep you away long enough to ensure your future employment.”

Holly shook her head, running a hand through her short auburn hair. “Alright, Arty,” she sighed tiredly. “I’m in.”

[andydrysdalerogers]

The Type You Save ~ S E V E N T E E N

James "Bucky" Barnes and OFC Alexandra "Alex" Richards

Detective James Barnes hasn't seen the love of his life in three years. Since the night she was almost caught stealing a painting. He knows it was her and she disappeared leaving him confused and heart broken.

Alexandra Richards never expected to be pulled back into her old life two years after she left it. She had found love and a home and was happy. Until a note blackmailed her to take one last job. Three years later she walked into the last person she expected to see in San Francisco. Because he lived in New York right?

They always put family before everything. And he would do anything to get his family back. Because she's the type you save.

TW: mob, death, smut, rape intentions, angst, guns, family abandonment, dub-con, manipulation

A/N: because of the Valentine one shot I'm posting tomorrow, I'm posting the final chapter of The Type You Save today. It has been fun writing a different hero this time.

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Previous: S I X T E E N

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Alex stood on the grass in San Francisco, her black dress swaying in the cold wind, a storm coming in.  She sighed as she watched the casket being lowered into the ground. She tightens her grip on James’s hand as he held Drew on his other side.  

“I’m glad I was able to do this for him.”  

“Me too doll.  You ok?” 

“Its just hard.  I thought…” 

“I know Allie. But its closure.”  

She could barely listen to the prayer, her mind whirling from everything that had happened.  After everything had settle, Zemo sang like a bird.  He explained how he got involved with Grey, the threat Grey had on his family.  Grey made it seem like all he wanted was to take Alex, not explaining that he was going to kidnap Drew a week or so after his plan to break her.  

The police found Grey’s will and a letter for Alex.  Alex took a moment a couple of days after her rescue to read it.  

Alexandra,   If you are reading this, it means that I have die, probably at your hand.  That’s hard to write, considering the amount of love I have for you.   If you haven’t discovered yet, let me explain some truths.   When I first saw you, you were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.  I wanted you from that moment on.  But your brother refused. I tried to persuade Simon, reason with him. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out.  We buried him close to the house in Boston. I hope that brings you a little peace.   As for your parents, they threaten to harm you as they blamed you for your brother’s disappearance.  I had them change their will to leave me as their benefactor before they were killed.  I wanted to keep your inheritance safe.   I left everything to you, my pet, my queen. My hope is that this letter is unnecessary, but I wanted to be sure you were taken care of, should anything happen.   I love you so much Alexandra.    Yours,   Christian.   

Alex sobbed at the letter with James holding her as she wept.  Her entire adult life before James was built on a web of lies.  When she got confirmation of his location, she had her brother reburied.  The toll of the bell snapped Alex back to the present.  

The father completed his blessing over the casket.  “We celebrate your life Simon Richards, a lost soul that has been found and now taken to the Lord. Amen.”  

They all murmured a reply and then came to give Alex their condolences. After everyone left, Alex turned to James.  “I want to see him, Jamie.”  

James sighed, “Allie, I…” 

“I need to see him.  He did this for me.  It’s the least I can do.”  

James adjusted a sleeping Drew on his arm.  “Ok, ok.  Let me make a few calls.”  

A couple of hours later, Allie sat beside a hospital bed.  Its occupant was asleep.  She took his hand and his eyes fluttered open.  

“Hey Allie Cat.”   

Nate’s face was still pale and his movements slow but there he was three weeks after being shot.  

She reached over to press a kiss to his forehead.  “Hey Nate.  How are you feeling?”  

“Tired.”   

“Getting shot will do that.” She gave him a soft smile. “What have the doctors said?” 

“Recovery is going well. Docs say I just have to be patient to get stronger.”  

“That’s good.” She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles.  “We had the funeral today.”  

Nate could see the pain in her eyes.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I’m just glad I was able to give you that.  I’m sorry I hadn’t told you sooner.”  

“Its ok. I probably wouldn’t have believed you then.”  She looked away to blink her tears away.  “How is your case looking?” 

He chuckled.  “Since I help saved two cops and a witness, its looking like I’ll be able to plea to a lesser charge. Maybe a year.”  

“That’s good. Steve, James and I are ready to testify for you.”  

“Thanks Alex.  I should rest. I have physical therapy in a couple of hours.”  

“Ok.  I’ll be back again now that I can get to see you.”  She hugged him gently and went to the door.  “Open on bay 7.”  There was a buzz and a click before the door slid open.  She glanced back at Nate with a smile and went through the door.  

James was sitting in the visitor’s lounge, checking his email when Alex walked in.  “Hey Allie.  How is he?” 

“He’s good.  Still kinda pale and slow but he says he feels stronger.”  She popped a shoulder.  “Ready?” She held out her hand.  

He took and tugged her to him, her back to his front, hugging her, breathing her in. Something he doesn’t take for granted anymore. “Ready, doll.  Steve called and said Drew asked if they could go to the park.  I said ok. Wanted some time with my doll.”  He placed a kiss on her neck.  

“Jamie, we are in the hospital,” she moaned quietly as he continued with his gentle assault.  

“I’ve missed you, Allie.  My perfect little doll.”  

She melted right there. “Ok, ok, get me outta here Detective.”  

“Its Sargent and you know it.”  

“You’ll always be my Detective.” She spun in his arms and looked into his stormy blues. “Take me to bed Jamie.”  

“Oh Allie,” James moaned. He kissed her hard before releasing her, taking her hand and guiding her out of the hospital.  The drive was laced with anticipation, the air heavy with lust from the couple.  They hadn’t been intimate, since before, with Alex dealing with the emotions of her past coming to light and Drew being attached to his parents in fear of never seeing them again.  James held onto Alex’s hand, his thumb moving over her knuckles, the sensation like bolts of lightening to her core.  

“Lightening touches,” she whispered.  

“What was that?” 

“Lightening touches,” she said a little louder.  “Before all of this, your touch always gave me the feeling like lightening through my skin.”  

James smiled.  “I remember. I believe it was the same night we conceived Drew.”  His smile grew wider. “That was a great night.”  

“It was.” Alex brought his knuckled to kiss. “I’m sorry I’ve been distant.”  

“Don’t be doll. I understand.  We’ve all been through a lot.” They made it back to their apartment.  It was eerily still.  Alex looked around as James pulled her to their bedroom.  “Tell me what you need baby.”  He sat on the edge of the bed as Alex settle between his legs.  

“I need you,” she whispered.  

“You have me, doll.” James began to kiss around the hem of her blouse.  He motioned for it to be taken off and Alex swiftly pulled it off.  “So beautiful.  My Allie,” he whispered in between kisses.  

She ran her hand through his hair.  “My Jamie.  I love you.”  

“I love you too, doll.” He stood up and lifted her into his arms.  She wrapped her legs around him as he flipped them around and he laid her on the bed. “Let’s make a baby.”  

“Now?” 

“Now.  No more threats, no more secrets.  Its just us now doll. James and Alexandra. Bucky and Alex, Jamie and Allie.”  

“Never called you Bucky. But Bucky and Alex works.  Just like mommy and daddy.” She ran her fingertips over his chin. “I love you.”  

“Oh doll.  I love you.” Soon all their clothes were gone and James was hovering over his wife. He stared deep into her eyes as he rubbed his tip through her folds.  “So wet doll.  Almost as if you were excited to make me a daddy again.”  

“Jamie, don’t tease,” Alex whined.  “I need you.”  

He grinned as he sank into her, stretching her slow.  He watched as her head tilted back and her eyes rolled back. “Feel good?” 

“So good baby but you have to move,” she moaned.  James started on a steady pace, not really using force, just letting her feel good. “Oh god, Jamie,” she cried.  

“Yeah Allie.” James flipped them so she was on top.  She swiveled her hips and he groaned.  “Just like that doll.”  She bounced on him, feeling all of him. He could feel her starting to tighten.  “You close baby?” 

“So close.  You feel so good inside me.” He grasped her hips tighter, pulling her down harder onto him. “Gonna cum.”  

“Do it, love.  All over me Allie.” James grunted at the force, wanting to be closer to her.  He flipped them again and moved his hips hard. She gave a silent scream as she tightened around him.  “Ah fuck!” He let go as well, moving slower, working them through.  

They laid there a moment, the cloud of bliss still over them. The memories of lost love, love found, and love made flooded them.  James held his girl, thankful that she wasn’t lost.  She was saved.  

F I V E  Y E A R S  L A T E R 

“Andrew! Delilah! Its dinner time!” Alex called out to her children. She felt something around her ankles and looked down to see their white kitten, Alpine, twisting herself around her.  “Yes, Al, dinner for you too.”  Her children raced in, their German shepherd, Brooklyn, racing after them.  “Wash your hands!” She turned back out the door.  “Bucky! Steve! Dinner!” 

James and Steve trudged in, still arguing on the best way to fix the bike.  “I’m telling you it’s the exhaust,” Steve argued.  

“Whatever punk, the pop noises are from the clutch, guaranteed.” James wiped his hands off and went to Alex.  “Hey momma, how are you?” 

“Tired but good.” His hand rested on the small bump on her belly, and she placed her hand over his. “Still too early to feel them, love.”  

“Can’t wait to meet them love.  Its everything we ever dreamed of.”  

“It’s more Jamie.  It’s so much more.”  

James and Alexandra. Bucky and Alex. Jamie and Allie.  

Family over everything.  

*~* The End *~* 

@patzammit

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[searchingforserendipity25]

Dear friend and generous Benefactor (Crabfactor) thank you very much! I love my tiny red friends.

As promised in the tags of a crab post no one is likely to have read, there is a tiny Crablor fic to come ❤️🧡💛 🦀

He lived in fear of gulls and puffins and clever fishermen, evaded them all with concealment and violent cunning.

It had been a dire and drawn time, at first - the pincers, most particularly, had been a startling surprise, black-tipped but very strong, ugly and entirely without art.

All things considered, it was not a very bad existence. He had been terrified enough of seabirds before, and of any unlikely meeting with another speaking creature; and the sea could not frighten him more, though he was slightly smaller and humbled before its immensity.

Uinen's justice, it had to be said, was very strange.

The Lady of all creatures of the sea cherished all her subjects equally. Maglor as he had been could not have been cherished - not a damned Kinslayer that had slain the folk of the shores again and again, not as the only (the last, the last) Quendi to be burned by starlight, Morgoth's servant in deed if not name. Now altered, sea-changed in body and spirit, he found memory a backwards-sliding thing, receding and returning with the tides.

It was difficult to cast away and say farewell evermore to his harpist's hands, his warrior's laments. But the sea was persistent, always, and did not easily change her mind. This was her answer to his laments, all the good that could be made out of him.

His new form could only carry the carapace that kept its soft insides protected from the sun and the salt.

Nets never could hold him, the birds would not have him; and there were times, scrambling busily over the red-and-purple pools of seaweed and coral and exploring the secret caves where the surf broke and echoed with lovely melodies, when Maglor was far happier than ever he would have been if any language remained in him to sing along with the voice of the sea.

[overthattwilight]

Does Crowley have all 7 sins?

I might be misinterpreting, but so far I can find these sins in him

Pride: Has pride in Night Raven College and himself

Gluttony: Has shown eating a whole meat pie by himself in personal story

Greed: You can already see how this bird is greedy

Envy: Envies on Royal Sword Academy, for beating NRC for the past 99 years

Sloth: Is being lazy on finding a way home for MC/Yuu. Also lazy on other stuff too

The sins which I find it doesn't fit with Crowley is Wrath and Lust. Although he showed signs of being angry, I don't think it's enough to call it wrath. I consider the dislike toward RSA as envy, also. And lust...I can't relate with Crowley at all

However, maybe it'll be different if the theory related to Chapter 7 is true...

❗️❗️Spoilers for JP server from bellow❗️❗️

If Crowley really is Levan, maybe Wrath and Lust will make sense to him

For wrath, if you consider a human kingdom has killed his wife, there is sufficient reason for him to have hatred toward humans.

And lust...I know what lust means, but here I'll say it as twisted love. Because I don't think D company will ever approve that lust

He is Meleanor's husband, he loves her so much. But she died. If the theory of Meleanor is in the dark mirror(by the line 'my dear esteemed benefactor, my proud, beautiful flower of evil') and Crowley trying to revive her is true, also if he is corrupted, I think this will also make sense?

And this all came to my mind will reading Crowley's personal story...

[cavalierious-whim]

Fun-Raising (Neuvithesley)

Part of 'Tea & Paperwork'.

Neuvillette gets a little handsy underneath the table at a fundraising dinner. 

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--

Wriothesley has the pleasure of usually being passed over when it comes to state dinners with one exception.

“So, the Fortress of Meropide as you know,” he begins, “is mostly an autonomous zone. We make Meka for Fontaine and are well-compensated for that, but we still govern ourselves, making finances difficult to manage at times. Monsieur Neuvillette is kind with any proposed budgets, but there is a reality that most are unwilling to speak of—there are just too many inmates and too few resources.”

Fundraising dinners. Wriothesley is a charismatic man and friendly enough, but wining and dining rich Elites to fork over donations to keep the cogs of Meropide well-oiled is certainly not his preferred activity. The former administrator did not bother which is why when Wriothesley was younger the Fortress was a mess of gangs and the ill-repute.

He’s guided it into better times, yes, but change comes at a cost, and that’s occasionally rubbing elbows against the fancier fare found within Fontaine’s court. 

At least he is not alone this time. Navia gives him a look of pity from where she sits across the table, politely dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. Clorinde looks as though she’d rather be anywhere else—and Wriothesley knows she would be. Polite, yes. Conversational… no. Furina makes up for it, though, by easing the way of conversation just as she would a stage play, but she lost a lot of her heft with the death of her title. 

Neuvillette is quiet. Contemplative. He has seen Wriothesley at work, spinning his words in the way that he does plenty of times, but this is the first fundraising effort set into motion since Focalors died and Neuvillette stepped into her shoes as the reigning Hydro Sovereign. Not that he’s never had influence, but this time, his influence has sway, not that Wriothesley expects him to step in.

The food is bland. The wine is subpar but it’s what the budget allowed. Everyone picks at their food politely but Wriothesley thinks he should’ve taken up the Traveler’s offer of inviting Chef Xiangling over and taking her for a spin.

“I’m sure that you looked over the reports I sent to you before this dinner,” says Wriothesley. He’s answered by a litany of murmurs and nods as nameless faces confirm that they at least received them. “As you can see—”

“Why don’t you cut to the chase, Your Grace?” one woman cuts in. She’s older, with a sharp gaze and hair piled atop her head. Wriothesley wonders how much money she spent on the stuffed bird that graces her hat. “It is no secret that you’ve come begging for money. So, tell us, what are the… enhancements—” She says the word as if it pains her. “—that you plan to implement?”

Wriothesley feels his jaw tense but wills himself to remain calm. “Ah. Begging—that may technically be true but do we need to say it so plainly? Would you call it begging if another benefactor requested your patronage for a new park in the Court?”

The woman’s expression sours but she does not retort, and Wriothesley smiles. “To answer your question, though,” he continues, “the changes we are considering are basic at best, mostly intended to improve the lives of those living in the Fortress.”

“Criminals, you mean,” says another man with a frown.

“I’ll kindly remind you that not everyone within Meropide has been on the wrong side of the law—there are families who make their home here unless you think that children should be considered as such.”

Soft tittering across the table. Clorinde’s eyebrows rise high and she chugs a swig of her wine. Navia looks anywhere but his face, and Neuvillette—well, he looks as placid as ever, seemingly distracted by his thoughts. This is why Wriothesley hates these sorts of functions.

“Look, that isn’t the point,” continues Wriothesley. “Our primary concerns this year are pretty simple: better food, better housing, and updates to the general infrastructure in the aftermath of the Primordial Sea wreaking havoc, yeah? We just want to improve our quality of life.”

The man looks offended at the thought, but the woman from before seems to consider this. “Not the worst idea,” she says. “A better quality of life would mean more Meka production, no?”

Wriothesley gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach his mouth. “See? You’re beginning to understand.” Archons, he hates people like this. “It’s all about how if you scratch our back, we’ll scratch—” Wriothesley stops dead. 

A hand presses against his knee. The barest swipe of a thumb against the bone there, tracing the folds of his trousers. Neuvillette. Wriothesley forces himself to not look, to not think about the touch. Odd. Neuvillette would never, not at a time like this. Surely it’s just to ground him. Surely it’s just to offer silent support because he’s noticed just how agitated Wriothesley is. 

“Apologies, I just lost my thought,” says Wriothesley. 

“If we were to give you funds,” the woman asks, “how much would you pocket? I’m asking genuinely, by the way. No need to dodge around it.”

Wriothesley blinks. “I don’t pocket any. Most of my personal earnings are funneled back into Meropide to begin with, but donations, in general, never see my bank account. I—” Wriothesley chokes. 

Neuvillette’s hand skitters upwards along his leg, tracing the line of his thigh. Oh. Oh. No, this is—

This is the sort of shenanigans Wriothesley would dish out, never the prim and proper Monsieur Neuvillette. Something is wrong. Even if Neuvillette has found himself indulging in more… adventurous aspects of their personal life recently, never before has it been something so public. 

“I…”

“Your Grace?” prompts the woman.

Neuvillette sits closely enough at the tight table that nothing looks untoward. Already they were knocking elbows as they cut into their dinner, so a hand against Wriothesley's thigh would go unnoticed. But then those fingers tilt, knuckles dragging over the crotch of his trousers, and because Wriothesley is so woefully gone for this man, his cock immediately flares to life as a result. 

A soft hiss is let loose, and Wriothesley does his best to cover it up with a cough. “Sorry, something got lodged in my throat, I think. Let me—” He does his best to clear it, shifting in his seat to ease the pressure of Neuvillette’s hand. 

Wriothesley finally shoots him a glance and Neuvillette watches back with a satisfied expression, one edge of his mouth slightly upturned. Most would not notice. Wriothesley does. Clorinde does—

Clorinde. She leans back in her chair, hand against her chin, staring in wide-eyed surprise at Neuvillette’s… forwardness. 

“As I was saying,” murmurs Wriothesley next. He thinks his voice is clear and unwavering. Strong enough. Aside from Clorinde, no one else seems to notice anything untoward. “You scratch our backs, we scratch yours. It’s a symbiotic relationship.”

“Parasitic, more like,” drawls the man. “At times.”

“Any more so than someone of your stature? Tell me, Monsieur, just how is it that you’ve made your fortune aside from generational wealth?”

“Arguing gets us nowhere,” cuts in the woman with a huff. 

She goes on to ask a question that Wriothesley entirely misses because all he can think about is the way that Neuvillette’s fingers trace the length of his cock. The fabric of his trousers is thick and Neuvillette wears gloves, but Wriothesley can feel the heat that rises, that curdles his gut, that begins to coil tight the more that he’s touched. 

He’s fully hard and twitching in his clothing, and Neuvillette takes advantage of that by grinding the heel of his palm against Wriothesley's lap. 

“Meka—” blurts Wriothesley. Everyone at the table looks at him with concern—except for Clorinde who hides a snicker behind her hand. “I—what I mean to say is that you mentioned it—before. Um. Right, right, so if those in Meropide aren’t incentivized to work, who would—” Wriothesley drags a hand down his face. “Again, apologies. I think this wine might be hitting me hard.”

“I’ll admit,” says Clorinde, “it’s a shitty wine but the alcohol content is decent. You’re looking a little red in the face, Your Grace. Are you okay?”

Oh, fuck her.  And then Neuvillette laughs, just a soft chuckle, so fuck him too.

Wriothesley pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m finding it hard to focus, that's all.”

“A shame,” says Neuvillette as if he isn’t fondling Wriothesley's dick underneath the table. “I for one would like to hear more of your budget plans for the season.”

Absurd. Absolutely absurd. Wriothesley tries and fails to settle his thoughts. Neuvillette’s hand is sinful, squeezing at his cock, rubbing it through thick cotton. Soon, Neuvillette proves just how deft those fingers are as he pulls a button free on the opening of Wriothesley's trousers entirely one-handed. 

Wriothesley stills again. Waits. Another button pops free, Neuvillette’s gloved fingers dipping into the waistband to rest against his heated flesh. This is bad. This is very, very bad. Wriothesley holds the stem of his wine glass in a white-knuckled grip and misses another question. 

“Your Grace?”

“I—ah. What did you ask?”

The woman pauses and purses her lips. “I asked if you had a calendar plan to implement these ideas? Is there a schedule to consider?”

“Infrastructure first,” says Wriothesely automatically. “At least, bits of it. We’ll take care of the more pressing areas that are leaking—subtly, I promise. Nothing dangerous at the moment, but it’s better to focus there first.”

The woman nods, accepting this answer, and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

And then Neuvillette’s hand curls around his cock properly for a quick squeeze.

Wriothesley jerks in his seat. He counts to ten. He thinks of terrible things; rotten food, old guys naked—but then he thinks of Neuvillette who’s ancient and looks very good naked, and—

“Please, if you’d excuse me for a moment,” he says, hand dropping to Neuvillette’s wrist for a tug.

Clorinde snorts loud enough for Navia to give her a concerned look. Neuvillette, thankfully, extricates his hand before sipping his wine like nothing is amiss.

Wriothesley stands awkwardly, trying to hide his erection by clinging to his napkin. Of course he’d pulled off his jacket. Of course it lays across the back of his chair, as proper manners would dictate. He just hopes no one questions his death grip on the napkin as he toddles away awkwardly. 

“Understandable,” says the old woman with a nod. “Cream-based soups are, oftentimes, hard on the stomach. We’ll patiently await your return.”

Wriothesley doesn’t know what is more mortifying—the fact that Neuvillette stands as well with the intent to follow, citing that he’ll ensure Wriothesley's health as his partner, or Clorinde’s horrifically loud laughter in response. 

#

“Neuvillette,” hisses Wriothesley when he’s boxed in against the wall. The corridor is dark and abandoned—normally they hold these sorts of dinners somewhere nice but Wriothesley just had to suggest the Fortress itself this time. A blessing and a curse. It’s late enough that there are only Gardes around, but they don’t bother to patrol this close to his personal quarters.

“That tone.” Neuvillette immediately shoves his face against Wriothesley's nape and inhales deeply. “You sound annoyed.”

“Really? You don’t think?”

Neuvillette chuckles against the column of his throat and kisses it. “You complain,” he says, dragging a hand down Wriothesley's chest, his side, and across his hip until it halts at the front of his trousers, “but this part of you is honest, isn’t it?”

Wriothesley could literally be boiling alive and Neuvillette’s hand on his dick would still make it hard. The Primordial Sea could be crashing towards him in a wave, and he’d still get it up at the mere thought of Neuvillette groping him unprompted. 

Which Neuvillette does right now, slipping his hand back into his trousers to pull Wriothesley's cock free. Wriothesley groans, his head slamming back against the wall. He isn’t sure if the stars are from a potential concussion, or the fact that Neuvillette strokes him from base to tip, thumbing across the tip.

“Wet,” teases Neuvillette.

“That’s—”

“Mhm, and hard, too. Does it ache?”

Wriothesley whines as Neuvillette works his cock, the fabric of his glove annoyingly rough. He’d prefer the smooth skin of Neuvillette’s uncalloused palm. “Fuck,” he mutters as Neuvillette spreads the precome that dribbles from the tip, uncaring the mess that it makes, or how damp his gloves now are. “Sweetheart—” Usually, when Wriothesley calls him that it’s a sweet thing, soft and warm, but this moment he bites it out as a curse.

“You should have seen yourself,” says Neuvillette before Wriothesley can further complain. His hand is wicked as he works him, leaving no inch of his cock untouched. A quick stroke, a squeeze around the tip—Wriothesley moans, his hand curling around the back of Neuvillette’s neck as he whispers dirty talk into his ear. “I’ve seen you at work many times, Wriothesley. I’ve seen you make reports, and file paperwork, but never have I seen you command such authority. Never have I seen you fight for what you think is right.”

Oh. Well, that explains it. Neuvillette calls him capable all of the time and often imparts what a strong mate he is, but—

Neuvillette mouths at his neck, suckling it, teeth gliding across hot, sweaty skin. “I often need you,” he murmurs, nipping at Wriothesley's flesh, kissing across his damp collar and chasing every inch that he can, “but so rarely do I need you in such a visceral way. I could not wait—”

“I noticed. I’ve never seen you so—hah, that’s—” Neuvillette’s palm twists around the head of his cock in a way that makes him forget his words. He aches. Pleasure already pulls taut in his gut, threatening to bubble over and pull Wriothesley along for the ride. 

“Quickly now,” says Neuvillette, sucking a mark just underneath his jaw. “If we take too long they may ask questions.”

They’ll notice the damn hickey too but won’t say a thing. Who would cross Neuvillette? No one, which is why he’s so free with how he bites at Wriothesley's flesh. Hydro slicks Neuvillette’s glove, easing the way for a faster grip. Wriothesley moans, biting at his lip and failing to hide it, counting every stroke along his length. 

“Sweetheart—Neuvillette—”

One, two, three, and he’s coming, spilling all over Neuvillette’s hand in what Wriothesley might consider a record-breakingly quick orgasm. 

“Good boy,” whispers Neuvillette, kissing the shell of his ear, and tracing it with the tip of his forked tongue. “Such a good boy for me. Yes, just like that.”

There is no way that a hand job will satisfy Neuvillette. No, Wriothesley knows that tone, the dark, heady tint of his voice wrapped in velvet arousal. These are those older instincts, the ones that beg for Neuvillette to stake his claim. Were it not for a very important dinner, Wriothesley would already have his chest against his wall and his trousers yanked down around his thighs. 

Neuvillette drops his cock slowly and with regret. A soft sigh. A kiss to Wriothesley's jaw, the arch of his cheek, and the tip of his nose. Wriothesley swallows thickly, watching as Neuvillette pulls back just enough to peel off that soiled glove and tuck it away into his pocket. And then the other, leaving behind bare, pale hands, cold like crisp water. 

He warms them against Wriothesely’s face, cupping his cheeks and tilting his mouth towards him. “A pity,” says Neuvillette, “that there is a dinner we have to get back to. What I would give to steal you away right now and have my way with you instead.”

“You can later,” says Wriothesley, chasing his mouth, deepening the kiss. “Just a little bit longer. I was good for you, so can you be good for me?”

Neuvillette laughs against Wriothesley's mouth and nips at his bottom lip, fangs sinking into it just enough to slice the edge open. A small bead of blood is licked away before Neuvillette pulls away to admire his work.

“That isn’t behaving,” says Wriothesley, and though he maintains cool composure, his insides are on fire again, set ablaze by Neuvillette’s targeted gaze. 

Neuvillette drags his thumb over his lip, lingering at where it’s now split open. “I will not apologize.”

“Noted.” Wriothesely closes the distance for another short and sweet kiss. “Really though, we’ve got to get back otherwise we’ll never hear the end of it from Clorinde.”

Neuvillette hums at that. “She has a sharp eye.”

“Apt for a sharpshooter.”

“She will tease us, no?”

“Forever,” replies Wriothesely. 

Neuvillette’s expression softens, melting into something fond. “There are worse things, I would think.”

He has no idea. Neuvillette has no idea what it’s like to be at the end of Clorinde’s eternal nagging. Wriothesley thinks it’ll be better for him to experience it organically. A crooked grin is all that he gives Neuvillette, and they walk the entire way back, fingers hooked together.

#

When seated at that table, Wriothesley clears his throat. “I apologize for that. I’m feeling a lot better.”

“I bet,” says Clorinde, her gaze dragging from Wriothesley to Neuvillette, and then back, settling on his busted lip. “Did you walk into a wall or something?”

“Or something,” replies Wriothesley without a beat. “Now, about that budget proposal—”

“Monsieur Neuvillette,” cuts in the lady from across the table, her hawklike gaze sharp and calculating. “What happened to your gloves?”

“They got wet. Pay it no matter.”

She tilts her head, no doubt surprised. Neuvillette does not make it a habit to run around bare-handed and she, and their other guests have never seen the likes of it. Still, as expected, no one says anything further. 

Wriothesley manages to make it through the rest of dinner and wheedle out a generous donation. And later, in the comfort of his bed when blissfully alone, Neuvillette considers this a cause to celebrate, wringing Wriothesley dry until he can’t think of anything else.

[cauldron-burn-and-fire-bubble]

I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT NINA!! anything you want to share about her, i want to collect

OOH OKAY ALRIGJT. (btw sorry this took a while i wrote up most of it days ago but The Tasks. you know how it is. here's a sketch for now)

so the thing about nina is that she is a really really old oc that i decided to revive over the summer to see what i could do with my current understanding of science and techmology so she doesn't really have an actual storyline. but here's some tidbits (under the cut because I have a lot to talk about). also warning for discussion of some unethical biomedical practices

- she's from kind of a cyberpunk dystopia where extreme human genetic alteration is possible (in embryos only ofc) but very very expensive because of not only the procedures needed to make an altered zygote but the resources required to incubate it for a full gestation period and because only some will end up viable the lab will have to create and incubate a carefully calculated number of embryos often with slight differences to ensure at least one will fully develop (this will be relevant i swear)

- so the technology is basically only available to the ultra rich

- nina was intended to have superficial birdlike features (think feathers instead of hair, high visual acuity, some minor skeletal alterations) but the lab done fucked up and she's much more bird than intended. im not an expert on emerging gene editing technology maybe the targeting sequences they used were a little off due to a glitch but you can see how she turned out

- the person who commissioned her didn't accept her and culling a fully developed altered human is well. murder. so she ended up in a care facility for rejected lab kids like herself

- she took way longer than a typical human child to start actually communicating when she talked but she was able to mimic words and phrases very very early. kind of creeped a lot of her caretakers out to greet her and hear their own slightly distorted voice repeat the greeting back from the mouth of a like two month old

- she eventually settled into her own voice but you could potentially identify the person who taught her some phrases if you knew them already. she's still a great mimic since she basically has a syrinx in there

- she struggles with verbal and written communication in general, a little better with body language at least for interpreting intentions/tone but different people can have very different body language ofc

- she also tends to be hyperactive (partly due to extremely high metabolism) and sort of impulsive

- incredible vision and spatial reasoning (those big bird eyes)

- technically with how large she is (about 4'3" if she could stand up straight without falling over and 70-80 lbs?) she shouldn't be able to fly but i ignore that

- remember how i said the duplicate embryos would be relevant well she has a secret not-quite twin another survivor from the same batch. idk how they got separated (remember i came up with the bones of this when i was like 10) but her twin had a messier life

- nina herself ended up as some kind of specialized government operative (cue booing) no she gets out of it in the end i swear

- the twin is a major figure in the conflict around rights for altered humans

- at some point the two of them meet and eventually join forces idk like i said there isn't a real story to this

- she has 2 fingers and the thumb free to move on each hand but they aren't very dextrous so she mainly uses her feet for fine motor tasks

- she also has difficulty emoting in a way that most humans can interpret due to the beak

- i have also made nina as a dnd character (her human parents gave her up to a monastery as an infant having frankly no idea what to do with her which she left as a teenager and became a highwayman as her appearance leads most potential benefactors to believe she's cursed) she has +5 dex and -1 con

and here's a little portrait for anyone who read this far. my beautiful daughter who i love so much <3

[inscryptions]

On the desk in Alhaitham’s office laid a book wrapped in a turquoise silk ribbon. The bow that tied it held something long and slender. Beside them, there was a plain white envelope with a leaf tucked partially into it.

Hello, dear Alhaitham! I must say getting chosen to find a gift for the Acting-Grand-Sage-re-turned-Scribe is truly an honor – you must be someone reliable and respected indeed. Still, it did leave me in quite a pickle: whatever could I give you that you don’t already have? I’m not well-versed in the world of scientific literature, as I much prefer to engage in artistic styles. I have, however, found this old book written in long-obsolete Mondstadtian. As a Haravatat graduate, I’m sure you have no problems with its modern version – here’s to me hoping this will prove to be more of a challenge to decipher. The contents also seem to be focused on the topic of linguistics of that time… so, about a millennium and a half ago? Maybe closer to two? Perhaps this book should actually be put in a museum at this point. In any case, I’m sure that with you it’ll be in good hands. I imagine such an intellectual as yourself must have penned a few papers on his own account. Ah, but if writing doesn’t strike your fancy, I suppose you could also use it as a… sophisticated bookmark. This quill is that of a gorgeous, however quite rare, bird I have encountered on one of my recent travels. It was actually rather hard to convince her to give it to me, haha! I hope it serves you well. May the wind guide you, Venti

The parcel on my desk piques my interest; not many would go out of their way to give me anything other than applications and forms thanks to the nature of my job. Then again, it's the winter holiday season, and as gifts are part of the traditions inherent in this time of year, I suppose it's not so farfetched for someone to offer me such a thing. The question, however, remains: who could have delivered this to me? I raise an eyebrow as I study the package before slipping the envelope open and reading the letter.

... Whoever this "Venti" is is very well-informed and well-traveled, given by the nature of his letter and the foreign leaf that lays on my desk. Well-connected, too, to have acquired an original copy of a treatise on the ancient Mond language, or a Mondstadter (more likely, what with the familiarity used in conjunction with the Anemo nation). Undoing the ribbon and setting the quill aside for the moment, I pick up the book and open it, paging through it with a delicate touch. All things considered, it's in lovely condition, so likely a part of a personal collection, perhaps Venti's own. The thought and care made with this selection makes me smile a little, and this is only half the gift. I force myself to skim through the book, as much as I itch to dive right into translating it and then digging into its content, and find myself satisfied with the challenge it presents. If I didn't know any better, I'd say this Venti knows me very well even though I've never met such a person. Intriguing...

Eventually, I set the book down and pick up the quill. The colors go perfectly with my attire, clearly denoting it my possession; the feather outright gleams in the lamplight. AndーI examine the gears, brushing against them with my finger and widening my eyes when they turn. Bookmark nothing, this is going to get mileage what with all the meetings I attend. It's certainly a better method of keeping my fingers occupied when I have nothing to write, in any case. I test the quill out with the ink at my desk, jotting down my signature and reveling in how smooth the nib is against the parchment. High quality indeed, my benefactor certainly has a keen eye for presents.

Actually, that inspires an idea for the perfect first work for this quill...

(Logic dictates, of course, that the appropriate response to highly appreciated gifts is to thank the sender.)

[oh-yes-i-did-not]

Okay so I really want to feed birds but also, I don’t think sunflower seeds are the thing, since I know they grow that shit close to me because I SEE IT FROM THE BUS that I take to commute, but I can’t buy any that are not from... another continent, basically. Cheap or not, it feels like there should be some meaning to it if I get seeds from halfway across the world.

So, I was thinking Brazil nuts?

They’re not wanted or valued like most other nuts that are sold. And it’s probably the one nut that NEEDS someone to want it, since there is nothing to separate it from a generic nut, other than it’s origin and the work that goes to picking it.

So, if I want to feed the local birds, is Brazil nut a bad option?

And just to be clear, I’m not looking to establish a feeding station. I’m looking into giving random food to those large birds, who don’t get feeders. I would love to be a regular person who can do feeders, but I’m not. So the only thing I can do is to be the person who randomly throws food around and if all goes well, it will benefit the non-tit population of birds. The anonymous benefactor of bird, if you will. Just, throw shit around randomly, that birds can find later and not imprint on a person or a place as FOOD, you know?