#Seven does enough for now bless his heart

[brown-little-robin]

another random clone question just occurred to me: do/would any of your clones learn to play an instrument?

YES!!!

Two learns how to play the piano! He loves the complex patterns of music, and he also appreciates music for how it expresses feelings with zero context. He uses it as an outlet for his own feelings. Also, piano is something Two can become proficient at, increasing his self-confidence! But on the other hand, mastery isn't really an option, because there's always another way to play a song, sweeter or louder or more playfully, and so it's not like a problem to be solved and be done with; you can't win at piano, so it doesn't give Two anxiety, which is important in a hobby.

As for the rest... hmm. Three might pick up guitar at some point. Four would get anxiety about learning music, so I don't think an instrument is in the cards for him. Five will learn to sing! Six... very possibly! I feel he'd go for violin or something similarly emo (affectionate). Seven... hmm. Seven strikes me more as a music enjoyer than a player. And Seven has more than enough activities for now <3 Eight doesn't have a musical bone in his body, bless his heart. If Max got him lessons he'd try to learn, but he wouldn't really be committed to it.

Nine, uh. Nine likes music a lot. But that involves spoilers. ;)

[mylackoffaith]

Dragon's Dreamer - Part II

Summary: Daemon does not like Hightowers. Especially the perfect little hightower bastard girl, who was sleeping in his bed.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x modern!reader word count:1497 words

previous

Daemon always believed the Hightowers were the epitome of dullness and arrogance, parading around as if they owned the Seven Kingdoms with their highborn noses reaching the heavens. The memory of the day he encountered the insufferable cunt—right after the death of his father, Baelon—still lingers vividly in his mind.

The day had been gloomy, the kind that matched Daemon's foul mood on the occasion of his father's funeral. The cunt had been going around, collecting congratulations for his new position as the Hand, and offering condolences with the same fake smile.

Daemon's patience, already as short as a summer night in the North, reached its breaking point. Frustration brewed within him like wildfire, and in a fit of dragon-worthy impulse, he decided it was time to put an end to the Hightower's act.

So, with the grace of a storm, Daemon did what any Targaryen worth his dragon would – he took Otto down, fists descending on the cunt's face.

His grandsire had been furious, as had been Viserys, but Daemon wore his rebellious spirit like armor. The scuffle became the talk of King's Landing, whispered in the shadows and shared over goblets of Arbor Gold in the Red Keep. Otto Hightower, the lofty Hand of the King, humbled by the Rogue Prince in a brawl.

The twit strutted around the Red Keep sporting a black eye like a badge of honor, and Daemon? Well, he earned himself a new moniker—The Rogue Prince. And that marked the beginning of the brewing feud between Daemon and Otto.

The feud continued, each encounter turning into a play. Daemon, with his smirk as sharp as Valyrian steel, takes a certain pleasure in needling Otto.

To this day, Daemon has no idea what his aunt Viserra had seen in the Hightower prick to bed him, but he figured it must have been some twisted sense of humor.

Now that he thinks about it, his aunt was fond of charity. Perhaps, in her charitable moments, she thought the Hightowers needed a dash of Targaryen blood to liven up their dull, highborn lives.

That charitable act resulted in the birth of the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower, a bastard by name but cherished enough by Jaehaerys, Alysanne, and Viserys to be deemed trueborn. So much that the Hightower girl, while in Viserra's womb, was gifted a dragon egg from his grandsire.

Her arrival, however, bore a bitter sweetness. On the very day this Hightower girl opened her lilac eyes to the world, the realm mourned the loss of Daemon's beloved aunt, Viserra.

The girl's motherless fate left an ache in the hearts of the Targaryens, but Alysanne and Jaehaerys, in their grief, found solace in the babe with ginger locks and white streaks.

It had stung when there had been no celebrations for Daemon claiming Caraxes, but when the girl's egg hatched in her cradle, the old King and Viserys didn't put her down for days on end. The small room echoed with the laughter of a king and the coos of an infant dragon.

Daemon, still young, didn't quite warm up to the girl. In fact, he harbored a dislike for her. She seemed to steal away the attention that was once solely his.

Before her, Daemon was the youngest Targaryen, the darling of the family, and now, this Hightower girl had shifted the spotlight. It wasn't just his favourite aunt Viserra he lost; it was the undivided focus of everyone around him.

Days melted into nights, and the halls of the Red Keep echoed with the laughter of a king and the coos of a dragon-blessed child. While Daemon brooded over the lack of attention, the little Hightower girl grew up under the watchful eyes of her Targaryen kin.

Jaehaerys, in his grandfatherly pride, declared her the "realm's jewel" when presenting her to the people of King's Landing. But for Daemon, she remained a constant reminder of what he was compelled to share—his place in the sun, his family's gaze, and the undivided attention he once claimed as his birthright.

Pious and pretty, she was the ideal princess of the Red Keep, a vision that Jaehaerys delighted in showcasing. To the people, she became a prized possession, a radiant gem adding luster to the Targaryen legacy.

Yet, for Daemon, her brilliance cast shadows over his own accomplishments, leaving them diminished in the face of her grace.

Whenever Daemon voiced his discontent to Viserys, his brother's response was a dismissive eye-roll, steadfastly aligning with the girl. Daemon found himself pitted against the perfection she effortlessly embodied, his protests falling on deaf ears.

To make it worst, Caraxes, Daemon's dragon, seemed infatuated with the girl's dragon, Stormsong—a stunning, pure white dragoness with hints of pale blue that could steal anyone's breath. Painfully, Daemon found himself conflicted, for, despite the rivalry, he couldn't deny the beauty of Stormsong.

It was downright comical how Caraxes would gallantly soar across the skies, hunting for prey like a knight on a quest, all to lay the spoils at Stormsong's feet.

The absurdity reached its peak when Stormsong, regal and nonchalant, would casually accept Caraxes' offerings. No grand displays of gratitude—just a quick nibble, a dismissive flutter of her massive wings, and a return to her stoic disinterest. Caraxes, the poor love-struck fool, was stuck in a loop of hunting, presenting, and being ignored.

"She's just one dragon, Caraxes, not the damn Queen of Love and Beauty." Daemon had tried to convince his blood wyrm.

Caraxes rumbled in disagreement, his gaze never wavering from Stormsong, who was being groomed and licked by her mother, Dreamfyre. Stormsong was a dragon version of the little Hightower, if there ever was one.

The peace was short-lived as Stormsong grumbled at her mother, pulling away. With a soft thrill, the dragoness took flight, her wings cutting through the air with grace that made even Daemon paused momentarily.

But he quickly shook off his distraction, turning to confront his blood wyrm. "Do not even think of—" Daemon's words were abruptly silenced as Caraxes took flight in pursuit after Stormsong.

Caraxes was nothing if not determined. It was embarassing to see his dragon reduced to one of those pitiful lovers in those books Aemma reads.

Everything in Daemon's life was affected by the girl. A constant thorn in his side. The Hightower girl, despite being a bastard by name, had the uncanny ability to steal the limelight.

Stumbling in after a night of indulgence in the finest wines, Daemon was greeted by a scene that would make even the most seasoned warrior question reality. There she was, the little Hightower, lying in his bed like she owned the place, completely in the nude.

Daemon, not one to be easily flustered, blinked a couple of times, wondering if the wine had played a trick on him. But no, there she remained, sprawled across his bed in all her ginger-haired glory, softly snoring like a dragon who'd had a few too many sheep for dinner.

A mix of confusion, irritation, and a hint of amusement flickered across Daemon's face as he surveyed the unexpected guest. Can he have one day where this girl doesn't create havoc in his life? Apparently not."

"Did you lose your way to the sept and mistakenly wander into a dragon's lair?" he quipped, his tone a blend of sarcasm and genuine curiosity. The girl remained blissfully oblivious, undisturbed by the chaos her mere presence was causing.

Daemon considered waking her with a nudge or a shout, but something stopped him. Perhaps it was the absurdity of the situation or the wine still coursing through his veins, but he found himself oddly captivated by the sight of the girl in his bed.

Just for tonight. He can deal with her for one night.

taglist: @justaproudslytherpuff @naty-1001 @juskonutoh @ammo23 @beebeechaos @fabimaou @w3ird11 @pet1t3 @moongirl27

[acontrariis]

the prelude.

pairing. Aemond Targaryen x OC word count. 1.3k warnings. mention of miscarriage and death.

summary. Aemond Targaryen never intended to marry, much less fall in love. But fate has a way of flipping a coin, rewriting the stories we thought were set in stone. Bound by a union neither expected, Aemond and Vienna will navigate through the treacherous sea of love in hopes they might just be strong enough to defy fate. In a world where history is written by the victors, "Veiled in Fire" reveals the untold story of a love that could change everything.

History remembers names. 

Rather, whoever’s writing it does. Little does anyone say about the ones that got lost in time. Patches of ink on crumpled paper that have been turned to ashes. 

Pieces of a forgotten past. Buried under the retellings of a deceitful memory.

After all, only those who win get to tell the stories. 

Teach the lessons. 

Erase the failures. 

This is what this story is, a recollection of failures . The black sheeps of the family. The little branch that got cut from the tree. The letters that were burnt. The passages only some knew and even fewer remember. 

This is a journey through the cracks, the secret tunnels that threatened the perfect foundation we now stand on. The remnants of a life that grows in the fissures.

For all it takes is a single ray of sunlight to bring us back to life. 

⸺

Our story begins a few years in the near past. 

History books tell us that Viserys I Targaryen’s reign was decided at the Great Council of 101 A.C. Having yet to produce a male heir, Daemon Targaryen was the closest heir the King had. A young, wild and hot-headed man, unsuited for the throne. 

The two brothers served as two sides of a coin, night and day, the heirs of the Targaryen Household. 

However, what most ignore is the thin line of blood wiped from the records, a reckless child, the third brother, Daeron Targaryen. It is said that with his birth, he took what little life was left of Princess Alyssa. Hated by his father and resented by his brothers, the child grew prone to aversion and hostility. Those who knew him would whisper of the Prince’s indiscretions. 

A privileged child, who had everything but his family’s love. 

From a young age, the little Prince showed excellence in all areas. A lover of arts and a skilled swordsman. 

Perhaps the previous statement should be corrected, he was excellent in all areas that could be taught .  

A quick learner that despite his talents, was not blessed with the natural gifts a Targaryen should possess. 

Perhaps the only true gift his blood had given him, along with the white hair and amethyst eyes, was madness and, as he stared at the egg that never hatched, this one only worsened. 

As he grew, the main pleasures of his life came from sex and death. He controlled the powerless in a way he wished to control his own fate. 

Once he was old enough, he made it his goal to know the Seven Kingdoms. Never staying in one place for a long time, his days passed in a constant turmoil. 

A maid once heard him say if he stayed still for too long, the voices would surely eat him inside. So he kept moving, an enemy to silence and a lover of chaos. It is said he rivaled his brother Aemond in mischief. 

Daeron’s life was a constant loop, a whirlwind of emotions overflowing the body of an unstable young man. 

In a makeshift throne, at the heart of the harvest celebrations, the young Prince was said to meet his match. 

Time stops in the eye of the hurricane. 

Ebony hair reflected the red fire that engulfed her movements.  White pearly teeth shining under the veil of a golden mask, accompanied by deep black orbs that swallowed his soul. 

Elaena. 

Her name came like a prayer, a sip of water to a dying man. 

⸺

Five springs their love bloomed in a long forgotten castle, neighbors to House Arryn on the eastern lands.

Devoted and faithful, their eyes only saw each other and knew no one better than the other. 

Despite the insistent disapproval of the family, the lovers married soon after that first night. 

The Prince was said to happily adjust to married life. Leaving his wandering days in the past, he committed himself to the newfound happiness he had so desperately craved. 

Their days were filled with a peace that came from building a life together.

As their household bloomed with love, it was not to say it didn’t suffer its own hardships. 

Many losses were suffered through the years, the Princess agonizing cries ringing through the castle walls as yet another life was lost. 

Some thought it was a curse, “Perhaps the Princess is not meant to bear children”, the Maesters would say. 

Still, despite the Prince's protests and fears, the new Princess’ attempts didn’t waver. She wanted to give him a family, she would say. 

He deserved that . 

A dried up egg arrived from the Red Keep, as a final effort was attempted.

This time, a Priestess was called. An old friend from another life. 

Seeing the fragile state of the Princess, her first thought was to terminate the pregnancy as soon as possible. The only thing that refrained her from expressing it was the hopeful look on Elaena’s face. 

The once rosy cheeks now hollowed and pale served as proof of the pain she was desperately trying to hide inside. Her swollen belly was too big for her worn out body and yet she caressed it with such devotion, one might think her a saint.

It is said the Prince became a shell of what he once was, consumed with worry and fear for his wife, he would not leave her side if he could help it. It took a nudge and a sleeping remedy for the women to have some privacy. 

There are some things, in a marriage, one must keep from the other. 

Whether that is to protect them or to protect themselves, that is of little importance when dealing with the consequences, which is why the Priestess didn’t flinch when hearing the Princess’s confession. 

- “I won’t live much longer, and neither will my husband.”

A blood curse is not easily, if ever, truly broken, for there’s no curse more twisted than love. 

On the third night of a cold winter night, a black haired babe was born with wine colored eyes, shining full of life as her cries echoed through the castle. And as her father had done before, her birth sealed their parents fate, for the hex was impossible to crack.

The pale complexion of the Princess covered in sweat, showing something close to a smile.

The Priestess, Marmee, held Elaena’s hand in hers, as the latter silently cried, her strength long gone. 

- “I will take care of your child. Whatever the course, I swear to look after her.” 

A promise.

A vow. 

A sentence. 

The Princess’ cries, begging for forgiveness and regretting making their daughter an orphan, echoed through the castle.

Three nights the new Mother bled, the pain driving her to delusions. Her husband held her through it all, and by the time her last breath was exhaled, with it went his. 

For their lives have been joined as one, as only true lovers could be. 

At last, as the couple held each other, their final goodbye was lost in the cries of their newborn child.

⸺

The bards would sing of the Prince’s madness. 

Tired of his brothers’ mistreatments, he took out the rage on those weaker than him. His wife, an unfortunate victim. 

Stories tell they killed each other in a fit of rage, the witch, tired and resentful, made sure that was the last bruise he put on her face. With a dagger in hand, the desperate wife launched her attack, the precise aim of a killer striking the vital points of her lover. 

It is said the wench, covered in the warm blood of her husband, took the knife to her neck, bidding one last farewell to the crying infant in the crib. 

⸺

Rumors said an egg was stolen from a baby's crib. Blacker than the night sky, covered in amethyst jewels, the unclaimed dragon from the hatched egg was a vision in itself. 

Many tried to tame it, their flesh served as fuel for the creature to grow, forever without a rider.

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[javiersprincess]

𝐂𝐇. 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝚬: 𝐒𝐌𝚬𝐋𝐋

tags: wc - 2.9k, fem reader, cleric reader, reader worships lathander, features the battle against cazador, nudity, reader washes astarion after the hardest day of his life, gore and violence mentioned. finally a love confession !!let me know if i missed something !

synopsis: after the defeat of cazador, you are there to pick up the pieces and astarion finally learns how it is you smell so sweet.

taglist: @allright @ghostinvenus @ghostbeam @dottores @evergreenren let me know if you would like to be added !

taglist: it is with a heavy heart that this series comes to a close as this is the final addition to the five senses ! fear not i will still be writing for astarion and the rest of the baldur's gate when the opportunity presents itself! thank you all for your love and support for this series it has meant the world to me ! see you all on the other side of kinktober(jjk)!

Never had you been further away from Lanthander’s blessings than now, deep in the underground palace of Cazador Szarr. The brick, stone and marble all reeked of blood and decay. Echoing down each hall was the squeaks of rats, the scattering of their claws and the drips of water from the pipes. This is undeniably an ugly place - Astarion peeks at you from the corner of his eyes as you are all led to the great hall of where the ritual is to be held. A frown tugs at his features at the sight of your stiff posture and frightened eyes.

He would have never wanted you here, to bear witness to the ugliness of his past. Astarion thinks of you on the road - from the woods to the springs where you would pray to bless the day, you belong where the sun shines and the water runs clear.  His boot steps into a puddle of watered down sewage and remains of whichever poor sod was once there. The growl that pulls from his lips can’t be contained, and it bounces off the walls until the party stands in a room he remembers all too well.

It was where he was held down as runes were carved into his flesh, his screams so loud he wondered if he almost deafened himself that day.

Astarion can feel it, the all too familiar weight of his master’s presence, the thread in between his eyes that pluck with the command he has over him as he stands before a great hall as his fellow brothers and sisters pinned in the air. Each step feels heavy and with each breath he takes, the smell of this place digs him deeper into the “pathetic memories'’ of his past - his words not yours. Astarion feels something warm being pressed against his hand, red eyes digging down to see that it’s your hand. You, soft and warm, that the scent of the sun clings to even here, even in this place. You don’t go to touch him, in fact all you do is let the back of your knuckles graze against his and it’s enough.

Astarion is almost tempted to stop walking altogether, to tug you into an embrace as to bury his nose into your hair and let the smell of it erase all memory of this place. But it is not to be as the great Cazador Szarr is there all proud in his putridness. His eyes stay focused on Astarion - which he is thankful for, he doesn’t want your image to be tainted by the visage of the vampire master of Baldur’s Gate. His staff glitters in unnatural light, hair sleek and immaculately dressed, he addresses him and you and the rest of the party.

“Who stands before us? Is this truly our prodigal son?” Voice high and mocking,as it was then it is now, all it does is make Astarion scowl and lean forward in clear agitation.

“Do not slouch before me boy! Have you no respect for yourself?” A similar scowling look paints the vampire lord's face, his voice now rough with utter detestment at the sight of one of his seven creations. Astarion feels his lips being peeled back at the sound of his grating voice. It grinds and creeks, the snow-haired vampire thinks you’ve spoiled him by the soft way you speak to him that he can’t stand when he has to listen to others. Which is why his handsome face is scrunched into a venomous scowl as his master continues.

“Look at you, crawling back after abandoning your family. You should be begging for our forgiveness.”

You stay back, but he can see your hand twitch against the pummel of the legendary mace - The Blood of Lathander. When he says the word, Astarion knows you will give the vampire lord a punishment worse than death for the wrath of the sun is not to be trifled with. And it is with that assurance he scoffs at the words that ring through the hall.

“Forgiveness? You’ve never forgiven anything.” The words are cancerous in his tongue as he spits them out. “Every mistake, every slip was punished!” Memories too painful to speak are spoken into every syllable of the words that leave from his lips. Feeding off of rats. Trapped in a coffin.  The knife in his back and his screams echoing off these very walls. Retching up blood and dirt.

“I strove in perfection in all things - even those imperfect as you,” Cazador sneered. “A pity you amounted to so little despite my efforts.”

“No! No, fuck you and fuck everythig you’ve ever done to me.” Whatever Astarion wanted to say was caught off by you speaking in turn, your voice as soft as the wind in his hair when he first awoke to the sun warming his skin. Even in this desolate place you are a pillar of strength, a shining beacon so perfectly crafted by the Morninglord.

“We are here for justice. You will pay the ultimate price, by the Morning Lord’s blessing.” You speak, every word promising a radiant, golden death. The sneer of Cazador’s face only becomes more severe.

“I will not speak to cattle. This is between me and the boy.” Astarion hisses, tense at how Cazador dared to look at you, to speak to you and to call you such a thing. Fangs bared and eyes like slits, nothing could have filled the vampire you love with anger, bitter like bile as he rushed at his master. A swear on his lips, his fists raised, the fight began with the room doused in red light - the red of the Hells. From where Astarion was raised and pinned in the air the room was filled with the flames of Avernus but none did burn as bright as the radiance from your mace or from your blessed spells.

There was a bitter satisfaction to the victory of the battle, to being on his own two feet as he dragged Cazador out of the coffin and threw him to the blood covered marble. To see the creature of his nightmares squirm so pathetically, like a worm in the dirt, brought a smile to his face, one that fell when you pleaded with him not to take the power that so sweetly presented itself to him. Red eyes looked at you, truly looked at you and found that even like this, in this disgusting place he wants you. 

Astarion thinks of you, all of you.

The smiles, the jokes and the way you have trusted him all this time since you first met. You’ve always hoped for him, saw the best and gave him that in return. Never did you use him, never did you see him as an object - something to be used. How could he do to you what you were always warned he would do? No, he can’t bring himself to do it, to use the souls of his siblings and the unfortunate souls brought here by his hand. The radiance of your heart has touched him, changed him and molded him from a spawn to a man. Asatrion will not deny himself, indulge himself in the pleasure of ramming his knife into his master’s gut again and again but he does so in part of a greater plan. To become the man you’ve always believed him to be. Sooner than he could believe his master lies beneath him, covered in blood and his own organs cut to shreds to the point he could not recognise his liver from his stomach.

The weight of it all, of his decision brings him to his knees and among the stains of blood on his face the silver of his tears are like moonbeams on his pale face. Once again, for the final time his cries echo on the walls filled with tragedy, filled with rage, filled with grief. Your touch is a relief, a gentle reprieve from the shitshow of his life, the tough and smooth skin of your palm curving into his shoulder as your thumb rubs back and forth.

His gaze meets your eyes and finds the promise of a golden future, one burning anew if he just returns all that you feel for him. He uses the hand on his shoulder to help stand, to rise rather than fall into the deceptively sweetened path of power and to do what you have done all this time without faltering. 

To do the right thing.

The spawn are released, and his siblings off with a warning to live as they please but the consequences are their own now. Cazador’s staff is slick with blood in his palms, the metal cold now with the death of its master and Astarion wonders if his heart is the same now that the burning anger in his heart is quelled by the blood that decorates his hands. Your thumb has not stopped rubbing his shoulder, your palm cupping all that he is and staying there when he turns to his companions - all of them there with pride and understanding on their faces as they congratulate him on his newly taken freedom. Karlach is the most proud, he can see the embers dancing in her hair as she fights the urge to hug him to the point his bones creak and crack.

A smile is tugged at his lips, twitching before dying as the grief and the end come crashing down. Like always you tug him, leading him and the others into the light of the upper city, Astarion looks up at the stars with vague new found delight. Everything is clearer than it once was, now that the weight of the chains have been broken off, and replaced by the spare cloak you have in your pack that you wrap around him oh so gently with a tender smile. You all settle in an inn, and Astarion’s mind is half gone by the time he notices that the room is different - bigger, more ornate with a big washroom. When he asks you only to hum, looking back at him from the corner of your eye as you strip out from your armor.

“It’s been a hard day, I wanted to treat you to something special.” You say, voice soft as the night while you peel off the last leather piece that protects your form. He only blinks softly, confused and delicate in the night like a blushing maiden. Wide red eyes look at you with only confusion as you come closer, outstretching your hand with the gentleness of the dawn and just as warm too. He eyes the scar from across your palm, the one you got from touching the wrong type of plant in the Emerald Grove - a consequence of your terrible case of sticky fingers. The memory makes him smile and he nods, taking your hand and leaving the cloak behind on the bed. You lead him to the washroom and he gapes at the sight of such a huge bathtub. Not made of wood but of proper marble and plain, filled with pleasantly warm water and the scent of lavender wafting off the soapy water. Astarion turns to thank you and is only met with how you look at him, all soft with tenderness and worry lacing through the flecks of color in your iris.

“When did you do this?” His voice is soft, like this  is a dream and a wrong move will have him waking up in the cells of the Szarr palace again.

“When you were sitting in the room. I used runes to keep the water warm but you best get in. It won’t last for so long.” You say like it’s no trouble, like doing nice things are as easy as breathing for you but that’s what your nature has been the whole time. Astarion thinks of the time you two had embraced for the first time, how the goodness you see and act upon are not naivety but purposeful and intentful. This, this is a small gift in comparison to all that you have done for him, one that began with your blood and ended with lavender oil.

It almost makes him weep.

“I’ll be outside if you need me,  please don’t hesitate to call for me.” You say softly, holding his fingers in a relaxed grip, one that he could so easily break free of when he needs to, when he wants to. Astarion shudders a breath, eyes crinkled under the weight of your goodness; something you’ve been carrying for oh so long he can’t believe you are mortal and not a god of some sort. His fingers tighten to a hold so tight you can’t help but bite the inside of your cheek to stop from gasping out.

“No…please…please stay. I don’t want to be alone.” His voice is soft, filled with so much emotion you understand him completely with a single breath. You confirm that you won’t leave and ask him if he wants you to turn away while he undresses. 

Astarion nods and you listen, turning your back and Astarion traces the shades of your hair in the candlelight  when you move so fluidly. He is in the tub when you turn back, his scarred back to you as he sighs at the silken feeling of the water against his tired body. You ask if you may wash his hair to rid the snowy curls of the veil of blood that mars them and again he nods in confirmation. Your sleeves are tugged back, rolled at the elbow as you carefully sit outside the tub and scrub at his hair with an all too familiar scented bar of soap.

A sweet silence fills the room, only the burning of the wicks and the splashing of the water when it moves can be heard. It's nice, he thinks, letting his eyes shut as your fingers work tenderly into his scalp with all the care one would use when holding water cupped in between their palms. The suds of the soap are foamy and thick, out of curiosity he sniffs it and realizes when he recognizes the notes of the scent.

Lavender, sunlight and dawn’s dew.

“Did you realize it was my soap?” You ask, voice soft and teasing as you grin from behind him. 

You feel him nod and amidst the tragedy of the day there’s a smile tugging at his lips as he turns to look at you with the familiar mischievous shine of his eyes. When he speaks you catch a glint of his fangs, milky in the warm light of the candles and you smile as he speaks to you for the first time since returning from that awful palace.

“I hope you know this means you’ll be running out of the soap twice as fast.”

“I don’t mind that at all.” You hum back, face ever serene as you raise a smaller bucket to douse the warm water through his hair, carefully detangling the curls with your fingers as he turns again to look at you with wide, glittering eyes. There’s a smile on your lips, it grows softly as the setting sun when you reach to swipe at a particular cluster of stubborn suds that do not wish to depart from his alabaster skin. Not that you could blame them, your Astarion is beautiful through and through - you’d have to be dragged to the pits of the 9th Hell before you ever willingly left him.

“I like the idea of you wearing me on your skin all day, for me to embrace you at the end of it only to realize where it is my soap has gone.” You say looking at him so warmly Astarion wonders if he is to melt under your loving gaze. He can’t help but laugh at your words - pale features pinkening from his recent feeding as he lets your words wash over him like the tide on the banks of sand.

“You’ve certainly developed a tongue for sweetness haven’t you?” A weak comeback but it’s all he can think to say back when faced with all the sweetness of how you regard him.

“I’ve had the most impressive of teachers.” You say back, voiced filled with such tenderhearted fondness Astarion can feel warmth fill the points of his ears as he turns his back to you to try to hide how it is he smiles at your exchange. He sighs dramatically, his bones relaxing under the turmoil of the day as his neck bends to the curve of the bath, posture a little more free as if the weight of his choice finally has settled into the cracks Cazador caused.

“Alright enough of the flattery and poetry - I’m still not done with my bath.” Tucking a stray curl away from his brow you lean over to murmur a small “of course Astarion”, in that soft and spoiling tone that never fails to turn him pinker than he’s been in a decade or so. Before you grab either soap or water bucket you lean over to press a kiss, a mere chaste brush of your lips against the skin of his cheek that now smells of your soap; of you.

“I love you. You don’t need to say it back - but let it be known to you.” You say so softly that the bubbles of the soap don’t pop under the weight of your confession. His nose brushes against yours, full lashes wet and clinging to each other as he looks at you - you see the curtains plea back and you see him for what he is.

A man who loves you back, though he can’t utter the words just yet. That’s okay, your smile says - “I’ll just make a bigger batch of soap next time.”

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The Hammer and the Anvil ( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )    

“Retreat!?”

Several of the bridge crew turned at the admiral’s raised voice before a look for their captain had them return to their duties. With the enemy fleet now fully assembled before the Coalition Armada there was more than enough work for each of them to attend to.

Troy Brakus was a seasoned captain serving the Terran navy for thirteen years with the last five aboard his own vessel the “Unruly Yeoman”. She had fought everything from opportunistic space pirates to despotic warlords carving out their own tiny petty kingdoms amongst the stars. There wasn’t a vibration or groan that her ship made that he did not recognize nor crew member he did not know. This ship was his home and at the moment it looked very much like it was about to be blown to pieces.

Having been a member of the Galactic Coalition of Star Systems, the Terran navy had been dragged into the recent conflict with the Genven Imperium. This outcome had hardly been a surprise to anyone as the Genven had been launching an increasing number of raids along the border for the last year until finally the Coalition had had enough and made an official proclamation of war to halt the incursions.

What they had not counted on was that Coalition intelligence had been drastically underestimating the Genven’s naval strength. So when the Coalition united fleet entered Genven territory they were met by an enemy war fleet three times their size. A notion the supreme admiral of the fleet had certainly noticed as they were now issuing a fleet wide retreat order.

“We are outnumbered 3:1 Admiral Kelly,” the supreme admiral said over a communication link, “if we stay here we will lose the entire fleet.”

“And if we retreat we deal a crippling blow to the Coalition’s morale and hand the Genven’s the initiative!” Admiral Kelly countered.

Admiral Kelly Winfeld was the overall leader of the Terran contingent of the Coalition navy which had allocated fifteen warships and twenty seven cruiser and smaller class vessels to the coalition fleet. No other commander outside of the supreme commander could issue orders to the Terran navy, and even then it had been an unofficial understanding that said orders would only be listened to if they had Admiral Kelly’s blessing. Which was making the current disagreement all the more dire.

“Numbers does not always guarantee victory,” Kelly continued, “we can still win this battle if we use our heads and out maneuv-“

“You have your orders Admiral Kelly!” the supreme admiral cut in forcefully. “If you are unable to comply you shall be stripped of your rank and-“

The transmission suddenly was cut off and the hologram of the supreme admiral faded away instantly. Captain Brakus took his hand off his command console and looked up at the Admiral.

“Your orders, ma’am?”

Standing up straight and adjusting her uniform, Admiral Kelly turned around to Brakus and grinned.

“All ships line up behind the Unruly Yeoman and divert all power to forward shields and engines.” She pointed at the heart of the Genven fleet which was now spreading out in a large crane formation in the hopes of surrounding the Coalition fleet before it could withdraw.

Captain Brakus relayed the orders to his crew as the power diversion to shields began. The lights flickered as each station called out that the power had been successfully diverted and shields now were at 300%. Taking a look at the tactical display he could see that while the rest of the coalition fleet began pulling away the Terran contingents were following the Admiral’s orders and forming up behind the Unruly Yeoman.

The last ship had entered the formation just as the first volley of enemy plasma lances impacted the fleet. A number of coalition ships were struck in the rear and suffered critical engine failures or outright exploded.

“Engines to full,” Admiral Kelly shouted as the shields endured another barrage, “make for the center of their fleet!”

“All ahead full.” Captain Brakus relayed and the Unruly Yeoman slowly pressed forward at the head of the Terran navy.

“We have a communication incoming from the supreme admiral.” The communication officer shouted across the bridge as another salvo struck the shields sending a shudder through the ship.

“Ignore it.” Admiral Kelly said as the Terran line continued pressing forward.

The amount of incoming fire was steadily increasing as the Genven ships began to find their mark. Each impact sending increasingly violent shudders. At the front of the column were all of the heavier ships were in the front soaking up the majority of the damage while the smaller escort vessels clung tightly behind them for protection.

“Do we have an actual plan?” captain Brakus inquired as the fleet pressed ever closer to the center of the Genven formation. “I’d rather not end up like the light brigade.”

“We needn’t worry about that unfortunate debacle.”

She pointed to the tactical chart. Coalition forces were making all speed towards the edge of the system while the Genven fleet was still in hot pursuit.

“Now that we’re between their wings they can’t fire on us since any deflected or missed shots will hit their own forces.”

Brakus nodded as he realized why the admiral had ordered power to the shields and engines. “So only the center formation can still attack us freely.”

He looked up from the display to see the center of the Genven fleet steadily becoming larger in the view screen as was the looming dreadnought that housed their command staff. It was the easiest to spot as it was twice as big as any of the surrounding vessels and dotted with nearly three times as many gun ports.

“So are we going to eliminate their command?”

To his surprise the admiral shook her head. “Even if we did wipe out the center the two wings would still be enough to wipe out the rest of the coalition before turning around and snatching us.”

She tapped the tactical display as if counting down to some event only she knew. “We need to destroy their formation in a way that causes enough chaos to break their momentum and give our own forces enough time to counterattack.”

“Captain.” One of the deck officers interrupted. Brakus turned to see the officer motioning to the proximity warnings now displaying as the Genven ships were rapidly approaching.

Brakus nodded to the officer and turned back to the Admiral.

“If you have a plan, now would be the time.”

Without missing a beat Admiral Kelly finally stopped tapping the tactical display and shouted “All ships hard to port!”

As one the entire line of terran ships broke off what many appeared to be a suicidal charge and steered headlong into the right wing of the enemy fleet that was still chasing after the Coalition.

“Divert power from shields to forward batteries; fire when ready!”

Brakus could hear the thrumming of the energy planets as they once more diverted power across the ship on a whim and watched as the first plasma lances from the forward cannons lashed out.

The Genven right wing had been so focused on catching the retreating Coalition forces that the sudden attack from the Terran navy blindsided them. They had expected the humans to smash themselves against the center of their lines but now faced massed fire from dangerously close quarters. A few of the ships attempted to divert power back to their shields but at such short distances the plasma lances were already carving through their hulls.

Like a hot knife carving through butter the Terran navy decimated the right wing, separating the forces almost in two as the forward elements aborted their forward charge and the rear elements found themselves crashing into the burnt remains of the destroyed ships the Terran’s left in their wake.

Several of the bridge crew let out a hearty cheer as the gun batteries across all decks adding nicely to their ever growing kill count until finally they broke through the line entirely. Brakus was about to ask for next orders but the admiral beat him to it.

“All ships hard to starboard now, come up behind the center; target engines and rear emplacements first then work your way down through critical systems.”

Brakus relayed the orders to his crew as the Terran navy came about once more and poised themselves to strike at the rear of the center Genven fleet.

Already their attack was causing the desire chaos the admiral had wanted as the left wing of the Genven fleet was breaking off their pursuit of the retreating Coalition forces to come turn and face the Terran forces. The center was likewise positioning themselves to track the Terran fleet but finding their progress slowed by how packed together they were.

“Coalition forces are turning around Captain.” The scanning officer called out followed swiftly by the communications officer.

“The Supreme Admiral is hailing us again and is demanding to speak to you admiral.”

“Tell him to take a number,” she said with a smile as the opening salvos against the center fleet started, “I’ve got a battle to win.”

[abysswalkersknight]

Found this one in my drafts so added it into my list.

Fair warning this really made me sad and I'm the damn author. But this was inspired by the death of the hydro archon in genshin impact and some amazing theories I saw about the knight of dawn. So either way enjoy and tell me what you think!

......................

The castle was quiet.

Everyone had been evacuated due to the coming battle. 

Everyone except a few loyal servants and the royal couple.

The knight of dawn sits upon the steps before the empty throne, it has been empty for some time, neglected by the dragon princess regrettably slain by his own two hands. In his arms lay a sleeping newborn babe just barely a few days old, with silken golden hair like his own and boisterous lungs to match his mother’s. His son rests peacefully, oblivious to the heavy stillness that plagues this dark castle, absent of life and light as the torches had been left cold, the knight draws a soft finger across his son’s cheek.

I wonder how he’ll look in ten years. His beloved, Leia jokingly believed that their baby shall grow to be the spitting image of his father, he dearly hoped not; call him vain but he was well aware of his fine features. And the troubles that came with it. The infatuation of others are not something he’d wish upon anyone.   

It was nice out here, in the blissful silence. For once the knight was free from all worries and troubles, free from all the heavy expectations, free from the thought of what’s to come. Here, it was just him and his child.

The calm before the storm. His mind supplies unhelpfully, the knight’s content smile falls and he sighs through his nose. Yes, it all floods back to him why exactly the castle is as it is, their enemy comes at the ready to rid them off the map, and he’s to hold them off as best he can so that everyone else can run to safety. Thus that thankfully includes his wife and son.

Personally he was worried that Henrik would deny them sanctuary, with the birth of the knight’s son there was a new heir that could challenge him for the throne, and the knight  knew full well how greedy for power Henrik was, knew that he now saw the knight as a broken tool the day he married his beloved.

He knew that this night would also be his last, the odds were too high in their enemy's favour and he was too weak from the endless battles prior, perhaps this was simply another reason why Henrik thought to have him lead the charge, what better way to be rid of a brittle blade than to use it up until it shatters to smithereens?

All he could do was fight long enough so that his family was safe, and by the seven he will fight till his sword can no longer stay in his grasp. Fighting’s all you're good for anyways.

He’s heard what the three great fairies plan to do to keep his son safe, and he is thankful for their help, but a selfish part of him only wishes for another way, to keep his son from a long, unbearably lonely slumber. He’s only agreed for the promise of his boy living a happy, peaceful life with someone who will truly love the child as he surely does, one devoid of the pain and sorrows of war. 

A world in a time of peace, what a pleasant thought. He’d only wish that he’d get to experience it with his family, but if his son gets to live through such a life then he shall be content with that. I wonder what you’ll do when you're older, will he carry a sword like his father? Or perhaps have a more quiet hobby? Will he make any friends? Someone who he can compete with, to help each other reach new heights? What will his favourite food be? Will he have an affinity for animals as well? The knight wasn’t sure about blessings being inherited but he'd love to see what becomes of it. He lifts his child up to his cheek, one of the only places deprived of glistening cold silver, breathing in the milky scent that all infants had, and felt his heart twist painfully as eyes beautiful as the rising dawn slowly blink up at him.

He’d love to see who this tiny little babe becomes, even if only for a moment…

Oh! Birds and other wildlife seem to have flocked down to one of the windows, as silent as possible as to not startle the infant, just watching them. The knight knew why they were there, they were there to say farewell, among them were the families of various animal friends he’s made in the past, of the ones who helped care for him when he was young. He stands up with his baby in his arms and goes to greet his old friends, the smallest of the birds gather round the babe’s blanket while a deer sniffed at his golden hair. Sweet giggles fill the room and as the knight smiles fondly at the scene he almost fails to notice a strange new arrival.

Time seemed to slow, for squeaking pleasantly to the child from above on the window sill, was a tiny bat. It was so peculiar, normally they preferred to keep to themselves. Usually the knight was not one who typically believed in signs or omens, but something about this bat stirred something in his chest, and he suddenly recalled that day when he was thrown into the waterways, of that fae who held the princess’s egg with such tenderness, the bat is now nuzzling his babe with a similar softness and he too reaches out a finger to stroke it’s fur, which it didn’t take too kindly to, snapping at his hand with such an insulted look upon its face that the knight nearly laughed, somehow the look reminded him of the tales told of the general of the right, its with this thought that he wonders if the general had made it to safety that day. If my guess is right he may as well have, he thought once the bat finally let him scritch under its chin, he knew deep in his heart that if it was to be fated then he could think of no one better to take care of his child despite their being enemies. 

I wonder what name he’ll give you.

Beyond the horizon the knight could faintly see the first rays of dawn stretching across the pinkening sky. 

Ah, it appears our time together is coming to a close. 

While he knew what was to come, faced with death he still found himself a little afraid. Was this what the Princess felt when she had to leave her egg? He thinks feeling his breath stutter and fingers curl tighter around his bundle.

He presses one final gentle kiss to the babe’s forehead. I apologise for leaving you like this my son, he tucks his treasured ring around the boy’s neck, please forgive your fool of a father.

The hour of his execution is almost here.

In a way this felt deserving, it was just like that day, leaving slashed bodies in his wake, the glare of dawn beating down upon rivers of red and iron. Only this time he knew full well what he was fighting for.

I pray that he won’t become what I was.

His strength wanes, his helmet laid cracked and caved in on the floor like scrap metal, leaving his determination visible to all.

My dearest little one.

Should you ever raise a sword like I.

The morning sun gazes down upon the knight, upon the gleaming sword painted a lustrous crimson in his chest, his failing vision fixed on the beautiful briar crawling along the castle, he gives one last smile for his sleeping son.

I pray that you will carry it with pride and for a life you truly strive for.

[luimagines]

Hey Pinky I'm back! I'm the one with the Lynel farm and I got another idea, which brings one of the Links to scream, but Reader has to be a female. For a very special reason.

The Chain falls in love with Time's daughter. Time seems for me the father who would protect his little princess from EVERYTHING and spoil her rotten. But she is also Malon's child which means Reader is stubborn and strong. Twilight has a minor crisis as he learned that fact AFTER falling in love. But now Reader being stubborn and animal friendly, they tamed a Lynel. But not any Lynel, a goddess damned gloom infected golden Lynel, where it came from? Nobody knows. It was just on the Ranch!

They met Twilight first and she just cleaned her Lynel by a river at the same time as he cleaned Epona. He saw her being so strong and able to fix horse shoes onto the Lynel. She didn't seem to get affected by the gloom, maybe because of the will of her father or the stubbornness of her mother, but gloom doesn't affect her one bit like she is blessed. Time probably brought his little princess to every Great Fairy he knows and asks about her blessing for his child.

But she can wield weapons, probably because her mother forced Time to teach his darling daughter something as she looked up to him since she was in her diapers. Time doesn't want to lose his daughter of course, which father does want that?!

But having his boys to run after Reader's heart!? That's much worse than he imagined! Reader is HIS DAUGHTER!! And his boys are years in the past or future!! He wouldn't be able to see his Daughter her first baby!! He never would be able to see his grandkids!! And now to the most important thing, He Doesn't Want That Reader Gets A Boyfriend! So she is allowed to keep the Lynel but he says something to it.

Time: "Listen here, if anyone comes near my daughter burn them!"

Time even gives Reader's Lynel his approval to beat the Link that is brave enough to ask her to a date into pulp! Malon finds it hilarious as she knows that Time is just overprotective over his little princess, he just wants her to be his little baby, just a little longer!

But Reader is also a prankster, learned it from the best, and with her Lynel? Oh goddesses, Time, Wind and Reader will have the time of their life. Reader landed with them on their journey because she is being chased by Dink. Reader is Time's greatest strength but also his greatest weakness.

IT'S HIS DAUGHTER FOR NAYRU'S SAKE!!

And of course boys in love are obvious, so now Time is having seven boys who are in love with his daughter, in the group is a Twilight who is stuck in a crisis and Wind isn't sure to be a wingman or laughing his ass off as Time ruins every romantic moment the boys could have with his daughter!

Twilight would be fighting off the other guys because like- that's virtually is great-something grandma do not flirt with her!!!

Time is probably lamenting the fact that he wasn't at all prepared for this and he has no idea what to do. Malon thinks this is hilarious and for all we know, is actively encouraging this.

[liminal-zone]

courage, dear heart

i wrote a thing! 

AO3 fic link: atomic blonde

fandom: Narnia/LOTR crossover | ship: Susan Pevensie/Éowyn, background Haladriel

rated: mature | tagged: crossover, canon compliant, pining, Gender Politics with Clive Staples and John Ronald Reuel, post The Horse and His Boy, bittersweet

Summary: It’s not the first time a power beyond understanding ripped Susan away from her home to fight in another world’s war. And in this strange country, she will find her courage.

Set as Frodo becomes the ringbearer, set after Susan returns from Tashbaan and the Battle of Anvard is won.

a/n: Written for @thenarniaficexchange 2023 for @syrena-of-the-lake. Is this fic just a string of references from all seven narnia books, at least five lotr books, various narnia and lotr films, a lotr tv show, Churchill’s “we shall fight on the beaches”, and Shakespeare? Maybe so.

Two canons in a blender, my favorite scene in this is when the Dark Lord Sauron comes to Queen Susan in her dreams to take her apart and finds something he didn’t expect. And my heart aches to answer an unanswered question in the fic about magicked memory loss and the Problem of Susan, perhaps in a sequel. 

Excerpt:

Her hands are dirty from drawing the circle, fingers burned from the blue fire.

The bright magic ring she wears is cold, very cold; cold as the bottom of the sea. And it sings of power, not of the flesh, but over flesh. The power of the Unseen World.

In her mouth is the language spoken before the dawn of time. Before the Deep Magic was written. Before the Sun and the Moon were made. “Call her up.”

*

It’s quite sudden – the searing sound in her ears and then a great pop – and she’s no longer riding alongside her sister in the wilds of Galma but in a strange, alien land.

She stills her horse, and is surprised to find it not the dumb Galman beast who was a pleasure to ride along the sands of the ocean, but a great stallion fit for a warrior of renown. The shabby islander saddle is now richly ornate, covered in symbols she does not recognize. The windswept sea of grass smells sweet; rich earth beneath and a warm yellow sun in the endless blue sky above. Massive forests and towering mountains in the distance, and far off to the south, clouds of smoke. No recognizable landmark of any kind.

This curious little girl from Finchley has experienced travel between worlds before, but she does not quite remember the first time. Something about a mother who loved her and a great stairwell and the numbing horror of nonstop destruction; all faded in memory and deemed unimportant, lost. She is now queen of a great country; taller than her brother, the High King, and a remarkable beauty sought by highborns across the known world. Her raven-colored hair and red lips, haunting the dreams of many. Her gracious kindness, a balm to her loving subjects once subjugated by winter and a witch.

More importantly, she still remains curious.

For she is Susan, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, Queen over Narnia under the High King Peter, the Lady of Cair Paravel and Protector of the River Rush, Blessed by the Radiant Southern Sun, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Daughter of Eve, the Gentle.

And this strange country, unknown to her, is Middle Earth.

*

Her magical horn came with her, tied to her belt. There is no hesitation as she raises it to her lips. Father Christmas had said “–wherever you are–,” so she blows it, calling for help in this alien place.

The full velvety sound rings out across the grassy plains, ringing up through the nearby mountains and reaching forests unknown and reaching foreign ears in their towers of stone. (Perhaps even reaching the power that brought her here.)

A rider appears in the distance. Susan narrows her eyes, considering if this is friend or foe. She only has a dagger and her wits, which may be enough.

It is a warrior with a shield on his arm. He rides a white steed and golden horse hair flows out of his helmet. He shines bright like the famed white stag and Susan feels an intense urge to chase this rider at once, to put an arrow in his heart and drag him to the ground.

To demand wishes? Perhaps. The urge is unknowable.

But no: this is no white stag, nor a magical creature of any sort.

And Susan does not yet know that this is no man.

Susan called for help, and help has arrived in the form of Éowyn, the Lady of Rohan.

*

It is a cautious meeting and neither dismount.

The rider’s gaze is appraising, obviously noting Susan’s foreign dress. There’s the uncommon length of her raven hair, adorned with the lush island flowers of Galma. The dagger and white horn at her side, and the ease in which Susan is managing a stallion. The queenly posture; a regal confidence undoubted. (This is learned behavior. Pevensies can trace their lineage to poor fishermen in East Sussex and poorer soldiers from Normandy.)

Susan’s assessment is this: the young rider is a dangerous warrior, lithe and well-knit in frame, made all the more queer with his open courtesy to a stranger.

“What country, friend, is this?” Susan asks.

The rider tilts his head. “This is Rohan, my lady.” His voice ringing out clear.

And what shall I do in Rohan? Susan thinks, miserably.

“Are you in need some assistance, my lady?” the rider continues, a look of concern in his gray eyes. A pause. “I am Dernhelm, at your service.”

*

Dernhelm listens to her tale and “strange sorcery” is his response. He thinks a moment before: “Have you experience with witches?”

Susan gives a smile, but it is a bitter one. She knows more than some about witches.

After Susan explains, Dernhelm nods. “The way I see it is this: you have appeared here through magic, for what reason, I cannot say. And you have appeared in Rohan, for what reason, I cannot say. You are no servant of the Dark Lord, there is something true and honorable about you.” He stops there for a moment before a continuing in a most peculiar tone. “The wizards have no interest in queens; what is a woman to the affairs of air and earth? So, the Lady of the Golden Wood, she must be behind this and her reasons could have promise in them.”

“The Lady?” Susan echoes quietly. There are hags that called Her “the White Lady.”

“She is a great sorceress. An elf-witch of terrible power who dwells in Dwimordene.” Dernhelm looks grave. “It is said that all who look upon her shall fall under her spell and are never seen again.”

Susan shivers, thinking of the horror of Jadis’ castle. Of Tumnus’ look of terror, frozen in stone.

Dernhelm continues. “My brother believes she is a myth, and–” he pauses as if pained by a memory unspoken. “My king’s advisor says webs of deceit were ever woven in Dwimordene.” He raises his chin, and his eyes are shining bright. “But I believe differently. There is an old, old tale of this elf-witch helping my annointed forebear, the first of our kings. I choose to believe that tale. I choose to believe that in our time of need, the Lady came to our aid. High honor to protect the king and his men, and dread magic too. And perhaps, perhaps if she is behind this, she can be reasoned with and you can return home. Should you have the courage, you seek her out.”

“Then I shall go to find this Lady of the Golden Wood,” Susan says. “If you will take me there, sir. For I do not know the way.”

The man sucks in air and holds it a moment before: “For this journey, you have my sword, your grace.”

[sixosix]

sdajkldfhsj my oh no was so justified Rosalie no

there are so many things i want to point out but AHHHHGGG tumblr ask box controls my ramblings. before I start though, I knew it wasn't gonna be true but RIP my house of hearth!Rosalie crack theory. you will be loved but missed.

WE GOT ROSALIE POV!! we love to see it, its so fun to see her perspective, and I love how her first reaction to hearing that T!Reader used to be a fatuus isn't betrayal but sadness. Sadness that she seemed to not be trustworthy enough to be told! And not even in a 'woe is me' kind of way! but like in an 'I wish I had done better so that you could have trusted me'. i'm just key smashing here like "jaldsfah IT WAS OUT OF PROTECTION ROSALIE" but I'm so glad she loves T!Reader with all her heart like that.

Not to mention the flashbacks to when T!Reader first meets Rosalie! AAAAA Rosalie is just so sweet and caring with this anxious child!solider jsdlkahfahjdf. we love maman in this house.

Switching away from Rosalie for a moment, Lyney and Lynette's meeting with Arlecchino- just how upset the twins are with the Knaves decision but are unable to fight back against father! I'm staring at Lyney with that obvious frustration because he so desperately wants to have T!Reader be a part of his life now that he found her again (and to be a part of hers) but not only does he have to play the role of the good 'son' but he also has the extra scrutiny from 'Father' because of his role of successor. His loyalty to the house and his family is deep but now that's conflicting with his love and loyalty to T!Reader. I doubt he and Lynette know about the current hostage situation-

(considering he seems to be talking with Arlecchino from the perspective of 'T!Reader is working under Childe' while she is working from the perspective of 'T!Reader isn't fatui at all'. I see that very specific language used in that entire conversation! 'Left The House' instead of 'Left the Fatui' ? I SEE IT)

-but I wonder how long it's going to take before the twins are involved, if at all. Arlecchino definitely seems to have many plans in mind if she investigated Rosalie beforehand (i remember how back in chapter seven when there was the hooded figure, I think I remember a lot of us pointing and being like 'FATHER'!?!? don't quote me on that please-) and is telling the twins to stay away from T!Reader while kidnapping Rosalie for a 'polite chat'. Potentially about shared custody? jsdklakf probably not but there must be some reason why Arlecchino wants to talk instead of just getting rid of her. As jokey as the shared custody comment is, I can see it as an option if she wants to continue having T!Reader as a potential piece to be used in her manipulations. Maybe not as a typical House of Hearth soldier considering how she told her own successor to stay away from her, but I can see her forcing T!Reader to act as an informant of sorts. Or maybe she wants to 'convince' Rosalie to give T!Reader back over to her care so she can wrap up that loose thread via… other means. I mean, she could do that second idea by force but I doubt she wants to put in the effort over covering up a murder or two so the fauti's reputation isn't marked by it when she could have two perfectly good pawns to take advantage of.

There's also Aether and Reader interaction! Granted we haven't been blessed with his POV but I like to think he's connecting a lot more to this situation. Makes me wonder if he feels any sort of guilt or regret at all, inadvertently causing a separation like his own with Lumine via T!Reader and Rosalie, a separation between a very close family (or almost family but shhh). Seeing his first reaction to his sister being taken in T!Reader's frantic, guilty and lost actions. After all, if he hadn't blackmailed her, she wouldn't have been found by Lyney and Lynette. In turn, that would have probably meant that Arlecchino would have left her alone in the flower shop for longer. And Rosalie wouldn't be dragged into this mess because the runaway fatuus wouldn't have been distracting the future 'father'-

(my current theory as to why she left T!Reader alone for so long! She always knew where she was, but didn't interfere because what use would be a disobedient child? T!Reader could have been a risk if brought back, she could have potentially held resentment towards Father and 'her successor', and could have lashed out far more than just some frostbite on the arm. After all, betrayal will not be permitted in the house of the hearth. Sure, she could have brought her back and 'gaslight gatekeep girlboss' T!Reader into being the loyal child again, but why waste the effort when the problem took themselves out of the picture already? T!Reader already functioned under fear and 'father's wrath' and wouldn't do anything to get in the way. However, now she's interacting with Lyney again. If it was one of her other children, it may not have been a big deal, but; as recently shown in akagi's ( <3 ) art; Lyney was the child with such a strong attachment to T!Reader that he FACEPLANTED because she addressed him by his name. She may of become Freminet, Lyney, and Lynette's secret since the house pretended she didn't exist, but even if Arlecchino didn't mention her anymore she never forgot how badly Lyney crushed on T!Reader. Although the runaway is still influenced by fear of what 'Father' could do, her fear of Rosalie finding out is currently overpowering that original fear now that she has gained a sense of security from being left alone for so long. She may not be stopping their plans but since Lyney has still pined after her for all these years, she's still a distraction. So now Arlecchino has to interfere to get the 'loyal child' back on track.)

-from the work to stop the prophecy that's still very much going on. Granted, this is thinking in a whole case of 'what-ifs', as it's fully possible that the Knave would have still interfered with Rosalie and T!Reader's life at some point if it somehow became useful in any sort of way. Its just… very interesting to think about, specially since the two have a sort of sort of not friendship going on. (Also, Rosalie??? Asking if T!Reader has a crush on Aether??? sjlafaksjf…. I don't know what to focus on more about that. The fact she brought him up as a potential love interest in the first place; which is understandable, considering her perspective but still; or the fact that when told no, she was kinda like 'you're too good for him anyway'. I mean- 'he doesn't seem like the type to settle' as in settling down for romance? jhflajkdh)

To finally wrap this mess up, FATHER FLIRTING WITH MAMAN??? (the fact that Arlecchino's appearance to Rosalie involves the former presenting a flower is just..lahsfjh jokes aside, it's a very nice contrast to Lyney previously presenting the marcotte to T!Reader. 10/10 father pls don't kill or hurt maman.)

-deadman aether anon

HI DEADMAN AETHER ANON im so glad u didnt apologize in this ask about the length cus i was pacing around my room like a blushing schoolgirl reading this.fjshfj

YEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH once the series end i rlly cant wait to talk about rosalie and my thoughts about everyone's theories of her role in the story. (little rant pls forgive me) its funny because i know that other media gave people trauma about who to trust, but i honestly wanted to mirror what the readers would feel about rosalie in how i worded the story when it came to interactions w her! i deliberately made her actions and thoughts sweet and kind to see if people would be suspicious, even when i didnt give them reason to be wary (aside from, you know, being very nice). the readers knew MC's situation and was cautious of anyone being overly nice, so i wondered what their reaction would be to someone like rosalie. THAWED!MC represented the few readers who decided to trust someone like that for once, and to me thats just very interesting (most of u guys immediately thought she was a traitor LMAOO). imagine thawed!mc who had the same mindset as most of the readers! she wouldve left the shop the next day.

YEAH its crazy to see most ppl immediately thinking of the knave. i wanted to touch in the scenes we saw of arlecchino and how she went to kinda watch furina (bc she was also wearing a hood there!). i got nervous when ppl thought of other characters too i thought it was like laughably obvious HEFUSHF

HAHA i like how u rlly note each detail i respect that. im almost afraid that you know the story better than i do LMFAOGJFHJ. i also love how u also looked into aether's side!!! right now all u can see is that he is definitely worried he lost the idgaf war he's just as frantic as MC.

your theory is so HEHEHHE delicous. i wish i can just outright agree or disagree but thats gonna take away the fun ughhh. but what i COULD comment on is how ure definitely right that the knave knew about lyneys silly crush on MC, and i think its hilarious. 'oh dear. poor child. of all the children, he really fell for the most romantically-challenged one' - arlecchino, probably.

the aether question was so painfully self indulgent. if i was mc i wouldve gone YES I DO WANT AETHER and thawed wouldve ended on chapter eight.

but yes hehe rosalie has high standards to whoever wants mc's heart. aether is a nice guy in rosalie's eyes, but not a nice enough boyfriend for her baby. !! lets see how she reacts to mr lyney

as always, tysm for this!!!!! wonderful convo

[saras-devotionals]

Quiet Time 3/26

What am I feeling today?

I’m in a bit of pain that’s been lasting for about four to five days now and I had hoped I’d have gone away by now but hasn’t. I’m also saddened by the bridge collapsing in Baltimore earlier today, could you imagine how terrifying that must’ve been? To be driving across a bridge, it’s breaking and collapsing, and then you and your car are plunged in the river below in the middle of the night, surrounded by darkness? It breaks my heart, that must be truly traumatizing and I pray that they recover everyone and that they’re all okay. On the bright side, I get to travel back to my home city again and I’m bringing one of my friends and niece and can’t wait to show them Pittsburgh! It’s always nice going back home🥹

Luke 11 NIV

(v. 2-4) “He said to them, “When you pray, say: “ ‘Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who sins against us. And lead us not into temptation. ’ ””

Here’s Jesus giving us the example of how we’re supposed to pray. I don’t believe we are meant to say this word for word every time, more so to use it as a template. Praising God first and thanking Him for what He’s gone for us. Petitioning and making our requests before Him. And finally, forgiveness for our sins because even as disciples, we sin daily, none of us can say that we’re without sin.

(v. 9-13) “So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. “Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

I know that I ask God for a lot. Every day I present requests to Him but I know that I don’t actually deserve anything. Not to put my worry down or anything but God already gave us His son when she didn’t need to. That’s already a gift that we’re unworthy of but He gave Jesus because He loves us. And He’ll give us other things we pray for (as long as it honors Him) because He loves us. Also, in the verse beforehand, at the end of the parable Jesus is giving, he says that it’s given because of the man’s “shameless audacity” and honestly it made me laugh because it’s so true! Who are we that we feel we are in any position to ask God for whatever we want when we’re not even really worthy of life (but are now bc of Jesus).

(v. 24-26) ““When an impure spirit comes out of a person, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says, ‘I will return to the house I left.’ When it arrives, it finds the house swept clean and put in order. Then it goes and takes seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that person is worse than the first.””

I think this is kinda terrifying, but also annoying. Terrifying in that even when the impure spirits leave us as we come into our lives with Christ, then be back and even stronger, with more wicked spirits. I say it’s annoying because they’re coming back, like come on! really? y’all can’t just leave us alone in peace but gotta keep attacking us? but, with the word of God and with Jesus and the Holy Spirit in our lives, we can resist these attacks and stand firm in our faith.

(v. 28) “He replied, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it.””

This! It is not enough to just listen to the word of God. We can listen to the Bible for every second of our life, but if we don’t do what it says, then it’s all been in vain. I think this myself sometimes, every day I sin and I’m aware that I don’t obey everything as I should. I can catch myself, and note where I need to improve, and make a daily effort, but I also know I’ll always fall short.

(v. 34-36) “Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are healthy, your whole body also is full of light. But when they are unhealthy, your body also is full of darkness. See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness. Therefore, if your whole body is full of light, and no part of it dark, it will be just as full of light as when a lamp shines its light on you.””

I had a bit of a hard time understanding this so I went to some commentary for clarity:

Here Jesus addressed himself to correcting his hearers’ inability (through their sins) to appreciate truth, and to read God’s sign, when they should finally see it. It was not at all the nature of the sign that needed correction but the quality of perception in his sinful audience, the evil generation which confronted him.

[furinafocalor]

XiaoVen

all of these fics are centered around the ship Xiao (Alatus)/ Venti (Barbatos).

links will be attached to all of them and the names will be underlined.

the ships with a * beside them are my personal favs please go check all of these fics out when you have the time!

atop wangshu inn's peak- by vflxvyr

venti (awfully) tries to sneak up on xiao. cue xiao being whipped and mildly concerned

9/10 A cute and short fic. I don't know why I liked it so much but I loved how their relationship was potrayed. Super adorable!

*Cecilias Smell Sweeter in Summer- by Lantica1317

Camp Seven A is a small summer camp all of the kids in the local town of Teyvat attend at least once. Xiao has just moved to Teyvat and finds himself taking a job at Camp Seven A as a counselor for the Anemo group. His co-counselor Venti is all too happy to teach him the ropes. Why is that dude so friendly?

10/10 O.M.G. I loved this fic so much. I loved the au, the build up, the romance. Ugh! I loved it. It is rated as mature but the author kindly let us know when to avoid that part if you want to. So go read it please!

*Twin Songs and Matching Marks- by Elixiro

Xiao can hear every song his soulmate listens to. Unfortunately for him, his soulmate loves playing rhythm games.

9/10 The cutest soulmate au of them all. Their first meeting was absolutely stunning! I loved everything about this fic! It's about 5,000 words so go check it out!

your smile and the words i didn't know i wanted to hear- by lore_bee

"He's staying in Liyue," Alatus muttered just loud enough for Hu Tao to hear. Hu Tao froze. Her cards dropped from her pale hands as she screamed, "WHAT!?" Her body left the bed as she danced around the room. "Omg! It's meant to be! The archons have blessed you Alatus! Oh what fortune they have bestowed upon you!" Alatus dropped his own cards lying back on his bed. The next few minutes continued with Hu Tao excitedly spinning around the room and Alatus covering his ears with a pillow. or, Alatus is a superhero known as Adeptus Xiao. Barbatos, a heroin from Mondstat, says he's staying in Liyue. Chaos and attraction is becoming the new norm for Alatus. or, Venti lusting after Xiao's abs... for like ten minutes...

10/10 I really adored this au. I don't think I've ever been able to find any genshin superhero fics before so this one was a treat! It's around 12,000 words so it's pretty long. Definitely worth it though!

the history teacher is a married man- by aprilfalls

"Excuse me, mister— I mean Xiao," spoke one particular student in the 4th period before class began. Her lips were stretched into a demon-eating grin, and the look in her eyes screamed potential danger. "Yes, Hu Tao?" Xiao drowns his long-suffering sigh in his throat; a habit formed to not fuel the demonic energy that Hu Tao runs on. Hu Tao swallows, which does nothing to dampen her terrifying smile. "I'm sorry for prying, Mister-I-Mean-Xiao, but is that a ring I see on your hand?" Oh Barbatos, here it comes now. [or: four nosey kids, and the things it takes for them to realize that two of their teachers are married... to each other.]

8/10 AHHHHHHHH. So cute. Go read. Now.

tip me over and pour me out- by pyrochords

It becomes painstakingly obvious that Xiao has a thing for Barbatos, so friends new and old attempt to play matchmaker. They won’t rest until the apple of Xiao’s eye takes up residency in both his heart and his teapot. Venti is far more perceptive than people give him credit for, but thinks you should never meet your heroes. Somehow, they make it work.

7/10 The way they beat up Childe. I loved Venti and Xiao's interactions so, so much. This fic was so good. I promise you won't be dissapointed.

That's the end for right now! Thanks for checking out my post. Follow my blog for more fic recs. I'll be making a masterlist soon and I'll attach the link here. In the meantime, here's the link to my KazuScara fic rec and my ChongQiu fic rec!

[thessalian]

Thess vs The Heart of Faerie

Keeping in mind that I'm only done with Be The Serpent (waiting for the Toby Daye books to come out in paperback in the UK is a trial), I have another theory. Yes, it's going under a cut, just in case, because spoilers:

What if Toby is effectively destined to seal the wound made when the Three came into being?

In The Brightest Fell, the Luidaeg stated that it was said that Amandine's line was the only way to make right what Oberon and his Queens made wrong. Which ... I mean, as of Be The Serpent, there is a lot that the Three made wrong, and while it's tempting to think that it's the whole "bringing back the Roane" thing from The Unkindest Tide that was meant by that ... that's only Titania responsible for that; not all three of them. And in And With Revelling, the novella at the end of When Sorrows Come, the Luidaeg gave two blessings to the couple - one the traditional one, and one of her own. That one was: "when the time comes, may you stand before the Heart of Faerie with no regrets and no remorse for the choices you have made. May you keep each other as close as you can, and never forget who you are".

Toby's having some practice in remembering who she actually is as of the last chapter of Be The Serpent, obviously. But the Luidaeg talked about Toby standing before the Heart of Faerie like it was a given. Not an "if", but a "when". The Luidaeg never deals in absolutes unless she's really certain, because she literally can't, because insofar as her geas goes, being wrong is a lie, and she can't lie.

And the Luidaeg, as Toby herself stated when Cassandra and Karen had the visions that started off the whole mess in Be The Serpent, is a Seer.

The other thing we learn in Be The Serpent is that the Three caused a wound in the world when they came into being. I presume that wound is in the Heart of Faerie, which is what birthed them. So they had to throw a human at it once every seven years, to staunch the bleeding. It would reject the Three, eventually, if either of them tried. But we've been hearing for several books now that Faerie makes what it needs when Firstborn or the Three have children. Most recently it was in Be The Serpent, again, when the Luidaeg said that the Bridge Trolls and the Gean-Canna were born of Maeve's line needing to go to war. And Amandine was born after Maeve's failed Ride - had to have been, because Oberon took Janet Carter to his bed after she broke the Ride. So ... what does Amandine and her tiny line of Dochas Sidhe have that Faerie needs?

A living hope chest? Sure, definitely - without some kind of guidance from the Three or the Firstborn, the various lines of Faerie are a mess of conflicts between the blood of Titania and the blood of Maeve. Also, the Fae aren't precisely fertile, so having someone who could make changelings into purebloods would keep Faerie going without some of those conflicts, never mind soothing the madness of people like the unnamed Queen, and possibly Oleander and Devin. But that can't be all of it.

But then ... then there's the healing. Toby doesn't just heal herself, after all. When Sorrows Come and Be The Serpent had her giving her blood to let blood-workers - the kind of people who could borrow her blood and use its magic - heal themselves, too. Magic is in the blood. But where it comes from... The Fae get their magic from their Firstborn, who get their magic from the Three. And the Three get their magic from the Heart that created them. You can't tell me that a ... manifestation, entity, whatever the Heart of Faerie is ... that created Oberon, Titania, and Maeve, and gave enough of its magic to make gods wouldn't be able to borrow the healing power of the blood of a Dochas Sidhe.

Thing is ... no Fae has ever been called to staunch the wound. Maeve went to plug the hole for awhile, but it would push her out eventually (and I believe we're still assuming Marcia is Maeve, so that's already happened). I imagine it would do similar to any Fae, but sooner. After all, there has to be a reason that they only used mortals. I mean, I guess partially because mortals were expendable, but if it were possible, wouldn't Titania have stolen a child of Maeve for the sacrifice every time? Titania hated Maeve enough to try to slaughter all her descendents, after all, and Oberon wasn't stopping her from any of that shit, because Oberon's an asshole.

But Toby's got mortal blood. Not much anymore ... but maybe enough to keep her in the wound long enough to bleed enough to seal it. Between the mortality and the magic, she could conceivably close the wound properly, stabilise Faerie for good, and maybe survive the experience. No more need for Rides, no more of whatever bullshit the wound at the Heart of Faerie causes.

Either way, it looks like the Luidaeg, right down at her core, expects Toby to have to try.

[malicedragoness]

Titan Cori - Goddess of Luck

So here’s Cori’s template as an MK Titan!

If you would like to use this template, I created it and I have the blank one here.

Title: Lady Cori Goddess of Luck

Motto: “Fortune favors the bold.”

Powers: Pain Transference - Cori still has her healing power of taking away another’s wounds and transferring the pain unto herself. Only now it doesn’t affect her as much. Geras advises her to not use or share that she has this power.

Lady Luck - Cori grants a lucky token to anyone she deems worthy enough of this gift. This token brings the user a stroke of luck. Whether a thief needed a quick getaway from the guards. A gambler hoping for a lucky roll of the dice. Or a soldier praying not to get hit by a hundred archers. They hold the token in their hand and call on Lady Luck to answer their call. She awards these tokens to the winners of the Kombat Tournaments.

Spectral Shadows - Cori can summon corporeal shadows to use as she wishes. Whether to fight with them, use them as a throne and float around, or to shroud her body. Most of the time they take the shape of orbs or tendrils, unless she has a specific shape in mind.

Open for me - She can open any lock by simply touching it. Nothing special, she’s just a thief at heart.

Silent footsteps - As any good thief, she’s good at sneaking around and being quiet. Her boots are enchanted to be completely silent when she wants.

Realm they favor: Cori tends to spend most of her time in Seido to be with Havik. She does travel to Outworld and Edenia from time to time to visit Stella and Taven.

Places of worship: There are three shrines dedicated to her. One in Edenia within the Palace Courtyard, one in her home country of Vecilio, and one in Seido. Her shrines are fountains with her likeness carved out of marble. Most people pray/worship by tossing coins into the fountain, praying for Lady Luck.

Consort: Havik. The Havik in Cori’s timeline is the ‘Union of Light’ you play to beat the game. “Chaos has blessed me.”

He looks like this, but has an emerald green instead of the gold.

When she rebuilt the universe, she kept a close eye on Havik, not wanting him to suffer as he did in their timeline. Seido and Orderrealm are different realms. Seido is where anarchists and misfits live, chaos blessing their lives in quite an unexpected way.

Geras warned her that it may not be a good idea to interact or interfere with Havik’s new life. She would only smirk at him, “I’ve never been one to follow the rules, Geras. I’m better at breaking them and chancing my luck.”

Havik has seen Cori when she visits Seido, often following her just to get a glimpse. He heard about the mysterious Goddess of Luck and her magical tokens, and had to see her for himself.

When he competed in the Kombat Tournament, he would try to get her attention. With his outrageous fighting style, to standing in front of her throne to catch her gaze, to pulling out his heart and handing it to her. He wanted to make sure she noticed him.

When Havik won the tournament, he refused the Lady Luck token and simply asked for her instead. Cori smiled coyly, “You seem to enjoy pushing your luck.”

Havik chuckled. “Fortune favors the bold.”

Changes in Physical appearance: Cori has longer, shinier hair. Her green eyes are more vibrant and glowing.

Armor/Style of clothing: I imagine her armor to look like this, but instead of those pauldrons she has a hooded cloak.

Weapons: Her trusty bow Heartbreaker. Two daggers she keeps hidden on her person.

How does Geras help them/regard them:

Geras can tell she has a compassionate heart and wants to try and create the most peaceful timeline she can. He has to remind her that nothing is perfect. There will be mistakes and she can’t fix everything. He is her trusted confidant, and watches the Hourglass in her stead.

Since she has to give up being in her family, she tends to treat him like a brother. She grew up with seven older brothers, it feels strange to not have one. Geras doesn’t know how it feels to be in a familial bond. However, with the time they spend together, he begins to understand the significance of family. And when Cori pranks him he doesn’t dissuade her antics, but he doesn’t encourage them either.

His armor is now made of leather more suitable for stealth than combat.

Any characters or events that have drastically changed that you would like to mention?:

Cori’s mother, Cordelia, is alive because she didn’t have to give birth to her. Her family isn’t poor and they are prospering.

Her brother Atten knows druid magic instead of illusion spells and combat magic.

King Jerrod is alive. Mileena and Kitana are twin sisters.

Tarkatans are a race of people who have tribes, like the orcs in Skyrim. Tanya is a tarkatan who leads one of the biggest tribes, and Mileena has fallen in love with her.

Taven and Stella have children and rule Edenia. Orin is the guardian of their palace. Daegon is the general of Taven’s army.

The Kombat tournament is held once a generation, where the winner is granted a Lady Luck token from Lady Cori. Havik has won this tournament on behalf of Seido, and fell in love with Cori. The one competitor that has won the most tournaments is Reiko.

Reiko is the general of King Jerrod’s army. His parents are alive and are proud of their son.

The Vaeternus people are still vulnerable to sunlight. Cori has granted them to be able to fly during the daylight in their bat form. Even then, their bat form can only handle it for so long.

Ashrah is an angel that oversees Netherrealm, and ensures nothing leaves the realm and nothing goes into the realm without her knowledge.

Cori feels out of place in Earthrealm, so she pulls Liu Kang from the timeline to help her shape Earthrealm. If Cori, Liu, and Geras put their heads together, then maybe this timeline will succeed.

Backstory/Notes/Tidbits: Titan Havik’s timeline is where Cori died in his world and couldn’t come back to life. Everytime he reset the timeline, she kept dying in a different way. Geras informed him that no matter how many times he changes and shapes the universe, the chaos in his heart will always affect the outcome.

Havik desperately kept trying, but ultimately gave up when his heart couldn’t handle seeing her die anymore. When he watched her die for the last time, so did any shred of humanity he had left. He becomes a monster that wants nothing but carnage.

[asteriaspirit]

The Wishing Star

“I hope I haven’t talked your ear off too much today,” Asteria tells Lotus with a small smile and a shy blush. The unknown woman had been left at Blue Moon Books and Metaphysical Sundries rather unceremoniously before Xendov ran off to solve whatever world-ending problem had his attention. And Asteria hadn’t really known what to do with her.

Originally, she had put Lotus in her office along with a ham sandwich and a bottle of water. But when the bookstore owner had returned some two hours later, Lotus hadn’t moved from the position Asteria had left her in nor had the food or water been touched. If the werewolf woman hadn’t witnessed the subtle rise and fall of Lotus’s chest, she would’ve thought her dead.

Things being as they were, it was easy enough to move Lotus into the store proper, set her up at a corner table with a simple chapter book, and to go about her normal day working. And in between serving patrons and managing deliveries, Asteria had rambled about anything and everything that crossed her mind, even though Lotus had said nothing in the seven to eight hours that they shared company.

Now, with night having wrapped a cool cloak around the pair, they found themselves on Asteria’s back porch, in the metal swing with deep blue cushions, looking out over her backyard.

“Normally Xen isn’t gone for this long,” Asteria huffs while shaking her head. “Probably got distracted with something. He’s helpful, always solving problems and coming up with solutions. He’s got a good heart…even if he doesn’t think he does.”

Blinking, she shoots Lotus a sheepish side-eye.

“Don’t…tell him I said that.”

In reply, Lotus mutely inclines her head in understanding and wraps her fingers around her mug before bringing it to her lips. She blows across the top of the liquid, scattering the plume of steam that drifted off the tea. Asteria watched with baited breath as she took a sip.

“It might need a bit more sugar,” she begins to say, but Lotus interrupts her with a hum that makes Asteria shiver. Warm heat uncurls in her stomach and she swallows down the sudden rush of desire that makes her fingertips tingle.

Turning away, she directs her gaze to the sky, her body leaning forward so that she could properly search the heavens for the object of her obsession. And when she sees it, she heaves a dry enough chuckle that Lotus immediately mimics her movements, leaning forward and looking up, before turning her blue-black eyes to the woman sharing the swing.

“The moon,” Asteria says quietly, her voice a reverent whisper. “It’s almost full. Explains a lot, really.”

Lotus gives an owlish blink in reply, one that makes a true smile curl across Asteria’s lips.

“I’m…not human,” she says slowly while leaning back into the comfort of her seat. “It’s a long story—”

The image enters her mind like the tide breaking against the shore: the pair of them sitting as they were now, sipping their tea, the creak from the swing breaking the otherwise comfortable silence. And the world continuing on around them, the clouds drifting in slow, lazy circles overhead until the sky began to change from its deep navy to a brighter lavender and morning broke against the horizon.

Asteria blinks and shakes herself before pinning Lotus with an accusatory stare.

“Did…you do that?” she asks.

Lotus tips her head to the side inquisitively and says nothing.

“Well, you have a point, all the same. We do have time—all night, yes, sure.” Asteria sighs, takes a sip of her tea, and then clears her throat.

“I didn’t—I used to—Heaven bless, there are so many different ways to start this story.” Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips before she attempts to start again.

“I…used to be a star. Not a…big star, just a small one, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. But I shared a quadrant with The Wishing Star, the second star to the left.” A ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “And people loved The Wishing Star. But granting wishes, petitioning the cosmos to tweak a thread here and cut a thread there; it was exhausting work, too much for a single star, even one as great as The Wishing Star, to manage. Sometimes, we lesser stars would petition on behalf of the Wishers—”

Asteria falls quiet, exhales a slow breath, and clears her throat.

“I’m getting off topic. Anyway, there exists a ritual where a priestess—one who practices witchcraft—will draw down the essence of the Moon for guidance or assistance in spellwork. My maker—my summoner—performed that ritual and instead of the moon, they…drew me down. Bound me in a circle and kept me as a companion.”

Lotus places her mug back on the tray between them and extends a hand to Asteria, her brow drawn down in concern and comfort. Asteria, in return, interlaces her fingers with Lotus’s before offering up a soft smile.

“They were kind. Lonely. They longed for companionship that—Anyway. I stayed with them for some time, but they had demons that even the company of a star spirit could not overcome. There were no spells to say, no tonics to drink, no pills to swallow; in the end, they…couldn’t be helped and decided that this life was no longer worth living.”

An uneasy silence swirls in the space between and around them. Lotus continued to stare at Asteria’s profile while Asteria stared off into the mid-distance, her gaze unfocused, her lower lip fitting snuggly between her teeth. She blinks and clears her throat, bringing herself back to the present.

“I…didn’t know what they were planning, so I couldn’t talk them out of it. I just remember the ritual, a similar one to the original that summoned me, but this time, they married my essence to that of the Lupus constellation. I blacked out and when I awoke, they were gone. The body cold. The blood…”

She shudders. She sighs.

“I left. I came here. And whenever the moon hangs heavy and swollen in the sky, so too does the beast inside me claw out to the surface to bask in its light.” Her smile is crooked as her golden gaze returns slowly to Lotus’s face. “I am a werewolf and the village doesn’t know. Well, not *everyone* in the village knows.”

Lotus purses her lips and the remembered scent of Xen’s dragon fire wafts across both of their noses. Asteria’s gaze immediately snaps up and away to the lone shed in the backyard, filled with odd and ends, boxes and a ratty couch that she didn’t have the heart to give away. But also memories of her and Xen wrapped around one another—

“Yeah, Xen knows,” Asteria says with a nod while pushing away those carnal memories. “I think he was the first to—no, not the first first, but the first one here.”

She gently squeezes Lotus’s hand.

“And now, you’re the second.”

[hajimehinata]

i gave you all i had, i did

day 5 : sacrifice ( from @adfaugust )

all he’s ever done, he did it for this family.

tyler’s long been used to hours of work with little reward, underpaid for hard labour and chalking it up to his family name. the world’s out to get him, he’s always known it, has been told so time and time again by the holt matriarch. and he knows better than anyone that sharon wouldn’t lie, has been an honest woman from the day she was born. if she ever was dishonest, it’s cause she had to be, cause she wasn’t given another option. but ma’s honest, gets her way through respect built from her steely and admirable nature. sharon, impossible not to respect with her fingers poised elegantly around a cigarette. lord knows tyler gladly picked up that habit for a few stolen seconds of her company. always wishing blindly to soak up her presence, as if it would somehow cure him of his own inferiority, childishness she frowned upon. he always feels adult standing next to her — ’cept for when he don’t, when he feels like he’s quakin’ in his boots just being near her. tells himself it’s because he loves her, because he can’t stand the thought of her coming to harm. knows that he’s her protector and that’s all he is, and for a holt, that’s a blessing. no higher honour than to be at sharon’s side, making sure their shitheel of a pa don’t try anything. 

never strikes him that he might be thinking backwards, that the person he’s afraid of is the very person he loves the most. so wrapped around her finger he can’t see it for what it is, embraced into her perfumed storytelling, lies that sound like the truth, until tyler can’t help but believe in her. she’s his ma, and she needs him, everyone does. shoulders heavy burdens so she don’t have to, under the firm belief that he had a choice, but that no sane man would choose the other option.

what man would leave his ma to suffer all alone? none that are mannerly or polite, none that really care for her. tyler’s signed away his life, all twenty-five years of it thus far and whatever rest of it that cruel fate gives him. quickly revises the thought, since he oughta be grateful for what he has — the opportunity to be there for his ma, for his brothers. 

still doesn’t stop the white-hot jealousy from bubbling up in a weary chest when he sees how easily dale and jay are awarded with ma’s attention. don’t know the last time she called him sweetheart — or if she ever has. keeps blindly charging forward, since he knows why dale’s got ma’s heart; no one could hate a face like that or deny him a thing. and jay… as much as he don’t contribute, as much as he ain’t really one of them ( as much as his sensitive nature is rewarded when tyler’s was long stamped outta him, told time and time again that he’s the eldest and real men gotta keep their upper lip stiff ) … sharon’s affectionate towards the golden boy because he reminds her of that sister of hers. that woman who got herself knocked up and imposed herself on her charitable sister, only to wind up dead and leaving her screaming kid behind for sharon to care for like he’s hers.

( and if tyler had to pick up those motherly responsibilities, it’s cause ma obviously couldn’t, not after her own sister had died, and no one could have expected her to be well enough to take care of a kid or her three-year-old and certainly not her seven-year-old little man, the nickname brooke gave him as she pinched a solemn cheek still ringing in his head — )

— but ain’t he the same as brooke, now? running off to save his own skin when dale’s … a sharp pain lancing through his chest, solid evidence of how he’s failed the family. still feels the sting on his cheek when ma told him clear as day — he ain’t got this, he wasn’t responsible enough, never good enough. and selfishly he wonders how long he has to sweat and toil for … her approval, but he’d never say that. sharon don’t give out praise that ain’t earned, and tyler never earned it a day in his life. no matter how hard he worked. no matter how little he slept. no matter how kind he was to his charity case of a cousin. 

and he’s doing everything he can, even if ain’t good enough, even if it ain’t perfect. tells himself this is the best he can do for the ones he’s lost — protect himself cause he’s the only one left to protect her. when dale’s gone, pa’s in some hospital after his act of cowardice, and they had to leave jay behind when the cops were too close for comfort. he’s the only one left, and sharon’s safety’s all that matters. they come up with a plan, her and her only child, and there’s an unspoken understanding that passes through ‘em. the knowledge that they’re all they’ve got anymore, that they have to stick together. 

it’s everything he wanted. least, he thought it was. until jay shows back up on their doorstep and tyler’s left to stare. a brother back from the dead and the short-lived attention from his ma itching at the back of his ribcage. forced to think horrible thoughts, wondering if it was jay all along who took this from tyler. if sharon’s affections were only doled out to the youngest boys because that love’s finite, and because jay just had to be difficult, ruin things by taking that book and killing dale, the sting of a motherly slap across the cheek still smarting. can’t accept that he wants more than he’s got, so it’s jay’s fault. that festering itch getting worse until it’s damn near unbearable. it’s jay on the doorstep of the cabin and not dale, not his baby brother who sat on his lap and babbled to him in half-formed sentences, who didn’t leave him ( didn’t leave the family, comes the mental correction ) to go galavanting off in the woods. 

still, tyler takes first watch. is used to staying up and expects that neither ma nor jay will wake up for a second watch. maybe he’ll catch an hour or two, but he ain’t counting on it. more important that sharon gets her rest, and it’s not like tyler trusts jay to stay up and keep an eye out. not after he found out about brooke, the long-kept secret that shoulda been told to him long ago, so he could understand why he’s gotta make it up to the family more than ever. if anything, he thinks maybe jay’ll try to slink out and talk to him. the lie weighs heavy on his chest, but it’s the most sensible solution. ma needs to go on the motorcycle, and jay can survive out here in the woods. if tyler stayed ( and his chest constricts at the mere thought ) … he’d die. still, even though ma knows that, it’s still his duty to stay back. even with this busted leg, even with his lack of familiarity of the bush of two rock. when jay wasn’t around, the solution was simple. now, it’s staring him right in the eye. his imminent death. the same fate as dale. loving jay, then dying for it. 

the door creaks open, and tyler’s heart squeezes in his chest seeing it’s ma. it ain’t rare for her to seek out his company, whether it’s to unload some stresses or just cause he’s smoking at the same time as her, but that weary heart still jumps when she does. hard and clear evidence that he’s doing something right. but that brief hope gets squashed like an insignificant insect as soon as the words leave her mouth. can we talk about this canada thing? 

shoulda known she was coming out to ask about it, silently curses himself for not realizing sooner. remembers the other mistake he made, telling jay about his real ma, and braces himself for a scolding that thankfully never comes. sharon’s not a petty woman, and she’s moved onto more pressing matters. wondering why jay can’t have the prized seat next to her on the bike. wondering all that when she’s whip-smart and definitely smart enough to know tyler’d die if he stuck around back here. and it all comes flooding out. a juvenile confession, practically sobbed out. a desperate begging for love he’s always thought he was above. is it so wrong to want to live? is it so wrong to want a shot at life even when it’s long over? all his life, he’s given her ( the family, he hurriedly corrects, because even now, he can’t stop the helpless fawning over her ) everything he has, everything he is. and here he leans against the cabin post, staring up at the consequence bearing over him like a giant. finds himself scared and utterly alone in the face of this insurmountable beast. 

he just wants to live. and if that’s gotta mean just surviving from here on out, he wants that. if his fate was never to live his life, he’ll mourn it and bury it alongside dale. clenches his fists and jaw and tries not to let the grief consume him, crush that bad leg before he’s even got a chance to try to keep going. wouldn’t dale have wanted him to live? wouldn’t dale have wanted… and it feels blasphemous to even think, but wouldn’t dale have wanted his happiness? couldn’t sharon have loved him enough to want that for him?

but it can’t be about dale and it certainly can’t be about sharon, so it’s about jay, the boy who got everything tyler wanted just by being. who whines and gets his way, the eternal favourite and the one dale eventually left tyler behind for. but tyler knows he can still win. he’s just gotta convince jay to stay back. and he does. feels that affection he always had for the kid come back full force, all babyish smiles and hints of wisdom he don’t think even jay knows he has. tyler will miss him. he gets that now. wishes blindly and with all his heart that there were three seats on the motorcycle, even if the thought of sharing ma with jay was nauseating just an hour ago. 

tyler trudges back to his world, leaving jay to his own. greets sharon with a weary look, disillusioned like he hasn’t been in a long time. no longer is he excited to be the only one left. misses his brothers, both of ‘em, like hell. but at least he’s got ma, his sole purpose for as long as he can remember. something nettles him about that. maybe it’s just that jay taking off didn’t make him feel any better. 

that’s what he sticks with until one night at the church turns into two, and then three.

and tyler lays with his cheek pressed against a dilapidated floor and wonders. do we get what we deserve?

[tarabyte3]

I Want You to Show Me Weak

Fandom: Andor

Pairing: Kino Loy/F!Reader

Chapter 3/27 (2.7k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

<- Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 ->

Summary: You're pretty sure Kino Loy hates you. He screams at you, grabs you, and shoves you against the wall, and it's becoming a problem because, well...it shouldn't fluster you as much as it does.

Warnings: Explicit rating, Smut, Prison, Prison sex, minor non-graphic injuries, Dom/Sub, sexual tension, dirty talk, praise, hair-pulling, light choking, unprotected sex, oral, angst

A/N: If you wanted Dom Kino on top of dirty talk Kino, boy do I have some good news for you 😌 Work title is from "Poison" by Vaults. Chapter title is from "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak.

AO3 Link

Chapter 3 - What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

During your shift the next day, your hand hurts, but it's functional. It does slow you down, though, because you can't move it as well as you usually do. Alis is kind enough to help you out since he was already faster than you before you injured yourself. Now he's doing his job and nearly half of yours. You owe him big time.

But Kino's "not officially" comment is still rattling around in your skull. You're new enough that maybe you've missed something. So you ask your table if there are any unofficial rules you should know about. If anyone has more context for whatever the fuck yesterday was, outside of the whole…incident, it will be them. Because so far, the only actual rules you've been given are to do your work, keep up, don't get fried, and don't cause problems. If you do cause problems, take them to Kino. "Problems" appears to be the key word there. Covers all manner of sins.

Threl seems relieved that it sounds like you're trying to make an effort to stay out of trouble, bless his heart. He gives you a whole list of shower and tool etiquette, a lecture on respecting communal and private spaces like the cells, and what not to do during quiet hours. Which all seem like basic common sense to you because you know all of that already. You do all of it. But he says nothing about sex, possibly because he doesn't want to bring up sex to the only woman in the unit. Or the rules don't exist.

"What about fooling around?"

Jevid leans forward so he can be heard over the noise on the floor and his large belly presses against the table. "You really think Kino lets people get away with rough housing at all? You should know that better than anyone with how often you get your ass chewed."

"Once for rough housing, if I recall." Alis grins.

"Oh my god, you've all been in here far too long. No, I mean what about sex?"

They all stop, hands hovering over tools and parts, and turn almost as a group to look at you. There's an equal mix of confusion from the three younger men and concern from the three older men staring at you from around the table.

"What?? Why are you all staring at me?"

"What about it?" Alis asks with a furrowed brow, as if your question doesn't make any sense. "Sex is a pretty big topic, you're gonna want to narrow that down for us."

"Are there any rules about sex?"

They all glance around at each other, as though someone in the pod has the answers and will explain what is happening to the rest of them. Jevid clicks his tongue thoughtfully in the empty space where a tooth should be.

"Jeez, you guys are acting like I just mentioned the rancor in the room."

"That's because no one talks about it, duh." Taybus rolls his eyes at you. "You think we all walk around talking about how much we're getting laid? Or that we're getting laid at all?"

"Okay fine, how about this. Are there any rules forbidding sex? Because I'm one woman in here with forty nine men. I think my chances are a little better than yours."

"Oh my god." Sorrek sounds like someone is strangling him.

"Fine, forty eight. Happy?"

"No," Sorrek whimpers.

"Forty seven, sorry kid. Don't swing that way," Threl laughs.

You look at him in pleasant surprise. "Yeah? Well damn, Threl. Then you and I both have forty seven more chances than these fools."

"Forty six," Jevid grumbles. "I'm way too old for this bullshit."

"Fair enough, Jev." You glance at Taybus and grimace. "Let's just cut it down to forty five."

"Oh, fuck you!" He attempts to look angry, but he's trying not to laugh.

Alis, however, is fully shaking with laughter as he slides a part into place. "Woman, if you can find a way to have sex in here or get any privacy, then be my guest. Good for you, in fact. I got your high-five right here." He holds up his hand. "Most of us just…take care of it ourselves." He then waves his still raised hand around. Sorrek protests next to him. His face and ears have been turning dangerously red the entire conversation.

"Oh, and I don't?" You smirk. There is a mixture of groans and snorts in response, except Sorrek, who finally puts his head into his hands.

"But no," Alis adds, "there's no rules or anything. Just be respectful and don't get caught, you know?"

"Why, you see someone you fancy?" Taybus wags his eyebrows at you suggestively.

You have to fight not to glance over and look for Kino, and you tell yourself it's just because that weird interaction in the locker room is what led to this conversation. Not because you're attracted to him. Definitely not that.

"In this lot?" You snort. "Hardly."

"Why else would you be asking?" Taybus is grinning at you now, like he's caught on to something interesting. "You totally do. Who is it?!"

"That's enough," Threl sighs. "Did we not learn any lessons from yesterday? Let's focus."

Taybus ignores him. "It's Vage at table 1, isn't it? I saw him checking you out once."

"Nope. Don't worry, I won't steal your boyfriend." You wink at him.

Taybus flips you off from across the table. You go to return the rude gesture, when there's a hand on your shoulder. You jump and turn to see Kino standing next to you. He has a fake smile on his face. The kind he gets when he's pissed, but he wants to make a point first.

"I see we're all taking our jobs very seriously over here at table 7 today. So seriously that you're in," he pauses to check his data pad and several men at the table wince, "last place! Which puts our shift in fifth. So I have to wonder what is more fascinating than work?"

You start to say "nothing," but to your horror, Taybus butts in with, "She's got a boyfriend."

The panic washes over you and you sputter, "No I don't!' You glance at Kino in fear, but he just gives you an intrigued stare. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he's amused, even. "He's just kidding." And you don't know why you feel it's so important Kino knows that. The man could probably not care less. He does hate you, after all.

"But you asked about sex." Taybus continues, knowing damn well he should shut his mouth, but is unable to resist the opportunity to distress you further. Probably as payback for excluding him from the list. You feel your face burning with embarrassment. You suddenly wish the ground would open up, swallow you whole, and spit you out into the ocean.

"No! I didn't!" Even though you absolutely did. You just don't want Kino to know you're sniffing around after what he said to you. What will he think? Probably that you're trying to find a new way to piss him off. But he's been standing there the entire time, watching your face. Intently taking in every flash of horror and mortification.

Threl uncomfortably clears his throat.

"Enough," Kino finally growls out to the table. "Your numbers better be up by the time I come back around, got it?"

There is an off beat chorus of "Yes, Kino." He turns to look directly at you, waiting expectantly.

You squirm, and give a belated, low, "Yes, Kino."

"Good." There's a slight, pleased twitch in his eyebrow as he stares you down. He looks back around the table. "Unless you're looking forward to frying in ten hours, get to work!"

He finally removes his hand from your shoulder and stalks off. You hadn't realized it had been there the whole time. You glance at the spot he touched you without thinking about what you're doing because, now that it's gone, you can feel his absence and the thought makes your chest flutter.

"Way to go, you pissed him off again."

You quickly look up at the table, like you've been caught doing something you aren't supposed to. "Shut the fuck up, Taybus, and hand me the wrench or I swear to every god that will listen that I will smother you in the shower."

"And you'd deserve it, too." Alis says next to you. "Man, what's wrong with you? Bringing up her sex life to Kino? No wonder you aren't getting laid." The two begin to bicker as you all get back to work.

Jevid gives an annoyed grunt and checks his panel. However, you notice Threl and Sorrek eyeing you suspiciously. And you really hope they aren't going to corner you and bring this up again later.

They absolutely corner you and bring it up again later.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?" Threl crosses his arms and Sorrek looks apologetic next to him, but doesn't move. You're blocked in by the dads.

"Not really." You huff. "It's not your business and I'm far too old for the talk, guys! Come on." You give them a pleading look, hoping they'll drop it.

"It's my business if you get yourself in trouble again! They're gonna kick your ass out to some place worse than this if you keep it up." Threl sounds angry, and you feel bad that you somehow managed to stress him out this much.

"We're just worried about you. That's all this is." Sorrek gives you a kind smile. Aha, you think, the good dad, bad dad routine. You're annoyed that it's working.

"I know you are." You can't help but smile back at him, damnit. "Honestly, guys, there's nothing to worry about. Yesterday when he was patching me up, Kino asked about how I was doing and if…and if anyone had been…inappropriate to me." You wince a little because you didn't want Kino's name to be connected to this conversation at all, just in case one of them was too perceptive for their own good. "It just got me thinking. I wasn't sure what the expectations are about that stuff. Figured I may as well find out. Just in case…you know." Sorrek suddenly finds the ceiling very interesting because he can no longer meet your eyes. "That's all there is to it. Promise."

"So there isn't anyone…?" Threl trails off, letting the question hang between you.

"No. I have no prospects. There's no one throwing themselves at the pariah."

Threl's posture relaxes and he shakes his head. "Okay. Fair enough. Just be careful." Then he surprises you by giving you a mischievous grin. "I think you'd be surprised if you actually paid attention. But good luck, I've been trying to get some in here for years."

At that, Sorrek finally excuses himself with a scandalized look. You let him go and quickly turn on Threl for more details because you haven't gotten the chance to talk about it yet. The two of you gossip about who is hot or not in the corner until it's time to line up. You specifically don't mention how weird things with Kino are getting because you don't think he can handle that yet. And you aren't even sure what the fuck is going on or if you can handle it yet.

When you catch Threl and Kino talking the next day after shift, you swear it isn't on purpose. You're heading out from the showers and you overhear Threl's unmistakable deep voice from around the corner, which catches your attention. The voice that answers him is gruff and low. You'd also recognize that voice anywhere. Especially when it's saying your name. So you stop by the doorway and listen.

"Just promise me you didn't chew her ass out afterwards," Threl pleads. He sounds tired, like they've had this conversation before.

"I promise I didn't yell at her," Kino sighs, and you can feel his irritation from there. "Not that she didn't deserve it."

"You don't have to tell me. I don't know how she keeps shoving her foot in her mouth, but she's a good kid—"

"She's an adult, Threl. You're not that much older than her—"

"—and she's good at the job." Threl ignores him and pushes on. "You and I know it's more than just the work, too. It's how you work. She keeps up with Taybus and keeps him in line, and you know how hard that used to be." Kino grunts in response and you smirk at the floor. Because you'd really love to rub Taybus's face in that. "Edii loves having her there." Okay, at that you're a little surprised because you didn't think Edii has ever expressed a like or dislike for anything other than Taybus. "He's almost relaxed, Kino. He smiles now. Not often, but I know you can see the difference—"

"Yeah, I see it," Kino growls.

"—Hell, I really like her, she gets along great with Alis and Jevid, and Sorrek adores her."

There's a pause in their conversation where you begin to reflect on everything Threl just said because you hadn't thought of yourself as good for your table at all. You can be obnoxious and disruptive, and you keep getting in trouble. You don't know how any of them manage to like you despite that. Then Kino's voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know. She could get by in here just fine if she would just think before she speaks. Or acts, apparently." You can tell he's annoyed. Which annoys you, even though you can't really blame him.

"I know she's a lot. But she isn't going to learn just because you yell at her."

"I've already figured that out, too," he huffs.

"You have, huh?" You can hear the smile in Threl's tone.

"I know what she needs." There's a confidence to that simple statement that sends a rush through you. Because what the fuck does that mean?

"What does that mean?" Threl warily echoes your unvoiced question.

"Nothing. Look, I just need you to trust me." That is the closest to begging you've ever heard Kino Loy get. "Especially when it comes to her."

You really wish you could see their faces right now. Especially Kino's because your brain is in overdrive trying to work through his words like it's a code or puzzle. Why does he have to be so mysterious and unreadable all of the time?

"Alright. I trust you, Kino. You know I do."

"Good. Now I have to go do a sweep of the showers. I'll see you later."

You jump up in panic and scramble to get away from the doorway. You can't imagine how pissed Kino will be if he catches you eavesdropping. It isn't until you're trying to act natural, and Kino is turning the corner, that you realize you were so focused on not getting caught that you forgot you're only in a towel. He stops the second he sees you and stares at you in surprise. You stare back at him.

"Hi!" You wince because there was way too much enthusiasm in your voice. So much for acting natural.

He doesn't respond. But his eyes drop away from your face and slowly glance over your towel wrapped body. It's slow enough that it's obvious what he's doing. It's slow enough that you feel like he's absorbing every inch of you. Memorizing you. And you let him because it never occurs to you that you can stop him or leave. That you have any other choice but to let him.

Because maybe you want him to.

Because maybe, if you were a braver woman, you would remove your towel and let him look even more and see if you can crack his stony expression. Or beckon him to you and let him remove it himself.

"Are you done in here?" His indifferent voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You're disturbed because where the fuck did that come from? Also, how is he so unaffected? He checked you out and now he's just, what, standing there like nothing happened?

Maybe he didn't see anything he likes, you think. And why does that thought bother you so much?

"Yeah, sorry." You hunch in on yourself, holding your towel to your chest, and you run out, giving him a wide berth. You know with absolute certainty that you're not actually leaving, but are, in fact, running away.

NEXT CHAPTER->