#and continue life as normally as possible

[theonottsbxtch]

FORGOTTEN BIRTHDAY | OP81

an: happy birthday @iimplicitt everyone go and wish her a happy birthday! this is a little piece for you that will make you sadder that you're not in a relationship with oscar but it's a gift from me to you, ily <3

wc: 3.5k

The morning sunlight seeped through the thin, linen curtains, casting soft patterns on the wall, and she stirred, blinking her eyes open as she felt the familiar warmth against her back. Oscar’s arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, his steady breathing a gentle rhythm against her neck. She could feel his lips brushing soft, lazy kisses along her shoulder, the way he always did when he thought she was still asleep.

For a moment, she simply lay there, soaking in the quiet closeness of it all. The fresh scent of Oscar’s cologne and the warmth of his body made her feel safe, cherished. She allowed herself to close her eyes again, smile lingering on her lips as he tightened his hold just slightly, burying his face into her hair, his fingers gently tracing patterns along her arm.

It was her birthday.

She’d woken up with a flutter of excitement, the way she always had since she was a little girl. There was something magical, something undeniably special about the feeling of a day that was just yours. And now, waking up like this, wrapped up in the warmth and the love of someone who’d stolen her heart—that feeling should’ve been even stronger.

But as the minutes ticked by and he continued to kiss her in that quiet, thoughtful way he did each morning, not a single word was said.

Maybe he’s just distracted, she thought, feeling the slight tug of disappointment. After all, the season was coming to an end, and she knew how focused he got, especially in the days before a race. Formula 1 demanded so much of him, and she respected that. He’d been there for her in ways she hadn’t even dared to hope for, bringing more joy and care into her life than she could have ever asked for.

But... not even a whisper of "happy birthday"? Not a hint, not a knowing look in his eyes?

She felt him shift behind her, his hand slipping up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline with that same tender familiarity. His lips pressed gently against her neck, a sleepy hum in his throat. He felt so close, so utterly devoted, and yet...

He’s just busy, she told herself, letting out a soft sigh. It’s probably the last thing on his mind.

She sighed softly, stretching in his arms, and he pulled her a little closer, his lips brushing her forehead in that sleepy, casual way of his. His eyes were still half-closed, hair tousled, but there was a lazy smile on his face as he woke up with her.

“Morning,” Oscar murmured, voice rough with sleep, his thumb tracing slow circles along her hip.

“Morning,” she whispered back, trying to keep her tone as normal as possible. She didn’t want him to sense that she’d been holding her breath, waiting for him to say… well, something. A small “Happy Birthday, love,” maybe, or even just a knowing smile, some hint that he remembered. But he hadn’t. And it was clear now that he wouldn’t.

“So,” he yawned, shifting his legs under the blankets, “today’s kinda busy. Lando and I have this thing at the sponsor’s studio. Some shoot for a promo video, I think. They’re calling it an ‘inside look’ at race prep or something, but really it’s just us standing around talking, I’m pretty sure.” He chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “They’ve got us doing all this media stuff lately.”

“Oh, yeah?” she replied, forcing herself to smile. “You’ll be a natural.” She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, hoping he’d look at her, maybe even catch her eye and give her a hint that he hadn’t forgotten after all.

But Oscar only nodded, giving her a sleepy grin as he leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. “And you? Got a day at the office, right?” he asked casually, as though it was any other day of the year. “What’s on your agenda?”

She took a breath, trying to keep her voice light. “Yep, just the usual. A couple meetings, and I’ll probably have to cover for someone at the desk. I’ll be out by five.”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Sounds like a good day. We’ll both be back around the same time, then.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling faintly. “Guess so.”

She got out of bed, pulling her robe around herself and heading to the bathroom, where she stared at her reflection, trying to shove away the hollow feeling that was starting to settle in her chest. She should’ve been used to this by now, she told herself. Oscar’s schedule was demanding; he barely had time to stop and breathe some days, let alone keep track of something like a birthday. Besides, she knew he cared for her deeply—his warmth in the mornings, his texts at odd hours when he thought of her, all the small ways he showed her mattered so much more than one day of the year.

But as she brushed her teeth, tied her hair back, and headed into the wardrobe to pick out her work clothes, she couldn’t quite shake the disappointment. She wanted to laugh at herself for caring so much. It was just a birthday.

Yet the more she tried to pretend she was fine, the more her heart kept slipping. She threw on her blouse and slacks, fixing her makeup with hands that were just a little less steady than usual, and made her way back into the bedroom, where he was now scrolling through his phone, probably checking the texts from his manager.

“Have a good day, okay?” Oscar said as she slipped on her shoes. He gave her a small, warm smile as he leaned over, pressing one last kiss to her cheek, his hand resting on her shoulder as if to linger with her a moment longer.

“Yeah. You too,” she murmured, giving him a faint smile as she grabbed her bag, willing herself not to linger, not to let herself feel anything other than grateful for the morning they’d shared. She gave him one last glance, catching his gaze as he looked at her, that usual warmth in his eyes. And then she turned, heading out the door, whispering to herself that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t important.

The office was buzzing when she walked in. As soon as she stepped through the door, her coworkers greeted her with bright smiles, some even standing up from their desks to call out, "Happy birthday!" There was a small pile of gifts on her desk, wrapped in cheerful paper and bows, and a few balloons taped to her chair. She felt herself smiling genuinely for the first time that morning, warmth flooding her chest as she set her bag down.

“Oh my gosh, you guys,” she laughed, cheeks flushing as she picked up a card signed by everyone. “This is too much.”

“Nonsense!” her friend and desk-mate chimed in, appearing at her side with a cupcake topped with a single, brightly coloured candle. “You deserve all of this and more. We all know you make this place actually run.”

She chuckled, feeling the warmth and kindness radiating from the team. As she took in their gifts—a handmade scarf from the coworker who crocheted on her lunch breaks, a small box of her favourite teas, a lovely journal for her ever-growing stack of notes—she felt touched, genuinely happy. Her coworkers hadn’t forgotten; in fact, they’d gone out of their way to make her feel special.

But there was still that empty space in her chest. A quiet, lingering ache as she glanced at her phone, hoping to see a message pop up on her screen. Maybe Oscar would text her between shoots, or send her a voice message—just a quick “Happy birthday” or even a simple smiley face. Something that would tell her he’d thought of her.

Yet as the hours passed, her phone stayed stubbornly silent, aside from the usual work notifications and a few birthday messages from friends. She knew that he didn’t text much during the day, that his shoots and meetings usually stretched longer than he liked to admit. But part of her had hoped that, just today, he might make an exception.

At lunch, her friends surprised her with a small cake in the break room. They sang to her, a little off-key but with a lot of heart, and she found herself laughing along, feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such warmth and care. She tried to push aside her thoughts of him, to keep her mind off the absence of his message. He’s busy, she told herself, taking a bite of cake as her friends chatted around her. It’s not a big deal.

Still, every time she felt her phone buzz in her bag, her heart leapt, just for a moment, and each time, she couldn’t help but feel the sting of disappointment as she realised it wasn’t Oscar. It was as if her heart was doing a balancing act, teetering between gratitude for the people around her and that quiet ache that her mind kept insisting wasn’t fair to feel.

As she stepped out of the office and into the cool evening air, she felt the weight of the day pressing down on her. She’d kept a brave face, laughed at all the right moments, and soaked up every bit of love her friends and coworkers had poured into her. But now, alone with her thoughts, she felt the ache returning, stronger than before. She wanted nothing more than to go home, slip into a hot bath, and just let herself feel it all—the disappointment, the loneliness, the hurt she’d been pretending wasn’t there.

As she walked up to her building, she noticed his car wasn’t parked out front. Somehow, that felt like a small blessing. She was grateful for a few quiet moments to herself, to feel everything she’d been holding back all day.

The apartment was dark and quiet when she stepped inside, the air still. She kicked off her shoes, leaving them haphazardly by the door, and shrugged her bag off her shoulder, not bothering to turn on any lights as she made her way down the hallway. She was so drained, and all she wanted was the familiar comfort of their room, a place where she could let her guard down completely.

When she pushed open the door to the bedroom, though, she stopped short.

There, spread across the bed, was a beautiful assortment of gifts wrapped in elegant, colourful paper, with a cluster of balloons tied to the foot of the bed. She blinked, her eyes taking in the soft glow of fairy lights that had been draped over the headboard. Each balloon had a photograph attached—moments from their time together, candid shots from races, vacations, cosy evenings at home. Her heart clenched at the sight, an overwhelming mix of disbelief and relief filling her chest.

And then, as if on cue, Oscar stepped out from the closet, a tiny cupcake in his hand, a single candle flickering on top. His face was lit by the candle’s glow, a quiet, tender smile on his lips as he looked at her, his eyes warm and full of a love that nearly undid her.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, voice soft but full of so much feeling that it made her knees weak.

She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears as she let out a shaky laugh, feeling a rush of emotions she could barely contain. “I thought… I thought you forgot,” she managed, her voice breaking as she took a step toward him, her hands trembling. “I thought you were too busy, that… that you didn’t remember.”

Oscar’s face softened, and he closed the distance between them, setting the cupcake on the nightstand as he reached out to pull her into his arms. “Forget?” he murmured, holding her close, one hand coming up to stroke her hair as she let out a small, choked sob into his shoulder. “How could I ever forget your birthday? I’ve been planning this for weeks.”

She clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as she finally let the tears fall, letting herself feel everything she’d been holding back. He held her tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, letting her release every ounce of doubt and hurt she’d felt throughout the day.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered between soft sobs. “I just… I thought maybe with everything going on, it slipped your mind. I didn’t want to feel that way, but I… I couldn’t help it.”

Oscar pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing away a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his gaze filled with understanding. “I get it,” he said gently. “I wanted it to be a surprise, to make it perfect. But if I’d known it would make you feel like this…” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as he held her close. “I would’ve done it differently.”

She shook her head, a tearful laugh escaping her. “No, this is perfect. It’s… it’s everything. I just didn’t expect it, and I guess I didn’t realise how much I wanted it.”

He smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You deserve to feel special today. Every day, really. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

She smiled up at him, feeling the weight on her chest finally lifting as she took in the warmth in his eyes, the quiet thoughtfulness of every detail around them. Oscar reached over, picked up the cupcake, and held it between them, nodding toward the candle.

“Make a wish,” he murmured.

She looked at him, her heart swelling as she realised that her wish had already come true. But still, she closed her eyes, letting herself make a small, quiet wish before blowing out the candle.

When she opened her eyes, he was still looking at her, his own gaze soft and full of a promise she could feel without words.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing over the colourful wrapping paper, feeling almost shy with him watching her so intently. It was like every small, careful detail had been planned with her in mind, each gift waiting patiently for her to unwrap it.

The first package she reached for was a familiar shape—a shoebox. She unwrapped it slowly, her heart catching in her throat as she lifted the lid to reveal a pristine pair of black Dr. Martens. She laughed, a soft, delighted sound, running her fingers over the leather. “You remembered,” she murmured, looking up at him with a grateful smile. “I was saying just last week that mine were about ready to fall apart.”

“I know,” Oscar grinned, hands in his pockets as he watched her. “I was pretty sure you’d been trying to ignore the hole in the sole. Figured it was about time for an upgrade.”

She smiled, warmth spreading through her chest as she slipped the boots aside, reaching for the next gift. It was a neatly wrapped package, smaller and heavier, with an unmistakable shape. She tore away the paper, her breath catching when she saw the cover—the first book in her favourite series, one she’d read so many times that the copy on her shelf was practically falling apart. But as she opened the book, her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her fingers tracing over the author’s signature scrawled inside the cover, a small message addressed just to her. She flipped through the rest of the books in the series, each one signed with a personal note. “How… how did you manage this?”

Oscar sat down beside her, looking a little smug but mostly just pleased with her reaction. “You’ve talked about those books more times than I can count,” he said with a small shrug. “I figured I’d reach out to the author’s team, see if I could make it happen. Took a little convincing, but… worth it, I think.”

She looked up at him, eyes shining with gratitude and awe, feeling like her heart might just burst. “It’s… it’s perfect,” she said softly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He smiled, brushing a thumb over her hand as she picked up the final box, smaller and elegantly wrapped in deep blue paper. She carefully peeled it open, lifting the lid to find a delicate necklace nestled inside. It was simple and beautiful—a silver pendant with both of their initials engraved on it, entwined together in a tiny, subtle script. Her heart swelled as she held it up, running her fingers over the cool metal.

As she admired it, he reached up and pulled something out from under his shirt—a matching necklace, with the same delicate initials. The pendant hung just over his heart, a quiet, constant reminder of her that he must have been wearing all day.

Her chest tightened, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek as she took it all in, the thoughtfulness, the care he’d put into every detail. She reached over, cupping his face with trembling hands as her voice broke.

“You wore it all day,” she whispered, her heart so full she could barely speak.

Oscar smiled, reaching up to cover her hand with his. “Of course I did. You’re with me everywhere I go,” he murmured, his voice soft. “No matter how crazy the schedule, or how many days I’m away… I wanted you to know that you’re always with me.”

She melted, letting herself fall into his embrace, her head tucked under his chin as he held her close. She felt like everything she’d worried about, every bit of doubt that had crept in throughout the day, had simply vanished, replaced by a love so real and constant she didn’t know how she could have ever doubted it.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek.

He kissed the top of her head, his fingers threading gently through her hair. “I love you, too,” he said, holding her tightly, as if he’d never let her go. “Happy birthday, love.”

She pulled back from his embrace just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with warmth and gratitude. Oscar met her gaze, his hand lifting to brush a stray tear from her cheek, his fingers lingering softly on her skin. And then, without a word, he leaned in, closing the distance between them as his lips met hers in a slow, tender kiss.

It was soft at first, a gentle, lingering touch filled with all the emotion of the night. But then his hand slid up to the back of her neck, pulling her just a little closer, and the kiss deepened, becoming something more—a quiet, passionate promise that said everything words couldn’t. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as she poured every bit of her love and gratitude into that moment, feeling his warmth surround her, grounding her in a way that only he could.

When they finally pulled back, breathless but smiling, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, pressing one last soft kiss to her forehead. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Let me run you a bath. You’ve had a long day, and you deserve to relax.”

But she shook her head, her hand slipping into his as she gave him a gentle smile. “No, not now,” she whispered, and he paused, a look of confusion crossing his face.

“Are you sure?” he asked, tilting his head, his thumb brushing the back of her hand.

She smiled softly, tugging him gently toward the bed. “I just want to cuddle,” she said, her voice a quiet, warm confession.

Understanding dawned in his eyes, and his expression softened as he nodded, his lips curving into a smile. Oscar climbed into bed with her, pulling the covers over them both as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She snuggled into his chest, her head resting just over his heart, listening to its steady, comforting rhythm as his hands traced soft patterns along her back.

They lay together in the quiet, wrapped up in each other, their legs tangled and their breaths in sync. He held her with a gentle strength, his fingers weaving through her hair as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was perfect, this quiet intimacy, as they sank deeper into each other’s warmth, finding solace in the simple, tender closeness.

“I don’t need anything else,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest. “Just this.”

Oscar tightened his hold on her, his lips brushing her temple. “Then this is exactly what we’ll do,” he whispered.

the end.

[himasgod]

Kinich x r4ped!reader

Scaramouche x family issues!reader

(I finally finished this request! I've tried to make it as non-specific as possible, I know this is a sensitive subject. If any of you, dear readers, have gone through a similar experience, I want you to know that this is a serious subject, and that you are not alone. You have many things, many people, many laws and entities protecting you. Feel free to express yourself. You can count on me if you need anything.)

Kinich

Where you find comfort on him after being sexu4lly 4bused.

It was a thick night in Natlan, and the heat was barely able to alleviate the weight you felt in your chest. In the last few days, you had tried to return to your normal life, pretending that everything was fine; but the reality was that the shadows of your pain continued to haunt you. You didn't want to talk, not even to Kinich, afraid that your words would fail to convey the hell you had lived through. However, the concern in his eyes convinced you that tonight you could no longer bear your suffering alone.

Kinich was at your side, silent. Not asking for explanations, not pressuring. Despite his pragmatic personality, he was perceptive and knew when someone was carrying more than they could hold. He watched you for a moment, his eyes serious and attentive, without traces of judgment, only open for whatever you decided to trust him with.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to say," Kinich murmured softly, breaking the silence gently. His rough hands, accustomed to combat and hunting, sought yours with unusual care, as if he were afraid of breaking you at the slightest contact. “But I am here, for whatever you need. You know I love you, forever”

You felt the calm strength in his touch. A shiver ran through your skin, as if Natlan’s warmth was not enough to calm the coldness that had remained inside you since that fucking day. The words were stuck in your throat, and although you wanted to answer him, your voice seemed to have faded. But Kinich understood, as if your silence spoke for itself. He gently pulled you towards him, and without saying anything else, he let his arm surround your body with a protective warmth, gently, as if he were leaving you enough time to react, in case you did not want to have any contact.

“I know that what they did to you…” he began to say, his voice low and full of a weight that he rarely showed, “is something that no human being should endure. I can't undo what they did to you, or erase that pain… but I'll be here, even if you just want company without words."

You squeezed your eyes shut, and at last, the knot in your chest began to give way. Tears ran free, and Kinich didn't look away for a moment. He stayed by your side, like an immovable pillar in the middle of the storm that was hitting you. There was no rush, no attempt to change or minimize what you felt. He was simply there, sharing the weight in silence.

When you finally found your voice, you could barely whisper through your tears:

"I'm scared… scared that I'll never feel whole again, that this has taken a part of me away forever. I feel dirty, I've been taken away…"

Kinich looked at you, his gaze filled with an empathy rare in him. With a deliberate slowness, on purpose in case you didn't feel comfortable, he placed his hand on your face, gently wiping away the tears with his thumb.

"You're so much more... you are stronger than you think,” he replied, with a conviction so deep that he almost managed to make you believe him. “They haven’t taken anything from you. You will overcome it, and you will be the same as always. It is just a process that you will face… and I will be there throughout the process, helping you. You will overcome it. I promise you that.”

His words were like a balm, sincere and firm. Although the doubt and the pain were still present, Kinich’s presence enveloped you in a feeling of security. He did not promise that everything would be fine, but he did promise that he would be there, ready to accompany you in every step you took to heal.

You both stayed like that, sharing the silence under Natlan’s starry sky, and you understood that in Kinich you had found a refuge.

Scaramouche

Where he comforts you after you've told him your family's expectations of you.

The mood in Sumeru was gloomy, reflecting the weight of your thoughts. You had had a heated argument with your family earlier that morning, a conflict that seemed to repeat itself in an endless cycle. It was differences of expectations, impossible demands, and a constant comparison that drained every particle of peace you tried to build. You didn't know how to explain to them your desire to live on your own terms, without the weight of their expectations on your shoulders.

You found yourself walking aimlessly through the city, trying to clear your mind. However, a familiar shadow appeared in your path, and looking up, you saw Scaramouche, arms crossed and a disdainful expression you knew all too well.

"Are you done ghosting around town?" he asked in his usual scathing tone, but something in his eyes revealed more concern than contempt.

You sighed, trying to keep your composure, but the tension in your chest was too strong.

“If you’ve only come to make fun of it, then you might as well leave it,” you replied in a dry tone, hoping your words would drive him away.

To your surprise, Scaramouche didn’t move. Instead, he stared at you intently, as if he were trying to decipher the shadows behind your words.

“I’m not here to make fun of you, fool,” he murmured, his tone softening only slightly. “Though sometimes it seems like you don’t even understand what you need.”

His words made your barriers crumble, and without knowing how, you found yourself telling him everything. The overwhelming expectations, the rejection of your decisions, the constant criticism that felt like daggers in your heart. As you spoke, Scaramouche’s expression changed, a mix of contained rage and dark compassion that only he seemed to possess.

“So… you can’t live up to them and they know it,” he finally said, after listening to you in silence. “Why do you have to mold yourself in their image?”

You looked at him in shock, tears threatening to spill out. It was the first time someone had said it out loud, like a truth you hadn’t allowed yourself to believe.

“Because… they’re my family. I’m supposed to make them happy.”

Scaramouche snorted, his gaze turning icy.

“That’s absurd,” he muttered, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Family shouldn’t be a burden that crushes you. They don’t have the right to decide how you live. If they truly loved you, why would they hurt you this way?”

His words were harsh, but they carried a sincerity that cut through every one of your doubts. You moved a little closer, seeking refuge in his presence. Though Scaramouche rarely showed affection to you, eben if he was your boyfriend, this time he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you lean on him, his hand resting gently on your back as the weight of your tears fell silently.

“You don’t need to live up to their expectations to be worth something. If they don’t see it, it’s their problem, not yours,” he murmured, almost in a whisper. “And I… well, I’m the last one who should say this, but… you’re not alone in this fight.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt like someone understood you without judging you. Scaramouche, with his reticent nature and his own history of pain, knew more than he let on.

And in that instant, you realized that even if your family would never understand your choices, maybe you had someone at your side who could support you without asking for anything in return.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 15: Know Your Enemies

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 3.4k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ New information forces you to reckon with unwelcome developments.

Everything had changed after that night. There was a shift in the dynamic of your relationship with Aemond. Both of you had become more approachable and more tender in your interactions. There was, for the first time, patience. Both of your strong personalities required it, and with the revelation of Aemond’s newfound trust towards you and your discovery of the origins of his scar, trust was in surprising abundance.

The morning afterwards, even the guards could sense the shift. You remembered how Aemond had left his tent and sat with you around the fire to break his fast. You also remembered the bewildered look you received from Elias as he loaded some chests onto one of the wagons. You had shrugged, unable to come up with a response. How could you, when this was so new to you?

It was only the beginning. That day of riding Aemond had joined you. The two of you rode side by side on your horses at the front of the group. However, any conversation took a lot of work. It was still so recent to that night that the two of you were unsure how to proceed. He was your friend now, it should have been easy to speak to him. His unpredictability and lack of familiarity undercut the previous apprehensiveness you felt towards him. Now your apprehensiveness was shadowed by the uncomfortable nature of your thrumming heart and twisted stomach when he glanced your way.

When your company had reached the inn you had previously stayed in, you had rushed off the horse to get away from Aemond. He could surely hear the thumping of your heart and see the red that spread across your face. Yet, he made to acknowledgment of it. You had spent the better part of an hour in the bathhouse trying to scrub the feeling of his gaze away in hopes that it could wash the budding feelings from you. It was with great relief that he did not come to the bathhouse like the previous stay, for you were not sure what you would have done. Perhaps perish in the waters to avoid any further embarrassment.

A year.

You just had to make it through the year and you would be gone. No need to worry about him and each can go their separate ways. You had struggled to come to terms with how you would survive the year when Aemond was hostile to you. Now, your chances seemed easier with that hostility over, but the crisis-eliciting level of adoration that bubbled within you had become more threatening each day.

Thankfully, that night at the inn, Aemond had not joined you and the guards for dinner. If he had, you were sure to crumble under his gaze. You greatly disliked how one glance from him was enough to make your legs feel weak. It was something that deeply angered you. No one had yet to make you feel this way, so why now?��Especially with someone for whom is in no way remotely possible to connect in that way.

It is best that you finish your job and continue with your normal human life.

The next day of riding was spent similar to the first; you and Aemond side by side. Only this time, the conversation seemed to flow just a little easier. The events of the conversation you had with him had started to lessen more on the conscience, so comfortability slowly took its place. There was by no means a complete ease between one another. That would only come with time.

The last night of camp you had tossed and turned to get to sleep. Aemond had helped you down from the horse when the group decided to stop for the day. All you could think about was the heat of his hands as they gripped your sides. You did not know if your mind was playing tricks on you, but you could have sword his thumbs brushed up and down gently before releasing you. He had swiftly left to help unload things. One thing you noted about him was that he was an active king and did not wait around to be attended to. Yet another trait of his that had you admiring him more.

It was now, with the gates of the castle coming into view, that you had let out a sigh of relief. Here you could get wrapped up in your work and create some distance between you and Aemond to get your mind and your feelings sorted out. If you were not constantly around him, maybe those feelings would fade. It could only be temporary.

You hoped it was only temporary.

Your party had entered the grounds by the stables. Your thighs ached from the bouncing of the horse and you were glad to be back. Surprisingly, Aegon waited by the entrance to the stables. Aemond had ridden in beside you and had dismounted his horse. Before he could go to help you off, Aegon had beaten him to it. He lifted you up and off before setting you on the ground.

His face was what threw you off. Aegon’s mouth was twisted into a smile, but you could see concern and paranoia behind his eyes. He held one of your hands and his grip tightened.

“Welcome back,” His voice was almost shaking, but disguised with a pleasant tone, “And to you as well, brother.”

Aemond looked between the two of you with his eyes squinted, “Yes, a pleasure to be back.” There was a degree of uncertainty there. You had no idea where such tension back from and were almost frightened by Aegon’s off-putting nature. This was so unlike him.

“Welcome back, my king,” A voice sounded from behind you and Aegon. Criston Cole had come from behind Aegon and you. His greeting to Aemond was not extended to you and he only sent a quick look your way.

“Have there been any problems since I’ve been away?” Aemond questioned.

“None that raised any alarms. Though they would not have happened if such a trip was never made,” Criston side-eyed you from where he stood. He had understandably been frustrated at his king’s absence in court, but you felt his complaints were immature. Aegon sidestepped to almost block you from Cole’s view.

“Ah, well I am sure your capable hands managed to solve whatever it was,” Aegon spoke. There was underlying aggression in his tone. The prince derived great pleasure from teasing Cole. You had looked back and forth between the two elves trying to calculate what was happening.

“My king, there are sensitive matters to address,” Criston told him. Both of the elves walked away from Aegon and you. Criston would occasionally glance at you with disdain and you tried to ignore it, but it was such unabashed animosity that it threw you off. The distance between you and him did not feel like enough.

Aegon turned to you and whispered, “Pretend I said something funny.”

“What?” You queried. The skin between your brows crinkled.

“Cole is looking, pretend I said something funny.” At his words, you began to laugh, but it was uncomfortable and shaky. Aegon joined you in laughter and then looped his arm in yours.

“Do not make any face of discomfort or alarm, but there could very well be threats from any guard here. Maintain a smile until we get to your room. Understand?” Aegon began to lead you out of the stable grounds and into the castle. The flickering torchlight cast shadows across the dark stone walls.

“What do you mean, Aegon?” You tried to get to his reasoning, but he just shook his head and motioned for you to be quiet. Each time a guard passed, Aegon would stare at them and pull you closer to him. He would pick up his pace and have you across the hall in record time. He continued to do this, down every stairwell, hall, and passage.

Your heart rate had begun to pick up at the secrecy and frantic nature of his intentions. When you reached the hall where your room was located, you were overcome with a sense of relief as if you had made it home. Aegon surged forward, flung the door open, and all but pushed you inside. He stuck his head out and looked both ways down the hallway to see if anyone was around. Upon being satisfied that there were no guards he shut the door and locked the deadbolt. The whole time you had watched him with confusion.

Aegon turned and let out a breath he had been holding in. His shoulders slouched and he looked relaxed. You raised a brow and held out your hands.

“Well?” You questioned.

He sighed and approached your reading table. From the fold of his doublet, he pulled out folded parchment, “I told you I would work on your father’s disappearance. It is surprising how much work one could achieve while sober.” He now held your undivided attention as you stood next to him. Your hands wanted to reach out and seize the parchment to see what could be revealed on those pages.

“It took me a while, but I began pouring through the scouting records. Seven hells, I never thought I would be thankful for the stick up Aemond’s ass for having such extensive records written of every damn thing in this kingdom.” Aegon placed the parchment on the table.

When you went to grab it, his hand gently stopped you, “I–” His voice trailed off and it only made you move faster. You grabbed the parchment and began to unfold. Once looking at the stained pages, you could not decipher the elvish language.

“Scouting record,” Aegon began, “For Lake Rosemagne. I went back to the period you said your father disappeared. There was one group in the area… It was led by Criston Cole.”

Your hands gripped the parchment more, almost tearing it apart. Aegon moved his hands to yours and removed the parchment from your hands to set it down on the table. He went back to holding your hands, his thumbs brushing the knuckles as he noticed you had begun to become overwhelmed.

“If Cole was in the area… Look, I’m sorry but your father…” Aegon tried to console you, but he was admittedly no expert in that field. You began to shake your head in denial.

“Aemond said a human had not been spotted in that area in a century. I questioned that legitimacy, but it was only out of anger.” It was overwhelming to be at that lake, where your father may have once stood. You had snapped at Aemond then because you had lost control over your emotions. You realized that it had been wrong to accuse his guards of lying, but now as you were seeing it, there had been truth in those words of doubt you flung at him.

“I will not incriminate my brother. But Cole, on the other hand, well, I have never trusted him.” Aegon informed you. You did not respond and pulled your hands back from him. Your feet had you moving across the room toward one of your chairs. You sat in the plush chair, its comfortability providing little comfort. Aegon spoke your name, once and then twice, but it fell on deaf ears.

There was no way Aemond could be part of this and had lied to you. You refused to believe it. You thought back to his vulnerability that night from around the campfire. The flames had reflected off the mythos of his swirling blue eye and within those depths, you could see both the past and future sprawling out like an endless field. He had yet to ever lie to you, there was no reason for him to do so.

However, doubt had always been your worst enemy. Cole was as untrustworthy as anyone could be. His rampant hostility towards you was not disguised. There could be a deeper meaning behind that hate besides your humanity.

And he was incredibly close to Aemond. Guilt by association was the wrong way to go about this, but this was your father.

“Tis not all I had found,” Aegon told you. He shuffled to the chair you were on and placed a small book he had pulled from his pocket onto your lap. He crouched down to be at eye level with you.

“I may have snuck into Cole’s room after finding that scouting record. This was buried under discarded armour.” You looked down at the book. It was bound in black leather with no markings on the outside to reveal what it was. Your fingers grabbed the thick cover and pulled it to the side. Your movement was slow as mental exhaustion and your days of travel caught up to you. The parchment was old and weathered. It looked older than the human kingdom likely was.

On the pages sat weird inscriptions and symbols. The peculiar nature of the notetaking was all in an ancient language you had no knowledge of but looked eerily familiar to the scrawls of the current elvish language. It was likely some early form of it. You kept flipping through the pages as if that would help you make sense of it. You then gripped the edge and started flipping the pages at a faster rate than turning them. Drawings and ink scrawls flashed through your field of vision.

Your hands ceased their movements upon seeing one page. While you could not make out the words, the drawings struck familiarity. The mortua terra flower, the same one you had snuck into the dark woods for, was sketched onto the page. Beside it was a myriad of ingredients, none of which were dark magic but basic components of many types of brews, poultices, and other oddities. In the bottom right corner was the wobbly black outline with a blue filling that looked like the shoreline of Lake Rosemagne.

This information was all too much.

What could your father’s disappearance have to do with Cole? Or more accurately, what does Cole have to do with it? There was a burning sensation behind your eyes and you felt the sting of saltwater. Why does Cole have a tome on dark magic? There was, perhaps, a possibility that Aemond could have aided him. Many of the ingredients listed in the pages you had discovered are locked up; of which only royals have access. Daeron had to fetch many of the experimental ingredients himself because no one else among the healers could.

If Cole was using dark magic, he would need an accomplice. There was no other way.

If that were true, the needed accomplice would have to be Aemond. How else would he have gotten access to those stores?

A hand waved in front of your vision. You had not even acknowledged how your vision had gotten blurry in your moment of thinking. Aegon was crouched down, a crinkle prominent between his eyebrows as his face was morphed with worry.

“Come back down to the ground here. Shit, did I break you?” Aegon shook your shoulders gently and his voice dropped to a near incomprehensible whisper, “Gods, Aemond will kill me.”

A heartbeat passed. Then two, then three. On and on until you could ground yourself. Your hands dug into the arms of the chair. The haze of the room began to go away and your breathing calmed. It was like your heart had dropped to your stomach and the world was collapsing around you. But, like water against a shore, these feelings gradually pulled away.

“Tell no one.” Your voice was scratchy. You had to escape the chair as it felt confining. You stood and marched to the desk where the parchment was with the book in your hand. You picked both of them up and then headed to your bed. The items were then stuffed into your pillowcase. It was not the best spot to keep them, but you could not think of any other place to store them at the moment.

“That goes without saying,” Aegon responded but he still looked at you with worry, “Are you alright?”

You crossed your arms, but one hand reached up to hold the top of your chest and feel it rise and fall at every inhale and exhale, “Honestly? I have no idea. With Cole I would not be surprised of any misdeeds, but Aemond…” You sucked in a breath.

Aegon shifted from leaning on one foot to the other, “As I said, I will not incriminate my brother, but there are things you do not know about him.” You huffed out what could be close to a disappointed sigh and laugh before returning to a serious manner.

“He told me,” You confessed, but Aegon looked confused by your words, “He told me how he got the scar.”

There was a moment of silence between you two. His gaze took you in, dragging up and down your form as if he was looking for a tell that you were lying. Something was unsettling in his manner as if Aemond’s own story left him exposed as well. You could not help but wonder how that incident, his brother's maiming and the subsequent war, affected him. That type of stress and trauma left lasting damage on the mind.

“He is in deeper than I thought,” Aegon spoke just above a whisper. He made his own revelation in the moment. Aegon ran his right hand down his face, making sure to cover his mouth for a moment as you stood. His words were vague and left you wanting answers, but your head had begun to pound. It was a dull ache that started in the back and began to spread.

“In deeper?” Your arms unfolded from being crossed. Aegon was staring at you with reluctance and some kind of sympathy. You hated it; loathed not knowing what he was talking about. Every time you pulled the curtain from concealing one mystery, a myriad of others were discovered behind.

“You need not worry about another thing.” He reassured, “We shall sit on this new information before we take any more steps.” He was making sense, but the overwhelming nature of such a short conversation was rendering you immobile. It was like a heavy lead had been cast upon you, weighing your body down.

“Will you not answer my question?” You approached him and poked your pointer finger into his chest.

“It is not my secret to tell.” Aegon held up his hands in mock surrender. You huffed but relented. Perhaps, one day, you could coax an answer out of him and find out what he meant when he said his brother was ‘in too deep.’

The weight of it all on you caught his attention and Aegon moved forward to wrap his arms around you. His body posture was awkward, but welcoming. You could easily tell his experience in the act of physical reassurance was not exactly honed. His weird pat on the top of your head all but confirmed that suspicion. You returned the hug and wrapped your arms around his midsection.

“I’m sorry to have stressed you out like this,” Aegon apologized.

You shook your head, “Without your investigation, I would be nowhere near closer to finding answers.” The two of you pulled away from one another. Aegon was still awkwardly fidgeting in his spot, reeling from being close to someone.

“Well, I’ll let you get settled in,” Aegon all but skipped to the door to get away from affection he was not used to giving and receiving. However, just as he had opened the door and exited the room, he stuck his head back in again to smile at you, “Oh, and welcome home.”

He left just after. You stood in your room and looked around. Everything was where you left it all. You sat back down in your chair and faced the large window of your room and stared out at the garden. The darkness from the elder trees was a welcome sight. While you enjoyed being out in the field and feeling the sun, there was something comforting about the dark depths littered with flashing fireflies and lightly swaying lanterns.

Indeed, it was home. 

Chapter 16: Every Little Thing Preview

“Words said in heat are often more destructive than battles.” It was a whisper, as if he was recalling it from a deep memory from his past. His hands tightened into fists and he leaned on the balls of his feet, “I have told you the truth as you are my friend. Let us not fight when tensions are high. We shall talk later.” 

You wanted to scream at him, to lug one of the pillows on your bed directly at his head. How could he be so reasonable? Gods, why was he so reasonable?

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[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

Hunter's Moon (Medieval AU pt. 2)

Chapter 2

Mountain thinks back on his life before the pack and meeting Aether. He and Swiss make plans to clear the air between them.

I'm glad to see several of you were happy to see this back!! I plan to have this finished by the end of the year, then I should have more time to dedicate to writing my thesis Lee's fandom mini bang! That's not to say I won't post any more ficlets in this universe if I have ideas, more just to set your expectations for this not being another 100k monster!!!

Rating: T Content: past discussions of nasty familial expectations Words: 5031

@ashthewaterghoul @bloodfin @cosmicseafoam @everybodyshusband @jazz-bazz @karmicbias @kentuckyfriedsatan @midnight-moth @nefariousghoul @papaslittlesunshine @zombiequeen777 @0-miles-away please message me if anyone wants in/out of the tag list!! I won't be offended, I know notifs can be overwhelming, especially in stressful times <33

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Read below, or on AO3!

Swiss and the ghoulettes reached the Abbey a short while later, and were soon directed by an officious quintessence ghoul to start unfolding tables to lay food out on. Grumbling slightly at the boring task, they each hefted a piece of hinged furniture up from a pile and began dragging them outside. From Swiss’ position setting up, he had an almost direct line of sight to Mountain. The earth ghoul was sweating slightly, arm muscles flexing as he continued to drag the countless hay-bales around. Swiss desperately tried not to stare – he was supposed to be upset with the earth ghoul after all – but struggled to tear his eyes away.  

However, Sunny chose that moment to let the table she was setting up purposely fall to the ground with a tremendous clatter, making all the ghouls around turn to see where the noise was coming from. All except one. Mountain's eyes remained fixed on the bale in front of him. That confirmed it: he knew Swiss was there, but he was purposefully ignoring him. 

Swiss finally got the latch on his trestle table into place, and with that stomped back towards the Abbey, ignoring the calls from the quintessence ghoul in charge that he wasn't finished here yet. Sunshine gave chase, growling slightly at the ghoul as she passed. Swiss paced aimlessly along the hallways of the Abbey, heading nowhere in particular except for away. 

Mountain could see Swiss in his peripheral vision. He had appeared in the clearing not long ago, flanked by ghoulettes on all sides like a protection detail. The stony faces they wore only worried him further – what could Swiss have possibly said to them? He wished the festival was being held inside; it would be so much easier to continue avoiding Swiss in the maze of hallways and passages of the Abbey. Alas, Cirrus had predicted fine weather a long time ago, and so outside they were.  

Across the wide-open space, Mountain thought he could see Swiss watching him. He didn't dare look up, not even when a table near him collapsed with an almighty crash, but his skin still burned with the intensity of Swiss' gaze. Mountain didn't know if he wanted him to be watching him or not. 

He considered going over and speaking to Swiss – he wouldn't normally think twice about doing so, seeking the multi ghoul out at every opportunity – but his tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth, like it would choke any words that attempted to pass it. The pack of ghoulettes surrounding him certainly didn't help; a pride of hungry lionesses he was sure would eat him alive if he said something wrong. 

Coward, he thought to himself. For being from a tribe that prided themselves on their bravery, he really wasn't acting like it today. Although he had long since left them, travelling far, far away with no intention of ever returning, the niggling feeling that he was disappointing his ancestors right now gnawed holes in the back of his mind. He couldn't find it in himself to resent them, even having left like he did, still holding a grudging respect for them and their chosen existence. 

Mountain had been travelling for most of his life. Prior to his own nomadic existence, he had grown up constantly on the move around the southern plains. His tribe were small by earth ghoul standards, but large enough that when they moved it was as though a small village were passing through. In addition to the constant movement of the pack, they had a tradition that, when they came of age, the male ghouls were to leave for a few years to hone their skills alone and prove themselves worthy of caring for a mate.  

Having grown up hearing tales from the older ghouls of giant bears fought in forests and big cats fended off in distant desert lands, Mountain had always wondered where he would choose to explore. He had always liked the thought of exploring his namesake; large, rocky mountains full of thick-furred beasts. Living in the southern plains however, where the land was flat for as far as the eye could see, mountains often felt as fictional as some of the beasts rumoured to inhabit them rather than real and tangible landforms. 

As he grew older and approached the age where he would be expected to leave, he began to have his doubts about going at all. Most the other ghouls around his age had already wooed a prospective mate, someone for whom the journey was less about exploration but about demonstrating their worthiness to. Mountain had no ghoulette to court, nor a ghoul for that matter. He had no real desire to either – he was content with his life as it was, with no desire for things to change.  

He held out for many seasons past when he had been expected to leave. Most of his closest packmates had long since left, returned, and settled into raising their kits amongst the clan. Before long, the tribe was beginning to talk: why hadn't he left yet? He may not have had a mate to court, but plenty of other ghouls who left for their trials in the wilderness did not. They encouraged him, spinning tales of the glory he would return to when he returned without a mate patiently waiting – he would have his pick of the tribe, surely. The gossip began to spread like a fire through a dry forest. Could it be that he wasn't leaving because he was afraid? Cowardice was not tolerated amongst the clan: they could not survive the way that they did if it was. 

Eventually, Mountain had left. There was not much else he could do, he reasoned. If he stayed, he would only bring dishonour to his closest family until the whole pack eventually ostracised and then exiled him. As he said a final farewell to his parents, them wishing him luck and promising to have found him the perfect match in a mate by the time he returned, he saw only one clear emotion in their eyes: relief. There was no sadness at his coming absence, or pride for what he would hopefully achieve, only thankfulness that their son would no longer be the black sheep within the tribe.  

He hadn't looked back as he left. Not for days. As he crossed the first hill, just knowing that he was out of view of the clan's camp was enough to quiet his restless mind some and allow him to truly appreciate the beauty of his surroundings. So trapped had he been within the prison of expectations, he hadn't stopped in years to truly recognise what a solo expedition could entail. There was no hum of chatter drowning out the birdsong, no rumble of a hundred footfalls to ward off the larger animals who took an interest in him. All felt calm. 

Despite the sour feeling he had left with, he had never felt closer to his ancestors from the pack. This was what being an earth ghoul meant; the deep connection with nature he could only feel by being truly reliant on his surroundings for survival. This was what his tribe's traditions were founded upon. His progress was slow, but not for any reason besides him lingering at every turn to investigate a new plant or follow an animal's tracks back to its den out of sheer curiosity.  

Slowly, over many months that slowly became years, he headed northeast. Away from the plains and through a densely forested area, he emerged into a lush wilderness of rolling hills. He had found a new purpose to life in travelling the forest and learning its secrets, and before he even realised he was thinking about it, his mind was made up: he was never going back to his clan. They had strayed so far from their roots, and Mountain wanted nothing more than to return to them. The hills and valleys were his home now, the tall trees of the forest were his family. 

That was, at least, until he had met another ghoul. It had been years since Mountain left his clan and many months since he had seen any signs of life outside of what lived and grew in the wilderness. Spotting a small plume of smoke curling upwards in the distance, he had found his feet heading towards it without any conscious effort. 

Beneath a rocky overhang he saw a small, makeshift camp. Just outside of it, likely guarding the camp from the hungry wolves that roamed at night, was the fire that had signalled him closer. A large figure sat hunched beside it, stoking the flames. As Mountain grew closer, he allowed his footsteps to becoming less stealthy, purposely stepping on and snapping a loose branch – he didn’t want to scare the camper, have them react defensively to a perceived attack. The crack of the twig reverberated around them and purple eyes snapped up to meet Mountain’s green. It was a ghoul. 

At the same time as Mountain realised this, he also realised what a foolish situation he had plunged himself into: he had encroached on another ghoul's territory, unannounced, while they were vulnerable and unprepared. This ghoul had every right to defend his patch with all the anger and hellish power he could summon, and Mountain would deserve everything that came his way.  

Panicked, he instantly began backing up. The ghoul by the fire made no move to get up from the floor however, tilting his head with curiosity as though he knew Mountain bore him no ill will. As Mountain continued to pivot between curiosity and the urge to flee, it finally dawned on him that the ghoul did not resemble any other earth ghoul he had seen before, from his clan or any other. The violet eyes were the biggest giveaway, and he realised that this was a quintessence ghoul – that would explain how he knew Mountain's intentions; he could sense them and had probably felt him approaching too.  

Wary that despite his apparent quintessence abilities, the ghoul may interpret too much eye contact as a challenge, Mountain flicked his eyes up from the ground only briefly to examine the expression on his face. To his surprise, he saw a curious, almost bemused, smile. The ghoul seemed to be waiting for him to approach, intrigued by why he was hovering; frozen like a deer poised in an archer's sight. 

“I don't bite,” he said lightly, still sat on the ground and clearly sensing Mountain's wariness of such an apparently fearless creature, “do you?” 

After what was probably too long of a pause, Mountain shook his head dumbly. 

“Good, good. Will you join me?” The quintessence ghoul gestured to the fire, where he appeared to have a large number of mushrooms, tubers and other plants grilling over the flames. A small pile sat next to him, waiting to be skewered and cooked. Mountain took a cautious seat across the fire, the smell of cooking filtering through the smoke. 

“I'm Aether,” the quintessence ghoul smiled as though this were a perfectly normal scenario to meet another ghoul in, rather than the ambush Mountain could have easily twisted it into, “it's been a long time since I met another ghoul, let alone one without a pack.” 

“Mountain.” The earth ghoul grunted back, forcing his tongue which felt alien with disuse to form words. 

“It's a pleasure to meet you Mountain. Mushroom?” Aether held out a stick. The smell made his mouth water. Mountain accepted cautiously, sniffing the mushrooms tentatively and eyeing it closely before biting into them. Even cooked, these were recognisable and safe. As he chewed, his eyes drifted to a second, smaller pile of mushrooms beside those Aether had returned to threading onto sticks. Those were very much not safe, he realised. Although similar in appearance to the others, the telltale shape of the stem and clour of the gills confirmed his first thought. Aether seemed to be avoiding them, yet was that because he knew, or was he simply working through his piles in a methodical order? Worse still, had the ones he fed Mountain been a trap? 

“Those will make you sick.” He croaked out, his mouthful turning to rubber on his tongue. 

“I know,” Aether replied, looking up with a serene smile, “they're not for eating though. I make a tincture out of them, to pull the evil out of wounds.” 

Mountain still looked sceptical. 

“They're bitter; you'd know if I gave you one.” He shrugged at Mountain's face, with his cheeks slowly puffing out as he considered the risks of swallowing. With a gulp, he did. Aether looked delighted, as though he had passed a test of trust neither was aware was transpiring until now. 

That trust had continued as the pair found themselves travelling together in a similarly spontaneous fashion, contrary to the usual routine and planning of both ghouls. Mountain remained wary for weeks to come, yet hadn’t found it in himself to leave. Aether’s campfire was warm, as was his company, and Mountain began to realise that the solitary life he had been living wasn’t as well-suited to him as he had thought.  

The quintessence ghoul was knowledgeable and more than happy to share such knowledge with Mountain. In return, Mountain shared his own experience with the wilderness and the pair had found themselves becoming a team. With one ghoul always available to keep a lookout, their lives became safer and easier, and Mountain found himself able to relax in a way he hadn’t for years. His knowledge of the wild meshed perfectly with Aether’s ability to tap into a deeper layer of nature. They had each other’s backs; a fact that became especially important as winter began to creep in and all the living beings within the forest became increasingly desperate for a meal. It was colder up here than Mountain remembered it being on the plains, and even after several winters he still wasn’t used to waking to find the dew in his hair frozen solid. 

While in these early weeks together Mountain had been outwardly reluctant to follow the quintessence ghoul, the company began to rejuvenate him. What had started as simply an alliance of convenience became a friendship before he realised what was happening. For a while, they would have called themselves companions; never too close, but with an understanding that they relied on each other and their mutual trust. Mountain realised well past the point of no return that they had become their own small pack.  

With that understanding, and the acknowledgement of how much more comfortable his life now was, when Aether had first suggested that they attempt to settle in a human village to prepare for the coming winter Mountain had been somewhat open to the idea. He still wasn’t keen: the thought of denying his nature and hiding behind the glamour that all ghouls had but few enjoyed using filled him with a mild revulsion, but the comfort of having four walls around them when the frost began to develop had won out in the end. With the pair’s talents being perfectly utilised by their new lifestyle, it was mid summer by the time Mountain realised they had long outstayed their proposed single season.  

As such, when they had discovered Dewdrop late into the autumn, their decision had been made: they would stay amongst the humans indefinitely, until such a time came that they all either needed or wanted to move on. They had stayed as they were for long enough that even Mountain had begun to relax his most wild ways, giving in to the creature comforts civilisation provided. 

By the time Swiss, and later Rain, had joined the pack, there was very little of the nomadic earth ghoul left within Mountain. At the time, he hadn’t even cared that he was becoming domesticated as Aether had once jokingly called it when he automatically kicked off his boots before entering the farmhouse. Only once they had been thrust back into the forest, dependent on their skills for survival once again, had he lashed out at the loss of his old skills. 

Thinking of the time between leaving his clan and meeting Aether, Mountain couldn’t help but laugh coldly at how much his life had changed. He had first felt freedom in the forest, unchained from any expectations of pack and utterly reliant on his own instincts. How different things were now. The call of civilisation, of a mate, was one he had shunned for so long that his desperation for it now blindsided him. A small voice in him, the stubborn one that caused him nothing but problems, wanted to resent Swiss for changing his priorities so completely. The rest of him was more rational, and knew that that was entirely out of the multi ghoul’s control. Hell, he hadn’t even known Mountain in his wilder days, only once he had long since fallen into the comfort of life at the farm with a small pack, so the idea that he had changed him in any way was laughable.  

With hindsight as clear as day, he realised that it was his own feelings of inadequacy at something which had once been his forte that had inspired such hostility towards Dew in their early days of travelling north. Recognising his flaws was the first part of addressing them, or so Cirrus had said when he confided in her. And he could clearly recognise that he was taking his anger at himself and his actions that morning out on Swiss – a mistake he was desperate to avoid making twice. He needed to clear the air, before it was too late. 

~~~~~~~ 

Back inside the Abbey, Sunny had followed Swiss until they ended up in a small inner courtyard, surrounded on all sides by tall ivy-clad walls. With a loud huff that was almost verging on being a shriek of frustration, Swiss threw himself onto a bench facing a tiny water feature.  

“How’s everything gone so wrong?” He lamented loudly, more to himself than Sunny. She hummed sympathetically nonetheless.  

“You know, I thought you’d been together a while already,” she mused, more thinking aloud than expecting a reply, “what happened? You looked so happy yesterday.” 

Swiss snorted, whether in derision or to hold back more tears it wasn’t clear. 

“I thought we were happy too. Mount clearly doesn’t want the same thing as me though!” 

He flopped onto his back, landing his head in Sunshine’s lap where she began lightly running deft fingers across his scalp in small, soothing patterns.  

“You don’t know that until you talk to him,” she pointed out, trying hard to inject as much kindness into her usually joking voice as possible, “why don’t you start from the beginning, then we can work out what to do?” 

Swiss did the best he could to explain; going back as far as him first joining the pack all those years ago. He described how Mountain had seemed distant compared to the rest of the pack at first, before Swiss came to realise that he was just naturally quieter than the others. He’d opened up eventually like a slow-blooming flower, the pair becoming friends. Their recent closeness had felt like a distinct development to Swiss though, a notable difference to their usual interactions. He knew how he felt, knew what the familiar tingling in his gut meant for him, but for Mountain? He had no idea what his recent behaviour meant. Was he feeling it too, or was this just a deeper kind of friendship to him, forged through the chaos of their trip north? 

“Oh you are in a pickle!” Sunshine tutted softly, continuing her small scratching motions to keep the ghoul in her lap from getting too worked up again. 

“How did you get Mist?” He asked, turning his head to look at Sunny instead of staring straight up. 

Sunshine giggled.  

“I just asked her, silly!” Her delicate peals of laughter made Swiss smile despite himself.  

“I practice what I preach, you know?” She continued with an exaggerated, sanctimonious nod, finally eliciting a small laugh from Swiss. 

“It sounds like that's what Mountain needs too, you're both too far gone for subtleties at this point.”  

“What am I even going to say though?” Swiss could hear his voice getting whiney, but Sunny seemed to have infinite patience with him. His head was still pounding; that would have to be his excuse. 

Sunshine hummed contemplatively. 

“I don't know, you know him best. You just have to be open with him though, say that you don't know why he's ignoring you, and it hurts. You don't have to put your whole heart on display right away, but you need to be somewhat open if you want things to stop festering between you.” 

She was right, of course, thought Swiss. If he wanted to at least repair their friendship and have Mountain talk to him again, he needed to make a move and do it properly – make his hurt feelings known. 

“Yeah...” he muttered, feeling his confidence and conviction growing as he imagined the conversation. He wasn't going to beg, he had more self-respect left than that, but he wasn't going to let Mountain bury his head in the sand and throw away years of friendship over a drunken mistake and a misunderstanding. 

“You can ask why he left this morning, but you need to listen to him too, let him explain even if you don’t like the answer.” Sunny’s words were firm, but her tone was kind. 

“I know.” Swiss nodded.  

“Don’t look so glum! Everything isn’t lost yet, he might be stressing as much as you are about what to say, y’know?” Shifting him up as best as she could, Sunshine pulled Swiss into a hug and whispered conspiratorially in his ear, as though the walls might be eavesdropping. 

“If you two are even half as bad at communicating with each other as Mist says Dewdrop and Rain were, then of course everything’s a mess right now! “ 

Finally, that drew a small giggle from Swiss. The pair sat in comfortable quiet for a while longer, listening to the gentle bubbling of the water feature behind them and the whistling of the breeze filtering past the stone walls above. The sun passed overhead, the shadows shifting like they were turning their backs on the ghouls. 

“C’mon,” Sunshine sighed eventually, reluctant to move but all too aware that it was already mid-afternoon and they had a busy evening ahead, “let’s go and get ready for the ritual now, then you don’t have to run into Mountain in the Den if you aren’t ready to. 

Although they were prepared to sneak into the Den if necessary, it seemed to be completely empty when they entered. Swiss felt a pang of guilt that they had avoided the majority of their tasks for the day when everyone else was so hard at work, but really they were the ones who would be working later while everyone else was listening to them and having fun. The perks of being in the band, Sunny had quipped. He quickly found the scattered pieces of his uniform and got changed. Unable to resist, he gathered up Mountain’s too and hung it on the front of the wardrobe before leaving to meet Sunshine in the common room.  

When there was nothing left for them to do but wait for night to fall and their guests to arrive, they slowly headed outside. With any luck, they could make themselves look busy enough that no one would impose more work upon them. To Swiss’ relief Mountain was nowhere to be seen, giving him some time to finalise what he would say. While he psyched himself up, Sunny stuck next to him like a living shield; her loud and buoyant attitude keeping Swiss afloat in the tumultuous sea of his thoughts. As the time approached for them to start performing, Mountain was still nowhere to be seen. Swiss supposed that was for the best – what could either of them possibly say in the short time they had left – but the part of him that cared endlessly for the ghoul hoped he would appear soon, before Papa would need to chastise him for his tardiness. 

~~~~~~~

Inside the Abbey, Mountain had also been skulking along the corridors trying to pretend to be busy. He had eventually been released from outdoor work and had no intention of returning until the last possible second. Mountain put off returning to the Den for as long as he could in case he should run into Swiss or any of the ghoulettes that had spent the morning sending him a mix of glances that could have been either concern or anger, he wasn't sure. When he finally entered, with barely a half hour until he was supposed to be onstage with Copia and the others, the Den was completely abandoned. He supposed everyone who wasn't performing tonight was already out enjoying themselves. 

Entering their room, he was surprised to find his uniform already hanging up waiting for him. He scratched his head, certain he had left it on the floor like everything else when they returned last night. Could Swiss really have done that for him? Even such a small gesture made him wonder if all hope wasn't lost. He suddenly regretted hiding away all day; if Swiss really had been wanting to reconcile, Mountain hadn't helped himself. With very little time until they were due to perform, he wouldn't have a chance to clear the air beforehand. He cursed himself for making yet another cowardly decision that hurt not only himself, but Swiss too.  

Mountain shimmied into the black clothes, suddenly feeling so much more exposed in the tight waistcoat than he had the night before, especially compared to the floaty linen he had been wearing all day. The mask felt heavy on his head as he adjusted the straps, restricting his vision and making him feel like a prey animal. He could only hope that Swiss wasn't out for blood. Finally, he stuffed his feet into his polished leather boots. Copia had acquired them specially for the three ghouls in his little band from a cobbler several villages away, and they felt expensive. Yesterday they had made him feel important, but today they felt claustrophobic, squeezing his feet and holding him down like lead weights. 

Walking along the empty corridors towards the party outside felt like walking to his doom. The rational part of him understood that the only things he was really approaching were his pack and the ghoul he loved, but the few difficult conversations that blocked his path felt like insurmountable barriers. As he turned the final corner to the outside and the dim light of the early evening, the gargoyles perched above the door seemed to leer down at him mockingly. Mountain tried to ignore them, took a deep breath and set his shoulders back, summoning the confidence he had felt the night before on stage. 

All that shattered around him however when he broke through the crowd around the edge of the stage and saw Swiss waiting there, talking with Sunshine. Mountain's mouth ran dry and any words he had on his tongue disappeared as he saw Swiss stood there in the flesh, highlighted by the orange glow of the setting sun. Were his tail not glamoured away – for the time being at least, until the humans present had enjoyed enough blackberry wine to convince themselves they were seeing things – he felt it would have been firmly between his legs.  

He stayed frozen to the spot until a piercingly expectant gaze from Sunshine pulled him forward to heed Copia summoning them onto stage. Mountain stumbled up the few makeshift stairs, eyes locked on his feet. Sitting on the crate he used as percussion he felt grounded, less like he would float away at a single glance form Swiss. The multi ghoul seemed to be doing a very effective job of not looking at him either, leaving Mountain no trace of a clue about how he was feeling.  

They had two sets to play this evening; this one now, as the sun set, and another later once night had truly set in. As he tapped out a beat to begin their first song, Mountain felt his movements were stiffer than normal, stilted even. His beat was always rigid, but this felt awkward and forced rather than steadying. If Copia could tell, he gave no reaction from his position at the front of the stage.  

Under the bright light of several enchanted torches and lanterns blazing down on the stage from above, Mountain was finally able to lose himself to the music. It was almost enough to distract him from the fact that Swiss was standing as far away from him as the stage allowed, Sunshine acting as a buffer beside him. The whole set passed in a daze for Mountain. It was over before he realised, Copia chaperoning his ghouls off stage to enthusiastic cheers. As soon as his feet his solid ground again, Mountain felt a tentative hand on his elbow. 

“Are you alright, my ghoul?” Copia asked him, mismatched eyes filled with concern. He must have felt the awkward atmosphere after all, Mountain regretted.  

“Sorry Papa, I'll try and play better next time.”  

“Not at all, my ghoul! We still performed admirably,” Copia squeezed Mountain's arm encouragingly and gave him a knowing smile, “I hope you can sort what is bothering you though, yes?” 

Feeling bolstered by Copia's comments, Mountain gave him a shaky smile back. The man clearly cared so deeply for his ghouls as well as his church. Especially with so many visitors here, Mountain didn't want to let him down with a bad performance. 

“I will, I promise.” 

With a final nod from Copia, Mountain turned and plunged into the crowd in the direction he had last seen his bandmates go. Finally, he thought he had the last shred of courage he needed to talk to Swiss. 

[supercantaloupe]

oh i am too but i've been to enough shows now since the vaccines got rolled out that i'm comfortable enough going to the theater as long as i'm in an n95 mask and got my boosters. i mean i managed to make it through two seasons as a woodwind player in an orchestra during covid pre-vaccination and managed to stay healthy so...idk, for me it's worth the risk. plus i did actually get covid last summer and while it Sucked i luckily had no lasting complications and was healthy again after a week (not that i'm eager to get sick again or risk complications later on -- i'm an oboist and i'm very precious about my lungs...!)

i do wish theaters would still require masks/vaccines but all i can do is try to protect myself and hope that other people will be smart too (and given my impression of nyc & met theatergoers in general i think it'll be okay...)

[zazikels]

"Do you think we can win this?" "I do."

[lorillee]

also insane to me that some people out there genuinely think y0 shouldve ended w makoto and majima getting together at the end Like did u play this game with ur eyes open........................ ?

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[vampyroteuthid]

hey guys how do you get your doctors to prescribe you things like klonopin for your crippling anxiety without being accused of drug seeking 😀 asking for a friend

[seaofreverie]

Every once in a billion years I suddenly get very lucky and pick up one band merch delivery on one day, and then get another band merch delivery from another band on the very next day

[andrwgarfields]

omg yuzuru, it must be so bad that this decision had to be made

[system-architect]

ngl im kinda excited to see how gunner would potentially react to the stabilized rata novus fractal!

u sent this ask to me 6 months ago and ive been kind of letting it marinate in my head while i also figure out how i really feel about soto and im proud to say that after half a year i finally have an answer for u:

he'd be fucking pissed

(long below)

i think that like, at first, gunner would be bonkers levels intrigued by the wizards and the fractal islands and everything about them conceptually. that's his jam. he would feel a bit salty and cheated he hadn't been 'let in on' all the wizard stuff before, because he feels that he works harder than anyone else and essentially deserves to have access to the same pool of knowledge that the wizards have and that it was basically kind of held back from him arbitrarily, but he digresses. it's at least cool to see Now

learning about and then entering the rata novus fractal island is where his opinion would shift heavily. i think he might be kind of initially excited.. it IS his home, without all the chak damage. it's intensely nostalgic to see. but after spending a few moments into it and learning more of its' premise (a rata novus that survived because they made 'different choices'), he'd feel... mocked and exploited, sort of.

for one, he'd feel weird and like it was dirty in a way that he, a living rata novan, was never simply asked any questions and then never had any sort of input on the creation of this thing. but more pressingly, seeing this sort of distorted 'happy bubble where nothing is wrong' version of the world would feel like it was mocking him specifically-- i mean, only 2% of the population of rata novus survived. he WATCHED these people die. he'd feel like the whole premise of the fractal was kind of shitty in a way-- that maybe if the rata novans made 'better choices' they wouldn't have all died or something, as it if was the entire city that brought on the destruction via mismanagement of chak+ley energy, not a small group consisting of zinn and his high council. furthermore, zinn gets to be here-- completely uncontested and flourshing in his happy-go-lucky leadership role, despite 1. gunner feeling that zinn is a colossal idiot 2. zinn having been one of the few who had survived and escaped in the first place.

on top of that all, it's an experiment, a simulacrum-- the entire city and all of the very real (if artificially created/reproduced) people inside can just be frozen or destroyed at will if the wizards have no use for them anymore. everything that rata novus actually was matters 0% here.

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

I need more post rescue fics

[buttercuparry]

In less than two months it will be October 7th again.

In less than two months, it will be a year of genocide. 

In light of this, I just have only one request for you; please do not give into whatever you are describing as “compassion fatigue” right now.

Realize that this is exactly what the colonizers conducting this genocide want you to feel. Realize that apathy during a genocide is what leads to the normalization of atrocities. Realize that this is a tried and tested method found throughout history; that now when the genocide is been widely documented by Gazans themselves- the only way the colonizers can get away with it is by running you down and making you feel hopeless!

They want you to stop caring about their victims and this is why you need to fight harder now more than ever!!

I request you to fight harder for every Gazan! And therefore request you to fight for my friend Siraj Abudayeh too, whose family recently faced another assault. His parents and siblings had to flee to him for protection, because their areas ( Hamad, southern Khan Younis) were marked for assault from occupation forces. With the number of people depending on him increased now, Siraj has a much heavier responsibility on his shoulders to raise enough funds to support all of them and their needs, when prices of food water and other essentials are already skyrocketing.

With the coming of the rainy season, there comes the danger of epidemics spreading from open sewers as well! Siraj’s son Amir has already fallen ill, and his other two sons are showing symptoms too- they are in dire need of medical treatment! I cannot overstate how badly Siraj and his family need these funds!! How badly he needs your continuous support.

There has been a significant drop in engagement with fundraising posts and I very clearly remember, someone tagging one of my posts with compassion fatigue. It shocked me to my core to think that the cries of Free Palestine could fade so suddenly; that after only a year some of you have begun to feel fatigued, from having to care about this.

Do not give in please; do not let the colonizers make you complicit in this horror! They know that if they can overwhelm you enough, then one day the videos and posts would stop hitting as hard and sooner or later everyone will stop talking about Palestine. This cannot happen again! Not when your attention can literally save a life! This is the power you hold- especially if you are living in the Imperial core. The colonizers are afraid of it. You have to know this and believe this!

So please do not turn away and help Siraj get to 50k as soon as possible!

He is currently only at $45,044 / $82,000 CAD

[ GFM LINK ]

[ Vetting at 219 on Hussein's spreadsheet]

And if you are having trouble donating to Siraj's fundraiser through Paypal, please get in touch with @malcriada .

[aenthroppe]

Guys I'm facing the most convoluted ttrpg dilemma rn

My character, Enty, has been given the opportunity to leave the party and actually get to lead their own life in safety.

Here's where it gets convoluted

Enty has first died like 7 years ago and was resurrected by the person who offered them an out to a safe life right now. This person, Tensblood, is shady at best but his care for Enty seems genuine.

After first dieing Enty has been on a revenge quest that filled their life with meaning. At first that included Tensblood but since then Enty has recovered/unlocked more of their trauma memories (and more importantly traded away every bad memory related to Tensblood) that has changed. For the record; they only have one person left to get revenge on.

I love this character and wouldn't want to give them up yet, and here's where it gets really convoluted. Some months ago their shadow separated from them. Since that point it has just been God knows where doing its own thing. So all the character development that Enty went through (most of all the reconciliation to Tensblood) didn't happen to the shadow. If Enty leaves the campaign I get to play on as the shadow (and be worse than ever :D)

So like I as a player would be good. I want to do shit with this shadow. I also really want the shadow to confront Enty but you can't have everything 😌😔

HOWEVER; It would be sooooo fucked up of Enty to leave the party now???? Like we're in such a bad spot. Literally everyone wants to kill us, all our loved ones are in very real danger, and there's no one we can trust. I can still completely understand and see Enty wanting to get out of that situation to finally get to live. But it would be such a betrayal to the party (not like they will face those consequences though :''^))

Basically I think it boils down to what Enty wants/what motivation(s) I want the character to pursue

Bc this comes down to what they want from Life/living. Do they want the past and the future that has been taken from them over 6 years ago? Do they want a future they had no say in but find security in? Do they want a future they need to fight tooth and nail for, but spend the corresponding present with the friends who were there for them at their worst, who they can trust unquestionably?

[doberbutts]

Man but the notes on that post really are just tumblr showing they have no idea how anything works.

"report to your local animal abuse people not to cops" local animal abuse people would be animal control. Animal control officers are cops.

"rabies is treatable if you go to the doctor right after the bite" rabies is PREVENTABLE, not treatable. There is no cure for rabies. If you suspect you came into contact with a rabid animal, you need to get a series of rabies vaccinations to prevent the virus from taking over your body. This is not a treatment and it only works if you go right away. If you show any symptoms of rabies it is too late.

"rabies is fatal in animals but treatable in humans" rabies has a 100% fatality rate and is not considered a survivable disease at this point in time. If you contract rabies YOU WILL DIE. The "treatment" in humans is called the Milwaukee Protocol, only 14% of people survive it, and it leaves you with massive brain damage and effectively turns you into a vegetable. You do not return to a normal life afterwards. Very few people who have undergone this process are capable of doing more than laying in a hospital bed and eating and breathing through tubes. To my knowledge only one person was able to live a semi-normal life after years and years of ongoing therapy and was not expected to have made it even through her first year after treatment.

I cannot stress enough how rabies is unlike any other disease you may be thinking of. It's required on a federal level in this country to vaccinate pretty much any domestic animal that comes into contact with wildlife for one reason and one reason only: it is not considered possible to cure rabies and the spread of disease would threaten all mammalian life including our own if allowed to continue to propagate.