#and he's so out of place both here and with the goblins. he's too polite and rigid for his people and too bestial for everyone else

[zincbot]

okay i never understood period romances UNTIL it's a nonbinary master of ceremonies and a huge fluffy autistic beast

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Beach day with König

CW: 18+ only, protected p in v sex in a semi-public place, size kink, friends to lovers, possessive but slightly emotionally unavailable König

König wants to take you to the beach one day. He has water and some munch already packed, along with a bottle of sunscreen, and he's looking illegally hot there at your door with one of those rare smiles on his face.

You like to think he's reserved his smiles just for you, but the truth is you never know if König is flirting with you without knowing it, or if he's deliberately teasing you and making your heart ache. You can't get to the bottom of who this mysterious Austrian giant truly is, but you know he likes to spend time with you. That must count for something, right…?

You have to go to the same stall to change because there's a shortage of free changing rooms; it's the most beautiful day so of course everyone else is at the beach too.

You only need to grab your swimwear and towel, but you want to add your share to the beach picnic and so you quickly shove the last of the blueberry muffins you baked yesterday into a tupperware box. You almost melt on the spot when König says you have to feed them to him because his hands will soon be covered in sunscreen. Someone has to make sure you don't burn in the sun, oder nichts?

You've done all kinds of shit together but König has never seen you naked. You try to keep it cool – it's okay: you're both adults, it's no big deal. Friends can share the same changing room, and König has always been the perfect gentleman when it comes to these things.

It's just that you wouldn't mind if his eyes wandered a little... You know you wouldn't blame him for that, if he didn't blame you for taking a peek.

A little peek never hurt anyone, but you never knew what it would cost you. You never knew you'd end up against the stall wall with him inside you.

The reserved gentleman you used to know is completely gone. König tears the condom package open with his teeth and rolls the plastic protection on with no shame whatsoever. Trojan Magnum thin, you manage to catch as the torn package ends up somewhere on the floor of the changing room. You can't believe he came here prepared…

You wonder where his usual shyness went when he too cheated on his promise not to look when you change. You wonder where the polite, considerate man went when König presents himself to you, fully naked, uncut and huge.

You're barely able to nod when he bluntly asks if you want to fuck.

The shy, awkward recruit is nowhere to be seen as König raises you against the rough, unpainted boards and spreads your thighs. The sounds of strain and exertion mainly come from him sliding his cock into you, not from him having to carry your full weight.

You always thought your first time with König – if such a thing ever came – would be something more traditional, more romantic. You always thought it'd be a Netflix & chill kind of moment. This guy has taken you out to have a chaste little meal or to see some stupid movie, for weeks and weeks now. König has the most awful taste in films, but you've endured, just like you've endured his monologues about knives and sniping. König has offered you his huge sweater when you were cold, he's has entertained your need to read poems to him, just as bravely as you have entertained his silly ramblings about yet another Böker knife. You have done a million pranks to the other recruits together. Everyone at the barracks is sick of your stupid inside jokes, everyone says you two are the worst. The 'big goblin' and the 'small goblin', they call you apparently...

Close friends don't fuck like wild animals inside a changing room, you think while he rails you as controlled and muffled as he can – you fear what would happen to you, not to talk of the poor stall, if König was allowed to fuck you to his hearts and dicks content. You never knew the socially awkward but intense sniper candidate would take you to a beach and then ask if you want to fuck. On your worst days you've swallowed tears along with the shy question of would he ever want to be more than just friends.

The only time König ever touched you was when he allowed you to try his favourite rifle. The only time you ever kissed him was after your date nights, and even then it was just a quick peck on the cheek. You were never quite sure if you were just close friends with König.

You almost lose it when he grunts into your neck how he's wanted to do this for a long time. Wanted to fuck you, or fuck a woman against a changing room wall, you don't know, but you hold on to his sweaty neck as best as you can. You have to bite his shoulder to prevent loud, long-held cries from coming out. It only makes König more unhinged, though: you sinking your teeth in him like that.

Now he's infiltrating you with the passion of a man about to die if he doesn't get some pussy. Or like a dog, finally allowed to rut a female in heat. If you two were the only people here, he would probably sound like an animal, too. You know you would.

"When we... When we get back, I'll fuck you properly. Long, and hard. Hm?"

"Y–yes," you whisper on his skin – you don't know if you've ever been this flustered. You fear everyone on the beach will know what you've been doing just from how dumb you will look after this. The bite marks on König's shoulder are enough to tell people that your "close friend" is good at more than just shooting a gun.

When you cum, you sound like a widow sobbing at a funeral; when he cums, he sounds like he's dying from a stab wound. You both sound like two people trying to muffle their sorrow instead of trying to fuck their brains out.

And he won't let you down even when he's done with you. He won't let you down, not even as you squirm and whimper in his hold.

"You're mine now, right?" He pants into your ear while covered in a thin sheen of sweat. It's far from any kind of gentlemanly behavior, that low, possessive growl. Your eyes brim with tears – you like him too much when he's spontaneous and a bit crazy like this. You could fall in love with a man like König.

"I always was," you whisper, and he finally puts you down, content with everything you just gave him. You swear you just heard a soft, pleased rumble rising from that broad chest… But some part of that stoic, reserved soldier you know from the skills training and movie nights makes an appearance when you put your swimwear on. König is perfectly in control while you, in turn, are feeling awkward and completely flushed. At least there's no cum running down your thighs as you prepare for your day at the beach...

And who knew König would be so whiny? The condom you used is full as hell, and he has nowhere to put it because there's no trash can in the stall. He grunts as you try to hold in your laughter — he overall looks like he would prefer it if condoms disappeared from the face of the earth entirely so he could feel you without the plastic barrier in between. You giggle when you watch him smuggle it into the nearest trash after wrapping it inside a paper towel.

You spend the rest of the day at the beach, looking like you're the first people who have just discovered love and the fine art of fucking. He can't take his eyes off you, and you can't take his eyes off him. You play in the water, not as friends, but as lovers. Some elderly lady comes to scold you and says there are children here at the beach. You have your legs wrapped around König underwater, and your arms around his neck above: there's nothing lewd going on. But König grows red, all the way from the neck up. That's when you know he has probably never taken a woman in a public place; sometimes you wonder if he has ever taken a woman at all. The big Austrian sniper-to-be remains a mystery as he brings you some ice cream like the gentleman he is, then licks it off from your fingers like a starved dog. He's hot and cold, and confident and shy, feral and distant all in one day.

"You're mine now... All mine."

He "fucks you properly" when you get back, making your whole apartment smell of sex and desperation. And he says it again... That you belong to him. He says it with a shattered, hungry stare, both fragile and frightening.

[meanbossart]

Hey! I was thinking of trying to write something for you about DU Drow but after a trying to gather stuff about him via your page I’m struggling to get something substantial for his personality- like I get it mostly (I think?) but it’s hard to put into words (which makes it easier for me) so if it’s not too much to ask; how would you explain DU Drows personality and maybe some of his values? - if you don’t mind! I love your art BTW!

Man, this is a tough ask and I MADE the guy. The fic is definitely the best place to see his personality in action, but it is also 20 chapters long so far - and I'm a fairly reasonable man.

Before I get to any descriptions, there's two important things to note: A) Overwhelmingly, his looks do not match his demeanor. and B) DU drow is extremely hedonistic in practice. He might claim to have certain beliefs or standards but hardly ever practices them.

Anyways, I present to you: The guy, more-or-less summarized to the best of my abilities.

BEHAVIOR: Purposefully standoffish. He wants to be noticed, but he does not want to be bothered. He's a little bit stiff with his body language and mostly makes use of head/neck gestures to assert his sentences and signal his level of interest. On that note, me makes it extremely obvious for the socially-versed individual to tell what he thinks of them - he hardly ever tries to hide if he's disinterested, annoyed, or having a laugh at your expense. He expresses emotion through his face a normal amount, but his default look is eerily bland, and subtle emotions might go unnoticed because of his eye-color and thin brows.

As it is with most people, the more uncomfortable he is with a situation the more stiff and inexpressive he becomes, and vice versa.

SPEECH: DU drow is very much well spoken, and simultaneously very blunt. He abides by most conversational formalities (definitely more formal than you would assume him to be) and basic etiquette. He will greet you and he will say please and thank you even if clearly not meaning it or feeling like you're unworthy of the gesture. Sometimes, he does it just to be patronizing.

With all of that in mind, he has a tendency to use violent turns of phrase and analogies to express himself, this applies to both negative and positive feelings. That being said he's aware of social norma and knows full well when things are or aren't appropriate, even if sometimes he chooses to ignore that and be weird anyway - usually with the purpose of intimidation.

He is the most earnest and sincere with very close friends (quite literally only Astarion and Shadowheart) and rather curt with everyone else unless you catch him in a particularly good mood. He's a little chummier with dwarves and duergar (he finds them amusing and fun to hang out with) and reserves a slight bit more tenderness and kindness for children and mothers, especially if they're elves. He's also fond of animals. He is dismissive of gnomes, goblins, bugbears, half/full orcs and hobgoblins. He despises githyanki and drow. He treats humans fairly respectfully but thinks they are a far lesser race than pretty much all others.

He has a very dark/offensive sense of humor and a tendency to make well crafted, but cruel jokes or quips about sensitive topics. This goes for everybody, including people he's on good terms with.

VALUES: Here's where things get tricky. DU drow is both a hypocrite and a unreliable narrator of his own story, not to mention deeply unfamiliar with his own inner-workings and feelings. Politically, he would be the guy who doesn't vote, doesn't want to pay taxes and dreams of living off the grid, who thinks everybody should pull themselves up by the bootstraps and that it's a dog-eats-dog world. He hates systems of government, authority figures, hierarchical structures and archaic customs. He believes it would a chaotic but functional world if people governed themselves.

In practice, he doesn't stand for anything and gladly overlooks injustices and things that don't align with his supposed values as long as they favor him, or just don't get in his way, and easily makes exceptions for things on a whim. He's indifferent to slavery; unless it's Astarion's. - He thinks humans are a worthless pet-race, except for his dearest and nearest friend, the half-elf Shadowheart. He thinks Half-orcs are intellectually inferior, but he will gladly be chummy with them if they amuse him and make for good-company during a night-out.

INNER WORLD AND INTIMACY: DU drow is extremely unfamiliar with his own emotions and very often comes up empty when he has to justify or explain anything that is based on feeling, while simultaneously operating on impulse and instinct for the vast majority of the time. He is subject to fear, resentment, and insecurity as much as anyone else, but carries a deep shame in acknowledging his own vulnerability at all. He is very intense when it comes to love, however, and shows no reluctance in expressing it through his words and actions towards the people he cares about. He does care for the levels of comfort of those dearest to him though, and doesn't bombard them with it unless the moment is right, or if overwhelmed into doing so. The same applies to physical affection - he's extremely comfortable with it, but cares deeply for respecting the boundaries of his loved ones. When it comes to strangers, he only touches them outside of combat if there is some kind of power-game at play.

A couple of other things that might be of note:

-He likes creature comforts, but is also fine with going without them and won't ever complain about having to live, sleep, or survive in less-than-ideal circumstances as long as he feels in control of the situation. -He can be enticed by valuables and gold because they make the immediate future easier, but he doesn't seek a life of vast riches. -He is not an alcoholic but probably has a binge-drinking problem. -While he is fond and respectful of animals, he has no issues killing them if the situation calls for it. -He pretty much always believes himself to be the most impressive person in the room. -He is not a vain man, but very much likes the way that he looks and to have it be acknowledged by his partner. -He believes faith, religion, and gods to be a waste of time.

[imagines--galore]

||Love Happens||

Summary: As the youngest daughter of the House of Rivendell, Annúneth has lived a sheltered life. Though that does not stop her from meeting the Prince of Greenwood. And though they start off on the wrong foot, there is one thing that neither of them can deny. 

And that is sometimes, Love simply Happens.

Pairing: Legeloas x AnnúnethOC (Hobbit, LOTR)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. None

A/N: This is for @siriuslydestiny​ and @lovelyxkazuha​ Hope you enjoy your request! And this is for @entishramblings​ who hasn’t been feeling the best lately! Also this story takes place AGES before the events of the Hobbit. So Mirkwood is still called Greenwood! And Thranduil isn’t as uptight : P

It was not often that Lord Elrond lead a Hunting Party. But both his sons were away traveling, and he wanted to be sure that no lingering Orcs or Goblins would happen upon Rivendell by accident.

What he had not expected, on the journey home, was for his Hunting Party to instead become a Welcoming Party to the King of Greenwood himself.

“Thranduil, we did not expect you for another week.” Elrond called out as a way of greeting his old friend as he dismounted his horse. Thranduil offered a slight smile in return. “The weather was favorable, and the enemy few. I also wanted to put to rest the rumors of your hospitality as soon as possible. See for myself whether what I heard was truth or not.” The two Elven leaders gave a respectful tilt of the head before grasping each other’s forearms in a greeting one soldier gave another.

Elrond simply smiled in response. “You shall be the judge of that, melon nin. But for now, let us return to Rivendell together. I am sure both our arrivals are anticipated by our comrades.”

Quickly mounting their horses once more, the two Elven Leaders urged their mounts forward, their respective parties following after them.

“How fare your children Elrond? Is your youngest Arwen residing with you, or is she with her grand-sire in Lothlorien?”

Elrond gave a secret smile at the mention of Arwen being the youngest, but made no move to say anything. “She is indeed in Lothlorien, finishing the last of her studies with Galadriel. The twins are leading an expedition to the North. I have yet to hear from them, but last I received a letter, they were in high spirits.” Elrond turned his head towards Thranduil.

“And what of your son Legolas? I have not seen him yet. Did he not come with you?” A sigh fell from Thranduil’s lips, one that Elrond was all too familiar with. It was the sigh of a parent who was at their wit’s end with their child.

“He is here, but he insisted on taking the longer route. Some nonsense about seeing new sights and such.” Thranduil shook his head, not understanding the need his son had when it came to exploring. “He shall be joining us on a later day. Perhaps tomorrow.”

During their conversation, the Parties had reached Rivendell, blowing horns to announce their arrival as they did. It was truly a sight to behold, a marvel of elven architecture and design. Every aspect was flawless, the House built around nature, spacious windows and multiple rooms open to the elements.

As they crossed the bridge Thranduil could not help but comment. “Though I much prefer the Woods of my home, I must say Elrond, you have indeed taken care of your home all these years. It is just as when I first laid eyes upon it when I was an elfling.”

Elrond smiled in a polite manner. He knew Thranduil, knew that the King hardly gave compliments outright. This was to the best of his efforts. He did feel a sense of pride, as their horses cantered across the bridge and towards the main platform where several elves were already waiting to greet them. “I thank you for your kind words Thranduil.” He said as he dismounted. “But for now, let us change and reconvene for dinner. I am sure yo-”

“Ada!"

The cry rang loud and clear from the top of the stairs, cutting off whatever else Elrond had to say. The assembled Elves spun towards the source of the sound. A figure revealed itself. The skirt of their dress lifted to their knees, pale legs and feet bared to those standing below, bright golden hair flowing behind her, unbraided and free. And even from afar one could see a simple silver circlet resting on her forehead.

Lord Elrond's entire demeanor changed from a reserved elf and leader to that of an overjoyed parent, as he held his arms open in greeting, a smile on his lips.

"Annúneth!"

The elleth launched herself into her father's arms, holding him close, her face buried in his chest. Elrond returned the embrace just as lovingly as it was given. The Elves of Rivendell smiled fondly at the display of familial love. King Thranduil and the rest of his party looked on in slight surprise at the golden haired elleth who was now gazing up at her father, relief yet slight concern evident on her delicate features.

"You were not harmed, were you Ada?" She asked, her voice soft and light. The elves started to move, taking the horses to the stables while the guests stood where they were. Elrond shook his head, resting a hand atop the soft head of gold locks, so like her mother's.

"As you can see I am quite alright my dear Yelde. You need not worry about me." The elleth shook her head in response.

"I shall always worry when you leave Ada. As will Arwen, Elladen and Elrohir." Her gaze finally shifted from her father's familiar features to the newcomers. Elrond followed her line of sight. Keeping one arm around her shoulders he smiled at Thranduil.

“Thranduil, may I introduce you to my youngest, Annúneth.” He gently pushed his daughter towards the King. “Annúneth, this is Thranduil. He resides as King over Greenwood and is a dear friend.” The King towered over the elleth, but that did not deter her from meeting his graze briefly, before lowering into an elegant curtsy, her eyes dropping to the floor for a brief moment as she did. 

“You honor us with your presence King Thranduil.” She said, her voice ever polite and ever gentle. The older elf tilted his head in return. “And you surprise us with yours, Lady Annúneth.” His gaze shifted towards his friend, who was trying his best to hide his mirth. “Considering we were not made aware of it.”

Annúneth glanced at her father. “I shall leave Ada to explain his reasoning for I am sure he has an extensive list.” She cleverly stated, stepping away from her father’s embrace. Her grey eyes shifted to the rest of the assembled elves of Greenwood Annúneth lifted her head, her shoulders back as she addressed them.

In the blink of an eye she had morphed from a loving daughter, to the Lady of the House. And with her Mother having sailed to Valinor, and sister presently absent, the task did fall to her.

“Brothers and Sisters.” A look of surprise passed each elven face when she spoke in the tongue of their forest, Silvan. “On behalf of my father, Lord Elrond, Protector of Rivendell, I, his daughter Annúneth, welcome you to our home. Please follow me so that I may guide you to your rooms where you can freshen up before we all sit down for dinner. Your horses will be taken care of.”

With that the golden haired elven maid turned. When before she had been racing down the stairs, this time she seemed to glide along, leading the eager elves to where they would be residing during their stay at Rivendell.

Leaving a proud father, and an elven King who was seldom surprised and impressed.

And for once, Thranduil wasn’t loathe to admit that he was both.

                                             ————————–

“Will you now reveal to me the secrecy behind your youngest daughter’s existence Elrond?”

The wine hadn’t even been poured, the doors barely shut when Thrandul had demanded answers. Despite years on Middle-Earth, it would seem patience was one virtue his friend had no desire to perfect.

Thank the Valar he had enough for the both of them.

Pouring the wine, Elrond held the delicately wrought cup towards his friend. “It is a rather long tale my friend.” He stated, gesturing towards a pair of high backed chairs where he would usually conduct lessons with Annúneth. Thranduil, having taken a sip, sat down, watching as Elrond sat next to him. There was a brief moment of silence, as Elrond drank his wine.

Then he spoke.

“Celebrían and I were blessed and content with our three children. We had thought surely Valar did not seek to bless us again. But then we were wrong.” Elrond smiled as thoughts of his youngest daughter filled his head and made his heart swell with fatherly affection and love. “We were blessed with Annúneth in late Autumn in the year 1805.”

Thranduil raised a brow. “That is quite a long time to conceal the birth of an elven child Elrond.” He said, to which his friend nodded. “I agree, but it was her grandmother who insisted that we keep knowledge of her existence a secret, and tell as few others as possible.”

A frown creased his forehead as he pursed his lips, hands clasped around the stem of his wine glass. “We were not aware of the reasoning behind Galadriel‘s decision, but we did not question it. The only people to know of her existence were our family, a few other elves and, of course, Gandalf. No one outside of Rivendell, save her grandparents and Gandalf even knew of her.”

Bringing the glass to his lips he took a sip, gathering strength for what was to come next. “Then Celebrían was captured by Orcs and held captive for days.” His heart hurt even after all these years. The horror his beloved had to endure, the torture those monsters and inflicted upon her. “It was Annúneth who found where she was. She too possesses the gift of Sight. Yet hers only works when she is asleep, and is more concerned with present events and what outcome they might have. Through her intervention, the twins were able to save their Mother from a truly gruesome death and return with her.”

Thranduil frowned. “But then why hide her away? Why not use her gift to change the future as we see fit?” He asked, leaning forward as he awaited Elrond’s answer. The Elf Lord raised his eyes to meet Thranduil’s and the latter was surprised to see the utter sorrow and despair that was clear within his grey eyes. “The dreams she sees, my friend, they cause her unbearable pain. The night she had the dream about her mother dying, Annúneth was near inconsolable. She could feel her mother’s pain. And not just the physical strain.”

His eyes widening in realization, Thranduil felt a strange feeling akin to protection rise within him as he thought of the young elleth experiencing something truly grotesque and unmentionable. “You hid her away.” He said, his voice low. “So she would not meet people, so that she wouldn’t dream about them.”

Elrond nodded. “That was my intention when she was younger. But now, under her grandmother’s guidance, Annúneth has truly gained control over her abilities and has come further then I could ever have hoped.” The pride was evident in his tone as he finished his wine and stood. He paused at the window, having spied a familiar golden head, so like her mother’s, drifting by. Sometimes, when he looked outside his window and saw her, he mistook her for her mother.

Out of all his children, Annúneth had inherited her mother’s beautiful golden hair. Perhaps the reason her grandparents doted upon her so was because she reminded them of their own daughter.

“And are you willing to share your daughter with the world?” Thranduil asked, as he came to stand beside his friend, looking down at the elleth as well. Elrond laughed softly. “If I had my way, I would keep her hidden away from the horrors of the world.” He said truthfully but then he shook his head.

“And yet, I cannot keep something beautiful from the rest of the world. That would be truly selfish of me.”

                                            ————————–

Perhaps preparing a basket for a picnic that would happen in the morning wasn’t the best of ideas. She could always do that tomorrow, yet Annúneth found herself too excited to sleep. Instead, she had made her way towards the kitchen and lined up several baskets along the shelf, to be filled with all manners of eatables to take for the picnic tomorrow.

Her father had permitted she show their guests the beauty of their home, and she had suggested the meadows nearby. It was Spring, and the flowers would be in bloom. And since she had never had the chance to share her home with anyone else, Annúneth was eager to show their guests everything. Already she knew them all by name and was on her way to making friends with most of them.

Humming a long forgotten lullaby under her breath, Annúneth sifted through the jars of honey, trying to get the biggest ones from the back, where she kept them hidden away from her brothers. They had a tendency to go through honey as if it would run out and they would be left barren. Shaking her head at her brother’s obvious gluttonous nature when it came to any sweet concoction, Annúneth continued her task.

However, a sudden noise had her stilling in her movements.

She had been rummaging through a shelf that was partially hidden from the rest of the kitchen, yet gave her a full view of the room. And since she did not light a candle, choosing to work under the light of the moon, Annúneth was completely hidden in the shadows.

The sight of a hooded figure moving about the kitchen had her drawing a silent gasp.

Not a guest, for why would they sneak about wearing a hood?

A thief perhaps?

The figure moved about, inspecting the basket before taking out one of the loaves of bread Annúneth had placed within a few moments ago. From a young age, her brothers had taught her to be wary, and though it did not deter her from being the open and friendly elleth that she was, it did help her in drawing on suspicion when the situation called for it.

And presently, it did.

Her eyes darted around, to see if she could use something as a weapon. Silver grey eyes landed on a heavy pan. As quietly as she was able to Annúneth took one off, gripping the heavy handle between delicate hands. She would’ve preferred her sword, but since she didn’t have it on her, using the pan as a weapon to defend herself, if need be, would have to do.

The figure’s back was turned to her, and she could make out the soft sound of chewing as they ate the bread.

Providing Annúneth with the perfect opportunity to step out of her hiding spot, the frying pan swinging through the air.

                                            ————————–

He had not expected to return early.

Or rather so late.

It would seem everyone had retired for the night, and since Legolas and his few companions had not entered from the main entrance, their arrival went unannounced. Something that he preferred really, since he had no desire to make pleasantries.

At least not until he had eaten something.

While his companions took care of the horses and moved off to search for the rest of their party, Legolas made his way towards the kitchen. He knew Rivendell well enough to navigate his way through the dark and towards the empty kitchen. He kept his hood up, not wanting to be recognized by his hair. A rather unusual color even amongst elves.

Catching sight of the several baskets that were lined up neatly on the counter, the young Prince paused, a little curious at the arrangement. His growling stomach, however, didn’t give him much time to contemplate on it. Moving forward, he peered into one of the baskets, and seeing a loaf of bread within, pulled it out. Tearing off a piece he began to chew, enjoying the milky taste that was infused within the bread. Strange, yet not at all bad. Or perhaps he was simply too hungry to complain.

The unsuspecting elf was simply enjoying his meager, yet delicious, meal when the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. His eyes widened, he dropped the half eaten bread he held. Pivoting on his feet, and seeing the descending pan aimed towards his head, the Prince threw his hand out, catching the hand that held the handle and stopping it midair.

And not a moment too soon, since the pan stopped just a few inches shy of his temple.

                                            ————————–

The two figures stood motionless, their gazes locked.

The sudden pivot of his head had the hood of Legolas’s cloak slipping from his head, allowing his assailant to meet his eyes without the shadow of it obscuring their vision.

Annúneth had to tilt her head back to meet the stranger’s gaze. She could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest as she allowed her eyes to take in the rest of the stranger’s features. Then again, she was not the only one occupied in such a manner. Perhaps it would not have been wise to think of the stranger as handsome, despite the dirt that marred his face, and yet, she found herself thinking along the words regardless. Though that did not mean her resolve to hit him, should he be a threat, lessened.

To say he was surprised at the ferocity his assailant seemed to exude would be an understatement. Legolas was taken aback by the strength he had to use, just to keep the elleth’s choice of weapon knocking him unconscious. She was strong, of that he had no doubt. And yet, the fierceness did not take away from the beauty that was her face. Not to mention her hair. A halo of pure light that seemed to cascade down her back in rivers of gold.

A twitch of her arm had him returning to this current predicament.

“Why do you attack me?” The stranger asked in her mother tongue, his grip on her wrist not loosening. A good thing, Annúneth supposed, since she would’ve hit him. A scowl creased her forehead as she responded. “Do I not have the right to defend my own home from a vagrant vagabond such as yourself?”

Blue eyes blinked. “Vagabond?” He repeated, and Annúneth could see that despite the wariness in his expression there was amusement there at her choice of word.

The both of them were still locked in position, with Annúneth’s arms raised above her head, fingers grasping the handle of the pan. However, both of her wrists were being kept in a firm grip by Legolas. Remembering what her brothers had taught her, Annúneth pivoted on her feet, throwing her shoulder out to try and knock the elf off his feet, or at least surprise him to let go of her wrists.

Which he did, allowing Annúneth to raise the pan in front of her as a makeshift weapon. “Make yourself known, lest you wish to be thrown out.” She stated, her voice firm and sure. Even as her grey eyes flickered to his hair. A color that looked vaguely familiar, yet somehow, she could not seem to place where she had seen it before.

Despite the weariness that wore down on him, and the fact that he should end the confrontation by simply telling her who he was, Legolas paused. Her referral to him as a Vagrant Vagabond had been amusing, and he wanted to hear what else she would say about him. “And if I wish to keep my identity a secret?” He asked, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he picked up the bread he had dropped and placed it behind him on the counter. “Will you truly throw me out in the cold? Come now, I had heard tales of the hospitality of the elves of Rivendell, was it all simply a myth?”

As he spoke, Legolas began to walk, prompting Annúneth to take a step as well, and without the either of them realizing, they began to trace a circle with each step they took. “We offer hospitality to those who use the front door like civilized beings, not steal in, in the dead of the night.” She responded, her words sharp and clear, grey eyes never wavering from the figure. It disconcerted her, how ill at ease he appeared to be. Perhaps he had been here before? But then she would’ve met him.

Legolas paused briefly to pick up a bushel of grapes from a fruit platter and began to eat it. “I am not civilized, is that what you mean?” He asked, speaking around a mouthful of grapes, and not bothering to wipe some of the juice that traced from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. A happy accident that only seemed to strengthen Annúneth’s opinion of him. “You look as if you took a tumble down a hill, straight into a river of mud, before purposefully step into every piece of dirt you could find.” She responded, prompting the stranger to glance down at himself.

“I do not look that bad.” He responded, looking a little put off, to which Annúneth smirked. “You have leaves in your hair.” She deadpanned.

Legolas ran a hand through his hair, and sure enough, a few wayward leaves fluttered to the floor. He grimaced. Perhaps her wording of him had been correct. “Since that is the case,” He muttered to himself, before pausing in his steps. Turning so he could look at the elleth, the young Prince tilted his head in a slight bow, a hand over his heart, his gaze trained to the ground. “Pray will you not show this Vagabond the kindness he does not deserve My Lady, and allow him a place to clean and rest.” His posture stayed the same, but his gaze lifted to meet her own from across the room.

She may be a wary young elf maiden, but she was not without compassion. His words, nay the honesty in his eyes, had her lowering her arms, the pan now hanging at her side. “And how can I be sure, that you are not here to hurt my family or my home?” She asked, unsure how he would reassure her of that.

Legolas straightened, hand hand still over his heart, and something deep within him compelled him to say the next few words. “You have my word, My Lady. While I walk these halls, no harm shall come to your home, your loved ones.”

His gaze held hers.

“Or you.”

                                            ————————–

Call her a naive fool, but she took his word to heart.

And had found herself leading him towards one of the empty rooms where the rest of the guests were staying. She was acutely aware of his presence beside her, as she navigated through the darkened hallway with ease. While Legolas had to force his eyes to stay straight ahead, since they seemed to have developed a habit of straying in Annúneth‘s direction every now and then.

Sooner then he would’ve liked, they came to a stop in front of a door, which she gestured for him to enter, with a delicate sweep of her hand. Legolas, stepped forward, his resting hand on the handle. But then he paused. 

Annúneth, who had turned around without a word, intent on walking back to her own room, had paused as well.

Even now, as she walked to the private dining hall where breakfast was being served, Annúneth felt a strange tremble run through her body, as the memory of last night played in her mind.

They had both looked over their shoulders at one another, their gazes meeting and despite the late hour, Annúneth had never felt more awake then she did in that moment, standing there in the presence of the stranger. While Legolas found himself wanting to stay in her presence, despite the fact he did not even know her name.

And before he could even ask, she had walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I see you have seen to grace us with your presence Sister.” Elladan called as Annúneth entered the room, closing the door behind her as she did. She smiled as she approached the table and took a seat beside her father. “Not all of us have the luxury to come straight down to breakfast as soon as they are awake Brother.” The younger elleth responded, quickly leaning forward and kissing her father in greeting.

Tilting her head in greeting in Thranduil’s direction, Annúneth turned to break her fast. As the siblings squabbled, teased and argued throughout the meal, Elrond barely batted an eye as he ate, his plate being filled at least twice by his daughter without his knowing, since he was busy speaking with Thranduil. The elf-king, however, noticed everything, his sharp eye and keen ears picking up on everything.

Noticing, in particular, the extra seat that had been placed beside him, that remained empty.

Clearly Legolas had slept in, tired from his late arrival.

Shame, he had wanted his son to make himself known to their hosts during his presence.

                                            ————————–

The picnic Annúneth had planned, set out once breakfast was over. It was only an hour’s ride to the flower meadows that was teeming with woodland creatures of all manner. The grass was tall, as were the flowers, the animals quite tame, used to the elves who would come to visit from time to time.

The place was something of a sanctuary for Annúneth, and she was more then happy to share it with her guests. They dismounted from their horses, set them loose to wander about and soon everyone began to do the same.

Fingers skimmed over flowers. Trees were climbed and branches used as perches. Deer were petted and stroked. Butterflies were chased and admired. Flutes were played, and harps were strung. Food was shared and eaten. A few voices rose in song, gentle and soothing.

And in the middle of it all, Annúneth sat alone amongst the tall stalks, with only the top of her golden head visible, with a pretty flower crown adorning her forehead, her hair unbound, her face aglow.

Her delicate fingers worked on making another flower crown. While her own was made using flowers of varying shades of yellow, the one she made presently comprised of flowers that nature had shaded with a certain blue hue.

A blue that reminded her of a certain stranger.

As was the norm, she was humming under her breath, sometimes singing along with the rest of her companions, content in her task.

That is until someone decided to join her.

“We meet again.” His voice came, familiar and yet unknown at the same time. Without looking up from her fingers as she twined the flower stalks, Annúneth responded. “You are within the vicinity of my home. It would’ve been strange if we did not meet again.”

He laughed. The sound strangely melodic, or at least to her ears. An odd comparison, yet it made sense. She still did not look at him. “Are you still going to treat me as the vagabond you believe I am?” He asked, to which she responded with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “If the shoe fits.” Humming in thought, as if contemplating on how to make her see that she was wrong, Legolas reached out to pick one of the blue flowers she would be using for her crown and twirled it between his fingers.

“I have done my best to appear presentable. Will you not look to see if it is so?” There was simply something about her, that prompted him to get a rise out of her somehow. Be it in a positive or negative light. It was rather unlike him, to be vying for the attention of an elleth in such a way. And yet, he found he could not help himself.

Setting the finished crown in her lap, Annúneth pursed her lips. Valar, he was being more persistent then her brothers. And that was saying something.

Still, she turned her head, a few wisps of her hair waving gently in the breeze, partially covering her lips and nose, though she made no attempt to push them back.

The previous night, when she had seen him, Annúneth had seen past the dirt and grime, and had seen the handsome face beneath. Somehow, his face appeared different then it was. The night before, he had appeared mysterious and alluring. Perhaps an effect of the moon? That must be it, for in the sunlight, he appeared calm, at ease and............free.

And just as handsome as he had the night before.

Perhaps he should have braced himself before he had asked her to look at him. Because while she was taken aback by him, he certainly felt his very heart stutter in his chest as those piercing grey eyes lifted to meet his gaze. While the moon had made her hair appear almost silvery last night, the morning sun showed its true golden beauty.

As the breeze blew, gentle and slow, the two elves found themselves simply sitting there, looking at one another. Caught in some spell that neither of them had cast. Or at least not consciously.

“Have I....passed your judgement?” He asked, his voice low, to which she responded with a slight tilt of her head, the action just barely noticeable. “It will take more then your charming attributes to earn my trust.”

Slowly, as if afraid that she were a dream that would fade should he startle either himself or her, his hand lifted, fingers curling along the soft strands of her hair. The tips of his fingers skimmed along the warm skin of her cheek, slowly tracing a path towards her ear, where he tucked the wayward wisps of hair.

All so he could see her face fully.

“Then perhaps I should strive harder to win it.” He said, and if anyone were to hear the conviction in his tone, they would have no doubt of his intention to do just that.

Annúneth felt her very breath stall, and had to force herself to keep her eyes from fluttering shut, just to savor the sensation of his touch against her skin. This was so strange. How could a complete stranger, one she deemed rude and a vagabond, have such an intense effect on her?

His blue eyes seemed to be speaking to the very depth of her being, and it did not make her feel vulnerable. On the contrary, she had never felt more.........safe. Which was a rather rare occurrence given her gifts.

Her lips set in a gentle smile that was just barely there. “I look forward to seeing you put in the effort Vagabond.” The elleth lifted the flower crown she had finished, and carefully set it around his head, admiring how the blue petals matched his eyes perfectly.

Her fingers accidentally grazed his temple as she pulled back. Legolas stilled, his eyes widening a fraction as a warmth raced through his body. One that engulfed his entire heart and simmered just there under his skin, a pleasant sensation that he would be reliving for the rest of the day.

Annúneth felt the shift in the air between them, prompting her to return her hands to her lap, lest she find herself unconsciously tracing his features, an urge she felt rise within her the more they sat there, looking at one another. Truly whatever spell had been cast was quite a powerful one, for the only way it was broken, was a voice calling out to Annúneth.

Breaking away from his gaze, Annúneth called back to whoever had said her name.

“Annúneth.” She heard him say, startling her into realizing that it was the first time her name was uttered in his presence. “Is that your name?” He asked, to which she raised an eyebrow. “Considering I responded to it, it would not take a particularly sharp mind to realize that it was.”

Unlike before, there was no sharpness behind her words. Just a simple, playful teasing lilt of her voice that had him smiling at her. “And now that you know my name.” She continued, oblivious to the way he was smiling at her. “It is only right that I should know yours.”

She glanced over her shoulder, waving at whoever had called her, informing them that she would be with them momentarily. “Legolas.” He said, once she had returned her gaze to his.

Unbidden, his name rose to her lips. “Legolas.” Rising to her feet, Annúneth tilted her head at him playfully, the flower crown still adorning her head. “I hope your stay at Rivendell will be a pleasant one.”

With that she turned and walked away, leaving him, and missing the words he whispered. Words that were lost to the wind. “I believe it already is.”

                                             ————————–

“Elrond, I have been patient enough and I believe it is time I tell you my true reason for coming here.”

Having been expecting such a conversation to come up soon, Elrond responded with a nod and a gesture for Thranduil to take a seat beside him. He was in his study, going over a manuscript Gandalf had brought him while passing through Rivendell. “I believe I am aware of what you speak of.” He said, shutting the leather bound book and setting it aside. Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

“So you have seen it I presume.”

It was more of a statement then an inquiry, but Elrond still nodded.

Since he possessed the gift of foresight, it was not surprising one of his children should inherit a semblance of it in some way. Though while Annúneth shared all that she would see in her dreams with her father, Elrond did not share much. At least not when his visions pertained to his children.

And he had had one such vision. Of Annúneth. His beloved sunshine.

“As a father I have been dreading this day.” He spoke, looking towards the wall where several portraits hung. One of each of his children. His gaze was focused on the elleth with golden hair and expressive grey eyes. “But I know as well as anyone, that no matter what, we cannot change what is predestined.”

Thranduil too followed Elrond’s line of sight. For a moment a stab of pain echoed through his very soul, as he was reminded of the Queen he had lost so long ago. His beloved.

“No, we cannot.” He muttered, thinking of all the ways he had tried to save her from her gruesome fate but had failed. “But I give you my word Elrond.” The two elven patriarchs turned their heads, knowing a solemn vow was to take place.

“I shall take care of her, as if she were my own.” Thranduil vowed.

If Elrond was willing to agree to it, then surely his own son would have no qualms about the arrangement. After all, Elrond would not send his beloved daughter to a place where she would not be loved.

“It would seem the joining of our two houses has been inevitable.” Elrond said with a sad smile. “I wish I could say that I was happy about it, but in truth, my heart is torn, for one day Annúneth will leave Rivendell. Leave me.”

The Elven King shook his head. “I have no desire to take her away from you anytime soon Elrond. What the both of us have spoken of, I have no intention of speaking to my son about it for a while.” Though he had a reputation of being cold and heartless, Thranduil did have a soft spot for his only child.

And now, it would seem, Annúneth was beginning to make room in his heart as well.

“I was gifted the chance to find love, as were you.” Glancing in the direction of Annúneth‘s portrait, Thranduil continued. “I want to give our children that same gift.”

Smiling, Elrond nodded sagely. “I will have to write Galadriel and Celeborn of your intention, but I agree. Let us see what fate has in store for our children. I believe there was a rather interesting interaction between them only a few nights ago.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, curious to know what had occurred. Elrond smiled.

“They are not aware of who the other is, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as I am able.”

It was rare for the Elven King to laugh out of amusement, for he rarely found reasons to be happy. And yet in that moment, the sheer absurdity of what had occurred as Elrond recounted it, had him throwing his head back and laughing.

                                             ————————–

Annúneth had never been one to shy away from people.

Even when she was younger, and barely had any grasp on her abilities, she would still wish to sit amongst others and converse, or sometimes just sit and listen.

The occasions where she wished to be by herself were rare.

But then sometimes, there were nights of dreams and nightmares that would weigh heavy on her mind. So many fates of so many people morphing together and overwhelming her, body and soul.

And this was one of those nights.

She sat awake on her bed, arms resting atop her knees where she had pulled her legs to her chest, her gaze listless as she stared at the open windows in front of her, the soft gossamer curtains fluttering gently. No matter how hard she tried, the visions would not leave her alone. For years she had trained with her grandmother as well as her father, to try and contain her abilities.

Not suppress them. They could never be suppressed. The visions she had of all those she met was just as involuntary to her as breathing. Sometimes, she would get visions that would show her the joy that particular being was feeling in that moment. But then there were times when all she experienced was heartache, pain and fear.

And this was one of those nights.

It would seem a few elves she had met a decade or so ago were to be slaughtered by a band of Orcs. Yes, she could send out a raven to warn them, but what if it was already happening. What if she were too late?

Hence the reason for her being awake so late at night, with her heart heavy and her mind made up to avoid company for a day or so.

For reasons unknown to her, her mind conjured the image of a certain vagabond. And that image only solidified in her mind’s eye, chasing away the remaining clouds of despair of the visions she had just seen. She frowned, biting her lower lip as she slid out of bed. Quickly changing into a simple dress and, as was the norm for her, choosing to be barefoot, the elf-maiden stepped out of her room, into the empty hallway, and made her way towards her sanctuary.

The thought of Legolas keeping her company.

                                             ————————–

He could not find her anywhere.

Legolas had walked the entirety of Rivendell and had been unable to locate Annúneth. Worry was beginning to gnaw at his chest. He knew she was not out riding for her beloved horse was in the stables. And there was no hunting party or picnic planned that she could have gone to.

It was rather the norm, for him to run into her at some point during the day. Most of the time they only nodded at one another in passing, though he always turned to look at her as she would continue on her way. Since their shared time together in the meadow, fate had not given them the chance to be in one another’s presence for longer then a few minutes.

And Legolas quickly found that despite knowing nearly nothing of the elleth, he missed her company. And he wanted to remedy the fact that he barely knew anything about her by, well, getting to know her more.

Hence his current mission: to locate Annúneth.

Opening the door to the armory, he was surprised to see his father and Elrond standing together and having a rather animated discussion with a swordsmith. Normally he would’ve joined them, but right then he was starting to get a little anxious since he couldn’t find Annúneth.

He had hoped to turn away unnoticed, but his father always had a habit of knowing when he was near. “Legolas, what brings you here?” The Elven King asked as the swordsmith walked away to whatever task he had been appointed. “I am looking for someone.” He responded, to which both Lords glanced at one another, a look passing between them that had the Prince raising his brows in silent question. Elrond smiled as he turned his attention back to Legolas. “And who is it that you are looking for?” He asked. As Lord of Rivendell, he would know where Annúneth was, wouldn’t he?

Stepping forward eagerly he voiced. “I am looking for an elleth by the name of Annúneth. Perhaps you know her?” Mirth shone in the elder elf’s eyes. Even his father looked amused, and that hardly ever happened, which only served to confuse him even more.

“I do know her. And if you cannot find her anywhere, she has probably retreated to her garden. There is a tapestry, in the Western Wing, that depicts the first meeting of Beren and Lúthien. You will find a door behind it.” He had barely finished speaking before Legolas had quickly bowed and made his retreat.

“Beren and Lúthien?” Thranduil asked, appearing just as amused as before.

Elrond smiled. “Annúneth’s favorite tale.” He said as a way of explanation before they both turned their attention to the daggers that had been in the works.

                                             ————————–

Just as Elrond had told him, the door was behind the tapestry. And beyond it was a garden unlike any he had seen before. 

It was by no means a large garden, but was comfortably sized and circular in shape, with a tree in the center, its branches laden with white flowers. Beds of flowers dotted the landscape, and a small fountain fixed into one of the walls trickled merrily into a white marble basin. 

And while the garden demanded to be explored, it was the figure that lay upon the ground just under the tree that grabbed his attention. As he approached, Annúneth sat up, the surprise clear on her face as she blinked at him. There was grass in her hair, and white petals from where the wind was blowing them to the ground.

They both blinked at one another in surprise.

Annúneth at seeing him there, in her sanctuary that only a few people knew of, and Legolas at the realization that he had been distraught over not knowing where she was all day. But then, he suddenly realized, perhaps he hadn’t seen her because she didn’t want to be seen. Perhaps she had wanted to be left alone. Unsure whether Annúneth wanted him there or not, the Prince was quick to try and retreat.

“Forgive me, My Lady. I did not wish to intrude.” He bowed before walking back towards the door.

“Wait!”

Her gentle implore had him stopping in his tracks, his hand grazing the bronze of the handle, ready to push it down. “You are not intruding.” Her voice, gentle and kind was low. “Though I am curious as to how you found me here.” Turning, Legolas found her standing underneath the tree, her gaze fixed on him. “Lord Elrond.” He responded, his voice slightly hoarse. He paused, cleared his throat. “Lord Elrond told me where I’d be able to find you.” The Prince admitted, which had Annúneth shaking her head, a fond smile on her face.

Sighing, she raised her arms on either side as a gesture of welcome. “Well since you are already here, why not explore? It would be a shame for you to not be aware of the hidden beauty Rivendell has to offer.”

Gaining some of the confidence he seemed to have lost at the sight of her so carefree and unbound as she appeared to be in the beauty of the Garden, Legolas smiled. “That would be a false claim, My Lady, since I have seen all the beauty Rivendell has to offer.”

His intense gaze never once wavered from her face.

Her mouth opened, as if she were ready to dismiss what he said and prove him wrong, but then she stopped. Realization dawned across her features, which was immediately followed by her cheeks glowing with a hint of rosiness that was so unlike her. Not to mention the way in which her heart thumped in her chest, and pleasure swirled through her very being at the compliment he had given her.

This would not be the first occasion her beauty had been mentioned, though it was always secondary compared to her far lovelier older sister Arwen. Not that Annúneth held any contempt for her sister because it was the truth. Arwen was beautiful.

And yet, at that moment, having Legolas say those words to her, she couldn’t help but feel as if she truly were the most beautiful being on Middle-Earth. And with the way he was looking at her, any on-looker would truly believe it as well. 

Legolas was able to see the physical effects of his word, and though it may have pleased any other elf that his words had been the result of it, the young Prince found himself thinking of other way to make her smile as she was right then.

Or more specifically, smile at him that way.

Silence followed his words, though not an awkward one. On the contrary, it felt strange. Legolas felt as he did before he would face an opponent. Charged and slightly anxious, eager to see what the next few moments would bring, and anticipating the outcome of it as well.

Unable to withstand the silence, or rather his gaze, any longer, Annúneth turned her head to gaze around the circular room. “This was my Mother’s garden. She would come here to clear her mind whenever she would feel distressed over something.” The elleth said, smiling at the sight of a bird that was nesting in a bush nearby. Stepping away from the door, Legolas too looked around, unable to help but admire the natural beauty that surrounded them.

Though what she said, did give him pause. “Is that why you are here. Something distresses you?” He asked, his voice gentle as he came to stand in front of her, just a foot or so away. Annúneth sighed, but nodded. “Will you tell me what it is? If it will ease your mind?” The Prince continued, not wanting to see the glint of worry in her eyes as he was right then.

Her Father had told her never to speak of her Gift to anyone, unless she trusted them completely. She had only met him a few weeks ago, and yet..............

Annúneth knew that she could trust Legolas with her life if it ever came to that.

Sighing, the elleth closed her eyes briefly. “Then perhaps it is best that we sit for this conversation.” So saying, she glided to the ground, settling on the soft grass and looked up, waiting for him to do the same. Annúneth sit closer to the tree trunk so they would have a place to rest their backs against. Once sitting beside her, and mirroring her posture so that they were both leaning against the tree.

He turned his head towards her, waiting patiently as she inhaled deeply before exhaling. “I suppose it all started when my Mother was taken by the Orcs.”

                                             ————————–

“It must’ve been hard. Seeing your Mother like that.”

It was, but Ada was always by my side. As were my brothers and sister.”

“You are fortunate to have so many people who care for you.”

“I know.”

                                             ————————–

“So you thought it was a good idea to steal your Father’s sword?”

“I was only an elfling! I was I to know it would be too heavy to lift.”

“Did you wake up the Master of Arms because you dropped it?”

“Yes, and was branded a would-be-thief by the entire Greenwood.”

                                             ————————–

“I have taken up painting for that very reason.”

“I could help you if you’d like. Mother was an avid painter, and I would sit with her in front of my own canvas with an easel to try and paint. Of course I could hardly sit still for long then ten minutes.”

“You sound as if you were quite a handful.”

“There is no doubt that I was. Even now.

                                             ————————–

“I have tried my best, but I will never get used to how sour grapes taste for me.”

“But if you sprinkle them with some sugar, does it not improve them?”

“The juice inside makes my cheeks ache. And it causes me to tear up.”

“And that is bad?”

                                             ————————–

“Do you miss your Mother?”

“I do, but I know I shall see her when it is my time to sail. Though I am sorry about your Mother.”

“She died an honorable death, fighting for her people.”

“I’m sure her reason to fight was to make sure you lived in a safer world.”

“That is a nice thought. Thank you.”

                                             ————————–

“I believe that the Valar created our Fëa because we each have a purpose here on Middle-Earth. It may not be big, but perhaps it is significant.”

“I suppose one need not change the world to have an impact. One only needs to have impact on another being.”

“Yes.”

                                             ————————–

Time lost all meaning.

How long did they sit there?

How long did they speak?

How much did she tell him about her Gift?

How much did he tell her about his Burdens?

Did she truly manage to keep the names of her family a secret?

Did he truly manage to keep the names of his parents veiled?

By the time they ran out of words to say, their postures had shifted without their knowing.

Annúneth had her head resting on his shoulder, while Legolas had one of her hand gently gripped in between both of his own. His own head was leaning on top of her own. They found themselves drawing comfort from the other’s presence. 

The last time Legolas remembered taking comfort from another had been when his Mother had been alive. It felt strange to rely on someone for something as simple as comfort, and yet, he doubted he would feel at peace with anyone else as he did with Annúneth. Legolas had no idea what it was about her that had him feeling this way. But what he was aware of, was that since that night, when Annúneth had called him a Vagabond and had nearly knocked him out with a frying pan, his life had changed completely.

As the youngest in the family, Annúneth had never had any want for comfort. So then, why was it that with Legolas so near her, with his warmth, his voice and his presence surrounding her, had the elleth feeling as if she had never truly experienced comfort before as she did right then. Sure her Father’s embraces, and her sibling’s comforting words were no comparison. But with Legolas? She felt as if her very Fëa was at peace. Where moments ago her mind had been fluttering in the breeze, like a leaf caught in a disturbing wind, now she felt grounded. Almost as if, someone had taken her hand and pulled her back down before she floated too far out of reach.

If she were to touch the stars, she found herself thinking, she wanted to do so with him.

A bright smile on her lips, she stood, pulling Legolas up with her as she did. The Prince looked at her, slightly confused. Slipping her hand out of his, albeit reluctantly, and stepping towards the lowest branch, Annúneth jumped, catching the strong arm of the tree between her soft palms and hoisting herself up. Once she was sitting atop, she looked down at him, that smile still present on her lips.

Understanding her silent inquiry, Legolas gripped another branch and climbed up as well. Satisfied he would follow her, Annúneth began to climb higher.

Where they had been talking for hours only moments before, their ascent was in complete silence. Every now and then, they would pause, the leaves of the tree allowing them to view one another through the foliage. Their eyes would meet, playful smiles on their lips before they would continue.

Sometimes they would grab for the same branch, and their hands would touch. Giving them both pause as they would try to comprehend what that feeling was that shot through their very being and settled into the deepest recesses of their hearts.

Steady and sure, they both emerged at the top. The tree was high enough to surpass the circular walls of the Garden. Looking around, one could see the entirety of the valley Annúneth called home. It was a view she had seen before, and yet it never ceased to take her breath away. As someone who had never experienced the vision before him, Legolas could not help but stare, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“Even after all the years I’ve lived, I am glad that there are still surprises waiting for me to discover them.” He admitted, finally tearing his eyes away from the view to glance at the elleth next to him. Yet she had her gaze trained towards the night sky.

When had the hour grown so late, neither of them knew.

The stars shone where they always had, since before the Awakening of the Elves, while the moon gleamed where she had been hung in the sky so long ago, with the last flower of Teleprion, the silver tree of Valinor, encased within.

“Have you heard of the tale of how the moon got her dark spots?” She asked, her grey eyes appearing silver under the shine of the full moon. “Yes.” Legolas responded, before adding. “Though I would like to hear it once more, if you were willing to refresh my memory with the tale.”

She rolled her eyes at his obvious teasing, but indulged in his request. “It is said that the moon was once unblemished and crystal clear as an orb, shining down upon Middle-Earth in all her glory. Tilion, the Maia who would guide the moon through the night sky was proud to hear praise of the moon’s beauty and reveled in the task he had been giving, which he did so diligently.” Her hand came to rest atop a branch that Legolas was gripping to keep her balance. Unbeknownst to them, their fingers began to inch closer.

Shifting slightly, which had him leaning closer towards Annúneth to keep his balance, Legolas spoke. “That is until he caught sight of Arien, the Maia who guided the sun across the sky, and fell in love with her.” Smiling softly, Annúneth nodded. “He was so taken by her beauty, they say, the way her golden hair seemed to shine just as bright as the sun. Her kind smile that held the very warmth of the sun. And the joy in her eyes, that seemed to never dim of the laughter that he would hear the moment she would take to the sky.”

Legolas’s gaze found the several dark spots that marred the once clear surface of the silvery orb. “His love for her had him wandering too close to the sun, and the moon was burned.” The Prince whispered, not realizing how the tips of his fingers were now intertwined with Annúneth’s.

The elleth nodded. “So now, he has to keep his distance and love and admire her from afar, though some stories say that he would love nothing more then to be in her presence, just once, even if it would burn him. Which is why, even now, sometimes the Sun and Moon appear in the sky at the same time. Because Tilion wishes nothing more then to catch a glimpse of Arien. Although,” Here her voice took on a slightly dismal tone, as if her very heart was burdened by what happened next. “He learned that he had to keep his distance after an error on his part.”

Her story had him frowning slightly. “Was there a reason behind the story My Lady?” He asked, to which she sighed and turned her gaze to look at him. “Or are you simply referring to the fact that I might burn, should I get too close to you?”

Her gaze snapped towards him, more then a little surprised at how quickly he had picked up on what she’d been trying to say. The wind blew softly, the leaves rustling around them breaking the temporary silence as they continued to look upon one another.

Blue on grey.

Grey on blue.

“A little too late for that.” He finally said, his voice barely above a whisper as his gaze turned tender and soft. Grasping her fingers completely, he raised the hand he’d been touching to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss atop her knuckles. “For I believe I was burned the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Silence followed his confession, and Legolas’s heart sang with joy for having spoken what it had been carrying within it for so long.

“Annúneth.” She said, prompting him to tilt his head at her curiously. “I have burned you.” The elleth explained. “The least I can do is ask you to call me by my name.” Laughing softly to himself, the elf nodded. “Only if you were to call me by mine.” He offered, to which she hummed. “Truth be told, I prefer Vagabond, over Legolas.”

The Prince smiled, turning his body so that he would face her fully. “I do not mind in the slightest.” A mischievous glint lit in his blue eyes, putting Annúneth a little on edge because she knew he loved to tease. “Although I am a little curious as to why you would assume that you are the sun and I, the moon?”

The golden haired elleth lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Well mostly because everyone say that I have a sunny disposition.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk. “While your disposition has been whispered to be as mysterious as the moon.” Nodding in slight approval, with a look of satisfaction on his face, Legolas hummed under his breath. “And acceptable explanation.” He mused, before continuing. “Though I assume it had nothing to do with the fact that you have golden hair and mine is lighter?”

Pursing her lips to keep from giggling at his obvious vexation that the explanation was, in reality, much more simpler then what she had already offered, Annúneth spoke. “That would be a little too obvious. I was simply trying to help your image by comparing you to the moon. Was it not to your satisfaction?” She asked, unknowingly gravitating towards him, her body leaning closer with each whisper of word.

Letting out a sigh that sounded so wounded, Legolas nodded. “Well I suppose I shall accept it.” He said, barely able to get the words out given the smile on his lips. “Albeit reluctantly.” He added in jest. The hand that did not rest atop her own on the branch had lifted up to cup the side of her face, his thumb brushing across her rosy cheek in a gentle caress. Her heart leaped in her chest at the loving touch, while his heart stalled when she consciously tilted her head against his touch.

“The smile on your lips says otherwise.” Annúneth challenged, still leaning closer, barely aware that Legolas was mirroring her movement, the distance between them getting smaller and smaller.

“What smile?” The words were barely out of his mouth when her lips found his, and everything else, even their conversation, became inconsequential.

For truly nothing was of more consequence, then having Annúneth press her lips against his, shy and timid, and yet, sure, certain and unwavering at the same time. Legolas, on his part, returned the sweet gesture with a firm press of his own lips. He was a warrior, and the word gentle had never been one to be associated with him, and yet, in that moment, he was the very epitome of gentleness and tenderness.

The kiss lasted for only a few moments, a simple brush of lips, tentative and cautious.

Just as any new love would be.

And yet they both knew that for them, nothing would ever be the same.

                                             ————————–

There was quite the surprise waiting for them once they descended the tree. Annúneth jumped down from the last branch, right into Legolas’s waiting arms. A joyful laugh echoed in the otherwise silent Garden, which had one of the newcomers smiling to themselves as he watched the two elves simply revel in one another’s presence.

His friend who stood next to him, had finally run out of patience.

“I do not believe it is courteous of a guest to disappear for an entire day without warning.” Thranduil spoke, the amusement in his tone betraying him as to how he truly felt about the situation.

Both Legolas and Annúneth stopped dead in their tracks. Their surprise had more to do with the knowledge that they had been together for an entire day and had not noticed the time passing. “Forgive us, My Lords.” Legolas said, his tone apologetic as he bowed. “Annúneth and I lost track of time as we spoke.” He admitted, though the use of her name had Annúneth smiling softly at him.

A development which did not go unnoticed by the two older Elves.

She turned to her father and smiled apologetically. “I am sorry if I worried you Ada.” No sooner had the words left her mouth when Legolas turned to look at her, utter surprise on his face as he repeated the last word she had spoken. “Ada?” He turned so he could look at her fully. “Lord Elrond is your father?” He asked, which had Annúneth frowning in confusion. “Did you not know?” She asked, to which he quickly shook his head.

Thranduil sighed, knowing exactly how the rest of the conversation would play out. “It is rather unbecoming of a Prince to not know a Lady’s father Legolas. I thought I had taught you better.”

The word Prince seemed to have the effect on Annúneth the same way the Ada had had on Legolas. “Prince?” Her voice echoed against the Garden wall. Having recovered, only barely, from the new information he had been exposed to, Legolas couldn’t help but repeat the words she had spoken to him.

“Did you not know?” He asked, to which Annúneth hit him on the shoulder, though there was no malice behind her act. “Of course not! I would never have called you a Vagabond if I had known.” She paused. “Then again, perhaps I still would have. No I am sure I would have.” A nod of affirmation had her reaffirming her statement.

Elrond chuckled, delighted to see his daughter seemed to take the news in a stride. And yet he was not unaware of the change he could see in his daughter. There seemed to be a glow about her, one that he was sure, she herself was unaware of, for she shared it with Legolas. “It would be best if we were to continue this discussion in my study. Perhaps over some breakfast?” He suggested, already steering Thranduil through the door.

Wordlessly glancing at one another, the two elves, feeling as if they were young elflings once again, about to be chastised, followed after their respective fathers.

                                             ————————–

“I hear you are to leave tomorrow.”

The sound of her voice had him lifting his head from where he had been putting the last of his essentials in his bag. Annúneth stood there in his doorway, dressed in a blue gown. A blue that seemed rather familiar, yet he could not place it. He nodded, the very gesture reluctant as he picked up the belt that held held hid dagger. “As soon as the sun rises, we will be off.” He said, his voice sounding hard even to his own ears.

He felt her walk towards him, his eyes still glued to his best which he was fiddling with more out of the purpose of doing something. “I had hoped that you would stay a little longer, but it is not to be.”

She was standing in front of him now, and her presence was what urged him to lift his head and gaze upon her lovely face.

A sad smiled played across her lips as she held out a bag he didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Just something I thought would help you on your journey.” Opening the bag, he took note of the several items of food nestled within, carefully packed for his use for as long as they would last on the journey back home. He smiled. “Thank you for your kindness, Annúneth.” He said, setting the bag aside. “I shall surely miss it when I return home.”

Annúneth smiled. “Well I should hope so. I would be greatly offended if you did not for then I would have wasted my hours while entertaining you Prince Legolas.” She teased, though he could see that her heart wasn’t truly in it. But he indulged her nonetheless with a smirk on his lips.

“Oh? Was it out of kindness that you would spend your time with me, My Lady?” He returned, raising an eyebrow at her even as she lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Perhaps I simply took pity on you for your lack of friends. You did seem rather lonely when you stole into the kitchen Vagabond.” The Vagabond chuckled at her words as the both of them lapsed into silence.

Inhaling deeply, Annúneth cast her eyes towards the bed where his bags were ready to be saddled for the morning. “You really are leaving.” She muttered, as if the words were only just beginning to make sense to her. Legolas nodded, reaching out to guide her face back to him with a tender stroke of her cheek. “Yes, but I do not wish our last night to be full of sorrow. If you are willing, shall we return to the Garden for one last night of escape before I am to depart?” He asked, offering his arm to her.

Smiling, Annúneth wrapped her hands around his elbow.

“It shall be your honor to escort me Legolas.”

“You had best get off the high horse Annúneth. It wouldn’t do lest you fall.”

“I do not fear the fall, for I know you will be there to catch me. Will you not?”

“Always.”

                                             ————————–

They were to leave.

They were to return to Greenwood that day.

And Annúneth could not bring herself to smile and wish them farewell on their journey.

Why?

Because she did not want to be parted from her Prince, just as he had no desire to part from his Lady.

But they had to.

He had to return to his Kingdom, and she had to stay with her family in Rivendell where she belonged.

She watched from the window as the line of riders departed, with Thranduil in the lead. Legolas should be beside him and yet, she could not see him there. That is until she spied him at the very end of the procession, his mount halted as the Prince looked up towards the window where she perched.

Even from afar, Annúneth could see the devastation in his blue eyes for they mirrored her own. Her hand lifted from the stone railing, to rest atop the gift he had given her.

Finally, Legolas’s horse turned and galloped after the disappearing procession. As she watched him disappear from her sight, Annúneth whispered a soft prayer to the Valar.

That no matter how long they would be apart, they would meet again.

                                             ————————–

Unknown to her, secured with a pretty ribbon was a letter hanging from the branch of the tree they had sat underneath just the night before.

The words within, read thus.

My dear Annúneth,

It is truly with a heavy heart that I say my final words of farewell to you through this letter. I could not say these words in your presence for I was sure, that if I were to speak to you on the day of our departure, then I would not want to leave.

I am sorry to have not made my true feelings to you known, but I promise you, when next we meet, I will not hesitate to show you the true extent of my affections for you. Though that will not stop me from telling you just how much your presence in my life, for the past few months has changed me.

Annúneth, my beloved, even when I tried to stay away, my gaze would remained fixed upon you for I was mesmerized by your beauty and your kind and gentle heart. My heart was full of joy for the simply pleasure of being by your side. Perhaps that is why I did not tell you of my true feelings.

Not a day will go by when I will not think of you. I will dream of the day we would sit by the lake as we had planned, lost in one another, and let the rest of the world disappear around us.

Your name shall be a prayer upon my lips, and each night I will ask the Valar to grant me my wish, and have you by my side soon. That is the only prayer I shall live by until the next time I am your presence.

And like the moon and the sun in the sky, we shall remain by each other's side.

I was, am, and forever will be,

Yours,

Legolas

                                             ————————–

Unknown to him, hidden between the loaves of bread in the bag she had given him, was a letter that she had written for him.

The words within, read thus.

My beloved Legolas,

How can I put into words what my heart has been bursting to say. To shout from the very treetops of my true feelings for you and how they have been imprinted within me for all eternity. You have not yet departed as I write this letter, and already my heart aches for it is aware of the impending absence.

I have lived a sheltered life, unaware of the world beyond my home, yet you have opened my eyes to a world that lies beyond home, and I pray that I will be able to explore all of it with you by my side. For there is no one else I would have as my guide in this world then you Legolas.

I hope you will not think of me too bold when I say, that it matters not what I may see in my visions, for your soul, your Fëa, is my shelter. I have no desire to be away from you for longer then necessary. When next we meet, I hope you will make me yours, as I hope to make you mine forevermore.

Not a day will go by when I shall not think of you, for my reason in this world is now you. Legolas you are within me, my heart, my mind, and my Fëa until the end of days. Should the world end, I shall be content if I were in your embrace.

I trust you to keep my heart safe my Vagabond. For my heart cannot find peace without you. May the Valar keep you safe on your travels. Be safe My Prince.

I hope like the moon and sun in the sky, we shall soon be by each other's side.

I was, am, and forever will be,

Yours,

Annúneth

[dullgecko]

I'm so here for the angst that inherently comes with time travel. But also, imagine the cute outfits they can wear! Also, if riz ever has to go undercover, or is in traditional goblin wear and is basically half naked, I'd imagine there's another "oh no he's hot" moments from the bad kids

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Once inside the town the bad kids head straight for the guild, trading in one of their MANY spare diamonds (Fabian has started to get a bit paranoid these days about his team members dying and them not having enough so they are all WELL stocked) for enough cash for room and board for the night.

Riz is still hidden in Fabians backpack and peering out through a tiny gap in the zipper while they're inside the guild but he cant see much since Gorgug has positioned himself in such a way that he can't see anything. He's done it on purpose because he knows Riz is already a little (a lot) on edge and he really doesn't need to see what the people two counters over are handing in for bounties. Its not likely that the goblins that group killed for those ears were part of Riz's family (Sklonda mentioned in the past that both her and Poks horde were strangely resistant to the demon kings thrall and went largely unnoticed due to the difficult-to-reach locations of their nests) but its still a pretty grisly sight that their rogue doesnt really need right now.

Two hundred gold is a lot of money and they enough for a room large enough for all of them for the night plus a substantial amount leftover for supplies. They keep getting odd comments about their outfits though so they all head to the markets to get more era-appropriate clothing once Riz is given a chance to stretch his legs in the privacy of their room before clambering back into the bag.

Fabain, Fig and Adaine all settle for some comfortable, high quality elven traveling clothes whereas Kristen and Gorgug opt for the more human styles they find in the markets. They're trying to dress to impress, especially since Agueforts biography says he's working for the council at this time and they need to get close enough to him to talk.

They manage to bluff their way into the council and manage to corner him to ask for his assistance. He's a lot more sane than their version of Aguefort since he hasn't experimented quite so much with chronomancy yet but he seems delighted to see them after they explain what has happened... and almost like he was expecting them... well actually more like it was totally his fault in the first place they're there. He's summoned them specifically.

You see, the council has a little bit of a problem at the moment. There's an item being guarded by the demon kings forces that they require for part of their plan to defeat him but no one has been able to get close to it. Mostly because once you're within a few hundred metres of it it dispells any disguises and cancels any spells currently active. Quite a problem when it's being guarded by goblins, and even if they could use true polymorph (not a good idea they'd be vulnerable to the demon kings thrawl) they'd still need a spell to convincingly speak the language since no one speaks Gukliak. Since these adventurers were the ones who were summoned surely they have a solution to the problem, right?

The entire party is side-eying each other and Riz just makes the most annoyed and resigned sound from inside Fabians backpack before unzipping it and poking his head out. Arthur is VERY surprised at the sudden appearance of a goblin but also curious because this goblin seems very polite (also look at his dapper little outfit). Riz explains that his dad was totally resistant to a demon kings thrall when he was working undercover and there's a really good chance he is too since it's genetic.

He gets Arthur to give him the details so they can get this shit done and go home already. The council already had part of what they needed ready to go and Riz is handed some 'traditional' goblin clothing so he can blend in better and he just looks so very unimpressed. He's explaining that they are very much not traditional goblin clothes they're rags. Traditional goblin clothing is actually quite nice, usually hand woven fabrics or soft leather that's decorated. The only reason why goblins are usually seen wearing rags is when you're being controlled or hunted you cant exactly do many labor-intensive tasks like making clothes so what you have is either tattered beyond belief or stolen off of bodies.

He gets changed into the rags anyway when they get close and it really isn't very much fabric at all. He doesn't look it when he's wearing his normal clothes but he's just as cut as Fabian from all the exercise they get adventuring, plus goblins are naturally lean anyway. There's only a little bit of staring from all parties involved as he puts his glasses and clothes away in his briefcase, leaves it with his party, and goes full rogue infiltration mode to go commit a little theft.

[adorablebanite]

Were your Durge/Tavs inspired by characters from other movies/shows/literature?

Lilla's neither; she's more of a "side character," but here are her biggest inspirations!

Judge Anderson (DREDD): Lilla is a Knowledge domain cleric - supported by her Patron Bane (introduced by Gortash, of course). Anderson can read minds, and Knowledge clerics have the same ability, as well as other Banite-adjacent abilities like Command, and Dominate Person. She's obviously going to be different than the other Banite cleric NPC's in game, as her job is to specifically protect Gortash (she protecc but also attacc).

I wanted her to be bookish, prim(in public👀), and an over achiever - essentially a prime example of professionalism, as the boss is trying to be a politician 😈

I really like Judge Anderson's innocent competence, so I wanted to keep that Lilla's front-facing demeanor; even when her arc does stray away from the good moral alignment after being hired on by Gort - in which her moral alignment clearly gets influenced by him, but she realizes later it's literally just in her blood to be a Banite!

---

Lee (Secretary) -I love the innocent-to-confident character arc, (as you can probably see by the Judge Anderson arc as well,) but let's be real, Lilla was originally created for a smut so I could waggle my brainworms, and the Secretary holds a special place in my heart.

The movie greatly inspired Awaiting Further Instruction, and I really enjoyed having Lilla go through an adventure of finding her nature, with the help of Gortash, of course. You've got the pathetic Dom, and the pathetic Sub, and while they're both actually pathetic, they find a security in each other's world that even though it's unconventional and twisted, it brings them comfort.

---

GoGo (Kill Bill): obviously vastly different from Anderson, so you can kind of see how the arc goes - and while I don't make Lilla nearly as sadistic as GoGo, she still does have a little streak of it when it comes to anyone who is threatening, insulting, or impeding Gortash in whatever way.

Lilla's demeanor can quickly switch from prim/professional/sweet, to taking personal pleasure in dispatching a rival for Gortash, depending on the level of the crime. Like him, she has a personal perception of justice that greatly aligns with his, and if she has been sicced on someone who has wronged him, she will sentence them accordingly. This can range from playful banter/underhanded threats and blackmail, to abruptly decapitating a goblin mid-sentence because he said something uncouth about Gortash.

My vision for her was the "loyal sidekick of the mob boss," and I find it extremely fun giving her a more interesting role than "yes master, no master," specifically for smut purposes.

---

Scleritas Fel (BG3) : LOL Yes, my initial idea was: "Why can't Gortash have a little minion like Scleritas Fel?" And here we are 😅🫣

I didn't want to rip off the concept of Scleritas directly, but Lilla is still intrinsically tied to Bane because he made her - not like Bhaal made Durge - but more of a "secret, experimental ritual commissioned by Bane, conducted in the outskirts of Calimport where some Banites conceived a person designed to seek out and serve his Chosen, but she ended up being too loveable and the Banites couldn't stand treating her like Banites should, so they wiped her memory, sent her to an orphanage, and offed themselves in shame," kind of way.

Obviously Bane was also ashamed by his botched experiment, so they have a shaky relationship, but that's all been settled in the fic 😇

Ultimately I wanted to write something fun for Gortash - and give him something nice! Lilla is very nice, and likes him very much (bordering on obsession), and is actually very useful in many ways beyond smutty silliness! She does a lot of research, spies, transcribes, organises dossiers/blackmail material, and pretty much oversees his political campaign and businesses (legal and otherwise) while he does the big-boy-chosen work.

I'll do one about Destri (Durge) soon too 🥰

Now that I've prattled on, I'd love to hear about other people's inspiration for their OCs, if they have them!!

@melvinthedepressedrobot

@kaava

@obuoliukai

@walkerdraws

@ennissg

@beecreeper

@newtia

@sankttealeaf

(I have to rush now but I want to hear about everyone so please tag me if you end up doing this and you're not already tagged so I can see it!! 🙏🙏🙏)

[wylloblr]

Do tell me about Aelyos!

:O I'm glad you asked. Aelyos is a fantasy realm populated with lots of your basic magical creatures, such as Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Goblins, and Slimes. But with some I created like Ellari, giant golden praying Mantis creatures that are ridden by Elves, and Mosfoxi, spectral foxes made of spirits and moss, and Stelves (creative name), Elves who favoured the Dwarfs' ways and customs with tech - separated from the normal Elves by a war, and Shadowlings, a mysterious creature that is dark as night as well as able to teleport - said to be corrupted Elves. The main countries/nations: Alluscýr: A thriving empire of Elves, Humans, and many more. Back in old times, it was an Elven colony. However, they sided with the Stelves in The Great War (I know, inventive name...) and are now completely shut off from the Elves. The Elven Lands: A forest-like area of to the south-east of the map (which needs to be redesigned currently). It is inhabited by the two different tribes of Elves: Sowila - Red Elves, and Dasika - Blue Elves. Both Elven groups worship their respective God/Goddess of the Moon. Both groups live peacefully together as sibling tribes.

Newort & The Republic States of Wytt: An empire comprised of different island states, one of which has become independent from the Republic. Newort fought hard for it's independence and has become a nation in it's own right, it doesn't interfere with many matters concerning the mainland, it prefers to stay neutral.

Stelven Empire: Home to the Stelves mentioned earlier, a part of the Elven land and another separate part of Alluscýr that have been carved out for their use. As part of the Agreement of the war. Dwarves also live here but mostly stick to the mountains (Yes, very stereotypical) Archicoven: Pirates. What more can I say? Just an anarchistic nation of Pirates near the sea. The pirates consist of any race, Even slime-borne who melt upon contact with water (Yes, it's weird, I know). Tri-kingdom Alliance (Originally called Triforce alliance but I was informed that may get me in trouble with Nintendo): Basically 3 ancient Kingdoms who are joined together by a single goal to bring back their god they worshiped (who is evil and banished to another dimension by the king god, power politics, Am I right?). Anyway, they realised the god they each worshipped is just an aspect of the same god who was banished, now they wanna bring him back. I won't go into too much more detail about the creation story but it's basically. No one exactly remembers what happened, till one day a guy decided he was King of the whole place. People agreed, he looked strong enough. And the King created the Gods (Magical stuff, I dunno) and they lived like this in harmony for a while. Then Severyn (aforementioned evil guy) decided he wanted to pull a Loki (Norse reference) and be mischievous. So, naturally, he killed the King dude. Throwing the land into chaos. Oh, and there's a tribe of humans who live in the forests and wear masks. But that's not too relevant. Anyway, that was a not so quick rundown of the world. More or less all the important stuff. One day I hope to make the map and flesh it out more with a novel to introduce it. Hope I didn't bore you :) Thanks for Listening, anymore questions just feel free to ask if I didn't make something clear or I can just make something up and then make it canon. :)

[simon-says-nothing]

Wyllstravaganza Day One: Perception

reflection (available on ao3 here)

rating: T

pairing: wyll/astarion

warnings: daddy issues, brief flashback, anxiety

preview:

“Unfortunately, darling, I’m not one of your heroic little conquests. I have standards.” Astarion has always been sharp with his words.

Wyll should be used to it by now. He has faced the fires of Avernus, taken on an entire camp of goblins, and, possibly worst of all, Duke Ulder Ravengard’s disappointment. The word standards shouldn’t affect him.

And yet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he was young, he loved parties. There was something about the glamor of it, the sparkling wine and glimmering gold walls. There was something about knowing he was accepted there, that they wanted him around. That Wyll Ravengard, armed with his untailored clothes and the hard stare of his father, belonged. That he had a place among the greats. 

When he was young, he would sneak glasses of wine until he was sick. 

When he was young, he threw up into Dillard Portyr’s bushes, and laughed.

When he was young, he was never anything more than Wyll Ravengard, and that, in and of itself, was enough.

Now, he stares at the dusty mirror in front of him, and knows he’ll never belong anywhere again. 

The horns ache. His skin itches from being stretched into fake smiles for too long. The ridges along his cheeks make him look every bit the devil his father thinks he is.

How many days ago was it that he was instructing the children on how to hold a blade? One, two? 

He hopes they’ll forgive his absence. He hopes they’ll remember what he taught them. 

He hopes—

“Brooding all by yourself, handsome?” 

Wyll jumps halfway out of his skin, only to see Astarion standing behind him with a lazy smirk.

There is something simultaneously comforting and frightening about Astarion. He speaks with the same upper class lilt of his childhood, armed with a million passive aggressive words to refute any direct conversation. Wyll knows the language well.

Astarion, however, manages to use it in a way that is infinitely more irritating than any noble. 

“Greetings, Astarion. I hope the party is treating you well?” His father taught him well. He will be damned if he is anything but polite. Even to a vampire that seems to believe no one else has noticed his proclivity towards biting enemies. 

“Oh, if by well, you mean dreadfully boring, exceptionally tame, and overall a waste of time, then, yes.” He drawls, studying his nails.

Wyll grits his teeth. He won’t sink to Astarion’s level. He won’t.

“These people have suffered enough, Astarion. Why not grant them a few hours of respite? Gods knows their journey is far from over.” 

“Don’t you ever tire of the hero facade? I haven’t seen any damsels in distress recently, so your rousing little speech falls on deaf ears.” He’s egging him on, Wyll knows he is.

“No? What about the damsel in front of me?” He smiles, the image of a perfect gentleman. 

“I hope you’re not talking about me, darling.”

Wyll can’t help it. He was taught charm by the best, and mindless flirting is a language both of them seem to speak. If the nobility of Baldur’s Gate have taught him anything, it’s how to flirt. That, and seamlessly destroy your perception of yourself with a few well-placed words. 

“You were carved in the same marble as the statues of damsels that stand in the Gate. Impossibly cold, impossibly beautiful, and yet, made of stone.” Wyll says it out of habit. It’s instinct. 

He remembers days locked in his father’s library, pouring over old romantic poetry when he was supposed to be studying the history of the Flaming Fist. He remembers memorizing the way they spoke, the softness in it, the way it warmed his entire soul to read it. 

Astarion has clearly memorized how to seduce. Wyll has only ever memorized the art of being a romantic. 

“Oh, am I supposed to swoon here? Faint into your strangely muscular arms? Marvel at your blade?” The vampire punctuates his words by pressing his hand to his forehead, and Wyll has to physically resist rolling his eyes. “Unfortunately, darling, I’m not one of your heroic little conquests. I have standards.” Astarion has always been sharp with his words. 

Wyll should be used to it by now. He has faced the fires of Avernus, taken on an entire camp of goblins, and, possibly worst of all, Duke Ulder Ravengard’s disappointment. The word standards shouldn’t affect him. 

And yet. 

His father’s face flashes in front of him, covered in the ash left by Tiamat. 

“You are a Ravengard. Our family is held to a certain standard, now. What will they think of us now? What have you done?” It plays in his mind over, and over, and over.

What have you done? 

What have you done? 

What have you--

A pale hand waves in front of his face. 

“Honestly, it wasn’t that harsh, I’d think a man who has quite literally faced devils would have thicker skin--” 

When he blinks back into reality, he sees Astarion gesturing wildly. If he was in a better mood, it would’ve been entertaining to see him a bit panicked. 

But tonight? With only the reminder of his own reflection, and a thousand memories whirling in his mind? 

Wyll can only feel tired. 

“I don’t need to meet your standards, Astarion. I’d say I always appreciate your input, but that would be dishonest. And heroes never tell a lie.” He can’t help the exhaustion seeping into his voice. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think it might be time for me to go to sleep.” 

Astarion stops moving, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to find what he wants to say. It only lasts for a moment before his strange persona kicks back in, but Wyll notices. 

He’d been trained to notice any cracks in an enemy’s armor. 

“Wait.” Astarion recovers quickly, his voice only a touch colder than normal. “You stole my mirror. Hardly the most heroic thing to do, but even the Blade must have weaknesses.” His words are still a bit infuriating, but it’s the most direct Wyll has seen him. 

A small step is still a step, and Wyll has always been an optimist. 

“I apologize, Astarion. I’ll admit, I was going to ask you, but I didn’t want to pry. I’m sure mirrors can be a bit of a touchy subject.” 

Wyll hears what he said after he says it, and winces. He’s entirely well-meaning, and, as stated above, he is polite. 

But now he knows what it is to be disappointed in your own reflection. 

The elf’s well-crafted facade cracks again. 

Wyll sucks in a breath, and waits. 

“Yes, mirrors can be difficult when you’re as beautiful as I am. Painful, really, to remember all the poor souls who have to look at themselves every day, and wonder what it might be like to be so blessed.” Astarion sighs dramatically, and Wyll breathes out.

A step back, maybe, but Wyll should have expected this. Astarion has more guards up than Counselor Florrick on a particularly stressful day. 

He should just be glad Astarion doesn’t push the issue. He’s dealt with a vampire spawn provoked. He knows what he needs to do, if anything should come to violence. 

But Wyll finds that he doesn’t want to kill Astarion. Despite the voice of his father in his head screaming otherwise. Despite the training carved into the very marrow of his bones urging him to grab the nearest stake. 

It’s the first time denying the will of his father doesn’t feel painful.

Maybe that’s why he says, 

“I already called you beautiful once tonight, Astarion. Don’t push it.” 

Maybe it’s a rebellion. 

It certainly feels like one when Astarion smirks, and it doesn’t feel sharp.

“I wouldn’t dare.” Astarion murmurs, and Wyll waits for the next pointed remark about his blade. But it never comes. 

They stand in a sort of awkward silence, both having run out of their individual scripts. 

For once, Wyll doesn’t mind having nothing polite to say. 

For once, he doesn’t miss Baldur’s Gate so much it hurts. 

For once, he can’t feel the weight of his father’s stare in the back of his mind.

Astarion extends a hand towards him, entirely too cheeky for his own right. 

“Well darling? There’s a party just waiting for their favorite blade to show up and steal their mirrors.” 

Perhaps it was too soon to expect Astarion to feel comfortable in the silence. But who is he to judge someone for their persona? 

Both of them have survived by creating an image for themselves, perfectly crafted, never to break. Astarion’s is just a bit stronger than his, it seems. 

But here, with the sound of his friends laughing, the light of the moon, and a few hefty swigs of terrible wine? 

He finds he doesn’t mind Astarion’s company. 

Wyll takes Astarion’s hand, and for the first time since these horns grew on his head, he doesn’t feel utterly alone. 

Maybe this is what the poetry in his father’s study was written for. The feeling of being with someone who makes you feel just a little less lonely. 

It’s enough to write novels for. 

For now, a simple dance will have to do.  

[larsisfrommars]

BG3 Santa Playthrough #6

The Path to The Shadow Druid Rendevous:

Before we leave let us question the drow that was killed, perhaps he’ll give us some answers that Nettie would not or could not! Moonrise Towers seems to be another place where people are getting sick.

Is that music? Perhaps we should head this way before we leave! Oh, there’s a lovely young woman writing a song for a passed love one. There is some tenderness in this grove after all!

Wait, we’ve let Alfira be, why do I still hear singing? Oh look a little boy, surely hes not the one singing that tune? No it’s something else, a beautiful bird! Astarion don’t shoot it you selfish little! Oh… Harpies. We must get this child out of here!!

A letter in the harpy’s nest, it seems there is a Cambion lurking about. Goodness, is there no end to the dark creatures lurking in these lands? Goblins, harpies, cambions, a dragon, what next?!

Gale seems to be as fond of children as me, we seem to be getting along quite well, more than I can say for other more… complicated members of this merry band of ours. We should find this dragon’s lair, hopefully we can help these children who’ve made it their business to scamper about unseen in the grove.

What was that man threatening that poor boy for?! Whether he did what he claimed, it does no good to be vitriolic against children! We’d better find this Mol and quickly, maybe she can talk some sense into these children.

Apparently she’s the reason they’re getting into trouble in the first place, hmm… children who have nothing seeking to better their lot through trickeries that do little to actually harm the victims but endanger themselves. Naughty or nice? Remains to be seen.

Zevlor wishes me to kill Kagha?! She is a shadow Druid that much is true but… perhaps she isn’t too far gone? Let’s us see what the other half of her secret must say. If she doesn’t see reason then. Arabella won’t have to be afraid of her anymore.

That harpy fight was no laughing matter, time to make camp and head to the tree where answers live (as they so often do). Let’s befriend the blade of frontiers. He seems more pleasant company than the selfish pale one.

My goodness! Astarion is a vampire?! How awful! For both of us! He says only eats animals… like any other predatory beast. He hasn’t hurt us at least, and he could have. He’s been helpful if a bit… disturbing. As long as he keeps it that way, he won’t be on my list, I trust him that much… for now.

Gale seems unbothered by it, perhaps Astarion isn’t the only “vampire” among us, given what he’s said about his illness. I suppose… You can’t be naughty for something you did not choose. Maybe Astarion never wanted to be one to begin with. Maybe there’s hope for him yet!

More talk of this Absolute “goddess” these people seem very misguided, or very naughty. I’ll send them on their way for now, the more I hear of this goddess the more she worries me. Oh goodness! I will not submit to its desires I must force it to let go of me! Nothing good can come from this! Or them!

What is Shadowheart’s distaste for a goddess of light and kindness?! She is allies with Silvanus! Lady Shar? Gale’s goddess seems to not like her, I am not versed in divine politics… the more I learn of this girl the more she confuses me. She acts with kindness in many things, and is punished for doing so. Perhaps it is Shar then, who belongs on my list. Though I am not certain this damage to her nature could be unlearned…

An Owlbear! Beautiful creature, I will not hurt her child, let’s be in our way! We’ve bigger fish to fry than protective mothers. I wonder what else we’ll find on our way to this shadow Druid meeting place.

Secrets, Swamps, Kagha & Karlach ->

<- Finding The Healer Nettie

[powpowhammer]

I would very much like to know what you meant by "also Snuff is very bad" if such is alright to request

Hey! I let this sit in my inbox for four months. Sorry. I think Snuff is easily the weakest Vimes novel, despite respecting what it set out to do. I let it sit because there's a lot to say. There are three kinda big problems: the way Vimes is written, the way the story is written (plot), and the way the story is written (literary strength). Spoilers for every City Watch book and a couple of others. Very long rant ahead.

Before I proceed with the harsher words here's a bunch of things I liked a lot in Snuff: Vimes being totally enraptured by the goblin music, the goblin cave system, the whole goblin body stuff jar religion ritual, Vimes having sex with Sybil in the tub and generally expressing a lot more Loving His Wife So Much on-page instead of impliedly, the enlisted constable being quite competent and also being really good at kung fu (and his mom being from the Counterweight Continent, shout out to all my half-and-half representation wherever I can find it), Willikins being Vimes's fixer. The one noble guy who hated his evil wife. Stinky and the Harry King sections (very first-gen son vibes). The jokes about the river. Nobby once again maybe Finding Love.

And before I proceed again, I think that as an American this very sort of setting is alien to me in a way that Ankh-Morpork or Koom Valley is not. Landed gentry and estates are, despite our stupid amounts of physical geography, not as a big part of our cultural storytelling, for various reasons. And at least for a few more decades pending the outcome of revisionist educational legislation, thanks to the aftermath of the Civil War, we generally do see owning a large property with a fiefdom of workers as a trait difficult to associate with heroic figures, Gone With The Wind nonwithstanding. So when something is set at an estate and concerns explicit class divisions, it unavoidably gets read as a Genre. (Contrast the class division stories that take place inside Ankh-Morpork, which are more explicitly about moneyed power that more incidentally happens to be associated with peerage, e.g. The Truth or Feet of Clay. In these books Lord de Worde, Selachii, etc. could be replaced by old-money Families that are nonetheless not 'noble' like the Vanderbilts, Rockefellers, etc without too much narrative dissonance, I think. Men at Arms is an outlier but after that the stories are less about AM's True King and more about political jockeying.)

I think giving it the 'this is a pastiche of Pride and Prejuidice-style writing' handicap can make up for some of its deficiencies, but at its core it simply does not read like, say, any other Vimes novel (this isn't unique to Snuff; I think as Pterry's faculties went, all the books after Making Money (disclaimer: I have never read the TA books and people say Wear Midnight is superb so I make no claims there) really read differently than everything before. The prose is less tight, the courses of events are less clear, and the characterization is spottier. The themes don't resonate as clearly.

Vimes: Vimes's dogged determination to think of himself as Just A Guy Who Cares About Justice is undermined in Snuff by two major factors: his willingness to use his power in conflicts against those with less power than him (e.g., the various scenes set at the pub) and his explicit utilization of the powers of the Summoning Dark. Vimes's various trials and successes have come from his bloody-mindedness and determination to remain himself despite the changes in his life.

Regarding power, social: In previous novels we see Vimes more a (narrative) victim of his status than a deployer of it, as both a running joke and a driver of the plot. (Don't confuse the creature comforts of wealth, such as daily bacon sandwiches and soft beds, with the auspices of power, which affects other people.) He only chooses to use it when he can't win a fight as himself, and then, reluctantly. In Feet of Clay, the coat-of-arms machinations bewilder him, and when he finally confronts Dragon King of Arms he does it as a public servant making an arrest. In Fifth Elephant, he is forced onto the trip because of his dukedom (Vetinari understanding, of course, that he is the only person who can solve the Wolf Nazi problem). We see him resolving conflicts with physical violence (bandits) and mangled street diplomacy (dwarf inspectors) before finally being forced to resort to noble privilege for the sake of another (in protection of Detritus's civil rights). He is sent to prison and then onto The Game in spite of his power, and makes it through because of his personal qualities (see power, supernatural below). In Thud! he is humiliated by his inability to remain equals with his house staff. In Snuff, despite the initial discomfort with the role he expresses during the mandatory opening Vetinari session, he doesn't interact with his household outside the twirling maids and Willikins (who has distinguished himself as somewhat of a wildcard character at this point in time). At all times he knows he is in charge of the hermit, the pub and its owner, the farmers, and the rest of the villagers. For a character so set on being a civilian, he adapts quite quickly to nobility once removed from the city and the presence of other 'nobles'. And maybe this is the point of the book, but if so, it doesn't come across clearly at all. Furthermore, when he's not wielding noble power, he's constantly kicking down doors and asserting I AM THE LAW! at a level of arrogance we've seen him think but never before act upon without an active foe (contrast Night Watch, where he pulls rank on Quirke when challenged and negotiates with civilians on the barricade far more than he barks orders).

Regarding power, supernatural: Vimes has survived 40+ years of rough living via grit and instinct. We know he's an excellent street fighter, though not the best. The 'special' traits that Vimes has up through Thud! are his instincts - his character-central curiosity (bloody-minded suspicious bastard!), and his connection to and control over pure animal rage, aka The Beast. In Fifth Elephant he deploys it to make it through the Game and collars it when the fight is no longer about survival but domination. In Night Watch, it again emerges but is consciously caged in the service of human justice (fairness and example-setting, in the case of the torturer, and due process, in the final fight with Carcer). Either way, the 'power' comes entirely from within, and is not magical in any way, shape or form - and fittingly, the corralling of a force that stems from prehumanity is itself a very human thing to do.

In Thud!, a bunch of themes introduced in Fifth Element get developed in cool ways - religion, ritual, darkness, curses, and 'endarkening' - and the apotheosis comes when Vimes's internal rulekeeper overpowers an ancient force of evil because he loves justice and he loves his son. (Other people have written pretty thoroughly about how the conscious decision to be Good when you could so easily be Bad is the core of both Vimes and Granny Weatherwax's characterizations, so I won't expand on that too thoroughly.) The Summoning Dark is effectively exorcised, and the scar it leaves is power enough to intimidate the remaining dwarven obstacles in the denouement.

In Snuff, Vimes literally has magic powers thanks to the Summoning Dark. He can see in the dark, understand language in ways he should not, and develops an explicitly supernatural sixth sense. While the darksight is kind of cool, and fits his character well as Avatar of Night Policeman, the fact that the book continually points out that he got it from the SD is a burr on the coat of the narrative. He does things another person wouldn't be able to do, and cites his magic demon over and over for it.

Story, plot: Every City Watch book is set up in the same way: (optional) cold open, interpersonal theme Z is introduced, plot X (A Detective Problem) is introduced, plot Y (A Second Problem) is introduced, sometimes Y before X. (I hesitate to call these A and B plots because the importance of each varies from book to book.) Things happen, the plots eventually join up, plot climax, emotional/character climax in which Vimes or another watchman reaches or proves an important point to themself or us, denouement. I have no problem with this formula because it is broad enough to include within itself infinite room for variation. Some quick examples: Feet of Clay (Golem looks for work/assassination attempt. Cheery comes looking for work and is a girl. Golems are robots. Someone is trying to kill Vetinari. Vimes has to get a coat of arms. Story occurs. The case gets solved and it was connected to the golems. Golems are people, not robots. Words In The Heart Cannot Be Taken. People matter. The Vimes coat of arms gets restored.) Fifth Elephant (There is a divide between the Old and the New. Racial tension. Cheery is coming out more loudly. Someone has stolen the replica Scone and killed three men. Vimes gets sent to Uberwald. Story occurs. The case is solved and it is connected to the coronation. Angua and Vimes both assert their humanity and agency by refusing to abuse their power to kill even when it would be expected of them. Change and cultural development is not a threat to and is indeed even crucial to the survival of traditional institutions.)

I don't think a deviation from this structure is a bad thing, but the structure is so strong that it's much easier to follow the story built upon it.

In Snuff, we get a cold open (goblin stuff) and an ostensible Y plot (Vimes Is Forced To Go On Vacation To the Countryside). But what is the X plot? Is it that there is smuggling and human (goblin) trafficking? Is it the murder on the hill? Is it Mysterious Noble Bullshit Vimes sniffs out? If pressed, what is the Z theme? That goblins are people worth respecting? It's not this. This is readily made explicit to us by Ms. Beedle long before even the buildup to the book's action climax (the river chase). There's no show, only tell - we never learn something a character doesn't tell us. Vimes spends the whole book picking fights in the village, lecturing other nobles, and being told things about goblins. The most interesting development is his mentorship of Constable Upshot, but it's inconsistent and oscillates wildly between "sir, you don't know what you're talking about", surprising competence, and hero worship, with no directional progression. When Vimes and the Watch get to Klatch and discover the slave plantation they deal with it. The scene that occurs when the emotional climax would be expected - Stratford coming for Vimes's life on the river cruise - doesn't tell us anything new about the characters, their beliefs, or moral themes, just that Vimes is a Badass. The lesson Bad Men Do Things For Money could have been developed by giving Stratford a foil (maybe in the form of the constable, another commoner who chooses to be a Good Man, by giving Upshot moral dilemmas he resolves on-page). Similarly, the most cohesive Theme suggested by the climax and denouement isn't that Goblins Are People but that Commoners Are Just As Likely As Lords To Treat Goblins As Unpeople, which is miserably pessimistic. Vimes doesn't learn anything and neither do we.

Story, literary critique: Other books - not just City Watch books, but books like Going Postal, Carpe Jugulum, and Thief of Time - are both generous with narrative inclusion (we get scenes from the perspectives of the antagonists without being spoiled and from the perspective of deuteragonists or side characters). At the same time, we always know what our characters are thinking or feeling at any given time, even when they don't know what is going on or are acting with a hidden motive, because of strong characterization and effective foreshadowing. Stanley and Mr. Groat get scenes to themselves in GP that develop their characters and the mythos of the Post Office, and later we know Moist is up to some zany shit when he sets up all those prayers and then digs up his haul. Granny Weatherwax Weatherwaxes the Magpyrs after demonstrating Borrowing and her utter loyalty to herself and the land, and the Magpyrs have plenty of scenes with Agnes and one another. The Auditors have scenes that develop the fact that being human makes you human, setting up Myria's eventual meeting with Death. Back with Vimes, in The Fifth Elephant, when the chandelier falls and he gets sent to prison, he's just as confused as we are. When he escapes, we understand every part of his process as he comes up with it, moment by moment. Vimes in particular has a very visceral, real-time narrative which I think leads to why his characterization is so strong. (Contrast this with Carrot, for whom outside of Guards! Guards! and his letter-writing we never really know quite what he is thinking.) When Vimes is in the scene, we're basically never outside his head - EXCEPT in Snuff. In Snuff, there are at least as many scenes where we only know that Vimes IS doing things, not why he's doing them, or how he feels. The book reads like sometimes, it's someone else telling a story about Vimes's adventures, only recording the events that occur instead of telling us how the characters feel during them. And this is in part due to the fact that PTerry had help writing it; his wife and other friends helped him finish it (and also Raising Steam). Etiology aside, it's incredibly awkward and alienating to be forcibly removed from the interior of a character we've grown to know so well.

Additionally, the few scenes that don't follow Vimes are back with the City Watch, and their characterizations are similarly hollow. Fred Colon is bizarrely bowdlerized in order to motivate the unngue pot thread. There are no scenes like Fred and Nobby's co-dialogues that secretly set the stage (as in Thud!) or develop the characters (like Angua and Sally, also in Thud!). We come close with Cherry and Igor possibly discussing Old World Beliefs, but it's curtailed almost before it starts. The characters are there simply to say their lines and start the investigation, and bear little resemblance to the characters we've grown to know (compare Thud!, in which Detritus's pursuit of drugs is plot-relevant but informs his personal character as an ex-con and a troll looking to start a family, or where Angua and Sally's co-investigation is an opportunity to demonstrate Angua's neuroses).

Finally, in Snuff, the villains are ambiguous and unimportant. It is ultimately borne out to be Rust the Younger, but at that point it hardly matters. We know the Rusts are rotten, and in fact it's kind of refreshing to see one of them actually commit an on-page crime and get nailed for it instead of vaguely be awful (MAA, Jingo, Night Watch). But it's only Rust Jr. because the book reads like a big collection of callbacks to the other books, pointing to things and going say, remember that? Remember Blackboard Monitor Vimes, and the Summoning Dark, and Lord Ronnie Rust? How about Koom Valley?

Vimes spends the book clearing through sub-villains like a new game plus gamer plowing through midbosses. I had to reread the last half to remember the names of Flutter and Stoner and Stratford and all the other mooks. Working for money is a fine motivation for a villain - see the New Firm in The Truth - but these guys are wholly interchangeable and completely forgettable.

TL;DR Despite Night Watch being the isekai, Snuff is the book where Vimes is the boring invincible protagonist who barrels through people and obstacles with wealth, political power, and literal superpowers yet no interesting motivations, and we don't learn anything and there aren't any cohesive themes and the vast majority of the scenes are shoddily written and I don't care about any of the characters except maybe Feeney Upshot. Night Watch was the culmination of Vimes's personal themes, redundantly made textually explicit in Thud! (unnecessary but still a fun time because all the other shit was rad), and any future City Watch writing should probably have been relegated to elements in the Industrial Revolution books. Or about Angua.

[risenwraith]

#123 Aaiiee people!

Staying at sister in Iaw's place is very open house in comparison to the little flat we had.

I walked into the kitchen to see a purple hooded person raiding the freezer. They were maybe(?) a relation and I have no idea why they were in the kitchen and was afraid to ask - they don't live here. Then there was a tall male relation whose name I forget but who walks in whenever. There have been two other friends/people who turn up as and when and walk right in.

Then again, I'm a bald eyebrow-less goblin wearing a saffron coloured shift. (I was gifted it unexpectedly and I have limited clean clothes right now. It does make me look like a tragic white girl who's taken Buddhism a bit too seriously, but what can you do?).

I had a long conversation with T (someone who I think is an actual housemate) who if I understand correctly, spent ages trying to explain WWI Spiritualism to me, and the basic concept of 'as above so below' - which is quantum or magic or both - and also zen archery. All of which I am too painfully aware of, often overly aware of, and vaguely aware of (and wish I knew more of) - in that order.

Then he told me I shouldn't have chemotherapy because doctors are bad evil liars, chemotherapy is poison, and if I just ate more broccoli, that would totally cure cancer.

I was very polite and not sarcastic or scathing or mean at all. But I really wanted to be. Because... Seriously?

Oh yes dear boy, I am letting doctors poison me because I didn't know about the miracle of açai berries and kale oh alas alack fie and for shame, oh foolish me, if only I had drunk more green tea I never would have lost a tit nor ever had the need of this terrible medical poison!

FUUUUCCCKKKK!!!

Look hippy boy, do not @ me. Your last hospital stay was in the '70s for a broken limb, and because someone turfed you out of a bed early, you think every doctor is a bastard and every nurse a bitch. Also you think the old guy you once saw in '74 who didn't know who or where he was immediately after coming out of emergency heart surgery would have been... what? Better off just being dead? Yeah - how dare doctors try and succeed in saving him and he be groggy from not dying. FFS.

I have news for you. 50 bloody years have passed. That's a lifetime. Why do you insist on thinking things are the same a generation ago? Or that one arsehole doctor who didn't care enough about your fracture is the same as every single doctor treating everything in the world ever?

I have to listen-not-listen. By which I mean try to actively not listen to a conversation I can totally hear and don't want to hear at all. (And if I had headphones so I could listen to anything else it would be easier, but like an idiot I did not pack my headphones.)

You think I want this? You think if eating more salad would have saved me I wouldn't already be doing that shit?! You think I don't eat green stuff? Bitch, I hate fast food, I love vegetables, hate grease, meat's okay, sugar's so-so, bread and rice are the best, and I know how to cook a very fine five course dinner party, thank you.

My point is... I'm not having surgery and poison through basic nutritional and culinary ignorance or for fun - I'm having it so I won't die.

Kale and broccoli will not save me you arrogant arse. You do not hold the secrets of the universe. Your salad and berry tea cannot fix cancer. But the hospital can, and is even now, yes, via poison.

We poison the evil cells, and the rest of the body survives - because the body is nails AF - what is so hard to understand about that?

Sorry, I keep trying not to be cross, but every time I think about the conversation it pisses me off something chronic.

[jcwriting]

Written in the Stars

summary ↬ being soulmates with a werewolf? pretty easy. being jungkook’s soulmate? the easiest thing in the world. there’s only one teensy tiny problem. he doesn’t want to fuck you.

pairing ↬ werewolf!jungkook x reader

genre ↬ soulmate!au, abo verse, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort (this is so fucking dramatic and for what)

word count ↬ 10.4k my hand slipped

warnings ↬ swearing, angst (but with a happy ending bc im a sappy bitch), jk is stupid in love (emphasis on stupid), mentions of violence (very brief and i don’t go into too much detail but just to warn yall), slight nsfw (sex is a big topic for like half of this but not sex is had...i know im shocked too), half of this is background info/setting up the story the other half is finally addressing the summary lolol, jk is kind of an asshole but he has reasons!!!!!

authors note ↬ hello lovelies! here’s a small little thing for you all (laughs in 10k word count). this has been sitting in my drafts for fucking ever and i just needed to get it out there and out of my hands. im thinking about writing a part two where the actual ~*/sex/*~ is had but im still on the fence about that. please let me know what you think! i literally crave your interactions so pls dont be shy,,,,,okay love you bye :)

(ps i was so close to naming this Rewrite the Stars but since this has absolutely nothing to do with The Greatest Showman i didn’t. but i was close,,,,so fucking close)

You always knew Jeon Jungkook was destined for great things.

It was written in the stars, your mother had told you after he had first stepped foot into your family-owned grocery store. Your mother didn’t have any special powers, she just had a thing for astrology. While you normally shrugged off her random proclamations about divine intervention and planetary alignments, you found that Jungkook was something you couldn’t ignore or chalk up as your mother’s latest tea leaf reading.

From the moment you set eyes on him you knew he was different. While your family held zero claim to any sort of mystical or magical inclinations, you were well aware of those who did. It was no secret that non-humans roamed the Earth in plain sight, even though it had taken humans eons to realize this. After years of savage wars and civil unrest, agreements had come into place and governing bodies were adjusted to accept the changes that had finally been made. But, this was all before your time. You were the generation that was born into the period of peace, the first children to not experience bloodshed before they could walk. The world you knew now was almost a complete one-eighty of what it had been.

Where before those who were not of human blood had to do everything they could to blend in, now could be free of the shadows. Your classrooms had both humans and non-humans in their rosters. Some of your teachers were hybrids. Curriculum expanded to teach humans about a world that had once been entirely unknown to them. One of your favorite teachers was a witch who regaled your tenth grade class with stories of goblin wars, wizard duels, and vampire covens. All tales that you had once thought were nothing but fiction were now anything but.

Which is why, the second Jeon Jungkook entered the grocery store that your parents owned and that you had worked at since you were old enough to speak in full sentences, you knew who he was. You didn’t even question it.

He was a werewolf. A powerful one. You could see it in the way he carried himself. The purposeful strides he took down the narrow aisles, the confidence in his broad shoulders. Humans weren’t nearly as sensitive as their hybrid counterparts but you also paid attention in your classes. Or, perhaps you were more aware than other humans. Never in your life did you have the issues other faced when meeting a non-human for the first time. You always knew who they were without them having to tell you. You just knew.

So, when Jeon Jungkook stepped up to your register with a bottle of water and some raw beef, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t bend under his dark gaze or shuffle your feet in an awkward attempt to break the silence. Instead, you flashed him your customer service smile and rang up his items. He didn’t say a word as he paid, barely sparing you a second glance as he strode out of the store.

“He’s going to be a great and powerful man,” your mother said in that feathery light voice of hers. “It was written in the stars.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

Jeon Jungkook came into your store everyday for the next month. He bought the same thing every time. A bottle of water and a package of raw beef. The only time he spared you any words was to say thank you or the occasional hello if the sun was shining. Usually, he was alone. Sometimes, he came with a few members of his pack. You liked those days. He smiled a little brighter and talked a little louder when they were around. Especially around Taehyung.

Then, after a month, he didn’t come in. Not for an entire week. From Monday to Sunday, you hadn’t seen a hide nor hair of him. A part of you was worried, so worried that you almost stopped Taehyung in the middle of the street to ask of Jungkook’s whereabouts before realizing how insane that made you look, the other part was chastising yourself for caring. Jeon Jungkook was a customer. Nothing more, nothing less.

The following Monday had come and you had finally stopped glancing at the sliding doors every five minutes. You no longer expected his commanding presence to rock your little world. Instead, you continued your day as if it had been any other. That was, until, Jeon Jungkook stepped through the entrance looking as if he was walking on air. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“Did you have a good heat?” You asked when he stepped up to your register. Jungkook fumbled the water bottle he had been setting onto the conveyer belt before turning to stare at you.

“What did you just say?”

You didn’t shrink under his intense glare. “I was asking if you enjoyed your heat. Seems like you did.”

“How do you know I was in my rut?”

“Oh, is rut the correct terminology? Sorry, they always interchanged them in class, I was never sure what was appropriate.” You shrugged and rang up his items. “It was kind of obvious, though. You seemed pretty agitated about a week-and-a-half ago, then you disappear for a week, and now you’re back looking happier than ever. If it wasn’t your rut then I want to know where you went on vacation because that’s where I’m heading to next.”

Jungkook laughed. That almost made you jump out of your skin. You had never heard him laugh before. It was throaty, it was deep, and it was wonderful. “I’ll be sure to send you the link to the Airbnb.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

He smirked. “I’m here every day, aren’t I?”

You tilted your head as you accepted the cash he handed to you. “Clearly, you’re not that reliable.”

Jungkook laughed again. It was becoming your new favorite sound. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to appear flaky.”

“You’re forgiven,” you decided as you handed him the plastic bag of his purchases. Teasingly, you added, “just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He flashed you a smile that showed off his sharpened canines. “Don’t worry, darling. I never make the same mistake twice.”

Jeon Jungkook kept his promise. He showed up everyday, like clockwork. Bought the same thing. Arrived at the same time. The only thing that changed was how he treated you. It wasn’t that he treated you badly before, he had always been polite. But now, he talked to you. He asked you questions and answered yours. More often than not, he laughed.

(It had become your favorite sound.)

For three months, this continued. The two of you had settled into a comfortable routine, something you relied on and expected. Until, he changed that.

Until, Jeon Jungkook asked you out on a date.

“What did you just say?”

“Are you free? Tonight?” You glanced around, almost expecting to see some sort of supermodel posing behind you to explain the absolute absurdity of the situation. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the hidden cameras. I think I’m getting Punk’d.”

Jungkook sighed and placed both hands on the counter that separated the two of you. “Look at me.” You did. Slowly and warily, but you did. “Does it look like I’m lying to you?”

Narrowing your eyes, you regarded him carefully. He seemed serious. But, then again, do you ever really know someone? “I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen you lie before so I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Fine. Ask me what color my shirt is.”

“What color is your shirt?”

“White,” he deadpanned. You glanced down at his chest. His shirt was black.

“Jungkook!”

He threw his head back and released a full bellied laugh. Even in your exasperation you couldn’t help but soften a little. “I’m sorry, darling. I couldn’t help myself.” Annoyed, you huffed and spun to face the cash register. Stabbing your finger onto the touchscreen, you ignored Jungkook’s obvious presence on the opposite side of the counter. Until his hand reached around the card reader and grasped a hold of your chin. The warmth of his fingers forced your head to turn to meet his.

“Come to dinner with me.” His voice was nothing but a rumble in his chest, his eyes so black and all-consuming you couldn’t do anything but agree with him. He seemed pleased by your response as his fingers tightened against your skin and a grateful smile flicked past his lips. His gaze darted down to your mouth and your breath froze in your chest.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“No.” You tried to shake your head but his grip didn’t allow you much movement. He was taken aback by your answer, a small frown tugging at his mouth. You quickly backtracked to fix the situation. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in a grocery store. That’s a new low that I refuse to reach.”

Jungkook chuckled and tapped your chin gently. “Alright, darling. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Again, he kept his promise to you. He showed up at your parents house exactly at seven, wearing a button-down shirt and slacks. The tulips he had gotten for you was thrust into your hands the moment you opened the door. Flashing him a genuine smile, you hurried into the kitchen to set them in water while your mother grilled him on his birth time. You were quick to drag him away, practically throwing him towards the car as you waved goodbye.

“Sorry,” you sighed as Jungkook opened the passenger door for you. “She has a…thing for astrology. She’s probably creating your star map or whatever right now.”

“It’s okay,” he responded once he got into the drivers seat. “It’s sweet of her to care.”

You snorted. “She’s delusional is what she is.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t believe in astrology?”

“Do you?”

Jungkook shrugged as he pulled out of your dirt driveway. He looked so damn attractive behind the wheel it was honestly unfair. “Not really saying I do or don’t. All I know is that there are a lot of things out there that are out of our control. If believing in the stars and planets helps you gain some of that control back, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

“God, don’t talk like that in front of my mother. She’ll want to start dating you.”

He grinned and placed a hand on your knee. “Tell her I’m already taken.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond to that. Not that he didn’t give you one, it was just that you literally had nothing to say. With just one sentence he opened the floodgates of your brain and the amount of thoughts that were flying through your conscious was painful. Anxiety fluttered in your stomach and you pressed your lips together to keep you from word vomiting onto him. No, it was better to keep your mouth shut and let the moment pass.

By the time you reached the restaurant you were a trembling mess of nerves. Were you guys dating? You thought this was just a ‘testing the waters’ date, not a ‘you’re my girlfriend now’ date. Did you have to make it Facebook official? You hated that shit.

Jungkook didn’t comment on your obvious distress, though. He merely placed a hand on the small of your back, ignoring how you jerked in surprise, and led you into the quiet bistro. Nodding politely to the hostess who was practically panting at the sight of him (you honestly couldn’t blame her) and pulled out your chair for you. When he sat down, he started talking. Idle chat at first. Commenting on one of the dishes, asking about the college classes you were taking at your local university. Before you realized it, wine was in your glass and your shoulders were loose. Previous nerves forgotten, you lost yourself in Jungkook. You drank, you ate, you laughed, and genuinely enjoyed his company. Honestly, it was the best date you’d ever been on.

“I have to be honest with you,” Jungkook spoke after he finished his raw steak. “I have an ulterior motive for asking you here tonight.”

“Oh,” you mumbled around the shrimp you had just tossed in your mouth. “So…this isn’t a date?”

“No, it is,” Jungkook clarified quickly around a dry chuckle. He seemed…nervous. It put you on edge immediately. “This is definitely a date. And, also, more.”

“More? What, is this a proposal too?” You were joking. A 100% joking. But Jungkook was staring at you so seriously it made you panic. “Jungkook, if you get down on one knee here I swear-”

“I’m not proposing,” he assured you. “This is something more than that.”

“More?” You parroted. Jungkook sighed.

“Do you know what a true mate is?”

Right there, in that quaint little bistro, on a date with quite possibly the most untouchable man you’d ever met, he explained how you were irrevocably his. His true mate, his soulmate.

Jungkook explained everything in great detail, which you appreciated, because honestly, you had no words. He explained how when he was born, the witch who cared for him told his father that his future glared brightly ahead of him, but only when he met his other half. True mates were rare. Mating was common, the wolves in his pack could have multiple mates or a lifelong one, but true mates were destiny. Someone or something out there had forged the two of you together. You were essentially each others other half. He was made for you and you were made for him.

“But…aren’t true mates only for wolves? I thought it’s impossible for a human to be a true mate,” you asked in a shaky voice once Jungkook took a breath.

“It was supposed to be impossible. Until, I met you.” Jungkook stared at you with a sort of reverence that made your entire body blush. “I have no idea how you are. I’ve spent hours researching. I’ve consulted with members of my pack and others. No one knows why.”

“Are you sure, though? I mean…what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook shook his head. “I visited the witch right after I met you. She took one look at me and told me that I had finally found my true mate. She said she’d never seen a future so bright before.”

You had no words for that. For the first time in your life, you were speechless. Jungkook seemed to understand. He let you sit in silence as he paid for the bill and walked you out to the car. The drive back to your parents house was the same. You couldn’t speak. The shock rendered you stupid.

By the time Jungkook pulled into the driveway you still hadn’t spoken a word to each other. You stepped out of the car before he could open the door for you. Walking up to the porch steps in a trance, you didn’t hear him follow you until he clasped your wrist in his hand. Turning to face him, you were surprised to see his brown eyes so big. They practically sparkled in the moonlight and he looked so soft and sweet you nearly melted into the wood beneath your feet.

“Please,” he whispered. “Can you…just - are you okay? You’ve been so quiet. I’m worried I’ve scared you off or something.”

With that voice, it was impossible to deny him. So, you said the first thing that popped in your head. “Do we have to make it Facebook official?”

Jungkook stared at you before bursting into laughter. “Really? That’s all you have to say?”

You blushed and glanced down. “I’m just worried, that’s all. I can’t remember my Facebook password so even if you wanted to change it I don’t think it’ll work.”

“So that’s why you never accepted my friend request,” Jungkook teased. Before you could squeak out a response, he wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you forward. You kept your arms crossed across your chest but let yourself fall against him.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whined as you buried your face into his shoulder. He smelled so good, a mixture of pine and spice. “My brain hasn’t worked since you told me I’m yours, so bear with me.”

Jungkook chuckled and gently swayed you from side to side. “Does that mean you’re okay with this? All of this?”

Sighing, you lifted your head up and stepped away from him. Jungkook was not impressed and pulled you back to him. Your heart swelled in your chest and you wrapped your arms around his neck in consolation. “Honestly? I haven’t really processed anything. You’ve had your whole life to come to terms with this. I just found out thirty minutes ago that I’m someone’s soulmate. It’s a lot to take in.”

Jungkook nodded as he tapped his fingers against your hips. “I know. It’s a lot…I’m a lot. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be with me. I won’t-”

Now it was your turn to burst into laughter. You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth. It was easily the most absurd thing you’d ever heard. “Jungkook, I want to make something very clear. I have no problem being your true mate. That’s not the issue here. Well, there really isn’t an issue. It’s just…hard to believe, I guess. I have to process that this is my new reality.”

“Really?” Jungkook perked up and looked so fucking cute you couldn’t help but cup his cheeks. His skin was so warm despite the cold autumn air that surrounded you both. “You want to do this? Be with me? Be mine?” All you could do was nod. You were so overwhelmed with emotions. The shock was evident, but a piece of you was so happy. You felt whole.

Jungkook’s face split into a wide smile that caused his nose to scrunch up. He wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around. Squealing, you slung your legs around his hips and held on. Normally, you’d rather die than show this much affection to someone. But, this was Jungkook. Your soulmate.

“So…what do we do now?” You asked once Jungkook set you down. “Is there, like, a ceremony or something?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted as he stared down at you. He had a hand against your jaw and was rubbing your cheek tenderly. “I really didn’t think I’d get this far.”

You scoffed at his ridiculousness. While recognizing you were Jungkook’s true mate was going to take some time, believing that he thought you’d deny him was utter nonsense. “What if…what if we date, first?” You suggested timidly. “I know that sounds kind of weird considering we’re supposed to be the loves of each others lives. But, I don’t really know you all that well. And, I think this is going to take sometime for me to get used to. Maybe we should date, get to know each other, and just learn how to be with one another.”

“Whatever you want,” Jungkook agreed. “We can do whatever you want. Just as long as I have you, I’m happy.”

Two years passed.

Two blissful, wonderful years. Two years of dating, two years of loving, two years of being Jeon Jungkook’s. It was everything you could’ve asked for and more. You had never felt so loved and cherished in your entire life. He respected you, he took care of you, and most importantly, he was there for you in every sense. Since the moment you met him, you hadn’t been alone. He hadn’t let you. Jungkook knew you better than you knew yourself.

And, it was the same for him. You were there for him when he transitioned into the leader of his pack. You were there when he took over the CEO position from his father and encouraged and supported him every step of the way. You let yourself be loved and in return he let you love him. It was wonderful.

Except, for one tiny thing.

While the emotional aspect of your relationship flourished and bloomed into something beautiful, the physical side remained stagnant. Make out sessions and heavy petting were a norm in your relationship. At first, it didn’t bother you. In fact, you loved that Jungkook was taking things so slow and so seriously. But, eventually, your needs began to grow. You found yourself wanting him in more ways than one, wants that only he could satisfy. Jungkook refused. Every time.

It wasn’t like he refused your every need. No, Jungkook was extremely attentive. When it came to himself, that’s when things got dicy. He had no problem spending hours between your legs, worshipping you until you were crying from the overstimulation. Yet, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him. Not without lack of trying on your part. The minute your hands went down to his waistband, he pushed you away. Every time you tried to dip your mouth to the obvious bulge in his pants, he lifted you up and kissed you breathless until you forgot your name. It wasn’t until after a year of dating that he finally let you grind on his clothed cock. Even then, he held off until you finished and then walked out with quite possibly the worst case of blue balls. You hated that he did this to himself. The worst part was, you couldn’t understand why.

The one time you had brought it up to him it had resulted in the worst fight the two of you had ever gotten into. It was the only argument that was never really resolved. After the yelling and the tears, all you got out of Jungkook was that mating with a wolf was not pretty. It was extremely dangerous and he refused to put you in that kind of danger. End of discussion. No matter how hard you tried to persuade him or broach the subject, he shut it down. Hard. Eventually, you gave up.

He even spent his ruts away from you. Every three months, he left you for a week. You knew he had a place somewhere up in the mountains and you assumed that’s where he went. You had no idea. There was no point even asking to come along. You loved your boyfriend and didn’t want to purposely give him a heart attack. You hated it when he left. As much as you tried to hide it and convince him that you were just fine, he wasn’t stupid. Being away from him was tough. A piece of you was missing whenever he was gone. And you were only whole again when he returned.

This past week had been one of those weeks. He had left on Sunday for the mountains. He was agitated and clingy, how he normally was pre-rut. Jungkook wouldn’t let you leave his side and you spent most of the weekend on his lap or wrapped in his arms. Not that you minded. When he left your parents house on Sunday night, you’d had to coax him out of the door. Promising him that you’d be okay and that you’d see him next week. It wasn’t until several kisses later did Jungkook finally leave.

While you’d been doing this for two years, it never got easier. More manageable? Sure. But definitely not easier. All you could do was go through the motions. You went to work at the local bakery, came home and helped your mom with dinner, watched TV with your dad before going to bed. Taehyung and Jimin would visit often, threatened by Jungkook to keep you company. While you assured them it wasn’t necessary, you secretly didn’t mind. They made you laugh and made you temporarily forget your boyfriend was miles away from you. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he’d call you to tell you goodnight. But those times were rare. Normally, you didn’t hear from him until Friday or Saturday when he was finally coming out of his rut and returning to the world.

By the time Sunday rolled around, you were a jittery ball of nerves. Not in a bad sense. You were just excited. The anticipation killed you and it took all of your willpower to sit and wait for his text to tell you to come over. Your parents always left you alone on these Sundays, unable to deal with your hyperactiveness and constant fidgeting.

This Sunday was no different. You puttered around your room for the better part of the day. You spent the other part in the kitchen, baking like your life depended on it. Jungkook loved your cookies and you always made sure to come over with at least three batches after his ruts. He always said that was his second favorite part about coming home, after seeing you, of course.

You had just finished packaging the final batch in a glass cookie jar when your phone dinged. You didn’t have to read the message, you knew exactly what it said. Pure joy rushed through your system as you threw on your coat and shouted a hasty goodbye to your parents. Juggling the cookies and car keys, you sprinted to your car. The drive to Jungkook’s was thankfully not long. About ten minutes, as long as you didn’t hit any traffic on the main road. Luck was on your side, though, and you showed up at Jungkook’s house in eight minutes.

Taehyung’s car was in the driveway when you pulled up, which wasn’t odd. Although Jungkook owned the house, the members of his pack were almost always around. While most preferred to travel in their wolf forms, you knew Taehyung and Namjoon preferred cars. Something about being able to listen to their own music without comments from the peanut gallery. You didn’t really understand and didn’t really need to. You had just chalked it up as one of their many quirks.

Carrying the trays of cookies in both hands, you shut your car door with your foot before speed-walking up the stone walkway to Jungkook’s home. The screen door was shut, but the wooden door was swung wide open. You had just reached for the metal handle when you heard it.

A deep, threatening growl ripped through the peaceful quiet and froze you in place. You knew it was Jungkook. While you had only heard it once, you’d never forgotten it. It was when the two of you had attended a party and an alpha from a neighboring pack had cornered you in the hallway. Jungkook had found you cowered against the wall as the other alpha had caged you in. The sound that had left his chest had given you equal parts comfort and fear. Comfort, because he was there and you knew you were safe. Fear, because you could see in the way he bared his teeth and how his muscles vibrated, he had been furious and bloodthirsty.

That’s what you felt now, fear.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

From your vantage point in front of the screen door, you could see directly into the kitchen. Taehyung was leaning against the granite countertop and Jungkook was seated at the island. The tension was so thick you practically choked on it.

“Enough, Taehyung.”

“No,” Taehyung snapped, seeming just as angry as Jungkook. “I’m not dropping it. Not this time.”

“Yes, you will,” Jungkook snarled. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Too fucking bad.” While Taehyung was also an alpha, he acted so much like a beta you never really noticed. Until now. “I’m not going to sit by and watch you do this to yourself anymore. Not spending your ruts correctly is only causing you more harm than good.”

“I’m doing things the way I want to, and it’s working-”

“The hell it is!” Jungkook growled at the interruption but Taehyung ignored him. “It’s not working, and you know it. Anyone with two fucking eyes knows it. It’s getting so bad that the pack is noticing, too. Even Namjoon has realized something is wrong, and he’s as oblivious as they come.”

“If they have a problem with me they can take it up with me.”

“No, they can’t. Because you won’t listen. Your head is so far up your ass you can’t even hear yourself anymore. What you’re doing right now is not working. Something needs to change.”

“Like what?” Jungkook spat.

“You know what,” Taehyung bit back. Jungkook was practically vibrating from rage. You knew you needed to go get someone, someone from the pack to calm the two of them down. Things were only escalating, but you couldn’t move. Your brain screamed at you to run but your legs were rooted in place. “That’s is what’s so frustrating, Jungkook. This, all of this, could be solved. She’s right there-”

“Don’t.” Jungkook stood up so fast the chair he sat on flew backwards and hit the wall with a resounding crack.

“Why?” Taehyung threw his arms up in the air. “Why not? I don’t get it-”

“Because I don’t want her!” Jungkook yelled, the force of it rang throughout the house. You had no idea who the she was that they were referring to. You assumed it was someone from the pack. It was well-known that wolves with human mates sometimes turned to other she-wolves to help with their ruts. You figured that’s what Jungkook did whenever he went away for a week. It had bothered you at first, but you knew he had his needs and that they were at a biological level. You refused to make him feel guilty or ashamed for taking care of himself.

“You don’t want her?” Taehyung was enraged. You could tell by the way he straightened his spine and unfurled himself to his full height. Jungkook bristled in response and the muscles in his back strained against the thin material of his shirt.

“No, I don’t!” Jungkook exploded. “What don’t you understand about that? I don’t want her around me. I don’t need her, I’m fine on my own. The thought of having her there when…God - it makes me physically ill.”

“She’s your girlfriend. Above all of that, your true mate. You’re seriously going to deny yourself of her, for what? Just because you don’t like having her around?”

Oh.

That’s when it hit you. They weren’t talking about some random she-wolf. They were talking about you. You were the one Jungkook didn’t want. You were the one Jungkook didn’t need. You were the one he didn’t like having around. As the weight of the words sunk into your mind, you felt your chest becoming tighter and tighter.

Then, you’re heart broke right in half. You dropped the container of cookies and didn’t flinch when it shattered against the wooden slats. The sound unstuck your feet from their position on the porch and your fight or flight system took over. Without a second thought, you turned on your heel and ran.

You didn’t know if anyone was behind you, you didn’t turn around to check. Hands fumbled for the car door as you threw yourself into the drivers side. Pain ricocheted throughout your chest cavity and you struggled to breathe. Your brain was blank, the only thing your mind did was move your body to get you somewhere safe. You had to leave and you had to leave now.

Miraculously, your fingers found your keys and inserted them into the ignition on the second try. A flutter of movement occurred to the left of you but your eyes didn’t let you look that way. Instead, they focused on the rearview mirror as you reversed out of the driveway. Your right hand found the gearshift and moved it to drive. Soon, you were tearing down the street as your ears refused to register the agonized howls that echoed behind as you kept staring forward. Adrenaline pumped through your system and your body shivered in response, the splash of hormones had created a blanket of fake calm over you. The emotions, the pain, the thoughts were swirling inside of you, ready to break free and drown you, but your brain wouldn’t allow it.

It wasn’t until you reached the end of your long driveway that you felt the original spike of adrenaline fade away. Your mother was in the front, tending to the flowers, and looked up when she saw your car fly into its usual spot. She stood up and her face twisted into a frown when you got out of your seat.

“Honey, your aura…it’s concerning.” The blanket was yanked away and the pain crashed over you.

You couldn’t say a word, all you could do was collapse in your mother's arms and cry, cry, cry.

It took you two days to calm down. The tears had stopped rolling and your shoulders no longer shook from trying to hold your sobs behind your teeth. Your mother hadn’t left your side, leaving your father to answer the door whenever someone knocked. The only person who did was Taehyung and Jimin. Jungkook never showed up.

Well, that was a lie.

Jungkook did show up every morning and night, without fail. But he never came to your doorstep.  Instead, he was in the woods behind your house, patrolling, not daring to leave the protection of the forest. A part of you wondered if he was respecting your obvious need for space or if your mother had paid a witch to set up boundary lines that didn’t allow him to cross. Either way, you were grateful that you couldn’t see him. There was an incessant tugging in your heart to be near him but you staunchly ignored it, which would’ve been impossible if you saw his achingly beautiful face.

I don’t want her. I don’t need her. Having her there makes me physically ill. Those three sentences played in a constant loop in your head, like a horror movie you couldn’t escape from. You were the protagonist who couldn’t escape the maze, but the villain wasn’t kind enough to kill you off. No matter what you did, your brain wouldn’t stop repeating those three sentences. Your mother burned sage, she pressed crystals into your palms, she muttered ritual after ritual, but nothing worked.

You hated how affected you were. You had always told yourself that you would never be the girl who’d get so wrapped up in someone else they didn’t know who they were anymore. Independence was something you prided yourself on, but you seemed to be at a complete loss now. You couldn’t stop the waves of sadness and self-hatred at your depressed state. It was amazing how empty you felt yet so full of pain at the same time. Your mind and heart couldn’t seem to decide which hurt worse; your heart for having your soulmate so obviously reject you, or your brain for trying to make sense of the situation. When did this happen? How did this happen? How had you been so blind as to not see it?

“I don’t think we’re soulmates,” you rasped to your mom on the third morning. It had been the first words you had spoken to her since you had fell into her arms. She looked up from the bundle of herbs she was smoking.

“Why do you say that?”

You stared at your hands that had curled in on themselves. “I don’t make him happy. I-I never realized how uncomfortable I made him. I wish I had known. How did I miss it?”

Your mother tutted gently and gathered you in her arms. She smelled of lavender and wax. “This is good. I’m glad you’re letting yourself have this moment. Let’s sit in this and allow yourself to be embedded here.” But you didn’t want to have this moment. You didn’t want to have any moment and you’ve felt enough to last a lifetime. Instead, you rolled over, let sleep overtake you and tried to ignore the distant howling that rattled your window pane.

By nightfall of the fourth day, you were forced out of bed. Partly by choice, partly by force. Your parents had dipped out to run to the grocery store, despite your mother’s insistence that she could stay. You and your father managed to convince her to leave and you had gotten up to wave them goodbye. Sure, your heart was broken, but the least you could do was kiss them on the cheek before they left. You had turned around to shuffle into the kitchen to try and shovel something down your dry throat when a loud knock sounded at the front door. Hesitating, you carefully peeked through the kitchen window and saw Jimin on your front doorstep, dressed in all black.

Sighing, you stumbled over and pulled the door open. You figured you couldn’t avoid them for much longer. “Hey, Jimin.”

“Christ, you look like shit.”

You huffed out a laugh as Jimin stared at you in horror, not having the energy to be offended. You also knew, in a weird way, that this was Jimin’s way of caring for you. “Yeah. My mother’s covered all the mirrors in the house.”

Jimin nodded as he glanced at you from head to toe. “I want to ask if you’re okay but…” He gestured to your gaunt frame swaddled in a heavy sweatshirt and sweatpants. For the first time in two years, they were your own clothes, not Jungkook’s.

“I’m fine, Jimin,” you heaved a heavy sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Do you want to come in? I think my mom boiled some tea not too long ago.”

Jimin shook his head. “Can’t. Jungkook would have a fit if I got that close to you right now. I’m already pushing my luck just by showing up.” He doesn’t care, you thought bitterly, and almost said it out loud but you caught yourself at the last second. Jimin wasn’t stupid, though. He knew what you were thinking. “Hey,” he murmured, eyes going soft, “are you ready to talk about it?”

“No.” You shook your head. A wave of sadness washed over you but the telltale prick of tears didn’t come.

Jimin understood. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he rocked back onto his heels. “Are you going to talk to him?”

Letting out a heavy breath, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know I have to. I just…I just need time.”

“Take however long you need.”

It was another 48-hours before you finally snapped. While you had spent the majority of the two days that had passed to make yourself resemble a human being, you couldn’t focus. You couldn’t move on. Why?

Because Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone.

His presence was constant. He circled your house every hour of ever day, the large shadow of him in wolf form darkened the trees behind your house. The howling had stopped but the pacing hadn’t. You hoped he was at least sleeping, but then you got annoyed at yourself for caring. You didn’t know why he was out there, it made no sense. Jungkook’s words were so different from his actions it made your head spin.

But, you needed to move on with your life. You had to. The only way it was going to happen was if Jungkook did too. It hurt. God, did it hurt. Yet, as sad and utterly pathetic as it sounded, you were used to the pain at this point, had resigned yourself to it. A part of you worried you wouldn’t know what to do without it.

Shaking off that depressing thought, you tugged on your rain boots and stepped outside for the first time in a week. The air was heavy with the promise of rain, the clouds low and gray. You tugged the hood up on your sweater to prevent your hair from completely frizzing out before you walked to down the back deck steps.

The backyard of your parents house was expansive. The home you had grown up in sat on top of a sloping hill that your mother had turned into her personal greenhouse. You stepped past rows of raised garden beds and pruned plants until you reached the line where the neatly mowed grass met the twisted ferns of the forest floor. As you had suspected, the ground was scorched with the evidence of past rituals. While your mother hadn’t out right admitted, you had figured someone had come and created a boundary line. It was obviously specific to Jungkook since Jimin and Taehyung were still able to visit. While your mother’s methods were extreme, you understood. As difficult as it was to move on with your life with Jungkook sequestered to the forest, you couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like if he was within a few feet of you.

With a deep inhale, you sat down on the damp grass and waited. After a few minutes, you could hear the faint sounds of paws hitting the wet earth. The galloping got louder and louder until there was a momentary stretch of silence before it changed to footsteps.

When Jungkook emerged from the trees, you weren’t prepared. Although you knew you wouldn’t be, you still weren’t expecting it to hurt this bad. Your chest squeezed painfully at the first look of his broad form. Technically, it had been two weeks since you two had truly seen each other, the longest you’d ever gone. What hurt the most was how badly you longed for him. You wanted nothing more than to run straight into his arms, bury your face into his chest, and forget everything. Just forgive and give your heart what it wanted. But you remained firmly in place.

Jungkook looked as if he had seen a ghost. Which, to be fair, was probably true since you hadn’t seen the sun in seven days. His normally golden skin was pale and even from where you sat you could see the dark circles bruising under his eyes. Clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping. You hated that you noticed. You hated that you cared. He was dressed in all black and his chest strained against the material of his sweater. His hands were balled into tight fists at his side and the sight reminded you of why you were here.

“Hi.” Probably wasn’t the best start but it was the best you could do. Jungkook didn’t respond so you soldiered on. “I-I know you don’t want to be here, so I’ll make this quick. I just…wanted to apologize. I had no idea I made you so uncomfortable. I’m not sure how long you’ve felt this way about me, not that it really matters, but I wish you had told me sooner. Maybe things would’ve been easier for you, who knows.” You released a heavy sigh and tried to shove down the stone in your throat as you forced the next words out of your mouth. “But, all of that doesn’t matter anymore. I think I understand what you need, now. I know you loved me at one point, but I’m obviously not what you need anymore. And…t-that’s okay - I swear it is. All I want is for you to be happy, Jungkook. And I think, in order for that to happen, I need to move on. We both need to move on-”

“Stop it,” Jungkook broke in with a harsh voice that cut your sentence in half. “Stop talking.”

It felt like he had slapped you in the face. A wave of humiliation washed over you and you visibly flinched. Staggering to your feet, you locked your gaze onto your boots in an attempt to hide the tears that dripped down your nose. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, not expecting it to change anything. You began to turn away but Jungkook stopped you in your tracks, again.

“Wait, no - stop. Stop. Please…don’t go,” he pleaded. When you turned around, his eyes were frantic. Jungkook’s hand was raised from his side as if he thought about reaching out to you but something stopped him. His words were at war with one another and you were caught in the middle, at a loss for what he was trying so desperately to convey to you.

“Jungkook, I’m so confused.”

“I know. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” Jungkook tucked his head into his hands before dropping down into a squat. “This is all wrong. This is all so wrong.”

You knew you should walk away. You had said your piece, it was time to move on, just as you had said. Yet, you couldn’t. It was as if your heart was tethered to him and your body couldn’t handle the pain of walking away. “Listen-”

“I don’t know what to do.” He cut you off but the bubbles of anger that had risen from being interrupted popped once you saw how lost he looked. His tattooed fingers threaded through his hair, allowing you to see the pure anguish that twisted his features. “Whenever I feel like this, I come to you. Because you always know what to do. Any situation, no matter what, you can handle it. It’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

The way he spoke to you now, so reverently and so full of awe, made your head spin. Nothing made sense.  It was such a blatant contrast to the brutality that he had spat out a week ago. As much as you wanted to believe what he said now, those stupid words could not get out of your head. It was a constant reminder that never shut up.

“I don’t know what to do either,” you admitted in a quiet voice.

“Tell me,” Jungkook begged, as if he couldn’t and refused to comprehend what you had just told him. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Whatever you want from me, I’ll give you.”

You were shaking your head before he could finish. “There’s nothing you can do, Jungkook. Nothing.”

“Don’t say that.” He stared at you, horrified. “Don’t say that to me. Please, there has to be something.”

“What could there be?” You cried. Tears streamed down your cheeks now. “You said it yourself, being near me makes you sick. Why would I stay? Why would you want me to? I refuse to make you uncomfortable anymore - so that’s that.”

“It isn’t,” Jungkook argued back. “It can’t be. I-I can’t lose you, I can’t. I need to make this right, please just let me. Please.”

But, you were tired. You were so fucking tired. You were exhausted of the emotional rollercoaster that you were on that you just wanted to crawl away and hide. All the fight seeped out of you as your shoulders slumped forward. Jungkook saw this and the blood drained from his face. You were giving up, he could see it, and it scared the shit out of him.

“Jungkook, I need to go, okay? I-I can’t do this.”

“No!” Jungkook shouted and shot up to his feet. The pure panic that choked his voice brought on a fresh set of tears that you struggled to hold back. “Just let me explain, okay? I swear to God, after you hear what I have to say, if you still want me to, I’ll let you go. I won’t fight you on it. But, please let me tell you the truth. Give me a chance to make this right. You deserve that.”

You hesitated for a moment. Deep down, you knew you should let him talk. Not because you necessarily thought he deserved to, but because he was right. You did deserve the truth, no matter how much it broke your heart. With a heavy sigh and a quick swipe of your cheeks, you nodded. Once Jungkook was sure you weren’t going to leave, he began pacing. Looking every bit like the wild animal you knew him to be but never got to see.

“Mating with a werewolf is…brutal. It’s intense, it’s painful and it isn’t pretty. It’s essentially a breeding session where I use you as a vessel to fulfill my innate biological needs. It’s not romantic, it’s not gentle. Even for she-wolves it can be too much. The thought of subjecting you to something like that - that type of pain…I couldn’t fathom it. I don’t think you understand just how precious you are to me. The image of you being battered and bruised because of me, something I did…it tormented me, day and night.” He paused for a moment, the pained look in his eyes made you shiver. You hated that he had gone through all of this turmoil on his own, and you especially hated how you never made more of an effort to try and relieve him of it.

“I couldn’t do it. That’s partially the reason I waited so long to tell you that you were my true mate. I knew ruts were something I would never expose you to even though it’s such a huge part of my life, a wolf’s life.” Jungkook looked you straight in the eye, the intensity of his dark gaze took your breath away. “I know the practices other wolves partake in when their own heats or ruts arrive. I know you know them too. But, I need you to understand something. The moment you allowed me to be yours and vice versa, I haven’t had anyone else since. I swear on my life, I’ve spent every single one of my ruts alone. I wouldn’t and I won’t do that to you.”

“Isn’t that painful, though?” Your voice cracked but neither one of you acknowledged it. While your knowledge on ruts were expansive, having done plenty of research since being with Jungkook, you had obviously never experienced one.

“It’s manageable. It’s way more painful for a she-wolf to go through her heat alone than it is for a male.” Jungkook clenched and unclenched his fists as he resumed his pacing. “The worst part is being away from you. I’ve been going through ruts since puberty, I can handle them. But not being able to be with you for a whole week…I hated it. Still do. I dread that three month mark. And as time went on, I became more and more miserable. Being apart from you was almost unbearable but the other option…I never even allowed myself to consider it.

“It came to the point where the pack was noticing. I wasn’t getting the proper pheromonal release from my ruts and it was beginning to affect those around me. Taehyung has been on my ass for months now to get over myself and take you with me during my next rut. Each time I’d give him some excuse, but it was getting harder and harder to justify what I was doing. At first, I was convinced it was because I was protecting you. But you’ve been so understanding and so patient with me and my life, those excuses were becoming useless. Eventually, I think it was because I was protecting myself. I was - am - so scared. I’m terrified that I could hurt you when I’m like that. That I wouldn’t be able to notice or worse, ignored, if something happened to you. Living with that type of fear became debilitating. So, I just kept my mouth shut and kept you away from that part of me.”

Jungkook shook his head and chuckled humorlessly. “Now I know that was the worst possible thing I could do. That I was just hurting you more. What you walked into last Sunday was a culmination of my frustrations that I was refusing to deal with. While it’s not a valid reason, I’m well aware of that, I need you to know that what you heard was not the truth. It couldn’t be further from it. Because the truth is that I’m hopelessly in love with you and the thought of being without you hurts worse than I ever thought was possible.”

It wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time that Jungkook left you speechless. It took you a full minute to process what he had said. Jungkook granted you the silence although he became increasingly more agitated as time passed. His boots scuffed the dead leaves that littered the ground and his pacing led him closer to the ashes that lay before your feet. Then, he’d suddenly stalk off with a growl as he was forced to keep away.

“I-” you cleared your throat around the lump that had found a home there. “I had no idea. This whole time…I thought it was because you didn’t want me.”

“God, no.” Jungkook swore heavily as his muscles bunched and coiled beneath his clothes. “The - the fact that…you - fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s not it, that’s not it at all. You’re my dream girl, you’re the love of my life, and I want you every second of every day.”

Maybe it’s because you were emotionally drained and had no mental strength left. Maybe, you needed to hear those words from Jungkook more than you realized. Whatever the reason was, it wasn’t worth trying to figure out an explanation as you sunk to the ground and burst into tears.

Jungkook lost it across from you. Broken whines stained the air as he carded through his hair anxiously. He kept trying to get to you, to try to soothe you. But the boundary was unfortunately doing its job and each attempt was met with failure. Curses were spat out until eventually, he got as close as the boundary would let him and fell to his knees. He began spewing whatever came to mind first, unsure of what to do. All he knew was that you were crying because of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He thought hearing you cry from your bedroom window was torture, but nothing could compare to hearing you break down in front of him. Nothing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m sorry…please, I’m so sorry. I - don’t cry, darling. Please don’t. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

It wasn’t tears of heartbreak that leaked from your eyes. Instead, it was tears of relief. While your heart had wholly accepted his words as the truth, the logical part of you reminded yourself that the two of you had way more talking to do. This was far from over, but the relief of knowing that he loved you and he was yours…it was indescribable.

You finally lifted your head up and were shocked to find Jungkook’s cheeks glistening with moisture. Your only thought was to comfort him as you scrambled forward to do just that. Instead of feeling his smooth skin against the palm of your hand, you were blocked by what felt like a wall although nothing stood in your way. Frowning, you realized with a start that the boundary worked both ways. Jungkook let out a frustrated growl as he glared at the ashes that was stopping both of you from getting what you wanted. It was silent for a few moments until an idea popped into your head.

“Wait here,” you announced before jumping up and taking off for the house. Ignoring Jungkook’s distressed cry, you ran inside. You yanked your car keys off from their designated hook and quickly typed out a text to your parents to let them know where you were going before spinning around and sprinting back outside. Jungkook was where you left him, although he stumbled to his feet when he saw you reappear.

“I’m going to your house,” you announced, breathless. “No witch is stupid enough to go that far into werewolf territory. If you want to talk to me there, then follow me.”

Jungkook stared at you for a heartbeat until the words you spoke clicked. “Y-yeah. Yes. Okay. I’ll be there.”

With a curt nod, you ran to your car. For the first time in a week, a faint sprout of hope bloomed in your chest.

It was the longest and shortest ten minutes of your life. The drive to Jungkook’s seemed to last a lifetime but also was over within a blink of an eye. The tears had stopped flowing by the time you pulled your car into his driveway, but you felt the telltale prick in your eyes when you saw him burst from the trees. Your heart ached as his long legs ate up the distance between you two as you wrestled with your seatbelt and threw the car into park. By the time you freed yourself, he was at the hood of your car.

The two of you stared at each other for a few breathless moments. You weren’t sure who moved first, but it didn’t matter as you crashed into each other’s arms. The moment his searing warmth enveloped you, you dissolved into another puddle of sobs. The feeling of his thick arms banded across your back, his torso molded to yours, and his hair tickling your ear, felt so right. Another wave of crippling relief washed over you and you practically melted against Jungkook. But he held you up, just like he always had.

He leaned against the front bumper while his hands were everywhere. Cradling your head into his neck, smoothing over your hips, or running circles over your shoulders. He was crying, you could feel the tears dampening your hair. But you were soaking his shirt so no one was in any position to complain.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” Jungkook hissed fiercely as he squeezed you tighter. “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, not in the slightest.”

“Kook,” you sighed and pulled your head back to get a good look at him. “It takes two to tango.”

“Not this time,” he argued. “You’ve put up with so much. You’re everything I could’ve asked for and more. It was my own fears that got in the way and created this mess. And I’m so sorry for that, darling. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shushed him gently, running your thumbs over his cheeks to swipe at the dried tears. “I know you’re sorry. I believe you.”

Jungkook dipped his head further into your touch with a pleased rumble vibrating through his chest. He kissed your palm gently, sniffing at your wrist. It made you giggle. “Missed that,” Jungkook mumbled as he stared at you with stars in his eyes. “Missed you. Missed you so much.”

A fresh wave of tears cascaded down your cheeks. You were positive that you looked like a mess, hair in a knotted bun, face red and puffy and you kept sniffling every two seconds. But Jungkook looked at you as if you held the world in your hands. “Missed you too,” you murmured in return. “Please, next time, just talk to me. I may not have the answers you’re looking for all the time, but I’ll always be here to listen.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispered. “There won’t be a next time, promise. If I happen to be stupid enough to put us in this position again, I give you full permission to punch me in the face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You lifted yourself onto your toes to brush your lips against his, dropping back down to your feet when his head chased after yours. “Or maybe I just won’t kiss you for a week.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened comically and he actually looked terrified. “I’d rather you just punched me in the face.” You tilted your head back and laughed. Jungkook tugged you closer and nosed your throat before peppering gentle kisses along the exposed skin. Sighing happily, you tilted your head to allow him better access and rested your cheek on his shoulder.

“I love you,” you said quietly. Jungkook froze for a split second before he sank against you. Squeaking in shock, you scrambled to brace yourself against the sudden weight pressing you towards the house.

“Say it again,” Jungkook pleaded. You couldn’t deny him. Dusting feather light kisses to the shell of his ear, you repeated those three words again, and again, and again. Each time you did, Jungkook held you a little tighter and cried a little harder.

Eventually, you’re murmured promises became softer and softer until the two of you just enjoyed each others presence. “C’mon,” you finally whispered as you started to lift yourself off of him. Jungkook growled and refused to let you move an inch farther. “Kook, come on. Let’s go inside. Your ass must be numb by now.”

“Don’t care,” he grumbled but he at least shuffled forward a bit more so that your combined weight wasn’t squashing his ass against your car.

“You might say that now, but you won’t be saying that later.”

Jungkook grunted at your logic but he at least raised his head and looked at you with the sweetest eyes. “Please tell me you’re staying.”

Giggling, you asked, “do you want me to?”

“Obviously,” he scoffed. “I want you here forever.” Jungkook tilted his head thoughtfully. “Actually, you should just move in with me.”

Christ, this boy was going to give you whiplash. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Jungkook, we just made up. The whole reason we were in this mess is because of poor communication. Don’t you think we should work on that first before anything else?”

“But…we could work on communication all the time if we’re together 24/7.” Despite his pout, you knew he wasn’t totally serious. Although you were sure it was going to come up again.

“Alright, you maniac,” you said fondly. “Take me to bed.” Jungkook’s chest rumbled happily as he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

It wasn’t a long walk to his bedroom, but the exhaustion of the past week caught up to you and the gentle rocking of his steps lulled you into a serene state. Not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. You were aware when Jungkook placed you on his bed, practically engulfed in his scent. The last thing you remember before falling asleep was the words Jungkook pressed into your hair has he slid in behind you.

“Love you forever, my darling girl.”

©jcwritings Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

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[spidernerdsblog]

Heyyyyyy👋

I hope you don’t mind me requesting a peter parker where the reader is in a coma and some girls are hitting on him and asking if he is taken and he said like “yes, I’am just waiting for my princess to wake up” something like that. If you’re comfortable with it ofc.🙂 or just the reader asking him what would he say to the girls who’s hitting on him🥰 thank you in advance💕

Hey! Your ask kinda low-key made me sad but honestly I love it thank you for requesting. Hope you like this. Took a little inspiration from the amazing spiderman 2 where Gwen dies but here the reader goes into a comatose state instead.

Song inspo - Sunflower by post malone

Pairing : Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : none

You're a Sunflower

It's been three months now as Peter stands in front of his university leaving his high school life behind and stepping into his college life; though this is not exactly how he imagined it would be he had imagined to walk through these gates with you hand in hand by his side. But as fate would have it you now lay in a bed succumbed into an eternal sleep. 

The memory was still fresh in his mind of how Harry clad in his green goblin suit kidnapped you to get his revenge on him though Peter was able to subdue him not before Harry threw you down the building. You reached out your hand to Peter with fear in your eyes for help and even after Peter's desperate attempt to save you by shooting his webs, he couldn’t web you up in time as your body hit the ground with an impact that your humanly body couldn't withstand all he remembers was you looking at him smiling softly before closing your eyes for eternity. 

You were rushed to the hospital and admitted in the critical care unit. Your parents came running after they heard about your accident, Peter couldn’t look in their eyes because it was he for whom their daughter is battling with death. Peter cried and prayed for you the whole night. With a heavy heart the doctors informed that the impact of your fall had directly affected your brain sending you into a coma and they have no idea when or ever are you going to recover from that state. Peter thought it was all a lie, he didn't want to believe that he may have lost you forever. At his request and with your parents' consent Tony shifted you to the Avengers compound so your treatment could be done under better hands and you recover quickly but neither Bruce could provide him with a satisfactory answer of when are you going to come out of your comatose state. The only thing now he could do was wait, wait for you to one day open your eyes and pull him back in your arms, his safe haven, even if he has to wait all his life he will wait. 

He had never wanted you to get involved in his dangerous life and that is why he revealed to you his secret identity to let you know that you both can’t be together. But you had laughed it off and playfully said to him "Haha, I laugh at the face of danger!"

🌻

After his classes were done for the day Peter walks back home stopping by the flower shop to buy flowers for you. It was a part of his daily routine now everyday after college he would bring you sunflowers. They were your favourite flowers because you once said to him they symbolize ‘‘a person who has loved with sincerity and purity never forgets, on the contrary, truly loves until the end’’

And you were his sunflower. You were a ray of sunshine in his life and he always thought that your love was too much for him which he would never be able to reciprocate you back, he was lucky enough to be a part of your life because he doesn’t deserve you. He blames himself for your condition. You were a bubbly person who loved the outdoors, the bustle on the streets, visiting new places and meeting new people. And he wanted to be part of every little adventure in your life but alas he robbed you of your life.

Reaching the compound he goes to visit you in your room. He replaces the dry sunflowers in the vase with the fresh ones he bought for you and sits beside you. You looked so calm and peaceful. It pains him immensely seeing you lying motionless wired to an HRM, the rhythmic beeping of the machine a proof that your heart still beats and all hopes are not lost, not yet. 

He misses your carefree laugh, misses your sweet honey laced voice, your warm smile that could brighten up anyone’s day. He craves for your touch; he wants to feel your soft delicate hands again as you caress his wounds after every time he comes back wounded fighting the bad guys. 

Everyday it's a struggle for him to leave you like this. He wants you to call him back by his name like you used to do every night before he left for patrolling not wanting him to go and risk his life out there.

🌻

It was fresher’s night Peter had already decided to give it a miss and spend time with you but Ned and Flash had forcefully made him tag along which he reluctantly did. The party was at full swing, music booming and drinks flowing. Drunk boys and girls hitting upon each other. Peter was standing at an isolated corner drinking a coke by now a bunch of girls had tried to make a move on him which he had managed to decline politely. He was never the man to indulge in infidelity, he loved you dearly and no one can take your place in his life. You even once had jokingly asked what he would do if you vanish from his life would he move on and he had just placed his hand on your mouth warily asking you to never ever say such a thing again or even think of leaving him.

After sometime one of his classmates Felicia waltzed her way up to him.

‘‘Hey Parker why are you standing here all alone?’’

‘‘No I’m fine-’’ by the time he would stop her she was already dragging him to the dancefloor. She pulled him closer, her back pressed against his chest as she took his hands and placed them on her waist. Peter felt awkward as he gently swayed with her. Soon she began grinding against making Peter feel uncomfortable. He thought whatever was happening wasn’t right he pushed her away from him as she turned around looking at him in shock and confusion.

‘‘I’m sorry I-I can’t’’ He stuttered nervously and rushed out of the room to the ground for some fresh air as he felt suffocated. Seeing the scene Emma Frost, another classmate of his followed him. Though he backed off Peter was still feeling guilty he felt he kind of cheated on you as you lay unconscious, tears pricked his eyes.

‘‘What’s your deal man?’’ Emma asks him from behind startling him.

‘‘Uh.. what?’’ He asks, quickly wiping his tears with his hands.

‘‘I just saw you leaving Felicia on the dance floor. Who does that?! Every guy in the college wants to be with her’’ she snickers

‘‘I’m not every guy. Moreover, I’m not interested’’ he says blandly.

‘‘Are you taken?’’ she looked at him skeptical and his silence gave away the answer.

‘‘Damn! She’s indeed a lucky girl’’ she exclaims ‘‘to have such a loyal boyfriend like you these days is very rare. Can I see one picture of your special one?’’ she asks excitedly to which Peter obliged with a smile as he took out his phone from his back pocket and showed her a picture of yours looking all radiant and happy in a sunflower field just like the flowers which he had clicked when you both went on a small trip.

‘‘Here she is’’

‘‘She is beautiful’’ Emma approves with a smile ‘‘So where is she? Another college or at a totally different country?’’ Peter’s expression fell as sadness took over his features; he took a long sigh before he answered her question.

"She’s at the brink of life and death and I'm just waiting for my princess to wake up"

Feeback and suggestions are always welcome.

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

Part 2

Requests are open.

Taglist : @peaches-parker @osterfieldshollandgirl @starcoadrienette2 @spideyth @allthisfortommy @thenoddingbunny-blog @larrystylinson-sus @bloodyscarlet @itstaskeen @dummiesshort @tutuabby28 @dramaholic18 @thehumanistsdiary @majo240820 @heyafellows @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @justafangirlduh @moniffazictress11   @goodgirlgonetom   @lyzalovealk @parkerpeterparker2004 @ladykxxx08 @joselyn001

[unrestedjade]

Baseless Ferengi headcanons no one asked for and that get increasingly queer-navel-gazing and self indulgent because the horrible space goblins have consumed my brain:

- Mobile ears, because if hearing is so well developed and important to them they should be able to aim those big stupid radar dishes. Also because then they can emote with them and that's cute. THE AESTHETIC IS PARAMOUNT.

- Since they canonically sharpen their teeth with chew sticks and sharpeners, their teeth must grow continuously. So I submit: subcultures that let certain teeth grow out as a fashion/political statement. Ferengi punks and anarchists with 5" tusks. Ferengi with all their teeth filed flat (mom and dad HATE it).

- Corollary to the above, most of their teeth are crooked. At the least, they don't share our fetish for straight teeth. What if their teeth are deciduous, and there's no point in trying to force them into perfect alignment, since they'll just fall out and get replaced? So like, sharks but their teeth can also grow longer with no limit. WHAT HAST EVOLUTION WROUGHT ON FERENGINAR :V

- Parents nagging their kids to sharpen their teeth "or they'll grow up into your brain and you'll die :)"

- Personal space? Don't know her.

Okay I need a cut because there's too many now. WHOLE SOCIETY OF GAY HOMOPHOBIC UNCLES AND AUNTS GO I HAVE A PROBLEM

- I can't remember who on here put forth the idea of them having retractable claws but Yes. :3

- Pushing back against the worst canon episode a bit but: relative ear size being the only obvious sexually dimorphic trait, and even that having enough of a gray area that the only way to be 100% sure you're talking to a male or female Ferengi is if you do a blood test. Unless they're intersex! *shrug emoji*

- This is why they're so fanatical about gender conformity and their Victorian "separate spheres" attitude to men and women's roles. Capitalist patriarchy is fragile! And as artificial to Ferengi as it ever was to Humans! (self-indulgenceeeee about gender shiiiiit)

- You know how with domesticated rabbits, the rabbit getting groomed and paid attention to is the boss? Yeah. Go ahead and paint your bestie's nails, just don't be surprised if she cops a little bit of an attitude with you from then on.

- Their fight/flight/freeze/fawn instincts skew heavily toward the last three, and what a lot of other species read as annoying sucking up is the Ferengi in question feeling anxious and unsafe. Especially if they don't feel integrated into the group. Even being at the bottom of the pecking order is better than not being in the flock at all.

- If they DO opt for fight, it's ugly and typically their last resort. Bites or scratches will get infected without intervention-- microbes that their immune system can handle could cause big trouble for aliens. You might wanna check for full or partial teeth that break off and get lodged in the wound, too.

- Too many of these are tooth related but I don't care. :B More teeth stuff: you know what else has teeth that grow constantly? Puffer fish. Likewise, Ferengi can chew up mollusk shells as easy as potato chips, and they need the minerals for their teeth. (Imagine grandpa Sisko offering Nog a crayfish for the first time and watching as he just...pops the whole damn thing in his mouth and crunches away...)

- Their staple foods seem to be grubs and other arthropods, high in protein and fat. I've unilaterally decided their cuisine also involves a lot of edible fungi, ferns, plant shoots and seeds. Gotta get those vitamins. Overall flavor profile leaning toward umami, vegetal, and fresh herbs, and pretty mild (or "delicate" if you wanna be snooty about it, which a Ferengi probably would let's be real).

- Not much sugary food. I'm basing this solely on Quark's aversion to root beer as "cloying". Which could definitely just be his personal preference, but most of the people I hear hating on root beer cite the actual sassafras/sarsaparilla flavor (saying it tastes like medicine) not the sweetness. Nog might be the weirdo outlier for being able to enjoy it.

- Their home planet isn't bright and sunny, so their eyes are better at discerning shades of gray in low light conditions, with relatively weak color vision. Which could explain why they dress Like That.

- Conversely, human music has a reputation for stinking on ice because a lot of it is juuuuust lightly dissonant or out of tune because we can't pick up flaws that small. Ferengi can, and it drives them up the *wall*.

- Music? So many different kinds. Traditionally, maybe lots of percussion and winds, and water as a common component of many instruments to alter pitch or tone. Polyphony out the ass. Some of the modern stuff is an impenetrable wall of sound if you're not a species with a lot of brain real estate devoted to processing sounds. Pick out one melody to follow at a time.

- Yes, back to teeth again I'm sorry. It's a sickness. At some point in their history, pre-chewing food was just something you did for your baby or great grandma as a matter of necessity. Possibly your baby gets an important boost to their immune system and gut biome from your spit. At some point takes on a more formal intimacy aspect and gradually drifted from something all adults and older kids do to something only women do. Your husband and older kids have perfectly functional teeth, but you love them, right? =_= (Think old memes about husbands being useless in the kitchen if little wifey isn't there to cook, but even more ridiculous. Ishka was right about everything but especially this. Thank you for making your family chew their own food, Ishka. Not all heroes wear capes. Or anything!)

- How did they get started on the whole men: clothed vs women: unclothed nonsense? My equally stupid idea: men just get cold easier. Those huge ears dissipate a ton of body heat. Cue Ferengi cliches like "jeez, we could be standing on the surface of the sun and my husband would put on another layer." At some point, again, this got codified and pushed to ridiculous extremes in the name of controlling women and keeping everyone in their assigned box, to the point that women just have to shiver if they really are too cold and men have to pass out from heat stroke if the alternative is going shirtless, because That Would Be Inappropriate.

- Marriages default to five years, but they're also the only avenue for women to have their own household or any stability. Plus their religion places no emphasis on purity save for pure adherence to the free market and the RoA. So, curveball to the rest of their patriarchal bullshit: female virginity isn't a concern in the least. Bring it up and they'll rightly side-eye you.

- Family law is absolutely bonkers and lawyers that specialize in it make BANK. I feel like custody would default to the father usually but oh wait, the maternal grandfather has a legal stake in this, too, and your next father-in-law is asking HOW many kids are you dragging into my daughter's house, etc etc. Growing up with a full sibling is way rarer than growing up with half or stepsiblings, since it usually takes both men and women two or three tries to find someone they vibe with. (Not love, unless you're super cringe.)

- A misogynistic society is a homophobic society. Imo those flavors of shittiness just come in pairs. Homosexual behaviors are fine within certain parameters (aka "always have sex with the boss") but not on your own terms. To add spice, bisexuality is their most common mode (because I'm bi and these are my hcs for my fics I'm not writing, so there), but capitalism demands fresh grist for the mill so you better get het-married and pop out some kids you lowly peons. You have a choice so make the proper one. :)

- Corollary to the above, that doesn't keep all kinds of illicit "we're just friends with quid-pro-quo benefits for realsies" affairs of every stripe and every gender from going on everywhere. Many Ferengi have a lightbulb moment somewhere in early adulthood when they figure out their dad's business partner or the "auntie" who visited their mom every month had a little more going on.

- Plus there's way more gender non-conformity and varying degrees of trans-ing than the powers that be have a handle on. Pel isn't unique, even if most would have to somehow make it out into space to be able to thrive.

Damn a lot of these are just my personal bugbears plus THE GILDED AGE BUT WITH HAIRLESS SPACE RODENTS ain't they

- Women can't earn profit, okay. But lending or "lending" things to each other isn't commerce, riiiiiiight? To be assigned female is to master navigating a vast, dizzying barter/gift economy. Smart boys and men leverage this, too, and there are splinter sects that view this as the purest expression of the Great Material Continuum.

- Of course plenty of women make profit anyway, and just do their bast to dodge the FCA. The tough thing about insisting on using latinum as currency is that cash can be so hard to track, you know?

- Because of the RoA, guys are discouraged from doing favors or giving gifts without setting clear expectation of getting some return on investment. This can twist into an expression of friendship (and of course women do it too), and the ledger will keep cycling between debit and credit among friends for decades. A common mistake aliens make is to tell them recompense isn't needed without explaining why, or return their favor or present with something that zeroes out the debt. The Ferengi will assume you want to break off the friendship. (I cribbed this from dim memories of an African studies course I took in 2007 and whose textbook I know I still have but I can't frigging find it...)

- Flirting, they do a lot of it for a lot of reasons. Roddenberry made it clear that they're just straight up pretty horny, but there's no reason it can't pull double duty for building alliances with other people, smoothing over feuds or disagreements, or cementing friendships. Ferengi who are ace and/or sex-repulsed are possibly viewed similar to the way we'd view someone who's "not a hugger/not big on touching" and if they flirt just don't get offended if it doesn't go any further; aro Ferengi don't garner much comment aside from an occasional "wow how badass, never falling in love with anyone."

- where to even start on making sense of the Blessed Exchequer??? Like seriously, what is this literal prosperity gospel insanity, I need to force myself to re-read Rand and like, some Milton Friedman for this shit. Help.

- fuck I'm probably going to actually do that, RIP me...

[hakasims]

The Most In-depth Analysis of Luca Marinelli’s Characters You’ll Ever Need

You’d think I was done with classifications, but I’m not! There’s so much more I can say about Luca Marinelli’s oeuvre and his magnificent roster of characters. And yes, I’ve made this post before where I highlighted specific tropes that show up in a lot of his movies, but that was surface-level shit. This is an actual exploration of what makes a Luca Marinelli character besides being a kinky little whore. And don’t worry, it’s still in that user-friendly question-answer format because I love you.

Here’s the thing: Luca is a chameleon but he also has a type, and this type is:

✨ a (likely) queer repressed addict with daddy issues ✨

That’s the skeleton. Let’s see how many of his major roles possess that skeleton at all and what flavors they add to the picture.

Disclaimer: I excluded characters with little screen time and Joseph from Mary of Nazareth because he doesn’t deserve rights. Also, instead of going in the boring chronological order, I’m gonna start with the least typical character for Luca and end with the crème de la crème. The results may not surprise you.

Nicky (The Old Guard)

Is he queer? Undeniably.

Is he repressed? No.

Does he have an addiction? No.

Does he have daddy issues? I know we’re all deeply affected by our shitty father figures but I would genuinely question Nicky’s sanity if he were still on that shit at the ripe age of 951. A little tip for daddy-hating immortals out there: just do what Angel did and kill your shitty dad. Problem solved.

Is he violent? Despite doling out tons of violence, he doesn’t have a violent nature and seems uninterested in hating his enemy or delivering retribution.

Does he need a good night sleep? I’m sure nothing helps one sleep better than a Joe-shaped big spoon.

Does he need a good cry? Doesn’t seem like it.

Flavors: A perfect immortal warrior bean in a healthy relationship.

Conclusion: Ironically but unsurprisingly, Nicky is the least Luca-like character.

Guido (Tutti i santi giorni)

Is he queer? I don’t believe so but who knows? If someone told me he’s demisexual, I’d believe it.

Is he repressed? The movie may disagree, but I say yes, obviously.

Does he have an addiction? Not unless you count his romantic relationship.

Does he have daddy issues? His family is so supportive and wholesome it’s almost parodic.

Is he violent? He’s the opposite of a toxic macho dude, but then he has a violent outburst out of nowhere because the movie is bad.

Does he need a good night sleep? He doesn’t like sleeping at night.

Does he need a good cry? Naturally.

Flavors: An adorkable awkward nerd with flowery speech.

Conclusion: I can forgive straightness and wholesomeness but I can’t forgive lack of complexity.

Martin (Martin Eden)

Is he queer? I don’t believe so.

Is he repressed? Yes.

Does he have an addiction? No.

Does he have daddy issues? Not to my knowledge.

Is he violent? When he deems it necessary to be.

Does he need a good night sleep? Sure.

Does he need a good cry? Cry your little heart out, Martin!

Flavors: An arrogant, pretentious, politically confused writer.

Conclusion: A little too straight for your typical Luca, but he makes up for it with being complex and complicated.

Loris (Il mondo fino in fondo)

Is he queer? I don’t believe so.

Is he repressed? So fucking repressed!

Does he have an addiction? Nothing beyond his savior complex.

Does he have daddy issues? He has a shitty dad he’s spent his whole life trying to please, and also his mommy left, so like yeah, obviously.

Is he violent? He has his straight dude moments.

Does he need a good night sleep? Definitely.

Does he need a good cry? Oh yeah, let him cry, it’s good for him.

Flavors: A casually homophobic mother hen.

Conclusion: Ruined by heterosexual agenda.

Lui (Ricordi?)

Is he queer? I don’t believe so.

Is he repressed? Very.

Does he have an addiction? No.

Does he have daddy issues? A big sack of them.

Is he violent? No.

Does he need a good night sleep? Oh yes. To sleep, perchance to dream about anything other than his traumatic memories.

Does he need a good cry? So much.

Flavors: Up-his-butt and pensive.

Conclusion: Leave it to Luca to take a guy who would be an absolute nightmare in real life and turn him into someone I actually want to watch for two hours and see happy by the end.

Gabriele (Waves)

Is he queer? There’s evidence he might be gay.

Is he repressed? I’d bet on it.

Does he have an addiction? Doesn’t seem like it.

Does he have daddy issues? Nobody knows.

Is he violent? No.

Does he need a good night sleep? He probably will with how the movie ended.

Does he need a good cry? At least one.

Flavors: A sweet introverted guy who loves boats.

Conclusion: While not particularly complex, Gabriele has layers and nuances. Also give him a big muscular daddy.

Fabrizio (Fabrizio de André - Principe libero)

Is he queer? I don’t believe so.

Is he repressed? He was before music became his only career.

Does he have an addiction? Alcohol, cigarettes, sex, cheating - take your pick.

Does he have daddy issues? Not as bad as some of the other guys here but he’s heard his fair share of “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed” speeches.

Is he violent? He’s soft.

Does he need a good night sleep? He’s an artist, what do you think?

Does he need a good cry? He’s an artist, what do you think?

Flavors: Fabrizio de André is the flavor.

Conclusion: Even though it’s a biopic, there are still many Luca-isms there. He’s just that kind of actor.

Milton (Una questione privata)

Is he queer? It could be argued that he is bisexual.

Is he repressed? Do you even need to ask?

Does he have an addiction? About half of the breaths he takes are filled with cigarette smoke.

Does he have daddy issues? He seems to have a good and loving relationship with both his parents.

Is he violent? Not by nature.

Does he need a good night sleep? Yep.

Does he need a good cry? He certainly does.

Flavors: A repressed bisexual feeling powerless in a horrible world.

Conclusion: This is proof that Luca can carry a whole entire movie on his sexy shoulders, alone. Also Milton needs a safe and loving triad.

Mattia (La solitudine dei numeri primi)

Is he queer? I personally read him as asexual. Though assigning asexuality to characters who are traumatized is a dangerous path so don’t quote me on this, okay?

Is he repressed? Just the most repressed.

Does he have an addiction? It’s debatable whether self-harm and eating disorders can be considered addictions, but they’re part of his character, and I thought you should know.

Does he have daddy issues? His parents played their part in messing him up which then led to the big thing that really messed him up, though other than that his dad is barely a presence.

Is he violent? Not at all.

Does he need a good night sleep? At least 17 hours.

Does he need a good cry? Oh, so much. He needs all the cry.

Flavors: A quiet genius with lots of guilt.

Conclusion: Can you believe this was his first film role? Our boy is talented af!

Fabio (Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot)

Is he queer? Undeniably.

Is he repressed? You could argue that he is repressed by being limited in his place in social hierarchy.

Does he have an addiction? Amazingly enough, no. He has fixations, though.

Does he have daddy issues? Thinking his father was a loser and not wanting to end up like him is textbook stuff.

Is he violent? Very.

Does he need a good night sleep? Yes please.

Does he need a good cry? He needs to purge his soul from all the bottled up stuff.

Flavors: A campy psycho.

Conclusion: Luca’s most iconic character, so of course he scored high on the list.

Paolo (Il padre d’Italia)

Is he queer? Undeniably.

Is he repressed? I can’t even start listing all the ways in which he’s repressed.

Does he have an addiction? He smokes a lot.

Does he have daddy issues? His issues are more of a mommy variety.

Is he violent? Not in the slightest.

Does he need a good night sleep? He’s the poster boy for needing a good night sleep.

Does he need a good cry? A good cry, a good weep, a good sob, a good bawl, *googles more synonyms* a good wail, a good squall...

Flavors: A self-loathing gay orphan in need of some life goodness.

Conclusion: What can I say about Paolo that all of you aren’t already thinking? Decent film, great character, excellent portrayal.

Mickey (Die Pfeiler der Macht)

Is he queer? Undeniably.

Is he repressed? It’s Victorian England, you guys.

Does he have an addiction? He smokes casually but other than that... eh. And don’t tell me he has sex addiction. He uses his body strategically.

Does he have daddy issues? If what he has isn’t daddy issues, I don’t know what is.

Is he violent? He’s got tons of bottled up aggression.

Does he need a good night sleep? It would be great if he could use the day’s darkest hours for sleeping.

Does he need a good cry? Undeniably.

Flavors: A conniving slut extraordinaire.

Conclusion: A major player in the book (says me who managed like 50 pages), Mickey Miranda was turned into such a nothing character in the miniseries that they needed a truly extraordinary actor to make him memorable. And guess what, Luca delivered.

Cesare (Non essere cattivo)

Is he queer? Not explicitly, but come on.

Is he repressed? Lethally.

Does he have an addiction? He’s an addiction textbook.

Does he have daddy issues? *Jake Peralta voice* Yeah, the guy without a daddy is the one with daddy issues. Explain that logic.

Is he violent? Oh yeah, he’s a rabid little trash goblin.

Does he need a good night sleep? So much.

Does he need a good cry? He’s had his fair share of good cries, but he could always use more.

Flavors: A aimless junkie.

Conclusion: The quintessential Luca. Beautiful.

Primo (Trust)

Is he queer? Listen, just because we don’t see him fuck a dude on screen it doesn’t mean he isn’t a motherfluffing queer icon. It’s not subtext; it’s TEXT.

Is he repressed? Where do I even fucking start?

Does he have an addiction? Oh yeah. And a coke nail to prove it.

Does he have daddy issues? I would need a whole separate post to unpack his daddy issues.

Is he violent? So very violent.

Does he need a good night sleep? Yes, please. On an actual bed in an actual bedroom.

Does he need a good cry? You can just tell.

Flavors: A ruthless criminal with a strong mafia boss potential.

Conclusion: The pièce de résistance of the Luca Marinelli filmography. Not only does he tick every box, he gets bonus points for the excellent wardrobe choices that emphasize Luca’s best features. Primo Nizzuto is everything great you want from Luca, except singing. (Though in my headcanon that whole white car in a snowstorm monologue was a musical number.)

[fortunes-favor]

As if I Am Looking in a Mirror

Co-written with @nottthebest

Paring: Essek thelyss/Caleb Widogast 

Word Count: ~2.8k 

Rating: T Summary: Caleb Widogast and Essek Thelyss both have plans to facilitate spending their lives together. Yussa helps.

Read on Ao3

Caleb and Essek are together for years. And though time is his specialty, Essek finds it slipping through his grasp.

As the weeks and months go by, Essek starts to notice strands of grey hair among a sea of red. And then another. And another, until Caleb’s hair is a mess of orange and red and white and silver.

It hurts seeing Caleb get older when he stays much the same age, at least in appearance. While Caleb is far past middle-aged, Essek is still only barely halfway into his second century.

So one day, he makes up his mind. It comes to him as they sit and study together, Caleb leaning against Essek’s chest, with Essek’s fingers absentmindedly running through Caleb’s salted strands. Caleb’s reading a book, and Essek has his own, though he hasn’t been able to concentrate on it. His fingers come to a stop, catching Caleb’s attention. Caleb leans his head back to see Essek’s thousand-yard stare.

“What’s the matter, liebling? I know that look,” Caleb teases lightly, his voice more gravelly with age.

Essek smiles in return. “Lost in thought. My mind’s been drifting so much these days.”

“Where to?” Caleb puts down his book and shifts to get a better look at the man he loves, causing Perle, one of their three cats, to yowl in protest before jumping off of Caleb’s lap. Caleb mutters a soft apology at the white cat before turning back to look at Essek’s face.

“Oh, places. I wonder what our friends are up to.” He deflects.

If Caleb knew his real train of thought… Well, that conversation will happen later.

“I’ll be visiting Beauregard at the Soul tomorrow. I’ll give you a rundown on what she and Yasha are up to.”

And at that moment, an idea strikes Essek.

“Perhaps I will go pay a visit to Jester and Fjord then. I hear Veth could also use a hand with her summer camps. Maybe a day or two on the coast would be nice.”

Caleb places a quick gentle kiss on his temple. “That sounds lovely. Just, make sure to take your parasol. We don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Essek scoffs, unappreciative of the reminder of the sunburn incident, but gives Caleb a soft smile followed by a sweet kiss on his lips anyway.

The following day, Caleb packs his things and, with a kiss goodbye, teleports directly to the Cobalt Reserve.

Knowing now is his chance, Essek gathers his spellbook and some gem dust. He puts precisely hundred-and-twenty-seven pounds of clay in a vault of amber. And he teleports to Nicodranas.

Jester and the others receive a quick visit, just in case Caleb asks about it later. He’s sure Jester will have sent him a message the moment he walked out the door. But he has a mission for today. With an illusioned disguise—not of Dezran Thain, he never wants to be him again— he quickly makes his way to the monumental tower he knew a friend of a friend would be at. He only hopes he can convince the mage to help.

He greets the goblin servant at Tidepeak, introducing himself as Essek of the Mighty Nein. He says that he has a spell to share with the goblin’s master, one that he’s sure the mage will find fascinating. The goblin lets him in after some persuasion. Once inside, Essek drops the illusion.

“Um. One moment.” Wensforth politely gives a slight bow before scurrying up the stairs, leaving Essek in the foyer. After a few out-of-earshot comments are passed, Essek’s ears perk up.

“Essek Thelyss,” an amused sounding voice rings from somewhere above the entryway. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Come upstairs. Please.”

The mage looks different from when Essek last saw him, but the last time Essek saw him, his face was a void, and his soul was trapped by a living city, so it’s not surprising.

Now, Yussa Errenis sits with thinly-veiled interest on his very-much-there face. “What can I do for you?”

“I have a favour to ask of you.”

Yussa’s interested look turns to one of surprise. “And why would I do you a favour? Do you offer me anything in return?”

Essek grins. “I am a member of the Mighty Nein, as well as one of the people who helped save you from the Astral Sea. I’m sure we can work something out.”

He luckily convinces Yussa to perform the transmogrification ritual to turn him into a fifty-seven-year-old human. Same age as Caleb. Yussa doesn’t quite understand why he would give up the many centuries he has left to live, but it’s fascinating magic that Yussa hasn’t yet had the chance to test, and if the drow wants to be foolish, he’s not going to stop him.

An hour later, Essek is human, skin darker than Beauregard's but cooler in tone, and hair still snowy white. His facial structure is as similar as it can be without raising suspicion. He’s a little taller but not enough to make much of a difference. The wrinkles are new. His skin feeling too loose on his body is new. His ears are definitely going to take some getting used to, and he’s going to have to stop wearing some of his ear cuffs and caps, specifically ones meant to fit pointed elf ears.

At the end of it all, Essek is packing his belongings, still trying to get used to the new body. He is exhausted but also feels like he’s floating, content. He will be able to spend his life with Caleb.

He suddenly stands up straight. “One more thing.”

Yussa’s humoured sigh is not well hidden at all. “Yes, of course, I am at your service. what else?”

Essek hesitates for a moment. “Do not tell Caleb what we have done here today.”

That interested look from before returns to Yussa’s expression. “I hesitate to ask for clarification on that request.”

Essek gives him no clarity, and after a quick thanks, disappears in a show of teleportation magic.

Through the elation of practicing an advanced spell, a similar happiness comes with a thought.

He can grow old with Caleb now. Even if they have very little time left, their time is going to be spent together. And if there is an afterlife, one won’t have to wait long for the other to join him there.

*********

Not too long after, Yussa has yet another visitor. He’s fully expecting the drow––human?––to be back, regretting his decision and asking to work on a reversal of it, see if they can revert him back to an elf, without having to wait the one year. It surprises him to see, instead, a slightly nervous Caleb Widogast, shifting his weight lightly from one side to the other.

“What a coincidence, Mister Widogast. I was expecting-” He shakes his head faintly, remembering his promise. “Nevermind that. What can I do for you?”

Caleb looks skeptical for a second before his expression turns neutral. “I have a favour to ask of you.”

Deja vu is not something Yussa has experienced much in his 400 or so years of life, but then again, it's not often you befriend– no, become indebted to a group as unpredictable as the Mighty Nein.

“Of course.”

Further to Yussa’s surprise, Caleb is asking him much the same thing as his partner did. Except, Caleb is asking to be turned into an elf. Yussa doesn’t know why they wouldn’t have just done this in the first place, if the goal was to match the other’s life expectancy. Then it dawns on him.

He considers divulging Thelyss’ secret, but he did swear to him he wouldn’t tell Widogast about it. And the thought of them seeing each other's plans after they’ve been carried out is amusing, to say the very least. Plus, what’s the harm in watching the world burn just a little? He’s not beyond wasting someone else’s spell components to have a little fun, especially when that person is convinced that this is the thing to do. What’s another point of exhaustion compared to a good joke?

So he agrees. And the ritual begins and ends with expected success. Caleb’s silvering hair is now returned to its coppery brightness, the skin stretched more taught against his sharper, slimmer, ever so slightly more elegant features, his ears now pulled to fine points.

Oh, Yussa would very much enjoy seeing their reactions to each other’s new forms.

Yussa stifles laughter that’s building up at the thought. It really is too bad that both Thelyss and Widogast still wear the amulets that would keep him from Scrying on them. Oh, well, he will surely hear about it later, if not from the pair of knucklehead wizards then from their blue friend who is all too enthusiastic to Send to him.

He’s once again surprised that he’s looking forward to hearing from them.

*********

Essek returns to an empty home several hours later, having enjoyed the Nicodranas sun for the first time in his near-century-and-a-half for a while before returning. Faer, Perle and Fate filter into the room that houses their teleportation circle and all come to a confused halt upon seeing Essek. Essek is unsure of the reason for the change in behaviour for a moment before it hits him that he’s no longer in the body his cats are familiar with.

“Oh, it’s me,” he quickly says in Undercommon, kneeling down in front of the three cats with a hand reaching out to them. “I, ah, look––and smell I’m sure––a little different, but it’s me.”

Perle starts taking tentative steps toward Essek and cautiously sniffs his hand before gently nuzzling her head against Essek’s hand in a show of trust. Faer and Fate soon follow suit after being assured that Essek means them no harm, even if they don’t know it’s him.

Oh, gods, would they ever recognize him again? Would they think that Essek abandoned them if they never notice Essek’s human form to be the Essek that they know?

Essek shakes his head to dismiss the thoughts. Even if the cats never know it’s him, this will have been worth it to not have to live a life without Caleb at his side.

He feeds the cats before grabbing his book from the study and making his way to the bedroom. He trades his day clothing for his flowy pyjama pants, noting the slight difference in fit to his new, slightly less lithe body.

A while after he gets comfortable on the bed and starts reading, Faer jumps onto the bed and curls up at Essek’s side. Essek smiles softly to himself and lays a hand on Faer’s dark grey fur, petting him softly. Over the next couple of hours, while he reads, the other two cats join him on the bed. Perle making biscuits on Caleb’s pillow for a few minutes before settling on it, and Fate lies at the foot of the bed, almost at the very edge. Essek knows he will have to be careful not to kick him off the bed in the night.

Sleep takes him not long after he thinks; It seems there is hope for me with the cats after all.

*********

The next day, Essek hears Caleb come home before he sees him. Essek’s in the study, mulling over scenarios of how best to tell Caleb what he’s done when he hears his partner. Fate jumps off his spot on the desk next to the journal Essek’s jotting down ideas in, presumably to welcome Caleb home.

“I’m in the study, ussta che,” he calls out, standing up promptly. He dusts off imaginary lint from his leggings and wills his hands not to shake. “I, ah, have something to show you!”

“As do I,” Caleb says. Essek waits for rustling, the telltale noises of his wizard going through his bag in search of one thing or the other. It doesn’t come. Instead, Essek hears the approaching footfalls of Caleb.

When Caleb appears at the door, Essek is about to give Caleb a sheepish hello. However, he is shocked out of it the moment his eyes land on Caleb’s elven face. Caleb seems to be faring similarly as his mouth falls open in surprise and his long pointy elf ears twitch.

“Was..?” Caleb manages to get out weakly.

“It, ah, appears that we had a similar train of thought, chathtiu.”

Essek tentatively starts walking toward Caleb, never taking his eyes off the elf. Caleb Widogast is an elf.

“You’re human.”

“Oh,” Essek says, realizing the hilarity of the situation. He is a human now. And Caleb is an elf. Oh, gods. “Yes, I am,” he remembers to respond. “You’re an elf,” he adds immediately after.

“Is this one of your disguises?” There’s a trace of worry in his laugh.

“No.” He laughs in return, trying to ease the weird tension. “I paid our friend Yussa a visit. Something I assume you may have done as well?”

“Ja,” Caleb confirms and cradles his face with a smaller-than-Essek-is-used-to hand. “Schatz… You did this... You would have given your centuries away for me? You have such a long life to live.”

“No,” Essek says, wrapping his arms around Caleb’s neck. “Centuries without you would not have been living.”

“You didn’t think that I might also want to spend centuries with you?”

“I know you wouldn’t want to make your parents wait for you that long, Caleb. I also do not wish for you to have to watch the rest of the Nein die one after the other. I would never ask that of you.”

“I am offering, mein sternenlicht. You would need only accept,” He says, pressing a kiss at Essek’s temple.

“Caleb,” Essek protests softly and lets his eyes fall shut with a deep sigh.

“Unless that is, you find yourself not wanting to spend an elf’s lifespan with me,” Caleb amends, pulling back from Essek. Caleb doesn’t go too far, but Essek feels his warmth pull away anyway and snaps his eyes open.

“Caleb, you know I would stay with you through everything. But elves grow up knowing that they are going to be alive for hundreds and hundreds of years. Humans… You… I fear that you cannot fathom just how long those centuries are.” He runs a loving hand through his partner’s once-again-fully-copper hair and causes his hair tie to come undone, letting down strands as bright as the sun. “I do not want you to grow to regret your decision, chathtiu.”

“It’s good to know that you don’t have enough faith in me and our relationship that you would believe I might regret you if I am given more time,” Caleb teases, but Essek can still feel his hurt through the playful tone.

Essek rubs his temple and carefully chooses his next words to avoid any further miscommunication-related hurt. “Caleb, my love, that is not what I am implying. I trust in us enough to know that you will love me through the remainder of your days. I simply mean that I do not want you to regret this decision.” He gestures at Caleb’s elven body. “You will be the last of the Nein; even Caduceus will have a shorter life than us. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but I do not want to see you go through that.”

Caleb’s face softens. “We,” he says.

Essek tilts his head in question.

“We would be the last of the Nein,” Caleb says, punctuating his words with a kiss on Essek’s lips. “Even still, I see your point, schatz. As much as I would love to spend centuries with you, I did not think about how lonely we both would be without our friends.”

“We could turn them into elves too,” Essek says, joking.

“That is a tempting idea.” Caleb smiles. “But maybe we could meet in the middle.”

“What did you have in mind?”

*********

About a year after he helped an elf become human and a human an elf, Yussa watches two half-elves walk towards the entrance of his tower, one with bright red hair and fair skin, the other with white hair and ashen brown skin. He tells Wensforth to go put some tea on and that he will greet their guests himself, before making his way down to the door.

“Mr. Widogast, Mr. Thelyss, I see you’ve worked something out.”