#and honestly? green too! why is he always like. pale with gold-spun hair? why is he always the only “Hero” looking one?

[rosescore245]

I had a lot to add and hit the tag limit, so I'm just going to summarize and close out.

These biases aren't always loud and hurling slurs. Hell I bet a large chunk of people don't even realize they're doing it because it's genuinely so ingrained in a lot!

Why is Vio always pale and thin and sooo white sooo pale guys! Like the thinness can be argued to be grief and lack of self care. But the rest? Vio literally only reads one book in the manga AT ALL. I assure you he wouldn't spend all of his time inside to the point of being paper white.

Why is Blue so often darker? Why is he always super buff? Why can't he be fat or have light hair? Why can't he be anything but muscles and dumb and dark and anger? Why is it hard for people to treat him like a person?

Why is Red the only one that's chubby? Why is it that when I once told someone about my headcanons, the only thing they brought up was "hear me out: chubby red"? Why is it only ever him? Why can't HE be BUFF? Why can't he be literally anything else? Like my Red is fat because I'm fat and I'm aware and TRY.

And Green! You didn't mention Green in your post, but I've noticed a pattern. In the thrall of the manga making it a point that he's the "most Link" (I doubt that's even really true), I see so many people go such a specific way? He's always white, maybe a tiny bit tanned, with like. Lean muscle and golden hair. It leans into this weird vibe I usually can't put my finger on but it feels weird. Like how come the other three get so many headcanons slapped on. But Green gets to be the blonde white hero every time. It feels fucking weird.

And Shadow. Oooh boy. Shadow is the brunt of this I think. Giving him dark skin and then making a point of writing or drawing him as INHUMAN? What the fuck goes on in some people's heads. Genuinely. Like it's not even subtle at this point it's racism cut and dry. The one doing it may not always be aware but it's RACIST. SO RACIST. And depending on other headcanons employed...colorist too! Because if Blue is made black, I often see Shadow be darker skinned which is an ugly picture. "I may be the angry dark skin but at least I'm a hero! Shadow is so much worse than me, see?"

Think for five seconds at LEAST before doing this shit. And mix it up? Like the Tall Pale Thin Vio leans heavily into the White Savior, especially when Shadow is made dark skinned. The "fat character is dumb" thing has been around for so fucking long it isn't even funny, so why is it how people see Red? Why is Green always the fairytale hero, why are the other four almost seen as subhuman in comparison? Is there some unknown spell over Green that makes it impossible to make him Anything Else?

Check yourselves. Be aware, know your biases. I, a privileged white girl from Texas, can think. Why can't others? (I don't identify as a girl but like. It's how I present. It's relevant.)

Fiction DOES affect reality. Maybe not always in a visibly direct way, but it does. Just THINK FIRST. Understand why this post exists. Understand why this is bad. Understand that you can become better and learn.

Literally just think.

hey you guys should stop making shadow link, the evil villan link. darkskinned. right now. im serious and im sick of it. i know that the most popular artist here does it, doesnt mean everyone else has to. please im actually fucking begging you guys to consider what your appearance headcanons say about your perception of your fellow man.

while im at it, vio being *skinny* and tall and *pale* and with lighter blonde hair. as the smart one. hm. oh and blue. the angry one. with darker skin and hair than the other three. oh right and who could forget about red. with curly hair. the innocent and "dumb" one. hes more likely to be depicted chubby too! im trying so hard to be nice rn so people will listen but its so hard to not scream my throat raw. you guys are being racist and fatphobic right now. do you realize that. oh my fucking god.

[thisisarcanereverie]

What it Means to be Worthy (Thor x Reader)

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

THERE IS SMUT IN HERE 18+ YOU THIRSTY SONS OF BITCHES.

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (wrap it up pals) Do NOT read unless you are 18+. 

Also I have never written smut before so I hope it’s ok. I honestly couldn’t have written it if I hadn’t been listening to Deity by Valeree (highly recommend listening while reading the smut. It will probably make it better.) 

“Thor,” you called the God of Thunder, “Thor it’s (Y/n).”

You heard a small grunt coming from the living room as you entered through the front door. You immediately went to cover your nose from the stench that invaded your senses upon entering. 

It seemed as though the whole house smelled of rotten food, sweat, and something akin to a pigs feces. It was a smell that you never quite got used to, even after 2 years of smelling it every day. 

You quietly made your way through the house until you saw a sight you were quite used to seeing now. 

Thor on the ground, shirtless, covered in sweat and grime. His beard was filthy from vomit and dandruff and his hair greasy and matted to his head. 

There had been a time where he cared so much about his hair that he got triggered if you had tried to trim it. 

After 2 years of seeing this scene before you, it failed to surprise you. 

Now it just angered you. 

You knew you couldn’t understand the pain he was in, he lost his entire family, half his people, and Asgard. 

Sure, the people of Midgard were generous and gave your people sanctuary, a place for your people to call home once again. 

But that didn’t stop you from missing Asgard’s golden palace and it’s mountains of lush green forests. How you missed running with Thor and Loki through those forests after dark to get to the highest peak you could to watch the glittering of the gold during sunrise. 

You had been playmates with the Princes since infancy. You had trained and fought alongside them in battle, joined them in celebrations after each conquest, mourned the loss of Frigga with them. 

You went with Thor all those years ago to retrieve Loki and joined the Avengers with him. 

But now the Avengers were gone, long since disbanded before the battle of Wakanda. 

You weren’t angry at him, your anger was towards the cruel fate that had befallen your precious friends. You had cared for Loki, almost as much as Thor if not equal to. 

If you were honest, you weren’t in better shape. Your grief had taken hold of you as well. Your kind smile had turned cynical. Anyone who tried to get close to you often was met with your icy glare and scoff. 

Thor was the only one who brought out the caring person you once were. 

With a deep sigh you expertly walked around the empty booze bottles and to the grieving man before you. Thor may have gotten soft around the middle but he weighed about the same as you slumped his arms around your shoulders. Thor groaned and went pale, his eyes barely opening. 

“C’mon blondie,” you softly spoke, “let’s get you washed up.”

You half dragged the god to the bathroom, he threw up halfway there but you paid no mind. You would clean that after getting him in the shower. 

You didn’t bother stripping him before setting him in the tub. Without warning or mercy you pointed the shower hose directly at his face and turned the water to icy cold. 

Thor yelled at the icy feeling, borderline pleading, for you to turn off the water. However, over the course of 2 years the patience you had for him had worn thin and so you continued to spray until the stench subsided a little. 

Thor was fully awake and sober now, seeing your figure as clear as day tower over him in the tub with a look on your face akin to a mother scolding a misbehaving child. 

Thor felt so small and powerless under your gaze and he loathed it. 

“You could have stopped a while ago.”

“This needs to stop Thor.” 

Your hands motioned to him, Thor once admired those hands and the strength that they had. Now he just found them annoying. 

He found you annoying. 

You came by everyday and pulled him out of his stupor, clean up after him a little, and try to clean him up. You treated him like a child who couldn’t take care of himself and he loathed it so. 

“I am King of Asgard you do not get to tell me what to do.”

“What King would wallow himself in such a way.”

He bolted upright and stood in the tub, successfully towering over your frame, you had gone too far. You didn’t get to say such things to him. 

What Thor didn’t count on was the world getting fuzzy and a little dark when he stood up, so although he towered over you he was as stable as a wind chime. 

You held onto his frame to prevent him from falling flat onto his face. You felt Thor stiffen under your touch. 

You knew Thor was now sensitive and insecure in areas he never was before. 

It seemed like yesterday that he was admiring himself in one of Asgard’s golden mirrors, his long hair had looked like spun gold in Asgard’s sunlight and his figure was that befitting of a god. 

But none of that had ever mattered to you, even when Thor became full of himself to the point of him being ill tempered and arrogant, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever give up on him. 

Not that you tried to give up on him anyways.

Loki had asked you one day why you didn’t. Why didn’t you give up on the golden prince when he clearly would never feel the same way. 

“I love him too much to be without him. Even if that means watching him parade himself around as a peacock and watch women fly to him like bees to honey.” 

Then Thor was banished and the only reason why you didn’t follow was due to Loki’s intervening. 

Then Thor met Jane Foster. 

The memory of the beautiful scientist brought back bittersweet memories. You had never seen Thor so deep in love, and that made you both sad and happy. 

Happy that he finally found someone who could keep him humble and who he loved just as much as you loved him. 

Sad that when you often caught Thor daydreaming, that it wasn’t you he was daydreaming about. 

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and sat the giant on the edge of the tub while you went to gather fresh clothes for him. 

You gathered a simple sweatshirt and pants for him to pull on once he was finished with his shower. 

As you set the clothes beside the sink you couldn’t help but feel the gnawing feeling in the deepest parts of your heart and the nagging thoughts in your head. 

You knew that Thor was hellbent on this self destructive path and you knew that there was nothing you could possibly do to prevent it. 

It was either you let Thor drown himself in his despair or you let him drown you with it as well. 

You had accepted long ago that Thor would never see you as anything more than what you had always been. 

His playmate since infancy. 

The girl who got a starry look every time he entered a room. 

You had saved up money from the jobs you had worked over the past 2 years, you finally saved up enough to get away from New Asgard. Leave its people to the hands of their self pitying King and Val. 

It wasn’t like they needed you or the other way around. 

No one would notice your absence. 

You began to pick up around Thor’s home, recycling empty liquor bottles and trashing pizza boxes and rotted food. Vacuuming the carpets and dusting here and there. 

This will be the last time you do as such. 

You needed to leave, staying here and wallowing in Thor’s despair and depression as much as your own wasn’t good for you. And you knew deep down you had been enabling him, every time you cleaned his house and washed and fed him you knew that he only got worse and that you were supporting him when you did this. 

You needed to leave for Thor’s sake as much as your own. 

You wondered how long it would take him to notice. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Thor, you doubt he would even care at this point. 

The walk back to your house was only a few minutes, having moved into the house closest to his in case of emergency. 

Most of your things were packed and already in your apartment in New York waiting for you. Well things of value, the rest you had sold online, it was amazing what the internet could do. By far one of the greatest inventions on Midgard in your opinion. 

All that was left to do was, pack a few pieces of clothing and toiletries. 

And write a goodbye letter to Thor explaining where you went and why. 

You had avoided writing it, not wanting to say goodbye. Not wanting Thor to not care. 

It wasn’t like you were completely leaving Thor, Valkyrie (Val as you called her) assured you that she would make sure he didn’t starve or drink himself to an early grave. 

You trusted her to make good on her promise. 

You leaving wasn’t even your idea in the first place, Val had tried to get you to leave a year earlier, but you were too stubborn to leave then. 

You grabbed the piece of stationary and began to write. 

‘Thor, 

By the time you're sober enough to read this I’ll already be gone. I don’t predict that I’ll be back. 

Val will be making sure you don’t starve or drink yourself into an early grave in my place. 

I just can’t do this anymore Thor. 

I had loved you since we were but children running around the palace gardens, I still do. However I accepted the fact that you could never see me as anything more than your old playmate and dear friend so long ago. 

I had tried to be by your side in a supporting role no matter how much it had hurt me. 

When you became an arrogant ass I tried my hardest to explain away your tantrums. 

When you came back from banishment I listened to you swoon over Lady Jane Foster with a smile on my face even though it tore me apart. 

I had stayed with you, took care of you. It took me so long to realize that I had just been enabling you this entire time. 

I had been supporting your self destructive behavior and I refuse to play that part any longer. I need to leave, not just for me but for you. 

You need to sort through your emotions, you need to learn how to handle yourself by yourself. You need me not holding your hand when you do that. 

I need to discover for myself what it means to be worthy-’

A loud pounding at your door disrupted your train of thought as you wrote. Normally no one would bother you, not unless it had to deal with Thor. 

The floorboards creaked as you made your way to your door. The pounding had not ceased until you flew the door open to reveal Thor. 

His hair was still damp from his shower and the sweats you had picked out were already stained from the beer he held in one hand. His sky blue eye was hidden behind dark shades. 

“(Y/n),” Thor said, “I need a thing.”

“Thor right now isn’t a good time.” 

“Don’t worry Lady (Y/n) it won’t take even a second I’ll be in and out.” Thor assured, flashing you a smile that could make your legs go weak. Despite how much hurt you were in you were still no match for Thor’s charms. 

“What thing do you need?”

“Just a thing I’ll know the name of it when I see it.” 

You stepped aside as you let Thor in, hoping that he won’t notice the lack of furniture or the note left on the table. You decided to let him be while you went and finished packing whatever was in the bathroom. After that you went back to the living area where you had left the note only to see Thor sitting on the couch, his fingers clenching the paper tightly. He had taken his shades off, the deep dark circles stood out against his skin a tribute to how tired he truly was. 

He looked up and you were taken aback by the sorrow that filled his eyes. red rimmed the blue eye as fresh tears began to fall. 

“You weren’t supposed to read that yet.” 

“And when was I supposed to read it then?! When you were god knows where you will be!” His voice bellowed as tears continued to fall down his cheek. 

“Thor please don’t yell.” 

“No (Y/n)!” he cut you off, “you,” his finger pointed at you, his gaze as intense as lightning, “you don’t get to leave like this. You don’t get to leave me too.”

“Thor I don’t have a choice,” you argue, “I need to let you go. I need to find who I am without you and you need-”

“DO NOT TELL ME WHAT I NEED!” 

You could hear thunder roaring in the distance outside, lightning danced around his fingers faintly. Thor had never scared you, but right now you were close to it. 

“Thor,” you say calmly hoping somehow your calm tone will calm the God of Thunder, “I’m sorry for choosing the cowards way, I wanted to avoid this.”

“Did you truly think you would be able to avoid me for long.” The lightning had yet to cease but his eyes seemed to stop glowing ever so slightly. 

“I didn’t think you would have noticed for at least a few days.” 

“Why would you think I wouldn’t notice immediately?” He asked like it was the most incredulous question. He took a step closer to you while you took a step back. Thunder still roared outside and lightning still curled around his fingers. Thor furrowed his eyes in confusion until he finally seemed to hear the thunder storm outside and realize he had scared you. 

Thor had scared you. 

Immediately the pain in his chest worsened with the guilt that he had scared you. That he had so little control over his powers when he was so emotional. Slowly he closed his eyes and he took a deep breath in and out. He then felt his powers subside and the thunder had stopped. 

You could see his shoulders hunch forward with shame and you instictivly placed a hand over his shoulder to comfort him. Thor was quick to envelop your hand with his. Holding onto your hand for dear life. 

Your eyes then met, closer than you had ever been before. 

“What thing were you looking for?” you asked softly, “you said you came over for a thing.”

“I lied,” Thor admitted softly, “I just didn’t want to be alone.” 

The next thing you knew was the faint taste of beer and blueberries on your lips and strong, calloused hands making their way to your shoulders. 

Thor was just as good a kisser as you imagined. Lips moving expertly over your own, moving against yours so desperately. Like a man dying of thirst. 

You knew you should push him off of you, but for one second you wanted to enjoy his lips on yours. Kissing you like you had always wanted to kiss him. 

You moved your lips against his, relishing every moment. Because you knew you wouldn’t be able to kiss him again. 

Only when Thor's hands traveled to your waist did you break away. Albeit, you couldn’t push him further than just enough to give you some breathing space. 

“Thor,’ you said, “you’re drunk you don’t want this.” 

‘When will you stop telling me what I want and don’t want.” His lips moved from your lips to the corner of your mouth and slowly made their way to your neck. 

“Thor I do not want this if your reasoning is impaired.”

“I appreciate the thought dear one, but I only had half a beer tonight.” 

Asgardians could handle their booze well, especially Thor. For Thor to be the least bit intoxicated he would have had to drink 3 large bottles of Asgardian booze. However, when it came to Midgard it took 4 large barrows of Midgardian beer for it to have the same effect on him. Thor mostly drank it for the taste.

“Unless you would rather I stop.” Thor said, before his hands had removed themselves from your waist you stopped them. 

With every ounce of passion in you, you grabbed a handful of his long hair and pressed your lips to his. 

It was a mess of passionate and needy kisses and moans. Thor’s battle-worn hands had roamed over your body in a desperate need to feel you. 

He was quick to rid you of your shirt, hands feeling every inch of naked skin as he could. Holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded to the earth. 

You moaned as his hands found your breasts, his large hands covering them over your bra. Your hands made quick work with your bra, removing the suffocating fabric before lifting Thor’s shirt. 

you felt him stiffen as you rid him of his shirt. 

He wasn’t as muscular as he had been 2 years ago, however it took more than 2 years to completely diminish what his body had been. Although his stomach had softened as well as his arms. You didn’t care in the slightest, loving Thor in every shape he came in. 

Your hands lovingly brushed over his torso as you began to leave open mouthed kisses down his neck, over his chest, it wasn’t until you were at the waistband on his sweatpants did he bring you back up and kissed you with fiery passion. 

Thor laid you in front of the fireplace that you forgot you lit a while ago. Honestly a little surprised that the fire was still going. 

You didn’t have much time to think about that as you felt Thor’s lips travel  from your neck and over your breasts. Your nails scratched the floor beneath you as you felt him at the waistband of your jeans. 

You felt Thor pause and you looked at him. 

“Are you sure dear one?” 

Your heart melted at the new nickname, as you nodded to him. However that wasn’t enough for the blonde adonis as he traveled up your body and littered your neck in open mouth kisses. 

“I need to hear you say you want this dear one.” 

“Please Thor,” you pleaded as he ground his hips into yours slowly, your hips meeting his as his pace slows even more successfully driving you insane. 

“I need you Thor.”

“What do you need dear one?”

“I need you to finish what we started.” 

With that Thor slammed his lips on yours as he rid you of your pants, underwear included. He leaned back and his eyes drank in your figure illuminated by the fire light. You were breathtaking, any one would buckle at the sight of you. 

Pride swelled in Thor’s heart as this view was reserved for him only. 

Just as you were about to say something you felt Thor’s beard tickle the inside of your thigh and without warning Thor dived in. 

Your hands immediately flew to his hair and grabbed fists full of it, anything to tether you to reality. 

As Thor worked his magic on your bundle of nerves your moans filled the empty house. Thor moaned as your grip on his hair tightened which sent waves of pleasure throughout your body. Thor lifted your legs over his shoulders and gripped your thighs firmly as his tongue worked faster. 

Just as you were about to reach your blissful release you felt him pull away. Your arousal practically dripped from his lips onto his beard. 

He rid himself of the last piece of clothing before capturing your lips once again. Unlike the kisses from before, this was gentle and sweet. You could taste yourself on his lips as he tenderly kissed you. 

You slowly ran your hands over his chest, committing him to memory. 

Thor pulled away from your lips as he entered you. 

Your mouth let out a silent scream of pleasure as Thor let out a shaky breath of pleasure. Thor waited for a few seconds, relishing in the feeling of you around him before finally moving his hips against yours. 

Thor was soft and slow in his thrusts, making sure to worship every part of you. His lips were everywhere, from your face to your breasts. 

You met in time with his thrusts. The only sound in the room being your shaky breaths, moans of pleasure, and skin on skin. And it sounded like a chorus to you. 

Thor’s thrusts became erratic and unyielding, the knot in your stomach was on the verge of bursting when Thor whispered in your ear. 

“Let go dear one, I’ll catch you.”

With that the knot had become undone, leaving your body shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. 

Thor had not been too far behind you before he too reached his climax. 

Thor laid down beside you, still coming down from his high. You laid your head on his chest and he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. 

This was everything you had ever wanted, to lay beside Thor with his arm beside you. Well almost everything. 

As Thor began to play with the ends of your head as you replayed the past two years in your head. 

“I think you may have been right.” Thor broke the silence, you lifted your head off his chest to see his gaze distant as he stared at the ceiling. 

“When have I ever been anything otherwise.”

Thor’s chest rumbled in laughter as unshed tears began to fill his eyes. He refused to cry, not now. 

“I agree that you need to leave dear one.” Thor’s voice cracked, “I have become a pitiful king to my people, but I have been an even worse friend to you.” his eyes left their place on the ceiling and rested on your face. “You have been faithfully by my side ever since either of us could remember. You had defended me when I didn’t deserve it and loved me when no one did. Not even myself.” His calloused hand caressed your cheek, thumb brushing the tears that had escaped your eyes away. “you don’t deserve to drown in my despair with me. You deserve a life of adventure and you deserve the time to figure out who you are.” You pressed your forehead to his as tears leaked out. “I need to let you go.”

---

Thor had spent the night committing every touch and every scent to memory. He had no idea when his feelings for you grew to such lengths but he knew now that he had figured it out much too late. 

He wasn’t the man you deserved by your side. 

Thor waved you off at the airport and watched as the metal contraption took you away from his side for the first time since his banishment all those years ago. 

He hoped that if you returned he would be a man worthy of you again. 

Thor only wished he knew where to start.

[hpalways]

Chef’s Kiss || Xiao

[Disclaimer !! I wrote this oneshot before Xiao’s voicelines were available, so he may appear ooc]

LIFE in the kitchen was anything but peaceful. Not only were you an assistant to the hard-headed chef at the Wangshu Inn, but the cooking fumes continuously made you hungry, causing your stomach to growl -- much to your embarrassment. Running around for errands that the grumpy man would order you to do, it was exhausting. You were beginning to wonder if this was worth it, for a measly experience that may not even be of benefit to your future. 

The only person that kept you from from going insane was a man named Xiao. At first, you were wary of him, because he was reserved and quite mean, spewing unnecessary insults at you... but overtime, the two of you became friends. Well, he was still pretty mean, but you didn't expect different, considering he was an Adeptus. You knew that he must've went through a lot in his own life, so it was understandable.

He had a soft spot for food, especially for his favorite dish: almond tofu. He ordered this often and because you were a cook, you were forced to make it over and over. By now, you were sure you were a professional at it. So on this dandy, fine day, you whipped up a bowl of almond tofu and climbed up a few stairs up the inn. Reaching the little nook where the Adeptus liked to spend his time at, you smiled when you indeed saw him there. His back was turned on you, while he watched the large view of Liyue.

Black-teal hair waving along the winds, he whirled around and sharp, amber eyes met you. Green tattoos lined the side of his arm, making him look all the more intimidating. He donned his usual outfit of a white sleeveless shirt, dark purple pants, and boots. He wore jewelry too, but in your opinion, they never shined as bright as his gaze. His face was blank at the sight of you, but you knew him well enough to see that he was... slightly happy to see you. It was mainly for the food, but surely he enjoyed your company too. He had to. 

"You're finally here," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "You're late."

You rolled your eyes and handed him the dish anyway, to which he took begrudgingly. "You know I have other things to tend to, right? I'm not the one lazing around here all the time," you teased. 

Blush colored his pale skin and he looked away in embarrassment. He dug into the food and began to scarf it down. Satisfied with his reaction to your creation, you stayed there with him, leaning your elbows on the edge of the wooden balcony. The glowing sun was high in the sky and the weather was lovely today. Blue and denounced of any clouds, the horizons seemed infinite. The lands were the same way, textured of roads and grasslands, even tall mountains in the distance. And from way up here, the people down below were smidges of moving dots. They were so small -- sometimes it would lead you to think that only you and Xiao existed. 

No wonder he loved this little hideout so much. 

"So, how did you like the food?" you asked him, seeing as he was done with it.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It was decent," he said, despite how otherwise it seemed. 

"I put my blood, sweat, and tears and all you say is it was decent?" you gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. Knowing exactly what you were doing, he sent daggers toward your way. If looks could kill, it would be this -- it would honestly scare the shit out of anyone else, but unfortunately, you weren't just anyone else. Teasing him was your favorite hobby here... and thus, the reason why you were staying sane living at the Wangshu Inn. 

"Shut up," he snapped at you. "It's a compliment."

Chuckling, you grabbed the empty plate from him. "I'll take your word for it then. Hm, I should get back to work now. Boss will have my head if he sees me lingering around any longer."

You spun around and began walking into the inn. However, before you could fully step inside, a warm hand grasped the wrist of your arm. Heart fluttering inside you, you quickly chided mentally to yourself. It would do you no good to fall for the Conqueror of Demons. Being pulled to face him again, you raise your brows in confusion, masking the perplexing emotions inside of you. 

Once he had your attention, he immediately let go of your arm. Scratching his head, his lips twitched as he carefully chose his next words. Surprise filled your features; was he... nervous? This was new to see with your own pair of eyes. "Before you head back to work... I have something for you."

Quickly unclipping a necklace around his neck, it was one you had never seen until now. It was hidden beneath his black collar, silver and thin, yet was captivating to the eye. He held it with his gloved fingers, having it dangle in the air for a few moments. "I saw this while I was away on business..." he explained, still unable to look at you. "I was reminded of you and decided to get it."

A lump grew in your throat and your lips parted in disbelief. Dammit, his actions... they made it so hard for you to resist him. Why would he do this? This was unlike him. He neared you, silently draping the delicate necklace around yourself. His usual stiff face was soft and the stare he gave you was enough to give you a heart attack. Attentive on the clasp at the ends, he hooked it around and fixed it, having the beautiful pendent hanging on your chest. 

"I can't believe..." you murmured, glancing down at the gold details. "Thank you so much. You shouldn't have though. I don't deserve to wear something so expensive."

"You do," he argued, his gaze growing hard. 

"Okay then," you relented, despite still doubtful. "I seriously do love it though!"

Fuck it, you couldn't restrain the desire to do this anymore. You had been wanting to do this since the day you saw his hues glinted at the taste of your food. He had opened up to you more than he did to anyone else -- you were always happy to be there for him. You only hoped to continue to be there for him. 

Tilting your face closer to his, your lips brushed against smooth, soft skin. It was as soft as a baby's and so did the dark teal strand of hair that tickled your forehead. Leaning away again, you were out of breath and in shock. His face was flamed up crimson, making him look adorable. Your face was just as warm and you were slightly embarrassed for doing something so drastic. 

"You... you..." he trailed off, at a lost for words for once in his life. Under his breath, he murmured, "Stupid chef."

"I can hear that, you know," you pointed out with a scowl. His words were quite harsh, but the way he was acting meant that he did not mind the kiss. For that, you were satisfied enough. "I'll cherish this, I promise! See you soon, Xiao."

You weren't getting your heart broken just yet.

[get-your-fics]

Duality - Chapter Eighteen

Summary: Your life as Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend was pretty simple, actually. Well, as simple as things can get in Gotham. But it gets a lot more complicated when you meet Jeremiah Valeska, Jerome’s twin brother.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x reader, Jeremiah Valeska x reader, Jerome Valeska x reader

Series warnings: Violence, language, smut, rape/non-con, kidnapping, stalking, mentions of abuse

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

You knew Jerome was coming for you. All day the news had shown nonstop footage of the Maniax throwing people off a rooftop, dousing a bus in gasoline, taking over the GCPD. The last part had chilled you to the core. Seeing Jerome dressed in a police uniform, ruby red blood gushing from his nose, you couldn’t help but feel like his wild, crystal blue eyes could see straight through the camera to you on the other side of the screen.

You knew Jerome better than anyone else, probably better than you knew yourself, so it was only a matter of time before he showed up. And when you got home and saw an open window in your bedroom, white curtains billowing in the wind, your whole body tensed up.

“Jerome?” You spun around, surveying your bedroom. It was dark, the only light coming from the moon and the stars in the sky outside. “I know you’re there.”

As you expected, the redheaded boy stepped out of the shadows and into the center of the room. He was dressed in all black and had his hair slicked back. “Hiya, sweets!” His lips curled into a wide grin. “Miss me?”

You took a step back, your shoulders bumping into the wall. “What do you want, Jerome? Why are you here?”

“Well, you visited me all those months in Arkham. I thought I would return the favor.” His chest rumbled with laughter. When he saw the unamused look on your face, his laughter ceased. “Fine, you caught me, doll! I wanted to catch up about everything that’s happened since I last saw you, you know, before I escaped.”

“How’d you get out?” You stayed against the perimeter of the room.

“A mysterious benefactor that I can’t tell you the name of, but he’s got big plans for us.” He walked closer to you. “He thinks I’m going to be a star.”

You glanced behind him. “Did you bring anyone else with you?”

“Just you and me, peach.” He stopped so he was right in front of you, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I had something very special I wanted to talk to you about alone.”

You swallowed roughly and shifted your weight between your feet. “What?”

“Come with me.” He reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. “We’re going to kill my father tomorrow, sugar, and I want you to be there to see it. I don’t want you to miss out like you did when I killed my mom.” He tilted his head to the side. “Then, after all this is over, you and I can find your dad and kill him, and we can travel across the country liberating others and torturing the ones who deserve it.”

You furrowed your brow as you stared at him. “That’s crazy, Jerome.”

Something snapped within him, and his smile faltered. “I’m not crazy.” He moved forward so you were trapped between him and the wall. “Didn’t I prove it to you all the times you visited me? I just have a different way of thinking,” he caressed your cheek with his free hand, “one that you can relate to.”

You pressed your hands against his chest to push him away, but he merely pushed back, squishing you further against the wall. He grabbed both of your hands in his and pinned them on either side of your head. “Jerome, do the right thing,” you said through gritted teeth. “Turn yourself in. If you ever...” you trailed off and stared down at the buttons on his shirt, too afraid to meet his eye.

“If I ever what, dear?” His grin widened. “If I ever loved you? I always thought you were too afraid to say that word to me.”

You felt your eyes start to water. “If you ever cared about me as much as you said you did, you’ll go down to the GCPD.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’ve already been to the GCPD.” His face was an inch from yours now. “Haven’t you been watching the news? It’s a mess down there.”

“If you think all of this chaos is going to bring you happiness, you’re going to be bitterly disappointed.” Your voice cracked with emotion.

He pursed his lips. “Hmm, you might be right about that.” He let go of one of your hands to trace your jaw with his finger. “But that’s why I have you, princess. You made all those months at Arkham the best moments of my life. I counted down the minutes until your next visit,” he lifted your chin so your eyes locked with his at last, “because I love you, (Y/N), so very, very much.”

He closed what little distance was left between your lips and kissed you. Tears sprung from the corners of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. His lips moved against yours, and he ran his tongue across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You granted it to him, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, quickly gaining dominance over you. You melted into the kiss. It was surprisingly gentle, but still had enough fire behind it to be passionate.

When he pulled away, you were out of breath. He leaned his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning your face. His pale skin was flushed pink, and you decided that was the prettiest he had ever looked, with his eyes closed, long, dark lashes brushing the freckles spattering his skin. “Say it back,” he whispered, his nose barely grazing yours. “Say you love me too.”

His other hand dropped from yours to run up your side, gathering the fabric of your shirt in his hand. You cupped his face in your hands. “I love you, J.” Your voice was shaking and so were your hands. “But you have to let me go. If you really do love me, if I ever meant anything to you, you’ll listen to me. You’ll turn yourself in, and you’ll let me go.”

His eyes snapped open, and you stared into the cool blue of his irises. “Okay,” he murmured. His hands moved down to grip your hips. “I’ll let you go, even if it kills me.” Suddenly, he stepped away from you, all warmth leaving your body. “But I’m not turning myself in. I can’t. I’m meant for bigger things than that circus, (Y/N).” He clenched his jaw. “Even if that’s not you.”

His usually cheery tone and glimmer in his eyes were completely gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen him so serious. You stared at him, your chest still heaving from the kiss, and if you didn’t have the wall to lean back on, your knees would’ve buckled, causing you to collapse. “I’m sorry, Jerry.”

“Please, don’t apologize.” He raised his hand to swipe at his cheek, and that’s when you noticed the tears start to fall. “You’re already making this harder than it has to be.”

You stood there, speechless. You were unsure of what to say, so when you gathered enough strength, you pushed off of the wall and walked over to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your head in his chest, pulling him close to you. He lazily draped his arms over your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head, sniffling.

“God, you’ve got me crying, princess.” He laughed. “The things you do to me.” He ran his fingers through your hair. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamt of this moment? Of breaking out of that place so I could see you outside of that dumb visitation room and hold you without handcuffs on? Only for you to tell me to leave... It’s funny, really. Comedy gold.” He chuckled.

You laughed too, the sound muffled by his chest. The fabric of his shirt was now wet with your tears, and you felt like someone had a hand wrapped around your heart and was slowly squeezing more and more every second. He lifted his chin off of you, and you looked up at him.

“Will you tell Jim Gordon I was here?” he asked, nothing but pure adoration in his crystal blue eyes.

“No,” you answered honestly. That would only raise questions about his connection to you, and you really didn’t want to have to answer those, not now, not ever.

“Thank you.” He caressed the side of your face again. “Can I have one last kiss before I leave?” His voice was soft.

You nodded, and you both dove in at the same time. Your lips met in a fiery kiss, hungry and starving and full of the wasted months and the words you wish you could say but you didn’t have time to. When you finally separated, you found yourself wishing the kiss had lasted longer.

“All I ever wanted was for you to love me,” he whispered. “Maybe now that I have that, I can be satisfied.” He stepped out of your embrace, his blue eyes taking you in one last time. “Goodbye, sweets.”

You watched as he walked over to the open window. He climbed through it and sat on the windowsill. Just as he was about to jump down, you stopped him. “Jerome, wait!”

He looked over his shoulder at you. “Yes, doll?”

Your mind raced with things to say. Don’t go. Take me with you. It doesn’t have to be this way. Don’t do this. But you knew you were only stalling so you could get one more moment with him. Words wouldn’t change anything, and some things were better left unsaid.

“Be safe, okay?” You bit your lip, red and swollen from all the kissing. You guessed, more than anything else, you wanted that for him.

He chuckled softly. “Anything for you, dear.” His teasing smile returned to his face. “What’s the saying? Parting is such sweet sorrow?” You nodded, and he gave you a salute. “Ta-ta, toots. Take care.”

He disappeared over the ledge, and you rushed over to the window. You stuck your head out and gripped the windowsill, your knuckles turning white. You watched him dash across the lush, green garden towards the fence enclosing the grounds of your estate. Oddly sad, oddly sweet. Part of you longed to go with him, but you knew things were better this way. You were heading down two different paths, and you needed to close this chapter and move on, focus on Bruce and your mother. Even though you couldn’t be the one to save him, all you could do was hope he came to his senses on his own.

When he climbed over the fence and disappeared on the other side, you retreated from the window. You stood in the middle of your room for a while, feeling emptier than ever, and when you finally went to bed, you left the window open to appease the small part of you that hoped he would change his mind and come back.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

[bdfanfic]

From Elsweyr With Love #7

She awoke alone. Sarosh had left a note nearby. She didn’t have anything to burn it with, so she made do with an alternate disposal method. It didn’t taste very good. Then she pulled on the shorts he had left her. They were much too big of course, and didn’t have a tail hole, but with a little work from her claws, she had that problem taken care of, and she cinched the belt tighter. She still wore his shirt and it smelled of him. She smiled at that.

She left the little hotel and found a taxi. Fortunately Sarosh had left some coins in the pockets and she got back to the Pendant without incident.  Her door had been opened, but the maid service would have done that. Inside all was as she’d left it, and the device was still locked inside the briefcase in her closet.

She took yet another long bath. She was just about ready to get out when she heard a key in the door and the Inspector barged into the suite.

“Ra’Jirra?” he called harshly.

“I’m in the bath, Inspector.”

The man entered the bathroom without so much as a knock at the door.

“Washing the blood out?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I am. No thanks to you.”

His face began to redden. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t arrest you right now, cat!”

“Self defense. Is that reason enough? You’ll have to trust me on this, but I’ve got a hell of a bump on my cheek, probably a fractured thighbone, and if my friend hadn’t shot your thug, I’d be dead in an alley, with my skin likely adorning his living room as a damn rug!

“Oh hell. I can see the bump, and your eye doesn’t look good. But he’s not my thug anymore. I fired him this morning.”

“Like I didn’t know that. I think he was more pissed at that than his partner - and he was going to take it out on me.”

“We need to bring your friend in for questioning, Ra’Jirra,” the Inspector said, calming down when he saw the other side of her face.

“Not going to happen, Inspector. He’s left the city. And damned if I didn’t advise him to.”

“We can find him. Can’t have gotten too far yet.”

“Please don’t, Inspector. It was… necessary.”

“I believe you, Ra’Jirra. I do, though damned if I know why. But things are getting out of hand. This can’t go on. The two weren’t exactly chums with a lot of the other officers, but losing two back-to-back - and in the same place yet. I’ve got pressure from below, asking questions. I’m keeping a lid on it, or it might spark an outright declaration of war with Elsweyr.”

“Sucks to be you,” Ra’Jirra said, standing up. “Inspector, can you hand me that towel?”

The Inspector couldn’t help but stifle a laugh when he saw her in soaked fur. She was somewhat less beautiful when wet.

“Yeah, I bet you look like a hero of myth and legend in your bath,” she growled, snatching the towel from him. She made a point of drying her ass in his face.

“Okay Ra’Jirra. I get it. Don’t take this wrong, but…”

Rajirra turned around at the pause, drying her hair. “Yeah?”

“Get the hell out of my city. I don’t want to see you here next week.”

“The feeling is mutual, I assure you. I’ll be gone.”

“See that you are. And if there’s one more dead cop by your damn PUSS, you’re going to jail, international incident or not.”

“I read you loud and clear Inspector. But one thing. We just call it a ‘gun’.”

He nodded. “That is better,” he agreed. She saw him to the door and let him out.

She finished dressing, donning her most expensive outfit and spent some quality time on herself. This was probably going to be her last night at the hotel and she felt like going out in style. She certainly wouldn’t have a chance to dress like this in the caravan. While the new dress was in actuality less revealing than the black number she’d worn the other day, with all the openings in it, it didn’t look so. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her body looked delicious. Her face, not so much.

She rummaged through her bag and found a pair of oversize sunglasses. Though it might be a bit of a fashion faux pas to wear them indoors, they did cover her eyes and her cheek was barely noticeable. As a culmination, she spritzed on her best perfume that hinted slightly of citrus and left the room, restoring a new scrap of paper to the door jam.

Sam smiled when he saw her enter the casino. She sat at the bar and smiled back.

“Welcome back, Ra’Jirra. I hope you’re with us longer tonight!”

“I expect I will be. Any change in the tables?”

“Nope. About the same. Speaking of which, another of my special concoctions?”

“Yes, please - but not exactly the same. I like to mix it up.”

He turned back and started mixing a drink. “So what’s with the glasses?”

“I had a bit of a tussle this morning honestly. Got quite a shiner.”

“Oh? Can you even see those on a khajiit?”

She pulled her glasses off. “What do you think?”

“Oh! Ra’Jirra. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You should see the other guy!”

Sam laughed and brought her the drink. It was clear with specks of green. She took a sip. It was delicious, though not as fruity as the other had been.

“Very good. No need for that water, Sam. You mix a good drink.”

“You hungry?”

“Yeah, actually. Can you get me some chicken? Any way you like.”

“Will do. And the room in the back is always available to you.”

“Thanks.  I’ll be over at the roulette wheel I think. If I don’t lose all my money before the food is ready.”

She sat at the table, nursing her drink and traded some gold coins for the little color coded chips they used as counters. A pale khajiit sat at the end seat, quite a beauty she had to admit. The bright blue eyes accented her nearly white fur, and she was bit curvier than Ra’Jirra, though her dress was much more conservative. Ra’Jirra felt a twinge of jealousy. Beside her sat a middle aged Bosmer, two Redguards that apparently were on honeymoon considering their closeness, Ra’Jirra herself, and right by the wheel sat a youngish argonian.  The ball was spinning so she waited for it to fall.

33 Black. She saw the dealer - no, correction, the croupier put a glass indicator over the chips on that number. All three were black.  He swept the other chips into a hole beside him, then counted the winning black chips out and slid them across the table to the other khajiit. Then he removed the glass indicator and everyone started placing their bets across the table again.

“Nice hit,” she said to the other khajiit. The other cat looked at her as if just noticing her for the first time.

“Nice glasses,” she replied, then went back to betting with the others.

Ra’Jirra took five chips and placed them on red. She won, but a bet on a single color only yields double and nothing if the ball stopped on 0 or 00. The actual number was 16, and the newlyweds, as she dubbed them, squealed as the glass indicator landed on one of their chips. Underneath their pink chips was another black one. The croupier payed off the couple and the other khajiit too.

“Damn,” said the gravelly voice of the argonian beside her. “I was going to play that.”

Ra’Jirra took her extra five chips and scattered them around the inner table at random, leaving the original 5 on red. The ball spun and landed on 0 - a losing number for everyone at the table. The croupier took all her chips as well as all the others.

A tap came at her shoulder. It was Sam. Her chicken was ready. She asked the croupier if he could save her place, and he moved her remaining chips to the side. She rose and went back behind the bar where Sam had left her chicken.

“Say, Sam. Who’s that pale cat at the table by me?”

“Oh her? Calls herself La’Dasha. She just arrived yesterday. Never seen her before that. Why, jealous?”

“She’s a beautiful khajiit, I have to admit,” Ra’Jirra replied.

“Not as pretty as you,” he said and Ra’Jirra hit his shoulder.

“Lay off the flattery, bartender,” she said. “I’m not blind, you know.”

“Well, okay. She’s prettier than you. Is that better?”

“No, actually. It’s not. Go back to the flattery,” she frowned.

“I like your sideboobs!” he offered as consolation.

She hit him again, but snickered at the same time.

“I’ll leave you to take out your jealousy on the chicken,” Sam said as he closed the door behind her.

**********************

She finished her food quickly and went back to the table. The argonian was gone, replaced with a young local. The honeymooners were still there and the khajiit lady had a large stack of chips in front of her. She’d been winning.

“What’s your strategy, La’Dasha?”

The khajiit’s eyes shot up, unexpectedly intense. “What do you mean?”

Odd.

“You’ve obviously been winning since I left. Do you have a strategy?”

The khajiit relaxed. “Oh. No. This one is just lucky today.”

“Damn touchy,” Ra’Jirra thought, then set her chips out in front of red again. She really wasn’t much of a gambler.  The ball landed on 00 and again everyone lost. The pale khajiit lady stood, requested her chips be cashed in, and left the table.

“Sorry to be a cooler, guys,” Ra’Jirra apologized to the others at the table, but they were genial. She continued playing for some time, then went back to the bar. She saw Sam talking with the pale khajiit at the other side of the bar. Obviously there was no love lost between the two khajiits.

Sam came over to her.

“Can I get another?” she asked, rattling her glass.

“Sure Ra’Jirra. How are you doing?”

“Eh. Down a little. I guess tonight’s not my lucky night.”

“Sorry to hear that, but the table is legit.”

“So how are you doing with your new kitty friend?”

He smiled back at her but didn’t reply.

“Well, at least one of us will get lucky tonight. Say, Sam… I may be leaving tomorrow. If I don’t see you again, thanks anyway. Here’s a little something for your trouble,” and she put 5 gold coins on bar.

“It’s no trouble, Ra’Jirra. And good travels if so. If not, I’m here every night till midnight.”

“Got it,” Ra’Jirra said and returned to the table, but something had soured her on the gaming so she cashed in her chips and returned to her room.

[shadows-of-almsivi]

[ Old Morry + dancing/music ]

M'Rajj finished sweeping the floor, rolling the ache from his broad shoulders with a satisfied sigh. The sand crept in so easily, and the day’s work had been long and tiring, but at last, at last he was done. The counter gleamed even in the dim duskfall light, the bottles of liquor glowing clean of dust. In a fit of unusual cleaning fervor, he’d even beaten the rugs for perhaps the first time in a decade. He’d honestly forgotten that the large one by the door had once been red; red and cream, in fact, once he’d gotten that old bloodstain out of it.

His tail flicked along to the music drifting in from outside, the intoxicating drone of lively strings making his tattered ears twitch. He straightened out his greying whiskers, rubbed a heavy hand over the back of a bullish neck. Time for some fresh air, before the night’s barflies descended. He plucked a bottle of the local honeywine from the shelf behind the bar– he would need this– as he passed through the archway and into the courtyard.

Scattered cushions and rugs softened the sandstone floors still warm from the day’s sun, littered here and there with lazing Khajiit in various states of dress and lucidity. Night flowers bloomed overhead to enrich the senses further, their vines creeping over the woven loom of cane to shield from the sun and rain. From beyond, over the high walls, the noise and roast-spice scents of the night markets competed with the music and sugarsmoke through which a few lithe Suthay dancers moved and spun, the hems of their budi'a cut tantalisingly short. A fountain set into the rear wall watched impassively over all, a graven manticore singing forth clear water from a fierce marble maw; its regal visage was meant to add some touch of refinement, some serenity to the establishment. So far, it had not precisely worked.

In the far corner, stretched lazily along a bench beside the white stone and babbling water, lay the pleasure-den’s other permanent fixture. His hair was a braided serpent draped over one shoulder, the salt-and-pepper still making its mind up on whether to turn silver completely. A number of metal trinkets hung from his belt on strips of leather like a flogger’s tails, gilt arrowheads and enamelled silver diamonds jingling like chimes against each other. An elaborate water-pipe stood amongst a few empty bottles on a low table to his right, its coils held delicately between leather-bound fingers, the single elbow-length glove conspicuous in the balmy evening air. A large, point-snouted dog lay on the floor at his left, long head upon its forelegs, sharp ears turning always; languid grey fingers petted the soft fur at the hound’s shoulders. Avidly watching a nearby dancer writhe, the delighted gleam of his heart-red eyes stood out amongst the drowsy golds and shimmering greens.

M'Rajj set down the wine and sat beside the utterly entranced Dunmer, shaking his head. “M'Rahlin drools over his meat more than dog, this one swears.”

“Hardly,” the mer muttered with a distracted, dismissive wave, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the cream-pelted dancing boy; more specifically, on the subtle, lilac-grey bars slowly being revealed upon the lean Khajiit’s upper thigh. “Admiring the supple glories of youth, old friend. No harm in that, is there?”

M'Rajj snickered, pouring out the wine into two green glasses. “The greyskin plans to steal away our fair ones, M'Rajj thinks.”

“The greyskin may.” Moraelyn took the glass with a polite nod. “But I always bring them back.” The smouldering coal flared brightly in the water-pipe’s bowl, Moraelyn’s eyes falling blissfully closed as smoke slithered through his words. “Sooner or later…”

“Ai, limping and dazed, you savage…” M'Rajj took the proffered mouthpiece with a grin, gesturing with it. Across the courtyard, a well-curved dancer shivered and sighed in the lap of a stocky old vagabond with his hands beneath her skirts, his one-eyed smirk pressed to her pale throat as his friends formed a rowdy, envious crowd around them. The bowlute-player with a permanently-kinked tail played a spirited accompaniment to help keep tempo, shrewdly increasing its tempo each time the dancer’s pleasured yowls faded. “Old Mormer should be over there, with the other slavering beasts.” M'Rajj’s smoke rolled between his teeth. “Painted deviant.”

Moraelyn glanced over, humming approvingly at the spectacle with an indulgent smile before returning his gaze faithfully to his quarry. He waved the creamy dancing-lad closer, a glint of gold between beckoning fingers to catch those pretty, sky-blue eyes; the dancer sauntered over, graceful, lanky limbs and smooth, soft fur, point-eared and purring. “If I am to play the leering old tom,” Moraelyn murmured, “at least I may have the good graces to remain as attractive as possible.” He turned a crimson eye appreciatively over the cocked curve of the dancer’s hip, smirking softly into the rim of his glass. “Which is more than can be said for some, you matted old wretch.”

M'Rajj’s tail flicked jauntily against the Dunmer’s leg, rousing the dog enough to sniff curiously at his fur. He leaned back to rest against the wall, reaching up to bat a little at a trailing tendril of silvervine. “Ah, but that is the difference between us, friend. M'rajj makes no secret he is scoundrel, yes. You, pitiless snake, you confuse with paint and pretty words, you make it a surprise.”

Moraelyn grinned, touching a finger to his lips. “Well, don’t spoil it. An old mer must have his joys.” He raised his glass to clink against M'Rajj’s. “Fusozay var var.”

“Fusozay var var.“ 

Moraelyn turned his attention back to the dancer, sliding the coin into his silver-furred hand and murmuring something softly into his ear; M'Rajj sipped his honeywine, quite entertained by how the dancer’s eyes widened and glazed, how a blush coloured the delicate flesh inside his ears, how the breathing subtly quickened. Moraelyn’s ungloved hand had just barely caressed the dancer’s pale flank to draw him closer, earning a lovely little shiver that ran the whole way down the tail, when a great clashing and jeering from the bar shattered the courtyard’s dreamy atmosphere.

An anxious-looking young mer– and what breed of mer had hazel eyes, had that dusty-almond skin that seemed more grey than fawn?– skittered down the courtyard steps, backpedalling away from a pair of scruffy, stringy-looking thugs with yellow sashes and bright, cold smiles. Moraelyn’s hound leapt up in a heartbeat, whole body tensed at the intrusion and poised for his master’s word.

”N'chow,“ Moraelyn sighed, more annoyed than concerned. "And we were getting on so well…” He patted the dancer’s thigh apologetically, nodding him towards the side door. “Perhaps later, hm?”

The newcomers were advancing on the poor outlander, who for his part looked as startled as a schoolboy to find himself suddenly in a garden. The taller of the two plucked at the mer’s shirtcollar with the tip of a knife, draining the colour from his victim’s dusky-pale skin. In the sudden deathly silence of the courtyard, even an old Cathay-Raht with war-tattered ears by could hear their threats: so, too, could the old Dunmer beside him.

“Khajiit won’t ask it again, shaveskin mutt. There are penalties for mongrel dogs out after dark…”

“Give us your purse, and maybe Khajiit lets mutt go easy. No stiff, shiny guards out here.”

“Grey thing, ptah. Does it even know where it is?”

“Likely not,” Moraelyn answered for him, scratching the dog between the ears. “But you certainly don’t.”

M’Rajj sighed.

The cutpurse with the knife threw a filthy glance over his shoulder, forgetting the frightened young traveller for a moment to stare at this bothersome new foreigner. “It wants something, slaver?”

A glass shattered, deafening in the tense quiet. M'Rajj took a prudent step back from his Dunmeri friend, suddenly recalling how that old bloodstain had gotten into the rug

Moraelyn, drawing unhurriedly upon the water-pipe, appeared lazily unchanged; M’Rajj had learned long ago that this was usually a lie. “Since you ask, yes,” Moraelyn replied brightly, showing his teeth in a broad grin. “I want to know who gave you permission to be here.”

They looked amongst each other, abandoning their would-be victim. “Khajiit is no tame pet, Mor-rrr-mer,” one sneered, tongue rolling over his disdain. “We go where we please.”

Moraelyn laughed, a high sound bordering on a giggle. “Not on this side of the Keirgo, kitten.”

They seemed to tense as one body, the one with the knife spinning it restlessly in his hand. “Is this one trying to insult us?“

"Oh, no, of course not.” Moraelyn had already turned back to his pipe. “I’m sure I would succeed if I tried, but why bother with the effort…”

They stalked towards the fountain, entirely fixated on Moraelyn, their bristling tails betraying their cool expressions; Moraelyn observed as if from a great distance, a theatre patron watching a mildly interesting play. "Oh, look. The prey approaches.”

M’Rajj, taking the opportunity to put some space between himself and his volatile little friend, slipped through the thinning crowd, tapping on the dazed traveller’s arm. ���This way, cub. Don’t mind them,” he said, leading the mer deeper into the crowd. “Let this one get you a drink, hmm?”

Despite the torn edges, M’Rajj’s ears were still as sharp as ever. Across the courtyard, he could hear Moraelyn toying with the already-furious young thugs. “Your bosses should know better than to send cutpurses my way. Your clan must not love you too dearly.”

The leaner one sounded like he was spitting into the fountain. “It talks too much,” he growled to his friend. “Cut its tongue out.”

Moraelyn laughed, low and rough. M’Rajj continued to pour the shaken boy a cup of wine; he did not need to look to see how Moraelyn’s mouth had split into a slow burn of a grin, eyes cool and fierce as vipers. A single word of hissed Dunmeris carried easily over the courtyard: “Nivisu.”

The sudden chorus of snarling and screaming was both deafening and, somehow, inevitable.

Moraelyn’s dog exploded into noise and motion at his master’s order, a streak of fur and teeth and straining muscle. The knife clattered to the still-warm pavestones, shaken loose from the quick-bitten hand that had foolishly brandished it; there might have been some fire to help things along. It was all over in moments, much to M’Rajj’s relief, who had been praying there would not be another red stain to scrub from the floors.The surprising thing, to M’Rajj at least, was that the two thieves had been permitted to scramble away, egos as bruised as the rest of them. Was the old mer softening at last?

“M’Rajj?”

He turned; Moraelyn was dabbing at a stain on his singular glove with a handkerchief, the dog once more lying quietly at his feet. “Be a lamb and bring our new guest over, would you?” Moraelyn asked, tucking away his handkerchief and folding his hands delicately in his lap. “I’d best introduce myself, after all this rudeness.”

The young mer glanced silently between Moraelyn and M’Rajj, a little lost and wide-eyed, both hands wrapped tight around his cup as though it would be taken from him. M’Rajj smiled reassuringly, one hand patting him on the shoulder with what he hoped was a vaguely paternal air. Behind them, the crooktailed bowlute-player wasted no time in starting over his song list, helping to massage the tension out of the crowd.

The old Dunmer smiled at the young mer, disarming and velvety-sweet all over again, as though the boy hadn’t just seen him happily set his dog on someone. He held out his left hand as he openly admired the curious novelty of the boy’s dark and curl-tousled hair, the light of the lamps catching on his indigo-darkened nails. “A pleasure to meet you, dear boy,” he purred. “Allow me to welcome you to Senchal.”

M’Rajj pocketed the dropped knife, settling back into his seat with a weary grunt. It was nice, how easily things went back to normal.