#apologies if this is a bit convoluted

[celestie0]

HALLOOOO! ellie !!!

everytime I say hallo imagine it as that one ‘America ya! HALLOO HALLOO’

I HOPE U BEEN WELLL!!!

do u ever just jus prefer hurt comfort . I absolutely cannot stand angst no comfort fics esp when the character dies AUGHHHHH 💔💔💔 breaks my heart cause u can’t do NUN bout it ☹️. I’ve been wondering how would fights would be with kickoff gojo be like ??! esp when he’s with someone that shuts herself off and gives silent treatment after a fight

— frank ocean anon

HI MY LOVE <33 omg i love that meme hahha i think of that video whenever someone says hallo. i've been well bb i hope you're doing well tooooooo

aw yes i love hurt comfort, i think i'm ok w the no comfort if it makes sense for the story, but like, EVENTUALLY there needs to be comfort yknow?? like, it has to have a happy ending where everyone is just. happy. and misunderstandings are cleared. n everything is blissful haha.

aaa fights w kickoff gojo hmm, tbh i think kickoff gojo has a lil bit of an avoidant attachment style? we've sorta seen this so far in the disagreements he's had w reader, but ya he's usually the type to retreat himself, especially if he's been given clear instructions to leave someone alone, he'll usually abide by them so as not to upset them any further. so i think if he's with someone that shuts themselves off from him or gives him silent treatment, his initial instinct is to be like "oh ok well i clearly fucked up n i should probably leave her alone now",, BUT i think once the situation is cooled down, he'll wanna talk ab things and will prod for conversation. i just think he's very weary n keen ab boundaries, esp in relationships, bc the last thing he'd like to feel in an argument is that he's continuing to upset someone w his presence?

i don't think he'd be a good match for someone who expects their partner (in the context of arguments) to kinda chase after them right away, because if you tell him you want space, he's gonna take it literally and assume that you really mean it lol, and not that you're expecting him to hug or immediately reassure etc. if that makes sense

i think he's used to sitting w discomfort, so he doesnt see the need to rush to resolve things. but yeah, w a partner that may expect a bit of a chase or immediate resolution on his part, i think he may come off to her as apathetic due to the way he deals w conflict, so i don't think that would be a great fit

but if it’s an argument where you’re not shutting him out and it’s clear you two are just stressed or it’s all some misunderstanding (or if he sees you cry omg) he’d def hold you n you two would fix things very fast w affection haha

- ellie ☁️

[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN PT.3

Too tired to do my obligations, but too stressed out to sleep, so here we find ourselves again.

This, once again, got horribly long- so long, in fact, I think this is the longest post in this 'trilogy'-, so I apologize in advance (╥ᆺ╥;) I also apologize for the lack of doodles, but dont worry! Im preparing a special one for later <33

After that night where SY offered Binghe an umbrella, things have certainly… changed. Unlike before, where SY spent most of his time mapping away at the ridiculously complex castle hallways and carefully marking away which times it was most likely for SY to be able to get close to Xin Mo, alongside doing his ‘servant’ duties of gathering dirty laundry and cleaning a room here and there, his routine had been suddenly adjusted; now, while he still needed to do everything he was doing before, his servant duties consisted of accompanying the chosen Wife Of The Day.

Or, well, that’s how one of the higher ranking staff had put it, that he was to attend to whatever wife Lord Luo decided to entertain for the day, but honestly, SY was starting to suspect that that had been a convoluted way for Binghe to have SY around whenever he wanted, which…. Was frankly quite worrying! To have the golden protagonist keep his eyes glued on his back almost every second they were in the same room, which - if SY looked back- usually led to Binghe looking away in a (bad) attempt to pretend he wasn’t glaring daggers at SY was more than enough for SY to think the Emperor was probably plotting his demise.

What else could it be? Specially with the way Binghe’s hand seemed to always be lightly tugging at the tassel on his hair every time SY caught him looking, he suspects Binghe had caught onto SY not actually being a servant, and instead that weird guy he saw before he fell into hell that one time. What if Binghe thought SY was somehow involved into the Abyss Incident?? Lord Luo, please have mercy on this servant!

Though, maybe the strangest part of it all, was that sometimes Binghe and SY would just… talk. Usually when the Wife Of The Day was doing something else (e.g. playing music for her husband, or practicing archery, or doing anything that didn’t involve LBH 100% at her side), Binghe would just start musing out loud about the strangest things. It started with questions that were all fair to ask, like ‘How come this servant is a human in the demon realm’, or ‘How come this servant has such short hair’ (SY bullshitted something about being a former slave) but eventually it shifted to questions that were a bit more… random. Or, well, not even questions, musings that Binghe muttered out loud but clearly wanted SY’s input.

It started with minimal things, like Binghe wondering about some type of monster he wanted to fight but he forgot how to do it without damaging the fur too much, which, after a minute of silence and a not-so-subtle look at SY, led to SY nerding out and saying not only the monsters weakness, but what could be done with every important part of the body. Though, the day after that SY realized how strange it was that Binghe was wondering that out loud, since he only fought that monster well into his time as an Emperor, and he swore he remembered one of the wives gushing about her new bracelet that was made from the rare bones of that creature just a few days ago…

Anyways, it continued with questions of similar nature: musings on how to kill a monster Binghe would have no problem killing, to what he should eat for dinner, to what gift should he get for Wife Of The Day. Of course, SY answered all the ‘questions’, and sometimes they even made it to having an actual conversation! Sure, it was a little stilted, SY could not figure out for the life of him why the great Lord Luo was interacting with a random servant, but one day it all finally clicked to him. Binghe had been in the middle of ‘musing’ about hair oils(??), when SY couldn’t help but interrupt him:

“Ah…. Apologies if this lowly servant is overstepping, My Lord, but does My Lord just want someone to talk to?”

A few emotions flashed through Binghe's face quickly enough for SY to not be able to decifer any of them, but eventually landing on a sheepish smile. "This Lord has been found out."

Oh, how cute! And how sad! SY had noticed when SQH was just showing him his shitty story how sad that LBH, even after getting the world to bow at his feet, never really had friendships. Sure, he still had all the love he could want, but sometimes people need friends to talk to, not lovers!

While he knew that he shouldn't interact with characters in world overlooked by the System unless they were transmigrators, SY couldn't help but feel that the situation was dire enough that LBH would turn to a no-name servant in this time of desperation. And it would be a great opportunity to study Xin Mo more closely as well! If SY showed LBH the wonders of friendship, maybe he could pass by his supervisor that he only had to do what was necessary for this world to not implode on itself.

Besides, who could even say no to such a handsome man such as LBH? Is as the old saying goes: what the protagonist wants, he shall have.

*

SY's friendship plan has been going great! After figuring out Binghe's intentions, it seems all of the protagonists reservations flew out the window, and SY was now responsible for being Binghe's personal retainer. Not that that meant too much, since Binghe liked to bend the rules to his liking, and some tasks that should be SY's responsability sometimes were pushed to another servant or Binghe himself made them (which, ???)

Mostly, SY stood at Binghe's side, served tea, was used so Binghe could bounce ideas off of someone, and tended to finer details. All of that very much manageable, if not for the weird mood swings LBH would have sometimes. Yuan, as he has told Binghe was his name after being too scared of the repercutions of using 'Shen', was to accompany him all the time, but sometimes not all the time, or else LBH would get moody; Yuan was to listen to LBH's ideas and plans, and should always comment back or else Binghe would feel neglected, but not too much or else, as LBH had put it, could 'bring back bad memories'; Yuan was to tend to LBH's night routine, even as far as to brush his hair, and if he refused LBH (again) get all moody, but he couldn't brush too much, and he had to do at least one braid but NEVER touch the old, frizzy braid that still had that damn tassle-

Honestly, it was a careful game of balance, which reminded SY more often than not of a child that got mad when their older sibling didn't quite understand the redundant rules they made for a make-believe. Any other person would get fed up, and probably scared of Binghe's constant mood swings, but SY had him all figured out, and his resilience proved to be useful time and time again, since most of the time after his sour mood passed, Binghe would come crawling back with the most pitiful face ever, and what was SY to do? As LBH's friend, it was his duty to hug him and pat his head! (And no one could judge him for that, since if he didn't pat Binghe's head, his mood would plummet all over again.)

Though... SY did feel kind of bad. He wouldn't be able to stay with Binghe forever, and would even need to potentially steal his all-powerful sword for a little bit so everything wouldn't get corrupted. Honestly, the only thing keeping SY from worrying about being labled as a traitor and potentially getting killed was that he would just go back to the System's office and go on with his life.

*

LBH, eventually, caught onto SY's plan on leaving - really, it was only a matter of time. After that fateful encounter with that other SQQ, LBH had found himself in rather pitiful state, questioning everything he knew until that moment and wondering why he couldn't achieve that happiness, and desperately trying to search for a SQQ of his own. He had contemplated going back to that first world, but what would it even matter? Even if he took SQQ by force, his heart would still be with that other LBH, and Binghe couldn't bear the thought that he wouldn't be everything in SQQ's world, as he had become for LBH.

Specially after Meng Mo had one day interupted his carefully crafted dream of an idelic world and pointed out some curious memories he'd almost forgotten about. That day, when back in his childhood, when he'd been beaten up by a buch of older kids and hallucinated a man in strange clothes before passing out and waking up protected from the rain. Or when he thought he'd lost his jade pendant forever, only to magically appear in the cabin later.

Or the strange man in the Immortal Alliance Conference.

After SQQ- SJ , that good-for-nothing scum- pushed him to the Abyss, he tried his best to never think about that day again, too scared by how weak he'd been, pleading to man that would sell his soul for one more night at that brothel of his if he could, but now... Now that he could mold his dreamscape any way he wanted, he could look back with a clear mind, which eventually led to the conclusion: It must have been the same person. The same strangely dressed man that helped him in his childhood somehow appeared at the Immortal Alliance again, and even had left provisions right next to where Binghe had fallen.

He'd convinced himself, after many, many years of wishing for a miracle, that he's simply imagined the man, one last thread to keep himself from going insane, but after meeting the other SQQ...

And then Yuan came in. A new servant that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

It took some observation, and a lot preparing himself to face dissapointment that maybe he was just projecting, putting the image of someone else onto a random man, but that day, when LBH was wondering if he was just wasting time, that that beautiful dream of having his version of SQQ would not happen any time in this world, that maybe he really should just go look at other worlds; after all, if it happened once, it had to happen again, right? Not that it mattered in the end, since while he spireled, much to Xin Mo's pleasure, an umbrella was put over his head, and all his doubts had washed away.

Yuan had to be his version of SQQ, it had to be. And after all his effort of getting close to him, after going so far to keep Yuan at his side, even if he still battled with that his perception of SJ and the other SQQ sometimes overlapping with Yuan's image, even if he still wasn't ready to let go of that one braid, he was becoming more and more sure in his assumption that his SQQ had come to him. Everything was going as planned, and LBH was in track to finally begin to properly court him, and yet-

He was sure Yuan wanted to leave. He wasn't sure why, not how he would do that, maybe just dissapear like he had all those years ago and either only appear again 5, 10, 100 years in the future or go back to wherever he came from in the first place. But LBH knew Yuan wanted to leave, that he needed to complete whatever mission he had (after LBH managed to pry that out of his dreams, which where another source of confusion, with how absurdly difficult they were to even get a grasp of), and that, under any circumstances, he could let Yuan escape his sight.

Not again. Never again.

Binghe had become even stickier in the last few weeks. Not that SY minded, it was very cute to see such a different side from the cool, badass Lord Luo, but SY was running out of time. Since Binghe became stickier, his mood swings had worsened even more, now not wanting SY to be anywhere that Binghe wasn't, and Xin Mo seemed to be thriving off of whatever was making Binghe extra protective, though it was becoming a genuine problem now, since Binghe suddenly refused to see any of his wive's to deal with the Xin Mo problem, and he seemed to be on the verge of qi deviation at all times.

In fact, the only reason Binghe hadn't already qi deviated was because SY was abusing his Personal System and chipping away at the qi deviation in Binghe's night routine, since it was the only time where he was physically very close to Binghe and could spend long periods of time manually coding away at the System screen without it looking suspicious.

But, as if that wasn't enough of a problem, since Xin Mo was having the time of it's life recently, the virus clinging to the sword was also getting stronger, leaving even more residuals all along the castle and bordering on infecting Binghe himself.

His Scissors where thankfully, repaired, and his sweet, sweet manager was even kind enough to send him some extra energy supplies, but at the rate the virus was spreading, he was worrying that he would have to deal with the source as soon as possible or else it would become to strong to deal with it in a non-destructive way.

He... Didn't want to leave Binghe just yet, specially since he wanted SY's attention more than ever recently, but...

No, he needed to do this; their time together was never supposed to be eternal anyways, and if he let the virus spread, he would only be putting LBH's life in danger, and he couldn't continue living with himself after that. He decided he would fix the virus at night, while Binghe slept, and by the next morning he would be gone - he would have, after all, just enough energy to go back to the office.

He just hoped Binghe would be able to forgive him later.

When night came, and SY got to doing the usual night preparations, it just felt like an extra needle being stabbed in his heart when, while brushing Binghe's hair, Binghe looks back uncharacteristicly anxious, and asks if SY can undo the braid and remake it. SY does, and if Binghe notices SY takes extra long to pamper him that night, he says nothing.

When SY is sure Binghe is asleep, he sneaks out of his room and heads to back to Binghe's. Yeah, maybe he stalls a bit with snipping off every piece of the residual virus he came across, but one could argue he was just being extra thorough with his job.

The excuse, unfortunately, didn't last long and eventually he found himself in front of Binghe's room, staring at the door as if he was about to be sentenced to death. After a few minutes of reminding himself that he needed to do this, he took a deep breath and slowly opened the doors. Binghe usually slept with the sword perched right beside his bed, so SY would probably have to use the System and put Binghe in an extra deep sleep if he wanted to make sure the other didn't wake-

The moment he places a foot inside, though, he realizes something is wrong; the room is empty, Binghe is not asleep in his bed and Xin Mo is not besides the bed. Oh, oh no, had Binghe-

"A-Yuan." Binghe says, and SY nearly jumps as he turns around. There LBH stands in the middle of the hallway, not even in his sleeping robes, with a hand clutched tightly on Xin Mo's handle. His eyes are watery but no tears spill.

SY tries to speak but finds he doesn't even know what to say, he can't even try to deny that he's up to something, since his gigantic Scissors are just out an about. Still, he tries to make Binghe understand, say that he needs to do this, and after this Binghe won't have to worry about anything anymore. Though it barely seems like Binghe is listening, and eventually just cuts in when SY starts to say anything in his panic.

"This is what A-Yuan wants, right?" He asks, extending one arm and presenting the glitched out Xin Mo. SY doesn't even have the chance to find an excuse, as Binghe immediately continues. "Than take it."

"Wh- Huh?" "Take it."

He's so shocked he almost drops his Scissors. What does he mean 'take it'??? Binghe has to know everything that's at stake here! He doesn't even know what SY wants to do with it! He tries to say that, how Binghe shouldn't just hand the sword to anyone like that, but a sudden burst of energy set his priorities straight. Shit- The virus! It's growing by the second, at this point SY will have to cut Xin Mo-

"...Binghe, I-" "I don't care what A-Yuan wants with Xin Mo! Take it, use it, break it if you want, I don't care! But if A-Yuan takes it, than he will have to stay." "Binghe, that's not..." "Why not?! That's your goal, right? Do whatever it is that you want to do with Xin Mo? Than here you go, A-Yuan can do it, but I won't let you leave me again."

SY can't even mask when his eyes dart towards the tassle on Binghe's new braid. Binghe just clenched his jaw, but it feels like confirmation enough.

He adjusts his grip on the Scissors, and, as he has nothing else to hide, dispels the System's illusion, his simple clothes glitching out to reveal the System's uniform. Binghe's eyes fill even more with tears, but none fall."

"I... I'll have to go back, Binghe." "No." "Binghe, listen to me, I-" "No. No! A-Yuan will get Xin Mo, and then he will stay." "I-" "You will stay! I can't-" Binghe can't even finish his sentence before he has to choke out a sob.

The virus starts warping the air around it, and slowly crawling up Binghe's arm. SY's decision has practically been made for him. He lifts the Scissors. Binghe pushes Xin Mo forward.

"...I'll come back." "A-Yuan-" "I'll come back, Binghe." One single tear falls and his arm jerks, not knowing if he trusts SY's words or not. He still his arm as the Scissor blades encircle Xin Mo.

"A-Yuan..." "I'll come back, I promise." "..." "I promise."

"......Okay."

Shen Yuan cuts Xin Mo.

[idyllic-affections]

little colt.

summary. xianyun cannot help but take in another child. perhaps, in the future, they may become a disciple of hers.

trigger & content warnings. none applicable.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, found family-ish. xianyun & child!reader. 2k words. they/them pronouns for reader. prev | next.

author's thoughts. bird mom propaganda RAHHHHHH btw if you find a typo no you didn't i'm sleepy but i wanted to post this........

       Cloud Retainer has taken on many disciples in her time, and she has loved each and every one as if they were her own.

       It was, therefore, quite unlikely that she woukd cease to take on disciples anytime within the forseeable future. Her love was extensive, far beyond what most mortals would be able to comprehend, and her capacity for intimate and tight bonds was even moreso. She has taken on many disciples over the years, and she has loved them all like her own children.

       Perhaps it could be attributed to her adeptal instincts; she can recall many a time during which her fellow adepti, upon bonding closely with another being, became exceedingly protective of them. It was only natural—adepti lived for so long and were often affected by their more nonhuman instincts. It wouldn't be improbable to imagine that the need to bond with other beings would grow strong over so many years.

       ...Then again, it could always simply be attributed to her. In her mind, there was little need for any such justification like 'instincts.' She could scoff at the idea—she was no mere animal. 'Instincts' could not begin to fully explain the depth of her love and care; it was surely infinitely more complicated than the mere maternal urges that a simple crane, a wild animal, might have. She was infinitely more intricate and convoluted than an uncomplicated bird.

       (That, however, did not change the fact that she did tend to have bird-like habits. Preening, nesting in her own way... She preferred not to bring attention to that fact, however.)

       Regardless of the reason, the truth was that she was lonely, even if she vehemently denied it whenever someone brought up the idea. Mt. Aocang was... quiet, dreadfully so without the constant presence of Ganyu or Shenhe or any of her other disciples. She enjoyed the silence to an extent, but she could only entertain herself for so long without another being to share her knowledge with. Liyue Harbor was far more lively. Loud and chaotic at times, perhaps, but far less lonely than the empty nest that her adeptal abode had become.

       Maybe that was why she was so immediately invested in the little one who had accidentially bumped into her and was now apologizing profusely.

       "I'm— I'm so sorry, miss! I wasn't watching where I was going! I really didn't mean it, I..."

       'What a swift little thing,' she couldn't help but muse. She'd hardly even spotted them rushing her way before they tumbled into her legs. Their body weight wasn't even enough to make her stumble—if anything, they were the one that ended up getting thrown off balance. It was cute how small they were compared to her, really; it reminded her of Shenhe when she was a child, or even her current disciple, Shuyu.

       Ah... but she shouldn't be so quick to think fondly of them. No, surely this little one had parents of their own—a life of their own—to return to. She did not even know their name. No. Bonds should not be so quick to form.

       With elegant, poised grace akin to a gentle breeze rustling a tree's leaves, she knelt down, the motion putting an end to their sheepish yet hurried apologies. Glossy, innocent eyes stared up at her—even kneeling, Xianyun was still a bit taller than they were—with an amount of awe that would've made her feathers puff out in pride had she been in her illuminated beast form. She was not one to grow embarrassed at admiration, after all.

       "Where are your caregivers, child?"

       "Oh. Um." Their brows furrowed slightly. "...I don't know, actually."

       "Ah, are you lost? Come, then. One— Ahem. I shall reuinte you with them. I am certain they must be quite frantic in your absence."

       Before she could rise and offer her clawed hand to them, they urgently shook their head.

       "Oh, no! It's not like that, miss. Even if it was, I wouldn't want to trouble you at all! I would find my way back!" they insisted politely, waving their hands in front of their body as if to dismiss her concerns (though, Xianyun hardly thought it would be "troubling"; she was a bit surprised that they felt it so, or perhaps they were really just trying to be polite). It was then that she noticed the little wooden chick held carefully in one of their hands, but she did not yet have the opportunity to inquire about it. "I've been on my own for as long as I can remember, that's all."

       Oh?

       Oh.

       "Hm. Is that so?"

       "Uh-huh."

       "In that case, child, I—"

       A man rounding the corner and immediately prevented her from finishing her sentence. He was very clearly furious, approaching the child with such fervent determination that Xianyun could not help but wonder what nature of a troublemaker she must have encountered. Though... she really did not see them that way, which only made her infintely more curious about rhe situation at hand.

       Their expression seemed to fall.

       "You, kid!" he shouted, stopping just a foot or two away from them. "You can't just go around stealing whatever you please! Who raised you?!"

       "No, I..." They could not meet his gaze. "I was gonna bring back more mora to make up for it when I could, I just—!"

       "Don't give me excuses. I want the toy you've stolen returned, you understand? Hand it over!"

       Xianyun sighed, adjusting her glasses.

       "Enough," she said, rising to her feet. "How much mora will suffice? For reparations, of course."

       "Rep— reparations?" the man stuttered, then sighed. "No, no... look. You're the mom? Just teach your kid not to go around stealing. The toy's not worth much, but a kid who starts stealing this young will take far more important things in the future. So, teach 'em not to do it."

       Hiding behind Xianyun's legs, they couldn't help but stare upwards in wonderment. His attitude flipped completely when faced with a woman so much taller than he was, and with an air surrounding her that demanded such an impossible amount of respect. They honestly could not blame him for such an attitude change; they would too, they thought, if they were faced with someone like her.

       "Very well. You have my apologies on their behalf." She turned on her heel, holding out her hand to them. "Let us go, little colt."

       Colt?

       Bewildered but nonetheless beyond awestruck with this strange yet kind woman, they nodded, wordlessly placing their freehand in hers. Her sharp, hooked nails dug slightly into their skin; somehow, though, they couldn't be bothered to care. It didn't hurt much. On the contrary, it was oddly comforting.

       The walk was silent for a few moments, but then, Xianyun's voice demanded their attention:

       "You should pay quite the mind to your behavior in the future. Theivery is a significant offense in a land such as this—a land that regards contracts with the highest of respect. Had I withheld my intervention, it may very well have ended far worse."

       "I really didn't mean to," they whispered, little tears building up in the corners of their eyes. Even though she was someone they had only just met a few moments ago, disappointing her seemed... unbearable. Angering her would have been more tolerable. "Um... steal, that is. I didn't mean it. I just thought it looked really cool. I left whatever mora I had on me to pay for it, and I was going to try and get more so I could pay him the right amount... I swear I wasn't going to just run away with it..."

       She hummed. "Regardless of your intent, I will see to it that you do not do such a thing again."

       "Hu— huh? You will?"

       She scoffed. "Of course. Surely you did not expect me to abandon you on the side of the street again? As an elder, it is only right that I watch over little ones such as yourself, and little ones should not be cruelly left to fend for themselves."

       The tears on their lashes had dried by now. They even offered her a smile, giggling as they said, "Elder? I don't think you're old."

       "Oh? And what, pray tell, has led you to such a bold conclusion, hm?"

       "Well... you! You look very young, miss! I think elder women are very pretty too, but you look... young pretty? Um... what's the word again..?"

       "Youthful, perhaps?"

       "Yeah! Youthful!"

       As they rambled on animatedly, clutching the wooden bird to their chest, Xianyun's lips quirked upwards into an amused smile.

       It, of course, went unnoticed by them.

                       — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       In the few days that had passed since Xianyun welcomed little [Name]—they had bashfully introduced themselves to her in the middle of their rambling once they recalled that she didn't even know their name, and she returned the sentiment with greater confidence—into her home, she had put together a few simple toys for them to amuse themselves with.

       She was an inventor at heart. Even though these designs were not entirely her own, she made them hers with unique additions and more efficient features... of course, all while doing her best to keep the toys simple. They were for a child, after all. Mechanics, Xianyun's mechanics, were complicated enough for adults to understand as it was—a child would surely have even less of a capacity to grasp something too complicated, and her efforts would therefore have been wasted.

       ...But oh, how terribly wrong she now understood herself to be.

       Quietly and motionlessly, as to avoid drawing their attention, she watched with the growing warmth of fondness and excitement in her chest as the young one she took in meticulously pried open the toys she handcrafted.

       They were humming to themselves, gingerly laying out the parts in an organized manner so that nothing got lost or mixed. She was beyond impressed with the careful thought they had blatantly put into keeping track of everything; Xianyun was certain that most children would lose a small part or two, but as she surveyed their layout, she noted that every single piece—big or small, hard to overlook or easy to lose—was accounted for.

       Childish forgetfulness wasn't an inherently bad thing. In fact, it was quite amusing and endearing to those such as herself who had lived for so many millennia.

       However, she was infinitely more endeared by their sheer mindfulness.

       Their sharp gasp snapped her from her internal musings.

       "Oh— Miss... Miss Xianyun! I'm sorry, I—" They stumbled over their words, and they froze up somewhat. It was as if they wanted to hide what they had done but ultimately decided against it; she had clearly already spotted them, and they did not want to risk mixing up all the parts. "Miss Xianyun, I'm so sorry, I— I wasn't trying to destroy them, I just—"

       "—wanted to understand their internal workings, yes?"

       Their eyes went wide with that same wonderment they had displayed towards her a few days prior. "How... how did you know?"

       She almost laughed at their cluelessness. "You have taken them apart with the care and delicacy quite unusual for one of your age. This, one surmises, is only because you sought to sate your curiosity regarding these simple mechanisms and their internal functions."

       The grace with which she carried herself never failed to leave them in astonished silence. Xianyun hummed, sweeping them up into her arms as if they weighed no more than a feather (her utter, raw strength was another astounding feat in their young mind; she was so unimaginably admirable in a multiplicity of ways to them). Then, with steady caution, she kneeled to the floor and situated them comfortably in her lap.

       "Allow one to introduce you, little colt, to the basics of mechanics."

       Xianyun, they concluded, was an odd but genuinely kind woman.

       Though her manner of speech was sometimes strange and formal, and her grace seemed otherworldly in its nature, and her strength was assuredly not a feat that just anyone could achieve...

       She was tender. She was kind. She cared.

       Perhaps the world was not always so kind, but despite that knowledge, they had never felt safer than where they were now.

please consder reblogging with a kind tag or comment, it helps me out quite a lot! mama xianyun series taglist: @zeldadou, @starryshinyskies, @soleillunne, @lillonvia, @nervocat, @dragon-type-nuggetz, @starlit-dianthus. contact me non-anonymously to be added.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

When I tell you I cannot WAIT to hear readers reaction to the stunt Bruce pulled. I’d be rolling up with some words to say and punches to throw

"Bruce," Dick cautioned, "don't start a fight."

"Hn."

"They have kids," Dick reminded. And Jason- well. It wasn't Jason that worried him when it came to the kids. It was you. Now that he'd had a little time to do some digging of his own, he could understand your appeal to Jason. A young, pretty single mom? A convoluted adoption story? Strong enough to do it alone but vulnerable enough to trip all his protective instincts.

"Hn."

"And dogs. Couple big ones," Dick hummed. Though the enthusiastic boxer and the aging wolfhound wouldn't be much of an issue, he didn't think.

Bruce nodded and looked towards the house. Through the kitchen window, he could see his son. Phone pinned between his ear and his shoulder. Flipping bits of diced meat to the dogs as he worked on putting... whatever it was into the crock pot. He looked... content. Relaxed. If a little out of place.

It was clear that the decorations and paint were... your taste. And that they hadn't been updated. Pale pink walls and mint curtains and appliances... It made his hulk of a son look like he was playing in a doll house.

"Quit being creepy and start your apology tour," Dick sighed. "You can do me next-"

"I just wanted proof he wasn't-"

"You're the one that told him to leave. Again," Dick snapped. "So he did. And now he has a wife. And kids. And probably another kid on the way. When the fuck is he supposed to cause trouble?"

Bruce looked back to the window and watched Jason sit in a kitchen chair. Shooing the wolfhound's head off the table. Only to groan when the dog just started to try and crawl into his lap.

"When-"

"His wife closes shop at 5pm," Dick said. "Kids get home at 3:45. You have an hour and a half if you want to get him alone."

"Hn."

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (iii)

THREE - COLOR THEORY

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, descriptions of violence, smut, oral (m receiving), thigh humping, fingering

You have always wondered if being born from Light and Dark was a blessing, or a curse. On one hand, it has granted you the ability to navigate life’s morally gray areas; to question everything and listen to opposing thoughts and ideologies. But on the other hand, your existence was born from a violent affair—and you can’t help but wonder if that Dark inevitably lives within you, shielded by the Light. 

Right now, more than ever, you believe the latter may be true. 

It’s been three days. Three days since you woke up to an empty bed beneath you and guilt weighing heavy atop. Three days since you self-sabotaged your entire mission. Three days since you reveled in the comfort of your enemy’s arms.

You thought the regret would be at its worst the morning after; you figured it would pass with time. But with each day, each hour, each minute that ticks by, breathing becomes just a little bit harder. You can’t even find peace in sleep; not when you are kept awake by images of Eris’s lust-filled gaze and the inevitable heartbreak on Mor’s face. If your own self-stirred panic isn’t enough, you also have the note that Eris left atop his empty pillow to worry about:

I apologize for leaving so soon, Little Bird, but I have some business to attend to. Do write back when you’d like to take a tour of the library. Don’t miss me too much.

The bastard left the proverbial ball in your court. Typically, you like being in control. But with your current frenzied mental state, the last thing you need is yet another convoluted layer to worry about.

Needless to say, you are about one misstep from exploding.

The crackling embers of the fireplace in your cabin stare back at you tauntingly. You hover your hands over the orange flames, letting the heat tickle your skin until the burning becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. You wait a beat, before raising your shaky hands over the fire once again. Albeit brief, the pain seems to be the only escape from the assault of your traitorous thoughts. Yet, with each retreat of your hands, the empty paper and pen sitting on your bedside table glare at you expectantly. They seem to radiate a cruel impatience—as if Eris is slinking in the shadows, watching you.

Your hands begin to burn again, and you abruptly pull them away. Before you can raise them over the flames once again, you feel the scraping of talons against the cobblestone barrier of your mind.

You want nothing less than to talk to Rhys right now. But you know that if you leave him hanging, he will worry. Reluctantly, you let your walls crumble down, and a shiver runs up your spine as you feel his aura creep in.

Everything okay? His voice sings across your mental connection.

You gnaw on your bottom lip until you wince, swiping your tongue across the droplet of blood.

I don’t know, you relent.

He doesn’t respond immediately. But you can picture the cinch between his brows as he mulls over your answer. Be honest with me. I won’t share with the others, if you don’t want me to. Promise.

Your fingers dance over the flames once more. You can’t possibly divulge what has transpired thus far. But you certainly can’t hold it all in without going mad. The fire burns your skin, and you jolt back before responding.

Promise?

He replies instantly, Yes.

You start talking before you can convince yourself otherwise. I think I may be getting a little too close.

Your response is simple, straight to the point. But something about it feels…heavy. 

What do you mean ‘too close’?

You’re careful not to let your thoughts, your memories of what happened in that cottage, to breach your mental connection with Rhys. You stare into the orange flames, admiring how intertwine, before replying.

The ‘seduction from afar’ plan may need to be revised. I’m in too deep to keep my distance for three weeks.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you wait for his response. You subconsciously twirl the silver ring on your thumb, never peeling your eyes away from the blazing fire. Rhys doesn’t say anything for a while. Just as fear begins to creep in, his voice sounds through your mind.

That’s fine. You jolt at his response, and he continues. Between you and me, I don’t care what you have to do. Make him fall in love with you, break his heart, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re out of there, you’ll never have to see him again.

You physically flinch as the reality of your situation hits you like a truck. Three weeks, and you’ll never see him again. Three weeks, and it’ll all be done—there will be no witness to whatever fling you have, no one left to tell the tale. No one ever has to know. Mor never has to know.

Okay, you finally respond simply.

Just tread carefully, you can hear the strain in his voice.

You nod robotically, even though he can’t see you. With a quick farewell, you put up your mental barriers. You stare into the flames for a few minutes longer, until the mere sight burns your irises.

“Compartmentalization,” you mumble to no one in particular.

Finally, you peel yourself off the dust-covered floor in front of the fire. Your legs are wobbly as you take methodical steps towards your bedside table. The empty paper and pen are quivering in anticipation as you approach. Your hand moves with a mind of its own as you pick up the waiting pen and scribble onto the paper.

Does the offer still stand?

The second you set the pen back down onto the table, the paper vanishes into thin air from your fingertips. You wring your hands together as you sit down on the side of your bed and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for exactly, but you wait. 

“Compartmentalization,” you say it again. And you say it a few more times. Enough to trick your mind into believing it and slow the frantic beat of your heart. Enough to don a mask of apathy as a crack sounds outside the front door followed by a sharp knock. 

You twist the silver ring around your thumb once more before standing, this time on steady legs. Your steps are calm and calculated as you tread towards the door. You take one last deep breath, ridding your body and mind of any residual apprehension. With your lips curled into a beguiling grin, you swing the door open.

Eris’s smile is almost as wicked as yours as he scans you from head to toe, drinking in your appearance.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Little Bird,” he smirks.

You pick at your nails nonchalantly, “I’m flattered I’ve been on your mind, but I’m not sure I can say the same.”

His vicious grin only widens, “You wound me, Birdie. But I must admit,” he dips down and lowers his voice to a whisper, “I quite like your bite today.”

You arch a brow and don’t so much as flinch at his proximity, “Are you a masochist, Eris Vanserra? Or does chasing after disinterested females turn you on?”

Your thinly veiled insult only eggs him on. It takes everything in you not to shrink back as he lowers his lips so they graze the shell of your ear.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road? Because last I remembered, you were a whimpering little mess—”

His sentence is abruptly halted by your fingers pinching his lips shut. His eyes widen in incredulity at your childish action, and a giggle bubbles in your throat at the sight. You release him and walk briskly past, leaving him dumbfounded behind you.

“Well, are we going or not?” you snark over your shoulder.

He falls into step beside you, and you jolt as he places his hand on the small of your back. His touch gentle, but commanding. You don’t dare look at him as he warns, “I’ll let this one slide, Little Bird. But don’t forget that my teeth are much sharper than yours,” he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, “And I’m not afraid to use them.”

Your rebuttal is cut short as he pulls you to his chest before winnowing you both out of the woods.

The Forest House is just as remarkable as you remembered it—even more so in the sunlight. The tangles of ivy enveloping the red-brick walls are a vibrant green, and the intricate details of the gate itself seem to glisten underneath the sun’s rays. However, unlike your last visit, this time sentries line nearly every inch of the expansive walls. Their taut faces and intimidating steeds exude a sense of savagery that makes your skin prickle.

Eris’s hand retreats to its spot on the small of your back, and you jump slightly as you are reminded of your purpose for being here. Reluctantly, you peel your eyes away from the curvature of the golden gates and cock your head towards his. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, and you can tell he’s holding back a comment from the twitch in his lips.

“Spit it out,” you feign annoyance.

He shakes his head with an airy laugh, “It’s nothing. I just like the way you look at the world—all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, like you’re experiencing life for the first time. It’s cute.”

You frown. 

His comment, while innocent, puts you on edge for two reasons. The first, and the one that really makes your skin crawl, is his incessant ability to unknowingly point out parts of yourself that belong to you, rather than Athena Ellesmere. With each destination he takes you to, you do feel like you’re experiencing the world for the first time. But that’s not Athena—and with each of your quirks he reveals, he’s one step closer to sniffing you out entirely.

The second, well…

“Cute?” you deadpan.

His teeth flash as his grin widens, “Cute.”

You’re not cute. You’re supposed to be sexy, confident, untouchable—a femme fatale. Not fucking cute.

You know your bubbling frustration is futile, so you simply narrow your eyes into a warning glare and march towards the golden gates. You know that the pout on your face isn’t helping your case—but you can’t seem to wipe it off. The sentries shift on their steeds as you approach but return to their stationed positions when Eris falls into step beside you. They don’t so much as look in your direction as you pass through the gates.

“Once you are formally welcomed inside the gates, you are free to come and go as you please,” Eris’s fingers brush yours as he speaks, “So if you are in further need of the library after today, you can return.”

Your ears perk up at this, but you nod coolly. He leads you around the side of the large mansion, away from the front door, and lowers his voice to a murmur, “But I would prefer if you’d let me accompany you, if you should visit again.”

“Why? Want me all to yourself?” you snort.

He wears a playful grin, but his eyes are vapid.

“You know I do,” he teases, “But the beauty of this place is deceptive. Darkness lurks behind these walls, Little Bird.”

A shiver crawls up your spine, but you swiftly retort, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“I know,” his voice is thick with trepidation.

You bristle at the way he speaks about you like he knows you. Yet again.

His hand returns to the small of your back as he leads you towards a small door, almost completely covered by thick ropes of vine. If he wasn’t guiding you, you would’ve completely missed the hidden entrance. You suck in a breath in anticipation as he pushes it open, wood creaking against rusted hinges. You hide your curiosity as you take in the burgundy carpet lining a hallway so long, you can’t see its end. The walls are built of centuries-old limestone, the darkness illuminated by flame torches.

You peel your eyes away from the hallway as Eris leads you to the left, down a steep, spiral staircase. Just like the hallway, it is built entirely of dark stone which holds a red hue thanks to the flickering flames of torches lining the walls. He steps in front of you, and you follow his lead silently as he leads you down the stairs. The steep wind of the steps is dizzying as you descend downwards, deep into the ground below, and into the heart of the tunnels of the Forest House. With each floor you pass, you picture Azriel’s map of the house. Finally, Eris takes a turn at the ninth floor you’ve descended. You follow closely behind and note the change in architecture. Gone are the limestone walls, and in their place, deep mahogany wood lined with a variety of paintings: family portraits, Autumn Court landscapes, still life’s. This hallway is also dimly lit with torches, but it holds a peculiar warmth unlike the others.

“How big is this place?” you voice echoes down the expansive hallway.

You know exactly how big it is. But you can’t stand the eerie silence. 

Eris’s voice rumbles lowly, “Miles long. It would take you half the morning to walk from one end to the other.”

Your eyes widen in mock astonishment—as if you don’t know that it is exactly 4.2 miles long.

“And you don’t get lost?” you ask.

“You forget I’ve had centuries of practice, darling,” he chuckles.

You open your mouth to fire another question, but a squeal escapes instead as you feel something wet bump against your right hand. You snatch your hand to your chest and look down to find a pair of beady, vermillion eyes staring back at you. You instinctively inch closer to Eris as you stare down at the creature in awe.

You know what smokehounds are. And you know that Eris owns a whopping twelve. But you weren’t quite prepared for the predator standing before you. Its fur is gray and sleek like smoke, and its eyes are the color of blood. Your initial fear fades as you realize, despite their crimson hue, its eyes are not filled with malice—but rather, curiosity. You cautiously lower the hand clutched to your chest back to your side, and slowly stretch your fingers apart. Its wet nose bumps your hand again, and you shiver at the tickling sensation as it sniffs you. A giggle bubbles in your throat as it sticks its tongue out and licks between your fingers. You tentatively stroke the side of its face with your knuckles.

“She likes you,” Eris hums beside you.

The smokehound nuzzles into your side, and you stroke the top of her head with your full hand. You know they are vicious creatures—you’ve read about how they can race as fast as the wind to sniff out any prey. But the creature standing below you seems as harmless as a fly.

“What’s her name?” you ask as you scratch softly between her ears. 

“Sage. She’s my oldest,” his hand joins yours as he strokes the back of her neck.

“I never pictured smokehounds to be so…affectionate,” you wonder aloud, curiosity piqued as she licks your hand again.

Eris laughs softly, “They aren’t. She must be drawn to you—the same way I am.”

You can feel his gaze on you but refuse to look in his direction as you fight the blush crawling up your neck. He withdraws his hand, and you follow suit as you continue your walk down the hallway, this time with Sage by your side. She trots beside you, close enough that your fingertips brush the silken fur on her back and her side rubs against your dress. Even as you continue down the dimly lit hallway, you can’t take your eyes off the elegant creature walking alongside you.

You nearly slam into Eris as he halts abruptly in front of two large oak doors. Just as you regain your footing, you nearly lose it again at the sight before you.

There are seemingly endless rows of books reaching at least fifty feet tall. An ornate rug of red and gold covers the stone floor, and hundreds of flickering candles are suspended in midair. Vibrant green ivy, much like the kind you’ve seen outside, wraps around each shelf. To top it all off, the ceiling is a mosaic of crystalline windows shining golden rays of sunlight down below—some kind of enchantment, you presume, given that you are at nine floors underground.

“Wow,” you breathe. With your mouth agape and your eyes wide with wonder, you know that you are proving Eris’s earlier point. But right now, you couldn’t care less. 

You wander towards the shelves, Sage trailing behind you, and run your fingers gently along the spines of the books. The smell of parchment and wood is intoxicating, and your heart swells with joy as you scan the collection of classics. Some are so old; you presume they must be original prints. Others look brand new, completely untouched. 

One binding in particular catches you attention—well, ‘binding’ is generous, considering the book is barely hanging together by a thread. You carefully pull out the amethyst-colored cover and turn it over. Shattered Realms. 

“Is this an original copy?” you question, unable to peel your eyes away from the novel.

Eris looks over your shoulder, “Yes. It’s been passed down in my family for generations—although it originally belonged to the Night Court.”

Your lips twitch with amusement, but you force down a laugh at the irony. You glance at him over your shoulder, “How did it end up here?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest inches away from pressing up against your back, and runs a finger over the binding of the book in your hands. His scent of sandalwood and nutmeg invades your senses.

“Many centuries ago, my grandfather was in a bit of a tiff with the Night Court High Lord at the time. He stole it during their feud.”

You smile softly and make a mental note to retrieve the book before you return to Velaris as a little souvenir for Rhys. You carefully place the book back in its spot before continuing your exploration. Eris follows closely behind, whereas Sage has found comfort in front of the fireplace. 

“Do you have any favorites?” you wonder aloud as you come to the end of the aisle.

“I have many,” his hand brushes yours.

You hook your pinky finger over his, “Care to share?”

“Any particular genre you’re interested in?” he curls his finger against yours.

You bite your bottom lip in thought as you mull over the options. Asking you to pick a favorite genre is like asking a mother to pick her favorite child. 

“I’ve recently been on a bit of a reading kick of philosophical essays,” you tap a finger to your chin in thought, “Mind-body dualism, introspection, all the good stuff,” you drawl.

Eris’s brows raise in surprise, “I never would’ve thought that philosophy pairs well with filthy little romance novels.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, and you move to snatch your pinky away from his, but he swiftly intertwines your fingers. He’s dragging you down the aisle before you can protest, and you stumble to keep up with his swift feet. Eris leads you past rows of bookshelves, up a spiral staircase, and past even more rows of books. He doesn’t give you a chance to admire the collection of literature as he tugs you along. Finally, you halt at a small alcove decorated with stained glass windows.

Your eyes widen as you take in the collection of books written by countless ancient philosophers. But you force on a façade of indifference, careful not to fuel his already bursting ego even more. You hold your breath as he leans over you and pulls a book at least six inches out of your reach. The binding is tattered—not as badly as the original copy of Shattered Realms, but enough that you can tell it’s at least a few centuries old. He holds it out expectantly, and you tentatively grab it from his waiting hands. 

“I think you might find this to your liking,” he grins, “A collection of Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. It’s not an original copy, but surely the closest to it.”

He releases your other hand, and you clench your jaw to conceal your excitement. You’ve been searching for a copy of this for years now—ever since you stumbled across the collection of the ancient philosopher Tydeus’s works in the Velaris library. Your mother used to love reading the copy of his correspondences in the Day Court libraries, but that feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Tydeus’s ideologies are a bit archaic for my taste. But I suppose this will do,” you lie through your teeth. Eris chuckles lightly, observing the curious glint in your eyes and the way you hold the book with a delicate reverence.  

“There are wards around the house which prevent these books from leaving the premises, so unfortunately, I cannot loan it to you. And given your past thieving tendencies, I’m not sure I would want to,” he teases as he leans against the shelve of books.

Well, there goes Rhys’s solstice gift.

Your lips dip into a frown, “I know Vanserras are cruel, but I never imagined you’d be this twisted—dangling one-of-a-kind copies of ancient literature over my head only to pull them away.”

“Don’t fret, Little Bird,” he purrs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You can read to your heart’s desire—inside the house, of course. I’ll show you to a place with a bit more…privacy.”

You gulp as his fingers linger against your cheekbone. His touch is electrifying, and you fight the instinct to chase after it as he pulls away.

“Okay,” you whisper, “Is it alright if I pick out a few more?”

His teeth flash as he observes the effect he has over you.

“Take your time. I’ll be keeping Sage company.”

He brushes past you, and you remain frozen in place for a moment. Get it together, you scold yourself internally. You will your mind to empty as you continue your stroll down hundreds of rows of books. You try your very best not to pick up everything that catches your eye—only those which really pique your interest. But even so, you quickly find yourself with a stack of books so high they nearly reach your chin. Your arms tremble underneath the weight, but still, you add a couple of atlases to your stack for good measure. You have no intention of reading them—but Athena Ellesmere would. 

Finally satisfied with your collection, you walk slowly back towards the front of the library. You rest your chin on the top of the stack, careful not to topple the tower of books. The winding staircase proves to be a challenge, and you nearly stumble twice. But by some miracle, you make it down unscathed, and approach the blazing fireplace.

Eris lounges on a couch with Sage on the ground beneath him. He scratches her ears nonchalantly as he flips through his own book. His neck cranes at the sound of your uneven footsteps, and a roaring laugh fills the room when he lays eyes on you.

It’s a sight he wishes will be forever imprinted in his memory—your arms wobbling underneath a stack of books nearly as tall as you, and your flushed cheeks peeking out on top.

“Some help would be appreciated,” you hiss.

He sets his book down and glides over, taking half the stack from your arms. You nearly moan in relief at the literal weight lifted off your shoulders. 

“A few more, huh?” he taunts with a wily smirk.

“A few means a small number. Comparative to your collection, yes. A few,” you grit your teeth.

“Whatever you say, Little Bird. Although I except a thorough review of each,” he sings.

Eris balances his half of the stack in one arm and wraps his other around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. You save your own stack from nearly tipping over with a stumble. You aren’t afforded a chance to protest as he winnows you both away, leaving Sage sleeping peacefully in front of the fire.   

This time, you aren’t able to save the stack from spilling out of your arms as you land in a new room. Much to your displeasure, Eris’s pile of books is fully intact in his arms. You drop to your knees with a huff and begin collecting the books strewn about a patterned, crimson carpet.

“You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?” he taunts from above you.

Your head snaps upwards and you open your mouth to retort but pause as you take in the new surroundings. Much like the library, this room holds a golden glow highlighted by swirling patterns of golds and reds along the walls. You can feel another fire blazing behind you, and just past the deep-seated sofa in front of you lies an enormous canopy bed. It suddenly clicks—you are in Eris’s private chambers. 

You cock a brow at the sight and a smirk tugs at your lips, “You know, if you wanted to get me in your bed all you had to do was ask.”

He sets down his stack of books on a small, wooden table in front of the couch and reaches a hand down to you expectantly. You tentatively place your hand in his, and he raises you up from the ground, pulling you to his chest with a sultry smile. 

“Is that an offer, darling?” his breath tickles your neck as he dips down to your ear.

Your cheeks flush as he caresses your jawline with his thumb. You clench your thighs as you are reminded of how his fingers felt inside you, dripping in your arousal. But before you can melt into his touch, you raise your lips to his ear and croon, “I’m not that easy. You’ll have to work harder than that, Fox.”

He presses his nose against your temple and groans, the vibration of it sending a tantalizing chill up your spine. Just as easily as he’s able to get you flustered, so are you able to drive him up the wall. 

You pull away from him, ignoring his whine of protest. He is absolutely shameless in his desire for you, and the thought alone makes your gut churn with delight.

You gather your stack of books from the ground and carefully place them beside the other half on the wooden table. You sift through the titles before finally settling on the Tydeus copy Eris recommended. You don’t so much as glance in his direction as you take a seat on the couch and kick off your heavy boots. The fire is just close enough that the flames warm your skin, and you all but sink into its comfort. You can feel Eris’s eyes on you, but you continue to ignore him as you stretch your legs out across the velvet expanse and open the ancient book. You aren’t even through the first page when you feel Eris’s hands on your calves.

You squeal as he raises your legs, giving himself space to sit beside you, before lowering them again so they are draped over his lap. You glare at him over your book, but he ignores your malice as he leans forward and picks his own book from the pile on the table. He leans back in his seat, his legs spread beneath yours, as he opens the book—a rare biography of one of the original Valkyries. Your own book sits limply in your hands as you study his profile—the plump of his lips, the shift of his jaw. You can’t help but admire the freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose. He is incredibly handsome, which simultaneously makes your job easier, and all the more difficult.

“I know I’m gorgeous but try not to drool on my centuries-old book,” he hums nonchalantly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You raise your leg to kick him, but he firmly grips your ankle and sets it back onto his lap without so much as a glance in your direction. He doesn’t remove his hand, letting it rest on your leg. With a huff, you return to your book. You are halted, once again, this time by his wandering hand. He teasingly pushes up the skirt of your long dress, just below your knees, so he can rest his hand on your shin. Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your calf with his thumb, massaging it gently.

Reluctantly, you succumb to the comfort of his touch and return to your book once more. You page through Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. Their letters begin simply enough. But you quickly find yourself immersed in their debate over morality. Whereas the Lady takes a relative stance, Tydeus takes on an absolutist one. As their back-and-forth shifts to the dichotomy of good and evil, you are eerily reminded of your own inner turmoil earlier that morning.

“Anything good so far?” you jump as Eris’s gravelly voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

You meet his inquisitive gaze and note how the flame of the fire reflects in the amber of his eyes.

“My mother would have loved this,” you reply.

She did love it. You remember how she used to read it constantly in the Day Court—you never thought you’d be able to get your hands on a copy of it again. 

“Why is that?” he asks, curiosity laced in his tone.

You lower the book onto your lap, “She loved all of Tydeus’s works. She was a strong believer in the dichotomous division between ‘good’ and ‘evil’.”

Eris sets his own book down and rubs your leg with both of his hands. 

“And what do you think?” he challenges thoughtfully.

You shrug, “I’m not sure. On the one hand, I think morality is relative—that individuals are not uniform, and thus form their own ideas about what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’. But then on the other, I used to believe that there are some things we universally categorize as one or the other.”

“You don’t anymore?” he counters

You bite your lip and avert your gaze to the fire. The anxiety you managed to dispel earlier that day starts creeping in. Your gut twists uncomfortably as you reply simply, “I’m not sure.”

His hands slow, noticing your shift in demeanor. He studies the furrow of your brows as you stare into the fire.

“I think it is not morality that dominates the situation, but the situation that dominates morality,” he counters after a few beats of silence.

“A moral relativist?”

“I don’t like labels,” he shrugs.

The vibrancy of the fire is burning your eyes, but you keep them trained on the flames as you reply, “I suppose I agree with that—the problem is, it’s not the answer I’m seeking.”

“And what answer are you seeking?”

You long to reach your hands out over the flames until the heat sears your skin. The déjà vu makes your stomach churn.

“It’s not so much an answer as a direction,” you speak softly to hide the quiver of your voice, “I wish there was some way to know if I’m moving in the right direction.”

He chuckles, “Which brings us back to the question of absolutism versus relativism.”

You peel your eyes away from the flame, and your eyes lock with his. They hold a certain understanding, as if he can see straight through you and into your soul. Your body moves with a mind of its own as you sit up and subconsciously inch closer.

 “I suppose all we can really do is justify our actions for ourselves—and hope that others will agree with our division of morality,” you whisper.

His gaze darkens, and he bows his head towards you, “I think life is full of gray areas, and we can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them.”

His response strikes a chord deep within you. Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, just inches away from yours.

Compartmentalization be damned.

You lurch forward to close the gap, and he meets you halfway. 

The moment your lips meet his, every ounce of worry is swept away from your mind. You barely register the thump of your book hitting the ground as his lips glide against yours. His taste is addictive—a sweet peppermint that you can’t seem to get enough of. Your nose bumps against his as you climb on top of him, your legs straddling his lap. You cup the side of his face with your hands, deepening the kiss. He grips the small of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip: a question. Your mouth parts: an answer. 

You snake one hand behind his neck and run your fingers through his crimson locks, tugging sharply. He groans, and just as he moves to deepen the kiss, you abruptly pull away.

His sounds of protest are silenced by your lips against the sensitive skin of his neck. You move tentatively at first, remembering how it felt to have his lips against your neck, and mimic his maneuvers. He tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck, pushing you closer as a sign of encouragement. You become bolder, alternating between open-mouthed kisses, small nips, and swipes of your tongue. His groan of approval spurs you on, and you fiddle with the bottom of his tunic, pulling it up his chest. You draw back briefly to peel the shirt completely off his body before resuming your work.

“Who taught you how to do that?” Eris hisses as you suck harshly at the apex of his collarbone. 

  You grin at the blossoming purple hue on his pale skin and run your tongue over the spot soothingly, “A wily fox too clever for his own good.”

He pulls you back up, abruptly cutting your abuse of his neck short. You eagerly smash your lips against his once more and trail your hands down the expanse of his chest, dragging your nails lightly along his rigid abdomen. His hands loop around you and he swiftly yanks down the zipper of your dress. You eagerly shed the suffocating material, so it pools at your waist, exposing your bare chest to him. Eris moans at the sight of your peaked nipples and doesn’t hesitate to massage your breasts with his large hands. His lips trail down your neck, but before he has a chance to carry out the same treatment you’d given him, you slip from his grasp entirely.

Eris watches, stunned, as you slip off his lap and sink down onto your knees before him. His lips part as you nudge his knees apart, and lurch forward to trail open-mouthed kisses down his chest, to his abdomen, until you finally reach the waistband of his bottoms. He jolts as you brush your hand over the very obvious, and large, tent in his pants.

“Little Bird,” he mumbles as you palm over him, “You don’t have to do this.”

Your eyes flick up to his and you speak with conviction, “I want to.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps and you all but drool at the sight. He nods once, and you begin fiddling with his belt buckle. His hands move to help you, but you swat them away. You make quick work of the fastenings, and slowly drag the material down his legs, inch by inch. You know he’s growing impatient by the clenching of his abdomen. You flash him a sultry smile as you finally pull the material from his legs, leaving him in his underwear. His hands move to the waistband, but you swat them away again. 

 “Patience is a virtue,” you muse before nipping the skin of his inner thigh. He inhales sharply, and shudders as you run your tongue over the same spot, soothing the ache.

“Using my own moves against me,” he croons, but the strain is evident in his voice, “I’m impressed, Little Bird.”

Your heart thumps in your chest as you graze your hands along the waistband of his underwear. You dip your fingers underneath, and your confidence falters slightly. He runs a hand through your hair soothingly, coaxing you to continue. Your keep your eyes trained on his as you inch the fabric down his thighs. He raises his hips and releases a sigh of relief as his erection slaps up against his stomach, free from the confining material. You toss the garment aside haphazardly and take in the sight of his complete bareness.

The first thing you notice is that he’s big—well, you think so, at least, considering you have nothing to compare him to. His dick is much thicker than you’d imagined, with veins branching upwards towards the tip which is a shade darker than the pink of his lips. You can’t help but wonder how it could possibly fit inside you. A blush paints the apples of your cheeks at the thought.

Eris notices your apprehension, and he curls a finger underneath your chin so your eyes meet his. 

“Would you like me to talk you through it?” his voice is soft.

The amber of his eyes is warm, like honey. You nod shyly.

“Okay, darling. Can you wrap your hand around my cock?” the sweetness of his voice is a stark contrast to the dirtiness of the words tumbling from his lips. 

You rest your left hand on his thigh and raise your right hand, delicately wrapping your fingers around his girth at its base. You hold him loosely, and he releases a pleasured sigh at your tentative touch. 

“You can hold it a bit tighter, love,” he hums while stroking the shell of your ear.

You follow his direction with a nod.

“Now move your hand—”

You don’t give him a chance to finish as you slowly begin moving your hand over his cock, from the base to the tip. His lips part and he shudders at the motion.

“Good,” he rasps, “Now can you spit on it? Get it a little wet for me?”

Your cheeks flare, but you follow his request. You timidly lean forward and dribble over his tip, captivated by the way it mixes with the bead of precum before sliding down. You use your hand to spread it around, and the friction eases as your hand slides more freely. 

“I think you’re a natural, Birdie,” he praises through a gasp, “Can you twist your hand for me a bit?”

You twist your hand in time with your strokes, and admire the way his face scrunches with pleasure. You squeeze a bit harder when you reach his base, and his hips twitch. Testing the waters, you slowly lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking over his tip. Eris grunts at the action, and you feel a bit more confident as you wrap your lips completely around the head. 

A guttural moan escapes his lips as you suckle on the head, your hand continuously pumping his shaft. You pull off his tip, and your gut twists with desire at the string of saliva between the head of his cock and your lips. You lurch forward, flattening your tongue against the base and dragging it upwards, before wrapping your lips around the tip again in a teasing maneuver.  

“Fuck,” he groans, “Can you take me a bit deeper?”

You nod, pupils blown. Your hand resumes its stroking movement as you slowly, tentatively, slide downwards. Your mouth burns from the stretch of his girth, but you breathe through your nose steadily. You take him in, inch by inch, until his tip hits the back of your throat, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. You keep your hand around the base of his shaft, pumping and twisting the length you can’t fit.

“So good for me, Little Bird,” he moans. His right-hand digs into the fabric of the couch until his knuckles turn white, and his left brushes the hair out of your face. “Can you move your pretty little mouth for me?”

You slowly bob your head up and down, timing the strokes of your hand with the rise and fall of your lips. Tears spring to your eyes each time his tip hits the back of your throat and spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth, but any ounce of insecurity is washed away by the sinful noises tumbling from Eris’s lips.

“Can you use your tongue for me?” his voice is strained.

You flatten your tongue against his length as you bob up and down, swirling it around his length to the best of your ability.

“Look at me, love,” he gasps through an animalistic groan.

Your eyes flick up and you peer at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown and his lips parted, brows scrunched with a vulnerability you never imagined you’d see.

“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock,” he rasps, “Wish I could keep you like this forever.”

You hum around him, and he shudders at the vibration. He tangles a hand in your hair, guiding your movements but not pushing you, slowly increasing your pace. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the delicious burn in your jaw and the back of your throat.

His chest heaves as he pants, “So close. Just a little more.”

You move with a newfound vigor at his words, finding a rhythm that keeps the noises tumbling from his mouth. You raise your unoccupied hand to the base of his cock. Experimentally, you brush over his balls with your thumb, eliciting raucous moan from Eris. He twitches in your mouth, and you do it again while swirling your tongue in a prolonged sweeping motion around his length.

“Fuck, Little Bird. I’m—”

He halts midsentence with an earth-shattering groan as his cock twitches violently in your mouth. You slow your movements as he reaches his high, thick ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. You splutter at the feeling, but continue milking him, swallowing his load. You stroke him gently, your tongue rubbing along him in a coaxing manner, until his thighs jerk, and his length softens in your mouth. You inch off him, stroking a hand over his thigh soothingly, and press one last kiss to his tip before pulling off completely.

You glance shyly up at Eris, and your chest swells with pride as you find his head thrown back in pure bliss. You rake your nails softly against his thighs, peppering feather-like kisses over his abdomen. His head lulls down towards you, and your heart skips a beat at the carnal look in his eyes. His hands are gentle as he wipes away the tears staining your cheeks before swiping over your mouth, collecting the saliva staining your lips. 

“You are an enigma, Little Bird,” he mumbles while intertwining your hands with his and pulling you back up. 

Your dress falls from your waist to the floor as you rise, leaving you completely bare aside from your panties. He pulls you onto his lap and you eagerly straddle him, connecting your lips to his. He groans into your mouth at the taste of his own release on your lips.

“Good?” you breathlessly ask against his mouth.

He pulls away from your lips with a chuckle and trails kisses underneath your ear as he mutters, “I haven’t finished so quickly in centuries.”

Your eyes crinkle with pride.

His lips meet yours once again, and you marvel at the way you slot together like the final two pieces of a puzzle. Mimicking his earlier move, you run your tongue along his bottom lip and he grants you entry, allowing you to deepen the kiss. His hands run down the curve of your back before settling on your ass, exploring your soft skin. Your gut clenches at the arousal pooling in your panties.

“Would you like to try something new?” he murmurs against your lips.

You respond with an affirmative hum, and whine as he pulls away.

He grips your waist, lifting you off his lap as if you weigh nothing at all, before setting you back down so you straddle just his left thigh. You jolt as your clothed arousal presses against the bare skin of his thigh.

Eris rolls his thumb over your swollen lips and whispers tauntingly, “Are you horny, Little Bird? Do you need some release?”

You nod shamelessly.

“Get yourself off, then.”

Your brows pinch with confusion, but realization dawns over you as he digs his fingers into your ass cheeks, grinding your clothed cunt against his leg. Your lips part in a silent gasp at the wave of pleasure that rolls through you. He guides you as you set a steady rhythm, grinding your throbbing clit against his thigh. The friction is electrifying, but you need more. The thin barrier of fabric separating you from him is suffocating. 

You whine pathetically, and he senses your desire. Eris pinches the flesh of your ass, and you lift your hips slightly. He removes his hands from behind you and you watch as they dip down between your thighs. You throb with anticipation as he hooks a finger underneath the fabric. Your arousal sticks to the flimsy material as he peels it aside, exposing your bare cunt.

“You’re dripping for me, darling,” he croons.

A long moan escapes your lips as you settle back down onto his thigh. With nothing separating you from him, you can feel how every ridge of his muscle stimulates your clit. He continues guiding you with his hands on your waist for a few seconds, before abruptly pulling away. 

You pause, mouth agape, as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. Your cheeks flare in a combination of frustration and embarrassment as he leans back in his seat with a coy smirk on his lips.

He arches a brow expectantly, “Go on.”

You desperately want to wipe the smug look off his face—but your lust, your need for release, is too strong. You brace your hands against his broad shoulders and begin moving again. You groan at the way your clit slides against his bare thigh.

“You like making a mess over my thigh?”

You nod obediently.

He jerks his thigh once underneath you, and you cry out at the sensation.

“I need words, Birdie,” he drawls.

You roll your hips against him desperately and pant between gasps, “I love it.”

He shakes his leg at a steady pace, and the additional stimulation sends you reeling.

“Yeah?” he coos, “Tell me how it feels.”

Your legs tremble as your clit catches against the tensing muscles of his thigh.

“Feels filthy,” you mewl.

He grips your chin firmly, directing your gaze to his, before his arm returns to the back of the couch.

“Fitting for a filthy little girl, getting herself off on my leg,” he purrs, “I’m not even touching you and you’re a whimpering mess for me.”

His degrading words don’t even register, your mind clouded with desire. You can feel the tension building in your gut, and you pant with each roll of your hips. You try to increase your pace as you feel your high approaching, but your legs tremble underneath you, leaving that peak you so desperately desire just out of reach. 

“Please,” your voice trembles.

Eris knows exactly what you want, but he taunts you, “Please what?”

A fat tear escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your flushed cheeks.

Your bottom lip wobbles as you whimper, “Touch me, Eris. Please.”

He swiftly pulls you off his thigh and lays you down on the couch. He crashes his lips against yours, your teeth bumping at the force. Eris doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath as he trails his hand up your inner thigh before sliding his middle finger through your slick, from your entrance to your swollen clit. Unlike last time, he doesn’t waste time teasing as he promptly sinks his middle finger inside of you. 

You cry out at the feeling of his finger deep inside you, and he curls it in response. He doesn’t hold back as he rubs your clit with his thumb while thrusting his finger, curling it against your g-spot with each maneuver. He latches his lips to your neck and sucks harshly while his unoccupied hand flicks over your peaked nipples. 

Your mind whirls at the sensation—the feeling of him all over you. It’s almost too much, having him everywhere. You desperately claw at his back, searching for something to stabilize you. 

Your stomach coils as you feel your high approaching again. He can feel you clench around his finger, and he groans against your skin, “You gonna cum for me, love? Finish all over my hand?”

Another tear rolls down your cheek, “Yes,” you blubber, “’M so close.”

“Let go, Little Bird,” he coaxes while slipping another finger inside of you.

The added stretch sends you over the edge. You all but scream as shockwaves of pleasure roll through your body. Your toes curl and your nails dig into his back as your vision spots. His fingers slow, but he keeps rubbing your clit as you ride through your high. He continues until your hips jerk from the overstimulation, and your hands go limp around his neck. You wince as he pulls his fingers from you and watch through hooded eyes as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking up every last drop of your arousal. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, your mind spinning in a post-orgasmic haze. 

Eris softly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand before dipping down and capturing your lips with his. This time, the kiss is slow—no bumping teeth or clashing tongues. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, relishing in the intimacy of it all, until he pulls away.

An airy laugh passes through your lips as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be the end of me, Little Bird,” Eris mumbles. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before collapsing on top of you. You grunt at the weight, and he shifts over enough so that he isn’t restricting your breathing, but his bare body remains draped over yours.

 “The end is but a beginning in disguise,” you tease as he nestles his nose against your cheek.

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck. 

“How were you made so wise?” he muses.

“Wisdom isn’t born, Fox. It’s learned,” you trace your fingers along the arm draped over you, “And I have a lot more living to do before I can even come close to it.”

“Well, I think you’re plenty wise,” he curves a finger underneath your chin and tilts your head towards his.

Your nose is millimeters apart from his as you gaze into his amber eyes. Their golden hue is vibrant, much like his lopsided smile. But suddenly, something inside them dims, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards. Your brows furrow as you note the subtle change.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, brushing back his crimson locks.

Eris shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

You quirk a brow, “Clearly not.”

His hardened stare doesn’t stray from your eyes, but it seems to be searching for something. A chill crawls up your spine at his scrutinizing gaze, as if he’s trying to read your darkest thoughts. You’re suddenly aware of how exposed, how vulnerable you are to him right now—both physically and emotionally.

“Your eyes…” he pauses, as if searching for the right words, before continuing, “Do you remember the first night we met?”

The crinkle between your brows deepens, “How could I forget?”

He wets his lips before replying, “I told you your eyes were familiar.”

Fuck.

You pray that he doesn’t feel the uptick of your heart and continue stroking his arm steadily.

“I just realized,” he continues, “Who they remind me of.”

Panic washes over you, but your expression doesn’t falter, and you maintain your soothing touch.

“Oh?” you hum nonchalantly, “Who may that be?”

Eris shifts his gaze away from the eyes in question, and instead watches the rise and fall of your bare chest.

“A woman I knew a long time ago,” he finally replies.

You continue threading your fingers through his hair as you contemplate your next words. You are breeching unfamiliar territory, and one wrong step could doom you.

“Was she important to you?” you ask cautiously.

He doesn’t respond for a while, and his body is tense over yours. You wait with bated breath for his reply, your curiosity growing with each passing second.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not what you were expecting—but you aren’t sure what you were expecting, exactly.

You mull over his response, nibbling on your bottom lip in thought. Pressing him further feels like a violation—not only of his vulnerability, but of Mor’s. But curiosity is gripping you like a vice. This is the first time in a week you’ve gotten him close to talking about the Night Court, you justify to yourself, don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.

“May I ask what happened?” you inquire tentatively.

 He grunts and rests his head in the crook of your neck, “It’s not exactly a bedtime story, darling.”

You frown, unsure how to press him further without raising suspicion. 

He must notice your disappointment as he sighs, “I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, Little Bird. Would you really like to know?”

You nod. He traces shapes over the expanse of your stomach as he contemplates where to begin.

“Many centuries ago, my father arranged for my marriage to a daughter of the Night Court,” he speaks slowly, “It was purely political—a chance to strengthen the alliance between our courts.”

This is so wrong, you think to yourself. But you make no move to stop him.

“She did not want the union. So, the night before the wedding, she escaped—into the arms of another male, hoping that if she tarnished her…purity, the wedding would be called off.”

Tears prick your eyes as you know exactly what’s coming next, but you blink them away.

“Her father was—is—a cruel man. As cruel as my father,” the steadiness of his voice falters, but he continues, “When he found out what she’d done, he tortured her with a brutality unlike any I’ve witnessed. He left her, stripped naked, at the border of our court, with a sign that she was ours to deal with.”

You’re grateful for his sparing of the details, because you’re not sure you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I found her that morning, while out with my guards,” he stops, and for a moment you don’t think he will continue. But he releases a deep sigh, and barely speaks above a whisper, “I demanded them not to touch her.”

Anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to scream. You feel nauseous, the reality of your predicament suddenly sobering—the reality that you’re lying naked on a couch with a man who left your sister for dead.

 “If I or any of my guards touched her, she would have been stuck in Autumn—doomed to a life she did not want, according to my court’s laws. If I had…” his voice trembles ever so slightly, “If I had touched her, my father would have killed her on the spot. So, I left her there. I knew her…her friends would come save her. But it was not a decision I wanted to make.”

The fury trembling in your bones settles, and your mind reels over his recount of the events. This is not the version of the story you’ve heard from Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel. He could be lying—but what reason would Eris have to lie to you, when he is blissfully unaware of your relation to Mor? More than that, you’re unable to ignore the sincerity, the distress in his voice. 

“Do you regret it?” you whisper so quietly; you’re surprised he can hear you.

“No,” his response is immediate, “Not for a minute. I gave her a chance to live. Even if she doesn’t see it that way. But I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head…of her pleading for help, and me being unable to grant it.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re sure he can feel the thundering of your heart. Your head is a muddled mess, to say the least. 

“Gray areas,” you whisper simply.

We can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them, his earlier words ring through your mind. But not faulting him feels like the gravest betrayal you could commit.

A humorless chuckle tumbles from his lips as he echoes you, “Gray areas.”

His head sinks further into the crook of your neck and he runs his thumb soothingly over your abdomen, unknowingly combatting the pounding of your head as you process the onslaught of new—and unexpected—information. 

“Do you still align with the Night Court?” you change the subject boldly but keep your tone nonchalant.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem fazed by your question. Unfortunately, he doesn’t entertain it either.

“I like to keep my business separate from the bedroom,” he rasps against your neck, and you shudder at the tickle of his breath.

You purse your lips into a humorless smile, “Compartmentalization.”

“Forgive me, darling,” he muses, the seriousness of his tone gone, “But I can’t bring myself to discuss pompous High Lords while lying atop a beautiful, naked female.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” you tease half-heartedly.

He raises his head from your shoulder and looks down at you, the fox-like grin that had momentarily disappeared back, “I don’t think, I know,” he brushes his nose along your jawline, “You are the most delectable little thing I’ve seen in centuries.”

  You feel his groin twitch against your upper thigh, and you roll your eyes, “You are insatiable, Eris Vanserra.”

He laughs and your heart sings at the sound, despite your reeling mind. He presses his chest against yours and stretches his arm out to the floor. You watch curiously as he rolls back into his previous position with your forgotten book in hand.

“I’m not quite sure if Tydeus qualifies as a bedtime story either,” you arch a brow.

He shrugs with a cheeky grin, “Well if you ever plan on getting through that mountain of books, you’d better get started.”

Eris holds it out expectantly, and after a moment of contemplation, you grab it with your free arm. You untangle your other hand from his hair and wrap it around his shoulder so you can balance the book on your stomach with both arms. He squirms over you, and you squeak he accidentally elbows the side of your breast.  

“Careful,” you hiss.

“My apologies, Little Bird,” he coos as he finally finds a comfortable position on his side. One arm rests underneath your neck, while the other remains draped over your stomach behind the book. He drops his head onto your shoulder, so he has a full view of the book in your hands.

“I’ll let you know when to turn the page,” he nods his head against you, encouraging you to begin.

You squint but relent as you see his eyes moving back and forth, reading the text before him. You can feel him smiling below you as you focus your gaze on the page in front of you and pick up where you left off earlier. 

You’re nearing the end of the page when Eris taps the side of your hand with his finger. He waits patiently for you to finish, and both of your heads shift when you flip the page. You fall into a comfortable rhythm. He taps your hand softly each time to indicate when he’s finished, and you alternate between who finishes first with each flip of the page. The rise and fall of your bare chest moves in time with his breath against your skin, and despite your nudity, you don’t feel an ounce of shyness.

As you read, you can’t help but think that this must be what heaven feels like: orange flames warming your skin as you lounge on a couch reading with a gorgeous, and very naked, male on top of you. But there’s just one tiny problem—the gorgeous, and very naked, male in question.

You feel your thoughts slip from the book and urge yourself to focus on Tydeus’s philosophy rather than dwell on your anxiety. You find yourself so immersed in one passage in particular, that you don’t notice the way Eris’s breathing slows, or how his head lulls against your chest. You reach the end of the page and wait patiently for his signal to continue. Your brows cinch as the seconds stretch into minutes. You look down and realize that the heir to the Autumn Court throne, in all his glory, is sleeping like a babe using your breasts as a pillow.

The book lays forgotten in your hands as you observe him. Even in his softest of moments, his features still hold a certain sharpness. But right now, he looks…peaceful. His cheek is pressed up against the flesh of your breast, and with his eyes closed, you notice that his eyelashes are much longer than you imagined. You long to trace your fingers over the freckles splattered across his nose, to feel the curve of his nose. It’s hard to think that the male before you is capable of any cruelty at all.

But he is. 

And you’re gazing at him wide-eyed like a lovestruck teenager.

 You wish you could speak to your sister right now. You’re not sure what you’d say—maybe nothing at all. Maybe looking into her eyes, which are so similar to yours, would reveal some hidden truth, buried deep under centuries of hatred. Or maybe they would hold disdain—disappointment directed at you, for rolling around with a male who hurt her deeply.

Eris snores softly, halting your train of thought. Your chest tightens and the flames of the fire start to burn your skin. You can’t stay here. More importantly, you have a job to do.

You set the book down on the floor beneath you, and cautiously shift your body. He grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t stir, as you carefully slip out from underneath him. You hiss as you tumble onto the ground below and pause to make sure he’s still asleep. His snores don’t falter, and you rise from the ground.

You make quick work of gathering your clothes, cringing at the dried arousal covering your inner thighs and panties. Just as you’re about to slip out of his chambers, you turn back to take one last glance at his sleeping form. You gnaw your lower lip, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. Against your better judgment, you search for a scrap piece of paper and pen to leave him a note, as he had done for you.

‘Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra

Your lips purse—simple, yet effective. You set the note down on the wooden table and drape a throw blanket over the sleeping male in case he has any unexpected visitors. You don’t dare look back as you creep towards the doors.

The creaking of the rusted hinges has you cringing as you ease them open, inch by inch, and peer into the hallway. It’s empty—thank the Mother—with the only movement coming from the flickering flames of torches on the walls. 

You slink into the shadows as you move to your left down the hallway. Assuming Azriel’s map is correct, Eris’s office is two floors above his personal chambers, about one mile to the left. Despite the sizeable distance, you don’t risk winnowing for fear of someone catching you.

As you move along the walls, there’s a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can’t help but feel guilty for playing with his feelings and using them to your advantage—especially following the vulnerability he showed you tonight. But you remind yourself that, even in life’s dimmest gray areas, your loyalty to your family is unwavering.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you scale the winding staircase, keeping an eye out for any guards or lurking Vanserras. As you make your way down the next hallway, identical to the last, you move as swiftly as you can. The sooner you’re gone, the better—but you can’t deny the unease that grows with each step. On one hand, you hope you’ll find something to report back to Rhys. But on the other, you dread finding something that may contradict your image of Eris thus far.

Your steps are featherlight, and by the grace of the Cauldron, you make it to your destination without any setbacks. You press your ear against the door before slowing pushing it open.

The room is much like Eris’s chambers: swirling yellows and reds along the walls, a blazing fireplace, and a deep mahogany rug carpet covering the stone floor. In the middle sits a large, mahogany desk, covered in parchment. You creep forward, careful not to make any noise. You run your fingers along the polished wood of the desk, glancing over the papers. Nothing stands out as you shuffle through them. You search through his cabinets, rifle through the small bookcase in the back, and even check beneath the cushions of the chairs. All you can seem to find is polite, and uninteresting, correspondences with various courts, and menial to-do lists. You check each possible hiding place but come up short once again. There’s absolutely nothing here.

You’re not sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated—or perhaps, both. You glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the dimly lit room. 3:06. You contemplate redirecting your search to Beron’s office, but you remember from Azriel’s map that it’s six floors down, and approximately two miles away on the opposite side of the house. If you were to go now, there’s a chance the sun would be rising by the time you’re ready to leave, leaving you defenseless without the dark of the shadows. 

With a sigh, you check over the room once more to ensure nothing is out of place before making your exit. You leave just as you came, slinking into the shadows along the hallways as quiet as a mouse. As you navigate the winding tunnels, you wonder if Eris is still sleeping soundly by the fire, or if he’s aware of your absence. And as your thoughts drift to the crimson-haired heir, you find yourself moving faster—as if escaping the walls of the Forest House will erase him from your mind. 

The wind is even more chilling than usual in the dead of night, you realize as you finally make it out through a side door. You make quick work of the courtyard, using the shadows to your advantage to avoid detection by the sentries littered throughout. When you finally make it out, you will the air to twist and fold around you, winnowing you back to your ransack cabin just as the sun begins to peek out from the horizon. Your limbs are tired, but your mind is racing. You know that sleep will not be kind to you. So, you kick off your boots and plop yourself on the dirty floor in front of the fireplace.

You find yourself just as you were before; hovering your hands over the orange embers until the burn becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. Again. Over and over. As if the pain will grant you some sense of clarity. As if nothing has changed since you were last sat here. As if you aren’t falling further into the fox’s trap with no way out.

Being born of Light and Dark can be a difficult thing. But there are far worse evils in the world, some lurking just around the corner. 

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @batboygirlie @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1

[thegnomelord]

oh my lord... mentioning merfolk finally pushed me into sending in an ask for you, so hai!

im a huge marine bio nerd and i could probably ramble about that kinda stuff for awhile so im gonna keep it shorter and stick to sharks, aka my favorite species... i apologize for the very long ramble incoming

id imagine that the kind of shark makes merfolk vary heavily - you have smaller, less aggressive sharks (bamboo sharks, nurse sharks, leopard sharks), then you have dogfish which are aggressive small schooling sharks (that actually have venom from what i remember), and the big bois that are mean like bull sharks, oceanic whitetip sharks, great whites, ect. also you have basking sharks and whale sharks which are big ass chill lads. as much as i love them having a tail instead of legs, i think there'd be two "forms" of merperson, one with legs and a tail and one with just the tail. im mainly referring to the ones with legs and tails when i talk about them

like i was saying, the kind of shark species a merperson (or mershark, ill start calling them that) makes them differ between general personality, strength, size, ect ect. bigger sharks are more popular due to their strength, aggression, and speed, making them very useful in the military. smaller guys also have their advantages - its just that a bull mershark would have a much easier time in the military compared to a lemon mershark. although bigger lads are definitely more of a pain in the ass to work with if they grew up in the ocean over on land, cause i like to think most mershark (and merfolk in general) prefer living in the ocean. smaller sharks are easier to control, as they tend to be less prideful and stubborn compared to the bigger species. oceanic whitetip would be especially bad due to their aggression and pride, they're probably the most aggressive species of shark in the ocean

then when it comes to mating/courtship rituals... they don't do any of the fancy things like a werewolf, harpy, or dragon, they're rather direct. sharks in the wild don't court, typically when they meet another shark of the opposite gender they mate due to how rarely they meet other sharks, although mersharks would probably have small courtship rituals. it's pretty simple, just spending more time around who they want to court. i also think it'd be really cute if they gave the person they were courting a shark tooth of theirs that fell off as a memento of sorts. when it comes to mating, male sharks bite as a ritual. not as hard as they'd bite prey, but definitely enough to leave scars. shark mating is pretty rough, but mersharks would probably tone it back a little bit, though there will be times when their instincts slip.

mershark are also oblivious as fuck to other courting rituals if they grew up in the ocean. almost no shark species really have courting, so they don't have instincts when it comes to someone courting them, and they don't have the same socialization that a mershark that grew up on land would have. i just think mersharks are very interesting and very cool <3

thank you for reading my insane rambling about sharks and sharkpeople... once again, sorry for the long ramble, but i had to share my thoughts

Oh god anon this is some GOOD SOUP and as a fellow animal nerd I absolutely love hearing weird animal facts and all I can imagine is just Ghost and Sharkmer reader being absolute idiots lol :D

CW: NSFW at the end, short and quick bc brain isn't braining but this concept of your anon is so cool!

Like Ghost initially thinking all monster courting rituals are complicated as fuck, and the info he finds on the internet doesn't help one bit. And you, having grown up in the ocean, have no fucking clue he's trying to court you in some convoluted way.

You'll spend days just existing next to him, or very gently nibbling on his fingers, which, in your mind, makes it very clear you want to mate, but all Ghost thinks is that you want to eat him. And the next thing you know he's shoving an energy bar into your mouth and walking away and you're left confused.

And Ghost, bless the poor fool's soul, eventually gets lured into the waters by your sparkling eyes and wide grin of sharp teeth. The same teeth bite down on every piece of his skin, not enough to actually hurt him, but your teeth marks litter his thighs, his ass, all across his chest and especially around his pecs, from shoulders down to his biceps and anywhere you can reach while you stretch him.

God the sex is one of the best he's ever had, his usually cold body warming up from the proximity of you and the warm waters you're in as you slowly fuck both of your cocks into him, having stretched him open until he was unable to beg between his hiccups. And he's so pretty beneath you, rough groans as he rubs his cock while you move your hips in a slow rhythm, your dicks pushing in and out, in and out, brushing against his prostate until he was close to losing his mind with how you stretched him beyond imagination.

Some of your teeth end up lodged in his shoulder, and when you finish mating him you tell him to keep them, making them into a necklace he now wears around his neck.

[seraphmaws]

hi ^-^! Can you do a tutorial on how to make this icon? I would like to learn :3

https://64.media.tumblr.com/64eb5472b1d49fc941ccefbae558846e/cb2b70c34ebba0a7-b4/s1280x1920/d9e44a125324b309a533a1e56be842355046d740.gifv

Hello! I apologize in advance for my poor explanation skills, and also for how convoluted this process can get 😭 But I saw this as a worthy challenge, so here’s how you too can make a gif icon where the character comes out of the frame like this and this:

This is going to be very long so the full tutorial is under this cut!

Programs I use: IbisPaintX and Procreate*

*full disclosure, procreate is exclusively for iPad and costs 10 USD. however every thing I do in procreate you should also be able to do in Photopea

1. First things first, after finding the gif you’ll want to use, you’ll need to download each individual frame. By importing it into either procreate, photopea, or any program that’ll allow you to view individual frames, you’ll be able to save each frame

A note about gifs: The best gifs to use are ones with less frames due to the fact you’ll be editing the individual frames. Not to say you can’t use gifs with higher frame counts, however it is much more time consuming the more frames there are

2. Next you’ll have to remove the background from each frame. You can remove the background by hand, but I like to use this website to help make things a bit easier. Just pop your frames into it and download each one

It is unfortunately not always accurate and often misses things on images where the background isn’t clearly defined or is lower quality, and you most definitely will have to do touch ups on your frames For example here, for some reason, the first two frames (on the left) were left with a semi transparent gray background and in the image in the middle, you can see sizable areas where the website missed. And also as of recently there as been practically invisible dots it leaves where the background once was that stroke filter picks up some how. You’ll need to hit each frame with the magic wand tool or similar to remove these dots if you plan on adding strokes

3. Now add all your frames into your program and stick them in a folder. Then, reposition the frames on top of the image mask you are using (in ibis, make sure all frames are visible and select the folder before repositioning the frames, in other programs, you should just be able to select multiple layers and move them that way). Once you’ve repositioned them, duplicate the folder then select clipping on the bottom folder like shown in the right image (I know I forgot to duplicate the folder then 💀)

4. Now here’s where the tedious stuff comes in. Make sure you number your frames, because it’ll help you out a lot. In the top folder, erase the bottom part of your gif that you want to be in the frame (I’ll call this the clipping layer) but keep the top where you want to be coming out of the frame intact (this’ll be the overlapping layer). Repeat this process for all of the frames

Note: Try to use a simple shaped frame for these kinds of icons. However, if you choose to use something with a more complex shape, be weary of where you erase! You will need to be more precise with shapes like these depending on where you want things to go

And if you haven’t edited the frame itself, you should do so now

5.5. After that, you can leave things off there and skip this step if that’s what you’re going for! However, if you want to add things like strokes, it’ll get a lil more complicated

Firstly, I duplicate my clipping layer and then select stroke (both). You can also use stoke (outer) or whatever your program has, but this is my personal preference. I then duplicate that layer and keep applying stroke till I get what I want (if you use stroke (outer) duplicating your layer isn’t necessary). I think merge my stroke layers together, but I keep it separate from my main frame

That way I can duplicate my stroke layer and add it to my overlapping layer. Then I erase the unnecessary parts shown on the left. You may need to clean up the stroke on certain frames or reapply it depending on the position of things and what you’ve erased and what not. It takes a lot of trial and error. You can also apply the stroke before you make your overlapping layers, however when I was making this graphic I fucked it up in the process of making this tut and had to remake it so that’s what I did the second time around 💀 if you were wondering why I didn’t just do that in the first place, now you know

6. Now it’s time to export your layers as a psd and import it into procreate/photopea! You’ll now have to merge your clipping layer into your image mask then merge your overlapping layer on top of it to create one layer. Repeat this for all the frames and you’ll be finished!

Tada! Now you can add filters and whatever else if so desired. And that’s my process for making these kinds of graphics! There’s definitely an easier way of doing this but that’s just what I’ve got figured out for now. Don’t hesitate to ask any questions for the things that make zero sense lol

[thegoldencontracts]

what would you imagine azul’s ideal first date would be? whatever it was, he’d probably be very awkward, but would try to cover it up, of course, because azul?? being nervous?? no way!!

Don't Question Me!

Epic idea, dearest anon, I love flustered Azul hehe <3

Notes: Teasing reader bc I was in a silly goofy mood

If someone told Azul Ashengrotto that he would be closing the Lounge for an entire night just so he could deal with the anxiety he felt going out with his crush, he would've laughed in their face.

But here he was, sitting in a seat, desperately attempting to keep his composure while you looked at him with amusement in your eyes.

"Hey, Azul," you said, picking at your dinner. "Is something wrong?"

Azul hastily shook his head.

"No, not at all," he said.

You just grinned. He didn't like that look one bit.

"Really?" You said. "You seem nervous."

Azul scoffed. He couldn't let himself be so easily teased.

"Preposterous," he said. He didn't like the way your amusement only seemed to increase at that.

"You don't have to deny it, Azul," you teased. "It's normal to be nervous on a first date."

"I pride myself on deviating from the norm."

"Bold words. Can you prove them?"

What was your agenda here? Were you intending to get something from him? Was this all some convoluted blackmail attempt?

"Of course I can." Azul decided to answer your challenge. "How exactly do you intend for me to do it, then?

You smirked, as if you were completely certain that whatever you said next would render Azul defeated.

"Why don't you let me feed you, darling?"

His face warmed up. Curses.

How was he meant to respond to that? Let you? That seemed like the only way to avoid being teased here.

You sensed the embarrassment radiating off of him, if the way your grin widened was any indication.

"Unless, of course, you're too embarrassed?"

"P-Preposterous!" Azul exclaimed, cursing himself for how flustered he sounded.

"Prove it, then." You didn't give him a moment to compose himself before picking up some of the salad on his plate and putting it up to his mouth. "Say 'ah'."

What sort of game was this? It should've been so easy to just allow you, prove he wasn't flustered by intimacy, put an end to this tomfoolery of yours-

But he couldn't. His face had flushed, his palms dripping with sweat, as if this were some Herculean task rather than an act common during dates.

Why? He was ordinarily so composed - even when the most bone-chilling of insults and threats were hurled at him. He'd spent years ensuring he knew how to effortlessly navigate conversations, but it seemed like that had all been thrown out the window.

You seemed all too smug about this. That wouldn't do. He had to regain his composure.

"Apologies," he said, more mumbled. "I was merely confused at how stupid- er, unfamiliar your behavior is."

The fake Freudian slip - that usually worked. No one managed to see through it.

But, of course, it seemed you were an exception.

"You don't have to get all huffy just because you're too embarrassed to let me feed you, Azul," you crooned, and he could feel his face flush.

"I wasn't intending to call your traditions stupid, that was merely-"

"You never say the entire word when you accidentally say what you think about something," you said. "And your fist always clenches when you realize your mistake."

How did you know him so well? It was mortifying. Flattering, too, but he'd never say that aloud.

That was irrelevant. He had no defense here. What did he do?

"This is all a foolish endeavor," he said, and you merely laughed.

"Aww, is the infamous Octavinelle housewarden getting embawewassed?" Your baby talk was infuriating. "Or maybe you're just nervous?"

You really wanted to make him suffer, didn't you?

"Don't question me!" He said, sounding much louder than he intended. Curses.

He looked away, feeling his lips jut into a pout.

"I'm simply not- all that accustomed to romance."

There was something that felt oddly vulnerable about this, as if he'd just shown you his body lain bare.

He really wasn't. Before you, he hadn't even gone on a date in his life. No one wanted to get anywhere near the ugly little octopus boy from back then, after all.

Would you be the same? Had this all been some elaborate attempt to gather blackmail, or perhaps just a laugh at his expense? It certainly seemed like it.

Your face softened.

"I wasn't trying to make you feel bad, Azul," you said, seeming almost remorseful. "I just- It's so rare to see you out of your element for once. You're always so perfect, so in control that I just, uh, couldn't help but want to see more, y'know?"

That sudden shift in tone was odd.

Wait.

Had he said that out loud?

That wasn't good. He had to regain his composure, reassert himself, he wasn't just some awkward boy!

"It's nice, actually." Your odd statement pulled him from his thoughts.

"What?"

"You know, this," you said, gesturing to him vaguely. "Seeing you act- more like me. Like you're not some vaguely capitalist entity. You look cute when you get all flustered, too."

You thought he was cute? Preposterous. He wasn't cute, he was a businessman, he was intimidating.

And he was hideous. Did you honestly think highly of his appearance?

It felt- nice, in all honesty. Someone who thought he was attractive. But he couldn't assume.

"Spare me the flattery," he said, though he was smiling. "Now then-"

He stood from his seat, extending a hand.

"I'm aware our date's meant to conclude by now, but I must ask for you to continue things back in my dorm."

This was it. This was where he'd see if you were interested in continuing to date him or not. He'd picked out a weekend, made sure your schedule was completely clear, that you had no commitments to attend to. He'd kept this date short to avoid draining your energy.

Now, all that was left was to see how you acted.

You smiled, taking his hand.

"I would love that."

[edutainer2022]

An unassuming coincidence on a Friday night leads to an unforeseen chain of events. Jeff Tracy is badass. Teen Scott doesn't always follow Dad's orders to the letter. A kidnapping goes wrong. And I'm always intrigued by TAG Jeff up and packing his young sons into increasingly remote locations.

Many thanks to @janetm74 , as ever, for kind support!

ERGO PROPTER HOC

In hindsight, so many things aligned that day that normally wouldn't. His late evening conference call with the GDF Headquarters in a different time zone got rescheduled because of, ironically enough, a storm raging through Central Europe, that demanded consolidation of rescue and dispatch efforts. So that would mean he'd be home before his sons' bedtime (not that the elder three still pretended having one), for once. On a Friday. His mind drew a rather shameful blank, trying to remember the respective school and club schedules. Scott had been juggling the pick-ups and so much more since... well, for far too long.

Anyway, a call from his eldest's basketball coach settled the score - the boy sprained a wrist early into practice. The coach was following protocol and was more comfortable with sending Scott out to the hospital for a proper X-ray. Jeff's eldest son would never have called him at work if he could help it - unlike the father, he actually did remember the agenda for the week, and A LOT was riding on that GDF call. But the coach likely wanted to avoid liability for delay. It was too soon to break the practice up or to let Scott sit it out with an ice-pack and then bum a ride from one of his friends (or bargain with them to skip hospital altogether and give him a ride home, more like). The coach also wouldn't hand Jeff's underage son over to a stranger, a status in the Tracy wider social circle Kyrano was vehement to maintain. Anyhow, the stars aligned so that Jeff was available (and quite a bit worried by the time he got there). Which might have bumped the stars some more into giving him a flat tire.

They ended up taking Scott's car to save time, Jeff driving. The trip proved a breezy affair as there was no damage beyond a sprain. Nothing a brace, some cold, Ibuprofen and rest couldn't fix. Jeff saw how the latter might prove a problem, though, with the three year old Allie practically living in Scott's arms. But that was to be a problem for Dad Jeff to deal with later that evening. In the meantime, they had some much overdue quality time one on one, complete with some take-away burgers and a backseat full of stacked pizzas and other delicious goodies for the all-boys movie night at home.

Jeff's enjoyment of the afternoon was slightly marred by Scott apologizing up, down and backwards for interrupting Dad's workday. That, and the boy being obviously in more pain than he let on. But that too was an issue for Dad Jeff to tackle later. For the time being he let himself enjoy his eldest son's company.

***

The drive back to the farm was to be swift and uneventful. He could see Scott, paler than Jeff was strictly happy about, fighting off fatigue, and wondered if the movie night would quickly turn into a puppy pile sleepover. That thought might have twitched annoyance in his gut as he saw a two-car crash ahead, blocking an otherwise empty road. He didn't want any delays on the way to spend a Friday night with his kids.

Jeff was used to trusting his gut. It got him through tight fixes in a war, out in space, all the way on friggin' Mars. It helped him navigate the World Council and GDF convoluted politicking, and the cut-throat business scene. So now, when one of the drivers, engrossed in dispute, looked up at their approaching car - Scott's car - Jeff's gut was blaring a red alert.

An imperceptible shift in stance to reach for the weapons, the cold glimmer in the eyes, the vaguely familiar faces of Gaat's "assistants" launched Jeff's mind into a breakneck tumble. He assessed the situation and weighed the options. From the passenger seat big blue eyes were glancing up at him in worry as Dad's hands tightened at the wheel, his face momentarily hardened. Jeff made a move for the glove compartment, then remembered they were in Scott's car. No gun! The curse that followed had the blue eyes dilate wider, startled. He was scaring his son, which entirely defeated the purpose. Okay, new plan! The seatbelt clicked off.

"Bluejay! I need you to take the wheel now! Don't stop, drive off! Tell Kyrano to get you and the boys away at once! He'll know what to do!"

"Dad!!!"

The face of his young self was sheet white now, bright blue almost black with disbelief.

"Dad! What are you gonna do?! I CAN'T LEAVE YOU HERE! Dad, what's wrong!?!!"

They were approaching fast, he didn't take the foot off the pedal, hoping to give Scott momentum. And a chance to flee. The goons on the road were openly smirking now. He could see the sunset bounce off one of the gun barrels.

"I need you to do exactly as I say, son! It's an order! Don't stop, don't look back! GO!"

He didn't have time to placate a frightened child, even if the last thing he would see in life would be the horrified features of his son. He could think of worse ways to go. Smaller shaking hands, one in a brace, clasped the wheel. He knew Lord Hugh's "multitalanted valet" had taught Scott extreme driving, so he ought not to doubt the boy's ability to speed through. With one parting glance he opened the door and jumped, aiming to tackle one of the henchmen to the ground.

***

Whoever his erstwhile friend sent out, were certainly not expecting a combat hardened veteran with rigorous astronaut training under his belt. Nor a father determined to protect the most precious with his life. It nearly came down to that too, as they were no amateurs either. But they definitely didn't expect Belah Gaat's brother, skidding into the fray in Jeff's farm truck. Jeff didn't anticipate Kyrano as well, but couldn't turn down the much needed help. On second thought, it didn't surprise him Scott obviously disobeyed his order. The realization didn't add to his piece of mind one bit.

Leaving Kyrano to deal with the henchmen and with the police (in whichever order he saw fit), Jeff, though visibly worse for the wear, vehemently shot down the suggestion to wait to pop into a hospital and floored it home in the truck. He needed to hold his kids!

***

The house was dark and quiet to the point it seemed empty. Jeff could feel this heart pounding as he checked the sitting room, kitchen, the boys' bedrooms up on the second floor, and even the attic. Scott's car was haphazardly parked on the driveway, so they didn't leave. Logically, Jeff knew the kids could be hiding somewhere on the farm property, while Kyrano was dispatched to help him in a fix. There were no signs of struggle anywhere in the house. But logic eschewed his rational thinking till he hadn't spotted his sons - safe and sound. Jeff was about ready to expand the search perimeter to the barn, when he noticed the basement door locked. After the TV-21 sabotage and Belah's thinly veiled threats, the hurricane shelter was transformed into a fully stocked panic room, complete with a touch pad lock. Jeff promptly ran the scanner and made his way down an equally dark stairway. On his last steps down he was momentarily blinded by a flash of light. His eyes adjusted to a siluette of Scott, clutching the gun, usually stashed in a coded safe. The boy was visibly trembling, but held the weapon steady, level with Jeff's torso - the wrist in a brace supported by the uninjured hand. The flash of light couldn't hide the pallor and the thin line of Scott's lips, pursed tight against the pain. The other boys were huddled behind him - John and Virgil hugging the Tinies between them. John was brandishing a torch.

"Put the gun down, son! It's Dad!"

It took a moment for the scared minds to process his words and for the eyes to adjust and identify the intruder.

He let the breath out only having removed the gun from Scott's grasp and tucked it securely out of reach, once the safety clicked back on. The next instant the eldest boy nearly collapsed into him and he had his arms full all five sons. The ribs that took a significant battering protested, but Jeff didn't care. He took his time liberally distributing soothing hugs and kisses over each and every mop of hair. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises as well, but that would have to wait. He needed to feel his boys breathing, warm and alive, and close to him.

That day indeed ended in a puppy pile, albeit not the way anybody expected. He left the in the basement for the night - for his own peace of mind. He kept the gun tucked into his belt - for the same reason.

Once the boys settled down into uneasy sleep, including little Allie bursting into tears and Scott persuaded to take another painkiller, Jeff did another round of kisses on assorted brows, noses and temples, and made his way back up to the kitchen, trying not to wake them up with his own grunts. He needed to see about those injuries, finally. Gaat's crooks did a number on him.

He probably should have known better than to sneak away from his eldest. Sure enough, light steps soon followed him into the kitchen. Scott slipped from the basement and made a beeline to the medical cabinet. The movements of a slender teen's figure were sure even by the moonlight. Nible hands produced gauze, antiseptic cream, and cold packs with practiced precision. The boy's face was serious and wrought with concern. At some point the shadows shifted and Jeff nearly swayed on his perch by the kitchen isle - he had to blink hard, twice, to let the gossamer vision pass.

"How did you get the gun, Bluejay?"

Scott froze midstep to soak a clean washcloth for Dad's gushes. Jeff mentally kicked himself. That was relatively far removed on his priority list at the moment!

Angular shoulders, still in the team jersey, shrugged.

"John hacked the safe code way back - we needed Allie's birth certificate for daycare."

Jeff had to brace himself on the edge of the counter not to keel over and keen, like a kicked dog. Ashamed.

The boy shifted from foot to foot and visibly braced himself, ready for a reprimand. When he turned back to Jeff, blue eyes were silver with tears.

"Are you mad at me, Dad? I couldn't just leave you there!"

How could he be? The boy's disobedience and quick thinking, ultimately, saved his life. He beaconed Scott closer and draped an arm around the still bony frame.

"I know, Bluejay! I'm not mad. I just need to be sure you'll follow my lead when it's about you and your brothers' safety, deal?"

"Yes, sir."

The answer was barely above whisper - the teen was still notably trembling, exhausted and anxious. Jeff sealed the deal with a kiss to the side of the boy's head and gave them both a moment, cheek resting on the disheveled curls. The kid was chasing him in height so fast.

Scott shifted away, startled by a sudden thought.

"Dad! How did they know you'd be driving!?"

They didn't. The roadblock trap was set up to kidnap a teenager, driving alone late. Terrified eyes searched his face for an answer his son had already figured out. He shifted to adjust the embrace tighter with both arms and guided the boy's head into the crook of his neck. The soft half-sob, half-gasp nearly tore Jeff apart. Come dawn, he'd need to make arrangements to relocate the boys far away. Kyrano and Hiram would help him turn Gran Roca into an impenetrable fortress. To begin with. He'd spare no effort to keep his sons safe.

[nana-b0b]

nana ive been trying to figure out sukuna and aurora's lore but im so confused can u give us a short 3-5 sentence explanation on how they met and what they are like now and stuff

I know! I apologize for that guys :`(, I know your story is a bit difficult and convoluted but I'm thinking of making a short graphic to explain it better so that everything is understood! The reason why it's all so complicated is because, in part, I'm trying to link Aurora and Narumi's story with the manga and there are things I'm missing to adjust but I promise to be as clear and concise as possible in my explanation ♥

[honey-andmilktea]

✎ Neighbors: Chapter 4: Cookies & Introductions

🤎𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: OnlineInfluencers!BTS OT7 (Eventually) x Animator!Fem!OC!Reader, Model!Jimin x ProfessionalGamer!Jungkook, Model!Jimin x Animator!Fem!OC!Reader x ProfessionalGamer!Jungkook, Artist!Taehyung x Animator!Fem!OC!Reader (If you squint), Artist!Taehyung x Model!Jimin x ProfessionalGamer!Jungkook | 🌙𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫���: Fluff, College AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, 3rd Person | 🖊️𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,695 Words | ✏️𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Not Edited! | ❌𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: None(?)

🍁𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After fussing over meeting their new found friend, Taehyung doesn’t know how to feel about the girl. By coincidence they managed to meet but he doesn’t seem completely convinced.

👻𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐬: Woo! Update! Lol I'm starting to debate if I should start writing for Arcane too.

🐻 ��𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“January pitches her voice over the noise: last year’s ghosts are dead, that’s reason enough to celebrate.” — Angela Lowes, ‘January is an Optimist’

He walked up to the house's shared office where he knew Namjoon and Jin were going to be at. He already had a semblance of what they were going to say to him, he really didn’t feel like talking about it. The crowd wasn’t necessarily a mistake, he was just having a little fun. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone or break whatever illusion of normalcy they were trying to build. He didn’t know how they were meant to live normally either, their faces were plastered everywhere and people knew them by name. He didn’t see the harm in walking around and flaunting it a little, maybe even getting a couple new fans to watch his videos and check out his modeling stuff. He let out a sigh as he knocked on the door and opened it when there was a soft ‘come in’ from the other side.

Time to get this over with.

When he walked in he was greeted with Namjoon’s disappointed eyes and Jin’s annoyance. Ah yes, the parents of the group. He expects no less. “Take a seat.” Namjoon says motioning to a chair that was positioned in front of them. Jimin couldn’t help but feel nervous now, he knew they weren’t going to hurt him but it felt like he was being interrogated for a crime. When he sat down is when the silence completely dissipated.

“You know what you did was stupid right?” Jin spoke up brashly while Namjoon put his hand up and looked at Jin.

“What Seokjin means is that, we wished you would have ran over what you were planning with us before you did it. It could have been dangerous.” Jimin’s tense posture from before eased up a little and he frowned looking down a little guilty. They were just worried.

“What if you got kidnapped! Or some person came and hurt you! What would we have done then?” Jin continued his anger from before melting down to worried eyes and a soft sigh. “We’re just worried about you.” He added on after a bit of silence. Jimin nodded and looked down, he didn’t want to apologize because he should be able to do what he wanted. He was a grown man after all. On the other hand though he felt bad, he didn’t mean to worry his boyfriends like that and mulling it over was a bit dangerous. It wasn’t a controlled environment and anyone could have been there. He didn’t regret it though, he managed to meet Chul. How could he regret that?

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It won’t happen again, I’ll fill you in next time I plan something like this.” It was a half truth and a sincere apology, he definitely was sorry but…he might forget to fill them in if he had another crazy stunt to pull. And his two boyfriends were aware of that, hence the looks they gave each other basically saying with their eyes ‘He’s not going to’. Jin shook his head but smiled a little, he loved him no matter how convoluted or stupid he could get. Namjoon also smiled, laughing a little and motioning Jimin over so they could hug it out. The tense and upsetting atmosphere simmering down now full of laughs and kisses. 

“Please be more careful.” Namjoon said when Jimin pulled away and he nodded agreeing to at least be a little more careful with his next plan. They spoke for a little longer about plans for the rest of the day and what everyone will be up to. With one last kiss to both their cheeks Jimin walked out the room. He peeked around noticing Yoongi wasn’t there assuming he went to his room to nap or to his studio. He hummed and walked to Jungkook’s room knocking on the door to see if it was okay for him to walk in. He’s had too many instances of walking in when Jungkook was streaming and didn’t need for that to happen again. Jungkook had stood up to open the door and gave his boyfriend a big bunny smile.

“How did it go?”

“Better than expected. They were just worried, you know how they are.”

“Do you still want to cuddle?”

“Damn right I do.” Jungkook laughed while Jimin smiled big, they linked hands and went to find Taehyung to add to their cuddle pile. Said man was painting something, neither one of the other two knew what but it seemed so important that it took Jimin and Jungkook to pull out the puppy eyes. The man sighed, falling victim to their cute gazes and grumbled.

“Fine. Let me clean up.” Both cheered and decided to help, more like Jungkook helped and Jimin sat watching as they moved around. Subtly checking out his boyfriends because hey, how couldn’t he when they looked so good. When they were done Jimin took both their hands and dragged them to his room also known as Taehyung and Jimin’s room since they tended to spend the most time together. They also piled in, Tae changing into a pair of more comfortable clothes than his smock and paint littered pants. Getting comfortable, Jimin in the middle and Jungkook and Taehyung on either side, they started having light conversation.

They talked about classes, professors and other random things. Such as games, food, and works in progress. They continued this light conversation with gentle actions, some tracing of patterns on exposed skin, soft cheek kisses. Everything was gentle and soft in that moment until at one point they started talking about Chul. “She seems so sweet. I’m glad we managed to make a friend.” Jungkook mused and Jimin nodded along.

“She also seems to not know who we are. And if she does she hides it really well.” This was a run over of their conversation in the car, they were speaking more about it to try and get Taehyung to agree to meet her. They thought if they fluffed her up and made it known she wasn’t a crazed fan he would be open to meeting her. Taehyung sat there not knowing how to feel exactly. He was glad his boyfriends had found someone new to talk to but he was always overprotective of them. He tended to be more closed off than the rest, not as much as Yoongi but definitely to an extent. When it was just Jimin and him he didn’t know how to feel when Jimin brought up the fact that he was starting to have feelings for Jungkook. For a while he had blocked Jimin out. It wasn’t his boyfriend’s fault he just had some trust issues he had to get over and when he managed to finally accept Jimin and Jungkook being a thing he somehow got pulled in as well and now here he was with 6 other boyfriends and he couldn’t be anymore happier.

But what if she’s different?

What if she actually ends up using them? Or hurt them? 

‘You’re getting ahead of yourself Taehyung. They’re talking about a friend, nothing more.’ He frowned to himself but tried to press a smile onto his lips. 

“She’s also really pretty. Come on Tae! You would like her.~” Jimin said trying to convince his boyfriend while Jungkook nodded his head. 

“She’s also a Photographer! You guys could bond over that.” Jungkook added in with a big smile and Jimin nodded quickly at that. Tae felt emotions stirring in his stomach as he looked at the two.

“I don’t know…”

“Oh please! Please!”

“If you don’t get along you don’t have to talk to her ever again. But at least meet her first before judging her.” They both gave him puppy eyes and he sighed. He was really a fool in love, huh? 

“Fine. But if I don’t get good vibes from her, I’m not spending time with her and you guys have to lessen your time around her.” They both cheered knowing that wasn’t going to happen and they had a good feeling.

A feeling that Tae would trust her straight away. They could be wrong but it never hurts to be a little optimistic. After talking about ways they could meet, they changed the subject and talked for a little longer before they each had to go their own ways. Each saying goodbye with a hug and soft kiss.

Taehyung tried to focus on his day knowing Jimin and Jungkook were blissfully unaware of his thoughts but his mind kept swirling. Wondering about what this girl could do to them and it was making him slightly sick. He tried to shake off the feeling and focus on setting up and getting ready for a Live he had planned for.

She couldn’t be that bad. Right?

It had been a couple days since the incident, Jungkook and Jimin trying everything they could to get Taehyung and Chul to meet. They asked her on days that Tae wasn’t busy and asked him on days he wasn’t bust. It always seemed that the other had something to do when the other was free and it was starting to frustrate the younger men. Jimin had gone pouting at Yoongi about it going to lay on his chest while the older scrolled through his phone.

“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.” Jimin scoffed at that and disagreed right away. Yoongi rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through Jimin’s hair. “Then let it happen naturally. If you guys keep forcing it, it’ll never happen.” And Jimin actually mulled that over. Maybe he was right, forcing them to meet like this wouldn’t get them anywhere, letting them meet by coincidence or when everything falls into place would be better and definitely reap better outcomes. So that’s what they did, they let things go with the flow and see what happens.

Cul was in her kitchen running around with flour on her face and apron. Her phone was propped up with San, Wooyoung and Hongjoong on the screen watching her run around. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this. It’s literally been, what, a month since they moved in. I bet your neighbors don’t even care.”

“Don’t listen to him, I think it’s sweet that you’re doing this for them.” San said, giving his boyfriend a disapproving look. Wooyoung just rolled his eyes and ate from the bag of chips in his hand as he let them chat.

“Plus, you didn’t have to do this for them so I bet they’ll appreciate the effort you put in.”

“I really hope they do like them. I tried to make sure they were allergy friendly, gluten free, you know so they don’t hurt anyone.” She pouted a little worryingly at her bottom lip while San chuckled at her and Hongjoong calmed her down, letting her know that it would all be fine. 

“Since you’re making them cookies did you make us stuff too?” Wooyoung butted in everyone going silent. Hongjoong and San looked at Woo while he just shrugged.

“What?!”

“Don’t ask things like that! It’s rude!” Chul laughed at her friends pulling the cookies out of the oven and putting them to cool. 

“It’s okay guys. I did make enough for you all too.” She smiled softly and laughed when Woo cheered, San shaking his head and Hongjoong just smiled with a small laugh at all of them. They kept talking like that until Chul’s cookies cooled.

“Let me know how it goes, if they’re rude I’ll go over there and give them a piece of my mind.” Hongjoong said playfully which made Chul laugh and Woo scoffed.

“As if your scrawny ass could do anything.” Hongjoong looked at him incredulously about to start an argument.

“Okay, it’s time to say goodbye before the girls start to fight.” San interjected, causing Chul to laugh louder and the other two started to throw offended comments at him. 

“Bye guys!~” They each said their own goodbyes before she hung up. She moved the cookies into a pretty container with a cloth napkin at the bottom of it. When she was sure it was well packed she grabbed a heavier jacket and scarf. Slipping on some boots and heading to the house next to hers. She took a deep breath at the door before raising her fist and knocked. 

She waited a second before groaning and realizing she could have rung the bell instead and did that hoping no one heard her knock the first time. She waited for some time hoping she wasn’t intruding on anyone's time. She stood there a bit longer before deciding to go, chalking it up to no one being home until she heard the lock of the door open. She quickly turned back and smiled big at the person being greeted with brown eyes and wavy dark brown hair. “Oh! Hello, um I’m sorry for bothering you but I live next door. I know it’s been a little while since you’ve moved in but I thought I should introduce myself!” She bowed to him. “My name is Lee Chul, it’s nice to meet you.” She smiled as she stood upright again and held up the cookies. “I made you all some cookies. I hope there’s enough, I wasn’t sure how many people lived here so I made a few just in case.” 

Taehyung was annoyed when he heard the doorbell ring, having been in the middle of streaming. When he didn’t hear another ring he let it go until Namjoon came down with crossed arms and asked him politely to check the door that he and Yoongi were bust and if he could do them this favor. He sighed irritated but nodded telling his viewers to give him one second and he muted walking to the door. He opened the door and looked unamused at the girl at the door. About to tell her that they weren’t interested until she started talking before he could. She was extremely cheerful for someone standing in the cold. It kind of irritated him but he couldn’t be mad when she looked kind of cute. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe with a bored expression on his face until she mentioned her name. ‘Lee Chul, huh? Is this the girl Jungkook and Jimin wanted him to meet?’ He tried to hide his smile at the massive coincidence and irony here. He bowed back and gently took the container. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. It was kind of you, I’m Taehyung. Kim Taehyung. It’s nice to finally meet who lives next to us, we started to think it was haunted.” He teased, causing Chul to blush in embarrassment and Tae held back his laugh. “I’m sorry to cut this short but I’m a bit busy right now, maybe we’ll meet again.” Chul nodded her head still smiling, which intrigued him. They said their goodbyes and he closed the door walking to the kitchen to put the container on a counter. 

He could see why they wanted him to meet her, she was cute, cheerful and seemed to be full of life. But that didn’t stop her from being able to hurt them. Jungkook and Jimin were too trusting and he wasn’t going to let some girl hurt them. He would need to just ring her out and see what she could handle. He opened the container expecting the cookies before taking a bite out of one.

They were good.

He grumbled as he finished the cookie. He heard footsteps and noticed Jungkook. He explained that someone came to the door to introduce themselves as their neighbor and brought them cookies. He left out the fact that it was Chul, he wanted to have a little fun with this.

“Cookies?! Awe, that’s sweet of them, I wish I went down. Would have loved to say hello to them.”

‘Oh you would have.’ Tae thought, as a small smirk was playing on his lips. 

“So, when do I get to meet this friend of yours, um, Chul was it?” Jungkook brightened up at his question, too excited to see Tae’s face.

✎ @honey-andmilktea - 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜. [2025 - 2026]

✎ Thank you for reading! Since you've made it this far please consider reblogging, commenting or getting a coffee at the Coffee Corner! [Ko-fi]

✎ Taglist: @armysantiny, @faywithlove, @kpopadminnie, @iridescentxstars, @felicityroth

✎: @angelfuzzy2, @singukieee

[shunin-gumis]

As Master Joe Wishes - Track 02

Seasonal Team Event - L4mps

Thank you Jelly for handling this chapter!

~~~(flashback)

Toi: Wawawaa! The exterior was lovely, but the interior is also wonderful! It looks like the kind of place where the main character falls in love with the love interests, or have major misunderstandings... It’s so heart pounding!

Ryui: Oi, ‘sit okay to take pictures here? I wanna take pictures of Toi.

Samejima: It should be fine, I think.

Daniel: …The way you say that means this ain’t your house?

Netaro: Sammy lives in much cheaper accommodation than this.

Samejima: Hahaha, but after 30 years, my loan will—... Hey, wait a sec!

Yodaka: Apologies for the sudden question, Samejima-san, but how exactly are you acquainted with Netaro?

Samejima: Well after a certain case, he's started to help me with some of my investigations. Only occasionally, though.

Nagi: …By a certain case, do you mean the one with the missing heart and flowers*?

Yodaka: I see, so it was then… I understand.

Ryui: And? Can we get back on track? Don’ tell me we came in just to have a fuckin’ tea party? If it’s that then I’m headin’ home.

Samejima: Haha, that would put me in a tight spot so let's get started.

Samejima: Uhh, we called everyone here today to this remote location because of a certain request. —Hiramei, the documents.

Hiramei: Sup, I’m Samejima-san’s subordinate, Hiramei, nice to meet you. Here are the holo-documents!

Daniel: …A guard for this manor’s master?

Samejima: Yes. That being said, the original owner of this place passed of senility a few days ago.

Samejima: Her name was “Brunhild Senba.” She was a megastar of the acting world and a German residing in Japan.

Yodaka: In that case, who will we be acting as guards for?

Samejima: That’s the thing. You see, she didn’t have any family members, so through the will, the enormous inheritance she possessed was transferred to a different person…, no, a different child…took it all. That child… is the one you must protect.

Ryui: …This shit seems kinda convoluted.

Samejima: Ahh yeah… I’m not too sure how to explain that part. ...Nevermind that, let’s move on.

Samejima: So, Brunhild-shi was a famous gem collector. She collected many exotic and rare gems.

Samejima: But after her death, rumors that she poured most of her wealth into a custom made “secret treasure” began to circulate about.

Samejima: That’s when we received news that the internationally wanted criminal organization, “Anonymous,” had set their sights on it. Well, they’re called a criminal organization, but they’re honestly just a ragtag bunch of troublemakers… That being said, we can’t let down our guards

Samejima: And amidst that, a world famous phantom thief also got wrapped up in it…

Daniel: Ahh, what the hell, I'm going home.

Toi: Ehhh!? Why!? Danny-san, we’re about to get to the good part!!

Daniel: My dead grandma always told me to never stick my nose into trouble.

Nagi: Trouble……? But it’s like a scene outta a cool drama.

Yodaka: Putting that aside, I think it would be a bit difficult for amateurs like us to go against a criminal organization.

Ryui: I agree with Natsume. Couldn’t give two shits about Hachinoya, but I don’t want Toi to be put in danger.

Daniel: And that’s that. See ya.

Netaro: I won’t let you! You shall not pass, you shall not pass~~~!

Daniel: Woah……. Oi, Netaro, be a good boy and let me go.

Netaro: Nopes, no goesies. If you want to pass, you’ll have to do it over my dead body.

Samejima: Hahaha, sorry, but can you hear me out until the end?

Samejima: And so, well, as you can all guess, we want to use that secret treasure as bait and lure “Anonymous” out in order to round them all up in one go.

Ryui: And like I said, why’s it gotta be us? The police should just do their own thing.

Netaro: Is Ryui a dumb dumb? It’s because they can’t, which is why I was consulted♪

Ryui: You wanna fucking go?

Netaro: And that’s ‘cause, the one we’ll be guarding~, is the “secret treasure” itself~.

Netaro: It’s a very Kawaii and pretty thing after all♪

Ryui: Huh……? The fuck you——

??: May I have your attention please~~~~~~!!!!!!!!!

Notes:

The missing heart and flower case is from Netaro's novel

[princess-of-the-corner]

So I've been having thoughts on developing a proper Rogues Gallery for miraculous. This is going to be long and a little convoluted, I apologize in advance.

The first thing I was thinking about was how there is something of a civilian rogues gallery that already exists. As in, threats Marinette and Adrien regularly has to deal with, but not Ladybug and Chat Noir. These people include Bob Roth, Roger, Andre/Audrey, pre-redemption Chloe, Lila, Felix depending on the day, and occasionally less maligned but incompetent adults like the principal or Bustier. Due to the nature of ML, these are also some of the more frequent targets of akumatization. Gabe and Nathalie can actually also fall on this list, since they manage to be plenty problematic even when it's not part of an evil scheme.

So the issue lies in creating a separate superpowered Rogues Gallery that threatens LB and CN as heroes but not so much as civilians. Like, there's going to be overlap, but a lot of what, Bob Roth for example, does pre-akumatization had little to no bearing on the superhero shenanigans. So there needs to be some villains that do the reverse.

To use a Spider-Man analogy, they have their Flash Thompsons and their JJJs and even their Eddie Brocks/Venoms in the form of Lila, but they don't have, like, a Doc Ock or a Vulture or the rest of the Sinister 6, who don't really give a shit about Peter Parker.

So my next thought was, "what's the path of least resistance to creating a group of consistently present superpowered villains that don't really care about Marinette or Adrien?" And my answer to that was just take some existing akumas and revamp the butterfly powers a bit to make them stick around.

There's already Mr. Pigeon as a non-serious silly threat. I think keeping Stormy Weather, who's a pretty badass akuma and who's akumatization has literally nothing to do with Team Miraculous is a good one, but I'm unsure why Auroré would keep working with HM. Rogercop could be good. He tends to get akumatized because of Team Miraculous, but Roger is also kinda just an asshole, so I feel like there could be other reasons for it. I like the idea of keeping Simon Says too, as a villain that Gabe doesn't have a whole lot of control over, although why Gabe would repeatedly give him powers is a big question, and he's also a bit too sweet to just be villainous on his own. Darkblade could work for another silly one that's somewhat more threatening than Mr. Pigeon, and is also enough of an asshole/weirdo to regularly justify repeated akumatization. I also kinda want Copycat or a variant thereof, as someone who specifically has issues with LB or CN and isn't named Lila. But I'd love to hear your thoughts on who you'd add to the list. Like, I know they smoothed things over with him in canon and in HC, but I'm having trouble thinking of anyone else who has LB or CN related beef.

The main thing I haven't really worked out is how to revamp the butterly powers to make this feasible. My tenuous idea is that instead of like, directly empowering and lowkey mind controlling the akumatized villain in a weird kind of contract situation, the butterfly user just gives them a store of power they can draw on periodically with the power of their emotions. So like, if canon gives you a power that you can use infinitely, but only while being directly controlled by the Butterfly user, this version would give you, like 10 shots before you ran out of power and the Butterfly would have to empower you again. But the stronger your emotions, the more shots you get, or something like that. But that would require an emotionally charged villain to have the foresight to save their shots up for a later date, so IDK if this would actually work.

Thoughts?

Yeah I think my main thought is on the how/why they stay Villains and hm.

I think my thought on it would be the idea of something going 'wrong' in a way?

Maybe this could replace the thing of what happens when Ladybug doesn't Purify the Butterfly. Instead of Hawkmoth being able to make copies, the person just stays in their Akumatized state but is no longer controlled by Hawkmoth.

[textsfromthetva]

apologies for disappearing without a trace. my grandmother had a bad fall (the fourth in one month) and almost died. she's better now, but it was pretty scary for a few days, so I've had to drop everything for a bit.

anyway... Deadpool & Wolverine, huh? I just got back from the cinema, and I have two things to say:

the lack of Mobius or Loki was disappointing, but it was still nice to see B-15. my sister and I made some loud noises at her appearance.

2. I may have boo'd when she was shown to be attracted to Peter, and loudly exclaimed 'she's a lesbian icon!' as the credits rolled.

actually let me add:

3. the Steve Rogers/Johnny Storm bait and switch was brilliant, the audience lost their ever-loving shit.

4. there were so many of Tom Wambsgans' mannerisms and speech patterns woven into Matthew Macfadyen's portrayal of Paradox, and I absolutely loved it. kudos, sir, you really make me love the worst kind of men.

5. sometimes an extended fight scene in a Honda Odyssey is actually a sex scene. I don't make the rules.

so yeah, I had a ton of fun. and sure, the plot was somehow both paper thin and incredibly convoluted, but that doesn't really matter when *NSYNC, the Grease soundtrack, or Madonna is playing in the background while dozens upon dozens of people die comically gory deaths. I find myself grinning with glee during all those scenes, it's so entertaining to watch.

[beannary]

Will we see tlp Donnie in his purple bandanna from the show? I know we have that one post Hamato but I could see that as his walking around the layer look and when he goes out the bandanna to match his sibling. ( convoluted rambling I apologize in advance) I could see some BS like Leo had a purple  phase and has a spar bandanna laying around. They have to go into the hidden city for something and BM is frantically searching for Donnie so to not get recognized they dress Donnie up like them and  guilt trip people into thinking there was four of them this hole time (Sorry for the ramble when I find new au I fixate on them)

Also before they met Donnie do they know there is another one of them like did splinter tell them and they’re just such idiots they couldn’t put it together. Or is splinter just going to walk in on them and the person that kidnapped and be like “ we need to talk” did splinter just assume Donnie was dead

Will Donnie not being there in they’re childhood affected the dynamic of the remaining three or will it be the same as the show?

Also last question i promise where is April.

Sorry again this was so long I love your au and can’t wait to see more!

omg dont apologize for this I absolutely adore rambles about my au!!!! other people sharing their thoughts and ideas makes me think about things that i normally wouldnt have thought about and also it makes me super happy that people are enjoying my story enough to be thinking about it

ok we will see tlp Donnie in a purple bandana at some point, but it won't be for a long time. The bandanas that Splinter gave his kids are you know like specifically for being ninjas, and are a sign of their growth and progress in their ninjitsu training. At this point in the story, Donnie isn't a ninja, and doesn't have any sort of training in fighting. Once he starts living with the Hamatos he will start doing some ninjitsu training and eventually Splinter will give him a purple bandana, but its not going to be something that he wears like everyday or all the time. Being a ninja isn't a core part of tlp Donnie's identity, so he will wear the bandana but only when he goes out on ninja missions or whatever with his siblings. I love that idea that they go into the hidden city and dress Donnie up like them since that would lead to so many goofy hijinks, but really I think that Donnie is mostly going to avoid going to the Hidden City for any reason, at least until he is has trained enough in ninjitsu to mostly go about unnoticed. I don't think he'd want to go to the Hidden City because 1. that's where his mom is and theres a chance she might try to steal him back, and 2. he grew up in the Hidden City and it isn't as cool and exciting as New York is. I think Donnie would much rather explore this new city that he's living in.

So Raph, Leo, and Mikey are partly not connecting the dots because they haven't seen Donnie's shell at all (since he's wearing a shirt and his shell is flat enough that even if there is a bump it isn't super noticeable) so they haven't even connected the dots that he is a turtle yet. But also this isn't something that Splinter has really talked about a whole lot. I'm going to actually explain how Splinter left Donnie behind in an upcoming scene (or at least hopefully I will be, unless something changes in my planning). Splinter in the show really hasn't explained to his kids how they were like created, and I think the same would apply to tlp Splinter. Escaping from Draxum AND losing one of his kids in the process would have been a really painful memory, and its not like his kids even remember the sibling that he left behind. I think his reasoning was why should I tell them about this sibling that is probably dead and like cause them to feel pain and loss over someone they don't even remember.

Donnie not being in the picture does change the dynamic a bit! I'm not super great at portraying it since I'm also mostly still figuring out how their dynamic is different. One thing I know for sure is that Raph and Splinter took on the responsibility of doing repairs around the lair. So Raph and Splinter are a lot closer mostly because they have spent a lot of time together just trying to figure out how to create a functioning home with electricity and plumbing and heating and stuff. And a lot of their troubles with that mostly come from the fact that they arent able to actually buy the supplies that they need to set up all of their utilities so they are mostly just trying their best with whatever trash they find. I think Leo would have ended up with most of the responsibility of looking after Mikey since Raph would have been busy helping Splinter with taking care of the lair and stuff, so Leo and Mikey are a lot closer to each other than they are with Raph. And I think now that Mikey is older and is starting to do things on his own Leo isn't quite sure what to do with himself since he's so used to just looking after Mikey, and he is trying to give Mikey space and stuff since he doesn't want to be overbearing and whatever but he does tend to hover. That's actually the same with Raph, once Donnie enters the picture, Donnie will just start taking on a lot of Raph's responsibilities because he finds them fun and so Raph will end up with a lot of free time on her hands to just try to figure out what she likes to do and stuff.

April hasn't been in the episodes that Ive been pulling plot stuff from so she hasn't shown up yet. She will eventually though. How old is April? like 16 I think? she's doing freaking SAT prep and getting ready to start applying for university and stuff she's just so busy all the time and also she's busy getting fired from every possible job she could get in New York that's why she hasn't been in the comic yet also I don't know how many days the comic spans over? Like not that much time has passed in the comic so it isn't that weird that April hasn't showed up. It is weird in the sense that I've been making the comic for a year but in the comic itself not much time has passed. She will show up! eventually!!!! I just don't really know how to like smoothly introduce her to Donnie, also like most of the plots involving Big Mama in the show dont really involve April so idk how to exactly get the two to meet. It'll happen though! definitely sometime this year askldfjh

[ihhfhonao3]

I have been re-reading your Apollo epilepsy fic over and over so many times, I was wondering if you could write another one where Apollo has a minor seizure at work, but Trucy freaks out and calls klavier?

Hello again, and thanks so much for requesting! I mentioned it in another req but I do apologize for this one taking so long, all my motivation went out the window like mid-may so now is the time that I'm finally able to clean our and answer some stuff people have asked for.

That said, I hope you enjoy, per usual it's under the cut!

Apollo had been having a rough and stressful week at the agency, and Trucy could definitely tell. Apollo wasn’t always too hard to read when it came to his emotions- even though he tried his hardest not to complain (or at least, tried his hardest not to complain to Trucy. Complaining to his boyfriend Klavier was a whole other story), his consistent audible sighs and random, out-of-the-blue groans made things a little more obvious to discern. Trucy didn’t really blame Apollo for bitching, however- while his current case wasn’t too difficult or confusing (as Apollo had claimed), the witnesses and defendant were incredibly annoying and difficult to work with. From what Trucy saw, one of the key witnesses was an extremely rude man who talked down to Apollo during his investigations. On top of that, the defendant was a little bit of a blabbermouth. Trucy was sure that Apollo was afraid that she would overshare in court and ruin his case for her.

All of this combined only made all the more sense when Apollo leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, mumbling to himself under his breath. Trucy was doing her homework on the couch at the moment and she chuckled a little when she looked over at him. This wasn’t a particularly unnatural reaction for Apollo, in all honesty. Whilst he did undoubtedly love his job, that didn’t mean that there weren’t points where he probably considered going on an extended leave of absence. And from the stories that her dad had told her about his younger years as a rookie attorney, Trucy knew that Apollo wasn’t the only one who had thought about throwing in the towel before. She was even beginning to observe this phenomenon with Athena as well, and she was still just a trainee.

Trucy got back to her homework just as Apollo leaned back forward to continue what he was previously doing. Apollo let out a long and sad sigh as he resumed staring at his computer. At the moment, Apollo and Trucy were the only two people in the agency. Athena had headed out early for the night and Phoenix had already retired to the second floor of the agency (where his and Trucy’s apartment resided) so he could go to sleep, telling Apollo to ensure that he did not let his daughter stay up too late into the night. Apollo agreed, albeit grudgingly.

Trucy squinted as she tried to analyze a particularly convoluted math word problem. Goodness gracious, who in the world needs this many watermelons? She thought as she re-read it. Trucy set her work down in a huff. Time for a break. The seventh break of the night, but really, who was counting?

Trucy leaned forwards on the couch and let her eyes wander for a moment. She looked at Charley sitting in the corner, she looked at the peculiar stain on the coffee table, she looked at her various props in the back, she looked at Apollo who was continuing to mutter to himself. Apollo didn’t notice that Trucy was not working, since he was so absorbed in his work. He was hunched over at his desk, staring angrily at the case papers as he scribbled something much too quickly on a notepad. He seemed completely and totally consumed by what he was doing, thinking about nothing other than the task he had at hand. Trucy couldn’t tell if this was due to pure determination or pure stress.

Apollo groaned again. Well, stress was the answer then.

“Alright there, Polly?” Trucy asked. “Do you want me to get you anything? Coffee, maybe?”

“‘M fine,” Apollo muttered. “Do your homework. Don't get distracted.”

Trucy shrugged and looked back at her assignment. No matter how hard she tried, though, she just couldn’t bring herself to focus on it. At one point, she did notice that she was making a little bit of a dent in her work, but almost immediately afterwards she got distracted again. Not by a truck passing by or a dog barking, but this time she was actually distracted by Apollo.

He kept groaning and mumbling repeatedly in obnoxiously loud volumes, until at one point, he sat almost completely still and started to stare into space. For some reason, this scared Trucy- Apollo wasn’t typically one to zone out, especially when he was working so hard. Something must be wrong.

“Are you alright there Polly?” Trucy asked. There was no response.

“Polly? Hey, Polly!” Trucy tried to get Apollo’s attention, but he was still completely unresponsive.

Trucy then noticed something. Apollo’s arm was shaking slightly at his side.

Trucy began to panic. She couldn’t believe how she could have forgotten.

Trucy had forgotten that Apollo had epilepsy.

Quickly, she got up from her spot on the couch and grabbed Apollo’s phone from his desk. She opened the emergency call keypad and punched in the number that she had memorized by heart the minute she started listening to Guilty Love.

“Hase, my dear, what did I tell you about staying up so late all of the time?” Klavier Gavin’s voice came from the phone, smooth and gentle. “You need to work on having-”

“Klavier!” Trucy shouted. “Something’s wrong with Polly! I think he’s having a seizure!”

Trucy heard Klavier let out a small gasp from the other end.

“Fräulein, how long has it been since it started?” Klavier asked.

“About a minute or so I think,” Trucy said.

“Got it. I’m setting up a timer for him right now,” Klavier said. “Now, I am going to give you a couple of instructions. Please do exactly as I say.”

Trucy nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Okay,” Klavier said. “Now, I want you to stand in front of him for the duration of the seizure. This is to make sure that he doesn’t fall. Keep a hand in front of his chest just in case. You with me?”

“Completely,” Trucy said. She put a hand in front of Apollo, a couple inches away from his chest.

“Gut.” Klavier said. “Now, don’t touch him or move his body, but if you need to, inch his chair away from his desk so he doesn’t knock into it while having muscle spasms. When he’s in a clear, safe spot, lock the wheels on his chair.”

Trucy put the phone on speaker as Klavier gave further instructions, doing as he told her and gently rolling Apollo away from his desk.

It may not have seemed like it, but Trucy was deeply afraid and nervous. What if she messed something up? What if Apollo got hurt and it was all her fault because she couldn’t follow simple directions? What if-

“It’s been nearly four minutes,” Klavier said suddenly. “You may want to prepare to call an ambulance.” He sounded ever so slightly distraught.

Trucy started to breathe deep to calm herself down, but just as it seemed that the paramedics would have to be summoned to the agency in the middle of the night, Apollo’s arm started to slow down its shaking and he didn’t look so spacey anymore.

“Klavier, I think it’s over!” Trucy said happily.  “He’s coming back, his arm isn’t shaking anymore!”

“Oh thank goodness,” Klavier said, sighing. “That was a longer one. I’m just glad that it didn’t cross the medical threshold.”

“Truce?” Apollo mumbled, clearly disoriented. “What happened?”

“You had a seizure,” Trucy said. “Klavier helped me keep you safe.”

Apollo smiled a little weakly. He was clearly still tired. 

“I’m proud of you for doing that, Truce. And thank goodness you picked up, right Klav?” Apollo said.

“You know I always do when it’s you who’s calling,” Klavier said. Trucy could practically hear his grin.

“Okay, alright, enough,” Apollo said. He started to slowly get up from his chair, and Trucy helped anchor him as he stood up to prevent him from toppling over. Apollo then grabbed his phone and turned it off speaker mode.

“I love you,” Apollo said into the phone’s microphone. Trucy could hear a happy shout from Klavier before Apollo hung up on him.

“Polly, you can’t overwork yourself like this,” Trucy said. “You’re stressing too hard and it’s clearly causing you some problems.”

Apollo chuckled and slowly made an exaggerated bow. “Aye aye, captain. I shall make my leave now and treat myself to a good night’s rest, per your order m’lady.”

“You better!” laughed Trucy. “But I’m serious. Don’t work yourself to the bone. Daddy knows about your condition and I think he’d rather have an unfinished case than you in the emergency room.

“Alright, alright,” Apollo said. “I’ll try and do better to not do things that can hurt me, like being a workaholic and not eating. Since I know it matters to you.”

“Who does it not matter to, Polly?” Trucy asked. “That’s a weird thing to say!”

“But really, I mean it when I say thank you,” Apollo said, straightening up. “So much can go wrong when people with epilepsy aren’t properly taken care of during a seizure. So good job for thinking on your feet and reacting accordingly. You probably… you probably just saved my life there.”

Trucy blushed and grinned broadly. “Don’t flatter me, Polly! You just go home already!”

Apollo saluted and bid good night as he exited the agency.

And he did end up following orders, going to bed as soon as he got back home.