#artificially made shade lord

[fly-sky-high-bug-games]

Dragon devouring the Light

[simonisferal]

my love, mine all mine — wanderer x gn! reader

my baby, here on earth, showed me what my heart was worth. so when it comes to be my turn, could you shine it down here for her?" — mitski

fluff to angst to comfort (he comforts himself), written from wanderer's pov, established relationship, mentions of death and loss (reader dies), nahida mentioned 🔥🔥, reader's in their lover era, eleazar isn't described correctly but oh well🤷, i don't know—writing this kinda soothed me so, gonna update the theme later mb yall

the moon was bright, you would mention. he hadn't stared at any sky, day or night, in ages. it shone like how he expected it to—a typical solid rock and scoffed. "it's the same," he says. "come on, let's g-.." he paused when he looked back at you. you were staring at the moon like it was the only thing you yearned for.

that look tugged at wanderer's heart strings, his lips pressed together in a fine line. he could only stare at you, your skin glew under the night light and he's sure it was the wind that tinted his own cheeks.

you managed to snap out of you trance and looked back at him. "what?" you smiled nonchalantly as if you weren't zoned out a couple of seconds ago.

wanderer breaks eye contact, tipping his hat as he turns his body away from yours and began to walk on the path. "it's nothing.. now hurry it up."

his hands were cold, you would mention. he hadn't cared for the feeling of his artificial skin, let alone the temperature when you noticed it. "of course they are, i'm not human." he sees you readjusts his bracelet, the one you made for him, before gently taking his hand in yours. you treated him softly like he was a fragile piece of glass that could shatter at any second.

you only rubbed your thumb on his cold skin, staring down at his hands. the same look was plastered onto your face—when you saw the moon and wanderer's eyebrows furrowed. just what were you thinking about?

he hears you hum and feels you take his other hand. like a prince in shining armor, you raise his hands up to your lips and press a kiss onto his ringed knuckles. the blush that covered his face was obvious, especially when you looked from his hands and to his eyes.

he saw many things in your eyes, like that yearning he saw before and some sort of genuine happiness along with a sense of comfort. he frowned and relaxed at the romantic gesture. he wanted to look away but he found himself going back to you, like it was a hide and seek in an open field.

his mind stops working when you slip your hand with his, intertwining your fingers and melding your palms. "you are to me."

his eyes are beautiful, you would mention. you two were meerly on a small adventure, wandering off to lokapola jungle to collect some mushrooms when (he assumes) you spotted his eyes. he froze and might've dropped a few mushrooms at your comment. he doesn't turn to see you, his face already a vibrant shade of red. "must you compliment me so openly?" he snarls but even he himself could tell he didn't mean any negative undertone of his.

he can see the smile on your face as you briefly chuckle and wanderer feels his chest tighten. "your eyes match the mushrooms," you explain. "and it's okay for couples to say cheesy things in public."

you placed another mushroom in his arms, even though he had very little to no space and he gave you a glare. it was more of a pout, with his eyebrows furrowed and red cheeks, he looked like a kid who's candy got taken away. his eyes met yours and you have on that look he hates so much. he couldn't see it but his eyes swirled colors like the ocean, like the stars.

he looks away from you, a frown covering his face as he starts to walk away, expecting you to follow. "pshh.. you're an idiot." and you do, right beside him.

he's strong, you would mention. seeing him in battle as he defeated enemies swiftly was a little, enjoyable past time of your when lesser lord kusnali asks wanderer for items and you often never bothered to help. it's not like he'd let you anyways as he was too scared to let any harm come to you (not like he'd say it out loud).

he tried to give you a sarcastic remark but nothing actually valid seemed to cross his mind so he just stared at you. he hoped to the archons that this wasn't another one of your zone-outs. it was and he only noticed that when you started to massage his upper back.

"you work so hard, wanderer.." you cooed and he felt himself flinch. he turned back to you and looked into your eyes. that same stare he learned to hate was filled with longing and some kind of regret and sadness.

"...what is up with you?"

you stay quiet, only smiling to him as your hands place themselves around his waist. "let's focus on the present, okay?"

...

you coughed a lot, he mentioned. every few minutes you let out a small cough and more times than what he'd like to count, excused yourself to let out the most excruciating sound. he figured you were just sick—you usually don't get ill but when you do, it hurts like a bitch.

wanderer let you sleep in and made breakfast for you without any complaints. he tucks you in to sleep and makes sure your hair is pulled back when you throw up. it pained him to see you like this and it pissed him off even more that you wanted to still spend time with him, even following him to do danger commissions.

didn't you see all the potential diseases out there? you can't risk getting even sicker in the state you're in. so he puts you in house rest.

daily, he has to make sure he leaves early while you asleep or busy doing something. he leaves small notes on the table just in case you actually need him for an emergency. he also makes sure to make some sort of food to keep you from starving.

you had gotten paler, he mentioned. your skin was losing its soft and gentle glow only to be replaced with a lifeless blue hue. you reassured him that it's fine but he was right to not believe you. your cough had only gotten worse and you relied on him to wake you up in the mornings.

he took you to the only person he knew. lesser lord kusanali welcomed you two in her sanctuary and noticed wanderer's rushed advances. "oh, is something the matter?" she asked but he didn't answer. he meerly dragged you beside him and told her about your condition.

nahida's smile falters the more she listens and he notices how you still manage to smile and look happy. that look on your face is haunting him.

the dendro archon stays silent after your beloved explains your illness and she looks up at you. it's as if she's asking permission to tell him. you nod.

"wanderer, with what you told me, i can only come to one conclusion and.. it's not a very good one." she rest her hand on her heart, showing her sympathy. wanderer scoffs as if he's annoyed with being left in the dark about the matter.

"...[name] has eleazar."

you had grown scales on your back and arms, he mentioned. after the bad news being handed to him, he didn't speak to you for a few days. he still helped you walk and eat and sleep peacefully but your cheery mood mad him angry. how can you be happy when there's voices in your head making you insane?!

he could've played it off as a virus since he was in denial but he was your arms. you were getting ready (even if you just stayed in the house), one of the things he avoids doing for your sake and his, when he laid his eyes on the black scales. they were all over your upper body and it made him fall quiet.

you were really sick. you couldn't have gotten sick—i mean, you weren't when the dendro archon erased her ancestor! that's when any eleazar should've been healed, right? it cleared the forbidden knowledge, right?

wanderer didn't come home for a few days. he needed some space and time to think. you respected his option and you watched as he left from the front door. "i love you." you say.

how he wishes he said it back.

nahida found your lifeless body in your shared bed. she had went to check up on your condition and instead found that. you had a pen and paper on the side of your hand, folded like a letter and already addressed. she can only wonder how long you knew about it.

wanderer came home, finally. he opened the door and saw aether, paimon, and nahida at the table, looking concerned. he eyes them. "what are you doing in me and [name]'s house?"

aether looks down and nahida fiddles with her hands. paimon attempts to make a funny joke, "well, now it's just your house." silence filled the room and aether elbowed his companion in the ribs. she shrieked and lesser lord kusnali spoke up.

"i came to take care of [name] due to your request but i found this. i'm truly sorry, wanderer." she slids a small letter from her hand to his side of the table. he eyes it and cautiously takes it in his hands. he immediately recognizes your handwriting and looks up.

"where are they?" he asks, sternly. he knows something is wrong but he doesn't want it to be what he thinks it is. paimon starts sobbing and aether comforts her, frowning to himself.

nahida speaks up again. "in your bedroom. please, read the letter first." wanderer ignores her, attempting to see you. aether quickly grabs his arm and sits him down beside nahida. "let go of me!" he yells but the traveler doesn't. nahida looks at him and he lets go of the puppet.

"[name] knew this would happen, they told me about their dreams and their illness. they wrote that letter for you, wanderer. please."

he stays silent, only looking at the hallway in which your bedroom is in. he frowns before leaning back in his chair and opening the letter swiftly. it took him a while to read all of it but the gist was that you were gone.

not stolen or kidnapped, so he couldn't find you again. not gone as in you left, so he couldn't get to you again. but gone.

you told him you loved him and he didn't say it back. is that karma? his stone face turns into one of grief. his lip quivers and he clenches his fist, crumbling the paper. wanderer stuffs it in his pocket and stands up eruptly. no one stops him when he runs to your shared room.

he slams the door open. the room was quiet and dim, the sun hadn't been out and it started to rain. he looks to the bed and there you were. you were still in the clothes he last saw you in which makes him think how long you've been like this.

you had a smile on your face as you rest and it irked him. he reaches out for you, his arm falling after he realizes you're not coming back. this wasn't a silly prank that you spend days planning in advance to catch him off guard, this was real.

he calmly sits beside you, near the foot of the bed. he reached out and touched your hand. it was cold just like his.

that made his facade crack. touching your lifeless hand, the hand which filled him with so much warmth was gone. he looked down as tears ran down his face. you would wake up and comfort him, he thinks to himself. you'll tell him this is just a bad dream, he thinks. you were awake, and alive, and healthy...

another choked sob leaves him and he holds your hands tightly. he was afraid to let you go now, even after everything.

...

the moon is dark now, he notices. it didn't shine and when it did, the clouds covered it. he laid on a hill, stargazing. it was you two's anniversary. he remembers how much you loved the stars.

wanderer didn't know where to go now. he had awful memories of everywhere. talking to aether or nahida didn't help the poor man's grieving heart. he didn't want to stay there anymore but he couldn't afford to lose the little he had left of you.

the wind blows like it did that night. the night it went wrong. he looked back up to the moon.

he didn't see the beauty that you saw, he didn't see the life you saw, he didn't feel what you felt. he wasn't like you, and maybe that's it hurts more. wanderer sat up, wiping off any grass off of his sleeves and stayed silent.

he remembered your letter, the one he tore and crumbled, the one that contained the remaining life you had. he took it out of his pocket and tried to fix the folds.

he began to read,

"you're the moon to me." the letter was almost as cheesy as what he thought today would be. "you shine the most brightest in the dark." he continued to read, silently whispering the words to himself as if you were there. "even when you're clouded, you're mesmerizing."

he chuckles, wiping his eyes and feeling his wet hand. had he been crying all this time? he doesn't dare to read any further, folding it with care and placing it behind his vision.

the clouds drifted away from the moon, he realized. the soft and mellow glow touched him and the wanderer felt a sense of comfort. it was like you were there with him. it was delusional, he knows, but can't a man dream?

[searchingforserendipity25]

Music, Too That Sweet Madness. on ao3.

for @maedhrosmaglorweek. many thanks to @thelordofgifs for the beta.

-

"There art thou, dear heart."

"Nelyo, Maitimo, my lord Russandol! Have you fled likewise? I have fled to wander the shade a while, singing something less full of verve and cheer - I fear I shall go a little mad otherwise. Do I look mad?"

"Less wild about the eyes than Father, if that be any consolation."

"Some! Glad he is, and furious I think also; his laughter stung the eyes. His best beloved child, come into his own -"

"How happily wed is our brother! It does him good to have his eyes full of another face, that looks less like his own. And his wife has a fierce enough heart to dispute him for herself, which is better than might be expected."

"I would pity her more, if she looked less pleased with the contention for possession over the prize! They are gone now to their own joining, and only the revelers remain. I trust the spirits are high still. Didst enjoy the leaping and the dancing, and the dizzy stirring of the Mingling's own air?"

"The arias I liked well, for the power in them was fairly wielded; and the effect and impressions was most convincing."

"That is all! Meager praise thou givest me. Convincing - thou hast such a suspicious eye for artifice, not at all like our parents' child."

"Aye, indeed, what a dreadful lack of artistry is my heart - so suspicious it seems to me perhaps thou hast sung too convincingly. Wilt thou be unwell?"

"O, assuredly! Calling so much delight shades the spirit to weariness. 'Tis a rare skill, unfettering all the joy that might be found in a gathering, in fair and measured fashion. Skill has a price, and great singing demands its sacrifice. Tonight I keep my voice still, though tomorrow it may be ground to silence."

"Yet I note silence is not in your repertoire tonight!"

"Am I being too unpleasant? Be sure not to leave my side, even if I am."

"Was thy walk such a lonesome time as that?"

"Not so very much, I thought; till I saw thy height and breadth in the shadows coming towards me through the grass, up the path I left barely trodden upon the ground. Then my heart was glad. Perhaps I am not kind; but I would not like to be without thee, tonight."

"Thou shall be without me, as long as thou likest."

"That is false, but sweet falsity. I was unjust. Thou hast thine own artificiality, brother. I wonder at times -"

"Aye?"

"We are a people made for delight, are we not? In habits. It would not be such an effort to singers, if it were the true disposition of the Quendi."

"The rituals of wedding covenants are not those of our regular days. Though indeed 'twould be most convenient to have thy voice employed in willing the thoughts of all those who hear it - still it is not done, as a manner of domineering, for all the tiresome slow work of our courts might tempt it."

"Maitimo, for shame! Thou ought not make me laugh at tyranny. In truth I ought not speak inauspicious things, on such a day! My voice is very mighty."

"So it is!"

"Though not enough for a compliment, I gather."

"Thy singing rings still, and echoes in every graceful embrace, and all the twirling gestures and generous words. If that is the flattery thou wish’st, I can offer it, and know myself accurate. And thou were most helpful besides, in keeping together our parents and all the company guided in the most useful configuration of conversation, in the hosting and the leading of the dancing meters. My work was made easier for it, and our brother's wedding more joyful. Is this better?"

"Very! Fine tithe, for all my efforts. It went quite well, did it not? Perhaps I ought to be wed myself, now the order of efforts is charted terrain, and not so daunting."

"Thou dost surprise me. Shalt thou be wed, Káno?"

"Oh, I expect I shall. I have many friends, thou know'st; I am very beloved."

"So thou art! None love thee better than I, as none came to thee, here in the dark, when singing laid a shadow upon thy heart; but I suppose that is a high standard I mark."

"None!"

"I have made a good study of our company tonight, as thou know'st; and none, I say."

"Prove it! Say thou shalt not wed, not without my word of approval."

"That is not a just preposition, for I would not wed any thou didst not love also - while thou, Káno, wouldst not think to wait for my approval."

"That is true enough, I cannot be cross - but only because I know thou wouldst never give thy approval, even were I very happy. Thou seest, Maitimo, for all thy deliberation, and scorn of jealousy - I know how thou hast been made in our father's image."

"Makalaurë, thou hast made thyself drunk with thine own words."

"I do not know how Therindë did it. If I died, I would not wish thee to be happy, and glad, and wed whom thou likest and had many children. I would wish everyone who loved me to wear ugly clothes always, and be very unpleasant. Like Father."

"Thou art drunk. Dearest, say not such things. I am not to die."

"All the same. Thou must promise. Not to give thyself away - without my regard. For I too am very covetous, thou know'st, and I would have a say of such things, in death and love alike."

"So I swear - if thou shall come with me, and rejoin the revel. This dark wandering does ill to thee, I see, when thy spirit is spent and drunk with singing."

"So sworn?"

"So sworn, on thy own heart! Which, as we have so cleverly decided, must be shared, and mine likewise. I mind it less than I thought I would. But then thou hast ever been mine own minstrel, and with song I must share thee as well as I might."

"That is true; that I shall not be sorry for.” 

"Only do not be wed so soon! Nor can our household take the changing of the tides so soon, without a good arranging of affairs. I have arranged one such occasion already, and would have a time before taking up this hosting of joy once more, lest I turn mad myself, for far longer than it takes the effects of a Song of Power to fade in the air."

"I shall not. I do not at present have the heart for love. O, Nelyo! Is it possible to sing too well and too long of joy? I fear - and this is not singer's weariness alone - at times it does seem a store that may be spent."

"Come near, dear one. Rest here against my breast - thou art dizzy on thy feet! A long walk that was, for one so spent, and so heavy at heart; yet this spell shall soon pass."

"That is no consolation, and thy kindness I judge not very convincing, for my part. It always does come back."

"I know. So it is with the line of Therindë, each in our time. Think'st thyself alone in this malaise?"

"Never! I know thee, better than thou at times.”

“A lofty claim!”

“And true. What business, I might ask, has our father's eldest-born son evading the crowds, and the pride of a good task, and all the pleasure of company, to hunt a mislaid thing of his when it goes walking by itself? At least a hound thou couldst leash decently, and a wife might be commanded as decree the Laws - so too a servant likewise."

"Káno, thou dost speak worse than unkindness, and more than madness."

"Still thou art the one who speak as master of the household! Ai, here my lord Russandol is eager to lift a noble finger, and order my silence. He shall not have it - tonight I cannot silence myself, even when I wish it, and know it to be best."

"And so I must not have my anger roused, then? I love thee best - still thou dost make that a trial."

"Leave it - I know. Dost thou think I do not? In the morrow I shall be good, and come sit with my head upon your knees, and apologize. Thou know'st I shall. Does that satisfy?"

"It shall satisfy, when thou dost obey as I called."

"Very well! I shall follow, if thou likest. Let us return to the gathering, and hope the Mingling wanes fast. The light wounds my eyes, tonight; I fear I shall weep, and it is a vain singer than cries with his own song as the cause.”

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

In The Heat of the Moment Chapter 4 - Homeward Bound

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3

Words Count: 7981

Warning: None

Dorothea

January 1868, London

The first thing that hit Dorothea was the smell: abhorrent, a stinging stench, almost choking in its miasmic pungency.

Phillip had warned her that it would have been a shockful amalgamation of foul odors, but at first, the young woman had deemed her cousin, with his penchant for the dramatic, exaggerated in his assertion.

Now, as she wrinkled her nose with barely masked revulsion painted on her otherwise delicate features, she found herself thinking that, mayhaps, her cousin hadn’t been dramatic at all.

Her sensitive nose had grown so accustomed to the fresh clean air of the surrounding forest of Sturefors, in Sweden -her mother’s ancestral home- that breathing the less-than-salubre air of London felt like a slap to her face and an execrable invasion of her nostrils.

Making sure no one would hear her, Dorothea allowed herself to let out a sigh, barely audible, yet lingering like haze in the cold winter air.

She had known she would miss Sturefors Slott the moment she had set foot in the carriage her mother’s family had prepared for her to bring her to the southern part of the country, where she had taken the ship that had brought her back to London.

Sturefors Slott -despite its name- wasn’t truly a castle as they intended them back in her beloved England, with their towering stone walls and turrets, built during the early middle age to protect the Lords and their people from the barbaric invasion; rather, it was a Hall, elegant and refined if modest in its appearance, nestled within the soft embrace of an endless vastness of evergreens and a clear lake, just outside the door.

Closing her eyes, she wished she could fool herself that it was not smog what she was breathing, but the fresh tingly scent of crushed pine needles and musk and balmy resin.

As she allowed herself to glide through her most recent memories, all she could see was the residence’s walls painted in a soft pale shade of yellow and white, in a way that made them resemble one of those Austrian pastries her father had always been fond of ever since she could remember; she could see the small artificial pond, sitting right in the middle of the small baroque garden, where waterlilies grew aplenty and birds would come and swim at their leisure; the orangery and hothouse, where she had spent countless afternoons reading during those chill summers, surrounded as she was by the delicate perfume of the flowers in bloom.

The complete peace that place provided was one of the reason why it was always guaranteed that she would be found there; but alongside that motive, also the fickle hope that, somehow, being surrounded by all those familiar scents might help quell the melancholy and yearning, she oftentimes felt in her young heart, to see her family soon.

As she raised her eyes to glance at a ferry passing by them- one belonging to her father’s commercial fleet, judging by the men clad in red that shouted on the decks, and the wolf painted on the funnel spewing out a dark, choking smoke- she wondered at what price that melancholy was finally about to be abated.

In Sturefors, she had known a freedom she never felt while in London, with her mother’s protective wings always looming over her and her father’s ever watchful gaze constantly following her, even while not being physically there; like Eva with the Apple in the Garden of Eden, she had tasted the fruit of a far greater independence she had ever dared to dream, a complete sovereignty of her own self she had never experienced ever since she had memory.

“Those days are long over, Dora. You are back home, now,” she thought to herself, sighing again, before straightening her back and tilting her chin up, as she gazed upon the industrial city opening up in front of her, studying at it with uncertain eyes.

Her home.

London, the Centre of the World.

The city had changed ever since she had left it in 1865, almost three years prior: cluster upon cluster of new factories had been built in the industrial neighbours, and even from the river she could see the enormous luminous signs bearing her family’s name or her father’s own wolf crest black on the walls of red bricks, the eyeless predator towering over the buildings that faced the Thames, its watchful gaze the same her sire’s.

So many changes.

So much to get used to once again.

As she let her eyes wander, she felt a small leap of reassurance in her heart when she caught a glimpse of the city’s historical landmarks, the towering height of Big Ben, his belfry raising high against the late afternoon sky, a familiar sight amidst all that chaotic maze of buildings veiled by a haze of smog.

This was indeed her home.

“And yet,” she thought, calling upon all her considerable will not to let the tears that prickled her eyes run free on her cheeks, “It does not feel like it any longer.”

With a subtle gesture of her hand, she tried to brush away the tears away, before anyone could notice, and trying to compose herself, she let her gaze wander around some more and touch the buildings at the side of the river.

She looked at the tiles and doors and windows, bringing her eyes up where the roofs and chimneys sat and let out their nauseous smoke that rendered the air impossible to breathe.

All of sudden, she stopped in her wandering, feeling that her gaze had been returned.

And it had been.

Someone - at that distance a mere silhouette- had moved with switf movement from behind the cover of red bricks, and without hesitation, had jumped from a chimney to the other, graceful and secure in their movement like a cat.

She narrowed her eyes, bringing one gloved hand to her forehead to shield herself from the last rays of setting sun, trying to make sense of what she thought she saw.

Could it have been a trick of the light or the fatigue of the journey that was finally starting to take over her mind?

No.

She was sure of that.

“Ditte, vad hände? Det ser nästan ut som om du har sett ett spöke!”(Ditte, what happened?It almost looks as if you have seen a ghost!)

Dorothea kept looking up the roofs, half hearing what the woman that was approaching her was saying.

“Sassa, såg du det?”(Sassa, did you see that?) she blurted out, pointing with her finger.

“Vad såg du, min kära?”(What did you see, my dear?) Astrid, a cousin from her mother’s family, that had took upon herself to chaperone Dorothea safe and sound to London, looked intently and raised an eyebrow when she saw nothing.

Dorothea looked again, but whoever was jumping around like a miscreant was clearly gone.

“Någon... som hoppade runt? Jag svär, jag vet vad jag såg, eller så heter jag inte Dorothea Marianne Starrick!”(Someone...who jumped around the roof? I swear, I know what I saw, or my name is not Dorothea Marianne Starrick!)

The woman gave her a long look, her lips pursed together in a thin, austere line.

“Herre Gud, Ditte, det är inte så en ung dam i din ställning ska tala! Jag visste att Minna var benägen till fantasiflygningar, men jag trodde aldrig att du också var det!” (Dear God, Ditte, this is not how a young lady in your position should speak! I knew Minna was prone to flights of fancy, but I never thought you were too!”)

“But I know..what I saw…” she murmured back in English, lowering her head in shame at her cousin’s words.

“Där, där, min kära, ta dig samman! Denna smutsiga luft måste ha spelat dina ögon ett spratt.”(There, there, my dear, pull yourself together! The dirty air must have played a trick on your eyes) The woman said with a condescending tone, caressing a wayward strand of silvery blond hair away from Dorothea’s cheek. Then, she turned to look at the houses built parallel to the river with barely contained disdain. “Säg, Ditte, hur kan man bo på ett sånt här ställe undrar jag?”(Say, Dora, how can you live in a place like this, I wonder?)

Shaking her silvery blond ringlets, Dorothea tried with all her might not to sigh in exasperation, her jaw tensing as she turned to look away from the woman that had just spoken to her.

There was no use trying to reason with her.

But she knew what she saw.

“I can live in a place like this because I was born here, min kära. But pray tell me: what happened to all the good propositions of speaking only English from the moment we left Gothenburg?” she answered, putting an emphasis on the English name of the city.

Astrid brought her perfumed handkerchief to her nose, as her periwinkle eyes filled with tears from the disgust the vile air was causing to her poor nose. She stared at Dorothea for a moment longer than necessary, a wrinkle appearing on her brow, as if she was fighting the natural impulse to rebuke in her native language out of spite.

“Very well, Ditte,” she finally conceded, switching to an heavily accented English. “I am going to be here only for a few weeks anyway, I can afford to do that. For your sake, if anything else,”

“Your effort is oh so deeply appreciated, Sassa,” Dorothea pursed her lips, trying to drown her annoyance in a sweet, if tense, smile of gratitude.

However, much as ever, she had to contain the impulse to roll her eyes at Astrid’s tone and words; if caught, it would have earned her a reprimand and a tirade once in front of Mother and Father, and the last thing Dorothea desired was to have her return to London being soured by the constant complaining and nitpicking her older cousin was known for.

Deciding that she had given the woman far more attention than she deserved, Dorothea took a few step away from Astrid, leaning against the handrail that faced the side of the city where the Clock Tower was and tried to distract herself by looking at the busy stream of ferries in front of her.

But melancholy crept again into her heart. If only Minna, Astrid’s own younger sister and Dorothea’s closest companion in Sturefors, had been the one to be allowed to accompany her back home, maybe the journey would have been less grievous, if anything because she could have retained with her some of the happiness she had felt in Sweden.

“My my, isn’t Astrid a charming choice for a chaperone? Are my ears deceiving me or is the Lady Ankarcrona complaining yet again, Dora?” she heard a young gentleman addressing her thoughts, as if on an invisible cue.

The tone was conspiratorial, yet affable in cadence, and the velvety quality of his timber did nothing to hide the sharpness of his silver tongue.

“With extreme passion, I dare say,” she giggled, for the first time since leaving Sturefors.

Dorothea turned to to face the tall, handsome blond man that was approaching her with an imperious gait that well suited his authoritative appearance.

Philip Edmund Starrick, her first cousin on her father’s side, older than her by only a handful of years, was doing nothing to hide the condescension from beaming in his deep eyes, but when he turned to look at Dorothea, his gaze melted into a mischievous look, as a warm smile stretched on his lips.

Dorothea reciprocated with an impish smirk of her own.

“If you were to ask me,” he said, doing nothing to lower his voice,”If she applied all that passionate effort into something other than making everyone else’s ears miserable with her constant twaddling, her husband would not go looking for a nicer company among the valets of the house,”

Gaping in disbelief, Dorothea leaned over to glance behind his shoulder, to make sure that Astrid hadn’t heard his words.

“Mind your words, Pip! How could you possibly even know about that?” she muttered.

He winked at her, his smirk widening even more.

“It is my job to know what is going on around me,”

“In London, maybe,” she chuckled, poking his ribs with her elbow. “But not in Sweden,”

“Sometimes it is indeed hard not to perform one’s job, especially if that someone is considerable remarkable at doing it ,” he chuckled, leaning in so that he would be able to whisper without anyone hearing them.

“Ever the paragon of humbleness, I see,”

“False modesty is for mingling peons and the church ministers who have time at their hands. I have little patience for it, and much more interest in the fruits my job brings; Speaking of, my darling cousin, I couldn’t help but hear voices about how eager young Master Daae was to instruct you in the art of the violin, during your sojourn in that desolated farm they dare to call a Hall. “

Dorothea gaped once more, opening and closing her mouth as a look of profound abashment found its way on her face. She wished she could stop the blushing that prickled her cheeks at the insinuation Philip had purposely left hanging in the air, founding herself unable to.

She gave him a piercing gaze, tilting her chin up in a silent challenge of wills.

“ I haven’t even set foot in London, and you are already enquiring about businesses that are none of yours. Gustave was my teacher, and nothing more than that,” she whispered, glaring at him. “And you might insinuate all you wish, but my conscience is at peace. My conduct at Sturefors has been nothing less than impeccable.”

Phillip raised an eyebrow, giving her a look that spoke aplenty.

“Not even for a moment has the thought crossed my mind. I am well aware you are a paragon of virtue, cousin dearest. He did fancy you, however, or so I had been told,” he added. “He indeed had the insolence to send you letters with flowers, as well as paying constant calls to you, and invited you for frequent walk together, sometime…unchaperoned?”

Dorothea narrowed her eyes, not liking for a moment that last insinuation.

A realization came to her mind, and irritation found a way in her voice.

“I have nothing to hide nor to apologize for. Who spied on me while I was at Sturefors, Phillip? Was it Father that told you to follow my every step? Or Mother, Heaven forbids?”

Chuckling, he took a step closer, leaning against the railing.

“No need to fret or get yourself into a state, cousin. Neither Uncle Crawford nor the Countess had their hands in this. I am at liberty to say it was in fact my own doing.”

“What for, may I ask? Do you think me so inept that I am incapable of properly take care of myself?” She furrowed her eyebrows and ��gave him a stern look, crossing her arms against her chest.

The young man gave her a long look, as silence hung between them, a silence Dorothea couldn’t truly decipher. All it did was rendering her more aggravated with each passing moment. Wasn’t she at liberty to have companionship but the one approved by her family?

“As your spies have most likely already reported to you, my good flibbertigibbet, all that Gustave sent me -all he ever did - was to politely express his respect and devotion toward a friend and fellow connoisseur of the art of the violin and singing. It was done in perfect accordance to all rules of propriety and decency, as my Lady Mother has instructed me to,” Composing herself, she wrinkled her nose as her face morphed into a mask or haughty disdain. “As for what you refer as “fancying me”, Mr. Daaé fancied my competence in playing and composing melodies, and in my voice when I found appropriate to accompany his violin. I assure you, he did not want-“ She faltered for a moment, a sting in her chest where her heart was. She cleared her throat from the lump that had formed there, before regaining her word.“-whatever interest he might have shown toward me, it was not personal at all, but merely connected to all that I had to offer as an artist in my own right.”

Phillip didn’t answer immediately, keeping his thoughts to himself as he observed his cousin with an intense look in his eyes.

“Do I hear a certain vein of disappointment in your voice, Dora? Did you wish for him to acknowledge you in a more,how to say…womanly fashion?”

“I-“ the young woman’s face flushed, her cheeks turning a scalding hue of red that could rival the one of the garment she was wearing. “This is not the place nor time to discuss such matters, Phillip. On my word, your boldness had grown bigger than your ego, and that in itself is an accomplishment. I have no idea what you are insinuating, and I surely hope you did not report a single words of this postulation of yours to Mother and Father? Because I shall not accept any besmirching of my own reputation from no one, yourself included, cousin,”

Dorothea felt her heart thundering against her chest, where contempt and mortification took turn in mocking her.

When she saw him still standing, still observing her with those piercing eyes that had nothing to envy to the winter tundra in the North, with no intention to utter a single word, Dorothea felt dejected.

“It matters not,” she murmured, turning again to face the river. “Not now, not ever, because nothing more than friendship dwelled in Gustave’s heart. He did not know who I was -what I am- and even if he had, nothing would have changed. At all.”

How to explain that the companionship Gustave had offered her had proved to be both the greatest of comfort and the bitterest of yearning, and not reciprocated in the slightest? Her young heart knew all to well what her fate was, where it lead her.

A nightingale in a golden cage, that’s how she felt.

Unable to soar against the dark vaults of the sky, forever locked in the maze that was her reality.

“I could very well have hoped to have Brave Lancelot coming at my window and whisk me away to Camelot, and my chances to find a companion worthy of Mother and Father’s approval would have been the same,”

Phillip let out a small chuckle.

“Now now, you are being rather unjust toward our Mr. Daae. Sir Lancelot would always have an unfair advantage compared to any suitor that might end up asking for your hand. He can very well be considered family at this point,”

Dorothea allowed herself to let out a giggle, her aggravation slowly subduing, as it always did with Phillip.

“I might have driven my father out of his mind with all my jibber-jabbering about the Knights of the Round Table and their quest.”

“Him and everyone else in the Order. All the letters you had the Old Bear write for you, asking noble Lancelot to come and rescue us all from the dragons that were threatening your Father,”

He chuckled at the memory, before speaking again, this time, reciting some verses.

“His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow'd

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down from Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash'd into the crystal mirror,

'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:' by the river

Sang Sir Lancelot.”

“The Lady of Shalott,” Dorothea murmured, her smile growing wider. “Have you perchance seen reason and read the poem, finally giving our good Lord Tennyson the praise he deserves ?”

Phillip adverted his eyes, his mustache quivering as he held back a contemptuous snort.

“Well?”

“Mayhaps.”He conceded.

She kept her eyes fixated on him, cocking an eyebrow as her smirk widened the more he avoided her gaze.

“Fine. I’ll admit to it, you impertinent pest! This past winter, Cip and I might have spent the evenings perusing some of your books because we missed hearing your voice reading story to us, and Charlie was adamant we went through “The Lady Of Shalott” at least once per week because he knew it’s your favourite. I swear to all the Heavens, he was more punctual about this reading than he was to attend Mass,”

“Let us always be thankful for Charlie and his sensitive decisions. If we wereto be left to your devices, you would have us read something that would make my father’s hair turn white and my mother’s poor heart fail,”

Phillip rolled his eyes, but cannot hid his smile. “Preposterous. I do not know where you get all these ideas.”

Then, all of sudden, Dorothea felt Phillip taking her hand in his in a gentle gesture, and brought her palm against his cheek. Gone was that quick moment of mirth, to leave place to a far somberer one. The calculating light had all but disappeared from the young man’s eyes, leaving place for a warm compassion she had not seen in many years.

“Forgive me for my actions and words earlier, cousin dearest. I..might have been in the wrong with my own conjectures. I did not mean to bring any harms nor sullying to your conduct while away.”

Dorothea gave him a small smile that did nothing to hide the sadness in her eyes.

“Did Charlie agree with your vision? Did he support this decision? And be honest with me, Phillip: I cannot abide any falsehood to be thrown to my face. Not from you.”

The young man shook his head with a smile.

“Cip was adamantly against me intervening. He knew you would have not approved, and that I had no right to do something like this without you being in the known,”

“At least someone in our family still retains some trust in me and my endevours, I am glad to see,”

And yet she knew in her bones that, if Charlie was aware of Phillip’s intentions, so would her father. She knew that Phillip alone couldn’t have the authority to order her to be followed in Sweden. Not without the giveaway of someone higher than him in authority.

And only two people had that kind of prerogative within the Order.

But which of them, she could not fathom.

“Do I have your forgiveness, cousin? I cannot bear to know you are aggravated with me,” She heard Phillip ask her, his voice now warmer.

She raised her eyes to look at him, and saw the same honest glint he always had as a child when he knew one of his prank had taken things too far and he would be in trouble.

She let out a sigh, giving him a tiny smile.

“ I cannot bear to be mad at you for too long either, you know that, Pip,”

“All I did, I did with the best intention and your well being in mind. I was worried about you,” He continued. “The Swedish Rite does not act as your father would, as the British Rite would, and it was only concern that had moved my hand to extend my authority in Sturefors. And after all that happened at the Manor that year, I-”

Dorothea brought her fingers to his lips, in a delicate but firm gesture, her gray eyes silently pleading.

“Say no more, I beg of you, Phillip. For the love you say to bear me, do not open this door. Let me keep the peace I found in Sturefors for just a little longer.”

The man did as he was told, and stopped talking, not without feeling his own heart growing heavy at the seriousness painted all over her face. So much had changed since the day she had been sent away, loaded on that ship, away from her family, alone in the darkness of the north. 

And he couldn’t help to think that, while having changed in appeareance, while having become even comelier than she was when she sailed away, Dorothea had not regained any of the innocence that she had lost that godforsaken night. Where once warmth and good cheer dwelt in her silvery eyes, now an hollowness remained, a desolation that made his blood boil.

The spectre of fear still lingered all over her, attached to her like a tick to the coat of one of his hunting dogs, sucking away at all the joy she once had as a child.

His heart broke at the memories of what once was, but kept his silence, as promised.

“There you were, you two,” a squeaky voice took them away from their conversation, and both cousins turned to look at Astrid, strutting toward them with small, rapid steps.

“I dare say, Mr. Starrick, is this the way to welcome a foreigner in this country? I was under the impression that the Starrick were amiable people, from what I gathered from my cousin here and her behaviour, but now I have to assume that it was my Aunt’s teaching to her daughter rather than the staple of her father’s family education.”

Dorothea had to silence the chuckle raising in her throat at the sight of her cousin rolling his eyes so much, she was sure he could see the back of his own head.

Not much could faze Phillip or break his composure, for he was known to be one of the most bewitching men, but being around Astrid had been proving quite the trial on his nerves ever since they had crossed the border where the Thames met the North Sea.

Nevertheless, the Master Templar’s expression morphed from aggravated in a mask of charming gallantry, with an easiness that came from constant practice. He took a few steps away from Dorothea and reached for the Swedish woman, looking straight into her violet eyes.

“Why, dear Astrid, you hurt my heart with your unjust words. What can I do to prove to your genteel spirit the extent of my family’s “amiability”?” he said, taking her hand in his with delicate touch, allowing his thumb to caress the back of her gloved hand. Astrid held her breath, too stunned by the young man’s boldness. “I assure you, us Starricks can be most…cordial, when given the chance,”his voice now a sultry husked murmur, almost a caress to the ears. “Just say the word, My Lady, and I will make sure to show you to what great extent us Starricks know how to make a respectable woman such as yourself feel…welcomed”

Dorothea’s eyes bulged as she silently put a greater distance from them, reaching the opposite side of the deck and making sure not to be within earshot.

She had heard enough, and she had no intention to bear witness to her cousin’s own trifling, even less so with that trifling being directed to Astrid. She was not one to admire demonstration of affection in public, preferring to read about it in her books: if one were to look upon two lovers exchanging their deeds of love, she would find herself blushing and wishing to be as visible as a spectre. Modesty and propriety lead her actions, and while being a young woman yearning to find love of her own - or, affection at the very least - she dreaded the idea of showing that love to anyone but her proper husband.

How could Phillip behave in such manner with so little concern of who might be bearing witness to his action, she could never understand.

Trying to distance herself from that lingering feeling of uneasiness, she raised her eyes once more, hoping to be able to see again a glimpse of the jumping figure she had seen earlier.

She knew what she saw.

Byron, so dear to her heart, oftentimes praised her for her grounded intellect and her propensity to not let her emotions drive her best judgment.

She allowed herself to gather strength from that, when she decided that she had indeed saw a figure looking back at her, before disappearing in front of her very eyes.

But what was it?

Or rather.

Who?

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

The moment the ferry’s gangplank touched the dock, was the moment that truly marked the end of Dorothea’s journey from the North.

But all melancholy and sadness at the lost liberty seemed to melt away, like snow in summer, the moment her eyes found the blond man that was awaiting for her close to the pier, his face almost a mirror of her own.

Charles Magnus Starrick was standing tall and straight as an arrow, waiting for her, his round playful face just as amiable as she remembered, and his smile as warm as the gentle summer sun. She couldn’t help but think how much it contrasted with the much soberer faces of the flock of Templar agents surrounding him.  He had always looked out of place among the Templars, almost as if he did not belong, and yet, his authority, while not as great as Phillip’s, was never disputed.

“Charlie! Charlie!” she called at high voice, waving her hand at her cousin.

“Ditte, show a little restraint! This is not how a Lady should behave,” she heard Astrid’s reproach in her ear.

Dorothea tried as much as she could to maintain the elegant composure of her usual pace, but the child-like joy at seeing her cousin’s sweet kindhearted smile was so great, she couldn’t help herself from hasten and almost fly in her cousin’s open arms and hug him as tight as her own strength allowed.

“Darling Dora, welcome back home,” Charles whispered against her hair, reciprocating the tight embrace.

“I missed you so much, Cip!” she whispered back as  joyful warmth spread in her whole chest. “All your letters kept me so much company in those long winter nights where I could not be with you and Pip!”

“You were equally missed, Dora, I assure you! Oh, but do I dare say: did you become taller since the last time we saw one another? Or maybe my darling cousin has been lured by the Erlking and the one in front of me is but one of his elven vassals? Wait! Let me see for myself, I have an infallible method to know if it is indeed my darling Dora!”

Dorothea giggled, shaking her ringlets as Charlie started to count the freckles on her cheeks.

“Ah,Yes! They are all there! It is indeed you, cousin dearest!” and before she could answer, she was wrapped in another bear hug.

She had to call upon all her strength not to shed tears of joy at the relief that she felt back in arms that had hold her ever since she was a toddler.

She was home.

She was truly home now.

“Here she is, brother of mine. Delivered safe and sound, as I promised, “ they heard Phillip’s voice come from behind them, as he strutted down the gangplank while carrying one of Astrid’s luggage.

Charles took a timepiece out of his pocket, and cocked an eyebrow, as a smile appeared on his face.

“And with only fifteen minutes of delay from the advised time. I daresay I am almost impressed by your efficiency, Pip, albeit your delay cost me a whole round of beers with the men.”

“The nerves you got there, brother! I thought that by now you knew that when I say something, I deliver my promise. And it is not as if I had a way to make that godforsaken piece of scraped metal go any faster, even if I wanted to,”

“I wouldn’t have been surprised if you decided to commandeer it and cause mayhem across the Thames. You surely would have made it on the evening papers, I can already hear the titles echoing in the streets: “Gentleman of dubious background causes an halt to the viability of the river to deliver precious cargo unscathed,”

“Do not even jest on this, brother: the Old Bear and Uncle Crawford would have had me hanging by my breeches, if I dared doing such mischief,”

“Oh, to be sure. But I have a feeling that our Dora here would have had her fun,” he said, winking at the young woman and causing her to giggle.

She was ready to answer with a jape of her own, but once she felt the gaze of the small flock of Master Templars on herself, she quickly tried to regain her natural decorum.

She would never forgive herself if she were to stain her father’s reputation with a less than impeccable conduct, especially in front of all his subordinates.

All of them were wearing dark garments in the finest cut and on their short capelets, the red Templar Cross stood almost flamboyant against white fabric.

Even Charles, not one to showcase his appurtenance to the Order, was sporting the formal attire, and Dorothea could have not felt more honoured to know that he had done so just to welcome her.

She brought a hand to the cross tied around her neck by a silken red sash, caressing the engraved enamel with tender affection. It had been the last gift her father had given to her before she left.

She thanked her forethought for having decided to wear it during her journey back home: what kind of impression would have she given to the other Master Templars, if she, the Grand Master’s own daughter, were not to wear the symbol of the Order itself?

But, despite all intention of propriety being on her side, she couldn’t stop herself from tiptoeing to have a better look around her, trying to find other familiar faces among the much soberer ones that were standing guard around them.

“Where is Father? And Byron?” Dorothea asked, her lips forming a small pout of disappointment when she couldn’t catch a glimpse of Byron’s caring eyes or her father’s solemn face.

“The Grand Master and Lord Harrison have been….held up by an unexpected nuisance that needed to be dealt at once, I am afraid,” said Charles, sharing a knowledgeable glance with Phillip.

Dorothea’s own features turned to ashen, all colour leaving her face when looked in her eldest cousin’s eyes.

Even without a word being said, she knew precisely what the nuisance was.

“Assassins? In our dear London?” she whispered in disbelief . “Has our beloved City of Light become an abode of chaos and ruffians in the three years I have been away?”

“You needn’t to concern yourself, Dora.” she heard Phillip murmur, his lips twisted in a disgusted grimace.

She narrowed her eyes, not entirely reassured by Phillip’s word, before turning to face Charles.

“Is it true?” she asked, a tinge of authority in her normally soft voice.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes running from her face to his brother’s, and more than ever, he looked like a tiny mouse trapped between affection and duty.

"I am afraid…I am afraid to admit that in the last few months there might have been more…”chaos” than foreseen,"

Dorothea shook her silvery ringlets, a look of incredulity on her face.

“Impossible. Father has held the reins of London since before I was born, and no assassins has ever dared to even cross the threshold of the city. He never mentioned anything in his letters to me. Byron never did, either.”

“I told you already, Dorothea: you needn’t concern yourself with this. It is being taken care of.” Phillip said, his tone final as he shared another glance with his brother, a silent command written all over his hardened face.

Dorothea felt her heart sink, just for a moment, before determination found a way through her bones.

“Be as it may, Pip. Keep your secrets and I will keep mine. Two can play this game. But I swear they won’t be yours much longer,” she thought, letting her features to settle back in an expression of neutral calm.

“Very well, cousin. I shall probe no longer. I will not lie that I am saddened in not finding my sire and Byron here,” she murmured with polite courtesy, folding her hands together. “But if it is true that disruption has reached our fair city, I am most reassured that the Grand Master is taking the due steps to ensure that no Assassin will dare to ruin his work.”

Charles let out a nervous laughter of relief as Dorothea stirred the conversation.

“Cousin dearest, allow me to say that none is more disappointed than them in being unable to welcome you in person after your long absence. Nevertheless, they wanted to be sure that their presence would be with you, despite everything.”

With a small nod of his head, Charles beckoned one of the henchmen standing behind them to come forward.

Dorothea turned and exchanged a glance with him, and for a moment she found herself wondering where she had seen him before.

His face seemed familiar, with the neatly stilled whiskers and short trimmed beard framing his face and a lock of dark, unruly hair brushing over one of his temples.

He was very pleasant to the sight, to be sure, but what caught Dorothea's attention was the subtle glint of mischievousness in his grey eyes, hidden just beneath an apparent playfulness.

Before she could ask any questions, the man did as he had been told and produced a small box and a bouquet of pink soft roses.

She smiled to herself at the sight of those gifts: she knew the flowers were from her mother’s own hothouse and the small box was from Byron himself. With a small thank you, she took them with gentle hand, promising herself to open the box once alone in the privacy of her own rooms.

"I took upon myself to make sure they were to be delivered to you in person, Lady Starrick"

Dorothea raised an eyebrow.

"That is very kind of you, Mister..."

"Markus Barclay, My Lady," he murmured with a bow. “I work underneath Lord Harrison the Eldest himself, and I was given order to attend to all your needs in his absence. I am yours to command,”

Squaring her shoulder and straightening her back, she nodded with solemnity.

“Very well, Markus. I want you to oversee that the Lady Astrid Ankarcrona is to be brought safely to the Grand Master’s residence and that she is settled in the most comfortable of the rooms within the Manor. She is an esteemed guest, and she will be treated with all the honours due to her station.”

“Consider it done, My Lady,” he answered, raising his face and looking straight at her without hiding the smirk that touched his lips.

Something about his demeanor caused an uneasiness to stir within Dorothea’s chest and this, along her inability to focalize why she thought she had seen him before, left her in complete diquiet.

When the Master Templar left to do as he was ordered, Dorothea turned to face Charles, a tired smile on her face.

“Will you accompany me home, Cip?” she asked, trying to hide a small yawn. “I think the journey might have taken its toll on me, afterall,”

Charles took her hand in his and brought it his lips with gentleness.

“It will be my honour to pick up from where Pip has left off,” and with a swift gesture, he beckoned for the other Master Templars to take care of Dorothea and help her to her carriage.

Waiting for his cousin to be far enough from where he stood, Charles approached Phillip, careful to lower his voice.

“Have you told her anything about what Uncle Crawford has in plan for her?”

Phillip shook his head at his brother, as they both stayed behind, looking as Dorothea was giving directions to the ones helping her.

“No. I-“ He hold his silence just a moment longer than necessary, weighting the word he was about to say. “I didn’t have the heart to see her smile wane. She had found some peace while in Sturefors. I let her keep it. But I will not lie to you, Charles: I wish I could offer her the same peace here,” he murmured.

Charles raised an eyebrow.

“Now I undestand your need for secrecy. But I never thought you as a sentimental, brother,”

Phillip shook his head with impatience.

“This has nothing to do with me being sentimental. But after all that happened that night, I was afraid she would not smile ever again,”

“The Assassins have paid aplenty for that,”

Phillip cocked his eyebrow, his face now severe, a quiet question in his eyes.

His brother return his question with a smile so cold, so devoid of any of his usual kind warmth, it left Phillip with a feeling of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

“Frye is dead.”

“The perpetrator?”

“The Leviathan, of course. He has left nothing in his wake, not even a body for his children to cry on,” Charles said, his voice grave.

Phillip stood silent for a moment, with the loud chattering of people filling his ears. But nothing could deafen the thumping of his accelerated heartbeat.

Finally, he spoke.

“That’s not enough,“ murmured Phillip. “Not nearly enough. Not after what he had done. The ripples of that bastard’s actions have left more than one broken. His death alone is not enough. Is the Leviathan satisfied and his revenge finally accomplished?”

Charles let a small smile appear again on his lips, just as cold as the one before.

“No.”

At that answer, Phillip's own lips stretched in a vindictive smile, a reflection of his own brother’s.

“Good. Then we know what to do next.”

“Pip! Cip! It is time we go!” Charles and Phillip turned their head as they heard their cousin calling them from the carriage window. “ Are you are not coming with us, Pip?”

“I wish I could, cousin dearest, but alas, we need to part ways here, for my services are needed elsewhere.” He smiled, as he approached the carriage and took his cousin’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips in a parting gesture.

“Will you be attending to the Lady Astrid, cousin?” she teased.

Phillip rolled his eyes, shaking his golden ringlets.

“God forbids I have to spend another minute with that woman. If I wanted to hear someone nagging in my ear all day, I would have asked Father for his services. He has years of experience and a disdain that rivals no other’s. No, dearest, I am bound toward other purposes. Duty calls, as it always does for me,”

Dorothea’s smile couldn’t be but a melancholic one at those words.

“So soon? The time has flown much faster than I wanted to. What will I do without your pestering chatters, I wonder?”

Phillip’s face turned into a mask of disdained, but his eyes were smiling at her.

“Preposterous. I daresay, you have grown far too bold for your own good, cousin dearest. No, you will have to do with Cip’s own chattering, I am afraid. But,” he added, as he smiled to both her brother and Dorothea, “ I leave you in good hands,”

“Oh, I know. The best hands indeed,” she replied, returning the smile and holding Charles’ hand in hers.

“Now go, before your Lady Mother starts worrying for your late return. I shall call on you tomorrow, first thing in the morning,”

“ I count on that, cousin,” she murmured, not truly wanting to let go of his hand.

Not after three years without her family.

He squeezed her hand three times, a silent gesture she understood immediately.

A promise.

And Phillip had never failed to keep his promises.

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

The pub was loud, messy, chaotic with its patrons busy gulping down pints after pints of what could be considered the foulest beer available on the market.

And yet, its despicable taste seemed to do nothing on the one gurgling it down as if it was water, as the rowdiest of songs accompanied their time sitting at those squalid tables.

Among those people, two men sat in front of one another, barely looking at each other in the eyes. The oldest one, built like an ox, with a sour face and brutish hands that could snap an arm in two without any effort, was busying himself with the food served in front of him, while the youngest one, leaner in his figure and more elegant in his demeanor, could barely keep his own meal down.

“The little Countess has returned, at long last” he murmured, trying to distract himself from the queasiness in his stomach.

“So it seems, my friend. Ain’t so little anymore, though, I’ve been told. All grown up.”

The youngest of the two pursed his lips, an uncomfortable light in his eyes.

He didn't want to be there. At all.

“Come on, eat somethin’, will ya? You look like you’re goin’ to faint, if you so much dare to stand up. Eat. It’s on me, this time.”

“No, thank you,” the youngest murmured through gritted teeth.”This...grub does not sit well on my stomach,”

“What a sissy. Well, suits yourself, mollycoddle. I, for once, have never been one to love wasting a good meal,” and without ceremonies, he took the plate sitting in front of the youngest man and started to scarf it down as if it was his last meal.

“Hasn’t anyone taught you any manners?”said the young man, barely concealing the disgust on his face.

“Aye, me mom. She tried when I was a younglin’. Didn’t quite work out, my brother was much better material for her to work with. But what good are manners anyway? No need for them durin’ a brawl in the street.”

“If you say so…”

“Let’s talk about more important things, shall we? Is the Grand Master still set on his plan? Is she to succeed him, when the time comes?”

“How should I know? I am not in Starrick’s mind.”

“Indulge me, lad,”

The young man sighed, crossing his arms against his chest.

“There might be this possibility, yes. Nothing has been decided as of yet.”

“Bollocks.” said the other, curling his lips in disgust.

“Facts.”

The oldest of the two spit on the ground.

“Don’t fuck around with me, you ninny. I can’t believe Crawford Starrick would do somethin’ so stupid. He has enough foresight to know that it would be a catastrophe for the Order.”

“He might be in possess of knowledge about her that we cannot foresee. When he comes to his daughter, the Grand Master is most secretive,”

“Horse’s shite!” he said, slamming his hand on the table. A few people turned to look at them but hastily ignored them when the older one glared at them, his mouth the snarl of a bulldog.

“Would you care to lower your bloody voice?” said the youngest one."Mind my words, you are the paragon of discretion. It's a miracle all of London did not hear you!"

The young man grabbed the pint in front of him, and chugged down the alcohol, hoping it would wash away his nervousness. His eyes darted all across the room, hoping to not meet anyone familiar. The trouble he would be in, if he were to be found in such company, would be beyond repair.

“That’s an absolute pile of shite right there! “See somethin’ in her”? There is nothin’ to see there! All I’m seein’ is a father too blinded by his love for his child and his own desire to create a dynasty through her!”

“Maybe so. But you forget her father has personally overseen her initiation in the Templars ever since she was but a babe in arms and her mentor is none other than the Leviathan himself. She is a Starrick. I would not do the mistake to discount her on the account of her sex. And young she might be, but she resembles her sire more than you can imagine: there is steel hiding underneath that silk. Do not let yourself be fooled by anything else.”

The other grinded his teeth as he leaned closer to the young man, his face splotched by red stains of seething rage.

“Bah! All you have are conjectures and hyphothesis, nothing more than that! It can’t happen. The Order won’t accept her, just because she's his daughter. She's a woman! She belongs to the house, opening her legs for her husband as he sees fits and whelping as many little bastards as possible. She can’t be made anything else than what she is! We need someone strong at the helm of this ship.”

The younger one looked at the elder man, an inquisitive look in his cat-like eyes.

“And what do you propose we do to stop this? Kill her? Kill HIM?”

The brute hesitated, long enough for the younger man to know that, even blinded by rage, he would not act in haste. They needed a valid reason to justify any action taken, lest they were to become a target like the one they were set to control.

“That’s what I thought,” the youngest one finally said, after the long pause. “You will find that patience, my friend, is a virtue not to be discarded in favour of a hasty approach. We shall wait in the shadow, as we have always done, and seize the moment when the right window of opportunity opens. London is already in chaos as it is, with the Assassins rearing those bloody heads of theirs and causing ruckus all around the city. Those blasted Frye twins are an annoyance we need to take care of now, before this annoyance starts veering into dangerous territories.”

“Ethan Frye's bastards?” said the eldest one. “Had they learned nothing from their father’s death? Are they trying to meet the same end he did?”

“Mayhaps.”

“Wasn’t aware those assassins were a family of suicidals,”

“More like children playing with fire. But a fire that need to be quelled at all costs, nevertheless,”

"The challenge is that they’re unorganized. Chaotic. There's no plan or pattern behind their action and this makes them dangerous. Rumors have it that the Frye lad’ve been fightin' at the pits: the lad packs a mean punch.”

“Nothing that will worry you, I assume?”

“Are you jokin’,? Me and my brother will make a pulp of him, as soon as our paths cross. And trust me on this, ninny, they will cross. Wish I could do the same with the Starrick girl. Hell, I’m a gentleman myself, and would be gentle with the little poppet,” he murmured, leaving the promise hanging between the two of them. “That little neck of hers can’t be too hard to snap. A twig in my hands.”

The younger man’s mouth curled in an expression of disgust.

“You will do nothing of this sort. We have to let the Grand Master take care of this, before striking." The young man took the moment before speaking again, weightung his words with moderation. "Kill the young lady, and you will kill Crawford too, in spirit if not in body, and we do not want that. Not now, anyway. The assassins need to be dealt with first, and for that, we need the Grand Master. We need to destroy the Brotherhood, or what remains of it. Then, we shall take care of Crawford Starrick and his daughter."

The eldest one gulped down his entire pint of beer, slamming it against the table once done. He smiled, but there was no warmth in his light eyes.

"What are we waiting for then?"

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER -  “Confrontation”]

[NEXT CHAPTER -  “Awakening of the Hunter” ]

omg, could it be true??? THE 4TH CHAPTER IS FINALLY DONE AND UP??

Seriously, I don’t know what possessed me to finish this, but I just sort of did?

I missed working with my Starrick family, and so I started to read again the chapter, and before you knew it, I basically added 3k words to it today, and just finished it.

Well, as said in the previous chapter, we are finally back in 1868, so finally we have the chance to move around through London with Dorothea :D

I hope you will like this, I know I will be needing a long nap lol

also, a huge thanks to my dear @susann- noir for being my beta reader and helping me through! you have been immensely kind, I appreciated your help so much <3.

Hope you will like it!

--Nemo

[bluegekk0]

Random thought that went to my head: How would vrym feel about the king molds and wing molds? Would he feel guilty about what happened to them and how would he react to the collector( if they are still alive)?

Btw, your au has been a big inspiration for my own au surrounding the collector, especially the inspiration toward my version of the pale king. Have a great day 😄

First of all, I'm so happy to hear you could find inspiration in my AU! It really warms my heart to hear that people enjoy it so much! And I wish you luck in the making of your own AU!!

Now to answer the question, I actually wrote about void a bit on the WorldAnvil page on higher beings yesterday, so this is really good timing. I'll start with the general idea of void in my AU. I see it as a naturally occuring substance found deep underground, which mutated and evolved into a form which, under certain conditions, can unify and take the shape of a Void Entity, which is considered a very strange type of higher being, under the name of The Shade Lord. But in its basic form, it is a substance which seemingly has some kind of mind, but acts purely on instinct and can't experience pain due to its sludge like form. It has the capability to animate objects if contained within, and I like to think that in the distant past there was some kind of civilization which used it for technological progress (before being wiped out by it, since as it later turned out, starting a settlement in a place dripping with void was way deadlier than anticipated). As void evolved, it became too dangerous to stay around, which is why it was left forgotten in the Abyss, especially after it was sealed away there by The Radiance and Grimm's father (I'm planning to expand this plot point on the WorldAnvil page at some point, so I'll share more details then).

I mention this because, after defeating the weakened Shade Lord that was locked in there (this is how I interpret the Black Wyrm in the AU), and during his experiments on a way to stop the infection, Vyrm learned of the animative properties of void and put together the kingsmould and wing moulds. They were originally going to be the vessels, but unfortunately their artificial shell wasn't strong enough to hold the entities and they were prone to breaking down. He later made the terrible decision to use a living being as the void vessel, but we know how that went.

After the experiments failed, Vyrm was left with a bunch of those animated metal knights that were still intact, so he decided to use them as guards for the Palace. There weren't enough of them to pose any serious risk, and he didn't want to just discard them, so he found a use for them. The moulds were not actually sentient, or at the very least, they had the same level of intelligence as void itself. They could be made to follow orders, so they were pretty decent guards. Of course, they weren't the only ones protecting the Palace, I see them as just an addition to strengthen the defenses. Wingmoulds, meanwhile, were used to carry messages throughout the Palace, and as general surveillance.

With that said, void has proven to not act as expected, as seen in the vessels. They were meant to be obedient and experience no pain, and while Vyrm feared that this could fail, for quite some time it appeared that things went according to plan. Well, they didn't, and that realization made him view void differently as a whole. For all intents and purposes, there is nothing there to feel bad about when it comes to the void moulds, they were not living beings, just metal animated by an oil like substance. But I think despite that, he would feel bad about the kingsmould that broke down at the Palace ruins, as if it died guarding its king to the end of its days. Perhaps he even feels some guilt about disturbing the void in the first place. I think he wishes that he placed the moulds back in the Abyss and allowed the void within to return to the void lake, instead of keeping them for his own gain.

As for the Collector, it's a strange being. I'm not yet sure if I'm going to make them a failed/rogue kingsmould or if its a completely unique entity. What I do know is that he wouldn't be aware of their existence, and so would have no feelings about them. I think the Collector's existence serves as a nice showcase of the unpredictability of void, as well as its ability to take form and even develop some sort of personality as a result. Perhaps they're still alive somewhere out there, be it the City of Tears or someplace else. I haven't thought about them that much aside from occasional ask responses that weren't really meant to be concrete. I quite like the idea of them just being a wild entity that existed at some point and maybe still does.

If Vyrm did bump into them, I'm sure he would be shocked, though perhaps a bit fascinated. Seeing a void entity that does not inhabit any outer shell would be an interesting thing to experience, especially after all his attempts at trying to study it and experiment with it. But it would also make him even more confident in thinking that he should've never disturbed void in the first place, as clearly it can be very unpredictable. So his feelings would remain the same, a mixture of regret and caution.

[enkisstories]

Armitage wasn't the only child with a new sibling on Arkanis.

At the edge of campus, where Project Harvester was housed, Caroline Tchelmi and the newly arrived Gavin Dree discovered that they had the same favorite color. A vicious argument whether green was a boy- or a girl color, and which of them subsequently was the odd one, ensued.

The younglings' high-pitched babbling and the constant drizzle, that had forced him out of his robes and into a raincoat, made it difficult to concentrate on the majesty of the dark side for seven year old John Spilph.

Maybe if Harvester had owned a real sanctuary instead of a corner in this straight-lined academy with all its trees and flowers, that would help getting into the spirit of things!

His master not being required to wear such demeaning garb only fueled the boy's frustration.

John: "When will I get my own lightsaber, master?"

Hank: "When you can take one from a light side user and bend the crystal inside it to your will!"

John: "That... will take some time."

Hank: "Or we could buy you an artificial crystal. Industrially raised kyber crystals are always red, no one would notice the difference."

Hank "Red Ice" Sonderan now expected John to loudly protest that HE would know the difference, that a store-bought fake crystal would never be sufficient for him and he'd OF COURSE claim one by killing an enemy.

Instead the boy proclaimed:

"I don't want a pre-owned crystal!!! Let's shop for a new one!"

Two replies formed in the man's mind. The part of him that identified as "Red Ice" the inquisitor immediately wanted to shout: "Pre-owned?! Do you even know what you're saying there, you ignorant little dipshit?!" What remained of Jedi-wannabe Hank Sonderan was more inclined to explain the matter to John in a way that would put the boy's worries to rest.

In the past, Red Ice had always reliably fought down his foolish, soft notions. Only for the last few days the drive to do so had lessened. For a moment the lightsaber's red blade turned a more purplish shade, as Hank turned around to calmly reply to his apprentice.

Hank: "Each blade is new, it doesn't remember anything the previous one has accomplished - or failed to accomplish. Triumphs and Failures, all constantly starting over. There is no memory, and therefore there is no guilt or shame."

No change in color occured, the saber stubbornly kept glowing purple.

Hank: "We can do whatever we want, John! Concepts like wealth and status shouldn't mean anything to us."

Now the purple even intensified.

Hank (louder): "Stop thinking about how others might feel!"

There the red hue was back.

Red Ice deactivated his saber. He'd check for a malfunction later. Worst case scenario he'd have to claim a new one from a light side user. But that was his job anyway, his function, the only reason he had been allowed to grow up.

Awesome and frightening as their powers appeared to mundanes, the inquisitors were nothing more than living tools to the Emperor, hunting dogs firmly leashed by Lord Vader.

John: "But, master! Every blade comes from the same crystal! The saber's core! Doesn't that remember?"

The core! Was there a core that encompassed both Hank Sonderan and Red Ice? Were those names just labels for different actions the man was taking or two seperate personas?

For example, if Hank was pondering to do something very unwise tonight, would he have to battle Red Ice in a mental duel first or was the dark side adept just a set of possible courses of actions, from which Hank could freely pick?

Maybe it didn't matter. What mattered was that something had changed enough in the galaxy to allow Hank to even think such rebellious thoughts in the first place. It wasn't hard to guess what that could only be.

Endor wasn't a lie. Vader had fallen for real. The Emperor might be dead - or severely crippled - too.

[mushroomwithsomeink]

I’m going to start compiling my stands here, so here are some stands i’ve made for some Resident Evil characters.

———

Stand Name: Into The Woods (Meet Me in the Woods by Lord Huron)

Stand Type: Artificial Humanoid

Stand User: Ethan Winters

Stats:

Power: A

Speed: B

Range: E

Durability: B

Precision: A

Potential: D

Ability: “Masquerade”

Mythical Beast Mimicry, Into The Woods can transform partially or fully into any creature in any Mythos the user desires. The stand gains the ability and physiology of the beast it turns into, For example, if it were to turn into a Chimera, it would receive the multitude of body parts as well as heads, and is able to breathe fire. The user can do this to themself as well.

Ability 2, “Wonderland”, The user can generate fairy rings (basically rings of mushrooms) of varying sizes, it leads into a pocket dimension that the user can store objects and such into. But spawning rings is only limited to natural ground only since the types of mushrooms that make up fairy rings are mostly ones that grow from the soil. It even allows for stealth as the user can hide themself or anyone inside.

Ability 3: “Undying Love”, once the user dies, the stand will go and protect the user’s family. Making sure they’re safe from any enemy or situation that befalls them.

———

Stand Name: Moon Will Sing (The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives)

Stand Type: Colony stand, made up of Luna moths with navy blue wings that change color depending on the user’s emotional state

Stand User: Mia Winters

Stats:

Power: E

Speed: B

Range: C

Durability: C

Precision: B

Potential: A

Ability: Shadow and Fear Manifestation, The stand will appear from the opponent’s shadow, taking the form of what the enemy fears the most. The form will begin to instill fear in the person’s heart in an attempt to paralyze them. This effect gets amplified if one closes their eyes, if the person is too weak-willed they will suffer a heart attack. Moon Will Rise can physically touch a person but is unable to directly attack a person.

If there is only 1 person in the area the effect will be at its most powerful, but if there are more people in the area, the effect will get weaker.

The user can also use their own shadow to hide or disguise themself.

Ability 2: Sensation Inducement, The stands’ scales can will fall off the stands’ wings and radiate the scent of rotting flesh, the scales are able to exhibit strange and hallucinatory patterns that mess with the eyesight of someone, giving them dizziness and mild headaches, and make the opponent see things that aren’t there.

———

Stand Name: Hazy Shade of Winter (Hazy Shade of Winter by Simon and Garfunkel)

Stand Type: Evolving Stand, Slowly becomes a Humanoid, 4 Acts.

Stand User: Rosemary Winters

Act 1: The user can freeze water and objects, the user can also phase into the ice and is able to transport themself in vast distances and come out of the aforementioned frost. The frost is completely natural however, so it is prone to melting.

Stats:

Power: C

Speed: B

Range: A

Durability: C

Precision: B

Potential: A

———

Act 2: “Frost Fire”, this allows the user to summon blue cold flames that freeze to the touch. HSOW is now able to also shoot water from the holes in its palms.

Stats:

Power: B

Speed: A

Range: B

Durability: C

Precision: B

Potential: B

———

Act 3: “Acid Snowfall”, HSOW now generates acid snowflakes, the snow is highly toxic and can melt things almost quickly. The stand itself is fine from the snowflakes, but the user is not.

Stats:

Power: A

Speed: A

Range: B

Durability: B

Precision: C

Potential: C

———

Act 4: “Refracting Frost'', HSOW can create lenses of water or ice in the air, they range in size from microscopic to roughly 20 meters large. These lenses can fire beams of frost onto anything and anyone, the user can move and aim the lenses allowing the user to target their enemy, getting struck by a beam causes ice burn and can freeze you to death.

These lenses can also create illusions and make spots look invisible to the naked eye.

Stats:

Power: A

Speed: B

Range: A

Durability: B

Precision: A

Potential: D

Batch 2 here:

[plusanimablog]

Chapter 51: The White Shadow

Several shadowy people in the facility say that the race was a success. They got dem sum good Anima. Here, it's revealed that Fly is also the king's nephew. The figures speculate that if Anima are accepted into society and more importantly, obviously, the military, Lord Greena Aight (Still Fly) would gain more power. Oh sure, Fly has given no indication that he even cares about politics but that "I don't care" attitude of his makes him even more suspicious! Lord Yuriel, the heir to the throne, is still too young to rule so Fly is the obvious candidate. These random old men can't let him rule...

Fly, yawning, is approached by Commander Iggy about the rumors going around the castle. Fly brushes them off, saying he knows that they're saying he's using the Anima to take over Astaria. He thinks it's funny. Iggy angrily says that his carefree attitude makes people suspect him even more (true) but Fly isn't worried. Iggy thinks that Lord Nuoref (probably one of the old men) could have him assassinated though...eh, whatever. Fly is a bit perturbed though. You see, those old men are trying to disrupt his fun. That simply won't do...but first, lunch!

Cooro and the boys are swimming in the lake while Nana watches. She talks to Lyra, wondering how Cooro knows Fly. When she asked him, he said, "I know him...but don't worry about it!". So naturally, Nana is more worried. However, Lyra says she doesn't know either. Cooro was taken to the research facility before she was and, by the time she got there, he was already gone. So she doesn't know their relationship. However, Fly loves Anima research and Cooro is an unique Anima, so Fly probably didn't leave him alone. Nana is a bit worried by that, knowing that Fly did the Anima implants. She points out that none of the group are Anima because they want to be. Lyra simply asks her if she doesn't want to be an Anima, why doesn't she just have the research facility take her Anima from her? Obviously, Nana didn't know that was an option. Lyra explains that they take your Anima and implant it in someone else, creating artificial Anima. Then Lyra tosses more shade, saying that Cooro's backstory is awfully suspicious. He might be lying about being an Anima.

She then hears a carriage coming and runs off, saying goodbye to Nana. Cooro...telling lies? Impossible. At least Nana thinks so. She calls for (shouts for) Husky to come to her, leading him out to a clearing to share her theory that Cooro is a man-made Anima. She knows she's onto something because doesn't immediately yell at her/say he hates women. He himself has had his suspicions about Cooro from the start too, from his acceptance of his Anima to the fact that he was born with it. We know by now that Anima are triggered by trauma so it should be impossible to be born with it, right? The obvious solution? Go to Kilter to investigate...with Cooro. Cooro agrees, saying they'll stay the night at the church...all according to plan. The church may have information on his past that will solve the mystery.

A fisherwoman leads a bunch of kids while heading out for fish while singing a song while wearing hats. Nana spots them and says the song sounds like something Cooro would sing. The woman stops, sees Cooro and excitedly runs over to greet him, saying he's gotten taller. Cooro identifies her as Raine, saying she was the oldest kid at the church. Raine says the Mother Superior will be happy to see him and leads them all back to the church.

The Mother Superior is happy to see him and sees his friends. She explains that Raine came back to work at the church after finishing vocational school. She also heard that Cooro was a fine worker at the Research Facility. Aha! A clue! Anyway, at night, in bed, Nana is still awake. She wants to ask Cooro but the words just won't come out. I mean, he was being evasive earlier when she asked about Fly so I don't blame her. Then everyone sees a bird spirit float above Cooro's bed, thinking it's a ghost. Nana hits it with the ultrasound attack but, being a transparent energy being, it somehow doesn't work. She tries to get Husky to help her follow it but he was knocked out by the scream. She's on her own. She runs after it and it disappears into the floor. Raine comes over to investigate the noise and Nana tells her she saw a ghost. Raine brushes her off, saying this place is protected by God so she crazy, then shoos her off to bed. When she gets back, Cooro is already asleep. End of chapter.

[thefanficmonster]

All The Colors

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Colorblindness, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: The colors are not always seen but rather felt. Just like Y/N feels the colors through their best friend and boyfriend Corpse. That’s how they realize that what they can’t see is the most beautiful and genuine feeling in the world. The feeling of knowing something and someone so deeply.

Requested by my dear friend Lulu, who you might have known as greenieofshield. Unfortunately she’ll never get to read this fic and I’ll never forgive myself for not putting it out sooner but I’ll also never forgive the universe for being so cruel as to take her away so early. She was one of the best people I’ve ever met, always so full of optimism, always there to brighten up my day and make me smile. Always so strong and brave, never falling victim to the hate she received despite not being deserving of it. The world lost an angel the day she died and I as well as so many other people will forever miss her.

Love you and miss you with my whole soul and hear, Lulu. Hope they’re treating you right in heaven ❤

For what it’s worth, Y/N has never asked people to describe the colors to them. In their eyes that seemed like the equivalent of poorly patching up a wound: they could hear thousands upon thousands of descriptions of each color and still wouldn’t be able to imagine it. The descriptions would only make that worse to them. So to avoid feeling even more like they’re missing out they never asked.

However, that doesn’t mean they haven’t developed their own way to ‘visualize’ and imagine colors throughout the years. They’ve tried loads of different methods, few of which stuck around and not for long either. That is exactly why they frequently used to tell their friends: “You can’t paint me a rainbow with black and white and shades of grey and expect me not to feel like I’m missing out on something. Paint me the gloomy sky on a rainy day and only then we’ll be even cause you’re seeing the same greys I am.”

Little did they know how drastically their logic was about to change in the following years.

Speaking of said following years - they met Corpse who became one of their best friends in practically no time. And within just a few months of that friendship’s blossoming, a romance sparked. A romance their friends would jokingly refer to as ‘romance of a lifetime’. Maybe it was said jokingly but Lord knows they weren’t wrong in saying so because the two were completely head over heels for one another -s till are to this day - and never shied away from showing it.

Y/N and Corpse met through Rae who Y/N was staying with while on a little vacation to Los Angeles. To be even more specific here, the two met through a game of Among Us, the game responsible for many wonderful friendships since its release.

“Guys, guys, guys.“ Y/N said after sparking up a bickering session for falsely accusing ‘blue‘ of faking a task in Navigation during the final round for the day, “Here’s a little rule of thumb for whenever we play together again: don’t trust me if I accuse a color instead of a name.“ It’s safe to say that statement rose a few eyebrows in the Discord call, the confusion serving as amusement to them before they explained themself, “Oh, why that is? Hm, I don’t know, maybe cause I’m colorblind.”

Rae who was in on the scheme the whole time and was struggling to hold in her laughter finally snapped while the rest of the players were left processing the information that had been dropped on them.

“But you practically kicked our ass every single round?!“ Corpse said, amazement and confusion in his tone.

“Expect the unexpected from this schemer, take it from someone who’s known them for a decade now.“ Rae said, winking at her friend from across the room. Not failing to notice the blush on their cheeks while doing so though.

“Corpse, are you calling me a good liar?“ They poked a stick at him teasingly, desperately avoiding Rae’s gaze which widened the second she realized why her friend was so flustered by Corpse’s remark.

“Practically a con artist.“ He replied to them with a laugh, earning one from them in return.

And so they practically conned him into falling in love with them with their quick wit, sarcasm and cuteness. If someone is to ask Corpse if he expected to fall for Y/N, he’d probably say yes.

“They were like a magnet the moment they entered the lobby and started talking.“ He said once on a live stream in response to a question he received in the chat regarding Y/N, “It wasn’t hard at all, falling for them. What took me a while was realizing it. While I was referring to them as ‘best friend’ all my friends were rolling their eyes and going ‘Sure, bud.’ Just took me a bit to realize why.”

Luckily, it didn’t take him too long to grasp what his heart was actually screaming at him. Good thing they came to terms with it so soon too, otherwise they would’ve driven their friends insane.

Anyway, enough about what happened and what could’ve happened under one circumstance or another, what matters is the ‘here and now’ of their relationship. And trust me when I say it has never been better and it keeps getting better every day.

The beauty of what those two have is in the tiny every day things that they do for each other, the good morning texts even though the other person in probably just in the kitchen making breakfast while the other cannot find it in them to get out of bed; or it’s laced within the calls between them when neither of them are home or at least one of them is out and about, busy with a task they’ve probably been putting off for far too long. Don’t get me wrong though, the romantic gestures aren’t rare either. Random gifts are exchanged by them on regular intervals but one consistent and super romantic gesture that repeats a few times every year (of the two years they’ve been dating) is Corpse giving Y/N a bouquet of flowers.

A detail Y/N couldn’t help but take notice of was the fact that the bouquet was always made up of the same flowers with only small changes to the arrangement of them and maybe some tiny ones added too. Unfortunately, they aren’t artificial so they couldn’t have kept them thought they wish they could’ve. That being said, it goes without saying that those flowers mean the world to Y/N, the gesture actually - they know flowers are a common gift to give but anything they receive from Corpse is so special and makes them feel like the only person who’s ever received such a gift.

And so they got curious, they had to ask. They had to ask the question they never thought they’d actively ask considering their view of the topic. But they still did.

“Hey Corpse.“ Y/N spoke up out of the blue, breaking the silence that had fallen over them while they watched the movie they were only partially interested in given how exhausted they both were from devoting themselves to their respective tasks and responsibilities throughout the last few days.

Corpse hummed in response, the arm wrapped around their waist doing a little motion as if encouraging them to continue, his gaze immediately traveling down to his partner.

“What color are the flowers?“ They asked, gazing at the bouquet - a gift they had received from him for their birthday a few days prior - in the vase on the dining table.

They waited a few seconds but when they didn’t hear nor feel any sort of response from him they couldn’t help but look up at him. Upon doing so, they saw his small smile as his eyes too remained on the bouquet. “They’re black and white.“ He replied eventually, “Black roses and white daffodils.“ His gaze wandered away from the vase and down to meet theirs, “I don’t want you to think I’m seeing them in their ‘full beauty’ while you only see them in black and white. You are seeing them in their full beauty and not missing out on anything. They are absolutely beautiful black and white as they are.“

As a response to his answer, Y/N couldn’t suppress the growing smile on their face no matter how hard they tried. So they didn’t try at all, they let the smile lighten up their face before speaking up: “You’re a wonder, Corpse.” They said, pushing themself as upright as they could to be able to kiss his cheek. “However, you’re wrong.” They say when they pull away, smirking up at his confused expression, “My world was black and white until you came into it. You’re all the colors, Corpse. Your love’s red, joy’s yellow, sadness blue, chaos green. Love red. You’re all the colors and out of all the people that have tried to describe to me how they look, you have managed to do that just perfectly without even trying.”

Little did they know that’s exactly what he thinks of them - their world is black and white because all the colors live within them. Because they are all the colors.

And maybe they both are, seeing as how they came into each other’s lives exactly like the rainbow after the pouring rain.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry VII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), mentions of previous forced oral, abuse of power, these men ain't shit.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You face a reckoning for evading your lord.

Note: This wasn't planned but things just turned out this way because my go to is fuck the reader. Oop.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The nights only got harder. It didn't matter if Lord Barnes wanted to touch you or wanted you to touch him, even just laying beside him was torment. You hated what he'd done to you and what he'd made you do. You hated yourself more for how he made you feel.

You decided that day in the carriage during the rainstorm that you hated him. You hated Lord Barnes more than even Lord Rogers. At least the latter was honest in his lechery, he did not try to veil his true desires but Barnes spoke to you sweetly as he forced his needs upon you.

The night before you were due to reach the capital, you did not sleep. You couldn't in the bed next to Barnes. He wanted to be astride as he entered the city and so you were left to ride alone in the carriage. The sway soon had you across the bench in a deep slumber. It was the best sleep you had in weeks.

You only woke as a hammering came at the door and streaks of sunlight were let in as it opened. A footman called you out and helped you down the step into the dirt. You batted your sleepy eyes and marveled at the castle as it came clear. It was getting colder as the autumn wore on, bitter. It was the wrong season for a tournament.

As you trod through the beaten yard of the castle, Lord Barnes clapped off his right hand, the leather glove dusting, and approached you. He’s gaze strayed to Lord Rogers for a moment then back to you. He dropped his shoulders and scrunched his lips.

“I have an audience with the king,” he said glumly, “as much as I’d prefer you attend with me it has been brought to my attention that… the court might not be as accommodating to you as I am. Regardless, I might have a seat arranged for you at the feast and you were surely sit in the rows for the sparring.”

“I… my lord, I am only--”

“I told you,” he interjected, “you are not a maid anymore.”

You held your tongue as you wanted to spit at him. What were you? A courtesan? A whore? Was that better than emptying his pot? You dipped your head and pulled your cape snug, “my lord.”

“See her to my rooms,” Barnes directed the footman at your shoulder, “once the chests are unpacked, she is to be undisturbed. My guard will have the same orders.”

“Yes, my lord,” the footman bowed, “my lady.”

You looked at the footman and slowly followed him away from Barnes. You were eager to be away from him but not eager to be shown your new prison. You entered the castle and followed the torchlit corridors beside the footman.

“I’m not a lady,” you said at last, “I don’t want you to ever call me that again.”

“My apologies, my--” he stuttered, “the lord bid it.”

“He lies to himself and you,” you muttered, “I was born as you, likely lower. My own mother was a laundress and my father a stablehand. Cut from the finest, I am.”

The footman was quiet as he waved you ahead of him up the coiling stairwell. You regretted your harsh words but knew they could never be delivered to their true target. When you reached the chamber designated to your master, you stopped outside. Lester was already at his station by the lord’s doors.

“I am sorry,” you told the footman, “I was unkind. You do not deserve that.”

His lips curved slightly and he hid his amusement, “I know now you are like me,” he said softly, “the nobles, they don’t apologise.”

You chuckled darkly and left him. You passed the servants as they carried in trunks and opened them in a flurry of duty. You went to the bedroom and climbed up on the large feather mattress. That time you had to yourself, even surrounded by the chaos of your arrival, was a relief. You did not know how long you’d get away from Barnes.

🏰

You fell asleep again. This time, you weren’t floating in your dreams, driven wildly by the tides, but you were still, straight as a board in the ground as dirty sprinkled onto you. The cold earth warmed as the layers piled on you. Deeper, deeper, deeper until you couldn’t breathe.

You woke with a start and nearly screamed as a shadow loomed over you. Barnes sat beside you, his legs over the edge of the couch. He played with the lifeless fingers of his artificial hand. Your hood was on the pillow, crumpled and the folds of your dress were bunched awkwardly beneath your body.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he murmured, “just wanted to sit with you.”

“How long--”

“It is almost time for supper,” he said, “but the feast is not until the morrow. You might remain and rest some more.”

You didn’t move, just looked up at the canopy and laid there. You didn’t say anything more as you folded your arms over the stiff bodice.

“You should sleep… the journey was long. Tiring,” he continued.

You just blinked but didn’t close your eyes. The canopy was a rich green marked with gold. The stitches were woven in the shape of leaves and vines. You thought of the forest and those days you were so scared. You were much more terrified now.

“I wanted to say, and I should now since you are awake,” he began as he leaned on his elbow and his other arm fell limp and heavy, “what occurred with Rogers will not arise again. I made him a promise I regret and it was sorted.”

You held back a shudder as you thought of the salty tasted and the pungent scent of their arousal. You swallowed and hugged yourself tighter.

“If he attempts to reenact the scene, or more, you will inform me, and you have my leave to see that he does not,” Barnes said sternly, “you are still mine. I would not have you confused.”

You rolled onto your side so that your back was to him. He huffed and his hand fell onto your side. He squeezed and the bed shifted. He said your name and every muscle in your body went taut.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

“I’m tired,” you said.

“I want no mistake. You--”

“I belong to you,” you sneered, “you want to use me, you want to own me, you want me to tell you I know I am nothing but the dirt beneath your boot. Let me assure you I am aware--”

“Do not speak to me as such,” he hissed.

You bit back your voice and heaved. You sucked in your cheeks and wriggled away from his reach. “It is understood, my lord. Now as you bid, I would sleep.”

🏰

The only grace allowed you at the feast, rather denied you, was a seat with your lord. As much as Barnes would prefer to have you close he was still bound by the expectations of court. He didn't let on that you were merely a servant but you didn't think anyone could believe otherwise. For his vouching, you were sat among the lower lords and ladies.

You watched as wine was poured for you. You eyed the girl who kept her chin down as the filled the cups and thought of your own time in a similar duty. What did Barnes find so fascinating about you? You had only done what dozens others had done for him before. You couldn't figure you had an outstanding feature or manner that could explain his interest, it could only be your own poor luck.

You ate without tasting, without zeal, slowly as you brought fork to lip and dissolved into the chatter of strangers around you. All those seated at the long tables had a partner or some family with them. You were alone. Your parents were dead and all those you'd ever had a kindred tie to were far away.

"Uncle," a voice perked up across from you and drew your attention as you chewed the spiced rabbit meat, "if I made the lists, surely I can win!"

"My coin got you on those lists," the older man replied, "it is all formality. Should you gace a king or a duke, you would be remiss to claim victory."

"I am to lay down for their title?" The younger scoffed, "I am a man now and I have trained--"

"But you think like a boy," the other rebuked, "a runner up can take a fine purse still and if you feed the ego of a high borne man he will be more willing to show you favour."

You lowered your fork and looked at the two men as they argued. The elder`s hair was sprinkled with grey but the rest the same shade of reddish brown as the youth. You were heartened by their familial banter but saddened at your own solace. You dropped your hands to your lap and looked at your plate.

"Dear," the woman beside you touched your sleeve, "are you well?"

You turned to her startled and nodded. "Yes, my lady," you cleared your throat, "fine indeed."

She peered past you then shared a look with the older man across the table. She was not so grey as him. She smiled and withdrew her hand. "You are alone?"

"Only me, my lady," you answered.

"And overly polite," she chuckled, "a pity. A young girl sent to court without escort. What family could do such a thing? You must be frightened out of your wits."

"I will… persevere," you said.

"Ay but it is the nature of these events to be cordial. I am May Parker, my husband is a baron," she gestured to the older man across from you, "Benjamin, and my nephew, Peter, a viscount in his beloved father's stead," she smiled at the younger man, "and your name?"

You hadn't been told what to say in the circumstance. You hadn't thought of it and surely Barnes hadn't either. You would have to garnish the truth with enough lies to get by. You twined your fingers together. You offered your name, your truth, then conjured your lies as you spoke.

"My father is, er, was, a baron as well," you said, "I am his only child."

"Oh, you sweet thing, if you would be alone for this tournament, you might stay near to us. My nephew hasn't many peers of his age just yet, and my husband is much too weary to keep up with him."

You glanced around, the two men bowed their heads in greeting. You attempted a smile and thanked her.

"Our Peter will be competing in the joust and in the sword contest," she announced, "we did urge him to enter the bow and arrow but he finds it dull."

"Oh," you were uncertain how to address these people, to speak as if you were their equal, "I've never attended a tourney before."

"Best you stay close then," she squeezed your hand gently, "why look at all these people! Even that Duke from the north came, bless him, that one who did lose his arm in the campaigns."

You reached for your wine to hide your discomfort at the mention of him. All you had to do was pretend for the evening and you'd likely not see these people again. As friendly as they were, you couldn't stand to make friends only to lose them.

You listened for the rest of the courses as May and her family did much of the talking. There were moments you forgot your predicament, even that you were born a peasant, but when it returned to you, the food turned to a lump in your stomach and your heart clamoured.

You were roused from the waking dream only as the music plucked up and the plates were cleared by your own ilk. May chuckled and stood as her husband came around to her. She paused as the bodies flooded from the benches onto the boards. She touched your shoulder kindly, "if you would be in want of a partner, our Peter is rather graceful."

You looked to the younger Parker and he lit up. "Only if you like, miss."

"I… would say I am not so," you said evasively.

"It would not bother me, I trained with the old hound that slept in our barn, he slobbered quite heavily," he laughed, "but I would be indebted should you allow me the treat of a true partner."

"I suppose…" you looked to the high table where Barnes scowled at Lord Rogers, entirely unconcerned with you for the first time in a while. Perhaps this was a chance; lose yourself in the crowd and you might find the opening you needed. Or perhaps merely a respite from him at least, "I do warn you however, I would not know where to place my feet."

May and Benjamin swept away as Peter came around to you. He offered his arm and you mimicked the other ladies as you took it.

He lifted his shoulders proudly as he led you to the floor, "only step around my own and I will do my best not to trod on your slippers, lady." He turned you in time with the music, your arms hooked so that you faced in opposing direction, "follow me and do not worry so much. No one is watching us so closely."

You smiled, a real smile that time as the strings and flutes filled your chest. As this kind stranger patiently guided you around the boards. You raised your chin as you did your best to stay on the beat but nearly tripped as your eyes met another pair.

Lord Barnes glared down at you from the high table, the only lord remaining in his seat, and his hand gripped the stem of his goblet tightly. Even at the distance, you felt his chagrin. And as he stood, your sole met Peter's toe but he only snickered and righted you.

"You're doing fine, lady," he assured as he spun and switched arms, you let him lead you dumbly as you watched Barnes descend from the dais, "a natural."

[the8gates]

👀 I'd love to see Obito and Reiko go on an actual date in a restaurant after Obito got his hair done in your last chapter of them. It'd be lovely ♥

Ask and ye shall receive! How about their first official date?

Word Count: 5.2k

Brought to you by my 200 Follower Special!

Reiko was pinning her hair into spiky buns on either side of her head, allowing the ends of her brown hair to stick up and out with little care. She’d seen one of the young Kunoichi’s in the village wearing their hair in a similar style once. It looked youthful and vibrant, and she could certainly use some of that levity to balance out the weight of what was to come. As she painted her lips a soft, rosy, shade, Reiko almost laughed at her own reflection. Though her appearance wasn’t the cause for the new outburst. Rather, she felt the need to mock the way her hand tremble slightly and her eyes appeared wide with panic. The blush on her cheeks was not artificial and she could feel her insides twisting and turning with frightened anticipation. 

She’d been living with Obito for several months, and had become his ‘girlfriend’ several months before that, and yet they’d never been on a single date outside of their homes. 

In the beginning, they’d just decided it would be best to keep their relationship under the radar. The less people who knew, the less they would have to explain. Additionally, the knowledge that Obito was still alive spread through the village like wildfire after he’d stopped that Jonin from attacking her. Apparently, someone who lived in the apartments above the alley they’d been had seen the entire scene unfold. Some other people had seen Obito walking Reiko home that night. A few whispers had turned into village wide gossip which had turned into a group of concerned parents, Shinobi, and shop owners gathering outside of the Hokage Tower early one morning to demand answers. Kakashi had been forced to make the announcement before he’d been ready, and the weeks that followed were hard on everyone involved. 

At the time, it had just made sense for Reiko and Obito to keep their heads down. It had also been a command from Lord Sixth. Reiko was put on extended leave until they could decide what to do with her attacker. Obito was confined to his home. In the end, she supposed they just got too comfortable with being each others only company. Obito lived on the village’s pay roll for a while and Reiko continued to be an under the table advisor for Shikamaru as he navigated his new position. There was never a need to leave the house other than to go on short grocery runs, so they never left. 

That was until Obito proposed the idea of going on an actual date. Dinner, some kind of entertainment, dessert. She’d noticed that, after the dye job on gone well, Obito had gained a new found confidence. Changing his appearance seemed to be his idea of severing the last tie to his blood soaked past. He was more playful and energetic than she’d ever seen him. Rolling over in bed in the morning just to pepper her face with light kisses. Tickling her sides and laughing into the skin of her neck until they became a tangled mess of limbs and love. She’d watched him painstakingly follow a recipe from her recipe book, his pink tongue pinched between his lips as he read over the instructions again and again. Hell, one night, he’d rose from his seat on the couch with no warning. He’d turned the TV off right in the middle of their movie and before Reiko could protest, he was clicking on the radio in the kitchen, cranking it up to top volume, and pulling Reiko from her seat to dance. He said he hadn’t danced since he was a child. 

All of these strange, albeit sweet, things had culminated in his proposal of a public date as they laid in bed one evening. Reiko had been hesitant, lingering nerves making her stomach twist at the idea of someone trying to hurt him. Or saying hurtful things to him because of his past. But Obito’s eyes had sparkled in the darkness of their bedroom and she hadn’t had the heart to voice her concerns. 

Now, as she got ready for their first ‘official’ date, Reiko found her stomach filling with butterflies. Her smile nervous but uncontainable. It almost felt like being a teenager again. Though, she couldn’t recall the last person who’d made her feel this giddy. 

“Hey, you almost ready?”

Obito asked from the bathroom doorway, startling her and causing her to jump, effectively smearing lipstick across her cheek. When she noticed the pink streak in her reflection, she sighed, chuckling a bit at the tail end as she reached for a tissue. 

“Well, I was, but now I have to clean this up.”

She said, carefully wiping the pink from her cheek as Obito chuckled behind her. He crossed the bathroom, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder to peer at her reflection. 

“You look nice… even with lipstick on your cheek.”

He complimented, and even though it had been a week since the dye job, Reiko was still stunned by his appearance occasionally. She’d had no idea what a huge difference something as simple as hair color could make. Obito looked younger with a head full of dark hair and a matching set of thin eyebrows. His eyes held a near child like shine and she found herself falling in love with him all over again. She forced her eyes away from his reflection was a light hearted scoff, going back to wiping the remaining stain from her skin. 

“So, you planned all of this out, huh? The whole date?”

She asked, and Obito beamed, his grip on her waist tightening in excitement. 

“Uh-huh. You’re going to love it.”

He promised, and that was enough to catch her attention. Obito was a romantic. There was no arguing with that. He watched those rom-com movies until he knew most of the lines by heart, and he still choked up every time when the two main characters finally got together. Or admitted their love for each other. Reiko believed that some people were born that way. Full of so much emotion that they were constantly seeking an outlet for it. Obito had channeled of that passion into many things before. Shinobi work, helping people in the village, loving Rin, war-mongering, and recently, his relationship with her. Reiko didn’t think she’d ever met a man so interested in what she had to say. He asked her personal questions she’d never even considered, and would sit and listen with a doe-eyed expression as she worked through the answer. In hindsight, being locked in this house where he couldn’t connect with people and express himself was probably draining for him. Like having a large, energetic, dog cooped up in a tiny apartment. It was unfair. So, even if Reiko was nervous about this outing, she knew it was necessary. For Obito, and for herself. 

“If you put it together, I’m sure it will be perfect.”

Reiko said, tossing the pink stained tissue into a small garbage can near the sink. Obito’s hand slithered up her body to grip her chin, gently pushing until she turned to give him a kiss. When he pulled away and untethered himself from her, he grinned brightly at her reflection. 

“Then let’s begin! Your chariot awaits!”

Obito exclaimed before turning heel and leaving her standing in the bathroom, more than a little dumb founded. 

…Chariot? 

Reiko had been quick in finishing her preparations. Throwing on a flowing skirt and relaxed tank top at Obito’s instruction to dress ‘comfortable and casual’. He’d been waiting by the front door, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for her to slip on a pair of strappy sandals. As she pinned her earrings in, she’d chuckled at the excited look on his face, like a hyper active puppy waiting to go for a walk. That’s when she realized she’d forgotten something important. 

“Ready?”

Obito asked, grinning from ear to ear, and Reiko held up a finger in a sign for him to wait. She darted through the house, back upstairs to their shared bedroom. After digging around for a moment, she rose up from her side of the closet with a small, white, gift bag. So plain and unassuming that it had been sitting in the back corner of their closet for a week and Obito hadn’t even noticed it. 

Reiko trotted back down stairs, but she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Obito. He was still standing next to the front door, but now he was holding something in front of him. His hands were clasped around the loop of an identical white gift bag. A disbelieving smile pulled across her face and she let out an arid chuckle. Obito grinned back, before furrowing his brow in mock confusion. 

“Oh! Did you get me something too? I had no idea.”

He teased, drawing a chuckle from Reiko. She shrugged as she finished descending the stairs and crossed the living room to the front door. 

“Guess I’m not as sneaky as I thought… but you still don’t get to open it until the end of the date.”

She pointed out, Obito nodding in agreement as he opened the front door. He bowed a little as the sunlight poured in, and it took Reiko’s eyes a moment to adjust to the objects taking shape. She stepped over the threshold onto the porch and-

Oh. 

Obito had not been joking about her ‘chariot’. Sitting on the dirt road beyond their wooden fence was bike drawn rickshaw. She’d seen them before, available for rent from a small shop in the village, but she’d never considered that she’d ever ride in one. Her eyes widened as Obito shut the door behind her and stepped around so he was in her field of view, a bashful smile on his face with a hint of blush dusting his cheeks. 

“Do you like it?”

He questioned, glancing nervously between Reiko and their vehicle for the evening. The man sitting on the bike seat up front was smiling at her as well. Brown hair framing his face and a pair of sunglasses to protect his eyes from any dirt. 

“I… It’s very thoughtful… I really don’t have the words.”

Reiko said, turning to Obito with a soft smile to let him know that she was appreciative, she just hadn’t been expecting the surprise. He grinned, reaching out to take her free hand in his own as he carefully walked her towards the cart. Reiko continue to inspect the vehicle. The shade over the top of the seating compartment was green and the seats were a tan, all weather, material. When they drew close enough for her to climb inside, she glanced at the driver once more. It felt a bit odd to have someone doing physical labor just to transport them for the evening. She almost felt bad for-

“Wait. Genma?”

Reiko suddenly asked, stopping with one foot in the rickshaw as she finally recognized the perpetual smirk on the other Jonin’s place. 

“Hey, Rei. Told you she would recognize me, Obito.”

Genma replied, glancing past her towards her date for the evening. Reiko turned around to look at Obito as well, raising an eyebrow in question. Her boyfriend raised his hands in surrender, scrunching his eyes shut in embarrassment. 

“Ah, well, when I rented the cart I didn’t realize that it didn’t include a driver… so, I talked to Kakashi and uh… Genma agreed to help out.”

Obito informed her, and she turned her head back to look at her former subordinate. He shrugged a bit, producing a senbon from the front pocket of his casual jacket and nestling it between his lips now that his cover was blown. 

“Hey, can’t exactly say no to a mission assignment from the Hokage-“

Genma started, but Obito was quick to cut him off. 

“Don’t start with that! Tell her the real reason you agreed to do it, Genma.”

He nearly shouted from behind her. And Reiko was hopeful that what Genma had just said was not the reason he’d agreed to pull this cart. If she felt bad for someone who was paid to do this job and was voluntarily there, she would feel terrible if this had been forced on Genma under the guise of a mission. The brown haired Shinobi chuckled and nodded. 

“Alright, alright. Look, you were a good boss, but you dipped out pretty quick after everything that happened so I just… wanted to give back. That’s all.”

Genma admitted, and Reiko didn’t think that anything had tugged at her heartstrings quite like that did. When she’d left the position of Jonin Commander in Shikamaru’s hands, she figured that no one would really miss her. She’d been reclusive, introverted, hard to work with… And yet, here Genma was, committing an act of selflessness just because he thought she’d been a good, fair, boss. She smiled and, without considering it, reached forward to place a gentle hand on her friends shoulder. 

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

Reiko said, pulling her hand from him just as quickly as she’d placed it there. Before any further words could be exchanged, Obito was placing an insistent hand on the small of her back. 

“This is all very sweet, but we’re on a time table…”

He reminded her, and Reiko glanced back at him again with a confused expression. Time table? Just what the hell did he have planned?

——————————-

Obito had planned this date down to the last detail and he’d shared his plans with her on their ride into the village. First on the itinerary was dinner at her favorite restaurant. A hole in the wall sushi shop that she and Shikaku had frequented at least twice a week. One that she still ordered take out from weekly, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to enter the actual establishment since Shikaku’s passing. The food was mediocre as always, but she’d spent the majority of the time settled in their booth with an unexplainable sense of love in her chest. 

Her boyfriend sat across from her, talking incessantly about how his plans for this date had led to a possible job opportunity with Kakashi. She knew he had no interest in resuming true Shinobi work, but he did love children and the elderly, so Kakashi had suggested starting him off at the Academy part time. Helping Iruka and, more recently, Shino with simple tasks and monitoring the kids. Obito’s eyes lit up when he spoke about it, and Reiko was entirely content to listen to him prattle on about all of his ideas for lesson plans and activities, as long as he kept grinning like that. 

In the past year, they hadn’t really been involved in the community for fear of people’s reactions to Obito’s situation and past. However, as they sat at this restaurant in broad daylight, Reiko didn’t notice a single nasty look or whispered word from the other patrons. Maybe it was just the crowd of people, maybe no one recognized him, but Reiko liked to believe that people were truly forgiving of his actions. If they weren’t, she would be forced to make a scene, and that would likely sour the mood for the rest of the date. Outside of immediate consequences, she wanted nothing more than for Obito to live his life normally. Happily. The way he’d always wanted to. So, this position at the Academy would be a good first step. Iruka lost his parents during the Nine-Tails attack on the village, which Obito had caused… but he was a good, forgiving, man. It would take some time, but Reiko believed that things would work out for the best. 

Tch. If Shikaku could hear her being so optimistic, he would likely faint of shock. 

When dinner was over, he escorted her down the street to a bakery. He’d left her standing outside, claiming that they wouldn’t be having desert until the end of the outing and he wanted it be a surprise. They returned to the Genma-powered rickshaw with a plastic bag of goodies and Obito instructed him to take them to their next location. 

“What’s next?”

Reiko asked, folding her hands in her lap as Genma began to pedal forward. Obito smiled, draping a casual arm around her shoulders. She tensed momentarily, glancing at the passerby’s on the street to see if anyone was staring for a little too long, but no one met her eye. They were content in continuing about their days. So, she softened, allowing Obito to tug her a little closer. 

“Just enjoy the ride. You’ll see when we get there.”

Obito said, and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the mysteriousness of this date. They’d been living together for a year, and he still managed to surprise her. Once they were out of the village and closer to the outskirts, the amount of people around them dwindled down and she took Obito’s advice. She fully relaxed into his side and enjoyed the scenery as they passed through the village and into the woods surrounding it. Lucious greenery flooded her vision. Peppered with streaks of warm sunlight and dots of pinks and reds from the petals of flowers she’d forgotten the names of. The creaking sound of the rickshaw was overpowered by the chirping of birds and crickets, all undercut but the steady thud of Obito’s heart beat against her ear. 

Occasionally, she would recall what brought them to this point. How she’d started this endeavor with a blood lust so strong she could taste copper whenever she thought of him. Obito had been so forgiving of her, but she always wondered if she deserved that kindness. Though the same could be said for her forgiveness of him. She supposed that broken people understood each other more than anyone else ever could. She knew the guilt he carried with him, because she carried a similar feeling. There was no point in reminding each other of the negative when every day they lived was a testament to it. Perhaps that was why she felt so at ease around him. He’d seen her at her lowest. Her nastiest. And yet, he still loved her. He still planned this date for her. Reiko had seen what Obito was capable of, but she still trusted his gentleness. His kind heart. 

“I don’t deserve you, ya know.”

Reiko suddenly said, quiet enough that she hoped Genma wouldn’t overhear. Obito scoffed beside her, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of her head. 

“If anyone ever heard you say that, they may try to have you institutionalized. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of this… so, believe me when I say that I love you.”

Obito replied, nearly whispering the words into her hair. She wasn’t good at this part. Obito was a romantic to his very core. He loved love, and he would drown in it if he could. Hell, he would drown her in it. Reiko still struggled with finding the words for everything he made her feel. They didn’t come easy when it felt like their union was beyond her understanding. But he understood that. So, when she simply snuggled impossibly closer to him, Obito hummed low in his chest. It was the only response he needed. 

A few minutes later, Genma pulled the rickshaw off of the dirt road, parking in front of a small path that led further into the woods. Obito took Reiko’s hand and helped her down from the vehicle before grabbing everything from the cart. The two gift bags and the bag containing their dessert. Reiko glanced around before her eyes landed on the path leading into the forest. 

“Where are we going?”

She questioned just in time for Obito to grab her hand with a chuckle. He began walking, guiding her forward without any further direction.

“Will you quit asking questions and just let me surprise you?”

For several more minutes, they simply walked down the dirt path hand in hand. Reiko noticed more of those flowers from before and she relished in the feeling of sunlight against her skin in the areas where the tree tops above the path were a bit thinner. Eventually the came to a clearing and Reiko noticed several things at once. 

Firstly, there was a blanket laid out on the ground with a bottle of wine. The same brand Obito had brought to her house on their ‘first date’ over a year ago. Then, standing a few feet away in a patch of sunlight was a man with a large camera on a stand positioned towards the blanket. 

“Obito… are we… did you bring me out here to make some kind of porn-“

Reiko started to say, the words tumbling past her lips as she took in the scene with stunned, wide, eyes. Obito cut her off with a laugh, shaking his head as he stepped ahead of her. 

“Good god, no. I thought it would be nice to get a professional photo of us taken.”

He explained, stepping the bags down on the blanket before turning to look past the photographer. Reiko let out a sigh of relief as a grin took over his face and he gestured beyond the man. 

“Then, we can watch the sunset and share a bottle of wine. Look.”

Obito said, and Reiko took a few more steps into the clearing before turning to see what he was looking at. Immediately, her breath stuttered and she let out the softest ‘Oh.’. She hadn’t realized it, but this clearing was positioned near the edge of a small cliff. The trees that surrounded them on all sides disappeared to give them a clear view of the village. The faces of the former Hokage carved into rock were visible in the distance and, just beyond that, the sun was slowly lowering in the endless sky. 

When she turned back to Obito, he was watching her instead of the view, a soft smile on his face as she took it all in. 

“Obito this is… it’s… beautiful.”

She managed, choking on the words as she tried to get them out. It really was perfect. When he’d planned this date, she worried that he would go overboard. Dragging her from one crowded place to another in the name of having their official, public, debut as a couple. She would endure the loud restaurants and bars if that was what he wanted, but she would ultimately end the night drained and uncomfortable. Instead, he’d taken into account the fact that she didn’t do well with crowds. Obito knew that she would much prefer a quiet, relaxed, date with just the two of them to keep each other company. 

“See? Told you that you would love it… Now come on, let’s take the picture. I only paid him for an hour and we’re… thirty minutes late. Yikes. Hey, I’m sorry-“

Obito started to say to the photographer, but the older man simply shook his head and waved his hand, a sign for them to get on with it as he ducked behind the camera to get it positioned. Reiko crossed the clearing and Obito moved them into the pose he had in mind. It was simple. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and Reiko’s arm wrapping around his back as they smiled at the camera. The flash nearly blinded her, and while she was still recovering, Obito paid the man for his time and sent him on his way with the promise that their photo would be developed and ready for pick up by the end of the week. 

Once they settled on the blanket, Obito poured them each a glass of the cheap wine. For a while, they sat in silence and took in the view, enjoying each others company as the beauty of nature surrounded them. Though, Obito seemed to be excited about something. He was shifting his weight back and forth, wiggling around on the blanket like he couldn’t get comfortable and making small noises to get her attention. Eventually, Reiko pulled her eyes away from the setting sun to fix him with a patient smile. 

“Do you want to open the gifts now?”

She questioned, giving in to what he wanted and watching as his eyes sparkled. He nodded wildly, but then reeled it in to seem more aloof and disinterested as he gestured to the bags between them. 

“I mean, we can if you want to. You can open mine first. Or don’t. It’s nothing special.”

He said, desperately trying to play off the importance of his gift. Reiko chuckled, turning to face him as she settled the wine glass in the grass beside them. His bag was slightly different from hers because he’d gone through the trouble of wrapping a name tag around the white handle, her name scratched into the paper in the worst handwriting she’d ever seen. When she grabbed it, she glanced up to see Obito watching her with excited eyes, like he was hanging on her every movement. Reiko laughed again, pulling the tissue paper out of the bag. 

“Oh, so it’s so ‘not special’ that you’re on the verge of passing out from excitement, huh?”

Reiko teased, earning her a light hearted scoff and a soft ‘Shut up’ from her boyfriend. She reached into the bag with another laugh, feeling something rectangular wrapped in another layer of tissue paper. She pulled it from the bag and ripped the tape together paper apart. When she was done, she was left with a simple, black, photo frame. It had some decorative carving around the edges, and at the bottom, the word ‘Home’ was embossed in white paint. 

“A picture frame?”

Reiko asked, glancing up at Obito, who was now grinning so wide she though his face my split in half. 

“Yeah! For the picture we just took!”

He said, and Reiko’s heart swelled in her chest. Such a simple, yet thoughtful, gift. This way, once the photo was processed, she could display it immediately. Right next to the photo of Team Minato that hung over the TV in their living room. She ran her fingers over the carved swirls in the wood. 

“Thank you, Obito. This is really sweet.”

Reiko replied, but Obito was still twitching a bit. 

“Check the back.”

He suddenly instructed, so Reiko flipped the frame over as some rattled against the back. Taped to the piece of cardboard meant to hold the photo in place was a necklace. Though it wasn’t like any necklace she’d ever seen. This one had a simple silver chain, but the pendant was what caught her attention. Hanging from the chain was a Shogi piece. The rook. The piece of wood had a small hole drilled through the pointed top and the chain was fed through it. 

Reiko tore her eyes away from the jewelry to look up at Obito. She could feel the expression she was wearing. Her eyebrows curved down and mouth slightly agape as she tried to process the gift. Obito was blushing now, not nearly as excited as he’d been a few minutes ago. 

“It’s uh… it’s the piece Shikaku left you. You told me about it and I thought… well, it would be nice if you could always keep it with you. So, I had a jeweler turn it into a necklace.”

Obito explained, and Reiko felt the tears well in her eyes almost immediately. She looked back down at the necklace and ran her fingers over the wood. So, it wasn’t just any Shogi piece. It was the one Shikaku had left her after his passing. Her fingers trembled a bit and she had to force her eyes away from the gift with a disbelieving laugh, hurriedly wiping at her eyes with her free hand. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry it’s just… Obito this is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”

She said, her voice shaking along with her constitution. If she said anything further, she knew she would be reduced to a sobbing mess, so she forced her eyes to focus on the sun in the distance. Though the light was fading too fast to serve the purpose of drying her eyes and Obito reached forward to cup her jaw in his hand, forcing her to look back at him. Her bottom lip trembled at the tender look on his face. 

“I don’t care if you cry. I love you and I wanted to give you something to prove that. I still can’t believe that you forgave me after everything…”

Obito finished by leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her lips. Reiko let out a whimper against him, reaching out grab the fabric on the front of his shirt in a death grip. If he pulled away too soon she might fall apart. When their lips finally separated, Reiko had crawled across the blanket on her knees just to be closer to him, the picture frame still clutched in one hand. The wave of raw emotion passed and Reiko let out another chuckle as she dabbed more tears from her eyes.

“Want me to put it on for you?” 

Obito asked, drawing an enthusiastic nod from Reiko. In a few short movements, he was positioned behind her, clipping the chain around her neck. Her hand came up immediately, running her fingers over the smooth wood where it laid just below her collarbone. Perfect. Obito pulled back around to look at her from the front, smiling at the image of his gift resting against her skin. Then, without warning, Reiko was doubling over with a laugh. 

“What’s so funny?”

Obito questioned, chuckling along with her as she tried to regain her composure. When she raised back up and let out a breathy laugh, Reiko shook her head, gesturing to the unopened bag next to her. 

“My gift sucks.”

She said, pulling a laugh from Obito as he snatched the bag. He shook his head, hurriedly ripping the tissue paper from the bag. 

“I’m sure it’s fi-“

He started to say, before finding her present laying in the bottom of the bag. The smile never left his face as he pulled out two items. A pack of new, white, socks and three pairs of new boxers. He held the clothing in his hands for a moment and Reiko tried her best to stifle the laughter threatening to break free from her chest. When he turned his happy, yet confused, eyes up to meet hers, she couldn’t hold it back. 

“I’m so sorry! I’m horrible at gift giving because I always end up getting the most practical thing. I noticed that a lot of your socks and underwear have holes in them so I thought-“

Reiko started to explain through giggles, slowly being drowned out by Obito’s own chuckles. He leaned forward again, sealing his lips against hers for the millionth time this evening. When he pulled away, they were still giggling in each others faces. 

“It’s perfect, Rei, thank you… and besides, you being here with me is the best gift I have ever been given.”

[trehontin]

Ignorance towards the way his name had left Grimmjow's lips, a passing feeble attempt at something, something that could turn this encounter towards well-needed security of benevolence - or also drown it all into the heavier shades of the Lord's boiling iron-clad nuances of ire. Oh, at least that was how it could appear, within the way power had filled the otherwise vacant halls like an ocean to suffocate with and drown in, all but held upright by the fine line now pulling the Arrancar so close, closer still, in his vicinity.

For a moment, he would allow the stop. Would allow for that diminishable distance to be kept up between them, knowing full well [ did they not both? ] that if he wanted, he could have forced his soldier to succumb to him fully.

Why does he not speak? Does not reply to his demands? Nought else they were, there was no staying silent anymore in the face of his undeniable displeasure and the toying hand that would curl around the intricately woven snare in his hand. It was a small merce that he would allow Grimmjow to watch it; the hand that kept him so close, the fine silver threads of something that seemed so deliberately feeble, stronger than any in existence, and how it would bend and wind around the back of his hand, tighter and tighter with any second passing by in this shared togetherness. They were too close and Aizen was perfectly aware of that. Of the wants and needs and desires that shattered this realisation that they could have stood on even ground if only his Master would permit it.

He pulls again, gently, near excruciatingly slowly, and tilts his head in tandem with how tender that little gesture should feel. " Speak. " It was a demand in that whispered tenor as soft as velvet. Barely to be heard, but the now amplified feeling of power would make sure that there could be no mistake made: if you do not want to get punished, you better relearn your manners. Without the need for discardable syllables strung together to convey this feeling, prey securely held in his grasp, one of his most perfect creations, behaving so utterly out of line.

He could not have that.

The pull had not yet stopped, was still so languid in all its fluidity to guide him closer and closer, and with the ease that his free hand had formerly served for his head to rest comfortably, he would finally move. Diminish that artificially crafted distance between them that his Sexta was so hard trying to uphold. Desires, desires, the little sparks of what could be called hope settled in the depths of eyes [ how could he know? ]. Within that pleading feeling. Within the way, his hand would make contact with the fragments of that intricate mask still left behind. So kind in all the ways his touch was heavy with displeasure upon the disobedience - and still was it far too gentle - far too close. " Be good, will you? "

Grimmjow is a predator, a small but powerful creature who, before Aizen, was the strongest thing he'd ever experienced. No hollow who'd ever come across him had been better. He wasn't confident - he wasn't much of anything at all, but he'd carried with him an irrational certainty of a future. It's what he strived, unerringly, for. He's sure there was a time before that though, when he knew fear, but if he had, he'd forgotten. Memory's glazed and smeared by the delirium of gillian.

There's something, however, about now that makes his skin crawl. Prey before a much larger predator than him, and he has to battle the urge to fidget, to shift, to slide his weight onto the balls of his feet in preparation to bolt.

The steady (effortless) crescendo of Aizen's power does nothing to quiet the little voice in the back of his head saying run, run, run-

He looks so still. So patient. And suddenly Grimmjow is completely frozen. Caught in place. Trapped. Cannot move.

"Aizen-" he says and stops, because the shinigami's hand raises and his reiatsu, soft as silk, weaves into shape and mass. Thin. Razor wire.

Grimmjow thinks of snares, of barbed wire, of animals getting themselves caught on the sharp metal edges and tearing themselves open and wonders if it's a good thing that he's already so so still, but he stops wondering real quick when it reaches for him.

All his muscles unfreeze in a single instant and he flinches back, twists to dodge or run or anything - and Aizen speaks.

Clear as a bell. He stops to listen. Stupid.

He wants to know! Stupid!

The tread traces it's way, it's touch nothing more than a fine whisper his hierro is too dense to feel, around his throat and he knows he's caught. Pinned, prey-trapped. His hands leap to the wire, catching on nothing at all but holding just the same. Aizen's hand closes and he staggers, pulled by a force stronger than what he thinks he should feel. His toes bang loud on his stumbling steps back up the stairs, and closer still, closer than he had been, up the last stair, over the edge onto the platform. He stops. Is allowed to stop. Just a breadth from Aizen's knees. Any closer and they would touch.

Wide eyes watch. He stands still, his mind a race of thoughts, strategies, half formed and discarded. Does he speak? Should he? Is that right? No, he doesn't want that. He wants- But maybe he shouldn't speak. Maybe he should stay quiet. His choice of words so far have only lead to this. A trap, no right answer- But he asked-

He says nothing. Jaw clenched, fingers tight around the rope (noose) and hopes his eyes do not speak for him.

[agentrouka-blog]

The absent blood of Winterfell - Ramsay and Jeyne

I have to say, I’m really rather proud of myself for this finding particular avenue of foreshadowing and symbolism, because I found it all by myself, but it keeps popping up even when I’m not looking for it.

The hot springs are going to be a central element for Jon and Sansa, and it’s even present in the horrific foil that is presented by Ramsay and Jeyne Poole. (Jeyne Poole.)

Jeyne is noted to bathe a lot after her wedding, almost every night. This plays into the mention of baths, moisture and heat that we are treated to when introduced to Catelyn’s and Ned’s bedchamber.

Of all the rooms in Winterfell's Great Keep, Catelyn's bedchambers were the hottest. She seldom had to light a fire. The castle had been built over natural hot springs, and the calding waters rushed through its walls and chambers like blood through a man's body, driving the chill from the stone halls, filling the glass gardens with a moist warmth, keeping the earth from freezing. Open pools smoked day and night in a dozen small courtyards. That was a little thing, in summer; in winter, it was the difference between life and death.

Catelyn's bath was always hot and steaming, and her walls warm to the touch. (AGOT, Catelyn II)

Winterfell itself provides Catelyn’s bathwater, and their bedchamber is the hottest place.

Not so with Jeyne.

And she is only naked when she bathes.

That she did most every night, though. Lord Ramsay wanted his wife clean. "She has no handmaids, poor thing," he had said to Theon. "That leaves you, Reek. Should I put you in a dress?" He laughed. "Perhaps if you beg it of me. Just now, it will suffice for you to be her bath maid. I won't have her smelling like you." So whenever Ramsay had an itch to bed his wife, it fell to Theon to borrow some servingwomen from Lady Walda or Lady Dustin and fetch hot water from the kitchens.

(ADWD, The Turncloak)

Her water is heated artificially and has to be carried from a separate building.

"Lady Arya was displeased with them," he lied. "Her water was cold before it reached the tub last time."

The hot water filled the air with clouds of steam, melting the snowflakes as they came drifting down. Back through the maze of ice-walled trenches went the procession. With every sloshing step the water cooled. 

(ADWD, Theon I)

Her bathwater is cool if not cold.

I think this is actually a very significant choice on GRRM's part, symbolism-wise.

I’ve postulated a lot about the symbolism of the hotsprings for Jon and Sansa as signifiers of shared legitimacy, fertility, sexuality, marriage, life.

The Old Gods watching = inherent legitimacy of a union

Hot springs = blood of Winterfell

Cold water and hot water in the godswood = Death and Life

Kissing in the godswood Unkiss Memory Edit speculation

They even create an equivalency of bed and bath here. Bedmaid and bathmaid. Bed and bath, places of rest, restoration, and sensuality - if they are warm.

Jeyne, as a pawn used in a lie, and her marriage to Ramsay are specifically excluded from this imagery.

Ramsay Bolton has not repaired the hot water pipes he destroyed, the castle is not filled with the blood of Winterfell. It’s a shoddy sham. Just like their marriage is a mockery of the real thing, consisting of rape and force and false identities.

The hot springs are mentioned once by Theon during the marriage ceremony, once more connecting them to marriage.

Later, older, he had soaked his bruises in the hot springs after many a session in the yard with Robb and Jory and Jon Snow. In amongst these chestnuts and elms and soldier pines he had found secret places where he could hide when he wanted to be alone. The first time he had ever kissed a girl had been here. Later, a different girl had made a man of him upon a ragged quilt in the shade of that tall grey-green sentinel.

He had never seen the godswood like this, though—grey and ghostly, filled with warm mists and floating lights and whispered voices that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Beneath the trees, the hot springs steamed. Warm vapors rose from the earth, shrouding the trees in their moist breath, creeping up the walls to draw grey curtains across the watching windows. (ADWD, The Prince of Winterfell)

Not only does he recall a more innocent time, and a more innocent approach to sex than anything we’ve been shown in the books so far, the language also recalls Catelyn’s bedroom, the place is shielded from view by curtains, whispers, breath, warmth, the setting is intimate. Which is in stark contrast to Jeyne and Ramsay, but not, perhaps, to the keywords grey and ghostly.

I like how consistent GRRM is with this particular avenue of symbolism.

[kinsurou]

Forgive me Lord, for I am sinning

Pairings: Dabi (Touya) x Reader

Word count: 5.4K

Warnings: Smut (18+), Incubus!Dabi, Swearing, Dirty talking, Alcohol, Oral sex, Unprotected sex, Hair pulling, Slight mentions of breeding, Dabi being a little shit, Slight comedy.

Part 2 of the Incubus!AU. This one's a bit different from the first part. Special thanks to @dragonhrte for beta reading this monstrosity for me, and my friends @hawks-senseis @shoutogepi @honeytama @gr0vndz3ro @wakaoujisenhime @sailor-manga for listening to my non-stop ramblings as I worked on this piece! ❤

If somebody had said that after visiting your stranded family, you would end up coming back home bonded to a demon after getting laid inside the same church that brought nightmares upon you for years. You would have laughed at them before asking them to hand over some of whatever it was they may have drank.

But now, as an all too familiar weight drapes over your body, emitting such heat, that it covers your body with a thin layer of sweat despite the intensity of the air conditioner. Followed by a pair of warm lips slowly kissing the back of your neck, as they descend all the way to your lower back. Lastly, the pair of hands squeezing their way in between the mattress and your front to play with the soft mounds in your chest. 

It all makes you think twice about everything you once believed to be nothing but myths and bedtime stories a parent would tell their child so they would behave.

An eyebrow twitched in annoyance as those hands pinched your nipples teasingly, tracing a small pair of piercings adorning the erect nubs. But you made no effort to move from your position in bed, trying to get as much sleep as possible before the start of the day.

“...What do you think you’re doing?” But your tired, sleepy voice was simply ignored, and the owner of those hands leaned down to purr softly over your ear as they started biting the lobe softly.

“Well...I firmly believe there’s no better way to start the day than with some nice morning sex.” Sharp fangs nibbled gently over your neck, right over the spot where a burgundy mark branded the sensitive skin. ”C’mon little one, I’ll be quick.” 

Taking a deep, tired breath, a hand reached out for a small spritzer on the bedside table. Without even bothering to open your eyes, you quickly proceeded to spray the creature looming above your previously sleeping self, who by the way, started hissing painfully by the moisture damping his face.

“What the fuck is that?!” This time, you actually rose half-way from bed to glare at the demon rubbing his smoking face as if his life depended on it. Teal eyes were dangerously lowered into a glare, but honestly? After spending nearly two months stuck with Dabi, he didn’t scare you one bit anymore.

The demon that took you under the eyes of God and the little shit in front of your bed are two completely different individuals by this point. Now, every single day was spent being followed around the apartment by a horny demon trying to either seduce you or feel you up in order to satiate his hunger. Of course, it always backfired on him.

“Holy water.” The spritzer was pointed at him yet again, and he flinched back slightly, glaring at the plastic bottle with nothing but disgust “When I said I was mad at you, It was serious! Why are you still here anyway? Didn’t you get your own place next door?” 

“Not really, just used my hypnosis on the old lady to get in.” He shrugged “If it makes you feel any better, I gave her back the keys some time ago. Told her I found them laying around.” He followed with a sly grin, that somehow riled you up even further “By the way, she thinks I’m your boyfriend.”

He got spritzed again, Much to his chagrin.

………

“So, ‘Touya’...” At the mention of his “name”, Touya looked up from his spot on the couch, frowning slightly after what happened that morning. Those little tantrums of the devil’s spawn usually lasted a few hours before he was back to his casual, lazy, and annoying self. “How did you become trapped in the church in the first place?” 

“Why? Want to send me back? Sorry doll, but there’s no way I’m going back.” He got up from his seat and slowly approached while you were busy having some food. Coming up from behind, his face came from one side to give an alluring kiss to your jaw. “Especially now, that I have such a nice, little vessel all for myself.”

Even though you kept ignoring his approaches, those small shivers that went through your body with his every touch, were more than enough to nourish him for a while. But it’d be a lie if he said he wasn’t expecting a full meal like the one from that night. 

“And what’s with this ‘vessel’ shit? Why me? There were plenty of girls back home, so why did you pick someone like….me of all people?” You jerked away from him, much to the demon’s disappointment, and picked up the empty dish, getting up from the chair to let it sink into the soapy water from the sink before turning to look at him with a frown.

“It’s just like I said before.” He twirled a lock of your hair between his fingers. “There’s something different about you. Besides, all of them are just like those instant meals you like, full of artificial shit. Like that cousin of yours, what’s their name again…? Meh, doesn’t matter, you know who I’m talking about, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes and huffed knowingly, fully aware of who he was talking about. The family’s golden child. The one who’s never disappointed the family and is their little star. But behind closed doors? They were probably worse than you.

“But you’re different, want to know why?” He got so close, that you could feel the heat of his body through his clothes. His face was so close as well, and it was strange looking at him without all those stitches and scars. Now that you think about it, it’s been a while since he stopped using this “Glamour”. 

“Because you’re not someone who’s afraid of speaking your mind, so what if you’re not their golden child? You’ve always stayed true to yourself.” A hand made its way inside your shirt, claws roaming seductively all over your back. You couldn’t help closing your eyes and gasp quietly as ‘Touya’s hand kept grazing your body with that burning, lust-filled touch.

But as soon as his lips grazed your own, the loud shrill of your phone caught the both of you off guard and nearly caused you to bump ‘Touya’ in the face.

Flushed face turned away from the demon, you turned all your attention to the device. The caller’s ID made you smile in excitement once you saw the name of your best friend, there was only one reason she would call you this early during the weekend.

“Hey, What’s up!” Her cheerful voice made you walk away from the sink, leaving a frowning demon behind. Touya only glared at the device as he saw you talking happily with the girl on the other side of the line. He caught the word “party”, and couldn’t help but smirk smugly once he realized just what that meant. He was really going to enjoy this.

“Alright, I’ll go get ready, see you there!” Ending the call with a squeal, you ran into your room to look for a proper outfit and do your makeup. He just followed behind silently and leaned against the open door, watching you get undressed with a hungry glint in his eye and a devilish smirk.

“Ugh...Which one should I wear?” You mumbled to yourself, looking at the two tops in the bed with a pensive look. Black or Blue top?

“The blue one looks better.” The demon’s voice surprised you for a bit before a loud shriek was heard as he got the other top thrown at his laughing face, but you had to admit he had good taste. The top he suggested had been sitting at the bottom of the closet for a long time anyway, so it was the perfect time to use it!

Grabbing a pair of black jeans, you quickly got dressed and began putting on makeup, just enough to make your eyes stand out with the lights from the club, and a beautiful shade of red that complimented your skin just perfectly. Lastly, a pair of boots that fit the outfit just perfectly. From his place, Touya gripped the fabric thrown at his face strong enough to slightly tear through it with his black claws. Pupils dilated at the sight of those boots adorning those beautiful legs of yours.

Checking the hour, you still had some time before meeting up with your friends. Snatching a small handbag nearby, you made sure everything was in place. Money? check. Keys? check….A condom, just in case? Check.

“I’ll be back later. If I find any of the neighbors at the door, I’m exorcising you myself!” You looked at Dabi with an annoyed squint, remembering the last time he got in trouble for scaring one of the nosy neighbors from the other building, claiming they had it coming for trying to peek through your window.

He said nothing as he saw you rushing out, a wicked grin appeared on his face as he thought of the surprise you might get tonight. It was going to be so much fun.

Two hours later, you were having the time of your life with the others. Taking shots, dancing to the loud music, and sharing looks with one of the hottest strangers you’ve ever met in your life while sitting at one of the barstools. Too intoxicated by the high from the party to notice the burning sensation around the skin of your neck.

“Sooooo, why haven’t you texted these past weeks?” Your friend sat down at your left, resting for a bit from dancing her heart out with this other girl that kept making eyes at her, much to her flustering. “She’s totally checking you out! Atta girl” She couldn’t stop giggling like a teenager at your remarks. 

“I’ve been busy, lots of stuff that needs to be taken care of.” Like how to get rid of the demonic hobo that keeps stealing the instant ramen. But your friend only gave you a look while downing another shot of some liquid courage. 

“The last time you said that we had to take all of the stuff you dropped at your ex’s home after you broke up with them. You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?” She gave you a knowing grin. This girl knows you better than your own family, but what were you supposed to tell her?

Yeah! I went to visit my family and ended up fucking a demon at the church, who just happened to move in with me and won’t stop trying to get laid! 

At this rate, you’d probably end up locked up if someone could hear your thoughts.

Downing another shot, she stood up from her seat and made her way back to the dancefloor and into the arms of her admirer. Thinking about the situation back home left you thinking about Dabi, and that day back at the church. He may try to get into your pants nearly every single day, and yet, he usually stopped his approaches after a while.

Despite all the stress he caused, sometimes he'd go out of his way to help out, even though most of the time he kept messing with your stuff...Maybe...he wasn’t so bad after all…

“Gah! What am I thinking?” Shaking the thoughts out of your head, the drink in front of you was quickly downed.

“Something troubling that pretty face?”  Another voice came from your right side before you had the chance to order another drink. Looking back quickly made your face get warm. The same guy that kept looking at you was standing right there. Just having him this close made something stir inside, as well as a burning sensation at your neck that was brushed off in favor of admiring this beautiful stranger.

“You can say that again, haha….” He sat down beside you, before ordering two beers and handing one over to you.

“Well, hearing a pretty one out is my specialty. Cheers for our troubled lives, am I right?” He raised the bottle before taking a big gulp of the cold, bitter liquid and you followed after him, the night passed by with some small talk and laughter as your face began getting warmer because of the alcohol.

And by the time the clock struck past 1 am, you were already close to this stranger at the far corner of the club.

….Or at least you tried to.

Another two hours passed by, and the sound of the door being slammed loudly caught Touya’s attention as he read one of your favorite books at the same spot from that afternoon.

“You….!” A furious growl came out of your throat. He didn’t bother looking up, already feeling the heated glare at the back of his head before hearing your marching to the bedroom, and he just grinned in realization once he caught a whiff of your scent. 

Dropping the book carelessly behind him, Touya walked nonchalantly inside the bedroom, spotting you taking off all the make-up, half-ruined by your sweat.

“Something wrong, little one?” You turned to glare at him furiously, before throwing the cotton pat at him, which was quickly dodged. But he couldn’t dodge when you pulled him by the collar and began shaking him in anger.

“What did you do to me?!” He felt the frustration coming out of your body, and he also saw it on those fiery eyes of yours “I was this close, THIS CLOSE to getting laid with one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met in my life!” Your faces nearly touched each other “But right as we were about to do it, not only does this fucking mark starts burning like crazy! I couldn’t feel anything as he touched me!” 

You smacked his chest rapidly, trying to let out all that pent-up anger inside, if only this bastard could actually react to your punches, it would actually be satisfying to hit him, but he wouldn’t even flinch.

Before a hand could land on his face, he quickly caught it mid-air, pulling you closer by the waist with something dark in his eyes. Bright, glowing eyes looked down at you. 

“That’s just a side-effect of being a vessel. You can actually be pleased however you want, but there’s a catch.” The way he grinned gave away his answer even before he continued to speak. “As long as we’re bonded to each other, only a master can actually please their vessel.”

You pulled away from him, holding the wrist he held closer to your chest. Like he could tear off the limb in an instant if you weren’t careful enough.

“Besides, think about it. Why would you want to be pleased by a mere mortal, when you know just what exactly your master can offer? Or have you forgotten that night? When you could only scream how much you adored my cock?” 

As much as you wanted to pour the contents of the spritzer on him...he had a point. Why in the world did you want someone else when someone that made you feel such wonderful things, was living under the same roof as yours?

It’s a trap.

Looking down at the floor, you bit harshly at your lip and headed towards the bathroom. After everything that happened tonight, you really needed to freshen up.

Getting undressed and stepping under the running water in the bathtub was easy. Allowing the cold stream to run down your body, trying desperately to ease the aching heat between your legs was the hard part. With each passing second, the increasing heat became insufferable, but no matter how chilled the water felt, the aching wouldn’t go down one bit.

Lust began clouding your thoughts the more time you spent under the cold bath, it was starting to become downright painful and as much as you tried pleasing yourself, it just wasn’t enough.

Walking out of the shower with a soft towel carefully wrapped around your body, you tried to distract yourself blow-drying the damp locks of hair. Trying to ignore the clenching between your thighs. Despite having just taken a shower, there was already slick running down your legs. 

Whimpering, you walked out of the bathroom. Colliding with Touya’s hard chest as he stood in the way between the bathroom and the hallway. His whole body trembled as he let out a low, dangerous growl as soon as he caught a whiff of your scent. It would be a lie if you said that sound didn’t scare you…and at the same time, excited you.

Slowly tilting your head up to look at him, you were met with the same dark eyes from that time at the church. And before you realized what was happening, he had already pushed you against the wall, caging you in the spot with his arms. 

“T-Touya…?” 

But he just ignored you and crashed his lips upon yours with a bruising force. Sending an overwhelming shock from head to toe that nearly made your body give up and fall down on the floor. It was fierce, strong, passionate. You couldn’t even begin to fully describe it, but it was perfect.

“I could smell you from the other side of town.” He broke the kiss, allowing you to catch your breath before he kissed you again as eagerly as before. This time you were ready, and gladly began kissing him back with the same strength. Moaning into the kiss and holding onto him for dear life as his middle finger began prodding its way inside you. He swallowed your every noise happily, enjoying the way your body began trembling as his hand gave you a slight taste of sweet relief, that was so desperately needed.

Then he broke the kiss one more time, teal eyes engulfed in black as he admired your warm face and half-lidded eyes. “That sweet scent of your body, crying out to be pleased, begging to be satisfied until you become nothing but a limp mess underneath your master.”

He looked at your eyes closing with nothing but bliss, begging for more of his unholy touch. Nothing mattered to you anymore, all you wanted was for Touya to defile your whole being like he did the very first time.

“Ahhh….Please…” Lust glazed eyes fluttered open to look at him, and he almost wanted to take you right there, right now “Take my body however you want, Master…”

In an instant. He pulled his hand away from your core, yanking the towel away in the process. With little to no effort, Touya lifted your body with both hands and wrapped your legs around his waist, before taking your begging self to the bedroom. And this time, nothing would stop him from having you, and if he had to obliterate someone to ashes, in order to get what he wanted, he would.

He set you down in front of the bed and sat down on the edge, spreading his calves wide open, just enough for you to fit in at the same time that he leaned back on his lean arms. Face leaning against his knuckles as he looked at your trembling self.

“What are you waiting for, little one? Your master is waiting.”

Nothing but pure, concentrated arousal fueled your every thought. One knee bent down on the floor, the other one followed soon after. Finally, you sat in front of the demon, resting both hands over your knees, and waited for his next commands while staring at a growing bulge, easily noticeable under the layers of black denim. 

“Time to worship your master’s cock, little one.” 

Shaky hands made contact with the zipper of his jeans, slowly tugging it down. A small purr was heard from above you, and the room slowly began to get warmer as the demon’s pants slowly became looser around his waist.

“Look what you do to me. I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do now.” He growled in contempt once his jeans were undone and his underwear was pulled down. That all too unique cock sprung out before your half-closed eyes, already dripping with precum. Having it this close to your eyes was way different from last time. 

You could see every detail of the ridges at his sides, and this time, there was something else you definitely did not see, or feel the last time. He smirked widely, showing off those longs fangs of his when he saw you look up at him with curious eyes.

“This is new...When did you get a Jacob’s ladder?” Your hand grasped around the erect member, taking as much of it as it could. Thumb tracing a small vertical line at the underside of it, right in between the row of piercings decorating his shaft, all the way from the base until it stopped right below the tip. The slightest touch was almost enough to send the demon into a frenzy.

“Shortly after leaving the church. But what can I say? I wanted to surprise you.” He didn’t move one bit as he stared at you with those bright eyes. His hands cupped the side of your face, nails scratching gently at your cheek, and you couldn’t help leaning towards his warm touch. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself. Come on little one, get those pretty lips of yours to work.”

Too lost in the haze to even bother giving the demon a snarky remark, you happily obeyed his orders. 

Slowly, your hand started touching his length with cautious, but firm strokes. The more you kept touching him, the heavier his breathing became. 

“Your hand feels so good.” As much as you wanted to keep on teasing him, the trembling between your legs just kept getting stronger. Desire kept growing inside you like vines, snaring themselves painfully against your very soul.

Leaning forward, your lips gave the tip of his cock a tender, delicate kiss, and not only the feeling of those soft lips against him, but the dazed look in your eyes made Touya grip the blanket with force, growing nails digging into the material underneath, much to your chagrin. But right now, that didn’t really bother you. The only thing that mattered, was worshipping the throbbing cock in the palm of your hand.

Might as well give the demon what he wanted…

“Mmmm...Is my master enjoying this?” You kept moving your hand while peppering his tip with more kisses. Starting at the head before leaving a trail all the way down to the base. Not once did you break eye contact with him, and he couldn’t really complain about the view. 

“Stop with the teasing already,” His hand pulled harder on your hair, leaning down until both of your faces were so close to each other, that you could practically feel his jagged breathing fanning against your warm face, and those hypnotizing blue orbs nearly digging a hole in your soul. “Now’s when the real worship begins. You know what to do, little one.”

You couldn’t hold back a gasp as he pulled harder on your soft locks, and he took advantage of that little noise, to push that pretty mouth down on his cock, hissing in delight at the warmth of your mouth.

“Shit…! your mouth feels so fucking good, it’s just as nice as your pussy!” Both of your hands came forward to rest on top of his thighs while moaning around the pulsing length. Small vibrations made him tilt his head back with closed eyes and a satisfied groan.

He tasted so good, that the pent-up frustration accumulated over the past week because of him, dissipated in an instant, and all you cared about was showing him...just how much you loved, your master’s cock.

Not waiting for a command, you began bobbing your head immediately, taking as much of him as possible, while continuing to stroke whatever bit couldn’t fit inside your mouth. Saliva and pre-cum mixed together into a lewd mixture, slowly dripping down your chin with each bob of your head. 

The grip in your hair became firmer the more your tongue kept tracing circles on his tip. Touya could hear your little, satisfied hums the more you attempted to take him deeper with each thrust of your head against his hips. Thighs shaking desperately once the taste of his precum reached every corner of your tongue.

“As much as I love the way you take my cock with that filthy mouth,” With a single maneuver, he pulled your face away from him despite the little whines you gave, wishing to taste him just a bit more. “I can’t wait to leave bruises all over that pretty skin.”

Unwilling to wait any longer, Touya pulled you off the ground, and with a grin, he threw you face down on the bed. The mattress dipped down on your side by the weight of the demon climbing over your withering body. 

“Get on your knees, right now.” The authority in his words was almost enough for you to melt on the spot. Obediently, you positioned yourself just as the demon said, and felt him grab on your hips with a force that would certainly leave a path of dark bruises. 

When he began rubbing himself against your soaked folds, the friction from those firm ridges sent an exquisite sensation through your whole body, it made him laugh darkly once he heard those small, silent gasps as you waited eagerly to be filled. 

A sharp pain shot through your backside when his hands smacked the skin of your ass, and although it was painful, it felt so good at the same time.

“What’s the matter, little one?” Another smack was given, making you yelp from excitement “You like this don’t you? What a filthy slut!” 

When a third smack was given, tears ran down your face desperately. All you wanted was for this demon to ravish you at once. Not a pinch of pride or shame remained inside. You wanted him, and badly.

“Ahh...Please, master…” A hand snaked its way underneath, spreading those slick folds wide open as an offering to the demon. “Please, fuck me already. I can’t take it anymore!” 

“Good!” One of his hands pushed lightly on the head of his cock, guiding it towards your warm, little hole and with a swift thrust, Touya buried himself all the way in. “Cause I’m gonna fuck you senseless, make you feel so damn good, that the thought of being with someone else will never cross your mind ever again, little one.”

Oh god, it was even better than last time. You could feel every single ridge, and those piercings brushing snuggly against your walls as he began with a fast pace immediately. His every thrust turned you into a mess underneath him. 

Why did you even want someone else in the first place when you had this? If you had to settle for one dick to satisfy you for life, then maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your face buried against the bed with a lost smile and eyes rolling into the back of your head. In addition, your hands kept gripping the sheets with a death grip as Touya began hitting a spot over and over again that knocked your breath away. Watching you squirming underneath him was truly a sight to behold, nothing could come close to how beautiful you looked in the demon’s eyes.

“I can’t get enough of this delicious pussy, it feels amazing having you taking my cock like this…!” He held your body closer to his, hands kneading your chest in synch with his every push. 

Your moans became louder with every single hump of his pelvis ramming against your ass, it brought you closer and closer over the edge. Until that all too familiar knot in your stomach. 

“Master!...I’m coming! I’m coming!” Your whole body began trembling from the upcoming high, inner walls clasping around the throbbing girth humping your insides so wickedly good. 

But then, Touya stopped moving so abruptly that it almost made you cry out in frustration. Was this his revenge for the spritzer?

But that’s wasn’t it. Instead, he flipped you over and pulled those beautiful legs to rest against his shoulders. Nibbling softly on the soft flesh of your inner thighs made goosebumps appear all over your body, and with a grin, he once again slammed his cock inside that warm, sloppy hole he adored. Picking up his brutal pace from before caused the headboard to slam loudly against the wall with each jab of his hips against yours.

“I want to see that look on your face again. That look in your eyes as I fill this delicious pussy with my cum!” You couldn’t stop gasping for air the more he kept shoving his length into the depths of your warmth, savoring the feeling with eyes closed tightly in nothing but pure enjoyment.

"Take it you little lamb! Take all of your master's seed until you become big and swollen with my offspring!"

He gave another rough thrust, hitting that same spot from before with an intensity that made you cling onto him for dear life, wrapping your arms around his neck. The heat from his body was searing hot, a little more and it could burn you alive at any moment. When you opened your eyes again, the sight you witnessed was hypnotizing.

His body was engulfed in blue flames, and despite being so close to him, that fire around him didn’t burn your skin in the slightest, but instead, it began burning away at his skin, and you realized it was actually destroying his disguise. When he lifted his head from your neck, you saw the same scarred face from that night at the church.

But his unnatural appearance didn’t bother you anymore, too lost in the high as Touya...No...As Dabi let out a deep snarl and with a powerful thrust, that tight knot in your stomach burst. Making you scream as an orgasm overtook your senses.

The look in your face sent Dabi into a frenzy, the sound of his length sloshing into your sloppy core resonated through the bedroom, and with a couple more thrusts, he slammed himself deep inside, clinging onto you as he filled your womb with his scalding seed. 

You both stayed in place, breathing heavily while clinging to each other. Slowly, he pulled out and crawled back, the motion caused your legs to plop on the mattress and he watched in satisfaction as his seed kept leaking out of your drained body, before getting up from the bed and walking out of the room.

For a good ten minutes, you didn’t bother moving, wincing slightly at the sticky sensation all over your whole body, and when every single spasm kept making your body leak with Dabi’s cum, you felt even stickier. The bedsheet laid there completely torn to shreds, soaked and slightly charred. 

“Come here.” Dabi walked back inside the room without his human disguise. Carefully he picked you up bridal style and took you back to the bathroom, where the bathtub was nicely filled. He helped you get in and lean back against the edge as the steaming hot water helped your worn-out body to relax. “There we go.”

“Why are you doing all this? I thought demons didn’t care about us mortals.” From the corner of your eyes, you spotted him picking a small towel from the shelves before he approached the tub again, he soaked it slightly in the tub, before using it to wipe your face.

“Well, I need to take good care of my vessel.” This time, he used the towel on your hair, the warmth felt nice on your sensitive scalp after having your hair pulled for a good time. “And honestly? I like this. You have guts standing up to a demon. Can’t say I don’t like the thrill though. So, as long as we’re bonded, just sit back and enjoy your daily life while I make sure to give you whatever you need.”

You hated to admit it, but it was a tempting offer. Either way, you’re definitely going to hell anyway....Maybe this deal wasn't so bad after all.

@hawks-senseis @honeytama @savagetrickster @unbreakableeiji @wakaoujisenhime @fanfic-me-up @natsuosfairy @sailor-manga @shoutogepi @gr0vndz3ro @divinewhimsy

[kyogre-blue]

About Teyvat’s origins

The book Before Sun and Moon and twitter have provided some… extreme lore. 

Here is my interpretation, for what it’s worth. 

Originally, the world was ruled by Seven Sovereigns, who were dragons. 

"When the Doves Held Branches" When the eternal throne of the heavens came, the world was made anew. Then the true lord, the Primordial One, came forth and did battle against the seven terrifying sovereigns, dragon-lords of the old world. The Primordial One created shining shades of itself, and the number of these shades was four.

Then, a spaceship (eternal throne of the heavens) arrived, from which came the Primordial One, Phanes. This being had wings and a crown, and created four subordinates which helped it defeat the dragons and their seven nations in a 40 year war. 

Following that, the Primordial One and its four shades spent 400 years terraforming the world to be habitable for humans. 

"The Year of the Ark's Opening" The Primordial One had a sacred plan for humans. As long as they were happy, it too rejoiced.

It does say the Primordial One created humans, but I think this isn’t really the case, or perhaps the humans were cloned from genetic data or something similar. 

But then, after an unknown period of prosperity, a second spaceship arrived. 

"The Funerary Year" The second throne of the heavens came, and war was rekindled, as it was in the world's creation. That day, the heavens collapsed and the earth was rent asunder. Our ancestors and their ancestral land fell into this place during that conflict. The era of darkness had begun.

Enkanomiya (Byakuyakoko, Tokoyokoku, Aphotic earth) was formerly on the surface, but this great catastrophe dropped it into the Abyss. 

They were saved by one of the Primordial One’s shades, the Goddess of Time (Kairos, Istaroth, Tokoyo). 

The prayers of the people turned into lamentations, but the Primordial One and its three other shining shades did not hear. "The Third Year of Darkness" We knew the only one who had not forsaken us as the "Ruler of Time." She was the moment. She was every moment. She was the measure of a thousand winds and the sun and the moon. 

She gave the sage Abrax (Aberaku) the knowledge to create the artificial sun (Hyperion, Byakuya no Hikari) and the mechanism to control it (Helios, Dainichi Mikoshi). This took about three years, it seems. 

However, the people in Byakuyakoku could not return to the surface. 

"The Second Year of Sun and Moon" Our ancestors sought the returning way, for surely the war on the surface had ended by then. But the Primordial One, the first throne, had laid down a ban, preventing our ancestors from finding the path home. In that case, the Primordial One must have defeated the Second Who Came.

This part about their assumption that Phanes defeated the Second is probably incorrect, imo. I think the people were banned from returning because they might realize that the leadership had changed, so to say. Apparently, it’s being speculated that Celestia is actually “Second Who Came” which took over Teyvat. 

This ties into the accursed KFC wings, which have a story that Alice tells Klee: 

Once upon a time, that world was ruled by dragons. But not the ones you hear about in stories. These were more akin to a cross between lizards and chickens.

It might be hard for you to imagine it, Klee, but that was exactly what that world was like: fish-dragons lived in the oceans, and bird-dragons soared through the skies on wings that were super huge!

They were powerful creatures, and so they looked down on all the other animals. In that world, they were rulers of all life. Later on, humans appeared in that world.

One of the books in Byakuyakoku also has a list of names in both the old style Greek and the post-Orobashi Inazuma style: 

Kairos — Tokoyo Ookami ...Eris — Arisu Abrax — Aberaku Charon — Ka... ... - Koi

I included the most important ones and the ones that looked especially sus. (Are we gonna meet “Kaxxx” Charon? Do we know a Koi?) Arisu = Alice. So Alice is definitely immortal and was around back then. Just to drive it in, Eris is the goddess of discord who used a “golden apple” to start the Trojan War. Yeah. 

There are a few other points. 

First, Mondstadt is the nation that has the most Greek naming stuff going, and it is also where they worshipped both Time and Wind. There, we have Starfell Lake, where a star is supposed to have fallen. Not necessarily meaningful, but you never know. 

Second, from Records of Jueyun:

In the valley northwest of Liyue Harbor and south of Nantianmen lie many silent, ancient ruins. One of these areas is known as the Dunyu Ruins. This area is said to have already existed even before the time of the Archon Wars.

In a past beyond memory, when even Rex Lapis would still have been young, a star fell from the sky into the barren plains west of Liyue. These plains were transformed into a huge and deep chasm in the wake of that star's descent, and jade would emerge from within, beautiful and limitless, and it would become the foundation for a thousand years of industrial mining in Liyue thereafter.

Also fishy, especially since this meteor eventually just flew back into the heavens. 

Third, all the talk about reins for the Dainichi Mikoshi reminded me of the old lore about the three moon sisters: 

The moons were daughters of prose and song, sovereign over the night sky. They navigated the heavens above in their silver carriage, alternating with one another thrice a month. If the reign was not promptly passed from one sister to the next, a terrible disaster would occur that very day.

The moons don’t predate humans, since the ruins on Tsurumi talk about worshipping the three-aspect moon. Another connection to Tsurumi is the Boatman quest. The Reins of Revival in Byakuyakoku have a connection to the ghosts you can meet, which connects to the lady of the golden hall on the moon (Lunar Palace?) sending a “silver skiff” to collect the souls of the dead on Tsurumi. 

My guess is that the three moon sisters were the other three shades of Phanes. 

There is also a vaguer connection to be made of how Ley Lines echo with memories of the past and seem to generally be a collection of information, while the ghosts mention that they are going to dissolve into light and become the dreams of future humans. 

And last, this makes it super… interesting that Childe’s real name is “Ajax,” a Greek origin name like the ones of the ancient people from the era before the second throne. 

[smouldring]

Merri, what scares you these days?

She startled, yanking her knees up closer to her chest, where they banged against the ornate golden clasp on the front of her jack. The brass buttons rattled in response, and she winced at the noise. It had taken so long to work up the willingness to wear something so— restrictive wasn't the right word, but she couldn't find a better alternative. To have something constantly pressing up against her chest and back made her want to crawl out of her skin, but there was nothing to be done: she needed the extra layer of protection. And besides, this was just how people dressed. It had been easy to ignore 'fashion' in the Mistwood, where her furs and skins made her one of the forest's own, and it had been something of a statement in Liurnia, a refutation of the academy students and their elaborate masks and robes, literal naked strength confronting the arcane in the same way her steel bashed aside their staves and slipped under their headdresses to skewer them. She had felt so proud of herself then. See? I don't need it.

Leyndell changed that, like it changed everything else. She had emerged from the Erdtree Sanctuary quaking, her mind working overtime to process what she had seen - what she had understood, intuitively, despite her best attempts to not understand, to not acknowledge any of it, because acknowledging what she knew to be true – yes, what she knew, regardless of what she said to the contrary - meant acknowledging the person that she had been. Meant giving way to that person, and letting the girl who had been born in the Chapel of Anticipation die. And didn't she have the right to be afraid of that? Wasn't everybody afraid to die, from the common farmer to the god of this land, who had sealed away death itself rather than confront it? That girl – the daughter of that great golden shade - had had her chance at life, and now it was Merri's turn to live. Merri of the Mistwood. Make-thee-Merri. Not Ulrica. I am not that. I am not.

And yet— hadn't she hesitated in that sanctuary? Hadn't she held her blows, incapable of forcing herself to bring her sword down on a man who was, if she was not her, a stranger to her? If she was truly Merri the wolfgirl and only that, then she had no reason to hesitate. But she had. And when she had mustered up the courage to lay him low, hadn't she cried? A person born six months ago, with no connection at all to that man, would have had no reason to cry. And she wished that she could have been that person, but she was not.

Yet neither was she entirely Ulrica, that dutiful daughter of the badlands. Instead, she was something in between. Her and not her. If fear of death stemmed from fear of the unknown, then the fear that she felt in this liminal space of being was much the same.

—and that wasn't even addressing the issue of lordship. For she had promised Melina that she would bring her to the base of the tree; that she would assemble the runes, play the part, fill the role of lord when no other actor was suitable (  notwithstanding that she was the least suitable of all ). But now there was Godfrey, First Elden Lord, the father that she could just barely remember loving. Did she give away to him? Four Great Runes claimed, four demigods slain. He hadn't done that, she had. Did propriety – something that she had never really grasped, which felt immensely artificial no matter how much she learned – dictate that she step aside, hand over all that she had worked for, and leave the rest to him? Wouldn't it stand to reason that someone who ostensibly did not want to become lord would jump at the opportunity to pass it all on to someone else? And yet she rankled at the thought. And then she rankled at her rankling. And then she pressed her face into her knees until her cheeks bunched up to her eyes and her jaw hurt.

"I don't know," she said, and it wasn't a deflection: it was the answer.