#bash and lily thread.

[inkshadow]

"not after what we'd just done..." hardly anything angelic about it, aside from the way the moonlight shone on her face at times. that was a true spectacle to behold and bash hates the fact that he had to wait this long to see it again. a reward, perhaps, for all of the late night grumblings about what could have been. bash chuckles against her hair, eyes wandering off to some random spot on the wall to let himself fill up with old memories. "no, of course not. they reprimanded me for not being able to keep you. you were the second daughter they never had," the first being his older sister who could never do anything wrong. lily had been, in every way, bash's most perfect partner. the fact that he couldn't hold her was no shock to his parents. but he's holding her now in a tender embrace that feels far more precious than it ever did before and the male lets a thoughtful hum vibrate up his throat. "i hope so too. like you mentioned earlier, it's only going to get harder. we need to be a united front when she's a teenager. i also hate to ruin the moment but i've still got to scold her. you don't suppose you'd be willing to take the bullet again for me, would you?"

“you mean you don’t think i’m pure anymore? that’s hurtful, bash... i still considered myself to be fairly angelic underneath it all.” she does her best to portray herself as the pinnacle of innocence, eyes a little wider and a pout already beginning to form on her lips. it's only when the kiss comes that a quiet hum of approval resonates from low in her throat instead. if this is how it feels to have her good name sullied, she might be okay with it. “huh... i figured they wouldn’t be my biggest fans these days, but that’s actually nice to hear. i have a pretty distinct memory of how nervous i was to meet them in the first place.” lily likes to think that she’s a pleasant enough person to speak to, but that’s without the added pressure of trying to impress the parents of someone she loves. every move she’d made at the time had felt like the wrong one and she was so certain she’d made a fool of herself. maybe she had, but they'd simply found it endearing. “yeah, no kidding. i can only hope it sets a precedent for us. i think we’re capable of having a lot more days like this.”

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Thirteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. A walk through Velaris turns for the worse and the secrets of The Book are finally revealed...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It would seem I was wrong. It does not take much for Bethsevah Mordeigh to turn. 

I should be ashamed, but the more often Thanatos keeps coming back, the more I come to like him. Make no mistake, he’s as dangerous and volatile as a starving animal, but compared to his siblings he’s a saint. 

I saw him kill a male yesterday. One who stumbled upon our hidden ceremony and threatened to come back with Koschei’s army and crush us and the Mother beneath his boot. 

But with a snap of Thanatos’s fingers the nameless fae was gone. Gone in a gust of red wind that smelled and tasted like metal. And Thanatos looked stronger for it. His pale skin stopped being so translucent. His hair looked a touch darker, so dark it swallowed all light. A piece cut away from the fabric of the world. 

Death is his food. Him and his siblings feed on it and crave it like nothing else. 

Except for me. 

Thanatos says he craves me. And I think I believe him. I think I’m beginning to crave him too. 

Gwyn froze when the mountain’s door slid back. Azriel stood outside Cagniv Library with a bouquet of salt-white water lilies clutched in one hand and pale blue tulips in the other. 

“Azriel,” you smiled brightly, the last word you’d meant to speak to Gwyn dying on your lips. “What’re you doing here?”

The midday sun beat down on the face of the mountain, shortening the shadows around your feet. 

“I was coming from the House of Wind and was hoping you’d take a long walk home with me. These are for you.” He held out the tulips. “And for you.” He held out the lilies for Gwyn, which she accepted after a brief moment of hesitance. 

Azriel looked… lighter. His shadows were stronger than ever, clinging to his body like a second scent, but his eyes held a fondness and love for you that Gwyn had never seen before. Not when he was looking at Mor, not when he was looking at Elain… not when he was looking at her. It was so obvious to Gwyn’s eyes, she was amazed you hadn’t caught on yet. You just looked at the flowers with a touch of color flooding your cheeks. Bashful and uncertain of how to accept such a gift. 

“Thank you.” You touched the velvety petals between your fingers as though they might crumble if you weren’t gentle. 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

Azriel looked at Gwyn, that small smile of his faltering and then growing once more when Gwyn nodded her head. It was a silent acknowledgement. A quiet understanding that didn’t completely escape your notice. 

I’m not happy with you. Gwyn’s eyes spoke. But I understand. Her teal eyes flashed protectively. Don’t fuck this up.

“I assume I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” Gwyn smirked at you and nudged her shoulder with your own, feeling the soft give of her skin and the strength in her arms. 

“Where else would I be?”

“At home. Sleeping.”

“Pffft. Sleep is for the weak.” 

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like Az. Now shoo.” Gwyn waved you off, watching as you took the arm that Azriel offered and made your way down the smooth steps of the mountain back to the city. 

You bowed your heads together, lips barely moving and cutting out two dark silhouettes in the air. Azriel must have said something funny because your gentle laugh carried itself on the wind, weaving into the air like silver thread. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile at you. 

If she knew what was about to happen, she would have never let you leave the library. 

“They’re in love.” 

Azriel looked sideways at you, catching the sweet scent of your hair as you leaned against him. The Palace of Hoof and Leaf buzzed with quiet energy, the air tinged with the scent of sugar from the confectionary booths. 

“Who?”

“Beth and Thanatos.” 

The book rocked against your hip, matching the beat of you and Azriel’s steps as you walked through the cobblestone marketplace. Lanterns hung unlit from the arches above, bobbing on wire like the bubbles that a pair of hawk-winged children were blowing from the steps of a peach-stone apartment. The girl, blue-eyed and red-haired, nudged the boy, pointing at the Shadowsinger with something like awe. Azriel offered them a faint smile and a few tendrils of his shadows licked at their feet as they scampered away with laughter. It was just a game to them after all. 

“I didn’t think he was capable of love,” Azriel noted. He thought back to the memories you’d unearthed with your powers and of the violent ways Thanatos had inched his way into Beth’s life. Wherever he lingered, death followed. But so far as you knew, he was also incredibly protective of Beth and the other priestesses. They’d benefited from his presence even if they were unnerved by it. He’d kept them hidden from Koschei.

“Beth didn’t think so either.” You flinched when one of the marketplace hawkers held his hand out to you. He didn’t shout like the others and seemed grieved when you stepped back into the folds of Azriel’s wings. He opened his sticky fist palm up to the sky revealing a handful of neat caramel candies wrapped in wax paper. 

“For the miss.” 

Y/n looked at Azriel, who only nodded with a smile.

“Thank you.” You gingerly took them from him, taking a moment to admire the light brown of the confectioner’s eyes, like burnt sugar, and the wisps of candy floss clinging to his shirt like loose threads. 

He didn’t resume his shouting until you were a good distance away, deep voice bellowing out over the square that his wares were made fresh that morning. You unwrapped one of the candies and stuck it in your mouth, sighing as it turned around on your tongue, slowly melting. Azriel took one of the candies you offered, but tucked it into his pocket when you turned your head to inspect the baskets of spices laid out on the sidewall.

“But he keeps staying with her. Keeps warning her of Koschei’s movements so she and her fellow priestesses can stay hidden. He… he cares for her. Or at least Beth seems to think so. The information — the story — is more pleasant than I could have hoped for, and I’m eternally grateful she doesn’t go in depth about their activities—” 

Azriel chuckled. “So it’s not like one of Nesta’s books.”

“Thank the Mother no. But it doesn’t get us any closer to finding out how to defeat Koschei. She doesn’t even talk about Koschei or the priestesses much. Only Thanatos. It’s just a love story.”

“Love stories are never just that though. They’re probably the most powerful things in the universe. Look at Rhysand and Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. I don’t think we’d be where we are now if not for their love for one another. The things they were willing to do to protect what they cared about.” 

“Do you ever wish you had that?” You dared to ask. “That kind of love? A mate?” Azriel turned to look at you, eyes filled with more cryptic meaning than you could ever imagine unraveling. There was hope, longing, grief, and a slew of other emotions. Their weight seemed to press in on you, but you didn’t feel overwhelmed. 

“All the time,” he whispered. Then he smiled, staring down at where your arm was linked to his. “Do you?” 

You turned away almost bitterly. “I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.”

“I would disagree.” 

You couldn’t find the words to respond, so you settled on silence. Luckily for you, silence with Azriel never felt uncomfortable. 

“If your shadows keep taking them, I’m going to forget how many I’ve selected.”

“I see no problem with this,” Azriel shrugged and continued to follow you around the bookshop. It had stuck out to you immediately on your long walk back to the River House. A squat, two-story townhouse with charmingly chipped white paint laid over sturdy brick and sage green shutters. Candles winked in the afternoon light pressed up against window sills where two fat ginger cats lay purring in the sun. The dark, woodsy interior dripped with books, leather notebooks, and automatic writing pens that hovered over thick pages like butterflies. “We have space in the house.” 

“It’s less about space and more about how much I’ve spent.” Your fingers brushed the next book on the shelf and its deep purple binding. 

Oh that one’s interesting — a romance between a Spring Court nymph and a Dundarian knife maker filled with adventure, lust, longing, and found family. 

You’d no sooner plucked it from the shelf before shadows crowded your hands, whisking it off to whatever ether Azriel kept them hidden in. He wrote the name of the book on a sheaf of paper, his handwriting neat and simple. 

You turned on him, arms folded over your chest. “You can’t keep doing that.” 

“You are not to spend a copper of your own money here. Rhysand and Feyre’s orders. Just put it on the House’s credit. Rhysand’s already added you.” 

“They put me on their credit?” You balked even thinking about the money you’d been given access to.

Azriel nodded. “Consider it repayment.”

“Repayment for what? I haven’t done anything.”

Azriel looked at you quietly, as if the answer were obvious. “You’re the reason I still have a sister-in-law and a niece. You’re the reason we now have a name to investigate and are one step closer to defeating Koschei. You’re the reason the Godswoods and the Gallows haven’t been stolen from yet and a number of Librarians still have their lives. Do I need to continue?”

You thought through what he said. It was true that Helion’s intervention in the Godswoods and the Gallows had been effective. No deaths had been reported since then, but it didn’t make you feel any safer. A snake was still a snake, even when camouflaged.

“Only two of those things matter to the Night Court. Helion owes me for the latter.” 

“Then you can have him contact the banks and transfer the sums.” Azriel’s eyes twinkled with mischie. You went to snatch the paper out of his hands, but all he had to do was raise his arm to the ceiling, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped up, one hand firm on his shoulder for leverage, but it was no use. He was too damned tall. 

You stood on the tips of your toes to get closer to eye level with Azriel. His eyes flickered down to your lips, the shapes they made as you quietly said, “Thank you.” 

You lingered in the stacks for a few moments longer, nervously asked the shop owner to put the list of books on the High Lord and High Lady’s tab — which she did with a warm smile — and then made your way back outside. The bell hanging above the doorway jingled happily, the wood burned sign saying Come back soon! Love, Jessebell. 

You trailed ahead of him down the street. Every sign, every shop window display, every street sign — you drank them in like you were ravenous. 

Azriel felt Rhys’s presence drift in the outskirts of his mind, and without hesitation, he let him in. 

Where are you? What’s taking so long?

Nearly to the Sidra. I brought her to Jessebell’s. 

That explains your lateness. Rhys paused. She must have loved that. 

Azriel smiled inwardly. She did. She really did.  

A female with weathered, dark skin and flowers sprouting from her ears stopped you on the street and although your first instinct was to recoil, you relaxed when she only lifted up a deep black tulip in her textured hands. The wilting flower straightened up when you kissed one of the petals as instructed and the gentle laugh that followed had Azriel’s heart soaring. 

Well make sure you get here in time for dinner. I want as many of our family members under my roof as possible.

Is this an ask, or a command?

Don’t make me use my High Lord voice on you.

Azriel rolled his eyes with a smile. I am absolutely trembling. Do you use that tone of voice on Nyx? 

He felt as much as heard Rhys’s laughter. Enjoy your time with Y/n, but come back soon. Mor is looking to get her hands on your mate. Mother help us all.

Rhys cut the connection and Azriel was free to admire you once more. 

You cradled the bouquet he’d given you in your arms, light reflecting off the petals and casting a faint blue glow on your face as you chatted with the florist. Your smile, which had started out forced and nervous, was slipping into something more relaxed. When the female laughed merrily and touched your wrist, you didn’t flinch. 

Dark tendrils of night curled around his ears and Azriel felt a shiver trail down his spine. 

Behind you. His shadows whispered. The boy needs help. There’s something wrong with him.

The boy startled back when Azriel turned towards him, tripping over a nick in the cobblestones and landing with a wince on his palms. Glassy pale eyes stared up, wide and terrified. His clothes were rumpled and unkempt and his white-blond hair was a mess of curls flecked with grey, like he’d been rolling around in dust. Pale pink and blue veins rose to the surface of his green-tinged skin, sickly and unnerving. He looked like a corpse on puppet strings.

Azriel looked around, but no one was searching for the little boy. No yelps belonging to scared parents. No calls from a sibling. 

“Shadowsinger, sir?” Even his voice sounded sickly, like his vocal chords were disintegrating in his throat. 

Azriel immediately dropped to his knees and slid his hands behind his back. “What’s happened, little one? What’s wrong?” His voice was smooth and gentle. 

He was too busy thinking that his boy was younger than Nyx, too busy ordering his shadows out to search for the boy’s parents that he didn’t think twice about the lingering stench of blood clinging to the boy’s shoes or the faint pain beginning to grow behind his hazel eyes. 

The boy looked around furtively while wringing his grubby hands, and then leaned close to whisper in Azriel’s ear. His pale eyes narrowed in concentration.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a black tulip before.” 

“It’s a little secret of mine. You need to get the seed and soil just right.” The female brushed her waist length hair over her shoulder. The knotted strands had the thick, coarse texture of seafarer’s rope, as aged and wise as the rest of her. When you held the flower back out for her to take she shook her head. 

“For you, my dear. I have dozens more and I think it would attract more business if you wore it around today. A beautiful creature like you must get lots of attention.” 

You knew she was probably just saying these things to get your business, but you couldn’t help the spark of joy the compliments gave you. She helped tuck the flower into the braids of your hair and you felt the petals kiss the tips of your left ear. 

“Say.” The female leaned in like she was about to share a secret. “If you aren’t already taken, I have a niece who’d love to have a pretty girl like you on her arm.” 

Your blush deepened and you found yourself stammering, “That’s very kind, but I don't-I don’t-'' You glanced up the street. Azriel was kneeling on the ground, head bent down to a small child. You only caught the wisps of white, candy floss hair over Azriel’s broad shoulders. 

The female traced the path of your gaze and sighed. “Ahhhhh. I see.” There was a triumphant look in her eyes, even as she said, “Shame. But I’ll still give you my niece’s name if you don’t mind.” 

Your eyes snapped away from Azriel’s and you smiled in embarrassment. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Henna.” 

You stepped back. Panic froze the blood in your veins and you felt pinpricks traveling up your body, stabbing your heart and your mind. You could see her now. Her silver hair fanned out around her. Her broken body. Her bloodied eye socket, dark and empty. 

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” You had to have heard her incorrectly. Your head was pounding but you pushed back on your mental wards, shoring up your defenses until the feeling passed.

The female tilted her head to the side. Her eyes were as milky and glassy as pearls. “Does the name mean anything to you, dear?” 

You took another step back and the female stepped forward. Her eyes seemed to clear then and her brows furrowed in concentration and pain. She lunged forward, tearing away at your clothes and knocking the flowers of your hands as she begged. “Help me. The boy. He’s inside—HELP ME!” 

You surged back, crumpling to the ground under her heavy weight as she continued to pull and claw. 

She’d been restocking the back room when the dirty little boy and the tailor showed up in the alleyway. He still carried that bolt of fabric under the crook of his arm. He took out a knife, orange eyes flashing and slit his throat from ear to ear while the little boy watched. Smiling.

“LET GO!” You kicked out, ramming your knee up and into the soft flesh of her stomach like you’d seen Emerie do to Cassian, but you lacked her strength and technique. The female wheezed but didn’t let go, even as others came to try and pry her off of you. Their voices were frantic, trying to calm you down, but they were the voices and hands of strangers. 

“AZ!” You screamed, feeling the female sink her nails into your arm.

There was an ugly tearing sound and the cool touch of wind at your chest. Your robes were ripped apart under her rough hands and her eyes narrowed in on your belt and the chain that connected to the book. She bucked off a cherub-faced female with a blow to her nose and blood splashed over your cheek. 

“Help me. Please. Oh… oh gods.” She grabbed at the book, but the chain glowed iron hot in her hands. The smell of burning scorched your nose as the magic did what it was meant to do. Nothing could break that chain. Not unless you willed it. Not while you were still alive. 

“Oh gods. Oh gods help me. I’m so sorry.” There were tears streaming down her face, tracing the canyons and valleys of her skin. She threw off the fae clamoring around you both and ran with jerky, uncoordinated leaps back into her flower shop. She snatched the gardening shears off the windowsill where she’d been trimming her hydrangea bushes. She wept and shook her head, mouth struggling to open and scream as she held the shears up high and then drove them into her neck.

The scene took a long time to filter through the haze of panic and disbelief. 

“Az… Az… Az—AZRIEL!” Your shrill scream pierced through the air. You scrambled away from everyone. Stones shaved away the skin of your knees, your palms. The tattered silk of your robes trailed behind you. “Don’t touch me!” You shrieked at the male who tried grabbing your arm, soft voice whispering. 

He wasn’t the one you wanted. 

“AZRIEL!” 

The female dropped to her knees, hands clutching her throat as blood poured out in bubbly, gurgling spurts. The candy pink strips of her apron turned a wet, sticky black as she crawled back towards the door.

“Oh gods… Please,” she wheezed, wet and agonized, before collapsing face down on the floor. Motionless. 

You staggered to your feet twisting away from everyone crowding around you. 

“Don’t touch me. Don’t!” 

“Miss you must sit. Please—”

“Let me help—” 

“Are you hurt? What’s—” 

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!” 

Screams. The sound of doors slamming shut. Locks turning. Commanding barks calling for a healer. Calling for the High Lord and the High Lady. Calling for the Shadowsinger to help.

Azriel was still kneeling in front of that boy and no matter how many times you called his name and pushed through the crowd of people now rushing up and down the streets in a frenzy, he didn’t get up. He didn’t look at you. You may as well have not existed. 

You finally reached him, narrowly missing being run over by a satyr who seemed to have gotten the wrong impression about which direction to sprint in. Every clip clop of his hooves shot through you. 

“Az.” 

Why hadn’t… Why hadn’t he helped you? 

“Az.”

Why hadn’t he come when you called?

The Shadowsinger rose. One hand grabbed the hilt of Truth Teller and the malicious blade sang as it was unleashed. The shadows that normally hovered about him like mist were gone. They were all around you now, tugging you in the opposite direction towards the Sidra. They pleaded for you to run, but you couldn’t understand them.

Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

“Az.” You begged and grabbed hold of his hand. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

Truth Teller shot out and pain radiated up your arm as the blade cut neatly through your clothes and sliced open your skin. You tripped backward, landing with a thud on the street that rattled your bones. Your sleeve turned dark with blood. 

You whimpered, holding your ruined arm up to your chest. There was no feeling in Azriel’s eyes. No flicker of recognition. None of that warmth and kindness you were so accustomed to. Just a menacing, silent form towering over you and blocking out the sun. 

A pale boy stood by Azriel’s side with ice chip eyes and rectangular pupils. He grinned brightly and the stretch of his waxy cheeks was too tight. Too forced. He shouldn’t have been alive. He-he—

Andrian. 

You’d seen him in Henna’s memory. You’d heard the snap of his neck beneath Koschei’s hands. Even now the boy was bent awkwardly, his head left in a perpetual tilt that should have looked charming and inquisitive but instead made you want to retch.

Andrian smiled at you then plastered a practiced look of horror on his face before running away with tears streaming down his cheeks, shouting for his mother. A burly male grabbed his shoulders, alarm on his face as he hoisted Andrian into his arms and disappeared into the crowd. Because who wouldn’t stoop down to help a fragile little boy? Who would dare suspect that the daemati that had roamed the Day Court’s halls and slithered his way into Velaris was a child?

Azriel gripped you by the front of your ruined clothes, hosting you up in the air. Your feet kicked uselessly and grabbed onto Azriel’s arm, trying to alleviate the choking pressure of his hand so close to your neck. 

“No. Azriel please. It’s me,” you whimpered. “It’s me.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. There and gone. So brief you wondered if you’d imagined it.

His left hand parted the tatters of your robes, and you flinched when his fingers brushed against your hip before settling on the chain that kept the book tied to you. 

Panic seized your soul. 

You’d been chipping away at the book’s secrets for months and you couldn’t let Azriel — couldn’t let Koschei — get his hands on it. Not without you knowing what it was that made Beth’s story so special.

You flung a hand out, feeling the leather of the book beneath your fingertips like it was your own skin. Your magic called out to the book, desperate and powerful and familiar, and the barriers it possessed to hide its secrets melted away at your beckoning. You poured every inch of your power into it even as Azriel’s lips turned down in an ugly frown that didn’t belong on his face. 

Your eyes turned to gold, bright as the sun as you basked in the knowledge flooding your mind with the force of a tsunami. You didn’t hold anything back. Not this time.

You were so lost in the book — in the emotions and memories wrapping around your mind, sharp and brighter than the light of a thousand suns — that you didn’t feel it when Azriel gripped that golden chain. The metal flared, a high-pitched ring piercing the air as it snapped in two, giving way to Azriel’s power. Nothing should have broken it. And yet there it was dangling from your waist.  

You did feel it when he broke your wrist. 

When he forced the book from your grasp. 

And then stabbed you in the stomach. 

Cassian and Nesta winnowed to the street and watched in horror as your body was dropped to the ground. Your head cracked the pavement, hands twitching palms up at your sides. 

Nesta shrieked. The sound was harrowing. The mourning, dying screams of an animal.  

She charged forward, twin blades flashing in her hands, and silver light shot out of her chest, crashing into Azriel’s shields and forcing him back twenty feet. He gritted his teeth. The rubber soles of his shoes skidded and burned. 

Cassian collapsed on his knees beside you, peeling off his leather jacket and wrapping it around your head and neck to keep it in place. 

“Shit.” His hands came away bloody. RHYS! FEYRE! He screamed into the corners of his mind, hoping they’d hear. GET HERE NOW! 

“Thanatos.” Your voice was weak.

“It’s Cass. Hey, keep your eyes on me ok.” He pressed his hands against your stomach, wings flared out to protect you from the cold burn of Nesta’s power as she went toe to toe with The Shadowsinger. Magic sizzled in the air, raising the hair on the back of Cassian’s neck like a lightning strike waiting to happen. Blood pooled over his hands, thick and dark. “Eyes open,” he commanded, “On me.”  

Your eyes were open, and glowing strangely, but you weren’t staring at Cassian. No. You were miles outside of your body. 

“The Bone Carver. That’s it.” 

“Eyes on me, Y/n. Eyes on me.” 

“Thanatos,” your hand twitched, “The Bone Carver. That’s how she did it.”

Nesta screamed, flying overhead in a burst of blue light that had her back slamming into one of the marketplace towers. The white marble cracked viciously and Nesta dropped to the ground, dazed and distracted as blood dripped out from her nose. 

“NESTA!” Cassian roared, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as Azriel waited at the bottom of the street. 

The Shadowsinger muttered something dark and revolting beneath his breath. Ancient, powerful words that were whispered in his mind. He held onto the book in his hands as it lit up in flames and then blew the ashes into the wind that would carry them all the way to Andrian’s master. 

Koschei.

The call of her mate sharpened her senses and Nesta rolled onto her feet, calling her weapons back into her hands and leveling a glare at Azriel that would have killed a lesser male on the spot. 

She was Nesta fucking Archeron. 

Lady Death. 

Queen of Queens. 

And she would be damned if she let Azriel hurt her or anyone else.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Az,” she growled. 

She’d been holding back before. She’d been holding back a long while. But no more of that. The power she let out burst through Velaris with light brighter than a dying star, crackling with an energy that knocked Azriel off his feet and sent him crashing into the river wall with a sickening crack that shattered the bones in his arm, his leg, and his wings. 

Rhys appeared at his side, violet eyes wide open in shock. He could feel the magic suffocating his brother’s consciousness, burying him so deep there was almost nothing left but anger behind his whiskey-brown eyes. 

Rhysand grabbed the sides of his head, shoving his way into Azriel’s mind even while he fought back. Rhys flinched when one of Azriel’s knives nicked his temple, drawing blood that dripped down onto his velvet dinner jacket and floated on the dense material like dew drops. 

“Stop. This isn’t you, Az.” 

Azriel seethed, teeth bared and bloody. He spit in Rhysand’s face and he winced. Rhysand would never be able to forgive himself for what he did next. But someone had burrowed themselves into Azriel’s mind so thoroughly, so viciously, that in that moment, it was the only thing Rhys could think to do. 

Rhysand’s talons dragged down on Azriel’s mental walls so viciously he screamed as they were torn to pieces. He dug in with brutal efficiency. Reaching, tearing, clawing to catch the curl of power that had infected Azriel’s mind before it could do any more damage. He latched onto its slithery, silver body and wrenched it out of Azriel’s consciousness. 

When I find you. You’re as good as dead. Rhysand promised. 

The daemati slunk away with a giddiness that sent a shiver through The High Lord’s bones. 

Azriel slumped, weak and boneless, against his brother’s shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and he shook, blinking the saltiness out of his eyes. He felt like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. His bones were broken. His wings twisted. There was a raging headache that a hundred shots of vodka paled in comparison to. 

But it was his hands that horrified him most. Red and slippery. 

His breath shook.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember… what…. 

His eyes shot to Rhys, then up the street where he could make out Feyre, Cass, and Nesta huddled over your still body. The bond sat deep within him pulsing with terror and pain. 

“Rhys.” His voice broke. Rhysand angled his body to hide you from view, but it was too late. Azriel was panicking now, body trembling uncontrollably. “What happened?”

Rhysand said nothing. His eyes shined with horror. 

“What did I do? Rhys, what did I do?!” 

“Cass. Cassian, I’ve got her.” 

His hands were shaking. There was so much blood. The smell burned his nose and made him want to throw up his lunch. Feyre covered his hands with her own, peeling them away sticky and red from Y/n’s stomach. 

Light flooded out from Feyre’s palms, warm and lovely and Cassian and Nesta breathed a sigh of relief as the flow of red slowed and then stopped, flesh knitting itself back together. 

“It’s ok. You’ll be ok.” Nesta’s words were commanding as she held your neck and head still.

Your eyes searched the empty sky, seeing and unseeing. Then your hands shot up, grasping Feyre’s shoulders and digging in deep enough to leave bruises. Your eyes were wide, staring at her with an intensity that spoke of a thousand years. An unfathomable wealth of knowledge that should have crushed you beneath its weight. 

“Y/n it’s ok,” she murmured gently, pushing more power into your body, willing you to heal faster.

“Look. Feyre you need to look,” your voice was thick. Wet. Blood coated the inside of your mouth bitter and metallic. 

“I’m looking. Y/n, you hit your head. It’s going to be ok. You hear me? It’s going to be ok.” 

“You need to look,” you said once more.

You trailed a bloody, weak hand down Feyre’s arm and pulled her fingers up to your temple, tapping once. Twice. 

Without any more direction, she slipped into your mind and gasped.

Feyre stood in a pool of mist, white fingers reaching up her legs and splintering outwards before they changed direction and started to climb up into the darkness like trees. Or rather… like bookshelves. The mist formed stacks that disappeared into the distance, endless hallways and shelves that wound around each other. Chaotic and orderly at the same time. 

She could feel your presence beside her. Or rather she was you. In that moment she felt the raging winds of your power, hot and ravenous. It wrapped around you, tugging you to and fro like that uncontrollable lurch when you stand too close to the cliff’s edge. The call of the void.

She needed to answer that call the same way you did whenever you used your powers, because somewhere in the halls of your mind stood the knowledge you’d worked so hard to obtain. The truth of how it was Bethsevah Mordeigh was able to trap Koschei, and how to end it once and for all. 

Feyre let your magic pull her in the right direction. In the mist she stumbled upon the final memories you’d absorbed from the book before it had blown away in the wind.

Bethsevah wept, “No. No. No. I won’t,” shoving away the reed thin body that held her so close. Thanatos grasped her face in his pale hands, begging her to listen to him even as she shook her head frantically. “I won’t do it.” 

“You must. Bethsevah, you must.” His pitch black eyes winked with starlight… or maybe it was his tears. 

This world and its people had changed him. He could feel it in his bones. Something very deep and cruel within him had been twisted into something sacred. Something that toed the line of kindness. 

Koschei thought it was this element that made fae and humans beneath the three of them. They were supposed to be pure. Powerful. Handing out life and taking it away like the gods they were. But now Thanatos knew better. Now he knew exactly what it was that made Koschei and Stryga worse than even him — they would never be able to care for anyone. Not the way he cared for Bethsevah. Not the way he cared for the world she loved. 

“I won’t do it,” she growled.

“Then they’ll die,” he said, with a tone of finality that could only belong to a death god. “Everyone. Everyone you love. Everyone you care about. I know my brother. Koschei craves attention and devotion above all else. He won’t let you worship your Mother. He won’t stop until you all kneel or until you’re ashes in the wind. Beth—” He wrenched her hands back from where she covered her eyes, refusing to even look at him. 

He tucked his crooked finger beneath her chin, coaxing her gaze up. Together they were storm clouds blanketing an eternal night. A lightning strike — brief and chaotic and electrifying. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she whispered, steel laced in her soft voice, “You don’t know what you’re offering.” 

He smiled, sad and simple. “I know exactly what I’m offering up.”

“Once I lock you in The Prison, I won’t be able to let you out. No one will. You’ll be trapped there for eternity.” She shivered, closing her eyes. She wouldn’t wish that fate upon her worst enemy, but her mate? She shook her head. 

“I know.” 

“No, you—”

“I have seen the first fall of snow on a new world. I have seen entire cities leveled to dust with no survivors. I’ve lived thousands of years. I understand.”

“We’ll find a way. Kosch—” 

“Remember what I told you,” he whispered, “Back at the cabin? You were made to ruin me, Beth. And I will let you do it a million times over. Without hesitation.” 

You and Feyre felt Beth’s pain as acutely as if you shared the same heart.

“I wish she hadn’t done it,” Beth whispered, “I wish the Mother had never created me to be your mate.” 

“I don’t.” Thanatos leaned his forehead against Beth’s and got lost in her. “There is no other way, Bethsevah.” He kept saying her name, like just speaking the word and feeling the shapes it took in his mouth would prolong the time they had together. Would tie them together more surely than the bond that burned in their chests.

She felt the battleground slip beneath her feet and no amount of power, no amount of willpower, could change it. 

He brushed back her hair and trailed one of his slender fingers down the curve of her cheek ending one teardrop’s race to her chin. “Mating bonds are powerful things, Beth. Your magic — your blood — and yours alone will be able to cut through my defenses and sever me from my power. I want you to take it and lock me away. Once my magic is yours, Stryga won’t be able to see you coming and you’ll be able to take her power as well. So long as you leave Koschei for last it may just be enough power to rid him from this earth once and for all.” 

“You’d have me do this. Destroy you and your family. This is what you want?”

Thanatos hesitated. “I am not a good male. But this… this will have to be enough. This is what I want, Bethsevah. For you and your family to live. To be happy and safe.”

“I won’t be happy, “ she said, eyes now flat and dull as the silver coins they placed over the dead, “I won’t take anyone else.”

“I want you to,” he begged, “I want you to marry and to have children. I want you to grow your family so that one day, if I ever do make it out of that Prison, I’ll still see pieces and memories of you roaming this earth. That’s all I want, Bethsevah, and it’s already more than I deserve.” 

“I’ll find a way,” Beth promised. “I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear it.” 

“Don’t make any bargains with me.” He smiled sadly, thumb wiping away at her cheeks, “That’s what got us into this mess.”

Finally she laughed, just a little. “I don’t regret it.” 

“Neither do I.”

The memory froze. A moment in time trapped like a beetle in amber.

A hand grabbed Feyre by her shoulders and swung her around. You stood there cloaked in pale, golden light, your eyes shining like copper coins. When you opened your mouth, you spoke in Beth’s voice.

Thanatos told me that magic runs in blood — familiar, same. But mates are different. Powerful. Their magic can protect one another. Identify one another across space and across time. But they can also turn on each other viciously. A lock and a key. Madness and salvation.

What I could destroy in Thanatos, I stood a chance at destroying in his siblings.

Your face fell, hauntingly beautiful in the glow of your powers. 

But I couldn’t do it. Not in the way he asked. I took his power. I locked him in that Prison. I bound Stryga to her cabin in the woods. But I didn’t kill Koschei when I should have. When the power of three gods was coursing through my veins and stripping me down to my bones, when I had enough light within me to see the birth and death of stars and the face of the Mother, I couldn’t do it. 

I thought I would be capable of destroying Koschei and freeing Thanatos, but I couldn’t do either. I had only enough sanity left to take that power and bury it somewhere Koschei couldn’t touch. To trap him on the lake where he can live in madness knowing his magic is so close by and yet locked away. Unreachable. 

I’ve done my part. I’ve had my children. I’ve left my mark on the world, great and terrible as it is. If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood. 

And if you have any love for me at all, find a way to release Thanatos. That is what I ask of you.

Bethsevah’s calls had never been answered, at least not by her children. You knew this much in your heart. Thanatos — The Bone Carver — had freed himself thousands of years later only to die beneath the Cauldron’s power. 

You whispered a silent prayer to the Mother. You hoped the Bone Carver was at peace now. Now that he must be with his Beth. 

Azriel was screaming your name, broken cries cutting through the quiet of the marketplace. You’d never thought him capable of such a wretched noise. 

The High Lady sat shock still above you with tears streaming down her face. Grey eyes glistening.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

I apologize if you thought I'd forgotten about the plot with Koschei and was just writing cute, fluffy scenes between our favorite Librarian and our favorite Batboy. But you also should've remembered that I burned this girl's house down and had her kill a another character in self defense so... this was coming... sorry...

This is by far the chapter I've been most nervous about posting because it's where I start to tie together all the weird loose threads that have been accumulating throughout this story so I am very much open to feedback on how I can do things better and on how I can make things clearer moving forward. Or! If you thought I did a good job and are intrigued, I'd appreciate it if you let me know that too!

But anyway thanks for reading 😅.

[lacryem]

— A surprisingly long and in depth look about symbolism in the recent G-Fantasy cover by Yana Toboso ✦

Including references, flower language, how to decode the meaning of flowers, and a little too much brainrot. As well my personal interpretation drawn from all the sources I looked at. And of course what all of means (and maybe hints at?) for Sebastian and Ciel… and maybe even Sebaciel? 

Originally posted as a twitter thread, but threads suck and I forgot a couple things. so here now.

Disclaimer :

I don’t know FOR SURE that all these things were directly referenced by Yana when creating this art. But being a fan of her work for over a decade I've become familiar with her use of symbolism and reference, and believe myself to have a good eye for it at this point!   I'm also pretty familiar with the use of flower language, including different languages, due to having been involved in a project about it and having to read wayyy too much about this. 

Some of it also includes my own personal interpretation, but the meanings and info I based myself off of ARE factual. I think I made it pretty clear when referencing my personal interpretation. You're welcome to reach your own interpretation based off of the stuff provided!

And lastly, I'm not a sebaciel shipper. I'm not an anti (the complete opposite, actually) and have nothing against the ship, I like the narrative around them and how they're written but I don’t actively ship them romantically or sexually. So I'd say this is actually a pretty unbiased interpretation. Personal taste is one thing, but I don’t deny the author's intention and whats written in front of me! That is what this post is about.

Kuroshitsuji takes place in the Victorian period (1837~1901) in 1889.

The following are both important Victorian books on the language of flowers that I will be basing myself off of.

Language of Flowers by Greenaway Kate (1884), and The Language of flowers: An Alphabet of Floral Emblems (1857).

(Also, I’m treating Ciel’s rose as a deep red rose. Which is a bit different than red roses. But I am adding some relevant information about roses in general, anyway.

Now, on what they say about these flowers.

Deep rose, meaning "bashful shame". White lily, meaning "Purity and sweetness."

— The White Lily

Most people assume that the lily refers to Ciel's purity, and that’s a fair assumption. But I disagree. 

Firstly, the one holding the lily is Sebastian. Holding it on his right hand, tilted towards the right. However what's relevant here is the VIEWER. From the viewer's POV he's holding it to the left. Note he also holds the scissors on his left hand, where he bears HIS contract seal.

How you hold a flower, what position you give it to someone in, changes the meaning of the flower. These context clues are very important. It tells us that 'purity and sweetness' doesn’t refer to Ciel, but actually refers to Sebastian (…sorta).

This may be a little confusing. Purity and sweetness, Sebastian?! I know, I know. bear with me.

These books provide poems to help us understand how you may interpret the intended meaning. The lily poem is about enduring trials out of love because of the purity and sweetness he sees in his lover's eyes and soul. I believe Yana directly references the poems I will include in this post in her new artwork.

— My Interpretation

the meaning of Sebastian's lily is:

"I do all out of love for the sweetness and purity within you."

Him holding it to the contact seal and cutting the flower could stand for him destroying this sentiment (affection within himself) that has arisen in him as a result of their contract by destroying the sweetness and purity—the source of it—within Ciel (consuming his soul).

Note: This is debatable, as 'reversed' almost always means upside down. But if you consider the lily facing away from the viewer as reversed then it could mean "impurity and bitterness" which fits pretty well with Ciel, and it being held against the contract seal which is a physical representation of his impurity, brought on by his bitterness.

— The Deep Red Rose

There something I find very interesting. The rose is in a teacup, standing in for tea (I think there's even tea alongside it in the cup.) From Yana herself we know that Sebastian's eyes are a reference to the reddish brown colour of tea.

Like I said, I believe this rose to be a deep red rose, which is a bit more specific than the meaning given to red roses. However I think the poem included for roses in general very much applies here.

I was going to add my thoughts but I found this interpretation that sums it up pretty well if you replace the carpe diem theme with a more "running out of time" or "impending death" theme, which seems to be a more accurate reading for this artwork.

Looking at the rose itself, it has no thorns or leaves.

It is not a youthful rose as its already fully open and losing petals. "No hope, and no fear" fits with the poem, the rose is basically an hourglass referring to Ciel. His fate is unavoidable, but this isn't a deterrent. He's dancing on the ledge.

The deep red rose means 'bashful shame'.

When you compare it to the lily, which is a direct proclamation, the deep red rose is a quiet confession one cannot verbalize.

Debatable, to be fair but given the tie in to Sebastian's eye colour and the fact that he is always the one pouring tea for Ciel, I believe the Sebastian to be the speaker here too, but this time speaking on Ciel's feelings (Hence why he's the one holding it) rather than Sebastian's own. 

— My Interpretation

The meaning of the deep red rose Ciel holds, speaking about Ciel's feelings of guardedness, and in response saying:

"Abandon your bashful shame, and let yourself be admired without expectations (hope) or fear"

Sebastian speaks about Ciel's feelings, the deep red rose acknowledges his feelings but they remain unspoken.

The Waller poem is a plead for his beloved to seize the day, for time is short, and allow herself to be loved completely. 

Her beauty is one to be appreciated, she is not meant to be a rose unacknowledged (unloved) in the desert.

Regarding 'expectations', I think this is more about rigid ideas of how 'appreciation' or 'admiration, might be shown or received. Sebastian and Ciel's relationship defies normality or 'expectations'. So this, too, would defy expectations a young boy like Ciel, or a traumatised boy like Ciel, may have.

From Yana herself, we know Sebastian's dedication and how highly he holds 'beauty', specifically Ciel's beauty.

The author of the poem proclaims that beauty not appreciated is not beautiful indeeed, and so he calls his beloved to come to him and be appreciated wholly during the invaluable, limited time they have.

We see the deep red rose's petals fall away, in my opinion not only symbolising the withering away of time, but also the crumbling away of this "bashful shame" that Sebastian ascribes to Ciel.

How Sebastian wishes to "appreciate" this beauty is debatable. How he wants to "admire" and "desire" (per the poem) Ciel is rather open ended. Wether it be in a romantic way, a sexual way or by consuming his soul.

However, I don’t think these are mutually exclusive. And consuming Ciel can easily be a metaphor for the former two. 

— The Lily and The Rose

The Greeneaway book has this poem which im sure was directly referenced. This poem speaks about the lily and the rose in a direct power struggle and fight for dominance, until they eventually unite and reign as one.

Now when speaking about this "union", you could say it refers to their contract, but I don’t think so.

The contract ties them to each other, but it doesn’t necessarily unite them. So I believe 'unity' to be about the appreciation Sebastian speaks of Ciel opening up to. 

"The Lily" and "The Rose" might be interpreted as directly representing Sebastian and Ciel, and the unity that would come from them joining and becoming a truly complimentary pair. I think a power struggle and fight for being the one in control is very accurate way to describe their current dynamic in canon.

It may also be interpreted as "The Lily" and "The Rose" as being representations of their feelings and ideals previously. And then it would represent these two conflicting expressions—a loud  unrelenting and destructive devotion, and a guarded, bashful, unspoken reluctance— coming together and turning from conflicting to complimentary. 

Or as it tends to be with these things, both!

Either way all of this is expressed under the sense of impending doom created by their circumstances and the contract. So there's a sense of urgency permeating all of it.

Also clear to me is a sense of internal conflictedness coming from Sebastian's message that is usually only hinted at like this, and some people end up overlooking.

Sebastian desires Ciel deeply, but having him would also mean not being able to have him anymore.

Sebastian is torn and that’s why he attempts to cut the root of his wavering feelings represented by the lily. 

All of this makes me wonder about what's next, and if we will see these things said more blatantly. Foreshadowing with flower language and references like this, isn't exactly rare for Yana. I wonder if we will see this 'unity' come to be, and what necessary development Sebastian and Ciel will need to undergo to make it possible. As well as what shape it will take.

I also wonder very much about Ciel's perspective in all of this, as this was almost entirely from Sebastian's POV, but I think that's intentional. Ciel has his own goals and a lot on his mind. Sebastian's goal IS Ciel. So I assume he spends a lot more time thinking about Ciel and this kind of thing.

Thank you if you read the whole way through. Like I said before, even though the sources defending it are, my interpretation is not law and you're welcome to reach your own with the things presented.

Links for sources, including free public domain PDFs of the books mentioned are found at the end of my twitter thread.

— Thanks for reading! —

[mackmontgomery]

"How can you declare something as innocent and fun as old ferris over there your mortal enemy?"

That kind of energy was better reserved for activities that deserved it -- like the pendulum, which he considered the wheel's menacing cousin.

"Slide it is," He concedes, knowing he would have no fun if Lily was hating every second of what they were doing. He points to where the queue for the slide started and made a twister motion with his index finger, "Let's swivel it over that way before we get stuck behind any candy-floss sticky kids."

@lilynunthapak

"You'd be yearning and I'd be crying. Everyone knows that the ferris wheel and I are basically mortal enemies," heights and Lily never being two things that could co-exist in world, "So, obviously, my vote goes to the fun slide. I need, like .. a good type of adrenaline rush to get my night started."

@mackmontgomery

[sustiawan-author]

Hii !! I love your work 🫶🫶 Your SFW alpahabet for Neil is absolutely adorable ! I wanted to know if you could write a Neil Perry x Black reader ? (Of course if you’re comfortable with that, since this time period is complicated 😭)

Love you !

And When At Last I Find You, Your Song Will Fill The Air - Neil Perry . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

of course i would (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Neil thought they were all stupid. How could they hate a girl like her? A girl so wonderful, bright — indescribable by even the finest sonnets or poets the world could begin to offer. She wasn't just some words in a piece of paper; all that life encompasses must be her, for how else could he explain the impending feeling in his belly? A hunger not for sustenance, but perhaps a different kind of it.

She resumed singing a melody she knew he loved, her voice echoing in the heart of the cave. Her nimble fingers stitched together an embroidered banner, small enough for him to hang in his room without his professors fussing over it. He loved her until the moon and back, and even then he'd still tug the crescent satellite down for her; perform his best act for it just so it could be persuaded to shine gently for her when she ought to sleep.

"How's that?" she halted her singing to hold the fabric up by her hands, biting off the thread before displaying it to his sight.

Neil hummed in approval, coming closer to inspect the fabric with his spectacles on. Her breaths fanned against his cheek, and it tinted them pink.

"It's red. I like it," he complimented. His brown eyes met hers, dainty and dark. Her bashful smile squeezed his heart and made it ache.

"Not just any red," she corrected, splaying the fabric on her lap for them to admire, "maroon, clementine, and amber."

She proudly showed him the nearly-finished design; a griffin flying above a stock of clouds and trees, above it the sun burned like a flame, woven with the finest polyester she found under her mother's bed. Neil knew it reminded her of him. And just on the griffin's neck laced a colorful wreath of lilies and dahlias, a reminder of her presence even when Welton tests him with the depths of its tribulations.

He pried the needle off her hand and reached his face up, ghosting just across the side of her nose. She hid her face, but he gave a silent plead by the pull of his fingers against hers.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever got to see," his eyes scanned her, every crevice of her beautiful skin and those lashes he loved so dearly. He grinned then, a boyish expression of affection. She relented, cupping his face and caressing it with her thumb.

"Someday soon, I'll take us far, far away from this place," he whispered against your palm, kissing it, "a farm, somewhere nice so we can have our children and let them play around in a place where no one could judge them. No one could judge us, peer at us — where you'll be mine, eternal.

"Would you want that?" he pleaded, searching for your answer.

Your tears were effervescent as they fell, Neil catching them before they wet your dress — your lovely, lovely dress which he bought for you last winter.

His heart leapt at the sight of you nodding,

"Yes," you laughed wetly, "yes, Neil, how could I ever say no to that?"

The two of you embraced in the nearing darkness of the cave, protected, safe. Loved by the soul of one another, guarded by the light of a candle much kinder than the sun which exposed them outside. Someday soon, he said,

then someday soon it will be.

Bet you didn't expect this ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

[honeybee2807]

Do you know what is funny to me? It's that some people read Cursed Child and genuinely believe that Albus is Harry's favorite child and his other kids(James in particular) are his least favorites. I just read this fanfic which is CC compliant and had James saying "No matter what I do, dad still loves Albus more!"

Like c'mon, if that's how Harry treats his favorite child, he should not be allowed to parent at all. Like you don't tell to your favorite child that you wish they weren't your child! In one scene, he literally confides to Ginny that he wished that Albus was more like James and Lily who were more easier to handle.

Like i get it. HC all what you want(James and Lily could be more neglected so Harry could focus on the "problem child" like certain dynamics of fucked up families). But Albus is definitely not the favorite child. All of James' and Lily's interactions were positive and happy for god's sake.

I genuinely feel like its all projecting. Most of the ppl who hc this tend to be oldest siblings. I once remember a reddit thread that stated that Albus was an ungrateful brat in CC and James was so unloved and neglected and when asked for evidence, they stated that in the epilogue, Harry focused more on Albus than James, the day Albus goes to Hogwarts the first time!!! Ofc Harry is going to focus on Albus. And the OP didnt like that only Albus got to know about Harry's sorting problem, even though Harry said to Albus to comfort him. Redditors didn't believe it and later the OP confessed that they thought James was like them and said how OP's parents favored younger brother over them.

Well I don't think OP realised that there is a thing called "Middle Child syndrome".

Tldr: C'mon, how is Albus the favorite child???? If for some reason that is true, I'll petition to steal all the kids and kick out Harry, cuz if that's how you treat a favorite child, I shudder to think about how he treats Lily and James

PS- Sorry if I sounded a bit rude. It's just some people use this hc to bash on Albus and call him an ungrateful brat. Like if you want to be an anti, no need to create an entire neglect plotline. And also this reminds me of the idea that older siblings suffer way more and any younger siblings who struggle are brats. I sympathise(those parents who favorite the younger siblings should be punished), but i dont think anyone realises how the same older siblings torment and terrorise their younger siblings for fun. (One girl stabbed sister with pencil and got cheered on for it and there are a lot more stories[drowning a younger sib, etc].) If you think I don't have any siblings, you're wrong and my sibling and I don't pull this shit. Ofc, I don't want to downplay older sibling's trauma but y'know it gets tiring to see younger siblings get demonised constantly

[emeralddoeadeer]

trick or treat?

A little October 31st palate cleanser excerpt from Everlong Jily, thanks for the suggestion, Anon.

Lily doesn’t bother changing her clothes, simply envelopes herself in a warm coat and locks the door behind her, walking to the house around the corner.

The sound of children laughing catches her attention, a ladybird and a ninja zoom past her, a harried parent apologising as they follow diligently, a tote bag filled with treats rustling.

Leaves crunch underfoot, red, yellow, and brown, bringing a smile to her face; autumn is her favourite season.

Lily rings the bell, surprised when the bespectacled face that appears is forty years younger than she was expecting, “Trick or treat?”

James leans against the door frame, “You are always a treat Lil, you coming in?”

She follows him inside, the smell of wood burning draws her into the snug where she kicks off her shoes and removes her outer layer, before standing in front of the flames, replacing heat for heat, much to James’ amusement.

He loves that she makes herself at home here, a warmth spreading through him that has more to do with her than the fire in the grate.

“Where are your folks?”

“They went to Dotty’s, her grandkids are visiting, going round the doors here instead of their neighbourhood, Mum and Dad were invited along.”

She nods her head, the thought hadn’t even occurred to her to check, “I uh, got new locks and wanted to drop off a spare key, that’s why I’m here.”

He smiles at her sudden bashfulness, “You don’t need an excuse, I was dropping the car back… but I’m staying for dinner, and I reckon since you don’t have a functioning kitchen yet, you should too, but you’ll have to hang about until they’re back.”

Lily stands with her back to the fire, hands clasped behind her to gather warmth, she bites down on her lip looking back at him, the reflection in his glasses of flames dancing across the lenses.

He takes a step forward and then another, holding his hand out to her, “Come, we can shoot some pool while we wait, the doorbell is pretty loud so if anyone comes, we’ll hear it.”

She slips her hand in his, fingers threading together allowing him to lead her to the games room.

She bumps her shoulder against his, the table already has balls scattered, clear it’s been abandoned mid-match, “Yes, ok, I was playing myself, but it’s more fun to beat someone else so—”

Cut off by her swat, he retrieves the triangle and starts stacking the balls while Lily collects her preferred cue and chalks the tip.

“What are we playing for?” She asks, noticing the soft vocals over electronic music playing from the sound system, a song she hasn’t heard in years, ambient background music.

“How about, old school rules… winner gets a dare.”

Lily accepts his terms but insists she goes first potting two reds and a yellow and progressing around the board to pot another two reds, before narrowly missing the pocket.

Aside from the brief walk to her flat, runs shared in the park and the time together when she was poorly, this is the first real alone time James and she have had together in years.

Lily feels a current run through her, not from apprehension or discomfort but anticipation.

She watches as James lines up his shot, the sleeves of his grey Henley pushed up, tanned forearms already on show, muscles contracting as he arches his hand, altering the angle of the bridge.

“This is nice—” his voice cuts through her reverie, “—us… hanging out.”

Lily looks up to see him watching her, looking for a reaction to his words, tentatively taking his shot and moving to the next set-up.

This boy, this man, he has no idea what he does to her.

The yellow is potted but followed swiftly into the pocket by the white, James collects the cue ball and lays it in the semi-circle for Lily to take her shot, she stands in place, seemingly appraising the table for the best angle.

James walks back around to her side, pausing to see things from her perspective, see what she has planned.

She turns, her back against the long rail, hardly a gap between them, he smiles down at her, his dimple appearing, enjoying this dance, this game.

...

If you want the rest of the scene, click here for chapter 20. It's the one everyone waited a long time for.

xDoe

[rhysbradley]

"Oh just pick anyone livin' in Carriage Falls." Rhys paused, taking a sip of his coffee as he glanced around the people in the room. "They love boasting about how much each item in their house has cost them." he of all people could speak from experience after suffering the ordeal of his step-mother until he was eighteen. "It's a dick measurin' competition for Karen's." he explained simply. He pondered Lily's question for a moment, before gently shrugging his shoulders. "I was hoping to find something small I could give as a gift. An apology." Rhys was quick to correct.

Her lip nearly quirked up at the offer as she laid the napkin down gingerly on the table, careful not to allow the liquid to stain the tablecloth. She was making a point, but far be it from Lily to actually ruin something and be reminded how out of place she felt in an event such as this. Maybe of the lineup, she should have picked the seafood or food trucks. Not the art gallery where she knew not as single name associated with the paintings around her. “I’ll keep that suggestion in mind for my second masterpiece. I would rather go home with thirty thousand than only twenty. Just have to find the right target.” Casting a glance around the room where everyone stood and interpreted the meaning of the various brush strokes against canvas, she looked back at her present company. “Assuming you’re not among the art buffs or wannabe collectors, what made you show up to a gallery opening?” / @rhysbradley

[dragimalsdaydreams]

[image ID: 2 images of the same front-view, full-body screenshot of Sucrose from the game Genshin Impact.

the image first is an unedited screenshot of how Sucrose appears in-game. she's pale-skinned with amber-gold eyes framed by big, round, wood-framed glasses. her minty-teal hair is fluffy and short-cropped, with a long rat tail extending her hair from the back (not visible from this front view). two long, pointed, fox-like ears extend from the sides of her head, matching the color of her hair, and pulled down in a bashful position. Sucrose is wearing a very short black + navy blue skirt/romper with long white sleeves, navy ribbons/frills, and gold filigree accents. she's also wearing a matching hat, gloves, and boots, sheer black stockings, and a short white cape (not very visible from the front).

the second image is a heavily edited version of the first. Sucrose now has a minty-teal, fox-like tail to match her ears. a little doodle to the side shows the rat tail being cut off with an emphatic, "NO!!" she's now wearing a brown vest and brown jodhpur pants with mint/gold accents, while the colors of the gloves and boots have been shifted to match. her cape has been extended into a much longer design, shaped after insect wings with a mint-teal gradient, dark teal "veins", and gold accents. a white/teal lily is pinned just under her hat, with two of the stamens extending out much taller than natural, to give the impression of "insect antennae".

end ID]

WHEW this one was unexpected! I've always thought Sucrose was cute, but I honestly didn't think about her all that much. but the recent Windblume gave me a greater appreciation for her character... as well as a newfound irritation for her outfit, lmao. the more I like a character, the more I end up scrutinizing their outfit, sigh...

anyways, design notes and more in-depth image desc under the cut!

barring Tighnari (he's a special case...), I usually start a redesign with shape design in mind rather than color design, as it comes more naturally to me. but Sucrose flipped the script-- I hate how the navy clashes with the mint more than anything else.

[image ID: the two versions, cropped to the torso area.

the original design features a skin-tight, black romper, with a short, navy blue "skirt" wrapped over the top, but split down the middle. the bottom edge of the skirt has thick, navy blue frills. long white sleeves with wide, flared cuffs sit on the shoulders, detached from the romper, leaving a gap of bare skin above the bust. an Anemo vision and black/white bow pins the sleeves up at the base of the throat, sitting just under a fluffy black collar. two leather straps are pinned to the sides of the skirt, one side holding bubbling alchemy tubes. gold filigree accents are scattered about, notably large designs on the shoulders, over the sleeves.

the edited design has changed the romper/skirt into a brown vest that flares into a similar "skirt" shape at the hips. the edges are trimmed in gold, the frills at the bottom edge are mint, and the center is buttoned up with shiny, round mint buttons. the sleeves now attach to the main vest, but are a darker brown that fades even darker towards the white/gold cuff. the leather straps now sit above pockets which are sewed in with thick mint thread. the top of the cape now wraps over the top of the shoulders, and is pinned at the base of the throat by the Anemo vision and a mint bow. this part of the cape is white with the same fluffy black collar, and the large, gold filigree designs on the shoulders.

end ID]

I figure that leaning into the mint with a "minty mocha" palette works better, though I may be biased because it's one of my favorite palettes for mint colors, haha.

all this is to say... I really didn't have any ideas for shapes at first (no, I didn't even have the insect theme in mind yet!). I knew I wanted to give her more interesting pants, at least, but nothing felt "right", or it felt overdone (like the poofy-bottom pants I love so much). I think I only landed on jodhpur pants because I was trying to reverse my own "bottom-heavy" tendencies, haha

[image ID: the edited image, cropped to the pants. these pants flare out wide with extra, poofy fabric at the outside of the hips, then turn sharply back in towards the knees, tapering down into the skin-tight lower legs. they're the same dark brown as the sleeves, and fade to darker brown towards the ends of the pants. the fly is lined with gold, and buttoned with a couple round, teal buttons. the outer sides of the lower legs are lined with a star-tipped gold line, and buttoned with a few teal buttons. end ID]

yes, I know jodhpurs are riding pants, and I... honestly don't even know if Sucrose rides horses in the first place. I usually try to match the practicality of clothing to a character, but I love the shape so much, I just went on ahead with it. maybe she got inspired by Sumeru rider fashion? (and maybe I'll do an alt outfit for Kaeya with jodhpurs? hmm..)

the insect inspiration hit me when I was brainstorming her cape and realized it could reference crystalfly wings!

[image ID: small sketches of the inside and outside of the cape. the cape is shaped vaguely like insect wings, folded back and connected along the seam between each wing. the inner corner of each wing has a long, thin "tail" that flares out into a crescent-like tip. both sides have the gradient of dark-to-light teal, but the outside is notably darker. dark teal "veins" flare across both sides, including the "tails". the main veins have a swirl shape in the center, much like an Anemo crystalfly. both sides are edged in gold trim, but the outside has white section over shoulder area. end ID]

very fitting, since she uses crystalfly constructs in her attacks (though the tails admittedly evoke more "butterfly" than anything)

the cecilia is supposed to add to this "insect" silhouette, evoking "antennae"

[image ID: a white lily, with the typical 6 large, pointed petals, prominent long pistil, and 6 long, thin stamens. the center is teal fading out to white towards the tips of the petals. the pistil is teal, and the stamens are gold with teal tips. two of the stamens are far longer than normal, curving far above the top edge of the flower. end ID]

I figure this is one of Sucrose' alchemy-mutated specimens, to explain the color and two longer stamens, haha

also, fun fact: I always thought cecilias looked like lilies, so I figured it was just another name for lilies I'd never heard of (or otherwise a similar-looking species). so I google cecilias, and what do I find?? it's not a name for any real-life flower-- Genshin cecilias are just misnamed lilies. bizarre Genshin naming conventions strike again (don't look at the animal or ingredient archive too hard if ur a biologist, u might go insane...)

as for the tail, well. can you blame me?

[image ID: a small doodle of the fox tail, hanging comfortably limp. much like the ears, the base color is a light mint, which fades to darker teal at the tip. end ID]

it makes no sense to me that Sucrose and Yae Miko are the only animal-people in the game that don't have tails to match their ears. throw us furries a goddamn bone for once!!

(the cynical part of me thinks it's because fluffy fox tails block the ass too much from the back, unlike thin cat tails, but I can only speculate...)

anyways, since we don't know Sucrose's species, I just went with a fox-like tail, since her ear shape matches Yae's

[thirstyforred]

For the fic writer asks: 5 & 18!

thank's for the ask! (the writer's ask in question)

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

I would say that I note down so many stories ideas that unless something suddenly fixed me, like 3/4 of them won't ever be turned into full fics. That being said I had also some ideas that were essentially character bashing and then i thought to myself, well, I don't actually want to write that, I don't want to be that person no matter how much I dislike character or ship, or rest of the fandom. I can be spiteful, but I'm not crazy

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

Ugh, hard to pick only one!

"Well, for male mages finding “some life essence” is as easy as coming in hand."

from "The Bug Lover" always cracks me up and remains main reason why I kept my sanity while writing that.

“Erland,” whispered the kid. Again, with the incredible gravitas of the king dying from old age after leaving his kingdom to sons and just on his deathbed revealing the existence of a legible older bastard. “I need to pee.”

from one of the chapters of "children of the worse god". Just something about the visual of a six yo sitting sick under blankets and tormenting Erland <3

The truth is that there’s just one thread inside you, making up every single part of you, and it has its own mirror twin, and they spiral each other, and that’s that. If you start pulling on this thread you will unravel yourself completely.

from my fav flop "Wild Hungover", idk I just like the idea that people of Witcherlands may see themselves as containing some fraction of the Spiral and it's 50/50 whether it's coiling to inside or unraveling, but if it's unraveling you can just accidentally will yourself out of existence. i can fuck with that

and of course the best of the best, I hate Dragon Age yet I peaked while writing it: from "The Botanical Compendium"

Through the weeks of their writing, they moved from the lilies to carnations, then violets to lavenders. Soon they would have a whole bouquet. She almost could smell them.

[spiltscribbles]

Ooohhh write us something pretty with 27 I love the way you interpret prompts

2SNotes: OMFG ANGEL 😭😭😭 you are so fucking gorgeous for this babes! This is literally the first thing I’ve written in like MONTHS holy shit! Thank you so so much and I can’t wait to pump out more of these pretty prompts tonight xxxx💞💞😘

.-

A REBLOG IS WORTH SO MUCH |  Send Me A Prompt  |  27. A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips

.-

It’s new. This thing between them. This mirage of quick kisses pressed to the corner of mouths, and hands brushing beneath desks during shared classes, and purposefully jumbled scarves because the scent of Remus’s bonfire scented  soap always works like a charm to relieve Sirius from any headache coming on.

It only became official over Christmas break, after Sirius had finally snuck away from his oppressive familial home and to the warm embrace of the Potter manner and he made a personal promise to finally just take grasp of anything and everything he wanted without fearing the oppressive hand of his familial ancestry; so o course when Remus tumbled through the the fireplace with a flush faced and giggling Lily in one arm, and a bouquet of tulips for Mrs Potter in the other— fashionably early for the annual Potter Christmas Eve bash— Sirius couldn’t help but drag him to the gardens right at the cusp of midnight. And lying here now, it’s a near echo of that night with starlight dusting silver in Remus’s fair hair and the moon tracing romantically down the slope of his nose and atop the high points of his cheeks and around the perfect cupids bow of his lips.

And just like a mere two months ago— amidst the glistening snowfall and tolling bells and laughter soaked outdoors— Sirius leans over the six inches dividing them on the fourposter, and threads his hand in Remus’s curls, and he thrills when he feels the cold tips of Remus’s fingers tucking beneath his vest the moment their lips meld together like a sort of dance from ages long past.

“You taste like treacle tart,” Remus says lowly, half against Sirius’s mouth and half amidst a laugh that sounds like everything dulcet Sirius couldn’t possibly begin to name.

With all the bravado that the Black name has afforded him, Sirius scoffs, sits up from where he was draped atop of Remus and tries his best to glower amidst the glee mangling his face into something bright and glimmering. “Oi, Lupin, if we’re talking about which one of us got a sweet tooth, I’d watch my cavity infested mouth if I were you.”

“Is that right?”

“One of us has got pockets full of chocolate frogs and fudge flies at all moments, love, and it surely me, innit.”

“And here I thought you just felt me up for the fun and not for my sugary sweets,” Remus retorts tauntingly, feigning hurt with a grin bubbling at one corner of his lips and one of his golden brows cocked.

And it’s one of those perfect, glittering moments between them. Cheeky banter that’s blanketing all the unspoken truths that’s needling just above the surface of the six years that has built them together. Six years of trust and heartache and love and friendship and all the trappings those feelings entail— Six years that culminated that winter night a hand full of weeks ago where they looked into one another’s eyes— silver melding into gold— and all the guardedness was finally stripped away, washed off in a ocean of wandering hands and desperate tongues and half managed out whispers that amounted to I’ve wanted this for so long.

sitting here now, in the hush of their empty dormitory, Sirius knows it’s another one of those heavy moments full of potential. A space of time where Sirius can tell Remus that he loves him, that he’s never really seen what it means to be in love before meeting the Potters but he knows innately that what he feels for Remus and what he’s always felt for him is that. Sirius knows that this bone weary, but intoxicating sensation is that. He knows that the way Remus can make his heart lighter with only his grin and make Sirius’s palms sweat with only the way his eyes get darker when there tucked beneath a shared duvet, is a love that’s for the ages.

But then he hears stomping footsteps rushing up the stairs, and Peter’s cracking voice whining about James taking something or the other from him, and he sees that Remus’s coquettish little leer has tightened up to a more measured, more appropriate straight line, the one that Sirius himself has dubbed as the Prefect Pout. 

The moment’s popped, but he’s sure that they’ll have a life time’s worth of them for Sirius to tell Remus just exactly how much he adores him.

[sleepylittlenecromancer]

The warm tingling that ran through her blood from how close they were quickly turned to ice at Severus' words. He's not going to get out of here alive... Ramona swallowed - or at least tried to - past the lump in her throat, just letting that fact sink in. Of course all of the Order members knew the price of war, but one never thought it was going to be them or someone they were close to. They were supposed to be invincible, the Mauraders, but maybe she had cursed them with what happened to Peter. Maybe they had been cursed from the start.

Severus seemed to catch on to her unease and she did her best to hide it, shaking her head. "Are you sure we can't just... obliviate him or something?" Even as she said the words she knew it was a ridiculous thought. What would even be the point? Dumbledore was just as strong as anyone on this side was with mind magic, maybe even more so. No matter how many loose or tangled threads he would find a way to put them back together and then they'd all be fucked. She may respect the man but sometimes... sometimes he seemed as cold as Voldemort when it came to the enemy.

"No, you're right, I know it. It's just... It takes awhile to get used to. The actual killing." She tried to explain, dropping her gaze and shaking her head again as if to clear it. They didn't have time to try and figure out a million ways around it... she was just going to do down there and do what she could.

At the very least the Malfoys weren't going to be directly involved. Narcissa was in a lucky enough position to stay out of it most of the time, and Lucius didn't seem to want to get his hands dirty any more than she did. Touching Severus' bandages as lightly as she could Ramona stood to her feet. "Just try not to get these bashed in again, alright? That was as frightening as anything."

~~//~~

As far as cellars went this one was incredibly well kept. There would always be a mustiness to being underground, but even as far as the safehouses went James had been in much worse. Mold was going to be the least of his concerns though because the last thing he remembered was bloody Severus Snape. Not bloody *enough* in his opinion, but he had managed to at least break a few bones he was sure. Even with her disguise just seeing the freak so close to Lily had made him see red, and look where it had gotten him...

Obviously he knew she didn't have it easy, but he had hoped things would be... different. She was quiet when she came to Order meetings, the last to arrive and the first to leave. Like a shell of the girl he loved, and he hated to see her broken down like this. The way she had been so concerned with the other man too just made him angry all over again. But he forced his attention back to the present as the door at the top of the stairs swung open, two sets of boots setting a beat as murmurs were traded back and forth. Probably deciding which one of the fuckers was going to have the honor of killing him.

He regretted the thought - at least halfway - when he saw Ramona was half of the set, and he tried to keep his eyes off her even though it was hard. "Couldn't even give a man the decency of a fair fight? Typical Snivellus." He scoffed, stomach sinking in his chest at the way Lils tensed. In the position he was in, wasn't he allowed a bit of taunting?

Ramona took out her wand and pressed it to his temple, forcing her face into a sneer. Her eyes were a dead giveaway, she was sure, but all the better reason not to have a lot of light down here. No one needed to see how much she regretted this. "You speak when you're spoken to, brat, and not before."

Severus quit squirming when she began massaging the back of his neck. It brought him right back to being a boy, when he'd been crying over something his horrible father did and Lily soothed him in the right way every time. How did she know to do this? Why did she remind him of her so much?

Her breath against him was cold, but it practically set his body on fire. It had been quite a long time since he'd been this close, face-to-face with a woman. Well, one that wasn't Narcissa, because she didn't really count. His eyes roamed to little details on her face. No freckles, pale skin, utterly flawless. He, admittedly, wasn't used to someone being so attentive toward him and healing him. Usually, he did all the work himself. He'd gotten rather skilled at healing, a tool that was essential to have in his arsenal. It had saved his life more than once.

"Thanks," Severus said quietly as she pulled back. He felt better, but his heart was still racing and he was positive his cheeks were flushed. She had gotten out practically unscathed, not even a scratch on her. He had been concerned, but she reassured him that his wounds were the priority.

"We need to figure out what the hell we're going to do about Potter in the cellar," Severus said, rolling his sleeves back down. Only they and the Malfoys knew he was down there. Though Ramona had been reluctant to do so, for reasons Severus had yet to suss out, he knew that they couldn't just leave James Potter restrained, nor could they just let him go. They needed information, but he wasn't sure about a course of action. He also wasn't confident enough in said course of action to let anyone else in yet. But he trusted the Malfoys. Narcissa stayed out of most things regarding their missions, and Lucius was just happy to take some of the credit without doing any of the work.

"He's not going to get out of here alive, but we need to at least try to squeeze something out of him. I doubt he'll talk, but... you never know." He had considered bringing Bellatrix in, because she was the best with torture, but knowing her, she'd end up slaughtering him before they got anything useful. If anyone was going to end that bastard's life, it was going to be Severus. He'd earned that right.

"Look, I know this is new for you, but... it's part of the job," Severus said, noting her expression of unease and... fear? Maybe? "I'll be there the whole time. Would you rather I just take over and do it? James Potter is a terrible person. I know you don't know him, but he's a cruel bully and part of the reason why I lost my friend years ago. He did nothing but torment me my entire time at Hogwarts. So he deserves this," he said simply. "I can cover for you this time, but sooner or later, you're going to have to get your hands dirty. Might as well be now, while I'm there, and when it's someone who really shouldn't walk out of here."

[lavendermin]

if all stars fell at once (2) | xiao

pairing | xiao/reader

word count | 2.5k

genre | fluff, light angst, developing relationship, overall domestic

warnings | eventual smut

The moon was high behind the peaks of mountains; a deep navy sky clear in display of its many twinkling stars. Though the land was asleep, the crickets softly hummed their conversation and a few fireflies speckled the dark.

Perhaps it’s your high spirits at the change of routine and tender moment under falling stars, but the scenery around you has never looked more magical.

“If you continue to stare up at the sky while you walk, you’ll lose your footing and fall.”

You turned around at Xiao’s comment, face still alight with a grin you were sure made you look like a giddy child. The faint smile on his lips gave away his amusement.

“And if I do, will you be there to catch me?”

“Anywhere, anytime,” Xiao reassured, arms crossed over his chest.

Though it was a rhetorical question, the power his aura exuded as an adeptus solidified his words as not only a confirmation, but a promise.

Approaching the steps that lead further up the village to where your house was tucked away, you paused. Noticing this, Xiao looked up at you and was met with your outstretched hand— patient and waiting. His lips slightly parted in brief confusion, and the innocence his eyes held reminded you of a kitten curiously approaching something new.

Endearment. It pulled your heartstrings in the honeyed melody that had you in its audience.

There was brief hesitation. His gloved hand slowly settled into yours and he quietly allowed you to lead him up the stone steps of the winding hills. The warmth rose high on his cheeks, unnoticed by you as you led the way in your sleep-driven haze.

The exhaustion of the day seeped into your bones as you hobbled tiredly over to the familiar front door. Xiao watched attentively as you sluggishly fumbled around for a vase to hold your glaze lilies while getting ready for bed. Mortals were undeniably limited in their energy— always dependent on slumber and moments of rest to replenish and recharge their energy. However bothersome it seemed to Xiao before, seemed to have a change of heart upon seeing your switch in demeanor. It was… cute, and such thoughts filled him with the overwhelming need to just— hold you safely in his arms.

Gods… he was so touch starved and didn’t even know it. Such strange urges only served to further vex & confuse him.

Kneeling by your bedside, he pushed some hair out of your face. You were comfortably under a sea of blankets, the warmth of them quickly promising to have your wish come true. Through heavy lids, you gave him a goofy grin; mind aloof with lulls of sleep.

“Thank you for watching the stars with me.”

There you go again. Thanking him for such trivial and insignificant things. It flustered him. No— it made the fearsome Conqueror of Demons bashful.

“It’s nothing to thank me for,” Xiao uttered softly, fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair. You only hummed and relaxed into his touch in response, too tired to chide him.

“Did you mean it?” you groggily muttered from under your covers. “Wanting to get to know me more.”

Xiao nodded. “Rest now. We can talk later.”

The yaksha froze in his advances to leave, feeling the faintest tug on his sleeve.

“Stay… please, Xiao,” you begged weakly. “Just until I fall asleep.”

There was an uncharacteristic mix of fear and defeat in those words alone. It made his chest twinge with hurt. The wish you made earlier… Was sleep truly that difficult for you? He wondered what would impede your nights with restlessness. With a defeated sigh, the yaksha settled back next to you.

“Thank y–“ Xiao cut you off with a breathy chuckle, placing his hand over your eyes.

“Just sleep. I’ll stay.”

Not even two minutes had passed, yet you were already fast asleep. So, you were only keeping awake out of stubbornness… Somehow it no longer surprised him. Xiao watched as your breathing became steadier, face relaxed into your tranquil state of sleep.

Though the promise was only to stay until you were fast asleep, Xiao found himself unable to leave— unwilling to leave. To wish for enough sleep… it only left him wondering what the issue there was.

Perhaps a year ago he would have scoffed at the idea of trying to solve a human’s sleeping problem. My, how you've gotten him wrapped around your finger. Still, he sat in the dark room washed over by pale moonlight and stared absentmindedly at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. Were you a light sleeper? Or perhaps it was insomnia, though it would contradict how fast you fell asleep. The only other possibility he could consider was an external force that came to make a ruckus at night.

Part of him was fighting to just leave. It was none of his business to be a sleep therapist.

I wish to get to know you better.

The wish he made— though he didn’t believe in mortals’ naive, wishful thinking, he truly did want to know you better. That single want was the thread that bound him to his current disposition.

Before he knew it, he had already stayed an hour. Muffled whimpering pulled him out of his thoughts as he glanced back over to you. There was a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead as you shifted around. Your brows were furrowed in discomfort and face in a frown that shifted from fear to stress.

Ah. Nightmares.

Somehow the thought had escaped him, and now he was reminded of the unpredictability of mortal dreams.

Dream eater. That’s what he once was. The memories of his past, the dreams he painfully consumed, were enough to raise bile in his throat in a suffocating feeling. He wasn’t sure how to help you. Comforting others was never his strong suit and the thought of eating your dream… It made his hand tremble. In anticipation or fear, he couldn’t say.

The hesitation was clear, seeping into his movements as his hand slowly drew closer over your head.

“It’s… okay,” he quietly reassured, awkwardly patting your head in what he attempted to be a comforting motion. “I’m right here.”

Slowly, your face eased into a more relaxed state. Your breathing returned to a steady rhythm as you settled back into a restful sleep. Perhaps the nightmare had already subsided for the time being.

Xiao hadn’t realized until now how his shoulders stiffened with lingering worry, nor how he had held his breath to see your expression change. He scoffed inwardly at himself, rising from the bed and descending back into the night to continue his eternal back-and-forth with the karmic debt that hung over his shoulders.

“I’ve long gone past the point of no return.”

——

“Emissary Ganyu, what a pleasant surprise running into you today.” You warmly greeted the busy-bee secretary of Yuehai Pavilion. Her entrance to Bubu Pharmacy was graceful, and she warmly reciprocated the greeting.

Slight embarrassment dusted her cheeks as she privately added, “P-Please, the formality is a little… You don’t have to use the titles. I’m content with just being Ganyu when we meet.” She waved a hand dismissively at herself. “But I digress, what brings you here today?”

With a tired sigh and halfhearted smile, you gestured toward the box of medicine herbalist Gui was packing for you. “Nothing severe. I just ran out of medicine for headaches and remedies for stress.”

Ganyu’s expression softened with knowing concern. “Has sleep become an issue once again?”

You nodded, handing the herbalist what you owed with a grateful ‘thank you’. “Slept rather well last night at least. I feel fine today,” you reassure with a smile.

Being alive as long as she has, Ganyu has known your family for generations and witnessed all that has traversed them for as long as she can remember. The stresses that ail you— the sources of your sleeplessness— Ganyu knew them well.

The sole remaining descendant of your family. Perhaps she saw herself in you, and that’s why she kept her promise to your grandmother of being someone you could rely on.

“That’s a relief to hear,” Ganyu sighed, expression relaxing from its worry. “I came here to drop off licensing renewals and paperwork for Baizhu. If you’re feeling up to it, we can catch up with a quick lunch.”

Ever the busy-body, you mused fondly.

“I’d like that.”

Never a dull moment with her, Ganyu was quick to get you in step with her schedule flow. Luckily, you were rested enough to keep up with her today.

You anxiously fiddled with the napkin on your lap. “Isn't this a bit… much?”

Seated within the highly-regarded Liuli Pavilion, you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place. Such enticing dishes laid out before you… smelled expensive. It wasn’t the first time you’d been brought to eat here with her, and though it was a rarity you were still never one to indulge too much in lavish luxury from the city.

“Not at all,” Ganyu wholeheartedly reassured. “It's my treat for such a rare occasion.”

“You spoil me, Gan…”

As you both idly chatted over delicately prepared meals, you couldn’t help but notice the not-so-subtle glances Ganyu would take toward your lap every now and then. With a half-hearted sigh and a growing smile that betrayed your feigned exasperation, you set down your utensils.

“Okay. Alright.” Ganyu’s eyes sparkled, already knowing you caved. “Just ask what you want.”

“The charm,” she started, eyes intently observing the small charm that dangled securely from your hip. Never one to miss something new about you. The attentiveness from the adeptal blood that flowed within her, presumably. “Where did you get it? Ah! Pardon my prying— I don’t mean to be nosy...”

With delicate fingers, you picked it up, eyes glossing over it. The beat of your heart picked up ever so slightly.

“It was a gift.”

Left next to the vase of glaze lilies, the glint of the charm catching the morning light drew your attention toward it. You delicately picked up the item, tracing the butterfly engraved on the wooden diamond with your fingertip. The piece of amber that dangled from it with an ornate tassel was warm on your palm.

A single note on a small piece of parchment laid next to it.

‘An adepti amulet to stave off evil. Should you need me, call my name.’

“Xiao…” Ganyu started, clasping your hand in hers. “He must truly consider you someone special. It’s not often he gives gifts— despite how surprisingly skilled he is in intricate crafts.”

Warm and fuzzy, your chest pounded with overwhelming emotion. A handmade amulet… It was beautiful in its simplicity, and carried meaning in its subtle details you had yet to decipher. You had to remember to thank him for it later.

“He’s a very gentle person. I’d also… like to get to know him better,” you absentmindedly mused, recalling that mysterious masked boy caught in the thundering rain all those months ago. Though reserved and self-guarded, Xiao was never anything but polite albeit a bit distanced for a while.

It seems they get along well together, Ganyu noted, gaze holding a tender fondness like one would with a sibling. Maybe this was the new walk of life you needed when all other roads were erased.

——

“Can’t I just-”

“No.”

You huffed through your nose, exasperated. “You’re being unfair.” Xiao only raised a brow in response.

“An adeptus prolonging your lifespan would be considered a divine blessing to any other mortal out there,” he countered, pushing you back into bed with a gentle nudge that you didn’t fight back. “Rest.”

Making me go to bed early is some divine blessing... Such sarcasm you would keep between yourself and your thoughts alone.

“Xiao, it’s only nine o’clock! The moon just barely appeared in the sky. And with the Lantern Rite just around the corner, I want to get as much of my part finished.” But your protests fell on deaf ears as he continued to diligently pile on any blankets he could get his hands on. With a defeated sigh, you allowed your body to sink more comfortably into the mattress. “Is something wrong?”

Your voice came quiet, the question lingering with worry as Xiao sat on the edge of the bed— his back facing you. Oftentimes it was still hard to tell what he was thinking, for there was a lot about his past that was unknown to you and it seemed to weigh heavily on his mind recently. He didn’t need to tell you for you to know there were things he wasn’t voicing— not without your encouragement and patient reassurance.

“Can I ask?” Xiao started, his voice rather quiet like he was afraid of overstepping a boundary. “Your nightmares— how often do they haunt you?”

You were taken aback. “A-Ah, you saw…?”

With a silent nod, the bed creaked as he readjusted himself to finally face you. “That night you told me to stay… You looked distressed in your sleep.”

“They only happen sometimes,” you reassured half-heartedly with a dismissive wave of your hand. The subtle, sharpened squint of his eyes told you he saw right through your downplay.

“Lies will do you no good. But in regards to them, I...”

Xiao paused, looking away briefly. The way he avoided your gaze, the jaded look in his amber eyes— there was something he was fighting with himself to say.

“I can get rid of them, if you wish it.”

You blinked, eyes widening slightly in confused curiosity. “You can… do that?”

At this point, you would take any method to end some of your daily exhaustion. But the way his hands balled into fists at his lap suggested he didn’t have a good history with it. Still, he nodded, his eyes closed as he concentrated on grounding himself— convincing himself to tell you. Now that he had propositioned it, there was no turning back. He had to explain it but the memories—the screams— they stopped the words at his throat.

His mind was going a mile a minute in a constant war, the resolve to see through what he had started diminishing. Yet all at once, it stopped and his eyes shifted down to your quiet reassurance— your hand placed atop his fist. He took a steadying breath.

“I’ve eaten dreams before,” Xiao started, eyes closed as he reminisced. “There exist several methods developed over centuries to perform it. Many are painless and safe. A nightmare or a dream—either can be eaten and it would be as if you had no recollection of it afterwards.”

“So… it wipes it from my memory?”

“In a similar concept, yes.”

You nodded slowly, brows scrunched in thought as you processed the idea.

“Do you trust me with doing this, should you have nightmares?”

All it took was a moment. You were quick to melt away his doubts with the warmth that radiated from your softening gaze. And with a gentle squeeze to his hand, you replied.

“I trust you.”

[lunacellestia]

M!Drider x F!PlusSize!Reader

"Goodbye Mrs. Baker!"

"And to you too dearie! Stay safe!"

The basket rested on your arm as you said your goodbyes to the lonely woman.

A widower she was, left alone by her husband who passed on several years prior.

"He was my first love, and at my age, it's simply too soon to go after another. Besides, he was all I ever needed and he's still here.. Not physically but I hear his voice every so often, telling me to go on and that he'll see me soon, only when it's time." She had said one day, her shaky hand resting over her heart, her face scrunched up with a content smile.

Your eyes glanced towards her ring, the shade of emerald in the shape of an oval.

Somehow it was still gleaming, despite it being decades old.

You wondered briefly if she ever got it polished, but decided to keep that question for another time.

You sipped your tea and smiled at her, nodding as she went into her tales of her past.

"May I see some old photos of you both Mrs. Baker?"

"Why of course! Just give me a moment dear."

Together you both looked at the photos of her beloved and her together.

In her youth, her hair was a bright orange, going from flowy and wild to a nice pixie cut as the pages went on.

Her love, a man a bit taller than her, had on biker clothes in select photos, his hair darker than the women's on boxes you see on hair dye boxes.

"He was such a mad lad that one. Always getting into trouble."

"He was your little trouble maker."

"Indeed he was." She giggled

You let out a small sigh as your memories of that day came to an end, instead opting to focus on the small dirt path in front of you.

"What a wonderful lady. But still.. I wonder, is love really that strong?" You muttered to yourself.

You had never been in love; it was a bit odd to you, but you've just never felt the connection.

You've had crushes, had your fair share of cry days when they were taken. You've had those that fawned over you and vice versa, but its never been like others describe it.

"I guess I'm just too.. Myself for love." You sighed and continued on your journey towards your home.

You checked your basket once you arrived, seeing that the goods you purchased were still in tact, not a thing gone and not a thing broken or spilled.

"Can never be too careful these days, those in the forest are mischievous and take what they want. Pranks and all." One of the local men had told you.

The fairies that inhabited this area were a bit too... Chaotic for their own good.

They loved to play pranks and annoy the people when they could, sometimes getting upset if they didn't get the reaction they wanted.

You headed inside and closed your door, locking it and listening to the click.

All was silent for a moment as you checked around silently for any signs of something.

You didn't want to deal with a fairy that had snuck it's way inside by mistake or even purposely.

Heading into the kitchen, you unpacked your things and put them away then headed to your couch and went onto your phone.

'We can cross that off the list. I need to get some silks tomorrow and get to working on some clothes.'

A knock sounded as you jumped a bit and held your chest, caught off guard and frightened a bit.

"C-coming!"

'Could that be one of the fairies playing pranks? No... I don't want to play their games right now. Besides, I'm already inside.'

You headed to the door, albeit a bit cautiously and peaked out the window first.

You squinted a bit seeing a hint of something but nothing too clear.

Besides, you didn't want to make it obvious that you were staring.

Letting out the smallest of breaths, you unlocked the door and opened it a bit, peering out and up.

"Yes..? Can I.. Help you?"

"Apologies for coming so abruptly my dear. I wanted to catch you before you came all the way to me later tomorrow."

You blinked and opened the door more, seeing your supplier of the very silks you needed.

"Raveed!"

"Yes?" He asked, raising his brow amused.

You opened your mouth then closed it, getting a little shy and embarrassed under his gaze.

'Worried for nothing.' You thought with a small sigh.

"Sorry.. It's nothing. I just couldn't help but to get a little scared. Anyways, what was it that you needed again?"

"Well, I won't be available tomorrow. I have some matters to attend to. So I wanted to provide you with some silk now."

"Oh that's fine! I could've waited though, you didn't have to do that for me."

"Nonsense, I couldn't let my favorite girl go on without her supplies. What kind of supplier would I be hmm?"

"I suppose you have a point. Come in! I'll make you something?"

"I'll just take some water if that's alright dear."

"That's fine, give me a moment." You said and stepped aside so he could come in.

It was a bit of a squeeze, his lower half having to turn a bit in order to come in.

Raveed was a drider, and like many, he had the lower half of a spider.

Though he only had two arms instead of four like some, he had 8 legs, each slim and proper.

His hands as well were slender, with beautifully manicured nails, evident of how well he'd taken care of them over the years.

Just as his appearence had showed, his aura and air were the same, not once betraying him.

He had a handful of admirers, even those who feared driders, mostly due to their fear of spiders.

His skin was like the shade of mocha, his eyes, 6 in total with three on each side, were dark and dreamy.

His hair, long and braided to the side, was the color of night, mixed with some white as he had dyed it in (or, you assume so, you never asked if that was natural for him).

His lower half was also a simple black with some crackles and specks of fuchsia.

You had thought he hailed from a prestigious family with his looks and way of speaking, but he always waved you off and let out a small chuckle.

"Had I been, I would've had you as a queen by now. You, by my side, as we ruled together."

You had brushed his words off each time and chuckled nervously.

He always had a way of making you flustered, so much so that you may have developed the smallest of crushes on him, though never anything too grand to consider it love.

You closed the door behind him once he was safely inside, and proceeded to make your way to the kitchen.

He stayed and instead looked around while you poured him a glass of water and came back out.

"Here you go Raveed."

"Thank you dearest. Now, shall we get started?"

"Huh?"

"With my silk."

"I-I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be of assistance."

He chuckled lightly and shook his head a bit.

"I'm not as shy as I was when I was younger. I used to hate others seeing me produce it. But it is my job now."

You turned away and pretended to busy yourself with a task.

"I-I see! Well! I'll leave you to it! I still don't wish to intrude on you."

"You aren't, and this is your home after all."

"Y-yes but-"

"Dearest, you aren't scared of me are you? I hope I don't frighten you so at times." He said somberly.

You turned back quickly and waved your hands.

You have shied away from him before, but not necessarily because he was scary, you were just a bit nervous to be around him.

"Its not that really!"

He inched towards her a bit and gently cupped her cheek after setting down the cup

"You're so beautiful you know?"

"What?"

"You're so beautiful. And so bashful too. I absolutely adore that about you, my dearest spider lily." He said softly, his thumb stroking your cheek.

You swallowed and felt a nervous laugh bubble up in your throat, not knowing what exactly to say or do.

"Ahh, is that so?"

" 'Is that so' Indeed it is. I would never lie to you. Well, maybe aside from another part of the reason on why I came to see you. I did come to see you to give you the thread you needed for the silk but.. I also came to see YOU. Do you understand me now?"

"I... I think so? I'm - you're here for me?"

"Spider Lily, I'd like to take you on a date."

Your mind felt boggled and your mouth dry; a date?

"Are you sure about that? I mean I.. Don't know if I can give you the best company and-"

"You are already wonderful company dearest."

"I think I'm immune to love!"

He blinked, all six of his eyes in unison as he bit his lip holding back a small laugh.

"And why do you say that?"

"I've never.. Fallen in love."

At that, his eyes widened a bit, before a calm smile graced his lips.

He stepped back for a moment and opted for your hand, dipping his head down and pressing a small kiss to it.

"Will you be so kind as to grant me the honor of allowing me to show you just how you may fall in love?"

You swallowed, a bit scared of his words, scared of disappointing him if you didn't feel the same love he felt.

You had a crush on him... But was that all? Strangely, you felt something growing in you.

"I... Alright."

He grinned, one full of teeth, sharp and on display.

"Oh dearest spider lily, you will not regret this choice you've made. I can assure you of that and then some." He declared, kissing your forehead.

"Now! Onto the silk finally!"

You both laughed a bit; onto the silk he goes.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Jily Awards 2021 Nominations 🥺❤️

@theresthesnitch @theesteemedladydebourgh @mppmaraudergirl & @joyseuphoria thank you so much for including me in the tag game! 🥰🥰🥰Your idea was to make an easy access list of fics and the nominations they got, and turn it into a tag game!

I can’t get over the amount of wonderful fics nominated and how much work this must have been for @jilyawards to arrange, honestly stunning level of dedication to the fandom, you should get a bloody prize tbh ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Also can’t get over being nominated for favourite author (frankly ridiculous, is that you bestie?) and favourite reviewer (okay I do read a lot but I haven’t been able to keep up!!?)

A Little Risk

Nominated for:

Favourite Lily characterisation, favourite James characterisation, favourite AU & favourite Multichapter

1938, falling in love on the eve of World War II. The Duke of Grimmauld and his butler are murdered, and Private Investigator Lily Evans and Detective Inspector Remus Lupin and are brought in to investigate. But what secrets are the duke’s eldest son, Sirius Black, and his best friend, Dr James Potter, hiding? A fascist-bashing, murder mystery AU. (WIP, 9 chapters)

The Prank - Boys Don’t Cry

Nominated for:

Favourite angst, favourite James characterisation

“You’ve got me. I’m your brother now,” James said, quietly, confidently.

Sirius clenched his jaw. He would not cry, Merlin, damn it.

“You’re not my brother, Potter,” he said.

Derisively, dismissively, coldly.

He watched a flicker of hurt cross James’ face, replaced by something else. He watched as his friend picked up an apple and bit into it, placing a hand behind his head, crossing his long legs.

“I know that,” James said. “But you’re mine.” (5/5 chapters)

Wildflowers

Nominated for:

Favourite angst

“Hold still for a minute!”

James is lying on his back, hands behind his head, the warm afternoon sunshine on his closed eyelids, a stupid grin on his face. He half opens an eye and blinks up at her.

“Evans, what are you doing?” his voice heavy with Summer stupor.

“Oxeye daisy,” she replies.

Her hands thread through his hair, small fingers nimbly moving, wordless magic twisting the stem into place. (One shot)

The Great Quidditch Bake Off

Nominated for:

Favourite Fluff

“The Sacred Twenty-Eight is a British all-round nonsense. Look, the important thing is that Umbridge is a bigoted, fascist tosser, and she’s going to try to discriminate against the bakers who aren’t- “ Sirius said.

The judges were heading over to Lily’s table. Fucking bloody fucking…

“Excuse me! Minnie! Professor! Oi! Over here!” James walked right in front of the camera, waving his arms in the air.

Umbridge looked at him in shock, as McGonagall hurried over, a severe look on her already stern face.

“Potter, stop whipping up stress like it’s egg whites!” McGonagall glared at him over her specs. “What on earth- “ (2/4 chapters)

Tight Quidditch Uniforms & Other Distressing Things

Nominated for:

Favourite Humor

James Potter was now staring at his attractive friend, holding onto Evans’ waist, Evans who looked bloody gorgeous in her beautiful muggle dress, like a vision... wait, what? And Sirius still wearing his tight Quidditch gear, which for some bloody stupid, godforsaken reason he seemed to have charmed to fit him too tightly, look at his bloody arse that was fucking ridiculous, and WHAT DO YOU MEAN “THEN THE PASSION FLARES”!?!?! (2/2 chapters)

Wedding Nerves

Nominated for:

Favourite fluff

“Get a room,” Peter grumbled as they all headed to the kitchen, James still with his arms around her, now swatting Peter with a tea towel.

“We are, a villa actually, flying to Florence in two days’ time,” he said.

“Thank Godric for a bit of peace,” Sirius said.

“Oh, are you joining them so?” Remus asked.

“Fuck off, Moony.”

Or - Lily Evans is getting married tomorrow and the marauders spend some time with her... (one shot)

So tagging @pottinglilies @chdarling @scriibble-fics @the-dream-team @figg-anon @hogwartslivy @zephyrcove @adenei @mabeltothknows @firefeufuego2 @startanewdream @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world @maraudersftw @constancezin @blvnk-art and anyone else who wants to pick it up, post your fics/Art and then tag someone else!

[opinated-user]

LO giving a black character a slaver mom is the kind of character writing that would make her accuse anyone else of being racist if they did it, but I guess there's no racial implications if she does it? Lily, I thought good representation important and authors were 100% responsible for any read of their work that rendered it racist. That's what you say in your videos. So then why is your only black character the daughter of a slaver? Where are the black anti-slavers and white slavers?

why is there any racist implications in-universe (implying that storm troopers who are established to be brainwashed meat canon are all black, people thinking that rey is a babysitter because she is white and her kid black) on a fictional universe where racism doesn't have any reason to exist? why does anyone should care about skin color on the same setting where aliens roam free everywhere? i have been wondering that since the first moment those kind of details started appearing and i'm starting to believe it's because LO can't conceptualiza a black character outside of racism. she's like those authors who write apocalyptic escenarios where some form of capitalism still exist because they can't imagine a world where it doesn't, but instead of capitalism is people and the author caring some way or another about skin color even where it doesn't make sense. considering this woman hasn't done any proper research into how to write black characters and she is so incredibly vague even when she tries to integrate something else into Alaina, it seems that some form of racism with everything that it implies is what LO think is a defining black characteristic that she feels on the need to adress to prove to the writer that Alaina is black since she doesn't have anything else to go of. i don't even think this is because of any racist ideas about black people, not entirely at least, but rather that LO has never read enough about how black characters are treated on fiction and more than likely has never read either black authors to thread that line where she does bring out their race on any natural, not unfortunate kind of way. as it is we know that LO doesn't read much and you can tell given how limited her grasp is that she has to reduce to that "racist is real even on outter space" framming to even start to understand it.

but even beyond that... the slave trader thing is so perplexing because she clearly didn't think that one through. she wanted Alaina's mom to have a hard life in hiding and struggling to provide for her daughter so had to make some questionable decisions, she wanted to have a way for rey and Alaina to have met previously as kids because she loves that trope (ironic that later she bashes people for making stories about the tropes they like) and the only way she could come out to kill two birds with one stone was by making Alaina's mom traffick child rey. she could have made Alaina's mom literally any other job, maybe killing a rival for the other side, and she found a lost and abandoned child that later someone else kidnapped until rey end up being sold to another planet. Alaina's mom searched as far and hard as she could but she could never find rey again and she always carried that regret on her heart. you could even have her killing whoever kidnapped rey as a kid, forcing them to tell her where she was, but just when she was about to set out to pick her up Luke appeared and killed her in front of her daughter. that is how you could have ticked all the boxes that LO wanted while still making this character a sympathetic one whose death we can actually feel sorry for. i literally just now thought of all of that, it wasn't hard, and it was still more care that LO put into her own plot. but because she didn't do that now she's forced to try to justify that choice ("it was only one time!") while asking us as readers to just... forget all the horrible implications.