#caregiver lord day

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Evening regressing?

Evening finally gets to come out of the dungeon again only for Lord Day to find he regressed sometime during his stay in the dark and is huddling in the corner crying because he’s afraid of the dark.

Lord Day cannot coax Evening out, little Evening only gets more scared when he tries and the cries from Lord Day trying to get him out eventually draw down Lord Dawn and Lord Twilight.

Lord Dawn is able to carefully coax little Evening out of the corner while Lord Twilight asks Lord Day what happened to their servant, to which he answers truthfully since the Lords don’t hide anything from each other.

Lord Dawn settles Evening into his bed and is going to leave him to rest, thinking he was simply scared of Lord Day during a panic attack due to the dark.

Lord Dawn gets a very teary and clingy Evening whimpering and grabbing to him for comfort and breaking down all the more because he hasn’t been held in a long time.

Lord Dawn resigns himself to laying with him to figure out what’s happening, because obviously Evening isn’t in the right mindset, though he can’t fully pinpoint what’s happening at first.

Evening is just happy to cling onto someone and be held, shaking and still crying at the prospect of being left alone while he’s so small again.

Eventually Lord Dawn figures out Evening is regressing and picks him up from the bed after they rest and relax to carry him to the other four Lords to explain that their brother is regressed.

Lord Day is incredibly apologetic once he figured this out and uses their star to make Evening a plushie ferret Evening names Noodle as a gift to try to apologize further.

Evening gets absolutely swamped with snuggles and plushies from his brothers as they attempt to care for him, though he’d be happy with just snuggled and Noodle and maybe the paci Lord Twilight makes him to help him not suck his thumb.

His five Lords sometimes make him ‘accidentally’ regress by giving him new toys or stuffies or a new paci and they get to cuddle their little Evening because they enjoy taking care of him and making sure he’s happy, since little Evening will much more freely tell them if he’s sad or unhappy.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope

Based off a world where everyone gets a Destiny they must fulfill. Bakers and Demon Kings (x) and Villagers (X). You? You are a Hero.

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

You are a Hero.

Nobody at the orphanage knows. The mark sets during the worst winter in three decades, when the windows have to be barred to prevent snow spirits from ripping them to shreds and the Director takes half the reserves and runs in the middle of the night.

Sarah, the only caregiver left in the rickety building, holds as many of the kids as she can while the snow spirits scream outside. You’d love to be in the circle of her arms, but you’re holding the door shut with as much strength as your eight-year-old arms allow.

She doesn’t tell you to get away from the door.

“It’s alright,” she says, voice trembling. Her brown hair, matted from the months indoors, hides her eyes. She croons to the younger kids like a bird, so softly and gently that you have to strain to hear it over the howling demons and roaring winds. “We’ll be okay. Our land’s Lord will send a Hero, you’ll see. We’ll be okay then.”

Your arms burn as intensely as your eyes. A Hero. Your stomach aches from hunger and your fingers sting from the cold. You aren’t sure how much good you’re doing keeping the door closed, but there’s something deep inside of you that tells you you must do something. The blows from the snow spirits outside vibrate up your arms, nearly throwing you back.

Heroes, you think, only matter if they show up.

Hope is traumatic. Eight-years-old and you’ve been returned from potential families twice. Three days ago, you found the beginnings of greenery in the woods behind the orphanage. When you excitedly raced back to tell the others that winter was ending, it was only to find the Director and most of the caregivers gone with a significant portion of the rations.

Then the storm clouds rolled in.

So that long, dangerous night, you don’t hope. You shut your ears to Sarah’s gentle comforts and the snow spirits’ shrieks. You focus on the burning in your arms, the blisters forming on your heels, the cold nipping at your fingers.

Hope is traumatic but trying is something you can do. You put your small body between all of the horrors outside the door and the other kids. You try to stand firm.

You don’t notice when the burning in your arms hides the arrival of a telling mark on your left bicep.

---------------------.

You are fourteen years old, one year shy of coming into your power, when a couple visits the orphanage intending to adopt.

Sarah is now the Director of the orphanage, awarded the position by the land’s Lord after that terrible winter six years ago. She’s different than she was then. You lost three kids to hunger before spring finally came and she held each one in their last moments.

You and Sarah never develop the close relationship she has with the other kids. But she always makes sure you have more meat in your meals than most and, when you hunt in the woods, you always let her decide how the food will be divided between dinner and winter stores.

“We’re Knights,” the potential adopters tell the Director. They’re a couple, a man and a woman with dark hair and muscular bodies. “Retired. We’re settling just north of here for good and are looking for a suitable child who can follow in our footsteps.”

Director Sarah looks at them coldly, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands over her stomach. If she notices you and two of the younger kids peeking through the crack in the door, she doesn’t say anything. “I apologize, Mr. and Mrs. Bahr, but it seems there’s a misunderstanding. We do not pair children with families based on their Destiny.”

“We’re not saying you do,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her gaze is cutting though her shoulders are relaxed. “Our Lord explained before we came. However, there is no rule against asking the children their Destiny, is there?”

Loophole. You pull away from the crack in the door, letting Hera and Josiah take your spot. You lean against the wall with your eyes closed. Orphanages aren’t allowed to disclose Destinies, but that’s where the protection ends. If someone sees a child’s Destiny or learns of it through some other means, that’s alright.

These people aren’t here to adopt because they want a child. They’re here to adopt for a guarantee. A guarantee of what remains to be seen. An heir like they claim? A prodigy for status? Or a weapon for them to control?

You listen for any other clues behind their motives, but the Bahrs don’t push the issue of Destiny again. They accept Director Sarah’s schedule for meeting the kids, even offering to host a picnic day at their estate as a treat. The couple wants to gain trust, you can tell, and by the end of the meeting it’s working.

Director Sarah sees them off to the door herself.

“We’ll wait for the invitation,” she says. She’s older now, her thin brown hair showing the beginning signs of going grey. But her handshake looks strong when she shakes Mrs. Bahr’s in farewell. “I’m sure the children will be thrilled.”

“I hope so,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her husband nods to the Director gravely, but Mrs. Bahr lingers. “I’m sorry if we came off a little…forward when we mentioned Destinies. Please believe me when I say that my husband and I aren’t so shallow. We are looking for a child – one we can call our own.”

“I see,” Director Sarah says. There’s a hint of warmth in her voice. “As I said, we look forward to your invitation.”

Mrs. Bahr nods and joins her husband in their carriage. They set off down the road without once having asked to meet one of the children on the first day of their introduction.

You can tell Sarah likes them.

“What do you think?” Sarah asks. She doesn’t turn from the road, even though the Bahr’s carriage is out of sight. “Isla?”

You don’t ask how she knows it’s you lurking in the shadows of the orphanage. Director Sarah is a Guardian. Her senses are elevated when it comes to those under her charge.

“I don’t think anything,” you say. You step out from around the corner with a sigh. No use hiding now. “They’re influential people if they were recommended here by the Lord himself. We’re fortunate.”

“You’re the right age for a Knight’s apprenticeship,” Sarah says.

“Hera hasn’t shown me her Destiny, but it’s probably something suitable,” you say. Hera is ten, one of the older kids at the orphanage. Last summer she lifted Josiah, only a year younger than her and already a head taller, out of the well before he could drown. “You should talk to her about what being part of a Knight family could mean.”

Sarah looks at you over her shoulder. The setting sun catches in her eyes, turning the warm brown into an unearthly amber. “I hope you can accept the possibility they might choose you.”

They won’t. “Aren’t I needed here?” you ask.

Sarah’s expression softens. “You are, Isla,” she says. She weighs her next words carefully. “But I am the one who’s responsible for all of you. I can take care of everyone. If the Bahr family is a good fit…”

“Sure,” you say flippantly. You shove your hands in your pockets and slink back into the orphanage. You don’t dare hope. “I’m going to help Josiah.” He’s on dinner duty tonight. He always cuts the onions too roughly. “See you later.”

You feel Sarah’s eyes on your back like a physical warmth.

-----------.

Being a Hero doesn’t change anything about you. You expected it to when you first noticed the mark but, even six years later, nothing’s different.

You aren’t kinder. When Josiah asks for your dessert, you steal a bit of his as punishment for even asking. When Hera asks for a bedtime story, you tell her one so scary that she has to sleep with one of the other girls. When Sarah asks you to fix the fence around the chickens, you whine and complain that you’re the only one who does anything around the orphanage.

“The curse of being the oldest,” Sarah says dryly. She hands you a hammer and a bucketful of nails. “Some posts were dropped off at the end of the lane. Make sure you’re back by sunset.”

Maybe you’re a little stronger than others. You can drag three posts at once and could probably drag more if you wanted. But another curse of being a Hero is that you’re very aware.

It’s not until you’re nailing a third rail to the fence that Mr. Bahr makes his presence known. You don’t turn even when he makes his steps purposefully heavy to avoid scaring you.

“You’re very strong,” Mr. Bahr says.

His shadow is long and thin, just like him. You observe it from your peripherals, unable to speak with the two nails you’re holding between your lips. You take your time pounding them into the wood. He’s arms, a sword at his hip, but his hands are loose at his sides.

“Good thing I am,” you say at last. You stand and turn in the same motion. He waited for you to finish without chastising you for not speaking right away. You perch the hammer on your shoulder. “Otherwise, the chickens would take over.”

Mr. Bahr laughs. Unlike when he was meeting Director Sarah, his face is relaxed and open. His blue eyes sparkle. “We couldn’t have that now, could we? I suppose we all owe you our thanks for preventing the coop’s coup.”

You want to laugh. You don’t. “Director Sarah won’t like you being here uninvited.”

“I just came to drop off an invitation,” Mr. Bahr says. He studies you for a moment and then smiles. “I hope you’ll accept, Isla.”

A chill races down your spine. How does he know your name? You wipe the sweat from your brow with a scowl. “Maybe I don’t want to be adopted.”

To your surprise, Mr. Bahr nods. “I can understand that,” he says. He looks up at the sky. The light is sliding from the sky, catching on the clouds and turning them a brilliant orange. When he looks back at you, he almost looks…sad. “Think of our invitation as a party, hm? No strings attached.”

For some reason your tongue feels heavy. It takes two tries before you can say, “I need to fix this part of the fence before dark.”

“Want some help?” Mr. Bahr asks.

“I couldn’t ask—”

“You didn’t ask, I offered,” Mr. Bahr says. He rolls up his sleeves and nimbly plucks the hammer from your grip. “I may be a Knight, but I’ve done my fair share of carpentry. Let me show you a few tricks.”

You listen quietly as Mr. Bahr shows you how to twist the nails to avoid splitting the wood. What would have taken you an hour to finish, he accomplishes in a quarter of one, talking to you the entire time.

It’s…odd to have an adult’s attention on you for such a long time. He’s careful not to get too close, always offering you the hammer to practice by setting it on the grass between you rather than handing it to you directly. When you manage to replicate his technique on your second try, Mr. Bahr is more excited than you are.

“Wonderful,” he compliments. He glances up at the sky. The first stars are twinkling. “I’ll be going now and you should too. Have a good night, Isla.”

Unlike the first time he said your name, it feels pleasant now. You mutter a goodbye and leave before he does, scurrying towards the orphanage with your bucket of nails clutched to your chest.

He’s gone when you think to check the road for his carriage. Did he walk here? Ride a horse?

You close and lock the orphanage’s doors behind you.

----------------.

The picnic isn’t scheduled until the middle of summer and it’s spring now. Still, it’s all anyone can talk about.

“We have plenty of time to get ready,” Director Sarah tells them. “The Bahrs will be dropping in from time to time until then. I expect everyone to be on their best behavior when they’re here.”

Josiah raises his hand. “I hear they live in a castle!”

“A manor,” Sarah corrects. “Given to them by our Lord for their years of service.”

“The Guard in town says they worked for the King once!” Hera says, wiggling in her seat. “Is that true?”

“You can ask them yourself,” Sarah says. She claps her hands together and starts urging the kids up. “It’s time for chores. Your assignment is posted by the kitchen…”

You stay seated at the breakfast table. You haven’t eaten your third egg or your last slice of toast. Your stomach feels queasy. You keep thinking about Mr. Bahr saying wonderful when you worked on the fence together.

You aren’t supposed to want to be adopted. You’ve had your chance and you ruined it both times. It’s not fair of you to imagine what it would be like learning swordsmanship from Mr. Bahr and what it’d be like to hear him praise you when you got the next move right. One of the other kids deserve that chance.

You can only do what you can do.

---------------.

Mrs. Bahr is alone the next visit.

No one recognizes her at first. She’s wearing a gown like a noble and her hair is gently flowing down her back rather than tightly pinned behind her head.

“I’ve received the Director’s permission to hold a lesson on writing,” she tells the children. She gestures to the bag she’s set on the table. “Come get a slate and a piece of chalk. We will work all together.”

The kids have never had slate and chalk before, not the real ones anyway. Sometimes you find a nice, flat rock they can draw on with charcoal, but it’s not as entertaining as what Mrs. Bahr brings. She watches everyone in amusement as they immediately start drawing instead of starting the lesson, flower and trees and swords.

“Look, Isla,” Hera says, tugging at your sleeve. You’re seated on the spare chair by the wall, away from the table. She twists from her spot to show you she’s drawn a shaky stick figure. “It’s you!”

Your eyes flick up to Mrs. Bahr. She’s not irritated by the distractions yet. You point with your bit of chalk at the drawing. “Which part of it is me?”

Hera points at a blob in the stick figure’s hand. “That’s the horned rabbit you brought home yesterday!”

You snort. The horned rabbit you’d killed yesterday wasn’t half the size of your body. “Are you sure that’s a horned rabbit? Looks like a turtle to me.”

Hera points to the stick figure’s face. “You can also tell it’s you ‘cause you’re frowning.”

“Hey!”

Mrs. Bahr claps her hands together. Instantly, she has the room’s attention. “I’m glad you all like my present. However, it’s time to get started.”

“Present?” Josiah asks.

“If you work hard today, you will be allowed to keep the slate and chalk as a present,” Mrs. Bahr says. She takes care to make eye contact with every kid. “Only those who work hard.”

It’s generous. You watch Mrs. Bahr from under your lashes as she talks everyone through writing the alphabet. It’s too generous not to be genuine. Try as you might, you can’t figure out any ulterior motive to spending so much on the kids. To look good? For who? For Director Sarah?

Director Sarah won’t be swayed by gifts like this even if the kids could be.

Mrs. Bahr stops well away from you, observing your slate from afar. “Very good, Isla. Do you know how to write?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Read?”

“Only a little.”

Mrs. Bahr hums. She doesn’t look disgusted by your stupidity or put off by your clipped tone. Your first family returned you when you told them. Mrs. Bahr’s lips curve. “Your letters are wonderfully steady. I can tell you will be a very good student.”

She turns before she can see you flush.

---------.

Over the next few months, there isn’t a week that goes by without at least one of the Bahrs visiting. They become a regularity around the orphanage to the point that even Director Sarah stops worrying about the state of their rooms with every visit.

“Kids will be kids,” Mrs. Bahr says when you ask her to wait while you tidy the toys in the parlor. “It’s alright, Isla.”

Your head spins. Sometimes, when one of them says something particularly bizarre, you feel like you’re outside your body. There was a time when they didn’t have toys to leave out in the visiting area. Thanks to the Bahrs, every child has a doll, a slate, a new set of shoes, and an abacus. You are still waiting for the strings that come with these presents.

There haven’t been any yet.

The kids love the Bahrs. Hera insists on baking fresh strawberry tarts for them after a day of gathering. Josiah carefully sounds out passages from their new books to show them that he’s still practicing his letters. Annie and a group of the younger kids spend all day weaving a flower crown for Mrs. Bahr that you have to confiscate before they can put it on her head.

“Go wash your hands,” you scold. Despite your tone, your hands are gentle as you push Annie to the schoolhouse. “Don’t touch your eyes.”

Annie blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “I didn’t know it was poison, lady, I swear.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Bahr says, hand fluttering over her heart. She steps towards Annie. “Dear one—”

You give full body flinch when Mrs. Bahr stoops to hug Annie, but you don’t get between them. The Bahrs have won your trust in this. They won’t hurt the kids.

You sigh to hide your flinch when Mrs. Bahr stands. “Now Mrs. Bahr needs to wash. Poison ivy is no joke.”

“It is not,” Mrs. Bahr agrees. She ruffles Annie’s hair. “Go on, do as Isla says. Wash up.”

“We can go together,” Annie says with her big, blue eyes. She reaches for Mrs. Bahr’s hand and then thinks better of it. She tucks her hands behind her back and kicks at the ground. “If you want.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Mrs. Bahr says, smiling.

Annie nods and races to follow her friends.

“I’m sorry,” you say as soon as Annie is out of ear shot. You busy yourself picking up the fallen flower crown and the various trimmings of poison ivy they’d used for foliage throughout it. You feel flustered. “They really didn’t know any better—”

“I know,” Mrs. Bahr says so gently that you have to look up at her. She’s frowning at your hands. “I’m more concerned about you. Should you be holding onto it like that?’

“I’m immune,” you say. You’re not worried that she’ll guess your Destiny from that. Lots of Villagers are immune to poison ivy, particularly the ones in this region who rely on gathering and hunting. “Since I’m in the woods so much.”

“Knights are immune too,” Mrs. Bahr says. She follows you away from the orphanage and to the tree line. “You’re quite the hunter, aren’t you? I remember Hera saying you slayed a horned rabbit.”

Heat comes to your face. You stomp ahead of her to deposit the flower crown in some denser foliage where the kids won’t be able to get it. “I get lucky.”

“I’d consider it unlucky to run across a horned rabbit,” Mrs. Bahr says. She examines the forest with interest. “A demon is a demon. Even adults have difficulty with horned rabbits.”

It hadn’t been difficult. You’d been armed with a sharpened branch and, when the rabbit leapt for you, you knew right when to stab. You clear your throat. “It was difficult.” Then when Mrs. Bahr doesn’t say anything, you add, “It was frightening.”

She believes you. She lays a gentle hand on your shoulder to get you to look her in the face. “The orphanage budget is enough that you don’t need to hunt, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr says. “I know I don’t like the idea of a fourteen-year-old out here alone and unarmed.”

“Almost fifteen,” you say, “and I had a sharp stick.”

“A sharp sti—” Mrs. Bahr cuts herself off with a deep breath. “Regardless of your…aptitude, Isla, it’s dangerous. I’ve spoken to the Director and she agrees with me. You aren’t to go hunting anymore.”

The forest suddenly feels too hot. The leaves overhead rustle, but you can barely hear it over the roaring of your blood. “Excuse me?”

Mrs. Bahr steps closer. “You’re a very strong girl, Isla, but it’s dangerous. If you want to go out with me or Mr. Bahr—”

You shake off her hand. “The Director agreed with you? She said I’m not allowed to go hunting anymore?”

“Out of concern for your safety.” Mrs. Bahr looks like she regrets saying anything. “Once Mr. Bahr and I explained to her what a risk a horned rabbit poses—”

You run away. Mrs. Bahr calls out after you, but you don’t stop. Beyond the sting of Mr. and Mrs. Bahr not thinking you strong enough to hunt, there’s a deeper hurt. The Director agrees. Really? Really?

“Isla? What’s wrong? I thought you were with Mrs. Bahr,” Director Sarah says when you burst into her office. She sets the papers she’d been reading down and frowns. “You look—”

“I’m not supposed to go hunting anymore?” you ask.

Sarah’s face blooms in understanding. “After what Mr. and Mrs. Bahr said about the increase in demons in the area, I agreed—”

“It’s summer,” you interrupt. You stalk up to her desk, your fists balled at your side. “It’s time to hunt.”

“The Bahrs have agreed to accompany you—”

“They only come once a week,” you say. You’re being so incredibly rude to the Director, but you don’t care. “I need to hunt three times that at least. The game has been moving deeper into the forest—”

“Where you are not allowed to go,” Director Sarah says, this time interrupting you. She steeples her hands in front of her. “I should have curtailed this activity long before this point, but I thought you needed it.”

“We need it,” you say. You can’t believe what you are hearing. “We need to store up rations, you know that.”

“Our budget allows us to purchase rations in town.”

“But what if that’s not enough? It’s better to have our own supply—”

“It will be enough.”

“It still doesn’t hurt to have some extra jerky—”

“The store we have will be enough.”

“But what if it’s not?!” You’ve raised your voice without realizing it, fists shaking at your sides. “The other kids are too young to remember o-or too new, but you and I do. That winter, we didn’t have enough. Why are you trying to stop me?” To your horror, your voice cracks. “I thought you understood.”

There’s silence in the room except for your panting breath.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah finally says. The sudden apology is enough to close your mouth against what you might have said. She meets your eyes. “You’ve always been so strong that I…Isla, you were a child. I will always be grateful for what you did that winter and for every winter since. I relied on you, a child, because I didn’t have any other option. We didn’t have another option. But now we do. We’re okay now, Isla. You don’t have to work so hard to protect us.”

“Yes, I do, I’m—” the Hero “—I can do it.” There is something inside of you telling you that that is what you must do. You think that it’s part of being a Hero.

((You’re worried that it’s because you’re scared.))

“My decision is final,” Sarah says. She picks up her documents and straightens them. “You are only to go hunting with an adult from now on. If I find out you went to the woods without one, there will be consequences.”

She’s using the same tone she uses on the other kids when they’re misbehaving. I mean business. You stare at her for a long, breathless moment. You jerkily turn to go.

Mrs. Bahr is hovering in the doorway. She looks guiltily between you and Director Sarah. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…”

You shove past her and run to your room.

-------------.

Somewhat counterintuitively, as an orphan you’re never alone. You throw yourself face down on your bed.

A shocked silence swallows the occupants on the other bed.

“Is she okay?” Josiah asks Hera.

“It’s Isla,” Hera answers. There’s the rustling of bedsheets as Hera climbs out of bed and then the soft sound of socks on hardwood as she comes over. “You okay?”

You are not okay. There’s an intense war of emotions in your chest. Anger that none of the adults seem to think you’re capable. Betrayal that Sarah isn’t on your side. A sick fear at the thought of being unprepared for winter. And, now that you’ve run away so spectacularly, shame. They probably think you’re overreacting, but they’re wrong. They’re the ones who are being naïve. They’re the ones who—

A gentle hand on the back of your head freezes the thought. Hera pets your short, black hairs in an attempt at comfort. “It’s okay, Isla. You can just sleep. Sleep makes everything better.”

That’s what you tell the younger kids. The difference between you and Hera saying it? When Hera falls asleep, you work to fix the problem. If you fall asleep, no one is going to fix the problem for you.

You flip over, dislodging Hera’s hand. You look up at her as if seeing her for the first time. She’s ten, two years older than you were when the winter happened. She was four then. You want to ask her if she remembers, but instead you ask, “Do you think Sarah hates me?”

“What?” Hera’s eyes are wide. “No! What makes you think that?”

“Nothing,” you say. “It’s stupid. Forget I asked.” You turn on your side, your back to them.

“I know she’s worried about you,” Josiah says. He offers the information tentatively. “I overheard her and the Bahrs talking. Did they ban you from the woods?”

You don’t move. “What else did they say?” You’re afraid that he’s going to say they called you weak. Or, worse, a nuisance. “Did they say anything else about me?”

“Not really.”

Nobody hears anything useful around here. You close your eyes. “I just want to be alone for a little while. I—”

There’s a knock on the door. “Isla? It’s me, Marie. Can I come in?”

Marie? Too late you remember that that’s Mrs. Bahr’s name. She’s been trying to get the kids to call her be her first name. So far no one’s taken her up on it and she hasn’t pushed.

Hera opens the door. “Hi, Mrs. Bahr. Isla is being moody.”

You sit up with a squawk. “I am not!”

“If it’s alright, I’d like to talk to Isla for a moment,” Mrs. Bahr says to Josiah and Hera. “Alone.”

“Don’t let her yell at you,” Hera says as she passes Mrs. Bahr. “She never means it.”

You are going to strangle her. “I don’t yell!”

“That’s not an inside voice,” Josiah says. He dodges the pillow you throw at him, pulling the door closed behind him and Hera.

You are suddenly alone in the room with Mrs. Bahr.

You sit up further, pressing your back against the headboard. Mrs. Bahr doesn’t look mad. Her hands are clasped in front of her and she’s looking down at the floor. It almost looks like she’s the nervous one. You hug your pillow to your chest. “You can sit down if you’d like.”

Mrs. Bahr looks up at you. Her lips twitch. “Thank you, Isla.” She sits down on Hera’s bed gingerly as if afraid it wouldn’t be able to take her wait. When she’s settled, she says, “I wanted to apologize to you.”

Your arms tighten around your pillow. “Why?”

“Not for saying you shouldn’t hunt alone,” Mrs. Bahr says. She’s not a mind reader but sometimes it seems like she is. “For not understanding what hunting means to you. I would have approached things differently if I’d known.”

“Known what?”

“About what you’ve been through.”

The winter. That’s the only thing Mrs. Bahr could be talking about. She must have heard more of your conversation (argument) with the Director than you thought. “It was a long time ago,” you say. You really don’t want to talk about this with Mrs. Bahr. Not when you can still feel that winter’s desperation in your molars like a memory. “I’m fine.”

Mrs. Bahr is quiet for a moment. She studies you much like Mr. Bahr did all those weeks ago mending the fence. “I was a knight for 30 years, you know. I supposed it’s not weird that a Knight worked as a knight for so long. As soon as I came into my power at 15, I was compelled to hold a sword. To seek out evils and defeat them. To follow my Lord into battle no matter the cause.” She looks up at the ceiling. “I’ve had a lot of adventures and helped many, many people. But there was a time when I wanted to quit.”

You start. “You did?”

“I wanted to work in a flower shop,” Mrs. Bahr says. She leans back on her hands. “What a life it could have been! Waking up before the sun and hiking to the flower fields…I had my new house all picked out. It’d have a koi pond and a row of red rocks from the Harrow River. That’s where I met Ivan.”

Mr. Bahr. He’s been trying to get you to call him by his first name too. Unlike Mrs. Bahr, he’s much pushier about it. “What made you want to quit?”

“Exhaustion,” Mrs. Bahr says. She closes her eyes. “It seemed that there was a new threat to my Lord every day. An assassination attempt from a branch family. A territorial dispute. A new influx of demon beasts. It got to the point that I hardly left my Lord’s side for fear of returning to find him dead. He was the first Lord I swore my loyalty to. I always felt like I was failing those days. So I wanted to quit.”

You’ve felt like that before. Sometimes it seems like you never catch enough while hunting, that you’re never kind enough, that you’re never strong enough. You’ve never thought about working in a flower shop though. “Why didn’t you?”

“I did.” Mrs. Bahr laughs at your shocked expression. “I was in my twenties. They tell you things calm down after your teen years, but that’s not true. I handed in my resignation and fled for the nearest town.” Her smile softens. “Ivan followed me.”

“He was there?”

Mrs. Bahr nods. “We were sworn to the same Lord. He came galloping up with my resignation clutched in his hand. His face was so red!” She laughs. “’What does this mean, Marie? He was crying! You can’t quit! I haven’t beaten you yet!’”

“And that’s what convinced you to stay a knight?” you ask. That doesn’t help you. You don’t have a significant other to come racing after you.

“No,” Mrs. Bahr said. “Ivan didn’t know why I wanted to quit. I can’t do it, I said. I can’t keep the Lord safe. I’m not enough. You know what he said?”

You shake your head.

“He said, Of course, you’re not enough,” Mrs. Bahr says. She’s lowering her voice in imitation of Ivan’s. “You were never going to be enough.” You’re gaping at his harsh words, but Mrs. Bahr looks amused. “That’s why we have a squadron. The job is too big for one person. All you need to do is your part.”

You stare at her, not understanding.

“The world isn’t carried by one person,” Mrs. Bahr says. “I was so convinced that everything was up to me – the Lord’s safety, the next campaign’s success, or defense from monsters – that I buckled under the pressure. What I didn’t see that it wasn’t all my responsibility. I was part of a team. All I had to do was one part.”

You think of the winter night and holding the door shut. There hadn’t been anyone to help you then. Someone needed to comfort the younger kids. Someone needed to try and protect them. “What if there isn’t anyone else?”

“Then we do our best,” Mrs. Bahr says immediately. She meets your eyes. “But are you by yourself now, Isla?”

Yes. You open your mouth to tell her that, but the word won’t come out. Are you? Director Sarah looked so defeated when you accused her of not understanding. But didn’t she understand better than anyone else. You swallow. “No. There’s Director Sarah.”

“What does she do?”

“She takes care of us,” you say. “She makes sure the money we get goes to the right things.”

Mrs. Bahr smiles warmly. “That’s right. Who else?”

“…Hera,” you say. You remember she pulled Josiah from the well before Annie even had the chance to tell you what had happened. “She watches the younger kids.”

“She’s very good with them,” Mrs. Bahr says. “Who else?”

Your mind blanks. Who else? “Josiah. He helps us study.”

“And?”

And? “T-the Lord. He makes sure we have the funds for what we need.”

“Including winter provisions,” Mrs. Bahr agrees.

You frown. You suddenly see where this is going. “The amount of winter provisions he thinks we need.”

Mrs. Bahr hums. “What happens if he’s wrong?”

“That’s why I hunt,” you say. Maybe now she’ll understand. “So that we’ll be okay if he’s wrong.”

“What if you don’t hunt enough?” Mrs. Bahr asks.

Your chest is tight. You rub at your sternum and try to breathe deeply. “We starve,” you say. You wheeze and then clear your throat. “We’d starve, but that’s not going to happen. Because I always hunt enough.” I have to.

“This year,” Mrs. Bahr says, voice gentle and soothing, “say you don’t hunt anymore. The winter is harsher than expected and the orphanage’s stores are depleted. What do you think will happen?”

You laugh and gasp at the same time. “They’d all starve,” you say again. What doesn’t she get about that? “First the little ones then—”

Mrs. Bahr is shaking her head. “No, Isla, that’s not what would happen.”

Your temper flares. “That’s what always—”

“What would happen,” Mrs. Bahr says in her even tone, “is that Mr. Bahr and I would come deliver extra provisions to you.”

All the air is chased from your lungs. You feel eight again, small and vulnerable and cold. You’re shivering as you stare at her. “You would?”

“We would.” Gently, as if afraid she might scare you, Mrs. Bahr moves from Hera’s bed to yours. She puts a warm hand on your knee. “We’re a fortress. The Lord gives us part of the emergency fund in order to keep our stores and grounds ready for refugees. Mr. Bahr keeps fifteen percent more than the most generous estimate out of an abundance of caution. We would come and make sure nobody starved.”

For some reason, that makes you want to cry. You blink against the sudden heat behind your eyes. “Oh.”

“That’s why we don’t want you to go hunting,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her thumb rubs over your knee. “It was worth the risk before. You worked hard to keep everyone here alive. You are incredible, for that, Isla. I can’t tell you how much I admire your strength and your bravery. But things are different now. You don’t need to do as much as you did before. There are other people on your squad.”

But I’m the Hero, you want to say. Heroes are supposed to save the day, aren’t they?

Knights help save the day too.

You let Mrs. Bahr pat your knee for a long time. She seems content to let you think, her energy a pleasant hum next to you. A knot is untying in your chest. If you don’t hunt, it’s not the end of everyone. There will still be the funds from the Lord. Sarah’s always been excellent at stretching those as far as they need to go. And, if they aren’t enough, there’s something different this year. The Bahrs are here.

“You’d help us even if you’re only going to adopt one of us?” you ask.

Mrs. Bahr’s lips thin. She looks sad, but hides it quickly. “We’re Knights,” she says. “Even if we are retired. We’ll be here the moment you need us.”

You don’t hope. Hope is traumatic. But…

You believe her.

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(Part 2) (part 3)

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Thanks for reading! There will be a new part of Hope and the Hero every Friday!

If you'd like to read the whole story now, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)!

There's also a new story up there, a sequel to my Dandelion villain story (X)

Summary: You are free of mind control for the first time in a year. The only things standing between you and your revenge are the heroes.

[sabersandsnipers]

Drabbles: Caregiving

Featuring: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Gortash

Inspiration courtesy of @creativepromptsforwriting

Astarion

To put it lightly, Astarion is a mess after killing Cazador. And who can blame him? After returning to camp, he simply sits and dissociates. His hands tremble. The only solace he finds is when you’re near. 

Still covered in blood, you ask his permission to clean him up. He simply nods, his eyes staring at nothing. You grab a damp cloth and begin gently wiping away the dried blood. He leans towards you, hoping your presence itself can protect him from the trauma that keeps surfacing in his mind. 

You notice his pants are still stained with blood as well. You gently cradle his face to get his attention. 

“Do you need help changing?” 

He doesn’t say anything but the look in his eyes is enough to assure he needs help. You lay him down and help him out of his soiled clothes. You quickly grab his night clothes, pulling his shirt over his head and helping him into new bottoms. 

After he’s settled, you turn to leave, but his hand shoots out to grab your arm. 

“Please stay.” His voice is strained. A deep ache blooms in you. 

You sit next to him on his bedroll, cradling him against your chest and whispering soothing thoughts to him for the rest of the night. 

Gale

As skilled a wizard as Gale is, he can’t always prevent himself from getting sick. Confined to his tent, you took it upon yourself to care for him. 

As you brew some tea for him, he stretches out on his bedroll and watches you work. His heart warms at your worry for him. He really doesn’t deserve the care you’re giving him. He’s sure you have more important things to do. 

You pour the tea for him, crouching next to the bedroll. With barely enough energy to move, you have to help him lift his head to take a sip. You gently cradle the back of his head, bringing the warm liquid to his lips. 

He takes a small sip before laying his head down again. 

He licks the remaining liquid off his lips. “It’s good,” he says. The taste of it sends a comforting warmth through him, mildly numbing the ache settling in his bones. 

“I put a little something extra in there for you,” you tell him, winking. 

He lets out a breathy laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

Halsin

Halsin is always the one who wants to care for you. You’ve insisted time and time again to let you pamper him sometime. He works so hard for you, protecting you and making sure you never go to sleep hungry or cold. 

After scrounging enough gold to get a room at a nearby inn, you finally force his hand. He’s bathing in the wash room, and you sneak in while he’s scrubbing at his skin. 

He looks at you, a smile coming to his face. “Did you want to join me?”

You shake your head. “I was hoping I could wash your hair,” you tell him. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“Please?” you insist. “You must be tired.” 

His shoulders slouch and he ceases his scrubbing. “Get over here,” he grumbles.

You rush over to sit behind the tub, leaping at the chance to help Halsin relax. You make quick work of wetting his hair, pouring a cleansing mix onto his scalp. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, massaging slowly.

“Hmmm, that feels good,” he says, voice low.

You smile, watching as the tenseness leaves his body. “Good. You deserve it.”

He leans his head back, making it easier for you to work your fingers through his long hair. 

You can’t help yourself. You lean forward to press a kiss to his neck. He turns to  you, a warm smile on his lips. 

Your heart melts just like the first time you saw it.

Gortash

You straddle Lord Enver Gortash, his bare back laid before you. Your fingers dig into his tense muscles, earning moans from deep within him. He dearly needed a massage after an especially tiring day of ruling over Baldur’s Gate. The power of having him writhe beneath you is intoxicating. 

You lean down and start to press kisses to his lower back, slowly trailing upwards. He growls your name. A warning. You know if you continue to tease him he’s going to flip you onto your back. The thought thrills you. 

But you want to work out those big knots in his back first. He deserves to be taken care of before he takes care of you. You continue your work, rocking back and forth on your heels to gain momentum as you dig deep into his flesh. 

His moans rumble through your hands. You grin to yourself, looking forward to the moment where he gives you the pleasure you want in return. 

[in1-nutshell]

How would the tfp cons react to finding a pod fill with small and squishy sparklings (I headcannon sparkling looking like mashbellows blobs untold they grow giant size)

Love the concept of little bean sparklings!

Hope you enjoy the Cons reactions to the little beans.

TFP Cons reacting to finding a bunch of sparklings in a pod

For the sake of the story, the pod full of the beans conveniently landed on the Nemisis flight deck one night. A couple Vechicons had retrieved the pod at the orders of Megatron. He is fully expecting a magical relic of the past or some more Dark Energon… not a bunch of sparklings inside the pod.

Megatron

Oh, this is not what he is expecting… not at all.

“What in the Pit is this?!”--Megatron

“Those are sparklings my liege.”Starscream

“I know what they are!”—Megatron

His honest reaction would greatly depend whether or not he is on that space coke, I mean Dark Energon.

If he was on Dark Energon, the chances of all the sparklings surviving their first night would be slim to none. Not caring if they even survived. The only chance the sparklings would have of surviving is if the grace of one of the higher officials decided to keep them. Sadly, few would truly be up to the challenge.

If he isn’t on Dark energon, then he would be a bit concerned in why the sparklings are in the pod. But it is war after all and sadly this isn’t too out of the ordinary.

He would assign different Vehicon’s to different beans and have them all sent to Knockout and Breakdown for a checkup. He might think at first that this could be a waste of resources. But after a few days of seeing his troops with the sparklings, Megatron sees a boost in morality and a strange sense of hope in the ship. Hope that caused the movement in the first place. Hope that didn’t seem to come by so often on the ship.

He has ‘stolen’ a bean from time to time. Not even the Mighty Megatron can bend to the power of The Bean Eyes.

“Lord Megatron! I’ve been looking—what are you...?”--Starscream

Megatron mid cooing at a laughing bean.

“… You saw nothing Starscream.”--Megatron

“Understandable my liege. I will be taking my leave.”-- Starscream

Starscream

He is concerned about the sparklings, not that he shows it outwards though. Starscream had plans before the sparklings came along. He was on his way to try and overthrow Megatron and now he must do sparkling duties. The universe must be playing some cosmic joke on him.

“Pitiful thing. You probably don’t even know the first thing about being a Decepticon.”--Starscream

Giggling bean noises

“…Well, I suppose I could teach you. Yes, then you will pledge your loyalty to me!”--Starscream

“Starscream who are you talking to?”--Knockout

“None of your business Knockout!”—Starscream

As Second in Command he helps oversee the sparklings needs overall. As in the statis of their health, possible predictions for vehicle mode, who is their favorite Decepticon on aboard the Nemesis...

Like Megatron, Starscream has taken a habit of ‘stealing’ a Sparkling or two. Except when he has the beans, he tries to instill some sort of loyalty in preparation for his reign as Leader of the Decepticons. Which doesn’t seem to work well on Starscream’s part.

“Now repeat after me. Hail Lord Starscream.”--Starscream

Laughing Bean noises.

“Wow not even they take you seriously.”—Knockout

Soundwave

*Adoption papers processing*

While he also oversees the sparklings as Third in Command, Soundwave knows how to take care of others. He has been known for stealing the most sparklings out of the entire Nemesis.

“Soundwave do you have the reports taken—”--Megatron

Soundwave carrying five beans in his tentacles and two in each servo.

“…”--Soundwave

“… I’ll come back later then. Carry on.”—Megatron

He often plays funny little noises to make the beans laugh. Most likely the first on board to get attached to them. When he misses some of the beans, he will deploy Lazerbeak to go see if they are okay in their caregivers’ arms. Primus help the poor soul who decides to be mean or hurt the Sparkling. That is a one-way ticket to the moon.

“Soundwave! Respond! As Second in Command of the Decepticon army I order you—”

Recorded giggles plays

“… I give up.”--Starscream

Knockout and Breakdown

Oh… oh…

Why? Out of all the places on this planet, did that pod have to land on the Nemesis?! The ship isn’t exactly known for being a welcoming place, much less for sparklings. It’s not that the pair hate the sparklings, on the contrary.

The love seeing a bit of Cybertron untainted by the war. But now they have come into the war whether they liked to or not. Knock out while prides his finish, will put it aside while dealing with the multitude of messy sparklings.

“Hey no! Put that down! No! No! How did you even get up there!?”—Knockout

“Lighten up a bit Knockout. They’re just fine.”--Breakdown

“…There’s one about to fall off your servo.”--Knockout

“Ah!”--Breakdown

Breakdown has no problem getting dirty for the sparklings, hut is extremely anxious around them. He could accidentally crush them! He really doesn’t want that.

They don’t part take in the ‘stealing’ of sparklings, as they regularly come and go in the medbay. The pair both genuinely care for the sparklings and are a bit protective, especially if they come in hurt.

“Oh, Primus what happened to them?!”--Knockout

“I don’t know. I accidentally bumped into them—”--Starscream

“You bumped into them!”—Breakdown

Dreadwing

Oh, he loves these beans.

He is one of the few Decepticons with some kindness left and is not going to let bots like Starscream take advantage of them.

“I will be taking them today.”--Dreadwing

“It is my shift to look after—”--Starscream

“Consider this me taking your shift then Starscream.”—Dreadwing

He loves his time with the sparklings. He does a descent job in taking care of them. Makes sure all under his care are well and takes regular trips to the Medbay if something doesn’t seem right.

Besides Soundwave, probably the second in the ‘stealing’ sport. He tells stories to the little ones of life before the war and how the war would be over soon so they could all go home together.

“We are missing 5 of them.”--Breakdown

“Have you checked with Dreadwing.”--Knockout

“Not yet.”--Breakdown

“He probably has the rest.”—Knockout

Shockwave

He doesn’t do much with the beans.

Probably didn’t even know they were around until Soundwave came to the lab with some in his servos.

“…”--Soundwave

“… Explanation.”—Shockwave

Won’t interact with the sparklings much, not even if he has duty with them. Shockwave most likely built a crib to contain the little beans.

Does not partake in the ‘stealing’ of the sparklings.

It is illogical.

Predaking

What is this bean? Why is it so small?

He is confused at first seeing the sparklings, but once educated about the basics, he is ready. Does not matter if he is in his bi-pede mode or not, he is making sure all these beans are protected with his huge limbs.

Does not let them anywhere near Starscream.

“I order you to hand over the Sparklings beast!”--Starscream

“Did you hear something my tiny warrior? It sounded like a little pest.”--Predaking

“How. Dare—”--Starscream

Starscream is now shrieking trying to avoid the flames of Predaking.

He also plays and ‘steals’ them away. He is close ranking to Dreadwing on how often they get stolen.

“We are missing 7 of them!”--Dreadwing

“Where could they—”--Knockout

“Found them.”--Breakdown

Predaking napping in his dragon form cuddling a bunch of beans.

Soundwave snaps a picture that no one knows about.

Arachnid

Okay even if Megatron was on Dark energon, there is no way this Spider is going anywhere near the sparklings.

Point blank. She will not go anywhere near them.

[bambisworlds]

there's a man in the woods (1)

part two

(sorry for the long synopsis)

rhysand, azriel, and cassian were blessed by the cauldron with a mate. although, the circumstances were never seen before. the three males each had a mate, and it turned out to be the same female they were each bound to; bambi. they had spent months trying to track down the female that had been haunting their dreams and they finally did. she was tamlin's "mate". he had somehow discovered bambi was the rhysand's mate, so he took her as his own lover to spite him. tamlin still blamed rhysand for the death of his true mate, rhysand's sister. however, this plan to get back at rhysand was short lived seeing as the bat boys showed up and took her to the night court with them, leaving tamlin in their dust. pissed that he no longer had the upper hand, tamlin snuck into the night court and kidnapped bambi (1,917 word count)

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, bambi!oc, little!reader, oc age regresses to 6 years old, ddlg dynamics, established relationship, poly!batboys x oc, caregiver!batboys, protective!batboys, azriel's pretty unhinged, friend!mor, protective!mor, amren being her usual self, use of "Daddy", kidnapping, violence, evil!tamlin (are we surprised), tamlin is a hot mess let's just be real, let me know if i forgot anything x (also if i misrepresent age regression or common aspects of ddlg relationships pls let me know, i'm still learning)

Quickly after Bambi was brought to The Night Court she became the princess of the household. The Bat Boys were utterly obsessed with her, bending over backwards to please her or simply make her smile. But, naturally, when Bambi first arrived at the townhouse she was hesitant. She had been under the impression that Tamlin was her mate. However, she didn't love Tamlin like she thought she should. Something was missing. Turns out, the thing missing was a mating bond.

It took a handful of weeks for Bambi to come out of her shell around the Inner Circle. The first week consisted of her mainly being around Mor. The Bat Boys primal instincts were out of control, so Mor basically banned them to The House of Wind until they got their shit together so they wouldn't petrify Bambi.

It didn't take long for Mor to notice that there was something different about Bambi. From time to time she went quiet, and when she did speak her words lacked her usual sophisticated vocabulary. Then, after she grew more comfortable with Mor, Bambi would grow bolder, and more fussy, than usual during these spells. Mor confided in Madja as to what could explain her behavior, and she described it in medical terminology. But the common name was "little space". So, naturally, she reported this information to The Bat Boys.

Azriel spent 8 hours in the library after Mor informed him about Bambi's coping mechanism, wanting to learn everything he could so he could offer the support and care Bambi needed. After feeling satisfied with his newfound knowledge, he presented it to Rhysand and Cassian. Cassian struggled at first to grasp the concept, but with further education by Rhysand and Azriel, he understood why Bambi age regressed from time to time and wanted to support her the best way he could.

Now, after nearly a year together, The Bat Boys were experts on Bambi. They tended to her every need with unquestionable skill. They knew what she needed when she needed it without having to ask. They moved as one, taking care of her as a team.

But, the three males still had to attend to their responsibilities as High Lord, Commander of the Night Court's Armies, and as Spymaster. So, they couldn't be with Bambi 24/7. When they were busy, they assigned Mor to her. They tried having Amren look after Bambi, but it just resulted in Bambi coming home in tears because Amren made fun of her plushies and kept beating her at checkers (everyone else always let her win). From then on Bambi was always entrusted to Mor's care when they were unavailable.

Today was like any other day. Mor had taken Bambi to walk through the shops. Bambi wasn't feeling little today, but she was still easily distracted and forgetful so Mor accompanied her on her shopping trip. Plus, the entirety of the Inner Circle was overprotective of Bambi. Even Amren, at times. While Mor was finishing up paying for a new bracelet Bambi selected, Bambi wandered down a few stalls to look at pastries. She was about to flag Mor down to buy some when a large hand wrapped around her hand and began to drag her down the busy streets.

Mor searched the shopping stalls for hours in search of Bambi when she couldn't find Bambi's familiar blonde hair among the mass of people. After coming up empty-handed and beginning to panic, she returned to the townhouse to tell The Bat Boys.

"You. Did. What?" Cassian spits.

"How did you manage to lose her?" Rhysand demands, resting his hands on his hips. The moment Mor entered the townhouse without Bambi Azriel's shadows disappeared, already searching for her.

"She is quite small," Amren says from the chair she was in, filing her nails. Cassian scoffs at her lack of urgency.

"You know I would never let anything happen to her," Mor says, growing defensive, "I turned for 5 seconds and she... disappeared." Mor sighed, "I've searched every street in Velaris. She's not in The Night Court," she conceded. Mor looked over at Azriel warily, he was painfully quiet, "Az say something."

Azriel bristled, his hands curling into fists, "Do you have any idea how frightened she'll be when it gets dark outside?" he said lowly, glaring at Mor.

"She wouldn't just wander off like that," Cassian says, "She knows not to go anywhere without us. Besides, everyone in Velaris knows she's our mate. She could ask practically anyone for help and they would bring her to us."

"Then someone must've taken her," Azriel practically growls, his siphons glowing ominously.

"Who would do that? We're on good terms with all the Courts," Mor implored, "Besides..." she trails off. Azriel's eyes snap up to Mor's face before he begins to storm towards the front door of the townhouse.

"Azriel wait, we can't do anything rash," Rhysand tries to reason, winnowing in front of him to block his path, "If Tamlin has her we need to be careful, he's unstable and unpredictable. We can't just go blazing into his court without expecting resistance."

"I welcome resistance, Truthteller hasn't gotten dirty in a while," Azriel threatened, his tone deadly.

"I'm in full support of blazing in there. I'll cut his head off before he can do shit," Cassian says, cracking his knuckles.

Rhysand sighs and rubs his forehead in agitation, "It would be nice to not always be the only reasonable one here for once," he mutters to himself before looking back up at The Inner Circle, "Let me try to reach her first, so we can see what we're up against."

"You haven't tried to reach her yet?" Cassian demands, clearly angry that Rhysand hadn't tried to use his daemati abilities yet.

"I've been preoccupied trying to stop you from destroying another court," Rhysand seethes. "Just... give me a moment," Rhysand sighs and sits down on one of the plush sofas in the room. Amren continued to file her nails, glancing up at Rhysand with slight interest. Rhysand focused, his mind reaching out in search of Bambi's. He knew her signature like the back of his hand, usually, he could slip into her mind without a bit of effort, but today he couldn't, "She's far away," Rhysand mutters, shifting uncomfortably in the chair as he strains to reach out farther with his mind.

Azriel began to fidget as the minutes passed, the tick of the father clock breaking the silence. Cassian sat on the sofa opposite of Rhysand, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at The High Lord, trying to decipher if he had found something while Azriel began to pace like a caged animal. Mor remained in the entryway of the living area, biting her nails anxiously as she watched Rhysand.

"There," Rhysand whispers as he finally feels Bambi's familiar energy throughout the sea of minds he had shuffled through. Azriel stops pacing and turns to look at Rhysand, while Cassian perks up in his seat. "I found her," Rhysand says breathily, "Darling, can you hear me?" Rhysand speaks into Bambi's mind, separated by miles. One of the first things Rhysand taught Bambi was how to speak with him telepathically, in case they would need it for times like these. Plus, he enjoyed having access to her mind whenever he wanted.

"Daddy?" she answers, her voice faint and echoey. Rhysand smiles to himself at the sound of her voice. He could barely make out her words due to the distance between them, but that didn't make hearing her any less comforting.

"I need you to tell me where you are. Do you know where you are sweetheart?" Rhysand asks telepathically, his tone gentle. It was obvious to Rhysand that Bambi was in little space, likely due to the fear and anxiety of the situation she was in. Azriel, Cassian, and Mor stared at Rhysand, practically unblinking, as they waited for any new information.

"S'hard," she says, her voice small, echoing in his mind. Rhysand knew she struggled to use her daemati abilities more than usual when in little space. She lost focus easily and struggled to remember what Rhysand had taught her to do. Plus, it was taxing on the mind and could easily exhaust her.

"I know little one, but I need you to try really hard for Daddy so I can come get you," Rhysand said gently, "Now, can you tell me where you are?" A few moments passed and Rhysand waited anxiously.

"Tamlin," is all Bambi managed to slip into Rhysand's mind. That was all the confirmation he needed.

"Sit tight, Daddy's coming for you, okay? Azzy, Cass, and I will be there soon." Rhysand says before cutting off his connection with Bambi, but leaving a window open in his mind so she could reach him if she needed. "She's with Tamlin," Rhysand says firmly, rising from his seat abruptly.

"Is she alright?" Cassian demanded, rising to his feet as well.

"Not entirely. She's little right now, which will make it harder to get her home safely." Rhysand says, "But she knows we're coming. Hopefully, that will bring her comfort."

Across Prythian, Bambi was sitting timidly at Tamlin's dining table as he poured her a glass of wine. Rhysand's voice was bouncing around her mind, "I know little one, but I need you to try really hard for Daddy so I can come find you. Now, can you tell me where you are?"

"Isn't this nice? Us being back together again?" Tamlin asks as he pushes the goblet closer to Bambi. She didn't reach for it, "That's fine faerie wine, you can at least pretend to look grateful." he scoffs, taking a sip from his glass.

Bambi was too focused on using her daemati skills to register Tamlin's words, straining as she tried to respond to Rhysand mentally, "Tamlin," she managed to transfer the singular word into Rhysand's mind. She let out a heavy breath, sinking into her chair once she managed to do so. Tamlin set down his goblet on the table with a thud.

"Did you just tell Rhysand something?" he demands and Bambi looks down at her lap, "Hey!" he snaps, grabbing her chin so she makes eye contact with him, "What did you tell him?" Tamlin growls, "Tell me! What did you tell him!" Tamlin demands and Bambi flinches with a slight whimper.

"I-I told him where I am," she says shakily, looking up at Tamlin anxiously as she waits for his reaction.

"Fuck!" Tamlin bellows, throwing his goblet onto the ground, causing it to shatter. "Why can't one fucking thing ever go to plan!" he shouts, throwing a chair against the wall next. Bambi flinched with each loud noise, fidgeting with the fabric of her dress to try to focus on the smooth silk instead of the danger around her.

"Sit tight, Daddy's coming for you, okay? Azzy, Cass, and I will be there soon." Rhysand's voice echoes in Bambi's mind and she stills, glancing up at Tamlin. Tamlin panted, resting his hands on his hips as he finally stopped throwing things around.

He looked over at Bambi, noticing her gaze on him, "What?" he spits.

"You should run," Bambi says simply, before focusing back on the fabric of her dress. Tamlin bristled slightly from her words.

Moments later Lucien walked into the dining room, his good eye scanning over the mess around the room before landing on Bambi. Lucien sighs at the sight of her, looking over at Tamlin, "Have you gone mad?"

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below or on my masterlist!! (check here: about my blog  to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

[maisonaime]

Give and Take

Softdom!Cassian x Healer!Reader

Premise: You get back after a long day of work and Cassian is ready to take over everything, you give him control so that you don’t lose it entirely. 

Splitting this into two parts so that I don't lose my mind over it anymore. Love to all who jumped on this prompt!

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamics, smutty fluff, emotional overstimulation, self-sacrificing, poor self-care (bordering on self-harm), injury and slight gore, 18+ minors DNI

Part 1:

The last flight of stairs up to the rooms you and Cassian occupied in the River House seemed steeper than you had ever remembered, dragging yourself up the stairs was utterly Sisyphean, the last stretch in a long day that had frustrated tears finally pricking in your eyes. You were tired to your bones, fed up with being hunched over a desk, and the day was still far from done over eleven hours after it had begun. You woke and dressed when the sky was dark, and were returning hours after the braziers lining the hallways had been lit.

You had two bags hanging in the crook of one elbow, full of brewing equipment that needed to be polished with a protective tonic before being used in class tomorrow. In the same arm, you were clutching a thick stack of essays requiring grading. Tucked under your other arm was a folio of research on restorative therapies for Illyrians who had their wings clipped. Slung over your shoulder from training was your weapons belt, sheathed with two daggers and a longsword Cassian had wrought for you as a wedding gift.  

The file of research slipped from your arms, scattering down all the steps you had just climbed in complete disarray. You made a small sound of anguish and finally, the tears were flowing freely. You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. You were grateful for the research you were able to do to find a way to reverse the horrors wrought on Illyrian females. You were enthusiastic about teaching your students, passing along ancient knowledge to the trainees who would one day be your peers. You itched for training with Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn; pouring intentional movement into your body after long days of obligatory motion.

Healing people, feeling your tendrils of power sweep over broken bones, seeking out the source of symptoms, touching the broken parts of people’s souls. It was the greatest gift, one that multiplied every time you held a newborn babe, watched someone run or dance on legs that had never worked before, and felt the relief of familial caregivers as you restored hearing or sight or even small amounts of lucidity to their aging parents. It was quite possibly the only gift that you valued more than your precious mate. The one who you had remade and been remade by. 

 You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. But there were some days when you felt the burden of worlds bearing down on you. Days when failed healings left you shattered. Days when there was simply too much to do and not enough hours to do it. 

“What’s all this sweetheart.” Cassian appeared at the top of the stairs, his darkened gaze forcing you to rethink your current predicament. 

Despite his intimidating size and title, the Lord of Bloodshed was as gentle a lover as you had ever known. He had honed his resolve over the centuries, along with all his other skills. Even in the most feral moments between the two of you, lost entirely to the bond in skin and teeth and brutish groans, he would never lose himself. He could balance himself over you for hours with just the head of his cock pressing into your center, and could sit perfectly still while stuffed down your pretty little throat. 

What he couldn’t do was abide by disobedience. And disobedience to Cassian was self-neglect. Disobedience was forgetting to eat, not getting enough sleep. Disobedience was piling too much onto your plate. Disobedience was trying to lug over one-hundred pounds of shit up the stairs after you had left before dawn and were returning long after dark. And disobedience would earn you punishment.

—

Ever since you had helped Azriel rehabilitate his shredded wings after Hybern wrought his havoc, you had remained in close connection with the High Lord’s Inner Circle. Your attentive and tranquil care healed both Azriel’s wings and the lingering horror that wracked his soul in the following weeks as he tried to move on from those paralyzing moments of agony. You treated his flesh and soul with equal gentleness, cementing your regard as a healer with the capacity to treat vulnerability with as much tenderness as you treated wounds and sickness.

When Cassian lay broken and bleeding, of course, it was you who was summoned to the tent. He was like every other patient before in your ability and desire to help him. But he was also like no other patient before because he was your mate. You could still feel his screaming cleaving the air and reverberating through your jaw, dulling all senses to anything but him. His brothers had to hold him down with tears in their eyes; Feyre lost her stomach; Mor just sat in the corner silently shaking. You were cursed to remember every ounce of hopelessness in his eyes as he scrambled away from your hands, refusing any of your help or assessment for fear of what you might find.

You found femur bone shattered like glass, tearing into the muscle and tendon of his massive thigh. You found snapped cartilage, torn muscle, and severe hemorrhaging that nearly cut off blood supply to his entire left wing; the damage so bad it would have resulted in field amputation had you not been there. You found the husk of a man who had been so sure he was going to die without being able to save his family, without even being able to say goodbye. 

You burned yourself out with the raw power that flooded from you as you were confronted with the primal need to save him. You gave yourself entirely to the will of the goddess that had blessed your hands. At one point Rhys had to blanket your mind in darkness so that you wouldn’t drain that well of power entirely. 

When finally, the damage left could only be healed by time, you had collapsed over him and refused to move. Unable to. Gentle, weak arms had dragged you ungracefully to a warm chest, to a beating heart. The only thing you could hear through the thundering haze of your overwrought senses. 

“Don’t you ever do that again, for anyone. Not even me sweetheart.” 

And then it was Cassian’s turn to heal you. To watch over your trembling body as you recovered from the depletion of your powers. He fed and bathed you. Stretched and massaged the muscles that felt as though they had been filleted by lightning. Braided your hair to keep it from knotting during the long hours you slept. 

He poured himself into you in a way you had never had before. In a way you had only ever provided to others, never received yourself. In a way you hadn’t ever known you wanted so badly until you were sobbing hoarsely into his arms, years of self-sacrifice pouring out of you.

It didn’t stop there. Only when you had settled into living together did either of you realize the extent to which overextending yourself had become a way of life. The first time you came home past midnight, Cass was in a panic thinking you had been hurt or taken. When you stumbled through the door on legs bent with exhaustion and informed him that you had eaten exactly three crackers and a handful of berries all day, he just stared at you for a long time.

“How do you expect to save everyone if you destroy yourself in the process? This level of self-sacrifice isn’t noble, it’s irresponsible. Now, get on your fucking knees.” Your head snapped to him, pinning him with a disbelieving scoff. But he was dead serious. 

In a flash he had your hair gathered in a stern but gentle fist, and you had your mouth very, very full. He fucked your mouth with a fervor, his fingers finding the corners so he could pop your jaw open further and push himself even deeper down your throat. 

He came with a hiss, freeing a hand from your ruined mouth to pound in a fist against the unyielding stone wall. 

Then he scooped you up and laid you in bed, pouring water with lemon and honeyed tea down your throat. Leaving your side briefly, only to return with a veritable feast of foods specifically selected to strengthen your body and magic. His care was almost overwhelming, but you found yourself surrendering to his vigil over you.

—

“Put it down” he said, pure authority radiating from him.

“Put what down?” you feigned. 

“All of it, sweetheart. And don’t make me ask again. I’d hate to have to take you down to Az’s workroom. He put up such a fuss last time, even after I cleaned everything in front of him.” There was no room for disobedience in his tone, even if the remark had you chuckling. 

You struggled to unburden yourself, unsure of how to extend your arms and set down one item without imperiling another. You met Cassian’s gaze with pleading eyes that quickly turned fiery at his smugness. You drew yourself up slowly, eyes narrowing…

And dropped everything from your hands, letting the first bag of glassware slide off your arms and crash to the ground – even if the sound of tinkering glass made something in you twist and cringe. 

“Don’t be a fucking brat, you know it’ll only make things worse.” he snapped, lips pulling back in a feral grin as he raked his gaze over your body, your leather-bound dips and curves displayed to him unobstructed. 

The belt you set down gently, minding your beautiful blade. In the middle of the night after your mating ceremony, in the haze of your frenzy, Cassian had marched you down to the deepest chambers of the Court of Nightmares, where the mountain burned nearly as hot as your bond. You had watched with lust-glazed eyes as he hammered out a blade and fused it to the hilt he had already carved and polished—smooth, rounded obsidian imbued with the cavernous powers of the Mountains. 

He fucked you hard into the stone floor and then soared into the night sky with you and the weapon, cooling skin and steel alike. And when you finally touched ground again, he wasted no time showing you exactly why he chose that particular shape for the handle. 

A snap of his fingers had the scattered papers piled neatly beside it. Then you gingerly set down the second bag of glassware, cringing as you considered how your eager disobedience would reflect back in Cassian’s treatment.

“Good.” he crooned. “Now go bathe and wait for me in bed.”

Cass abided by your whims for the most part, always eager to take care of you but never pressuring you to submit. He could always tell when you needed to give away control. When you needed to be told what and when to eat, how to dress, when to speak, and when to be silent. When to “get on your fucking knees” and when to “lay down darling, that’s it, now hush my love and let me work.” And he would give it to you every time without tire, for the rest of his days. 

As you passed him to make towards your suite, he sidestepped into your path and halted you with a hand to your shoulder, the palm of his other hand cupping your face. He looked down at you with gentle eyes. You leaned into his touch instinctively, eager to shove away the pressures of your autonomy, even if just for the next few hours.

“I counted five things that you placed over your own needs today. Your patients, your students, your research, your training, your healing. Then you had to go and double it by bratting off and making a mess of your things.” He glanced around, unimpressed at your display of resistance. 

“It’ll take me time to fix and polish the glassware and reorganize your papers. So you’ll wait. You’ll be doing a lot of that tonight. It only makes sense, I think, that you take ten hard edges before we think about next steps.” His voice was hard, determined, even as his hands were so so soft.

Your eyes widened, head shaking even as his words had your blood thrumming with desire. 

“Yes, sweetheart. Yes, you will. Maybe this time you’ll finally learn your lesson about what happens when we deny ourselves what we need.”

[ember-owlet]

hello!! if its not too much trouble could i please get some cg bela dimitrescu headcanons? thank you!!! ^_^

a/n: of course not firelight!! you are very cool for requesting this anon, it was a treat to see in my inbox as well as write,, i hope to write cg headcanons for all the sisters when inspiration strikes. please enjoy!! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ (ps. when she calls ethan little one??? coincidence??? i think not. /lh /silly)

image credit: @/cateblanchettz

dynamic: cg! bela dimitrescu

the eldest dimitrescu is the most delicate with her regressor, preferring quiet activities in comparison to her rowdier kin.

in the past, in order to prevent waking her sisters she would take to silently floating or phasing in-between places with her flies. from this habit she'll just appear next to/around you without warning, as is her way of checking in and allowing you to feel a sense of independance.

LOVES spending quality time with her regressor where the both of you do separate things while physically together.

i always headcanon bela to be the one that took up her mother's art of learning the piano. she'd let you sit at her feet while she practiced, hoping to inspire you to one day join her in a melancholic duet.

ironically being the messiest in appearance she probably keeps her environment the cleanest and makes sure her regressor keeps their area clean and tidy after playtime/hunting.

when feeding you she will always cut your food into smaller pieces or give you the first taste of prey. she doesn't care much for human food anymore but tries to remember the things she enjoyed in life when sending her maidens to the village.

what she says is simply the way things will go. she receives enough pressure from herself and her mother's expectations and would like to know that you trust her enough to make the right decisions.

that being said if her regressor got out of line she becomes a master at mind games to get her way. she will always find a way to get you to bed when she wants.

as the eldest she puts way too much pressure on herself in her caretaking abilities to you and her family on top of everything else that she subjects herself to. when caretaking she requires lots of verbal affirmation to feel like she is doing right by you.

despite bela's stubborness in doing things alone, her mother is one of the only souls in the village that she would entrust your care to (if the need would arise).

when seeking advice from her mother she'd frequently bring you along to the lord's room, often presenting your accomplishments to the matriarch to bask in the praise.

though she is heavily motivated by praise and verbal affirmation she is a rather emotionally unavailable caregiver. to get too close is to lose focus on her goals and will to protect you, and at the end of the day all she wants is to do the best she can for you, because her little one only deserves the best.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Not Ready Part 4/12

Part 5 and Part 6 are out on my Patreon!

Readers sister dies in a tragic car accident, leaving reader and her boyfriend Ruben in the urgent custody of her niece and nephew. Readers' life is suddenly flipped upside-down since having children hadn't been the plan for her and Ruben's life together. At least not now, when his football career was reaching great new heights.

Enjoy! 💞

"So you're the children's caregiver now?"

"No, Laleh. I'm still just their aunt." What a waste of your lunch break, you thought. Laleh was grilling you with questions all through your walk in the park. You should have stayed at the office, perhaps snuck up to the roof top and joined the chainsmokers on their lunch break. Lord knows you could use a cigarette right about now.

"But you're the only one caring for them, no?"

"Well, my parents sent me money for the week while the kids are staying with me. But, yes, their dad has gone a bit M.I.A for the moment. I suppose Ruben and I are the only ones caring for the children."

And how does he feel about that?"

"What do you mean?" You stopped before a park bench, behind it a large oak tree where a group of senior citizens were practicing Tai chi.

"Well you've involuntarily made Ruben a father figure now." Laleh said.

"What? No I haven't. The children call him uncle Ruben but that's because my sister and I joked about it once. It kinda stuck, but Ruben knows he is not responsible for the children in any way."

"But you are."

"Yes. I am. So what?"

"I dunno Y/N. It just feels like it can get a bit messy if you and Ruben aren't on the same page."

"Well, we are. The children are leaving tomorrow. Both my parents are coming to London to help clean out the rest of Liza's things. They're taking Emmy and Vale with them to Bournemouth after that, while their father stays back and continues to try and sell the house."

"It's really that bad huh?" Laleh picked up your walk, taking a sip of her coffee. "Does he want all traces of your sister gone?"

You nodded. "But I think it's for the best. There is no need for him and the children to be reminded of her everyday. It would be too painful. "

"And how about you, how are you holding up?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you—"

"Auntie Y/N!"

"Emmy, Vale, what are you two doing here?"

Fallen leaves rustled on the ground as the children came sprinting your way.

"Look what Uncle Ruben got us." Said Vale, waving his melting popsicle. Emmy was nibbling on hers, almost chewing on the stick.

"Ice cream?" You questioned. "In the middle of the day."

"Uncle Ruben said we could have as many as we like."

"Did he now?" You raised your head, watching Ruben as he walked towards you with a football at his feet. You crossed your arms, a smile on your face as he approached. He was supposed to babysit the kids while you were at work, not give them cavities.

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "Hey Laleh." He greeted her while pressing a kiss to your cheek. "How are you?"

"Fine. I see you guys have a full house now."

"More or less." He sighed. A sigh that caused a jab in your stomach.

"Baby, you didn't have to take the kids out to the park. You could have just watched them while you were resting." It was supposed to be Ruben's day off and now you felt guilty for ruining it.

"Yeah, but they got pretty bored of watching TV all day." He said. "I didn't mind taking them to the park. We had pretty fun playing football."

"Uncle Ruben lost." Emmy said, throwing away her popsicle stick in the nearest bin. "I thought you said that he was a professional auntie Y/N?"

"I am." Ruben frowned.

"Could have fooled me." Emmy scoffed and walked off to join her brother that had taken interest in the old people doing a funny dance under the oak tree.

"It was two against one." Ruben assured you.

Laleh laughed.

"Sure it was, baby." You patted his arm.

"It was. And I was tired from a whole week of training."

"Of course you were." You pushed up and pecked his lips, whispering against his mouth, "I hope you're not too tired for tonight. I'm finally off my period."

Ruben's eyes widened with interest, a smirk twitching his lips. "I'll see you at home then."

"See you." You waved, teeth biting down on your lips.

You went back to work that afternoon with mixed feelings. The week had gone by so fast. Your niece and nephew were going back home to live with their dad just when they were starting to come to terms with the fact that their mother was never coming back to them. It will be hard to let them go, not knowing if your parents will pamper them with the same loving affirmation like you have been doing every day for the past week.

"What are you thinking about?"

Ruben's chest vibrated against your face, his voice quiet and deep in the night. The children had gone to bed early while you and Ruben stayed up in your room, finally getting a moment to yourself.

"I'm worried about Emmy and Vale."

"You are? Why?" Ruben's finger drew lazy patterns on the hill of your naked shoulder. He did so, tracing his finger down your arm and then back up again, causing goosebumps to rise.

"My parents..." You sighed. "They're not very good with kids."

"No?"

"No."

Ruben lay quiet, his eyes gazing at the ceiling before stating the obvious. "Didn't they have two of their own?"

You shut your eyes, but shifted so that your chin rested against Ruben's sternum. Your eyes opened and found Ruben watching you, his expression dark but attentive.

"They did have two kids." You nodded. "But my sister and I took care of each other. At least for the most part. It was mainly in our teens that our parents stopped paying attention to us. Almost as if they one day decided that they had done enough for us."

"I see." Ruben removed a strand of hair from your face, letting his hand linger against your cheek.

"It was terrible." You said, remembering your parents' first vacation without you, and then the second one and the third one.... Liza wasn't too bothered by their absence, but that's because she had football. You on the other hand developed some bad attachment issues. Issues that showed themselves in future relationships. Mainly how you handled heartbreak, often blaming yourself. You also put others before you to a point where your own boss found you a replacement to cover your shift at work, only because she knew that you wouldn't dare to ask for a day off on your birthday. That's how much of a people pleaser you were (had become).

"It's a good thing that they have each other, no?"

"Huh?"

Ruben nibbled his fingers at your earlobe. "Emmy and Vale," He said. "I'm sure that they'll be looking after each other."

"Yes, but they shouldn't have to. My parents should—"

There was a crack of the door as it slowly came ajar. "Auntie Y/N?"

"Emmy?" You quickly reached for the bed sheets.

"Auntie Y/N, we can't sleep."

"No?" You couldn't see her where you lay pressed against Ruben's naked chest, the two of you butt naked under the sheets. Nevertheless, the door cracked open some more and you sighed.

"Yes. Me and Vale. Can we sleep in here with you and uncle Ruben?"

"Erm..." Ruben was already reaching for something on the floor. A pair of shorts. "You know what. Why don't you go and wait for me in your room? I'll be right there with you, baby."

"Oh. Okay." Her bare feet were heard scattering away, leaving the bedroom door open.

"Fuck."

You pushed off the mattress, climbing over Ruben, sliding down the bed. You hurried to get dressed, looking back at your boyfriend who was left in bed.

"I'm so sorry. I've got to—"

"It's okay." Ruben smiled. A thin smile. "I'll see you in the morning."

You nodded, closing the door behind you. The apartment lay quiet in the night, the city lights showing you their way towards the guest room. You opened the door with a light knock and was surprised to find Emmy and Vale in bed together with the dog. Iker who squealed and wagged his tail at the sight of you.

Vale was fast asleep while Emmy moved over to make a spot for you in the middle. There you settled with the dog curling up on top of your pillow and Emmy wrapping her arms around your stomach. You draped your arm over her head, pressing her closer to you. That's how you fell asleep, to the sound of the dog's light snores, in unison with the children's. For the split second between sleep and alert, you thought of Ruben and how this was the first time in three years that you slept apart. At least without saying goodnight.

The next morning went by in a flash. By ten o'clock you Ruben and the kids were out of the apartment, on the road back to London.

It wasn't that you were in a rush. It was just that the drive back to Bournemouth would take your parents a few hours. It was best for the children to grab their things as early as possible to save time.

"There they are!"

"Grandma!"

"Grandpa!"

Emmy and Vale scattered out of Ruben's car as it pulled up to your sister's house. Your parents had coincidentally arrived at the sametime you did.

"How are my favorite grandchildren?"

"Grandma, we're your only grandchildren." Emmy and Vale giggled, swept up in your mother's embrace.

"Are you? How could I forget?"

It was all smiles and giggles in the front yard. Your dad and Ruben shook hands, but not much more words were exchanged beyond that. Same thing with your mother. The farthest they had gone to approve of your relationship with Ruben was in the form of an yearly invitation to visit them in Bournemouth in the summer. But only at the sametime as your sister and her children were there. Other than that they left you and Ruben alone. Possibly because they were both radical traditionalists. Your mother once told you when you first started dating Ruben, that a man like him would only string you along as long as you maintained your youth and never upsetted his lifestyle by bearing children. It was a cruel and unfair thing to say, and perhaps your parents being born and raised in Chelsea might have something to do with their resentment towards your boyfriend. Nevertheless, you had learned to live with it and so had Ruben.

"Kids!" Your dad announced with a clap of his hands. "Let's go inside and help your dad with your things. We have a long drive ahead of us once we're done."

"Yay!" Emmy and Vale joyously sprinted into their home, through the door that had been left unlocked.

You and Ruben entered the house behind your parents. But just like them you were struck by the mess in the living room and the kitchen. Boxes lay scattered all over the floor. Boxes containing old books, records and pictures of—"

A heart-wrenching scream shook the house.

"Emmy!" Your heart tied a knot as you sprinted through the house in search of her. You passed the living room and pushed through the door to the office. In that moment an incredible stench hit you like a wall, tearing up your eyes as you regarded the tragic scene before you.

"My dad is dead. My dad is dead!" Emmy cried, and ran to you hiding her face. Vale on the other hand, stood in shock, his mouth left open, watching his father who lay slumped over the desktop his skin pale and gray. However, he wasn't dead. He was just passed out in a pool of his own vomit. Hence the stench. You counted at least four bottles of something strong, whiskey perhaps.

"Y/N?" Ruben appeared behind you in the door, wrinkling his nose once the smell hit him too.

"Oh dear." Your mother gasped. Your dad pushed past her and into the room his eyes wide and his breath shallow. "Valentie." He hissed. "Please, get away from there."

He didn't move, his feet remaining glued to the floor while his body trembled all over.

"Oh dear." Your mother repeated tugging at your arm for you and Emmy to step out of the room. However, you couldn't leave, not without Vale.

"Son, please" Your dad pleaded. Tears were seen streaming down Vale's cheeks but other than that he was unresponsive.

Your mother could no longer bare the tragic scene and disappeared down the hall, dialing 999 on her phone. Meanwhile you and Ruben watched how your dad struggled to get Vale's attention. The boy was simply in shock.

"Vale please." You cried. "Come to me." His sister trembled in your embrace, her arms wrapped around you tightly. So tight that you couldn't move. "Please, Vale."

His tearfilled eyes shifted towards you and the look in them was nothing but dreadful, emptied of all light.

"That's it. Good boy." You encouraged, as his little feet shuffled slowly towards you, or towards Ruben to be exact. He walked past your dad, stretching his arms above his head. And for a moment you saw the hesitation in Ruben's eyes. The fear. But he bent down to pick him up, cradling a sniffling Vale in his embrace.

The ambulance pulled up to the house as you stepped out of it. And just as you thought to see the end of a nightmare, another one had just begun.

Part 5 and Part 6 are out on my Patreon!

[lttl3babybug]

cg!dean headcanons please and thank yoi hes literally my big brother🙏🏻

Yippee!!! Cg Dean!!! I love Dean!!

If any of these look familiar it’s bc they’re from my Cg!Destiel Headcanons. I spent the whole time writing this so unbelievably confused as to why I felt like I’d written some of these hc’s before 😭

Cg!Dean Winchester Headcanons

🍔Dean is such a chaotic caregiver

🍔Like three rules maximum but the rest he’s making up as he goes

🍔Hell yeah you can have gummy worms for breakfast kiddo!

🍔He’s so so hands on with you

🍔Dean loves arts and crafts, he will happily craft with you

🍔Finger painting is a pretty big thing for him too. Loves a good finger painting session

🍔You give him your finger panting and he gives his to you or Sam

🍔His personal favourite crafts are bracelet making, tub full of pony beads

🍔He also loves Hama beads, course he’s the one who irons your creations cause you’re too little to be handling the iron

🍔Dean and you have matching bracelets that he NEVER takes off ever. He made yours and you made his

🍔You’ve got top priority. Sam gets kicked out the shotgun seat of the impala. That is yours

🍔He’ll take you on drives if you’re feeling restless and won’t take a nap

🍔He tried his best to keep bits of gear on him at all times, chewy necklace, paci, crayons and paper

🍔Anything that’ll help you

🍔No hunts while you’re small. He drops you with Bobby. There’s no ifs or buts about it he is not letting you get hurt

🍔Dean is so damn protective of you, no one lays a finger on you

🍔Loves holding you, he’ll carry you on his hip or just have you in his lap on the couch

🍔Dean loves the interactive picture books, the ones with the little puppets in them or patches of fabric

🍔He’ll also play toys with you! He loves a stuffie tea party, spreading gossip among your stuffed animals is his favourite thing to do

🍔If you’re taking a nap he’ll probably be taking a nap with you because lord knows that man is tired.

🍔That means sometimes naps last 3-5 and other times they last 3-12pm the next day

🍔He’s surprisingly good with fussy littles

🍔He can calm them down and fix whatever was upsetting them

🍔Dean is all for a cozy night in with his little

🍔Hot chocolate, fuzzy blankets, cartoons on, stuffies cuddled

🍔That is an ideal night for one Dean Winchester

🍔This man gets so damn invested in whatever cartoon his little is watching

🍔Course he still loves scooby doo but he’s also a pretty big tmnt fan and Pokémon fan

(I god damn love tmnt I’m SORRY im projecting.)

🍔If you’ve got long hair he’ll learn so many different hair styles for you

🍔His personal favourite is to braid your hair, little pig tails

🍔He’s so big in nicknames for you, he love love loves pet names for his little

🍔Princess/Prince, honey, hun, little one, pumpkin, sugar etc

🍔He also likes when you use nicknames on him

🍔Dee is his personal favourite but he loves papa or bubba too

🍔He learnt how to sew just to fix any of your ripped stuffies or dollies

🍔His favourite game to play with you is restaurants or grocery shops

[starsurface]

awn I loved the headcanons you made of mk11 johnny so much!

So, I realized that until now I haven't asked about my favorite character! and I was sick these days (thank God I'm better) and I want to project myself into him lo

l so could you please do sick regressor mk11 kung lao with lord raiden as his caregiver?

. . . I kinda made Kung Lao . . REALLY sick, for some reason. And I will admit that the Hcs are focused more on the fact of him being sick than small, sorry about that!! <3

WARNING: Throwing up, Bad flue

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Lord Raiden w/ Sick Regressor Kung Lao MK11 Hcs

⛈️ Lord Raiden does not often get sick

🔘 And most times Liu Kang can burn away his sickness with his fire powers

⛈️ So the only one that gets sick sick is Kung Lao (Liu Kang has gotten sick a few times, but it’s still rare-ish)

🔘 And when I say sick sick, I mean really sick :(

⛈️ Snotty nose, throwing up, coughing up a bunch of flem, none of it’s a good time

🔘 ^ Normally Kung Lao tries to push through his sickness, the Great Kung Lao doesn’t need to take some nap or medication!! He can tough it out by himself!! 💪

⛈️ If he’s not too sick, he can get over it

🔘 . . . But if he’s really sick, Fujin sends him straight to bed after a small lecture

⛈️ It’s Raiden’s job to watch over him

🔘 Why? Because Someone put it into his head that he can tough everything out, Mr. Lord Thunder >:(

⛈️ At first Kung Lao’s super whiny about being ‘watched’ at first, he was an adult!! He could go out and train still!!

🔘 But when Raiden started spoon-feeding him? 

⛈️ Oh, it’s tiny time on spot time

🔘 And now Lord Raiden has a sick baby on his hands

⛈️ A sick, whiney, clingy baby on his hands

🔘 Kung Lao now has one mission: To get on Raiden’s lap and refuse to leave

⛈️ Why would he want to leave? He feels all icky and gross and now Grandpa- Uh, Dada is here to help him feel better

🔘 He’s so sick he willingly calls Raiden ‘Dada’ instead of Grandpa, so you know he’s sick sick 🥺

⛈️ Raiden will gently rock him, letting Kung Lao cling to him

🔘 Holding his bucket when Kung Lao throws up, helping Kung Lao drink some water or brush his teeth afterwards

⛈️ Usually little Kung Lao hates it when his hats taken away

🔘 That’s his hat!! >:(

⛈️ Lord Raiden has no reason to take it away from him!! He wants it back!! He won’t hurt himself!! . . . Too much

🔘 However, right now Kung Lao will gladly give up his hat for some clingy cuddles

⛈️ Lord Raiden, somehow, convinces Kung Lao to take medicine, even if it’s a bit yucky >:\

🔘 Kung Lao doesn’t want to take it . . . But Dada says it’ll help him feel better, plus Raiden’s always pressed the cup to his lips so he might as well drink it

⛈️ But he wants some yummy apple juice afterwards!!! >:(

🔘 Raiden usually wouldn’t have him drink anything that will make his tummy become more upset, but a bit of apple juice after yucky medicine is something he can slide by

⛈️ Raiden is NOT allowed to leave the room

🔘 He can’t anyways, either Kung Lao is dead asleep on him, or his grip is so tight he simply can’t remove him

⛈️ Kung Lao has two favorite sick activities: Being bottle feed and playing with trains

🔘 Of course Lord Raiden will bottle feed his baby!! Some teary eyes and a lip quiver, and Raiden will request for someone to send a nice warm milk bottle

⛈️ Even if Kung Lao is feeling super yucky and icky, he still wants to play with Dada

🔘 So Raiden will put his train set on the bed, and him and Kung Lao will roll the trains around until it’s time for another nap

⛈️ Raiden’s actually very worried with how sick Kung Lao is, because little Kung Lao has never been this docile with him

🔘 He’ll take Kung Lao to the medics for a ‘fun trip’, so he can get a sucker and see his favorite nurse!! (one of the few that deals directly with sick or hurt regressors)

⛈️ But honestly he just wants to make sure one of his favorite mortal is okay (it really is just a bad flu, he’ll get over it in a few days)

🔘 However, there is a big joke about ‘Mama Bear Raiden’ for the next few weeks, which both big and little Kung Lao soak up like a sponge in water 😮‍💨

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Also I'm glad you liked my MK11 Johnny Hcs!!! :D

I didn't know what emoji to use for Kung Lao, so 👒 was my best bet. 😭 (I'll take suggestions for his emoji!!)

[best-nun-tournament]

Round 3, Match 1

Azula and Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender) vs Kraus, Eva, Rudolf and Rosa Ushiromiya (Umineko)

Propaganda under break

Poll Runner's Note: Eva and Azula are kind of similar except unlike Ozai, Kinzo is a huge misogynist. Feels kind of weird to make that distinction though like "Heartwarming! Genocidal Fire Lord respects women!"

Also telling Azula that her brutal murder spree was "inelegant" and "undignified" would work: she'd keep killing people, but she'd try to make it an elegant and dignified murder spree.

Azula and Zuko

Azula tried to kill Zuko multiple times, manipulated him, scared him, she was even kinda happy when Zuko got that big ass face scar. MAN she even said "I'll be celebrating the day i become an ONLY CHILD" and then proceeded to try and kill him. They also compliment each other Zuko is an 100% daddy issues man and Azula is like the mommy issues girl.

-----

They were always pitted against each other by their father, and indirectly by their mother. She was everything he was not. She liked to tease and torment him and he absolutely seems to dislike being within eyesight of her. Until he found his honor! Then he was able to redirect her lightning and save his nation!

-----

They are horrible to each other and if they would somehow team up everything would be on fire - literally

-----

She is the golden child, she knows this and uses it to her advantage She constantly mocks and belittles her brother She tries to kill her brother She tries to kill the people that her brother cares about

-----

Their whole relationship is just so messed up

Krauss, Eva, Rudolf and Rosa Ushiromiya

The four children of billionaire Kinzo Ushiromiya. Every year, they return home to Rokkenjima Island for a family conference. With Kinzo's health declining, to the point where he hardly ever leaves his room, the only topic on their minds is how to carve up his fortune.

Krauss is the eldest, and Kinzo's successor. Even if he's not the smartest of the siblings, his position as heir and imposing physique let him push them around. He even used to beat his younger siblings. Now, they suspect him of abusing his position as Kinzo's caregiver to embezzle their rightful share of the family fortune.

Eva is the second child, and incredibly resentful about it. She despises the fact that despite being so much more intelligent than Krauss, he's always above her just because he's older and a man. She's devoted her whole life to usurping Krauss' position, and then devoted her son's life to becoming the next heir instead of Krauss' daughter. When not scheming against her brother, she loves finding ways to torment and cruelly provoke her siblings, sister-in-law, and the servants.

Rudolf is the third, and with little hope of becoming heir, became a conman and a playboy (though he eventually settled down as a married man and white-collar criminal). Suffering from his sibling's bullying, he turned all their physical and emotional abuse on his sister Rosa. Though unlike Eva, he's stopped being cruel to her as an adult.

Rosa is the youngest sibling, and she's had a terrible life. Even as an adult, she's still terrified of Eva and acts dumb around her for fear of provoking her. But if she was given the opportunity, she could easily make them pay for what she's suffered.

[sabersandsnipers]

Baldur's Gate III Masterlist

This is the most content I've written for any group of characters so it's getting its own masterlist.

Multi Character: Baldur's Gate 3

Drabbles: Reader is Sick or in Pain

Drabbles: Just One Bed

Drabbles: Caregiving

Random Baldur’s Gate Headcanons

Drabbles: First Kisses

Drabbles: Just One Bed (part ii)

Halsin

Drabble: Halsin Heals You

Halsin Helps You After An Injury

Daddy Halsin

What's In Your Head

Like Real People Do

Halsin Building a Crib

Book Shopping with Halsin

Rainy Days with Halsin

The King of Caregiving

Hot Spring with Halsin

A Traveler in the Grove

Astarion

Ascend

Control

Drabble: my strange addiction

Drabble: Comforting Astarion After a Nightmare

Drabble: You Tell Astarion You’re Pregnant

Drabble: Watching a Sunrise with Astarion

Drabble: Dancing With Astarion

Drabble: You Get Burnt Out

Drabble: Astarion Comforts You

Drabble: Asking Astarion's Permission

Drabble: Touch Starved

Blood Stained

Drabble: Trying to Study

Winter Solstice with Astarion

Drabble: Astarion Helping You During a Breakdown

A Trap Lies Ahead

Astarion & Halsin

A Stray on the Road

Raphael

Raphael Gifts You a Library

Drabble: Soft Moment with Raphael

Drabble: Raphael and a Fellow Cambion

Drabble: Raphael Finds Out You're Pregnant

Lord Gortash

Drabble: Gortash Using You

Drabble: Dancing With Gortash

Drabble: Soft Moment with Gortash

Gale of Waterdeep

Drabble: How Gale Reacts When You're Injured

Argument With Gale

[slowtides]

I’ve been seeing a lot of stories about people leaving other people because of cancer diagnoses (and the backlash that comes from that, of course), and it just makes me think about how my moms worked so diligently to prolong my mom’s life because they wanted more time together, even though they knew it was terminal from the beginning.

At the time of her death, my mom had been in a morphine coma for a few days, and L was clear that she could go when she needed to go, but she made sure someone was always with my mom, holding her hand. But the day before she died, L got the oxygen machine and hooked my mom up and said that she was going to get my mom to tomorrow because it was their anniversary the next day. And she wanted to have had 10 years with my mom. And when it was midnight, we gathered around my mom’s hospital bed in the living room, and we sipped champagne. L got one of those sponges on a stick used for wetting lips, and put champagne on it and gave my mom some too. She died later that day, on their 10th anniversary.

But the thing is that people outside our core family (especially the reformed homophobes) tend to view L as my mom’s nurse rather than as her lover. Because even though she stayed through everything and they did everything together to celebrate my mom’s life and enjoy every minute together, it was still, from some outsider perspectives, about lesbophobia. Because it was more conceivable for her to be a nurse for my mom than a wife, her care somehow not the same as her love (her care and her love are the same).

I’ve talked to L about this a bit, but it hurts her so I try not to bring it up. But when I read these stories about men leaving women who have been diagnosed with cancer, and other stories about men sticking by women and being treated as doing the right thing, it strikes me that in my experience, some people would not have thought twice if L had left my mom because they never respected my moms’ love in the first place or viewed it as legitimate. And the fact that L stayed is less about her love and devotion to my mom and more about her being my mom’s nurse (not her wife).

I’m not disputing that these conversations should happen, and that there are not convos about misogyny that need to happen, but these conversations are also often heteronormative and ableist because of how they frame caregiver/romantic relationships. My mom and L were married until the end. They kissed and celebrated their love until the end. My mom wasn’t some sexless shell that needed a nurse. She was a woman who loved her wife and was beloved.

Even conversations that harshly criticize men for leaving women after cancer/MS diagnoses need to be aware that they recreate these heteronormative standards of devotion, and that they often (unknowingly or no) frame cancer/MS diagnosis as something that removes sex and intimacy from a relationship. That people need to stick by someone in spite of this diagnosis that changes or removes parts of their relationship. Dying people are not just vessels for caregiving.

These thoughts are underdeveloped, but I wanted to start thinking through them because they’ve been in my mind for a while. I remember reading Audre Lorde’s cancer journals, when she talks about masturbating and desire before and after her mastectomy. And how the nurses encouraged her to get a prosthetic breast to make her chest even. And I’m just thinking about how lesbophobia implies that dying and disabled women are sexless caregivers of each other, but that they should still be willing to be sexualized and objectified by men in post op.

If anyone has readings related to this phenomenon, I would be interested in them.

[cardboardheartss]

Kim Soo Hyun Chart Readings

😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬

Background Information : KSH had been getting exposed people are pointing out his really odd psychotic behavior from things he said in the past. As an Astro girlie… it was time to get to work!

Natal Chart Reading :

KSH is a Saturn dom man, he has multiple planets in both Aquarius and Capricorn. KSH is an Aquarius Sun, Moon & Mercury. It’s pretty obvious that he is already detached from the get go, with his Mercury being in a cancer degree, it’s possible he could be manipulating and use his partners words against them.

Aquarius’s ruling planet, Uranus is at 0° in Capricorn along with his Saturn too. This explains how he, in the past was open about relationships and wanting to be the dominant person in the relationship. Saturn, lord of time could also indicate why he said he wants to date younger people because he wants to be dominant in the relationship.

Mars in Sagittarius at 25° (Aries), I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he dated outside of his nationality to be honest. But anyways, in a blog post in the past he mentioned how he wants his partner to be able to live around him as he gets angry quickly. Not all Aries, but majority of the time Aries are known to be really fiery and lose their temper quickly (on my side as an Aswini Rising, I agree 🫣)

His birth time is unknown but IMO I believe KSH could possibly have a 5H Lilith and this Lilith is at 20° (Scorpio). He seems to look down on women or he probably gets jealous of women pretty easily, leading to him being obsessive over them.

Sidereal Chart Reading :

KSH has a Scorpio Venus, and I’m aware not all Scorpio Venus placements are this way but this placement of his makes him hella obsessive.

In his Sidereal chart he has Cancer Mercury and once again, he could toy with his partners emotions. The deity for this mercury is ‘Nagas’ which is part are part of the Serpent Creatures in Hindu/Bhuddist mythology.

In terms of this particular situation about KSH, I will only point out the similarities of his behavior with the Nagas deity. Nagas are good at ‘crushing’ and this makes sense as KSH said that he wants his partner to “die” because of him. Nagas also has a ‘Prehensile Tounge’ which means Nagas has the power to manipulate objects/people. In KSH case, he is able to sense his victims, he knows what type of women is easily manipulated and this is the reason why he wants to go for younger women. Lastly, Nagas have ‘Multiple Heads’ in this case this could easily point out KSH possible multiple personalities he puts up in order to pull people in and once he knows he got them he can reveal his true personality.

He has an Aswini Moon, and this also emphasizes how quickly he can get angry and what’s funny about this is how Ashvini rules over health and look at what KSH said…

moon rules over the mother, being nurtured and frequented habits. So he obviously expects his partner to be like a mom/caregiver and constantly watch over him…💀

KSH has an Aries mars, and this definitely emphasizes his temper problems and his Bharani is ruled over Yama (God of Death) and with his past being brought up, he seems to have really destructive and narcissistic tendencies because WOW!! That little post of his speaks volumes!

here’s his full post btw 👆🏽

Well!! That’s it for today!! All I have to say is wow because this new information from his old blogs about him shocked me because I wasn’t expecting all of this. But at the end of the day… we all really don’t know each other so we really can’t be out here putting each other on pedestals…🤷🏽‍♀️

Once again… Thank you for reading 📦

[cloudysugarpeachyvasha]

Fictional age regression challenge day 6:

An "unfitting" character (a villian, someone from horror, etc) that you hc as a regressor

Lord Karl Heisenberg

Headcanons:

• Age: 6-12

• Doesn't like being called his last name

• Hates mother caregivers

• Gets into sooooo much trouble 

• Like so so much trouble 

• Ethan has to watch him and keep him away from his workshop so he doesn't hurt himself 

• He is always working on something 

• Most of his projects center around sculpting with metal wire because they are much less dangerous 

• He always argues he can use big boy machinery and it's totally safe if he is only using his powers to use it (spoiler alert: it isn't)

• Ethan started by giving him cute plastic dishes and silverware, but he hated them (not only could he not manipulate them they were way too infantilizing)

• Ethan got him custom dishes with lots of carvings, and he loves them

• Karl has twisted and bent soooo many dishes and random knick knacks during hit temper tantrums 

• Karl is a very mischievous brother to but also takes care of her Rose

• He has made skis for a big dog bed and pulls Rose around on it all the time since it's more comfortable than a wagon and was more fun to build (whenever Ethan catches them he makes Karl go back to using a wagon)

• He has a horse plushie he carries with him everywhere 

• Donna even helped him get a chunk of metal inside his horse so he can carry it around with his powers (it's anatomically correct heart shaped,  to Ethan's dismay and irritation

• He has a giant flat elephant plushie he uses as a pillow and curls up on it a bit

• His favorite blanket is a simple quilt Donna helped and taught Ethan to make

• He plays dolls with Rose (using dolls made by Donna of course)

• He denies it no matter how little or big he is (he will however play dolls with Rose with Ethan present)

• He loves watching black and white horror and sci fi movies

• He also loves to watch a lot of spaghetti westerns

[babylon-crashing]

In 1995 I joined Peace Corps and was sent to teach English at the Lord Byron School 10 in the city of Gumri, Armenia, which had been devastated in a 1988 earthquake killing more than 100,000 people. It had never been rebuilt and I lived and worked with the populace in improvised huts on top of the rubble. Judith Mann, a photographer, traveled to Armenia a year before I did and recorded the following:

“The next day we travel north through stony mountains to the city of Gumri, devastated by a 12.5 earthquake in 1988. 80% of its buildings were destroyed. The people who survived now live in small metal shacks, most without plumbing, all subject to the same energy shortages that plagues the rest of the country. It is a shock to see an entire city still in ruins and piles of rubble everywhere; it looks like 1945 post-World War Europe, as if a vast firebomb had leveled everything. Our first stop is an orphanage. The masonry building was deemed unsafe after the earthquake, so the orphans are crowded into little metal buildings, fifteen cribs to a room, tightly jammed together. The nurses do not seem to be particularly interested in them handle them only when necessary. Greek physicians from ‘Doctors Without Borders’ have come to perform an operation on a girl with a cleft palate. What of the other children who had physical defects but were otherwise normal? The cheerful little toddler with foreshortened arms and his sister? What would years of an institutional life do to them?”

I was not expecting to assist in the care of terminally ill children when I arrived in the city; however it became apparent that there was great need in helping the very same state-funded orphanage Mann had visited. My job also became one of caregiving; I washed, fed and played with most of the fifty-odd infants (ranging in age from “0 to 5” as the director of the orphanage joked) and while many were healthy it was the first time I was exposed to youngsters with terminal diseases. There are still taboos in Armenia when it comes to dealing with people with disabilities or disease; I took on jobs many of the nurses who worked there shunned.

][][

Notes.

A good part of my MFA thesis was trying to understand what had happened to me in my two years away. A huge handicap in this was that 90% of the terminology I used was meaningless to most readers who knew nothing about Peace Corps or Armenia. So I had to attempt to explain the terms without turning the poem into, as they say, a scantily clad info dump.

This is one such attempt. I wrote it back in 2002 while living in Las Vegas,