#fel got mail!

[xellandria]

70 #62, Alliance #32, Paladin #3. Casual ~4h 10-70, nbd. I rolled this character because I've been wanting to make a transmog based around the cosmetic 1h fel-corrupted mace from Maiden in Tomb of Sargeras for a while, and I have a good set designed for mail! But unfortunately it requires some pants out of Sanctum of Domination that I don't currently have, and Shadowlands content isn't legacy loot (until 71, presumably) so when a friend of mine and I ran SoD earlier in the week, we got no loot whatsoever. Not great, lol. Anyway, so I figured I'm the least familiar with plate but there's gotta be some good fel stuff in there, right? But I don't have an addon that will let me conveniently browse ACs that aren't mine anymore* so I had to actually roll a character to check with, and then I was like "well the prepatch event is happening and it's good exp I hear, I might as well soak some of that up while I'm browsing" and one thing led to another and I still haven't looked at plate mog to match the mace but I do have another max level character instead.

So there's that.

(* why don't I have one? because the default UI lets you do it now. Did I remember this until I was writing this post up just now? Hey what's that over there!)

[iwillruletheuniverse]

Mum got her crossword magazine in the mail today and there is a panda on the cover❤️ Also in the magazine: they fel so much like me and Thomas💞 Baby panda even has blue eyes♥️ Panda bears are special because Thomas kinda looks like a panda but also because in Secret Life of Pets 2, Snowball sings a song called Panda❤️ I often called Thomas Snowball before the first movie came out💖

[petriichors]

[TYS 2] SeBaek + #19

SEBAEK: things you said with blooming bruises and stinging cuts

“you didn’t have to do that, you know?” sehun frowns at the smiling baekhyun.

the older male has a bruise forming on his cheekbone and a cut near his eyebrow which had stopped bleeding after sehun let baekhyun into their shared apartment. baekhyun shrugs off his jacket, flinching as it hooks onto his left wrist. he definitely needs to get that checked out.

“hyung, i’m serious. you shouldn’t have to get hurt because of me.”

“uh huh. so i’m supposed to let you get beat up instead?” baekhyun snorts, fingers prodding at his bruise. he was going to have to steal some concealer or something from jongdae. heck, he was going to ask jongdae to cover this up for him since he was great at covering up all those hickeys all these years.

“stop that, it’s just going hurt more,” sehun swats his hand away. “and no, i won’t get beat up. i can run. i’ve got long legs, hyung.”

“now you’re just being silly, sehunnie,” baekhyun grabs hold of the younger male’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “i’m always going to protect you, alright?”

sehun pouts but nods anyway, “alright.”

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER (CLICK FOR LIST) FOR A MINI FIC

[theseoks]

hi! could i ask what font you used for your jin epiphany phone wallpaper? i love it a lot :0

hi, anon! i used signerica which you can download here.

[mwagneto]

Melyik egyetem ez? Nem valami szervezett wow. Nem jovoheten kezdodik amugy az elso het?? Miert nincsenek idopontok beirva? Huh, hat sok sikert. Ez a varolistas dolog is erdekes lol. Talan az alapjan fogjak megszabni a fo limitet?

Mindenesetre megeri tanaroknak irni emailt, ha ugy van. Csak ird ki a teljes titulust nevet stb, legyel illedelmes, es a vegen mindenkenkepp ird a neved, neptun kodod meg hogy milyen szakos, hanyadik feleves diak vagy. Altalaban szeretik az ilyen leveleket lol

eheh nem akarom doxxolni magam sorby de jah nagyon izén van szervezve 😭 és de literally mindjárt kezdünk és mégis... okés meg fogom próbálni 😳😳😳 köszi szépen

[charliehoennam]

quarantine pick-me-ups and eat-me-outs

A/N: My city is under lockdown and I got the quarantine blues so this is purely a self-indulgent drabble. @agentpenas @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook @holbrook-boyd @tellyouamystery tagging you beauts because I thought you'd enjoy it. Sorry I haven't been as present as I'd like to be, but I'm coming back...slowly lmaooo but I'm trying y'all ❤

Warnings: 18 & over only!! covid-19 quarantine; oral performance; voyeurism (kinda? i think?); language.

Pairing: Quinn Makenna x gn!reader

Word count: 1,312

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG!

There was nothing better than feeling the worry melt away like butter in a hot pan every time you caught a glimpse of Quinn from the corner of your eye or heard a noise echoing through your home.

Whether it was just spurting curses for stubbing his toe against the coffee table or hearing the echoes of his talks to Rory on Facetime, it was enough to remind you he was home and safe.

When you got used to Quinn’s absence, it was fairly common to unintentionally forget he was back.

He didn’t take any offense by it; he understood the adapting period better than anyone including you. Now, with the pandemic, you were forced to work from home and it was good. Ensured your safety and income all the while helping you adapt quicker to Quinn’s return. But there were other factors you had to adapt to and one of them was business video calls.

Getting out of bed was already hard enough to do. Seeing him beautifully wrapped in your love-stained sheets begging for you to resume the matinal erotic playtime you had just finished indulging in certainly didn’t make it any easier.

He spent such much time away on lengthy military operations in some corner of the world that would probably take you a little while to locate on a map.

Though you learned to work with the long distance, intimate videos for his eyes only and phone sex could only do so much.

It wasn’t easy on his end either; his hand could never replace your warm, wet hug tightening around his cock which only made him even more grateful for every time he came back to you.

Surely, the sex was one of the benefits but both you and Quinn looked forward to these moments: nothing could compare to the sweet familiarity of being home.

It killed you a little inside that you couldn’t give him the full attention you wanted to. He didn’t demand it from you.

There was nothing you wanted more than to be in bed with your boyfriend, catching up on your TV shows together with snacks and pauses for a different kind of snack.

He knew you had to work and he respected that. He nodded and curled his lips into a sympathetic smile which ironically made your heart sink ever more.

The fact that he was so understanding made you want to make it up to him and you promised yourself you would the second work was done with for the day.

The meeting had barely started and you were already through your first cup of coffee. Everyone had to give their weekly reports, share information and take notes that made you wonder why this couldn’t have been done over e-mail instead.

Your cellphone lit up with Quinn’s text which you expected since he was already in the kitchen fixing himself some toast and eggs.

You smiled glancing at him and reply discreetly on your phone.

“Coffee?”

“Yes plz!

Meeting is boring af

heeeeelp😭”

Your giant boyfriend doesn’t reply; you can hear him chuckling as he walks over to grab your empty mug and fill it with the hot beverage just the way he knows you prefer.

Sat at the other side of the table, Quinn quietly eats his breakfast while catching up with the news on his phone although he can’t really seem to concentrate on any article.

His eyes kept drifting back to you like a magnet unable to resist the pull, subconsciously wanting to make sure you’re really there; that he’s not imagining it like he has before. However, it doesn’t take a genius to see you were beyond bored and trying your best to not seem as uninterested just like your fellow co-workers.

He wanted to do something to cheer you and he thought of the perfect thing to amuse you.

You could tell he had a dirty thought in mind by the way he stared at you, lent back lazily in his chairs letting his eyes eat you up like the night before when you were riding him into bliss.

A flush of heat shot up to your cheeks as you tried to remain the calm facade for the camera when you caught his large body slipping underneath the table.

Judging from the way his eyes darken, you know it can’t be good.

As his large frame slips down under the table, you begin anxiously squirming in your chair wondering what he’s up to.

It’s only when his lips press against your thigh that you realize he’s got an appetite for something else.

You have to glue your eyes to your notes as you hear yourself stuttering during your turn of the presentation. The son of a gun picked the worst moment to go down on you, but you want him so bad.

He knows you do and he asserts that his hands wrap around just below your knees and jerk you towards him, forcing your legs to spread open for his hungry mouth.

You, my friend, are the only thing on the menu now. Ain’t no running from him now – not that you would if you could.

Your eyes close for a moment when his warm wet lips latch onto you. You try to play it off like you’re trying to remember all the issues you had to discuss with the team and so far, you seem to be doing a great job at it. But he knows you better.

He knows you’re struggling to keep calm by the way your fingers rake his hair and the hitch he hears in your voice which you try to mask by clearing your throat. Your mind tells you to focus, but your body betrays you and expands to welcome his broad silhouette.

When his hands join in on the action, your posture instantly straightens and the volume of your voice increases just a tad. If your co-workers could hear the wet squelches of your embarrassing wetness, you don’t think you could ever show your face at work.

Quinn has an innate talent to think ahead – probably due to his position in the military forces – so he limits his movements to a slow pace.

You assume it’s to avoid loud noises, but you’re almost sure it’s purely to tease you. You crave that friction, the roughness of his long fingers handling your sex like he owned it.

Keeping still becomes of a challenge with every stroke of his tongue, circling and suckling on that sensitive spot that gets your toes curling.

The searing white hot heat pulses through your body and you’re already at the edge in every way of the word. The edge of your seat and the edge of your bone-tingling orgasm he’s building up in your core.

You fight against it throughout your presentation and once your boss thankfully shifts the team’s attention to another worker, you hit that mute button just in time for the curses to roll off your tongue.

“F-Fuck, baby. Right there!” you yelp shutting your eyes tightly as you lean forward with an elbow propped on the edge of the table and a hand over your mouth. Who knew you could mask your O-face so well?

Your body trembles as you come undone in his mouth, tugging at his golden locks as he eases you down.

“Easy now, darlin’. I got you.”

He’s got the widest smile on his face when you look down at him. When did he drape your leg over his shoulder?

“Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what sorta trouble you could’ve gotten me in?” you feign at him with a dazed smile. He chuckles peppering kisses over the supple flesh of your thigh with a cocky smile.

“In all fairness, you did ask for help so I helped. You can thank me later.”

[hcm92literature]

Chapter ten - Chat Noir is Missing

A Cat and A Prince Master Page

Read on AO3

My Miraculous Ladybug blog

Author’s Notes: MORE ANGST!! Also possible plot holes but please ignore those… haha

“Chat Noir is missing.”

Marinette nearly collapsed at those words. She, Alya and Nino had been searching all night, and now in the first rays of the sun, they were with the paladin officer who had just had scouts come back from the front and they had not seen Chat anywhere. Alya put her arm around Marinette’s shoulders as she grabbed her hair in her hands, panic flooding her head and chest. What should she do? What could she do? She couldn’t hear any of the words the people around her spoke as every possible scenario ran through her head and the worst ones were the loudest. She would never forgive herself if anything had happened to him. It would be all because of her and her stupid plan to find out if he was the runaway prince.

The paladin officer said something to Alya who nodded and began steering Marinette away. It wasn’t until they were inside that Marinette recognised the healers’ tent, and Alya explained to the senior healer what was happening. The healer placed his hands on her shoulders and began reciting a spell, and Marinette felt her emotions begin to calm. But then she looked down at one of the patients and imagined them to be Chat Noir and the panic rose again. The healer looked down at her in dismay, turning to Alya and expressing concern that his spell had not worked. They steered her into a smaller room and sat her down on a chair, attempting but failing to calm her. Nothing would console Marinette from her panic. She had to find him. She had to.

Marinette shot up out of the chair and bolted for the tent’s exit. Alya shouted and ran after her with Nino following as they raced passed, but neither of them were as fast. No-one could catch up with her as she sped towards the front, desperately hoping she would immediately see him and apologise and everything would be back to normal. When she arrived, all she saw was the clash of weapons and spells and the flurry of different coloured armour and robes, but there was no black to be seen. Not even the soldiers on the opposing side wore black. If she had been less panicked she might have wondered at that, but for now she had one objective and nothing would distract her from it.

Alya and Nino finally caught up to her as she had paused to scan the battlefield, and they both stared at her as they bent over and attempted to catch their breaths. A healer and paladin who were supporting an injured fighter in blue water buffalo plate mail began staggering toward them, and they stopped to ask what was wrong as they saw Marinette’s tortured expression. Alya briefly explained that Ladybug’s paladin was missing and she was desperate to find him, and the fighter looked up in surprise.

“Ladybug? You mean Chat Noir’s healer?”

Marinette’s eyes snapped to the fighter’s. “You know him?”

The fighter seemed a bit taken aback by her intensity but nodded. “I share a sleeping tent with him. I was guarding the camp’s entrance last night but saw Chat running for the front and left my partner to follow him because he looked upset.”

Marinette grabbed his shoulders and poured a little healing magic into him. The fighter’s eyes widened in surprise, but she needed more information. “Tell me what happened. Please.”

“Well, he would not respond to me when I called for him to turn around. He got perhaps a third of the way across the field when a projectile from a trebuchet landed nearby. I thought for sure he was dead-” Marinette felt her chest tighten but the fighter continued. “But he got back up. Shakily, mind you. But he did, he got back up. I could not believe my eyes. And then I saw two people go over to him and he suddenly collapsed into the larger soldier’s arms, and they…” His expression became pained.

“They what?”

“They… took him to the other side. The enemy’s side.”

Alya and Nino gasped and Marinette felt her stomach sink. This was almost as bad as him dying. They had taken him prisoner? What if he was the prince and the enemy used that to their advantage? But conversely… what if he wasn’t so they thought him useless and… and… She stepped back away from the fighter and stared across the field, her eyes full of tears, searching for something she would never be able to see from this side. “Stupid cat…”

Alya thanked the fighter and ushered for the healer and paladin to take him away before turning to Marinette. “What should we do?”

Nino piped up. “We should tell the paladin officer, that is what we should do.”

He was right, of course. But something in Marinette was screaming for her to do something else. She reached her hands up to touch her earrings for a moment, asking her magical being for strength, then looked back up to the other side of the field in determination… and started running.

“Marinette, no!”

[filthy-darkweaver]

Interview with the Kael... pire??

Come meet Faltheriel's boss, King Kael'thas Sunstrider!

Dannox: *Holding cellphone, narrating wobbly camera footage* And... action!

Faltheriel: Kael'thas, you should say something.

Kael'thas: I thought this was a practice run? The real Daily Mail Orgrimmar crew doesn't come until tomorrow. *itches his nose* Right? Unless you're sending this to them. Which would be... cute, I guess. But also utterly stupid.

Faltheriel: Yes, correct, my king. It's all happening tomorrow, officially. But if we're going to practice, then you should rule the interview. Sort of, talk first and with authority. Run the show. Oh, and avoid scratching your um, your nose.

Dannox: No, it's good Faltheriel. It makes him look human.

Kael'thas: What!! Well I am definitely not scratcing my nose or anything close to a nose on my face--Ugh, those Alliance dogs! Faltheriel, you're supposed to be my chief advisor, why didn’t you warn me?

Faltheriel: I did try to just now, but I can't future-proof everything you do, Kael'thas.

Kael'thas: Aren't you a shadowpriest or something? Or didn't you used to be? *hairflips, inspects his perfect nails* So just go on and read my mind, then. Stop me from embarrassing myself. Wait, we need to cut to commercial or something. This nail got chipped while I was gesturing rather ferociously. And how did that even happen, Faltheriel! My nails are your job too.

Dannox: *snickers* Oh goddess, this is gold. Kael'thas is twice as pretentious as Rhonin, and ten times prissier than Haris Pilton, at least!

Faltheriel: Let's start over, Kael'thas. If we even can at this point.

Kael'thas: Why not? You've finished an excellent touch up job in record speed, Faltheriel. I daresay you've earned it. *blows on his nails to check if they're dry*

Dannox: *more shaky camera footage* So what color are your nails now, Kael'thas? I think that's a nice shade, different from before.

Kael'thas: A fel green. But they look black, don't they? I love the not-black shades. And Faltheriel, I guess I will apologize for snapping at you earlier. I'm nervous, if I'm honest. I mean, what do these Daily Orgrimmar people--

Faltheriel: Daily Mail Orgrimmar. It's a celebrity gossip news show.

Kael'thas: *dons an especially snotty look* What do they want? Why do we even care? By we, I mean me you know. What's my motivation? Am I being charming? Threatening? I guess I need to know whether I'm being Heroes of the Storm Kael'thas or sexy, trashy Tempest Keep Kael'thas.

Faltheriel: No, please don't--

Dannox: Tempest Keep Kael'thas was more sort of just being high and weird all the time.

Kael'thas: Well. I do suppose every artist goes through many phases. That time in my life was...

All at once: ... merely a setback.

Dannox: Yeah, we know.

Kael'thas: Oh! That's like my cool catchphrase. Should I say that at the interview? I could... oh, what do they call it? I could meme myself!

Dannox: No.

Faltheriel: That is not a good thing, Kael'thas.

Dannox: Though, you know what? I would describe Shadowlands Kael'thas as the one who was trashy. Even nasty. In those hot chains? Oh yes. Do that at the real interview tomorrow.

Faltheriel: No, Dannox! Stop, please don't encourage him. You're supposed to be helping me...

Kael'thas: Hold. He may be onto something. Don't tell Denathrius, but I still do have those chains. I mean, I could get them now. *he grins, then goes to change* Why don't I just strip to the waist and go ho myself up in some chains! This is actually fun.

Faltheriel: *seethes at Dannox alone in the royal office*

Dannox: *more narrator voice* What's wrong, baby? You mad at me? Awww, poor thing. Don't be mad.

Faltheriel: I pulled so very many strings to get my boss, the king of Quel'thalas, to do this major interview with a major Azeroth news outlet to improve his PR which is constantly tanking. But Dannox, you've somehow managed to convince Kael'thas to do it shirtless, scratching gods-know-what, and raging about the Alliance, while getting his nails done. This will be so hard to undo, to untangle in his fel magic-addled, twisted, narcissistic brain, Dannox!

Dannox: Well. I figured we might also put this up on your secret tik tok account you think nobody knows you have, except I totally do.

Faltheriel: ...

Dannox: I mean, I know you love your job with Kael'thas. But if you ever wanted to become a Warcraft content creator, this is like a week's worth of irascible comedy gold to launch your career. Kael'thas is seriously like the Kanye of Warcraft.

Faltheriel: ... ....

Dannox: Forget king and country, Faltheriel! Think of how Kael'thas brainwashed you to be a Sunfury! How he lied to and tormented thousands, corrupted his own people! How his mad antics drove you into the ranks of the Burning Legion itself. Aren't you owed the tiniest piece of the pie when it comes to him?

Faltheriel: ... .... ...

Dannox: Can you also not see how fun it would be to cut this up and add little flames and devils around the edges? Set it to your favorite kpop song, or several? I mean, this is dying to become a Kael'thas Boy With Hate meme at the least!

Faltheriel: ... Done.

[trixcuomo]

Daily Writing Challenge - Day 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

Trixany Cuomo to star in new musical mockumentary series! Pride, the Maw, redemption, hollow, memory, sincerity, spellbinding, precognition, affection, affection, jealousy, master.

@daily-writing-challenge

A big screen shows Trixany, the green-eyed bombshell, as she waltzes through a Silvermoon City dance club, spreading powerful fel magic from her eyes and whispering to singer Rommath in this clip from the new funky Kael'thas-era mockumentary 'Some Like it Fel Hot'.

The infamous Horde B celebrity with no pride whatsoever has done it again, this time flanked by heavy-hitter Grand Magister Rommath also headlining a new musical, Burning Crusade-era comedic mockumentery about how Kael'thas lied to the sin'dorei all those years ago.

Can't believe that our resident fel green-eyed beauty would actually get involved in a project so tasteless, that makes light of our communal memory (or trauma) of Kael'thas' cruel deception and the resulting chaos and suffering it caused for the sin'dorei people, as well as all of Azeroth?

Well, we here at the Daily Mail Orgrimmar would like to remind you that the ex-Sunfury, once Kael'thas zealot, turned talkshow hostess, who still considers herself a so-called Blood Knight... also chose to head up the ironically tasteless Kaja-Cola Flava Girls band as its lead singer, once upon a time.

Worse, it sounds like the Kael'thas-era mockumentary was actually parody princess Trixany's idea to begin with.

Footage of Trixany sitting on the hide-and-bone couch in the Daily Mail Orgrimmar studio, legs crossed and bouncing one foot in a fel green, high-heeled pump...

"Just take one look at the Shadowlands. People are tired of redemption stories. Especially when it's all so hollow. Saving your soul from the Maw is not trending, Team Trixany.

"Yeah, so back when we were talking about money to do the whole thing, I said this to Gallywix at the time with real sincerity, 'Why not? Why not make light of the asshattery that was going on at that point in history? Kael’thas was always high, Illidan was going crazy. Both committed terrible atrocities and devastated millions. But strangely, so many people on two worlds still loved them both. And they would go on to be obsessed with those two villains, especially Kael’thas, for more than a decade to come.'

"And do you know what Gallywix said? He goes, 'Well, if there's one thing I understand Trix, it's profit. And, asshattery. You got yourself a deal.'" And then Gallywix literally tipped his ass-hat, just like that.

"He does call it his ass-hat, you know."

Either that's a wicked burn coming from the Horde B celebrity starlette Trixany, when Gallywix has been missing for a while now and can't defend himself, or she's confident that, if that sexy clip is any indication, the already spell-binding mockumentary project is going to make good gold. And a lot of it.

Trixany still kicking her green heeled foot playfully, smirking now.

"Obviously, it was going to be a musical from the start because I sing. I had a sort of precognition about the success of a 'let's shit on Kael'thas yet again' story, but set to music. When I say that, I mean it with affection of course. Everyone loves to hate Kael. But convincing the real Rommath to play himself in the mockumentary, as well as sing and dance? That was a master stroke no one ever saw coming.

"How did I convince Rommath? Actually, Rommath approached one of the producers. He was this mix of furious, yet intrigued by the mockumentary project because, as it turned out, Rommath has this weird, and who knows, possibly valid fear that his master Kael'thas might return one day from the Shadowlands. He's like me and all the people I described before. Obsessed with Kael. And maybe even jealous of Kael's easy celebrity. Mainly though, Rommath is totally paranoid, he's high on arcane crystals constantly or something.

"So I walked up to them talking and leaned into it at the exact right moment. I went, 'If Kael does come back though, do you really want to come across as this bad guy minion scapegoat again, Rommath? Why not get your real story out there. Do a great performance and grab some of your own fans in the process. Have them laugh with you, not at you.

"And do you know what Rommath said? He goes, 'Well, Miss Cuomo. If there's one thing I understand, it really is telling loads of lies while I'm high on arcane crystals. You have a deal.' And ontop of that, Rommath turned out to have an amazing singing voice.

"Then one downside, Gallywix disappeared in the middle of filming. But then again, we still had all his Goblin financing so we just added a bunch more musical numbers and, well, hopefully we ran it into the ground with too many Kael'thas jokes and played-out Burning Crusade references. There's even a number about a tap-dancing fel reaver but the fel reaver moves too slow you see, so he gets sad. That part's sort of a dramadey? Drama comedy. And! We even squeezed in Anduin in a blonder wig as Kael'thas, then Wrathion surprised us by playing Illidan as if he was into Anduin-- like romantically? We totally just let them. I mean Anduin-Kael'thas and Wrathion-Illidan gave into their true feelings one day while we were filming I guess, and they started making out on set. That was the Black Temple harem scene. We let them go for it. It went on for a while.

"And that scene left me thinking? Like, how could the real Kael'thas and Illidan not have kissed? Like at least once, right. That was a crazy funky time, there was a lot of fel magic flowing back then, there was a lot of experimentation going on, and not just with making baby demon hunters. Plus, they're both gorgeous!

"Rather than the real Kael'thas and Illidan being mad if they ever watch my mockumentary? Pfft! I bet they'll both thank me. In fact, that was such a hot scene between those two, I think they'll really, really thank me if they're over at someone's house, you know, a certain palace in Silvermoon, and cuddled up on the plush royal couch, lights low, hand entertwined in purple claw, bunned up and watching it together. Y'know what I'm saying?

"Oh, honey! I hope life imitates art. I've always shipped me some Illy-Kael!!"

Well. We... We here at the Daily Mail Orgrimmar can barely follow that. But we do wish Trixany luck with another one of her bold, obsessive, shameless ventures. At least until Gallywix comes back and loses his shit. And what a big, beautiful dump it's bound to be!"

Back to you, Kiff!

[antleredthrone]

A voice mail was left on Thranduils phone. "Hi this is Theresa at Grace Hospital, Im calling for Thranduil Oropherion, you where listed as Mr Fel Galadion emergency contact number, Im calling to inform you that He got into a car accident last night and were wondering if you are able to come down. Thank you good bye"

He wished that he didn’t care.

The entire way to the hospital was silent, Thranduil thinking to himself that he should just turn around after what had happened.

Sitting in the waiting room, Thranduil kept his arms crossed, wishing that he didn’t feel the sense of worry in his chest that he currently did. Why did Fel have him as a contact anyway, if he just thought he was a reckless whore?

@emptygoldthrone

[vonahalv]

The Mystery (Part 2/?)

Two Days Later in the Mage District

Finn entered the dark building.  Despite being located in a popular district of Stormwind, this place was always dark and nearly deserted.  It gave him chills just entering the building. Maybe it was the name - the Slaughtered Lamb - or perhaps it was the fact that once you walked into the basement you realized it wasn’t a tavern at all.  

~~~

Outside, Anjewel had been walking across the rooftops engaging in her normal, albeit personal, patrol.  She was on her way to the Mage District to check for incoming mail.  It had been two days since she wrote Valdis and wanted to see if a reply had been sent.  Anjewel spotted Finn walking alone and was just about to jump down and call for his attention when he entered the Warlock Coven.  A chill ran down her back as Valdis’ words ran through her mind. It’s a hard position Anj. Everyone wants power and I hold it. I don’t know whom to trust and every day someone new works to thwart all I’ve worked for to restore order and defend Azeroth.  I can always trust you, right?

Anjewel swallowed hard and realized that she had been too open with Finn, and he knew Valdis led the Black Harvest - an organization once thought dead until the Legion threatened to take their world once more.  While the information could be found out, it was hard to do, and Anjewel had just given it away.

It’s Finn.  I’ve known him forever. This is just Val’s paranoia eating away at me.  I can’t handle it anymore.  I already have to write her in code, and I can’t use her real name in conversation. This is ridiculous. I don’t know what he’s doing, but he’s not going after Valdis.  Still, she found herself unmoving from the rooftop as she watched for his exit, her expected reply forgotten.

~~~

Within the Slaughtered Lamb, Finn made his way down the darkened staircase.  Working from memory, as he dared not write anything down to be found, he made his way through winding corridors until he found the one he wanted.  A fel green hand surrounded by a circle was painted on the door.  He knocked once, then twice, then once more before taking a step back.  

A voice rumbled from behind the door, “Enter.”

Finn entered the room and closed the door behind him.  Sitting behind a large, hard carved and sparsely decorated desk, sat a Draenei in a robe. Though the robe was hooded and covered most of the figure's features, the tendrils hanging from his chin gave his race away.  The figure motioned, and Finn moved to stand just a few paces away from the desk.  

“What is your progress?”

“She wrote the First and cut off her ties for a time.  It is as you wish. The First is utterly alone, partly due to her own making, but now in part because of your own.  The sister does not believe, but suspects enough that trust will be hard to earn again.  The sister believes she is doomed to have only failed relationships, save the one she has with me.”

The hooded figure slid open a desk drawer and removed a pouch of gold.  He placed it on the table, and Finn felt a thrill flow through him.   It sounds so much heavier than I expected. Moving quickly to take it, Finn secured it to his belt and stepped back to his place in the room.

“Excellent. Why attack the problem head on when one can simply weaken the defenses?  Your work is complete for now.  Keep the sister away and eventually the First will fall.  She already crumbles. Just a slight nudge in the wrong direction and her position can be ours.”

The dismissal was clear, and Finn turned to leave.  He made his way back upstairs and into the daylight.  He stood to the side, closed his eyes and took a focused breath.  I am doing that more and more lately.  Is it worth this?   He took a step and the gold jingled in the pouch.  He felt his anxiety leave, and whistling he headed in the direction of home.

~~~

Her heart fell within her chest.  I’m not the best at my job, but I’m not an idiot.  He didn’t have that pouch going in, and that’s the fifth time in two days he’s had to slow down and calm his nerves.  Valdis is right, and this time I’m to blame.  Anjewel went to stand and lost her footing.  She landed on the roof, her hands slamming into the tiles before she rolled off onto the soft ground below. 

A few moments later, Anjewel opened her eyes to see Finn staring at her.  Fuck.  She looked around to find that he wasn’t the only one looking.  As she perused the faces staring in her direction, she saw a draenei leaving the Slaughtered Lamb.  Time to think about that later.  Filing away his facial features, Anjewel laughed. “Ooops!  I was practicing and must have slipped.  Finn, what are you doing here?”  She struggled to get up, and Finn offered his hand.

As she got up, Anjewel worked at the clasps on his new money pouch before throwing an arm around his neck and leaning on him.  “I’d stand tippy toe to kiss you right now, but I’m afraid I sprained my ankle. Can you carry me to the physician around the corner?”  The crowd was gathering around them now, and she knew there would be no better time.  She feigned falling against him and in doing so she caused the coin purse to drop.  A well timed shriek of pain covered the sound of money hitting the ground.

“Of course Jewel.  Let me.”  He wrapped her arms around his shoulders and scooped her up.  The crowd around them cheered and Anjewel looked behind to ensure that some untrustworthy soul took the gold pouch.  It didn’t take long, and Anjewel rested her head against Finn's shoulder.  “Thank you Finn.  I should probably practice closer to the ground next time.”  As he carried her two blocks down, she thought about that draenei and worked to memorize his face before the details became blurred through pain medication.

Draenei would never willingly work with the Legion, demons or the Black Harvest.  So if a draenei has, they are a traitor to their race.  Now I just need to find him and coerce the truth out of him.  Another thought, more chilling than the others so far, raced through her mind. What if it wasn’t Valdis? Finn has been working extremely hard to get me to believe Valdis is responsible for this large case of missing persons.  But he has A LOT of information for someone who just cares for my general well being. If that’s true, my latest letter played right into plans I’m only just now beginning to suspect.  And how long has he been at this? It has to be recent… it has to.

[dbhtychou]

Valentine’s Day Excerpt

This is old, but since it’s both Valentine’s Day and day one of CG&HA Week, I would repost this Valentine’s Day scene from “Chicago.

Full, finished fic can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17717597/chapters/41798249

A week and a half later, it was February 14th. It went on like every other day at home, but that evening after dinner, Samantha presented Connor with a brown padded mail envelope.

“Sorry, I don't have any wrapping paper, so it's just in the package it came in,” Samantha said. “I hope you don't think it's weird I got you a present for Valentine's Day. I just wanted to buy something for someone.”

Connor said nothing as he put his hand into the already opened package. As usual, he had no opinion on this particular holiday or presents. But then he pulled out a bright red tie and something inside him that wasn't supposed to move shifted just a little. He held it in his hand, just staring.

“I saw you looking at it both times when we went to the mall,” Samantha said. “I thought you'd like it.”

Connor continued to stare at the stark red tie. “It doesn't really match my suit.”

“But do you like it?”

The answer fell out of his mouth before he could even think about it. “Yes.”

Samantha smiled. “Then wear it anyway if it makes you happy.”

Connor then looked up at her, his expression suddenly worried. “I didn't get you anything. I... didn't expect this.”

She just smirked at him as she walked toward the kitchen. “I had something in mind that you can do for me if you wanted to give me a present.”

“Yes, I'll do whatever you want.”

Samantha grinned to herself. The things he said to her sometimes. If a human man had said them, the meaning would have felt so much different.

“Good.” She set out two wine glasses from the cupboard. “I would like you to drink with me tonight. That is my request.”

Connor looked at her in confusion as she poured one glass of wine. “I can't drink that.”

She then pulled out a silver canister and poured a deep blue liquid into the second glass. “High grade. The amount was measured specifically for your size. Just enough to give you a good buzz, said the guy I ordered it from.”

“When?” Connor asked in puzzlement. He was with her practically every moment of the day.

“When I was on the library computers. You can get anything done online.” She picked up the glasses in one hand and the wine bottle in the other. “Come on.”

To the parlor they went, as they often did at night. The world outside was brown and ugly in February, half the snow melted, but still miserably cold out. Instead of turning out the lights to watch out the window, Samantha turned on the fireplace with the flick of a switch. They sat together on the couch in front of the fire, lights on.

Samantha sipped her drink as she sat with back against the arm rest, feet on the couch cushion so she could face him. “Try it,” she said, nodding to the drink in his hand. “I want to see what it does.”

Connor would have never tried this of his own volition. He was doing it because Samantha asked as a thank you for the tie that he, honestly, looked forward to wearing. He sipped the glass carefully under her gaze. The sensors in his mouth that he used to identify certain types of evidence immediately analyzed the substance. It was indeed thirium, but in a heavier concentration of certain elements. It went down thicker than the regular kind, sticky and warm, but not unpleasant.

“How do you like it?” Samantha asked.

“It's... nice,” he took another sip.

She watched him, pleased, chin resting on her palm. It took until Connor had fished her from the lake for Samantha to really look at him. She asked him to tell her about his time working for the Detroit police so she could continue to study him without it seeming weird.

He had kind eyes, she noticed. Soft edges and brown like melted chocolate. His voice wasn't the same as other androids. Theirs were always manufactured to be crisp and clear. Connor's was... smokey. How does one make a robot's voice sound smokey? And that mouth, how it would seem so stoic to the casual observer. But Samantha noticed how it quirked itself in little ways when he talked to her. And that adorable smile when he saw the tie she gave him. That mouth was downright kissable. Why were these Cyberlife jokers making an android that was so kissable?

Samantha averted her eyes after that, wondering where that thought came from. Even worse, her brain was still going. He'd let you kiss him, it told her. He doesn't care if you touch him. Which meant it wouldn't mean anything to him. Because he was an android, not a person. Samantha was letting the wine and the loneliness get to her. What a hell of a holiday to spend the evening alone with a handsome man who was wholly incapable of reciprocating any affection she could give him.

Her gaze wandered from him, looking past the back of the couch around the rest of the parlor. It settled on the dusty piano and Samantha let out a long breath. Connor had paused from giving a rather report-type accord of some of his cases as he noticed her attention was focused elsewhere. He followed her gaze to the piano.

“Good enough time as any, I suppose,” she muttered.

Connor wanted to ask what she meant, but he said nothing as she downed the full contents of her wine glass and stood. She walked over to Connor and reached down to push his glass up with her fingers.

“Drink it. All of it.”

Connor did not comply. “Since I have never ingested this type of thirium before, I think it will be more pragmatic if I take just a little at a time.”

“Drink and I'll play you something.”

Connor's eyes widened. He glanced back at the piano. “On...?”

“Drink it.”

Connor tipped his head back and poured the entirety of the contents down his throat. He could immediately feel the thick liquid spreading through his system as he set his glass down on the coffee table with finality.

Samantha grinned at him and held out her hand. He paused before taking it and she pulled him to his feet. Hand in hand, she led him over to the piano. Connor's gaze was transfixed on where they joined. He had never held hands with anyone before. If he could like something, he would like this.

Samantha sat herself at the bench and patted the space next to her in invitation for Connor to join. He sat with enthusiasm, eyes full of interest as she lifted the cover from those pristine black and white keys. The stark colors were beautiful to him. He watched as Samantha raised her hands and then set them on the keys. She pushed down gently at first, a C Major chord. Then she ran a few scales, familiarizing herself with the movements.

Connor was mesmerized as each key was pressed. They all made a different sound. So many, many different combinations of possible sounds. He raised a hand to press those tempting keys himself, but paused when Samantha made a grunt of displeasure.

“I can hear it,” she said with distaste as she played a simple tune with her right hand. “I can hear this stupid fake hand hit those keys. I hate that sound.”

“Play louder,” Connor suggested.

Samantha's response was to suddenly run her hands up and down the keys in a cascade of notes. Connor jumped a little from surprise at the sound. And Samantha was so animated doing it, being purposefully sloppy and loud. Connor found it quite comical and a noise escaped him, something he had never done before.

Samantha instantly stopped playing. “Connor, did you just giggle at me?”

“Did I?” he wondered.

She started laughing. “You have this stupid grin on your face.”

“I do?”

“Do you feel... happy?”

“I...” He could feel that smile pulling at both sides of his mouth. There was a giddiness bubbling up inside him, trying to come out. He barked out another laugh and quickly covered his mouth.

That just made Samantha laugh more. Her laugh made him laugh and now both were just laughing and pointing at each other.

“They weren't kidding with that stuff!” Samantha giggled. “You're laughing like a little kid. I need to get some more of that!”

“No! I don't want any more!” Connor protested, though he was still laughing uncontrollably. He covered his face, trying to get this weird malfunction under control.

His struggle just made Samantha's laughter turn into a tickled cackle—which just got Connor laughing again at seeing this new, weirder laugh that Samantha was demonstrating. Samantha laughed until tears were coming out of her eyes before she finally got it under control.

She wiped her eyes as her giggles began to settle. Connor's attempts at composing himself were becoming more successful as well.

“I guess I needed a good laugh,” she said, rubbing the wetness on her finger. “Can't remember the last time I had one.”

“Cathartic,” Connor agreed.

“I didn't even know androids could laugh,” she answered, grinning wide. She knew she was probably going to laugh about it later, too. Seeing such a stoic face just break into giggles was a treat.

“I didn't know either,” Connor mused, and seemed not entirely happy that he now had the ability.

Samantha grinned to herself as she started to play the piano for real. A playful, upbeat jazz song skipped over the keys, jumping and dancing from one chord to the next as if Samantha were sampling multiple songs at a time. Connor loved, it; hearing the melody, watching her fingers fly over the keys, each one producing a different sound. The cadence of swing, of not quite being on the beat, of pushing each note with feeling, was surprising and wondrous. For a time, he was lost in the music as it swirled around him, making him dizzy and giddy all over again.

Then, the music suddenly tripped over itself and came to a halt. Samantha held her right arm, watching the fingers twitch with a pained expression.

“This damn hand,” she hissed. “It can't keep up.”

“I thought it was very nice,” Connor said. “The best I've ever heard.”

She wasn't listening as bitterness set into her voice. “Why did they have to take this hand? Why couldn't it have been the left one?”

Connor felt that question was rhetorical, so he said nothing. Though the statement was curious and his LED flickered blue as he thought about her words.

Samantha covered her face, letting herself sink into self-pity for a time before she pulled herself back up. With a deep breath, her hands hovered over the keys again and she played. This time, the melody was slow and soft with a bittersweet romance to it.

Connor sank into the music again, closing his eyes for a moment. But opened them again when he heard Samantha's unexpected voice.

She'd trade Colorado if he'd take her with him Closes the door before the winter lets the cold in And wonders if her love is strong enough to make him stay She's answered by the tail lights Shining through the window pane

He said I wanna see you again But I'm stuck in colder weather Maybe tomorrow will be better Can I call you then She said you're ramblin' man You ain't ever gonna change You gotta gypsy soul to blame And you were born for leavin'

A story, Connor thought. A story through music.

Samantha glanced his way as she started on the second verse. Her voice was sad and haunting, even though she was smiling at him. The music became louder, more soulful as it reached the bridge.

Well it's a winding road When you're in the lost and found You're a lover, I'm a runner We go 'round 'n 'round And I love you but I leave you I don't want you but I need you You know it's you who calls me back here, baby

Her fingers flew unerringly over the keys this time, her face flushed, eyes closed with the thrill of playing a beautiful melody. And then it suddenly drifted into nothing and her voice, alone for a moment, continued to sing.

When I close my eyes I see you No matter where I am I can smell your perfume through these whispering pines

The piano picked up again, a few simple keys to accompany her voice.

I'm with your ghost again It's a shame about the weather I know soon we'll be together And I can't wait 'til then I can't wait 'til then

She finished the song with the closing melody and then the sound drifted off. The music left the two of them sitting alone together.

“That... is a sad song,” Connor then said.

“I'm a sucker for a good, sad song,” Samantha responded, her hands now sandwiched between her knees.

“Thank you for playing for me.”

“You're welcome. Thank you for bothering me about it. I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”

“Samantha, the song... what does it mean: stuck in colder weather?”

“I didn't write the song, so I couldn't say exactly.”

“What is your interpretation?”

She took a moment to look thoughtful. “I guess... it's cold weather of the heart. He's not ready to commit. He hasn't warmed his heart all the way to let this other person in. But, the bitter sweetness of the story is that he also won't let her go. Some part of him wants her and expects her be there. That line: 'it's a shame about the weather' says to me he just wants to sit in limbo. He doesn't want to change, but he doesn't want to give her up either. And I think one day he's going to show up to see her, and she won't be there anymore because she's done waiting for him to get out of that weather.”

Connor made a sound of acknowledgment, but said nothing more on the subject. They eventually drifted off to different topics, talking idly as the night went on. Then, they just sat together in silence. And the silence was nice as well. Connor was beginning to understand this concept of bonding without speaking.

His inner thoughts drifted off to do their own calculating until he felt a weight next to him. He looked over to see Samantha leaning against him, eyes closed with her head on his shoulder.

“Samantha, I think it's time for bed,” he said.

“Mmm,” she agreed. But then didn't move.

It was a few minutes before Connor decided he would have to do this himself. “Come on.” He put his arm around her and pulled her to her feet as he stood. Samantha walked with an unsteady pace, lightheaded from the late night and the alcohol in her system. Connor, who had already cycled through his thirium by then, was the steady one of the two as he tried to help her across the room. He noticed she wasn't even keeping her eyes open as she walked. That didn't seem safe.

The only recourse was to take control. He bent down and picked her up. Her form was boneless in his arms, one arm reflexively going around his neck. As he carried her through the house, her nose brushed against the sensors behind his ear and an unexpected but pleasant sensation went down his spinal strut.

“You don't smell like anything,” Samantha murmured to him.

“I don't?”

“I don't know why, but I thought you would. You look like you smell good.”

“I do?”

“Mmhm.”

Immediately after, it seemed Samantha had drifted off. Connor carried her to the bedroom and, with an impressive show of his android strength, held her with one arm as he used the other to fold back the covers. One knee pressed to the bed, he set her upon the mattress and pulled the blankets over her. As he moved away, he felt something catch the tail of his jacket.

“You can stay... if you want,” Samantha mumbled, eyes still closed.

Connor looked down at the hand holding onto him. When he didn't say anything, she eventually dropped it. He turned back and watched her lay motionless on the bed. She wasn't asleep yet, he knew. He waited.

“Why are you still standing like that?” she then muttered with one crack of an eye.

“You said I could stay.”

Her body shook with silent, tired laughter. “I can't even tell if you are being facetious with me.”

“I am not aware I have this capability.”

“Okay, now you are just being a smartass. If you want to get in the bed, you can get in the bed. Or if you want to leave, you may do that, too.”

“If I am in the bed, I will be the one closest to the door,” he informed her.

She cracked an eye at him again, a big grin on her face. “Yes, sir.”

“It's for your safety,” he insisted as he removed his jacket. He folded it carefully and draped it over the reading chair in the corner. Next came his tie as he toed off his shoes. Practicality said he should remove his dress shirt and pants as well if he did not want to wrinkle them. Practicality also told him that sliding into bed without clothes was not necessarily appropriate.

Unbuttoning the first top buttons of his shirt, he slipped into bed next to her, still dressed. Samantha slid over to make room for him. He settled on his back, laying stiffly with arms at his side, looking at the ceiling. He had never had a reason to lay down in a bed before. This was all new to him.

Samantha slid up to his side, propped up on an elbow as she watched him. Her finger played with the LED at his temple, covering the light with her finger and then revealing it again.

“You're my best friend, Connor, do you know that?”

The android blinked at her. He could never guess what was going to come out of her mouth. “I'm your best friend? You can just decide this?”

“Well, you're the only friend I have, so I guess it's you by default. Plus you did save my life. You're so easy to be with. I never thought having you around would be like this. Life is... better with you in it. I want you to know that.”

“Good. My primary objective is to take care of you. If you feel that way then I am doing my job correctly.”

Her smile to that was hesitant and Connor felt a distinct sense of falling short of what a correct response to something like that should be. He knew better. His advanced programming knew of a better response, but he couldn't feel that response. He was an android after all. This was the extent of his emotional range. Still, he added, “I prefer seeing you happy, Samantha. I hope you are always happy.”

Then her expression just melted and she lightly kissed his LED. “Best android ever,” she said with humor before settling in next to him. The only physical touch was her head on his shoulder. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, very acceptable.”

A small laugh from her. “Good night, Connor.”

“Good night, Samantha.”

[moonlitarrow]

Over and Over Again

(CW: Torture, Imprisonment, Surgery)

Gavriyal’s entire world had been that barren stone cell, for what felt like an age. Food simply appeared, no door or slot opening. Alenras had certainly outdone himself in constructing the place to hold her between sessions of his torture of her. With no windows or doors to mark the passage of days, she had no idea if she had spent hours, days or weeks--it was either here in her cell or in her brother’s workshop. 

That workshop. Rows upon rows of reagents on the walls, tools on racks and set out on trays. The table he always strapped her to was cold, always icy cold. The thick leather of those straps always unyielding, rendering her unable to do anything but lay there. 

The first time she had been in the workshop had been surreal--of course, having one of your eyes carved out of your head while you were still awake had to be. 

She might not have been able to see out of that eye, but the sensation hadn’t been any more pleasant despite it. She had still felt the pain as Alenras had peeled back skin, cut the tissues that still held her long-disused and somewhat shriveled and fel-scarred eye in place. Once he’d torn it free, Gav had passed out. Briefly. Gavriyal was brought back to consciousness when he had begun to carve into the bone around that eye socket. It was easy on that side; with the flesh there largely torn away when she had endured one of his previous assaults. 

Alenras had carved into the bone in the entire circumference of her eye socket. He hadn’t stopped there, either. Once he’d finished his carvings on that side, he began to peel back the skin from around her good eye as well. This time, though, he left that eye intact. 

The pain from it all had rendered the entire experience blurry and fragmented in Gavriyal’s mind, leaving it much like that of a nightmare. She had awakened in her cell with stitches all around both eyes, and bandaging put over the one he’d taken the eye from. Later, she had taken it off and found that he had replaced her bad eye with a new one--her full vision restored. Gav had nearly torn this new eye out of her skull, overflowing with revulsion and the feeling of such deep violation. 

But she knew he would just do it again if she did. 

The second time she had ended up in his workshop, it was after he had visited her again. Alenras had swiftly put her on the ground again in abrupt fashion. Again he had dragged her into his workshop. That time, he had strapped her to the table face down. He spent hours carving and etching more runes into her bones--this time the bones of her spine and the backs of her ribs. He hadn’t said what that session had been meant to improve, but when Gavriyal had healed from that surgery, he visited her again. This time, the huntress had found herself fast enough to deflect his blows, even to almost get the upper hand on him. 

He had broken her arm when he finally got a hold of her. The upper arm, as well as twisting to snap her wrist. This was what heralded the third visit to the workshop.

Gavriyal didn’t know what her brother did to heal the bones he’d broken, but the hours he spent--flaying open her flesh and muscle to get to her bones--carving his runes into those bones negated any relief the healing had given. Struggling was always useless against the thick leather straps. She suspected they were enchanted, much like all of the tools her brother used. This session, it wasn’t just her arm he carved. So much more, her legs, her ribs, her neck… hours of such careful, expert surgery. Not a moment of it was tempered by any sort of pain relieving substances. 

This was life as her brother’s prisoner. Surgery. Sparring. Surgery. Testing. Carving. Evisceration. Taunting, discordant conversation. Well, Alenras attempted to make conversation even as he vivisected her. His tone was nearly always conversational, amiable and somehow pleasant. Asking her about her family, about what she’d been up to since they’d last crossed swords before she became his guest. He asked about Estel, about Shalaisa. When Gav failed to offer replies, he had begun offering grotesque speculation about it all. 

 Often all she could offer in reply were agonized whimpers, screams and choked gurgles. Occasionally she managed to spit mouthfuls of her own blood out at him, along with a few choice expletives. When her brother’s speculation turned to Estel’s conception or to their relationship involving Valdyrr, Gavriyal made sure to include a mouthful of blood along with her insults. 

The next time he entered, he brought in training swords--not wooden ones, but extremely heavy, blunted two handed swords. Their sparing slowly became more evenly matched. In the beginning it was hard for her to lift the blade he gave her, but  after yet another surgery, her strength was enhanced. 

Soon her cell was filled with the sounds of metal crashing against metal, blow against blow and the scrape of boots on stone. This was the longest she’d lasted against Alenras since she’d arrived, and for a fleeting moment she was hopeful that it might be the last time that they faced off. Blunted or no, the enormous blade was heavy and durable.If swung with enough force it might even penetrate the armor her brother wore. 

Alenras had been wearing plate mail when he’d captured her, an iron-grey plate that was etched with spell runes--many of the same he’d carved into his sister’s bones. When he was here, though, it seemed he preferred to dress lighter. Leather and chainmail, each etched liked his heavier armor. Lighter, though it was, it was still durable and kept most blows that Gav had landed from being anything more than a glancing strike. The blade would need to be much sharper to do more than bruise. This time, he defeated her with the flat of his blade striking her head and knocking her unconscious. 

At least this time she had been under when he’d begun the process of opening her flesh and skin to get at the part he wanted to ‘improve’. Though when his scalpel began to carve into the bones of her skull, she snapped back to awareness. This time, she had a glimmer of hope when one of the straps keeping her arm immobile began to tear as she struggled--but Alenras noticed this increase in her range of motion immediately. She didn’t see what he gave her to tranquilize her, but it worked swiftly enough that she was almost sure that that tiny victory had been naught but a dream. 

If it wasn’t for the extra straps and stitching to repair the damage the next day she ended up on his table. 

Eat. Sleep. Fight. Endure. Eat. Sleep. Fight. Endure the pain. Sleep. Fight. Endure. Fight. Endure. Sleep. Over and over and over again. Eat, sleep, fight--as though the lack of a sense of time passing wasn’t enough to warp her sense of time passing or even of reality.

The only indication she had that time was indeed passing was that her hair was growing far longer than she usually let it get. She’d been chopping it off to keep it manageable since she had been a Sentinel, not wanting to give any opponents something to grab her by. It had always grown thick and somewhat wild--but now that it was long enough that she could see it, Gavriyal was surprised to see that it was no longer the snowy white that she had always seen in the mirror. Now it was black, almost inky in its color. How long had it been changed? What had he done to alter it? What else was different?

Discovering this inspired her to examine the scars that these various surgeries had produced. The more she looked, the deeper the feeling of revulsion began to rise in her. This rise seemed to leave room for a pit to form in her stomach that seemed to gulp down most other feelings. Her arms, hands--Elune, even her fingers--all bore deep scars where Alenras had been opening them to get at the bones that formed their framework. She had no diminishing of her range of motion, but she had to look as though she had been wholly stitched together from a medley of pieces by now. 

She was grateful that there were no mirrors in her cell. There was no sleep for Gavriyal that night.

Again the sounds of their sparring was filling the room. Blades clashing, scraping stone, blows exchanged and dodged. This time, several of her strikes actually seemed to manage to take Alenras by surprise, even staggered him. But still he did defeat her, pinning Gav with some effort and a knee in her back. For once, it seemed like her brother was winded as he disarmed her, and then rose from his victorious position. He was smiling.

“Fantastic improvement, sister.” Alenras said with a chuckle. “Not quite a draw, though. Now...” He set his training blade back against the wall nearest where he stood. “Are you going to walk like a civilized being, or shall I drag you out like a sack of potatoes?”

Gavriyal gave him a withering glare as she got to her feet. With one swift, sweeping motion, she brought her blade up and slashed it up from Alenras’s hip--or tried to. Her brother caught the blunted training blade in one gauntleted hand. The force of the swing still pushed Alenras back a bit, sliding him back across the floor a good foot from the energy of the blocked blow. 

Gav’s lips curled back in a snarl as she kept the pressure on, staring her elder brother down. This had surprised him--but not displeased him. Her snarl was met with a smug, self-satisfied smile. 

“My, my.” Alenras said, his voice nearly a purr. “We might not even need to do much more work, after all.” He said as he dug his fingers into the blade. “Excellent.”

[petriichors]

baekchen + late night phone call

“hng?”

“jongdae?”

“baekhyun? w-what time is it?”

“shit, sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“nah. it’s fine,” jongdae stifles a yawn, pushing himself upright. the clock on his bedside table informing him in blinding red that it was almost 3 in the morning. “are you alright?”

“yeah.”

“... you sure?”

“... no.”

“okay. do... you want to talk about it?”

“not really.”

“mmhmm. i’ll just stay on the line, okay?”

“okay,” he hears baekhyun shifting, breath slow and measured to calm himself down. “thank you, jongdae-yah.”

jongdae pulls his blanket close, snuggling into the warmth it provided. “don’t mention it.”

SEND ME A 📞 + SHIP + A NUMBER

[theseoks]

16.45 and im anxious af cause i have no clue what i want to do academic and work wise and idk if this new major is something i will enjoy (its sad hours mate)

[sad hours open] ahhh, i think a lot of us feel this way because it’s like a HUGE step forward in our lives and usually our major defines what we’re gonna end up doing in the long run ;v;

if it’s possible, find people who have taken the major before or something similar to it, read up on job opportunities and positions + job scopes of these jobs. you might not get the exact same thing but it’s something that you can use as reference in terms of what you can do with your new major (academic and work wise) as well as prep you for what’s to come. ALL THE POSITIVE VIBES TO YOU, ANON!

tell me what time it is & what you’re thinking about

[mwagneto]

hi for a while i thot listening to hungarian music was cringe im realizing now that i was a fool but now im here not knowing any good bands. any recs

ahh im really sorry but unfortunately I'm the same way so I have no idea skdjdn I mainly listen to Kárpátia and old úttörőindulók??? But I don't really listen to music in general especially not Hungarian so😔