#life should be about like finding joy in your own ways. sitting on the sun improptu dancing on the kitchen hanging out with friends

[couriwaytown]

Im so so so so glad im not on tiktok anymore what the fuck is going on over there. luckily when i was there i mostly stayed on like the queer side of the app and saw particularly a lot of aro content, but oh my GOD the "beauty" side is SO ugly wdym you trained your face muscles to not move that's what they're supposed to do.???? i feel so sorry for all the people that are stuck there it must be hell :(

[strawberrystepmom]

ready to eat

pairing: Yami Sukehiro x F!Noble Reader

word count: 4.9k

contents: NSFW - minors and ageless blogs dni, I will hard block you. Takes place in canon universe, there is a slight age/experience difference insinuated between the pairing but reader is at least 25, reader has named magical ability (movement magic), so much banter, oral sex (f receiving and finishing and it's sexy)

cw: mentions of marriage and misogyny, virginity (reader is a virgin)

notes: brain rot has proven to be fatal so here you are. this is open ended and i would not consider it a oneshot bc i'd love to write more about these two. hope you enjoy! thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3, divider by @cafekitsune

you can find more about these two here, here, here and here 🖤

Nighttime is your time, a lesson you taught yourself independent of your instructors many years ago. 

Movement magic allows you the luxury of blending in with your scenery, rushing unseen toward a capital district that is on the opposite end of where your family has made their name. Nobody here would recognize you even if you were less discreet, cloak gathered around your face and obscuring any unidentifiable features, and the freedom is indescribable; better than every sunny day or freshly made tea dessert. 

You are free to be yourself. Unmarried, unattached, unimportant, it doesn’t matter. You stumble into the usual inn you make your domain until the sun rises, ready to watch the way people you have little in common with live. If anyone knew you’d get reprimanded, probably rightfully, though you have never quite understood the scandal that lies in being a well informed woman. Your mother was a gossip and isn’t that another way to become informed? 

It’s society's acceptable way, anyway.

You slink into the corner table, away from the crowd gathered nearer the bar, and slip your hood off of your face. No glances of recognition from anyone else, too engrossed in their own drinks and their own conversations, and you sink down against the back of the chair you’re sitting in. It’s nice to be anonymous, you decided months ago when you began doing this. You aren’t certain you want to continue being so inconspicuous when you remind yourself why you’ve been doing this to begin with - to gain even the slightest bit of the life experience that continues to elude you. To love and laugh and feel joy that you’ve been told only comes with marriage, something you are too apprehensive about committing to. 

It’s why you come namelessly into a district that does not belong to you or your kind. You hope that someone will find you interesting, a beaten path off their life’s track. Someone to laugh with or tell stories to. It’s all you’ve ever really wanted, a romantic to your core despite the decidedly unromantic life you lead. Caretaking, getting earfuls from your father about being a responsibility that the family no longer wants to have when taking your age and failed proposals into consideration. So lost in your own thoughts, you barely notice when a man slides into the chair next to you, glancing down at your hands and then at your face.

“You need to stop wearing whatever is making you smell like that.”

The interruption to your quiet evening makes you jump, no longer dissociating and now in the present. You recognize the man sitting next to you, a captain of a Magic Knights squad. Their faces are plastered all over the capital and you’re shocked that he stumbled into such a low brow establishment though getting a look at him up close convinces you that he may not be in the entirely wrong spot.

“Captain Sukehiro,” you offer politely, formal as ever. “I regret having to request clarification from a man as esteemed as yourself but what do you mean?”

The captain snorts, shaking his head in response to you as though your manners are piteous instead of a courtesy that should be extended to all. 

“Don’t call me that, Yami is fine.” He sniffs, stuffing a cigarette between his lips. “I’m talking about the shit you’re wearing that is filling every corner of this place. People don’t wear things that make them smell like bakeries around here.” 

Scrunching your nose, you lift your wrist to your nose for a sniff. He’s referencing the perfume you spritzed on after bathing and the way it sticks to you, the smell wafting around the table with every move you make. It hasn’t caught any eyes yet, thankfully, but he can see how this will end if you don’t correct your mistake now. 

“What are you doing around here anyway? I figured women of your, uh, breed or whatever stuck to their own districts.” 

Bristling slightly at his insinuation that you find yourself too good to hang out here, you square your shoulders and clear your throat. A low chuckle rumbles in Yami while he lights his cigarette, raising his brows and eagerly awaiting whatever argument you are clearly cooking up in that little head of yours. 

“I’ll have you know that I enjoy exploring parts of the city that I rarely see. I am out here thanks to my own curiosity.” Your eyes shift from Yami toward the rest of the tavern, a small smile on your face watching the patrons laugh amongst themselves. “I think it’s really wonderful that people are happy no matter how they were born into this world and I’m thankful to be able to experience this side of life too.”

The captain could spend all night laughing at your naivety if you’d let him but he doesn’t wanna let you dig any deeper of a hole than you’re already finding yourself in. You’re clearly a fully grown woman, even the doll-like roundness of your eyes and cheeks can’t convince him you’re under 25 judging from the way you carry yourself. You aren’t the first noble girl he has ever seen sneak off in an attempt to find herself yet it strikes him as hilarious you clearly believe it.

“So you aren’t like the other nobles? You see people as people?” The brusque individual takes a long drink from the mug in his hand, Adam’s apple bobbing while he swallows, your eyes fixed on the sheer size of his neck and throat. “What do you want? A prize?”

Even the enticing muscles of his body (how can one person have so many muscles bulging off of them anyway?) cannot distract enough to forget that he’s insulting you. You place your hands in your lap and fiddle with the edge of the cloak that covers the simple nightgown you are wearing, covering it enough that no one is suspicious about why you’re wearing nightclothes in the first place. 

“No, I’m simply telling you what I’m doing here because you asked.”

Sipping from his mug, the man glances you up and down. He swallows and squares his shoulders.

“Okay? That still doesn’t tell me what you’re actually doing here, you’re only talking about feelings and shit.” Another sip and he places his ale down. “So what are you doing here? Isn’t it a little late for your type to be out with the rest of us?”

He considers you for a moment. Not bad looking. Pretty, even. Not plain in the way some overly manicured noble women can come across and you clearly aren’t using magic to enhance anything about you or else he’d notice. He’s a pro at sniffing out transformation magic in women having seen so many who have taught themselves to dabble in the arts to subtly tweak their appearances. You sigh and he finds it impressively naive to do so, your shoulders pinching in while you exhale sharply out of your nose. 

“I’m looking for someone to help me.” Now this is interesting. He raises a brow, glancing you up and down. You lean toward him, creating a veil of intimacy in a crowded tavern, elbows resting on the table rudely. “I, um, I fear I’ll be woefully unprepared for my marriage bed once the time arrives and I want to avoid embarrassment. I’m already too old to be considered marriageable to most and my heart could not take physical rejection from my husband as well.”

“You’re a virgin and feel weird about it and now you’re makin’ it my problem.”

Gasping, your eyes widen and you shake your head rapidly. Yami smirks when he senses how quickly your heart is pounding beneath those layers of fabrics most in this place could only ever dream of seeing much less feel against their skin, curious enough that he won’t just tell you to get lost at this point. 

“Please do not repeat my predicament so loudly, Captain Sukehiro.” You whisper hiss, fighting the urge to kick him beneath the table as you do the rest of your fathers’ unruly issue you are the eldest of. “It’s not something I’m terribly proud of.”

The captain scoffs, humming to himself and adjusting his posture so that he’s leaning toward you instead of on the back of his chair, cigarette dangling from his fingers. You’ve captured his attention, at least for now, and he’ll give you all of it that you can handle. Pursing his lips, he glances around the bar for a split second before focusing on you, gray eyes locked on your pouting mouth.

“Then why is it your situation in the first place? Thought you nobles were too proud for your own good.” He flicks the lighter in his pocket. “And don’t call me that. Yami is fine.”

You should find it very rude that you are being asked so many questions and being made to suit so many demands made by a lesser born to begin with but the curiosity feels like deeply personalized attention, causing you to bloom in response. Hunched shoulders stretch out, the graceful posture you’ve spent what would amount to months of your life if you stretched the hours out perfecting appearing. No one at home is this curious about you outside of when you will no longer be around to tend the younger children your father continues to spawn and it feels different to be the center of a man’s attention. 

Not a weak, defanged little noble whose only function is to act as an additional limb for his father. A man with rough hands and battle scars and overgrown hair down his neck. 

“I haven’t felt a spark with any of the men I’ve been introduced to. They’re lovely individuals with proud lineage but it has always felt so…” you search around the room, lifting your hand to your mouth to idly nip at the cuticle around your thumbnail. “Forced. I don’t want to be with them and they do not want to be with me. Four men and none of them made me feel like I could spend the rest of my life with them.”

Once again, Yami chuckles at your predicament. Your cheeks heat in response, ears tingling and burning as that familiar feeling of being mocked encourages you to retreat inward. The awareness that you do not have to put up with this kind of treatment from a man beneath your station 

“Sounds like you’re hard to impress, kid.” A plume of smoke is blown over your head, the cigarette he was holding now dangling from his lips while he examines you with narrowed eyes. “Little darling won’t settle for less than a fairytale.”

Retreating further into yourself, you move your hands from your lap to fold your arms over your chest.

“I’m no child, obviously.” 

Your retort is as petulant as your posture and the man smirks, the corner of his mouth jumping, tenting his fingers in front of him and leaning toward you. Despite himself, he likes you. Your willingness to shit here and just shoot the shit with him has impressed him but not enough to let you off easy. 

“You’re here beggin’ for attention like one so I dunno about all that.”

Scoffing, you shift in your chair but make no effort to get up. You won’t be picked off by him that easily. 

“You know nothing about me, sir.” You raise your brows and shift your head to emphasize your point, arms still folded. A grown woman behaving like a little brat shouldn’t draw a man like this in yet he considers himself intrigued, stamping out the nearly depleted butt of his cigarette on the edge table in front of him. 

“Can’t argue with that. Keep talking.” 

He leans back in his chair and sizes you up, boots stacked on top of each other where his ankles are crossed and his long legs are extended out in front of him. It’s one thing to be keeping him here against his will because you won’t stop talking, it’s another when he is a willing audience. Your mouth runs dry and you gradually unfold your arms, placing them above your knee so you can subtly rid your clammy palms of the prickling sweat across them.

“I want to experience the things that a husband and wife are to experience together though I do not have anyone to enjoy them with.” Even the way nobles describe sex is stuffy and uncomfortable, Yami realizes, brows raising slightly. He lets you continue speaking before butting in, letting his arms dangle from the sides of the chair. “Perhaps it’s wrong of me to believe it will change my luck but I won’t change my mind. I have to know how to…perform.”

Perform is such an interesting choice of word. All of the sex the captain has ever had has been far less of a performance and more of a two person dance, locked in repetitive motions and tangled up as one form. He isn’t much for the sappy, intimate shit you’re clearly insinuating you’d like though he feels like he could help you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he starts, leaning back toward you and closing the distance to once again grant you some semblance of privacy. “I can show you how a man should treat a woman but I can’t promise you it’s how a husband will treat his wife, you understand?”

Your eyes widen and you nod once, picking up on his meaning immediately. Impressed by your sharp wit he smiles although it’s nearly as unfriendly as the ones exchanged at court and only slightly less smug. Leaning in toward him, your brows knit together, and you bunch your skirt up in your fists.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for, you know…” you trail off, frowning slightly. He pretends like he doesn’t understand what you mean, shaking his head and staring vacantly at your mouth. “I don’t know if I’m ready for you to take me.”

Another snort from him and your face heats like a wildfire. The two of you remained locked in this strange posture, whispering but not quite, discussing the terms of whatever is occurring here. Blood rushes from your face to your chest to your stomach, a familiar tense feeling between your legs making you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

“The only one who would be doing any taking in that scenario is me and you don’t have to worry about that tonight.” He tips his mug and finishes off the last droplets of his ale, sliding the empty vessel across the table top where it stops just short of you. 

“What if we never see each other again after tonight?” That sappy shit he was right to assume you wanted has surfaced earlier than he expected. He shrugs flippantly, arching a brow. “Then we never see each other tonight but at least you can say you know how it feels when a man takes care of you.”

Inhaling loudly, you weigh your options. 

You can always get up and go home, turn tail and run to where you will always be viewed as something akin to a decorative sconce on the wall instead of a human being. Your opinion matters not, you’re a glorified caretaker for your younger siblings, some of who are your fathers rightful heirs thanks to the boyhood the Gods so mercifully granted them. You can retreat and continue wasting away waiting for a man who thrills you enough that you can ever see him as someone deserving of being your equal. 

Or, you can consider Yami’s offer. He’s rough around the edges and speaks with no formality or regard and you like it. At least you think you do. He doesn’t care who you are any more than the others around you do yet he makes you feel the most seen anyone ever has. He’s interested in your words, your ideas, and even your pleasure - a realization that makes the knot in your stomach tighten further.

“Okay.” You concede. “I think that I’d like that.”

The man rises from his seat, smirking, tossing some coins down on the table in front of him for the drink. 

“I know you will,” he finishes, words dripping with honesty but not arrogance. 

He begins to head toward the stairs that will lead the two of you upstairs and your breath catches when he looks over his shoulder and raises his brows, signaling with a wave that you should follow him. You toss a few more coins on the table in front of you, uncertain of how much a room in an establishment like this would cost to begin with, and rush to follow him with your cloak pulled tightly against your body.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

This room is nothing like your quarters at home where everything around you gleams in gold and marble and silk. It may be decidedly less impressive though it’s twice as cozy if you’re honest. 

The bed is barely large enough for two and there’s a well loved desk pushed against the wall, magical light flickering from the wall. Shutting the door unceremoniously, you swallow and feel the captain at your back, a large palm covering the entirety of the space between your shoulder blades. You don’t recall him seeming so imposing downstairs, glancing upward to meet his eyes. He can tell you are inexperienced solely by how skittish you’ve become beneath his fingertips, an intriguing shift from who you were sitting opposite him.

Boldly asking a man to pleasure you has told him everything about the person you are beneath the skirts and the trappings of society. If he waits long enough he knows that hungry girl will once again show her face to him and while he isn’t particularly patient, he believes it would be worth his while to wait. 

“Go sit on the edge of the bed.” He instructs right above your ear and gently shoves you toward where he’s commanded you be. 

You follow directions and sit, legs dangling off of the edge, unfastening your cloak and letting it rest on the bed. The knot in your belly remains tight, keeping you on edge with all of your movements while your walls throb weakly, arousal and curiosity bearing down on you with similar weight. Sukehiro towers over you, slowly unfastening his belt and cloak, leaving the leather goods and his katana on the desk. 

“I’m going to lick your pussy. Do you know what that means?”

Cheeks warming, once again surprised by his lack of decency, you nod once. You have read about this particular act more than once and have also heard about it secondhand from some of the married women you call friends although their reviews have been mixed. Books have always made it seem far more interesting, an exchange in the same way a kiss is between a man and the paradise between a woman’s legs. 

“Good, at least I won’t have to explain all the technicalities.” He approaches you slowly and squats down, now face level with your middle. You glance down at him and wonder if you should touch him, if he’d like it, if he’d want you to. “Lift your hips.” The next command gives you reprieve from overthinking and you do as asked, raising them enough that he can pull your nightgown from beneath your thighs, spreading them to fit between.

“If you don’t like something, speak up.” He glances up at you, holding your nightgown halfway over his face. “If you do like something, speak up and I’ll keep goin’.”

The linen of your nightgown stretches and tents in the shape of Yami’s head and shoulders when he pulls it over himself, too big to be fully covered by the fabric. His back is curled into a C shape and the muscles ripple while he positions you, hands that you can feel but cannot see gripping the outside of your soft thighs to keep you from deciding at the last minute you are feeling shy. 

It’s too late for you to fall back on the shy act now, your panties dangling off of one of your ankles. Even if you attempted, you know the man currently fixated on spreading you open with his fingers would surface from beneath your skirt and laugh at you. Your heart simply could not take the open derision and ridicule, already feeling overextended thanks to this evening���s excitement.

“Alright, you’re about to feel something different,” he warns kindly, puffs of his breath fanning out against the slickened skin of your labia. The low rumble of his voice sends another rush of wetness seeping out of your cunt, excitement mixing with terror while you await the pleasure you were promised. 

Your hips shift impatiently on the edge of the dingy inn bed, legs on either side of his still dressed torso. His tank top is untucked from his pants and he no longer wears his belt, discarding the unnecessary while remaining firmly in control of the situation. There isn’t much that makes his mouth water but the sight of warm and just for him pussy is doing just that, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

His thumbs massage the outside of your thighs, keeping you as relaxed as possible, and he leans in to kiss the temptation he can no longer deny himself. A simple smack, loud enough that you can both hear it, yet the moan that escapes you is positively sinful. High pitched and breathy and immediately obscured, clapping your palm over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. 

“Nope,” he simply responds from beneath your nightgown, hand reaching up to remove yours from over your mouth. “What’d I tell you? Half’a the fun is hearing how much you like it.”

One of the thumbs that was rubbing circles into your thigh now does the same on the back of your hand, calloused digit occasionally catching over the surface of your smooth skin. It’s no shock that your hands are soft like your body and your hair and your eyes, it’s what your life was meant to be like the minute you assumed the role of it.  Soft and easy, no roughness to throw you off track.

Yami chuckles and lets his tongue feel you this time, dragging the wet muscle through your folds, rewarded with another of those breathy moans. You do not rush to cover this one, tilting your head backward and letting your eyes flutter shut to focus on the sensation of another lick. He takes his time to get to know you slowly, brushing the flat of it over your hole and dragging the arousal he receives as a reward upward toward your clit.

He doesn’t release his skills on your sensitive bud so quickly but a simple brush of the side of his tongue against it is enough to make you squeal, shoulders rounding in momentarily. Repeating the motion, you squeal again and arch your back, thrusting your hips forward into his face and dragging every bit of you he can see across his mouth.

“W-what are you doing to me, Yami?” You ask breathlessly, elbows propping you up on the bed and keeping you grounded. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Your head swims with unfamiliar pressure, sparking a line from your brain to between your legs, all connected and you fight the urge to slump back onto the bed, too curious about the way that the light linen covering the man between your legs shrouds him. 

“Eating, obviously,” he mumbles against your body, tongue lapping against your clit. Your body reacts to each touch, thighs tensing on either side of his face, hips slowly bucking in pursuit of the feeling again and again. Your back arches and your moans are staccato babbles, elbows finally failing to hold you up when he gives your clit full attention.. “Oh my, wh–,” your back arches off of the bed before you can finish your thought, another rough lick to your throbbing clit followed by the warmth of his mouth while he sucks it between his lips, flicking the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. 

There is no denying that you may be prissy and perfectly pampered but he was clearly correct in his assumption about you being more than meets the eye. The way your body responds naturally to his ministrations, hips grinding and toes curling and lips keening, tells him every little secret you’re too demure to spill. You want to have sex for enjoyment, to chase your own pleasure and have your own fun. 

He’ll never fault someone for that although he believes he can get you to admit it’s the truth. Maybe not tonight but eventually he’ll convince you to drop the “good wife” act. If he weren’t enjoying himself so much he’d grumble about considering a future where the two of you will meet up for this again, too lost in his own enjoyment of your pretty noises to realize how unreasonable this was to begin with.

“Please keep going,” you beg, a tearless sob thickening your voice. 

Yami doesn’t look up, well aware of what he is capable of, but he keeps his hand over yours and continues rubbing gentle circles into it. You flip your hand and face your palm upward, loosely tangling your fingers with his, your hips now dragging across his lips wildly. It’s messy and you are dripping like a peak season fruit, drenching his chin and sending little droplets down onto his tank top and chest. Moans increase in pitch when his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your sweetness and drinking it down with satisfied grunts, though he can tell you’re close solely by how you ride his face alone.

You lack the words to describe how you feel, not that you are a stranger to self pleasure, but it’s different when someone else is showing you the maximum of how you can feel. Every inch of you buzzes with a pleasant awareness, nerve endings sparking like celebratory fireworks, and you lift yourself up with your elbows to glance down at the man making you feel more than you ever thought possible, your nightgown no longer around his head. You were so lost you didn’t even realize he shifted to holding your nightgown up above your belly button with the hand you aren’t keeping occupied, those astute eyes appreciatively watching your chest heave and face twist.

“Yami, I think,” you start and he chuckles, sucking your clit between his lips again, sending you over the edge and effectively making sure you know how exactly it feels when someone else makes you cum. 

Dots of light spark in the corners of your vision and you slump down onto the bed, too spent from the strength of your orgasm to remain upright. The perpetrator of your current state untangles your fingers from his wordlessly and he rises to standing, leaning over your exhausted body and propping himself up with his forearm.

“Good as you thought it would be?” 

Giggling, you nod. It’s all you can think to do, truly left wordless and thoughtless, grateful that what you read on the pages of the books you hide amongst your more chaste picks were somewhat accurate to how the experience feels. There has been no insinuation that he expects reciprocation so you don’t bring it up, quietly glancing up at him and noticing that the distance between your face and his decreases every few seconds.

“Now taste.” 

He closes the little distance left, tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. You grant him entrance and whimper when your mouth fills with the taste of his tongue, a mixture of acrid tobacco and ale and something you could only recognize as yourself. 

“Pretty good, right?” All you can do is nod dumbly, still splayed awkwardly across the bed. Should you leave? Should you stay? Is that pesky reciprocation going to come into the conversation now? Yami glances down at you with something you’d almost mistake for warmth in his cool irises, rolling onto his back beside you and folding his arms over his chest. “Are you going to head home now or what?” 

You shake your head, letting your flipped up skirt rest against your belly, the air of the room cooling your heated skin. “No but I’m not going to expect you to stay if you have other business to attend to. I will stay the night and leave before sunrise.”

It’s what’s polite. You did pay for an entire night, after all, and your raising will not allow you to be rude. Pushy and precocious at times but never outright disrespectful. The man next to you sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, turning his face to look at you. 

Maybe you are as pretty as he originally thought. It could be all the blood rushing from his head to his dick, a problem he is attempting to solve mentally by envisioning anything but the satisfying contractions of your cunt while it cums for him, but you glow even in this low light. 

“Only thing I have to do is go downstairs and drink and then I’ll just end up running my mouth and losing money.” 

You giggle at his honesty, turning your face to look at him. The gruffness only adds to his aura, as unrefined as a man can be, yet you really do like it. Even if the two of you sit here in silence for the rest of the night, there’s much you feel you can learn by simply gazing at him, a quiet battle of wills unfolding between the two of you like the mist that fills the city on a summer morning. 

Permeating, inescapable, potentially trouble.

[leighsartworks216]

In The Moonlight

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Lowkey wrote this for @niermortem bc the Astarion hyperfixation goes hard

I've never written for Astarion before and I'm still not 100% comfortable with his speech patterns and stuff but I had to write this or I would not be able to sleep tonight. Tbh y'all are lucky he even spoke at all. I was going to have Tav shush him lmao

Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear

Word Count: 1,110

Masterlist

AO3

He’s so beautiful, just like this. The moon reaches through the window and caresses his hair, turning already-bright white into pure starlight. His pale skin glows. And when the sun rises and casts beams of yellow-orange over him, it’s almost as if blood flows through him once more.

You cannot sleep. Despite how tired your body was, your mind couldn’t sit still. It pondered over the day’s events - if you made the right choices, what you could have done better, your companions - endlessly spiraling out of sleep’s embrace. And you would still have been going over these questions and concerns, if Astarion did not look so damn pretty.

He fell asleep a while ago. With a gentle kiss to your cheek and a whisper of thanks, he’d tucked one arm under his head and draped the other across your waist, and drifted off. A hint of a smile still lingered there. Creases by his mouth and eyes proving a simple joy that followed him into his dreams.

It felt wrong to watch him like this. Like studying how his curls fell across his forehead and the flicker of his eyes behind his eyelids was in some way betraying his trust. The thought alone - of ruining this beautiful foundation of trust and patience and understanding - should have been enough to have you close your eyes or turn away. And yet, something inside you yearned for more. An ache in your chest that urged you to touch him, to be closer to him.

And the urge was stronger than your perceived guilt.

Slowly, you raised a hand to his face. At first, all you did was brush the curl from his forehead. The stubborn thing only bounced right back.

Your eyes trailed from his hair to his eyebrows. So often did a crease find its way between them, pinched in frustration or confusion. Your hand followed. With the barest brush of your thumb, you smoothed out the imaginary crease. Astarion breathed in deeply - causing you to hold your own - before sighing softly. His face relaxed even more, shoulders easing into the pillows that cushioned him.

You focused next on his eyes. Deep, bloody red irises hidden behind thin lids that held so much worry and uncertainty and joy and hope. Hope. It had taken so long for the vampire to actually be optimistic about the future. He had no idea what would happen next - between Cazador and the tadpoles, there was little to be optimistic about. When you helped him, despite his original plans to manipulate and use you, he realized things did not always have such awful outcomes. Even your first encounter, with his blade to your throat, had somehow brought you here, together and warm and safe.

Despite being an elf, he had such deep bags beneath his eyes. Even the crows feet and laugh lines that appeared with his smile were unusual. He’d told you sparingly about his life under Cazador. The things he fed on, the poem carved into his back, and the horrible things he did. Undoubtedly, the lines came from that time. Barely eating enough to survive, luring people in with his charms for an uncaring master, being tortured in the dark. Yet, you couldn’t imagine Astarion without them. He was so pretty when he smiled.

You move on to his nose and his cheeks. His features are all well defined, sharp. It makes him seem dangerous, even at a first glance. Like a snake, hiding fangs behind shimmering scales.

Beckoned by the analogy, your eyes flicker to his lips. They’re so soft, despite the way he chews his bottom lip. Where before his kisses were rough, demanding, now they’re slow, careful. He no longer kisses you like he has to woo you over and get you to play his game. He kisses you like he’s savoring the last drop of wine. Even his bites are gentler, pricking your neck as carefully as he can unless you ask him nicely to be rougher.

“Too distracted to sleep, are we?”

His voice makes you jolt. You weren’t expecting his lips to move so suddenly. Nor did you realize before how your hand cupped his jaw and your thumb stroked his cheek. You can feel his smile as he chuckles.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” he coos. “But don’t you think it’s a bit late to be admiring my features?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, urging your heart to still from the scare. Damn you for thinking so much about his mouth. Astarion is nice enough to wait and listen as you relax once more, though you continue to trace over his skin and brush the curls in front of his ears back.

“I couldn’t sleep. And you look so beautiful in the moonlight.”

He slips his arm from underneath his head as he turns into your hand, holding your wrist in place as he kisses your palm. “I appreciate it, my love. But it’s been a long and exhausting day, and we both need our beauty rest.”

Red eyes watch, half-lidded, as you smile - he loves it just as much as you love his. Before, he couldn’t care less. Now, oh the things he would do to see you happy every waking moment of the rest of your lives.

The blankets shift against each other as you move to be closer. You tuck yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his neck. You are so warm. He lets out a soft breath as he curls around you, protective and safe all at once. Slender fingers tangle carefully into the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping your head tucked away under his chin.

For so long, he charmed and manipulated people. They touched and got close to him, in ways he quickly detached himself from. For so long. It was still difficult to fathom how he sought it out with you. How he did not go through the motions of physical intimacy, how he actually wanted to be physically intimate in more ways than just sexually. How long he’d been deprived of something genuine like this. He wanted to savor every gods-forsaken minute of it.

Your warm breath fanned across his neck as you spoke. Had he been able to, it would have sent a chill down his spine.

“I love you.”

His fingers curl into your waist, grounding himself into your body as your skin gives under his fingertips. In return, you squeeze him in your hold, solidifying even more that this is real. You are real.

“I love you, too, darling.”

[pit-and-the-pen]

At Least I Keep His Eyes in My Life

Day 2 of @erisweekofficial: Childhood/legacy - You and Eris weren’t meant to be, but the red hair definitely doesn’t come from your family…..

(Also, I’m picturing Asher around like 4-5 years old, i know very little about kids this age so sorry if it seems all over the place)

Warnings: Slightly sexual content, emotional infidelity, cheating, childbirth

WC: 5.7k

divider by the lovely @tsunami-of-tears (find the post here)

You were giggling like you were a teenager again. Sneaking out in the dead of night, cloak pulled tight against your head to block out the sparse light from the lanterns on the street. The temple was within your sight now and your heart was beating into your throat. You could very well get killed for what you were about to do but it would be worth it. 

The door was slightly opened, leaving you the opportunity to slip in without making a sound. The tiny light seeping through a door in the back led you to where you needed to go. 

The room was small, the fire keeping out the chill of the winter night. Those amber eyes filled with a softness reserved only for you as you walked into the room. Your smile was so wide that it made your jaw hurt, but nothing could wipe it from your face. Not when you finally dropped your cloak and saw the tears well in Eris’ eyes. The emerald dress you had worn on your first date all those years ago had you blushing as you remembered how it felt for his lips to be on yours for the first time.

You had never been happier in all your life than when the priestess joined your hands with that red ribbon. When you felt the pattern burn into your finger, right where your ring would sit once Eris was High Lord. Promises of your life together flowed from your lips like honey wine. Sweet and warm in the small space. Eris took your face between his hands like you were the most delicate flower in the world, his lips tasting like the tart red wine you two shared with each other. When you looked into his eyes, you saw your whole life. Your past together, your present joy, and all the love the future promised to bring you. 

That night was the best of your life. Eris whispering every promise on your skin as you too celebrated in your own way. Wrapped in each other until it was impossible to tell where you ended and he started. But the morning came too fast. The sun wiping away the joy as you realized you would have to go back to court and pretend that you didn’t know every piece of Eris’ soul. The scent shield hiding all evidence that you were Eris’ and he was yours. You parted with a long kiss that was tinged with sadness. But also the reminder that you would see him again once the sun set. The only time you were free to love him unashamedly. 

------

You should have known the mother was being far too kind to you. You should be grateful that you ever got to pretend that Eris was yours. Be grateful for that one little moment of happiness you had been granted. It was more than you ever deserved in this life. 

Eris had been walking with you through the long hallways of the Autumn court palace. Your laughter flitting through the empty space, carrying through the halls like a symphony that was all of Eris’ composition. 

But something suddenly felt very wrong. Eris had gone wholly still next to you, his joke dying on his tongue. You looked at him and could only watch in horror as you followed his eye line. He dropped your hand quickly, letting it hang limply by your side devoid of his calming warmth. It was like you could see that golden thread as it stretched across the room. Tying Eris not to you, but to some other lady of the court. Her eyes were wide as saw the same string that tied her to Eris, to your husband, at the same time he did. Your heart shattered on the floor as the female in front of you all but squealed with joy. There was not a touch of warmth coming off of Eris right now. Too frozen to go after the girl that was inevitably running to tell her friends what had just happened. You wanted to run after her, to beg her to be silent but your begging would only prompt her to tell more people. So you only stood in the wallway, watching as every thought of your future came shattering down around you. 

Your own mating bond snapped not long after. Only adding to the agony that seemed to follow your every breath. Throwing the final handful of dirt on the possibility of any future with Eris in it. You had been visiting the day court for a personal matter. Seeing an old friend's new babe. The feeling of love that the couple shared pushed you towards one of the many bars in day. 

You never assumed you would have a mate. The thought of ever loving someone the way you loved Eris, of being tied to someone like that was utterly ridiculous. 

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

Eris and you had snuck away for the second time in as many days. With his mating ceremony rapidly approaching, there was less and less time for the two of you to be together alone. He traced over the spot on your finger where your marriage ceremony mark was, the one that proved to you exactly where his heart laid.

“We should just run away. Leave all of this.” Eris muttered, eyes locked on those swirling patterns.

“He would find you and you know it.”

You didn’t have to say who. Eris’ father, while slightly disappointed about the outcome of the mating bond, was just happy it was within the nobility of Autumn. 

“No one could change how I feel about you. Mating bond or not, it will always be you. I need you to remember that.”

—————-

It had been five years since you found your mate. He was sweet. Sweeter than you could have hoped for, but it wasn’t the love match you had dreamed up when you were little. He knew you had a hard time returning his affections. Didn’t complain when you only shared a bed with him for sleep after the mating frenzy was over. A fact he didn’t hold against you. You were from autumn. Bred to be the partner of a certain would-be high lord. It had been a disappointment to everyone when Eris’ bond snapped for someone else. It was far more than a disappointment to you. Heartbreaking. Earth shattering. An utter upheaval of your entire life. Only solidified when you bonded with Sol. The mother thought that you weren’t good enough for Eris. 

——

Childbirth was one of the most painful things you had ever experienced. Sol sat through all of it with you. Sat through the screaming and you clutching his hand so tightly that you felt the bones move. You would apologize if it wasn’t taking every ounce of your focus to remember to push. 

“Just one more big one. I can see the head.” And you wanted to cry. Maybe you were crying but you found it in yourself to bear down for one last push. There was silence in the room for a heartbeat before a perfectly healthy wail pierced the air. Your head fell back on the pillow at the sound, breathing for the first time in what felt like hours. 

You heard faint whispers coming from the healers in between your legs. But you were too exhausted to truly care what they were saying. Just relieved for it to be all over, for the babe that you were now cradling in your arms. Still covered in afterbirth, you had decided that nothing in the world had ever been as beautiful as your son. Your heart warmed as you saw those amber eyes staring back at you. Amber eyes. The thought was enough to send a cold chill over your whole body. As you looked into those eyes that absolutely did not belong to you, or your mate. Your hands shook as you peeled back the blanket enough to spot the matching mahogany curls, however sparse, there was no denying the color. Your throat felt stiff, breathing became difficult. You felt Sol move to your side, feeling your flood of emotions through the bond. 

“Darling, it’s only normal to feel overwhelmed, you just-” His words cut off with a ragged breath as he saw the same thing you did. The silence filled the room as he must have been doing the same mental math you were. You felt the rush of his emotions down the bond. Shock, betrayal. And then something unexpected, acceptance. 

“He is beautiful.” Was all he said. 

“Sol-” He held up a hand to cut off the apology on your tongue. Because that’s what you should be doing. You should be groveling at his feet, begging for forgiveness. He could kill you right on the spot as well as your babe. The babe that was undeniably not his. That looked so much like the newly crowned High Lord, it burned the edge of the scar in  your heart that had only just begun to heal. How could you ever forget him now? This child was supposed to be the start of your new life. The proof that you needed to tell yourself that Sol was the one that you were supposed to end up with. This future was no longer supposed to be yours. The future that you dreamed of in that small run down temple. That was a life that had been erased from your story. 

“What should we name him?” Was all Sol said as he looked down at the child. 

“Asher.” You didn’t hesitate. Sol didn’t even blink at the autumn court name. He only nodded and placed a small kiss on your forehead. 

You were about to say something else when the babe in your arms began to fuss and you quickly pushed him into your chest, instantly soothing him as he began to nurse. This many emotions should be impossible to feel all at once. You should feel mortified. You should be ashamed but some mascostic part of you was overjoyed. You could keep some part of the love of your life with you. While you might never be able to see what Eris would be as a father, you would get to see just exactly what his son would be like. And you could only clutch your babe further to your chest as you mourned the future that the mother destined had not been you before in the same breath, you thanked the mother for her small mercies. 

———

You never thought you would be back in the Autumn court. Having moved to Day with your mate, you left without a second thought. But standing amongst the rich colors and ripe scent of your home court, you realized how much you had missed it. As you walked down the street, holding your son tight to your chest, your mate's hand in the other, your mind started to wonder. You and Eris used to run up and down these streets. There was so much light in them now. Boarded up windows now overflowing with flowers and flickering lights from fireplaces. This was nothing like the court you had fled from. Eris had changed so much in only a handful of years, just like he said he would. “I’ll make this a court something you would be proud of, something deserving of your beauty” Eris had whispered against your skin the night before it all went to hell, the night you had conceived the small child currently pulling on your hair. 

“Behave.” You said, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips as Asher giggled at you, pressing his face against your neck. The motion tugged on the edges of the thick hat that was covering his head. Sol didn’t hesitate to right it, placing a quick kiss to your cheek to cover the motion. It was chilly enough that the hat would have been necessary anyway, especially since the day court tended to be on the warmer side. 

Your bags were brought up to your room in the palace the moment you arrived, which had prompted your idea of showing Sol around the streets you had once been so familiar with. A small part of your heart ached when you saw the new shops and heard the shouts of children. Sounds that once would have caused sharp commands of keeping quiet, sounds that would have caused fear of drawing the wrong attention. If this was so unfamiliar, a part of you wondered what else had changed. Would you even recognize the high lord you were attending the party of?

The thoughts bounced around in your head, uncomfortable. You had almost thought of denying the invitation when it arrived, held it over the flames with every intention of dropping it in but it felt like the coward's option. Sol was expected to go to events such as this as part of his duties as one of the many researchers for the day court. Knowledge collectors that would frequent other courts, trading for any information to add to the sprawling libraries of the court. Your mate had told you plenty of times that he would understand if you didn’t want to come, your son was young enough that wherever you went, he would come as well. You brushed it off, but now standing in the cobblestone streets, you were kicking yourself for not accepting his offer. 

After your stroll in the city, it was time to start getting ready for dinner. Much to your surprise there was a gown already laid out on the bed. Your chest felt tight as you stared at the dark green fabric. You shook your head to hold back the tears that were threatening to ruin your makeup. The fabric felt familiar on your skin. Sol said nothing about the gown that you most certainly didn’t pack, only offered his hand out. “You look radiant.” He brought your hand up to his lips when you placed yours against his. You could only smile up at him, hoping he couldn’t feel the tremble of your fingers. 

The walk to the dining room was something that you could have done in your sleep. But, just like the city outside, the palace was so different that it had you doubting your steps. Although, it seemed your memory hadn't failed you because soon you were greeted with those carved doors that swirled like the leaves in an autumn storm.

You had pleaded with your mother to let you skip the dinner. You had heard the whisperings of how cruel the high lord and his sons were. Honestly, you were scared of meeting them. Meeting him. Your betrothed. The words felt weird in your brain. You knew very well what that would mean and it didn’t all sound appealing. Your mother was having none of your whining, forcing the laces on your corset tighter still. The air rushed out of your lungs at the harsh pull, your hand on your bedpost was the only thing that stopped you from crashing back into her. She led you, snapping at you to calm the trembling in your hands. “You do not show weakness.” was the mantra she lived by. Power hungry since her birth, you were a way to gain power and you knew that from a young age. The doors of the dining room entered before you, interrupting the patterns you were following with your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself down. It was clear you had stumbled upon an argument, the high lord's face was tenser than you had seen it previously. He was staring daggers at what you could only assume was one of his sons, if the red hair was any indication.

Your eyes followed his and you fought the shock off of your face. Saying he was handsome was an understatement. Even through his anger he was gorgeous. Curly red hair was pulled back from his face, stray pieces framing his face. The deep emerald shirt he wore made the smattering of freckles on his face almost glow in contrast. When his amber eyes turned to you, you quickly looked to the ground. Embarrassed you had been caught staring so intently. 

Your mother introduced you quickly. The high lord stood in front of you, appraising you. A hand reached out to grab a lock of your hair and every part of you went deathly still. You fought the flinch as he stepped away from you. “You’ll do. Now, I would like to introduce my son. Your future husband, Eris.” Against your will, you smiled warmly at him as the handsome male rose to his feet. He grabbed your hand and placed a light kiss to your knuckles before he guided you to your seat beside him.

——

You didn’t have to search for him. You knew you would have found him in any room, no matter the crowd. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you were suddenly unable to look away from the high lord in front of you. It was so much harder than you had thought it would have been. Seeing him, that crown on his head. That was when a motion by his side caught your attention, brought you back to the present. His mate was beautiful, hair perfectly curled, sweeping down across her shoulders. A nasty part of you thought how washed out the maroon dress made her. It didn’t go with her light green eyes, her fair blonde hair. You pushed down the cruel thoughts and focused on the pressure of Sol’s hand on yours. Eris only gave you a beaming smile before you turned your head away from him. The only seats open were closer to his end of the table and you quickly sat yourself down. Placing your hand in Sols

Everyone in court was here. The difference of the loud room was enough to make a smile touch your face. There were even some familiar faces, children you had been raised up with. Friends that had witnessed all of the drama that unfolded. 

Dinner passed without event. Small talk became louder as more bottles of wine were shared. Sol had taken up a conversation with one of the lords that managed the farms for the autumn court healers. You did your best to join the conversation when you could add something, making a point to ignore the eyes burning a hole into the side of your head. His presence was nearly suffocating, it weighted the air, nearly choking you with the smell of him. Mercifully you made it out of dinner without having to talk to him. Sol didn’t question when you dismissed yourself the moment after dessert was served. You went to collect Asher from the room full of children, making sure his hat was still firmly seated on his head. You pulled it off when you got to your room, picking out his clothes for bed before you let him get changed. After you pulled him tight against your chest and told him one of his favorite bedtime stories and watched him drift off to sleep. 

-----

You turned around a corner, not so much running but walking fast to try to get to your hiding spot in time. Asher had demanded the two of you play hide and seek after waking up early. You were more than happy to oblige the demand, telling him to count. To his credit, he had done a great job with the first few numbers. But quickly got side tracked and you heard the loud “Ready or not” echo through the halls and had to put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. 

You almost stumbled back when you crashed into a firm chest. A hand wrapped around your waist to steady you and you didn’t have to look up to know exactly who it was. You tried to step back. Tried to ignore the shot of electricity that raced through you at the touch. 

“Eris.” You politely said. You tried to step around him but he moved with you. Perfectly mirroring your movement. 

“I didn’t get to speak to you last night.” His voice was like a balm to you, even now. Your ears seemed to perk up at the sign, instantly searching for it even when he had stopped talking. 

“It didn’t feel..appropriate.” 

“Why wouldn’t it? We were friends our whole childhood. There's nothing wrong with friends catching up.” 

“Because we were..” You couldn’t form the words. 

“More than friends?” 

“Yes, Eris.” You sighed heavily. You didn’t want to be having this conversation in the middle of the palace. “Now please. I-”

He wrapped a soft hand around your arm and pulled you behind one of the pillars in the hallway. 

“Tell me you still feel it. That pull towards each other?” He whispered, his face suddenly so close to yours that you could count his freckles. 

Eris pulled you tight against him. Every inch of him pressing against you. Your heartbeat sped up despite yourself. “This is a horrible idea.” You spoke the words but made no effort to move, instead you leaned into the heat of him. Drinking in the stolen moments. His hand lightly brushed your chin and you allowed him to guide your head up, your lips were inches away from each other. Eris’ eyes were trained on your lips and every ounce of strength left your body at the hunger you saw in them. He moved slowly, giving you time to pull away. And you wish you could have, wish you could have done anything except press closer to him. When your lips connected it was like he had bathed you in his fire. It was heaven and hell all at once. You sucked down greedy lungfuls of his intoxicating scent, the clove and cinnamon smell you could recognize anywhere. His lips were soft and demanding. Tongue forcing your mouth open, stroking the inside of your mouth in a way that your hands reach for any part of him. His own hands had rested on the small of your back, clutching you to him. Neither of you moved to take the kiss further. It seemed to go on forever but it still wasn’t enough when you pulled away, panting for air. His hands only tightened on you when you tried to step away. 

“Eris-” 

“Mommy! I found you!” Both of you jumped apart.You swore you felt your heart stop. You had completely forgotten how you had ended up in the hallway in the first place, too overwhelmed with Eris’ presence. You could only stare in horror as Eris stared at the small child standing before the two of you. Eris knew you had a child, had sent you presents the weeks after to congratulate you and Sol. You forced a smile onto your face and swept your son off of his feet. 

“Of course you did, my smart boy. Come on, I’ll let you hide this time.” You pulled your son tighter to you, shifting his weight to a hip. He was almost getting too big to comfortably carry. 

“How high should I count?.” You asked, smiling down at him. 

“A thousand.” He didn’t hesitate.

“A thousand?!” You pitched your voice up, letting him know your surprise. 

“Yep. A thousand.” 

“Well then you better get to hiding, I’ll be counting forever.” 

“Will you play with us?” Asher asked, looking at Eris fully now. You struggled against the squirming child in your arms. 

“I would lo-”

“Asher. I’m sure the high lord is very busy. Far too busy to play with us.”

“But-” Your son started to protest. 

“Your mother is right. I forgot I had a meeting, but how about this, I’ll have the cooks bring up a treat to make up for my absence.” His eyes flickered to yours on the last word. “And it will allow me time to talk to your mother.”

Asher lost interest after hearing he would have a special treat, always code for something sweet. His eyes were round as saucers. 

“Thank you!” He said before he turned his focus back to you. “Did you hear that mommy, I’m going to get a treat.” 

“Well then we should start our next game now. It might take me until then to find you in this place.” 

His giggled filled the air at the idea. You placed a kiss on his cheek before you set him down on his feet. He didn’t hesitate before he ran off in the opposite direction, legs wobbling slightly at his speed. 

The silence hung heavy in the air. 

“Y/n-”

“I have to go.” You turned quickly, feeling Eris’ hand on your arm. You quickly removed it and started in the direction Asher had run off to. You couldn’t find the strength to look back and see whatever emotion was swirling in Eris’ eyes. Refused to listen to the questions that were written all over his face and went to go find your son. 

It had been easy to find him. You knew every inch of this palace like the back of your hand, and had already found all the good hide and seek spots during your years spent helping Eris look for his brothers. 

Sol was already in your room when you brought your bleary eyed son into the room. He was still taking naps during the day, despite how much he would fight against them. Shame suddenly creeped into you as you recalled the events from earlier. You were half expecting him to scream and yell at you, like Eris’ hand prints were burned into your skin and he would be able to tell. 

“Eris came by earlier.” Your heart dropped, he knew and you haven't been the one to tell him. “He was asking a lot of questions about Asher.” 

“Oh.” Was all you said as you placed your son down on his bed. 

“I told him if he wanted answers, he should talk to you. To which he said, he tried and you had all but ran away.” There was no accusation in his words. Just like normal for him. He was more kind than you ever deserved. 

You sighed as you softly closed the door to Asher's attached room. 

“I didn’t expect it to happen like that.” You knew you needed to tell him what had happened before that. “Eris and I-”

“Whatever happened, happened. I expected something.” He sighed. “How are you feeling, I know you were trying to avoid this.” 

You approached your mate, you gently placed a hand on his cheek. 

“I don’t know how you put up with me.” You felt the sting of tears prickle in the back of your teeth. “I don’t know what I expected. It’s not like he could stay locked in his room the whole time he was here. I just hoped that I could have controlled it, I was a little blind sided.”

“Whatever you choose to tell him, I’m beside you.” Sol looked so deep in your eyes it was like he could see through you. “No matter what you decide. I’m always here.” 

“I think I need to talk to him.” 

Sol only nodded. “I’ll be right here.” You placed a soft kiss on Sol’s lips. You truly didn’t deserve him. 

It wasn’t hard to find Eris. He only had a few spots he went when there was something troubling him. Just outside of the grounds of the palace, the tiny garden where you two had kissed for the first time. 

“Eris.” You started, suddenly not knowing what to say. He turned to face you and your heart lurched. He had been crying. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, truly heartbroken. 

“What would it have accomplished? You have a mate, I have a mate”

“Did you know we haven’t been able to…” HIs voice trailed off before he started again. “Her sister has more kids then she knows what to do with and we just can’t. We assumed it was me.” 

You couldn’t find the words to answer, not knowing what to say. Hating the images that his words painted. Of course they would have tried. Sol and you had thought you had gotten insanely lucky. Besides the initial mating frenzy, you had never slept with him. You stayed in the same bed but when you tried to be intimate with your mate it usually led to you crying, wrapped in his arms. It hurt some selfish part of you to know that Eris didn’t seem to have the same issue. 

“y/-” His voice broke you out of your thoughts. 

“Don’t” Your voice broke, giving away the tears you were desperately fighting back. “What’s done is done. Don’t start this now.”

“I would have made you my High Lady. Did you ever question why she wasn't?”

“I didn’t think about you one way or another.” A lie. A lie that even though Eris could see right through, cut deep nonetheless.

“Not even when you look at our child?”

“My child, Eris, is none of your concern.” 

He flinched then, flinched like you had slapped him. 

“Does he know?” He wasn’t asking about your mate. 

“Of course not. And as long as I’m alive, he never will.” 

“No one has ever questioned?”

“No.”

“What happens when he starts showing the signs? The first son of a high lord will start showing powers sooner or later. Tell me, darling, has he started burning the curtains yet? Setting his clothes on fire?” You kept your face as neutral as possible. Revealing nothing. “He has. I was younger than him when I started presenting the signs. So, tell me again that you don’t think about me when you look at him. Tell me that some part of you doesn’t still love me and I will walk away right now.” 

“I don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He kept prying. Was trying to get those damning words out of her. 

“I don’t love you. I love my child. I love my mate.” 

You saw something in his face fall, a light in his eyes fade away. 

“And if any part of you loves me, you’ll leave us alone. I’ll deal with the inconveniences when they present themselves.” You spit out, forcing venom to lace the words. 

Eris reached for you, arms flying out to grab onto any part of the woman he still loved with all of his heart. But you were already walking away. Leaving those words hanging in the air, the threat in those words unmistakable. 

You prayed you were far enough away before the sobs racked through you. They were strong enough to knock your knees out from under you but you had to get back to your room. No one in the palace could see you fall apart like this. You managed to make it to your room, sliding along the wall, knees hugged tightly against your chest. Every part of your body locked when you felt a strong hand rubbing along your back. The smell was wrong. Not cinnamon and pine, but honeysuckle and citrus. Your mate. His presence should have comforted you, and you desperately wished it would. Sol knew when you looked up at him, tears glazing your eyes, knew that whatever conversation had just occurred that it broke you. Some little part of you that you had held onto all these years, Eris had broken it. You wanted to hide it, assure your mate that he was enough. That was what you had always told yourself, told him and he gladly accepted the lie every time. 

“You still love him.” Not a question. Not an accusation either. Spoken plainly like the truth it was. You nodded, sobbing so hard you retched.

“I want to go home.” You choked out, throat threatening to close. 

“This is your home.” You shook your head, the words bouncing around like angry wasps. 

“No. Not anymore.”

“Wherever he is, that will be your home.” There was no pain in his voice. Sol had always been too understanding, too gentle and kind. He knew from the moment he met you what Eris had meant to you. “I don’t deserve you. Either of you.” 

“It was never about deserving.” Sol was on the ground in front of you. Arms wrapped around you, absorbing each shudder of your body. “You will never love me the same way. But you love me in every way that matters. So if you want to go home, then we go home. If you want to stay here, then you stay here. We’ll figure out everything else as we go.” His words only made you cry harder. 

“Why do you not hate me? You’re my mate and here I am.”

“After all that you’ve sacrificed… Do you hate me?” He asked, some light teasing in his voice. You shook your head. 

“How could I?”

“Exactly. Now what do you want to do?”

“I want to go home. To our home. I want to forget about all of this.” You took a deep breath, breath hitching on every lungful. “I want to learn to love you. Love us.” you looked into his eyes, warm golden eyes that you had always ignored. Now you had never been so grateful for them, golden not amber. “If you would want that.” You added. Not daring to hope that he would

Sol smiled, a real smile that filled you with warmth from the bond. 

“I would like that very much.”

The pair of you just sat there. Holding each other and you said goodbye to that small part of your heart that you thought would never heal. Buried it. The ache let you know it would never be forgotten, that part of you that loved Eris so deeply it outlasted a mating bond. But you would keep a small part of him. Always. At least you could keep his eyes in your life. And wrapped in the arms of your mate, it would be enough. You would make it be enough.

[techs-goggles9902]

request for a Fox meets Fives in Clone Heaven and apologizes and they talk

Clone Heaven

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! SEE MASTERLIST FOR DETAILS!

Warnings: death, broken necks

Word count: 650

A/N: YES OMG I LOVE THIS I LOVE YOU ANON. I was walking home from graduation practice and I read this and I was over joyed!!

NOT A CLONE SHIPPING FIC. DO NOT TAKE IT THAT WAY, PLEASE.

The last thing he heard was a snap.

The last thing he felt was pain.

The last thing he saw was the mask. His eyes never left the visor that covered Lord Vader’s face.

Krk. That was the sound his neck made when his superior snapped it in front of his troops. His friends. Brothers.

“Fox…” A familiar voice calls out to him, rousing him from his… slumber? Fox cracks open his eyes with a low groan. With a couple slow blinks, he remembers what happened.

Vader.

Fox shoots up, his shaking hands clawing at his neck. The neck that should be snapped in half. Yet, here he is… somewhere between life and death.

He looks around, taking in everything. Soft grass is just barely illuminated by a setting sun, painting the sky a medley of colors. He’s still in full armor, minus his helmet, which is resting in the grass beside him.

A figure sits several yards away, overlooking the sunset, sitting on a somewhat flat rock. The man wears armor just like Fox’s, but it's plain white. He turns his shaven head so Fox can see his profile. An aurebesh 5 is tattooed to his right temple, accompanied with a Kaminoan medpatch on his head.

“Hey,” he says.

“Fives…” Fox’s eyes widen, his breath picks up, his hands get clammy. He killed him. Shot him square in the chest.

How is this possible…

“Relax, Fox… we’re both dead here. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” Fives grins, patting the empty space on the rock beside him.

“I-I…”

Fives’ gaze softens, the sun hitting his amber eyes just right. “C’mere.”

Fox slowly gets to his feet, his hands shaking at his sides. He lowers himself down on the rock beside Fives.

“What… What is this place?”

“I don’t know… It’s pretty, though, isn’t it?” Fox nods, trying to keep from locking eyes with his brother.

“I’ve been here since… you know,” Fives continues. Fox knows. He knows all too well, having to live with the guilt of shooting your own comrade. In front of his squad, General Skywalker, and Rex. “You know… Echo’s alive. I don’t think you know him, but he’s one of my batchmates. He and I were the last survivors of Domino Squad, Fox. We all thought he died… but he’s not here. He’s down there… Everyone else is up here…”

“I… I’ve heard of Echo. Rex talked about you guys… all good things, ‘course.”

“I’d hope so,” Fives chuckles.

A few moments of silence follows.

“So… Ponds is up here? And Keeli?” Fox looks away from the sky, fidgeting with his gloves.

Fives looks at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners in sympathy. “Yeah… They’re here…”

Fox gnaws on his lower lip nervously. “Listen… about what happened, Fives-”

“Don’t worry about it, Fox. You didn’t have a choice. Good soldiers follow orders.” Fives puts his gloved hand on Fox’s knee, giving it a little squeeze.

“No.”

Fives gives him a confused look, about to pull his hand away when Fox grabs it and holds it tightly.

“Let me apologize. Please…”

“Fox, it’s not your fault.”

“I… I could’ve…”

“What? Refused the order, leading to a court martial? Fox, you had no choice.”

Fox’s jaw works, trying to find something to say. His grip on his brother goes slack and he drops his hand.

“I’m sorry, though…”

“If I accept your apology, will you finally rest in peace?” Fives sighs.

“Yes,” Fox says with no hesitation present.

“Fine… I forgive you for killing me. You’re dead, Fox, you shouldn’t be so tense. We get to be free of… everything.”

“Yeah but… I’m sorry.”

“You know what you should be sorry for? That haircut.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Fox runs his hand through his graying curls.

“You could’ve done anything with it and you got a mullet?”

“But it’s a good mullet.”

“Whatever.”

Taglist: @will-is-silly @dangraccoon @fionajames @sevdidntdie @skellymom @hellhound5925

Dividers by @ saradika

Let me know if you want to be added/taken off the taglist!

[izvmimi]

cw: space odyssey au. inspired by the game haven! a little hurt/comfort a/n: probably will be part of a series if i ever get the time to write it lmaoooo

it's 2am and you can't sleep.

at least it would be midnight if you were still on regular soil, governed by your usual suns. you'd like to think you should continue to manage the flow of time with the numbers of your digital clock, but you'll land at your new forever home just hours from now, and who knows what waking and resting hours will be then.

the whirring of the ship is easier to hear at this time, although your friend insisted that this was a particularly fancy vessel the six of you manage to steal, nearly silent compared to similar vehicles of its size. it can accommodate many more than just six, perhaps a dozen people really, especially since you've paired off and share single rooms for the purposes of closeness (really lovemaking), however the extra rooms have been repurposed into many other things, including a small laboratory, a library, and a greenhouse, and a room just for tinkering on the engineers' in your party's request. you wonder if instead of sitting in the kitchen, looking forlorn in front of a bowl of reconstituted milk and dry cereal, you should instead check on the plants and the small temperature-controlled aquarium, that way you can keep your mind off things.

you don't think you regret your decision, but you are concerned for the future.

you pass the last room down the hallway, blocking out the muffled giggling coming from bakugou and his partner's room. they had not hesitated to formulate this plan to leave the second the Matching ceremony was over. if anything, they were the strongest believers in this plan. shoto and his love had been slightly more reluctant and particularly keen on asking about the details. after all, you're not sure this planet you are escaping to even exists. you are not sure what you'll find there, and you definitely are not sure you will live in bliss forever. but they have decided to let love guide them to a future where they are free to love whom- and however.

you want to be so sure, and you are sure that you love the man who is still asleep in your bed, but the what ifs continue to disturb your peace.

man cannot subsist on love alone, you've been taught since you were very young. That's why society has left the complicated matter of sex and love and procreation and family to the algorithms set by Credo. Credo is always right. Credo knows best.

so why hasn't Credo stopped you from falling in love? why were you assigned to someone you could not even dream of loving half as much as you do Izuku?

you can't eat love, you tell yourself. and yet, as you gently trace the leaves of the small potted pepper plants that greet you first in the hot humid greenhouse, you remember the way he looked at you with joy when you came to the dock in the middle of the night just weeks ago, panting and overburdened by overpacked bags, professing your will to reject your way of life, and you are full to bursting.

perhaps if your ship crashes you won't have to ever regret your decision, you think, pleased by your own dark joke. the smile quickly turns into a laugh, and then you are crying.

you've left your family behind, even if you will be surrounded by your friends and the love of your life.

you are a fool and so is everyone on this ship hurtling towards an uncharted planet.

even though you cannot subsist on love alone, love wakes to find you, sees you in tears on your knees in the dark of the night and crouches down behind you and holds you close.

love whispers into your ear that you'll be fine and wipes away your tears.

love thanks you for having the strength to follow your heart and promises to keep you safe to the best of their ability.

you turn and accept the consolation in his kisses but say nothing and he understands. you need proof that you'll make a safe landing, and proof that you have made the right choice to leave everything behind.

love carries you back to bed and holds you close until whatever awaits you in the morning comes.

[moorishflower]

vibrating at the frequency of the sun

here y'all can have a snippet of uh what I'm doing for Requited Unrequited Love which is what I have labeled "Hallmark Dads" in my gdocs where Morpheus and Hob are the guys who get dumped in every Hallmark Christmas movie

"'Scuse me," someone says, "pardon me, sorry..."

There's a whumf of displaced air as the owner of the voice collapses heavily into the seat opposite Morpheus, apparently heedless of the aura of misery that has enshrouded him. He is considering asking them to find another seat -- he will be found extremely rude but, at the moment, he does not care -- when he raises his eyes and actually beholds his new travelling companion.

It is the man.

The wine bottle makes another appearance, thunked down upon the table between them as the train shudders, and a voice over the tannoy mumbles about their upcoming destination. Next stop, London Paddington Railway Station.

"Sorry," the man says again, and Morpheus' eyes are drawn once again to his hands, laid flat upon the table, now. They are broad, well-lived hands, faint scars upon the knuckles and nicking along the prominent rise of tendons, yet the nails are neatly-kept, and the calluses, what few that he can see, are small and soft. These are hands once used to labour, but no longer. "Is it all right if I sit here?"

No, he should say. Let him be, with the ring in his pocket with no finger to place it on, with the ache in his heart that has been impossible to fill since a fiercely-bright Spring morning, years ago, lifetimes ago, in a waiting room with clear and sun-bright windows, blood from a nosebleed that would not cease dappling his palms like flower petals.

"I will be poor company," is what he says, and the man's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. It's a face designed for smiling, Morpheus thinks, in the way a greenhouse is designed for life, and for growing. It can be turned to some other use, for a time, but will always make its way back to its original purpose. To imagine this face without a subtle glow of joy as its backlight it feels anathema to its very architecture.

"Join the club," the man says, and nudges the bottle of wine forward. The train has begun to move, the vibration of the tracks rattling the glass at a nearly-unheard frequency. The man's cheeks are blushed red -- from the cold, perhaps, or from wine he has already partaken of. His eyes, still, are like the diffuse beauty of light through water, like the sun refracted through amber. 

"Hob," the man says, and lays his hand upon the table. It's not so much an offer of a handshake as it appears to be an offer to hold his hand. "What's your name? I didn't catch it, when you helped me earlier."

Morpheus considers his options. He could get up and move. There are other seats, though they are few and far between, now. He may need to move to a different car. He could ask the man, Hob, to leave, but that seems worse than rude at this point -- it seems unconscionable. He could...

He could take the offered hand.

What does it matter? He's going home, and he's going to call Lucienne, and then maybe he will fill the tub with hot water, so hot it scalds, and maybe he will take his entire bottle of Xanax, one at a time so he can savour them, so he can feel the way his muscles ease and the way his brain quiets before he sleeps. And maybe he won't. Maybe Lucienne will ease him from the sharp and painful morass of his mind, and he will take a shower, and he will sleep in a different way. He hasn't decided yet. Trains, he thinks, are also liminal spaces. Until he sets foot in London, he is both dead and not dead, both married and once-divorced. A father. Bereaved. What does it matter what he does here, with this summer-warm man who radiates heat and the tart aroma of wine?

Morpheus puts his hand on the table, over Hob's. Their fingers briefly tangle together, almost a handshake, almost holding. His own hand is very pale, compared to Hob's -- he does not retain the sun well, and never has. His delicate English constitution, as Teleute has said.

"Morpheus," he says, and Hob tilts his head, and smiles. His smile, like the titular Jolene, is a breath of spring.

"Like the god of sleep? Your parents were fans of the classics, I take it."

"I...suppose. My family has. Interesting naming conventions." "I like it. It suits you." Their hands part. Morpheus flexes his fingers, and once again feels bereft. "So, what's the thing that makes you poor company, stranger?" Morpheus opens his mouth -- it is none of your business, my heart is broken, I am contemplating going home and committing suicide because I am clearly and patently not designed to be loved in any meaningful way -- but is interrupted by Hob's cheerful continuation, "Because I've just been dumped by my girlfriend of two years."

[tarknassus]

gnossienne

john contemplates lisa. written second person to john

-----

She's standing across the room from you, leaning on the kitchen counter right at the sink, and staring out of the window. You're watching her, but you don't know why. The early morning sun lies softly across her face, illuminating her freckles, and it makes your chest feel full. There she is, Lisa Pearson, the only one in the universe. The only one who really knows you, it seems.

The only one who lives in your house with you, the only one who greets you every morning and kisses you every night. The only one who finds you sitting on the floor by yourself after a particularly bad nightmare. The only one who takes you back to bed and holds you, pets your hair and talks to you softly until you fall asleep again. She's the only one in the universe and she's right here, with you. You could cry tears of joy.

You're watching her and the sunlight on her freckles, and the way her hands gently grip the countertop, and the way her hair is slowly falling from behind her ear. And suddenly, you're stricken with this thought that… You don't really know her, do you?

It's been a year now that you've been together, but that's much less than the years you were apart. You had somewhat been in contact with her that entire time, but that doesn't make up for the fact that she grew up without you. Childhood promises fell by the wayside and you fell out of each other's lives, growing further and further apart as time went on.

You feel a strong twinge of guilt. She had to learn what the world was like, without you. She had to come to grips with harsh realities, without you. You should have been there, you tell yourself. And there's nothing that can make up for the fact that you weren't.

This woman standing in front of you, she has an entire life that you don't know about. That you'll never know about. No amount of words from her mouth could inform you of all that you've missed. There's an infinity inside of her that you'll never know. You pray that you'll spend the rest of your life trying, though.

Who was she, to other people? A best friend? A rebellious daughter, a partner in crime, the one that got away? To you, she's… Well, she's everything. She is a best friend. And a partner, a lover, your family, your life. You feel like you've only just found her again, and yet you'd be lost without her.

You wonder what she's like when you're not in the room. You can't imagine her being any less elegant, any less beautiful. Does she tell herself these same things you're thinking now? Does she feel guilt for not being with you as you grew up? You suppose you could ask her, but she might not tell you. Not right now, at least.

It would be later, when you're sharing a bed with her, both exhausted from the day, or from a night out, or from making love. You'd turn to her and say, "I wish I'd never left you." Her green eyes would sparkle as she smiles at you, and she would lift a hand to push your hair back from your forehead. And she'd say, "You never did."

She calls your name, half concerned and half amused, and you realize you're still staring at her where she's standing across the room from you in the kitchen. You apologize and tell her you were just zoning out, and she accepts this with a laugh. Lisa Pearson might very well be her own universe, but at least she is in yours.

[cobbssecondbelt]

Dincember 2023 - Day 17: Joy

It was a peaceful evening. The sun was descending slowly, unhurried as he painted the grass hills into a see of gold. The weather was gentle, almost conscientious, and so was nature all around, quiet as too not wake the baby.

This very morning, the Djarin family had welcomed a long-awaited gift.

Here they were, sitting in the living room after this blurry haze of a day. A day that was supposed to come weeks ago already, yet still took them by surprise when it finally arrived.

‘’How is he?’’ Remi whispered as he returned from the kitchen with a glass of fresh water.

‘’Still asleep.’’ Polla murmured back. She accepted the glass with a thankful smile and took a careful sip as to not wake the newborn in her arms. She swayed slowly in the rocking chair with a long breath.

Remi leaned over the back of the chair to embrace his wife tenderly, rocking with the rhythm of the chair. He planted an absent kiss on her head, lost in thoughts and floating on the high of too many hours of anxious pacing finally coming to an end. At least, for now.

‘’We should find a name for him.’’ He said.

Polla hummed in agreement. As she was about to reply, the baby made a sound, tiny and weak yet enough to bring them both back to full awareness in an instant. His tiny face scrunched up in a frown that didn’t mean anything, though one day would be the expression of a fussy infant, the grimace of a playful child, the grin and creased eyelids of a laughing man.

‘’Well, hello, you.’’ His mother cooed in adoration as he opened his eyes slowly, revealing irises still dark as coal and foggy with barely acquired awareness.

‘’Aren’t you a wonder…’’ Remi murmured. He leaned over and caressed the boy’s tiny head, petting his tuft of thin dark hair. ‘’And you have your mama’s eyes.’’

Since Remi met Polla, he learned a lot about magic. They were still children when he first saw her, and all he knew about the mystical ways of the galaxy was the songs and tales he'd heard from his parents. He didn’t know much about her family, only that she came from a long lineage and that the gift in her hands had been passed down from mother to daughter for all those generations. He had seen her do many things he would never quite understand, heal the unhealable, talk to those no one else could hear, and today, bring their most beautiful creation into the world.

And then he saw his son smile for the first time, and he knew he had some of that magic, too.

‘’He has your smile.’’ Polla said with gleaming eyes. She grinned down at her child. ‘’Our own little bundle of joy, aren’t you? Happy soul, just like your papa.’’

Remi smiled. He was a Djarin; it was in his blood.

Joyful was a Djarin’s way of life.

There was a word, in old Vetinian dialect, he had heard quite a few times used by the elders. A word celebrating the resilience of one’s nature, the power of will and honesty towards oneself. A good luck charm, assuring the best in a family would always be passed down.

‘’How about Din?’’

Polla did not reply right away. Then, slowly, her smile returned.

‘’Din.’’ She tested the name, then nodded, visibly satisfied in the way it rolled off her tongue. ‘’It’s perfect.’’

Remi felt his chest swell up with a foreign form of warmth as he looked down at their no-longer nameless child. He stared into those already closing eyes, and it felt right.

‘’Welcome home, Din Djarin.’’

[rnm-magic-space-xsd]

You were the only thing I saw in that moment. It’s as if the clear, warm brown eyes of yours were enveloping my own with this chocolate bittersweet goodness.

The chocolate of your eyes is the most delicious my heart has ever tasted. Your gaze made my heart tremble and flutter with the wings of butterflies and doves.

It’s been a few weeks since we first met, in class. She was a new transfer student and I, as the student body president, was in charge of showing her around.

While I tried to keep my distance from her, knowing how troublesome it can get when ladies get the wrong idea and try to seduce me, it was..different with her.

As I showed her around I was able to see how her eyes shone with wonder and curiosity at the new, awe-inspiring surroundings, eyes fleeting from one area to the next, smiling so brightly, innocently, so easily. Without a care in the world.

She anxiously and eagerly spoke of her love for flowers as we passed by the school’s garden and of how dearly she hopes to find new and nice friends.

I was slightly irritated and skeptical of her ‘innocent’ attitude and her idea of finding real ‘friends’ but deep down I also felt jealous..Jealous of how easily she was able to find joy, warmth and childlike wonder.

Truthfully, she reminded me of my childhood dreams that had been nipped at the bud at the tender age of six, as I was raised as the rightful heir to the C&R company.

As I continued observing her from my seat I realized how shy and anxious she was, mostly sitting on her chair but she bravely yet timidly tried to befriend the girl sitting next to her.

‘Wow! Your art is so pretty!’ I wondered what it was that the girl drew that made Shiri light up like Christmas Fairy lights. ‘It’s like! The flowers are reaching to the sky to be blessed by the heavens! Be it rain or shine, nature always nurtures the Earth’s life’

Now that, that intrigued Jihyun. He was sitting on the desk right by Jumin and mid-conversation he realized that Jumin’s attention went elsewhere. By the new girl.

‘She seems nice.’ Jihyun voiced softly, reminded of his mother, who passed away two years ago. In turn startling our distracted Jumin.

‘I don’t know, don’t you think she’s faking it?’

‘Faking? Well, knowing what we’ve been through I can understand where you’re coming from but that sparkle in her eyes and squealy, excitable voice; it’s hard to believe.’ ‘But even if she was slightly exaggerating her compliments, I believe she had good intentions. The intention to uplift, encourage and support others.’

‘She did wish for friends..But I don’t believe in being a people pleaser to gain love from others.’

‘Heh. That’s because you closed your heart off from ever experiencing true, deep love.’ ‘I feel like you both fear being hurt by others but show it in different ways.’ ‘Maybe you should try to befriend her.’ ‘Or maybe I will.’

Jihyun then went over to Shiri’s and May’s side with a soft amicable smile. ‘I couldn’t help but overhear your praises of May’s art and I feel like Jumin and I would love to talk with you about the nurturing and selfless love of the sun towards the Earth.’

‘Hm?’ Shiri’s gaze turned to Jumin; whose eyes instantly averted from his previous, interested examination of her anomalous behavior.

He mostly thinks she’s an anomaly because the first time he saw her smile, genuinely and brightly, innocently, it sent his heart racing and she’s been on his mind ever since.

The moment she smiled that captivating smile? Well, that was when he caught her playing and feeding a stray kitten after-school, in the backyard. The black kitty leapt up to nose-kiss her and she felt so blessed petting it. Her smile was so warm and enchanting and her gaze as she softly and tenderly looked at the sweet kitty.. It sent his frozen heart in motion.

[personalpagan]

a note for death:

One day, when my chest has heaved its last breath and my life has written its last chapter, I will be put into the ground. My body will be buried there, where it will rot and decompose and be eaten by mother Earth.

My soul will sit on the grass above. Soaking in the sun, watching the moon turn its silver phases, taking in the twinkling stars of far off lives. I will sit under a tree, shaded by its leaves and gnarled branches.

My soul will sit in that field, surrounded by ancestors. By shared blood, by shared experiences, a hometown, or because we will simply proclaim ourselves family. We will sit in this sort of cemetery, under the vast sky. Tell each other stories, and learn all we can about the other.

I will look into my distant ancestors' eyes and see my own. A downturned mouth, or full cheeks. I will look like her and she will tell me "oh, all us women look the same on my side." I will tell her "I like your dress. did you make it?"

I might go to my ancient ancestors, who have knowledge long lost to modern peoples ears. The historian that lives in my own soul will beg me to ask what their lives were like. Their curiosity will tell them to ask me of my phone, or my car, and why I spent so little time outside. Did I pray to the Gods? I'll tell them, "yes, i did." and hope they find some joy in that.

Perhaps, I don't fear death in the way I should. I have never been under the illusion that I should be alone though. There are thousands of years of mothers and fathers before me, waiting to hear of this grand adventure I have taken us on. 

[pjstafford]

Handmade

It is early December. Georgina’s daughter, 7 months pregnant, is looking through the refrigerator for something to satisfy a sweet craving. It will be Georgina’s first grandchild. They are expecting a girl. Georgina hopes her grandchild will love to sew, quilt, knit, crochet- all those things Georgina had learned from her mother, that they both love to do, but that Georgina’s daughter, Rachel, has never found interesting. Georgina’s fondest memories of her youth was learning from her own mother, Virginia. She knew, of course, children have to find their own path and accepted it just isn’t Rachel’s thing, but Georgina hopes, has even prayed, that her granddaughter would want to learn from her and even from Virginia herself. Virginia needs a lot of care. She moved in with Georgina three years ago now and last year Georgina retired early to care for her so as not to have her move to a nursing home. She doesn’t need THAT just someone to remind of things, help her out of bed, make a meal and then with hygiene. Virginia still crafts. Smaller things now, not so intricate or detailed. It is bittersweet sometimes for Georgina when she helps her mother to cut cloth for a pattern, but Virginia still gets joy from the sewing. A granddaughter who would make a three generational sewing circle is Georgina’s dream. Georgina will provide the baby sitting service once Rachel’s maternity leave is over. For now, though, Rachel is dressed for work. Rachel’s husband, Gabriel comes in from outside with his father-in-law, Daniel. Daniel begins to remove the layers of coats, gloves, shoes, but Gabriel leaves his on and begins to help Rachel put on her winter clothes. It is a snowy morning.

“Thanks for helping shovel the lawn.” Daniel says “ it sure goes faster with two.”

“Ain’t no problem, old man.” Gabriel jokes.

Neither Daniel nor Georgina liked Gabriel at first. He has a loud, crude way of talking and has lived such a different life, but in the last five months since Gabriel and Rachel got married quickly before the baby bump would show in the wedding pictures, he has shown a large, generous heart. His own family lived nowhere close by and he is determined to be the dutiful son the couple never had. His way of doing that is sometimes to do too much. Daniel complained to Georgina that the boy thought he was too old to do his own oil changes, but he let Gabriel help nonetheless and Georgia, whose world had become isolated since she became a full time caregiver for her mother, was always flattered when Gabriel, a delivery driver, would, when in the neighborhood, drop by with a lunch or some fruits he found at a fruit stand or a crossword magazine, So thoughtful and so kind.

“Is gramma up yet?” Rachel asks. “ I should tell her hello and goodbye.”

“ Your grandmother has been up for hours. She is working on her Christmas project. “ Virginia and Georgia ordered fabric, ribbons and other supplies from Amazon. When the package arrived, it was all Georgina could do to convince Virginia to wait until today to start and she was up at sun break to get started. So giddy and school girlish about her project! She is making sled shaped coverings for tissue boxes and Santa coverings for toilet paper rolls to give as gifts. The day was she could make twenty in a day, but now five sets to mail to nieces, cousins, and give to the home health nurse who comes once a month will take her weeks.

Rachel knocks on her grandmother’s door and opens it with the “come in”. Her grandmother wears a matching red robe and slippers. Her glasses are down on her nose and she is looking over the glasses at red fabric she is sewing together with needle and thread. A stack of cloth cut into different patterns is beside her. She looks up at her granddaughter smiling. As she puts down the needle, she unconsciously opens and closes her hand. “Is your arthritis acting up, gramma? Don’t overdo.” “ No, no,” Virginia says “I will sew a little and then rest.” Gabriel, standing behind Rachel, smacks himself on the head with hand, “Oh, wait, I bought you something, yo. It’s going to make it all easy, easy for you.” He rushes outside with a sort of frenetic energy. Victoria and Rachel exchange a glance and Rachel shrugged “I have no clue.” That quickly Gabriel is back with a sack from the dollar tree.

“So, remember, when I was here and you were ordering the fabric, my mind was blown, I told Rach-I ain’t never heard of people covering their tissue and toilet paper. Never! Like why? But, dude, lots of people must do it because I was at Dollar Tree and look,granny, I bought you enough to send as gifts, you don’t have to make any. They’re not Santa and sleds, but a Christmas tree and a package, but I bought them all for like $20. Here…”. He holds out it Victoria who looks at him strangely. She starts to say something. He cuts her off “ No mam, no mam, no thanks, makes me shy. Just happy to save you the trouble and time. You should be able to just hang and watch television or something.” Georgina now is standing in the doorway. Her and Rachel share a glance. “Come on, Gabe, I can’t be late.” Rachel wants to be gone, not here in this awkward situation. They all leave Victoria’s room. As Georgina shuts the door she looks at Victoria and sees a tear coming down her cheek.

‘Mom, he was just trying to help.” Rachel starts but Georgina holds up her hand. “Gabriel, you know there’s a difference from getting a gift homemade and one bought at a dollar store. “ Gabriel, still not understanding, says “ Oh, I know. I come from poor folks who couldn’t afford to buy anything, but these were cheap and I don’t mind. I like that she still wants to give gifts.” Georgina felt a chasm of generational and life styles differences open between her and her son-in-law. “But, you know, these things won’t last a washing, they won’t be as good of quality.” “But they are so damn cheap you don’t need to keep them, throw them away at the end of the season and buy new ones. I was so like woah when I saw them. No need for Granny to make them when they are mass produce in China.”

After the kids left, Georgina went to her mother’s room. “I’m just putting this stuff away.” Victoria says. “Mom, you can still make your gifts like you were going to,”. “ No, no, Gabriel is right. It would hurt my hands. It’s ok, honey, we all get old sometime.” “Mom…” Georgina doesn’t know what to say. Victoria has her head tilted in way Victoria knows so well. She has been hurt. She has made up her mind.

Georgina helps her mother to the living room and brings her a tray with her breakfast and medications. She then heads to her own bedroom where her husband, Daniel is just getting out of the shower and getting dressed to go to work. Georgina spends time looking something up on her phone. Then she bends beside her bed and pulls out a box and opens it. She has been working on a baby quilt for a few months. She takes it and rubs it along her cheeks. “So gramma, you going to have that finished by Christmas.” Daniel has missed all the previous interactions. “Do you know you can buy a personalized baby quilt to swaddle and bring the baby home from the hospital for $13 from Etsy? “. Daniel smiled. “And?” “ We will get something nicer, of course.” “Are you not finishing the blanket?” “Do you remember that Christmas Rachel was 8 and declared a ban on homemade gifts. She wanted everything store bought.” Daniel understands something has happened. “ She was eight and three years later she was asking you to sew her and her friends matching poodle skirts for a fifties theme party. Do you remember that?” Georgina smiles. Her husband always knew the right thing to say. “I just think Rachel would be ok if we buy her a nice blanket and I am tired now often with taking care of mom.” Her husband knows that tilt of her head. She has been hurt and has made up her mind. “Whatever you want, but keep the quilt, maybe you and our granddaughter can finish it for a baby brother.” “No, I doubt she will like to sew.”

Daniel off to work now the familiar of the mother’s /daughter routine settles in. Georgina clears the breakfast tray. “ What do you want to do today, Mom?” Victoria stares for a moment. “Find something on television?” Georgina pushes the button on the remote.

[the-prophesied-disco-gay]

I am about 70% bedbound. I cannot leave the house most days. This is, indeed, part of why being this disabled is so, well, disabling. We are literally unable to access some of the things humans *need* to be healthy. So! Some tips from a very disabled motherfucker on getting your brain the exposure you need!

● open the window my friend. If you are able, position yourself or have someone position you near that open window. Not only will you be able to see and/or hear the outside, you'll be able to feel and smell it too. It hits different beong able to see the bird making that sound. To smell the recent rain. To hear the neighbors dogs and the traffic and kids chasing each other down the street. It will be a different mix of things depending on your personal ability level, but it does help. Truly.

● get out of the house for something other than an appointment or obligation. For me this sometimes means just getting help to sit out front in my wheelchair. Maybe asking one of my partners to wheel me around the yard or a block or two down the street. I have wheeled an entire hospital bed out of a patients room and on to their back porch, back when I was still working, so they could be outside for the first time in 12 years. 12 YEARS. If you have the help available, use it! When they ask "is there anything else you need" speak up! Say you'd like to go outside for a bit, so they can arrange that.

● gonna sound silly, but nature documentaries. You don't get the smell or feels of the environment, it's not perfect, but it can help you feel more a part of the world. Especially documentaries about places even abled people will probably never go. It removes that feeling of being different, being cut off. Most people will never go there either, but you can both look at it and enjoy how amazing the world is.

● Indoor plants help a great deal if you are able to care for them or someone else in the home is. They increase the oxygen and provide the smell and visual confirmation of something living, nature close to you.

● videos from gopros and such of people doing stuff out in the world. Doesn't matter what, pick something that interests you. Personally I like videos where they've attached a gopro to a dog. Whatever options you pick (and there are lots), it can help trick your brain into feeling like you're out and about with them and giving some of the good chemicals.

● video chat with people when they are out. Similar to the above idea, but interactive! You can ask "what's that?" or "can I get a closer look at that tree?" or whatever you want!

The best thing is to get the actual outside *on* you. To be out there in it, even just a few inches from your door. Feel the air and sun on your skin. If you are able to find a way to do that, it will give you the best results. If not, use the closest thing you can. It's hard, yes. Hard to deal with disability, with having to ask, with relying on others. Having to find lists on Tumblr to try to make this world a little less hostile, a little more livable. It's hard and it's unfair and it sucks.

Do what you can to make it suck less anyway. It's worth it. You're worth it. This life is precious, do whatever you can to make it good for yourself. There are no moments that don't count. Every tiny joy and little smile, every single one of them is worth it. Every one counts. We all have a good wallow occassionally, but don't do it to the point that you are feeling nothing else and lashing out at people who are experiencing joy in their own lives (which they SHOULD). There are ways to feel better. I took care of quadriplegic patients who could only move their head and we still found ways to help them be part of the world. I promise there are options. Please reach out to someone, even me, if you feel like there aren't any. There are no moments that don't count my loves. Let's make em count *for* us.

life actually gets better when you leave the house consistently btw like im serious

[bh-writingdump]

Your phone’s off in case anyone tries spy shit...

You don’t sleep. The call in the morning is just as the sun pops up over the horizon.

“Squatch?”

“That’s what they call me.”

“I’m sorry.” you can hear the disappointment in their voice, the want to not do it.

“Early bird?”

“you could say that.”

“Thank you, operator, that will be all.”

You hear the sound of a noisy air conditioning and a dog barking. It echoes with the dog barking outside.

“Come out, Sasquatch, we know you’re in there.”

You chuckle, peaking through the window. You realize that Partridge is down in the parking lot. Wow, you must’ve walked all the way here. Good for you but if you really want to impress me, you better start using those cupid wings. Now that, might get me outside Icarus.”

The tiny pair of wings hidden beneath her bulky suit coat twitches.

“I’m not here about old beef. Your life’s endanger.”

“Of course you’re not. Why would you come about some “lost” soul when there’s so many upstanding monsters to save. Tell you what, I’ll even say hi. “You take a step out the door. “Hi joys, gals and guys. Look at me! I’m walking and talking of my own free will Isn’t that nifty?”

Out here, you spot more of the Polos taking refuge under a nearby maple from the heat.

“It’s kind of y’all to come all the way out here to help me but who you should really be helping is Patridge. She’s been suffering from something in the business, I like to call, a blockage. When Partridge was a wee baby, she fell on a stick and got it so far stuck up her ass that she’s in desperate need of a surgeon to get it out.”

Andy’s megaphone interrupts. “We’re sending a specialist to ensure your safe return.” Off the Megaphone Andy hisses, “Get moving! When I said safe return, I didn’t mean 5 minutes from now, I meant now.”

You return back inside to find em armed with a bone in hand. “Are they coming?”

“Therapist is. Bout it.”

Ey makes a move toward the door. You block em. “Theta, Thet-ster, Theta-arama, trust me, nobody’s coming in. They’ll knock but they can’t enter unless they think someone’s getting hurt. Seeing as how I walked out and back in, they won’t be messing with us.”

There’s a knock at the door, “It’s Emily.”

“Emily? I thought you were at the Hub.”

“Who are they?” Ey clamps down on your arm, tugging you toward the bathroom, eye lights licking with the start of flames. “Did you tell them—you compromised our location.”

You kneel beside em. “Do you honestly think I’d bring them to your doorstep knowing how much it upset you?”

Eir breathes come in short gasps. “Can’t.. not enough… I need to get..” Ey pulls out what looks like a big gun-shaped thing of mismatched wires and sharp metal.

“Nope. None of that.” You grip it hard until you feel the metal dig into your hands. “They’re here to check up on us. Nothing more.”

“You don’t sound certain.”

“Nobody’s here but me and my dog.”

“A dog?” you perk up.

“I thought you might enjoy the change of pace.” You open the door, despite eir wrestling you to open it, to find the ugliest boxer you’ve ever seen with a no tail and one eye sown over. He bounces around happily, like this was the best day of his life.

“Aww! Whose a little precious man? You are! Yes you are! Yes you are!”

“May I?” Emily nods to the living room. They’re the sort of individual you’d expect to see in an old timey library. Cane in hand with pale blue eyes that seem to stare right through you, dressed like they’d walked right out of the 1940s butch bar except there’s no way they could be a day over 30.

Ey steps behind you, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude to come uninvited.” Ey tugs to bring you inside. You feel the warm metal of some machine in eir hand.

“Sit down, Theta. Look at them. Do they look like they’re trying to storm your Bastille?”

“Don’t…”

You roll your eyes. “Either we can do this in the doorway, inside or outside. Your pick.”

Ey sulkily sits behind you, glaring daggers at them.

You peak around the corner in case Patridge decided to show her ugly mug.

“This isn’t a scheme from Partridge—”

“Andy thought it was ancient history. She won’t be coming anywhere near unless by court order.”

You smirk. “It’s PR. Nobody wants to have their name associated with the next internet trend.” You explain to em. “The neighbor kids love tapping me when I’m not looking. Too bad for her, they already got it online.”

Emily’s lip turns up for a moment before they school their expression. I’ll need to administrate these unless you’d like someone who’s licensed.”

“Nope. You’re perfect.”

Emily leans around you. At first, you’re wondering why they’re doing that until eir fingers dig into your sides.

“Would you prefer your friend here?”

Eir breathes come in fast and hard.

“Dunno about today.” You feign them talking to you. “Bud, you good with Emily doing the exam on me for a few?”

“I wasn’t—”

You shoot them a glance in no uncertain terms what you mean. You tap eir hand as if ey forgot, “you still there bud?”

“That is… acceptable.” Ey hisses, unclenching from you. Just before ey leaves, you can feel the tremble building in eir bones.

“Keep the door open. I want to know.”

“Emily, that alright?”

Emily, who appears very put upon, sighs, “it suppose.”

Ey casually walks into the bathroom before you hear the telltale foam canister get deployed. You can imagine the concrete like foam filling in the gap under the floor, ceiling in all the sounds within that tiny bathroom.

For once, Emily shifts with a degree of discomfort, looking in, “you feel safe?”

You glare back at the bathroom. “I won’t lie for a second I didn’t but.. I don’t think ey meant to hurt me. It wasn’t an attack. Lashing out, a gut reaction, that’s all.”

“with all due respect, it sounds like your making excuses for em.

“Maybe..” Honestly, you’re not sure. It all happened so fast that all you could think was to make sure ey didn’t get into a cell. That no one came close to em.

Emily pats your knee. You tense. “Sorry.”

You nod, staring out at the potted plants. How much of this would’ve been destroyed if you hadn’t scared Patridge off?

“Sasquatch?”

“Don’t call me that.” You say before you can hold your tongue. “Squatch is fine.”

“Is there another moniker you prefer?”

“It.. doesn’t matter. We’re more than our names, right? just don’t overuse it, yeah?” It’s as if the name brought Patridge into the room. You can’t help but shiver.

They nod. “Like I was saying, I’m worried that it’s causing unnecessary strain to both of your psyche to be staying together. Do you find yourself disassociating like you did now?”

“How that’s going to be different if I’m home?” You lean against eh door frame. “Honestly, all I want to do is sleep without worry about some nutjob knocking down the door. At least here Patridge can’t come. Don’t care about where long as its quiet and nobody tries to wake me up.”

“Would you like to do this tomorrow? I could say you.. fell asleep?”

“yeah… yeah.. lets just say that.”

Back inside, the little mathematician can’t stand waiting in the bathroom any longer. Ey bursts out, pushing to the door to find nobody through the keyhole. A look around the room earns em a lumpy form beneath the AC.

Ey checks the locks again, getting things ready. Cleaning, making food, cleaning. Every other minute ey checks if you’re there. It never feels like enough.

.

.

.

[Oakland Ch2, pg5] cont -->

[ofthescatteredstars]

"You know, I met Yorgos back in my fighting days. He was a hell of an opponent, but it was nice to talk to someone who was actually curious about me and my skills."

Creed thinks back to the man she met a few years ago.

"The sun's a little bit dimmer with him gone. Rare to meet someone who tried making things better for people."

She's a bit of a social butterfly, but as far as actual friends went, she can only think of a few people who were truly friends. Moments like these, she thought about what her life would be like in the future. Some days, she debates trying to settle all the business she has, so she can actually settle down.

"If you love someone...You should be trying to settle down with them, right? Show them that they mean more to you?"

Her mind wanders to Estranha, and that dream still bothers her, really, if she had to be honest, she's had too many dreams that bother her, because they all force her to look inward, to think about what she wants, and it terrifies her.

"Sorry, I don't mean to get all philosophical on you."

At camp, within Central Tahrea - 10 days until the Profane Awakening

"Si, that sounds like him... every new technique he encountered, every attempt at a parry, every swing of a sword was art to him. Like so many other things... combat was something he found beauty in. And, gods, did he embody the beauty he saw..."

He thought talking about this would be easier by now; about the man who gave everything he had to for the good of Tahrea, of his comrades, of the beautiful world he only wished to protect from those who would spoil it. The man who found his joy, his place in the world, fighting alongside the ones he loved, and all the warriors he could respect, and learn from.

The man who didn't even get a chance to die in his lover's arms.

It seems love that was lost still proved a sore subject for him. Love that could yet blossom, however... that was something he could at least provide some insight on.

"Ah, no, no, no, never apologise for a simple question! As for the answer... well, it depends on who you ask, my friend." Ah, how easily a sorrowful look is traded for mirth - and how willingly, too.""But, yes... if it were me, I would have liked to find an end to it. I am... more of what you might call a 'house on the hill' kind of lover, I suppose. Settling down, finding some peace in my own time through love itself... I know of many who have tried to find this, and many who have succeeded in doing so. Well... would that I could have been one of them."

His brow furrows - his mind drifts to a long-lost dream of a cabin, surrounded by snow. The crackling fire's light barely able to compete with the brightness and ease of his lover's face. Long gone, now.

"... but, you are not the first one I have known who follows the life of a drifter. It's one of the reasons I knew you would get along with our Garur, actually! But, if you asked them... then they would, at least, wish for a companion. If you cannot stay in one place for so long, then find someone willing to follow where you go, yes?"

The campfire they sit in front of sways to and fro in the winds. The Maelstrom pulls at the loose elements, even now, giving him pause to capitulate on their discussion.

"My point is this. You are right, Creed, that permanence is the best way to show love. Keeping a place in your heart for another, be it friend, or lover, or family... love takes the same form. With a lover, then... it is up to you to define your own 'forever'. The choices are far more vast than a cabin or a caravan. You have a choice between two people at a family gathering, or twenty. What matters is that every single choice you make comes from the truest part of you - and that is what makes a bond eternal. That is what will guide you to your home."

So much for apologising for the notion of philosophy - perhaps a romance with a poet has taught Dejin a thing or two about the elegance of life. But, still... not every moment calls for such grace. He knows this kind of question can only come from one place - the grin that grows on his face giving away how he knows all too well that this, too, comes from the truest part of Creed's heart.

"... so, who's the girl?"

[lettersfromthewind]

Hello i'm S.B i here for your exchange:

For my reading (if you don't mind i would like to you to talk about love and career)

For your reading: i feel that you like to go to nature and relax or meditate since it makes you feel calm. You can also like the sunset a lot like when sun iluminates your face. I see someone sitting waiting for the sunset.

Thanks

Hi! I do like nature because it’s peaceful but I don’t go out into nature as often as I should 😅

Here’s what I’m getting for you:

Hmm seems like you need a good laugh or a pick me up in general. The energy feels a bit serious and it feels like you need to find ways to take some time out for yourself and have fun. What is something you feel like you’ve been missing out on? Try to make your own joy a priority and do things that make you happy.

“Are you truly open to receiving love?”

Release any expectations of what you think your love life should look like because you might end up overlooking something that could turn out to be really good for you.

Seems like you’ll soon have someone whipped. They’ll be so taken by you that they’d literally do anything for you. Don’t take advantage of this person tho (or be too mean to them). They’ve got a kind heart.

So that’s what I’m seeing for you. Please let me know if it resonates.

Thanks for participating 🤍