#like i said so many finer details are still in thinking

[darcydarlingdabbles]

You are Safe - Deepest Desires

//One shot of Deepest Desires - Astarion Drabble. Very fluffy/comforting smut with many feelings. Not edited... Song Rec: Light by Sleeping at Last//

Explicit, Astarion x f!Tav, post cannon, 2.2k

cw: coping with sex/intimacy issues & allusions to Astarion's past

Astarion Ancunin was a sight to behold in any light.

The moon might make him look like some ethereally wicked beauty, but Tav much preferred the golden glow they were bathed in now. 

She sank into the plush leather sofa near the crackling hearth, cradling a cup of mulled wine. The spiced aroma chased away the chill of the night fallen outside the inn as her eyes drew lazily over the trophies adoring the walls—swords, shields, mounted heads of beasts. Theirs was just another story to add to the collection. 

Tav might be warmer still, without the vampire stretched out languidly beside her, but she would not give up the comfort of his closeness for the world.

“You know, I still don’t like being the hero. It is beyond tedium. ”

Astarion mused over the rim of his cup, as if he could detect her thoughts and had to refute them. 

“That so? You play the part so well.” Tav quipped back lovingly. 

“Well, I suppose I do enjoy all of the fawning adulation.”  Astarion mused. “And the gold, of course.” 

Tav shook her head fondly. She’d let him maintain the charade as long as he liked; she had already seen under the mask. He sent a smirk her way, his ruby eyes glinting with the firelight. Distracting her from the way he was balancing his goblet on its very edge, one of his dexterous fingers on lip of the drink, tilting further and further as if he dared the wine inside to spill. 

Or he was simply teasing Tav with the threat of it. 

“Beggin’ your pardon,” The inn keeper, a matronly half-orc with a smile around her tusks approached them. “Finest room we have is ready for ya, token of our gratitude for dealin’ with our Worg problem.”

“Thank you, Gerda, that’s too kind of you.” Tav said graciously. “We’re happy we could help.” 

She shot her companion a glance, but he was intently finishing his wine with only a raise of his eyebrows. 

She felt Astarion’s eyes on her as she conversed cordially with the inn keeper, his gaze as tangible as a caress along her cheek. Tav knew the warmth of that look. Little flickering moments of unguarded affection more sincere than any pretty picture his words could paint. 

The only recognition Tav gave was the smile at the corner of her lips. Because that was the game they played. Sparing his pride until the rest of the world faded away. 

This. This was everything she fought for. These quiet nights  brighter than any flames. 

…

Soon they retreated to the comfort of their room after a long day. Astarion led her up the stairs, silently twining their fingers together. Tav knew it was another gesture she wasn’t supposed to linger on, but if he kept this up, the dam would burst sooner rather than later. 

He pushed the door to their chambers open with an overly theatrical flourish. “Not quite fit for a king…but I suppose it will do.” 

Tav rolled her eyes, stepping past him to take in a very comfortable room that was downright luxurious in its details. Plush carpet, dark wood walls, and a canopied bed piled with silken sheets and pillows. 

“After sleeping in bedrools on the hard ground,” Tav put her hands on her hips, a smile on her lips with her tone placating him. “I think it will suffice.” 

Astarion came up behind her then, his cool breath ghosting over her ear as he murmured. “Then it is a shame you will not have the time to admire the finer details.” 

In the second of warning he gave, Tav knew well he could hear every uptick of her heart.

Astarion had her spun around, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. Tav’s back hit the wall with a soft thud, her lover’s lithe body pinning her in place as he lifted their still entwined hands above her head. 

Those clever fingers hand already snuck under the hem of her tunic, drawing lines over the swell of her hip. 

“I have all that I need to admire.” Tav arched to the touch with a sigh as she finally exhaled. 

“Such flattery.” Astarion’s smirk was downright sinful, sending heat and want curling through her. Those ruby eyes glinted bright in the soft firelight of the room. 

Soon, their packs were dropped to the side, shedding the last trappings of battle with the armor and gore already tucked away. Leaving no more barriors between them as passion sparked in the scant space between them. His nibble fingers made quick work of the laces of her tunic, the fabric falling away to expose her collarbones, and her chest. 

Tav lifted her chin, playfully offering her neck, knowing how it thrilled him though he would not bite—not just yet. But Astarion would duck his head to draw his teeth teasingly along the colomn of her throat. 

She peered over his white curls. “My love, the door is still—” A sharp kick shut the door, and its lever lock clicked into place. “Thank you.” 

Astarion’s scoff tingled against her pulse point. He was far more preoccupied with mapping out the newly exposed skin, like it hadn’t been under his lips a thousand times. As if he wasn’t intimately familiar and once again confident with his ability to drive her mad. As if she didn’t know him just as well. 

When he pulled back to rid her of her pesky tunic, she used her chance. Tav’s fingers slid into his silky curls, just brushing her thumbs over the tips of his pointed ears. 

That got his attention. 

Astarion made a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat, finding her mouth again. 

The kisses grew more urgent as Astarion pressed Tav back against the wood-paneled wall, her arms around his shoulders as he used his thigh to part hers. 

Easy as could be, like they were dancing together again. Tav took his lead, her leg hooked around his waist before he had to reach for her. Their bodies were brought flush together--letting her feel the hard press of his arousal. 

“It would be a shame,” Tav murmured against the vampire’s lips. “Not to make use of the bed, don’t you think? I know how much you do enjoy fine linens.” 

Astarion laughed, the sound decadent yet playful. “My darling, the only thing more appealing than being wrapped up in silk, is being wrapped up in you.” 

Heat flooded into her cheeks, just like he knew it would. Even now, his lines always worked on her. 

Tav reached for the hem of Astarion’s shirt, ridding him of it and letting it join her tunic on the floor. He was already walking her back towards the bed—but it just wasn’t enough to map out the planes of his chest with her fingers, hooking into the waist of his breaches. 

“Can I?” Tav lifted her eyes, her mouth already watering. 

“You hardly have to ask.” He purred, pecking her lips just once more. “But…I’m glad that you did.” 

She always would. Sometimes to his annoyance, but the vampire seemed more than in the mood to humor her sweetness tonight.  Astarion freed his cock from his breeches as he sat back on the bed, stroking himself languidly, watching her with bright ruby eyes as she eagerly sank to her knees. 

He was so damn gorgeous like this, confident in seeking his pleasure, knowing Tav was more than willing to give. 

Her hand curled around his, before she was drawing the tip of him between her lips. She adored the sweet, strangled sound he gave as he relenquished his hold to her, those deft fingers threading into her hair as she swallowed him down. 

Tav loved him like this. Loved that she was the one who got to see Astarion this way—wanting and vulnerable and utterly hers. 

She poured every ounce of devotion into the slide of her mouth, wanting him to shatter from it. For all pretense to fall away like the filthy praise faltering from his lips, and let her catch him when he fell. 

Astarion tensed under her, the muscles in his thighs and the hand in her hair gone ridgid. 

Tav pulled back, her eyes seeking his, looking for the glassy sheen to cover his red irises or the distance in his gaze. “You can let go, love.” lacing the reassurance his ego sometimes spurned in a seductive purr. “I want you to.” 

Astarion’s scoff was breathier than he intended, she could see it on his face, but the hand in her hair curled around her chin, capturing her jaw as he bent to claim her lips. 

“As tempting as that mouth of yours may be…I’d much rather be inside you.” 

Her pulse quickened under his hold. 

Tav was on her feet, ridding herself of any thing that could get between them. Before straddling Astarion’s lap. Reveling in his groan as he tasted himself on her tongue. 

Those damned fingers of his were already delving between her soaked folds, thumbing her clit so perfectly it was maddening in an instant. 

“Astarion, please…” Tav breathed against his mouth. 

“I know darling.” His grin nipped at her lower lip, fingers sliding into her and curling just so. “No one knows you as I do.”

He was distracting her, and he was so very, very good at it. Tav rocked needily into him, pleasure sparking up her spine. Her fingers  clutched into the fine curls at the back of his neck. Trying to ground herself to meet his burning gaze. 

“No one loves you as I do.” 

Something beautifully yearning moved across his face. The ghost of a longing to be known—and to still be loved. It was all he could never bring himself to ask for, and yet she gave it, freely, whenever she thought he may need it. 

The next meeting of their lips was filled with nothing but tenderness, even as he pulled her closer still, breaking only as he filled her completely. 

Astarion’s grip tightened on her hips, and Tav understood. 

She let him bear her back onto the plush bed, surrendering to his need for control. Her hands fell back to either side of the pillow, as she searched the ethereal beauty of his face above her, assuring herself that he wasn’t lost to the old shadows. 

Clear crimson eyes gazed back at her, their only darkness that of desire. 

Satisfied, Tav wrapped her legs around Astarion’s waist, urging him deeper inside her. He obliged her with a precise roll of his hips that nearly had stars bursting behind her eyelids. 

“That’s it, my love.” Astarion purred, his breath played over her lips as his body moved with hers, sweet and aching, their fingers wound together even as he kept her wrists pinned. 

Tav could feel the edge of her bliss tugging at her, the way she clenched desperately around his cock, it was so damn close—

Astarion shuddered above her, tensing on instinct, resisting that final surrender, even now. His old wounds would never go fully away, but she could soothe them when they surfaced. Because she knew him. 

“Let go, my love, I have you.” 

He did, spilling into her with a choked cry, his hips snapping hard and fast into hers, sending pleasure that arched up her spine until it overwhelmed her. 

Spent, still tangled together, collapsed together. 

Astarion’s cool skin was a balm against her heated body, when he finally released her hands. Tav’s arms wrapped around him, feeling the faintest of trembling in the raw moments after.  He hid his face crook of her shoulder, letting her fingers slide through his curls. 

Tav shifted only enough to bare her throat to him, remembering how he teased that she tasted better shortly after their coupling. 

Far from a distraction, it was a gesture of the intimate trsut they shared. Astarion only hesitated a moment, before sharp fangs pierced her skin, and Tav relaxed into the familiar heat and sting. 

He drank from her, lost in the bliss of her blood. Comforted by the familiarity of it. 

When the vampire pulled back, a trickle of red dripped from his grin, and Tav swiped it away with her thumb. 

Astarion turned his face into her touch, a kiss pressed into her palm. Before he gathered her into his arms for the rest of the night. 

…

Golden sunlight crept across the room as dark became day. 

Astarion stayed with his head tucked under Tav’s chin, her heart beat a comforting rhythm against his ear. He stirred only as the warm glow softened his sharp features, and she finally gave in to the urge to trace the contours of his face. 

Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, immediately seeking hers. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek in turn, the warmth of the Ring of Daylight around his fourth finger a delicious contrast to his cool skin. 

“Looking for a cuddle?” he asked, his tone playful yet tender, echoing their first morning together.

Tav laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “Always,” she replied, her heart swelling with love for this man who had come so far, who had learned to trust and to love despite everything he’d endured.

Their fingers intertwined with the comforting sound of his ring meeting hers. Warmed by the golden light forevermore. 

[mayullla]

Title: Creature's Infatuation

Character(s): Doppelganger (Unnamed character/original work) Summary: The servants didn't know that their abusive noble was switched for a monster that looked like him. You forced to marry him knew tho, that he created everything to have you in his arms. Tags/Warnings: Yandere!monster, fem!reader, yandere!monster x noble!reader, general yandere themes, manipulation, brainwashing, blackmail, forced feminization, noncon pet play, forced intimacy, imprisonment, tentacles, 1.2k words

Author's Note: This is an old one-shot of mine that I didn't post for a long time inspired the yandere viscount so it is similar to it.

You didn't know how dangerous monsters could be… that some could turn into humans and blend into the crowd and you would be none the wiser.

If you were wiser… if you knew what would happen to you… you would hesitate even just a little, even just a second to help anyone who you saw in need. Maybe then you would not be locked up in this horrible mansion after selling yourself to pay off your noble aristocratic family debt.

You were nothing but a slave to him, with his affection and sick love, he kept you by his side. Nobody could know what happened here when everything was covered by thick curtains and dimmed lights. The servants here were nothing more than puppets. Their minds, which this monster had eaten just a little bit, placed itself, done just to get ever so closer to you and keep you locked here. He manipulated their thoughts while letting them think that they were still human.

You glared at the mansion, you glared at him who had caused you this suffering. Yet for the sake of something precious, you would give up that aristocratic pride, swallowing it down as you begged him to spare your family from their downfall. You said that you would give him anything he wants. 

And all he wanted was you.

He told you that he would give you everything when he only did the opposite. What he said was nothing more than food that was taken away from you the moment you rebelled over the fantasies he had in his head.

He made you wear many costumes, dresses, and outfits, each and every one an arrow to your pride as he held your waist from the back dreamily looking at the mirror of you and him, telling you his disgusting and vile thoughts he was imagining when he first saw those clothes, how he imagined them on you.

The dresses that you usually wore were taken away the first day you signed the contract that you would be forever his. "Boring and lackluster," he told you. He would dress you with finer fabrics and silks that would make him excited to see, unlike the “dull and humble” dresses that you wore. It was unbefitting for you, he told you the first day, but you did see them later locked in a chest. Why he kept them, you didn't even want to know, not after you realized how perverted he was.

Gems and pearls of all kinds of accessories were also sewn into your new clothes. You were sure they would make a duchess or even a princess green with envy. He had gotten you almost all the latest trends that he fancied, which was almost all except the ones where much was covered.

Maid clothes that were more flamboyant, more revealing with a shorter shirt too short to even be appropriate. He had a particular fondness for lacy details, the more delicate the better.

Sometimes he would make you wear dog ears or cat ears, making you wear a collar as he cooed condescendingly, stroking your hair as he ordered you to get down and put your chin on his knee or forced you to sit on his lap.

Sometimes having you wear costumed shoes with heels too high to walk on. Barely able to walk on them, he would carry you, dreaming of how this was how a prince would carry his pretty princess. You wanted nothing more than to rip them off your feet, but with thick buckles and locks, it was practically impossible to take them off unless you chopped your feet.

To him, you became his pet, maid, princess, and whatever else perverted thing he managed to think up. Everything that happened in the mansion would never go out. The maids and servants didn't seem to care much about you, nor did they ever realize that the noble they served and some adored was a monster.

That the person they once thought to be him was long gone, rotting in some ditch as the monster took on his role just to make a situation that fits.

All they cared about was that their master had changed for the better, so in love with his wife that he shopped for all the violent acts he had done in the past. Not understanding that this was all wrong. Not knowing that he had control over their minds, that in reality, they were nothing more than lifeless husks made to believe that they were alive and that whatever he was doing to you was nothing more than normal.

From how he would lock you in a room as punishment, or how he would force you to feed him on his lap with overly revealing attire unfit for a noblewoman as he continued to be so fond of you.

Some days he would ask you if you loved him, loved him as much as he does to the point of obsession. The hurt in his eyes as he held you tighter asking what you wanted that would make you happy, "Why don't you love me as much as I do?" He would ask, as you watched tentacles move around the desk writing papers that were related to work. Tentacles that were connected to his back.

He pulled you closer to him, arms holding your waist tight, already forced to sit on his lap against your chest to touch his, which forced you to look up at him, unable to look anywhere else. Even if you were able to, it would be a bad decision to do so when he got angry.

Just as much as he loved dressing you up, you also have watched him morph many times, into something or someone else to make whatever fantasy even more real. The doors locked so that no one could come in, the windows shut so that no one could see through, and the lights but only from the flickering candle. "Do you want me to look like your lover? Would you love me more if I looked like him?" He asked, pulling your thigh closer to him, as you watched him morph, becoming nothing more than black goop to the man who you once loved.

The soft smile on his lips and the brightness of his eyes made you think that he finally loved you. It fluttered your heart but also sent shivers down your spine, as you knew that this wasn't your crush.

He was desperate for your love, yet at the same time, he was sadistic, forcing you to love him. There were days when he threatened you to stay by his side, unless you wanted to go out of the room or mansion naked, or face something worse. Your only choice was to stay there or hold his arm like a love-sick wife who loved him just as much as he loved her.

You felt gross, so vile, by this monster parading as a human and also forcing you to love him. But he didn't care, as long as he could see that you loved him and were by his side, playing by whatever whims he had in the bedroom or office. You were the person he had fallen in love with when he sneaked into the town of humans. You were kinder than anyone he had met. He had fallen in love with you that day and would do anything to keep you with him. He would even kill and take over the body of a noble just to get closer to you.

So long as you belonged to him.

[sukunas-wife]

sukuna who's over heels with y/n, but y/n is stupidly in love with yuuji who is falling in love with megumi?!

GOOD GOD THIS IS THE REAL REASON HE HATES YUJI AND HAD TO TAKE MEGUMI HOSTAGE

I tried, 🤍 I don’t where my brain went but it was everywhere 🙂‍↕️

You loved Yuji, and it hurt him, he was infuriated

All those times you spent together, had you only ever saw him as friend and nothing more? Even when he bullied and teased you, he made sure to never dig into you as crudely as he would others.

He proved in many ways he was superior to counter part, he remembers your giggles and bashful smiles when he’d prove himself superior and you’d compliment him.

We’re your words lies??? He scoffed, and turned to you beside him, you had just confessed to him you had a crush on Yuji, and it as much as he tried to hide it, the sour taste on his mouth and the bitter expression on his face told you everything you needed to know. He was upset with you, you expected him to be, because it was his brother, it would ruin you’re entire friendship. But that wasn’t the true reason he had become so upset.

He wanted to snap you that Yuji wasn’t even straight, that he knew his brother was interested in that Fushiguro brat. He wanted to make you understand why you had chosen incorrectly, why you’re little idea was foolish. So he tried to explain in a way without outing his closeted brother.

Of course you became upset thinking he just didn’t want you and Yuji together. You yelled at him and watched how he clenched his jaw, his eye twitched before he sighed and physically deflated. He leaned forward, testing his forearms on his thighs and dropped his head. You almost felt bad seeing how he reacted, but he stood up, not giving you time to put your hand on his shoulder, he didn’t face you, he didn’t even glance in your direction when he told you, “Y/n, I’m not going to stop you from doing whatever the hell you want. But as Yuji’s brother, I know damn well this isn’t going to work the way you think it is. If you’re so fucking set on going and pouring your heart out to him, you do that. I’ll be right here when you realize it’s not what you thought it was.”

He left you on his bed in his room and he went out to smoke on the back patio. There he found Choso, their step brother. Sukuna wasn’t as close to Choso as Yuji was, but in that day the silence between the two as they sat there in the others presence was enough to sway their opinion on the other, “Maybe he’s not as big of an ass.” “Maybe that sleep deprived brat ain’t to bad.”

—- —- —- —- —- •*•*•*•*•*• —- —- —- —- —-

THEN YUJI REJECTED YOU in his oh so bashful manner saying he liked Megumi..

It was later that week after mulling over your thoughts, over Sukuna’s words, what did he mean when he said he’d still be there. Of course you didn’t put much thought into the finer details as you made your way to Itadori’s house hold. You found Yuji sitting on the front porch basking in the sun with a smile on his face. It was the fall season and you know how much he loved going on walks and stepping on the “Crunchy” leaves. He opened his eyes hearing your steps, if anything he knew everyone by their walk. He smiled waving a hand, “Hey! Didn’t think I’d see you this week, you haven’t called or messaged so I thought you were busy with your college classes.” You smiled at him shrugging “It’s just been a busy week I guess, a lot to think about but it feel like I can’t even think straight about what I need to focus on.”

He hummed “Yeah, me too…” you both fell into after he offered you the spot next to him. Sitting out under the afternoon sun, the soft breeze and sounds of leaves scraping over the street and side walk. Your face felt warm as you found the courage to finally say what had been on your chest. “Yuji, I need to tell you something.” He was staring off with a smile at the sky, he turned to you with that same smile, eye brows furrowed a bit in curiosity, “It’s gonna sound weird since we’ve known each other for so long but I think I really like you.” You didn’t miss the way his eyes widened and his face paled.

He was scared shitless, and fumbled over his words before he sighed looking down. He leaned back on his palms staring up at the sky with a neutral expression. “Y/n…” he couldn’t look at you, you felt sick at the tone of his voice. He knew Sukuna adored you, he wasn’t blind, weather Sukuna could admit it or not no one would know him better than Yuji, no one wouldn’t be able to notice the slightest change in his personality if not his brother, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I don’t like…” he hesitated, “I don’t see us…” he sighed thinking it over, “I don’t see you in that light, and it’s not you exactly it just…” he huffed, he didn’t know how to tell you, he wasn’t interested in you without making it seem like it was because of you, he didn’t know how to tell you he had fallen in love with his best friend, and he went through his own breakdowns and trauma, he remembered how he cried and pulled at his hair, in frustration and confusion. How Sukuna had to forcefully hold him down in a strange embrace to keep him from pulling his hair, he remembers laying in bad crying into Sukuna until Choso came home and tried to offer consolation and a level head to help him think and process everything.

The three spent their night on Yuji’s bed in a comforting silence. It was interesting watching Yuji laid on his stomach watching tv at the foot of his bed, Sukuna who was scrolling aimlessly on his phone with his feet propped up on Yuji’s back, and Choso who was sat against the headboard occasionally watching the movie while being one of the three to actually go their college work ahead of time.

“I’m gay Y/n… and I well, I already have plans with someone else…” you felt sick and stupid. Your weren’t sick because of your best friend gay, you were sick from your embarrassment. Yuji didn’t catch on having not looked away form the setting son. But you felt nauseous, you felt the embarrassment in your bones. Rejection hurt you nonetheless even though it was based on pure honesty. You couldn’t hate him or his answer, but you could fight the sentiment building up inside as you felt heat on your face. With a shaky breath and voice you answered him, “Thank you for letting me know, Yuu.” He turned to look at you concerned, he saw the tears in your eyes, “…y/n.” You smiled through your tears, “Don’t worry about it, I just hope your happy.” He wanted to comfort you but you stood up quickly, “I’ll see you around, I’m gonna go for a walk.” You waved him off quickly making your way out of sight. Staring at the sun set you ducked your head and let yourself cry until you found yourself at a park bench where you sat down letting your head fall back. Tears still flooding your eyes, you closed them shutting the evening sky out of sight. You tried to repress every sound, your ears and nose stuffy, your phone ringing with messages, probably your parents or siblings asking when you’d get home. You couldn’t stand to answer, rubbing your balled fists aggressively over your eyes trying to force the tears away. It didn’t work because it felt like they were rushing out faster. No one was there to dry your tears, your heart screamed out for just someone to come and hold you, your heart held out for a fantasy for a dream of Mr.Perfect coming and sweeping you off that bench into a hug and comforting you while you cried into the stary sky. But Mr.Perfect was a dream, and the stary night was a illusion as your hands were pulled away so you could see the full moon rising and over casting the stars to disappear. Face hot and red puffy eyes, you hated it, you hated the moon, you hated that you knew who was holding your wrists hostage, “Shitty brat, you have people losing their shit wondering where the hell you are. Is it that hard to answer your phone.” You leaned your head further back, your teary eyes and distraught face didn’t faze Sukuna as he sighed walking around the bench and sitting next to you. In the same manner he had held Yuji down he did to you when you quickly started to wipe your tears away.

“Stop it dumbass you’re gonna make it worse with how hard your rubbing your skin.” It was a quick movement he pulled you at an angle so your back was to his left side side, his left arm thrown over the back of the bench and your shoulder, his single hand held both your wrists hostage. Hi sighed and you only sniffled quietly, at least he’d given you the decency to not be seen when you cried. “You’re family called ask if we knew where you were…” you sniffled not answering, “Yuji told Cho and I everything…” silence fell over both of you. Your little movements from sniffling kept Sukuna from losing his train of thought. He lets your hands fall from his grip as he moved his hand to hold a loose choke hold over your shoulders and pull you closer against his side. He was nonchalant when he sighed, “I said it wouldn’t work out y/n, now look at us, you’re crying and I’m here holding you hostage from your own hands, way to spend a Friday night huh?” You hands sound it in you to say anything yet, your hands coming up to hold onto the loose black sleeve that covered his arm, finally your let your head fall left against his shoulder, “Did you know Yuji was gay?” “Yeah, he’s my brother, kinda knew before he knew.” You let out a single laugh, “Guess that’s why you said all that stuff then.. huh?” The silence was inevitable, Sukuna wasn’t a man of words, but the way he squeezed your shoulders was enough to comfort you.

Sure enough, it took a month, before you found yourself foolishly falling for Sukuna and his rough edges, snide comments and crude behavior. But what you loved more were the nights he’d sneak into your room when he knew a thunderstorm would come at night. And you’d sleep with the curtain open tucked into his side to watch the storm pass. Staying at the Itadori house all day to be with him and his brothers. Meeting Megumi who seemed very out of place when he first arrived, he was so docile and reserved it was humoring to think he and Yuji would be a pair. Then again anyone would say the same about yourself and Sukuna. But what really shocked everyone was when Choso brought home a friend, and announced his friend as his girlfriend, Yuki was her name.

(Alternate ending: the way Yuji made you cry? of course it fueled Sukuna’s anger. Why? because Yuji had made you cry and broke your little heart, (he’s bi he just doesnt like you and is a bit blunt with it so it comes off rude) so Sukuna decided, he’d have to make sure if he wasn’t happy no one could be happy, he convinced Megumi that Yuji actually hated him and was just being nice to him because he felt bad “A gay little twink boy” like Megumi was always alone and had no one to talk to or hang out with. Which in retaliation make Megumi shut out and cut off Yuji with no hesitation and Yuji is confused and sad, because the day he was going to confess to Megumi, he was left alone waiting all day in a cafe thinking “Megumi would never not show up without texting me?”

SurpISE on his way home Yuji see’s Megumi crying and walking solemnly in the night misty rain, he was going to approach him until he see’s someone else approaching Megumi and pulling him into a hug. He watched as Megumi slumped against this person and just stood, his forehead pressed to the teller person chest. Yuji was wide eyed when he saw the teller person left their chin from megumi’s head and using their finger tips to angle Megumi’s face up. He felt sick, that wave of nausea, embarrassment, the ache in your body that makes you wanna puke and leaves you weak, it hit him hard when he saw the taller person lean down, he saw clearly how Megumi’s tear stained lashes fluttered slowly when the other person moved in closer and kissed him. Yuji did in fact puke, but he swallowed it down. It wasn’t til the two pulled apart and started to walk together under the street lights he realized who the other guy was. He was Noritoshi Kamo, a relative of Choso’s through choso’s father’s side. Someone of a respectable and well known family who would fit Megumi far better than Yuji would’ve… he stood there in the rain looking down at the side as he slowly made his way home.

By the time he got home he was soaked, he wasn’t hungry, he just wanted to sleep. He thought about you, it weighed on him if this was how you felt? He wanted to apologize to you and maybe even consider take you out on a date instead. But he didn’t get that chance, he walked into Sukuna’s room to try and get tonight off his chest, out of his head. Instead he found you curled up in his brother, you were wearing a tank top arms wrapped around Sukuna’s torso, using his shoulder as a pillow as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You were wearing Sukuna’s sweats pants and had your leg thrown over his waist snoring away. Sukuna’s eyes were closed, his free hand tucked behind his head. It was obvious he wasn’t asleep when he opened his eyes and saw his brother in his door. “What’s wrong brat?” Yuji simply shook his head, “I’ll talk to you in the morning.” He passed Choso in the hallway who immediately stoped him concerned. Yuji cried to Choso unable to get the words out, Choso held him tight comforting his brother all night letting him know everything would be alright in time.

Tags: @mammons-wife @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing @alialucille @lexiene @domainofmarie @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks @bofadeezs @shytastemakerthing

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I read your rewrite of Chapter 2 (which was great, by the way) and would like to clarify some things. Of course, you wrote that the fixes were just you exploring possibilities, so you don't need to justify anything if you don't want to. 1. How would Leona join the investigation? Correct me if I am wrong, but Leona didn't seem to know about Yuu and co. until Riddle and Qater confronted Ruggie. For him to know about them so soon, someone (like an injured Savanaclaw student or a Savanaclaw student who overheard Yuu and co. questioning others) would need to let him know. Even then, would he be able to join without looking suspicious? 2. How does Leona plan to frame Diasomnia and get it to stick? He can point fingers all he wants and use the circumstantial evidence they gather to prove it, but Diasomnia has no reason to sabotage others when they have Malleus. Leona would most likely be aware of Crowley's biases, so is he just hoping casting enough suspicion would force Crowley's hand? Does he intend to convince students from other dorms to demand their disqualification despite the lack of motive?

[Referencing this post!]

Wow, people are still reading that?? 😭

As I said in the original post, my book 2 rewrite was more of a compilation of shower thoughts without much care given to fleshing out the finer details. It is by no means perfect, nor is it meant to cover everything.

There’s enough wiggle room left for various different interpretations using my book 2 rewrite as a basis. It’s meant to be flexible!

Just for fun, here are my thoughts:

To your first point, I don’t think Leona would come off as suspicious if his introduction was framed a certain way (which I’m sure he could plan around). Yuu and co. would be investigating all the dorms (since they’re all suspects), which includes Savanaclaw students. Leona could easily hear it from Savanaclaw mobs and then reintroduce himself to the group, claiming he also wants in on the investigation to seek justice for his injured students. Since Riddle is already investigating with Yuu, Leona could easily use that to distract from his true intentions. He would come off as just another pissed dorm leader trying to stand up for and avenge his dorm members. (And if we really want to get technical, we could reason the other dorm leaders are not getting involved due to other reasons, like Azul being busy with the inter-dorm event organization, Jamil not trusting anyone with Kalim but himself, Vil preoccupied with his professional gigs, Idia being Idia, and no one knowing where the heck Malleus has wandered off to now.)

To your second point, I think Leona definitely has the capacity to trick/manipulate other students into believing Diasomnia is responsible. He could set up situations which incriminate certain Diasomnia students (based on their unique skillsets), then leave the other dorms’ students to come to their own (false) conclusions based on that. Obviously, it would look too suspicious if he and Savanaclaw students are the only ones pointing fingers, so he has to convince the others to parrot the rhetoric he wants them to. If it was done this way, we achieve many things: 1) Leona comes off as way more intelligent than in the original book 2, 2) it sets up more parallels between him and Jamil (who also tried to get a lot of people to side with him under false pretenses to convince someone of higher authority to change their mind) for delicious book 6 payoff, and 3) it adds to the sense of betrayal the other students experience at the end when it turns out Leona deceived them.

Something I feel that the main story fails to do well is to define the rivalries between each dorm. It’s only mentioned a few times off-handedly, like how Octavinelle and Scarabia students are intelligent and are thus always neck and neck in terms of grades. In my revised book 2, an opportunity arises to utilize this untapped potential. Think about it: what if the other dorm members are more likely to suspect Diasomnia because the main story calls more attention to how the dorms do NOT get along with each other?? Diasomnia is described to us as a place where skilled all-around mages go, and this has resulted in the Diasomnia students being more arrogant than your average NRC student (which by itself is already very arrogant). From that point of view, it’s not too hard to believe that the other students could think Diasomnia is injuring other students “just because they can”. They’ve grown too arrogant and think they can get away with doing whatever they want because they won’t face the consequences of their actions. (Malleus himself is THE poster child of that across multiple events and vignettes too.) There doesn’t necessarily need to be a motive in the traditional sense; people could suspect that Diasomnia has gotten too high and mighty, so they are conceited and feel entitled to doing whatever the hell they want. It would be a perfect way for Leona to weaponize the preexisting animosity and pride of the NRC students against them. The injured students would then feel slighted because Diasomnia are being held up as the metaphorical “golden children” (despite their theoretical unethical behavior) while their suffering is looked over. These feelings ironically also parallel how Scar feels cheated of the throne because of his careless older brother and son, or even how the hyenas are not seen as part of the Pridelands.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Turning Points

Pairing: Éomer x reader (who doesn’t want to imagine themselves hanging out with Éomer??). Plus an Elfhelm cameo because I love that dude.

Summary: Éomer’s lifelong best friend reckons with how much and how quickly his life has changed as a result of the war and wonders what that means for the life she had hoped to have with him.

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

The clear, deep sound of horns rang out in the distance and alerted all of Edoras to the imminent arrival of the army, home for the first time since that urgent, panicked ride to Helm’s Deep more than two months ago. Although word of their subsequent deeds and victories in Gondor had already reached the city, many details were yet unknown, and the mood of those who gathered in the streets was celebratory but tinged with anxiety as hopeful eyes prepared to scan the returning éoreds for a first glimpse of deeply missed loved ones.

The terrace in front of Meduseld quickly filled with people, and you slipped easily into the crowd as the first few companies of horsemen began to climb the hill. The riders smiled broadly at the cheers and flowers that rained down on them, though some still bore clear evidence of painful wounds and fractures. Others led behind them riderless horses, the mounts of those soldiers who would never return. You whispered a quiet prayer of gratitude, knowing from the messengers who had gone back and forth from Minas Tirith that both of those most precious to you were safely in the host.

No sooner had you finished your prayer than a cry went up from the crowd–“Hail, Elfhelm, Marshal of Edoras!”—and your father came into view. As gregarious as he was popular, he played shamelessly to the crowd, doffing his stallion-crested helmet and waving a shield that had clearly been confiscated from some defeated Haradrim commander. When his eyes finally landed on you, he gave a joyful whoop and sprang from the saddle. Throwing the helmet and shield aside, he ran to you with the speed of a much younger man, and the strength of his embrace forced the breath from your lungs. He spun you around several times as you kissed his sunburned cheeks, and when he placed you on your feet again he grasped your shoulders and gazed for a long moment at your face.

“Many nights have I dreamed of just this view,” he said. “There is no finer one in all of Middle Earth.”

You gave his hands a squeeze. “I have not known a moment’s peace since you left. Now that you are back, I may never let you leave again.”

“I am at your command, my lady,” he said with a smile and an exaggerated bow. “But I do not flatter myself so much as to think that I am the only one you have been missing. The royal household will be arriving soon, and I am certain you are as eager to see the new king as he must be to see you.”

Your heart leaped in your chest at the mention of Éomer, but this was not the time or the place to open the gate that held back those feelings. “For my part, I shall certainly be glad to see him home and safe. But a man such as Éomer has many friends, and no doubt he desires to see them all.”

He burst into laughter. “Do you speak such nonsense on purpose, or have I really raised you to be so naive? I know that you do not admit it to others, and perhaps not even between yourselves, but I have watched the two of you for many years now and I know love when I see it. Let us not pretend you are just one friend among many, a single star in a crowded sky. You are his sun, just as he is yours. I may be old, but I am certainly not blind.”

Your face flushed in pain and embarrassment. If your father had perceived all of this, likely others had, too. It was true that you loved Éomer, and you had always believed he loved you back. You felt his devotion in the way he trusted you and watched out for you, in the look on his face when you walked into a room. But neither of you had ever stated it outright. Perhaps you had been wrong all along, reading a great deal too much into a cherished friendship. Or perhaps what he felt was no longer relevant given his new responsibilities and duties. Either way, when Éomer married another in a few months' time, your crushed hopes would be on display for the whole city to see and discuss.

“Things have changed, father. You know that. The Éomer that I have known all my life was Éomund’s son. He was not heir to the throne of Rohan and certainly not its king. His life is very different now from the one we might have expected just months ago when Théodred was still alive.”

He sighed. “Much has happened, I concede. He has gone from nephew to heir to king. He nearly lost his sister. He comes home with much to reflect on. But his heart itself has not changed.”

“Has it not?” Despite your best efforts, your voice broke and tears began to slide down your cheeks. “Then what of the news that has already made its way back here in advance of your return? Amongst word of your victories and the death of poor Théoden, it also said that Éomer is to marry the princess of Dol Amroth. They say she is considered a proper match for a king of the Mark, and that none less than the new king of Gondor himself proposed it. If I have heard this, surely you have, too.”

Your father reached up to gently brush a tear aside. “Anyone who would claim that you–the finest woman in all of Rohan–are not a proper match for our own king does not have sense enough to offer an opinion on the subject. I have heard this talk of Dol Amroth, it is true, but I have not heard any of it from Éomer’s own lips. And I will not believe it unless I do. His choice was made long ago. You will see.” He put a finger under your chin and tipped your face up to him. “Now, I would stay here and debate this with you all day if your mother were not surely waiting for me at home. And if she thinks I have not hurried there with sufficient speed, she will soon accomplish what all the swordsmen of Harad could not!”

You smiled in spite of yourself and kissed him one last time before he remounted his horse. He gave you a wink as he rode on, and you dried your eyes before turning back to the procession of riders making their way forward.

Before long, the king’s banner appeared at the bottom of the hill. Even at that distance, it was easy to identify Éomer among the many men of his household–you would always recognize his frame and the way he carried himself even if he were not wearing his distinctive horse-tailed helmet and sitting astride Firefoot, who had now been arrayed with a saddle and bridle that sparkled with the gold of a monarch.

As he came into closer view, you could begin to discern the new trappings of royalty–the beautiful green cloak trimmed with shining gold embroidery, the neatly braided hair, the fur-lined boots. But underneath these superficial changes, he still looked like your Éomer. The same man who shared with you a lifetime of confidences and mischief and private jokes. The one who cried in your arms when he missed his parents. Who doted on you whenever you were sick and angrily confronted anyone he thought had hurt your feelings. Who stole your breath every time he turned his hazel eyes and dimpled smile in your direction.

His company dismounted near the bottom of the terrace, and he moved toward the stairs, trailed by attendants, guards and throngs of well-wishers eager to greet their new king. The clamor presented a perfect opportunity to slip away now that you had confirmed with your own eyes that he was safe and unharmed. It was the coward’s way out, but even one more day before you had to directly confront your new reality would be a gift. Just as you began to turn away, however, the sound of his voice carried over the tumult, calling your name.

You froze in place as he approached, feeling immediately uncertain of everything–how to stand, where to look, what to do. A lifetime of affectionate greetings and easy companionship had not prepared you to meet under these circumstances, not as intimate friends but as ruler and subject. Beloved and left behind. Hearing nothing but the sound of your own blood pulsing in your veins, you bowed and looked down.

“Hail, Éomer King.” When you finally raised your eyes, you could see uncertainty written on his face as well. He took another step toward you but stopped, and tentatively reached out a hand before dropping it back to his side. He looked in both directions, where dozens of attentive faces observed his every move.

“I am glad to see you,” he said quietly. His eyes sought yours, and when you allowed them to meet he gave you a soft smile. “I have missed you.”

“I…I am much relieved to see you home. These have been long and anxious months.”

Before either of you could speak again, an armored man at Éomer’s side cleared his throat and nodded in the direction of Meduseld. “You are expected in the hall, my lord. There is much business awaiting your attention, including messages due both to Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth.”

The mention of Dol Amroth sent an icy stab of pain into your chest, and you shrank back several steps, seeking a swift retreat. “Go ahead, my lord,” you managed to say. “A king’s duties must come first.”

His thick brows drew together and he frowned slightly, but eventually he nodded his assent. Your feet carried you away and down a maze of small streets and back alleys, picking up speed as you got further from the crowd, until at last you reached the edge of the city and disappeared into the surrounding fields and paddocks. You cast yourself down in the tall, sweet-smelling grass, shedding tears until you had none left and then staring up dolefully at the flat, blank sky. No matter how you considered and reconsidered your position, only two excruciating choices seemed to lay before you–either to find a new way to love Éomer, shorn of all romantic possibility and content to exist on the terms available to you, or to lose him entirely from your life. The first option felt beyond your strength, but the second was utterly unthinkable.

Uncounted hours passed until it began to darken and torches and candles sparked to life in the distance. Miserable and cold but not yet ready to join the revelry of your family, you wandered back to the city and found yourself headed to the old tack room at the marshal’s stables. Ever since childhood, the abandoned little storage space had served as a private spot to meet your friends, talk or simply to think, and during the war you had spent many hours there alone ruthlessly poring over your fears and concerns.

Throwing open the door and expecting to find it empty as always, you instead walked straight into Éomer, practically bouncing off his chest as he stood just past the threshold. Gone were the outward adornments of royalty, and he looked as you were accustomed to seeing him—simple clothing, well-used boots, hair in loose waves on his shoulders. “Éomer! I mean….I’m sorry. Excuse me, my lord.”

He grimaced a little. “Please, that is not necessary here. Not when it is us. I would like one piece of my old life that is familiar, someone who will still treat me not as king but as myself. I thought you might be here and hoped we could talk as we always have.”

He sat on an old saddle trunk and looked up at you expectantly. Here now was the first opportunity to test your strength—to be there for him simply as a friend and see if you could endure it—and so you nodded and sat next to him.

He was quiet at first, looking around the room and seeming lost in thought. The issue of his pending marriage felt to you like a heavy, palpable presence in the room, but you did not have the heart to raise the subject yet. Instead, you clasped your arms around yourself and waited for him to speak, to give some indication of what he was thinking.

“Do you remember my fifteenth birthday?” he asked suddenly.

“Your…fifteenth birthday? Yes, I think so.” Fragments of distant memories quickly reassembled in your mind. “That was the night you dragged a stolen cask of ale in here, wasn’t it? And then you drank more than half of it all on your own.”

“Which meant you had to spend the rest of the night holding back my hair while I experienced the consequences.”

You smiled. “Yes. Though I experienced some of your consequences, too, if I recall. Those shoes were never the same again.”

He snorted a laugh, and for just a moment things felt almost normal again. Easy and light, as they had been when you were just those two coltish teenagers, having fun and testing the limits of your adolescent independence. But as the laughter faded, the awkwardness returned and his face turned serious.

“I am sorry about this morning.” He shook his head slowly. “That was not how I imagined our reunion, but everything has become so difficult and formal now. I have few moments to myself or chances to do as I once would.”

You could hear in his voice the strain of this adjustment to always being the focus of attention, to being one who is honored and deferred to instead of one who is engaged with. No wonder he was thinking of earlier, simpler days. You longed to comfort him, to take his hand or sit with your head against his shoulder. “Do not apologize,” you said instead. “I understand that you have new demands on you. I regret only that I was not able to tell you how sorry I am about your uncle. I will miss his kind heart.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I take comfort in knowing that he would be proud of what his death achieved.”

Another small silence ensued before he looked up and smiled at you. “But now I must apologize again,” he said, “for I have not yet asked after you. Please, tell me how you have been since we last saw each other.”

You gave a dismissive wave of your hand. “There is not much to tell, at least nothing to stand alongside the great tales we have already heard of your heroic deeds.”

“I do not ask for great tales,” he insisted. “I want only to hear about you and what I have missed, great or small.”

“Well, what you missed were endless hours of inventories and supplies and checklists and stockpiles. Many of the men who typically see to those basic concerns were injured or killed at Helm’s Deep, or they were called away to your muster. So I filled my days with work that they would have done…tracking stores of food and medicine and equipment, ensuring they were sent where they were most needed, planning for replenishments when stocks ran low. It was nothing I have ever done before, obviously, but I am careful with numbers and can keep good records, which is most of what was required.”

He chuckled. “Old Elfhelm has always been so proud that his daughter is one of the few in Rohan to read and write. I heard him bragging as much to one of Lord Elrond’s sons back in Gondor.”

You smiled and shrugged. “That certainly sounds like him. He has never lacked paternal enthusiasm. Or the confidence to share his enthusiasm with literally anyone.”

“That is true, but he is right to be proud. You should be proud as well. Hunger and disease often follow in war’s footsteps, even for the victors, and that has not been allowed to happen here despite the destruction of so many villages and farms and the absence of so many of the normal laborers. That is a service any king would value.”

Your cheeks bloomed a bright red, and he smiled at your discomfort with praise. In truth, though, you were quite proud of what you had accomplished, and it was only hearing the praise from his lips that sent waves of warm color to your face. “Thank you,” you mumbled at last.

He seemed on the verge of speaking again, but instead he leaned back against the wall and contemplated the floor for several long moments. His knee jogged quickly up and down, a nervous tic he’d had ever since boyhood. Before you could ask what was troubling him, however, he looked up with an unsettling intensity.

“May I ask you something? And you will respond to me honestly, no matter what?”

His earnest tone sparked a flare of anxiety in your chest. Was this the moment when he intended to tell you of his engagement? When you would have to somehow react to this news with the graciousness and dignity you knew were required? “I will certainly try.”

He took a deep breath and winced slightly in anticipation of speaking. “I have spent many hours now reflecting on things that Éowyn related to me before I left Gondor. How she did not feel that she was able to live the life she wanted when she was here. That she could not be who she was meant to be simply because she was born a woman. I am ashamed that I was blind to the causes of her unhappiness and that she did not feel that she could confide her true feelings to me earlier. But having failed her then, I worry now that I may have failed others in my life as well. Others who are equally important to me.”

He suddenly turned and grasped your forearms, repositioning you both so that you now sat face to face rather than side by side.

“If you have ever felt that same unhappiness or believed that I was not willing or able to understand your feelings, will you now forgive me? I would not want anyone else to suffer as Éowyn did, and least of all you.”

Your heart broke a little at his words. It broke for Éomer, who would sooner give his life than intentionally hurt someone he cared for, and it broke for Éowyn, whose full feelings had never before been revealed to you. But, hearing now how she had felt, something in her words resonated with a deep part of you, reverberating off a chord you had not always been consciously aware of. You thought carefully for several moments before responding.

“If you ask me whether I ever resented you or the life that I led, the answer is no. I have always trusted in you above all others, and my life never felt anything but normal to me. But I, too, have reflected on these last months, and perhaps I can now better understand Éowyn’s mind.”

He nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“Amid the tragedy of these days, I found some purpose and meaning in the work I did. It was gratifying to feel truly useful for the first time. I did not know it before, as you do not know to miss something you never had, but once that instinct is awakened it is difficult to ignore. It seems it was awakened in Éowyn long ago. But, for myself, I cannot deny that I will now be deeply saddened to lose my sense of purpose once the men are all returned to their old duties and the help of a woman is no longer accepted.”

“Maybe that is not what has to happen,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I would not come to a new understanding of the world, to learn a necessary lesson at a steep cost, only to ignore that lesson and rule my kingdom as though I do not know any better. This will not be a land that I want to rule if half the people must always limit their talents and hopes to fit within the meager bounds afforded to them by the other half.”

His words hung in the air as you struggled to make sense of what you had heard. A chance to share in the great works and deeds of the kingdom, just as the elven women had always done in their own lands? To learn and achieve and stretch yourself in ways that had never before been possible, and not just when dictated by the necessity of war but as a part of everyday life? You had scarcely the courage to even dream of such a thing, but now it was being offered to you. And you knew you wanted it. “I will be the first to stand behind you in any such effort,” you say at last. “But what you suggest is a radical departure from the way that things have been for all the years of our history, indeed from the way that they have always been in all the lands of men. There may be strong opposition to change.”

“I do not fear a difficult task if I know it to be necessary. I will see it done.” He paused and gently picked up your hand to hold it between both of his. “Though I would be aided by the help of a capable queen. One who will rule with me, not as a token or a symbol, but as a true partner.”

His touch sent a jolt of lightning through your arm, and you looked down at your hand to watch his thumb run lightly back and forth over your wrist. It left a trail of fire on your skin. “I…Well, I do not think I understand. Surely you mean Prince Imrahil’s daughter?”

“Imrahil’s daughter?” He looked startled. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because news of a royal engagement travels quickly, perhaps faster than you realize. Half of Edoras has already heard about you and the princess of Dol Amroth.”

“Then half of Edoras has heard wrong.”

A small gasp escaped your lips before you could act to hold it back. You looked up into his eyes and drew a shallow breath. “Then…then you have changed your mind?”

“I have not, but only because it never needed changing. I am certain that any daughter of Imrahil is a good and worthy woman, but I declined that match when it was suggested. Any report to the contrary is the result of confusion or rumor. It is true that I am ready for marriage, but I do not wish to bind myself forever to someone I barely know. To someone whose heart and mind I do not yet fully understand. Not when my own heart has long been reserved for one who I already know to be the best of women.” He drew your hand up and pressed it tightly to his chest, where you could feel the steady, strong beat of that heart against your fingertips. “If she will have me.”

All the world seemed suddenly still, as though you were balanced precariously on the crest of a hill, waiting for the last tip forward that would send you rushing headlong down into a new and joyous life. You opened your mouth to respond but found that no words would come. Instead, you raised a hand to his face, lightly tracing your fingers along his jaw before sinking them into his dark golden hair and pulling him toward you for a kiss that had been decades in the making.

It was worth the wait.

[sister-lucifer]

A Lovely Awakening: A Preview

Cws: consensual somno, trans masc reader, needy Toby

A/N: this is a WIP from literal years ago that i found, enjoy. definitely will be finishing this

God, you looked so soft when you slept. 

That was the only word to describe it. Soft.  

So unbearably soft that your perfect skin begged for Toby’s touch. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring at you from the doorway, but even he knew it was becoming a little unsettling. He found it hard to move, though, as was debating with himself quite harshly at the moment. 

He wanted to reach out and run his hands over you, to feel you the way he knew you’d let him, but he wouldn’t dare wake you. You’d had such a long day, you deserved the nap, but… 

Fuck, he was so needy. 

He thought back to the conversation you’d had a few days prior when he’d shyly approached you with the idea of waking you up by eating you out, or even just touching you while you slept. There was no nice way to ask a question like that, and it took a lot of your restraint to keep from pointing out how red in the face he was, though you couldn’t blame him. He certainly wasn’t expecting you to respond the way you did.

“Toby, you don’t have to be so embarrassed,” You had assured him, “It’s okay if you need me while I’m asleep.” 

He remembered the way you’d ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead in an attempt to calm his nerves. 

“That sounds like a lovely idea, sweetheart. I’d be more than happy to allow you that.” 

The nickname made his heart skip a beat. He loved when you used that soft tone with him, always accompanied by a hug or gentle kiss. 

You’d talked a bit more about it after that, smoothing out some of the finer details and assuring Toby many times that you were not only comfortable with but excited about the idea. 

And yet, he was still worried.

He had no reason to be, really, but he didn’t want to do anything wrong. He didn’t want to—God forbid—scare you off, even if you’d said it yourself that he could never do that. 

He sighed as he approached your sleeping form, looking over you again. Your shirt had been pushed up to your chest, exposing your perfect tummy that he loved so much. You’d kicked off most of your blankets which were now laying around you if they hadn’t already fallen to the floor. Your chest rose and fell slowly with each of your quiet breaths. 

Soft. 

That’s how you felt under his hands when he finally reached out to touch you, tracing the tips of his fingers from your chest down to your stomach, pulling away when he reached the waistband of your sweatpants. 

Wrong, he thinks, it’s wrong for me to want this, isn’t it? 

But he can’t make himself completely agree. 

He keeps thinking about that endlessly kind smile you gave him, the one that eased all his nerves and melted his anxiety down to nothing after he awkwardly stuttered out his proposition. You were being so genuine, without a hint of disgust or judgement swirling in the back of your beautiful eyes. 

Before he can think his hands are back on you, gently sliding up and down your sides and pushing your shirt up a bit further. 

God, you are so soft. 

[eldritch-spouse]

The reality that I have been kidnapped by Hudsyn is setting in. I look at the tea and take a small sip hoping it isn’t spiked with anything.

I look towards the wall with the papers taped to then and make a gesture. Scooting closer to them and Hudsyn, (trying to see if I can make anything out of his face underneath his hood.)

“Oh are these related to your, and um I guess now our research… dear mentor? Please tell me more, and I am fascinated to hear about your breakthrough.”

(He watches you raise the cup to your lips with a wordless stare that seems to pierce into your soul.)

(The sensation that floods into your tastebuds instantly soaks into every inch of your tongue at once, somewhere between scalding hot and spine-chillingly cold, a strange metallic tang that quickly burns into an unforgettable sweetness. Your eyes widen like dinner plates and you rip the cup away from your lips, spilling a bit down the side, trying to control your sudden drooling. What in the fuck was that?)

" Remarkable, isn't it? "

(The demonoid in front of your murmurs, looking far too pleased for his own good. In a matter of moments, this wave of overpowering calmness takes over every muscle in your body, compelling you to slowly place the cup down. Although you're inwardly panicking, your body seems unresponsive to that stress, feeling as light as a feather while a smile paints itself on your features. You are... Content? More than that, you're fixated on the monster in front of you.)

(For a moment, you swear you can see into his mind, his feelings- His boundless excitement becomes your own, making you want to bounce your leg, tear your clothes off, sink your teeth into the nearest tangible object. You feel everything, the tangled, knotted mess of information flying over his conscious, symbols that hold no meaning to you but describe the world itself to him, crazed murmurs and broken cooing and what must be his internal cackling, flashes of something descending from above before it all dies down in a rattling hiss. Finally finally oh finally- He seems to think.)

(The unending panic must show in your eyes while you try to fight this madness, try to process it.)

" Oh no no, don't look at me like that. I am above something as disgustingly perverted as spiking your drink. I assure you that is exactly how you're supposed to feel! And your dosage is much more diluted than mine -You're only human, of course- But imagine what you could glimpse into with the right amount! "

(He hacks with the force of his laughter.)

" I could hit you over the head with the volumes upon volumes of theories about this very substance and it still wouldn't register just how many fucking possibilities it opens for us. "

(The demonoid seems eager to continue rambling about the fluid in the cup -Though, curiously, for as much as he said thus far, he revealed nothing at all- But you interject before he can. Although you are subtle in your approach, the darkness shielding his face is far too enigmatic to make out finer details. You note an odd section where natural light does seem to reflect, oddly symmetrical with the way it cleaves the top part of his head. Other than that, you can't make out any semblance of real facial features on him yet.)

" Yes, why yes they are! "

(The historian jumps to a stand, quickly scheming and ripping one of the pages out of the wall. Something strangely small and thin wags frantically in the back of his robes. Before you can question it too much, he's already sliding the weathered page towards you on the table, grin so wide you fear it'll eat his whole face.)

" Mentee, tell me what's the first thing that comes to mind when you see this image? "

[glacierclear]

Okay, so I need a whole fucking rant about Leon's trauma from you, just straight up ted-talk, please, I'm begging you, just any though about this topic that's rattling in your brain

oh good lord, anon. im taking deep breathes but why would you ask me this why would y-

im putting this under a cut because other wise it'd be annoying

need everyone to keep in mind that im still in the baby beginning stages of my resident evil obsession so finer details pertaining to lore and stuff i will not be aware of !!!!! a lot of this is probably headcannoning anyways...

leon's entire character makes me so sad but so stupidly passionate. this young, bright-eyed boy who just wanted to help people. being forced into an unending nightmare. the actor in re2r did such a good job portraying his earnest flavor of justice.

the fact that you can tell he thoroughly believes everything is his fault and even if you told him none of it was his fault he would probably just cry and pretend to accept what you're saying but none of it would reach his heart. and he's not even half-assing anything. he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't do everything in his power to save people, to do his job, and even then, he can't forgive himself when he does...

that scene in re2r where he first meets marvin and is like "there was another cop...i tried to save him...i tried..." and you can see his lips quiver and he has to bite them to keep himself from collapsing in on himself. it KILLS ME.

and even after that nightmare he was forced into being DSO's little attack dog for the rest of his life. he probably thinks that's what he deserves. he doesn't deserve to have a proper chance at life anymore after screwing up raccoon city so bad. and he probably doesn't have anyone he can really confide in...not truly.

any relationship he manages to have outside of work is probably so loveless. i feel like he is undeniably attracted to partners who don't value him. it validates the part of him that thinks he's the reason all those people died.

maybe he intentionally lets himself get hurt on missions. he drinks until he can't stay awake, until he barfs it all up and then he drinks some more. because otherwise his brain won't stop reliving the past. he probably knows he's sexy. that he's objectively handsome. but he's utterly convinced that if anyone knew him. like actually knew him. they'd be horrified and run away. and he knows he doesn't deserve a good life partner. not really. not truly. he wouldn't be able to make them happy.......

that being said he probably loves animals so much. especially dogs. unconditional love that he can very clearly see, reciprocate, and receive. it's uncomplicated.

it's rare he gets through the night without waking up. either by nightmares or panic attacks or some form of "i feel like im gonna be killed" . he probably trains for hours and hours a week. he has to get better he has to BE better. he has to do it for the people who live and who died. he carries all that on his shoulders. and considering how many times he's been infected with bullshit viruses and parasites over the years he's probably convinced he's JUST LIKE the monsters he kills and that maybe, at any moment, he could hurt those in his life.

and to top it all off. for everything he has to go through and everything he has to fight and everything he has to kill for. he has to do all of that with fucking hair in his eyes because he refuses to get a different haircut.

[definesanity]

Reforge Thy Fate.

(Or, a montage of Darling with the Harbingers in the Fatui!AU.)

Taglist: @barbatoskisser, @gunterdon, @nicebonescomrades, and @chocoenvy.

The Nine of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers: Pantalone, The Regrator.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Why yes, you were bored out of your mind, how could one tell?

You had nothing against Pantalone. Although, if you had known he was this quiet when reading through profits, you would have left him to it as to not distract him.

With a sigh, however, he placed the book aside. "Ah, finally. I do hope you weren't too bored, Your Grace?"

"Don't worry, I wasn't." sitting up from your seat, you couldn't help but have a thought strike you. "...Say, I have a riddle for you."

"A riddle?" Pantalone's smile grew at that. "Well, do not keep me waiting, if you'll so please."

"What weighs more: a kilogram of steel, or a kilogram of feathers?"

The Ninth Harbinger's mouth opened before immediately closing again.

"Neither. They're both a kilogram."

You breathed a sigh of relief at that. "You'd be amazed the amount of people who would be tricked by that."

"Well, many don't think on them both be a kilogram, so they'd naturally go for metal, which is typically the heavier one."

You nodded. "Can't fault them there. Not many people look at the finer details. Minus you. If I gave you a thirty page long paper of terms and conditions, you'd read them all."

"Heh. I'm flattered you think of me the way I like to be; a banker. And, while my patience would dwindle... yes, I'd read the full pages."

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

The Eleven of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers: Ajax, Tartaglia, Childe.

"Morning, Your Grace! Mind if I take a moment to ask you something?"

"Childe." you nodded at the ginger-headed bastard. "Something the matter?"

"No, not at the moment; I just wanted to ask a... personal, question."

You knew where this was going. "Zhongli?"

"Zhongli." he replied, his voice not betraying his anger. "Out of curiosity... did he hurt you?"

"No; I had a few close meetings with his spear, but the only thing I had in the end was some mental trauma."

"So, yeah." You concluded. "No need to worry."

Childe shook his head at your nonchalance. "Your Grace, with all due respect... you may not remember it, but when I was little, and fell into The Abyss... it was you who helped me."

"What of Skirk?"

"My Master... I'll admit, she helped me. But only physically, helping me train myself and my body to withstand the darkness. But you, who's light shines even in the deepest part of that same darkness?

"That was what guided my mind. So please, try and have more faith in your followers. If not for I, then at least for the others?"

...After a moment, you sighed. "I will try my best."

"Thank you, Your Grace. Now, onto other business..."

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

The Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers: Zandik, Il Dottore, The Doctor.

You still have muscle memory from all your experiments in Triple Science. So, watching Zandik, or Dottore Primus, work was really bringing back those times.

"We didn't have Alchemy, back in my world," you commented offhand, reading one of the few books you had brought with you; a book on Ancient Greece.

And odd choice, but The Doctor was an odder person.

"Truly?" he sounded mildly surprised. "How odd. Erstwhile, it must be strange to return to a world with Alchemy, yes?"

"It is... say, are you mad about the whole ordeal with Buer?"

"I am... indifferent. They were helpful, yes, but in retrospect, it was just I wanting to relive my previous years. In addition, I am the Second in strength, not in numbers."

"...Well," you said. "I suppose you have a point."

"I may be mad to others, but truly; with the things I've done... could a madman have done those?"

'No,' you think. 'Because even then, they had some sort of humility to them.'

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

The Cryo Archon, The Goddess of Love, The Tsaritsa.

The Tsaritsa, while cold, was like snow and ice; on the outside was a frigid, slippy ice that pushes others away. On the inside, she was like snow that, while also cold, was much softer. Like now, for example.

The light of day slipped through the curtains, and though you wanted to move, a large arm kept you in place.

"My love," you whispered. "We can't stay here all day."

No reply.

"I know you're up, my love."

"...Nngh..." The Tsaritsa groaned. "...You truly cannot spare another moment?"

"A moment usually means an hour. But, unfortunately..." you sighed, snuggling closer. "You're too warm."

"Then rest, My Grace." tilting your head up to gaze at the towering God, she smiled down at you. "You, of all people, deserve it the most."

[agentrouka-blog]

The rulers of Tarth are called "the Evenstar" and "Evenstar" is the famous nickname of Arwen in LOTR. Does this mean that Martin is pointing out Brienne and Jaime as the Arwen and Aragorn of ASOIAF ? Since Brienne will eventually become lady of Tarth after the death of her father Selwyn. But Brienne is also a blonde warrior lady like Eowyn. Should either parallel be seen as meaningful ?

Hi there!

I am not a LOTR expert by any stretch of the imagination, so I wouldn't be able to give you a credible answer on the finer details of that nickname within those books.

(I do, however, doubt that it's meant to imply a parallel between this couple and Jaime and Brienne, mainly because they don't share literally any other parallels with these characters either jointly or separately, that I can think of. Eowyn comes closer, but that doesn't make Jaime any kind of Aragorn.)

An interesting I thing I found after a cursory search is that Arwen got this nickname in reference to the world as they knew it nearing its end. If that's true, then that's rather melancholy, but it would fit with the general theme in ASOIAF of upheaval, endings and renewal, best summed up by Leaf, one of the children of the forest:

The gods gave us long lives but not great numbers, lest we overrun the world as deer will overrun a wood where there are no wolves to hunt them. That was in the dawn of days, when our sun was rising. Now it sinks, and this is our long dwindling. The giants are almost gone as well, they who were our bane and our brothers. The great lions of the western hills have been slain, the unicorns are all but gone, the mammoths down to a few hundred. The direwolves will outlast us all, but their time will come as well. In the world that men have made, there is no room for them, or us." (ADWD, Bran III)

This imagery of the setting sun is matched by the concept of the Evenstar and both of these indicate endings.

Something often overlooked is that Cersei shares this imagery, too.

All hail his lady mother, Cersei of House Lannister, Queen Regent, Light of the West, and Protector of the Realm." (AGOT, Sansa V)

Also in reference to Tywin, her father:

By the time they left Maegor's Holdfast, the sky had turned a deep cobalt blue, though the stars still shone. All but one, Cersei thought. The bright star of the west has fallen, and the nights will be darker now.  (AFFC, Cersei I)

Warden of the West, in the westerlands, the Lannisters in all the glittering golden light are still associated with the finality of the sunset and evening.

The evenstar and the morning star both actually refer to the same thing, though: the planet venus, all depending on its visibility in the night sky. It was also historically referred to as "lucifer", which can be translated as "lightbringer", the name of the sword forged by Azor Ahai, which is a hugely ambivalent tale in the books and resonates with both Dany's dragons and several special swords named in the series. The powerful weapon as a mark of a hero or a knight is a central theme in the series, and GRRM is begging us to look closer at what is truly heroic and what is merely a show of power or conceit.

An interesting twist here is that Brienne's House and island of Tarth is equally ambivalent. Their arms are sun and moon both. And their seat has an interesting predecessor associated with a significant knight.

 The Sapphire Isle, as some call it, is ruled by House Tarth of Evenfall Hall—an old family of Andal descent that boasts of ties to the Durrandons, the Baratheons, and more recently to House Targaryen. Once kings in their own right, the Lords of Tarth still style themselves "the Evenstar," a title that they claim goes back unto the dawn of days. Many of the folk of Tarth, highborn and low alike, claim descent from a legendary hero, Ser Galladon of Morne, who was said to wield a sword called the Just Maid given to him by the Seven themselves. Given the role that the Just Maid plays in Ser Galladon's tale, Maester Hubert, in his Kin of the Stag, has suggested that Galladon of Morne was no rude warrior of the Age of Heroes turned into a knight by singers a thousand years later, but an actual historic figure of more recent times. Hubert also notes that Morne was a royal seat of petty kings on the eastern coast of Tarth until the Storm Kings made them submit, but that its ruins indicate that the site was made by Andals, not First Men. (The World of Ice and Fire - The Stormlands: The Men of the Stormlands)

Evenstar and Evenfall vs. the Morning. Obviously, there's a hidden history there that may be as interesting as the more recent connection of House Tarth to Duncan the Tall, another noted knight. But clearly, we are seeing a tension here between evening and morning. Brienne is the daughter of the Evenstar, but must she be an evenstar herself?

Given Brienne's connections to knighthood, to Galladon whose story she tells in AFFC, it may well be that she herself represents that renewal, a shift from evening to morning. Where the story of Duncan is one of disintegrating ideals, Brienne represents the choice to uphold them. She chooses to take up Duncan's abandoned arms, commissioning to have them painted on her shield:

It was more a picture than a proper coat of arms, and the sight of it took her back through the long years, to the cool dark of her father's armory. She remembered how she'd run her fingertips across the cracked and fading paint, over the green leaves of the tree, and along the path of the falling star. (AFFC, Brienne II)

Which GRRM goes out of his way to associated with finality and endings:

She had made a better job of it than he could ever have hoped for. Even by lantern light, the sunset colors were rich and bright, the tree tall and strong and noble. The falling star was a bright slash of paint across the oaken sky. Yet now that Dunk held it in his hands, it seemed all wrong. The star was falling, what sort of sigil was that? Would he fall just as fast? And sunset heralds night. "I should have stayed with the chalice," he said miserably. "It had wings, at least, to fly away, and Ser Arlan said the cup was full of faith and fellowship and good things to drink. This shield is all painted up like death." "The elm's alive," Pate pointed out. "See how green the leaves are? Summer leaves, for certain.  (The Hedge Knight)

The falling shooting being likened to death is another interesting nod to the comet that lights the sky through much of ACOK. The one that heralded the birth of the dragons. Death.

It is the tree that represents life here. Given this context, Duncan's arms may not be her final arms.

A parallel in terms of imagery, knighthood and even history, may be House Dayne. Much like House Dayne (of Starfall) has an ancient origin and a fancy special sword named Dawn, you could argue that it has fallen from grace, the last "Sword of the Morning" (named so for the star constellation only visible before dawn) having been killed after guarding an imprisoned teenaged girl dying from childbirth. That's not knightly honor. Gerold Dayne is called "Darkstar" and describes himself as "of the night". He does not carry Dawn. Ham-fisted metaphors, no?

This is all my convoluted way of saying that no, I don't think this nickname is meant to tie Brienne and Jaime to Aragorn and Arwen, but rather part of a broader metaphor for disintegration and renewal, especially in association with knighthood, all expressed through Brienne herself.

Brienne, caught between Duncan (evening) and Galladon (morning), represents renewal, life, the way forward.

Jaime lacks this imagery entirely. He's no Aragorn. He's walking into the sunset with the Light of the West.

[legitalicat]

33 😉

Side note I feel like this song just really fits Sihtric so. Thank you. And special thanks to @foxyanon for helping me hammer out some of the finer details. I also accidentally did this more inspired by, rather than the song playing in the moment. Oops 😅

You sat at Uhtred's large kitchen table. With the way he and Gisela multiply, you're surprised he hasn't had to further expand his house. Shaking your head, as though that would help you focus on the matter at hand, you looked in front of you.

Stiorra was a good girl. With Uhtred and Gisela being a little older than Sihtric and you, it was not necessarily odd for you that Stiorra was quickly becoming a woman grown. She has come to Gisela and you more times than you could count about various things. Makeup, clothes, religion even when her peers did not take kindly to learning of her being a Norse Pagan. Inevitably, she came to you both about boys. No big deal, you thought, a normal milestone for every girl.

Apparently, you could not have been more wrong.

When she brought that boy home, it was like Uhtred's world ended. He immediately "rallied the forces" as Stiorra told you, calling Sihtric first, then Finan and Osferth. Now, you sat beside Sihtric as nearly everyone stared at Stiorra and her boyfriend, a young boy named Sigtryggr. He was just a few years older than her, four at the most, and with her being eighteen, it truly seemed an insignificant thing.

Uhtred did not see it as such. He saw it as a grave error in judgement on her part, that she should be with a boy just her age, using you and Sihtric as an example.

"We are the exception, not the rule. Most couples have at least a year between them. You and Gisela are what, five years apart?" you reminded him.

"We were older," Uhtred told you.

"Hate me as you like. It will not change the love I have for Stiorra," Sigtryggr said with a simple shrug.

Before Uhtred could respond, Sihtric raised a finger from the table. Only a finger. It was part of the way the two moved together and operated. They communicated on levels you did not know, did not see. Yet, the simple movement was enough for Uhtred to allow Sihtric to speak.

"What sort of music do you listen to?" Sihtric asked. Brows furrowing, you looked between Gisela and Stiorra, neither looking any less confused.

"Metal. Rock. Why?" Sigtryggr asked.

"Do you know how many songs sing of love?" he asked the younger.

"More than I think anyone truly needs, but not enough at the same time," Sigtryggr responded. "In truth, I find them a big too soft typically."

"You need to love her in that way. The way you would give everything for her. Become soft for her. We do not get countless days to enjoy the ones we love. The gods are good, but not that good," Sihtric told him, looking to you for a moment.

His hand found your thigh under the table. A small moment of intimacy, something the two of you had long since earned in your life. You loved him completely. Every moment of your life together was priceless. Between the moments in your bed, counting the stars you could see through your window, to the couple's Halloween costumes you searched for months for, every second of your life was devoted to your love.

Sihtric turned back to Sigtryggr. "I'm not the most innocent of men. I have always been quick to a fight, if not completely to anger. I like running my mouth with so many stupid things just because it's different than everything around me. Until it comes to her," he said, gesturing to you with his head as he squeezed the soft flesh beneath his touch.

Sihtric watched as Sigtryggr nodded. The words he spoke seemed to affect the boy more than anything Uhtred could say. It showed just how deeply Sihtric loved his family, the family he made with you, Uhtred, Finan, and Osferth. His heart being a cavern wide enough to swallow the mountains you called home and still allow you room to dance across the night sky.

"If you are not prepared to give up everything for her, you do not feel what you say you feel for her. If you would not greet death without regret because you lived your life by her side, you do not feel what you say you feel for her," Sihtric said sternly. Despite his hard tone, your heart felt as light as a cloud listening to him. "To love is to be forgiving, forgive the one who has done the most wrong to you if that is required of you. To live your life every day as if it's your last, and love someone in that way, it is the greatest gift a man can know. If you sit there and can tell me you feel that way about Stiorra, I will stand between you and Uhtred. But if you have any doubt, I will end you where you stand and hide your body somewhere no god on this earth can find you to avoid you hurting my niece."

"Then I guess it's our lucky day. I get to live, and you don't have to leave your pretty wife's side to hide my body," Sigtryggr said.

A wolfish grin spread across both his and Sihtric's faces as you noticed he took Stiorra's hand. It was under the table, just as Sihtric did with you every time you sat at your parents' kitchen table. Not to hide, but to comfort, to allow a breath come to you.

"You have a lot to learn, Sigtryggr. The first being I am the calm one between the two of us when it comes to those I love," Sihtric grinned as he glanced to you.

The air eased in the room, and after half an hour, Sigtryggr and Uhtred were talking about some sports game while Stiorra rolled her eyes. You, though, were more content leaning into Sihtric's side, grateful to be loved every day by a man who treasured every moment as though it was his last.

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Taglist: @foxyanon @zaldritzosrose @thenameswinter99 @mysticalendings

[crystal-mouse]

I need to ask somebody this question because it's been in my brain for a while and it's driving me nuts. Is spok vegetarian or vegan?

Because we all know he doesn't eat meat, but there wasn't a discussion about other animal products.

The closest we got to spock eating was with zarabeth where he suggested they start a greenhouse so they don't have to eat meat. He still could've suggested they get an animal and milk it (which would naturally lead to the question are Vulcans lactose intolerant but that's for another day)

On the other way when he's stuck with kirk in the 20th century, kirk brings him purely vegetables - no eggs, no cheese, no yoghurt, not even another comically large baguette. Which makes me think spock is actually vegan but I've never seen it addressed anywhere.

Hiya! Thanks for the ask- this is a really interesting question, and I think it generally comes down to three main points, which are:

What we see in the show

Cookbook interpretations/recipes

What replicator food counts as

As you mentioned we don't really see much of Spock's diet in TOS (beyond him saying he does not eat meat, plomeek soup and what Kirk brings him when they're stranded in the great depression)- so we can gather that he does largely eat a vegetarian/vegan diet but lesser the finer details. Many vegetarian dishes can also be vegan- so the fact Spock has eaten food that appears to be vegan, may not confirm one way or the other.

When you start to look at the cookbook's made in addition to the series (which tbh they might be less vegan friendly due to the years they were published) the Vulcan/Spock specific dishes listed in both the 1978 Cooking Manual and Star Trek Cookbook (1999) seem to be more vegetarian leaning and often contain animal products such as eggs, butter, cream, cheese and milk (which may also answer your question about Spock being lactose intolerant, but at the same time, i've never met anyone lactose intolerant who hasn't also consumed lactose intentionally).

Below are some recipes from Spock's section of the 1978 cookbook (there is also a section on Vulcan food, but I chose to focus on Spock as he's the main subject we're talking about):

And here are the Spock/TOS specific recipes from the 1999 cookbook:

I'm yet to read/obtain the 2022 trek cookbook, but based on what I could find online, the plomeek soup recipe in this version also contains animal product (greek yogurt/creme fraiche) in order to create the opaque effect seen on screen.

In all, based on these recipes/interpretations of the food we do see in TOS, I'd say that Spock is more likely vegetarian than vegan.

However! Spock could still be vegan if you wanted him to be- it all depends of whether you consider replicated/synthesised animal products as true 'animal products'. As they are synthesised, they have never interacted or come from the animal in question, and only take on the form and taste/nutritional value of the product. So ig it mainly comes down to your own personal opinion of this- Would synthesised milk, that tastes and has an identical composition as non-synthesised milk, but has not come from a cow, be vegan? Personally, I'd lean to think they don't really count in the same way a veggie/meat-alternative sausage isn't *really* a sausage, more an imitation of varying degrees of success (where in this scenario, a synthesised/replicated sausage would be a very successful imitation as it's near identical).

Although that said- due to the synthesised food being practically identical down to the molecule, I'd doubt many vegetarians or vegans who are so because they dislike meat/animal products (instead or in addition of the ethical consideration) would want to eat it.

Additionally, while the recipes above mention animal products in the ingredients, they are frequently items that have vegan alternatives- while the usual version may contain the animal product, if Spock was vegan by choice, he could also substitute these for his personal food/replicator cards.

It's a bit of a long response, but I hope I managed to answer your question!

[truthfulpoint]

Sex on the Beach

Slowly, but surely, this cruise was turning into a disaster. I had booked the trip to celebrate my recent tenure as a professor and also to spend some time with Jessica after long months of being cooped up with my research. Now the paper was submitted, and the initial reviews were very promising.

The boat was beautiful and the crew had great attention to detail. The food was fantastic and the other people on the boat seemed pretty nice for the most part. They were obviously way richer than me and Jessica were. I had basically used all the money from the research award I won for my last major paper to pay for the trip.

But somehow Jessica was in a foul mood. She stayed on deck with a book most of the time and didn’t partake in many of the activities that the crew organized for their guests. There, she was usually joined by a man of about 50 or so years by the name of John. John was constantly on his phone or hacking into a laptop and hardly seemed to notice the beautiful surroundings of the Greek islands.

John’s wife Veronica was much younger than her husband was, I guessed about 34 or 35. She had to look of a typical trophy wife with lots of time for manicures, pedicures, Pilates and appointments at the hairdresser. Initially that had put me off, but when I chatted with her, I was actually surprised that I quite enjoyed her company. She was a physical therapist and worked part time in an institution for children that needed rehabilitation after accidents. They apparently didn’t need the money, judging by his watches, John seemed to be richer than God, but it gave her a sense of purpose and fulfillment.

As we both were often flying solo for the group activities, we naturally gravitated towards each other. We chatted a lot over the first few days of the trip and got to know each other pretty well.

———-

One evening, after another delicious dinner on the beach, Jessica got up and said: “ I’m tired. I’ll go to bed. Don’t come too late, please. And don’t drink so much wine, it makes you snore.”

“ yes ma’am” I snapped, in an effort to lighten the mood. But Jessica just glared at me.

Embarrassed and angry, I turned to my glass of wine. What was going on? Why was Jessica so angry with me?

“Another evening all by our lonesome?” said Veronica as she walked over from the table where she had been sitting. She seemed a little tipsy.

“Yep. You too?”

“Yes. He’s already back on that damn computer.”

Maybe more than just a little…

She took a big gulp out of her wine glass.

“ I’m sorry”

“ You don’t need to be sorry. He should be!”

Another big gulp. Veronica seemed angry and determined to get very drunk.

“ He used to be different. He was always a hard worker, but when we were dating, he somehow always managed to find the time for a weekend away or a fancy restaurant.”

Another gulp finished the glass. One of the stewards quickly came by and filled it up again.

“ Now he seems married to his work. Some evenings he doesn’t even come home.”

Half the glass gone again.

“Or maybe he’s fucking his secretary. I don’t know. But I couldn’t care less. It’s not like I’m missing out on much.”

Ouch. Low blow.

“I mean, for real, he couldn’t even get it up without the little blue pills on the best of days. And now he’s so absent-minded with me, that he probably couldn’t tell my butt from my boobs”

Oh man. This woman was angry.

“ Well, why are you still with him?”

“ I don’t know. I guess it’s comfortable. I have to admit that I’ve gotten used to the finer things in life. He also donates a ton of money to the children’s rehab center where I work. That would probably dry up if we get divorced. And that would really suck.”

“Hmmm...” I didn’t really know what to say. “We should probably get to bed.”

She chugged her drink. She was very drunk now.

“Can I stay with you tonight? You’re cute.”

“I think you should return to your cabin and sleep it off, Veronica. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Adam. Sweet dreams”

Walking over the beach back to the boat, I couldn’t get Veronica’s words out of my head - “you’re cute”. She was more than cute. She was beautiful. And the more time I spent with her, the more I felt myself drawn to here.

That night, I did not sleep well. I tossed and turned, awaking often. Every time I woke up, my thoughts immediately returned to Veronica.

———-

The next morning, Veronica showed up to breakfast with a pair of large dark sunglasses and washed down three aspirin with her green tea.

———

Later that day, we had a guided tour of some ancient ruins. Of course, Jessica and John stayed on the boat. During the tour Veronica motioned me to stay back a little.

She hooked her arm under mine and started talking. “Hey Adam. About last night. I think I said a lot of stupid stuff. I was angry and a little drunk. Can we keep this to ourselves?”

“Of course “

“ I mean, I didn’t really mean it. At least most of it.”

“Which part did you mean?”

She squirmed a little and laughed nervously.

“well, I seem to remember that I might have mentioned that I thought you were cute? That part’s actually true”

“I’m flattered. I don’t often get compliments from drunk married women.”

“Now you’re being mean. I just repeated it, and I’m totally sober. Just very hung over.” She laughed and pulled herself closer to me, holding on to my arm.

I have to admit, it felt good to be complimented by a beautiful woman. I suddenly noticed how much I missed being touched. Things between Jessica and me had been pretty cooled down for a while now.

I brushed the thought aside, and we rejoined the group.

————-

The the next day was a beach day. We all chilled under the parasols and pavilions the crew had set up and enjoyed piña coladas and watermelons.

Veronica wore a white bikini that I hadn’t seen yet. After a week under the Mediterranean sun, she was quite tanned, and the white bikini complimented her bronze skin. When she went for a swim and came back out of the water, I had flashbacks of Ursula Endres coming out of the water in that James Bond movie. Hot!

I also went for a swim, but pretty soon had to stop because my shoulder and neck started to hurt. When I came out of the water, I was massaging my neck and wincing with pain. Veronica noticed me.

“What’s the matter? Hurt yourself?”

“ I don’t know. I went for a swim, and I had this strong pain going from my neck to my shoulder.”

“Want me to take a look at it? You’re a little bigger than my normal patients, but the basic mechanics are the same.”

“Sure, thank you!”

She sat me down on the edge of one of the deck chairs and started to examine my neck and shoulders with her hands. Admittedly, I quite enjoyed that. Probably more than I should.

She manipulated my arm and shoulder and stroked different muscles in my neck. The pain started to ease a little, but I hoped she would keep going for a little while longer.

“You are very tense. Probably from all that work hunched over a computer. I can show you some exercises that should help your neck and shoulder mobility”

For some reason, her hand was still resting on my pectoral muscle. I looked at it and she withdrew it, however, not without lightly brushing over my nipple in the process. I felt my nipple harden and blood rushing to my groin. She noticed it too, and gave me a little smile.

———

In the afternoon we were back on the boat. I was heading to the bathroom, which happened to be in a very tight corner of the upper deck. As walked I towards the door, it opened and Veronica emerged. The entry was so tight that we couldn’t avoid brushing against each other. As we were both still in swim clothes, a lot of skin touched. I had the impression that neither of us tried to minimize that contact.

————

That night I woke from a dream. I didn’t remember any details, but I clearly had the searing image of Veronica in her white bikini in my head. I was sporting a capital boner.

Jessica was sleeping next to me. I glanced over at her and then started to masturbate. I closed my eyes and imagined Veronica in her white bikini coming towards me. Taking the bikini off and giving me a free view of her perfect boobs. Cut. Veronica, reaching for my boner. Cut. Veronica rubbing my cock with her perfectly manicured hands. Cut. Veronicas mouth closing around the head of my cock. Cut. Veronica giving me a sloppy blowjob. Cut. Veronica turning around, spreading her butt cheeks and whispering “ I want you to fuck me in the ass” Cut. My dick in Veronica’s ass. Cut. My dick pumping cum into Veronica’s ass.

With that image, I came. Hard. Cum rained on my stomach and my chest. My cock twitched and a pool of cum gathered on my belly.

Jessica raised her head. “ what’s going on?” She asked sleepily.

“Nothing. I just had a vivid dream and moved around. Go back to sleep.”

I got up and went to the bathroom. I cleaned myself up with a towel and looked at myself in the mirror, slightly embarrassed. Not only had I fantasized about a married woman. While my girlfriend was laying next to me. Also, I had never been into anal sex, but that fantasy sent me right over the edge. I wasn’t sure that I could look Veronica in the eye tomorrow.

—————

As luck would have it, Veronica joined us at our breakfast table the next morning. I had the impression that Jessica didn’t like Veronica particularly well. But I decided to ignore it.

I grinned at her sheepishly and tried to make the most boring conversation ever. She looked at me puzzled.

“Final day in paradise, huh?”

“Yeah I can’t believe the 10 days are already over”

“ Well, Adam, it was very nice to get to know you and for you to keep me such good company during the excursions”

What was she doing? Jessica was sitting right next to us.

“Uhm, yeah. There were quite a few nice people on this boat.” I tried to downplay and defuse the situation.

“Yes, but very few as nice and gentle…manlike as you. I hope to see you later!”

And with that, she walked away, swaying her hips just a little too much for Jessica not to notice.

———-

When we got to our cabin, I could sense that Jessica was fuming. We had hardly closed the door when she went at me:

“ What was that bimbo all about? Thanks for keeping me such good company? Nice and gentle? What the fuck?”

I didn’t know what to say. “Hey, Veronica is not a bimbo, she’s actually pretty nice”

“Yeah seems like it. More than nice from what I can see”

Well, that maybe wasn’t the best thing to start with.

“What do you expect me to do? You never wanted to come to these activities. Most of the other guests went as couple, so obviously the two people abandoned by the partners kind of stuck together.”

Not helping things…

“I didn’t abandon you. I just wasn’t feeling like doing these stupid excursions anyway. This entire trip was all about you, and your fancy research award. Look, I’m Adam, the neuroscience hot shot.”

Ouch.

“Baby, where is this coming from? I booked this trip for us!”

“You booked this trip for you!”

“I’m sorry you’re not having a good time. What can I do?”

“I don’t know. I need some space”

“Ok baby. No problem. I’ll go and come find you later”

“No, I mean more permanently. I think I don’t want you in my life, at least for a while”

“Baby, what the hell?”

“When we get back to London, I think I will stay with my sister for a while”

I was dumbstruck. Without another word, I turned around and left the cabin.

On deck, I ran into Veronica.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Everything ok?”

“No everything is not OK! Jessica and I just broke up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that!”

“You’re sorry? You’re part of the reason! If you hadn’t done your little show this morning, none of this would’ve happened!”

“Is that so? Well, if you ask me, your relationship has to be in a pretty bad place if one tiny flirt manages to break it”

She probably had a point, but I was not willing to admit that just yet.

“Stay away from me.”

—————-

Lunch was on the beach that day again. For me it was a sad affair, as I sat alone, sulking in a corner.

Veronica came up to me.

“Can we talk?”

“Hm, okay”

“I’m sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have done that. Even if I stay by my point that such a stunt could never derail a healthy relationship “

“Yeah, you’re probably right “

“The fact of the matter is that I see us as mirror images. Both stuck in sorta crappy relationships. And…”

“What and?”

“Nevermind. Why were you looking at me so funny this morning?”

“Nevermind”

“You tell me your’s, I tell you mine…”

“Okay, okay. But you go first.”

“Ok, here goes. I thought we were both stuck in sucky relationships. And that I would much rather be with someone like you. Well, you specifically.”

“Oh, wow!”

“Yeah, I know. It’s confusing. I probably have to sleep on this a bit. But I definitely have a bad crush on you.”

She blushed. “Now tell me your’s”

“Ok, whatever. I had a dream about you “

“A sex dream?”

“Uhm, yup” I blushed.

“Was it good?”

“I don’t want to talk about it”

“Did we make out? Did we sleep together?”

“Well, sort of”

“Did you cum in your dream?”

“No, not in the dream”

“What do you mean, not in the dream”

I squirmed under the interrogation. “Well, afterwards “

“Afterwards? What do you mean? Did you jack off thinking of me?”

My head was probably red as a tomato now. “Hm, yeah, kind of”

“Oh, wow. I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered… but it is kind of hot to think that I make you horny.” She giggled.

“It was just a dream! These things happen all the time!”

“Well, why don’t we try if was really ‘just a dream’?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come with me”

She took my hand and we walked away from the tables to a small secluded bay behind some rocks. Veronica undid the Pareo she had been wearing and spread it on the sand. Underneath, she wore that bedeviled white bikini.

“Adam, I am so sorry. I’ve been a bad girl”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ve been really bad. I think I deserve some punishment “

“Are you kidding me?”

“No Adam. You need to show me my place”

With that, she walked up to me and pinched my nipple.

“Ouch”

“Oh, so sorry. Let me make it better.”

She stepped up to me, pressed her body against me and started gently licking the pinched nipple. A familiar tingling traveled from there up and down my spine. Blood rushed to my groin. I gave in.

“You are right, you have been bad” I said with a raspy voice.

“Yes Adam”

“But I don’t believe in punishment.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I believe in showing the right way” With that I grabbed her hair and started gently, but firmly pulling it down. Her face came up, and I started kissing her greedily. I kissed her mouth, her chin, her neck. Her breathing accelerated.

I let go of her hair and unclasped her bikini top. Her tits sprang free. Glorious, glorious tits. I pinched one of her nipples. Pretty hard.

“A little payback”

She gasped from the mixture of pleasure and pain.

She untied the string of my shorts and let my cock spring free. She wrapped her hand around its base and started stroking. I had a flashback to my dream. This was just like it, but a million times better.

She kneeled down and put my cock in her mouth. Pretty soon, she was giving me a deep, sloppy blowjob.

I needed more. I needed her. I pulled her up. I turned her around and bent her over one of the nearby rocks. Her hips and ass swayed in front of the cock glistening from her saliva. I grabbed her round ass and pushed myself inside her. Her pussy was soaking wet and my dick slid in and out with ease. I started to thrust into her. All the pent up anger and frustration over the trip, the breakup, about Jessica went into my pushes. I fucked her hard.

“Yes, yes, yes” - little screams of pleasure came out of her mouth

“Is this just like your dream?”

“Almost” I gasped between to panting breaths.

“What’s different?”

“In the dream I was fucking your ass”

“Oh, do you want to do that?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never really done it. “

She bent over a little further, put her hands on her butt cheeks, and spread them a little.

“Adam, I want you to fuck me in the ass”

I was stunned. What was happening?

I pulled my cock out of her pussy. It twitched and glistened from her juices. I hesitated. Veronica reached around and placed the tip of my cock on her anus.

“Come on! Take me just like in your dream!”

I pushed forward. My glistening tip, lubricated with her juices pushed past the initial resistance. I heard Veronica take in a sharp breath, as she adjusted to the new sensation. I started to slowly push into her. The sensation was phenomenal. I started moving back and forth. Feeling her tight muscles gripping my cock, hearing her heavy breaths, and seeing my dick disappear inside her caused a rush of arousal and excitement. I realized I would come very quickly like this.

“Veronica, I don’t know how long I’ll last like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. This one’s for you”

As if her words had unlocked something, I felt my orgasm build. A powerful wave of lust and excitement washed over me and triggered my dick to explode into Veronica’s ass. She felt the pulses of my orgasm, and pushed her butt back, taking my cock all the way in. There she stayed, just lightly swaying , until she felt that my penis stopped twitching.

I pulled my dick out, panting. She got up and turned around to me. Her hand on my cheek, she kissed me sensually.

“THAT was not a dream.”

———-

After we had calmed down and gotten dressed again, we went back to our table. The steward spotted us and asked if we wanted to drink anything.

Veronica smiled: “I’ll have a Sex on the Beach, please”

[bedlamsbard]

I got into your fics because of Thor and Loki.. and while I love the world (and you basically sold me on Steve/Nat) I am still very curious about the twins. What made you go the prophecy route?

Oh, man, this was almost three years ago -- with rare exception I use the same background and worldbuilding across stories, so while the prophecy is introduced back in Morning, it's also mentioned in the Yonderverse. It's just that Yonder isn't really a story where that kind of thing features, and Morning's all about destiny/fate/timelines, which is part of the reason it's in there. IIRC, the other reason was pushback against some of the meta/fic I'd seen in the Thor fandom back then, since that was still when I was still reading in the fandom. I wanted to take Loki (and Thor) out of operating in a very human realm, where there were very direct parallels to things that could happen to, like...normal people, and put them back into a mythical realm where stuff like the prophecy was taken very seriously. But it's important that it's also an ambiguous prophecy that could as easily have gone the other way, which I don't think has actually been revealed anywhere, because the prophecy has been most directly dealt with in a chapter of Morning that hasn't been posted yet, but has been written since 2021. So I've had this all figured out since then, I just haven't been able to use that chapter yet. (It is a full-chapter altverse flashback, and it has to follow a present-day chapter.)

Hela is actually the first person to mention it in Morning:

She had known for five centuries before her exile that they were coming, her little brothers. Odin’s sons, battle-born, battle-worn. Prophecy could leave many things to chance – the finer details, mostly – but the broad strokes were always certain. Hela had sat in the hall of the vǫlur and known by the end of the chief seeress’s first stanza that it was the end of her. As soon as Odin knew of the new prophecy, he would have no more use for her, not when Asgard’s wyrd said he would have his matched pair of perfect princes. She had slaughtered all of the vǫlur for that, hoping that Odin would never hear of the prophecy, but the vǫlur were like the wyrd they spun out – no one, not even the goddess of death, could truly destroy them. Sooner or later a vǫlva would come to Asgard bearing the Norns’ words, though it had been, Hela assumed, after her exile, since she had no memory of the vǫlur’s return. Even one of the Aesir could not stop fate, merely delay it. Fate, like death, was inevitable.

This introduces my take on the volur and the first hint of the prophecy, that it pretty significantly predates Thor's and Loki's births (by fourteen centuries), and that Hela is the only one that knows the entire thing because she killed the volur who spoke about it. It's also mentioned very briefly in Yonder and at one point Yonder went into more detail and I cut that because it's not thematically important in Yonder the way it is in Morning.

“You didn’t know?” Sif said to the Valkyrie. “It’s a very famous story.” “Yes,” Loki said, “as in ‘story,’ as in ‘fictional,’ as in ‘Odin made it all up.’” He ground his teeth and looked irritated. “What story?” the Valkyrie said pointedly. Sif shot a glance at Thor and Loki, then explained, “About Odin’s sons being born at the beginning and end of the Battle of Jotunheim. There’s supposed to be a prophecy – Odin’s sons, battle-born –”

So it features pretty significantly in an unposted chapter of Morning, here are the two most relevant sections. (Farbauti's a volva but was not at Urdarbrunnr when Hela did her slaughter, and isn't aware that it was Hela who did it.)

The giantess didn’t look at him. “Twenty-four centuries ago the vǫlur were slaughtered at Urðarbrunnr.  I wasn’t there with my sisters that day, but I know what prophecy it was they sang into being.  It did not come to Asgard, I think, for many centuries afterward, nor was the whole of it brought to Valaskjalf for the ears of Odin One-eye.” Frigga hesitated before she shook her head slightly. “What prophecy?” Loki said. “What – the prophecy?” “Odin’s sons, battle-born,” Farbauti quoted softly. “There’s more, but that’s the part you and Odin cared about, isn’t it?  That he might have his matched pair of perfect princes.  Never mind that you might never hear the rest of it, because the vǫlur that still trusted Asgard brought those stanzas to you in time, but those who would never trust Asgard again brought the rest to me.” No single vǫlva ever got the whole of a prophecy, Loki knew.  Individuals got bits and pieces, but it took many vǫlur to piece together the entirety of one.  Since the massacre at Urðarbrunnr he didn’t know if more than a handful had been completed; most of the known prophecies dated from before the slaughter. “They are my sons,” Frigga said, her voice hard. “Yes,” Farbauti said, “but they could have been mine.  Both of them could have been mine, your blood-son and his twin.”

and then a little later, after they argue for a while and some other stuff is discussed.

Farbauti nodded, then crossed back to the brazier with the kettle and poured herself another cup of spiced wine.  As she spooned honey into it, she said, “When the vǫlur see the future, it isn’t set.  We see possible futures – certain things that will happen, because they’re part of the pattern laid out in the great tapestry the Norns make of our wyrd, but there are many ways that those threads can be woven.  And those threads themselves are always being spun.  Yes, our own choices make up our ørlǫg along with our natures, but so do the choices of all those who come before us.  What was possible when the vǫlur speak the great patterns of the Norns into being is not always possible a century later, let alone ten.  The possibilities narrow as the cloth is worked and the thread of our ørlǫg is spun.” She set her hip against the table and drank deep from her cup, then quoted softly, “Odin’s sons, battle-born, battle-worn – that’s the version you know, isn’t it?” Loki nodded shortly.  “Everyone says Thor and I were born at the beginning and end of the Battle of Jotunheim.” “I can’t speak for your brother,” Farbauti said, “though I don’t know that there’s any reason to lie about that –” “There isn’t,” Frigga said. “Thor was born when the Bifrost brought the last of the einherjar to Jotunheim.” Farbauti smiled, thin. “Your other son took his first breath as the first of my people died.” Loki felt the muscle in his jaw jump again, but glanced upwards at his mother anyway.  He tried to make his voice light as he said, “So Thor’s still older than me.” Frigga hesitated for a brief instant, then said, “Sixteen minutes.  I scried it to be certain.”  She leaned down and pressed her lips briefly to the crown of his head, making Farbauti’s brows knit a little – a somewhat disconcerting effect on her Jotun features. Loki let his breath out slowly, suddenly dizzy with relief.  “So we did come into this world together,” he said.  He had been afraid to ask before, to find one more part of his reality crumbling around him; having it back… “Yes,” Farbauti said.  When they both looked up at her, she shrugged. “It’s their wyrd.  Odin’s sons, battle-born, battle-worn,” she quoted, the rhythm of the familiar words a little different than an Asgardian would have used.  What she said next was entirely unfamiliar.  “Or Laufey’s sons, battle-won, bone-born.” Loki heard the sound he had made only after it passed his lips, a soft grunt like he had punched in the gut.  You didn’t have to be a vǫlva to interpret that. His mother’s grip was so tight on his shoulders that he suspected he would find bruises there later. Farbauti made a gesture to toss the matter aside. “It’s done.  What might be is now only what could have been, and ultimately what never was.  That path was closed to all of us at least a century before your birth.  Laufey never worked up the courage to challenge Asgard on its own ground, just proxy wars.”  She smiled a little, idle.  “Or I suppose he might have taken more than Odin’s eye that day, though I doubt it.  Regardless –”  She shrugged.  “It’s done.” “Yes,” Frigga said softly. “It’s done.”

The Asgardians never knew the other version of the prophecy. That is actually a reference to a What If comic called What If Thor Was Raised by Frost Giants, where Laufey does kill Odin and take Thor to raise him himself.

Part of the reason the prophecy is in Morning is to set up the idea that there are things that are going to happen, though they're conceptualized in different ways depending who says it -- obviously the Asgardians and the Jotuns think of fate very differently than (my version of) the TVA, since Mobius gives a long explanation earlier in Morning. But those things are going to happen aren't always going to happen in the same way or in predictable ways, so the prophecy sets up that Loki and Thor were always going to be raised together as twins, but not necessarily in the context that they were. And again, part of that is just to put the Asgardians and company into a non-human and very mythical context, that they accept is governed by other powers.

All of this is also true for the Yonderverse, it just doesn't come up because it's not really relevant there. There are brief mentions of the prophecy, and then Urdarbrunnr and the volur are mentioned a few times (they'd both feature in the Horizon sequel), but it's just not thematically relevant in the same way it is for Morning. But it's still part of my worldbuilding.

[bekaroth-reads]

Winter Morgott x Reader

[Its been too long since I wrote something for him! This is sort of based on how a bunch of people think that his fur might fluff out a bit more in the winter]

Morgott hated the cold. It brought ice and snow which made walking precarious and a biting chill that made his bones ache. The one thing that he didn’t mind the winter bringing was less Tarnished, at least most of them. Many people were too busy trying to keep themselves from freezing to train or challenge the Lords. There was one that he had let come into his city on multiple occasions, to the point that the people of the Capitol didn’t think of them being there than anything other than another tourist. This was certainly an odd arrangement for him, even though he was the one that allowed it. Morgott was at his wit’s end as far as the deluge of invading Tarnished were concerned, so when you came along and truly seemed to want to find a way to put an end to this whole cycle of fighting, he was willing to let you study your findings and theories in the many libraries in the castle. Better to have a tarnished reading quietly in the other room than trying to best him at the foot of the Erdtree.

It had been about a month since he had seen you though, so there might be a chance that you either found somewhere else to study, or, more likely, were stuck in some dark dungeon possibly losing your will to continue. Morgott couldn’t place why, but there was something about that last thought that didn’t sit very well with him. It was like when you have a mouse scurrying around, and once it gets caught in a trap, you knew it was was its fate as a pest, but you still feel at least a bit sorry for it. Brushing this thought aside, Morgott started to roam the castle grounds once more in an effort to complete his duties despite the aching of his joints and the burning of his feet from walking on the snow.

Once he got close to the library that you used to be found at the most, he heard someone crunching their way through the snow, and then followed shortly by laughter. Turing around he saw that it was indeed you standing behind him. “My Lord Morgott, I had no idea that you allowed your hair to grow so thick during the winter.” He responded with a sour look and corrected. “‘Tis an occurrence that happens whether I allow it or not. However, I hardly see how the finer details of my anatomy are any concern of thine.” Morgott grumbled as he ambled his way over to you. You took notice on how he seemed to move a bit more labored than usual, but could tell that he was already on edge from the last remark that you made leading you not to mention it. Instead, you explained your original statement. “Oh, I suppose not. It’s just that on my way up here, I passed a child in the streets. She was insisting to her mother that when she looked into the castle courtyard, she saw a giant, white rune bear with horns like a goat. Seems like I found my explanation for such a tall tale.”

Morgott rolled his eye at the thought. Turning with a groan more audible than he was intending, Morgott went to return to his rounds of the castle grounds giving the warning, “Be sure to keep thy person in the library. I cannot be responsible for what happens if thou art inclined to wander.” This was nothing new; in fact you heard it every time that you were here. What was different was what followed. Before he could even take a step, he felt you grab his unoccupied hand. Whatever gumption you had to grab his hand wavered greatly when he turned to glower at you, but you pushed through and carried on. “Perhaps, my lord, you should step inside for a few moments as well?” You offered. Morgott could honestly admit that he never thought the brazen nature of Tarnished would extend this far, and was actually taken a bit aback by the offer. “And, why would such a thing be necessary? As thou hast said, I seem to be more than equipped to handle the elements.” In a perfect display of his thoughts on the overstepping nature of the Tarnished, you actually had the gall to try to pull him by the hand toward the door of the library. “You might be better equipped than most people, but that still doesn’t mean you’re completely immune.” When there was still some hesitance from him, you insisted, “Come on. The Erdtree isn’t going to run away while you’re gone.”

With that, Morgott silently relented and followed. It was because he didn’t trust you after you were being so persistent, he insisted to himself. And, he also thought that if he was going to be in here for a while, then he might as well sit by the fireplace. Not because he was extraordinarily cold, the extra hair on his body that helped keep him warm also made it easier for him to stay damp; that old, tattered cloak of his doing little against the wind expect flow with it. It was this was the best place to keep an eye on you as it was fairly well in the center. You noticed that the nodding head on top of, as that little girl said, the giant, horned rune bear would flick up to watch you every time you moved to a different shelf. Seeing as the simple act of sitting was enough to make him start to doze off, you figured he needed the sleep. So, to make that a bit easier for him, you grabbed a few books that you thought would help you with the part of the Lands Between you were studying and sat close to where he was. With you being still, there was nothing keeping him from drifting off to sleep.

After awhile, you went to wake him. You thought he needed the rest, but knew that he would be upset if he was to be asleep for too long. When you did, all that he did was stretch a bit before moving himself to lay his weary bones properly on the floor in front of the fireplace; grabbing you and pulling you down with him as he held you tightly. It was because if he was going to fall asleep, something he felt like he couldn’t fight off any longer, then he needed to be sure that you weren’t going to go get into trouble, he insisted to himself. It was not because you were becoming a source of comfort for him.

[ashleywool]

ramblings on the intersection of science and faith

My MRI report came in yesterday.

I'm not gonna get too deep into the medical details until I've had a chance to discuss it in-depth with the professionals (which unfortunately probably won't be until Monday at the earliest), but I do have some things I need to say about it.

First: I'm okay. My life is not in danger. Making these discoveries now has undoubtedly saved me years of struggle that may well have gone on to endanger my life. Instead, I get to address the source of many ongoing issues and most likely cure them all. Don't get me wrong, it's a pretty big deal, but not a big scary deal.

Second: yes, I will need surgery. This has not been officially confirmed and its safety signed off on by a doctor, but from reading everything I can get my eyeballs on, I don't see any reason under the sun why surgery would not be the logical and urgent (but not like, emergency urgent) next step.

Again, I'm not gonna go too deep into the details until I understand it better and we have a game plan in place. But I have to talk a little bit about the feelings that are bubbling up around all of this.

My condition, and the particular way it has manifested, is exceedingly rare. I mentioned one of the tests I took to a doctor who had to be older than my parents, and he said, "I have not heard those words in that order since medical school." Of course, I know that just because something is rarely reported doesn't necessarily mean its existence is rare. But in my case, it seems like it's both.

I'm a Broadway actress with no medical background and I somehow figured out what was going on in my body even though it was ridiculously unlikely to be true. And now the doctors have no choice but to acknowledge these discoveries.

I would not have discovered any of these things if it hadn't been for the show closing when it did, my ovarian demon babies causing trouble when they did, having that surgery when I did, and having a chance conversation with a friend who just happened to be marrying a friend I've known since high school (and wouldn't have known if it hadn't been for our one shared chorus class)...any tiny alterations to that timeline could have led to a completely new timeline.

I miss our show every minute of every day. My heart misses it. My bank account misses it. But also, if the show was still running, I'd be physically struggling even more, and I would not have had the time and freedom to pursue the solutions. If the show was still running, and I was still pushing myself to continue with it, it might have caused irreparable (or at least excruciatingly-slow-to-repair) damage.

The sheer statistical likelihood of everything that's happened, everything happening, everything that is in my life right now, is staggeringly low. Practically impossible.

And so, once again I find myself saying, I can't not believe in God. I can't not believe that my life and my purpose were by design and by a Designer.

I could dig deep into arguments about the finer points of theology all day. I could happily lose myself in Bible study--not just the literal words, but the history and cultural context for all of it. I could "academic" my Christianity to death the same way I "academic" everything else in my life to death. By that logic, some would argue, I shouldn't even be a Christian. "Walk by faith and not by sight," and what have you.

But I believe--and this tends to ruffle feathers of Christians and atheists alike--that one must walk by faith only after sight is entirely exhausted. My faith is rooted in the question of what happens when the science stops sciencing. My faith is rooted in the question of, why would humans be driven by a sense of purpose and an impulse to know the answers, unless the answers were meant to be known to us? Even if the answers change nothing, even if our sated curiosity has no practical value, we delight in it.

I think walking by sight often and inevitably leads to faith. Digging deep into science and logic brings us closer to God, not farther away.

Discovering all the things I just discovered about my brain and my body has strengthened my commitment to all the things I feel called to do. And rectifying the situation will enable me to live out those callings with more energy and effectiveness than I've ever had.

I can't conceive of a reality in which that wasn't done on purpose.

Anyway. I'm working on a list of things I'm going to do once I'm on the other side of this, and I'm planting the seeds for them right now. Maybe I'll share it later. Maybe I won't. I guess you'll just have to wait and see.