#like when cleaning your room you end up with a pile of swords and a pile of expired hot cash. yknow

[lunarssong]

i think hot topic should do some kind of limited time promo where if you bring in 10 expired hot cash it counts for 1 hot cash. my reasoning is because it would be really fucking funny how old the hot cash people bring in is

[deesseshesca]

What truth must I accept to move on ?

What again ? No ! No ! No ! You swore it will be the last time…

Good night pretty souls, today we are checking on your situation. Why did it needed to happen ? How can you alchemise it ? 

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION 

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

CHOOSE AN IMAGE 

PILE 1 

Ace pentacles, ace wands (reverse), page swords (reverse), chariot, 999

Good night to my type A people, welcome to your reading. So lately you have concocted the most perfect budgeting plan to attend to your goals in the most efficient and successful way. I am also getting that you brought cute little things to ensure to motivate you throughout this saving journey. You know you're going to need to make some sacrifice on the way. Which can be frustrating in summer, especially when you see everyone around you spending a bag. I want to congratulate you for the healthy mindset you have regarding your money. Most of you are saving for your first car or first apartment. Someother to fund a change of career, thinking of starting nursing school or just to survive college. While others are trying to start a side hustle like becoming a lash tech or a nail tech. While harboring this tunnel vision mindset, I'm getting that people around you are not very supportive. Going as far as mocking you. But the truth you must accept: the journey towards your goal will never go smoothly. Pile 2, you are the type to plan for hours down to the very second. Anticipating everything that can go right or wrong. And when it does not go your way, you say ‘’fuck it. It ain’t even  worth it anyway. If it was really meant to be it will be easy’’ BULLSHIT ! You are the problem. You are to focus by the end of the journey, that you forget that you have to walk through the journey. Not just fly to it. Sometimes on your path something might stings or feet might hurt. The real issue is that you are missing stamina and only want to feel good. Good job, you have your priorities straight. But girl, you ain't just saving for some Mcdonal meal or a new lip gloss. You want a car, a house, a new career. Since the goal is bigger it requires more sacrifice. Letting go now, wil be like taking a big ‘’L’’.Head up, discipline over motivation. Building muscle is hard and it takes time just like a habit. Plus you have to stop thinking that life is happening to you. Babygirl, everyone got issues, you are not the only. Imma touch your heart when I said this, you are not the strongest soldier, so pick it up and keep it pushing. Because this victim mentality is making you act sour with people around you. I’m afraid to announce it to you, but you are the bad energy, you are the negative vibes rn. Hold on, before you click off this reading after this beautiful drag (you must admit…) is you have too much potential. And is pissing me off that you are allowing it to slip away from your hands. You are capable of standing strong on your boundaries and to create an amazing plan. That’s some qualities one will take a lifetime to master and you are born with it. Don’t become forceful, be the amazing leader you are meant to be. Don’t give up ! You will be rewarded in your finances/career. Finish what you started. The worst is that you know all that already. What’s funny is that you keep saying you don’t care, but your mind screams for it, your soul keeps reminding you that it wants it and your pinterest ain’t giving up on the vision yet.  Do do everyone a favor and go get it.  Do a deep life clean so you can make room for some new energy. Reflect on your life choices.

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Super shy -Newjeans

PILE 2 

Death (reverse) , ace cups, magician (reverse), emperor

You were meant to read this. Now ! Right now is giving the biggest scam in history just like what’s happening in your life. I’m hearing the tiktok that goes ‘’ Ok now, where’s the camera now. I must be getting prank now’’. The reality…you don’t want to move on.  You yearn for a past that ain’t never coming back. You also don’t want to deal with anything that can trigger you. But you can’t claim you heal, if you have the same reaction when the universe sends you variation of the same problem. And isolating ain’t going to help your case. But the universe finally got the message. Lucky you, you are getting to send a friend. Someone that will bring the sun back into your life. That person will trigger you (in a good and necessary way ) and she will not allow you to sabotage the way of y’all friendship. I’m understanding : poor timing, don’t have resources, cocky, delulu, personality disorder, force = I think you are going to have a Karen moment in a shop close to your house. She is going to trigger a crisis in you. Instead of looking at you like you are crazy, like most people do. That person will play along. Y’all going to be 2 crazy bitches in the store. And instead of feeling cornered, you will weirdly feel valited because usually when you act out people call you crazy. You just found another crazy person. Everytime will go back into the store, she will always be there. You will try to avoid her , but nah she will jockly always go to you. That person will grow on you. I’m feeling the opposite aesthetic. I see her being a bimbo and loving it and you our little emo angel. Honestly, I fell in love with her energy while channeling her. I was trying so hard to stay serious but nah, I ended up having a dance break. How can u notlove her, she’s a sweetheart. Girl, you might THINK, that you ain’t doing enough. But your spirit guard, the universe, anyone that allows themself to see more than what you project and I can assure that you are on top of your game. Especially after everything you went through and put up with. Keep your focus and discipline. You got this babe ! I’m proud of you ! When you are ready, let go of the version of you that no longer serves you. You don’t need to pay the price of your mistakes. 

I’m hearing: ‘’ You deserve this friendship’’ 

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POP - NAYEON

PILE 3 

Knight swords, ace pentacles (reversed), seven cups, High priestess, 1313 

Everything was fine until it wasn’t. When did it all go so wrong? It happened so unexpectedly. The only thing left standing is your BFF/sister. You never thought life would take u off overnight. I’m hearing you failed some important exams or your parents are very good but they badly gambled the finances and you have to pay the price for it. The truth is … it is always in front of your face. It’s been a while that you have been seeing and feeling that your studying routine is not working for you. But prefer to pretend that is everything else but what’s ahead of you. You always had a feeling that your parents were awful with money but did not dare to try to know how badly. Is not too late…yet. For a while now you pretend to be happy. Thinking that the more you fake it, you will finally feel it. Now you are down bad emotionally. You never thought you would ever be there. Babe is the the time to give in into distraction. Now you need to pull the rag under your feet and face your fears. You want to know what happiness is really about. You know it is time to do some deep healing. To question your self belief. From the silliest question to the most disturbing. ‘’Is my fav color really red ? What do I actually think about the government ? ‘’ You need some shadow work. Is not the time to act, is the time pounder. Also is your life. Babe nobody is behind you. If you want to take 1 year or 1 month at the crossroad nobody is coming for you. As long as you are confident about your choice. Is time to start fresh ! Step out of your comfort zone. You will learn a new skill that will get you some abundance and recognition. Be confident and trust in your decision. 

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What is love - TWICE

[isthischopper]

hi thereee, i see ur requests are open and i’d like to request…!!!!

a (if you don’t feel comfortable doing fem, g/n is fine too!) fem!s/o who ate a devil fruit that makes her a long, curly-haired lion! it also gives her a tail and ears in human-beast, beast, or normal form! and it also gives her human form hair similar to killers (long, curly-ish? luscious, you get it)

but could i request that with shanks, or zoro? possibly both if you’d like! i’m fine with either tho<3 thank you and u have amazing works!

hi! i actually love this request, and while i’ve been pretty inactive, it keeps coming back into my mind!

i’ve written a choppy little story, broken into 4 small parts. i hope you enjoy!

⁀➷ Lone Pirate

⋆ Roronoa Zoro x fem!Reader

You frequent this bar, for better or worse, a beer. Simple, effective, tasty. The bar gets quiet when you're there, the other frequents knowing not to screw around with you. You use it to your advantage, but it is a little annoying; nobody ever talks to you other than the bartender.

To be fair, you're not so talkative either.

Most pirates are the creepy-kind. Weirdos with even weirder beards and less guts than their own beer belly. Meaning... why even give them a chance?

Only a few minutes pass after your arrival, and the bar's filling up. Groups of pirates, you assume, pile in, gnarling their order and sitting at a vacant wooden table.

A younger, more colourful, group sits adjacent to you.

You paid no mind, until some burly old man tried to pick a fight. He yelled in their faces, before smashing his beer on the bar, and, successfully covering you in the foamy-sticky substance. Truly, some people have no consideration for the innocent bystander.

"Can I help you??" you snap, shooting up from your bar stool.

"Are you with them?" he spits back, bending his neck just so you could smell his rotten breath.

…them?

Before you could reconsider, you're slamming him head-first on the hard wooden bar counter, knocking him out. The other pirates looked taken off guard; presumably not expecting that reaction out of you, the rest of the patrons silent.

You decide leaving now is your best option, before someone shows up to find their friend on the floor.

***

Months later, you find yourself in the Land of Wano.

You’d heard of Kaidou’s plans for New Onigashima while searching for another island to explore. Sure, you were considered a pirate, but you weren’t in it for fame or fortune; craving the experience of it all instead. You’d explored the country, familiarized yourself with the history and culture, and joined the side of the Straw Hats— the colourful group at the bar, you came to learn.

Now: buildings are flaming, fights are raging everywhere, and the sounds of explosions are ringing in the distance constantly.

You were running the flaming halls, searching rooms for anyone injured or caught in the fire. Somehow, wrapped up in the sounds of destruction all around you, a group of men working under Kaidou slipped your ears. They’d been following you, waiting for the perfect moment to group up and take you all at once.

Who you did notice, however, was a man sprinting in your direction from down the hall. Your hair nearly stood up on end, your body screaming at you to perform some type of defence. He was looking right through you (so you thought), swords drawn, teeth bared. He looked quite intimidating; save for the green hair.

Just before he reached you, his sword swiped against another just two inches shy of your left ear. The clash slicing some of your white-blonde hair clean off. But— you had already figured it out before a single curl hit the floor.

You couldn’t help to be glad he wasn’t aiming for your neck (because he most certainly would have had it).

You had ducked under the swords upon their impact, revolving on your heel to face the group of goons. The green-haired Straw Hat already had the first three handled, so you planted your foot and pounced on the next.

It was quick work, between the two of you.

“You broke his nose.”

You hadn’t even remembered touching a nose, to be honest. You frowned, looking at the pile of defeated men on the floor.

“Which one?”

He chuckles briefly in response to your question, sliding his swords back into their respective encasing. His arms flexing effortlessly (or, maybe on purpose).

“No, at the bar that day.” he pauses “That was you, right?”

“…Depends who’s asking.” you wink.

Deciding that standing around isn’t too beneficial to the current situation, he offers you to follow. You had clicked well, bantering between brawls and fighting together like how a puzzle piece fits.

His swords and your claws working in unison.

***

Later, when the crew is celebrating the defeat of Kaidou over a drink, you’re sitting alone and taking in the view. The green haired pirate joins you, his scent alerting you of his presence before he’d sat down next to you.

“We’ll be leaving soon, It would be a shame to not have your name.” he speaks quietly, sounding much different compared to the adrenaline-fed, raspy voice you heard earlier.

Of course you knew his name, thanks to the word of Wano. People were talking about the Straw Hats everywhere, it was hard to not hear. You hadn’t considered he’d want yours.

“Y/n. Leaving me here after all we’ve been through?” you chuckle.

Kicking back, he rests his back against a rock and tucks his arms behind his head. His eyes are closed, breathing steady, but alert and conscious.

“Things to do, places to be, Luffy says.” he jokes, letting a sigh out and stretching his sore neck.

You lounge back next to him, shoulders touching. Eyes closed, the atmosphere taking over your senses. It’s serene, almost, if you tune out the hollering and music of the celebration.

His body was warm, where it met yours. You could smell the smoke and blood remaining on his skin. You really would miss him, it’s a different type of feeling to have someone you work so well with.

Fighting together, you cleared paths easily. Bonnie and Clyde, almost. What you couldn’t catch Zoro did, and you had his back in the same way. You mutually agreed on a plan every time, without any communication; it came naturally— a rare occurrence.

“Do you have a crew?” he asks.

“Mmm-mm,” you hum “Just me.”

You weren’t sure of the real meaning of this question, but soon after his fingers found their way to discreetly brush on your thigh.

***

“Who’s Zoro with over there?” Jinbe quizzes to chopper, who works to bandage a few surface scrapes.

“She’s a lone pirate!” he deduces. “A Zoan user, really strong…” he trails off, concentrating on the task at hand.

Jinbe chuckles to himself, studying the girl. It seems Chopper is right; she has the ears and tail of a lion, not to mention her mane of curly hair. He heard she had retractable claws, too. He wonders her origin.

Though, things are too joyful to be so inquisitive. He trusts Zoro’s judgment.

“A lone pirate, you say?”

“Mm, yes,” chopper confirms, stepping back to admire his work and placing his hands on his hips.

“Why do you ask?”

Jinbe chuckles again, nodding his head in the direction of Zoro and the girl. He noticed their friendliness when Zoro had first joined her, something that wasn’t too easy to come by with the green haired fire-cracker.

Jinbe leans down to match Choppers height, a mischievous grin on his face.

“I’m not sure I have seen Zoro do that before.” he states.

The click of Chopper’s feet as he turns, and then the full body shock that elopes him is enough to have Jinbe holding back a hysterical cackle. Obviously Chopper hadn’t seen it happen either.

The two of you were met for a kiss when his eyes landed on you. Slow and sensual, causing the innocent little deer to blush a deep shade of red.

Zoro’s hand held your hip just above the ruffles on your shorts, and your palm bared his chest. You were still in the same relaxed position against the rock with your bodies rotated slightly to reach, eyes closed again.

“Zoro!!??? Whaa-!!!” squeals Chopper, gaining the attention of the others.

You blush pink, but Zoro’s smug smile says it all.

What an interesting match, Jinbe thinks.

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

[epicawsomeusername]

I freeze. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the forest. I see him. A large, blue dragon with what looks like fur sneaking through the trees. I grip the hilt of my sword. A prize like this will definitely get me noticed as a dragon hunter. I take a step forward before I freeze again. He’s looking at me. His large, golden eyes stare into my soul.

I charge at him, my sword raised. He raises a paw and effortlessly knocks the sword out of my hand. I stumble back against a tree. He lowers his head and growls at me. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Don’t try to reason with me. I know you’re kind. You burn villages and end countless lives just for entertainment!” I hiss. He rolls his eyes at me.

“The town likes me,” he growls. “Tell me, did you ask anyone in town about me?”

My eyes widen. “No, why-”

He snarls at me, showing off his sharp teeth. “Of course you didn’t.” He scoffs. “Do you know what I do?”

“N-no, I-”

“I help people. I provide a safe haven for those in need of protection and comfort.” He lifts his head up, standing up tall. He’s sniffs the it a bit before looking back down at me. “When’s the last time you slept?” He asks. He still sounds grumpy and annoyed.

“I-I don’t know, why?”

He rolls his eyes once more and growls at me. “Great. Another cocky adventure that I have to take care of.” He extends a large paw, motioning for me to climb on it. “Come on.”

I look down at his paw, then back up at him. I hesitate. He growls before gently scooping me up in his paw and placing me on his soft, fluffy back. He’s so warm. His fur is so soft and fluffy against my skin. It’s comforting. He carry’s me through the forest, grumbling as he does so.

It’s getting dark when I wake up. I’m still snuggled up on his back. He walks into a cave. My eyes widen when I see inside. It’s cozily decorated. Large, soft cushions pile up around a large fireplace. The floor is covered with soft carpets. Exotic plants decorate the walls and low hanging twinkle lights bathe the room in a warm light. The scent is nostalgic and comforting. I look around. There are people napping by the fireplace. His gentle voice fills my ears. “This is my den. It’s a safe haven for those in need.”

He carry’s me towards the back of his den where some natural hot springs he gently sets me down. “Go clean yourself off. I’ll get ya some clean clothes.” He leaves me alone.

He comes back a few minutes later. I’m already relaxing in the hot springs. My muscles feel loose and relaxed for the first time in ages. My mind is at ease and the tension and pain built up in my shoulders has disappeared. He places some clean clothes on the ground and gently nuzzles me. His presence alone is comforting.

“Cmon, kiddo.” He says in a soothing voice. “Ya can’t stay in here too long, otherwise your body will over heat and you’ll get nightmares.”

I chuckle. “Just a little longer.”

He rolls his eyes and snorts. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

I sigh and reluctantly step out of the hot springs. I pull on the clean clothes he got me. They’re loose fitting and soft. He looks down at me. “Now, I got a nice, comfy bed in back that you could snooze in, or you could sleep by the fireplace, or you could sleep with me. Take your pick.”

I pause for a moment. Part of me still doesn’t trust him because he’s a dragon, but he looks so soft and warm… he chuckles at me. “Alright.”

My eyes widen. “What? I didn’t even say anything!”

He chuckles again. “I can sense your thoughts and emotions, kiddo. It’s okay to want to sleep with me, lots of people do. I’m basically a big teddy bear.”

He gently scoops me up one more and places me on his back. My thoughts are racing. Can he read my thoughts? I’m snapped out of my panic when he gently sets me down on a large pillow in the center of the main room. He lays down and gently snuggles me between his two fluffy front legs. He’s so soft and warm. My mind starts to drift off. I can’t focus on anything. I already feel so sleepy.

He looks down at me. “Goodnight, kiddo.” He mumbles as I drift off to sleep.

No vore in this but I thought it was a wholesome idea.

I came up with the idea that max turned his den into a safe haven for people and I wanted to write about it. I also had the idea that he would be able to control people’s dreams, preventing them from having nightmares and stuff but I didn’t really feel like writing it.

[scummy-writes]

"Find The Chev!"

Inspired by @minsharkie due to her super cute papercrafts, and a discussion in my ikepri/ikevamp server where @solomons-poison brought up a cute idea of the Clavis papercraft sitting on top of Sariel's paperwork.

You didn't have much free time on your hands, not really, but you felt inspired one day after watching Clavis make some of his... creations... With some inks and stiff paper you found around the palace, you set to work with a dastardly deed of your own: capturing Chevalier's likeness in a cute, mini version of him. And after Clavis laid his eyes upon it, a mixture of mischief and jealousy flashed in his eyes.

From that moment on, he came up with a new game to play around the palace in hopes of annoying his brother, lovingly dubbed 'Find The Chev!'

It starts off, well... Chaotically.

At first, the little Chev would be found in places accompanied by Clavis' traps: near nets that were ready to drop, right in front of a pitfall, and the worst was in the (unlit) fireplace.

That was when you huffed, dusting the soot from your cute creation. After a few touch ups and a new paper cape for the mini beast, you told Clavis you put too much work into this just to have it sullied in such a way.

From that point on, little Chev traveled to much safer places, and the game restarted in a trap-free style. Each of the princes had gathered wind of this game by now, and it became a daily habit for whoever to find him to share where he found them with the others (and perhaps with a hint of where to find him next)

───※ ·♡· ※───

Leon found him at the training grounds, fit with a crudely made paper sword of his own by the rest of the weapons. He brought the news with a chuckle, joking that it was the first time he saw Chevalier with a sword drawn and no bloodshed.

Jin found him in Leon's fraction's office, balancing at the very tip of the messiest pile in the room. He seemed oddly relieved that he wasn't hiding elsewhere in the room, rather than ashamed at the mess.

Chevalier found him in his favorite reading spot in the gardens, returning him to you with his normal frown. Yet the mini version of him returned with a petal on his head, unharmed and in pristine condition, faintly smelling of roses.

Nokto found little Chev near his favorite 'reading' spot in the library, late at night. He didn't deliver this news until the morning after, but reported that the mini King Highness was reading a book of his own, with a little heart drawn on it.

Licht found him next in the stables, balancing carefully on the divider separating the other horses with his. He found it odd that it was there, but mumbled that little Chev was safe ontop a crude wooden horse of his own.

Yves brought word of little Chev's next adventure as he gave you some sweets to 'sample', saying he found him next to his baking supplies. He did not confirm or deny if the little Chev helped him bake the sweets he presented, bristling with a blush instead.

Luke yawned as he patted your head, asking if you knew why little Chev was hidden away in his favorite sleeping spot. When you had no answer, he simply shrugged and grinned, letting you know he found him with a little blanket of his own to join in on Luke's nap.

Sariel mentioned it at the end of a lesson, cleaning up the papers you two had used. This time, little Chev was found next to a secret bottle of Sariel's, leaning up against it as though he had sipped from it's contents. ... You sweated during the interaction, having to convince him you truly had no idea who hid it that time around.

Keith brought news of the surprise tea time guest, nestled between various sweets that Yves had made. Little Chev smelled faintly of tea, he reported, and seemed to be in good spirits.

Gilbert found him on top of the chess board him and Chevalier play on. He presented him to you with a grin, making note that the little Chev had taken place of the king, and was toppled over. You weren't too happy with the implications, but found relief that he only came accompanied with a white piece from that set.

Silvio had his hands on his hips when we informed you of finding your 'weird toy' in the spare room he had been holding meetings with merchants in. His frown got worse when he said the gaudy paper necklace he wore wasn't funny in the slightest.

And Rio found him on your breakfast tray, serving him to you with a wink. There, little Chev accompanied your morning tea and pastry, ready for you to take him on his next adventure.

Clavis putting him in the fireplace was meant to be a joke about how he feels about chev's actions, but it was unlit and he never wanted to bring actual harm to it (why would he do that to smth you made!!)

Anyway this was fun! I thought this was a cute idea, and I had fun imagining the little trips lil Chev could have gone on. I thought any trips into town would be risky, so I kept it limited to just around the castle(palace?) grounds.

I am imagining that lil Chev has a resting place that is easy for anyone to nab without spoiling the fun of Who Did It This Time, complete with a note beside it to Please keep him safe on his travels. Each time he is returned to you, you debate on leaving him there or taking a turn at hiding him again.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!): @yarnnerdally @katriniac @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bakaneko-chan @skoetiepoetie @bestbryn @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lokis-laugh @queengiuliettafirstlady @candied-boys @drachonia @fang-and-feather @keithsandwich @bubblexly @ridiculouslly-ridiculous @drewadoodle

Ikepri Masterlist | Ikevamp Masterlist | Ikevamp/Ikepri Server

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Galileo Galilei Main Story

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Not proofread.

(Why is he making that face?)

(Did I say something hurtful?)

Mitsuki: "I'm sorry. I spoke out of turn without knowing anything."

Maury: "It's fine."

He cut me off with those words and straightened my blouse.

Maury: "I've cleaned up the scrape on your arm. The bleeding stopped, but you have a bruise, so go to the hospital to make sure."

Mitsuki: "Thank you."

(What was that expression earlier?)

(I'm curious, but bringing it up again would be wrong.)

Unable to say anything more, I just bowed and raised my head.

At that moment, I saw several men clad in long cloaks, carrying swords at their waists.

(Are they soldiers?)

(But I feel like I've seen them somewhere.)

Maury: "Those are..."

I looked to my side and noticed he was also gazing at them, surprised.

Sebastian: "Mitsuki! There you are."

I turned towards the voice and saw Sebastian coming from across the street.

Maury: "Well then, I'll take my leave."

Mitsuki: "Professor Maury, thank you very much for treating me!"

I thanked him again as he turned on his heel, but he didn't look back and just left with Sidereus at his side.

Sebastian: "I've been looking for you! You were taking so long to arrive at our meeting spot."

Mitsuki: "Sorry. I got injured, but don't worry, someone helped me."

I apologized to Sebastian, who had just arrived, and glanced in the direction Professor Maury had left.

Although his figure was no longer visible一

------------Flashback-----------

Maury: "Humans are truly foolish."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Maury: "They harm and persecute the weak, and that foolishness remains unchanged throughout time."

---------Flashback Ends--------

(He's a bit intimidating, but maybe he's not a bad person after all.)

I gazed at the scenery without him, and the handkerchief wrapped around my leg fluttered in the wind.

That night, the news came suddenly.

Mitsuki: "Vampire hunters?"

Vlad: "Yes. They appeared in Paris."

Vlad's voice was unusually stern as he announced this in a room where all the mansion's residents and even Shakespeare had been gathered together.

Charles: "Did anybody see those guys in cloaks with swords roaming the streets recently?"

Jean: "I did, but aren't they just mercenaries?"

Faust: "At first glance, you might think so. But according to Lord Vlad, those men are vampire hunters."

(---!)

In the midst of everyone getting confused, I suddenly realized something.

(Right. Those people I saw today were dressed like the hunters in my dreams.)

(Can such a coincidence really happen?)

“Some say that when coincidences pile up, they become inevitable, even turning into destiny.”

I remember the words Maury told me some time ago.

As I pondered this familiar feeling and the connection between dreams and reality, Vlad continued speaking.

Vlad: "They are, as their name suggests, hunters of vampires. They are our enemies."

Vlad: "Although they don't appear on the stage of history, they have existed since ancient times."

Vlad: "Their purpose is to hunt vampires, much like how my entire family was massacred."

(Vlad...)

Vlad: "For them, vampires are inherently evil beings that must be eradicated."

(I can't believe those guys are in this town now.)

Comte: "But despite being hunters, they are ordinary humans."

Comte: "Unlike purebloods, they cannot sense the presence of vampires."

Shakespeare: "So, unless they witness us drinking blood, the likelihood of us being caught is low."

Vlad: "It's not that simple."

Vlad interrupted Shakespeare's unsettling words.

Leonardo: "Dhampirs, huh?"

(What?)

Leonardo's murmuring made my heart skip a beat.

Mitsuki: "Hold on. What does a Dhampir have to do with this?"

Leonardo: "Dhampirs are half-bloods. They can sense the presence of vampires."

Leonardo: "Some are said to use that power to become vampire hunters, but dhampirs are rare and have shorter lifespans."

(He's right. The "me" in the dream as a Dhampir often had a frail body.)

(But...)

Mitsuki: "If Dhampirs have vampire blood, then they can be targeted as well."

Mitsuki: "So, why would they choose to become hunters?"

Vlad: "Mitsuki. Humans hunt Dhampirs because they are half-vampires."

Vlad: "And because they are half-human, they are also despised by some purebloods."

Vlad: "They are often persecuted by both sides."

Comte: "Perhaps their ability to sense vampires was exploited by humans, or they became hunters themselves to take revenge against persecution."

Comte: "It wouldn't be surprising if such individuals existed."

Leonardo: "Our identities will be exposed if there's even one Dhampir among the hunters."

Leonardo: "We can only hope they're not among them."

Listening to their conversation, I felt a wrenching sensation in my chest.

(In my dreams, "I" was always being chased. I wonder if something like that could have really happened.)

I don't know if the dreams were real or not, but the fact that I was persecuted by both humans and vampires suggests that I was in the same situation.

Comte: "But why are the vampire hunters in Paris?"

Arthur: "I heard a little something at the tavern."

As Comte frowned, Arthur, who had been silent, spoke up.

Arthur: "Recently, some of the deceased residents in the slums had small wounds on their necks."

Arthur: "These wounds were peculiar. They were like bite marks."

(Bite marks?)

Arthur: "Rumors are spreading in the slums that vampires have drained their blood."

Theo: "That's just a rumor, though."

Theo: "But if that's true, it's possible that the hunters have come to pursue the vampire responsible for the incidents."

Arthur: "The timing couldn't be more perfect."

Comte: "I see. But even if their target isn't us, it's still dangerous."

Comte: "I don't want to lose any of you, so please, everyone, be careful."

Comte: "I never wanted to be involved in a conflict with humans, after all."

(Comte…)

Comte's words carry a heartfelt desire for coexistence with humans, something he has longed for throughout eternity.

(I don't want anyone to be in danger.)

Recalling the stories I've heard and the mistreatment suffered by "me" as a dhampir in the dream, I suddenly felt dizzy.

Charles: "Mitsuki, you look pale. Are you okay?"

Mitsuki: "Yeah. I'm just tired from all the stories I've heard."

Faust: "If you're feeling unwell, you should lie down."

Expressing gratitude to everyone for their concern, I leaned back against the sofa, feeling somewhat relieved as my breathing eased.

Then, Charles noticed the bandage wrapped around my leg and tilted his head.

Charles: "Huh? Mitsuki, did you hurt your leg?"

Mitsuki: "Yeah. Actually, today..."

When I told him that a puppy was being bullied in town and that I had unintentionally intervened and hurt myself, Charles's eyes shook with sadness.

Charles: "Bullying the weak is truly saddening."

Faust: "The weak are often the first to be preyed upon. It's the injustice of this world."

Vlad: "It's not just the weak. Humans fear what's different from them."

Vlad: "I wonder why persecution and strife never go away."

When our eyes met, Vlad smiled slightly.

The Draculesti clan, Vlad's family, was believed to be special. Despite promoting coexistence with humans, fear persisted, resulting in the massacre of the family by vampire hunters, leaving young Vlad as the lone survivor.

(Despite this past, Vlad remained fond of humans and this world.)

Because of that love, he harbored ambitions of "managing human thoughts and protecting the world."

(I don't think controlling was the right way to go about it, but...)

(Vlad genuinely wanted to create a world where humans didn't make mistakes.)

The mistakes people commit, the persecution, discrimination, and conflicts—through them, hatred and sorrow continue to chain the world. Breaking the chain is incredibly difficult, perhaps impossible for anyone, but...

(I want to believe everyone has a heart capable of loving and cherishing others.)

(So I will keep hoping that one day there will be no more persecuted people like the Dhampirs, and professions like vampire hunters will cease to exist.)

Thinking about this world and the dangers that loom close at hand, I suddenly realized something.

(Huh? Come to think of it, when I saw the hunters in the city, Professor Maury also seemed surprised.)

At that time, in a certain place on the outskirts of the city, two men were talking.

Galileo: "I saw some vampire hunters in the city."

Drake: "Yeah, I saw them too."

Drake: "The hunter and its prey, huh? Their appearance might be a sign that something's about to happen."

Smiling, Drake casually ran his fingers over the handle of the knife at his waist.

Galileo: "As long as different species exist in this world, there will be conflict."

Galileo: "Coexistence is not possible. Either one disappears, or both disappear. Otherwise, the chain of hatred will never stop."

Drake: "Yeah, that's true."

Drake: "So, Galileo, are you close to finding the 'treasure' you're looking for?"

When Drake asked, Galileo stood up from the sofa.

Galileo: "It will take more time, but I will find it."

Galileo: "To end everything."

With a quiet determination lingering in the air, he disappeared into the depths of the room.

The next day, Comte asked me to organize the old letters and books in his room.

As he wrote a reply to a newly arrived letter, he turned to face me.

Comte: "Sorry for asking you to clean up, Mitsuki."

Comte: "You're still injured, so don't push yourself too hard."

Mitsuki: "Thank you, but I really don't mind doing some chores."

Mitsuki: "Besides, doing this kind of thing makes me feel at ease."

Comte: "I see."

(Maybe it's because I heard about the vampire hunters last night, but every moment of my life seems even more precious to me now.)

As I was thinking about this, I accidentally knocked over a pile of books.

Comte: "Mitsuki, are you hurt?"

Mitsuki: "I'm fine. I'm sorry; some of the books might have gotten damaged."

As I bent down to pick up the fallen books, my eyes happened to land on an open page.

Mitsuki: "This flower..."

There, depicted on the page, was the white flower I had seen in Professor Maury's garden.

Comte: "Hm? Are you interested in this?"

Comte: "Come to think of it, I haven't told you about it. This flower is used to make Blanc."

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Next Part

[beesneedswords]

Blade to Duke

Duke Wyll Ravengard ending. 🪷

Masterlist

You wake up and wander the halls of the Ravengard estate. It was given to Wyll after Ulder Ravengard realized all the sacrifices he'd made to keep the city safe. The late duke thought he would be the best thing for the city. You fidget with the acorn Wyll had proposed with, its place now taken by a beautiful ring. The ring was passed down by his mother, a silver band with a purple topaz.

You make your way to the office and see Wyll asleep. His forehead against a stack of ledgers and a stack of loose parchments against the back of his head. You gently shake him, trying not to disturb the massive piles spread all around.

He stirs a bit, "There is food in the dinning room, do you want me to bring you some?"

"No, no." He finally lifts his head, indents of the books very clearly seen, "I'll join you. I have to get out of here." He stands and stretches.

You smile as he takes your hand and leads you to the dinning area. Beautiful dishes and a bottle of wine sit on the table. His father is already sitting at the table, as Wyll pulls out one of the end chairs for you and sits himself in the other.You help yourself to the food as Wyll and his father start talking about the estate. That's all they've been discussing the last several weeks. Ulder gets up and excuses himself. He said he is going to take the day off of the estates ledgers. Clean up is finally done and now rebuilding has started. You and Wyll finish your meal in comfortable silence.

He walks with you back to the office and tries to say goodbye. However before he is able to pull away you kiss him and ask him to take a break from the papers. He sighs and agrees, he pulls you into the room with him and grabs a book off the desk as well as a quill and pot of ink. You grab a book from the shelf and the two of you sit in silence on a soft sofa.

You set your feet on Wyll’s lap, getting comfortable. He rubs your feet occasionally taking the quill to write something down. As you both continue reading his hand slowly drifts upward. His hand wraps around you ankle, calf, rests on your knee, before stopping on your thigh. It rests there for several minutes before slowly moving upwards again. He stretches himself out to lay on top of you. Kissing anywhere he can reach before claiming your lips with his. The two of you are entangled in passion for what feels like hours. His touch is desperately looking for warmth, the cold air breezing through the window fueling his need for yours. He grabs a blanket from the back of the sofa as clothes meet the floor and the cold wind becomes more noticeable.

You never go too far, he still wants to do things properly and you've agreed. So all the two of you do is kiss and touch. Lips are always touching skin somewhere on each other's bodies. His hands never stop finding new places to touch.

After a while you both notice how dark its become. You move out of his arms and into your clothes. Slowly, he joins you. That's when you notice how hungry you are. The smell of freshly baked bread and roasted potatoes fill your nose. You and Wyll walk hand in hand to the table. no one else in sight. He takes a basket from the floor and begins filling it with food. He grabs a couple of thick blankets and almost drags you outside into the large yard. The yarda once green grass has now become a sort of yellowish since winters taken hold. Beautiful shining stars above you and crisp winter breeze pushes you into his back. He places a blanket and the basket on the flat, hard ground. You join him as he lays out some of the food. He wraps a blanket around your shoulders and another around himself.

As you eat Wyll asks, "I wonder where I would be if I hadn't taken over as Duke."

"I imagine you'd be doing what you had been before. Killing devils, keeping the sword coast safe." You laugh, "Probably change your name."

"The Blade of Avernus." he laughs.

"Of course, I would be there, joining you in beating devils. Karlach would be helping too.”

"You really think so?"

"Yes, we are such a great team. I mean Karlach is already on her way to killing devils, we'd be unstoppable."

He smiles, seemingly unsure of the decision he'd already made. You take his hand trying to reassure him that both decicions are helping the city, its people, and the coast. He smiles at you, sadly, but you can see the wheels turning.

"After we get the city and people back into better shape, maybe I can be the Blade of Averus. Only take over as Duke when its done or my father has gotten too old. Or passed."

You smile bigger, its a good idea and besides you already miss the thrill and danger of adventure, "I'll join you every step of the way."

[crisalidaseason]

Sixth entry: don’t mix work and friendship

I suggest you don’t befriend your assignment more than  strictly necessary. It makes your job a little too difficult. If you start to care about them it complicates things for you, your boss and your ward. Though I won’t judge if you’re not able to separate work and friendship, it’s not like I was able to do it. 

Another card flipped, another lost round. Liam did not know why he kept playing games when Xaden had an uncanny ability to predict most of his moves. Liam huffed at the loss of yet another round, drawing a card from the pile. 

“Tell me about the sparring sessions” Xaden’s voice was relaxed.

“What do you want to know?” Liam shrugged as he finally won the next round. 

His brother remained silent for a few seconds, though not paying much attention to the game. The line between his forehead was a permanent feature for the last month. 

“I heard from Imogen you’ve been sparring with Sorrengail”

“You could have asked ‘Hey, how is sparring with Sorrengail going?’ “ Liam smirked “You know, like a normal person”

Xaden lowered his deck of cards in annoyance, narrowing his dark eyes on Liam. 

“You’re spending too much time around Violence” 

There it was. The nickname. Fuck, Xaden was so into Violet that it was honestly distressing. At that point Liam was about to join forces with Garrick and lock them in a room - though he feared it would not work considering Xaden’s pathological denial and Violet’s headache-inducing stubbornness. 

“I’m just following orders” Liam raised his hands in surrender. 

Xaden’s next combination of cards were displayed more aggressively than normal. Ops, the conversation was hitting a nerve

“Well” he began “for your information, brother, things are rough but she is getting better. I don’t spar with her as much, Rhiannion is the one who trains her the most” 

“Do you think she’ll be able to handle challenges?”

Liam frowned. From what he heard from her squad, she was able to win all of her matches so far, with a few injuries. Where Violet lacked brute strength she countered with agility, speed and pattern analysis. 

“You think she can’t?” Liam asked.

“I didn’t say that” his brother muttered “I worry about Barlowe”

“She might not even be matched with him-” 

“She will” Xaden interrupted “this place is fucking sick, at some point they’re going to throw that motherfucker at her”

Liam went silent, their game long ignored by both players. He understood the worry, if Violet and Barlowe were matched…the fucker would go for the kill.

“She is fast with the knives” Liam began.

“But she does not go for killing blows” Xaden said between gritted teeth “she didn’t at fucking threshing”

Liam’s was confused for a few moments. He did see her wrapped arms, but had thought it was simply Tairn marking her, not Barlowe.

“He went for her at threshing?”

Xaden nodded, shaking his head as if the memory aggravated him. 

“Motherfucker tried to kill Andarna with other two cowards, Sorrengail tried to stop them by herself” 

He was not surprised by her act of defense for Andarna. Liam had learned Violet had a stubborn and strong sense of justice.

“Three against one, people really like ganging up on her” Liam grimaced, Violet had more enemies going for her neck than him…and he was a marked one! 

“She handled it well considering her injuries, but it was fucking reckless and she had the nerve to knock out Seinfert with the wrong end of the dagger” Xaden’s voice was definitely aggravated.

Liam shivers remembering what her mercy cost. Sometimes he saw the flashes of Oren’s face above him with a sword in hand. 

“The point is, she never went for killing blows, not even to defend herself! Same thing when they fucking jumped her last month. Sorrengail never goes for the kill” 

If Barlowe got her on the mat, would she kill him? Liam was afraid to think she wouldn’t, or at least would hesitate enough to be in actual danger. 

“Fuck” was all Liam could say.

As noble as it was to keep your hands clean, that was impossible in the riders quadrant. And with the bond tying Xaden and Violet…she would have to give in at some point. 

“What are we going to do?” Liam said after a while “we can’t interfere with challenges”

Xaden remained silent for a few minutes, eyes distant. He sighed deeply, the tiredness painting every inch of his frame. Even with Violet’s safety being delegated to Liam, his brother was still shouldering the issue. 

“I don’t know, Liam, but I won’t let them kill her”

Liam simply agreed. He had a strong feeling Xaden was not worried about his own life - he hadn’t for a while. There was something too personal with how he killed Seifert, how he asked about Violet when Liam had to report, the way he stared at her whenever she entered a room. His brother had an unmistakable interest in her - one Liam would consider far from a simple sexual attraction, but would not dare name it. All he could do was give advice and hope his brother understood that he could not ignore her forever. 

“You have to talk to her” Liam blurted “ally yourself to Violet, discuss things together. You don’t need to be friends but you need to talk. Build trust!”

Xaden denied vehemently, closing his eyes, but Liam did not care. Xaden could protest all he wanted. 

“She cannot have a bodyguard forever, Xaden! Don’t get me wrong, I would protect Violet like any other friend of mine, but she needs to grow on her own too. You taught me, she could use your teachings too”

“You are just as capable as I am” 

“But it’s you she needs to trust! It’s your life tied to hers!” Liam insisted “Violet doesn’t know you and if both of you want to survive out of this quadrant then you have to trust one another. You can’t trust someone you never speak with”

Xaden stood up abruptly, cards all silling on his bed sheets. He went straight to the window, back facing Liam and he almost regretted bringing the topic again, knowing his brother’s aversion to acknowledging Violet’s existence - while simultaneously watching her like a hawk. Liam could not care less about his brother’s denial, he focused on the future and the future needed Xaden and Violet to work together. He dared to say the revolution’s success was tied to them trusting one another. 

“Liam, I don’t want to fight over this again-”

“Okay, so we don’t fight. Let’s talk! What are you so afraid of? You had no issues talking to her before all of this”

“You better return to your room” was all Xaden replied firmly, shutting himself for any form of communication. 

Liam sighed in frustration, throwing his deck of hard on the bedsheet and going for the door. One more time Liam would not succeed in convincing his brother. 

“If you don’t make a decision now, life is going to make it for you…and you might not like it” was the last thing Liam said on his way out. 

Xaden did not speak to him for a few days after the argument, but Liam was already used to his brother’s behavior. Liam knew his words were true and would not apologize for wanting the best for the people he cared for

“You seem upset today” Violet commented on their way to the archives. 

He tried to shake the argument off of his face that morning, but it was difficult considering the topic of the conversation was the girl beside him. He considered telling it was nothing serious, but he was honestly in need of some advice, and that particular Sorrengail seemed to be good at it.

“Nothing serious” Liam shrugged, eyes focused on his wooden sculpture “sometimes Xaden and I don’t see eye to eye”

“I know the feeling” she smiled at him “I think the more we care about someone more complicated things get”

He nodded, smiling with no real happiness behind it. 

“Had a lot of fights with your siblings?” he asked, but soon wanted to bite his own tongue “shit…sorry”

He might know Brennan Sorrengail was alive, but she was still a mourning sister. 

“It’s okay. I like talking about him” she said, putting a comforting hand on his forearm “and yes, we did fight a lot, mostly because I was a little stubborn as a kid”

A little? He knew her for a month and most of Violet’s personality was composed of unsettling analysis, stubbornness, kindness and unusual humor. 

“Violet Sorrengail did not like taking orders, I imagine” he teased her. 

She chuckled lightly, eyes distant as if remembering a sweet memory.

“We usually fought whenever I sneaked out and ended up hurting myself” she shrugged “I’d always do it again, even if they got pissed”

He could picture her younger self being a menace, her two-tone hair morphing into a light blonde as Sloane’s own shenanigans played behind his eyes. Fuck, he missed his sister. 

“Must be interesting being your sibling. Never a dull day in the Sorrengail household”

Her laughter lightened up his mood severely.

“What about you and your sister?” she asked “tell me something she did that drove you mad”

Liam scoffed, the memory fresh in his mind. 

“Sloane has a sharp tongue, pretty much like you” he said raising his fingers as he listed his sister’s behaviors “has no sense of authority, like you do, and does not back down, like someone I know! I was often scolded because of her behavior”

“I like her” Violet declared.

“Of course you do” he rolled his eyes “I bet the two of you would get along well”

She grimaced a little. 

“I don’t think so” she said “the last name is kind of a mood killer”

“Hey!” he playfully hit her in the arms “I like you, don’t I?”

“You don’t count. You’re nice to everyone, Liam!” she countered “but I also don’t expect any of you to like me, it’s not fair”

Their conversation was cut short once they arrived at the archive’s door and then began their book exchanges with Jesinia. He thought about Violet’s words while stacking the tomes neatly into the cart. He knew many marked ones did not like her solely because of a last name, but he really hoped Sloane would not be one of them. He wondered if he should write about Violet to his sister, warm her up before she entered the quadrant. Yeah, that was a solid idea! 

“Thank you, Jesinia” Violet signed once they finished the exchange. 

They left the archives without hurry, stretching the peaceful moment until the inevitable hectic day started. 

“You’re a good person, Violet” he blurted a few minutes into their walk.

She looked at him with a slight frown between her eyebrows. 

“Uh…thank you?”

“I mean it” he affirms “I’m sure Sloane will like you once she gets to know you like I did” 

“You’ve known me for a bit more than a month” she laughs “what if I am a lying spy?”

Liam tried his best not to laugh at her, Violet might not have the strongest punch, but she knew exactly where to hit and hurt like shit.

“I think one month was enough for my verdict” he said “besides, you’re kind of an open book, Violet. You could not lie for the life of you! I highly doubt you’re a spy.”

She rolled her eyes at him, their stroll finally reaching the end as they entered the academic wing.

Previous chapter

Next chapter

[towine]

[alhaitham/cyno] haven

assassin's creed AU / ~2k / oneshot / rated T

notes: i was looking through my writing folder and found this lil thing i started back in [checks date] oh my god may. i dusted it off, went "okay i still like this" and decided to finish it

it's an AU of the video game assassin's creed (particularly AC1), but all you really need to know is that alhaitham and cyno are both part of an order of assassins led by azar. i hope you enjoy it, even if i'm sure it interests like, -5 people. what can i say. i'm just playing with my dolls however i like

-

-

Cyno dives headfirst into the rooftop entrance of the bureau.

Instinct has him tuck into a roll as he hits the ground, but his shoulder still takes the brunt of the fall. He’s entered through the skylight dozens of times before without issue, but never with so much blood in his eyes or such a pounding headache.

He crashes near the water fountain, knocking over a water jug and spilling its contents across the tiles.

The sound of shouts and footsteps approach like an incoming stampede.

“Assassin! He went this way!”

Disorientation keeps Cyno from getting up even as his brain screams hide, hide now, they’re coming, they’re coming—

In his periphery, he sees someone vault over a table in a flash of dark robes. They hurry to the open skylight to grab a rope dangling from it, then yank the entrance closed. The sounds of shouting are muffled but still rapidly drawing closer. The roof is nothing more than criss-crossing slats of wood, letting the sunlight in.

The guards will see him. He has to move—

Two hands grab Cyno beneath the armpits and bodily drag him further into the room, away from the light. Cyno growls at the pain in his shoulder, head swimming, adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

“Quiet,” hisses a familiar voice. “Cyno, you have to be quiet.”

“Alhai—”

A hand claps over his mouth. Cyno breathes harshly against it, barely refraining from biting it.

Then, voices. On the roof.

“I swear he went this way.”

“He probably ran towards the gate.”

Footsteps hit the ceiling hard enough to make dust rain from it, down to where Cyno is tucked into a shadowed corner.

“Keep looking! Don’t let him escape.”

The footsteps and voices move on to other rooftops. Outside, the city bells ring in time with the pounding of Cyno’s pulse.

Finally, the footsteps and voices fade. Stillness remains for another few seconds, just to be cautious. Then the arms holding Cyno release him.

Cyno gasps and slumps to the ground, falling on his back. Lights dance across his vision.

Alhaitham leans over him, face twisted in a scowl. Cyno’s blood stains the front of his robes.

“Did you alert every single city guard to your presence?” he says. “You’re lucky I didn’t keep you locked out.”

Cyno tries to speak but the room won’t stop spinning.

“If we have to move the bureau again, I will be sure to report this to Azar.”

The edges of his vision go dark.

“Cyno? Cyno, look at me—”

The last thing Cyno registers before everything fades away is a hand on his cheek, turning his face to meet Alhaitham’s.

-

When Cyno wakes up, the first thing he thinks is, Ah. I’m not dead.

He’s lying on a bed in a small, humble room. No windows. A table, a chair, a basket of what he assumes are used clothes. The clothes at the top of the pile are bloodstained.

His clothes.

Cyno looks down at himself. Bandages, wrapped around his middle, right where he remembers a guard’s lance found a home in his side. He brings a hand up to his head and feels bandages there too. Another guard nailed him with the butt of their sword. Better that than the other end.

His assassin robes are nowhere to be found, and his bracer is on the nightstand. Cyno sits up, swallowing down the nausea that heaves up his throat when he does, and he takes the bracer, examining the hidden blade.

It flicks out without issue, gleaming and deadly. And clean of his mark’s blood.

Cyno puts it on his forearm, sighing when he does. He never feels quite right without it.

His pants and boots were left on. At least he got to keep a small measure of modesty. He rises to his feet, breath catching when he feels a sharp pain in his side. He pushes his way through the room’s only door.

Alhaitham is on the other side of it, standing at a table as he examines a map. He doesn’t look up when Cyno enters.

“You owe me a new jug,” he says conversationally, tracing over the map with a pencil.

Cyno rasps, “My robes—”

“Are hanging over there.” Alhaitham, still not looking at Cyno, points with his pencil to the other side of the room with the skylight and tiled floors and bubbling water fountain. A line has been strung up from one wall to the other, from which hangs Cyno’s white assassin robes. “That blood was a nightmare to wash out. I’ll never understand why the Order insists on white robes.”

Cyno stares at the robes, not sure what to say.

Alhaitham goes on, “Your other clothes weren’t worth keeping. I figured I’d give you some spares when you woke up.”

He’s looking at Cyno now. His is a difficult gaze to read. Cyno has never understood Alhaitham as well as he wished, but that isn’t unusual—Alhaitham is known by most to be severe and uncooperative, even to those within the Order.

He’s never been particularly warm to Cyno, but Cyno chalks it up to Alhaitham’s pragmatism more than anything else. After all, there must be a reason he’s made it to the rank he now holds: Rafiq of Sumeru City, tasked with providing missions to their assassins as well as managing this bureau, a safe haven for anyone of their Order.

Still, laundry must lie outside of Alhaitham’s usual responsibilities.

“Thank you,” Cyno says finally.

Alhaitham says nothing. A plate of figs and bread sits on the corner of his table, and he nudges it towards Cyno.

Cyno approaches and examines one fig, takes a bite. He’s suddenly ravenous.

“So,” Alhaitham says while Cyno eats, “the deed is done?”

Cyno uses his hand that isn’t holding a fig to reach down into the side of his boot, digging for the feather he knows is there. A white feather, at least it used to be before Cyno dragged it through his mark’s blood. He places it on the table, carefully avoiding the map spread over it.

Alhaitham picks the feather up by the quill, holds it to the light. Then he nods in satisfaction and sweeps away to one of his bookshelves.

“I’ll send word to Azar,” he says, “though I’m sure the ruckus you caused has sent the news to him already.”

Cyno scowls. “I had to improvise.”

“And does improvising have to involve luring the guards to my rooftop?”

“It was not my intention to endanger the bureau,” Cyno snaps. “Call it instinct that I ran here. I nearly died escaping Alcazarzaray. Something wasn’t right. The intel was inaccurate.”

“Inaccurate?” Alhaitham frowns. “That’s impossible.”

“I assure you it’s not.” Cyno sighs and rests a hand over his bandaged side. Alhaitham’s eyes flicker down to it. “It’s like they knew I was coming. You said there would be fifteen guards total. There were thirty. You said the mark would be asleep in his bedroom on the second floor. He was awake and armed. Someone warned him.”

“That’s impossible,” Alhaitham says again. “The intel came from Azar’s personal informants, he—” Alhaitham stops.

After a few seconds of silence, Cyno says, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Alhaitham,” Cyno says. The sound of it falls heavily between them. “What is it?”

Quiet. Alhaitham turns away to rummage through his shelves. “Nothing. I will just have to tell Azar to cut ties with those informants. They nearly got you killed.”

“I would not die so easily,” Cyno says.

Alhaitham returns to the table with a blank piece of parchment, and he looks at Cyno with a small, wry smile. “No, you would not,” he says.

Cyno swallows.

“Whether or not you’re easy to kill,” Alhaitham continues, and he begins writing on the parchment with a quill, “you’re not safe here.”

Cyno snorts. “Obviously.” The guards will be on high alert for at least the rest of the month.

“Obviously, he says,” Alhaitham mutters, and finishes writing with a flourish. “Are you listening? You’re not safe here. Not even in this bureau. Not even in the House of Daena.”

That makes Cyno frown. “What? Why?”

“The intel shouldn’t have been wrong.” Alhaitham rolls the parchment up and ties it off with twine. “This was an important mission. Why else would Azar assign it to the best of the Order?”

The best of the Order. Alhaitham’s praise is a precious thing, precisely because it is so non-existent. It’s a shame that Cyno feels far too confused at the moment to appreciate it.

“Alhaitham,” Cyno says slowly. “Tell me what is going on.”

Alhaitham sighs. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to leave this bureau and go straight for the city gate. Do not meet with Azar. I will tell him what you accomplished. You are going to take this—” Alhaitham holds out the rolled up parchment, “—and go to Aaru Village.”

“Aaru Village?” Cyno’s brow rises. “Why?”

“You’re going to give this to someone named Candace,” Alhaitham continues, as if Cyno hadn’t spoken, “and you’re going to wait for me to send word to you. Do not write to me.”

“You’re speaking nonsense,” Cyno says. He steps away from the table.

Alhaitham’s hand shoots out and grabs his wrist.

Cyno turns in his grip and slams Alhaitham’s arm down against the table.

The hidden blade flicks out and poises itself at Alhaitham’s throat.

Alhaitham, bent over the table with his mouth twisted in a grimace, looks up at Cyno.

“You said I’m in danger here,” Cyno says. “So why should I trust you?”

“Easy,” Alhaitham grits out. “Don’t be rash. I’m trying to help.”

“Why should I trust you?” Cyno demands. “I will not ask again.”

Alhaitham sucks in a breath, low and steady, wary of the blade. “If I wanted to kill you, why would I bother saving you first?”

The wound in Cyno’s side throbs beneath the tightly laced bandages. He glances at the figs on the table, half-eaten.

He retracts the blade and lets Alhaitham go.

Alhaitham exhales and slumps over the table. Cyno takes the parchment from where it rolled near the table’s edge.

“It’s just lying low for a while,” Alhaitham says, flexing his arm. Cyno slightly regrets slamming it so hard. Only slightly. “I’m sure you want to recuperate anyway, considering your injuries. I just recommend you do it far away from here.”

“And what about you?” Cyno asks, not looking at him. “You’re not in danger doing all this?”

Alhaitham straightens up, tugging his robes back into order. “I’ve been doing this dance for a long time. I know how to tread lightly.”

Cyno huffs. “You know, you say a lot without saying anything at all.”

“And that,” Alhaitham says, “is the way of the assassin.”

It doesn’t take long for Cyno to gather his things. His assassin’s robes are still damp, but it’d be idiotic to wear them out in the open anyway. He borrows a loose tunic from Alhaitham’s wardrobe, and a cloak to cover his head and the bracer on his wrist.

Alhaitham is waiting by the door when Cyno is finished.

He says, “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but don’t let anyone see you leave.”

Cyno nearly scoffs. “I never do.”

“Right.” Alhaitham steps away.

There’s an awkward moment where Alhaitham stands there and Cyno doesn’t reach for the door handle. Part of Cyno can’t help but feel like he will step past this threshold and never see Alhaitham again. The thought worries him, for some reason. Cyno opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

It’s Alhaitham who breaks the silence.

He says, hardly more than a murmur, “Safety and peace, Cyno.”

The customary greeting and farewell of their Order. Cyno shivers at the cadence of his name falling from Alhaitham’s lips.

“Somehow, right here,” Cyno says quietly, “there is both.”

Alhaitham’s eyes widen.

Before Cyno can think twice of it, he opens the door and steps outside. The street is clear, but only for now. He has to move quickly. There’s no looking back.

As he races for the city gate, ducking into the shadows of buildings and skirting around the main roads, a sweetness lingers in his mouth from the figs. Alhaitham’s scent clings to the shirt Cyno is wearing, as distracting as perfume. Cyno can’t shake these things loose, no matter how fast he runs. But maybe that’s okay—maybe he’ll just have to carry them.

Outside the city, he looks west to the horizon, where the desert waits.

Yes. He’ll carry them.

[i-am-still-bb]

No. 28

“We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.” | Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

Pairing: Fili/Kili Rating: T Universe: Book Words: 2066

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A/N: I haven't read The Hobbit in quite a while, so the sequence of events and the timing between them, etc. may not be accurate to the book.

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The tunnel smelled strongly of dragon. Kili had not been expecting the smell. Fire? Yes. Claws? Yes. The smell? Absolutely not. It was like rotting meat and overturned earth. There was also the smell of smoke, but he had been expecting that smell. And it was not the main thing that you could smell. 

Everyone had laid out their bedrolls along the passage way. They were uncomfortable being too far from the hidden door and the crack of light that let in fresh air and a little bit of day light, but the exposure of it made them uncomfortable as well. And if they went deeper into the tunnel then they were closer to the opening that lead them into the throne room where Smaug lay curled on his hoard of gold while brooding and plotting. So they were situated nearly half way to between the two ends. 

They had to be quiet because any sound they made echoed down the tunnel. A kicked stone, a hissed curse made them all freeze. Waiting. Listening. To see if Smaug had heard them, if they were moments from discovery. When there was no rumbling or glow of fire they would relax enough to lay down or return to whatever hushed conversation they were having. 

Desiring some privacy there was some distance between different groups of them. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur all sat together, talking, and sleeping as a group, while Oin and Gloin were bunked down with Ori, Nori, and Dori. 

Fili and Kili had set up their bedrolls some distance away from the others. Bombur snored and neither Fili nor Kili could sleep well if they were still awake when Bombur fell asleep.

Right now they were all waiting for Bilbo to come back with word about what he had seen and heard in the throne room. Some were sleeping, but Fili was slowly but steadily sharpening his swords, knives, and axes. They all started on his right side. And, when sharpened, he would set them down on his left. He was nearly done with the small pile by this point. 

“What do you think is going to happen?” Kili asked. 

Fili’s hand paused its continuous motion. “I don’t know, Kili.” He started running the whetstone down the length of the sword again. “There’s still a dragon to kill, so I imagine there will be fighting at some point. 

Kili sat down and scooted so that his back was against the smooth stone wall. He was impressed with the care that his ancestors had taken with crafting even this small hallway that was not meant to be used by many. They could have easily left rough edges, and an uneven floor, but Kili had looked and had been unable to find anything that could cause you to trip in the dark, or a chip in the wall that could slice open a finger as you felt your way along. He could not help but compare it to the halls of Ered Luin. He missed those halls. He had longed for their rough warmth more than once in the past months. But Erebor was something else entirely. If they were successful. If they reclaimed the mountain then things would not be the same. And there were bound to be good ways, but also bad ways. 

He probably would not get to see those halls again. Amad would travel with the rest of their kin to Erebor to take up residence in the halls of their fathers. 

“Do you think that there are enough of us?” Kili asked hesitantly. “We’ve never fought in a battle. Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin did, but that was a long time ago.”

“Gandalf seemed to think that fourteen was the right number.”

Kili hummed.

“What do you think it will be like if we do manage to evict Smaug the Terrible?”

“I think there will be a lot of work at first,” Fili replied.

Kili nodded and watched Fili’s hands continue their work while he spoke. 

“Obviously there will be a lot of cleaning to do, repairs to be carried out, furnishings, dealing with the hoard of treasure won’t be the least of all those tasks. I imagine Thorin is going to want the Arkenstone found as quickly as possible.”

“The Right to Rule.”

Fili nodded. “Then there will be dealing with the land around the mountain. Sorting out what to do with the ruins of Dale. Then there will be the political aspects of it all, Lake Town, the Elves of Mirkwood, and anyone else who lives nearby.”

“What about us?”

“I imagine we’ll be busy.”

“Yeah…” Kili trailed off, trying to think of how to phrase what he wanted to ask. What about them? What about their futures? Clearly living here was going to be very different from living in Ered Luin. There would be a great deal more pressure, a lot more expectations, more people watching and commenting on their actions. 

What about marriage?

Kili had never really thought about that before and, therefore, had not been bothered by the prospect of either of them marrying. But now, with Erebor, nearly within their grasp, the thought bothered him. Fili had been just his for so long. And the prospect of having to share Fili with another, much less multiple others of Fili had children with whomever he married, was… discomforting. 

“That’s not really what I—” Kili started to say.

He was distracted by Bilbo running down the corridor at full sprint, his cheeks pink, and he was breathing heavily. Everyone took notice, some standing up, others remaining seated, but their attention was clearly fixed on Kili.

“What’s happened?” Thorin demanded.

Bilbo was bent nearly double, hands on his knees while he fought to catch his breath.

“Smaug…” he gasped.

“Figured that much,” Dwalin growled. 

Bilbo saw the sliver of light at the end of the tunnel where the door was still propped open. “We should close the door.”

“What! Why?” Many of them exclaimed at once. 

Then they all heard the rumble and rush of wind as Smaug took flight via the main gate. They all looked at one another, their eyes wide with fear and surprise. Smaug had not left the mountain in nearly 60 years, or so they had heard. 

“Please shut the door,” Bilbo pleaded. “I fear that he will see it and know where we are.”

“But then we will be trapped in the mountain!” 

“With no way out!” 

“We’ll be stuck in here with Smaug until we either starve or he eats us.”

“Please!” Bilbo repeated. “You were not there—”

“Shut the door,” Thorin ordered. 

“But,” Nori started to protest. 

“Now,” Thorin barked. 

Dwalin and a few others went to the door and managed to heave it back into place. It closed with a sharp crack. And they were left in complete darkness. Kili had thought the air had been close, thick, and stuffy before, but without the fresh air and light from the outside it quickly became worse. 

They all stood in silence in the pitch black. Kili had never been comfortable with this level of darkness. He knew his eyes would eventually adjust and he would be able to see a little, but it had nothing to do with sunlight, starlight, or moonlight. And Bilbo’s eyes would not adjust to the same level, he would be left in the pitch black darkness of the pungent tunnel. 

The roar was closer.

Then the earth shook. 

Kili grabbed for Fili’s shoulder. 

“Kili?”

“I’m okay,” but Kili’s voice shook. There was the distinctive sound of metal on metal while Fili quickly returned all of his weapons to their sheaths. Fili knew each weapon by touch and worked quickly. 

The earth shook again. This time knocking some of them from their feet. Kili caught himself on the smooth wall. 

“Away from the door!” Thorin shouted.

There was the unmistakable sound of stone cracking. 

The plink of small stones that preceded a landslide. 

Fili dragged Kili down the tunnel by the placket of his borrowed jerkin. There was the metallic sound of at least one of Fili’s weapons being left behind on the floor of the tunnel as they ran. Kili was nearly jerked from his feet by Fili’s speed even before the next earthquake hit. The earth shook so violently that none of them were able to remain standing. 

“Keep moving!” Fili’s voice came from behind Kili, though how he had ended up there was a mystery.

“I’m trying,” Kili said before the moving earth pitched him sideways and then forward on to his face. Fili’s hands were on him, checking. “I’m not hurt,” Kili assured him, answering the silent question. 

Then it stopped. As quickly as the earthquakes began they ended. 

“Is everyone accounted for?” Thorin shouted from the front.

“More or less,” Bofur grumbled.

“Yes.”

“But we lost any of the supplies that we had brought inside.”

Everyone was present and accounted for and other than bumps and bruises, and a bloodied nose everyone was uninjured. 

“What exactly happened with Smaug?” someone demanded of Bilbo

And Bilbo told them.

… Smaug sticking his head in the hole

… the fire he had unleashed that had singged the back of Bilbo’s calves. 

A few of the dwarves went to check on the tunnel’s entrance. But it was thoroughly gone. Everything had been smashed and there was the scent of smoke even though there had been nothing to burn anywhere near the door. 

Kili wondered if dragon fire could melt solid rock. And he wished Gandalf was there, because he would probably know the answer. 

“That’s just great,” Nori grumbled. “We’re trapped between a cave in and a pissed off dragon who is interested in what Hobbit tastes like and is still willing to eat Dwarf even though he’s tired of it.”

“We’ll stay here and wait,” Thorin said authoritatively, interrupting any discontented grumbling. “Smaug might not come back. If he does not then we will find our way out through the treasure chamber.”

“And if he does come back?”

Thorin did not answer. 

They all settled down in the dark, overly warm tunnel to wait. 

“What were you going to say before?” Fili whispered. The tunnel echoed at this point, and the sound of the others’ breathing filled their ears along with the rumble of Bombur’s snoring, and Bofur’s cursing when he woke his brother every few minutes only for him to fall back to sleep shortly after waking. And then shortly after falling asleep he would start snoring again. 

Kili shook his head. “I’ll tell you later.”

“We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.” 

Kili swallowed hard. Then he reached for Fili in the dark. He could now see the outlines of Fili’s face, the broad gestures of his features in the dark. And the longer they were underground without any light, the more detailed his sight would become. 

“I just… I…” Kili struggled to find the words. 

Fili did not say anything. He listened and waited.

“I…” 

Fili squeezed Kili’s knee. Kili covered Fili’s hand with his own. 

“I love you,” Kili said so quietly that he could barely hear his own words over the sound of his own heart beating.

“I love you, too.” Fili replied. 

“Not like that—” Kili started to explain.

“I know.”

“You do?”

Kili could see the line of Fili’s jaw and his quick smile, and the glint of his eyes when he looked past Kili for a second. 

Fili kissed him then. 

Kili made a small surprised sound before he could stop himself. Fili’s lips were warm and soft, but there was a pressure to the kiss, and urgency. Fili’s beard rasped against Kili’s skin. Kili moved his hands to keep Fili close. He had stopped thinking full sentences or even anything coherent the moment that Fili’s tongue touched his lower lip. His fingers caught Fili's braids, tugging and tangling them. 

“Like that?” Fili asked on an exhale when they parted.

Kili nodded and took a deep breath. “Like that.”

Fili dropped his head forward so their foreheads were touching. 

Fili started to speak then, his fingers dancing on the neckline of Kili’s shirt. But his words were interrupted by Thorin starting to rouse the company. It had been a night and most of a day. It was time to move.

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[florianniss]

Trouble with angels

Steve has lunch detention all week in the office. It’s busy, phones ringing and teachers running in and out to check their mail. Most of them stop to talk, ask why he’s there, and then frown when they find out the reason. Mr. McGann promises yet again not to tell his father and wants Steve to do extra laps during practice.

It’s fine. He’s out of shape anyway. Been a bit of a slacker lately.

Friday is Homecoming and the football team is supposed to dress up. He irons his pants and chooses a shirt that doesn’t make him look like a dork. No tie, though. He’s not that invested in it.

Because someone went and nominated him for Homecoming King. It’s stupid, really. There aren’t any girls to be Queen, and lord knows they won’t be selecting two guys for the title.

First and second hours are fine. Eddie’s back to sleeping during lessons, and the teachers ignore him. Steve catches him between classes and finds he’s kind of in an owlish mood.

“They want me to cut my hair.”

Steve feels it viscerally, as if it’s a personal attack. “No. They can’t do that. They don’t have the right –”

Eddie smiles wryly and leans against his locker. Steve could never look as cool as he did. “Nah. It’s just another way to punish me. Say it’s part of the ‘dress code.’”

He makes air quotes and rolls his eyes.

Lunch detention that day ends up being in the kitchen, washing pots. And it’s not just the day-to-day ones that are used for boiling pasta. Miss Diane has pulled out the ugliest, oldest, dirtiest, rustiest ones from storage, a smug look on her face as she hands Steve what looks like a damn hazmat suit.

“Hairnet,” she lists off, handing him the box that dispenses them one at a time. Steve grumbles a bit and then takes one, opens it into a spidery web kind of thing, and cringes as he slips it over his head.

He feels like a fool as he runs the sink tap and pours in way too much soap, watching the bubbles take over. There’s not enough room for the water, soap begins to cascade over the edge, and that’s when someone comes up behind him.

“Dude, have you never done dishes before?”

Eddie’s grinning at him, wearing a normal plastic apron over his t-shirt and jeans, his hair pulled back and also covered with a hairnet. He’s carrying a bin full of lids, sweating slightly. And Steve has never been more happy to see him.

Eddie drains the water and rinses out half of the suds and starts over, while Steve stands back and shamelessly ogles his ass. His jeans are super tight and there’s a crease under each cheek. It does something to Steve’s gut, somewhere behind his navel. Gets him all tingly and warm feeling.

“There,” Eddie announces proudly and turns to face Steve, forearms loaded with suds. “Now you’re ready, Rich Boy.”

Steve likes when Eddie calls him that.

They make a lot of noise, push each other and spill water on the floor. Eddie’s sneakers make the most horrible squeaking sound, gets them laughing. Giggling.

Steve likes it when Eddie giggles.

When Miss Diane comes in towards the end of lunch period, it’s clear she doesn’t like them. She sees the mess on the floor and scowls, makes them stay late and miss Band cleaning up. Then she separates them; Eddie wipes down all the tables with bleach, and Steve sweeps up all the crap students leave on the floor.

Eddie finishes first and disappears behind the sink area, and Steve focuses on getting every last wrapper and french fry into a pile. When he’s finally done and the cafeteria floor is spotless, he hears Eddie calling his name from the kitchen.

“Steve, come here a sec.”

Like a fly being lured into a spider's web, Steve obeys, and Eddie doesn’t disappoint. He’s wearing a metal colander on his head, holding a long-handled strainer in one hand, and an over-large pot lid in the other.

“Hey,” he grins, his voice cracking a little. “If they crown you King Steve, can I be one of your knights?”

Steve groans; not Eddie too.

He picks up a lid of his own and crashes it into Eddie’s strainer sword. It makes a horrible echoing crash, and both boys freeze, mouths open. If Miss Diane hears, she’ll find something else for them to do.

But she doesn't come. And Eddie does it again, thrusting with the makeshift sword, aiming for Steve’s knees. Giggling like he’s lost his fucking mind.

Steve finds his own helmet in the form of a pot with a handle and defends himself, ducking and weaving, hiding behind the island counter. Eddie chases him round and round until both are breathless, laughing.

That’s when the principal comes in.

Both boys end up missing Jazz Band as they sit side by side in the office. It’s so hard not to smile, not to snort and lose it while the principal is being all disappointed in them.

“Now, you’re needed for the pep fest, Steve,” he says, frowning importantly. “And then the team is meeting during seventh hour. I want you to take this game seriously, do you hear me? Wouldn’t want your dad to be disappointed.”

Heaven help Steve if his father went a day without being disappointed in his son.

Eddie waves as Steve leaves, looking like he’s entirely enjoying himself. It stirs something inside Steve; he’s proud to call this dude his friend.

The auditorium is packed with rowdy boys as Steve and the rest of the team file in for the traditional ceremony. The band plays one of their oldies, and Steve tries to find Eddie in the stands while he waits in a line at the front. (He hopes the guy’s treated fairly and allowed to come.)

Despite all Steve’s insistence that he doesn’t want to do it, the boys vote him the winner. There’s a wild whoop from the band section and Steve knows exactly who it is. His face goes instantly hot.

Coach McGann gets them out of seventh hour for a pep talk and pictures, and then they head to the locker room. There’s plenty of jeering and catcalling, and although Steve wants to ditch out and find Eddie to make sure he’s still going to the game, Mr. McGann stops him.

“Hey, Steve. Need your help with something.”

It’s busy work. A gimmick to keep him occupied, to keep his eye on Steve.

They eat pizza and wings, courtesy of the staff, and then suit up for the game. It’s an early one this time on account of the dance, and as they walk out to the field, Steve’s feeling more and more anxious about getting to see Eddie. In his mind, it will make or break how he plays.

The whole school is there along with family and fans. The boys are introduced by their parents, connecting the whole season together in one fell swoop. Steve eyes the stands as they’re lining up for the national anthem, actually hoping for a wave so he isn’t all alone.

He is, though. Alone. Neither parent makes it, and Steve gets introduced by Coach McGann. There’s cheering throughout the stands, so it’s difficult to tell who’s louder; the home fans, or the band. (He genuinely hopes it’s a certain someone in the percussion section.)

They have a lousy first quarter. Steve starts at quarterback, and nearly every play they make, the defense shuts them down. Brutally. Two guys get hurt and have to leave the game, and if they lose anyone else, coach will have to put junior high kids on the field.

Steve tries to shut out the voices in his head, the ones that say he’s worthless, pathetic, overrated. He hears it loud and clear, though, in his father’s voice. And when the second half is done, the coach calls Steve over and says he’s going to pull him.

“But, it’s not me,” Steve whines, knowing it’s completely useless. Mr. McGann begins with the team effort and ends with not wanting Steve hurt.

“Go for a walk,” he says, lifting his chin to the stands. “Shake it off, and we’ll see.”

Steve leaves his helmet on the bench and pushes his sweaty hair out of his face. He’s humiliated, disgusted with life in general, and feeling bad for acting this way when he doesn’t give two shits about football.

He doesn’t register that someone is calling his name right away.

“Hey! Rich Boy!”

It’s as if the clouds part and the sun finally shows its face. Eddie’s leaning over the railing, grinning like a Cheshire cat, holding a shiny silver trumpet.

“W-what are you — you can play that thing?”

Eddie’s smile widens, if possible. “Yep. Man of many talents. Just like you, if they’d let you get a play off. What the hell? It’s like they’re animals out there!”

Steve appreciates the support. “Nah. I’m just not hitting my mark.”

“Bullshit. Haven’t thrown one of those interchangeable things, now have you?”

Steve laughs even though he doesn’t feel like it. “Interception?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and wets his lips with his long tongue. It’s sorta sexy. “Whatever.”

Then he hauls off and blasts a fanfare on his instrument. “All Hail King Steve!”

Steve takes a swing at him through the bars, and Eddie ducks out of the way. He vaults nimbly over the top railing, lands like a cat light on his feet, and grabs Steve by the neck.

“Hey,” he pants, a little breathless. His face is really, really close. He’s wearing his hair down. It’s soft and shiny and slightly wavy. “Don’t let it get you down that your old man didn’t show. You don’t need him.”

Steve catches the swift change from teasing to cheerleading, and he has to fight back the lump in his throat. Not the right time for weakness, Harrington.

“Can’t wait to watch you play baseball in the spring,” Eddie says, shaking Steve a little. “We gotta cut class more often now to get it out of our system. Not letting you miss out on something you love.”

And then Eddie Munson fucking hugs him. Right there in the open, in front of all those people.

The weight of that simple show of affection seems to sink in, and the guy ruffles Steve’s hair to the point of pain. It’s rough, playful, a boys-will-be-boys thing. And Steve goes a little weak in the knees. It has nothing to do with being physically tired.

Steve watches Eddie return to the stands without looking back. Like clockwork, the coach calls him back for a team pep talk. And before Steve can catch the breath Eddie stole from him, the whistle blows, and they’re at it again.

Things fall into place with about four minutes left in the third, and Steve swears he hears the clear shrill of a silver trumpet two octaves higher than everyone else.

Coach McGann pulls Steve with two minutes left in the game, but it’s pretty much in the bag by then. They’re up by ten with possession of the ball, and as the freshman backup quarterback lets the clock run out, Steve is tackled by his own teammates.

They never let him out of their sight after that. Sing to him in the shower, bow to him as they dress. Hoist him into a wheelbarrow and cart him back over to the school, just in time for the first dance.

It’s absolute fucking chaos.

The dance is semi-formal, so the girls from the invited schools all wear dresses, staring with wide innocent eyes and giggling. It’s annoying, like nails on a chalkboard. Steve can only think of Eddie in his ridiculous colander helmet in the kitchen.

Steve’s polite with the mob, speaks when spoken to, accepts dance requests, and keeps six inches of distance at all times. Coach had pulled him aside for a talk, all about how Steve represents the school and he knows he’ll make them proud.

Steve sees through it; McGann thinks he needs to be a surrogate parent. “I know all about the birds and the bees, Sir. I took your Health class.”

That shuts him up. He slaps Steve hard on the back as if solidifying his masculinity. What would he say if Steve were to tell him that the only person he wants to breed can’t produce him any offspring?

Eddie is on Steve’s mind, and he’s constantly looking for him, knowing full well he’s not going to show. But Steve’s hopeful. There was definitely a connection, a split second where their eyes met, and Eddie looked away first for once.

Eventually, Steve grows grumpy and hot, tired of smiling and pretending he’s enjoying himself. He steals away under the bleachers, and that’s when he meets the second most influential person in his life to that point.

She’s alone, hiding back in the corner, peering out from underneath like some kind of Peeping Tom. She glances sideways as Steve approaches, managing a terrifying glare and warning him off with it.

“You’re not going to ask me to dance, are you?”

Steve’s taken aback; all the other girls got tongue-tied around him. It was kinda nice, actually, quiet. But this person, well, she’s clearly different.

“N-no,” he stumbles, keeping his distance and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Good.” She returns to her previous position, spying out from under the fourth row of seats at the other students dancing. “Only person I want to dance with is a little busy right now.”

Steve looks to where she’s watching a group of boys huddled around a petite redhead, sorta on the gangly side, with big eyes and a toothy smile. She’s giggling like all the others, and Steve wonders which one of the boys this person is jealous of this girl over.

“Well,” Steve offers, wanting to help, “we could pretend we’re dancing and make him jealous.”

The girl turns slowly and methodically to gawk at him like he’s completely stupid. “What?”

And that’s when Steve realizes. She doesn’t mean the guys. She means the girl!

Steve has this clarifying moment where he considers this stranger, opening up to him without saying a word. It gives him a little confidence and makes him braver than usual.

“Don’t worry,” he adds, slumping his shoulders as a show of solidarity. “Only person I want to dance with isn’t here. He’s not coming.”

The girl’s eyes open wider and her permanent frown softens a little. She holds out her hand like she’s going to slap him, and Steve flinches.

She frowns with thick eyebrows. “Robin. Buckley. Sophomore.”

Steve’s so stupid. He takes her hand. “Steve Harrington. Senior.”

Her grip is firm, confident, not at all sweaty like his. She shakes once and releases, wipes her hand dramatically on her blue dress, and goes back to her undercover work.

“You think you know someone, right? Like really, really know them. Let them copy your homework, drive their drunk ass home, go all Top Gun for them, you know?”

Steve doesn’t know, but he can imagine. She speaks with the attitude of a lover scorned.

“I even got this stupid job where she works so we could spend more time together. Turns out she just recruited me to take the shifts she didn’t want.”

It was hard not to smile, but Steve doesn't dare. She might beat him up.

“Now I’m stuck working four nights a week instead of two, plus marching band, plus homework. And my parents, they make me call when I get to work. Every. Single. Time. The only thing saving me from going postal is the fact I don’t have to spend every waking hour at home.”

Steve considers that and opens his big mouth. “Any chance they’re hiring?”

Those intelligent eyes swivel his way again and she actually smiles.  “Seriously?”

They do end up dancing, slow, to Van Halen's fast-paced 'Dreams.' Robin hangs off his shoulders and laughs loudly. It’s so different from the insincere tittering of the other girls that Steve has to hide his face in her shoulder to keep from blowing their cover. But the girl named Vickie looks on with disbelief. When she finally approaches, Robin pretends she doesn’t hear her and Vickie has to tap her shoulder.

“Hey. We’re going to DQ for Blizzards. You coming or what?”

Robin smiles wickedly at Steve, grabs him with a hand on each side of his face, and plants a great big wet one on the kisser.

“Mwah!” is the sound she makes as she backs off. “Come see me at Lake Video, Harrington.”

He’s so shocked he mumbles in agreement and watches as Vickie slips an arm through Robin’s and they hustle all chummily toward the exit.

Steve leaves soon after; Robin has left a void and he’s only just met her, and suddenly he’s thinking about Munson again.

Somehow his car makes its way to the dorms, and Steve is idling in the parking lot, wondering which window belongs to Eddie. He’s thinking of pulling a Ferris Bueller and busting him out of the joint. His hand is on the door handle, all set to do it, and like an idiot, he chickens out.

“Dammit.”

Steve puts the car in drive and pulls out of the lot and finds the video store where Robin works. By some stroke of luck, it’s still open. He sits in the car for ten minutes trying to remember Eddie’s eyes after he hugged him, thinks of him licking his lips before playing God Save the Queen, or whatever the fuck it was. He kicks himself for being a coward, gets out of the car, and asks the front desk clerk for an application.

Trouble With Angels on AO3 (3 chapters - WIP)

[rocorambles]

Know Your Place

Pairing: Naoya x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Misogyny, Abuse, Rape/Non-Con, Humiliation, Degradation, Feet Stepping

Summary: You should have known better than to believe that Toji could protect you from the Zenin forever. Once a Zenin woman, always a Zenin woman and Naoya intends to make sure you fully understand that.

Growing up as a female in the Zenin clan means you’re always expected to serve, to look beautiful. Never speak unless requested to. Never look any of the men in the eyes. Obey. Be submissive and demure.

There are thousands of rules and dozens of leering eyes ready to punish you for a single minor infraction. So as much as you hate the life you’ve been born into, you know better than to act out and bring attention to yourself, knowing full well especially now as an adult woman that the price of transgressions are too high to pay.

You’d be incredibly fortunate for the usual heavy backhands Naobito and Ogi Zenin would grace your face with when you were still a minor, for the cruel condescending words Naoya would sneer at you. Those were child’s play compared to what’s in store for you now and you shudder when you remember the images of fellow female servants who had attempted to escape only to be easily captured, clothes stripped and body laid bare for the entire clan to see. You remember the fear that would make you tremble as the men howled in laughter and jeers as they took turns smacking their victim’s ass, pawing and groping her body. You remember sobbing when you were forced to watch as fists, cocks, objects that you thought were far too large were shoved between flailing legs.

But nothing keeps you in line more than the cold dread you’d feel heavy in your chest when you’d be forced to clean out the room of one of your ex-maids, preparing the room for the next poor soul born into a never ending life of servitude. As much as you hate this life, it’s still better than being tied up and forced to be nothing more than a Zenin sex doll, used by every man in the clan until there’s nothing left but an empty husk of skin.

So you keep your head down, ignoring the cruel words and predatory gazes that follow you. You enjoy the few moments you have in the servant quarters alone with your fellow maids, giggling and whispering to each other, pretending that you’re just normal women. Those friendships you form warm your heart and you take solace in the sympathetic glances and warm brief squeezes of hands when a Zenin man is particularly harsh in their treatment of you.

Maybe that’s why you can’t keep your body still when the woman who shares the same room as you accidentally spills hot tea all over Zenin Toji. And despite how terrified you are of Toji’s hulking figure and blood-stained reputation, you throw your body in between him and your friend, creating a feeble physical shield for her from his wrath.

A part of you is together enough to vaguely acknowledge how strange it is that Toji hasn’t roared a single word yet, hasn’t laid a hand on you. But you’re not foolish enough to think this is over and you throw yourself to the floor in a degrading groveling bow, begging him to forgive your friend, to have mercy on the both of you.

You know exactly who Zenin Toji is and you prepare yourself for the feeling of his infamous sword slicing through your neck. What you aren’t prepared for is the way he lets out a boisterous laugh, green eyes glimmering in amusement when he sees the bewildered look on your face as you tentatively peek up at him.

“You’ve got guts. Tell you what. I’ll forgive you and your clumsy friend if you become my personal maid. Deal?”

It’s a rhetorical question and you stiffly nod your head, tears forming in your eyes as you imagine the rest of your life chained to Toji’s bed, stuck in the lair of a beast.

Except your life isn’t anything like you had imagined and you’re stunned when Toji barks at you to go retire to your own room and get some rest so you’re ready to keep up with tomorrow.

Life is...surprisingly normal. Well as normal as it can be in the household of one of the top Jujutsu sorcerer clans in the world. You scowl at Toji as he teasingly throws a pile of sweat stained clothes and towels on top of your head as he walks out of the bath.

“You’re getting a little stronger, little lady. I almost even felt the punch you threw at me in training today.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the slight quirk of your lips and swell of pride at his backhanded compliment.

Toji isn’t anything like the rest of his clan and it goes deeper than just his lack of cursed energy or his supernatural strength. He’s kind. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but you genuinely believe he has a good heart. Not once has he ever spoken maliciously to you. Not once has he ever laid a hand even borderline inappropriate or suggestive on you. And sure, you don’t necessarily enjoy doing his dirty laundry, cleaning his room, and making his bed every day and night, but he makes it easy to forget that you’re just a lowly maid.

He talks to you as if you’re his equal, carefully listening to you, acknowledging your points (even if he mocks you when you do say something silly or that he disagrees with). He invites you to eat meals with him. He trains you deeming you too wimpy to last long without at least some basic defense skills. Your time with Toji is one of the few moments of happiness you know and you greedily indulge.

But unknown to you, your new proximity to the black wolf of the Zenin clan has more than one eye looking at you in interest and above all, Zenin Naoya can’t stop fixating on you.

Naoya has always had a strange mix of respect, disdain, and jealousy towards the older man and he can’t help himself from wanting what Toji has, especially when the both of you look so irritatingly happy chattering away with each other as if you have no cares in the world. How dare a lowly Zenin servant look so carefree. How dare curse-less Toji make a mockery of the rest of the clan by living a shame-free life despite how hard they try to humiliate him for it.

Has Naoya ever been happy? Ever been relaxed?

He can’t remember ever laughing as hard as Toji is now in response to something you’ve said or done. He can’t remember smiling so freely like you are as you playfully slap Toji and try to get him to stop teasing you. A green eyed monster slithers inside of him and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s making his way towards the both of you.

“Aren’t you two as unseemly as usual. I know you don’t care for our clan’s reputation or rules, but really? Parading your slut around so shamelessly? That’s a new low even for you.”

It’s adorable how you scurry away, cowering behind Toji’s broad figure, fear written all over your face. And although Naoya had done this to get under Toji’s skin, he can’t help but wish the older man would storm off and leave you behind in his clutches. He wonders if you’d be this scared and docile underneath him, wonders how tight you’d be while you tremble in fear while he sinks inside of you…

His thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Toji snorts, slinging a muscular arm over your shoulder and dragging you off with him, subtly tucking you safely into his side and away from Naoya’s hungry gaze.

Usually being ignored and dismissed would rile him up more, but as he watches the two of you amble away and sees your innocent and confused face, unsure what had just happened and what’s causing Toji’s strangely touchy behavior, his appetite is whetted and you’re what he’s craving.

What he hadn’t accounted for is how protective Toji is of you. So strange for a man who doesn’t seem to care about anyone except himself. But Naoya supposes that’s just a testament for how good you must be in bed. He can’t think of any other reason why Toji would waste his time and efforts on an insignificant woman like you.

You’re never left alone long enough for him to corner. Just when he sees you by yourself and swoops in to shove you in a spare room, Toji suddenly looms beside you, green eyes sternly pinning Naoya down with a warning. And as much as Naoya would love to rise to the challenge, he knows that he doesn’t stand a chance against Toji, so he slinks away in defeat, again and again.

It only makes him want you more and he grits his teeth as he slams into one of the whores in his bed who vaguely reminded him of you if he squints in just the right way.

He supposes he should be more remorseful as the news of Toji’s death spreads like wildfire through the Zenin household. But all he can see is a light at the end of the tunnel. It takes every last bit of restraint in him not to immediately hunt you down and devour you, but he bides his time. After all the teasing and taunting you’ve put him through just one taste isn’t going to satisfy him anymore.

No, he won’t just ruin you and throw you away after a single night. He plans on dragging this out, using you, tasting you until it fully sinks in that this is all you’re good for, that he owns every part of you inside and out.

His cock twitches at your swollen face covered in salty tear streaks. You look so pathetic, so scared when he takes his time strolling into your room, kicking your roommate out and locking the door behind him. It’s just the two of you and he feels the rush of power thrumming through his veins at how you tremble and cower before him. If only you were naked and not in those dreary mourning clothes…

But he has ample time for that and he wants to enjoy corrupting you, take his time watching your downfall.

“You’re my maid starting now.”

You mutely nod, but make no move and Naoya scoffs.

“I know Toji was soft with you, but let me set expectations straight. I’m nothing like him. Now get moving.”

“But this is my room-”

You yelp in fright as Naoya’s hand grips the front of your shirt and hauls your body until you’re forced to press against his body, feeling his breath against your face as he sneers at you.

“Sluts don’t get the luxury of their own room or bed. Toji spoiled you. Now move your stuff to my quarters. The only place you’ll be sleeping from now on is my floor or my bed. Understood?”

It’s a rhetorical question and all you can do is crumple to the ground when he lets go, staring unseeingly at Naoya’s retreating back as he exits your room, the weight of your new reality crashing down on you.

Sleeping on the floor is humiliating and uncomfortable. Naoya makes it a point to “accidentally” step on you when he gets on and off the bed, rudely nudging you awake with his feet, resting his soles on your face until you’re flailing around to breathe. But it isn’t as bad as wondering when the worst is to come.

At least you’re clothed. At least your innocence is still intact. So as much as you feel like nothing more than a dog, you take it. After all, your new life isn’t so different from your life before Toji aside from your new sleeping arrangements and the headache of being in close proximity to Zenin Naoya.

It’s entertaining enough in the beginning, watching you curl up on the floor like an obedient puppy, admiring how you never talk or lash out when he literally walks all over you. He even buys you a pretty new collar with his name engraved on it linked to a leash he holds in his hand or leaves tied to his bed.

But unlike a real pet you never warm up to him, always looking at him warily, body tense and nervous in his presence. Not once do you look at him with even the slightest hint of affection or fondness you used to stare at Toji with. He supposes that can’t be helped and he doesn’t care for anything disgusting like your love. But you don’t even seem remotely attracted to him as a man and that’s something his ego won’t allow for.

He knows women can’t stand his attitude. But he also knows that at their base, all women are sluts easily swayed by his good looks. He can’t even count the number of women who’ve insulted him to his face only to end up in his bed, moaning and screaming his name and their love for his cock.

You were supposed to be no different. But your continued disinterest in him infuriates him to the point where petty humiliation isn’t enough to sate his hurt pride.

“Strip and get in bed.”

You’re frozen stiff and he sneers at you while you’re on the verge of terrified tears.

“What? I’m not good enough for you? Don’t act like you aren’t used to this. I’m sure your old master had you warming his bed all the time-”

“Toji would never!”

Even he’s stunned by the weight of his backhand hit as it makes contact with your face, by the venom in his voice as he spits out his next words.

“Don’t you ever say that name in my presence again.”

He takes a few seconds to calm his breath, the crimson of the blood trickling from your nose grounding him as he finds his center once more. But then a thought crosses his mind as that red river finds its way to your lips.

“As punishment, let’s make sure you know what your mouth’s purpose is from now on. Words are wasted on a dumb whore like you anyway. Kneel and open wide.”

It’s oddly arousing watching your tears and blood stream down your face as you choke on his cock. Your efforts are half-hearted at best, but he doesn’t mind. Not when the instinctual way your throat flutters around him as he roughly thrusts his hips into your tight mouth suffices. He can see why Toji kept you around and he groans as his hand slips behind your head and pushes you until your face is squished against his abdomen.

Your mouth feels amazing and your muffled screams for air only add to the vibrations around his shaft. It’s enough to have him spilling down your throat and he keeps you tightly pressed against him, forcing you to drink every last drop he gifts you with. And only when your throat finally stops its forced swallowing does he release you, leering down at your pitiful form heaving for breath.

The bitter taste of his seed is all you can taste, all you can focus on as you greedily inhale much needed oxygen. You pray that he’s done, but you whimper when a strong hand easily pulls you up and begins to pull off your clothing. Instinctively you try to push the invasive appendages away from you, but you freeze at Naoya’s growled threat.

“Don’t make me hurt you any more than I have to.”

You know it’s not an empty threat. You’ve seen the quite literally broken bodies of women who had resisted too much against the Zenin men, against Naoya specifically. So you limply drop your arms to your side and stay still as he humiliatingly gropes and examines you like merchandise.

All you can do is clench your eyes shut as Naoya’s hands grab your breasts, kneading and weighing them in his hands, cruelly prodding and pinching your nipples to see your reactions. All you can do is bite back a muffled yelp when he forces you onto your knees and forearms on the bed, squeezing and smacking your ass, spreading apart your cheeks to closely look at your fluttering holes. All you can do is cry into the sheets as he fingers you open, breaching both untouched openings, his thick digits stretching your tight walls apart and taking their time to thoroughly defile you, using your own slick to loosen your ass.

You try to disassociate, try to imagine that this is just a medical examination. But your fantasies are shattered when something hard and thick slaps against your inner thigh as Naoya rearranges himself behind you, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth against your dripping entrance, coating his shaft with your juices.

“Naoya! Sir, please. I’ve never...You can’t-”

Your pleas are cut short as his hand painfully strikes your ass.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re ruining the mood with your sniveling voice. Remember what I taught you? Sluts don’t get to speak freely. They only get to moan and thank their masters.”

You don’t even know if you can speak even if you wanted to, not when his cock is forced into you in one go, the thick and lengthy shaft ruthlessly tearing you apart. It fills you, stuffing you full, and you don’t think there’s even room left in your body for words. The only thing you can release is a strangled scream, eyes and mouth blown wide open, fingers clawing at the sheets as you try to remotely ground yourself as the foreign sensation overwhelms you.

But Naoya has never been a patient man and there’s a certain sense of entertainment from watching you struggle and writhe underneath him. He begins a relentless pace before you can adjust to the feeling of him inside of you, hips slamming in and out of you, heavy balls bouncing against you.

You’re so tight, so hot, so wet and he can feel a rush of power from the confusion he begins to see setting on your face as forced pleasure begins to mix in with your fear and pain. Moans and high-pitched keens are finding their way in between distressed cries and he smirks at the way your eyes begin to roll back in your head, the way your hips begin to meet him halfway, greedily pushing back against him when he teasingly slows down his pace.

He laughs at the humiliation and embarrassment running rampant on your face when you whine as he abruptly stops

“Wow you really are a slut. You fucking love my cock, don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes as you adamantly shake your head in denial, bored by your playing hard to get act. But as he admires the way your pussy lips obscenely envelop his cock, your pretty puckered hole beckons to him.

“You’re fucking filthy, clamping down on me like a bitch in heat from just a thumb in your ass. You like that? Like having all your holes filled? Maybe when I break you in, I’ll share you with the rest of the clan. Bet you’d love that. Love having cocks in every hole, using every inch of you.”

Your orgasm takes the both of you by surprise in its speed and intensity and Naoya howls in laughter as he resumes fucking you, chasing his own high with his thumb still lodged in your ass, groaning in pleasure at how he can feel the tremors of your orgasm, the way your body convulses in the aftershocks of pleasure and onset of overstimulation.

You’re breathtaking like this, fucked silly, delirious, just a warm body and toy for him to do with as he pleases and it doesn’t take long for him to join you over the edge and add to the sticky mess already inside of you.

With a lewd pop he retracts his thumb from your now lewdly fluttering hole, shoving it into your mouth for you to clean and he smiles at how mindlessly obedient you are as you suck and lick the digit clean like it's your favorite lollipop.

You grimace when he finally pulls out, already feeling his cum beginning to leak out of you and you try and find the strength in your trembling and used body to push yourself off the bed. It’s time to retreat with your tail between your legs and you want nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening in the shower, harshly scrubbing every evidence of your utter defeat and conquest under boiling hot water.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You open your mouth to speak, only to quickly clamp it back shut, remembering how your words only seemed to dig you deeper and deeper into trouble.

“You’re going to wash me and yourself and once we’re clean, you’re going to remain naked and in my bed until I’m ready to use you again. Think of it as a promotion. No more worrying your stupid little head about cleaning and laundry anymore. You’re being upgraded to my personal sex slave and bed warmer. Come on, I don’t have all day.”

You wonder if this is what it feels like to walk the plank, to approach your own death sentence as you robotically trail after Naoya’s figure towards his lavish bathroom. And as you lay in his bed that night, pristine and bare like a glorified sex doll, his broad arm possessively slung around your waist and forcing your bodies to mold together, you bid farewell to your past life, dreading what the future has in store for you.

[husbandohunter]

A Furry Predicament, but reversed (Reader turns into a cat)? Pretty please with a sweet lil cherry on top? (I recently stumbled across your blog and may I just say that I absolutely adore your works??) Thank youu and take care~~

A Furrier Predicatment [Genshin x Cat!Reader]

♤♡◇♧☆

Synopsis: It's your turn to be a cat after this incident.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Albedo, Zhongli, Childe, Venti

(A/n): Ah you did OwO that's very sweet of you. It's alot of fun to write, especially when your imagination is stunted and you just gotta spit out something silly.

=======================

[Diluc]

Any beloved pet owned by Master Diluc would be under the most high quality and meticulous treatement. Mostly for cats since they tend to be calm while elegant...to some extent. If they were dogs then he'll ensure that they also serve as a partner for sniffing out trouble such as a certain bard who'd might've sneaked into the wine cellars. But you weren't either, so to say, you were both a beloved AND a cat.

As he picks you up gently into his arms, Diluc would be a little baffled on what to do next. He has no idea how to care for delicate creatures as he never had one (other than a pet tortoise but that's different) in which he needed to look for help. But who? The staff? Certainly not, no one can find out that his partner turned into a pet (imagine all the scandals he'll be in). Jean? Anything but the knights of Favonius. And most certainly not his brother.

So Diluc ends up figuring everything out by himself (old habits die hard). All the sweets and regular meals you craved were no long in your menu, you were forced to have a proper cat diet because he believed it was healthier. Half of the time he has no idea what he's doing, since you were a cat and all you could do was "meow" (which Diluc forgets. He tries to have a mundane conversation until you stare at him with feline eyes. That was when he remembered).

"What would you like for tonight's dinner, my love?"

"Meow." He has alot to learn.

Though Master Diluc often gets very tired and he attempts to take a quick nap before killing himself over the next set of duties. That is, until you could help it. Being a cat has it's furry and comfy advantages. So you leapt up to the bed as quietly as possible and onto the side of your lover, circling a few times to see if he was really asleep. When he was you snuggled close to keep him warm, hoping it would lull him into a rest even deeper. He slept like a baby.

~xx~

[Kaeya]

If the Cavalry Capatain were to own a pet, they would either be charmed by him or snaring their teeth because of his unreadable and suspicious aura. Animal instincts are quite powerful. But your case wasn't the latter, thankfully and he could feel himself growing fond of this new found relationship. Almost. What should he do with you now that you're a cat, Kaeya wonders.

Belly rubs and a lot of them. He absolutely adores the way your cute little nose scrunches up while he runs his fingers on the center of your tummy (though he knows when to stop, Kaeya is rather gentle with you nowadays). You found that he absolutely adores the shape of your nose, would pick you up and boop yours with his own somehow knows how to be his flirty self despite your unusual form.

There was this one incident where you saw something shiny flashing over the wall. Slowly you followed it as the bright dot moved futher and further away, evetually gaining speed. Little did you know it was Kaeya who was watching you swipe your little paws up and down against the wall while he was just cleaning his sword. How could he help it? You were often so headstrong and independent, now you were just an adorable little kitten that loves to play with yarn and shiny things. It backfired him though, now there were a bunch of scratchmarks marring the surfaces (which he had to pay for repairs).

Takes you out to Windrise so that you could get some fresh air (also for you to find somewhere else to shed your fur other than his humble abode). Kaeya sits back under a tree while you either chase a butterfly or start slapping against the dandelions (only sneeze when they fly into your face). He wasn't sure if you were aware of what you were doing right now, if you were then he'll have lots of things to talk about once you turn back into human. If not, then at least he had the opportunity to witness such a soft side coming from you.

~xx~

[Xiao]

If any animal were to go close towards the adeptus, they would run away. Xiao isn't very good at interacting with others, pets included, usually they would run into the alleyway or hide around the legs of their owners while he glaringly, blankly stares at them (Even though he wouldn't admit it, Xiao thinks to himself, how soft is cat fur?) Now he gets to touch your cat form and turns out that fur is very ticklish yet pleasant against his skin.

Would be the most awkward conversationalist, the poor yaksha was already terrible with his words (often coming out harsh so he prefers to either keep away or say nothing at all) and even with you sometimes, now it was almost impossible to communicate. Xiao is not very good at reading a cat's body language. When you want him to hold you again, you'd walk in circles. He assumes you were hungry and leaps out the window to go fetch some fish...for the nth time there was a pile of raw salmon stacking upon the floor. Xiao thinks that maybe salmon species weren't to your liking, hence he does out to find another one.

As he plays his flute, you'd magically doze off on his lap. (There was one thing that you both can communicate with at last). Slowly but surely, he comes to learn the different gestures you make for certain situations. You often rub yourself upon his leg which he had heard to be a cat's way of claiming their territory. That was when Xiao picks you up, FINALLY. Though the real reason why it took him this long was because he was hesitant to hold you. He never really held a pet so naturally he has no idea how to hold a cat. Ends up cradling you in his arms because it seemed to be a safer option <3

"I never thought I'd be able to hold you like this," Xiao softly says to your lazy form, observing the way your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, "But I...forget it. We can stay like this for the time being, if you'd like. If not, that's fine too."

You stay.

~xx~

[Albedo]

The only pets Albedo had were for his alchemic experiments (plus they were put in cages too). Fact be told, he would make a terrible pet owner with the lifestyle he has now. The alchemist would be so absorbent into his work that he'll most likely forget that he has someone to feed and by the time he realized it, they would have already starved to death. After hearing glass bottles crashing to the floor, Albedo bursts into the rooms as the smoke fills it completely, finding a cat lost between it. The cat was you. He knows because he made the potions.

Sometimes he'd a little too scientific for his own good. Albedo assumed that when you turned into a cat, you've gone into cat mode and ends up treating you as such. "No, don't go near any bodies of water. You wouldn't like it." He almost forgets that you were once human which is very much like him if you had to be honest. Though when he does find out that you still carried human traits, Albedo must find ways to adapt things to your liking.

He makes your food himself. He's not a cook but he sure is good at everything he does, even if it's something he never did before. This goes for other areas too such as the size of your bed, if you need a little couch to stay on or maybe some tools to play around. (The only time when he is a good pet owner). In his sketchbook he'd have a bunch of blueprints and contraptions of what to make next. There's something enjoyable when spoiling you, those little reactions when you're pleased, like the twitch of your whiskers or the lift of your tail. Albedo finds is very cute.

On top of all that, he could also make you a potion to turn you back into normal. It seemed that it was the last thing he thought of on the list. Albedo was too occupied with treating you like a cat that it all flew over his head until now. Time flies when you're having fun.

~xx~

[Zhongli]

Unlike Albedo, anyone who has Zhongli as a pet owner would be considered to be a very lucky animal. He radiates a calm and serene aura that gives the perfect environment to have infinite nap times. People look at this man and wonder why his pet never gives him any trouble, especially when cats were considered to be both fiesty and needy. But they just didn't know that the cat was you (not like it would make a difference, any animal would know that Zhongli was no ordinary man).

How on earth does he know what you're saying? Maybe it's because he was once an archon. You could meow and he knows exactly what you would like to snack on. You could tilt your head, he takes it that you were curious on what he was currently doing (which was exactly what you were wondering), you can say nothing at all yet as if he could read your mind, Zhongli comes over to pet you with his gloved hands.

"How can I tell? Indeed it is because you're my lover, of course. Throughout this time we spent together, I've come to learn the way you speak through your eyes. They seem to hold true no matter what form you take. It's rather comforting."

Though there were many moments where you sneak up behind Zhongli. His hair, his ponytail- so long. Must play with. As you jump up and down with his thin strand swings side to side, it'll take a few seconds for him to decipher what your were doing. The minute he turns around he catches you with his hands midair and laughs heartfully. Cats were very endearing creatures.

~xx~

[Childe]

Back home in Snezhnaya, Childe would probably have owned a dog or two. They were mostly meant for hunting purposes, big and large furry creatures with thick skin suitable to endure the harsh cold. He has dogs because cats hate him for some strange reason. They either hiss or snootly turn their backs on him, one time he picked one up as a kid but his face bleeding after the cat scratched him with their paws. But of course you wouldn't do that to him. You would never~ he was your cutie pie anyways.

He was an obnoxious hugger, not gentle at all. Childe forgets his strength as a human man and when he squeezes you tightly against his chest, you'd spike out on all ends because by the archons, you're suffocating. But it was your fault for feeling so comfy and warm! Similar to Kaeya, they're both obnoxious but Childe deemed himself to be even worse. He'd rub his face against yours, commenting on how sensitive it sways. Tonia once told him that she wanted a pet cat instead, maybe he should also bring you back to his homeland now.

Yes he would love to play with you. Bring in the cat toys...or not. This was the eleventh Fatui Harbinger, what were you thinking? Normal cat activities? Not here. He's gonna teach you how to hunt like how he taught his dogs to hunt in Snezhnaya. You gave him the most deadpanned and dissapointed look with your large feline glare. Not only was he disliked by cats but he certainly was not good with them.

Though he can take it down a notch sometimes and just indulge in relaxing activities. When there was nothing else for him to do or when he was just tired after a productive day, he'd sit by the kitchen and you on top of the table. While you yawned and leaned down for a nap, Childe plays with the small of your paws to the soft edge of your nails. If he taps your nose, your whiskers twitch. Your ears are nice, maybe he should get you a headband version once you turned back to human.

You immediately wake up when he touches your tail.

~xx~

[Venti]

Achoo!

You sometimes wonder how is it that the anemo archon was able to live through 2000 years without getting beaten up by a cat. If andrius was a large cougar than a wolf, maybe he wouldn't be an archon now. Which is why you are to stay miles far far away from him unless you want the whole of Mondstadt to be blown away by the wind.

Wears a mask (as if this were the covid19 pandemic), although it doesn't take away all his problems, at least it'll minimize it. Venti always has a box of tissues ready but you can tell by the puffiness of his eyes that he's been sneezing alot. He really tries his hardest to pitch in every once in a while when Albedo was working on a cure for you to go back to normal. Though acts as if he was quarantined by staying all the way at the other side of the room.

"Ahahaha don't mind me. It's your local bard of Mondstadt dropping by to see how things are going. I wanna make sure how long it will take for you to make the potion? Just curious!"

No hugs, cuddles or anything involving close proximity. This makes Venti very pouty and impatient. Albedo finds it very hard to concentrate with all the sniffling and sneezing that he had no choice but to kick him out. It didn't help that the location was Dragonspine, now he was sneezing even more.

[magicsunwheel]

Why You're F#cking Amazing

Pick-a-Card

How to play: pick one of the photos below using your intuition. You can close your eyes and meditate for a bit or just take a few grounding breaths while thinking of the topic. Feeling drawn to more than one is fine! You might have messages in more than one pile

Pile 1 (x) Pile 2 (x) Pile 3 (x)

My pile numbers always go from left to right, then down to the text row (if applicable)

Pile 1

Cards: The High Priestess, Five of Swords, Seven of Pentacles, The Moon Rx, Five of Rods, Ace of Pentacles

You are so intuitive! You're either very in touch with your divine feminine or are working your way there right now. Something about you is severe in the most beautiful way. You can take things seriously when they need to and the way you command a room with just your presence is unmatched. Maybe you're also a tarot reader or involved in spirituality/divination in some way. Maybe you really like Pick-a-Cards.

Something beautiful about you is that you never give up on a fight, especially when you know the end is worth it. Your ambition is strong and you will fight for what you love and what you want. You are not weak-willed by any means.

This also makes you so unique! You work so hard and put so much labor into your love even if you know it will take a long time to come to fruition. The times that you feel discouraged by a lack of results are few and far between. If for some reason you do find yourself wistfully hoping for faster results or an easier path, you can easily remind yourself of why you started in the first place.

You might have moments where you think of yourself as sneaky or like you're hiding a part of yourself from others, like your true self would be too much for them. I'm here to tell you that your intensity is exactly what make you such a beautiful person! You thrive in competition and in adversity. It gives you a chance to show off your quick thinking and survival skills. Others look at you with envy of how you can make an opportunity out of seemingly nothing!

If you need help improving your self-love, Spirit says to stop comparing yourself to others! You are amazing and beautiful and unique all on your own! Throwing yourself into the fray to compete against others who are nothing like you will only fim your inner shine. And you really do shine! When I asked for a card about why you are beautiful, nearly half the damn deck flew out!

Sprit loves you and I love you so please take care of yourself and keep making those amazing opportunities to improve your physical surroundings. (I feel like you have a very clean room/home)

Pile 2

Cards: Nine of Rods, the World, King of Cups, Three of Rods, Ace of Rods, Two of Cups

Ahh the Loona pile!

Similar to Pile 1, but much more fiery! You are resilient! Taking time to collect yourself before pushing forward with a renewed sense of energy and purpose is such an amazing and useful trait. You maybe aren't as commanding of a presence but you have such an inner strength that no one can deny.

You got the World for the reason why you're beautiful! Maybe it's related to physically being very beautiful and possibly exotic-looking. You might have very specific features associated with a certain area of the world that stand out where you live. You also have such a wonderful understanding of the world and where it's currently at. Things can seem negative or like hope is lost but you still seek out the beauty and share it with others. You see opportunity where others do not and feel a sense of peace and connectedness with all of humanity. Wow!

Your uniqueness shines in your emotionality and compassion. You might be a natural born leader who makes sure to understand all under your rule. You lead with kindness and, most importantly, by example. You don't have any desire to use you position for ill-gotten gains. Power to you does not corrupt, it solely provides a tool for you to do good in the world and really make a difference in the lives of others, whether it's on a large or small scale. You are probably the kind of person who makes sure to give money to those who need it when you pass a begging mother and her children, or buying a homeless man a bottle of water on a hot day.

Your card for why you think you are not perfect actually came out quite positive. Maybe you don't have a very low self esteem, but I can see a few possible scenarios here. You might be constantly planning in your head, waiting and watching for the next move to take but never actually getting to the action part. Maybe you're planning for your future and have so much planned out that you're excited for, but haven't made the practical plans on how to actually get there. This could make you feel bad about yourself especially on days where you're reminded of others moving ahead in their lives while you're still planning. Visualisation is very important in manifesting your desired reality! If you are moving slower than others around you, remember that it is okay to not be where "everyone else" is. Life is not a race or a competition. Taking your time to get to where you need to be when you need to be there reminds me of the story of the tortoise and the hare. Quick does not necessarily mean better.

You can improve your self-love by creating! Using your creativity and passion to make something! Create art, whether it's physical/digital art, music, writing, inventing, anything that uses those creative muscles of yours. It doesn't have to be good! Just creating something will help burn up that excess energy you have that's trying to rush you somewhere. Self-expression this way can be a wonderful hobby even if you don't consider yourself as a creative person.

Your kindness really shines through. You care so deeply about the people around you and your spiritual team cares just as deeply about you. You are loved and watched over and protected by Spirit. Others around you also see your sparkle and appreciate and admire you, even if they don't show it. Know you are beautiful and amazing and bringing a light into this world that needs to be here.

Pile 3

Cards: Six of Rods, the Hierophant, Four of Rods, Six of Cups, Ten of Swords, the Hermit Rx

Damn, who are y'all!? You've got some mighty power and pull in this world. Maybe you're a public figure or have some kind of platform, like a social media with many followers. You could also be well-recognized within your field of study/work. Whoever you are, people see you and look up to you. They celebrate you and how amazing you are! Spirit loves this about you and you really shine in the spotlight. Your achievements deserve all this pomp and celebration!

You are naturally authoritative. People listen when you speak and take your words to heart. You might also be a religious person or someone who enjoys organization and the comfort of hierarchy. People will willingly follow you wherever you lead them because they trust you with all their hearts. "A merciful ruler" (lol) You hold your position with grace and dignity befitting a king or queen.

You are unique in ways the public recognizes, but we knew that already! You might be someone who likes to entertain and you throw the greatest parties and get-togethers. Maybe you've planned a wedding and everyone had such an amazing time! You know how to relax and have fun when the time for celebrating arrives. You can out down your guard and bit and let loose. Not many people with such responsibility can let go of the reigns like that, but you don't seem to hold on to control too tightly.

Your past might be a source of anxiety for you. Maybe you're worried that what you've done when you were younger will catch up to you and ruin what you've got going on now, but it's important to remember that the past is the past. It cannot be undone or wished away. Taking time to accept what happened and recognizing that you've moved on to bigger and better things is important here. Whatever happened, take time to heal your childhood wounds and forgive past actions.

Ending this cycle will bring much more self-love to your life. Old habits and patterns being out to rest is the way forward. It might be a painful ending and something you don't necessarily look forward to, but it is something that needs to happen to clear out old energy and welcome in everything new. You can't expect to move on if you're still repeating old actions or ways of thinking. It's time to set these things to rest and evolve. Leave behind what no longer serves you.

Your understanding of yourself knows no bounds. You've taken the time to inquisit yourself and learn all of the shadows that lie there. Self-reflection might be a favored pastime for you. Through this knowledge of yourself you are able to see truths that many struggle to see all their lives. Your light can cut through the fog if bullshit and see the true source of something. Use this knowledge of yourself to become the best version of yourself that you can be! I know you're already on your way there and it's amazing to see! Spirit is so proud of you and loves you so much!

[clouds-rambles]

the diluc zhongli childe and xiao where the reader gets a coma is really good ! could i request one for venti please (sorry for bad english it is not my first language)

Of course! The hurt/comfort/angst I’ve been feeding the tag recently is great :)

Pairings; Venti x reader

Warning(s); hurt/comfort, slight wound description

Keep reading under the cut!

The day had started off perfectly normally. You pushed Venti out of bed to do his chores for the day and you got ready for a nice breakfast. Perfectly normal.

Venti eventually does get out of bed and goes into the town centre to get ingredients for dinner and you get ready to go out into the forest to hunt some boar

Though as much as your perfectly normal day goes you hadn’t excepted to quite literally stumble into a hilichurl camp. Which would have not been a real situation if you hadn’t used all your arrows and didn’t decide to leave your sword at home 

In all seriousness you had given the hilichurls a good fight until one managed to land five consecutive hits on you, each more painful than the last

So here you are now, laying on the road gulping in as much air as you can trying to ignore the pain of what you can only presume to be multiple broken ribs and bones. 

You manage to stay conscious for a lot longer than you would have expected, so much so that you finally passed out after you had been found

You’re taken to the cathedral and if he had sensed something amiss Venti is already stood at the entrance waiting. 

When he originally saw you, limp in the knights arms, he had guessed you dead. So much so that he practically stood planted at the entrance of the Cathedral where he was waiting for you prior

If it weren’t for Barbara standing infront of the archon and waving to get his attention the likelyhood of him just standing there forever zoned out with overthinking thoughts was very high

“[name] seems to be in a coma, they should spend at least three nights here before the sisters and I can set them up in their bedroom” Barbara explains to Venti who nods along “If you could get their room in order for some medical equipment that would be much appreciated” 

And that he does. The first two days of your sleep Venti fusses about the house, mainly to keep himself entertained and to stop his thoughts turning darker than they should.

The third day you come home and are set up in your bed. Despite the fact Venti technically doesn’t need sleep he finds himself missing the simple things like being able to snuggle against you, and the way your hair smells of your shampoos, the way you let him sleep against your chest 

Venti finds himself stuck in a fit of longing. More often then not he won’t even sit in the seat situated at your bedside, he’ll float about the room reacquainting himself with everything you have about your room. He wouldn’t call it nosing about, mainly because he’s seen everything in your room before. Not much is new to him

Apart from this box that sits at the bottom of your wardrobe, not hidden from view, Venti wonders why he hadn’t noticed such a thing before. He opens the box and is greeted with random memorabilia and gifts he’s given you

Venti is never one to cry much, considering his vast history. Grief is something that a god can’t really afford to be stricken by often. But Venti finds himself crying over your various items that he hadn’t really put much thought into

He promises himself that the moment you wake up he’s going to find every way to appreciate your presence. Not like he didn’t already do enough

Two months pass Venti slowly, a sister of the Cathedral appears once a day to make sure you’re stable, and also in addition to make sure that Venti has been eating, no matter how much he doesn’t actually need to eat. Keeping up appearances and all that

Venti has found himself cleaning every nook and crevice of the house. He wants to be close to you in case you suddenly wake but loaths the idea of being alone in his thoughts for hours on end

At some point during the two months Diluc finds himself visiting Venti on the count of being mildly concerned that he hadn’t seen the archon in so long. 

Venti laughs at Dilucs expense and makes jokes much like normal. But the yearning and broken look in Venti’s eyes don’t distract the tavern owner for long. He doesn’t mention it though

You wake in the middle of the day to light blinding into your room. You notice the cleanliness of your surroundings, you don’t remember cleaning before you went hunting

Oh

Everything just piles onto you the memory of laying on the ground, the knight. He must have bought you back

You hear a humming from downstairs, it’s distinctively Venti’s. You’d know the hums of his voice anywhere. Though his tune seems more melancholy than normal. How long had you been out of it for?

You try to move out of bed but you’re greeted by pains of various magnitude through your body. The most painful being your arm which you note is in a sling. You can only guess that, for however long you’ve been out for, your arm has taken the longest to heal

“Venti” you call out with a hoarse voice. Said archons hums stop and you hear him running up the stairs and bursting into your room 

“You’re awake!” he exclaims kissing your face “I’ve missed you so much [name]” he adds with a grin and a tight, yet careful, hug

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (arranged marriage Au)

Part 1 is here, finally! Title a reference to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Read it on Ao3 HERE

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Vesemir’s slap hit Geralt firmly on the back of the head. Two seconds previously Geralt had been complaining about his upcoming, politically motivated marriage to some nobleman’s son. 

“It’s a good thing, lad. Other witcher schools would kill for something like this,” he said. Geralt knew it was right, legal punishment for those who shortchanged or attacked witchers. It set a precedent, and apparently the earl was very influential. It could change things.

“And there isn’t a fidelity clause,” Eskel said. “It doesn’t have to be more than a sort of partnership.”

“No consummation requirement either,” sniggered Lambert from the other side of the campfire. “You don’t even have to fuck the bugger if he’s ugly.” This earned him a sharp elbow from Eskel. 

“What I don’t understand is what they get out of this,” Geralt said. It had been bugging him. 

“Ah,” Vesemir said, looking uneasy. “It seems that the payment is...taking the viscount off of the Earl’s hands, officially. It seems he’s something of an embarrassment.”

The unease in Vesemir’s voice was subtle, but after so many decades with their teacher, the wolves of Kaer Morhen knew the slight variations of tone and expression. His discomfort was twofold, first, the obvious implication that the Earl was sending his son to live a dangerous life alongside a witcher in order to...deal with him. A death sentence, from father to son. The second was that Geralt, already saddled with a political marriage, was also to be saddled with a nuisance of a husband. 

“But why me?” Geralt knew he was whining like a child, but he couldn’t help it. It was three days to Lettenhove, and then they’d be there at least a week for the wedding and he’d have to act courtly. 

He wasn’t good at courtly.

When he thought about it none of them were. 

“It couldn’t have been me,” Eskel said, a little shyly. He was right. Eskel believed his scars were horrible, made him unlovable and undesirable. Geralt didn’t buy it, but nobles could get a bit stroppy about appearances. And if they humiliated Eskel because of his scarring...no, Geralt wouldn’t let that happen.

“Couldn’t have been me,” Lambert said, mouth full and rather cheerfully. No. It couldn’t have been him either, no manners and no filter, they’d be at war with the entirety of Lettenhove within a day.

“And I’m an old man,” Vesemir said. He didn’t actually wink, but he might as well have. Older though he was, he was still three times the warrior of any young human man walking about these days. But from what Geralt had heard, and it hadn’t been much, the Viscount was young, not quite twenty, and it wouldn’t be kind to marry him to someone so much older than himself. Geralt reflected grimly that he was nearly four times the youth’s age.

Three days of riding passed far too quickly for Geralt’s liking.

Chateau de Lettenhove loomed. It was a fairytale castle built by a man expecting a siege. There were high, rising towers with huge windows and artful buttresses, but to the trained eye of the witchers, it was a fortress. The towers had carved, decorative arrow slits, the windows all had iron grates over them, wrought like lace, and the buttresses could be easily used as defensive positions. All in all, it was a castle that growled, albeit genteelly.

They were greeted first by a footman, and then a line of servants increasing in rank, until a very snobby servant, likely the head housekeeper from the way all the maids scuttled away from her, brought them to an anteroom. At this point courtesy dictated that she bade them sit down on one of the lavish sofas. She did not. She chose instead to turn up her nose and sweep away.

The four witchers remained standing, not looking at one another. Geralt could feel Lambert stewing about the obvious slight beside him. He reached out, still staring straight ahead, and tweaked Lambert’s ear. 

This was about to result in much brotherly retribution and probably a brawl when the housekeeper returned, followed by another woman.

“His lordship the Earl of Lettenhove is attending to vital business,” the housekeeper said, tone of voice implying that the arrival of four witchers who were muddying her nice clean floor were certainly not vital. “I present, her ladyship, Countess Amaria Elizaveta de Lettenhove.” 

The countess curtsied, it was a polite little bob, and she smiled a little dazedly as the witchers all gave their best attempt at courtly bows. A small but significant part of Geralt’s brain was panicking, and it dealt with this new form of terror by imagining that the school of the wolf, seen from the outside plying their newly practiced bows, must look like a line of seagulls vying for a dropped crumb.

Vesemir stepped forward and, in a rather more suave gesture than Geralt had been expecting, took the Countess’ hand and bowed over it. Two bows seemed excessive to Geralt, but since it seemed to indicate that Vesemir would be taking over the speaking for now, he certainly wasn’t about to bring it up. 

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Vesemir said, straightening and releasing her hand. “May I introduce the school of the wolf. Eskel is--”

The countess had waved a limp hand. “Plenty of time for that at the feast, deary,” she said, smiling dreamily. There was something in her eyes that was a little absent, possibly more than a little if her calling Vesemir ‘deary’ was anything to go by. Geralt looked the countess over. He had been given to understand through the brief letters from the Lettenhove estate, that this wasn’t the viscount-Julian, the letters said-’s mother, but rather his step mother. She was a petite lady with mousy hair and rather absent blue eyes. Her dress was obviously of very fine material, rose pink and probably silk, although Lambert would know better than him, but a simpler cut than Geralt had expected. 

His examination, done in a split second, decided that she wasn’t an immediate enemy, but probably not a terrible useful ally. 

“I’m to give you this courting gift,” here she proffered a small but beautifully carved wooden box. “And to show you to your quarters.” She smiled again, and it was warm, but still vapid.

“Custom usually dictates that the fiancé give the courting gift,” Vesemir said, cautiously taking the box.”

“My husband wanted someone else to present it,” she said. “But your grandson can give his gift in person when he meets Julian. Now what...” she trailed off, not even noticing Vesemir’s slight sputter at grandson. “Ah yes, your rooms, right this way please.”

She got lost on the way to their rooms and a shaking footman showed them up to a suite, then kindly took her by the hand and led her away.

They sat, silent, in the nice but not lavish quarters. Four beds in curtained alcoves off to the side, and in the middle a room with a table and chairs, and a sofa and more comfortable chairs in front of a fireplace. It was already blazing and the witchers stared into it for a minute.

“That was strange,” Eskel finally said, and the others just nodded.

“Should I have insisted on giving her our courting gift?” Geralt said after another pause. “I thought they were usually given in person.”

“I think you’re fine,” Vesemir said. “If they broke that tradition they can hardly fault you for doing the same.”

Lambert, sprawled across the sofa, said, “When’s dinner?”

“I think I’m supposed to meet Julian first,” Geralt said. “Someone will probably come get us. 

“When we meet Julian you mean,” Lambert said, sitting up. 

“No, I’ve been thinking about that and I want to meet him alone.”

Vesemir nodded, “Sensible, we don’t know how he will react to one witcher, let alone four.” Then he smirked, although not unkindly, at Lambert. “You will be introduced and have a chance to be nosy later. At dinner perhaps.”

They unpacked their belongings, potion bottles and swords looking out of place along the old but nicely carved furniture. After days of tension on the road as Geralt wound himself tighter and tighter with anxiety for his...wedding, yes his wedding, now this pause was jarring. Eskel tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a look.

Geralt turned around to give Eskel room to work.

On the Path, witchers are rarely, if ever touched. Certainly not in a friendly way if the other isn’t being compensated. It wasn’t therefore, unusual for the wolves of Kaer Morhen to be tactile with one another. Not hugging and cuddling sweetly, but rough housing and wrestling ending in exhausted dog piles. But Eskel had a gift, he had magic hands, literally and figuratively, and he carefully oiled his hands while Geralt took off his travel stained shirt. 

Geralt sunk into himself, half meditating as Eskel dragged the tension from his shoulders and beat the knots from his muscles. It wasn’t a relaxing massage, but it always left him feeling like liquid, if slightly bruised. When it was over and the liquid feeling had left him, or at least subsided enough that his knees could hold him, he stood, clapping Eskel on the shoulder in thanks.

Then came the hard bit.

Geralt needed to be courtly. He scrubbed the bits he could with water and a cloth from a little washstand, but he hoped he could have a hot bath later. Afterwards Vesemir advanced on him and battled the dirt from underneath his fingernails with a stiff brush before attacking his hair with a comb. Geralt sat on the ground like a child, his brothers looking on in amusement as Vesemir sat behind him on the couch and teased the tangles from his hair. He was making faces, he knew, but Vesemir wasn’t gentle, and he hadn’t detangled his hair in some time.

Scrubbed raw, with his hair floating around his shoulders like a silver cloud, Lambert presented him with a doublet. 

It was black, which was good.

That was the only good thing about it. It was most likely a very nice, extremely fashionable doublet. Lambert might take delight in embarrassing Geralt, but he didn’t mess about with clothing. The issue was that it was attention grabbing, it was subtle in a way that seemed to play itself down while actually drawing every eye. It was black, in the same way a raven’s wing was black, every shimmering shade shifting as the fabric moved.

And he would be wearing it. 

He did wear it. 

His hands shook as he buttoned it up. 

He was just examining himself in a slightly tarnished hand mirror when there was a sharp knock at the door. The footman let himself in right after and bowed swiftly. 

“I am to escort the witchers of Kaer Morhen to meet Lord Julian.”

“Just the one witcher,” Geralt said. Vesemir pressed his courting gift, and the little carved boxed nestled on top, into his arms.

The footman didn’t seem to care and simply turned away, leading Geralt through hallways that all looked the same and down two very winding staicases, the second of which was so narrow his shoulders actually brushed the walls. They stopped outside a plain wooden door. The footman bowed and smiled. It looked, Geralt couldn’t help but feel, rather cruel. Then he left. Geralt knocked softly on the door, feeling very large in the narrow, low ceilinged hallway.

Eskel had told him once of a myth he had read, about a beast, half man half bull, hidden away in a maze. Geralt felt like such a beast, too large and rough and probably going to barge in and do everything wrong.

“Come in.” 

It was soft, but not nervous, and Geralt pushed open the door. 

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Oooh I’m naughty for leaving it there, but it’s almost 2000 words already. @llamasdumpsterfire here it is at last, I hope it lives up to expectations.