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buckysegan · 10 months ago

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With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration - Part Two

Summary: John writes back to his friend from home and we hear from our friend across the way. John x She. Word Count: 1.2k. A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me. he deserves it. pstttt also should we name her? do you all want to send me random john prompts. my baby isn't ok and i'm not ok. Part one linked here. Part three linked here.

John was sure he wasn't sweating a normal amount as he looked down at the piece of paper that Buck had offered him. It had taken two whole days of questions from the man for Bucky to even decide that he was going to reply. He’d been offered the hope, what more could he ask of her. Could he ask more? There had been a return address on the letter which Buck had insisted was there for a reason and she had opened herself out for a reply from him but the Major couldn’t help but be unsure.

It was an odd feeling for him, before the war he hadn't been unsure of anything and since he’d been here? Well he hadn’t been sober enough to doubt anything that he had done. These days though Bucky felt like he doubted every single thing. The thing was, he wasn't sure that he could afford to doubt this, to look past the life line that had been offered to him. Not when each day he could feel his mind draw a little further toward the edge no matter how much he or Buck tried to keep it in check.

With a sigh he pulled the pen into his hand, eyes locked on the page for a moment before he began to scrawl.

Dear Friend From Home

You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you.

I think the first thing I got to say is thank you. I don’t know if the words I can put on paper are ever going to really tell you how much your letter meant to me. See I was a certain type of man that didn’t think much to pen pals. I figured that I’d be ok, you know, that with my boys I’d have what I needed to make it through the hard days but watching the letters for everyone else roll in has been harder than I thought it might.

There are things that I can’t tell you cause I don’t know who might read these letters, and where I am I can’t get you no picture but I can tell you that my favorite dish is a meat and potato pie, simple I know but really I’m a simple hearty kind of guy. What makes me laugh, you asked? That’s kind of simple for me too, just good company, myself sometimes, Buck, he’s my best friend, he makes me laugh a lot. What makes you laugh? I’d like to know that.

May I know where you are? I know that might be a big ask but you said I could ask anything I know and if I get out of here…we get some leave, I’d like to know where I need to ask for me leave to be. Then I can show you what I sound and look like and know that in return.

If this letter doesn’t reach you for a while, know you’ve been with me the whole time.

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration

Major John Egan

“What if she doesn’t get it?” He found himself questioning quietly to Buck as he handed over the letter to make it out of camp. His best friend settled him with a soft look, one that always made Bucky feel like he had some worldly knowledge the rest of them had missed out on, that assured him everything was going to be alright. “You just gotta have hope she will John, she’ll get it.”

With a huff Bucky nodded, pulling his hat on as he watched his letter vanish from his view all together. “Alright well I can’t sit here and wonder, I’m off to play baseball or something.”

The letter that Bucky had so carefully handed over changed hands many more times, some fingers as rough as the pilots, some dirtier, some softer, but the last set of fingers to slide the letter from her post box had perfectly manicured fingers. Her flicking of her post was greedy as she looked for the same thing that she had every day since she’d posted her own letter.

At first, her hopes of finding what she was looking for had been unrealistic; she knew that, it hadn’t even been long enough for her letter to be received, let alone for him to get one back to her, then the other girls at the centre, they’d gotten letters back, notes, anything. That was when she had allowed her hope to return, for a moment at least. Days without anything had turned into weeks and then weeks had turned into months. Anything could have happened, that was what she tried to tell herself, he might not have gotten her letter, he might have thought it was weird and had chosen not to reply. That thought was enough to miff her, he could have at least said thank you. When she had decided no one could be that mean, her diminishing hope had turned to worry, what if he hadn't been able to receive her letter.

Flicking through each white envelope today, she almost missed it, how she didn't know because it was clearly different from the rest of them, maybe she hadn't wanted to look. "Not…" Trailing off she flicked back to the second to last letter, her eyes taking in the scrawling of her address, her eyes checking the postage before she was taring inside. "It's here, he wrote it's here." She called through the halls to the other girls that she lived with, all of which had been holding their breath with her. "Oh god I can't read it, what if he's telling me I was weird!" She cried, thrusting the unopened letter into the hands of her eager friend.

"Don't be dramatic, he's going to be throwing down his gratitude at you being a doll, you should have attached a picture with it I told you!" Meg beamed easily back at her, the same sense of reservation missing from her actions as she tore into the letter so that it could be read to the group. "Dear Friend From Home. You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you." That was enough, pulling the letter from Megs hands she was quick to scramble away from the group once more, locking herself into her room as re-read the opening line herself, the tears in her eyes only welling even further as she continued.

An ache in her chest formed as she read the words once more, taking in each strike of his pen where he had corrected himself or smudge from whatever he'd had on his fingers. The state of the letter was enough to make her wonder, but at least for now, she knew her friend was ok. He was alive, and he wanted to hear more from her. It couldn't have been normal, to feel this level of emotion for a man that she had never met, but she had found herself here regardless and in the middle of so much uncertainty, she wasn't going to question the pull she felt across the way to England.

Pushing from her bed she moved to her desk, paper pulled from her stationary pot, the quicker she could post this the quicker it could get to him.

"Dear Major Egan,

I'm delighted to hear I'm with you. I hope you know, that you've been with me too…"

#john egan x reader #john egan #master of the air #mota #mota drabble #callum turner #bucky egan

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 months ago

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You Promise?

Jushiro Ukitake x Fem!Reader

***18+ fic ahead, if you are not 18 or older please make your way to the nearest exit and detour around the page***

Warnings: Penetrative sex, fingering, lots of kissing and h*nd h*lding (gasp), Jushiro is a gentle lover (I'm in love with him methinks), lots of groping (mans is handsy okay? he just wants to feel you ;-;)

Word Count: 5.3k

Author's Note: I'M ALIVE BITCHES AHAHAHAHAHAHA But on a more serious note it's been like...over a year since I've actually posted anything for real o.O My sincerest apologies for vanishing off the map with no warning ;-; On a brighter note, my writer's block has decided to *poof* into thin air apparently, and obviously this is a fic tailored to Bleach!! I've been watching it recetly and holy SHIT why are there SO MANY HOT CHARACTERS? MY BISEXUAL ASS CAN'T TAKE THIS SHIT. Anyways, I'm alive, and I'm back, and hopefully I can toss aside this writer's block for good until the next one comes along.

ENJOY LOVELIES <3

It’s a warm day in the Soul Society, a cool breeze flitting through the Seireitei being the only reprieve from the blaring heat. And it’s calm, you decided. Calmer than it’s been in a long while, even with the stress of the former Squad 5 captain Sosuke Aizen’s plans looming on the far horizon. When he defected along with the other two former captains, Gin Ichimaru and Tosen Kaname it sent shockwaves through the Soul Society like none other. The events leading up to the moment of betrayal nearly tore the Seireitei and the 13 Court Guard Squads completely apart, trust between even the closest of friends fraying dangerously.

“What’s wrong love, you seem distracted today.” You blink, your focus returning to here and now. That voice was none other than your captain, Jushiro Ukitake, as he sat in his bed. The thin blanket that usually draped over his legs was tossed aside in the heat, his usual captain’s uniform switched out for a lighter garment. Despite all that has happened, this is the man you’d always stand beside no matter what. Even if you didn’t love him the way you did, even if you weren’t constantly suffering through a surely unrequited love. A forbidden one, surely. Not that there were any real rules regarding captain-subordinate relationships that you knew of. You’d stand beside him even in the face of certain death, that’s just the kind of man he is.

“My apologies captain, I didn’t mean to daydream.” His smile is gentle, sweet, kind as he regards you perched on the edge of his bed. Surely that smile could cure all your heart’s quarrels. If only.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure it gets boring watching over me day and night.” That’s right, you thought, it’s been just you for the past few months while Sentaro and Kiyone are out on a mission. You hadn't even noticed the passage of time. It’s already been three months?

“Not at all, Sir. I enjoy your company. I’ve just been thinking that it’s been quiet lately, that’s all. Not that I’m complaining.” He chuckles, the baritone reverberating through your chest. You’ll never tire of that beautiful sound.

“It’s good to know this old man isn’t a burden to you. You must have many more important things to do besides looking after me.” What nonsense.

“You could never be a burden to me, Captain Ukitake. I may have been assigned to you for the time being, but I volunteered my time to you long before that. The only menial task I have is some easy paperwork every week or so, so don’t worry about my mundane paper pushing.” You smile at him, really smile. You want him to feel your dedication to him, your willingness to be here. You want to be here. A breeze drifts through the window and out the door of the room, sending his long white hair floating in the wind. It’s a majestic sight, truly. He’s so handsome, so gentle, so strong even in his sickness. You commit every waking moment in his presence to memory.

“Such a kind girl you are,” he reaches a hand out, grasping yours gently and staring deep into your eyes, “What would I do without you?” For a moment you’re stunned, those eyes of his piercing you in the heart, the heat from his hand on your skin almost burning you. It’s not unusual for him to hold your hand, especially in moments like this where he wants to express his gratitude to you. But no matter how many times he reaches out to you, you’ll never get over the fluttering of your heart and the warmth it brings you. You laugh then, easily coming up with an answer to his rhetorical question.

“Probably have Sentaro and Kiyone fighting over who gets to give you your medicine tonight.” He chuckles at your quip, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly. He’s been looking healthier lately, happier, in the calm of late. He turns suddenly, smoothly standing from the bed with your hand still in his.

“It’s a nice evening. I’ve been meaning to go see the koi pond. Would you join me for a walk?” His smile is infectious as he asks, and how could you possibly say no? Who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure? If he feels well enough to go for an evening stroll, you’ll happily indulge him. You allow him to pull you with that unnatural strength that captains have, easily standing you up beside him. He’s clearly been wanting to go outside, he’s already out the door by the time you grab his white haori and slide the paper door shut behind you. He may not have chosen to wear it, but you’re taking it just in case it gets a little too cool.

As you fall in step beside him, you take a deep breath and soak in all the scenery. The sun is slowly setting over the Soul Society, casting the sky in hues of yellow and gold. Not a cloud lingers in the sky. A constant light breeze flows through the barracks, and the combined warmth from the setting sun’s rays and the cooling wind settles into your bones, your body feeling light and refreshed. It’s a perfect evening for a stroll. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to settle on your captain. Gold is cast over his form, his hair and skin glowing in the light, breeze gently tousling the white strands around his face. It’s a sight reserved for your eyes, and you can’t help but want to stare at him forever. It takes you a moment to realize you’ve stopped walking altogether, and it takes far too long for you to realize the captain is staring at you as you stare at him. Heat crawls up your chest into your face, and you avert your eyes.

“I apologize, Captain.” You can’t think of anything else to say. You’ve been caught staring at your captain, surely with a doe-eyed expression of admiration and longing. He probably read you like a book. You’re stunned again when he grabs your hand, resuming his relaxed stroll along the gravel path to the koi pond behind the barracks for the 13th squad. It’s all you can do to keep up, even in his slow pace his individual strides are incredibly large.

“I don’t mind at all, love. I’d be nervous having such attention on me, but I’m used to a pretty girl always looking at me these days.” Your eyes blow wide open and your jaw slacks as you stare up at him again, only to see a sideways glance and a sly mischievous smirk gracing his features. Is he…flirting?

Before you get the chance to think about what just transpired, you’re being tugged to sit next to the captain. You were so focused on Captain Ukitake you hadn’t realized you’d reached the koi pond. It’s a beautiful spot, you can’t deny that. The pink sky reflects off the surface of the water, the sound of a small fountain trickles into your ears. It smells of fresh water and wet stones, and the evening air tastes crisp and clear. It’s almost hypnotizing, mother nature’s own perfume.

Your attention shifts back to the captain beside you, as he once again grasps your hand firmly in his. It’s so much bigger than your own, and slender and strong. The callouses from hundreds of years of wielding a zanpakuto rough against your skin. His thumb traces shapes into the back of your hand, and as you look up at him you find his eyes already locked on you. There’s something hidden there, something dark and deep and gravitating.

“I want to thank you for being here with me for these past months. You know you don’t have to.” Again, nonsense.

“Captain Ukitake, I already-“

“Jushiro.” He interrupts. You nearly let out a gasp.

“What? Captain…”

“Call me Jushiro. We’ve known each other long enough, I’d much prefer you use my given name.” It’s all you can do to blink in the shock. Sure, you’ve known each other for a few centuries, but you’re still his subordinate. He’s still your captain. And saying his name so casually may just feel like a stab in the heart.

“It would make me happy if you did.” Of course he’d pull that card. If he insists.

“Well… okay, Jushiro.” Goodness, it feels strange. Knowing his name and saying it are two very different things.

“Good, thank you. Now what was it you were saying?” Oh… you almost completely forgot.

“Right. I may not have to, but…I want to. Like I said earlier, I enjoy your company. That wasn’t just me being nice. I really do enjoy being around you, Capt- ah, Jushiro.” That’s definitely going to take some getting used to.

“I’m glad to hear that, love.” He’s been calling you that for a while now. Love. Every time he says the little nickname it feels so soft, so sweet. At least, to you it does. His smile is brighter than the sun, it’s been so long since you’ve seen a smile like that you can’t help but smile too. The silence that falls is comfortable and light, the two of you enjoying the sunset over the pond. Dusk comes and goes, stars soar in the sky, a few lanterns cast a warm glow over the garden and over your faces. With your hand still in Jushiro’s, you can feel when he gives a small shiver at the breeze flowing over you.

“Here, I brought this just in case.” You pull your hand away to unfold the captain’s haori and drape it over his shoulders, right where it should be.

“Thank you, love. But what about you?” You have to admit, it is a bit chilly. But you’ll be okay, with your shihakusho.

“I’ll be alright, don’t worry about me.” He chuckles as you get comfortable next to him again.

“Well that’s like asking me not to breathe. Here, come closer.” That’s definitely not a good idea. Your heart will surely burst from your chest. You’re already struggling as is, what with the hand holding and names. He doesn’t give you much choice though, hooking an arm around your waist and tugging you fully into his lap. With your legs draped over one side and your head cradled against his chest, he wraps the haori fully around the both of you and rests his chin atop your head. Even through your layers of shihakusho, all you can feel is the heat of one hand on your hip and the other resting on your mid thigh.

This is how you’ll die, surely, but you’ll never be happier.

“I can feel your heart racing. Are you alright?” You hold your breath at his observation, your face warming under his gaze. But holding your breath doesn’t change the fact that he’s absolutely right. Your heart feels like it might just burst. In all the years you’ve known the man, Captain Jushiro Ukitake has never once made such a move for bodily contact unless a life was in danger or unconscious. And you have never even once been anywhere near this close to him, not even when you were wiping the sweat from his brow in his especially pained moments. It feels like the breath you’re holding is punched from you, coming out quick and shuddering, when his hand cups your jaw and tilts your head up to look him in the eyes. His face is so close, his lips are right there…all you’d need to do is lean.

“You’re turning a concerning shade of crimson, my dear. Are you alright?” Shit. You need to answer, don’t you? But he’s still smiling…oh he’s teasing you!

“I’m fine! Just fine, thank you.” It’s a squeak, really. If you’re being honest it probably sounded to him like you were trying incredibly hard to keep from moving, and that included breathing. That hand slips from your cheek down to your chin, tilting your head even further back.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help the teasing. You’re just so cute, so pretty. I’m so glad I’ve been able to keep you around.” There’s no way this is real. It’s a dream, surely. You’re deep in sleep and your brain has gifted your heart a beautiful show. His hands release you, dropping far too quickly for your liking. He’s concerned now, it seems.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He sounds so dejected, that gorgeous smile fading into a disappointed frown. You can’t control your own limbs as they react to what your heart wants, reaching for his haori and tugging hard so he’s no longer leaning away from you.

“No! I promise I’m not uncomfortable, I promise! I was just shocked, that’s all.” Mentally, you slap yourself for nearly begging the captain to stay wrapped around you. But you’ll be damned if you let this moment slip through your fingers. That smile returns, although slowly and reluctantly.

“You promise?” Nodding fervently, you lean into him and bury your head into his chest once more. Screw everything, whatever reservations you had about keeping your feelings hidden are being tossed out the window. When his arms wrap around you once more it’s all you can do to refrain from turning and kissing at what little is exposed of his chest.

“Good. Then, since we’re comfortable and alone, I have a bit of a confession to make.” A confession? What kind of confession could only be spoken while alone?

“When you were assigned to me it wasn’t random. I requested you specifically, not only because of your capabilities as a shinigami in my division, and not solely because of your short stint training under Captain Unohana. Not that your healing capabilities are anything to sniff at, of course, you’re a wonderful healer! And you’re an amazing fighter, no doubt about that, and of course you-” he cuts himself off, his breath catching in his chest where your hand lay splayed in the center of it.

“Captain… Jushiro…I understand what you’re trying to say. You chose me for many reasons. Which of those reasons require a confession? And why are you suddenly so nervous?” You can see his adam's apple bob in his throat when he swallows down whatever words caught in his throat. His brows pinch together ever so slightly, he nibbles at his bottom lip for a moment. He really is nervous, you can see it clear as day. It’s not often he gets nervous, even in the face of opponents stronger than any he’s seen he’s a stone pillar.

“Yes, well. I requested you to be at my side because I’ve held very real and very strong feelings toward you, for a very long time now. You’re a beautiful woman, a strong fighter, a wonderful person. Having you so close these few months have only solidified these feelings. I just don’t see any point in hiding them any longer.” At that, you lean back and stare up at him, into those deep, dark eyes of his. He can’t seem to return the gaze, his eyes flitting around to avoid eye contact.

“Am I dreaming? Is this a dream?” He laughs at that, a hearty laugh that makes his chest bounce. His eyes finally fall on yours.

“No, love. This is definitely not a dream.” It doesn’t feel real. You reach over and pinch your arm as hard as you can, jumping and wincing the tiniest bit from the small shock of pain.

“I told you.” His nervous smile is infectious, you’re only able to return it as he leans close to you and rests his forehead against your own.

“Please tell me you feel the same. I don’t think I can take any more of this.” A giggle slips past your lips and you reach up to loop your arms around his neck.

“I’ve had a massive crush on you for decades.” That seems to click his resolve into place, and the next thing you know you’re being kissed silly by Jushiro Ukitake. The breath is stolen from your lungs, his fingers dig deep into your hip and thigh if only to get you closer. You hate that you need to breathe, need to part from the kiss far too soon for your liking. There’s a tension between you now, a string pulled taut waiting to be cut loose as your breaths mingle. He looks frustrated now, taking a moment to consider things you were not privy to.

“It’s late, we should be getting back now.” Of course, he was right. Which meant this was where you parted ways. You may be overseeing his health and spending days tending to his needs when he can’t do something himself, but he has ways of summoning you to him should an emergency arise, so you remain in your own quarters in the barracks at night. You’re shifting to stand, but he holds you tight to his chest and instead stands with you held in his arms.

“Jushiro! Please, don’t strain yourself! I’m perfectly capable of walking.” He only smiles that lopsided smile and in an instant you’re standing at the door to his quarters. A flash step at a time like this is insanity!

“Jushiro!” You gasp up at him as the door is opened, then closed as you’re carried beyond the threshold.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, love, but I just couldn’t wait. Now I want you to tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable, I will stop what I’m doing.” What? What in the world is he talking about? You gasp when you feel his lips peppering gentle kisses along your exposed neck, grabbing his haori for any kind of stability as you’re thrown mentally sideways. His lips carve a path down your jugular to your collarbone and along what little is bare of your shoulder. They almost burn, those heated kisses of his, and you can’t help but tremble at the euphoric feeling of his lips on your skin. You’re laid gently on his bed, still being lavished with kisses turning deeper and sharper, you’re sure there will be marks on your skin by morning. His fingers are hot where they brush against the fold of your shihakusho, gently tugging the fabric to reveal more of you to his hungry gaze. Your sash is untied and dropped to the floor, followed by a piece of his clothing and then a piece of yours. Disrobing was second priority, your chest heaving as he never left your skin cold for longer than necessary to remove a barrier of cloth.

When he finally feels he’s smothered you in enough kisses, you’re both completely bare before each other. He’s hovering over you, one knee beside your hip and both hands on either side of your head, his other leg extended to keep his foot planted firmly on the ground. Those eyes, half-lidded and pupils blown with lust, roam over your body like he’s committing every inch of your skin to memory. You do the same, taking in the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, the muscles in his arms and legs flexed as he holds himself above you. You can feel an impossible heat rise in your body when your eyes land on his already fully hard erection. You can’t help but gasp and avert your eyes. A tiny voice in your head reminds you that this is your captain, for crying out loud!

“The things you do to me, woman.” He holds your jaw in his palm and a searing kiss is shared between you, your lips melding perfectly together. His tongue licks at your bottom lip, and you let it tangle with your own. There’s no fight for dominance, just the push and pull of your bodies as your entire being tries to join with him. He’s almost lying on top of you, and in a moment of opportunity you hook a leg over his hip and twist your bodies, rolling over until he’s on his back beneath you and you’re straddling his stomach. He only looks shocked for a moment, and you don’t give him much more time to right himself before attacking him with another breath-stealing kiss. His hands, large and strong and insistent, can’t keep still on your body. They’re everywhere, your hips, breasts, thighs, squeezing and feeling everything he’s been wanting to feel. He’s gentle with his hands, softly holding a breast while his thumb brushes over your nipple, making you jolt and moan from the unexpected sensation. Happily, he swallows the sound only to make you produce it again and again, toying and tugging at every piece of you that he can reach.

“Jushiro, please.” You beg, feeling heat pool in your belly. You’re sure he can feel you leaking all over his stomach, your hips unable to keep still the longer he spends teasing your body. Gripping your hips, he begins to sit up and you can’t stop yourself from placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back down, almost warning him.

“Don’t overexert yourself for my sake.” Good gods that smile was going to kill you. In your moment of concern he pulls the same move you had, a hand gently cradling your neck and flipping the two of you over so he’s hovering over you once again. It’s all you can do to gasp as your balance is thrown. When you’re refocused, you’re peering up at a halo of white as his hair curtains over your shared space. Nothing else in this world matters, only the two of you exist right here, right now. Your breathing picks up as the hand bracing your neck travels down your chest, trailing your skin in a scorching path to your lower belly and even further to the mound of your sex. His eyes pierce yours, silently pleading for permission, and your nod of approval is met with his lithe fingers slipping between your legs and gathering all the slickness produced from your pussy. He can’t help himself, teasing his fingers along your entrance and brushing up against your clit to make your body jolt. The gasp you let out is music to his ears. But his pace is torturous for you, impatience getting the better of you when you reach down to grip his wrist. The unoccupied hand comes and gathers both your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“Oh, no, I'm not done yet. Be good for me and keep your hands to yourself, won't you?” The sentence is punctuated with a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth, before his fingers continue their leisurely pace. He studies your face as one finger slips into you easily, a second soon following and your breaths are coming hard and fast. He curls and pumps his fingers, searching for all the angles that have your back arching beautifully and your voice calling his name like a siren. Anything that makes your eyes flutter he tries to emulate once again. His third finger only fuels the fire in your blood, the stretch making your head spin from the sheer pleasure. It’s impossible to tell how long it’s been since you’d landed on the bed, being at the mercy of Jushiro’s lips and hands alone have left you breathless and aching. You’re left utterly empty when he removes his fingers from your heat, gazing in wonder at just how sloppy and wet you’d left them. Gossamer strings stretch and snap when he spreads his fingers apart, and in your embarrassment you shut your eyes and turn your head, unable to cover your face with your hands still pinned. A throaty moan snaps your eyes open, only to witness the most glorious sight you’ve ever witnessed. The hand covered in your wetness was now wrapped around his aching cock, Jushiro’s head hung low as he stroked himself slowly to relieve some of the ache. It doesn’t last long, the sight makes you moan and his attention is back on you.

“Still think this is a dream?” You shake your head no, unsure if you’re able to form a coherent sentence after the sight you’ve just had the privilege of viewing.

“Good.” Your hands are released as he grabs your hips, twisting again so he’s leaning up against the headboard and a mountain of pillows, with you straddling his waist again. He’s holding you close, fingertips tracing nonsensical shapes into your hips.

“Are you ready for me? I’ll let you set the pace so I don’t hurt you.” You lean in close and kiss him breathless, before lining him up and sinking down onto him. The both of you moan into each other’s mouth, breathing heavily as you lower yourself slowly onto his cock, feeling every twitch as your pussy grips him tight. Finally fully seated, you’re both panting hard, a sheen of sweat decorating your bodies. His arms wrap around your waist, tugging you so your chest is against his and your arms wind around his shoulders, your hands burying themselves in his hair. A groan is muffled in your neck from the shift, your responding gasp quiet as a prayer in his ear.

“I need to move, love. Are you ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready Jushiro. Don't hold back.” With a loud moan his hips buck up, his feet plated on the bed to leverage against you. Your vision nearly whites out at the movement, breath stopping for an instant, his tip hitting a spot deep inside you too perfectly. He doesn’t stop but for a moment, tightening his grip on your waist and lifting you up off his hips only to drop you back down as he thrusts up, his pace steady and deep. Starbursts dot your vision with every thrust, every stroke of his dick inside you makes you shake and the pleasure is too much and not enough all at once. You’re hiccuping between guttural moans, his own groans matching yours beat for beat, your voices creating a sinful melody neither of you want to stop listening to.

Your equilibrium is thrown again when Jushiro lifts you higher, keeping himself seated deep in your pussy and maneuvering up onto his knees, gently laying you down on your back once more. The angle shift makes your body tremble and your cunt squeeze down on him, his groan deep and long as he adjusts. You’re given no more time to think before one of your legs is thrown over his shoulder and his full weight is being used to fuck into you relentlessly. Moans are punched from your lungs, fingers bruising your thigh in his steel grip and the other hand coming down to rub tight circles onto your puffy clit. You scream then, your back arching almost painfully as your orgasm hits you full force without warning or preamble. You hadn’t felt just how heavily it was building, pleasure distracting from pleasure, and your vision whites out while your legs shake and squeeze around Jushiro’s waist, pussy clenching down on his cock tight enough to slow his punishing pace.

“That’s it love -shit- such a good girl for me.” He continues dragging in and out of you, pushing through the tight grip of your walls and shoving you into overstimulation, your legs trying fruitlessly to close around his hips.

“J-jushiro please I- ah!” He stills deep inside you, the curve of his cock pushing up against a spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back and you see stars. Tears begin to fall from the sheer white-hot pleasure, you barely feel it as liquid splashes over Jushiro’s thighs and stomach, and his own orgasm is yanked out of him at the sight. His body curls over you, cock twitching as he cums deep inside you with a deep, throaty moan, every muscle in his body tensed from the strength of his release. When you’ve both ridden out your glorious highs, he drops your leg in favor of pulling your limp body close, lying back with you on top of his chest. He doesn’t remove his softening cock from you, it would be far too sensitive for either of you if he didn’t allow it to slip out on its own. You’re both panting heavily, sweat coating your bodies, sweltering heat being cooled by the night breeze as it filters through the window. His hands are gently soothing you, one on your head and the other caressing down your spine to ground you from your earth-shattering release. When you finally come to, filtering out of your daze, you turn your head and place a chaste kiss on Jushiro’s warm cheek.

“Is it too soon to say I love you?” Your body jolts when you feel his cock twitch hard, still buried deep inside you. His groan is low and almost pained, surely he’s just as sensitive as you are.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” He doesn’t have the energy to laugh, so he settles for kissing you silly again.

“Just give it a few minutes.” It takes more than a few, and by the time you’re both cleaned up and comfortable under the sheets your bodies ache from the strenuous activities. His arms have found a home on your body, your head buried in the crook of his neck, peppering tiny kisses on his skin as he slowly massages your shoulders and neck.

“Are you okay, Jushiro?” He hums in response, he’s never felt better in his life, he’s sure.

“I mean physically. Your health is my top priority, I’d hate to have strained your body tonight.” He chuckles then, energy beginning to return in a sleepy haze.

“I’m fine, my love. I’ve done much more, physically, while I was feeling a lot worse. This won’t put me out of commission. I promise.” You lift your head, leave a peck on his lips.

“You promise?” He nods, brushing a few strands of your hair out of your face. His returning kiss is deep, long and knocks the wind out of you. There’s no doubt in your mind you are in love with this man.

“I promise.” With that, you relax in his hold once more and allow your mind to fall into the throes of sleep. You think you hear a soft snore as your consciousness slips away, but that’s not something you need to think about.

BONUS:

You’re slowly pulled from your sleep by a steady, rhythmic thump. You know the sound, but your subconscious can’t quite place it. You’re only half awake when a voice filters through our brain, and it’s far too late when it finally dawns on you that it’s the voice of another captain, their footsteps approaching far too quickly for comfort.

“...missed you at the meeting so I’m just coming to check-” the door is only halfway open, and even by then Jushiro’s quick reflexes have a sheet covering both your naked bodies as you lay there stunned, your wide eyes meeting the slowly widening eyes of Captain Kyoraku of the 8th division. He blinks, eyes flitting between you and Jushiro, a knowing look crawling itself onto his face.

“Well well well, would you take a look at that. Congrats Jushiro, you’ve finally told her.” The other captain peers at you, and you bow your head in shy greeting.

“Good morning, Captain Kyoraku.” His smile is wide and joyful.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” his eyes transfer over to Jushiro, “The meeting wasn’t anything important, you’ve already been excused from it.” Jushiro sighs, both from relief and irritation.

“Thank you, Shunsui, but we are both very naked and I’d appreciate it if you closed the door.” The pink-clad captain chuckles and tips his hat down to cover his eyes.

“Of course. Have a good day, lovebirds.” The door shuts and his footsteps recede into the distance. You suppose those surprise visits from the Captain of squad 8 will be approached a little more cautiously from now on.

#bleach x reader #ukitake x reader #jushiro ukitake #jushiro ukitake x reader #ukitake jushiro #bleach smut

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sapphoherselz · 6 months ago

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howdy!! two literal people have asked for some andreil rec so here they are!! my most favest fics EVER in the first 60 ao3 pages (I'll keep updating tho as I read!)

Not yours to bleed:

The Pros were never in the cards. Not for an ex-medicated alleged psychotic with a dysfunctional family and an Exy career he’d rather not have. But even if it wasn't his first choice, no matter what happens, it can’t possibly be worse than that one fucked up sophomore year when he stood toe to toe with the Yakuza-and won.

At least, that’s what Andrew thinks until a familiar face shows up.

Another Raven!Neil AU. Or, the one where the boys don’t meet until the Pros.

**Updates every other Wednesday, whatever hell may come.**

The Sun Still Rises:

Somewhere on the road, Mary Hatford gets pregnant with her second child. When she passes, she leaves behind not only Neil, but his toddler brother. Survival is difficult without also raising a kid. Worn out and desperate, Neil still somehow ends up at Palmetto, only this time, he brings his four-year-old brother with him.

TALE OF A MARTYR IN XII PARTS:

Neil closes his eyes and counts the things that he knows:

One: Death has a name.

Two: He has met Death before. Several times, in fact.

Three: Someone is trying to kill him. Permanently. But it's only kind of working.

Or, the one in which Andrew is the Grim Reaper, Neil is very, very good at dying, over and over and over again. They teach each other a few things over the centuries.

Hearthlines:

The Fae king and queens have gone away, closing the knowes behind them and abandoning their offspring to the mortal world. As the Fae have spread far and wide, their bloodlines thinning if not vanishing forever as they flee from mortal persecution... two Fae have found a way to reopen the knowes - Kayleigh Day and Tetsuji Moriyama. The Fae regroup once more, the balance of power shifted amongst them, and 'changelings' appear now and then in the mortal population.

Andrew Doe is one of those changelings, a young child suffering in the foster system, shunned by his peers for some reason and hearing voices in his head.

Alex - the latest name gifted to him by a charm - is on the run along with his mother from his father, using their talents as shadow walkers to slide between worlds and stay one step ahead of the powerful Fae. Except even that is not enough anymore. Except that's not Alex's only talent.

*******

An urban fantasy where I throw Fae, necromancy and magic at TFC characters, pretty much!

Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die):

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

Amor Vincit Omnia:

“I said it already,” the man said, “Your cluster.”

“But what does that mean?” Neil asked.

“It means that you are no longer just you,” the man said tersely, “Congratulations.”

It didn’t feel like anything worth celebrating.

A Sense8 AU where the foxes all share one subconscious and kick a lot of ass

The Real Thing:

Andrew was more than willing to turn down the Ravens' offer to be their newest goalie, unwilling to play five more years of Exy - let alone for someone with a too-sharp smile and a manic gleam in their eyes.

That was, until he realized that a member of their Perfect Court was his soulmate. (That was, until Riko Moriyama realized that Nathaniel Wesninski, the Ravens' #3 in waiting, was Andrew's soulmate.)

Andrew always knew that Fate loved tormenting him, he didn't need a reminder yet again via a too-attractive soulmate who appeared to loathe him. Yet things aren't always what they seem, especially in the Nest.

mad girl says she's wolf-proof:

Keeping her grip light on Nina’s throat, Andrea drops her gaze to her plump lips. She smiles—coldly, slowly. Fangs on fangs. Salt tombstones. It is not a nice smile, none of Andrea’s smiles are, but Nina’s eyes are stuck in it regardless. “And I will answer, all the better to eat you with.”

(Andrea Dobson vs girlhood and lycanthropy.)

lessons in caretaking:

Neil was acting shifty, and Andrew knew why; that motherfucker was leaving. Despite the promise between them, Neil was prepping to run. Andrew wasn't upset about that, not at all. After all, if notorious Neil "No-Swing" Josten needed to leave after Andrew admitted his desires regarding his proximity to Neil's shorts, who was Andrew to stop him. But that doesn't explain why Neil was stealing socks, or why he wanted Andrew's clothes.

Whatever. That was probably unrelated.

Sauntering Vaguely Downwards:

They’ve known each other since the Beginning. Not the Beginning Beginning—they didn’t meet until after the War in Heaven, where they kept to their own sides, or until after the subsequent Fall. It wasn’t even until after the Exodus from Eden, but only by a couple minutes. They’ve witnessed the rise and fall of empires, sampled all the cuisines the world has to offer, and weathered several very silly fashion trends.

Andrew doesn’t think they’re friends, exactly, but it is natural to become accustomed to the presence of the only other being who has been around more or less consistently for six millennia. It wasn’t anything more meaningful than that.

A Good Omens AU where Andrew is a grumpy angel, Neil is a sharp-tongued serpent, and it takes them literally six thousand years to figure out they belong together.

#aftg #neil josten #andreil #all for the game #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #andreil fic #fic rec #aftg fic rec #aftg fic

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painted-flag · 3 months ago

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OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 10: The Art of Potion Making

!!! An important poll regarding the upload schedule for this series can be found here. !!!

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 4.5k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Potion making is easy, but command over the dark arts is a skill derived from centuries of experience.

Two days came and went of unpacking as much as you could before going to your work and delving into books, notes, experiments, and taking care of patients. In the chaos of everything, there was no time for you to sit down and relax. You woke, ate quickly, unpacked as much as you could before Amara and Liriel came to get you ready for the day, and went about your duties in the healing facilities.

In that time, not much progress was made in your research or Daeron’s. The two of you had hit a wall, which seemed impossible to overcome. It became a topic of tension between you two. Each knew that it was not the other's fault and did not blame them, but the feeling of hopelessness began to wear down on you two.

You were finally granted a moment of reprieve.

The cool breeze of the morning chill flowed through your open windows. Scents of blooming plants filled the space as you broke your fast. You had spent the morning reading the last filled-in pages of your father's journal. It may not have been the best decision, as you struggled to maintain your composure at parts. He would write about his days however a large focus was on you. He went on of how proud he was of you and of the young lady you were becoming. His written words gave you both a sense of comfort and a deep sharp pain in your chest.

Your hand turned to the last entry and you took in the date. It was the day before he left on a trip, the one he vanished on. You sucked in a breath and looked outside, tears brimming your eyes. While your father’s disappearance was devastating, you managed to get used to the pain over the years. Reading his journal seemed to open those cuts you long thought were healed.

Your eyes scanned the delicate ink stains of his writing. His writing had always been a topic of jealousy for you, for it was always neat. He spoke of his upcoming journey. While he originally told you he was heading north, his writing revealed it was not the case. Your brows furrowed as you scanned the writing, certain excerpts reaching out to you.

The southern lake of Rosemagne… is the topic of contention among my fellow researchers because of the… I believe it is a good place to gather samples to…

You scanned the words with a rushed fervour. You did not recognize the lake's name and found yourself leaving the table and moving toward your bookshelf. The chair scraped against the floor. Once you grabbed the book you were looking for, you dashed back and sat down. You flipped to a map of the known lands and scanned the various bodies of water. Your finger dragged across the parchment as you scanned, but you could not find it in your kingdom. A tiny feeling settled in your stomach; a queasy sickness that churned the food you had eaten.

“Please tell me you were not so foolish…” Your voice barely came out, a whisper so imperceptible even you did not know if you actually spoke it.

You began to go over the known lands of the elf kingdom. Far larger than your own, you spent longer scanning the land. To your horror, but also correct assumption, the image of Lake Rosemagne sat just under your fingertip.

Oh, gods…

Your father entered elf territory without permission. His disappearance could only mean a single thing; he was caught and properly dealt with. The cup on your table was hurled at the wall quickly and you began to lose control of your breathing, chest heaving with sobs that threatened to spill. This whole time you held to the belief he was still out there.

Your mind conjured up scenarios where he decided to stay in a place he thought promising to his research. While naive, it was how you coped. There was no way you wished to admit the truth that had been clawing down your throat for years. The thought of him dead, of you being parentless and thus alone and without grounding in this world, was not an option for you.

Your suspicion then turned to Aemond. Surely, he would have known about your father. As king, he would have been notified of any trespassers. There was the very possibility that he may have executed your father himself.

No.

Your brain refused to admit it. He would have told you or perhaps Helaena may have known. You shook your head at that, if Helaena knew she would have informed you immediately after piecing it together. She would never hide a thing like that from you, but Aemond…

Was Aemond’s agreement to Helaena’s proposal of you coming here nothing but a way to lure you in? To finish the job and get rid of all possible people who would have known?

The two of you had just begun to bridge the cavern that separated one another. Assumptions would get you nowhere. Whether or not he had a hand in your father's likely death, this had to be handled with care. There was no proof he had done what your brain jumped to and you would not condemn him until there was evidence. You would play the field as necessary. Not reveal that you know and pretend to be unaware of it all.

The room felt stifling. The walls closed in on you and you needed to get out. You composed yourself and splashed water on your face from the wash basin to get rid of the redness on your skin. You placed your father’s journal under the pillows on your bed to hide it. While not a good spot, you were in no headspace to think of someplace better.

All you cared about was leaving the suffocating room.

The door to the library by your laboratory was a welcoming sight. You believed it was time to shuffle through the shelves again in hopes that you could find something new for your research. A title you may have brushed off in previous visits could stand out and be worth the read.

You pushed open the wood and are greeted with a sight you wished to avoid. Aemond stood beside one of the tables, casually flipping through the pages of a book that had been likely left behind by some visitor. He looked bored as if he had been waiting for something. Alerted by your presence, he turned his head to see you.

“Good morrow, your grace.” You bowed respectfully, but truthfully you wished to run as fast and far as you could. Images of your father flashed across your vision when looking at the king. The speculation of your father’s death conjured up just moments ago pressed down on your chest.

Aemond spoke your name. It was incredible how shamefully you relished in the way it rolled off his tongue. While you stated that you did not hate him, you also did not like him. At the very least, you had begun to think of him positively, but with your discovery that trust was thrown away.

“I was informed of your curiousness regarding dark magic,” Aemond continued. You got nervous as such information could likely have you in dire straits. He picked up another book that was on the table and walked over to you, “This was something I read a few centuries ago. I completely forgot about it until I was browsing my shelves and thought you would need it.”

The way in which he casually threw out that he had read it a few centuries ago came across like a person reminiscing on an event from just a month or two ago. Your heart quickened at the notion that, while he was browsing his personal collection, he stumbled across a book and thought of you. It was a dangerous mode of thinking for you, to go down such a speculative path.

Aemond held out the book and you went to grab it. The tips of your fingers brushed against his and a flurry of heat coursed up through your arm. You almost reflexively dropped the book by the shock you felt.

“Thank you,” You responded once it was in your arms. You held it to your chest, like some kind of shield between you two.

“I was thinking that I could also peruse the shelves here with you. I can translate the ones in other languages.” It was yet another olive branch extended from him, except this time you did not want to meet it. The thought of your whole presence being here as a trap set by him threw you off.

The most dangerous creatures are often beautiful.

You had not remembered where exactly such a phrase was ingrained into you. You had heard it from someone, but their words rang true. It was best for you to put up a wall before it was too late. There was nothing wrong with you and Aemond’s relationship just a few short days ago – barely acknowledging one another.

“I do not need any help, your grace,” You interjected, “Daeron has translators if I need them.”

It may have been a trick of the light or perhaps a misinterpreted thought, but you could have sword a gleam of disappointment flashed across Aemond’s eye. He shuffled almost awkwardly on his feet and moved his hands to be clasped behind him.

He gave you a curt nod, “I shall leave you to it, then.” He moved past you to leave and his scent lingered. Burning wood and parchment undercut by a medley of spices. It was entirely too intoxicating.

The familiar sight of Lyra lying in her bed greeted you as you walked into the sick hall. She had been fiddling with a doll in her lap, stuck in the childlike wonder of imagination. As you approached, she spotted you and a smile made its way on her face.

Lyra spoke your name, “You’re here!”

“I’m here. And how have you been, sweet girl?” You sat on the edge of the bed and made a trained scan of her body, checking the progression of the taint as the purple-black darkness spread on her skin.

“I am fine, other than the fact that I wish to know what is going on outside this hall,” Lyra answered. It was no surprise she wanted to leave. Most patients expressed the same sentiment. Their bedbound lifestyle was suffocating. While they were not contagious, their frail conditions would make any instance of walking painful and could worsen their condition.

“I’m sorry, but you know you cannot leave this bed.” You reasoned.

Lyra nodded and held out the doll. It was small - only slightly bigger than your hand and sizeable enough to fit in a pocket. The doll shared a remarkable resemblance to Lyra. Gold embroidery string replicated her hair and a small sewn outfit adorned the doll.

“Could you take Lady with you? It does not matter what adventure she goes on, I just want her to see outside this hall.” Lyra asked you. Your hands reached out to take the doll and made sure to handle it with extra care.

“I will take her on many adventures.” You promised. While you gave her a wide smile, your inner self was in turmoil. It ached at the sadness of her situation, something that many others were suffering through. You looked around the room and saw Daeron walking in from one of the balconies.

You leaned over to tuck Lyra in, “I have something I need to discuss with Daeron. Get some rest, sweet girl.” Lyra nodded at your words and closed her eyes to go to sleep. You tucked the doll gently in one of your dress pockets and got up to stop Daeron as he moved down the centre aisle.

Daeron greeted you before his face went still, “How serious is it?”

“Pardon?” You responded.

“You get this look on your face when you are going to talk about something serious.” Daeron raised one eyebrow, “Am I correct?”

You grabbed his arm and started to pull him in the direction of the laboratory. You proposed many days ago the option of using dark magic against the taint off of the basis of your poison hypothesis. He promised he would think about it and you gave him space to do so, but now you were more anxious than ever for a response. However, you could not bring it up in a space full of other witnesses.

Once in the safety of the laboratory, you moved to the book you had used for this discovery and pulled out the mortua terra flower samples as well. You had already gathered all of the other ingredients that made up your old formula – the one with the most success.

Daeron looked back and forth between you and the table, “And this is?”

“My proposal,” You told him, “I gathered the flowers in this book. I am ready, but are you?”

He kept his gaze on the jar of flowers in front of him and rested his hands on his waist, “Dark magic is something that marks your soul. I cannot, with consciousness, allow you to do this alone.”

You moved your mouth to speak, but Daeron held his hand out to stop you, “You do not need to pretend you wouldn’t have gone and done it yourself regardless of my decision.” There was something almost comical in the way he could easily read you and you wondered if the other elves could do that as well.

Daeron went about organizing the ingredients and prepping everything to work. You followed in his steps, cutting and juicing the ingredients while he spoke, “There are things such as light and dark plants. They are incompatible in mixtures together, but each serves well on their own. Light plants are easy to manipulate. Those flowers you collected are dark, so working with them requires extra preparation steps.”

“And I am guessing those steps are difficult,” You interjected. Daeron picked up a single mortua terra flower and inspected it.

“Yes,” He answered, “We need blood to leech out its magical properties.”

You paused your movements and the metal stirrer halted but the liquid inside the pot continued to swirl, “Blood?”

“The blood is just a grounding force.” He lit a small fire under two potting zones and poured the liquid from your pot into them. “I am curious to see the difference between human blood and elf blood.”

“But if we just need blood to activate it, what makes it dark magic?” You questioned him. Daeron turned and dragged two comfy chairs across the stone floor to be placed near the table. He adjusted the pillows.

“The blood is a connection to you and your soul. The more potent it is, the more energy it takes from you. That is the risk with dark magic, it sucks your energy and your soul the more you do it. However, the more you do it, you eventually cannot stop. It becomes addicting.” Daeron then unsheathed a dagger that was strapped to his waist. The metal glimmered in the candlelight.

He picked up one of the flowers and dropped it into one of the pots. Once it sank into the simmering mixture, he held his hand out and slowly cut a line on his palm. Beads of blood pooled to the surface and dripped into the pot. His brows furrowed as he winced. Daeron cleaned the blade in a washpot that was on the table. He then held it out to you.

“Your skin must make contact with the flower. Drop it in, wait a few seconds, and then cut.” You took the blade from him and a small wave of reluctance came over you. This is what you wanted, but it was still terrifying.

You followed the steps carefully. Afterwards, Daeron gestured to the chairs, “Sit down. The longer it brews, the more energy will be drained. We will be here all night.”

The two of you sat in the chairs that were placed next to one another and listened to the bubbling of the liquid. Silence enveloped the two of you. As predicted, drowsiness settled over you. It was not intense, but began to creep up on you. Daeron did not look as affected and you assumed that largely had to do with your races; elves were stronger than humans.

To occupy yourself, you decided to speak, “Why is your brother the way he is?”

“I do not even know where to begin with Aegon. He-”

“Not Aegon,” You interrupted, “King Aemond. Why is he…” You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. One moment, Aemond is holding a sword to your throat and the next he is offering you a book and help. It was incredibly dizzying. It made you feel mad. Aemond’s attitude threw you off, but the shreds of kindness that extended your way erupted a flurry in your stomach and burning in your veins.

Daeron sighed, “He is guarded. Some of the things he has gone through made him-”

“Cruel?” You finished his sentence.

He shook his head in denial and adjusted his posture in the chair, “As I said before, everything my brother did was to protect his people.”

You waited a few moments before responding, “I’ve met your family, all of you are incredibly kind. I’ve heard the stories of what he did during the Great War. Why is he so different?”

“Most of the stories about him you humans tell are exaggerated.” Daeron stretched his legs out, some drowsiness already starting to come over him.

“So he does not drink the blood of his enemies?” You asked.

“No.” Was Daeron’s quick response.

You decided to go through all of the stories you could remember, “Hangs men up by their balls? Feeds dead children to their parents? Leaves field of impaled men as a warning?”

“No.”

“He doesn’t set fields and towns on fire? Raid strongholds that had already surrendered, killing all the men inside?” Your tone moved to a more teasing manner.

Instead of answering, Daeron got quiet. His silence was a confirmation and you sunk further into your chair. You could, if you tried hard enough, picture it in your head. Aemond, standing in a blazing field, bodies littered around, and the screams of humans being all that could be heard. You cringed at that and felt an overpowering feeling of guilt for ever allowing yourself to be entranced by him.

In your state of exhaustion, you leaned your head on Daeron’s shoulder. He rested his cheek against the top of your head and the two of you stared at the brewing pots. There was one last question that burned at you, one you had asked Aemond but received no response.

“What does rūklon mean?” Your pronunciation had not gotten better, but the point was still made.

You could feel Daeron adjust his head slightly, “Why?”

“I just…” You paused and wondered if you should tell him that Aemond referred to you by that word to Helaena, but decided against it for fear it might be bad, “I heard it in passing and wondered.”

“Well, it could refer to a blooming plant, but more often it just means flower,” Daeron answered. Helaena’s voice – mimicking Aemond’s words – echoed through your head.

That stupid little rūklon risking her life…

Little flower…

Was it a connection to the fact that you wore the azure perfume that reminded him of his childhood? That may have charged extra anger towards you. You highly doubted, out of all possible reasons behind it, that Aemond meant it as some kind of nickname. Daeron’s confirmation of Aemond’s cruelty just moments ago came back to you.

Some weird part of you felt the need to justify his actions. They were at war and he was their king. He had pressure over his shoulders like no other to keep his people safe. Aemond had to make decisions, hard ones, for the continuation of his kingdom. Quickly after that thought came more guilt. You felt cruel yourself for trying to find a likely reason behind his actions – to somehow justify the wholesale slaughter of your own kind.

Perhaps, if you were lucky one day, you could hear Aemond’s side.

Daeron was the one to break the silence instead of you, “I love my siblings, I truly do. Helaena is my closest friend and I am grateful to have her as a sister. But… I’ve always wanted a little sister. I know it hasn’t been a while since we’ve met, but I think of you as one.”

You did not know if he was just sharing this with you because he wanted to or if the gradual exhaustion had something to do with his confession. Regardless of the reasoning, his thoughts matched something you had always had.

“I’ve always wanted an older brother.” It was a simple response, but gave Daeron the comforting answer he wanted. He went back to resting his head against yours. In your shared state of comfort, the both of you eased into a dreamless sleep.

You were caught in that haze of sleep and awake. There were no dreams, just an abyss of darkness that wrapped you in warmth. In the distance, a part of your consciousness was creeping forward. It spun into action upon hearing your name being whispered. You felt a light press on your shoulder and came to. Your eyes opened to see Daeron crouched in front of you. He shook your shoulder with care.

Your energy had been regained and you saw the table with the brewing pots to be on a low simmer. It likely had burned through the energy needed and made it so you and Daeron could wake. It was only when you adjusted in your seat that you saw Aemond standing next to the table and watching you with his arms crossed.

“Your grace,” You shot out of the chair, but in doing so made your head spin. You would have tumbled if Daeron did not catch you. One of his hands gripped your right forearm and the other wrapped around your waist with care. You blushed deeply with embarrassment as the flush moved across your cheeks and down your chest.

Aemond observed with a careful eye. You could see his one eye drift down to where Daeron’s arms held you and he pursed his lips. He had likely seen you and Daeron asleep together and wondered what was going on.

“Burning a candle at both ends?” Aemond spoke. It was a weird question coming from him; to tease you about working late. Daeron released you and walked to the table where his brother was.

Daeron gestured to the two simmering pots, “We are starting a new experiment that may likely be promising.” Aemond peered over to look into the pots and hummed. You approached warily and moved to the other side of the table to create distance between you and the two elves.

“They should be ready for testing on samples, your grace.” You spoke. Aemond continued to look at the mixture brewing.

“The flowers she brought back was a stroke of genius,” Daeron praised.

Aemond then looked up at you, his expression unreadable, “The same ones collected from the forest?” His tone bordered on scolding. Any words you could think of got caught in your throat and you nodded.

Daeron sensed a bit of tension and clapped his hands together once, “Well, you should tell him about your hypothesis,” You sent him a look of challenge and he reciprocated with a nervous smile. You did not know why Aemond was being combative. While he was quick to attitude, there was something that must have soured his mood.

You cleared your throat, “Well, some poisons can be used to counteract others. I thought the same could be done to the taint but it only worked temporarily. I thought, perhaps, the taint was not poison but some kind of dark magic. That is why we needed those flowers,”

Aemond opened his crossed arms and clasped his hands behind his back, “Smart.” That seemed to ease the king's annoyance and you were able to breathe.

“I must get going to tend to patients,” Daeron announced. He addressed you and spoke, “Keep watch on the brew.” The prince said his goodbyes and left. You wanted to reach out and tug at the collar of his shirt, drag him from the door, and place him right next to the table. There was an overwhelming urge to curse him out that overcame you. He left you alone with Aemond, knowingly and seemingly acted as though it was funny.

You decided to distract yourself from the tension and moved to start organizing ingredients and other items on the table. The piercing gaze of Aemond’s eye fell like lead on your skin.

“The two of you have gotten close,” Aemond uttered. You continued with your task, though you could still see him in the corner of your vision. The table between you two did not feel like enough room, yet at the same time, a part of you wished it was not there.

“Well, the prince has been incredibly helpful in teaching me-”

“I would advise against engaging in anything further.” He interrupted, “You best understand that elves and humans do not mix.”

Your brows furrowed and you ceased your movements. His words took a few thrumming beats of your heart to register. Aemond’s insinuation finally hit you. He believed, upon seeing you and Daeron asleep against one another, that feelings were beginning to bloom. You understood why he was suddenly so sour.

You were a human and the slightest notion of you so much as coupling with an elf must have been what angered him. He expressed his reservations about you being less because of your race in the past. It had angered him even further that he thought you were not just trying to go after an elf, but a member of the royal family no less. He barely thought you were good enough to consider a friend.

“Oh, no-” You tried to interject and clarify, but Aemond interrupted again.

“Best get back to work.” He gave you an uncomfortable smile as if hiding a tinge of pain and quickly exited the room. You were left alone in the laboratory. The bubbling of the pots became a background noise as the thrumming of your heart took over. You did not know why it was beating so quickly. At no point in that exchange did you feel scared or hunted, yet your heartbeat betrayed you. A heat had returned to your face and you shook your heat in an attempt to ground yourself.

You moved to stir the two pots all while trying to ease the unknown feelings budding in your chest.

Chapter 11: A New Ally Preview

His eyes narrowed and you could tell his temper had flared. He then stood chest to chest with you and raised his arm. You stood with your shoulders straight, willing to take whatever he threw at you. Cole would not have you act out in violence towards him. Despite having made incredible progress here, your record was not entirely clean since your run into the woods. If you chose to attack an elf – especially a council member – no amount of advocacy on Helaena’s, Daeron’s or even Aegon’s account would save you from harsh punishment.

As Cole narrowed in to strike you, a voice interrupted, “I hope I am gravely mistaken for what I am witnessing.”

☾⋆⁺₊✧ If you want to be added to the taglist, click here!

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#hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #dark elf #elf #aemond one eye #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond fic

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elklounge · 2 months ago

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Werewolf Lore Book found in The Quarry Game

Okay, where do I start? A few days ago I was playing The Quarry and trying to get screenshots of Travis. However, while in the Hackett House, I saw this book. I was curious if it said anything. Part of me wondered if it was just gibberish since the player can't really see it and it would just be for dressing the set and making the room look full. However, as I squinted I realized it said Curse of the Moonlight. I began to try multiple different methods to read the two pages of text. I couldn't find it in the game files and searching book didn't get me anywhere. However after some clipping and eye strain through using my glasses as a magnifying glass. Maybe this has already been discovered if so that's okay. I still just wanted to point this out. I am unsure which character was reading this. I want to say Chris Hackett since there are cigarettes present and the only other time I've seen them is in Chris' office as he smokes.

The text reads as the following:

Before the creation of the curse more than 23,000 years ago, the people of the old town, recognized the presence of an evil spirit, which successfully escaped from hell, broke all the spells which imprisoned it since the initial establishment of the Earth. Mankind had been struggling to fight and hopelessly defend themselves before the cruelty and the brutal behaviour of the beast. Finally, through all the tears and bloods, prayers and desperation, mankind lost to the creature and vanished. However, becasue of the vital impact and the destructive damage the conflict resulted, the Mother of Nature abandoned it from the ground, kept it in captivity under thousands of earth layers, for million of years.

The curse is supposed to be timeless. But unfortunately, some unconscious individuals summoned the beast with a deadly ancient magics and spells. Following the guide of the devils, they were forced to wake the monster from the deepest place that the humanity may ever know. Hence, every night when the moon shines the brightest, it will rise and hunt for human lives, as many as he can find, as much as he can fulfill the hunger through so many years, just until the sun rises to the fullest. And that became the story, which is then conveyed and spreaded from ears to ears, about this enigmatic forest.

Once upon a time, there was one said every journey is always full of unexpectancies and moreover, inevitable incidences. Stories have been told through centuries and decades, from villages to towns, from the elder to the youth. But not as the generations pass by or as the time fades, the curse has never been once broken. Whenever the reading is started, the moon will shine and the untamed creature will be released from your worst nightmare. Danger is triggered. And death follows.

Now, one is here in this place, reading these ambiguous is and wondering about everything. But he did not even noticed the wind has begun to blow harder and colder. The surroundings are frozen, not because of the weather, but due to one thing which is coming for the thirst of blood. The shelter is no longer a place to settle. It is now a deadly hunting area, dangerous obstacles, damaged constructions and mysterious blood stains.

In every step he takes, the traces will stay to wait for the beast. Like the last footprint he left during the last moment of his life. His scream will not be heard and his prayers will not be granted. He may survive but the terrified soul will last forever. His curiosity was the cause of the unfortunate event. And now he has to pay the bloody price and no savior would come to rescue.

Every moment he has now is priceless and vital. His life and the journey of survival depends on how he uses his last breaths. Which means now is the time that he needs to start to run.

My most insane attempt to read it which got me 2/3s of the way down the first page.

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eludin · 1 year ago

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THE CROWN'S WHORE | CHAPTER ONE

WARNINGS: Addiction themes, sexual content, manipulation, dark themes, incest (this is Westeros people), grooming, and possibly more in the future.

The Realm's Delight wasn't Rhaenyra Targaryen once Vyera Waters started walking and talking. She was unaffected by the sexual moments held within the brothel she called home and would often approach the clients without hesitation. The whores around her try to coral her away, but she had her father's stubbornness. She slipped out of their grasp and pestered the clients for their stories since most were knights, children of lords, or lords in general.

She grinned widely and listened with apt attention, easily washing away the agitation they may have had with a bastard brat bothering their fun times. She made cute and sometimes strange noises at certain parts of the story, dramatically reacting at the more messy bits. They laughed at her very open reactions.

The Gold Cloaks quickly turned into regulars, bearing toys, books, and whatever a little princess could wish for. One smile from Vyera and they melted. They proudly told her stories, not only of themselves but also of her father. They listened just as attentively when she shared stories from her dreams; of talking cats whose grins sent a chill down one's spine and who vanished and reappeared before your eyes, hot deserts with horses made from sand threatening to bury you deep within the dunes, or riding the back of a bird the size of a dragon with feathers made of steal.

Ariston Algood smiled as the girl flipped through her new book. Many prayed for the poor girl to be the occasional late bloomer. That was the only thing keeping her from being thrown into the beasts' den.

Just one more day, one more month, one more year without that light that shone from within her being snuffed out by scum who desired to torment and corrupt that light.

Yet, no Gods answered their prayers.

She had bled a day prior and was now dressed in provocative clothing. No longer the baggy rags she used to wore, but a dress made of thin, almost see through, fabric. It looked peculiar on a girl of nine name days. Only the worst of scum would find pleasure in the sight.

"Riz?"

He smiled and patted her head. "Thinking, squirrel."

Vyera rolled her and scowled at the words sprawled on the page. "Dragon, not squirrel." Her words didn't fit her cuteness as she pouted and patted the thick pages. "And you're supposed to be teaching me how to pronounce these words."

Ariston laughed and joined her on the bed. Books with varying thickness surrounded her and most he never cared to read until Vyera. They never seemed all that interesting. It was just words on the page. What good were words when actions could be seen centuries after the person had passed? Yet, she hugged them close as if they were a fine treasure worth more than the gold mines at Casterly Rock. She brightened up at the usual pleasures, like jewels and beautiful dresses and gifts, but books got a loud and vibrant reaction.

She bounced off the walls of the Whore's Blood Brothel with each book, eagerly snatching from any offering hand and pestering the person to read it with her.

Some of the married lords who visited bonded more with her than their own children. "I wish my children had such a hunger for knowledge as you," said the Heir of Blanetree, running his fingers through her locks. She had preened under his touch and giggled, like a dog eager for treats and praises.

Lord Broom sighed, "A whore's daughter knows duty and grace better than my own daughter."

"Such a pity."

None did anything to change her situation; not that the girl complained. She clung to her mother and the brothel as any child would cling to their home and their mother. A year or two more and that opinion would certainly change.

Ariston leaned closer to Vyera and looked over the page. "Where are you finding difficulty understanding?"

"What does this mean?" she taps at the word abomination.

Fuck.

He peaked at the book's name. Just as he thought, it spoke of the Faith. "Uh... Something going against the order of the Gods. Like, um... the... the Children of the Forest with their magic." Sweat gathered at the base of his neck. "Don't you want to read something else?"

Vyera frowned and stared at him. For a Dragonseed, she resembled her father incredibly close yet there were a few traits none knew where they came from. They knew without uncertainty that Narelle of the Whore's Blood was the girl's mother. Yet she carried traits neither side of her lineage granted. Her eyes were golden and flecked with silver. Her canine teeth were ever so slightly pointier and sharper than most. Even as a child, her features were already showing a sharpness no girl her age naturally possessed. Unlike either parent, she possessed an innate glow that simply compelled every man who entered her presence to shower her with gifts, praises, and affection. Some were less pure than others, but she paid little mind to those types.

Her expression softened once she saw whatever there was in his eyes. "No need. Tis' truly fascinating to read how certain sorts of individuals view the world." She paused, and added, "And don't worry about the stuff on bastards. It doesn't hurt me. I know who I am, and I am not everything that is written in this."

"You are none of what is written."

She smiled and pressed against his side. "Riz?"

"Hm?"

Vyera curled up and hugged herself. Instead of the girl he'd grown to care for, a child frightened off the future revealed herself to him. "The brothel master will want me to lose my maidenhead. Doesn't matter I am a child, he's gonna want evidence." She peaked at him through her dense locks. "I don't want it to be any of the others. I care for them, and I know they would never intend to hurt me. I... Please... Please be the first once my moonblood ends. I... I don't want it to be anyone else."

Oh, fuck… She… As much as he gagged at the thought of any of the Lords lusting over Vyera, it made painful sense.

Ariston was not that far in age from her. Only seven namedays apart. It was still strange yet…

He looked down at the girl who skipped up to him, even when he was running his hands along her mother’s sides. Now that had been mortifying. She smiled widely and rushed him with a hundred different questions. Their second meeting didn’t go any better either. Neither did their third. Yet, she cared for him, eagerly listened to his stories of his home, of his older siblings, of his parents, and now… looked to him for protection from any who wished to destroy whatever innocence she protected with a tiny dagger.

He had no doubt she’d ask any of her other friends the same favor. After all, he couldn’t spend the entire day with her. His pockets did not boast such a fortune. And yet…

“If that is your wish.”

He couldn’t free her from the brothel’s clutches; he couldn’t shower her with luxurious gifts; he couldn’t protect her as he wished. But he could do this.

Vyera Waters smiled. A waning moon in comparison to the usual exuberance.

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#got #hotd #house targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #house of the dragon #pre asoiaf #aegon targaryen x reader #daeron targaryen x reader #dance of the dragons #various x reader #reverse harem

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hearts4werka · 6 months ago

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Missing

Summary: it’s been six months since your sister went missing, everyone gave up on the investigation but you’re determined to find her no matter what but someone comes along the way… Genre: Stalker, missing person, thriller, horror, crime investigation, dark aesthetic, stalker romance? (We won’t know yet) Warnings: mention of dark topics that may trigger some readers (idk which exactly, write them in the comments) ends on a cliffhanger. Read At Your Own Risk! authors note: this is my first fic and ive always been a fan of horror and stories that have me on the edge of my seat so writing this was a pleasure. English is not my first language so minor grammar mistakes might occur. Hope you enjoy!

This is part 1 of the ‘Missing’ series!

Its been six months since my sister disappeared, vanished out of thin air without a trace left behind.

I tried to get the police to continue investigation after three months but they always say the same thing ‘she’s probably dead’ or ‘there’s no possibility she’s still out there alive’ so I decided to try and collect more information by myself since I believe I can find her and finally reunite which her after so long from being apart from each other.

A month ago on the anniversary of my sisters disappearance, I found out I have a stalker and it started to make my anxiety worsen which only adds onto the struggles in my life I have to deal with and a mixture of thoughts racing through my mind at once, I could feel myself loosing control and desperately trying to grasp reality at times, to deciphering what is real and what lives in my head becoming harder and harder every day. Feeling myself slowly loose my mind in this dark world I’ve been placed in.

My best friend Nora was helping with the investigation while the police was operating but when they called quits on the case, she went with them and left me to be alone on the case.

My brain refuses to believe she’s dead, she’s out there and I’ll find her no matter what. No matter the price I’ll have to pay

| - 🍂 - |

Im sitting in my living room after a long day of work, reading the front page of the mornings newspaper titled “Young adult vanished without a trace in the town of Boston” they ended her investigation three months ago and still write about her in the newspaper since they’re clearly out of interesting stories.

It’s full of conspiracy theories of what could have happened to her, there’s even one that says there’s a possibility she’s been abducted by aliens? I shake my head in disbelieve reading through that article. I call complete bullshit. People still believe in aliens these days?

Ive been through numerous newspapers and articles I could find on the internet but it was always the same thing, she’s probably kidnapped or have been killed by her potential kidnapper. I’ve gathered so many newspapers in the span of the few months that a pile is starting to form on my coffee table.

I push my sliding glasses up the bridge of my nose when a sudden feeling of being observed washes over me. My gaze rips away from the newspaper to try and find something or someone but I find nothing in the darkness while the only source of light is a single lamp next to the couch along with the moonlight pooling through the windows.

Theres no one in the room besides me and the shadows taunting me for still having hope that she’s out there, what if she really isn’t alive anymore? I’m ripped out of the spiral of my thoughts with a single buzz of my phone. Checking what it could be I see it’s a message from an unknown number, by the content of the message there’s only one person that it could be. My stalker.

Unknown : Still searching for that little sister of yours?

Looking around the dark room I once again find nothing, I gaze back down at the message and type out a response, the noise of my nails hitting the phone screen echo and spread around the space surrounding me.

Me : Leave me alone.

After the message got sent, I drop my phone next to me on the couch and return my focus to the newspaper. Flipping through the pages to find anything useful, I’m desperate at this point for any kind of information that might help.

Slowly loosing hope that I’ll find anything in the newspaper, one article in particular catches my eye…

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thebramblewood · 1 year ago

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That moment you find out the girl you’ve been seeing is famous - for being a 130-year-old missing persons case with an entire "theories and speculation" section on Wikipedia.

Previous / Next

Yes, I made Lilith a Wikipedia page because I'm just that extra. If you want to read it (I threw in some new information), you can find the whole thing following the transcript below the cut.

Real-time footage of Helena researching:

[Snippets of Caleb's letter echo in Helena's mind] I will put it to you bluntly: Lilith and I have been vampires for some 100 years. Faced with your otherwise certain demise, I chose to make you one too. You may not believe me. It will feel like a bad flu for a day or two; then it will feel like the heat of 1000 fires blazing inside. I very well knew it would turn you into a monster against your will.

Helena, thinking: It's just a hangover, Helena. It's just a hangover. Yeah, that crazy bitch bit you, and her crazy brother wrote a dumb letter to scare the shit out of you. But vampires aren't real.

Thank god Ulrike left all these fucking tarps. This sunlight is murder on my eyes.

Several internet rabbitholes later... [Helena scanning Wikipedia page on computer screen] Last seen alive March 16, 1918... disappeared under mysterious circumstances... seemed to fall ill... Tangled Vines... immortal vampires... This can't actually be her. It's impossible...

Lilith Violetta Vatore (December 2, 1891 – last seen alive March 16, 1918) was an heiress and socialite who disappeared under mysterious circumstances at the age of 26 along with her brother, Caleb Vatore, 24. Before vanishing, the siblings were poised to jointly inherit the Vatore fortune, home, and 100-year-old vineyard and winery. This was considered unusual for the period, as family property, wealth, and business interests were often only passed to women in the complete absence of a male inheritor.

Despite societal expectations, Vatore reportedly had little interest in courting or eventually marrying. She was said to have rebuffed dozens of engagement offers, much to her parents' dismay. However, she rarely turned down an invitation to a ball, and her baldly flirtatious escapades were frequently reported on in society columns. One such columnist wrote that she "bandied about in a bold and bawdy manner most unbecoming of a respectable lady, laughing uproariously, drinking excessively, and making coy conversation with every handsome man in sight." Some historians suggest based on a series of candid letters from Vatore to fellow socialite and confidante Prudence Crumplebottom, donated to the University of Britechester by Crumplebottom's daughters, that she may have preferred the company of women in private.

The Vatore siblings were said to be so close that one was rarely seen without the other. The society columns were not kind to Caleb Vatore, calling him a "poor chap" who seemed "nothing more than a playmate, servant, or lapdop, his role at any given moment wholly dependent upon his dear sister's whims." Little is known about his personal life.

In the days preceding the siblings' disappearance, Vatore seemed to fall ill. She sequestered herself to her bedroom, allowing no one but her brother to enter. On the morning of March 16, a maid found Caleb's chambers undisturbed, and Vatore's locked bedroom door was forced open, whereupon she was discovered to have absconded in the night, along with her brother and her finest jewels.

Various court battles ensued over the fate of the Vatore estate, and interest in the siblings' disappearance was briefly renewed when their alleged children materialized in the mid-1950s. However, the entire ordeal all but disappeared from public consciousness until the recent publication of Tangled Vines: A Complete Investigation of the Vatore Disappearances by journalist Salim Benali. Benali posits that the Vatores are immortal vampires who still live today, and though some scholars find elements of his research intriguing, others dismiss his argument as an elaborate, attention-seeking hoax.

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 story #simblr #helena zhao #story: hzid #as unbelievable as it may be i love the idea of the vatores being minor historical figures who should be long dead hiding in plain sight #helena probably should've done this before the party and saved herself the trouble #but to be fair i don't think she knew lilith's last name

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melodic-haze · 6 months ago

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Hello, this is gonna be a bit different from my other asks, but if I don't ask now I will forget and regret it. I stumbled upon your brat Columbina sample--don't ask how I managed to find something so far back I just have my ways, loved it btw-- and I feel like Sparkle will be exactly the same way.

Now Imagine having to deal with both of them; Each fighting for your attention while also working together to push your buttons. Columbina using her voice and Sparkle doing Masked Fools shenanigans. Only for when you snap and "handle" one of them. The other gets a bit scared and tries to run away only to get grabbed and "dealt" with too.

Do with this however you would like, I just would like to get this off my chest and written down to help me remember this somehow lol. May everyone reading this have a great day and pulls.

-🍎

My backlog wild as hell huh hi gang 💀💀💀 to this day I'm still impressed and flattered at the fact you singlehandedly dug through my entire page for all the stuff I wrote BUT ANYWAYSSSS THIS IS CRAZY I COMBUSTED.....

Tbf I think out of the two of them, Sparkle would be the one to actually scare more. Columbina would put on a facade of fearing for herself while in the presence of such a feral mortal, sure, but like little to nothing would faze her I think. Though this MAY BE be due to how she's a LOT more...durable??? No that's not the word, but neither is insatiable, smth like that though. She can take a LOT more than Sparkle can imo, so she eggs you on to fully snap and take it upon yourself to ruin her COMPLETELY, no holds barred

Granted, she DOES feel that spike in adrenaline, but rather than fear it's probably from the thrill of witnessing just how wild and barbaric you can possibly get in such a situation. Columbina loves testing you beyond your limits and yout patience, and she doesn't mind getting roughed up in the process—actually, she rather enjoys it

Sparkle, however, absolutely LOVES messing with you to high heaven, yeah, but even SHE has her limits. The moment she realises she's gone perhaps a bit too far, she shivers bc she KNOWS something's off something's wrong she should go, such dangers is NOT fit for a Masked Fool as her (not when she's facing it anyway). Realisation be coming in TOO LATE though, and she realises this when you yank her arm back and push her on the mattress after discarding Columbina like some ordinary ragdoll. She'd be LOUD just saying 😜

Though there is that sort of twisted feeling in her that makes her realise that holy shit maybe she DOES like being roughhoused and put in her place like this????? You're DANGEROUS right now......but maybe she likes that. A lot. Helps everything in her mind vanish anyway, cuz a little death never hurt anyone! 😊

Both of them do make a point to do this again though. And that credit where credit's due, the other person did well......though Columbina would probably tease Sparkle for her fear

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xx-lemon-drop-xx · 29 days ago

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𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓜𝓮 𝓝𝓸𝓽 ↬𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

⚠️ Mention of suicide, read at your own risk⚠️

Forever by your side..

- 2,020 words

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

It seems your father had just vanished one day."

Lilia acknowledged, the three of them sitting down with a big book in front of them. (Y/n) sat between Lilia and Malleus, face falling at the Fae's words.

The book was old and many of the pages where thin and ripped, aged and in need of repair. The bindings holding the book together were starting to wither away and most of the pages were falling out and around the table in heaps and piles. There were old newspapers, sheets, and everything you could ever imagine stored away in these books.

Malleus was sorting through another book similar to the one Lilia had in front of him, though it looked a bit more newer. Not by much though it was enough to see a difference.

“So if he just vanished that really means he was really able to make a type of portal to the human world before his suicide.”

Malleus lifted his head up from a tattered newspaper he was scanning, “Your father…” He didn’t finish his sentence. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He apologized.

“It’s.. Okay.” (Y/n) murmured, lips pulling upwards as Lilia settled his hand on her shoulder.

“You’ll always have the memories, young one. Sometimes that's all you'll need.”

“Yeah.” She agreed in a breathless sigh, and silence filled the room as everyone went back to sorting through the papers. By the time someone found something she could’ve sworn her fingers were going to start bleeding from the amount of pages they’d gone through.

It was weird, in a way. It was like going back into the past, reading things about her father she’d never known about until now. In a way it felt like she was intruding into Derek’s personal life, with things about the war he’d probably wanted to forget about.

(Y/n) had never felt so close yet so far from her father at the same time.

“I’ve found the address to his old home. Likely it’s vacant from how far out he lives. You and Malleus could pay a visit while I sift through more of these pages.” Lilia said, scribbling down the address on some blank paper and handing it over to Malleus.

(Y/n) and Malleus shared a look, before standing up. At the end of the table Malleus offered out his arm and she wrapped her own around it before walking out of the room.

Lilia watched them walk out of the room with bright eyes, shaking his head to himself with a smile. “Those two… We may just have a bride for the prince soon, Sebek.”

He said, looking over at the half fae hidden behind some of the bookshelves. Sebek’s eyes widened. “Master Lilia-”

“Oh these are so good.”

(Y/n) gasped out, taking another bite of the cookie. Malleus had taken her to one of his favorite bakeries as a pit stop before they traveled out to visit that old house out of town.

“The tea is even better. These herbal leaves can only be found in Briar Valley alone. And I assure you, they are most best prepared in Briar Valley as well. Have a sip.” Malleus said, offering his cup of tea over to her.

Blowing across the surface of the steaming tea first, (Y/n) quietly took the warm cup into her hands and took a small sip, humming as the liquid soothed down her throat. “Honey?” She asked, handing the cup back to Malleus, who had nodded.

“Honey and Briar leaves, with milk and a pinch of cinnamon.” He informed her, “A nice herbal blend, is it not? In particular this tea is my favorite out of other popular brands.”

“It is very good. I would love to come and have another cup with you at some point.” (Y/n) said, taking another small bite out of her cookie. Malleus’ green eyes glinted at her in excitement, had his tail been out it likely would’ve been wagging like a dogs.

“Consider it scheduled then.”

After a good while of sitting and chatting in the Bakery Malleus had taken her too, they were on their way again, walking through the snow, all warm and cozy thanks to a little spell Malleus had set on the both of them.

Despite the fact she couldn’t seem to stop smiling around this man to save her life she also felt the build up of anxiousness. Either they were going to find out absolutely nothing about her father, or they were going to learn everything about him. And she didn’t know how to feel about that.

“I would advise you to take a deep breath.”

Malleus’ voice cut through her thoughts like a hot knife, making (Y/n) look over at him in interest. “Huh?” She asked out in an exhale.

“You looked anxious. Taking a deep breath would help that. Or so I’ve been told. Usually I just use magic to dispel such feelings.”

A frown tugged at her face, and (Y/n) placed a hand on his shoulder.

“That doesn’t sound very healthy, Malleus. Those feelings occur to make us learn how to push and work our way through them.” She said, earning a low hum back. “I do not do it often. Or else yes, there would be consequences. I assure you, I do not feel such feelings often. I’ve grown up in a household riddled with work that would make most ordinary humans crumble.”

“I just want you to be safe.” She insisted, letting her hand drop from his shoulder. “I care about you, Mal.”

She could not see the look on his face at her words as she sped up pointing to an old house way off in the distance. Nor could she hear the way his heart sped up two beats too fast in his chest.

“You think that’s the place? It looks familiar, to be honest with you. Though in my memories it's a lot more… Cared for.”

“Yes, I believe that is the place. You know, if you don’t want to walk, I could always teleport us there.”

“That’s alright, Mal. conserve your energy. Besides, I wanna see if I can remember anything on the way to the house, you know? It’s been so long since I’ve last been here.”

The driveway was covered in a thick sheet of snow that went up to their knees as they reached the driveway. In reality, she couldn’t really tell where the driveway even was anymore. Malleus began walking forwards towards the home, trudging through the snow and (Y/n) followed afterwards, stepping into his steps.

The roof was partially caved in towards the back, the paint peeling off the tiles from constant exposure to the weather. When they reached the porch (Y/n) took a deep breath before reaching down under the mat and flipping it up.

It was partially mildewed and crumbled under her fingers, making her shiver in partial disgust. “If I remember correctly… There’s a key tapped onto the mat.”

The key was still in place, though it fell immediately off the mat when she lifted it. Picking it off the floor (Y/n) inserted it into the lock and twisted, opening the door. Warped from years it took a few good shoves to get it open. It gave way with a loud creak that had the both of them cringing.

“Ready?” (Y/n) asked, the smell of the house was musty, and she found herself holding her breath. Malleus placed a hand on her shoulder, looking down at her softly. “Are you ready?” He asked back.

“Yeah. I-..I think.”

The first step into the house was normal, it didn’t send her back in a loop of memories like she was expecting. All the furniture was still in place and the kitchen was directly in front of them, dishes in the sink still waiting to be washed.

She could still remember that night well. Her father was eating the meatloaf he'd made, and she was sitting on the table across from him in her little pink shoes with black shorts on and a pink t-shirt picking at brussel sprouts. He’d seemed so much more worn out that day.

“Daddy I don’t wanna eat these yucky things!” She cried out, poking at the ugly green veggie with her fork. Her father looked up from his plate he had been zoned into and gave a tired chuckle. Derek had a smile though it didn’t reach up nearly as far as it should and the bags under his eyes seemed to have grown darker by the day.

“But how are you going to grow up big and strong if you don’t eat your veggies baby?” He asked, reaching over and grabbing her fork, plucking up a brussel sprout with it.

Her father ate it quickly, giving a dramatic hum of approval that had her giggling at him.

“Mmm! Delicious! See? You might want to try them, or I'll end up eating all of them on you.” He said in a playful threat, leading to her taking her fork back and eating a brussel sprout for herself.

Her fathers gaze had ventured over to the window, peering out at it mindlessly.

A pair of fingers snapped in front of (Y/n)’s face, drawing her out from the flashback. Malleus stared down at her with curious eyes, filled with hints of worry.

“Are you alright? You’ve been staring at that table like it’s going to come and eat your toes.”

(Y/n) forced a stiff nod, hand absentmindedly reaching out to grab onto his. Malleus gave her hand a squeeze, “I’m fine. Let's go and take a look upstairs. I remember him having a bunch of books in his room.”

They looked up at the broken down staircase, and in a flurry of firefly like lights they were at the top of the stairs, Malleus steadying her body from the sudden teleportation.

“Those stairs were simply too risky to take. Now let us go, yes?”

She nodded, leading them over and down a hall towards another door, painted a light blue with some crayon marks of her childhood.

“I see you like to doodle.”

She nodded with a laugh. “They’re probably all over the walls. My dad said I was one creative cookie.” She pushed open the door, the roof was caved in and despite the fallen debris the room was as tidy as it could be. Luckily the roof had only seemed to fall in on the bed on the other side of the room.

A dark stain was on the rug, tainting the soft baby blue color a murky red. Malleus’ nose wrinkled.

“Is that…”

“Yeah..” (Y/n) trailed off, looking at the dark stain with a frown on her face. “How? If I may ask.” Malleus wrapped an arm around her waist, turning (Y/n) away from the dried mess on the floor.

“He.. He shot himself. That night seemed like it was all normal up until he did it. We ate meatloaf together and then he tucked me in for bed. Next thing you know there was a bang and a few minutes later Aunt Jen was pulling me out of the house with a little bag of clothes.”

(Y/n) shook her head.

Her eyes watered, and she forced herself to keep going, despite the burning pain in her chest. Like her heart was being ripped into pieces. “But.. That wouldn’t explain how I got to my world if dad was killed here instead. Or where his body ended up.”

Malleus tapped his chin in thought, “Unless, of course your “Aunt Jen” as you put it..”

Her heart seemed to stop for a moment in disbelief, making her swallow thickly, but her throat seemed to close up on itself at the mere thought of his words. They couldn’t possibly be true could they be? She looked over at the Dragon Fae, lost for words and heart splitting in two.

“Unless my Aunt Jen really isn’t my Aunt Jen at all…” (Y/n) finished for him.

#twisted wonderland #x reader #female reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst x reader #twist malleus #malleus draconia #twist lilia #twisted wonderland lilia vanrouge

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aedesluminis · 8 months ago

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"The Fifth of May"

The Fifth of May is a poem written by the Italian poet and novelist Alessandro Manzoni in 1821, in honour of Napoléon's death.

It's one of the most famous poems as far as Italian literature is concerned: it usually gets studied and analyzed at least once during compulsory education! Since it doesn't seem that many people outside of Italy know of it, I will share below an English translation made by Lorna de Lucchi (source + original in Italian here)

" He is no more. As reft of breath The heedless body lay at last On whom such boundless hopes were cast, Immobile in the calm of death. So, by the tidings, in amaze The earth is held, and with her gaze The parting hour doth mutely scan Of this great spirit ; if again Upon the dust of her wide plain, All blood-besprinkled, ever can The footfall of a mortal show Like unto his, she doth not know.

My muse, seeing him most gloriously Ensconced upon a royal throne, Was still, nor in the clam'rous tone Of myriad voices joined as he Fell, then triumphantly did soar To fall again and rise no more : Free from all taint of servile praise And cowardly insult, let me rise, Now this bright star falls from the skies, As one who piteous homage pays ; A garland on his urn, let lie This song which haply will not die !

From Alp to hoary Pyramid, From Manzanare to the Rhine, From Scylla to the Don, sure sign His vivid lightnings were that did Foreshow the tempest that would be, His winged bolt from sea to sea.

Is his true fame ? Posterity The arduous verdict will declare ; We can but bow in reverence where The Eternal Craftsman mightily Conceived this soul that it might stand To show the marvels of His hand.

The tremulous, impassioned joy Of schemes conveyed with master-art, The strife of a subjected heart Which dreamed a sceptre for a toy, Nor was denied the godly prize Before a world's incredulous eyes ;

All these he knew ; untold renown More glorious for the peril passed, Flight, then the victory at last, The pains of exile doffed the crown ; Twice humbled to the very dust, Twice gifted with an empire's trust.

He spoke : and lo, two centuries, Ranged face to face upon the field, Submissive to his voice did yield, As if to destiny's decrees : He called for silence, and then grave Judgment between them both he gave.

He vanished : idly passed the days Imprisoned in a narrow round, By bitter envy and profound Compassion, by the constant gaze Of hate unconquerable pursued, With love indomitable endued.

A wave o'er shipwrecked mortal's head Closeth, then heavily down doth bear, The very wave that in despair He scanned before, straining ahead After some merciful trace of ground In a vain hope before he drowned :

Even so this soul was crushed below The burden that is memory ! How often to posterity On deathless page he sought to show Himself revealed, how often then From his tired fingers dropped the pen !

How often, drawing to the end Of a day spent in listless wise, Arms crossed on breast and downcast eyes Aflame, he stood while thought did tend Towards the past, in yearning vain For that which could not be again,

Calling to mind the mobile tents, The glint of passing infantry The flood-wave of the cavalry, The storming of the battlements, The sharply framed, imperious word, The swift consent of those who heard !

Maybe in such deep misery His spirit might have known despair, Had not a hand divine been there To raise him up in charity And carry him to mansions where Breathes a more consecrated air ;

To lead him by hope's flowery ways To everlasting pastures sweet, Where perfect happiness doth meet And soar above poor mortal praise, Where in hushed twilight doth abide The earthly glory that hath died.

Immortal Faith, O gentle maid, Full many a triumph hast thou seen ! Write this thing down in joy serene ; Never on Golgotha was laid Sublimer fame as low as this, Never proud spirit bowed like his.

O Faith, from his sad ashes move All words of bitterness away ! The God who doth create and slay, Who doth chastise then heal in love, Will surely come to him and keep Vigil beside his lonely sleep. "

#napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #napoleonic era #napoleonic wars #alessandro manzoni #i can't judge the quality of translations as far as poetry is concerned but it seemed fine to me

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joleneghoul · 2 years ago

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Booster Gold! ...but a middle aged father of two.

I mentioned back when I made my Macromia Who's Who inspired page that I wanted to do other Time Masters (that exists in my mind) character sheets too so here is this man.

Text from picture under cut In case it's hard to read

Personal Data

Name: Booster Carter-Kord (He/She/They) Alias: Booster Gold Height: 6’5 Eyes: Brown Hair: Blonde/White Marital Status: Married Occupation: Superhero, Public Personality, Secret Time Master. Base of Operations: Vanishing Point, Metropolis, New York Home origin: 25th Century Texas

Powers/Abilities Legion Flight Ring, Power Suit with time travel modifications, Gauntlets (Booster Shots). Super Nova costume: Temporal Displacement

History Once a star quarterback fallen from grace, now a star studded superhero. His hair may be going white and there may be wrinkles at the corners of his eyes (that he swears aren't there) but Booster Gold is still (some of) the public's sweetheart. Through the years he has worked to establish a name for himself, a brand. Modeling, talk shows, advertisements, secretly saving the world— he's done it all.

During the first few decades of his time in the 20th century Booster found his place in the Justice League International. There he met Ted Kord, the second man to hold the title of Blue Beetle. From the 80s to the mid 90s the two were a nearly inseparable heroic duo, and when they were apart they always found a way back to each other. Their partnership became romantic through the years. Though, with the combination of Doomsday nearly throwing Beetle out of the game and The Overmaster cutting Booster’s arm off, their lives drastically changed. By 1996 The Blue and Gold was just The Gold…in a hero sense.

The days of Blue and Gold's brand of superhero adventures may be over but that doesn't mean the dynamic duo aren't still taking the world by storm. Booster continued his life as the hero Booster Gold and Ted shifted focus to building the brand of Lightspeed Entertainment- A videogame company founded by the two of them. Together they rebuilt and shaped their public image into a story of success.

Though none of that is as important to Booster nowadays than his family. Michelle Carter, his sister, found her way back out of being trapped in time leading to Booster spending his free time converging with The Time masters and butting heads with The Linear men. During a temporal mission to Daxam, he ended up saving and adopting a newly orphaned girl named Rani. With this Booster and his husband Ted shifted their focus to being fathers. Following the Birth and attempted temporal assassination of his second child, Ripley Carter-Kord, Booster created The Vanishing Point island that became the family’s home. Creating a life lived officially inside and out of time itself.

#booster gold #boostle #heavily mentioned in his history lol #my art.png #again if there are typos. sorry im dyslexic.#TM bios

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rollofleaf · 3 months ago

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Owlcatober Day 6: Alone

Nenio my beloved, I adore her and wish she had been more than a gag character with a horribly annoying quest.

Nenio let out a long sigh as she finally crested the top of the hill she was walking along. From here she could see for miles across the rolling grasslands of Andoren. She found herself a nice rock and sat down to begin her notes on the local geography. As the kitsune flipped through her encyclopedia, her finger caught along a page. The last page of her section on the Worldwound and the Fifth Crusade, a sort of author’s note due to her close involvement with the events. She paused to read over her own words.

“I must confess to readers of this encyclopedia that some bias has found its way into my heart regarding this subject. I have witnessed this crusade from its beginning to its end and I possess an unrivaled expertise in its workings, successes, and failures. Its Knight Commander, Hilde Shatter-song, is a close personal friend of mine and assisted in several entries earlier in this chapter. It is not the purpose of this encyclopedia to divulge my personal feelings, but such disclosure is necessary.” Below was a sketch she had made of Hilde and her companions on the last day they had all been together. She trailed an affectionate claw over the sketch, feeling the paper crease slightly. Nenio wasn’t normally one for remembering names, but those twelve were an exception.

“Ha, look at that,” she said aloud with a smile to the silent afternoon, “I’m getting sentimental, assis-“ The smile vanished as she glanced to her side. “-tant…” Right. Hilde wasn’t here. She was alone. She was experiencing an unusual emotion. An ache, the distinct impression that something was missing, and profound nostalgia.

She gave herself a quick checkup to make sure the ache wasn’t an injury, then searched through her bags to make sure she wasn’t missing anything. Everything was in order, but the feeling remained. Then an idea sprang to mind and she grabbed one of her many, many notebooks. “Categorization of Common Emotions.” Thanks to the volatility of her memory, she found it helpful to write some things down to easily relearn them if she forgot. She flipped open the book to the first page. “Hilde (assistant, aasimar, azata, commander of 5th crusade) has suggested writing down common emotions I experience to pinpoint unexplained feelings.” Looked normal. She started flipping through the pages, quickly skimming for her symptoms.

At last, she found it. “Loneliness: characterized by nostalgia and the feeling of something missing. Caused by prolonged isolation, or sudden isolation after long periods of being surrounded by friends. Hilde has expressed concern I may experience loneliness after leaving to continue my work. Remedy: spending time with friends.” Well, that explained it. Loneliness… It fit. Nenio didn’t like the feeling.

If time spent with friends was the remedy, that posed a problem. Nenio had moved on. She always moved on. She kept traveling, kept working on her encyclopedia, never stopping for long. She wasn’t even sure how long it had been since the Fifth Crusade. Would they remember her? Were they even alive? She could try to make new friends, but her attempts to do so after leaving Hilde and the others had all met with failure. Something she hadn’t yet determined made her off-putting and unappealing to most people she met.

But somehow, Nenio felt that making new friends wouldn’t address this aching. Hilde, Arueshalae, and Seelah… It was them she missed. She had grown closer to the three than she thought possible, and was desperately lonely without them. With a heavy heart, Nenio decided this required a true sacrifice. She shut her draft of the Encyclopedia Golarionnica and slipped it in her bag. She was going to take a break from working on it. Just a little sabbatical! She didn’t know where those three were, but she did know where someone that might know was. She flipped through the notes she had made on her companions and started walking east.

Two days later, Nenio arrived at a small village centered around a vineyard. She motioned and waved at the first person she saw, a young boy of perhaps twelve years. “Hey! Hey, boy!” The child stopped and turned towards her. “Are you aware of the whereabouts of a cleric by the name of Sosiel Vaenic?” She was prepared to give him a more detailed description of Sosiel along with a sketch, but the boy nodded.

“You’re weird. Mr. Vaenic’s up by the temple. Bye, weird lady!” He waved as Nenio ran up a hill towards a humble temple to Shelyn, searching around until she found him. Sosiel was wearing a smock rather than armor, and was hard at work painting a mural depicting some of the heroes of the Fifth Crusade.

Nenio called out to him with a grin. “Cleric boy!”

Sosiel paused. “That voice, is that…” He turned around and a grin broke out on his face. “Nenio, it is you! I never thought I’d see you again!”

Nenio nodded. “Yes, it is I. Customary greetings to you as well. I require your assistance with something.”

“Oh, um, of course, happy to help. We can discuss it over tea?”

“Would it be a social faux pas to decline the tea?” Nenio was quite proud of how good she had gotten at socializing with people and avoiding offending them.

“N-no?”

“Then I will decline. I have a question. Are you aware of the current locations of Hilde, Seelah, and Arueshalae?”

Sosiel let out a soft, exasperated chuckle. “I’m not sure. I think Hilde and Arueshalae were going to stay in New Sarkoris. Daeran and Woljif are closer, they might know.”

“That would be… Aasimar boy and tiefling boy. Of course. Thank you, cleric boy!” Nenio grinned and started to walk off.

Sosiel cast a knowing smile at her. “Nenio. You remember Hilde, Arueshalae, and Seelah’s names, but not mine, Daeran, or Woljif? Are you just messing with us?”

“Dear cleric boy!” Nenio whirled around and smirked at Sosiel. “I have a reputation to uphold, is all! Goodbye!” She grinned and ran off towards the north.

Sosiel smiled and rolled his eyes. She hadn’t changed at all.

About a month later, Daeran rolled out of bed with a yawn, gently patting Woljif on the rear as the tiefling slept in next to him. He slipped his robe on and stumbled towards the door to address the manic knocking. He opened it a crack, then all the way as he spotted a familiar face. “Nenio, what a surprise. What are you doing here at this ungodsly hour?”

“Hello, aasimar boy!” Nenio looked Daeran up and down. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact he was wearing nothing but a robe. “I have a question. Do you know where Hilde, Arueshalae, or Seelah are?”

Daeran sighed and nodded. “Yeah, more or less. I was there when Hilde finished her house, not sure if she still lives there. It’s… You remember Pulura’s Fall, right? There’s a new lake there, and a ridge just north of that, they live around there, south of the forest.”

Nenio nodded, jotting down the instructions in case she forgot. “Alright, thank you! I am unsure if you were engaging in intercourse or if erections are a normal aspect of your mornings, but either way enjoy yourself aasimar boy!”

Daeran was left stunned as she skipped off. He shrugged and glanced down. He needed a new robe, one that properly covered him. With that, he sighed and slunk back to bed to do as Nenio instructed.

Daeran’s advice wasn’t unhelpful, and it only took Nenio about a week of traveling to Drezen and wandering the newly healed Sarkoris Scar before she spotted a cabin in the distance. It seemed newly built, and had a large garden out in front. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Nenio kicked her feet idly as she waited for the door to open, and was soon met with a smiling Arueshalae. The former succubus was wearing lovely sundress that showed off her form, and she had let her hair grow down past her shoulders. “Nenio!” She grinned and pulled Nenio into a tight hug. “Oh, I’ve missed you! It’s been so long! Too long!”

“Succubus-girl-who-isn’t-a-succubus-anymore! Arueshalae!” Nenio grinned in the hug. “Your hair is longer!”

Arueshalae chuckled and led Nenio inside. “Hmm? Oh, um, yes, I think I like it longer. Now that I don’t have to try to avoid being attractive, I can make myself feel beautiful! Ah, come on in, please!”

It was still morning, and both Hilde and Seelah were sitting around a table enjoying some pastries. Both perked up and grinned as Nenio approached, and soon she was smothered between the three in a hug.

Seelah spoke up first, clapping Nenio on the back. “Ha, there you are! So good to see you again, sister!” She went in for a little kiss on the cheek that left Nenio blushing.

Hilde chuckled softly as they pulled away, pulling out a chair for Nenio. “What brings you to our neck of the woods? Researching New Sarkoris for your encyclopedia?”

“Actually, I… Am taking a break from the Encyclopedia Golarionnica. I am lonely, and missed you all. So I decided to come visit!”

Hilde grinned and flashed Arueshalae a look. “Well, we’re glad you came when you did because… We have something to ask you.”

Arueshalae grinned and leaned forward, unable to contain her excitement. “Will you be our maid of honor?!”

Nenio tilted her head quizzically.

Hilde chuckled and leaned against Arueshalae. “We, um… We’re getting married! With a proper ceremony and all that. And… No one’s been as important to us or as helpful in freeing ourselves of the Abyss as you and Seelah. So… We haven’t quite picked who’s whose maid of honor, but we’d like you two.”

Seelah grinned. “I haven’t accepted yet. Been holding off ‘till they could also ask you.”

Nenio quickly started flipping through one of her notebooks on relevant social constructs to check what this ‘maid of honor’ was. At last, she closed the book, grinned widely at the two, and nodded. “I would be honored to! Incidentally, how long has it been since I last saw you all?”

Hilde chuckled. “About two years. Thank you, Nenio. Thank you so much. Do you want to stay with us for a while?”

“I think I would like that.” Nenio smiled as Arueshalae got up to pour her some tea and fetch her a pastry. The three caught her up on old stories, she shared the progress her encyclopedia had made since she had left, and Nenio didn’t feel quite so alone anymore. For the first time in her life, she had friends and felt a calling to something other than her work.

#pathfinder wotr #oc: hilde svalksdottir #knight commander #arueshalae #seelah #nenio #owlcatober 2024

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