#need to channel my inner fae

[telephonedear]

i need to be a part of Yaelokre’s world immediately

[starsreminisce]

Did the ACOTAR books define what a seer is? Did they say what court it seers came from? or is this a mother given gift?

The only time they've talked about what a seer was right after the Twin Ravens attack, when Feyre started connecting the dots that Elain foresaw the attack. Azriel then said that she's a seer after her riddles became clearer. Other than that, it seemed very minimal because it did take Azriel a few days after Feyre asked him what her riddles meant for them to come up with an answer.

From ACOSF, Nesta explained a little more about her powers. She said that Amren was like her, not possessing any court-specific magic, and I would guess it's the same for Elain since Nesta and Amren were also Made from the Cauldron.

Like Nesta, Amren did not possess court-specific magic related to the High Fae. It didn’t make her influence in this court any less mighty. Nesta’s own High Fae powers had never materialized— she had only what she’d taken from the Cauldron, rather than letting it deign to gift her with power, as it had with Elain. She had no idea what she’d ripped from the Cauldron while it had stolen her humanity from her—but she knew they were things she did not and would never wish to understand, to master. The very thought had her stomach churning.

From how it was described, it's more of a Cauldron-given gift as opposed to being from the Mother since Nesta gave her powers back to the Cauldron but the Mother intervened from Nesta giving it all back.

“I gave it back to the Cauldron in exchange for the knowledge of how to save them.” She swallowed. “But a little remains. I think something else—someone else—stopped the Cauldron from taking all of it. And I made some changes of my own.” The Mother. The only being who would see the sacrifice Nesta had made and give a little back. Perhaps it was she who had peered out at them through the Mask. “What did you change?” Nesta rested a hand on her abdomen. “I changed myself a little, too. So none of us will have to go through this again.”

But I do think it's interesting that Elain started separating her dream state and her awake state after her conversation with Lucien in the library and how their proximity seems to trigger her visions. Last we were told in ACOSAF that she has received no visions and in ACOSF, her powers remain but, like Nesta, have not been mastered or even touched if she said that she needed to get reacquainted with them.

Lucien was not around in ACOSAF, but he started being in Velaris more in ACOSF from the sounds of it.

SJM does seem to like having a power link her mated pairs. Rhys taught Feyre about her daemati (and winnowing) powers, and Cassian trained Nesta to channel her Silver Flames into her attacks.

Lucien's reaction to seeing Elain's powers in action had exact wording when another male watched their eventual-end-game-female counterpart in a different light, so I wonder what Lucien felt when this played out and how he was the one who ultimately left to bring back the sixth queen.

Hope this was helpful! Thanks again for asking!

“The sixth queen is alive?” Azriel asked, calm and steady, the voice of the High Lord’s spymaster, who had broken enemies and charmed allies. Elain cocked her head, as if listening to some inner voice. “Yes.” Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

“That bastard,” Nesta said with utter coolness, though her eyes began to burn, “may wind up being the only person standing in the way of Hybern’s forces and your people.” She didn’t so much as look at Cassian as she said it. But he stared at her—as if he’d never seen her before.

[lunarxdaydream]

The list of the invitees seemed endless even if Norval was aware that it was not. But the number versus being sent as the deliverer made it feel long. Even if he had split it with some of the generals. It was true that Norval had said that for invitees that Balmoral held an interest in that he should send a strong impression. The invitations themselves should’ve served as such. However, he hadn’t expected the deliverer to also be of note, “If I should leave a strong impression, whom better than those of my council?”

Nevermind how much travel and folks to see in addition to their responsibilities. ‘Get it done’ likely would be the response given. So is the temperament of the Beautiful Tyrant. Unreasonable with a variability like there are aspects. But truly, his job was more front loaded unlike the rest of the generals that had to deal with security, guests during festivities and the Unseelie itself. So it was fair…but that didn’t mean Norval wanted this either.

But regardless of his feelings, Norval was the Herald. If his king desired for him to invite and entice honored guests, then who was he to argue? It was a knock on his titling otherwise. So Norval carried a languid grace as he followed the Marshall of Foreign Affairs. A grace not quite like a fae’s and not quite his vampiric lineage.

Upon catching visage of the ruler of the Novian Empire, he could see why his liege insisted on sending a messenger. He would not want to affront someone with such sharp eyes. And it seemed Balmoral’s interest continued to come in royals with a 'steeliness’ as Norval might put it. A look he couldn’t quite explain but certainly felt the Empress possessed. A resolve that was held within her. Resolve for what? Now, Norval couldn’t be sure. But if it were anything like how his king held it..it was a promise to keep all that was theirs.

Norval gave a deep bow in introduction to her, “Empress Violetta, I thank you for allowing me an audience. I bring tidings from the Unseelie Court. An invitation, actually.”

He gave small smile offering the letter, “My king wishes to extend the courtesy to open a channel through a more…enjoyable outing. He would like to explore a potential connection with a well-oiled expanse such as the Novian Empire. No doubt only so because of a well-versed overseer such as yourself.”

Ink flowed in elegant scribble across the paper to seal her command. A confirmation to what should prove to be quite the promising result for a thorn long left in her former’s side. Frankly it is a win to silence away the irritation over the attack amidst the festivities. Latest reporting indicated nearly all had recovered well to return to their tasks. Two, in particular, continued to suffer side effects but none need to know. Far as the Empire is concerned, all as reverted as it should.

New games have been scheduled to entertain the masses as they entered into the winter. Temples filled to the brim with gifts to appease the celestials whom have granted them a bountiful harvest. And surely with the coming year, a new shift in alliance shall benefit the people in ways to cement a new beginning for her rule.

Alas whatever task she had considered in accomplishing next is put on hold as Elias announced the arrival of a guest. With a wave of her hand, the eldest Ardell withdraws, tucking the approved order into the inner pocket of his coat. The echo of footfalls ring against marbled ceilings; hues of violet and black hang across with just a kiss of sunlight bleeding through open curtains to reveal a cloudless sky in midday.

Truly a suitable day to welcome the unexpected.

“The Unseelie court.”, she repeats as one leg crossed another beneath the gown. The faintest of smiles graced her lips before standing from the throne. Guards fall into attention in unison as she neared her guest, each motion elegant and fluid as one would expect of a ruler of her standing. After all, to be anything less than perfection itself is failure.

“How considerate of him.”

Bracelets dance upon her wrists as she accepted the invitation to examine its state. Scent of heather and honey rising to delicate senses the moment the seal is broken to reveal quite an elaborate sight. A Hunt, it says. All ready this is beginning to sound like a promising venture to explore. To celebrate peace and yet, one cannot help but find interest in the potential of witness what prowess the Unseelie possessed with such a display. An event to serve a dual purpose if she had ever seen one.

“And I suppose the flattery is his as well?” The letter is extended to Aravis whom offered only a nod in understanding to what his task for the day would become.

“Do inform your King the Novian Empire is honored and shall be in attendance, including the Hunt.”

|| @thewolfisawake​ ||

[pascalmode]

In The Stars (3 - The Inner Circle)

Guys I’m learning how to work tumblr (I have a taglist now, let me know if you want to be added to it;)). The love that I got in the last chapter makes me so BEYOND happy, and I’m grateful that people are giving both me and Asteria a chance. ily. Let me know what you think of this one:)

Az x TOG!OC

Words: 3k

Warnings: none, i think. Will az finally make an appearance in this extreme slowburn fic? who knows? i do. hehe.

Also posted on my ao3 (fortheloveofstark)

In a place dubbed the Night Court, Asteria had been surprised to see the sun rise in the morning. 

She hadn’t slept, so when the sun peered over the triad of mountains on the horizon, the female tracked its entire path upwards, unable to get her mind to quiet long enough to rest. 

Asteria can’t ignore what she’d left behind; Her brothers, the Realm she’d been deeply connected to since the day she was born over three and a half centuries ago, her entire way of being, and a war. 

She’d helped to start a war, and now it’s raging on without her. The Realm she called home, and called her dearest friend, would suffer the damages of it without Asteria there to heal it. Instead, a strange realm, a strange court, needs her help. And the Realm refuses her. 

Asteria had sent her magic through the house and channeled it down to the earth again, gritting her teeth from the effort as she did. She only has a small fragment of her magic left, a bottomed out, shallow well of power that she feels confined in. 

Feeling the bottom of it in a strange place made her want to break everything in the room, and even so, she reached out, and the Realm didn’t even dignify her with a response.

There was only silence. 

With a dagger in her chest Maeve had called Asteria the most powerful full blooded female on the planet. But she was wrong. Asteria was the most powerful fae of the Realm. Nothing and no one else compared. Her magic knew no limit. Her well of power had no end. By exiling her, sending her to her death, Maeve had changed the course of the war completely and turned it to be in her favor. 

The thoughts about the Fae Queen made Asteria restless, and she paced across the room she’d been provided so fervently that she’s surprised she didn’t put a rut in the floor. 

That’s how Rhysand finds her in the morning, knocking before he enters; dressed in a wondrous black shirt, jacket, and pants. 

“I take that you slept well,” Rhysand says, a brow raised and a feline smirk adorning his features, eyes tracking Asteria as she continues to pace, unwavered by the High Lord’s entrance. 

Asteria spares him an unimpressed glance, “I slept for seven days, Rhysand, I’ve rested enough.”

“Well then I guess I can’t ask if the bed was to your liking.”

“I’m sure it’s great.”

“What about the room?”

Asteria huffs, “It’s fine. Thank you.”

If she wasn’t in the middle of a downwards spiral about her own power and the fact that she’s stranded in a strange Realm, she would have told the High Lord that the room is the most luxurious thing she’s ever been provided. Asteria had been utterly speechless when she’d first seen it, taking in the silk of the sheets and the closet full of garments for her to wear. The blades she had on her person when she fell had been on the dresser, freshly polished and sharpened.

When she had been hiding some of her daggers and smaller blades around the room, the house had made a meal appear out of nothing, and when Asteria finished it, the plates and cutlery had vanished. 

Now, she has her beloved broadsword, a dangerous onyx blade that she’d named Querencia, strapped to her hip, a dagger sheathed on the opposite thigh, and Asteria had dressed herself in black pants and a navy blue tunic, both items found in the grand closet amongst others like them, as well as at least three dozen different gowns. 

She’d been sure to pull on her brown leather gloves as well, hiding what lay beneath.

“The inner circle is here, waiting in the office to meet you,” Rhysand says, hands clasped behind his back, “There are some things to discuss first.”

Asteria allows her pacing to slow, raising a brow to the High Lord, silently urging him to continue. 

“I think we should hide the fact that you aren’t from this world.”

Asteria’s pacing stops, and she slowly nods, folding her arms over her chest, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you are not the Realm Reader,” Rhysand explains, “Instead, you’re a seer, sent here on my request from Miryam and Drakon.”

“You want to withhold the truth.”

“I think it’s for the best. The idea of the existence of other Realms outside of ours is a frightening one,” Rhysand says, “One that has the potential to cause panic, and an existential crisis like the one you’re having.”

Asteria huffs a breath through her nose, a fraction of a laugh, “I’m not in crisis.”

“So the pacing was you being calm?”

“How about you get stabbed in the chest and exiled from your home after helping to start a war,” Asteria counters, “Let’s see how you react.”

“I imagine I’d handle it with my usual charisma.”

“And the deception of whoever you encounter?” The female adds. 

Rhysand sighs, “Asteria, I-”

“You’ve been in my head,” Asteria says, cutting off the High Lord and stepping closer to him, “You’ve seen my life, and you know that I’ve spent nearly every day of my immortal existence with someone else holding my tongue. So I don’t really care if your people have a crisis over who I am, or where I’m from. I won’t deceive them. I won’t lie. And if you want my help, you’ll tell them the truth too.”

Rhysand stares at the female, those night-filled violet eyes piercing her with something she can’t place when there’s a timid knock at the door. 

The door opens, and in walks a blue eyed, golden brown haired female that Asteria immediately recognizes from Rhysand’s memories.

Feyre Archeron, the High Lady of the Night Court. 

The Female eyes her mate, suspicion in her gaze as she moves towards the pair in the room. Asteria knows they speak in each other’s minds often, having felt it when she walked through Rhysand’s mind. She has no doubt they’re doing it now. 

After a moment, Rhysand’s lips quirk up in a devilish smile at whatever Feyre has communicated, and he turns back to the silver-haired female, “Asteria, this wonderous female is Feyre, my mate and the High Lady of the Night Court. Feyre, I present to you, our disturbance from the night of the solstice.”

“Rhys,” Feyre scolds, slapping the High Lord’s arm.

His smile grows, his hand finding his Mate’s back, “This is Asteria Relridaar. The Realm Reader of Erilea.”

Asteria eyes Rhysand, finally able to place how he stared at her before Feyre entered the room. 

He was looking at her with admiration. 

“It’s a pleasure, Feyre,” Asteria says, lips quirked up in a small smile as she bows her head slightly. 

The High Lady smiles, and Asteria decides she likes her immediately, “Don’t let Rhysand push you around,” Feyre says, “He’s more bark than bite.”

“You would know my bite, Feyre Darling,” Rhysand smirks, earning an elbow in his side and a stern glare from his wife. 

Asteria huffs out a small chuckle, she definitely likes the High Lady. 

Feyre takes a step closer to Asteria, her smile nothing but welcoming, and the silver haired female notes that they’re roughly the same height, “Are you ready to meet everyone?”

Asteria nods, looking to Rhysand as he says, “No lies.”

“No lies,” The female responds.

Following the High Lord and Lady into the hallway, Asteria lets her eyes wander across the walls, noting high quality, detailed paintings that she makes a mental note to look at closer once the meeting is over. Her pace doesn’t falter, though, and when they turn a corner and reach a set of elegant double doors of dark oak, Rhysand swings them open easily. 

Inside, Cassian stands near a expansive book shelf, flipping through a thick tome, Mor, the blonde female that Asteria had nearly sent through a wall, lounges on a beautifully crafted couch with a goblet of wine in hand, and beside her, another female with dark hair and a set of menacing eyes. 

Upon their entrance, the conversation in the room stops, and Cassian snaps his book closed with a satisfying clap.

“I see most of you are on time,” Rhysand greets, “An achievement on its own. Where’s our dear Shadowsinger?”

“Following up with a friend of his near the boarder,” Cassian dismisses, shelving the tome and crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Rhysand chuckles, turning to Asteria and beckoning her closer with a lazy wave of his hand, “No sense in keeping secrets. Our Spymaster is in a meeting a spy of his, I’m sure he’ll be with us soon.”

Asteria nods, stepping closer to the High Lord and his confident grin, watching as the females rise from the couch they’d been lounging on. 

Rhys gestures to the shorter of the pair, “This is Amren, our second in command.”

Asteria looks over the raven haired female, and doesn’t quite know what she sees. By sight, she’s standing before a fae, much like Asteria herself, but there’s something else. The way she holds herself, narrows her eyes and tilts her head as if trying to deduce things on her own, is different. Older. Both primal and ancient at the same time.

“You’re different,” Amren observes, making no effort of discretion while she scans over Asteria’s muscle packed form, blood red lips held in a knowing smirk. 

Asteria quirks a brow, “So are you.”

With nothing else said, Amren saunters back to the couch, sitting down and starting to run her fingers over the massive rubies that lay on a chain around her neck, her stare sending a shiver over Asteria’s spine. 

What she is, or what she once was, Asteria isn’t sure that she wants to know. 

Luckily the blonde steps forward, holding her wine and extending another goblet towards Asteria. She takes it, holding it carefully in one hand with a grateful nod.

“This is my cousin, Morrigan,” Rhysand introduces, “Third in command and overseer of our courts.”

“I’m also the one you landed a mean kick on yesterday,” The blonde says with a kind smile, clinking her glass against the one she’d handed Asteria, “You’re forgiven, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Asteria raises her glass in sync with the female, sipping the decadently flavored wine in an attempt to avoid apologizing for her behavior. 

“And you should call me Mor,” The blonde adds, “Welcome to the Court.”

Asteria swallows, “Thank you,” She says with a meek smile.

Looking back to Rhysand, Asteria realizes there’s one last person in the room. One that she’d already introduced herself to. Huffing out a loud sigh as the General steps forward, Asteria raises her goblet and downs the rest of the wine, hearing both Mor and Feyre chuckling at her actions. 

“And I assume you remember the General of the Illyrian Armies, Cassian,” Rhysand says, clearly amused by the silver haired female.

“I’m glad you had your fun yesterday, because it will never happen again,” Cassian drawls, a confident smirk resting on his lips. 

Asteria lets out her own huff of air in response, remembering how fast she had the massive winged male pinned beneath her. The corners of her lips quirk up on their own, “You sure about that, General?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cassian says, jutting his head up in a challenging nod, “Brave enough for a rematch?”

“Are you?”

“While that does sound entertaining, and we’ll definitely be heading to the ring to see Cassian take yet another loss, we have some matters to discuss first,” Rhysand says, moving to lean on the edge of a grand wooden desk, “Now that you’ve met her, I ask that you brace yourselves for her introduction.”

Asteria clasps her hands behind her back, feeling a reassuring hand rest on her shoulder, turning to see Feyre beside her wearing a kind smile. 

The High Lady clears her throat, bringing the inner circle’s eyes to her, “This is Asteria Relridaar, and she fell from the stars the night of the Solstice.”

“The stars?” Cassian echoes, brows raised. 

Asteria nods, Feyre giving her arm an encouraging squeeze before the green eyed female continues, “I am not of this Realm. I was exiled from a place called Erilea, and I don’t know how it happened, but I landed here, in your Court.”

Morrigan is the next one to speak, “Why were you exiled?”

“Sorry, hold on,” Cassian interrupts when Asteria opens her mouth to speak, “Are we not going to acknowledge the existence of another Realm?”

Asteria looks towards Rhysand at the General’s panicked question, his gaze declaring; I told you so.

With a sigh, the green eyed female looks to Cassian, “There are an infinite number of other Realms,” Asteria says, goosebumps flooding over her arms beneath her tunic. She remembers the feeling when she was pushed, when she was falling. Before she’d passed out there were flashes of other places. Worlds with buildings that stretched high into the sky and bright lights, others filled with with only ocean and civilizations beneath its surface, and some with no life at all. But then her eyes closed, and she was met with nothing but darkness. 

Then she landed in Prythian, and she considered herself lucky. 

“Travel between them, however, is impossible unless an extreme amount of magic is used,” Asteria continues, “That much magic is only accessible by one being in that Realm, usually-”

“A Realm Reader,” Amren finishes, fingers still tinkling with the gems on her necklace, “You’re a Realm Reader, aren’t you?”

Asteria nods, “Yes,” Seeing the question on both Mor and Cassian’s face, the silver haired female takes another breath, “A Realm Reader has a deep connection with their Realm, and is able to access its well of magic as well as their own. Realm magic is endless and capable of anything, including opening the door between worlds.”

Mor nods slowly, “And that’s what you did?”

“That’s what I was forced to do,” Asteria confirms, “When I was young I swore a blood oath to a cruel, and wicked Queen. She controlled every aspect of my life for nearly three and a half centuries, two of those centuries she made my every move, every breath, a living hell. It took those two centuries for me to summon enough magic to shatter the blood oath on my own. And when I did, I ran.

“I followed a friend of mine to a different part of the continent and entered the service of a long lost heir with a mission I believed in. She wanted a better world. I fought beside her, and called her a friend when the Queen sent her forces after us, and we started a war in the Realm. The Queen had an armada engage us at sea, and when we made it to the beach, she was there. She had a member of our Court hostage, and brothers of mine still bound to her through the blood oath. I couldn’t fight her because she had that leverage over me.

“I handed her the dagger she stabbed into my chest, and when she ordered me to open the door between worlds, I refused. But she had my brothers. So I forced all the magic I had into the Realm and when I opened the portal she pushed me through. I was the most powerful fae Erilea had ever seen, and the Queen knew she’d lose the war if I opposed her, so she wiped me off the board completely. I was supposed to fall through worlds until I died, but instead I ended up here, in a Realm that apparently needs healing, with a sliver of the magic I had before. 

“I wasn’t exiled for my actions, or as punishment. I was exiled because I was seen as a threat,” Asteria finishes. Behind her back, her hands shake, one holding the other’s wrist, and that fist clenched violently. Her story is nothing but a story. She isn’t the hero, or the villain. She isn’t sure what her place in it even is. 

That’s why she shakes. 

She knows all the eyes in the room are on her, and that they had hung onto her every word. They’d heard her, and she didn’t realize how afraid she was that they’d turn her away completely until they nodded in understanding.

“Asteria is under the protection of our Court while she tries to heal the realm,” Feyre says, making Asteria turn to her, seeing blue eyes lined with tears, “And after, if you want to stay, we’d be honored to have you.”

Unclasping her hands, Asteria reaches out her still-shaking hand, taking the High Lady’s and squeezing it, voice breaking as she whispers, “Thank you.”

“I sent word to the Summer Court for permission to work on the land, until then, we just need to know what we can do for you, Asteria,” Rhysand explains, his tone low, as if testing Asteria’s very wellbeing after her confessions. 

“To be honest with you, I don’t know that there’s anything you can do until we can get to the battlegrounds,” Asteria shrugs, releasing Feyre’s hand and speaking directly to the High Lord, “It’s up to me, and me alone to gain the Realm’s trust.”

Rhysand nods, processing the silver-haired female’s words, and she can see him mulling it over when Cassian claps loudly, making Asteria raise a brow to him. 

The winged General takes a step forward, “In the meantime, you owe me a rematch, Realm Reader.”

Asteria can’t help herself, giving Cassian a loud bark of laughter, “You’re on, General.”

Just then, the doors to the office creak open, and close with a quiet snick, the room feeling a little darker than it had just moments ago. 

“You’re just in time,” Rhysand cheerfully greets, “This is Asteria, she’s about to put Cassian on his ass for the second time.”

There’s a deep, throaty chuckle, a foreign voice sending an involuntary shiver down Asteria’s spine, “I look forward to it.”

Rhysand’s smile grows, “Asteria, meet Azriel, the Spymaster and Shadowsinger of the Night Court.”

And when she turns, Asteria is met with the most devastatingly beautiful male she’s ever seen.

-----

Taglist:

@bionic-donut @hollyismentallyillhelp @younxii

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

Okay but imagine a fantasy!au with a fairy!Jacob and Edix,whose still a catboy because he’s perfect the way he is.

Fairy!Jacob would have gotten separated from his nomadic village somehow,and after searching through the forest for a few hours,Jacob feels a pair of eyes watching him from somewhere,and the forest is too quiet for it to be his friends and family.After flying blindly to avoid whatever is stalking him,a giant figure appears out of nowhere and grabs him out of the air.

Edix stares at the flying thing in his hands that had really set off his hunting instincts and notices that it’s not a bird,but a (surprisingly cute) tiny man,with a pair of insect wings that were definitely not supposed to be bent and folded like that.

oh yeah, let's answer this prompt, she said to herself, it'll be a nice easy ficlet to tide me over until i can start working on my november schedule again!

7.3K words and 14 pages later, finished at 12:36am

--

Well, Jacob was fucked.

Although, to be fair, when wasn’t he? The fuckage typically ranged from being mildly inconvenienced when the magic he was trying to practice fizzled away mid spell to being royally screwed when he had caught the ire of a woodland creature who saw fit to corner him with its blunt teeth bared. Usually, he was always able to count on someone else intervening just in the nick of time to save his hide, though not without complaints. They varied from light jabs to icy glares depending on who had to clean up his mess. It wasn’t his fault that even now, nearly two decades later, he was still...well, awful at magic! That was the consequence of stealing a human away to be replaced with a changeling, even if the swap occurred during infancy. A human was still a human and no amount of spell casting and magical binding would change the fact that the species was wholly inept at being able to properly channel the mystical energies that came naturally to fae.

Nature versus nurture, Camellia had told him once, just because it’s harder to learn for you doesn’t make it impossible!

Granted, she was the very same fae who loved to watch him bumbling along through a spell until it ended in disaster before pointing out the obvious mistake he made twenty minutes prior, so perhaps she wasn’t the best influence to rely on. In the same vein, she was also one of the few fae who put up with his nonsense on a near daily basis with no complaint. He needed to be grateful for who he had in his very limited inner circle of support, which was a whopping number of two. Cam critiqued and ultimately taught through hands-on mistakes, but Angie defended him when others grew too irritated by his incompetence. Being a stolen child herself, it was a feeling she could relate to, the difference being she learned early on that a hex wouldn’t be able to hold any power over her if the speaker had all their teeth knocked out by her sucker punch prior.

And right now, Jacob was really, really wishing he had one of them here with him now...wherever “here” was.

It had been a stupid training exercise and he knew it was a stupid training exercise, but did he do it anyways? Yes, because he was a people pleaser and was way too eager to help when another fae foolishly asked him for help. It was a relatively simple task for any experienced fae, but for Jacob it might as well have been a suicide mission. It required him to fly deep within the forest, unaccompanied, and gather a small amount of material before navigating back to the colony.

The first issue arose with the fact that Jacob had zero sense of direction, trees and wildlife blending together whereas Cam was able to pick out every individual tree he would have passed eight times. The second was that he needed to go alone, which meant not only did he not have someone else to act as his navigator, it meant he also did not have anyone to act as his babysitter for lack of better words. He was easy prey, as he had been told many times over, both to animals and nefarious hunters. But he had simply been so blindly excited at the chance to prove himself as just a little bit useful to the colony, he was willing to ignore these pitfalls.

Even more surprisingly, the task was finished without a single mishap on Jacob’s part! It was a damn miracle, even taking himself by surprise with his lack of stupid mistakes. He had taken every precaution he could think of: he tagged the trees with a shimmering dust as a way to lead him back home, he ingrained every detail of every colorful plant he saw to ensure he would recognize it if he someone got off the path, he mentally chanted his list of materials so he wouldn’t forget a single one, even going so far as bring a remembrance charm to reference what each material looked like so that he didn’t grab the wrong one by accident. It was a pain in the ass, but it was foolproof, and it worked!

Unfortunately, he didn’t account for the afternoon storm that rolled in unannounced just after he had finished his collecting. Well, that wasn’t true, the storm had been hanging heavy in the air in the hours it took Jacob to find the exact location he was meant to do his foraging and subsequent gathering, it just wasn’t until he was ready to turn tail did it decide to unleash its fury. Had he been skilled enough to feel the static charging through the sky, he might have been able to redirect its path just enough to stay dry on the way home, holding off most of the drizzle until he was back in the burrow. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t, and as a result the storm came hard and heavy, leaving him little time to seek temporary shelter before he was thoroughly soaked.

He wasn’t stupid enough to attempt to fly through a thunderstorm, the heat of the summer making it twice as dangerous with the threat of lightening hanging overhead. The fat raindrops would have easily battered his body in bruises with how aggressive they poured down, a mistake he’s admittedly made several times throughout his life. Wings dampened with constant rainfall never would have been able to hold him up the entire trip home, regardless. Essentially, he would have been pelted into the muddy forest floor and risk being washed away or trampled by hurrying creatures also seeking shelter.

This was fine, though. No biggie. He had been able to stay dry enough in the tree knot he flitted into and the materials he had worked so hard to gather were still intact. As soon as the rain cleared, he could continue on his way.

Except when the rain did clear over two hours later, so had everything Jacob was relying on as unofficial breadcrumbs. The wind and rain had effectively washed away any trace of the glittering markers he used on the trees, not that he was sure they’d be much help at this point with the overcast still darkening the sky. The flowers he had so carefully memorized were also not as they had been this morning, soggy and dropping with various amounts of leaves and petals blown off in the storm. He tried his best to keep the sinking feeling of anxiety at bay as much as he could in these circumstances, but he knew it was a moot point. Even if it should have been a straight shot right back to his colony, he had no idea which direction that path actually pointed. Maybe if he hadn’t darted around like a nectar-drunk hummingbird while trying to avoid taking any serious damage in the beginnings of the storm, he might have remembered which orientation he was originally facing to be able to backtrack.

Which left Jacob here, more or less stranded in an unfamiliar part of the forest with no aid as far as he could tell. He had been out alone before, but never this far, just the same as he had been out equally as far with company, but never alone. This created a very unfortunate circumstance given that he didn’t know if it was better to stay put or attempt to venture back home, each with equal pros and cons in his mind. In the end, he decided to brave the trek back to the safety of his colony while he still had dimming sunlight to spare, hoping beyond hope maybe to unlock some dormant magic within him that suddenly granted him the ability to locate the magic radiating from the burrow.

So far, he wasn’t doing splendidly, and as the sun began to lower even beyond the clouds, he felt his resolve following suit. He was exhausted from flying non stop, but resting was too dangerous should he risk wasting any more precious sunlight. Every now and then he would call out, both to the colony in general or to Cam and Angie, in the hopes someone would hear his cries. When the skittering of critters and hooting of owls started to become more frequent, however, he thought it best to stop lest he attract the attention of something nocturnal and hungry. His only remaining hope now was that perhaps someone was already out searching for him as well given how long it’s been since he left on the task, even if he hadn’t been delayed by the storm. If nothing else, surely his friends were worried for his safety knowing his tendency to do poorly when it came to severe weather and directions. They wouldn’t trust him on his own, would they? He certainly didn’t.

The cold realization that no one might be searching for him made his heart sink further. Yeah, he was kind of a pain in the grand scheme of things, but he technically belonged to the colony as part of their changeling swap. They wouldn’t just leave him, right? They wouldn’t have purposely led him astray, right? No. He was getting too deep in his own anxieties again, thinking only of the worse instead of the facts. Like the fact that he was absolutely, without a doubt, lost in the muddy woods with no help. That was plenty about to worry on its own, no need to drag his self worth down with it.

Taking a deep breath, Jacob tried to steady his nerves while taking another turn past a tree he was only vaguely certain he passed once before (but was it because he passed it going in circles, or did he pass it when he left the colony? Was he potentially getting close?) yet no matter how hard he tried to calm his heart, it continued to speed up. Occasionally, the hairs on the back of his neck would send a prickle down his spine, and every time he turned around he would be met with neverending trees on a soggy landscape. Maybe...that was a good thing. Maybe it meant he was finally starting to sense something. What was he sensing, Jacob hadn’t the faintest idea, but he was certain by the twist in his gut that it wasn’t good.

So when he turned around for the seventh time to get a read on what was making his instincts go haywire, he knew the eyes shining back at him from the treeline was not something he wanted to fuck around with.

The surprise to see them at all was enough of a fright on its own, but to now have the knowledge he was locked in something’s sight made his blood run cold. They weren’t yellow like an owl’s or any bird of prey he knew, instead a rich green like a field twinkling with morning dew. It was a pretty color, admittedly, only it was a shame Jacob didn’t stick around to admire them as he turned around with a yelp to fly as far and as fast as he could in the opposite direction of those eyes. Much to his dismay, his seeker decided to follow in pursuit, at least that’s what he was assuming based on the sound of foliage crunching behind him at an alarming frequency. He zigged and zagged wildly as one of the survival techniques that had been drilled into his head since he was a child, a good way to avoid any lunging nets or mouths. In the back of his mind, he knew he was only hurting his chances of finding a somewhat straight path home with his unruly changes in direction, but that was a problem for future Jacob. Current Jacob was too busy flying for his fucking life to be bothered by the schematics of how he would return to the burrow after his escape.

As it turned out, future Jacob would never need to worry about what to do post escape as nimble digits were quick to surround him, crushing him against a warm palm as they closed him into a fist. He cried out, more so because the action squeezed out all the air in his lungs. The burning in his throat was not helped by the rush of bile he swallowed back down, trying to gulp in as much air as possible given the constraints against his hammering chest. Naturally, he tried to squirm within the hold, but he was quick to realize the hand that had snagged him refused to budge under his tiny struggles. With his arms pinned to his sides and his vision still clearing, he was powerless as the being pulled its limb back to turn him around and force him to face his assailant.

And of course, of fucking course, it had to be a cat.

Not a normal cat either, because that would be too easy, but a cat...person? He wasn’t really sure of the term they used, namely because he didn’t know much about them beyond that they were the combination of two very dangerous species and should be avoided at all cost. Granted, there were many dangerous species that should be avoided at all costs when you only stood the height of a frog and flew around like an insect, but at least fae had the advantage of magic and trickery on their side. Most fae, anyways. Not Jacob.

It was a little unnerving to watch as the slitted pupil in those emerald eyes expanded back to a larger width as the cat looked him over. It...they? he? would have been quite nice to look at from a safe distance far, far out of reach, the sharp features of lean muscles contrasting nicely to the soft, dark curls that framed his face, but it was the expression that was resting on said face that made Jacob tremble twice as bad. It was blank, totally void of any readable emotion he could have tried to use to his advantage to weasel his way out of this. The cat didn’t look happy, or annoyed, or hungry (as far as he could tell hopefully), just...unimpressed. He wasn’t even sure he caught the subtle changes of him quirking an eyebrow and tilting his head a fraction to the left as it continued to give his shaking form another glance.

“You’re not a bird,” the other said.

Yes. That was correct. Jacob was very much not a bird which cats were known to love to chase and hunt and kill and eat. Therefore, Jacob should not be subjected to any of those things, thank you.

It took a few attempts to make his throat constrict in a way that made the appropriate noises he wanted, but eventually he was able to squeak out his own affirmation. “N-no, I’m...I’m not.”

The cat hummed and Jacob felt his world skew in several dizzying directions as he rotated his hand around to a full look at every visible part of him that wasn’t concealed by his hand. The tan skin felt unnaturally hot, overheating his own clammy touch quickly which only served to worsen the nausea forced upon him. He wanted to shout out at him to stop before he lost the battle of keeping down the bile that still burned in his stomach, but thankfully the other did before he had to fight to speak up.

“Why are you out here? I thought fairies didn’t bode well in storms,” he said, seeming to finally have his fill of scrutinizing every detail of Jacob’s miniature stature. For now.

He gulped. Now that he was back to an upright orientation, he found it difficult to maintain eye contact with someone so intimidating. He could typically handle it in social interactions, even if he was being chewed out by someone for destroying half of their flower bed by accident. This was an entirely different ballpark, not only being glared down at by someone ten times his size, but someone who quite literally held his life in his hand. One wrong move, one wrong answer, and Jacob could be hacking up entrails as opposed to casting anymore spells. The mental image of choking on his own intestines as they were forced into his throat by a mere squeeze was enough to dash any bright idea of lying to get out of the situation faster. If he satisfied the cat’s insistent curiosity, maybe it would let him go.

“We don’t, I-I don’t,” he mended, not wanting to endanger anybody from poorly phrased words. Fae might be clever with their tricky bindings hidden in simple statements, but Jacob was never quick witted enough to catch someone in a contract on the fly. He wriggled his shoulders again as best as he could, uncomfortable beyond belief. “I-I was just running an...an errand. F-for a friend. I’m t-trying to get home if y-you could please let me...go?”

The last word of his request was a pitiful squeak, but he hoped the message was clear that he truly and honestly just wanted to go home. Nothing wicked or scheming, just a stupid, lost boy. The cat only furrowed his brow in response which made Jacob’s heart stutter.

“There’s no fae clans around here. Where exactly is your home?” he asked.

Oh no, Jacob was definitely not giving that information. Catching a fae could already grant a person a small fortune of power if done right, the possibilities were endless with a whole colony enslaved to a single master.

“That...is n-none of your concern,” Jacob forced out, trying to sound firm with conviction, though his eye contact still wavered with uncertainty.

Mercifully, the cat did not seem put off by his attempt at authority. Perhaps the other already knew it held all the power here and that Jacob was utterly screwed, because it tried a new tactic instead.

“What’s your name?”

“You can’t have it,” he was quick to bite out. Now that was a trick he was plenty familiar with, one he wouldn’t let the other try to turn against him.

The cat only rolled his eyes. “It was just a question, goodness. My name is Edix, because I’m polite and like to give people the ability to call me something.”

Well now it was Jacob’s turn to give him an incrediously expression because who in the fuck willingly gives up their name to fae!? Then again, it could be a fake name, a nickname even, but Jacob didn’t feel too confident betting solely on that fact. He was not going to be deterred against this potential slip up, not even to counter the unsaid insult that Jacob was being what was considered rude to the other.

“Let me go, Edix,” he said again, his voice coming out surprisingly strong. It was amazing what adrenaline will do to the nerves when they physically cannot move under the cat’s oppressive grip.

He appeared to consider this. “If I let you go, will you fly away?”

Fucking obviously. “...no,” Jacob lied. Edix wanted something from him, evidently, enough that he wanted the fae to stay longer than Jacob wanted to. After a moment of a silent stare off, one that Jacob felt himself on the verge of losing if those unblinking eyes didn’t stop trying to glare into his very soul, the grip around him slacked and the wrist tilted back so that he was partly laying down in an open hand. Open was still open anyhow, and without hesitation, Jacob sprang up and leapt off the palm with his wings flittering at mach seven to get him the hell out of here before the cat pounced on him again.

Except, the strangest thing happened. Rather than shooting straight ahead and disappearing into the treeline, hopefully camouflaging himself amongst the shrubbery with his green long sleeve shirt and brown pants, he instead felt himself continue to drop down to the ground. The speed from the freefall alone made his stomach flip uncomfortably, but the added fact that no matter how hard he buzzed his wings that he couldn’t go up, made every muscle clench with fear. The ground was rapidly approaching now and Jacob tried to flap his wings with all his might, the one thing he could do right by fae standards. With nothing else to keep him afloat, all he could do was brace for the brutal impact with the mud below, wondering if he would splatter upon landing or if the softened ground would allow him to lie in agony until the cat decided to finish him off.

With an oomph, Jacob found that he had, in fact, not crashed into anything cold or wet or bone crushing. The wind was still knocked out of him once again, enough that the sudden rush of going up like he had originally wanted had little effect as he gasped deeply for a second time. The surface under him was soft and burning to the touch, an all too familiar hold he had escaped a moment prior. Perhaps he should revisit the idea that this new ground wasn’t bone crushing like he had thought…

“Shit…” he heard Edix mutter, his voice rumbling around him just as the thunder had earlier in the day. Jacob screwed his eyes shut tight and tried to hold back as much as a whimper as he could, though it still slipped out. He fucked up. He didn’t know how he fucked up this bad, but there was no getting out of the mess he created now. Due to the angle of his fall, he was laying flat on his stomach with his back facing the cat, a stupid decision in the obvious predator and prey dynamic they had between them, but not one that he felt he had the strength to correct at this given moment. His stomach still hurt from the impact even if it had been softened, diaphragm sending an ache through his core with each labored breath.

A pressure settled between his shoulder blades and Jacob tensed, another whine caught in his throat that sneaked out when he grit his teeth. He could only assume the weight was from a finger pressing down along his spine, holding back the strength it would barely need to exert to completely paralyze him from the neck down. Or, he realized with sickening hyperawareness at the claws adorning the tip of each digit lightly caging him in, one quick swipe down his flesh could easily have the whole column exposed, ready to be plucked out like a stubborn splinter.

“Sh-sh-sh, it’s okay, just don’t move,” Edix crooned and Jacob listened, if only to prevent his death from being any more gruesome than it needed to be. After all, what else could the cat have in store for him? He didn’t give him his name, he didn’t tell him where the colony was, he lied and tried to flee, of course the other was going to put him through hell for those transgressions. Furthermore, he was still a cat, hybrid or not, and cats have always been well known to play with their food.

Jacob couldn’t help it though when he felt the touch move off of his back and towards the base of his left wing, the light touch of his nail sending a tingle sensation through his entire being. His eyes snapped open and with a yelp, he jolted to push himself up and far away as he could physically manage. Sadly for him, that wasn’t very far given the wobbling of his arms. “Wh-what are you doing!?” He gasped.

His sudden movement shook the finger away from his wing thankfully, but only a second later it returned to trace along the delicate film. “I’m just looking at your wing, it’s okay.”

It was not okay. Jacob was not okay with that idea in the slightest. He understood now what the other was trying to do; he wanted to rip off his wings for...one reason or another. To prolong his suffering, maybe, or to use them as ingredients in an unethical potion. There were several reasons people liked to rip off the wings of fairies, much like any other flying creature. Because they were pretty to display, because they were useful in a spell, because it hindered any escape. No way, he refused to let himself be subjected to such a fate, not when his wings were the only thing he truly had to tie him to his fae culture. He may not be able to grow a sapling to save his life, but he loved to fly!

“N-no, no! Let go!” he started to flail his thin limbs in an effort to gain some footing against the shifting hand trying to ensnare him again, “Let go! D-don’t take my wings!”

The poor little fae was roughly pushed back down against Edix’s palm again, the thumb of the same hand moving to curve over him and settling squarely against his back just as the finger had done previously. He was immobilized in a matter of seconds, unable to turn himself over or wiggle out from under the digit. With a strangled sobb, he focused all of his strength into his arms to push against the hold and be able to sit up, but naturally, it failed to make the other budge an inch. He let his arms crash down around him and dug his nails into the thick skin of Edix’s hand in an attempt to draw blood and make him let go through stinging pain. That, too, had zero effect, much to Jacob’s dismay.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Edix tried to soothe again while rubbing the thumb that pinned him down back and forth, “I’m not going to take them. I’m just trying to help.”

“Let me go…” Jacob sobbed again, letting the tears that had been steadily clouding his vision run down his cheeks. This would be the perfect time for Angie or Cam or the entire colony to come bursting from the trees to rescue him, any minute now. Please.

The strange touch returned to stroke against his wing, tracing near the sensitive base of where skin met dazzling chiten before thinning out into slender, translucent dragonfly wings. It was an unpleasant feeling only in the sense that Jacob hated the anticipation of what was going to happen to his beloved wings, though the touch itself wasn’t outright painful.

“Does that hurt?”

Jacob didn’t respond, opting to clamp down on his tongue to prevent egging the cat on in his search for validation. He didn’t want to lie again and risk any more punishment that was coming to him, but he also didn’t want to prompt him into upping his tactics to inflict actual damage. His silence was only met with more rubbing against his back.

“C’mon, honey,” Edix cooed encouragingly and Jacob tried not to heave at the sugary sweet nickname, “I’m not trying to hurt you, I need to know if touching your wing causes pain.”

He didn’t trust his voice to be anything but a choked cry should he open his mouth, so Jacob reluctantly settled for shaking his head once. Well, if he was going to lose his wings anyways, at least it wouldn’t be too painful of a procedure anyways depending on how deeply Edix tried to yank them out. Jacob just wanted this whole ordeal to be over, mutilation or none. The faster this was over, the faster he could get on with his next life that might reincarnate him into an actual fae.

“Really? You can’t feel anything?” If he wasn’t mistaken, it almost sounded like there was a hint of concern in Edix’s words. Probably because it meant he wouldn’t be able to have all the fun he was originally planning.

“I...I,” Jacob hiccuped, sniffling down a few more cries before they could tumble out, “I c-can...I can f-feel i-it.”

“But it doesn’t hurt.” The cat confirmed with a sigh and Jacob nodded. “Okay, that’s good, I guess. It means they’re not broken too badly then.”

“Br...broken?”

Jacob had no idea what Edix was talking about. Nothing felt broken. He fluttered his wings experimentally, though they weren’t able to full touch with Edix’s thumb between his shoulders. He tried to turn his head, eyes shining with tears that had come to a stop in his perplexion. Given the angle and the cat’s refusal to let him turn around fully, he wasn’t able to see his wings from where they were blocked from view no matter how hard he tried to splay them out.

“What d-do you mean?” he asked. “Wh-what’s broken?”

He glanced up, barely catching Edix’s expression out of her peripheral that twisted into something of a grimace. “Well, maybe not broken...I don’t see any tears, anyways.” His finger touched the left wing in question again and realization began to sink its claws into Jacob’s heart.

“What’s wrong? Wh-what did you do?”

“Your wing is, uh...bent.”

His wing should not be anything but straight, so hearing that it was sitting at a crooked angle was news to Jacob. It must have been why he wasn’t able to fly early. But he clearly had no problem going from point A to point B all throughout the day, so why had the injury suddenly occurred at what could only be described at the worst time imaginable? The only logical explanation would be that it happened sometime during the initial interrogation when Edix caught him, though he didn’t recall being physically hurt beyond the discomfort from his tight grip...oh. Oh.

“Y-you…” Jacob was shaking again, his fear renewed now that he had confirmation the cat was out to hurt him. “You broke m-my wing…”

Jacob wished he could see the expression the cat was making, if he was making one at all as that stony glare seemed to be his natural facade. He just wanted to be able to judge where these revelations would be leading them in the near future--if Edix had successfully worked up an appetite or if he was only getting started.

“...yeah,” he admitted with another sigh, “I think I did.”

On one hand, he didn’t sound giddy with excitement, but on the other hand, he was admitting he was the one at fault which, by Jacob’s standards, meant he was admitting he would be doing it again. He knew the cat must be able to feel his heart rabbiting against his chest as he started to hyperventilate. However, he wasn’t expecting to be shushed again, like he was supposed to be comforted by all things in the midst of this.

“Hey, listen, it’s okay, I can fix this.” Edix said, finally removing his thumb off of Jacob’s back. The fae didn’t have a chance to move an inch as the hand cradling him was already turning him around so he could face the other. His free hand that had been poking and prodding his injured wing came up to cup behind him, hovering but mindful not to touch the evidently fragile film of his wings. “Okay, well, I can’t fix this, but I know someone who can.”

The way he pursed his lips in afterthought did not do anything to quell the anxiety that gnawed ravenously at his insides. “...maybe, anyways. She knows a lot about tiny things like you, she could probably figure something out.”

That was probably supposed to be something akin to reassurance, but Jacob only felt his heart drop further into his twisted guts. So now he was meant to be handed over and experimented on!? For what? It wasn’t like the cat felt sorry for his actions, did he? Of course not, he was probably the type of feline that had more fun in the chase than the actual capture and merely wanted to return Jacob to full working order to prolong the fun before having himself a snack. It was only when Edix took a step forward was Jacob able to break free from his terrified stupor, frantically shaking his head and flinching away from the hands around him like he was being suddenly burned by their touch alone.

“No!” he yelled, stopping Edix in his tracks who tilted his head to the side again.

“No?”

“No, no, I don’t want to go,” the words were tumbling out of his mouth as quick as his heart was racing. His eyes, wide and shining with unshed tears darted around for any feasible escape that wouldn’t lead to his immediate capture and/or death. “I don’t want to go, I-I, I want to go home, let me g-go home--”

“Okay, easy now, calm down,” Edix’s gentle command had the complete opposite effect on the fae, leading him to brace a thumb across the little one’s midsection to keep him from doing anything too rash. He stilled almost immediately when the touch made contact, but he was quick to regain his senses and start fighting against the hold to no avail. Obviously, the poor thing was locked in a fight or flight response, both of which were impossible to act upon thanks to Edix.

He sighed for the millionth time. “Listen,” he tried, “if you want to go home then you need to tell me where it is because you aren’t making it back on your own like this. Otherwise, we’re going to Ylva’s place and she’s going to fix you up so you fly back on your own. Those are your options.”

They were not his options if Jacob could help it. He couldn’t help it very much, but it wasn’t going to be for lack of trying on his part. Bundling up all of his jittery courage as he could, he focused the budding indignance for this situation in what he hoped was a halfway convincing glare. He doubted that it was anywhere near as threatening as the one the cat wore so easily, but it was all he could manage with his shuddering breathing and tear damp cheeks.

“Let me go,” Jacob said slowly as to keep his words from wobbling too much, “or I’ll curse you.”

So much for not lying anymore to keep from making his impromptu kidnapping any worse than it was already going. If he had been a wooden puppet, his nose would surely be stabbed within Edix’s chest with the boldness of that entirely false promise. Jacob couldn’t even manage to sweet talk the petals of a weed into bloom half the time, let alone to any damage to someone through the powers of magic. Quite frankly, he never wanted to learn how to do those types of attacks, even though Cam insisted they would be for his own protection. If only she knew how much he regretted not taking her up on her offer now. Even Angie’s offer of learning how to chuck a sharpened porcupine quill into an enemy’s eye was sounding incredibly appealing.

Despite his best attempts at appearing high and mighty in the realms of magic, Edix did not appear phased by the threat that would normally have others clamping their mouths shut and scurrying out of fae territory. The cat instead narrowed his eyes in challenge and regarded him with the same tempered patience as a parent with an unruly child.

“Okay. Do it then.”

...that wasn’t the answer Jacob had been hoping for. Realistically, Jacob had been hoping for an apology before he left forever, for his wing to suddenly be healed, and for his friends to come take him home where he would never have to interact with this terrifying creature for the remainder of his life. Well, maybe that wasn’t wholly realistic, but he was at least hoping it would have made the other back off to some degree! Instead, his bluff was immediately called and the fae had no tricks up his sleeve to pad out the threat enough to make Edix reconsider.

He tried to hold out on the staring contest that was going on between them to make Edix crack first, but that simply wasn’t happening. All the cat had to do was raise an eyebrow during the uncomfortable stretch of silence as an unsaid well? and Jacob was a trembling mess all over again. Not only did he have the bitter feelings of anger and terror pooling in his stomach, he was also given the bonus unpleasantness of his cheeks burning with shame that he was unable to fulfil his promise, caught in a lie as soon as he said it. Was he really that pathetic that the other could tell he was no match no matter what bravado he tried to sell?

“Mm. That’s what I thought.”

“I could,” Jacob snapped.

“How?” Edix said with a light poke to the little one’s cheek with his knuckle, wiping away some of the wetness that remained. “You haven’t got any magic in you.”

“How do...th-that’s not true,” he tried to defend, cutting himself off before he foolishly admitted straight away that the cat was right. This could also be a bluff, a much better one, but one he should still take with a grain of salt. He grimaced and pushed the hovering finger away in favor of scrubbing his face dry with his sleeve to the best of his ability. It was only for a second, but he could have sworn he saw the corners of Edix’s lips twitch up at the display, like he thought it was cute. Gross.

The finger did move away, but not before Edix playfully tapped the top of Jacob’s head. “You don’t have any magic in you, not naturally anyways. Just kind of sprinkled over you. The scent is way too faint to have any real use.”

“You can smell magic?” Jacob wasn’t sure just how much he believed that, but it was better than the alternative that Edix knew he was lying right off the bat because he thought the fae was too pitiful to dole out any damage in the first place.

Edix shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, all venandi can.”

“What’s a ven-an-di?”

“Me,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing ever. To other creatures of the natural world, maybe it was, but as it was stated Jacob was not born into this world and thus had very limited knowledge. He didn’t know if venandi was the name of this cat species as a whole or just Edix particularly and wasn’t sure he wanted to find out lest he get himself tongue tied into something he couldn’t talk himself out of.

So instead, like the genius he was, he decided to blurt out the first thing that came to mind which was, “what do I smell like, then?”

Edix grinned and before Jacob registered the weight of his own request, the hands were pulling him too close for comfort towards the cat’s face. Despite his protesting squeaks, the fae was soon subjected to a nose pressing itself eagerly into the crook of his neck with a deep inhale. The body heat mixed with the soft puffs of warm breath over his body was enough to make him sweat, yet all he could do was shiver when the nose proceeded to rub against the fluttering pulse of his throat and down to his sternum. Each exhale was punctuated by a rumbling that worsened Jacob’s shaking purely because of the vibrations running through him as a result. If the deafening purrs weren’t enough, then the smile he felt widen against his stomach was all the proof he needed that Edix was thoroughly enjoying himself.

And yet another example of why he was such a pisspoor fae, he couldn’t even word his own questions right to keep himself safe. He whimpered when Edix moved to nose at the brown locks on top of his head, warm lips brushing against his cheek. The knowledge that behind the somewhat innocent smile were pointed fangs ready to sink into his flesh made him squirm to push the intruding face away at last. Edix obliged his physical plea to stop, snickering as he pulled back to see the burning bright red from head to toe.

“Honeysuckle.”

The fae swallowed thickly as he regained a modum of composure, “H-huh?”

“You asked what you smell like. Honeysuckle.” Edix hummed in thought, the grin on his face splitting open to reveal the fangs Jacob had fretted about seconds ago as a devious idea came to mind. “I wonder if you taste like honeysuckle, too?”

The color that had tinted Jacob’s cheeks drained absurdly fast at the mention of being sampled, a littering of freckles standing out against the newly paled skin that Edix had never noticed until the fae was inches from his face. The fear stricken expression made the cat laugh again, but Jacob couldn’t find it in him to get huffy about his legitimate fears of being consumed being played off as a joke, not when those teeth were still so close to nipping his flesh.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding…” the cat relented.

Except he wasn’t kidding when he let a beat of silence lower Jacob’s guard just enough to dart forward and swipe his tongue up the little thing’s cheek and through his hair.

Jacob let out a very unflattering squeal, a mixture of terror and disgust that came with the fact he had just been licked of all things. Thankfully, the partly coarse tongue meant it wasn’t saturated in saliva, but that didn’t stop him from trying to wipe the feeling off of him like he would wipe it from his memory all the same. Fucking hell, that was gross. Would only be worse if the mouth was still dripping with the blood and viscera of Jacob’s remains after he chomped him down in two bites.

Now, Edix seemed to have had his fun in giving Jacob as many heart attacks as he could in a single setting, cooing in mock disappointment as the fae tried to wipe off the remnants of his markings. “Oh, it wasn’t that bad.”

“I don’t like that,” Jacob shot back with a shiver.

“Well, if you do anything often enough, you get used to it,” at last, Edix lowered his hands a respectable distance away from his face to give Jacob some breathing room, “Just throwing that out there.”

Jacob shifted around between his hands, uncomfortable at the notion this would potentially be a reoccurring thing. How long would these teasing tastes last before the hunger overtook? Was he simply going to be a snack for the road, something to lick and suck on like a candy before he was eventually chewed up? The cat must have noticed his creeping anxieties because he rubbed his thumb against the cheek he had just licked, as if he was trying to help rub away the feeling of unease he caused, Jacob let him, only because he found he didn’t have much strength left to consistently fight the other over everything. In the end, Edix was always going to get his way.

“It’s just a day’s trip away, I promise,” Edix spoke up, suddenly reminding Jacob of the conundrum he was in in the first place. His wing, getting it fixed, the ‘friend’ who would either end up doing more harm than good or making him right as rain. “We’ll get you back home before you know it.”

Jacob very much doubted that.

[deltas-writing-corner]

Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

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AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.

[starbornvalkyrie]

the gift [an elucien one shot]

a/n: hellooooo friends. this lil number here was born of a morning discussion about pegging with @vanserrasvalkyrie​ @oversizedbats​ @vmiae​ @ladyvanserra​ @illyrianvalkyrie​ @booksandlewks​ @arielle-reads​ and @nina-zcnik​. you know, normal things. don’t worry, there are no acosf spoilers! this is pure filth, so i hope y’all like it lol enjoy!

content warning: hella explicit sexual content. obviously.

Celebrating Winter Solstice at Feyre and Rhysand’s riverside estate has been tradition for as long as Elain could remember. Ever since it was built, they celebrated here. Even after she officially moved to the Spring Court with Lucien on the other side of Prythian, she still came back to celebrate with her sisters and their growing families.

It was hard at first, being so far away from them. She missed them terribly, but at least she knew she could see them whenever she wanted. She’s been so happy being close to her sisters again, especially knowing that they’ll have centuries to grow together.

These last few weeks, however, didn’t leave her with much time to miss them. Ever since her mating ceremony to Lucien, they haven’t spent much time outside their manor, let alone their bedroom. Almost a month later, and Elain is still itching for gifts to be exchanged and dinner to be eaten, so that she can take her mate to bed. 

From where she sat alone on the bay window, Elain felt a tug on the bond deep in her heart, and immediately sought her mate out in the crowded sitting room of Feyre’s home. He had just moved to the bar cart to refill his drink, a reprieve from whatever conversation he had been having with Cassian about the latest Illyrian training regiment. Elain rarely knew a word coming from the Illyrian’s mouth. Most of the time she only smiles and nods until she’s able to step away politely. A quick scan of the room showed her that Cassian had returned to Nesta’s side.

Returning her attention to Lucien, her blush deepened when she caught his eye, a knowing smirk gracing his lips. He knows what she has been fantasizing about from the moment they left the comfort of their bed in the guest wing. She merely cocked her head to the side. The picture of feigned innocence. Lucien narrowed his eyes as though to say, Challenge accepted. He crossed his arms and brought a hand to his chin. An innocent gesture until he flicked his tongue against the pad of his thumb, pretending to wipe something away from his bottom lip.

Elain almost regretted forgoing her undergarments as she clenched her crossed legs tighter, knowing the action is futile in the presence of High Fae and skilled soldiers, but either her family is far too drunk already or have chosen to ignore the scent she’s sure to be releasing. No matter, she supposed. They all deserved it for their own newly-mated episodes. Elain felt Lucien’s chuckle and turned to glare at him before Mor exclaimed, “Rhys! Presents! Now!” Elain laughed as Rhysand rolled her eyes, grateful for the distraction from her own arousal.

With a wave of his hand, the presents appeared before the roaring fireplace. One by one, they were distributed, and Elain watched with a smile on her face. She was watching Nyx play with his new training dagger from Azriel when a present and a card appeared on her lap. She knew without looking up that it was her mate in front of her.

“I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts until later,” she accused, cheeks reddening once again as she remembered what they had promised.

Lucien sat down and effortlessly pulled her sideways onto his lap. “It’s not from me. It’s from my… father.” Elain looked into his russet eye, finding the emotion within that came from acknowledging Helion as his father. She cupped a hand to his face and gave him a quick kiss, just because she could. “I’m not sure where he ran off to, but he told me we need to open it together.” Needing no further explanation, Elain tore into the white and gold wrapping paper, as Lucien read the card to her. “For fun,” was all it said.

Together, they lifted the lid of the box. Elain gasped and Lucien choked as they beheld a variety of gadgets to use in the bedroom to play. There was every toy Elain could think of, but her attention snagged on one particular device. Her eyes traveled along the straps and buckles until they reached the attached appendage. She looked at her mate, his metal eye whirring. No doubt he knew exactly what she was thinking before she had to say it. “Can I…” She swallowed, her voice thick with arousal. “Would you be okay with this?”

Lucien licked his lips and whispered, “Do your worst, Flower.” Elain exhaled through her nostrils, imagining her mate on his knees in front of her, his face buried in the pillows and silks of their bed. She bit her lip and involuntarily rocked her hips on his hardening length. Lucien hissed and gripped her tighter by the waist. “We still need to eat dinner, my love.” He leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear, “But my Solstice present to you is letting you do whatever you want to me tonight.”

Elain shot up from his lap, leaving him laughing behind her. She sought out Nuala and Cerridwen to see if they needed help completing dinner. They told her it would only be a few moments, but she helped them anyway.

Dinner was the usual, Nyx throwing food at his Uncle Cassian, Nesta scolding Cassian for throwing food back. Amren ignoring Mor’s bargain for her jewelry. Feyre and Rhys talking mind to mind as though they think no one knows they’re actually fucking in there at inappropriate times. Like at the dinner table. But Elain didn’t care because she kept stealing glances at Lucien, her mate staring at her right back.

As soon as they were done eating, Elain bid a quick farewell, pulling Lucien behind her. She ignored the cheering that came from Rhysand and Cassian. She was beyond caring at this point. That primal need to take her mate wherever and whenever was still strong. When they reached their room on the far end of the estate, Elain wasted no time pushing her mate against the door and claiming his mouth with hers.

Lucien’s gift to her was for her to take charge, and that was exactly what she planned to do. She reached between them to his belt, pulling it free without breaking the connection of their lips. She palmed him through his trousers, eliciting a groan from both of them. He was already hard, already ready for her.

Next came the buttons of his shirt. Elain began at the top, trailing kisses down his neck, lingering on the wild pulse beneath his skin. With each pop of a button, her lips moved lower and lower. She traced her tongue along the ridges of his chiseled abs. Elain straightened and removed his shirt before pulling him towards the bed.

The bed was already equipped with leather straps tied to the headboard, set up earlier when she excused herself to freshen up. Lucien looked from the bed to Elain, eyes wide with confusion--and need. Elain only pushed him to lay down on the bed and said, “Happy Solstice, Lucien.”

Once he was settled in the center of the bed, Elain straddled him, hissing as her bare center made contact with his chiseled abdomen, her dress pooling around her. As she made quick work of the straps around his wrists, Lucien growled, “Were you not wearing underwear all night, Elain?” He growled as she nodded in confirmation. “Take off your dress, love,” he commanded.

But Elain wasn't having that.

“Uh uh,” she tutted, lifting herself to her knees. “No talking.” She silenced him completely, gripping the headboard with one hand, her dress in the other so that she could sit on his face. Her mate didn’t hesitate, plunging his tongue deep into her molten core. Elain didn't bother suppressing her moans as he devoured her like a starved man. She rocked back and forth, the feel of his mouth on her igniting the fire in her veins.

Elain ground harder, chasing the release that was already so close after a night of teasing. Her mate must have known she was already on the precipice of falling because he sped up his ministrations.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she panted, “Make me come, Lucien, I need to come.” He made a long swipe of his tongue from her ass to her clit, nipping at her sensitive nub with his teeth. The pain mixed with pleasure sent her crashing over the edge. She screamed through her release, but Lucien’s tongue never stopped helping her ride the wave.

Breathing heavy, she climbed down and kissed him deeply, groaning as she tasted herself on his lips. Already, she was wanting more, aching to be filled. She adjusted her hips until she felt his rock hard length against her entrance. Supporting herself with her arms, she stared down into her mate’s russet eye as she sank down, down, down, filling her completely with his cock. They both groaned in pleasure, the bond between them lit with the wanton need for each other.

Seeing his eye filled with molten desire only for her, Elain couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him again as she moved her hips up and down, faster and faster. Every slip in and out of her molten channel elicited wanton noises from her throat. “Elain, fuck,” he breathed as she used her inner muscles to clench tight around his cock.

She sat up again, bracing herself with his hands on his solid chest. Despite his hands being tied, Lucien still bent his knees to pound up into her, meeting her thrust for thrust. She cried out when he hit that particular spot that had never been hit before she found her mate. Without breaking rhythm, she finally shed her dress, throwing it haphazardly to the floor.

Lucien’s metal eye whirred, taking in every detail of her perfect, cream skin. Elain reached over to their new box of goodies and returned with a small device that vibrated in her hand. Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she brought the toy to where they were still joined, still moving. She could hardly describe the sensation that came when the vibrations made contact with her clit, her screams filling the room as her body tensed with her release. “Elain!” Lucien roared as he followed her into the abyss, filling her with his seed. Lucien struggled against his bonds, squirming against Elain as she held that vibrating device between them until she could no longer handle it.

Elain collapsed next to Lucien, breathing hard and groaning at the emptiness she felt. “That was…” she trailed off.

“Amazing,” her mate finished for her, breathing just as heavily.

Elain propped herself up on an elbow and leaned forward to claim Lucien’s lips with her own. Through their kiss, she could feel all the love he felt for her and channeled it right back. His tongue demanded entrance and she happily obliged, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. They were a clash of tongues and teeth until Elain reached up and undid the straps restraining her mate.

But before he could grab her and pull her close like he so desperately wanted, she grabbed his wrists and whispered, “Did you think I was done with you already?” Without waiting for a response she climbed off the bed, commanding him to get on his hands on his knees. He raised his brow at her, but listened. He moved slowly, she noticed with no small amount of pleasure.

She felt powerful, taking what she wanted from him. They are equals in every way, including in their bed, but the feeling of being in control of each move has caused her to be aroused all over again. Elain reached for the box from Helion, feeling Lucien watching her as she lifted that contraption of straps and buckles. She made quick work of securing it to her waist before climbing behind her mate on the bed.

Using a tube of lubricant she found in the box, she lathered the rubber length, and then used her finger to tease Lucien’s rear end. He stiffened at first, but didn’t pull away as she inched the tip of her finger in. Lucien moaned, and Elain told him, “Let me know if this is too much, okay?” Lucien nodded and pushed back on her fingers. After pumping one in a few times, she added a second--and then a third. “Are you ready?” she asked, removing her fingers.

Lucien lifted up on his arms and looked over his shoulder at Elain as she lined himself up to his back entrance. She made eye contact with him, waiting for him to give permission. She may be in charge here, but she wasn’t going to go any farther if he didn’t want to.

But her mate, her wonderful, sexy mate said, “Fuck me, Elain.” And so she did.

Guiding herself in, she went slowly at first, stopping when Lucien dropped to his elbows when his ass snapped around the head of rubber. He was panting, so she stayed still, searing this image of her mate on his knees before her into her mind. After a few seconds, Lucien adjusted and pushed back, urging her on.

She pushed in more, more, more until she was buried all the way to the hilt in her mate’s fine ass. “How does it feel?” she asked.

“Full,” he laughed, then moaned from the movement. “But… I think I like it.” He looked over his shoulder and repeated his words from before. “Do your worst, flower.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She pulled out almost all the way and pushed back in, faster this time, again and again until she found a pounding rhythm. Her earlier vision came to life as Lucien yelled into the pillows, clenching the soft sheets in his fists.

Powerful--this was power. She gripped her mate’s hips and increased her speed, snapping her hips against his. Elain leaned forward and pressed kisses to his spine, the way he likes to do to her. In this position, she formed a wicked idea in her head and reached around his body. Finding his cock, unsurprised to discover it’s hard again, she worked him with her hand as she fucked him from behind.

Lucien’s screams intensified as he approached his impending orgasm. She grabbed a fistful of his red hair, forcing his back to bend. “Do you want to come, my love?” He grunted in response, but she said, “I need to hear you say it.”

Lucien turned his head to the side against her grip, panting, “Please, Elain. I need to come.” He locked eyes with her, his pupil dilated further than she’s ever seen. “Please.”

Satisfied, Elain cupped his balls and squeezed before stroking him again in time with her thrusts. In no time, she felt Lucien’s body seized beneath her, spilling his seed onto the sheets with a groan. She milked his cock with her hand until she was finished and pulled out, eliciting a strained moan from her mate. She let go of his hair so that he could until he could collapse on his stomach, careful to avoid the puddle of fluid left behind.

Quickly removing the strapped contraption, Elain joined her mate on the bed, happily falling into his outstretched arms. She peppered his face with kisses to coax him down from his high. Eventually, he opened his eyes, the metal whirring as his brain tried to function once more.

“Good?” she asked demurely.

“We’re doing that again,” he growled.

And two more times that night, they did. When they were finally satiated for the time being, Elain fell asleep in her mate’s arms as he whispered, “I love you,” against her hair.

---

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[kingandfireheart]

What is it that you want, Elain?

Summary: This story is about Elain and Azriel talking about the events of the bonus scene and Elain processing her progress in the Night Court. There isn't much resolution, but it was fun to get into Elain's head for a little.

Words: 2,500ish

My money would be on you happens before this - if you're interested in seeing Azriel processing.

Elain walked on to the verdana of the House of Wind. Nesta and Cassian had insisted on hosting their weekly “family dinner” after returning from their honeymoon. She enjoyed the dinner and conversation, relaxed to see her sisters together and safe. For a long time, Elain had mourned her loss of home, her humanness, but in the last year, she had begun to embrace the fact that her sisters were happy.

Feyre had found her place in the Night Court before Elain had even become High Fae. She had Rhysand, she had Mor’s friendship, and she had her role as High Lady. Nesta took considerably longer to warm up to their new home, but she too had a place - she had friends now - the Illyrian female, and one of the priestesses, a role in the court as a Valkyrie and emissary, and love with Cassian. Elain felt a small pang of envy for what her sisters had. She had befriended Nuala and Cerrdiwen, she passed her time gardening throughout Velaris, and she enjoyed being with the odd family that was the Night Court’s inner circle. Still, Elain felt that something was missing, which had brought her onto the verdana, away from the loud conversations in the family room.

She always loved this view of Velaris. So far up from the city, she felt like her problems may just disappear. Elain also enjoyed the cool breeze of a spring night - she hadn’t brought a coat after spending the day in the sun, but the way the wind bit into her was freeing and calming. She sat down on a bench that Nesta must have added recently, and as if the house had anticipated her needs, a cup of tea had appeared next to her. “Thank you,” she said to the House. Nesta had explained that the house is somewhat responsive to commands, and she didn't want to be rude.

When she had excused herself from the dining room, dinner had devolved into discussing the Autumn Court. Cassian had said “Compared to Eris, Lucien is a saint, loveable even.” Adding, “If you’re into courtiers with a stick up their ass, that is” he said. Nesta had elbowed him for that, clearly knowing that Elain was trying to not look uncomfortable.

Feyre was retelling stories about the Spring Court, which strongly featured her mate who wasn’t her mate, Lucien. Elain had slipped out of the room when Feyre started telling the story about how Tamlin had pushed him into a reflecting pool after Lucien had convinced her to eat some berries that caused hallucinations. She'd heard Lucien and Feyre laughing about it one too many times in the year she had spent in Velaris.

Elain heard steps approaching her, bringing her back to the present. Deliberate steps, since everyone had mastered moving silently, without detection. A deep breath in revealed it was Azriel. Night chilled mist and cedar. That too was deliberate - so as not to startle her of his approach. She turned to find Azriel, predictably clad in his leathers with some shadows swirling around him.

While most family dinners were casual in the state of dress, she rarely saw Azriel or Cassian in anything but their leathers. All three of the brothers had a preference for wearing black at all times - and she couldn’t really fault them. While black seemed to drown out Elain’s features, the Illyrians looked exquisite in black, it brought our their coloring, their ridiculously beautiful features, and their hazel (and in Rhys case, violet) eyes.

That being said, she couldn’t remember the last time she saw any of them wearing a different color, aside from Cassian and Azirel’s siphons. Crimson and Cobalt respectively. She had seen a painting in Feyre’s studio of Azriel’s cobalt siphons against his scarred hands. She always thought they were beautiful, told him as much when she first arrived in Velaris. When she was human, she thought they were ornamental - like jewelry, but then she saw them in use. Azriel had explained that they were ways to channel their otherwise lethal power. That Cobalt power had saved her life from kidnapping, had shielded her from the wind while flying, and patched up a very injured Cassian during the war.

The cold of the wind calmed as she saw Azriel’s blue shields pop up around them. “It’s cold out here”, he stated in his midnight voice that was enough to make strangers swoon. She had seen it in action when she gone to watch Nesta, Feyre, and the priestesses train. The priestesses sighed when he had demonstrated how to shoot an Illyrian bow. Even after all of these months, the effect was not lost on her.

She hadn’t been alone with Azriel since Solstice - they had been keeping their distance for months now. There was something there - some kind of tension, or a pull, but Elain couldn’t quite explain it. She thought she understood on Solstice when he nearly kissed her, but then he pulled away, claiming it was a mistake before disappearing into the shadows. Ever since, their friendship had become polite and cordial, but never more than exchanging pleasantries.

She had learned from watching Azriel that every movement was intentional, and fluid, and graceful. He was predictable and consistent, but still she couldn’t keep herself from watching as he closed the distance between them.

“Are you alright? ”, Azriel asked.

She moved to make room for Azriel on the bench. “I just needed some fresh air to clear my head.” she explained.

“Ah. They can be a lot on a good day, much worse when Cassian breaks out the good wine.” He said, sitting as far away as he possibly could, while folding in his wings. A cup had popped between them, but this one was half full. He picked up the cup and chuckled after taking a sip. She was willing to bet that the contents of the cup was a hell of a lot stronger than her tea.

“It’s not that. I just...” She hesitated, not sure if she was willing to change their current no-depth-relationship. “I haven’t seen Nesta this happy in my whole life. I’m happy for them, It’s just strange.” She half- lied, she knew his shadows would pick up on it, as they likely picked up on the exact moment she had left the room. It was strange, watching Nesta brush Cassian’s hair out of his face, or the way that she laughed at his jokes, or leaned into his chest when they sat next to each other. It was strange to see her sister so unguarded, so comfortable in this new life.

“I could say the same for my brothers.” He said before taking a sip from the cup in his hand. Azriel was usually aloof and distant, rarely letting his emotions show. But something shifted in that cool, beautiful mask of his. “That doesn’t explain why you’re out here on a cold night. Cassian would say to leave the lonely brooding bullshit to me, Elain” He chuckled softly. She loved that sound. His laugh, her name on his lips. She felt her cheeks warm, just slightly and she looked away.

Elain took a deep breath, and an ever deeper sip of her tea. She was nervous. She was nervous about how she felt. She was nervous about letting Azriel in, after she had felt so hurt by his rejection on Solstice. Still, she said what she had been refusing to admit to herself for months now. “I know it sounds petty, but I’m a little jealous.”

“Of Cassian?” He asked incredulously. Again that mask slipped, just slightly as a shadow curled around his shoulders.

“Of their… happiness. I guess. Nesta has Cassian, and Feyre has Rhysand, and I’m just…” She stopped herself. She couldn’t say alone, even though she had probably said too much already. “I know, it’s petty.” Azriel leaned just slightly closer, but wouldn’t meet her eyes.

"I don’t think it’s petty. I understand.” He said softly. He did understand, because he had lived with Rhys and Feyre and Cassian and Nesta after they had accepted their bonds. Part of her hoped it was jealousy - that he hadn’t meant what he had said on Solstice night, that him avoiding her wasn’t personal, that the reason he hadn’t met her gaze when flying her to the House, or the fact that he could not get away fast enough the second he had set her down, meant something. Part of her hoped that he was as jealous of his brothers as she was of her sisters. How funny the six of them would be - three Illyrian warriors, and three Made high fae.

“But, you do have a mate.” he added tightly, as if he was forcing the words out. His wings flared just slightly. A sign of unchecked emotion, if her year of observation was right. She just couldn’t decipher which emotion. Azriel's demeanor was a puzzle she hadn't quite figured out, but she did love trying. Azriel had never mentioned Lucien outside of his role in the courts, he had never pushed her to talk about the bond, had never insinuated she was Lucien's in any way.

She couldn’t stop herself. “That’s not - I don’t want that.” Leaving the rest unsaid, I don’t want Lucien. It was instinct now, to fight the bond. She hadn’t outright rejected it because of the look on Feyre’s face whenever Lucien was in the room, hope. The fact that the mating bond had chosen so well for her sisters.

She could feel Azriel’s gaze on her, could feel his wings, just inches from her shoulder. She knew he wouldn’t touch her - knew that Illyrian wings were sacred and intimate, and that even an intentional brush would mean much more than holding hands, or even a kiss on the cheek. Still, she leaned a little closer to him.

“What is it that you want, Elain?” Her heart jumped at that tone, the softness there, the mention of her name. He set down his now empty cup, and looked at her. The shadows had deepened around him, swirling off of his legs and by her skirts. She looked out onto the view of the city to keep herself from saying the first thing that came to mind: You. She took a breath and made herself look into his hazel eyes - the emeralds standing out in the moonlight.

“Love.” she said quietly enough that he may not have heard her if he hadn’t shielded out the wind. He kept looking at her with that intent but soft gaze she had rarely seen before and had come to savor. Her throat bobbed, but she forced out the words, "I want to be able to choose love." As soon as she said it, she expected him to slip into the shadows, or jump of the verdana. It had happened before - Azriel had a habit of slipping away when things got uncomfortable, but he stayed there, staring at her after she had made such a big confession.

Dangerous. This was dangerous, she reminded herself. Still, she couldn't help but embrace a little bit of danger. “What do you want, Azriel?” She heard herself say. It felt odd to say his name. Not Az, or shadowsinger, as the Amren often called him. There was weight in these words - Azriel was the most aloof member of the Inner Circle, and the least likely to open up, but since he hadn't slipped away just yet...

Azriel tensed only slightly. If she hadn't made a habit of watching him so closely, she wouldn't have noticed. A shadow curled around his ear, as if whispering something. She watched him, knowing full well Azriel was capable of not answering, or holding out for much longer than she was.

“The same thing as you.” He finally confessed, or at least it sounded like a confession - like something else was in those words - longing, pain, desire, guilt?

They stared at each other a long moment - it may have been the first time Azriel’s eye’s were completely unguarded. What she saw there - she wasn’t ready for, it was dangerous, and reckless, and tens kinds of stupid to act on. She did have a mate, who was a perfectly fine male - and they had implicitly decided to take time before dealing with whatever the bond meant. Elain straightened her back, trying to put some distance between them, without closing off this conversation, this connection.

Where did you run off too, Feyre said in her head. I’m sorry I brought up Lucien. Azriel seemed to shift too, as if he too was having a mental conversation with one of the daemati.

Coming she said in her head.

"We should head back in.” She said. They both stood, and Azriel’s icy mask returnEd as if he had just remarked on the weather.

“Thank you.” Elain said, allowing her hand to brush against his, just slightly. “For checking in on me. For being my friend.” She wanted the last word here. She needed to define what this was in un-dangerous terms, to keep him from avoiding her next time, from reading into her why she had pulled away, and to keep herself from kissing his cheek, from wanting more than she ever had a right to ask of him.

He gave her a polite but bland smile that did not reach his eyes. “Don't thank me. That’s what friends are for, right?” He raised his hand as if to cup her cheek, but seemed to reconsider, driving his hands into his pockets.

He dropped his shield of blue and walked back toward the house, as silent and graceful as ever. She was stunned, completely stunned. Azriel had always had that effect on her - taking away her capacity for speech and rational thought.

She gathered the tea cups, using the excuse to take a minute to collect herself before returning to the family room. She sniffed at Azriel’s cup - it most certainly wasn’t tea. Laughing to herself, she walked back into the family room, settling on a sofa between Mor and Rhys . Azriel had already joined Nesta and Feyre on the sofa across from them, holding Nyx as he stretched his tiny wings. Elain's heart fluttered at the sight.

Rhys’s gaze seemed to dart between her and Azriel, but before he could say anything, Mor looked at her, with a conspirators smile. “Next time you want to escape the couples, take me with you instead. I’m way more fun! ” Elain just laughed, nudging Mor with her shoulder.

Azriel chuckled softly from his corner and gave her another smile. This time, Elain returned one of her own.

[anidealiveson]

Thanksvember Master Post

Day 1 - Like Coming Home - It has a super rare “wholesome plot twist”! Without spoiling anything too huge, I really like that @julesherondalex took the time to talk about how important it is to take care of yourself first. You can’t love someone else properly, the way they deserve, if you don’t have that same love for yourself. I wasn’t expecting the heartbreaking scene, but the beautiful way in which that topic was was approached neither took away from the story or the joy.

Day 2 - Must Love Dogs - An incredibly fluffy (literally) fic that I loved reading. @rosehallshadowsinger did a really great job weaving Azriel and Elain’s canon personalities into this adorable AU scenario. It is obvious @rosehallshadowsinger took care to create believable personalities for two characters that didn’t get POVs in the books.

Day 3 - Striking Matches -  I have to say that I wasn’t at all attracted to an AU fic about firefighters. I was also not a big Rowaelin fan before that, but I was work procrastinating so I gave it a try. Wellll, 30 parts later, I found myself delighted at the writing and sad it was over. I couldn’t believe how well @shyvioletcat cat was able to entirely re-characterize these two into such a different setting, yet still retaining what made them popular in the books. Aelin was perfect in her role as a snarky schoolteacher irritating the stoic firefighter Rowan. And the descriptions of the kids lining up at the firehouse demonstration and Jake’s adorable prodding was icing on the cake.

Day 4 - Close Quarters -  I really loved the way @lady-therion wrote Nesta in this modern AU. I particularly like how she equates Nesta’s sometimes standoffish attitude as a very relatable personality trait. She has trouble reading people and gauging situations. It’s well written and the dialogue is unique for a plot that is common in ff!

Day 5 - Like A Lonely House - It’s got a colossal I love Lucy level misunderstanding mixed in with a lot of tension and angst. This Nesta that is full of sacrifice and duty and fire is how I imagine the Nesta who feels that she has a stake in the Fae world would be like. @featherymalignancy wove such a captivating new world in Macar, that it felt a lot like being introduced to the 8th court in the ACOTAR world.

Day 6 - Death Dance - There are several takes out there that touch on Nesta in the Ilyrian camps, but I love how @thewayshedreamed interpreted Nesta’s skills on the battlefield as a calculated dance. Nesta has always been a raging storm, but I love how @thewayshedreamed took care to show us a Nesta that channeled that storm into discipline. If SJM never intended to release a Nessian focused book, I would have considered this a satisfying end to their story.

Day 7 - One Night Standards - I love the way @sassyhobbits writes Aelin with her typical extremely sassy exterior, but also made sure to saddle her with a vulnerable side that runs deep. I normally don’t care for slow burns, but I like the pace of her relationship with Rowan here, and that they had to work hard at it. I also like the plot lines that involved their PR stunts and how the public grew to love them as well.

Day 8 - Goose Chasing - Its the most absurd plot of any fanfic I’ve read! The title is not figurative. Its really does involve chasing a goose. @rhysismydaddy did a fantastic job encapsulating the spirit of silly Cassian and grumpy Nesta in a situation they’d likely never find themselves in, yet making it entirely believable. 

Day 9 - Manon Chooses The Worst Babysitter Possible - It’s such a casual and fluffy and hilarious read. It was fun to read about a softer and more delicate Manon. Through this absurd mistake, @sarah-bae-maas did an excellent job really humanizing Manon and postulating a fun in-world domestic scenario. 

Day 10 - My Hunger Knows No Bounds -  @perseusannabeth manages to take a simple concept and weave a sweet narrative. I particularly love how @perseusannabeth incorporated her personal details into it and took the time to share her lovely culture with us.

Day 11 - Knowing me, Knowing you - We never got to actually see Aelin rule Terrasen (well we got a tinyyy bit) in the books. Though this was modern day, @nalgenewhore tells a fun story of what that could have been like.

Day 12 -  Forever (is a long time) - @noodlecatposts takes Elide and Lorcan’s completely polar opposite personalities and spins an interesting (and frankly quite adorable) story. All the rules crack me up. My favorite Lorcan is the one that reminds me of Luke Danes from Gilmore Girls. Currently, he is in the middle of grumpily fixing up her flooded room, so I am sure that my favorite parts are yet to come.

Day 13 - Go Your Own Way - I appreciate @tomtenadia for putting to words a scene that I desperately wanted in ACOWAR or even ACOFAS. A lovely parallel to an equally lovely Fleetwood mac song.

Day 14 - In Which She Makes A Friend - It is no surprise that the fandom wants Nesta to find her place in the Illyrian mountains and even bring about some social change with the female warriors. But the way @bookstantrash got there was such a wonderful and endearing journey. Big fan of the callbacks to how Kaelin was treated and the similarities to a certain Illyrian warrior was when he was younger. We got to see a sweet Nesta, who I’d like to think was attempting to make up for some of her regrets through taking care of Kaelin.

Day 15 - The Ranch - As a huge fan of Sweet Home Alabama, its should be no surprise that I loved this fic by @tacmc . I enjoyed the slow change that we saw in a stubborn Nesta as she opened up to this new way of life and reconnected with her sisters and found a home with Cassian.

Day 16 - Felons - Such a unique interpretation of Nesta and Cassian. I really like the self-sacrificing Nesta angle and @rhysismydaddy did a great job weaving intrigue into the unraveling of what we knew to be a her innocence. I never read The Witness, but this really made me want to.

Day 17 - Of Books and Timber - Cassian offers to build a shelf for Nesta. The way @duskandstarlight goes through the entire range of emotions through Nesta is brilliant. She starts out with cold indifference, but by the end, we get from her a sweet and tender gesture of gratitude. Showing that meeting each other halfway with small gestures is all they ever needed.

Day 18 - You Should Sleep In My Bed More Often - I absolutely loved this quick exchange between Nesta and Cassian after she accidentally injures him. I can’t believe how much I laughed out loud when Cassian said “I need you to protect me closer”. @charincharge​ perfectly captured the teasing childish essence of Cassian and Nesta’s hilarious victim-blaming was so on the nose that I might have thought this was taken right out of ACOSAF.

Day 19 - The Right Swipe - I really enjoyed this take on the inner circle mixed with the super modern online dating plot. I especially love that @redisriding created genuinely realistic characters (body issues, social anxiety etc). Great read!

Day 20 - Goldfish Prompt - What a fun read. I love how frantic and much personality Feyre had here. I love how dedicated to her fish she was, and how that made her super endearing. Cute read from @azrielsiphons

Day 21 - The One With The Snowstorm -  What I really like is that Cassian actually says that he is sorry for his part in Nesta’s exile. I am not bitter about it, but it was an interesting turn. They need to meet halfway here and I rarely see it so well written as @joysbell has done here!

Day 22 - Prompt - A lovely and cute and sweet prompt written by @crowsvalentine​! I love the ramp up of suspense just to get to the hilarious payoff. Its adorable and worth the quick read.

Day 23 - Fix It -  is one by @thewayshedreamed​ that I love in its simplicity. It’s a small little argument Cassian and Nesta get into, but its still compelling. It’s sweet and super endearing the way the two of them are written and the subtle way they work through it. Great read!

Day 24 - I Do Bad Things To You - The mob angle may have been done before, but I don’t think with as much care and regard that @tswaney17​ has been giving it. I how the canon personalities of the characters translate so well into this modern AU. Its very obvious that @tswaney17​ has done her research. I especially love all the details around Elain as a surgeon. The story is compelling and well written and every chapter has me wanting more.

Day 25 - Love Her Like She should Be Loved - This is an excellent fic that I really loved. @julemmaes did such a great job translating some of the canon tension from ACOFAS into a modern world. It’s ripe with emotion, drama and quite a bit of heart. I love how earnestly Cassian comes to Nesta’s defense even in the face of going against his entire family. I like the reference to some very real psychological struggles. I think a lot of people can relate to it.

Day 26 - Literally In Love - I really enjoy the subtle mystery that follows this entire journey. I enjoy that @julesherondalex keeps us guessing, while simultaneously weaving a sweet and tender story about two shy teachers and just a slew of mishaps worthy of a Shakespearian drama.

Day 27 - The Shadow Bond - I love Azriel, and this is such a wonderful fic by @radientwings​ focusing on how his shadows might work. His shadows are the one thing that I am most curious about him in the series, so it was lovely to read such a well written interpretation of them.

Day 28 - Exes and Oh’s - Just a shout out to @highqueenofelfhame​ for this lovely story about rekindling past love. I like that even though the plot was uncomplicated, the emotions were not. I love that Aelin didn’t have a perfect reason for what she did, but sometimes that is just how things are. This is a story about taking a second chance, whether it’s deserved or not.

Day 29 - Fever - I really love this fic called Fever. I enjoyed how @lady-therion​ portrayed Nesta. She hit the entire gammut of characteristics (snarky, worried, vulnerable, caring, short-tempered, flirty, you name it!) but it really worked here. I found this nurse Nesta to be endearing and relatable and the dynamic between her and Cassian was very sweet. Just go read the damned thing.

Day 30 - Baby Steps - I really really love this fic. @runesandfaes did such a great job in just so few words to show a really sweet moment between Chaol, Yrene and their daughter learning to walk. I love the parallel back to when Chaol was learning to walk and the cameo of the golden couch. So sweet.

[lilred1989]

The Horror and the Wild

Jaskier felt the moment everyone froze from the magic of the Wild Hunt. He was safe inside the keep of Kaer Morhen, but he felt it nonetheless. And that was the moment he decided that enough was enough. Those were his friends, his lover fighting and possibly dying out there.

Those in the keep sent him confused glances, as he rose and purposefully strode towards the gates separating him from the fighting. He felt the magic he had so long neglected gather in his body. And he allowed himself a feral smile, that carried just the hint of a fang.

With as much force as he could muster, he threw the gates open and made them clang against the walls. Everyone’s eyes turned to him and he spotted Eredin, who had cornered Ciri, the girl who was like a daughter to him.

Jaskier took a deep breath, gathered his strength and his magic and opened his mouth to sing. He needed a little time to really gather as much strength as he needed to defeat the Wild Hunt. On top of that, he had always channeled his magic better by singing.

“You were raised by wolves and voices

Every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed

They said it all comes down to you”

His heart ached, when his eyes landed on his brother. The ice cold warrior that had left their home to join the Wild Hunt. Eredin grinned, but turned towards him. Jaskier seethed inwardly, because Eredin had never taken him serious.

“You're the son of sightless watching stones

You watch the stars hurl all their fundaments

In wonderment, at you and yours, forever asking more”

Eredin had always been the favorite of their mother. Him and their older sister Siocan, who had inherited their mother’s throne. Jaskier and his little sister, they had been the odd ones out. The weird ones. The living ones in a court of winter and death.

“You are that space that's in between

Every page, every chord and every screen

You are the driftwood and the rift

You're the words I promise I don't mean”

As the words dripped from his lips like poison, Jaskier remembered all the ridicule he had suffered, because he was different and poured them into his magic as he walked down towards the battle. He refused to look at anyone except his brother.

“We're drunk but drinking, sunk but sinking

They thought us blind, we were just blinking

All the stones and kings of old will hear us screaming at the cold”

Here he took a deep breath. Warmth spread inside of him, pulsing with the beating of his heart. It demanded to be let out. But Eredin was still too amused and Jaskier knew he had not recognized his little brother yet. His form was too human.

“Remember me I ask

Remember me I sing

Give me back my heart you wingless thing”

His wings, the first thing to set him apart from his wintry siblings, were itching to come out. But he reigned them in. He needed the control because one slip could unleash his magic too soon. It needed to be the right moment.

“Think of all the horrors that I

Promised you I'd bring

I promise you

They'll sing of every time

You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child

Witness me old man, I am The Wild”

Eredin was a great deal older than Jaskier. He had always treated his little brother like an oddity, but in the beginning it hadn’t been unkind. But even when Jaskier grew up, Eredin had never taken him for full. He had always treated Jaskier as a child. Jaskier repressed the memories of their memorable fight for now.

“You are the son of every dressing up box

And I am time itself

I slow to let you play

I steal the hours and turn the night into day”

The memories still came. He saw the clash of warmth and cold in front of his inner eye. He saw the eternal battle between destruction and creation carried out through two brothers. He fet the pain he had felt back then and he felt the determination that had carried him through it.

“Day by day oh lord three things I pray

That I might understand as best I can

How bold I was, could be - will be - still am, by god still am”

That same determination rose in him again. Back then he had fought for himself and for his little sister, who had carried the same warmth and wings that he had. They were never meant to stay in the Winter Court.

“Fret not dear heart, let not them hear

The mutterings of all your fears, the fluttering of all your wings

Welcome to the storm, I am thunder

Welcome to my table bring your hunger”

And suddenly an odd calm setted over the bard. His magic stilled, curled in on itself. It was preparing to be unleashed. The strenous hold he had on his glamour began to slip, making the air around him waver as he descended the last steps that would lead him to the courtyard his brother was in.

“Think of all the horrors that I

Promised you I'd bring

I promise you, they'll sing of every time

You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child

Witness me old man, I am The Wild

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me

Remember me I ask

Remember me I sing”

There were only a few steps separating Jaskier from Eredin now. He stopped, gathered the last strength he could muster. He gathered it all in himself, felt himself fill to the brim with magic. Eredin had taken off his faceguard and grinned at him. He was still underestimating his little brother although Jaskier had already bested him once and gained the freedom for himself and his little sister to leave their mother’s court. There had never been a place for them there anyway.

They had gone to the world of men and Jaskier had found love and a family there. He would not let his family take that away from him again. He would not let anyone die today. With a last deep breath and a sweeping glance towards Geralt - frozen solid - and Ciri - carelessly thrown to the ground by Eredin- Jaskier set to unleash his power.

“Think of all the horrors that I

Promised you I'd bring

I promise you, they'll sing of every time

You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child

Witness me old man, I am the

Think of all the horrors that I

Promised you I'd bring

I promise you, they'll sing of every time

You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child

Witness me old man

Old man

Old man

I am the”

As the word “wild” soundlessly spilled from his lips, Jaskier’s power erupted out of him. His glamour fell. Where the bard had stood just moments before, a fae was now standing. He still looked like Jaskier, but his skin was glowing with magic. The antlers of a young deer had burst from his front. Gigantic bluebird wings had all but ripped his clothes from his upper body. His hands had formed into talons and glinted wickedly in the dim light. His eyes, still blue seemed to glow from within. And his mouth was full of fangs that shone maliciously.

And with his eruption came the heat. It was like a spring breeze at first, but then it transformed into the scorching pressure of the midsummer sun. The heat brought growth with it. All around Jaskier vines, brushes, trees, mushrooms and flowers erupted. They were poisonous, vicious and they tore through the wild hunt like they were nothing. Poison spilled from blue, pale lips followed by the creeping roots of whatever plant was growing in those ribcages.

Eredin fled, his army utterly defeated, his body scorched and burnt from poison. His armour was mangled from the vines that had tried to grab him.

Jaskier smiled, blood spilling from his lips. All magic had its price after all. Just when his eyes closed and his body gave in to the magical exhaustion that had literally ripped him apart, he heard Lambert’s incredulous voice:

“Dammit Geralt! And you said he was helpless in a fight!”

Disclaimer: I don’t own neither the characters mentioned, nor the song. The song was written and performed by the amazing Joey Batey and Madeleine Hyland. I do not plan to make money with this.

[bargainbinwizard]

Do be careful with the board. I’m definitely not the “never touch a ouija board!!” type - but it is important to set your boundaries clearly before and after every session, and make sure you have personal wards up around yourself and your space. It really is like popping open a portal and inviting anyone in if you aren’t specific about who you want to speak to. Closing the session properly is important. I’m sure you know all this already, I just had some bad experiences with the board as a baby witch and really learnt my lesson about making sure I close that portal each time I used the board.

I’m a bit iffy when it comes to people saying that a Ouija board is a immediate portal to spirits. It’s technically a tool just like a pendulum (both use the ideomotor effect to channel outside and your inner energies through your body into the tool) or tarot/oracle cards. You can talk to spirits using all of those tools I’ve just named but they aren’t immediately going to just bring in spirits just by merely existing. Every time I’ve held a pendulum in my hand, it would quickly go in circles while if my mother held it in her hand, it would literally try flying out of her hand by quickly spinning around. I’m sure it’s not the spirits doing that, it’s our energies making the pendulum spin because nobody tried talking to the spirits using them.

In terms of a Ouija board being a portal, there may be a slight chance that due to all of its usage over the years it might’ve gained a charge and gradually became a portal kind of like how old spells and Solomon’s Pentacles gained power as each magician used it. Same thing with rings of mushrooms became portals to the fae and maybe certain trees, they may originally didn’t have any contact with the fae but they gained power overtime with folklore and magic.

I really needed that reminder with warding and shielding and closing the session properly because I don’t usually shield or anything else. I had trouble finding warding spells on the internet but then I realized I had a notepad document containing shielding spells I could just use on my room (oof). I think my familiar once got annoyed for me not opening my window to my room and door while doing a lazy room cleansing spell while I was sitting on the couch in a diffrent room.

I’m pretty shit when it comes to personal protection and safety. I’m not a baby witch (after all I’ve been into magic for 7 years) but I’m still pretty uneducated and magically stupid so I wouldn’t take any magic advice from myself. 

[daikini-in-the-twilyhtmist]

Oracle of the White Rabbit

I was recently quite excited to learn about the newest Matrix movie, which was kind of weird for me, as I haven't been much into tv & movies for quite a while now. To my surprise, it was the soundtrack to the preview that immediately captured my attention - almost more then the preview itself... and then it got stuck in my head - for DAYS, on repeat. 

**Cue the Morpheus voiceover: "What you know you can't explain, but you feel it.... You don't know WHAT it is, but it's there - like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad."** Yeah, that song was dead set on getting my attention.

When I finally got rid of it, I started realizing a few days later that I understood it beyond the surface meaning; and basically, I decoded the story that it was telling - it turns out to be all about right NOW. Is it prophetic? Subconscious social engineering? Quantum entanglement between the life and the art, so that they mirror and reflect each other? Who knows...  

It appears to me to be a sort of trigger, or a reminder of what to do when the time comes, of what you NEED to do - and yes, I realize that this sounds very MK ultra secret agent-y; but it is what it is. I assumed it was probably just a message for me, but then I had 2 separate YouTuber's basically confirm the message in their own unique way, and then supplied additional info that is... quite compelling and pertinent to keep in mind, and utilize. So I'll link those two vids below the song decoding portion, but please watch them as they have some VERY helpful info in them - especially the 2nd half of Naughty Beav's vid, the Alba Weinman part. Anyways, here's the song with lyrics, and the decode I got for it:

https://youtu.be/YE3ZXm92CJ0

Preface: The story overall is describing the multidimensional aspects of the human being, and how certain "controllers" have manipulated the general population into thinking that we are only ONE SINGLE aspect (i.e. this linear 3D realm template of a human) of our various extended selves - and have waged war (and still are) to maintain that control over us to keep their positions power.

Song: White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane

ONE PILL MAKES YOU LARGER AND ONE PILL MAKES YOU SMALL These “pills” are alternate dimensional perspectives - the actual embodiment of them from a larger and smaller POV - Annunaki are generally around 10-16 feet tall, and the Fae are considered to be tiny little elemental beings; BOTH sizes make you visit WONDERLAND though! You can SEE & FEEL that there is MORE beyond just this vessel and life viewpoint, more to YOU that goes on to other places where this particular body-ego cannot. AND THE ONES (pills) THAT MOTHER GIVES YOU DON'T DO ANYTHING AT ALL The world perspectives and programs installed in our parents are for a different agenda, time and place - they've since expired and are therefore useless to us... those POV's just don't do anything, except stagnate you. GO ASK ALICE (<your inner child, direct connection to Source Creator) WHEN SHE'S 10 FEET TALL (<in her Annunaki 5th dimensional or above form) Oh yeah, I'd LOVE to see you try and argue those belief systems with THAT version of her/YOU, that'll be fun! Good luck with that, BwahahaaHaahaaa!!!

AND IF YOU GO CHASING RABBITS This "You" ISN'T YOU - it's a hypothetical scenario. As in: If YOU were part of a group of dark, nefarious beings, who CAN'T timeline jump to higher realms on their own, but wanted to... wouldn't YOU chase those 'rabbits', to sneak in after them, (or somehow piggyback on them) to go thru the (portals) tunnels that they naturally create? Well... wouldn't you?!!! AND YOU KNOW YOU'RE GOING TO FALL These beings know their time is limited; as the energetic  frequencies of the earth raises - LITERALLY - we have to ELEVATE with Earth (or die, as it’s not compatible); but they can only FALL since they cannot follow us - their heavier energies & choices aligned with that vibe basically anchor them down. When the Earth sheds those lower energies, they appear to “fall’ - Earth rides a sine wave up and down in a continuous cycle; right now the rollercoaster is ascending. TELL 'EM A HOOKAH SMOKING CATERPILLER HAS GIVEN YOU THE CALL Say it with me: COVER STORY!!! So just tell them that you've contacted extraterrestrials, or "Ashtar Command" in a higher dimension, who relays "guidance" to you while you're in a channeling state of mind... exchange your religious/guru worship programming (it’s SO last year) for an unvetted channeled source to worship and obey blindly instead. Pick your poison, ‘cuz dying is fun (whether that be literal, spiritual or otherwise).FYI: I am anti-establishment regarding religions; your connection to Source Creator is meant to be direct & personal, always growing - those outside things are GUIDEPOSTS for consideration and participation when you deem it useful. Not necessary, though, and CERTAINLY not mandatory... they can be helpful though, nevertheless. CALL ALICE WHEN SHE WAS JUST SMALL No doubt they WOULD try to contact you while you were young and vulnerable (and they might have already) - train a child up in the way they should go, and all that. It applies whether it be physically done or in the astral/dream state - it's also prime alien abduction time, in both cases, too: it happens most often around the 3-10 years old timeframe, generally. **Alternatively, this could mean that YOU need to recall your inner child/younger self, when you were more pure - and RECONNECT to (the true you, prior to life’s enforced programming) yourself from there, as a means of counteracting and recognizing any false “messages of light”.**

WHEN THE MEN ON THE CHESSBOARD This is the Masonic, Illuminati and other controller group factions (alphabet agencies included) - The chessboard is primarily associated with the Masonic lodges, though, like the ladder - it's their way of bypassing the middle path (opening the 3rd eye, spiritually evolving through kundalini awakening and such), but still attempting to climb up to 'higher planes'... through magickal rituals and workings of one sort or another, I think. The Sun and Moon pillars are on either side, the battle of fire and Ice. THEY are the ones that "play the game" with humanity, as it were, and “set the stage” on the gameboard in many ways.

It’s like this in their art and iconography...

But it’s like THIS in the physical body structure, see:

Side Note: I learned this and wrote it down/drew it up by watching and following Lavette's channel on YouTube - her channel is under this (her real) name, so if you want to understand & decode the esoteric symbology and all that, check her out, she has a wealth of knowledge to share...  it's great stuff!!!

Anyways, moving on with the decode...

>> when the men on the chessboard << GET UP AND TELL YOU WHERE TO GO Or where you CAN'T go, or things you can’t go DO - lockdowns, anyone? AND YOU'VE JUST EATEN SOME KIND OF MUSHROOM Or taken some kind of drug, to check out (with alcohol, pharmaceuticals) as a means of coping; or perhaps just a medically coerced and/or forced untested injectable... that shall remain unnamed. (a la Voldemorte)  AND YOUR MIND IS MOVING LOW Because your consciousness and/or interdimensional capacities are capped, having been anchored down into lower frequencies due to your choices. ASK ALICE I THINK SHE'LL KNOW Ask your inner child/spiritual connection WHAT TO DO

WHEN LOGIC AND PROPORTION HAVE FALLEN SLOPPY DEAD That's RIGHT NOW, with the media, the actions of the government, corporations & the alphabet agencies - everything from them is WAY out of proportion, (they're self contradicting) and illogical...  it's “fallen sloppy dead” is about as literal of a description as you can get. AND THE WHITE KNIGHT IS TALKING BACKWARDS Is this Biden? Maybe Trump? Could be whomever you deem to be our hero, or fixate on as a knight "in shining armor" charging to our rescue, I suppose. AND THE RED QUEEN'S "OFF WITH HER (THEIR) HEAD!!!" The red queen is the sentient A.I. computer located under the airport in Colorado from what I understand... so this could be indicating the weather warfare or DEW, the internet consciousness battlefront, or a whole host of other things that could be directed by that (besides the jabs), which seeks to kill off a great swath of humanity. The Red Queen could also be a means to direct the jib-jabbed peoples like zombies when they're "turned on" like antennas, once the graphene in the injectables does its work. It would certainly explain all the “zombie apocalypse” protocols and policies that have been made by certain corporations and agencies - all of which was done in a serious manner... so here’s that.

So, now THIS is where it gets interesting (for me, anyways).

Every. Single. Time. That I hear this next verse, I hear it spoken a DIFFERENT way, like a glitch that simultaneously layers a different version on top of the other one, so that they are both communicated at once. This is the 'secret key', the ANSWER - remember, this part of the song says: When this & that happens, and when this person and that ‘person’ are acting THIS WAY - THEN:

REMEMBER WHAT THE DORMOUSE SAYS Dormouse - a tiny squirrel-like mouse, that is rather famous for being able to HIBERNATE for EXTENDED PERIODS OF TIME - sometimes 6 months of the year, or more, if the temperatures stay cold enough. The lower the frequency, the cooler the temperature, usually. (The Sleeper MUST Awaken! ~ Dune) << This word - Dormouse - transforms into DHARMA. So the verse: "Remember what the Dormouse said" turns into "Remember what the DHARMA SAYS". For more on dharma, see here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dharma

The dormouse speaks of the head - waking up and remembering mentally; but when it morphs into dharma, it speaks of the heart waking up; and returning to it’s inherent wisdom, returning to the spirit-soul self. So that is the key message that keeps coming thru on this:

Remember what the dormouse/dharma Says: FEED YOUR HEAD-HEART CONNECTION (and stack your dharma)!!! Spiritual GAINS, baby!

The final verse is repeated twice; I believe this indicates that the areas to apply it to are your outward actions here in the outer world, and your inner realm locals: your thoughts and feelings. FEED the CONNECTION on each level, to be and do good, and to stand up in integrity and defend that sacred space on EACH LEVEL whenever it's needed. The mind-heart connection and coherence part is actually mentioned specifically in The Naughty Beaver video linked below, too... but there will undoubtedly be internal emotional and mental attacks that only you can recognize and shield against, or fight back against to maintain your inner calm and wholeness of spirit. The stronger the mind-heart coherence is, though, the higher you vibe naturally; so it grants you a certain level of protection automatically - I feel that's why they push the jab-berwocky so hard through social/economic pressure, and emotional guilt and gaslighting; to block that potential before you ever reach it, so you can still be "hacked", or locked down, energetically. 

Feed your head = higher mind = higher perspective. Maintain THAT, then ACT FROM THERE. (Faith without works is dead, yo) See the other two vids below, and thank you for reading thus far. You/We’ve got this - Be Excellent to (yourself and) Each Other... and Party On!

The “Naughty Beaver” confirmation, perspective & guidance on this: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHeDnhc8Jfg

The “YellowRoseforTexas” standpoint and confirmation:

https://youtu.be/tmYdSFj3WYE

As a final thought... look how unbelievably FREAKING CUTE dormice are IRL! ! ! ! KAWAII ! ! !

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten Twice Stupid prt 90

90

“Whoop. Hold up. I’ve lost my chicken fillet again”

“That’s because you keep playing with them”

Sighing at Allura, Lance didn’t know how people controlled their boobs. The fake silicone insert in his bra kept trying to escape off to the side every chance it got

“I’m not trying to play with them, they’re the ones playing with me”

Allura giggled, slipping her arm around his and taking him by the hand

“Just leave them alone. It’ll be alright once we’re sitting down”

“You’re enjoying this far too much”

“Maybe a little. Now please don’t trip”

Having come up to Platt again on the Tuesday, Lance caught up with Allura. He’d wanted to go home that Monday night, so they’d arranged to go shopping together the next day, at smaller shopping centre. Explaining he didn’t know what to wear, Allura delighted in the idea of dressing him up. They could have been twins by the end of it... or somewhat related due to fashion sense. Lance was wearing a long brown wig, brown contacts, and possibly the worst bra ever invented beneath his red dress... that he hadn’t wanted to wear at all. He was a guy... He’d wanted to look manly and shit. Maybe androgynous if he could pull it off? Allura fully jumped on board a complete change in look, Lance’s feet were now crammed into gold high heeled shoes and a dress that aired his junk with each step. His black tiny lace short covered junk that he wasn’t allowed to wear boxers over. At least his bum was covered. One strong breeze and he’d be done for indecent exposure. With the plunging front of the red dress, the bra he had to wear was weirdly shaped tripping down in kind of a U shape, as if the designer had never seen a bra before or didn’t know how the hell they functioned. He’d also been waxed, trimmed, plucked, and “pierced”. Forget laying in the ground for three months, this was the most uncomfortable he’d ever been. The damn fake gold septum piercing was annoying, he kept going cross eyed trying to look at it.

Allura, on the other hand was gorgeous. Her normal long loose white ringlets swapped for a wig very similar to Lance’s. Dressed in a black and red pinstripe skirted suit, she dripped refinement and class. Her accessories all gold, a tasteful dainty little wristwatch on her left wrist, small ruby drop earrings, a gold clutch, and brown contact lenses like Lance’s. None of their friends would have recognised the pair of them... The only one maybe recognisable was Keith, who Lance was trying his hardest not to look at.

Keith... It should be illegal to ooze sex appeal like his boyfriend was. Dressed like the bad boy everyone’s parents warned them about, he looked so damn good in those leather pants that Lance wanted to send him home to change. Muzzled, and on lead, Keith stayed half a step behind Lance and Allura. His boyfriend seemed to be in a mood, his eyes had gone wide at Lance’s ensemble, but that’d been it. He hadn’t commented. They most he’d talked was as Lance adjusted his muzzle and collar to make sure Keith was as comfortable as possible. God only knew how much Lance wanted Keith to bend him over the closest counter and pull his hair... Having a hot boyfriend was hard. Lance knew he didn’t look atrocious as he was. His moves kind of jolted thanks to the stilettos he couldn’t quite operate. On the plus side, if things went south, he was sure his shoes were sharp enough to murder someone touching his boyfriend. He pulled off looking like a girl, which should be a win, and Coran had doused him in perfume to help the natural sweetness in his scent.

Heading over to the bar, the vampire behind the counter had no issues with his teeth and ego hanging out for the world to see. Lance felt nothing for him, which was nice. There were so many scents that something had stuck up his nose and now he worried he was going to pop a semi thanks to a stranger

“Haven’t seen you two around...”

Lance showed his teeth, reminding himself he was supposed to let go of his ego

“We don’t usually like to take our pet out to play, he doesn’t play well with others”

The vampire nodded

“Harder and harder to find a good pet these days. In the market for a new one?”

“Reminding him how lucky he is to be our pet”

“Sometimes they need to be taught the good old fashioned way. What are you drinking?”

“Two Rivata Cassa Rossa. One half and half with A positive. Nothing for the pet”

The vampire nodded, Lance would have preferred to watch the drinks poured, but he didn’t intend on drinking them anyway

“Alright. Take a seat, they’ll be brought over”

Allura picked a booth close to the door so they could people watch, Lance pulling Keith into his lap, possessively resting his hand on the top of Keith’s head. He hated having to talk about Keith that way. Sliding his free hand down, he rested it over Keith’s inner thigh, clearly staking this claim over his boyfriend

“This is nicer than I imagined”

The club wasn’t what Lance imagined either. It kind of reminded him of the speakeasys you’d see in films, other than the electronic music and strobe lighting over dance-floor. Vampire and pets danced, some feeding in their pet as they did. Some other vampires had left their pets to sit on the ground and await their return, a couple of pets sat huddled together in one or two booths. Lance kind of wanted to channel Keith’s bad boy energy and free the pets. Though most pets didn’t have anything in their name or a way to survive without their masters. It was shit. They were fucking people who deserved better. Fucking vampires.

“It’s not what I expected. Do we have any idea what we’re here for?”

Allura shook her head. Stupid Lotor could have given them a heads up

“No. You know, I can’t remember the last time I was in a place like this”

“Does that mean you want to dance?”

Allura giggled, then sobered

“Not quite yet. I’m not sure we should leave our pet alone”

Everyone was listening to everyone else. That’s how these things worked

“If he behaves himself, I might allow him to accompany us. He needs to learn some manners first”

Keith huffed, Lance wished he could take the muzzle off so they could talk properly. Feeling eyes on him, he leaned in, nipping lightly at the top of Keith’s ear, hand sliding closer to Keith’s junk. Keith was his. He felt like he was degrading him, but he had to make sure everyone knew he wasn’t sharing

“I’m sorry”

Whispering it right next to Keith’s ear, he hoped his boyfriend heard. He’d felt so damn stupid about breaking down in Coran’s office that he’d only really talked to Keith in group chat. Matt had tried perking him up when he’d come home, but Lance took himself and his wallowing up to his room, replaying the day in an attempt to reassure himself that Keith hadn’t become anyone’s target. As their drinks were placed down in front of them, Lance broke rules. Other pets had their muzzles loosened, and Keith shouldn’t be punished thanks to their fucked up society. Loosening the front buckles of the muzzle, his boyfriend sucked in a shaky breath, not sure what it was about

“Master?”

A shudder ran through Lance. Keith had to call him that, and his ego approved too much

“You’re my pet. If anyone objects I will remind them I am in control here... plus, it’s stuffy”

“A bit...”

Keith couldn’t talk freely and it sucked. Allura picked up her glass of red wine, grimacing as she took a sip

“I think I’ve got yours instead”

“Swap them over then. I really should have had the first sip, you know”

Allura quirked an eyebrow, moving deliberately as she swapped wine glasses

“Ego?”

“No. Just better at dealing with it if it’s spiked...”

“Ah”

Pretty much. Allura was fae but he didn’t know how that worked. If anything was in there he would be able to taste it. Pulling Keith’s hood up, Lance then moved to lift his glass, his arm around his boyfriend’s waist

“I guess we wait now”

“I’d say so. I wonder what’s going to happen”

When nothing happened after the first half hour, Lance got bored. Allura was doing a good job hiding her boredom, much better than him and Keith. Keith was all squirmy in his lap

“Do you want to sit beside me instead? Or on the floor?”

“It’s hot, master”

“Laura, would you please get our pet a bottle of water? Number two is thirsty”

Allura nodded, sliding from the booth. “Laura” adapted from “‘Lura”. He was “Lana” adapted from Lance... They weren’t terribly creative with names, but easy names were easy to remember. He wasn’t risking Keith by calling him anything close to Keith... and he was a pet... so he was allowed to refer to Keith in such a way... his stupid ego was enjoying itself more than he was. And Keith really didn’t have to keep squirming the way he did. He was basically right up against Lance’s junk... and Lance’s junk knew it

“Sit next to me”

Keith slid from his lap, Lance moving the split in his dress to act like he had some modesty left. Returning with the bottle of water, Allura nearly messed up by going to hand it to Keith. Taking the bottle, Lance twisted the cap off, taking the first mouthful. It didn’t taste tainted. Taking a second mouthful, he pushed his lips against Keith’s, Keith hesitant before accepting, drinking down the offered water. Other vampires and their pets were watching, Lance pulling back to take a second sip, before pushing his lips back against Keith’s. Kissing Keith like this wasn’t common in the club. Someone would have kicked up a fuss if it didn’t risk losing face

“More?”

Keith shook his head, Allura looked ready to gush over them being cute

“In that case you can come dance with us”

Lance got lost in the feeling on the dance floor. He’d loved to dance. He hadn’t had reason to in so long, and it wasn’t something he often talked about, plus he was generally feeling too old and modern music was horrific. Going out to human clubs was better, where he’d dance stupidly with Hunk and Pidge and it was totally fine because they were all as bad as each other and it didn’t matter if he tripped over his own feet. Dancing with Allura, Allura was stiff but she tried. Dance with Keith... Lance wanted to smack him with a piece of wood and tell him to move. Putting his boyfriend’s hands on his hips, he leaned back into Keith’s touch, Allura slinging her arms over their shoulders, leaving him sandwiched between the pair of them, Keith nosing at his neck and Lance hoping his hands wouldn’t wander from his hips.

*

They were still dancing, thanks to half a dozen trips to the bar, when they finally found out what Lotor had sent them there for. Moving from rubbing up against Keith, they’d moved to dancing in a group. Keith had been groped, the vampire snarled at by Lance, fangs showing and nails extending as he let his ego flow. Pulling Keith against him, Lance wrapped his hand around the collar. He knew his scent was coming through the stink of the perfume, because Keith’s hands had been all over his body once his boyfriend finally loosened up. Dancing in a group cooled those feelings, Lance listening to the chatter around them as he alternated between dancing with Keith, and dancing with Allura, and laughing over Allura trying to dance with Keith. Territory stuff and other things he didn’t care for. There was some fighting in the lower ranks. Some of the upper ranks were having trouble keeping face with Lotor around. A lot of general dislike for man. Talk about werewolves causing issues. All this gossip was what Lance thought they were there for... Until Sendak entered the club.

Sendak didn’t do subtle. His scent dropped Lance’s knees out from under him. Within the space of a few moments he’d gone form spinning a laughing Allura, to falling into Keith’s arms. He wasn’t the only one affected. A few other vampires dropped, pets pulled down with them. Other vampires flared their ego. Lance’s ego felt like a pulse. A distinct thudding through his body. Lowering his head in submission, the heel of Lance’s right stiletto snapped, as Keith tried to stand him up, leaving him kneeling on the dance floor. Sendak seemed impossibly massive. Towering so tall he seemed to touch the ceiling. Dressed in a crisp black suit, he wore fur cloak that was fresh out a fantasy movie fastening at the base of his neck. The fur was real, a mottled of greys, blacks and browns tumbling down to Sendak’s booted feet. The vampire didn’t even look the direction of the dance floor as he crossed the space between the front door and a booth towards the back on the right side of the club. Holy fucking shit was his aura strong. Lance instantly sure he was the oldest vampire he’d ever met, or come across. What the fuck was he doing here?!? No one would be game enough to cross him. They all felt like ants under a microscope with Sendak being the heated ray of light threatening to burn them alive if they wandered into his path. Clenching his jaw, the amount of pressure Lance used was hurting his teeth. He was fucking kneeling like a bitch for Sendak.

Shaking her head, Allura seemed to shake herself free of the oppressive atmosphere, before moving to take Lance by the arm, pulling him up to stand properly. Both Allura and Keith were trying to get his attention, but Lance couldn’t focus. Sendak scared the ever living absolute fuck out of him. If he was this bad, he couldn’t begin to imagine Zarkon. Blood hung on the air, dancing threw the air like dust particles, following Sendak’s path. Folding himself to sit, the vampire sat with a hunch, the only sign of weakness he’d shown. This was a man used to taking orders from someone “higher” than him.

Slowly things like the music and the shifting lights finally began to come back to him. His heart beat thudding louder than everything else, and would be for some time. The music might as well be a whisper for all it was worth. How the hell did the Blades think they could kill Sendak? He’d be able to tear a wolf apart with his bare hands... Keith wouldn’t stand a chance. It’d be like him at the hands of Nyma and Rolo. Keith would be the little kid who wasn’t nothing but a bit of strings free fun. Tapping his face, Allura tried to draw his attention, but Lance had no attention left to be drawn. He felt so fucking scared. His body seemed to be getting colder. He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t feel Keith against him... even the pain in his feet had fled in the face of Sendak. Cupping his face in her hands, warmth crept across his skin from Allura’s palms as Lance shivered violently

“We’re leaving. Pet, help your master”

[gravityfissure]

Slice of Life : Cece & Otto

When: September 12th

Who: @thebickedwitchoftherest & Otto

Where: Cece’s house

Summary: Cece comes home to a familiar intruder.

Warnings: Mushroom manipulation

Work usually kept Cece late Otto knew this, especially in this town which gave him a decent opportunity to get to his target and get out without issue. And yet, he found himself hesitating outside the door. The spells had been a bugger to figure out and by the time he got to the lock he was wondering if this was even a good idea. Wasting time in a fashion that never happened on a job. Not normally. But lately things had hardly been what he’d call normal had they? His hands hovered but eventual compulsion of getting to his target got him moving once more, the locks were trickier, but he managed to get through them eventually. For once (and rather strangely for that fact) he was dressed rather normally, a typically stellar and tastefully coloured outfit tonight replaced with a trim leather jacket over a grey tee and black jeans with boots. Even his hair was flatter today. As though less attention had been paid to that than whatever was going on inside his head.

Otto had been to Cece’s cabin enough time over the years of living here that he knew his way around the space rather easily. The toaster was easy enough to pick up, and he should’ve left. Really should’ve just gone right there and then… Yet looking at the familiar space he was struck with a conflicting sense of purpose. Cece was his friend, one of the few he had left in this town it seemed. Did he really want to go through with this? No. But he had to. And yet he was hesitating, second guessing a typically sure fire and decisive way of life.

How he ended up sitting on the sofa, swigging from her personal store of booze cradling the toaster under his arm, crumbs on his leg staring into space he didn’t rightfully know. But what he did recognise was the sound of a lock clicking into place and a door swinging open.

Cece had worked late, and had gotten home to an empty house. Apparently, her roommates had plans that night, leaving the home empty. She had always forgotten what that felt like. She had lived alone in town for a while before Morgan first moved in and then again once Morgan moved in with Deirdre. But now she had two that kept her company in the house. Cece was a social person, despite running off alone to Maine. It was nice having people around to chat with on particularly boring nights. Plus, Cam and Jane made for good company.

Though Cece wasn’t alone when she walked in her door. Across the open space, Cece walked in on Otto sitting on the couch, staring down the dark screen of her tv. Something was off. And it wasn’t just because Otto was in her living room for some reason. Wait, was that her toaster in his arms? “What’s up. Love the serial killer vibes you’ve got going.” Cece closed and locked the door behind her. She had spells around the house to protect from this, so Otto must have been pretty impressive to get the door open in the first place. “What the hell are you wearing?” In the darkness, Cece could tell that his outfit didn’t seem to shine through the lack of light. It could only mean that he wasn’t wearing one of the colorful outfits that Cece was so fond of. “And why are you spooning my toaster?” So many questions tonight.

Otto took another long pull from the bottle, wiping the back of his mouth on his sleeve, his head lolling to one side as he looked away from the reflective abyss of the television screen he’d been staring at. “Thanks… Thought I’d channel my inner Paul John Knowles,” a tasteless joke perhaps but that was typical for Otto in any given situation. Raising a hand to rub his eyes he sighed.

“Well, they’re these things called clothes, you go to the shop and buy them and put them on to feel good about yourself,” perhaps being a smartass wasn’t the best solution but it felt somewhat normal in a time that everything really didn’t feel at all normal. He shifted the toaster, peering down at it. “I need it for my wife, oh wait-” he looked over at her again “did I tell you I got married? No? Well- I got married… Not like actually married but… you know. Marriage is a trap so I guess it’s pretty fitting that I’m enslaved to a fae who wants used toasters. Fun right?” Man what he’d do for a cig right now.

Something was off, didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out. Cece just hadn’t quite figured out if she should be more concerned for her own safety considering a man had broken into her home and was drinking her alcohol or if she should be more concerned for Otto. He clearly didn’t seem like himself at the moment. Neither Cece nor Otto had given much information about their lives before White Crest to each other, but she still considered him a friend. The two knew about the magic and Cece even had a look at that new gravity magic of his. “You know what? I’m just going to take it as a win that you didn’t name a serial who had a thing for pretty blondes.” Cece eventually decided against Otto being a threat and tossed her bag on the ground by the couch, taking the empty seat and holding out her and gesturing for the bottle of alcohol that Otto was nursing. Once she got ahold of it she took a long drink from the bottle and passed it back off to him.

Otto was being a sarcastic asshole, so at least she knew he was still somewhat acting like himself. “Hilarious. Does that outfit make you feel good about yourself then? As opposed to your other outfits? Just curious.” Then he was talking about the institution of marriage, something Cece couldn’t agree more on besides the point that he kept mentioning a wife. Had he completely gone off the deep end? Maybe been love potioned or something? “That’s a lot of information to take in at once, dude. So you’re married. To a woman who wants my toasters? Am I being punked? If Ashton Kutcher’s in here you better tell me because I had a very serious crush on him back in middle school.”

“Now, that would be tasteless, plus I’d never hurt you Ce. You’re my friend, right?” The question hung in the air, a degree of uncertainty around it but he hoped it wasn’t an overstep. The sofa dipped and settled as Cece came to join him on the sofa. What was he doing with his life? He’d run to this dumb little town because of an accident. An accident that had had very real and very serious consequences, thought that maybe he could start again an anonymous face in the crowd. But he was learning the hard way this was definitely not a place you could be anonymous. In fact, Otto felt more exposed in White Crest than he had anywhere else in his entire life. The bottle was easily pried from his hands and Otto opted to sink further into the couch taking it back when it was offered.

“Every outfit makes me feel good, and I make every outfit feel good too,” but the airness remained though it was forgotten in the face of this Ashton Kutcher reference, and Otto’s brows pinched not understanding who or what she was on about. “Who’s? I don’t know who that is or what you’re on about.” The look remained, until he realised “oh no I’m serious… Do you know Deirdre? Deirdre Dolan? Weird woman obsessed with bones.” Maybe she did, “anyway she’s fae - convinced me it’d be a fun idea to go jump in a fairy ring with her and I thought why the hell not? It’s better than… everything else that’s all fucked up in this dumb town.”

“And now I’m now bound to follow her every command… Which includes stealing toasters and turning the swimming pool to mushroom soup…” his expression grew thoughtful as his thoughts sidetracked to mushrooms and mushroom soup “I haven’t figured out how to do that yet but I’m almost there I think.”

“As long as you don’t serial murder me, we’re best friends.” Cece found a way to joke around and wiggle her eyebrows in humor despite the situation. Sure, most friends didn’t consider an especially effective way to prove that friendship was by breaking into their home but hey, White Crest didn’t have much in the way of normal friendships. That being said, Cece would definitely be looking into some stronger protection spells on her door after this. “I dig the confidence, dude. You look cute as hell in that outfit too.”

“Deirdre?” Cece questioned and rolled her eyes. “I’m familiar with her.” As far as people in town went, Cece wasn’t going to pretend that she was her favorite. But considering Morgan seemed so smitten with the woman, Cece had mostly decided to let bygones be bygones. Mostly. Admittedly, the knowledge that the woman was fae wasn’t surprising in the least bit. But what was surprising was hearing about the fairy ring. Cece knew about them, though she had never actually seen one in practice. The coven wasn’t actually entirely convinced that they were real at all, but they never dealt with fae much. “Hold on. I know the general gist of a fairy ring but help me sort between fact and fiction. Does this mean you're sired to her or some shit?” If so, Cece had even more reason to loathe the woman. Either Deirdre made horrible first impressions or Cece had to seriously reconsider Morgan’s taste in suitors. “How naked do you get?”

“What the hell does she have you stealing toasters for?” Cece questioned. If this was some sort of prank, Cece was dying to hear the punchline. If this was some diabolical plan, Cece had trouble seeing the big picture. “Who’s pool?” Cece was actually pretty intrigued by the whole mushroom soup idea, “That’s easy. You just need an alchemist.” Cece pointed at herself, unironically volunteering herself for this stupid fairy ring prank.

“Cool, and at the rate I’m going I think I might be the murderee before you anyway so… Just pick out a nice headstone right? Black and silver. Maybe some purple in there yeah?” perhaps it was morbid to joke about it, but it made Otto feel a little bit better about everything that was going on right now. “Aawh, see, this is why we’re friends. You look cute too, even if you’re still in your work gear. But it’s cute and super professional. Very boss bitch vibe.”

He sighed, long and mournful turning sideways and tucking his feet up on the sofa before taking another healthy swig from the bottle and offering it out for her to take. “Oh well, great. Don’t go to a fairy ring with her if she asks, yeah?” Man this was all so backwards. Otto had never experienced much fae culture, and his lack of exposure to it was showing right now with recent decisions. The migraine was starting to return and Otto closed his eyes tiredly. “Yeah, she called it… a marriage? It’s like a next level fae bind I think. Maybe… I don’t know. I don’t have to make a promise, it’s literally like if she says it I have to do it otherwise I feel like I’m going to hurl.” Tilting the bottle against his knee he stretched out a bit. “Super naked. But that’s not that bad honestly.”

“The mushrooms.” That was the only answer he had. “Any pool, I think the local pool.” He’d been pondering the process himself. “Well I dabble in alchemy but I wouldn’t say no to a hand with it. I’ve got my hands on a transmutation stone, I just need to figure out how to channel it so that it will turn the water to soup.”

“Only the best headstone for you.” Cece nodded in agreement, pretending to take notes on the headstone color, “Here lies Otto, famed toaster thief, breaker of hearts.” Cece put on her best impression of a grieving widow, even using her sleeves to feign dotting at her eyes as if they were drowning in tears. “Damn straight Otto,” Cece gestured at her outfit and modeled from her seat, shooting a grin in Otto’s direction, “I’m taking that compliment, even if this outfit is definitely not by choice and because I have to follow my boss’ dress code. But I even make khaki’s look good.”

“No worries there, I had no interest in doing that before learning about this,” Cece and Deirdre did not communicate much and that was how Cece preferred it. She intended to remain civil for Morgan’s sake, nothing more. Accepting the bottle, Cece took a long drink from it. Regardless of how Cece felt, she couldn’t deny that the situation seemed fucked up. Cece certainly held no high ground when it came to moral compasses, but damn. “That’s intense, dude. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that she hasn’t taken any pity and released you from it either?” Another drink before passing it back over. She couldn’t help her mind from wandering towards the idea of a fairy ring. If a witch could collect the foliage that made up a fairy ring, what sort of magical properties would she have gotten power have? Cece could only imagine the spells that could be put together using those. “Naked huh?” Of course, because Cece had no control over herself her first instinct was to stare at Otto and imagine what that must have looked like. She eventually nodded in approval, “Nice.”

“Vague, but whatever.” What the hell did the mushrooms want with toasters? Cece cursed her lack of fae knowledge. “Shouldn’t be too hard. We literally just need a can of soup.” Cece shrugged, already picturing the process in her head. “Once I know all the ingredients, alchemy is simple. It’s just breaking things down and transmutating it into the new properties. I can help. Seems like a bad senior prank, but at least we’d mark one thing off your list.”

“Sheesh is that what my life amounts to?” it was only in hearing it repeated back to him that Otto had to think how sad his life had become. “Hells, I need to do something about that.” He flopped back, draping one arm lazily over his head as Cece modelled and he had to laugh, bright and genuine. “I mean, what would you wear if you actually had a choice and not a dress code?” It was interesting what a person’s choice of style and clothes could say about their personality. Just another form of expression like anything else.

“Good to know.” His arm sagged a little over his eyes, internally bemoaning the whole debacle. It had been fun, actually he wouldn’t have minded it except for all the hostilities that apparently came along with Deirdre’s blasted girlfriend that he’d barely known a thing about. “Not yet. Like- honestly it’d be fine except everyone is sticking their noses in business, judging me as if this is all somehow entirely my fault. Add on top of that I have this blasted twelve year old child driving me insane about being a fucking exorcist.” He huffed, dropping his hands back into his lap and noting Cece’s stare which only made him roll his eyes and give her a light and playful shove. “Shut up. I don’t need you getting imaginative on me just ‘cause you haven’t gotten any lately.”

“Fae bullshit,” at least that was as much as Otto understood of the matter. “Yeah? Well… I can get the soup and ingredients but don’t we need like for like? I dunno about you but I’m not buying 2.5 mega litres or however much we’d need of soup.. We could probably just use a smaller batch… amplify the transmutation with the stone?”

“Hey, I’m not the one that broke into his friend’s house and is cradling a toaster right now, buddy.” Cece shrugged, the truth was right here smackdab in their faces. But Cece didn’t disagree about doing something about it. Though without knowledge of fae, she wasn’t entirely sure that it was possible to break from it unless Deirdre let him go herself. Fat chance of that happening. It made Cece wonder if she had managed to talk Morgan into going into the fairy ring with her? Would Deirdre do something like that to Morgan? “If it was my choice? A full length ball gown.” Cece modeled, striking various poses before laughing and taking a swig from the bottle, “Nah I’m just fucking with you. I’m basic. I want tshirt and jeans.”

“Yeah well, most people in town aren’t going to believe that if you go into a circle of mushrooms in the woods that you’re bound to do whatever someone says.” Cece had no doubt that Otto had plenty of friends in the supernatural know. Perks of working at a magical bar. But even for people with supernatural knowledge, fae were sort of a wonder. They held their secrets tightly and knowledge about them tended to be more myth and legend than anything proven. “Exorcist? Honestly, it’s a bit impressive. At twelve, I wanted to be a popstar. It’s good to have goals, kid. Keep working at it.” Otto shoved Cece and she was cracking up, flashing her middle finger at him, “I can’t help where my mind wanders. I’m a very imaginative person Otto.” He was right though, she hadn’t gotten any lately.

“Nah. One will do.” Cece waved off the thought. Alchemy was all about the ingredients. Break things with a similar enough composition and you could turn it into anything. “It’s gonna suck for those kids though. Summer’s almost over anyways, go crack a book or something.”

“I don’t need reminding!” he whined, thumping her on the arm again for good measure even if he knew she was absolutely right on that account. But here they were and Otto wasn’t sure he was going to get out of this one any time soon. The talk of clothes was a nice distraction, and he cocked his head, trying to envisage Cece in the tox-room in a full length ball gown featuring rubber gloves and goggles while running a tox-panel. The mental image was enough to make him snort a laugh and it was at that moment he realised why he appreciated Cece so darn much. “Nothing wrong with that, select individuals can pull that off and make it look trendy - you’re one of those people. Granted… this town is full of pretty attractive people I won’t lie.”

“I’ve given up trying to convince the disbelievers, honestly as funny as it is watching them bend over backwards to deny something it gets a bit old in the end.” He pulled a face and shook his head, “not really, I know jack all about ghosts and I’m not interested in them that’s the issue… Turns out an old friend I used to run with lives here in town, they wanted me to cover for them little did I realise they were yanking my chain all along. Now I’m the villain because I helped covered for them. Shows how much loyalty’s worth these days huh?”

The flash of Cece’s middle finger, made Otto roll his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m sure you can’t.”

“I don’t really care about the kids, I kind of just want to do it because I can, you know? Sometimes it’s fun just to flex if there’s no real harm coming from it.”

Cece gave a shocked look at Otto as if she was offended by the arm punch. “Geez, okay Oscar the Grouch. Hitting a lady? The audacity.” Cece’s life had been so consumed with a fake sense of ease and stability with the coven that she had few people she felt completely relaxed around. The two genuine friends she did have within the coven even came with a hint of danger, with their plotting always threatening the safety and trust of the three. Cece enjoyed being able to stay lighthearted even in the sense of immediate danger. Otto’s situation didn’t seem good, but both of them knew that there was no immediate way to fix it. What was the point of being down in the dumps? Cece enjoyed the simplicity of being friends with Otto. Things came easily. “They’re all hot right? I’ve never understood it. It must have some magic magnet that pulls in all the hot people. I mean, it worked on us.” Cece shrugged like this was all the proof that she needed.

Cece pictured Regan at that. Cece had never met somebody so intertwined with the supernatural that still refused to believe in it’s existence, though she respected her boss’ tenacity. That stubbornness was supernatural in its own right. It made some of the more unexplainable jobs at work humorous if nothing else. It really was too bad that Cece had ended up liking Regan so much. “Shit. It sucks, but I’d totally watch that soap opera.” When in doubt, lighten the mood with a little humor, right? That’s what Cece was so convinced fixed any issue? “They’re still running around pulling their scams then, too? Ain’t that some bullshit?”

“Flexing is what I do best, as a matter of fact” Cece held her arm out and curled her fist, flexing the tiny amount of arm muscle that she had and pointing at it in true bodybuilding fashion. “Fair. It’s high time those kids learned how the real world works anyways. Get disappointed.” Cece realized that Otto was still holding onto the toaster and sighed. She didn’t know exactly how this fairy ring shit worked. “I’m not getting my toaster back, am I?”

“We both know you’ll give as good as you get,” Otto quipped, reclining back once more and closing his eyes in mental contemplation of his situation. And the inevitability of it all. “Absolutely, that has to be it… There is no other explanation for why people in this town are all so aesthetically pleasing.”

Nadia was a whole other conundrum. What did he have to do to fix this? And did he really want to do it considering the people invested in getting rid of her were all grade A assholes from the limited encounters online that Otto had with them? They didn’t give him much reason to want to help them and yet a part of him questioned whether he had a duty to do that. But when had he ever truly put the needs of other people above that which suited him? And therein lay the crux of his issue. “I know right? At this point I’m just going to let them play their games and see where they end up… If they win, great, if not I guess they only have themselves to blame.”

“Well then, I guess we need some soup.” With that he rolled back and then forwards propelling himself off the sofa. “Nope,” came the answer with a pop of the ‘p’ for emphasis “it’s gotta be sacrificed. But I’ll repay you for the donation once this is over… Probably.” With a small roll up onto his toes he tilted his head, “come on then!”

The night certainly hadn’t gone how Cece had expected. Otto brought a lot of information to light that Cece wasn’t entirely sure what she should be doing with. In almost all cases, none of this was her problem. Getting involved in more supernatural bullshit was the exact opposite of what she needed. It had been the entire point of escaping to a small town in the farthest possible state from anywhere someone thought Cece would go. This had been a chance to stay low. Clearly, Cece fucking sucked at that. Instead she ended up finding herself right in the middle of some supernatural epicenter, befriending people that couldn’t seem to go a week without attracting some magical clusterfuck of drama.

It was even more unfortunate than that Cece actually enjoyed her time here. The people, the excitement, the drama. Cece had never been much for staying lowkey. She hadn’t been in California and she hadn’t been within the coven either. She wasn’t sure why she thought she had any chance of doing it in Maine either. “You have a real knack for dragging me into your shitstorm, don’t you? You’re lucky I love you.”

Cece rolled her eyes. She guessed she was going to have to explain to Camille and Jane tomorrow why the toaster was suddenly gone. “Oh sure. I’ll wait with baited breath,” Cece laughed, sarcasm apparent in its tone. “I’m going to regret offering to help you, I know it already.” But it was better than sitting at home alone, she supposed.

[faithhudson]

Cleaning Up || Sawyer & Fae 07.27

Tagging: Sawyer Hudson (@sawyerhudson) & Fae Hudson

Date: July 27

Location: Sawyer’s suite

Classes: Home Ec

Summary: A domestic scene and attempts not to punch people

Sawyer didn’t really want to do scenes with other people, and Fae didn’t really want to earn points, but they were siblings and siblings helped each other out. He had invited her round for the last day scene week was applicable, making sure to leave a few dishes out on the side, and his bed unmade. It would just be a simple domestic scene and the minute she was done, he was going to put on Dad’s old records and they were just going to chill. He heard her knock at the door, opening it and smiling at his sister on her knees, trying to fight back a laugh. “Hey,” He said, offering his hand to pull her up. “Thanks for coming.”

Fae struggled with the whole idea of scenes, and she knew that Sawyer understood better than most.  She didn't plan on getting enough points to graduate, and the whole thing seemed pointless.  But her brother had a girlfriend and a future, and points would be good for them both.  So if she needed to play submissive for a little while she could do that.  Knocking and kneeling, she shuffled awkwardly and found that his stifled laugh matched her own.  "Thanks for having me, Sir," she intoned, accepting his hand and stepping inside where she'd feel a little less ridiculous.

“Thanks for using your titles un-prompted.” Sawyer praised, deciding that calling Fae a “good girl” was a little cringeworthy. “So, today is simple. I have a couple of chores I need you to do,” He explained, handing over the little handwritten list he jotted down last-minute, “You can’t move on from one task until I’ve approved the work you done. If I don’t approve, you’ll have to start over. The sooner you finish, the sooner you get your reward. Is that fair?” He’d normally just leave Fae to her own devices, but it wouldn’t be much of a scene if he did that, and he figured she could handle if he was a little bit of a hard-ass to her.

God damn it was difficult not to roll her eyes as Sawyer went over the rules of the day.  She didn’t do this, and hearing it coming from her own brother’s lips just added another strange layer to it.  But they had a deal, and a bit of time doing what she was told wouldn’t kill her.  “Fair, Sir,” she agreed, reading through the list.  “Want me to get started now?”

"Before you get started, remind me of your limits and your safe-word." He knew for a fact none of these limits would be pushed, but he wanted her to recite them, to put it out there that they wouldn't be considered, and to also give her a reminder that it was still a scene, and she could opt out at any point, no matter what, no questions asked.

Fae nodded, head up and eyes on Sawyer as she focused on him.  This part was important, because everyone would ask for it when she did scenes.  "Yes, Sir.  My safeword is 'holiday,' and my limits are electricity and cages."  There were others, if she were honest, but they were sexual in nature and they weren't about to touch any of that.

Sawyer gave a curt nod, "Holiday." He repeated, so she knew he heard her. "Got it. And don't worry, it's a simple domestic scene, so there'll be no electricity or cages." He didn't even want to think about the connotations behind those limits were, but he wanted Fae to know that he'd never, ever push her like that.

"I was sort of hoping those weren't going to be included, Sir," a smile pulled at her lips, but Fae tried to remain serious.  "Thank you."  She never thought for a moment Sawyer would hurt her, but if they were treating this like a scene she needed to be honest.

"You're welcome." Sawyer matched her smile for a moment, to show her that he'd never think about harming her, before remembering his role, trying to channel his inner Chris Abrams-like Dominant, becoming hard-faced once more.  He knew it was hard for her, and he wanted to just drop the Dom facade and tell her she didn't have to do anything of it, just chill, put on some TV. Another part of Sawyer told him that it was better it was him than someone who'd take genuine offence to Fae's reluctance, and that the worst punishment she'd probably get off him was a Carole Hudson-Hummel level of tutting, rather than something that'd actually cause damage. "Yes." He said, proud of himself for managing to drop the please from the sentence. "Go ahead and get started.  Just shout me when you're done."

As cringe inducing as it all was, Fae was glad to have wrangled a scene with someone she could trust.  And who she could sub to, because being a Dom was still way out of her comfort zone.  And despite how uncomfortable she knew they both were, Sawyer was taking I seriously and she would as well.  “Understood Sir.”  Without further prompting she headed for the sink, having decided dishes were the simplest place to begin.

It was quite nice to have Fae around in a more domestic setting, in a way it was like catching up for all the wasted years back home in Champaign. Where she hadn’t been there when he helped their mom with setting the table, or whining about vacuuming, or just...anything normal. They were robbed off a lot of their normality, and as strange and unusual this scene was, it was still more normal than either had been through. He crept to the kitchen, just watching her wash the dishes for a moment, before heading to the corner of his living room, putting on one of their dad’s old records, because he was on the forefront of their minds constantly these days, and he kind of liked the idea of him being with them in this moment.

Dishes were simple.  Ritualistic.  Wash, rinse, dry.  Wash, rinse, dry."  It was good because it was mechanical.  It was bad because it left time to think.  Fae tried to do as little of that as possible, especially when it came to family.  But she was in Sawyer's kitchen, helping with his dishes, and it was impossible not to think at least a little.  When she heard the scratchy sound of a needle dropped on a record her heart stopped a little, and the song that began to play was one she actually knew.  "Well, the stage was set, the sun was sinkin' low down," she sang softly, trying to push memories of their Dad away while she did.  "As they came to town to face another showdown..." she dried the last of the dishes, setting them on the counter, but leaning there waiting for the chorus before she called out to Sawyer to check her work.

Sawyer had admittedly zoned out, watching the record spin around, the song washing over him. Memories of their dad on his good days blasting it in the living room, forcing their mom to dance with him, making Sawyer, Fae and Finn laugh and dance along, played in his head. It took him a moment to register Fae calling his name, and he headed back to the kitchen, wiping his eyes, letting the hard-ass version of himelf from years ago take over. He picked up the dishes, examing them closely, just to drag it out, before nodding. "They're satisfactory." He nodded, "Put them away and you can move onto your next task."

Fae did her best not to punch him as he looked at each individual dish with seemingly no purpose but to annoy her.  She knew it was part of the scene, part of the way that she had to give in and let him do what he wanted to do, but it was more difficult than she'd expected.  "Yes, Sir," she agreed, ignoring the way that his voice sounded just a little bit choked up.  "I'll go do the bed next."  He didn't need to know, she was sure, but she assumed it was something a good submissive would say.

He simply nodded, because he didn't know if he could say any words to her without choking up. Fae and Sawyer didn't do a lot of talking, not really, and he honestly couldn't remember the last time he cried in front of her. Or in front of anyone either. Probably when he scraped his knee when he was 7. And then later pushed his school nemesis Tommy DeLuca over for making fun of Sawyer crying. And then he bawled like a baby anyway. The memory admittedly (and slightly disturbingly) made Sawyer feel slightly better, and he took another couple of deep breaths, before heading out, to maybe chill a bit before Fae was ready for him.

Fae knew, or at least suspected, that Sawyer's silence was much like her own.  They didn't need to get wrapped up in memories, at least not while they were in the middle of a scene.  She let him walk off and began to put things away, which required a few glances through the cupboards but didn't take too long overall.  In the meantime she sang along with records she was sure she'd forgotten, finally heading for the bedroom and suddenly understanding why Carole would get frustrated with them for leaving beds unmade - it was a mess. She took everything off of the bed, down to the bare mattress, before starting it from scratch - fitted sheet, sheet, pillowcases, blanket, all of it.  By the time she was done she was sweating profusely even in the suite and had to sit down for a few minutes to catch her breath.  Fae checked the corners, tucking one in a bit more, and nodded at her work.  "Think I'm ready," she called.  "Sir."

Sawyer headed back into the bedroom, and, if he were being honest with himself, he wasn't that confident in Fae's bed-making abilities. He and Finn definitely suffered for their half-assed ways growing up and whilst Sawyer at least threw the cover over the bed and fluffed the pillows, Finn never even botheed. And Fae was a Hudson through-and-through, with an extra pinch of not giving a fuck whatsoever, so his expectations weren't exactly high. He was, however, stunned. The bed was the neatest it had been since he arrived here. "You make the beds exactly like Mom." He blurted out, cringing at his words. "That's a...a compliment by the way. You've done an excellent job." He stammered, glancing back at the bed and already feeling guilty at the fact he and Fauna would be messing it up later. "You can move on." And he hurried out of the room, before Fae threw a punch at him for comparing her to Carole.

Fae cringed at the description.  She wasn't sure how she'd remembered enough to pull it off, but assumed that there must have been some lingering pre-alcohol memories of helping out as a kid.  But the thought that she had actually recreated something their mother used to do disturbed her on many levels and she barely noticed Sawyer leaving.  "Thanks," she finally muttered, long after he'd departed.  The last few tasks were fairly quick and easy, some general cleaning and dusting, and each of them were checked off simply enough.  Returning to the living room she knelt in front of Sawyer and restrained herself from rolling her eyes.  "Last couple are done if you'd like to check them, Sir."

Sawyer kept himself busy by texting his friends and teammates, as well as planning his plans with Fauna for the next day. It was going to be hard, to wait these 24 hours to ask the girl to be his girlfriend, and he was especially glad that his sister was here to help him distract him from such a thrilling and dauntless task. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her kneel before him, and he just looked at her for a moment, a stupid smirk on his face, though he tried his best to hold back his laughter at the site. "Very well," He spluttered out, going to check on the dusting whilst letting out his laughter. When he decided everything was up to par, he returned back to where Fae was kneeling. "Stand." He ordered, "You've done an excellent job, Fae. Well done." He praised, "How are you feeling, about today? About the scene, about submitting? I know this was extremely basic, and I am your brother, but in terms of the titles, the kneeling and following orders...how was it?"

For Sawyer's sake it was lucky that he managed to restrain himself, because if he'd actually laughed at her Fae was sure she would have ruined the scene by decking the Dominant with one hand and costing them both valuable points.  And that would have been more frustrating, since it would mean she'd gone through with her submission for nothing.  "Thank you, Sir," she nodded, standing and doing her best to crack her neck a little - the bed had been hard work.  "I'm...I mean, it's fine?" she offered hesitantly.  "Like I'm at least more comfortable doing that than I am with the thought of being in charge of someone.  And yes, it was weird doing this with you, but I think we put something simple and effective together so I don't mind that.  You were walking a fine line with that crack about Carole, though, you know that right?"

"Okay, good. Fine is good." Sawyer declared with a nod, "You'll probably be a better Dominant than you think, you know," He assured her, "but you have time to explore that side only if you really want to. You don't have to ever do anything you're completely uncomfortable with. I'm glad to have done this with you as well." He couldn't help but grin cheekily at that, "It was an accident." He told her honestly, "but you handled it well. Now, what would you like to do as your reward for doing so well? Nothing's off the table. We can watch TV, order in, go to town for some food. It's up to you."

"Not yet," Fae shook her head.  "I can't trust that I won't get sick, or worse, while someone's depending on me.  Maybe someday it'd be something to check out, but I just don't feel okay with the idea right now."  She leaned in for a quick hug, wanting Sawyer to know that she really was okay with all that they'd done and that she was glad to have helped him with some points.  "Lucky for you," she smiled.  "I'm thinking...a big stuffed crust pizza, some pop, and some of those cinnamon things that the pizza place sells.  And just relax and eat while we listen to some records.  Sound good to you?"

Sawyer gave her a sad smile, although he knew where she was coming from, worrying about someone depending on her when she wasn't well enough to cope. He'd been in a similar boat once upon a time. "Well, no matter what, you're always going to have people to look after you no matter what. But like I said, there's no rush." He was pleasantly surprised when she gave him the hug, letting his long arms wrap around her for the moment, and the feeling of having his little sister in his arms, safe, almost made him tear up again. "You, Fae Hudson, are a genius, you know that? And a mind reader, because I've been thinking about those cinnamon things all day. I'm glad I let you made that choice." He told her, shooting her a wink.

"No, you're right about that.  I'm going to be here for a while, after all."  Seven years, maybe.  At which point she'd either have to have the points and a claim or she'd just get dragged off.  "Just know that your job isn't looking after me.  You've got a girlfriend to romance, points to get, and a claim to find.  Don't need to waste time in there looking out for me."  Fae grinned, pumping her fist.  "Must be some kind of sibling telepathy," she grinned.  "Alright - let's do this.  Pizza, records, cinnamon things."

Sawyer shook his head. "It's not my job, no, but you're one of my triplets, Fae. You and Finn are as equal priority to me as my future claim is, okay? I can romance the girl, earn the points, find a claim and look out for you all at the same thing." He assured, "I'm like a superhero in that way." He rolled his eyes at her fist-bump, but his smile didn't falter. "Let's do this," He echoed, giving her a high five. "Pizza, records, cinnamon things."

[beewitched-blr]

I did a deity reading for @heiligso

Your current connection with Aphrodite shows a lot of promise. It is already strong and the partnership is dynamic. You are right to feel enthusiastic and optimistic. You may be feeling a powerful pull towards her, this is no mistake. You will highly benefit from working together.

Aphrodite warns you to be careful of the shadows. There may be people in your life who aren’t as honest as they seem; you may even be guilty of this at times. To best benefit, you must reflect on yourself and the company you keep. Bring your passion into the light and balance what you feel. Meditation is highly recommended.

There are a couple of suggestions in regards to strengthening your connection. Step out of your comfort zone and start socialising. Go out of your way to make connections with those around you. You need to take an interest in both your business life and social life; balance is key. Success in these fields will prove appealing. There is a strong suggestion to work with others and take a leadership role.

Aphrodite suggests that connecting with your feelings will be helpful, particularly feelings of sadness and loss. You need to learn how to embrace your hardships and channel them into positive energy. It will be hard but in the end it will leave you feeling incredibly empowered. 

From this partnership you will gain many things. You will learn how to thrive in a competitive environment and how to become strong, courageous and unworried in the face of adversity. You will gain self-confidence and understanding of your inner self. This will be an immensely rewarding partnership. 

Other deities who show interest in working with you are:

Apollo - there was a heavy mention of the arts in general.

Euphrosyne - along with her sister she made her presence very well known. 

Aglaea - see above.

Demeter - there was a theme of fertility and nature.

Hestia - there were mentions of family and overall domestication. 

Notes: 

During your reading I kept feeling a strange connection to the fae. 

The Sun card jumped out of my deck three times.

If you have any further questions or would like to discuss anything more, pm me!