#she'd devote her entire life to taking him down

[silversiren1101]

💎💎💎 - what you decide to do with this is up to you? :)

[I adore Valerius you know. He's one of my favorites. Unfortunate, Mino has Opinions. Please don't interpret her opinion as my own because I love your boy, also unreliable narrator yada yada yada]

Valerius

Minovae's lip curls in clear distaste, and her expression turns hard. "He's a corruption of everything I believe in and stand for. I've built my entire career as a Hellknight investigating scum like him and dismantling the loopholes they abuse to gain and keep power."

Her tail thumps the floor, feeding off of her growing emotions.

"His case could be my life's work, honestly. With his age, I could spend years and years tracking the wrongs he's committed across Golarion. Their rippling effects outward. Just how many innocent people have been harmed because of his... 'law'. It's revolting, and I shudder knowing that he's out there, like a festering Worldwound all in and of himself straight to the Pallid Princess's dining hall."

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself, anger having taking to her words as a growl.

"Knowing his patron now, though, it all makes sense, doesn't it? This is all just a game for him, all for his enjoyment. I once thought him honorable and dutiful for the sake of actual law, but now I see the ulterior motive. When you worship a monster of a 'goddess' like that, everything is just a next hit for you, moments defined as flitting from pleasure to pleasure. He's cruel. He doesn't care who he hurts and kills. It's nothing to him. The fact that I once trusted him at all, that I thought him honorable and like a brother in justice before finding everything out... let's just say I would be honored to hold the headsman's axe."

Her words are delivered with all finality of said execution.

[moghedien]

lae'zel, permission, and what she actually wants

the thing about Lae'zel is that she's always looking to someone to give her permission

basically her entire life up until the beginning of the game has been a fight to be allowed to live. she has to prove she's better than her peers. she has to prove that she's worthy of fighting for Vlaakith. hell, even when she was an egg, she would have had to prove she was worthy of hatching because if she'd been a bit late she wouldn't have even been allowed a chance.

she doesn't really do anything unless its what her goddess and her society allows and she'll do exactly what is prescribed. she bristles at any attempts to find a cure for the tadpoles that aren't going to the creche because that is what she is supposed to do as a good githyanki. anything else is a deviation from what is allowed, even if it might work.

so you look at her romance through that lens, it really sort of pulls everything together.

In the act one scene, she's still following the rules like a good devoted of Vlaakith. She will sleep with you one or two times if you ask her to, but will bristle at anything more than that. She's a totally typical normal githyanki after all (she isn't), and it isn't normal for githyanki to have any kind of serious romantic relationships. "love" isn't even a real thing, and is just a strange mental illness that cowards use as an excuse (all of these are things she actually believes at the beginning of the game based on various bits of banter and dialogue where she's reflecting retroactively on her previous beliefs). Straight up, anything beyond casual sex is not allowed, so she doesn't even question it as an option.

Then by the time you get to the Act 2 romance scene, Lae'zel's entire world has been upturned for unrelated reasons. She did everything as she was supposed to and nothing she wasn't and Vlaaktih betrayed her. Her entire culture and society betrayed her despite her never doing anything without their permission.

It seems like she is somewhat quick to accept that and switch her allegiance. Her entire existence was because Vlaakith gave her permission to exist, and then Vlaakith betrayed her no matter how devoted she was. So Vlaakith is a liar and she learns that Orpheus is a possible answer to solve the Vlaakith problem, so now she's committed to Orpheus.

It seems like a quick turn, but if you look at Lae'zel as someone who needs permission, then it makes more sense. Vlaakith can't give her that anymore, so she needs someone else to tell her how to live, so that becomes Orpheus, who of course conveniently isn't there to actually tell her to do anything. So she does as Voss says to try to save him and that becomes her entire life motivation. Because what else can she possibly do? She needs someone's permission to decide how to move on now.

By the time you get the Act 2 romance scene, Lae'zel is on this path, right? If you look at the actual Act 2 romance scene, its basically her asking for permission again. Not in the way you'd immediately expect, because while she is asking like, your permission to develop your relationship into something further, its not just you she needs permission from. She needs her societal expectations to give both of you permission.

To elaborate, you're a fucking wrench in all her expectations of what is right. You were supposed to be a one or two night casual fuck, and then she went and got fixated with you. She calls it an obsession. She says its bothering her more than Vlaakith's betrayal, more than her people hunting her, more than the worm in her head. Those are all problems that she has some instruction on how to address. You, she has no fucking clue what to do about. Rebel githyanki aren't exactly giving instructions on how to pursue romantic relationships with people while planning on how to take down Vlaakith. Even if they are more lenient and accepting of those kinds of attachments (which we have no idea if they are or not), she hasn't been around any of them long enough to figure that out.

In her feelings for you, she's confronted with feelings that to her culture are perverse and which she has no societal context for. Even if there was someone who might give her the go ahead to pursue that relationship, she has no idea who they might be. She's someone who's entire life has revolved around what she has permission to do within her society, and she finds herself drawn to do something that she has no way of even figuring out how to approach in an acceptable way.

And despite all of that, and all the complications around what asking more from you would mean from a githyanki standpoint, she still gets to a point where she wakes you up in the middle of the night and begs you to do something about it.

She's frantic and confused and its clear she doesn't even really know what she wants from you, so she asks you to prove yourself and fight her. Its not because she thinks you're too weak for her. She admits she finds you strong the first time she comes onto you. Alternatively, she basically negs you after having sex with her by calling you weak and a coward and she is more than pleased to have sex with you again after doing so. Strength or weakness has nothing to do with why she needs you to fight her.

She needs you to fight her because that's how she's always had to prove herself worthy of existence. Her entire life has been a series of peers and comrades she had to fight in order to prove that she could go on. So when she doesn't know what else to do about you and there's nothing else to tell her how to proceed, she needs you to fight and prove that you (and her) can go on.

But the thing about the duel you have, is that the outcome doesn't actually matter. Regardless, it does give her what she needs to know to go on your relationship, but not in any ways she expected. Regardless if you win or she does, she gets overwhelmed and realizes that she wants you and she wants you to want her. Something definitely starts to shift in her mindset after the fight.

If you win, she's alarmed by the contradiction that she should feel ashamed for having lost. If you lose, she's alarmed by the contradiction of feeling no joy in having beaten you. She realizes that she doesn't want to be doing the thing she's supposed to do (fight to prove her worth) and instead wants to protect you. She also says that she wants you to protect her, which is something that she only says if you lose the fight, which I think is notable and makes the shift a bit more obvious.

Because she only says it if you lose. You lost. You just showed you were weaker than her. And she still wants you to protect her. By all githyanki standards, you shouldn't even be worthy of living if you couldn't win the fight, but she not only doesn't want to see you hurt, but she wants you to see that she doesn't get hurt. Not only should this not make sense because you lost, but it is maybe the first time Lae'zel has admitted she doesn't want to have to rely only on her own strength. She wants to rely on you, even if you're weaker and couldn't beat her in a fight. That challenges everything she has ever believed in her life probably as much as being betrayed by Vlaakith did.

If you win the fight, she doesn't admit that, but I think the sentiment is still there. It just isn't something that she has to directly confront in the moment because you proved that you can protect her. In that instance, she's coming to terms more with the fact that she should feel weaker or ashamed but isn't. In either instance, she was asking for permission from her ideals on how to deal with the You problem. In either instance, she's confronted with something that challenges that. Either you fail to meet the expectations she thought she had, and she finds out she doesn't care, or she fails to meet the expectations of a githyanki soldier and she finds out she doesn't care. Because either way, she figures out she wants you more than she wants to be the good githyanki that does what she's supposed to and act like she's supposed to act. Being "obsessed" with you should be perverse and wrong, but she embraces it whether she has permission (from her society) to do so or not. That is an extremely big deal.

And even before we get into Act 3, there are some interesting beats here about Lae'zel's romance in Act 2 still. One of the two things I want to discuss is the kissing. After the main Act 2 romance scene, you get new dialogue options, including asking her to kiss you.

This is kinda where we get into my opinions on the best choices to make with her romance, and I'm aware that these are my opinions and people deciding to do other things isn't incorrect. I'm pointing this out because I'm gonna start talking a lot about choices soon and which ones I think are the best thematically and from a character standpoint. They are my opinions. You are allowed to disagree. I will however be defending and arguing my opinions here. You don't have to get angry or defensive if you did something else or don't agree with my conclusions.

Now, back to kissing Lae'zel. The notable thing about asking Lae'zel to kiss you is that her initial reaction is embarrassment. It's somewhat of a turn from how she is open about talking about your sexual encounters before this. The entire fight scene, which may have ended up with the two of you making out in the middle of camp until it faded to black, was seemingly in front of everyone and she had no concern about that.

Kissing just out of the blue though? She's shy about that.

Because just kissing for no reason is soft and pointless, really (and if you watch the Lae'zel kissing animations, they are all in fact very soft and sweet). You don't really need to do it. Before hand with the sex and whatnot, she fully has arguments about why that was ok and even beneficial for the overall task at hand. Soft little kissing though? There's no reason to do that unless she wants to. Hence her embarrassment.

Now, she won't kiss you in Act 2 when you ask because of her embarrassment. Not unless you persuade her to do it. You only have to persuade her once and if you succeed, the first time she is clearly nervous and looks around uncomfortably. In all honesty, it seems somewhat uncomfortable to persuade her especially given her initial reaction. I do, however, think its the best thing to do for her.

Yes, she's uncomfortable. She's uncomfortable with your entire relationship now because she's has no experience even knowing about a situation like this and from a githyanki standpoint, affectionately kissing in public for no reason is basically outing yourselves as being perverts. She also very, very clearly wants it. The way you persuade her, is by pointing out that she probably wants this. And if you succeed in pointing that out to her, she is smiling and afterward when you ask her to kiss she is clearly happy and very soft about it all.

If you don't persuade her, I believe you can still kiss her without the check if you wait until after the Act 3 scene, so she is clearly comfortable with it at some point. Persuading her might seem like you're pushing her past her comfort zone. That's honestly why I didn't do it for a while. But looking at how she reacts after the fact and what happens after, I do feel like its not so much pushing her out of her comfort zone. Its more challenging her to push against her initial ideas of what she thinks she should do and instead encouraging her to do what she wants. More on that later.

The other romance beat that happens in Act 2 occurs some time after the main scene in camp, when she get about as vulnerable as she's been yet. She asks you for softness. She wants to be with you and she doesn't want the rough, passionate, hedonistic type of night that has been all of your relationship up until this point. She asks for gentleness, softness, and she's terrified. She says outright that its terrifying for her to ask this and she's been working up the courage to do so.

This is meaningful in multiple ways, because its not only a sign that your physical relationship is becoming something more than just sex. Its a sign of how much Lae'zel has changed. Because Lae'zel is someone who needs permission in everything. Up until this point, we haven't seen her ask for permission, she simply waited for her betters to give it to her and denied herself if they didn't. When it was someone who isn't above her, she makes demands. She doesn't ask permission. Ever. Now she outright asking you for permission to be gentle and soft. She didn't just need to build up the courage to be soft. She needed to build up the courage to ask to be allowed something she wanted.

As I stated before, I think Lae'zel's instinct is to not take into account what she actually wants, but to just go ahead with whatever she thinks she's supposed to do. That's how she was raised and indoctrinated after all. Gently pushing against her first reactions to things allows her a chance to push against that instinct of behaving how she was indoctrinated to behave. I think her asking for a softer touch is a sign of this changing for her. The Act 3 scene is even more so.

The Act 3 romance scene is sort of the height of Lae'zel's character growth. One thing that makes me sort of sad is that I feel like you don't really get to see the fullness of her character unless you romance her. That's true with other characters I've romanced so far to some extent, but not as much as with Lae'zel.

But here you romanced Lae'zel, so you get to see her admitting how much her perceptions have changed because of you helping her see things differently. She has different perspectives and she finds beauty and bliss in things she used to find dread in. She loathed the sun, and now drags you to a roof top just to stare at it coming over the horizon (please don't stare into the sun). She finds herself liking Faerun and the colors in it. She admits all of this before she brings up what she actually wanted to talk to you about.

Lae'zel has no terms in which to describe your relationship. She doesn't know about dating (or courting) or marriage and she doesn't actually even know what the word love means. She doesn't ever say the word until six months later in the epilogue, but what she's describing to you on how she feels is without a doubt love and what she's asking of you is more or less marriage. She doesn't have the terms or any cultural context to make it easier to ask, but she wants you to stay with her, whatever happens. That's the only way she can really describe it. Staying with her. Because even if you've only actually known each other a short time, you might be the most constant thing she's ever had in her life, and she's probably terrified of what it means when the Absolute is dealt with and there is no mission keeping you together. She isn't asking for permission now to stay with you, but is asking for you to stay with her. Where you might be and doing what, who knows, but she is for the first time just pursuing something she wants that she hasn't been given explicit permission for beforehand.

And then, we get to saving Orpheus.

This is where my thoughts might get controversial, but as I said, you're free to disagree but I'm arguing for my ideas here.

I'm not sure how any of this changes if you go a different route in the final parts of the game, so I can really only speak on the options you get if you saved Orpheus and he became Illithid.

So you do the thing that Lae'zel has been lead to believe she needs to do and free Orpheus. I personally cannot blame the man's attitude given his being imprisoned for who the fuck knows how long and the fact that he is still willing to sacrifice himself. However, it is clear that he is perhaps not quite as understanding as Voss lead you to believe he would be. Given that he tells you that you should have let his guard kill you if you were actually on the same side as him, which notably would have doomed everyone and lead to the Absolute's victory. But again, centuries of imprisonment, we cannot blame the guy.

The point I want to make with bringing that up at all, is that, even in these little bits of conflict that don't really amount to anything in game, its a crack in the ideal of Orpheus. He isn't every grand thing that Voss promised you and Lae'zel he would be. He's not bad here and gives us no reason to think he is, but its a crack. Lae'zel didn't have any reason to doubt Vlaakith or see her imperfections until it was too late, after all. I'm not saying the two are equals, but Lae'zel went from worshipping an evil false-goddess to holding up that goddess's enemy in similar reverence in a shockingly short amount of time. The girl jumped from a cult that worshipped one powerful figure to a radical rebel movement that held up another. And we immediately see little tiny cracks in the facade of Orpheus.

Lae'zel won't. Lae'zel doesn't know how to be anything but utterly devoted to the highest figure of authority she sees as worthy to follow. Lae'zel won't know to be wary. But you should be wary as fuck about what Orpheus is going to ask of her.

Cut to the end. We win, the absolute is defeated, yay! Mind Flayer Orpheus is asking Lae'zel to kill him and take up his mantle and lead his rebellion against Vlaakith.

In that moment, you have really two options. Technically there are multiple dialogue options, but really there are two. You can let her go (and potentially go with her) or you can persuade her to stay. If you tell her to do what she wants, she and you will leave on dragons to fight the rebellion against Vlaakith.

I do not think this is what Lae'zel wants.

When Orpheus is giving her this duty, she doesn't look happy about it. She just finished the single most traumatic event of her life, which turned everything upside down and completely shook who she is as a person. Now she is being handed what she had said she wanted. The means to free her people and defeat Vlaakith. She has a silver sword. She's being given not one, but two red dragons. And she just looks fucking sad. She looks exhausted as Orpheus is commanding her to do this.

She is someone who has never lived a life where she was able to want her own goals or life. She was Vlaakith's. Now she's being ordered to carry Orpheus's legacy. And I do believe she wants to stop Vlaakith and save her people from her control. But she is being given all of the burden of doing so and commanded to begin immediately upon completing her previous ordeal.

Lae'zel has been following orders her entire life. She isn't one to even consider what she actually wants and instead does what she thinks she's supposed to do. So when Orpheus tells her to do this, she is going to obey the authority figure like she was been indoctrinated into doing. When you ask her what she wants, she will say you're coming with her because she's at least broken away enough to do that but not to consider that she doesn't want to go.

Gently pushing against Lae'zel's immediate reactions, as I said, is I think the way to get her honest, genuine desires. If you persuade her to stay and disobey Orpheus, she does seem suddenly energized. She will then say that her destiny is not for Vlaakith or Orpheus to decree. Her destiny is hers alone. Neither Vlaakith nor Orpheus will give her permission to do that, but you can. She doesn't obey you. You aren't an authority figure and you have probably shown yourself to be weaker than her at several points in the game. But you still give her permission to choose her life and she accepts that.

And this, is how you break the Lae'zel out of the cycle that she finds herself. in. The only way she isn't perpetually bowing down to some authority figure is if she stays in Faerun. Because she escaped the authority of Vlaakith and immediately went to Orpheus, who now she can't even escape because he's dead and she is the one holding up his legacy on his behalf. She can't choose to leave once she's accepted that responsibility, and she frankly does not look like she wants to accept that responsibility.

If she stays on Faerun, she is still fighting Vlaakith. Not only because she is literally hunting down and murdering Vlaakith's forces, but she's living completely free of Vlaakith's influence in a way she couldn't otherwise. She isn't living under Vlaakith's rules, nor having to live in direct antagonism to Vlaakith's rules by forming a new society from scratch for the githyanki. She's just living. Occasionally going and massacring Vlaakith's soldiers as a means of survival, but otherwise just living how she wants and with who she wants. And in theory, she could go and join the rebellion proper any time in the future. If she stays, her future isn't certain, and that, I think, is the best thing for her.

In the epilogue, if you are with her on Faerun, its clear she doesn't really let herself rest still. She busies herself (and you) by tracking down Vlaakith's forces to eradicate, and she tells you of another one she found, noting that she can't rest for long. You have the option to push against this gently, suggesting taking some time off. No persuasion needed. She not only agrees to take some time off, but she immediately has a vacation suggestion which she has clearly been looking into and is excited to check out. But Lae'zel is not someone who is going to consider what she actually wants. She's going to suggest what she thinks she should be doing, but with some gentle push back, will let you know what she actually wants.

Because you're not really rejecting her ideas when you push against the instincts that have been indoctrinated into her. You're giving her permission to decide what she wants to do, and Lae'zel is always someone looking for permission.

[eliasorchard]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 — william j. moriarty

: william james moriarty x fem!reader, angst, comfort at end

: warnings — assassination, gore, reader kills her ex-'friend'

: time has passed, the betrayal felt in your heart has softened, and yet it all comes crashing down like a house of cards when you meet your once 'dearest friend' again. her, now a corrupt noblewoman: you decide to take matters into your own hands. but what will that exactly entail?

tonight's show was a pleasant affair — after reading about the performance at the opera tonight via the papers, you just knew you had to go (and take the love of your life). and of course, william being the devoted lover that he is, how could he refuse that excited face of yours? that gleam in your eyes and that enthusiastic smile on your face?

"i hope you're not too cold, my dear." he whispers, leaning in closer to you. the two of you are in your own private box, seated on plush velvet seats and looking over at the stage where the actors perform beautifully.

you shake your head. "no, i'm not." you smile at him. "i'm feeling warm. very comfortable." you pull the coat william offered you further closer to yourself, rubbing the fabric with your fingers absentmindedly. you're more than grateful he's here with you. after what occurred with your friend all those years ago, your emotions have been on a rollercoaster since, you couldn't help it. it's followed you throughout your life, has made you distrusting of others — you name it.

but william stayed, all throughout the rough times and the difficulty you'd been experiencing. his love never faltered.

"that is good." he nods, acknowledgingly. "...look over there."

and your eyes travel forwards to the stage, a flurry of lights; now lit softly like feathers dancing in the air. and for a mere second the entire opera, previously dim, is lit with it's luminance. it was beautiful, dazzlingly bright and had everybody's lips parting. but in that split second, when the lights shone down upon the audience, that was when you saw it. saw her. the muscles in your body froze instantly.

and william could tell something was wrong, especially when he saw you go pale and how your fingers tightened around the armrests. he puts a comforting hand on your arm, "darling... are you alright? what's wrong?"

it's like you're unable to speak, your mouth refuses to open. so william takes the initiative instead, his gaze follows your own to look where your eyes are so stuck upon. he sees it, sees her. you'd talked about her before, this person who'd ruined the majority of your childhood and teenager years. he instantly becomes sympathetic, caresses your cheekbones that are sweating with the back of his fingers.

olivia. it was her — the woman who'd stolen your inheritance and destroyed your name.

"do you wish to head home?"

this woman, she had married a nobleman. both the spouses were very corrupt and treated those of lower stations than them harshly — meaning they were already on his kill list. but the assassination can wait for another time, he thought. his priority right now is getting you away from her.

you feel a droplet of sweat on the back of your neck and it frustrates you to no end. you thought you were over this, had healed from whatever scars she'd left on your heart. was it fear you felt? or anger over the fact that she was still able to command these emotions out of you? this fear?

"...i," you begin slowly.

william leans in further, prods you on carefully. "yes?"

you inhale sharply, make an effort to compose yourself and part your lips: "i... want her life, william."

"..."

now it's his time to freeze, never did he think he'd have to hear you saying that before. but he understands, this was the extent to how deeply she'd hurt you. he takes his time thinking before eventually answering. "alright," he leans in and places a kiss on your forehead. "anything you wish for."

you stir awake to the sound of fabric shuffling. with some effort, you sit up in bed. it's the middle of the night so you have to blink multiple times for your eyes to get used to the darkness that surrounds you. "mmn-.. william?"

the fabric stops shuffling for a mere second, as if to confirm that you'd called out his name. "you're awake?"

you nod your head, and wonder if he can even see with how dark it is. "you're leaving?" you don't ask where he's going, you already know the answer to that.

"yes, louis is going to groom the horses for a bit before we head out." you hear the sound of footsteps nearing you. the next thing you know, he's placed a soft kiss on your nose. he pulls back. "i'll be back soon.. wait for me in your dreams?"

you smile at that. "alright."

and just like that, as immediately as his footsteps came over, they disappear just as quickly, leaving you in the dark.

you shift to the edge of your bed once you hear him gone, you feet dangling off the edges. there's a grim expression on your face. you've already set your mind to it:

you're going to be the one to take her life. no one else.

living with william james moriarty meant being able to plan things meticulously was a given. and you, too, had picked it up. the ornate wall sconces cast long shadows as you slip through the hallway of the manor. though your breathing comes rapid and shallow, your footsteps make no sound as you steal towards the bedroom at the end of the hall.

in your clenched fist is a slender blade, the steel catching the flickering light as you progressed. too long had you carried the scars of betrayal — tonight, the debt would be repaid in full. reaching the bedroom door, you pause to steady your nerves. beyond lies the woman who ruined your life, who left you broken and destitute after ruining you.

olivia's crimes had gone unpunished for far too long under the protection of wealth and status. no more. you push the door open with a gentle creak, entering the bedroom as soundless as a wraith. moonlight streams through the windows, illuminating the four poster bed. there, tangled in silken sheets, lied olivia asleep - oblivious to her doom.

you steel yourself, approaching on light feet. you gaze down at olivia's slumbering form, at the perfectly sculpted face that had smiled so sweetly while engineering your downfall. and your hands start to shake, the knife trembling, as a storm of emotion swirls within — hatred, fear, vengeance.

no longer will you let these emotions control you, no longer will you let her control you. her death will provide you salvation and peace, you were sure of it.

yet in is in that moment that olivia stirs, eyes fluttering open to lock with your own across the bed. a gasp of shock escapes olivia's lips as recognition dawns. "you..! what are you doing here—" she breathes, starting to sit up.

but you are too swift. the blade flashes silver in the moonlight as it comes arching down towards olivia's exposed throat. there is a wet sound, a hissing gasp, and suddenly the sheets are staining crimson. olivia's body spasms once, hands grasping uselessly at the knife lodged in her neck before eventually going still. chest heaving, you stare down at the corpse, feeling.... nothing.

why was it so? why did you not feel the satisfaction you thought that you would feel? there is nothing — no relief, no catharsis, only emptiness and disgust. at yourself.

what did you do? what have you become?

a killer? your figure trembles as they look down at your now blood stained hands. reality sets in.

a floorboard creaks behind you and you whirl around, bloody blade trembling before you. "name—...?" it was james, eyes widening at the sight in front of him. he was supposed to be the one to take olivia's life tonight and yet,

william shortly makes his way up the stairs, now finished with assassinating olivia's husband. before even entering the room, he'd noticed the expression on james' face and the mentioning of your name. he should have taken this into account; constantly asking questions about the planning, who would be the one to take her life, when the plan would be set in action.. he stands silhouetted in the doorway, taking in the grim scene with hooded eyes.

"it is done, then." he says quietly. "are you.. hurt anywhere?"

"i—i didn't feel how i thought," you whisper brokenly. "there is no peace in this." you stagger away from the bed, wiping your hands on your clothes but you only succeed in spreading more gore. the blade falls from your hand and hits the marble floor with a clatter. your stomach roils and you clap a hand over your mouth, fearing you may vomit.

a heavy footfall announces william crossing the room. gently, he takes your arms to turn you towards him. instantly he's gathering you into your arms. you cry until you can no more, until your sobs have faded to weary silence in william's arms. he holds you tight to him, his chest hurts seeing you like this. it is heartbreaking seeing you like this.

pulling back to brush fallen hair from your eyes, he gazes down at you with affection "my dear, you have suffered more than any should," he murmurs. "let me ease your pain."

you try to look away, ashamed, but william's slender fingers catch your chin softly until your eyes meet once more.

"i will gladly bear the weight of your sins, (name)," william continues, "that guilt... let me take it. from this moment forth, consider olivia's death mine and mine alone. you need not dwell in pain any more."

a visible tremble courses through your body at his words. "...no, i cannot ask that of you. the crimes are mine to atone."

but william smiles gently. "you ask nothing.. i give this freely, for your light is worth far more than any life i have taken." william lifts the back of your hand to his lips in a lingering kiss that is a oath and a promise all its own.

when at last he speaks again, his voice is tender: "let me bear your sins, (name), and allow me to find what small peace i can in easing your heavy burden. say you will accept this from me, my love, and let your torment be no more."

"..." a sob catches in your throat, and all you can do is nod through very grateful tears. at last the shadows, although still heavy, feel lifted. it may still haunt you, but you know that william will be there for you all throughout it.

he will stand between you and your darkness, forever will.

just like he always has, and just like he always will.

"thank you."

© 𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 ;; do not repost, translate or modify my works in any way or any platform. all rights reserved.

[justwinginglife]

Always You

Based off of the song "Dream" by one of my fav artists ever, Keshi. Definitely check him out if you don't know him, his songs are so good.

There was a limit to how much one could lie to themselves, how much one could distract themselves. And Soshiro was hitting his.

He'd been dating the same woman for 5 years, and they were a happy 5 years. They were filled with love and adoration. Communication was never an issue. Romance never died, he made sure of that. He'd take her out for a date at least once a week, even despite both of their busy schedules. And the sex- the sex was great. It was the perfect relationship. Or it would've been. But it wasn't you.

She had finally given him an ultimatum- he needed to marry her or take his indecisive ass elsewhere.

For 5 years, he thought he could do it. He imagined marrying her, giving her kids, chasing them through the backyard, teaching them how to drive, walking them down the aisle. He knew if he married her, she'd be the best wife. She'd be supportive, be encouraging, be strong, be gentle, be everything he needed her to be exactly when he needed her to be it. And he wanted to need her. He wanted to want her. But she wasn't you.

He did end up buying a ring eventually. But when he pictured himself getting down on one knee, it wasn't her that he imagined gazing down at him fondly in his dreams. It was you. You, holding your hand out to him, all giddy as he slides the ring on you. You, calling everyone you know, to tell them you just got engaged to the love of your life. You, kissing him incessantly as he picks you up and spins you around and around in happy circles.

He never told her about all the times he thought of you, of course. You were a ghost from his past. It wasn't even like he thought about you all the time. He was a good man, he would devote his entire self, or he would try to at least, to one person for the rest of his days. And right now, that person was her. But some nights, when the drink hit a little too hard, when he was a little too alone, he'd think of you. You were a nightmare, come back to haunt him. But you were the most gorgeous nightmare he'd ever seen. It killed him to fight off the mirage of you. But he'd do it for her. He'd push the image of you away so many times that he'd hope he'd forget what you looked like.

But his lips couldn't forget what yours tasted like, even after all these years. He couldn't forget the crinkle of your eyes when you smiled. Couldn't forget the sight of you laid beneath him. Couldn't forget the sounds you made. The sounds he coaxed from you. It seemed like all he did to forget you just provoked your ghost to keep appearing.

At first, he could just lose himself in her. She did make him happy after all. He didn't have to be stuck on you, didn't have to even remember you. But the more she talked of a future with him, the less he wanted that future with her. And then, more and more, he'd begun to think of you so frequently that he didn't even recognize the woman beside him in bed anymore. It wasn't something he could fight, because he had tried to fight these feelings before, but this time it was a fast-acting poison. It was something that had taken hold of him, paralyzed him before he could even remember how to struggle.

She'd tell him where she wanted to honeymoon and instead, he'd remember all the vacations he'd taken with you in the past, all the little slices of paradise he'd been privy to just because he was with you. He could find paradise in a shitty back alley somewhere if you were with him. But you weren't with him anymore. She was. She'd tell him about the house she wanted to buy, and his ears just wouldn't hear her. He'd remember instead how you told him you didn't care what kind of house the two of you shared as long as you could raise up a garden nearby. And when she told him she hoped he'd give her sons, he thought about how you always wanted daughters. You'd even picked out all their names already, you were so sure you were going to be the one for him. He was sure you were going to be the one for him too.

How did it come to this? How could happiness land itself in his lap and yet be unrecognizable if it wasn't you? She was everything he'd ever wanted. He wanted her to be the one so badly. But she wasn't. It was you. It was always only ever you.

When he fidgeted with the ring box in his hand, contemplating how to tell her he couldn't marry her, he noticed that even the ring he'd chosen was for you. It was gold. She hated gold. But you loved it. He wasn't sure how he'd gone into the shop with her in mind and came out with something that could only be for you.

Suddenly, he felt he deserved the gaping hole in his heart that came from losing you. Every stabbing pain, every aching regret, he deserved them all. He didn't deserve to be happy. He felt like such a terrible person, forcing someone (a good someone, a kind someone) to waste half a decade on him when his heart had only ever been yours to begin with.

Of course, he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been happy with her, after all. How could he know that you'd still have a chokehold on his heart? That you'd still visit him in his dreams, in his lowest moments, in the darkest of nights. That even when his mind told him he'd moved on, his heart stayed rooted in place. He thought he'd at least given her something of himself, even just a little bit, after all these years, but now he knew that every single part of him was always only ever yours.

And now that he knew, now that he remembered what you were to him, what you are to him, he didn't ever want to stop thinking of you. Didn't want to lie to himself anymore, or pretend. He didn't want to know a version of himself that wasn't yours.

So he finally set her free, and set himself free in the process.

[nessataleweaver]

FIC: 12 days of HellCheer: Day One

So busy trying to get my new fanfic project up on AO3, I forgot to put it up on tumblr!

Welcome to my Christmas project; I'm finally pulling the trigger and writing some HellCheer.

Much like my last Christmas project, this will be written by the seat of my pants and very probably run late.  Here's hoping I can finish it by the time ST5 premieres; the last project took  a year to finish, and it was only five parts!

Technical note:  'the Twelve days of Christmas' is actually meant to begin on December 25; the last day of Christmas is January 6, which is why you used to occasionally hear about 'Twelfth Night' parties to finish off the holiday season.  January 6 is also known as 'Ephiphany', and is supposed to be when the Three Magi arrived with the first Christmas presents for baby Jesus. Given that none of the presents were able to be used by the baby in question for twenty-odd years (and in the case of the myrhh, until he died) I personally think they maybe should have gone with baby LEGO.  Or a nice mobile made out of stars and heavenly clouds.  But that's just me. 

Warning; these will all be AU's, mostly inspired by anything I've recently finished watching or reading.  If anyone has any suggestions/requests, leave them in the comments!

You can read it on AO3 here

DAY ONE: ...And a bird-headed guy in a VRMMO

INSPIRATION: the anime Shangri-La Frontier. You can watch it on crunchyroll.  Don't skip through the intro because all their opening songs are absolute bangers.  If you have seen it, you'll know who I'm basing Chrissy on in particular.

It is the present day.

All currently available video games are now played on Virtual Reality Headsets, giving players an unparalleled sensory experience.  By far the most popular game in the world is 'Shangri-La Frontier', known far and wide as a 'god-tier game', with 30 million players world-wide.Eddie Munson, a devoted player of 'trash-pile' games, has now begun playing SLF. What adventures await him there?

The town square of Fourfolkshire was bustling as always, as it was also the main thoroughfare for the market district. 

In one corner, however, there was a peculiar hush. 

A distinct gap in the crowd spread around a tall metallic figure, a literal knight in shining armour, the sunlight glinting off the impeccably polished magi-steel.

<i>"That's Psyger-0!"

"The Attack Master? Isn't he part of the MindScape Clan?  The first ones to take down the Level Twenty Boss?"

"Yeah. Wonder what he's doing here?"</i>

Inside the armour, a five foot three teenage girl cast her gaze around nervously, hidden by her impressive helmet.  Her Clan Headquarters was in Eighthold; normally Chrissy, aka Psyger-0, wouldn't be caught dead in such a low game level.  But her Clan was about to start a major campaign in the Castle of Lost Souls on level Twelve, and Fourfolkshire had items to turn undead considerably cheaper than anywhere else in SLF.  She'd lost the dice roll to make the trek down to pick up the order.

It was just her luck to have to come down today; Jason had mentioned at lunch that he, Andy and Chance were going grinding.

Chrissy wasn't sure she'd ever forgive her stupid little brother for mentioning to Jason that she played SLF after her boyfriend received a VR headset for a birthday present. Jason had immediately demanded she join a party with him, so 'he could protect her' (i.e. making sure he was completely informed about every single aspect of her life). Matty had lessened his chances of being maimed beyond repair by immediately pointing out that Chrissy wouldn't be able to level-up or do anything fun in the game that way, which was the entire point.  Chrissy had carefully hidden her pleasure in informing Jason she'd been part of a Clan for over a year, and they didn't take applicants.  When Jason had wanted her to force them to make an exception for him, she'd gotten a genuine thrill out of telling him the Clan Leader, who she had no influence with, didn't even open the door for players under level 20, and a very low threshold for newbies harassing her. She'd reported ten such players to the moderators this year alone.

All of which was true, except for the lack of influence part. As a current top-500 player and the War Leader of MindScape, she had a great deal of influence in the Clan.

SLF, and specifically Psyger-0, was her release and escape from the pressure cooker of her real life. No one cast judgement on her weight, her appearance, or whether she was doing something her mother or boyfriend considered appropriate. She said what she wanted, did what she wanted, and no one ever made crude sexual comments about her.  If that ever happened, she didn't have to wait for her boyfriend to censure them (even though he never did, just laughed and grabbed her possessively to better show off his prize) she could just draw her broadsword and cut them in half.

In her head, Chrissy knew the chances of running into Jason here were almost literally one in a million.  Right from the start, Chrissy had invoked every privacy setting offered on the VR headset and in SLF to protect her identity, including an anonymous email address. The day after Matty spilled the beans, she'd blocked contact from anyone who wasn't already on her friends list. And Andy had been complaining at lunch that he, Jason and Chance (because God forbid Jason do something without an in-built audience to praise him) were still stuck in Diremarsh Waste on level two.  Even if Jason walked right past her, he was too hidebound to connect his tiny, pretty, cheerleader trophy-girlfriend to a six and a half foot tall walking suit of armour, famed for their aggressive style of play that laid waste to every opponent in their path and had once solo-killed every floor boss in the first ten levels in a single day on a bet.

But her instinct, her fears of losing the only place she wasn't constantly under scrutiny and being questioned and judged, was another story.

Then a head of sky-blue feathers crossed her eyeline, and her nerves calmed even as her heart-rate increased.

The player raising their hand in a friendly wave was clearly a male build; the fact he wore nothing but a bird-head luchador mask, loose shorts in a matching blue, and a set of intimidating scars over his torso and legs made that clear.  He was muscled like a gymnast, due to his hit and run style of play, and Chrissy had wondered more than once just how much Sunraku's character build matched his real life body.

Because Chrissy was one of the very few people in SLF who knew who the man under the bird mask was.

Eddie Munson.  Founder of Hawkins High's VR gaming club, and still the President.

When Chrissy had bought her first VR headset from Family DVD and Games, the clerks Robin and Steve had been having a lively debate about Eddie, and just how many games he'd played, mastered, and returned for re-sale.  Apparently Eddie found most elite games boring, and specialised in 'trash-piles', games that were issued with bugs or badly-thought out plotting or world building that only an experienced gamer could master or even complete.  During that conversation (Chrissy had waited a good five minutes for them to notice her standing there) Robin had mentioned that Eddie always used the same character name, and what it was.

Chrissy had tried out a half-dozen games before SLF.  In every one she'd immediately searched for 'Sunraku'.

From her very first day of high school, Chrissy had been utterly fascinated by Eddie Munson.  Not because he was very good-looking once you looked past the chronically uncombed hair, gaming / heavy metal themed Tshirts and mocking expression - even though he was.  But because Eddie Munson was thoroughly, unapologetically himself.  He went his own way, said what he thought and gave absolutely no fucks what anyone outside his small circle of friends thought about him. He didn't let toxic masculinity ideals stop him from being unfailingly kind to his friends and 'sheepies', or anyone else who needed some help. He treated everyone on their own merits, and how they treated him. He didn't care about reputation or community status. Anyone who tried to judge him was flipped off with a wide grin.

Chrissy craved Eddie Munson's sense of self and way of life like a flower craved the sun and rain, though the closest she could get was to bask in his presence.  But Gossip Girl (original or reboot) had nothing on a small town's grapevine; the only place safe for Chrissy to spend time with Eddie was online.  Thus her hunting Sunraku through a daisy-chain of games.

She'd spent a year in SLF, growing her character and building her rep, before Eddie finally showed up. She'd agonized over how to introduce herself in-game, then found out he was being hunted. He'd somehow stumbled into an incredibly rare quest, and a player too inexperienced to know better had put up a screen-shot of him in the forums. Chrissy had figured out his route, and showed up just in time to prevent him getting player-killed.

Sunraku and Psyger-0 had been on each other's friends list ever since.

"Hey, Zero-Rei!  What brings you down to the single-digits?" Sunraku asked.

"Picking up equipment for a raid.  What about you?"

"Something similar," Sunraku looked around in a way that was probably meant to be casual, but screamed 'I'm up to something.'  Somehow, the full-head mask wore the exact same expression as Eddie did in the real world when he was trying to talk Ms O'Donnell into letting him do a paper on comparing the Iron Maiden and Coleridge versions of 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner'.

"Uh huh," Chrissy let scepticism enter her voice.  She could actually express a dissenting opinion without getting criticised in SLF.

Sunraku's eyes widened, as he gave an exaggerated shrug, his arms bent to show his empty palms at shoulder level. "Whaaatt?"

Chrissy just tilted her head at him.  She'd become very good at emoting without words in SLF.

Sunraku sighed. "I'm powerless against your fiendish interrogation techniques.  Yeah, a couple of friends I've played with in other games are on SLF, and we're teaming up for a mission.  Small team only, so I can't give you details until after the fact."

"When are you making your move?"

"Sorry," Sunraku mimed zipping his beak. "Timing's a big part of it, so no can do.  I should be done by next weekend, so if I don't have to re-grind levels we can do a side quest together? Maybe something in the Garden of Singing Flowers?" 

"I could use some crystallized pollen." Chrissy conceded. "DM me once you're done?  This mission must be something news-worthy if you're this secretive.  I'll keep quiet on any info worth trading."

Sunraku gave a cheerful wave as he scurried off.

Chrissy sighed.  How could five minutes with Eddie online put her in a better mood than an hour with anyone else in her offline life?

< NOW OFFLINE >

canon images from Shangri-La Frontier:

Psyger-0

Sunraku

[seasaltandcastles]

Cherrytober; Oral Fixation & Feet

Lessons in Devotion

⤅Summary: A throaty laugh slipped from Seraphil’s lips as Gale lifted her bare foot to his shoulder, his thumbs massaging her heel in firm circles. His gaze traveled up her leg, lingering along the way to savor every bit of her. "I do," she whispered, her voice hitching as his lips brushed against her ankle, his tongue making lazy, deliberate swirls around her bracelet. The sensation made her skin tingle, anticipation pooling in her stomach. "But...how could the professor prove his loyalty? What could he possibly do to show the student he would never stray?" Her hips wriggled of their own accord, her breath catching as the cool wood of the desk pressed against her bare thighs. She lifted her skirt to her waist, revealing her panties to Gale's wandering eyes, a soft moan escaping her as his lips drifted to the top of her foot, sending waves of warmth rippling through her body.

⤅Pairing: Gale Dekarios x Named F!Tav (read about Seraphil here)

⤅Content: Oral fixation, feet worship, cunninglingus, worship kink, praise kink, panty kink, soft dom Gale, orgasm control, sex at work, female POV, a student has the hots for Gale and so he proceeds to let her know he is completely devoted to his wife

⤅Word Count: 5.7k

Seraphil quickly learned that Gale always needed something in his mouth— his quill, a toothpick, his fingernails, a blade of grass, even the inside of his cheek. His lips were never still. Every time she glanced over, she found his teeth grazing over something, his mouth shifting in an almost constant motion.

In the beginning, it drove her absolutely mad. Every time she saw him biting down on that cursed toothpick or the edge of his quill, it gnawed at her— why ruin perfectly fine teeth like that? She tried to write it off as an annoyance, but deep down, it was much more than that. It wasn’t just the habit; it was that his mouth, his lips, were occupied with something other than her. That realization had simmered beneath her surface, the frustration growing day by day. But when she found out about the orb– how it prevented him from feeling or even thinking of intimacy– everything clicked. Of course he needed some form of release. She understood all too well. If she couldn’t even find comfort in her own body, she’d have fallen into a far worse habit.

Once Gale gained control of the orb, she noticed his oral fixation ease. His lips found better purposes now- kissing her, nipping along her neck, sucking on her breasts or clit. It was a far better use of his mouth, and much healthier for that smile she loved so much. Of course, he still has his moments. Sometimes, she'd catch him brushing the feather of his quill over his lips, lost in thought as he wrote, but she never let him get too far. Her fingers would replace the feather, or her lips would find his, and whatever he'd been working on would vanish from his mind as he turned to her instead. She chalked it all up to nerves. The tendays before their final battle with the Absolute had frayed them all. Surely, once the danger passed and he could finally breathe, the habit would disappear entirely. Or at least that's what she told herself.

His habit didn’t stop. In fact, she soon discovered it was something he’d had his whole life, as his lovely mother kindly pointed out while showing her his childhood toys– many gnawed to various degrees. Morena had even invested in toys specifically made for children with such fixations. Thankfully, she also instilled in Gale an impeccable sense of oral hygiene and the manners of a gentleman, so his habit only surfaced when he was lost in thought, and mostly in private.

Or so she thought. At the end of Gale’s first semester as a professor at Blackstaff, he invited her to watch the graduating class present their dissertation work. She was more than happy to accept, eager to see the students’ take on nature magic– perhaps she’d even learn something new. Gale sat up front with the other professors, his sharp eyes focused on the stage, while Sera tucked herself into a seat near the back. She didn’t want to add to the students' nerves or steal a spot where a supportive face might make a difference. And then, in the middle of it all, she saw it.

Gale was deeply engrossed in his notes, no doubt critiquing the presentations with his usual sharp attention. His quill, now wedged between his teeth, bobbed slightly as he leaned back in his chair. His rolled-up sleeves revealed his toned forearms, and his long fingers drummed absentmindedly on the table as his eyes stayed fixed on the presenter. To Seraphil, he looked like an absolute dream, his presence so enthralling even in his relative stillness. And as her gaze swept across the hall, she realized with a quiet spark of possessiveness– she wasn’t the only one who noticed.

A young woman, one of Gale’s students from his Mastery of Illusions class, sat directly in front of her husband. Though Seraphil couldn’t see her face, the girl’s posture told her everything she needed to know. Her legs were neatly tucked beneath her chair, her back arched forward, and her chin rested dreamily in her hands, all of her attention fixed on Gale, not the presentation. She was the same student who attended Gale’s open office without fail, despite her flawless grades, always leaving behind an apple or freshly baked biscuits. And now there she was, watching with rapt attention, as Gale absentmindedly ran his tongue along the quill feathers in his mouth.

Sera’s stifled laugh slipped out as a soft huff, which she quickly masked by clearing her throat. Jealousy was foolish– if she wasted time fretting over every glance sent her husband's way, she’d drive herself insane. So, she focused on the presentations, though her eyes inevitably drifted back to him. Gale, ever the professional, stayed fully absorbed in his notes or the speaker, entirely unaware of the admiring eyes fixed on him. That is, until the presentations wrapped up for the day. As soon as he stood, his familiar grin found Sera across the room— and then the girl moved in. With a notebook in hand, she sidled up to him, so close that their arms pressed together. Gale stepped away quickly, but the damage was done. Seraphil’s irritation had already flared. Looking was innocent enough, but touching? That was absolutely unacceptable.

Sera’s fingers tapped against her thigh as she wove her way through the crowd, her eyes fixed on Gale. He stood rigid, arms crossed defensively over his chest, while the student leaned in, talking with enthusiasm and pointing to her notes. His posture screamed discomfort, but he nodded along, trying to keep his distance. The moment Sera was close enough, his hand shot out to hers, his smile strained. “Ahh, look who it is,” he nervously laughed, pulling her tightly against him. “Adelaide, you remember my lovely wife, Seraphil. Are you ready to go, my sweet?” His too wide grin didn’t match the urgency in his eyes, and his muscles were tense under her hands.

“But Professor,” Adelaide whined, her voice sharp enough to make Sera’s ear twitch. “Could you please review my peer feedback? I want to ensure it's helpful criticism for Ms. Eikelenboom’s dissertation.” With an insistent shove, she forced her notebook back into Gale’s space, making him step away again, clearly trying to avoid any contact.

Sera felt her irritation transform into a simmering rage. How dare this girl make him so uncomfortable? Gale’s hands were tied by the expectations of human propriety, leaving him unable to push back without seeming rude. She however was not bound by such constraints.

Sera’s lips curled into a condescending smirk as she casually snatched the notebook from Adelaide’s grasp. She shot the girl a sharp look, holding her gaze for just a moment before turning her attention to the pages. Slowly, she flipped through the text, pretending to scrutinize each word. “It was Anna, right?” she asked, her tone sweetly ignorant but laced with a clear intent to unsettle. Sera could see the subtle shift in Adelaide’s posture, her confidence wavering under the weight of Sera’s gaze.

“Um… it’s Adelaide, Mrs. Dekarios,” she corrected softly as she nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Sera’s smile widened. She tucked the girl’s notebook under one arm with a slow, deliberate motion, then hooked her free arm through Gale’s elbow. “Tell you what, Adelaide,” she said, her voice full of casual confidence. “My husband and I have half a candle to kill before our dinner reservation. We can review your writing while we attend to some…personal matters in his office. Swing by and grab it before we leave, alright?”

Seraphil didn’t give Adelaide a chance to reply. She intertwined her fingers with Gale’s, pulling his hand securely against her hip as they turned away, ensuring the girl saw every bit of their closeness as they walked to the door. Once they were in the hallway, Sera’s fingers slid into the hair at the nape of Gale’s neck, gently scratching his scalp as she leaned into his shoulder. “Don’t worry, my love,” she murmured into his ear, feeling a rush of triumph as his lips curled into a soft, genuine smile. “I’ll make sure she never bothers you again.”

Once they reached his office, Gale took the notebook from Seraphil’s hands, easing into his chair with his usual quiet focus. His eyes quickly scanned the page, every line dissected with his meticulous attention to detail. Sera, meanwhile, made a deliberate show of closing the door, letting the lock click into place with a soft but audible snap. Gale’s gaze flashed up to her, his brow lifting slightly as his lips curved in a subtle smile. Her own mischievous grin widened in return. “And what are you up to, my love?” he asked, his tone light but teasing. “If I’ve only got half a candle to read this, I’ll need to focus.”

Seraphil glided to the front of his desk, her hips swaying as she draped her shawl over the empty chair with a captivating grace. “Oh, I’m well aware,” she purred, her light tone hinted with the slightest bit of seduction. Her steps were slow and purposeful as she circled to his side of the desk, slipping off her shoes delicately. “I’ve noticed you tend to focus better…when you’ve got something in your mouth.” She slid to sit on the cool, polished oak, her foot resting lightly on his thigh as she crossed her legs, the shift in her posture drawing his eyes to the curve of her back and breasts. Leaning back, she let the silence linger, her gaze steady on him, watching his chest heave as he took her in.

His cheeks flushed red as he cleared his throat, his hands finding her calf and rubbing her muscles with soothing circles. She had never revealed that she noticed this quirk of his, and it was clear he believed it went unobserved. “Oh…that,” he murmured, his teeth grazing his lower lip as his gaze flickered away, embarrassment etching his features. “I don’t even realize it when I’m focused. It just… happens. Then I finish with my work, and my quill is soaked, or my nail is chewed. I try to catch myself, but it’s impossible. I really can’t help it.” He glanced back at her, his eyes wide with vulnerability.

“Oh, love,” Sera whispered, her voice comforting as she leaned closer to trace the line of his jaw with her fingers, her eyes sparkling with affection. “There’s no need for embarrassment. I find this little habit of yours…utterly enthralling.” She caressed his mouth with her fingertip, playfully tugging at the edge of his lip with her thumb. “I’m not the only one who's noticed though. Imagine, if you will– you're an academic perfectionist in your final year of school. Your old, creaky professor is suddenly replaced by a man who not only is the most beautiful man you've ever seen, but shares your propensity and love for magical studies. And each time your class gathers to present, which is frequently, he reclines in his chair, rolls up his sleeves to reveal those brawny forearms, and dances his skilled tongue over the feathers of his quill. Would you not be enchanted by him as well?”

Gale's gaze flicked back to Adelaide's notebook before he closed it decisively and pushed it aside. He nudged Sera's hips gently, urging her to sit right in front of him. With a smile, she obliged, placing both her feet on his thighs, relishing the warmth of his strong muscles beneath her touch as she rubbed them with the pads of her feet. "I suppose you're right," he said, his voice dropping into that husky tone that sent electric tingles coursing through her. "But if I knew this professor was completely devoted to his stunningly beautiful wife, I would have no choice but to back off. Wouldn't you agree?" His long fingers trailed up her legs, stopping at the tops of her stockings. His gaze locked onto hers as he began to roll them down, his touch sending shivers across her skin as he revealed it.

A throaty laugh slipped from Seraphil’s lips as Gale lifted her bare foot to his shoulder, his thumbs massaging her heel in firm circles. His gaze traveled up her leg, lingering along the way to savor every bit of her. "I do," she whispered, her voice hitching as his lips brushed against her ankle, his tongue making lazy, deliberate swirls around her bracelet. The sensation made her skin tingle, anticipation pooling in her stomach. "But...how could the professor prove his loyalty? What could he possibly do to show the student he would never stray?" Her hips wriggled of their own accord, her breath catching as the cool wood of the desk pressed against her bare thighs. She lifted her skirt to her waist, revealing her panties to Gale's wandering eyes, a soft moan escaping her as his lips drifted to the top of her foot, sending waves of warmth rippling through her body.

Gale's huff of laughter filled the room as he leaned forward, forcing Seraphil to bend her knee while he tapped his leg where her other foot rested. "Well..." he hummed in a thoughtful tone, his grip on her ankle firm yet tender. Slowly, he let his tongue flicker between her toes, mischief glinting in his eyes. Sera’s giggle caught in her throat, melding into a soft gasp as the sensation rippled up her leg, teasing her core. Goosebumps blossomed across all of her skin now, her pulse quickening under his touch. Noticing her reaction, Gale's smile grew wicked, his brows knitting together with his signature enticement. "I do believe," he mused, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “If I were that student, and I thought my professor had been reviewing my work, but instead, I heard him making his wife cry out in ecstasy…I’d have no choice but to concede. Only a truly devout husband would forsake all proprietary to pleasure his wife so thoroughly, especially in his own office.”

With that, Gale's lips closed around her toe, his tongue swirling slowly across her sensitive skin. A breathy laugh spilled from Sera's lips, her chest trembling between soft giggles and sharp inhales, every nerve alight from his tickling. His hand slid up her leg, his touch firm and familiar, massaging her muscles until he reached her inner thigh. The pleased rumble in his throat when his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of her panties sent a thrill up her leg. "That's my good girl," he whispered against her foot, the sound of his praise sinking into her bones, making her pussy clench and her breath quicken.

Gale's mouth moved with reverence, kissing and licking her toes as his deep moans resonated against her skin, each one sending delicious shivers up her spine. Seraphil's heart swelled at the sight of him, the way he worshiped her with unending devotion, his pleasure intertwined with hers. A wave of desire coursed through her as she sought to return the sensations, to make him feel the way he made her feel. Slowly, she dragged her foot up his thigh, teasing him with the lightest of touches until she reached the firm bulge beneath his trousers. She pressed into it, feeling his cock harden against her. His groan reverberated along her inner thigh, flaming the pooling heat in her stomach.

Gale's fingers curled possessively around her knees, draping her legs over his shoulders as his chair scraped closer. With his face now nestled firmly between her thighs, he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her ass, pulling her into him with a primal growl. "Look at those pretty panties," he rasped, his voice rough against her skin. "Did you wear them just for me, goddess?" He pressed his nose into the delicate green lace, inhaling her deeply as though her scent were the very air he needed to breathe. The sensation of his hot breath against her cunt sent a sharp tremor through her body, a whimper gliding past her lips.

"Y-yes," she managed to gasp, her voice tight with anticipation as she let her knees part, offering herself fully. "I'm glad you like them, professor." Gale's low chuckle vibrated along her thighs before his tongue swept across her lace-covered cunt. The roughness of the fabric, combined with the hot, wet drag of his tongue, sent waves of pleasure rippling through her, making her body twitch in response. He lingered there, teasing her with agonizing strokes of his tongue and the press of his nose, her panties growing wetter with each pass. Her fingers dove into his hair, gripping tightly as her hips pushed toward him, silently begging for more as an aching need bloomed deep within her.

"Oh no," Gale tutted softly, drawing back just enough to sink his teeth lightly into the soft flesh of her inner thigh. "I need my goddess to use her words, to tell me how to worship her. I want to be sure I give her exactly what she needs." His brown eyes gleamed with mischief as they locked onto hers, the subtle dominance behind them making her pulse race. A surge of excitement shot through her belly. She loved this– how he held so much power over her, but still wanted to hear her consent. Their dynamic was everything she had ever dreamed of; she could surrender control to him completely, knowing she would be well cared for and satisfied. But the thrill of voicing her desires sparked a new heat inside her, one that made her want to beg for more.

"Please, my most devout," Sera breathed out, her voice trembling as her fingers softly brushed his hair back behind his ear. "Take my panties off. My pussy needs your mouth."

Gale's lips curved into a smile as he responded with a trail of tender kisses, revisiting the spot where he'd bitten into her thigh moments earlier. His lips made a deliberately slow path back to her center. "And my mouth needs her," he murmured, his thumb teasing her covered slit before pressing in, just enough to make her body tremble in anticipation. With a firm grip, he then spread her thighs wider, holding her tightly against the desk. "But I wouldn't want to waste these beautiful panties you wore just for me. Be a dear and pull them to the side.”

Seraphil's fingers danced over the seams of her inner thighs, her touch feather-light as she drew out the moment, Gale's gaze locked on her every move. Slowly, she tugged the delicate fabric of her panties aside, revealing her swollen folds. The way her flesh dimpled as the lace bit into her skin sent a thrill through her, made all the more electrifying by the way his eyes darkened with hunger. "Mmm, there's my pretty girl," Gale murmured, his voice rough and lustful, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Will my goddess please spread her lips for me? I want to see her dripping while I worship her.”

Sera gasped as the cool air in Gale's office kissed her exposed cunt, a shiver running up her spine as her fingers parted her swollen lips. A thick bead of her slick dripped out of her opening, tracing a slow line down her perineum. Gale growled low in his throat, his tongue darting out with a hunger that made her whimper. She watched, utterly captivated, as he lapped up her juices, his gaze burning into her. "Goddess," he groaned, his voice thick with reverence as he pulled back just enough to admire her. "You taste like ambrosia, my lady. Such an exquisite pussy. I am truly blessed.”

Normally, Gale would take his time, lavishing her cunt with slow kisses and soft licks, building her up before finding her clit. But tonight, he had a different plan. His tongue went straight to her aching clit, flicking the swollen bud with unrelenting precision. His eyes never left hers, a silent demand that she keep looking. Seraphil wanted to shut her eyes, to surrender fully to the pleasure, but the heat in his gaze made her hold them open, moaning as her body trembled beneath him. The speed of his tongue was ruthless, sending shockwaves through her, her cunt clenching with each stroke. Her fingers slipped against her slick lips as she held herself apart for him, consumed by the sight of him worshiping her so perfectly. It was a view she never wanted to forget.

"Mm, Gale," she whimpered, her hips rising on their own, seeking more of his tongue. "You look so good when you eat my pussy." His satisfied hum vibrated through her clit, the sensation branching through her veins like a rushing river. Then, suddenly, his lips wrapped around her swollen pearl, sucking it with a force that sent her hips shooting off the desk, a deep, uncontrollable groan tearing from her throat. "F-fuck, yes, just like that," she gasped, her voice shaking. "You make me feel so good." She knew how much he craved her praise, how deeply it pleased him, and he deserved every word. He was such a giving, attentive lover. Her heart pounded in sync with the pleasure coursing through her, her gratitude for his love mixing beautifully with her ecstasy.

All of Sera's muscles locked tight, her entire body straining as Gale's merciless lips drew her pleasure higher and higher. His grip on her thighs eased, giving her the freedom to rock her hips against his mouth, chasing that intoxicating rhythm. Despite the heat searing through her veins, she shivered under his touch, her body trembling as her release crept closer and closer. "G-Gale," she gasped with a shaky breath, her lungs struggling to keep up with the waves of sensation. "I- I'm going to come."

Gale tore himself away just long enough to growl, "No. Wait." His gravelly tone snapped with authority, and before she could catch her breath, he dove back between her thighs, leaving her no reprieve from the white-hot pleasure radiating through her core. Sera whimpered, her body begging for release, every nerve alight and trembling with the need to let go. But his command was absolute, and even though it was agony to hold back, she would try her damnedest to. There was something utterly mesmerizing in giving him full control, in fighting the surge of sensations until he allowed her to surrender. And when he did, she knew her release would be explosive, shattering her world, her vision flashing white while her body shook uncontrollably.

Sera's breath shuddered as she fought to maintain control, her entire body straining in response to the volcanic pressure building deep in her pelvis. Her focus narrowed, eyes glued to Gale as he lavished her throbbing clit, his tongue a devastating force against her restraint. Her fingers trembled violently, struggling to hold her lips apart and keep her panties out of the way as her body quaked with the need to release. With her chest tight, her breath released as ragged gasps, whimpers slipping out along with them, all against her will. When Gale's approving gaze met hers, the subtle flicker of pride in his eyes sent a surge of warmth through her, enough to fuel her endurance just a little longer. She knew he saw her great effort, and his silent praise was just the thing she needed to keep the inferno from consuming her whole.

The sharp, insistent knock at the door jolted Seraphil so much that she nearly slipped off the desk, but Gale's strong hands were already clamped around her thighs, keeping her in place. The interruption shattered the blissful haze she'd been lost in, his mouth melting away all thoughts of the world outside until now. "Professor?" Adelaide's voice followed quickly, cutting through the air like a knife when she wasn't answered immediately. A raging, stinging possessiveness flared inside Sera, her body tensing under Gale's hold. How dare Adelaide summon him with such a demanding tone? Her husband was not at that girl's beck and call. That right belonged to Sera, and Sera alone– she was his gods-damned wife, not her.

Gale's low groan against her cunt snapped Seraphil back to the moment, a flood of pleasure crashing over her like a dam breaking. She blinked rapidly, her mind recalling his plan– he wanted her to scream for him, loud enough for his enamored student to hear, and now she understood why he demanded control over her orgasm. His eyes locked with hers as he gave a subtle nod, his lips never leaving her clit, granting her permission to let go. With a relaxed exhale, Seraphil erased all thoughts of Adelaide, refocusing entirely on the bliss that coursed through her. Gale's lips suctioned around her clit, drawing her back into ecstasy, each pull of his mouth sending fire rippling through her body. It was impossible to think of anything else– there was only him, only this.

Another impatient knock rattled the door, but Seraphil barely heard it over the roar of blood rushing in her ears. Her body was unable to care about anything else besides her release. Her head tipped back, her mouth falling open as her moans rose higher and higher, each sound spilling out of her uncontrollably. "Yes, don't stop," she gasped, her fingers tangling into Gale's hair, desperate to keep him exactly where she needed him. The heat of his mouth, the pressure of his tongue– it was all too much, and still not enough. "Gods, yes! Fuck!" Her hips arced off the desk, her legs trembling as she gave in completely. "Yes, Gale!" she screamed, her thighs clamping tight around his neck as the orgasm slammed through her. "Ah– fuck!”

As always, Gale didn't stop until he'd drained every drop of bliss from her quivering body. His tongue slowed in perfect sync with the weakening rolls of her hips, drawing out the final ripples of her pleasure. When she finally stilled, besides her still trembling legs, Seraphil collapsed forward, her elbows sinking onto his shoulders as she tried to steady her breathing. Gale pulled back to smile at her, a glint of pride in his eyes. He gently tugged her panties back into place, his warm touch ghosting over her oversensitive skin, causing her to shiver. "You look absolutely magnificent when you come, my sweet angel," he murmured, his voice filled with affection. He kissed her knees softly, smoothing her skirt back down with care before rising. He grabbed the girl's notebook before turning back to Seraphil, his fingers brushing her hair back from her face. "Rest here, my love. I'll be right back.”

Her hazy eyes followed Gale as he strode from the room, his posture radiating confidence, chest puffed out with a self-assured swagger. He left the door slightly ajar, no doubt that she could hear the following conversation. “My apologies, Adelaide,” his voice boomed from the classroom, followed by the sharp crack of the notebook slamming onto a desk. “I didn't have time to thoroughly review your feedback, but from what I glanced at, it looked fine. However, there is something else I need to discuss with you.” His voice lowered, taking on a more critical tone. “As a final-year student, it’s concerning that you lack confidence in your work. You constantly bring it to me for review. Professor Allanon never mentioned this when he briefed me on the Illusionist students. In fact, he described you as very independent, rarely needing guidance. So, what’s changed?”

Seraphil could easily imagine the little girl curling into her seat as Gale confronted her so pointedly, and soon enough, a nervous, breathy laugh drifted into the office. “Well…Professor Allanon didn’t provide feedback as thorough as yours, Professor,” Adelaide stammered, her voice shaky with insecurity. “Your approval and guidance make me feel...more confident in my work.” Sera stifled a derisive laugh, her lips curling with amusement. What a load of horseshit. It wasn’t confidence she was after; it was attention. Adelaide would grasp at any excuse to get her husband’s focus. No other sixth-year student pestered him as much as she did.

“Your constant need for my approval does not instill any confidence in your abilities as an Illusionist, Adelaide,” Gale snapped, his voice laced with irritation. “As a sixth-year student, you should be the one reviewing the work of younger students and providing them feedback, not begging for my opinion on every little word you write. I have first-years who are less persistent than you. You’re taking up valuable time during my open office— time that could be much better spent on students who are actually struggling. And to ask me to review an ungraded assignment right before the fourfold rest, knowing full well I will be buried in dissertation grading? That is selfish, and quite frankly, rude. Did you not stop to think that, after a long stretch of work, I might want to spend Gonday evening relaxing with my wife, rather than reviewing your notes?”

The image of Gale standing tall with his arms crossed, his expression radiating disappointment, sent a surge of emotion through Seraphil. Her heart swelled with pride at his assertiveness, knowing how much he’d struggled in the past to maintain his boundaries. Like Adelaide, Sera also craved Gale's approval and attention, and she could only imagine how devastated the girl must be as she listened to Gale’s scathing disapproval. Part of her might have felt sympathy for Adelaide— if only she hadn’t made Gale so uncomfortable earlier.

“Gods, Professor, I'm so sorry,” Adelaide stammered, her voice trembling as her chair scraped loudly against the floor while she stood. “You're completely right. I never meant to bother you like this. I'll…just be on my way.” Seraphil's heart sank at the sound of the girl's quivering tone, the unmistakable edge of tears clinging to each word.

“Wait,” Gale's voice softened. The sharp edge of his earlier reprimand dulled, replaced with a gentle sympathy. “There’s a fifth-year student who could benefit greatly from your help, Adelaide. Kelby Graves— do you know him?” He paused, allowing her to respond. “He’ll be attending my open office hours on Lathanday so I may assist him with his studies for final exams. It would be a big help– not only to him, but also to me– if you could tutor him instead. Can you meet him then?”

Adelaide must have nodded in response, for her voice never sounded again, only the fading echo of light footsteps signaling her departure from the classroom. Seraphil waited a beat before standing, her legs still trembling with aftershocks of satisfaction as she walked into the larger room. “Really, Gale? Did you have to make her cry?” she teased, a soft sigh escaping as she met his waiting embrace. His arms around her were warm and steady, erasing the last traces of jealousy still flickering inside her.

“Oh, I’m sure countless maidens spend their nights weeping now that you’ve claimed me all for yourself, my Lady of Pleasure,” he teased back, his hands slipping to her sides, fingers dancing across her body with playful intent. Seraphil squealed, swatting at him and grabbing his wrists to halt his tickling. “What about dinner, though? Certainly we are already late.”

The mischievous smirk playing on Gale's lips, along with the glint in his eyes, conveyed that he was well aware she'd lied about making dinner reservations. She hadn't the slightest idea how to make them yet, something she planned on rectifying soon so she could surprise him for once. "Oh, I'm sorry, my love, perhaps I wasn't clear," she murmured, her lips curving into a devilish grin that matched his. "That was your dinner." She playfully tilted her head towards his office, and her stomach tightened as Gale’s smile twisted into something much more seductive.

"As for me, I'll be having my dinner at home. My husband has prepared the most mouth-watering tray of meat I've ever seen, and I simply can't wait to dig in." She bit her lip as her knee slid slowly up his inner thigh, nudging lightly against his crotch. His arousal had faded, but the gleam in his gaze told her it would be incredibly easy to fan his flames again.

Gale shook his head with a feigned scolding smile, his fingers sliding around her thigh to draw her close, trapping her between his legs. "You're going to be the death of me," he whispered into her ear, his breath warm and teasing before delivering a hot, biting kiss to her neck. The sudden pressure of his lips against her skin made Seraphil shiver in pure delight, her pulse quickening as she leaned into him. His hand gave her thigh one last reassuring squeeze before firmly guiding her foot back to the floor. In the next breath, his arm was wrapped around her, pulling her against him as he turned her toward the door. "Now, let's get out of here before you get me fired.”

Seraphil smiled to herself as they made their way through the long, quiet hallways of Blackstaff, the echo of their footsteps fading behind them. Before stepping out into the snowy streets, Gale paused to wrap her snugly in the fur coat he had gifted her, the one his mother had once worn in her youth. The coat, soft and warm, shielded her from the bite of the winter air, but it was his unwavering love— constant, unselfish— that truly kept the cold at bay. Wrapped in his affection, Seraphil felt her heart swell, her insecurities melting away with every step. She was adorned in his devotion, her skin glowing with the warmth of his love, her soul singing with the joy of their connection.

As they walked hand in hand toward the hearth waiting for them at home, she offered a silent prayer of thanks to her Lady Eilistraee for sending her such a wonderful blessing. With Gale by her side, she had no doubts, no fears that his eyes would ever stray. He was hers, completely and irrevocably— tonight, and for every night to come.

[shit-taster-connoisseur]

fav ship / character and least fav ship / character? 🙏🙏🙏

favorite ship:

who couldve seen this coming?/j

read more as it's just me taking any excuse to yap BDJD

honestly, how talk abt them to friends sometimes arent my actual characterizations of their dynamic/relationship. But really they're spinning in my head like a microwave everyday, so my interpretation of them of them generally change depending on settings, aus, or just my mood.

The thing that draws me to them is the fact that Fanny seems like a loyal solider(quite literally), but to where she'd definitely throw herself off a cliff for her leader/command(for rachel only really.) Meanwhile Rachel is pretty oblivious to the length Fanny would go for her – and visa versa. They're devoted to each other, yet are scared to repair their fractured friendship at the same time(mostly on fanny's side).

Honestly idk how to explain it xjsb

also the fact Fanny was Rachel's runner up for her GOT fuels me everyday, cause besides this moment, we don't really get too many moments where rachel isn't pissed at fanny for reasons.

could just be her being harsh as it comes with a leader, cause welp, fanny does fuck up a lot. But with these interactions you'd think Rachel wouldve considered ANYBODY else – besides nigel – for her second choice. so 1000000000% rachel had to have ALOT of trust in Fanny to place her as a second in command of an entire global organization, despite her trackrecord of botched missions(which, honestly i believe is why Nigel had been Rachel's first choice, because while nigel had seen mostly sucess in his teams' mission, fanny had gotten the short end of the stick and just faces failure after failure from what we've seen.)

uhhh anyways!! Fanny fell first(unknowingly) amd by the time they become teenagers, Rachel ends up falling harder and depressingly misses her GOT while she's suffering in TND orientation.

TLDR: a shitty anaylsis(barely) on how loyal moonbabes are to one another and they have trust!! I'm not normal about them

If ur curious abt my ranking for ships than here ya go:

1. Moonbabes

2. Lizzie/10

3. Wally/Kuki

4. Kuki/Fanny(or alternatively; Fanny/Kuki/Rachel)

Favorite character?

It's technically split down the middle between Rachel and Fanny, but my focus usually flipflops. So this week we got:

1. Rachel

2. Fanny

3. Chad

4. Cree

5. Negative 362 and Negative 86

Rachel: for reasons, honestly, I loved her since i was a kid. There's a lot to disect about her, and i love that, love her position, her personality, the kind of the role she plays, etc etc idk how to explain any of jt, or the specfics so you get this short ass summary instead

-also headcanon: her relationship with Harvey is rather strained, so Rachel tries to make it up to him by favoring him when it comes to mission assignments when he joined the KND, he also struggles to get her approval by completing them

Fanny: ashamed to admit, i cannot sit through a fanny episode withoht needing to pause and pace around – but like rachel, i like pretty much everything about her, she's interesing to disect as so much of her background is left up for interpretation. Like why did ahe join ths decommissioning squad? Why is she the way she is? Because of the decom squad or her time as a nurse, or just life in general bxns?

-headcanon: Her real name is Francine, and Fanny's a nickname because she thought it sounded less mature and didnt put too much thought in it's meaning in Ireland cuz she didnt live there that long (also her mother didnt have the heart to sit her down and explain it to her at her young age)

other global ops dont bat an eye to it, unfortunately Irish operatives cringe everytime they hear her name.

3. Chad is a loser. A failure. And i love him for that/j but actually, his entire character is interesting, and so much is left in the air for me to dig my teeth into and make up shit for him. One major headcanon i've convinced myself of for him is that he's related to rachel/harvey (cousins???)

-another hc: he's on the aromatic spectrum(shout to friend Amber for the idea cmdb)

4. Cree love her. I can forgive a woman of her crimes always xmsn one reason she's high up on the my list this week is she's interesting(duh), but like all the others she has so much character/info on her but little bits not filled to where i can just make up shit- canonically, i love her role, hsr character, she's an amazing villian/antagonist steals the show everytime - i'd pay warburton with my own money to write what she was like as a KND operative, she is quite skilled from the bits we've witnessed in flashbacks and in the present. One thing that runs through my mind is that Warburton in a Q&A, hinted that Cree probably wouldnt have scouted by the TND, that she was already trekking on a dark path while in the KND. BSJDB

-Headcanon: her and chad and steve have nights where they just hangs out and they watch stuff on Adult Swim. She probably likes South park

5. -362 and -86, got nothing to abt thene beyond they're silly(and possibly evil)

Least favorite Character/Ship

To be honest, i got no hate towards any of the characters in KND, they're all really interesting in their own way.

If i had make a tier list tho-

He'd be at the bottom. Only because he'd definitely call me a slur/j

And for ships, i'm not a multi shipper but i'm neutral to most.

tho fanny x a man will kill me, Cuz man, idk how you can look me straight in the eyes and tell me she's not lesbian,

Just LOOK AT HER

-

Thank you for the ask!!

[expirisims]

This Sim Makes Me so Sad

Welcome to the first of the Redden households. Jasmine Reed lives with her boyfriend, Shorty Redden and son Ephraim. Originally the household had another adult, Lori, but she moved out via SP at the beginning of the playthrough. Both Shorty and Jasmine are in the medical career track, but neither has progressed beyond the entry level.

I kept getting an interaction from the mailbox to return stolen item. I assumed Shorty had stolen thing, but no...

Jasmine!! Really??

Ephraim was down for a nap when they got home from work. They had a few moments to chat before Shorty ran off to a party he'd been invited to at the Lum's.

I almost forgot about the dog! This one I remember the name of because it is Brooks. He was named through SP, but Shorty HATES Brooks Cassidy so I can't help but feel like he named his dog Brooks on purpose as a dig to Brooks the human sim. I have no way around this...Shorty is NOT a very nice Sim and I feel so bad for Jasmine and Ephraim, but Jasmine is devoted to him.

Shortly after Shorty left for the party, she spontaneously began crying about her life! It's so sad. I'm sure she'd love to get out some too, but financially they are on a sinking ship so her entire life consists of work, paying bills and taking care of Ephraim, who still doesn't sleep through the night. I'm going to be honest, she really got to me. She has such a sad Sim life. I'm going to see what I can do to help her out.

Apparently the party at the Lum's was formal.

Shorty is checking on the twins while Teddy cooked.

Interesting...I don't think I'd put these two together, but here we are...

He abandoned the party to play guitar out in the front yard of the Lum's.

Jasmine trying to keep herself occupied while Shorty is still at the party. Does she have anything to worry about? Well, he IS a flirty Sim.

Back with Shorty and um...I think everyone else has gone to bed. Perhaps it's time to go home?

Looks like Ephraim is up just in time for bed. Oh great, who's going to stay up with the baby?

[abigailmoment]

Astarion frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Mn." Tav shook her head and the expression smoothed away as she looked up at him. "The wine may be off."

"No. It's trash, but it's fine," he told her. "Why are you upset?"

She paused in that way she sometimes did in conversations--like she was deliberating between options and deciding which one would best suit her goals. It was often the precursor for amusement when she did it to other people, but it was irritating when she did it with him.

"It's feelings," she said, as if she were warning him.

Astarion shrugged. "So? You only talk about feelings with druids? Pretend I'm Halsin. I could stand on top of a chair if it would help."

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

"Naive am I?" Tav asked, her eyebrows raised so high up that they were in danger of crowding her horn-stubs.

"It's just that you have a...big heart," Astarion said tactfully. "You like doing what's right."

Which was just a different way of saying naive. The woman was physically incapable of walking past a sob story without interfering with it in some way. It was the most absurd way to live life. She'd be intolerable if all her other energies weren't devoted to the far more admirable dual purposes of making money and having fun.

Case in point, they'd just finished ransacking the Last Light Inn for every bottle of wine the imp-children weren't supervising. Now they were on the second floor, sitting at one of the less-cobwebbed tables. They were sharing a bottle of Plum Fizz, which was utter garbage. They'd chosen that one because the others were nice years that might be sold well, and also Tav hadn't believed him about what utter garbage the stuff was.

Astarion had stirred his latest donation into his cup, and it made the vintage borderline palatable. Though privately he thought Wyll would pair much more nicely with elderberry wine.

"So I was thinking," he continued. "What would be the right thing to do when we get to Moonrise towers? When we come face to face with whoever's controlling the parasites?"

"I'm guessing you have an opinion," Tav observed, leaning back in her chair.

"Well think about it," he prompted. "How many people have the mind flayers infected? Hundreds? Thousands?"

"Probably hundreds," Tav guessed. "It's an involved process."

"Hundreds then." Astarion conceded a little of his daydream to reality, but only a little. "And they're not just goblin trash. There are powerful people in the worm's thrall."

"Sure," said Tav.

"Whoever's waiting for us at Moonrise Towers controls it all. But what if we can take that control from them?"

"Mm," said Tav.

"I'm just saying," he pressed. "There's an opportunity here. Imagine the entire cult under our thumb. If we can control the tadpoles we can keep ourselves safe, liberate the world from this evil, and enjoy a little world domination on the side."

He laughed a bit at the idea. It was so delightful he couldn't help himself. "You can't tell me that doesn't sound fun?"

He looked at her for confirmation. She'd gone quiet. She sometimes did that when he talked up the tadpoles. He presumed that was the kind of reticence that came paired with morals, and that it might be worn down by time and temptation.

She was staring down into her cup of wine with a tight expression. Brows drawn, mouth turned down into almost a grimace. She looked ill.

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Mn." She shook her head and the expression smoothed away as she looked up at him. "The wine may be off."

"No. It's trash, but it's fine," he told her. "Why are you upset?"

She paused in that way she sometimes did in conversations--like she was deliberating between options and deciding which one would best suit her goals. It was often the precursor for amusement when she did it to other people, but it was irritating when she did it with him.

"It's feelings," she said, as if she were warning him.

Astarion shrugged. "So? You only talk about feelings with druids? Pretend I'm Halsin. I could stand on top of a chair if it would help."

He lost her to sniggering for a moment. When she'd finished laughing at his objectively hilarious joke, she spent another moment considering responses. Then she gave him a 'you asked' look and started talking.

"When I was in my early twenties I learned Charm Person." She was tracing the rim of her cup around and around with her fingertip. "And it was the only spell I cast for like, six months. It was like playing an easier version of life. It made everything manageable. Everyone tractable."

"There were a lot of long term consequences to that. The worst was I permanently fucked up my relationship with my sister." Tav tilted her cup almost to spilling. "She was a year younger than me and in her making bad decisions phase. And I could just stop her. Every time she wanted to do some idiot, dangerous thing."

"But.” Tav enunciated the conjunction so that it popped. “Enchantments that make false emotions can atrophy real emotions. By the time I figured out what I was doing it was too late. She didn't feel anything about me anymore, when she wasn't charmed."

Tav tipped her cup back upright. It looked a little like she'd wanted to let it spill. Probably to match her narrative or some dramatic thing like that. But that impulse had died under her need not to waste food.

"So I don't touch control spells." She continued. "No charms. No compulsions."

She hadn't looked at Astarion for the entire story. An attitude of shame, even though her voice was mild and steady.

"And then the mindflayer thing happened." She made vague gestures towards Astarion's head and then hers. "And now...I feel like a teetotaler with a bottle of wine hanging in front of me all the time."

She took another drink from her cup.

"Authority," she said in a tone that managed to be mocking and maudlin all at once.

She seemed to be finished. All right. He had listened. That was done. Now Astarion cast about in his mind for what you were supposed to do when someone told you a sad story and you cared about it.

...

It was depressing how shit he was at this.

She didn't seem to mind the long silence. She was staring into her cup again, swirling the cheap wine about, expression pensive and glum.

Astarion minded the long silence though. He finally landed on something to say that vaguely fit the shape of the conversation.

"Fine. Very well then, " he began. "Out of the kindness of my heart, to spare you this pain, I will be the one to take control of the Absolute cult."

She didn't spit up her drink, but that was only because it hadn't quite made it to her lips before she started laughing.

"Oh my Gods," she said breathlessly, a minute later. "No, you racist, squirrel kicking, sociopath. You'd better be actually joking because no one is letting you do that. I am in fucking love with you and I would never let you do that."

Astarion was gearing up to get catty, perhaps even angry, about the first part of that statement. Then the last sentence happened and it was like being struck by a very soft bolt of lightning. It jangled something in his head, and left him feeling numb and strange and a little warm.

That was wrong. That wasn't how things worked. Feelings weren't supposed to be warm like that. He wasn't a thing that produced warmth. What was this?

Tav was distracted, squinting at the bottle of plum fizz to gauge how much was left. Which was good because Astarion had even less of an idea than usual what his face looked like right now.

As he watched her, Tav smiled in that particular way that he was beginning to recognize as an expression that happened right before she said something intended to goad him.

Then she said: "We can put Wyll in charge."

"Absolutely not," said Astarion, snapping out of his confusing reverie by the need to object to that unconscionable idea.

"Ha!" said Tav, finally looking up at him. "Absolute-ly not."

"Don't start," Astarion said warningly. She could become absolutel--completely insufferable with puns if it wasn't cut off quickly. This wanted a distraction. He considered which of their companions he'd like best as an all-powerful cult leader if it couldn't be him or Tav.

"Lae'zel," he said. He was aware it wasn't the right choice, but it was the one he liked.

Tav snorted. "Sure. Never much liked Faerun being intact and at peace. Why not?"

"Gale," she suggested then, because apparently this was another game now. "He'll compel all of us to sit down and listen to him explain the distinction between radiance damage and fire damage."

"I distinctly prefer Lae'zel," Asterion said. Then inspiration struck. "No. Wait. We're both wrong. Karlach."

"Shit. You're right," Tav said immediately. "Karlach for cult leader. World domination. World dominatrix."

"She does look good in leather," Astarion admitted.

"Truth," said Tav. "Great. I'm glad we resolved that."

Astarion swirled the dregs of his spiked-wine about in his cup. He was putting off finishing it because that would be the last of his blood for the day.

"I am serious about the power," he told her. "It's not often the universe hands you something like this. I don't want us wasting it."

"We won't," Tav promised. "We're going to take them for all we safely can. And we're going to make a lot of powerful allies on the way. And if we do find the macguffin that lets us take control of the cult, I'm seriously now considering the pros and cons of Karlach being the one to use it. That might be the plum fizz doing the thinking, but I am currently letting it."

"Macguffin is a theater thing?" Astarion clarified dryly. Tav's incomprehensible nonsense words were usually theater things.

"Yes," she confirmed. "A magic object in a story that lets you do exactly the thing you want to do. They don't usually exist in the real world so don't hold your breath."

He gave her a significant look. She laughed.

"Or hold your breath if you want to, I guess, vampire privilege. You won't. Because it would also involve refraining from talking."

He tossed his head disdainfully and distinctly didn't respond. She laughed again.

The conversation hadn't gone precisely as he wanted, but he was fairly content with the results. Tav's assistance was, as always, intractably ethical and therefore conditional. But it still gave him better odds for getting something like what he wanted than just showing up and causing chaos.

It was rather nice having a friend who was a details person.

****

This is part of an ongoing story. It begins here.

Here's a list of other stories like this.

****

[4townie]

Backstory #3: Priorities

- Jihun and Dasom were both born and raised in South Korea, they knew each other throughout high school and had a very obvious mutual crush on each other for the longest

- finally on Valentine's Day, Jihun worked up the courage to confess his feelings which ofc made Dasom ecstatic and so began their relationship

- the problem is that Jihun has always been known for being very good-looking

- so when they started dating, a lot of jealous girls would talk behind Dasom's back (sometimes within earshot) about how she wasn't pretty enough to be going out with a guy like that and kinda also plotting to present themselves as a better option

- it didn't take very long for Dasom to internalize that and start to feel like she wasn't good enough for Jihun, so she broke up with him right before he left for college in the states

- and they were both absolutely miserable without each other for months

- so after Jihun's first semester when he came home for Christmas, he found Dasom and practically begged her to take him back and promised he'd do anything to make sure she knew she'd always be the love of his life

- and because she's been so empty without him, she takes him back of course

- the following year after she graduates high school she joins him in the states for college and they find that they both really love it there which is why they moved there when they got married

- getting pregnant did take a little effort, and they were derailed by Jihun returning to Korea for his military service, but finally after a few years Dasom was pregnant

- it made them closer than ever cuz they were both so excited about it

- but fast forward nine months and they find themselves with a very fussy, colicky baby

- Taeyoung required nonstop attention for the entire first year of his life tbh and it was starting to get too overwhelming

- February 1984 rolls around and they both realize they have nothing planned for Valentine's Day, they hardly speak to each other if it's not about Taeyoung, and they definitely don't touch each other of it's not passing Taeyoung off to each other

- so Jihun remembers his promise to her from all those years ago and makes sure this Valentine's Day was all about them

- it was Taeyoung's first birthday and he made it all about them

- that year is when they officially decide they're always going to put their relationship first, which to be fair isn't a bad thing because kids benefit from their parents having a strong relationship

- but they did it wrong

- for Dasom, her marriage came first and second, pushing Taeyoung down to her third priority (she would never admit this, she doesn't even realize she's doing it)

- and Jihun put his marriage first, second, and third and his career came fourth because being a doctor is very demanding (so is being a lawyer but Dasom wouldn't hesitate to prioritize Taeyoung above her job)

- this is how we ended up with the differing devotion to Taeyoung which is something he grew up feeling but never really understood up until the tour

- so when he was abandoned by his friends at that summer camp, it wasn't just the pain of rejection from his peers, it was also the subconscious feeling of not being good enough to his own parents repeating itself

- and that's how a romantic love story between two crazy kids resulted in their kid being fucked up in the head😀

[karatekels]

Hello:) first time with an ask. I have to preface by saying I absolutely love your account and your fics and just everything about what you've created ❤️❤️ may I ask, can you write something about CK Terry falling for a 30 something young woman in an adult class? She's learning and new to karate, yet Terry sees potential and asks if she'd like to grab dinner (or have his chef cook for them), then maybe "train" a little in his private dojo 😉

Thank you so much for your comments – they make my heart sing and make me blush horribly. I’m happy to write this for you – enjoy! ❤️

Shoutout to @terrysilv for helping me brainstorm some ideas for this!

---

Legacy

---

“Asa!” you cry out, the kiai escaping your lips in a short grunt as you lay into the punching bag with your fists and feet, the bag supported by your sparring partner. “Ya! Isa!”

“Okay okay!” your partner exclaims from behind the bag after awhile. “Jesus Y/N, you’re gonna knock me on my ass – can we take a break?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the bag, helping the man up before moving to your bag to get a drink of water. You were here to put the work in, and intended to do so the entire time, not wanting to waste even a minute.

You had been training with the Cobra Kai dojo for a few months now, and had gotten good; very good. You knew you were rather late to the game, starting to learn karate in your early thirties, but you were determined to prove yourself. You had quickly exceeded the introductory levels of the adult classes, and had worked your way up to the top of the expert class as well, having impressed the senseis of the dojo the whole way.

You didn’t like doing anything halfway – if you were going to learn karate, you were going to do it right, and not stop until you had perfected your skills.

The owner of the dojo, Sensei Terry Silver, walks past you, moving to snap at another pair of students whose form had gotten sloppy. That right there was another reason to do the best you could during these lessons; that man was likely twice your age, and incredibly fit, still able to instill fear in anyone he came across. You knew he was the best in the Valley, and you wanted to get to that level yourself. You wanted to be respected, you wanted to be able to take care of yourself, and karate was the perfect avenue to get you there.

Returning to your punching bag, your partner represses a sigh, bracing himself against the bag once more.

--- Terry’s POV ---

Terry glides past you, his feet silent on the training mats as he moves to scold a pair of students who were goofing off yet again. Really, how the majority of these people were accepted into the expert-level class baffled him. He’d need to talk to Kim at some point about her selection process.

There was, however, one student in particular that had been able to exceed his expectations…

He circles the dojo discreetly, positioning himself so that he could watch you, seeing you approach the punching bag for another round, fire in your eyes. Your form was perfect, and you were so graceful in your movements he found himself hypnotized.

You had been dedicated to your training since day one; he couldn’t think of anyone (other than himself, of course), who so fully encapsulated the 3 D’s: desire, devotion, discipline. He had taken notice of your beauty immediately, from the moment you entered the expert class, but had dismissed his attraction immediately. He didn’t sleep with students, and he didn’t date students, the work and romance spheres of his life remaining separate by his design.

He'd never had an issue abiding by that rule, until you’d shown up.

The better you got, the harder you trained, the more you wore down his resolve without you even realizing it. You had captivated him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had fallen for anyone this hard. He had tried not to let his attraction for you interfere with his work – if you took offence and left, he would lose his only means of seeing you.

No, he had to play this perfectly, find an opportunity to test the waters with you, find out where you stood. Something away from here, away from everyone else, where he could turn on the charm and bring you around to his way of thinking. He was now a man past middle age; he didn’t have time to waste.

He’d have you eventually.

---

Terry waits until almost everyone else has left the dojo before approaching you. Yet another benefit to your dedication to karate: you were always the first to arrive and the last to leave. He lets you finish your cool down stretches, then walks over to you.

“Great work today, Y/N,” he compliments, savouring your pleased smile at his praise. You valued his approval; that was something, at least.

“Thank you, Sensei,” you reply, moving to retrieve your water. He follows smoothly behind you, not done with you yet.

“You’ve really improved during your time here,” he continues, determined to draw you into a conversation. “What’s driving you?”

You look over at him as you put your shoes and socks back on, considering the question. You were so contemplative, the type of person that thought things through, and he loved that about you. Everyone seemed so hasty these days, rushing headlong into situations without giving them thought, and it frustrated him to no end.

“I don’t like to do anything halfway,” you say after awhile. “If I’m going to do something, I want to do the best. I want to be the best,” you add, getting more passionate as you speak to him. He finds himself transfixed.

“I see the respect that you command around here, and I’m not a big tall guy like you, and I may never be a sensei, but that’s something I want,” you confess, looking up at him with that same fire in your eyes.

You were envious of him? You looked up to him? He could work with that.

“How do I become the best, Sensei Silver? What can I do next?”

Terry thinks about how to play this. Part of him did truly want to help you succeed; Cobra Kai was his legacy, and you were now not just part of that, but one of his shining stars. The greedy, primal part of him wants to promise you the best training money could buy if you would only become his. He settles for something in the middle.

“This dojo is really meant to cater to a group, and the lowest common denominator, even in the expert class. I don’t know if you can get the full attention that you deserve…” he begins, hesitating briefly, as though considering something, but he’s already finalized the plan in his mind.

“If you’d like, I could offer you private lessons at my personal dojo, where I could focus solely on you,” he offers, ever the generous benefactor. As if you weren’t already the centre of his attention every time you walked into the same room as him. Your eyes go wide, shining with delight at the thought.

“Wow, that would be incredible,” you breathe, and he feels his cock stir against his thigh at your excitement. While your interest wasn’t out of desire for him, it was about spending time alone with him, and that was enough to have his mind racing. Picturing you coming to his home with him had him nearly giddy.

“I just don’t think I could afford private lessons, Sensei Silver…” you say, and he resists the urge to scoff. Screw the money. This was about you, getting you, having you alone… but he had to be careful. You were fiercely independent, and proud, and while he admired and respected those traits in you he also knew to be wary of upsetting them.

“I would be happy to charge the same rate as you’re currently paying for the expert class,” he offers. “The success of my students is my main objective here with Cobra Kai. You are easily one of our best, and have clearly outgrown the expert class.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, clearly not wanting to take advantage of him, and he bites his tongue to keep from beaming at the thought.

“It would be an honour, Y/N.”

The grateful smile you level him with has his heart pounding in his chest. Were you really so oblivious about the effect that you had on him, on everyone in any room you were in?

“Thank you, Sensei. I won’t let you down.” He plans on taking that promise to its absolute limit.

“One stipulation, Y/N, if you don’t mind,” he presses, giving you a slight smile. You cock your head at him, waiting, though he gets the sense that you’ll accommodate anything he asks for.

“Allow me to speak with you once beforehand, to get a better sense of your goals and to develop a training regimen. Perhaps over dinner?”

Christ, when was the last time he had felt nervous about anything?

You blink, seemingly speechless. Terry thinks he detects the faintest hint of a blush on your cheeks, but doesn’t want to give himself too much credit.

“You want to take me to dinner?” you ask, tone slightly incredulous.

“I could ask my personal chef to cook us a meal. It would give you a chance to see the dojo before we get started.” He pointedly doesn’t address your shock at him asking you out, hoping to subtly reframe the evening as a purely professional one; he can’t have you getting cold feet, not now. He just had to get you there, get you alone, and he could win you over. The thought of training you in a dozen other things before you even get started on karate dances through his mind, and he suppresses a groan. It wouldn’t do to lose focus now; you always kept him on his toes.

“Could…could I go home and change first?” you ask, looking down at your gi. It’s strange, seeing this more hesitant, shy side of you, but he finds that he enjoys it just as much as your typical fierce attitude. And, more importantly, this wasn’t a no.

“Of course. I can have a driver pick you up in a few hours – my home is rather difficult to find if you don’t know where to look.” He knows he’s laying it on thick with the show of wealth, but he can’t contain his excitement; if he has his way, he’ll be spoiling you for the rest of his life and beyond.

“Oh, that’s… wow, alright. I guess being the best student has its perks, huh?” you joke, and he smiles encouragingly at you. You scribble down your address – as if he didn’t already know it – on a piece of paper and hand it to him.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, then?” you say hesitantly, and he’s fully enjoying your nerves, now.

“I’ll see you then, Y/N,” he replies, trying to keep the purr from his voice. You give him a shy smile as you throw your bag over your shoulder, exiting the dojo and missing the pleased grin he directs at the back of your head. Having watched you leave, Terry immediately moves to collect his own things and head home.

There was much to prepare for.

--- Reader’s POV ---

The car finally breaks through the treeline after what feels like ages, driving smoothly up to a gorgeous estate. You knew that Mr. Silver was very well-off, but to live in a place like this… then again, he was offering to train you in his private dojo, so perhaps this shouldn’t be so surprising to you.

Looking down at your hands, twisting around themselves in your lap, you hope that you’ve dressed appropriately for the evening. What, exactly, was one meant to wear to a private dinner at your sensei’s gigantic house to discuss karate? You had settled on a simple summer dress, the green complimenting your hair and skin tone wonderfully, and a pair of wedges, keeping your hair down in loose waves and your makeup simple.

The driver stops the car – having a driver, that was strange for you as well – and you nervously hop out before he can come around and open your door for you. You weren’t the Queen of England, you could get out of a vehicle on your own. He guides you up to the front door, ringing the bell, then nods to you and turns to, presumably, go park the car.

“Thank you!” you call after him, not wanting to be rude, and then you hear the door open behind you. Turning, you see an older woman at the door, smiling warmly at you.

“Ah, Miss L/N. Please come in, and I’ll take you to Mr. Silv –”

“No need, Janet, thank you. I’ll take it from here.”

Mr. Silver approaches from a room off to the left, looking decidedly more relaxed in a pair of tan slacks, a white button-up shirt and a royal blue blazer, his hair out of its signature ponytail and framing his face. You hadn’t thought it was possible for someone to appear so at home in a place as luxurious as this, but he does, and you’re happy for him. Hopefully, these private lessons from him would help you become even half as successful as your sensei.

“Welcome to my home, Y/N. I’m glad you could make it,” he greets you warmly, and you smile at him. You would not ruin this opportunity for yourself, even if you were a bit nervous about how to behave in this situation.

“Thank you, sensei, and thank you again for sending someone to pick me up,” you reply graciously.

“Sensei is reserved for training, Y/N. Please, call me Terry outside of the dojo.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, hoping to keep things straight in your head. You didn’t often have relationships with people that transcended more than one social circle; it complicated things, made them messy as the lines blurred. You didn’t think that that would happen with Terry – he was on such a different level from you in every way – but you wanted to be aware of the possibility.

“Thank you, Terry. It’s so… strange, seeing you outside of the dojo.” You want to acknowledge the difference in the setting, but think that you may have come across a bit standoffish, and try to recover. “I’m so used to the ponytail,” you joke, gesturing to his hair, and his lips twitch in amusement.

“Yes, well it doesn’t get in the way when I’m just relaxing at home. You look lovely,” he compliments, approaching you with his hands in his pockets. “I’ve just spoken with the chef, and we have a half hour before dinner. Would you like to see the dojo now, or can I offer you a drink?”

You pause to consider this, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. You didn’t want to refuse his hospitality and make it seem like you were only here for the training he would offer you by wanting to get right into the dojo, and perhaps a drink or two would help you loosen up…

“A drink would be lovely, Terry, thank you.” He smiles, gesturing down the hall with an arm, and you follow him, taking in each new room with a sense of wonder. It was all warm, comfortable, relaxed… not at all what you would have expected from viewing just the exterior of the house.

Eventually, he leads you into a parlour with a collection of liquor bottles, one wall made completely of glass, looking out onto a large balcony and the gardens below. Smiling at the dwindling sunlight streaming in through the windows, you find yourself briefly distracted.

“Wine?” Terry asks, having selected a bottle of red. You nod to him, and he seems to take a long moment to look at you before pouring two glasses. Bringing both with him, he hands you a glass, which you accept gratefully, thanking him quietly.

“Come on, I’ll show you outside,” he says, a knowing tone in his voice. He was so good at reading people, anticipating their thoughts and actions; you supposed it was a necessary skill to have, both for teaching and for karate. You smile, and follow him to the door leading out to the balcony, walking up to the balustrade to get a full view of gardens below. They were massive, seeming to stretch out forever, and were so lush and full. You sigh longingly as you take in the view.

“You get to come home to this every day?” you ask, awe evident in your tone. “It’s incredible!”

“It’s refreshing to see someone appreciate it,” Terry replies, coming to stand beside you. “I think I’ve come to take it for granted.”

“I don’t think I could ever get used to this…” you murmur. Terry is quiet, seeming content to let you take in your surroundings, the two of you drinking your wine in a comfortable silence. After awhile, a member of the staff finds the pair of you out on the balcony to inform you that dinner is ready. Following him through more spacious rooms of the home with Terry, you find yourself feeling far more comfortable than you had when you had first arrived, and couldn’t attribute it all to the wine.

--- Terry’s POV ---

The evening had been very successful so far, Terry thinks to himself as he surveys you from across the table. He can’t remember the last time he’s shared a meal with someone in his own home when it wasn’t for some business matter or another, and he finds that he has missed it.

He had been awestruck upon first seeing you at his front door; having never seen you in anything other than your gi, you were particularly striking in your soft green dress, your hair flowing down your back. You had been clearly nervous at first – hell, he couldn’t judge you for it; he was nervous himself – but had adjusted quickly, and he found himself impressed by your tenacity.

The look on your face as you had taken in sight of the garden, the sunlight illuminating you, had briefly taken his breath away. You were radiant even without the sun’s glow, but in that moment you had looked so serene he had been positively enchanted by you. He hadn’t planned on taking you outside, but he couldn’t resist giving you exactly what you wanted. He could see that happening a lot with you, should things progress the way he intended for them to.

You had opened up more once you had moved inside, telling him about yourself and asking about him in return. Ordinarily, Terry was rather cautious – if not outright reluctant – to divulge personal information about himself, but he found it easy to open up to you.

Having asked you further about your motivations to study karate, you had become more animated in your responses, speaking about your desire to make something of yourself, and to leave a lasting mark on the world. Again, Terry finds himself recognizing the similarities between you, especially in how you saw the world and your respective places in it, and he finds himself in a difficult position.

What would be the greater legacy for him to leave behind: training you to be the best and being your mentor, or pursuing a relationship with you that would, if he had his way, last as long as you both should live? He finds himself wrestling with complicated feelings, wholly unaccustomed to trying to prioritize someone’s hopes and dreams over his own.

But he had sacrificed before; he could do it again, and being your mentor would most assuredly connect your names together in history. There was something beautiful, poetic even, about that, and it eliminated the possibility of rejection, of failure. Terry decides to shift his goals again; he’s put love on the backburner his entire life, and he can do it again, at least until he’s cemented himself as a keystone to your success. He would have something that tied the two of you together, at least, and perhaps that would be enough.

He can’t help but take in the way your eyes glimmer in the candlelight with a slight smile, ignoring the slight clenching of his heart. Let him do something good and selfless for once in his miserable life.

You both finish your meal, and he offers to show you the dojo, the excited smile you give him making him ache in a way he hadn’t experienced.

--- Reader’s POV ---

After several months of intensive training, you truly felt like you were on top of the world. You felt almost as tall as Terry, your confidence having reached new heights. Terry had been incredible, working with you as often and as hard as he had, like your success was intrinsically tied to his own. You had appreciated everything he had done, and was doing for you more than you could ever say.

Having finished your session for the day, you both step off the mat, moving to get water and take a brief rest before you went home for the day.

“So, what’s next, Terry?” you ask, always excited to learn more. Terry doesn’t respond, and after a moment you look over to him seated on the bench, radiating tension.

“You know, Y/N, I’m not sure if I have anything more to teach you,” he replies, his large body caved inward slightly, like he’s being crushed by some heavy weight. You had learned to read him somewhat in your time together, and think he’s disappointed.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Terry. I don’t think it’s possible for you to run out of knowledge,” you say, smiling encouragingly, but he scowls.

“Well, I have. This is over,” he says firmly, harshly. Some of his hair has come out of his ponytail, and he’s got a frustrated, defeated energy radiating off of him that you’re not sure what to make of.

You bite your lip, debating what to do. While you had definitely become more comfortable around Terry during this time together, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself his friend. What were the boundaries of this relationship after all of this? Should you give him space or offer to listen? Throwing caution to the wind, you decide on the latter.

“Will you tell me what’s really wrong?” you ask softly, sliding closer to him on the bench, trying to coax the truth out of him. He barks out a humourless laugh, throwing his head back, before he levels you with a serious, almost cold expression.

“It’s you.”

“I…what?” you ask, confused and hurt, and he seems to burst, leaping off the bench to his feet and whirling around to face you.

“It’s you!” he repeats, getting louder, and you’re not sure which emotions you detect in his voice, only that there are many of them and that they all seem to be entangled within one another.

“I am an old man, Y/N. I am old, and I am alone. I’d come to terms with that years ago, really I had,” he rambles, words flowing quickly from his lips without much thought. He was never like this; he was like you, looking before he leaped. What had happened?

“And then you walk into my dojo, and it’s like I’m seeing the sun rise for the first time.”

You stiffen, your eyes going wide, but he’s not even looking at you right now, pacing up and down the edge of the training mats like a caged animal.

“I thought I could be professional. I thought I could be your teacher, your mentor, and that that would be enough. Then, I thought up a dozen ways to try to win you over, to sweep you off your feet, to make you see… I’ve gone back and forth so many times, and every time you’ve done nothing but draw me in deeper. I’m trying to do what’s right, harder than I’ve ever bothered to try before, and now that’s it!” He turns suddenly to look at you, his eyes wide and searching, though for what you’re not sure.

“I’ve taught you everything I could, and now there’s nothing for you here anymore. Nothing to keep you here with me.”

He looks broken, and you’re stunned into silence by his revelation. Terry had feelings for you? The very idea seemed ridiculous. He was older, wealthy, successful, talented… you had never bothered to even consider him in that way; what would be the point, since it would never be reciprocated? Thinking about it now, though…

You had admired him from the moment you met him, respecting his dedication to his craft and his students. He had shown such wisdom in the dojo, and had fascinated you with his stories and experience. Over the past few months, you had become so comfortable with each other, and you had gotten to see his humour, his kind heart, his passion… And even you had recognized from the very beginning that he was incredibly attractive, especially for a man of his age, but again, you had pushed that kind of thinking out of your mind the second you accepted that it wouldn’t do anything for you but get you distracted.

He had been supportive, generous, shared his life and his home with you, and you had come to cherish the connection you had together. What was that if not love?

Looking over at him, where he had retaken his seat on the bench, slumped in a defeated position, it’s like you’re seeing him with fresh eyes. This man had loved you, presumably for quite awhile, and instead of acting on it had been nothing but professional, putting you and your needs above his own without you even realizing it. He had sacrificed so much, and even now was only upset that he had nothing else to offer? What a ludicrous notion. He had become your everything.

Getting up off the bench, you move silently to walk around in front of him, bending to his eye level. He doesn’t even seem to notice that you’re there, his eyes closed in defeat with his head in his hands, and now you feel like the idiot for not recognizing your own feelings sooner.

Tilting your head, you lean closer to him, pressing your lips to his softly.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, staying perfectly still, and you pull back a bit, looking at his face. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, confused.

“Why would you do that?” he demands, his voice low and hoarse. You nibble your lip nervously.

“To apologize, for not recognizing your feelings,” you say, and you think you see the light leave his eyes, pain evident on his features.

“And for not recognizing my own,” you add in a whisper. His gaze snaps back to yours, intense once more.

“What…?” is all he manages to get out in a choked voice.

“I never thought you would see me in that way, Terry, so I didn’t bother letting myself see you like that either. We’re from two different worlds, you could have anyone you wanted –”

“Not anyone,” he corrects pointedly, and you take a deep breath.

“Yes,” you counter, reaching out to take one of his hands in your own. “Anyone.”

He seems to freeze again, his eyes staring past you into the distance, into nothing, and you wait, knowing he needs a moment. Sure enough, his eyes soon snap back to yours, and he slowly stands up, closing the space between you with his large body so close to yours. He reaches up slowly, as though he doesn’t want to startle you, taking your face gently in both of his large, warm hands.

“You want me?” he whispers incredulously, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You swallow.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now… Yes, Ter –”

Your confession is cut off suddenly as he pulls your face none-too-gently up to his, kissing you with a fierce joy that takes your breath away. His arms wrap around you, one at your waist and one around your upper back, hand tangled in your hair. You gasp into his mouth, hands coming up to clutch the top of his gi, pulling him down to you, overwhelmed by the desire that courses through you.

You could kick yourself for how stupid you’d been these past few months, wasting all this time together, but that would mean you would have to stop kissing him, and you’d already spent more than enough time doing that.

He is the one to break the kiss first, his blue eyes dark as he looks at you in his arms with thinly veiled wonder, and you feel your knees go weak. No one had ever looked at you like this before; you hadn’t thought that anyone ever would. You smile up at him shyly, your heart pounding in your chest. You can’t remember ever feeling this happy, this complete, standing in his arms.

“I adore you, Y/N,” he admits reverently, resting his forehead on yours. Tears spring to your eyes at his words, and he wipes them away gently with his thumb before you even realize they’re there. You let out a breathless laugh, hardly able to believe your ears, your heart singing.

“I love you, Terry,” you reply, and the smile that he gives you in return nearly brings tears to your eyes again. He scoops you up into his arms, sitting on the bench with you on his lap, kissing you soundly. You wrap your arms around his neck, toying with his hair, toes curling in delight. Gradually, you move to shift in his lap, straddling him, never breaking your kiss. His hands come around your hips, and you feel something primal course through you as you feel him getting hard against you.

He leans back from you, breaking the kiss again reluctantly, almost shyly.

“We don’t have to do this now, or here,” he tells you, considerate and gentlemanly as always, and you grin at him.

“It seems oddly appropriate though, doesn’t it?” you reply coyly, gazing at him with lust in your eyes. “And you’ve waited long enough, haven’t you, sensei?”

His eyes go nearly black in desire and he growls at you, taking your gi in his hands and somehow shredding the clothes off of you in his haste to get at you. You may have poked the bear a bit too much with that comment, you think to yourself as he tears your bra from your body, leaving you in only your underwear on his lap.

“I think I have more to teach you after all, my dear,” he purrs, his mouth closing around one of your nipples and making you moan, digging your nails into his scalp and clutching him to your chest.

“Please, Terry, show me everything,” you beg desperately, throwing your head back as he toys with you.

“Oh, I intend to,” he promises, picking you up and turning to deposit you on the bench, taking off his own gi. You find yourself licking your lips as he pushes his pants past his hips, whimpering as his cock is bared to you. Fuck, this man was gorgeous.

Trembling slightly, you come to stand on the bench, now almost the same height as him as you push your underwear down your legs. His arms come around you, hands gripping your butt firmly, and your knees nearly buckle, but he’s there, he’s everywhere, supporting your weight with his body.

You pull his hair out of its ponytail, tangling your fingers in it as you tug him closer to you.

“Take me, Terry. I need you,” you ask him breathlessly, staring into his eyes, reading the love in them and hoping that your own eyes reflect the same growing devotion.

Not hesitating, he takes you in his arms once more, your legs coming around his waist like they were always meant to be there, and he carries you over to the wall of the dojo, bracing you against it before gently lowering you onto his cock. You whimper as he enters you, and his eyes roll back in his head as he sheathes himself fully in your tight, wet heat.

“Oh God, Terry!” you groan, feeling so deliciously full of him, your nails digging into his back. Supporting you with his hands around your butt, he sets a slow pace of lifting you up off his cock before dropping you back down again. Slow and rough, it’s perfect, and you can’t get enough, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you moan.

“Fuck, you’re perfect, Y/N. I knew you would be,” he croons in your ear, and you’re again stunned as you recognize how long this man has desired you.

“Made for you, Terry, only you!” you cry out, lifting your head to capture your lips with his own again as you grind your hips against him, feeling deliciously sinful. The pace of his thrusts increases, as though he’s urgently needing to make you his, but you meant what you said. This man was it for you; there would be nobody else.

“Yesss,” he hisses against your lips. “My woman, my everything.” You both tighten your grip on one another at his words, like you’re wanting to claim the other even more. Your orgasms hit you at the same time, and you both cry out the other’s name in your ecstasy, your pace slowing until you’re both just wrapped up in one another. You realize you’re crying again, and he kisses your tears away as they fall.

Reluctantly, he lowers you to the ground, but keeps his arms wrapped around you, unwilling to let you go completely, and you share the sentiment, nuzzling into his chest.

“You have given me everything, my treasure,” he murmurs against your hair, kissing the top of your head, and you tilt your head up to look at him, still teary-eyed.

“So have you,” you admit with complete sincerity, and he smiles at you, stepping away to retrieve your clothes.

“Oh, you have no idea what I’ve got in store for you. We’ve only gotten started,” he promises, handing your underwear to you. He pulls the pants of his gi back on, but holds his top in his hands, taking in the scattered scraps of fabric that were your gi. Smiling at you, he approaches, wrapping his top around you and tying it to you, big enough on you to look like a full robe.

He ties the obi around your waist, taking in the kana on either end that read Sensei Silver. It seemed appropriate. He takes your hand and looks you over, hair mussed, face flushed, smiling brightly at him as you wore his gi, and feels like the luckiest man in the world.

“Come with me, my dear,” he purrs, leading you to the exit of the dojo. “We’ve got some planning to do.”

---

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

"Do you have a date to the Goldman Memorial Ball? I'm still looking for someone that I don't might spending an evening with or being photographed with. Who are you going with?"

Bronwen looked nervously at her sister, who was too busy checking out her makeup to listen. The Goldman Memorial Ball was next week and time was running out to pick a date. Her father and stepmother were hosting the annual event at the palace, and all eyes would be on their family, so she had to pick wisely.

"Of course I do," Elowen replied cheerfully. "It's a surprise. Why haven't you asked anyone yet? We have a whole school of eligible guests to ask."

"Uh, well, I guess I was waiting for someone to ask me," Bronwen stammered. "I don't know who to ask. Does Remy have a date?"

Elowen rolled her eyes at the thought of their half-sister's love life.

"I think she's taking her girlfriend, Malika, but I don't know why. Those two barely spend any time together anymore, and their 'open relationship' is a joke. They spend far more time with their hookups than each other, and I'm pretty sure Remy forgot Malika’s name last week when I asked if she was coming swimming with us. I'm guessing that she'll take Malika, though, for appearances."

"What about Adam? Does he have a date?"

"Quit thirsting after Theo. You know that he's Adam's boyfriend and his date. The ball is right before the start of school, which Theo will be back for. There's no chance of you stealing him from Adam."

Bronwen tried to hide her frustration at being called out by her sister, but failed. She wouldn't mind Theo as a date, but Elowen was right. He and Adam were planning their college wedding and were bonded together to control Theo's powers. The only thing she'd ever be to Theo aside from his friend was aunt to the millions of kids he and Adam had planned.

"I don't want to steal him," Bronwen protested. "There's nothing wrong with wanting a dance or two with him. He's a nice guy."

"Who will be dancing with Adam," Elowen chided. "I'll be your wingwoman then since you can't decide who to pick. Let me make some calls and see if we can't get you a date before the ball starts."

Those words were terrifying based on every other time Elowen tried to do something nice for her sister. Elowen had no idea of what her sister liked, even if her intentions were good.

"Elowen? You called?"

A male voice Bronwen didn't recognize appeared in their hallway, accompanied with a shower of magical light.

"You summoned some boy here?" Bronwen hissed, looking for a place to hide from her sister's act of sisterly devotion. "Who? Why? What do I say? Urgh, sometimes you're the worst, Elowen!"

Elowen shrugged as if this were a perfectly reasonable thing for her to do.

"Go find out. It's Will from Princess Zarah's. He doesn't have a date to the ball either, and his moms are rich. He's perfectly nice and not dating our brother."

Elowen peeked out into the hallway where a confused boy was waiting for her.

"Where's Elowen? She said she wanted me to come over," he said, causing Bronwen to flush with embarrassment.

"Uh, she's just doing her make up," she replied nervously. "She wanted me to talk to you until she was done."

"So how are you?" Bronwen asked with false enthusiasm. Maybe she could fake being confident long enough to ask this boy to the ball. He looked attractive enough, and he seemed to know her sister well enough for her to judge his character. A blind date was better than no date to their family ball. There was no way that she was standing in front of a crowd while her entire family had a date with them.

"Good, I guess," Will replied. "Elowen said she wanted to go get fries on the boardwalk that's down the street in her message. I didn't think that you needed to put on makeup for that."

Bronwen rolled her eyes at this.

"Trust me, she never leaves home without at least wearing lipstick. Everything requires makeup."

"Okay. I guess it's a girl thing. Cool."

An awkward pause fall over the hallway, making Bronwen panic. Things weren't going the way they did in the movies at all.

"No, my brother wears a lot of makeup," she added quickly. "His boyfriend too. Plus, my dad and his brother. They all take a really long time in the bathroom getting ready for work and school."

Will just nodded in acknowledgment and checked the time on his phone. Bronwen grimaced at this, realizing that she needed to turn this conversation around and fast.

"Do you want to go to the Goldman Memorial Ball with me?" she asked, barely stopping to breathe. "It's next week and Elowen said that you're a nice guy and-"

"Sorry. You seem nice, but vampires aren't my thing. I'd prefer to date someone less undead. Nothing personal."

"Oh."

Bronwen's heart crashed inside her chest, and she could feel tears spring to her eyes. People were usually wary around her in public because of her paleness and tendency to burn in the sunlight, but this rejection still hurt. There weren't very many vampires in Twikkii Island, and there wasn't a single other vampire student in school. The only other vampire Bronwen had ever known was her mother, and she didn't have very clear memories of her before she abandoned Bronwen at Ewan's door. This was probably why she was the only family member to not have a date to the ball, which wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

"Fine. Whatever. I wasn't really being serious anyway. Elowen just asked me to ask you out of pity."

With that, Bronwen burst past Will and down the stairs before he could see the tears in her eyes.

Who cares about this stupid ball? I don't need to even go to it. After all, no one wants to dance with a vampire.

"Ewan, honey? I just need to pop over to Strangetown for a bit. Can you start dinner before I come home? I pulled out some meat from the freezer for you to cook."

Edana smiled when her husband nodded enthusiastically. Now this was a husband. As much as she cared for her ex-husband, Ewan Maricourt, he was always far too snooty and entitled to be an equal partner in their marriage. There was a reason why he'd been single since their divorce. He was a great warlock and friend, but a terrible husband.

Ewan Traver was down to earth, funny and supportive of even the most crazy of Edana's ideas. If she disappeared for days researching in her office, Ewan would have breakfast made for her before he left for work and had happily eaten dinner with her surrounded by ancient texts of dark magic. She didn't know what she had done to deserve him. His brother had told her horror stories of Ewan before he'd met her that didn't reflect the man she married. He had been a bit wild, but then again, so had she. He had two kids with two different women when she met him, and she'd narrowly escaped a cult due in part to the man she had mercilessly bullied with her brother. They were both works in progress, but they were perfect for each other.

"Did Charley summon you?" Ewan asked. "He had papers delivered for you yesterday that you needed to review. They're on your desk. You've been so busy working that I hadn't had time to mention it."

Edana nodded.

"Yes, His Majesty needs me to sign an insurance waiver. He's loaning us one of his mother's tiaras for the ball since I'm apparently an honorary daughter to him. Or so he says. I feel guilty about the whole thing, honestly. I don't deserve all the things he's done for me over the years. My fathers would be rolling in their graves to see me wear the former queen's tiara. Darktides aren't princesses, Ewan. We're pirates or demons or idiots that fall victim to a cult."

Ewan smiled and gently took his wife's hand.

"You do deserve it. Charley sees you for the person you are, and he likes you. There's nothing wrong with that. You don't have to be what you feel like your family is. You can be yourself, Edana Darktide-Traver, a witchy duchess wearing a queen's tiara with a past that's behind her."

Edana sighed reluctantly.

"Fine. You're right. You're right, okay? I'm just going to go with it and see how things turn out. Have you got your suit ready? The queen won't tolerate anything less than perfection after all the tragedy we've seen. Everything has to be perfect."

"Yeah, my suit is fine. It's my dad who's the problem. He keeps throwing a fit about having to go every year to celebrate the dead parents he never knew at a ball he doesn't care about. Even Queen Maura has heard him ranting. The queen! I guess pushing seventy makes you forget how to be respectful of your queen and your family."

"Give him some grace," Edana replied gently. "He doesn't remember his parents. The sister he trusted with his life betrayed all of us, and his little brother is the dead, rightful king of Pleasantview. I think that would make anyone a little sensitive on the subject."

"I guess," Ewan reluctantly agreed. "He's still being a child about how he treats the situation."

"Speaking of children, Bronwen is outside in the sun talking to a boy," Edana informed her husband, peering out a window. "Do we know about this? Should I intervene?"

Ewan laughed at the thought.

"You're going to have to give the kids some freedom at some point, Edana. We do want them to be well adjusted members of adult society in a few years. Yelling at every boy or girl our kids date isn't going to help that. She's probably looking for a date for the ball. It's all the kids have been talking about this week."

Edana didn't look thrilled at the idea of their children dating, but it was out of her hands. In a few weeks, the kids would be back at school, free to get up to mischief out of their parents' eyesight.

"Is that demon boy attending?" she asked, fully anticipating the response. "Can we not ban him from our own ball?"

Ewan shot her a tired look.

"Of course he is. He's Adam's date, and he's escorting Queen Claudia. The more you hate the kid, the more Adam is going to cling to him. My sister did the exact same thing with all of her dates, and my parents never learned. Those two aren't even fifteen yet. Are you with the same person you were with at that age?"

Edana didn't reply. Of course, she wasn't with a childhood crush, but she could remember those feelings, even if she couldn't remember their names. She could also remember her brother staring her in the eye and telling her that the woman she loathed with every fiber of her being was going to be in his life forever.

Ewan was right, just as he usually was. Yelling at her brother, Adam, hadn't worked then, and yelling at her son, Adam, wasn't going to help anything now. All she could do was make sure that Adam's demon date knew how much she disliked him and hope that her son made better choices in the future.

"Well, since you're the parenting expert, go check in on Bronwen and that boy. I don't want her burnt to a crisp pursuing a date to the ball. She needs to worry less about boys and more about the sun. I'll go fill out that paperwork from His Majesty before I leave and drop it off while I'm in Strangetown. Don't forget about cooking up that meat for dinner."

"Um, hi Bronwen. Your sister mentioned that you needed to talk to me?"

Bronwen had run outside to cry in private, only to nearly run head first into Davis Lane. This was obviously the work of Elowen and her good intentions. Boys didn't usually just show up at their house wanting to speak with her.

Honestly, Bronwen liked Davis far better than Will, so at least her sister's victims were getting more accurate to Bronwen's taste. Like her, Davis was a bit of an outcast himself. His parents were gods, but he and his sister were pretty ordinary, something that clearly frustrated them when people looked at them, expecting to see their parents' powers reflected in them. Destiny had been failing science class last year, or so Bronwen had heard, and Davis was well known for his inability to succeed in any sport the school made them play for gym class. Surely, Davis would see past the vampirism and connect with her for being different like he was.

"Will you go to the Goldman Memorial Ball with me?" she blurted out awkwardly before she could change her mind. If he was going to reject her, it was best to just get it over with.

"Of course!" Davis exclaimed, hugging Bronwen with joy. "I would love to! My mom's been talking about it for weeks now, but I didn't know who to ask. Honestly, I've always thought you were pretty, but I kinda thought you were out of my league."

A surprised laugh escaped before Bronwen could stop it.

"Out of your league? Your parents are gods! You must get all kinds of invitations to dances."

Davis shrugged.

"Not really. Most people are afraid of my dad and worried about my mom, so not many people see us for who we are outside of our family."

Ewan smiled from his hiding place under the back deck. Bronwen was smiling and laughing with a boy who appeared to be doing the same. It was a welcome change from her worried and stressed behavior all week. Being half-vampire wasn't easy, especially in a tropical place like Twikkii Island, and Ewan was proud of his daughter for the way she handled herself. Dating was its own challenge, especially as a vampire, and Bronwen seemed to be getting the hang of it.

But Edana wasn't completely wrong to be worried. As much as Ewan liked Theo, he was a dangerous influence on Adam and had very nearly gotten him killed. It had been an accident, and Theo had been traumatized just as much as Adam had, but it had still happened. If there hadn't been adults nearby, their family would have lost Adam and the joy he brought to them. Part of being a parent was protecting your kids from what they were too young to understand, especially if it was dangerous.

And Life and Death were dangerous. Ewan's brother, Leo, worked with Lukas, and he had a bunch of stories about what he'd seen that had chilled Ewan to the bone. It also didn't help that Edana's own brother was involved in trying to kill the Grim Reaper, and presumably Death as well. He had been killed for the attempt, but the whole incident made Ewan realize how dangerous it was to be close to Death or a reaper. Edana and Charley had been chasing down an ancient reaper for months, something that had deeply worried Ewan. The deities of Life and Death frequently left a trail of human bodies in their wake and it terrified Ewan to think that his daughter might be in harm's way if she dated their son.

But that was just the fear talking. Ever since his twin sister's death, Ewan had held onto his kids tightly. It was how he'd been raised, after all. To this day, Travis Traver still had opinions on his children's lives and how they should be behaving that drove Ewan insane. His twin, Tristianne, had made it her life's mission to ignore every expectation their father made for them, and every day, Ewan grieved her loss. She would have the answers to his parenting fears; she always had the answer to everything.

Tristianne would be smacking him on the head and asking what was wrong with him for thinking this way. Their fathers were dating the Grim Reaper, and nothing devious had come for them. He couldn't let fear dictate his life or ruin his relationship with his kids. He would call out a warning to his daughter about standing in the sun and then head back inside after inviting the teens to come play pool in the basement where the sun wouldn't be an issue. If Bronwen liked a boy with dangerous parents, then Ewan would treat him like he treated Theo: warmly, but with a heavy dose of caution.

This was never what he expected when he pictured having kids. A much younger version of Ewan would never have thought that he'd one day be juggling demons and the kids of deities as part of parenting his kids, but it was what it was. He just hoped that whoever Elowen was bringing to the ball was boring in comparison.

[didasgomas]

Don't call me that

Day 29 of @augusnippets

Prompts: Singing/First words/Inside jokes

Trigger warnings : Heavily implied child neglect, religious abuse

Semi-important part of "In Mortality", an au of Cut Down The Altar (creator will be in the tags)

June 14th, 1896 - Messiah's Grove, Gold County, Iowa

The child was trying to speak, evident by the repeated noises it was making, attempting to form one clear word.

Brigid ignored the girl, like she tried to do every day, wanting to make sure God once more listened to her devoted prayers and oaths as a Bride of His Son, Jesus Christ. She wouldn't abandon the child, for that would make her unworthy of being a follower of the Virgin Mary, but in the virtue of honesty she admitted, that unlike the Queen of Heaven, in all of her divine grace, she simply could not bring herself to love the girl as a guardian.

Maybe if their father hadn't died so soon, Clarice wouldn't have done the mistake she had. Brigid might have been the second born, but she had taken after her father rather than her mother, and thus he placed in her with all his trust and confidence that she'd be the one to keep the family's honor afloat.

Brigid might have only been the younger daughter, but she felt that if she had insisted more, then her sister wouldn't have married a criminal. Their mother had been far too lenient about everything, so before joining St. Abigail's and vowing to follow always Jesus' word, she had desperately tried to convince Clarice that a man like Lawrence Delevan was a bad choice, and that she should wait for a better man to come into her life.

But evil was always tempting, alluring with a charm away from God, and in the end, Brigid could only take the Evangelical Counsels with a heavy weight in her consciousness that she hadn't tried hard enough to pull her older sister away from the path of sin.

And what had that brought? The girl behind her.

Born six years after Clarice's death, fathered by Lawrence and, from what she could understand her nephew Arthur had said, his hidden mistress that died giving birth to her changeling child.

Lawrence had died shortly after too, and not even having been married for an entire year, and with a business and a reputation to upkeep, Arthur had asked that she, his aunt, take the girl in and care for her in his and his wife's place.

She had wanted to refuse, but she knew from her sister's letters and from the few times she had spoken to him, that Arthur was a good man that tried his best, and in her everlasting commitment to family, Brigid accepted to raise the secret child.

"Ma- Mama!"

Both of these girl's parents were some of the worst kind of sinners, and Brigid merely kept her alive for God had commanded that one must always honor their family, but even if they weren't connected by blood, this child could never honor her legacy.

She was not this changeling's mother and she would not stand to be called that!

"Don't call me that, Serenity."

"Mama!"

"I said don't call me that!"

She would apologize to The Lord for her sudden burst of anger, but at least it had kept the girl from speaking that word again.

[justwinginglife]

Part 1.5 of Wait For Me Fic

At the request of @anamedeiros99, this is a continuation of the Wait For Me series. Just some short little flashback action. It takes place before Soshiro leaves for the Defense Force from his POV.

She was doing it again- she was driving him crazy.

He'd already long taken notice of all the specific ways in which she was growing up, but his shame and embarrassment kept him clinging to the relationship they'd always had, forcing him to keep treating her the way he always did.

Besides the fact that he was terrified of destroying the most important relationship of his entire life, he was also unwilling to admit just how many times he looked at her just a little too long, how many times his heart beat just a little too fast. It was unsettling and unwanted. Everything was perfect the way it was and he didn't need to go and fuck it up by thinking with the wrong head.

But he thought he might just throw all self control out the window when he'd taken her to the beach and she'd opted for a bikini instead of her usual, conservative, one piece. He bit his tongue to keep from spilling all the salacious thoughts that were unintentionally flooding his mind and he shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his swimshorts, trying to keep their intentions at bay.

He could tell something was frustrating her but he couldn't figure out what, and certainly not when she was wearing that. He was surprised his brain cells were functioning at all- he thought the heat in his cheeks would've burnt them to a crisp by now. He was glad it was blistering out so he could feign heatstroke.

His struggles only got worse when she proposed a game of beach volleyball. He had protested, knowing where this would go, but he never could resist her pleading eyes. He caved in within a matter of seconds.

As they were playing, he thought to himself that never in his life did he ever think he would be so focused on a volleyball, his eyes never leaving it for fear of glimpsing something else. If his face didn't give him away, his shorts certainly would and he refused to let them betray him like that. So his eyes stayed fixed on the ball, devoting himself to it like it was his religion. And when she was finally tired enough to quit, he dove into the ocean shortly after, hoping the cold water would cleanse him of this unnatural state he found himself in.

It backfired because she joined him in the water and then afterwards, proceeded to dry his dripping body off with a towel. He wondered if she knew just how strained he was, trying to resist her. Trying not to kiss her salt-stained lips, take her on the sand, take her in the water.

He'd hated men with little self control and right now he was starting to hate himself. He never wanted to be the type of person that she couldn't feel safe around. He'd protect her smile forever.

Those thoughts sobered him enough to stand firm when she began to suck provocatively (did she even fucking know just how tempting and seductive she was being right now??) on a popsicle and then again, when she dried herself off with his towel, spending just a little too much time hovering the cloth in between her legs for his comfort.

He thought he might just melt into the sand if she kept this up, but he'd rather be lost among the grains then become something he'd be disappointed in, something she'd be disappointed in. So he resisted over and over again, until finally it became reflex. It became second nature. He pushed his feelings so far down that he hoped he wouldn't even recognize them if they tapped him on the shoulder.

He'd do it for her, he'd do anything for her, even reject himself.

But she didn't make it easy for him.

He was puzzled to discover that she had a new way of styling her hair, a new way of doing her makeup, a new way of doing her nails, every single month without fail. He didn’t know why she changed styles so frequently, but he held on to that confusion, to that uncertainty, because it kept him from thinking about how delicious she looked as a redhead, or how much he’d like to pull on her blonde ponytail, how he wanted to tuck purple strands behind her ear. He wanted to kiss her red lips, kiss her pink lips, kiss her black lips. He didn’t care if it smeared on his face, he’d take any part of her that he could get.

And then he’d remind himself to push those feelings down. Again. He found it quite the workout.

When he finally made the decision to join the Defense Force, he was relieved to have some respite from the constant battle in his mind.

But then she sent him a letter.

And it changed everything.

[papermint-airplane]

💪🏾👶🏽😤🧸🤗👏🏾🗣 For Aiden, please :)

💪🏾 What accomplishment are they most proud of?

Ok so there's some context needed here. Basically, Sixam has a current ruler who is mad with power. I mean, what ruler of an entire planet isn't mad with power, amirite? But this one is a particular lil freak about it. We're talking banning an entire color because it displeases them for whatever petty reason. As such, pink is illegal on Sixam. There is a black market for smuggled pink goods and Aiden, little rebel that he is, has the second largest collection of pink contraband on the planet. Ordinarily, he would never dream of breaking the law, but pink is his favorite color and his obsession runs deep. One of his greatest regrets is being separated form his hoard when he got himself accidentally removed from his home planet.

👶🏽 What's their best childhood memory?

If you can believe it, Aiden was a very shy, awkward kid and didn't make friends very easily. I know. So shockingly out of character for him. He'd spend most of his days alone while all the other kids played and had clubs and sports. When he got home from school, his mother would always be waiting for him with snacks to ask him about his day. She'd listen patiently to him talk about all the cool new things he learned, asking questions here and there to keep him going. He feels like those times with her made up for the loneliness that plagued most of his childhood.

😤 What's their pet peeve(s)?

People who won't take no for an answer. It takes a lot for Aiden to put his foot down on any subject but when he does, it's non-negotiable. Unfortunately, people seem to like to tap dance all over his boundaries which stresses him out because he has to keep reasserting himself. To his credit, once his mind is made up, no force in the universe is going to dissuade him so making him state his position over and over again is just annoying.

🧸What makes them feel supported?

Aiden wants to be loved. He wants to feel like he's the most important person in someone's life. He hasn't experienced that much outside of his mother and...certain individuals 👀 who were less devoted than unhealthily obsessed. He likes to be listened to. He likes to feel like he has someone's undivided attention. It's rare for him and he cherishes every moment.

🤗What makes them feel safe?

Blanket forts. After Roman's answer to this question, I'm sure you were expecting another angsty "hE nEvEr FeElS sAfE" answer but Aiden is a simple man with simple needs. When he feels out of control, he wants to make himself as small as possible and retreat into a place where he's surrounded on all sides, kind of like a turtle hiding in its shell. He likes to be cocooned.

👏🏾 Which lost hobbies would they like to pick up again?

Oh there are several, actually. He'd love to return to collecting again, even if he has to start over in Woeford. He loves drinking so that's a hobby he'd like to pick up again and again and again and aga--

He also likes to seek out animals and just watch them exist. He's fascinated by animals of all kinds. They're the one thing he's not afraid of. Back home, he could watch a gnarleep simply grazing on frixum grass for hours on end without getting bored. On Earth and...I guess whatever part of Earth Woeford used to be a part of, he likes watching mice. They have tiny hands. That's fucking adorable.

🗣 Do they ever talk to themselves? When and what do they say?

Yes. Constantly. The boy doesn't really have an internal monologue. Every thought he has comes out of his mouth, whether it's out loud, under his breath, or shrieked at the top of his lungs at inappropriate times. Maybe it's a byproduct of feeling ignored, maybe it's just the way he is, but he. never. shuts. up. And we love that for him.

[pennysylvester]

i can't be everything to everyone, who do you talk to when you can't talk to no one ➝ solo.

TAGGING ➝ Penny Sylvester, with mentions of Logan Clarington (@paramediclogan), Patrick Flanagan (@patrick-flanagan), Alex Washington (@alex-washington-rackets) & Emmy Corcoran (@emmycorcoran).

LOCATION ➝ Penny and Logan's living room.

TIME FRAME ➝ 10/25, early afternoon (but starts out with mentions of the night before).

WARNINGS ➝ Just a lot of angst, mentions of cheating, I guess a scared dog?

SUMMARY ➝ Penny has been on the verge of a breakdown for years, and she finally allows herself to do it.

Penny had gotten home late last night, traces of her tryst lingering deeper than just her skin. The house was silent, dark, its calmness broken only by the running shower water as Penny stood beneath it, letting it wash away what should never have been there in the first place. She'd towel dried her hair, then slipped quietly into bed beside her husband, eyes growing misty as she watched how peacefully he slept. The salty tear to roll down her temple, wet her ear and soak her pillow wasn't fuelled by guilt or sadness, and maybe that was the problem: she didn't feel guilty at all.

Running into Patrick in the bar had been a blessing. She hadn't sought him out, he'd just...happened. Materalized when she'd needed someone, anyone to take her mind off of the shit storm brewing inside. This life with Logan, she'd resigned herself to it, accepted that this was it, she didn't have to be happy. She could find fulfilment in other areas; her passion for her job, her devotion to her family, her need to be everything to everyone... And maybe that was the problem, too. She was only one person, stretched entirely too thin already, but Penny had never been a quitter, so she wasn't going to start now.

Having her cake and eating it too... it wasn't okay. But somehow, it was. She wasn't happy at home, she knew Logan wasn't, so maybe they could both just continue to do this dance, put up this facade of the loving, happy husband and wife, then get their true happiness on the side, just like Penny had last night, or last year with Alex. But sex wasn't happiness—sure, it quelled her need for affection some, but it wasn't real affection. It was attention, and while Penny craved that too, it wasn't the crux of what she really wanted. Only one person could give her that, and the more Penny did this, the more she danced with Logan and fumbled beneath sheets that weren't her own, the looser her grip became on the only person that actually mattered.

Emmy wasn't the only one to have expected a reunion at some point; Penny had, too. But then she'd met Logan, she'd gotten swept up in the idea of the fairytale life, the most attainable option. She didn't have to work for Logan; Logan couldn't hurt her and she couldn't hurt him, because he didn't love her and she didn't love him, not really. They loved the idea of each other, of that fantasy come to life, and somewhere deep down, Penny always knew it would be temporary. She'd live out that temporary high, then she'd come home and Emmy would be waiting for her.

But Emmy wasn't a fantasy; Emmy was real. She was a person with hopes and fears and feelings, and while Penny knew on some level that she'd screwed up her second chance with her a while ago, it had taken up until their conversation in her office to shatter that final glimmer of hope. Emmy hated her. She hated her. And they were done, Emmy said they were done and whatever they'd once had was over, and maybe Penny didn't know how to accept that, but she was trying. She was trying so hard, searching for that affection she craved in any place she could find it, and without even trying, she was leaving destruction in her path.

Alex.

His baby.

Logan.

His time.

Emmy... her life. Emmy was glass, the most precious, fragile kind, and she cracked and shattered in Penny's hand until she, and the illusion of the two of them together, turned to sparkling dust.

Everything in Penny's path turned to dust, and she'd done all she could to ignore it, to distract her mind with work or parenting her adult siblings, or climbing into the bed of a stranger she'd met in a dimly lit dive bar. It wasn't until now, when she sat in her living room with puffy eyes and the house cloaked in silence, the sleeves of her sweater pulled down over her hands to grip tightly in her fingers, that she really let herself see it. Her lip quivered, her eyes glazed with an overflowing pool of salty tears, her body filled with self-hatred.

And Penny finally broke down.

The new vase, the one she'd bought just yesterday to replace the one lost to the earthquake, took the brunt of her downfall. Penny cried and gripped her hands until her palms were decorated with deep crescent moons from her nails. She didn't just cry, she sobbed. Loud, heartbroken, ugly sobs, her sadness turning to anger, then to frustration, and Penny stood and grabbed the closest thing to her, the vase, and watched as it hurtled towards the wall, smashing into small, shiny shards that scattered on the floor.

It wasn't the sound of shattering that brought her back to her senses, but a terrified cry, and Penny turned to see Zoe backing up into the kitchen.

"No." Penny shook her head, guilt washing over her. Zoe was Logan's dog, Penny barely even liked the thing, but she found herself lowering to her level now, kneeling before her and dying inside as she watched her shake. "I'm sorry," Penny sobbed, trying to motion the dog closer, but she only backed up further. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I didn't mean to scare you."

A knock on the door caught both of their attention, but rather than running to see who it was like she usually would, Zoe only continued to whine. Penny was in no state for company, but the knocking persisted, and Penny, everything to everyone, began to run scenarios through her head. What if it was one of her siblings, what if something had happened and they needed her? It was that thought and that thought alone that pulled her from her knees, and had her frantically wiping at her watery, red, puffy eyes as she headed for the door.

"I'll be right back, okay?" She said to a still cowering Zoe. "I'm so sorry, Zo."

In the grand scheme of things, apologizing to the dog was the least of her worries.