#so my walnuts do not look interesting

[balkanradfem]

I had to move my zuchinni to the basmenet, since the apartment is too warm for storage, so now my found aquarium is repurposed as a little greenhouse!

It looks so cool, and I can’t actually tell if it’s warmer inside, since it’s such a small greenhouse, it probably can’t hold much warmth. But, whenever sun shines and gets thru that glass, I’m sure the plants are getting a lot more warmth than they otherwise would! It’s also a lot more humid, but I feel like the plants might like that.

These flowers are frost-sensitive, so I will have to move them inside in a few days, I’m not sure such a tiny greenhouse would protect them from the freezing temperatures. I’m tempted to try growing microgreens, lettuce, kale, swiss chard, and other frost-hardy things, to see if anything would work out. We’re having very little light, and my balcony is shaded, but someone has to experiment even in these circumstances!

[wordstome]

könig as the nutcracker 🥹🥹

you just brought some terrible sleeping beast out of me, anon.

nutcracker prince König x fem reader (mostly gender neutral but you're wearing a dressing gown)

tw: mouse murder???

He's a very odd looking nutcracker, all things considered, but you can't take your eyes off of him.

"If it's a nutcracker why does it have that stupid veil over its face?" Your brother asks, noisily crunching candies between his molars. You glare at him, both for the rude remark and for chewing with his mouth open.

"This is a special one," your aunt gushes. "He's based off of a legendary soldier who never showed his face on the battlefield. One of a kind, from a specialty toy shop.”

"How interesting..." You muse, gently rubbing the fabric of the veil between your fingers. It's sturdy fabric, but still soft to the touch.

"He was probably ugly as hell," your brother declares. You swat him, and he only cackles and gets up to graze at some more sweets.

"Maybe you should try covering that ugly mug up once in a while," you call after him. He pelts you with a walnut shell.

Your aunt shakes her head fondly. "This one's not just decorative," she says. "He's a real nutcracker by Steinbach."

You look at her, wide-eyed. "So he can crack nuts?"

She nods and tosses you a hazelnut. "Try it."

You lift the wooden man's veil a little to put the hazelnut in his mouth. You could just pull the whole thing up and out of the way, but that feels almost...forbidden? You're not sure why you feel this way—he's just a piece of wood, after all, and he probably doesn't even have anything painted on underneath the veil other than those vibrant blue eyes. But even so, you're hesitant to unmask him.

Cracking the nut works like a charm, though, and some childish excitement bubbles up inside you as the remnants of the cracked hazelnut spill into your palm. "That's incredible!" you gush, running your thumb over the nutcracker's lacquered uniform.

"What do you mean incredible, that's what nutcrackers are for." Your brother returns, a few walnuts rolling around in his palm. He holds his other hand out. "Give him here."

"No. You called him ugly, so he's mad at you," you say, teasing him by holding the nutcracker out of his reach.

Your brother rolls his eyes. "Give it here, you little shit."

"Crack your own nuts," you shoot back. "This is my nutcracker."

He makes another grab for it, and this time he manages to grab the nutcracker's arm. It's only a lighthearted tussle between siblings as you shove at your brother and he refuses to let go of the nutcracker's arm—until it's not.

A terrible snapping of breaking wood causes you to gasp. The two of you stumble away from each other from the force, your brother holding a tiny wooden arm in his hand. He's just pulled it clean off. On closer inspection, your idiot brother has somehow managed to Hulk-rip the arm piece off of the piece that fits inside the socket. "This is a brand new nutcracker, how did you fuck it up?!" you cry.

"Hey, you should have—" Your brother takes one look at your expression and decides not to give you a hard time. "Look, I'm sorry. I was too rough on it. Sit tight for a second." You sit there, numbly staring at the pieces of your poor nutcracker. Really, it's your fault too—why didn't you just let him have the damn thing?

And why is this upsetting you so much? The nutcracker's just a decoration, albeit one with a little more function than most. You feel a sort of attraction to this little wooden man in your hand, though. Maybe it's because his unique design is interesting, or maybe it's because you're intrigued by the idea of a masked soldier who never shows his face. Either way, he was your gift anyway, so it's not that unusual that you're attached to him...right?

"Here, let me see him." Your brother's back, but to your horror, he's holding a pair of needle-nose pliers. "Absolutely not," you respond, jumping up from where you were sitting on the floor. "You are not getting anywhere near my nutcracker with those things. You're just going to fuck it up even more."

"It'll be fiiine," he insists, clicking the pliers open and closed like some maniacal toy surgeon. You're not sure you like the devious glint in his eye. Your brother's a nice guy for the most part, but sometimes he gets this look in his eye that you imagine Dr Frankenstein must have had when he was assembling his creation.

You hold the nutcracker and his detached arm protectively to your chest. "I'll figure out how to fix him in the morning with glue or something," you insist. "I don't need you poking around with pliers and splintering the wood."

"Are you sure? I am sorry, for what it's worth."

You wave him off. You're still kind of mad at him, but you're both adults. You'll live. "Don't worry about it. I think I'm going to head to bed soon, anyway."

"You should keep his arm with him, dear," you aunt pipes up. She had gone into the kitchen during the whole ordeal, but had probably heard everything go down. "Tape it to his side or something. You wouldn't want to lose it."

That's a good idea, you muse, examining your poor amputated nutcracker. You're just about to take her suggestion when you get an idea.

Your brother checks in with you later, right before he goes to bed as well. "You can't be serious," he says. "You made him an arm sling?"

You tie the knot on the little scrap of cloth around the little wooden man's arm nice and snug. "Oh, I'm dead serious," you say. "Doesn't he look cute?"

Your brother lets out a resigned sigh. "Yeah. Sure."

The rest of the evening is relatively uneventful. You put the nutcracker in your room, right on top of the dresser, while you go about your bedtime routine. It always brings you a bit of joy to walk out of the bathroom and see him there, standing tall and proud.

Well, your evening would have been uneventful...had you not bolted awake in bed an hour or two later.

You're groggy and confused, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when you hear the cacophony of noise. It sounds like footsteps, dozens upon dozens of them, stampeding through your walls. And then the mice show up.

They crawl up from the corners and the floorboards, swarming across your room. You're too terrified to move or even scream out, sure that you must be having some terrible nightmare or hallucination.

And then your nutcracker moves.

You're absolutely positive now that you must be dreaming, watching frozen from your bed as your nutcracker leaps down from your dresser as if he's a living, breathing man and beginning to fight the mice. And he's even...talking?

"Finally, some worthy adversaries!" you hear him cry. You gape at this bloodthirsty little soldier as he beats through mouse after mouse with his tiny sword.

It's an impossible battle, you think. There's no way he can take all those mice alone, and with one injured arm aside...you're usually pretty squeamish when it comes to dubious little animals, but you can't just leave your nutcracker to be overwhelmed. Besides, this is all a dream, so nothing matters, right?

There's one mouse, larger than the others, who's at the back of the pack, squeaking as if giving orders. You're having quite a wild dream, honestly, because the mouse is even wearing a little crown. Like a king, you think with some amusement. You reach over the edge of your bed to pick the mouse up by the scruff.

You're not quite sure what happens next. One moment, the mouse is chattering angrily at you, the next you're on the floor. At first you think you've simply lost your balance and fallen onto the floor, but when you scramble to your feet, you nearly fall over again as you take in your surroundings.

You've shrunk.

Your bedroom is cavernous above your head, your bedposts and furniture as tall as skyscrapers. And worse still, the mice are huge too: the once palm-sized mouse king is now as large as you are, sneering down at you from his snout. You didn't even know mice could sneer.

You yelp and throw yourself to the side to dodge one of the mice lunging at you. "It's time to wake up," you mutter to yourself through clenched teeth. "It would be really really nice to wake up right about now...!"

The mice are unrelenting, a vicious gleam in their eyes as they nip at your heels. They manage to corner you against a piece of furniture, snapping their jaws menacingly. All you can think to do is pray as they draw ever closer, their breath hot as they crowd around you—

A sword neatly lops off the head of one of the mice in front of you.

You gasp and look upwards to see your nutcracker looming above you, his sword gleaming in the low light of your bedroom. He's incredibly menacing at this size, his veil becoming intimidating rather than charming. You're far smaller than him now—if he had been a normal sized man, he would have easily cleared six feet. His eyes are vibrant and intense, staring down at you for a brief moment before they turn back towards his enemy.

You sit there, stock-still in awe as you watch him mow through his adversaries. It takes you a moment to realize you probably shouldn't be hanging around and gawping. Good thing, too, because your knight in shining lacquer is too distracted to notice he's being snuck up on. The larger mouse is creeping up behind him, a wicked glint in its eye.

"No!" you cry. Thinking fast, you pull off your slipper and chuck it at the mouse's head, stunning it. I can't believe that actually worked, you think.

You have to give your nutcracker some credit, his reflexes are wicked-sharp. In a single heartbeat, he's run the mouse king through with his sword. He cuts an imposing figure, his eyes sharp and deadly. But there's a sort of glee in them as well, the kind of thing that should make you uneasy.

It doesn't.

The rest of the mice, seeing their leader fallen, beat a hasty retreat, tugging the corpses of their fallen comrades along with them. You watch them, fascinated, until all that remains of the bloody conflict are a few tiny pools of blood streaked along your floorboards.

"I must thank you," comes the voice of your nutcracker. You look at him, unsure of what to say. You're welcome for throwing a shoe at a giant mouse to keep it from killing you?

"I...of course," is what eventually comes out. You smooth out your dressing gown in a futile effort to look presentable. "I couldn't let him hurt you."

The nutcracker tilts his head curiously. "You don't know me."

"Of course I do. You're my nutcracker," you say, instantly feeling silly once the words leave your mouth. You just received him as a gift, and you only just found out he was sentient anyway. You don't know why you feel so protective...

He shifts his injured arm, the sling still in place. "You bound my arm, as well."

You flush with embarrassment. "I-it was the least I could do," you stammer. "I shouldn't have let my brother do that. Really, it was my own fault—" Your words die in your throat as the nutcracker moves in close to you, so close that you can feel his body heat. Since when did he have body heat?

"Pretty," he murmurs under his breath. You stare at him, dumbfounded. Is your nutcracker...hitting on you?

Suddenly, you snap back to your senses. "Oh my God," you exclaim, staring down at yourself and then back towards your surroundings. "I'm still small. And I haven't woken up yet. Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. Please tell me I'm dreaming." You pinch your skin, letting out a small exclamation when it hurts. But you still don't wake up.

"Hmm...you won't solve your predicament that easily, little one," the nutcracker muses.

"Wha—do you know how to fix this?"

"I have a hunch," he responds, brow furrowing. You hadn't noticed eyebrows on him when you were examining him earlier in the evening, you note.

"Do tell."

"You've had a curse placed on you, but I don't know how to break it. I do, however, know someone who might know how."

"Well then take me to them!" You stare at him beseechingly. You watch as several indecipherable emotions run through his eyes, then he nods.

You visibly relax. "Thank you."

"You'll have to trust me. You may find the whole process a little...fantastical."

"More fantastical than my nutcracker coming to life and fighting an army of mice on my bedroom floor?" you ask, cocking an eyebrow. His eyes crinkle in a way that must mean he's smiling.

"More fantastical than that," he says. He offers you a hand like a true gentleman, and to your shock, it feels like flesh, not wood. His grip is firm but soothing, his hand so huge it dwarfs your own.

"Let's do this, then."

uhhhhhhh wow this got kinda long I had to cut it short. I'll probably write a part 2? But it's gotta wait because I've got a gazillion other things to write first :P Thank you for the inspiration, anon! 🥺

[l1zk4]

I have no skill, nor talent in writing but, man, have I been craving some postwar! Levi content for a while now. Sooo, I'll try and explain my ideas in a not so eloquent way. Imagine:

Postwar!Levi and his lieutenant right after the war. After the fog clears up reader goes straight to Levi and they hug on the ground. (They don't really have an established relationship, throughout everything they've gone from strangers to best friends to "I love you and I'm terrified". And I guess they have their reasons.)

Postwar!Levi being rushed to the infirmary to get his leg treated before infection spreads. Cue to Levi having to stay there for a couple of months. Meanwhile reader is almost always with him and when she's not, she's handling other affairs like looking for accommodation for the both of them, but also looking for a way to make Levi's dream (the teashop) a reality. So when she's with him at the hospital she'd just randomly ask vague questions "My dad sent me a letter... what kind of color would suit walnut flooring?".

Postwar!Levi getting discharged from the hospital and reader surprising him with their new home.

And now the interesting stuff happens!!

They both start living together and they beat around the bush regarding their love for each other. Reader thinks that Levi probably wouldn't want her to stay with him forever. Levi feels like he's trapping reader when she could be off living her best life with another man. Getting some cute moments, cute interactions, but also angst, but also comfort. Generally, I'm not really a fan of smut but it'll probably happen as well, when they've established that they love each other and that no one is going anywhere.

I would binge-read a series like that so hard. I also know that fics like that already exist and I've read some and really liked them but either A. they get discontinued B. the smut gets a bit too much for me

So, uh, I tried. Do with this information what you will. Thanks for reading!

[rebeccathenaturalist]

An App Does Not a Master Naturalist Make

Originally posted on my website at https://rebeccalexa.com/app-not-master-naturalist/ - I had written this as an op-ed and sent it to WaPo, but they had no interest, so you get to read it here instead!

I have mixed feelings about Michael Coren’s April 25 Washington Post article, “These 4 free apps can help you identify every flower, plant and tree around you.” His ebullience at exploring some of the diverse ecological community around him made me grin, because I know exactly what it feels like. There’s nothing like that sense of wonder and belonging when you go outside and are surrounded by neighbors of many species, instead of a monotonous wall of green, and that is a big part of what led me to become a Master Naturalist.

When I moved from the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest in 2006, I felt lost because I didn’t recognize many of the animals or plants in my new home. So I set about systematically learning every species that crossed my path. Later, I began teaching community-level classes on nature identification to help other people learn skills and tools for exploring their local flora, fauna, and fungi.

Threeleaf foamflower (Tiarella trifoliata)

Let me be clear: I love apps. I use Merlin routinely to identify unknown bird songs, and iNaturalist is my absolute favorite ID app, period. But these tools are not 100% flawless.

For one thing, they’re only as good as the data you provide them. iNaturalist’s algorithms, for example, rely on a combination of photos (visual data), date and time (seasonal data), and GPS coordinates (location data) to make initial identification suggestions. These algorithms sift through the 135-million-plus observations uploaded to date, finding observations that have similar visual, seasonal, and location data to yours.

There have been many times over the years where iNaturalist isn’t so sure. Take this photo of a rather nondescript clump of grass. Without seed heads to provide extra clues, the algorithms offer an unrelated assortment of species, with only one grass. I’ve gotten that “We’re not confident enough to make a recommendation” message countless times over my years of using the app, often suggesting species that are clearly not what I’m looking at in real life.

Because iNaturalist usually offers up multiple options, you have to decide which one is the best fit. Sometimes it’s the first species listed, but sometimes it’s not. This becomes trickier if all the species that are suggested look alike. Tree-of-Heaven (Ailanthus altissima), smooth sumac (Rhus glabra) and eastern black walnut (Juglans nigra) all have pinnately compound, lanceolate leaves, and young plants of these three species can appear quite similar. If all you know how to do is point and click your phone’s camera, you aren’t going to be able to confidently choose which of the three plants is the right one.

Coren correctly points out that both iNaturalist and Pl@ntNet do offer more information on suggested species—if people are willing to take the time to look. Too many assume ID apps will give an easy, instant answer. In watching my students use the app in person almost everyone just picks the first species in the list. It’s not until I demonstrate how to access the additional content for each species offered that anyone thinks to question the algorithms’ suggestions.

While iNaturalist is one of the tools I incorporate into my classes, I emphasize that apps in general are not to be used alone, but in conjunction with field guides, websites, and other resources. Nature identification, even on a casual level, requires critical thinking and observation skills if you want to make sure you’re correct. Coren’s assertion that you only need a few apps demonstrates a misunderstanding of a skill that takes time and practice to develop properly—and accurately.

Speaking of oversimplification, apps are not a Master Naturalist in your pocket, and that statement —while meant as a compliment–does a disservice to the thousands of Master Naturalists across the country. While the training curricula vary from state to state, they are generally based in learning how organisms interact within habitats and ecosystems, often drawing on a synthesis of biology, geology, hydrology, climatology, and other natural sciences. A Master Naturalist could tell you not only what species you’re looking at, but how it fits into this ecosystem, how its adaptations are different from a related species in another ecoregion, and so forth.

Map showing Level III and IV ecoregions of Oregon, the basis of my training as an Oregon Master Naturalist.

In spite of my criticisms, I do think that Coren was absolutely onto something when he described the effects of using the apps. Seeing the landscape around you turn from a green background to a vibrant community of living beings makes going outside a more exciting, personal experience. I and my fellow nature nerds share an intense curiosity about the world around us. And that passion, more than any app or other tool, is fundamental to becoming a citizen naturalist, Master or otherwise.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

[brittle-doughie]

Looking into The Holiday Express Update for CRK!

Jesus Christ, did this update already receive its bit of backlash for this being a “mystery on a train” story that lacks the little detective herself

Rest in peace, in peace Walnut Cookie. It is not your time yet.

The train station is getting a new look for the holidays! It’s about time it gets a moment of attention!

Stardust getting another skin is iffy, but I adore Milky Way’s and Space Doughnut’s costumes! They’re Special rarity however, so you might have to make it a priority to get all three of them before they’re gone!

The Story Tickets are pretty self-explanatory, but First Class Tickets are possibly just for Hard Mode. This story is NOT a Special Episode by the way, so make sure you have the whole story done for the records before the event is over

Oof, he’s not going to be spared from the fandom’s ire about him being another twink

Old Jolly has been got. This seems like a job for one cookie, but she doesn’t seem to be around right now. Such a shame. Oh hey, Almond Cookie.

The big score for me, Linzer Cookie. I’m already seeing you lads wanting her to be evil or be akin to Affogato. Come on now, didn’t we just have Affogato 2 two updates ago lol. Her event runs similarly to Twizzly, which is especially humorous since Linzer shares her VA.

Can we get Frost Queen a costume now please?

The event itself could be fun, I’m curious to see how it goes and hopefully the fandom eases up on these two for not being Roguefort or Walnut.

———————————————————————

You took it upon yourself to try and figure out the culprit among the passengers, if only Almond Cookie were here on the train with you, things would probably go smoother with an extra set of hands and eyes on the scene.

Some of the passengers…might have gotten a little carried away when they see it’s you leading the investigation.

Creme Brulee Cookie: I will do my best to help you with the investigation..but first, I want you to listen to a song of mine, one I haven’t let anyone else hear yet. It will be for your listening only…

Linzer Cookie: What an interesting turn~ The handsome/beautiful upcoming detective approaching the mysterious, but star novelist for their first step in the mystery~! Will this novelist be able to aid the detective? Do these two have a connection to each other? Could love even bloom between the two~?

(You had…barely started to ask her things before Linzer buried her head in her notebook, writing away as she maintained eye contact with the you)

[violettduchess]

A/N: I am so happy to be able to share my gift for the lovely @ikeromantic 💜 A deep dive into your blog told me you love AUs as much as I do so I was so happy to create one for our favorite Lelouchian.

Thank you to @ikemenlibrary and @sunnyikemen for hosting and for being supportive, accommodating and all-around superstars. 💜

Clavis x Emma

Magic AU, Soulmates AU, First Kiss, Enemies to Lovers

WC: ~2k

The sun is glowing a bright lemon-yellow as Emma closes the wooden door to her shop. It’s a beautiful door, made of dark walnut and decorated with silvery moons and stars. Across the top, the words “Belle Magie” are etched into the hard wood. At night, the lettering glows a soft gold. Humming to herself, she wraps her free hand around the ornate brass doorknob and a subtle, warm orange glow emanates from her fingertips. The moons and stars flash once and she hears a satisfying, soft whoosh of magic. The door to her shop is now locked via enchantment and no one except Emma will be able to enter and poke around at all the treasures that line her shelves and counters.

Smoothing down her ochre and black robes, she carefully makes her way across the cobblestone street to the shop that is literally across from hers. Her nose wrinkles at the sign that hangs above the wooden door: “Lelouchian Enchantments” written in swirling, silver lettering that she would say is barely legible. His note, written in the same dizzying writing, is clutched tightly in her hand as she pushes open the lavender-colored door with a celestial design nearly identical to her own. But that is where the similarity ends.

Whereas Emma’s shop is neat, organized by ingredients, everything with its own place and labeled in her own very careful handwriting, his is a gigantic explosion of almost anything one can imagine. Bottles filled with liquids of all colors and bottles with questionable things floating in them, dried herbs and seeds in pots and packets, a whole section of plants that bite anyone who comes near them, not to mention odd gemstones, vibrant powders, paints and feathers. She ducks underneath the silver vines that have wrapped themselves around the wooden ceiling beams, ignoring the way they contract and rustle their leaves at her, and approaches the counter where she finds Clavis himself, carefully sorting what looks like glittery kidney beans.

“I got your missive. I believe it broke in through my window in order to deliver itself.”

At the sound of her voice, he turns, golden eyes gleaming like copper in sunlight. He wipes his hands on the folds of his pale lavender robes, grinning slowly. She is forced to admit to herself for the millionth time that Clavis is hardly unpleasant to look at, per say. But oh, how he irks her, with his smooth words, flamboyant personality and flashy enchantments. 

“Oh dearie me, when I said it was urgent, I suppose that gave it permission to cause destruction. I apologize.”

She bats away several tiny golden motes that have taken an interest in her chestnut hair and Clavis lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers in invitation. The golden pinpricks of light float towards him, circling his wrist and then solidify into a gold bracelet.

Refusing to be distracted by his tricks, she unscrolls his letter and lays it on the counter.

“Well? Where is it?”

“So impatient,” he tuts as he kneels down, lifting an ornate silver box from under the counter. It’s about the size of his hand and she can’t help but watch the way he trails his fingertips over the decorative embellishments. He has such elegant hands.

One brow arches slowly as she crosses her arms, shoving that thought away and burying it in annoyance.. “Well…..are you going to open it….?”

He sighs theatrically. “Some people have no sense of showmanship.”

Her lips quirk into a small, involuntary grin. “I’m not one of the poor suckers who come in here for your tricks and potions, Lelouch. Now open the box.”

He tilts his head, clearly enjoying how much she is trying to hide her curiosity. His hand rests on the lid of the box but doesn’t move.

“Don’t you want to know the story of how I acquired such a treasure? Why, it’s a tale of mighty heroics the likes of-”

“No. No, I do not.”

He pretends to be offended but the light in his eyes gives away the truth. 

“But it involves a goblin merchant from Benitoite and a heartsick wizard from the Jade Forest and-”

“And a dragon and a sea witch and a bloody one-eyed pegasus. Clavis, just open the box!” 

He laughs and it is the needle deflating the balloon of irritation that had overtaken her. She’s never met anyone with a laugh quite like his. It’s almost musical, but in the way of the inviting, simple melody of a children’s song. Something that stays with her, imprinting itself on her mind.

“Such an impatient pumpkin.”

“Don’t call me pumpkin.” The response is automatic, a reflex built over the long while she has known him. The first time Clavis had seen her do magic and seen the yellow-orange glow her magic emanates, he had bestowed her with that aggravating nickname.

Nimble fingers curl over the lid of the box and then he lifts it, revealing a round, milky-white stone nestled into a bed of black velvet. It reminds her immediately of the moon against a starless night sky.

She tilts her head quizzically. “This is the all-power Amor Lapis?” She had imagined something called the “Love Stone” being far more ostentatious, something pink or red and wild with sparkles. Something that would take her breath away. This stone, while pretty in its own way, looks rather ordinary.

“Such a skeptic.” He lifts the stone from its box, holding it in the palm of his hand. “It will only glow when two soulmates have found each other.” He lifts his gaze to her, his smile playful. “Know any perfect couples?”

She rolls her eyes, reaching out to touch the stone. “There’s no such thing as a perfect-” Her fingers brush Clavis’s palm and suddenly, the middle of the white stone begins to brighten, a soft glow radiating out from the center.

She jerks her hand away even as he nearly drops it. Her heart roars to life, knocking wildly around inside her chest.

Neither of them move and then, at the same time they both do, Clavis uncharacteristically fumbling to put the stone back in its box and she taking several steps back, one hand curling into the velvet folds of her cloak.

“It’s broken! It’s clearly defective!” Why does her voice sound just a bit shrill to her ears?

He clears his throat. She’s rarely seen him so rattled.

“It….oh dear…..maybe it is.” He frowns, staring down at the stone, at the dull, cream color of it, no glow to be seen. Then he draws in a breath, one that even she can hear shaking and looks at her. There is something unfamiliar in the depths of his sunrise eyes.

“We should try that again.”

“Try what again, exactly?”

“Touching.”

She should be balking at the very suggestion. 

She should already be halfway out of his crazy shop. 

She shouldn’t be stepping closer again, her gaze jumping from the stone back to him and then back again. 

And she really really should not be saying-

“Alright. To-to prove its deficiency.”

The smooth, dark counter is a barrier between them, one that feels like armor, something that will protect her although what she needs protecting from is uncertain, some nebulous thing forming on the edges of her consciousness, some unknown dream rising from the shadows of slumber.

Clavis then holds out his hand, palm up, his gaze meeting hers. Her heartbeat drums wildly through her veins, a rhythm she has never known before. Slowly she lifts her hand and places it in his. His skin is cool and smooth, soft in a way she would not have expected. Emma can feel his magic just here, flowing through him. It feels shockingly calm, not the wild chaos she thought it might be but soothing, like the scent of lavender, the soft pastels of the sky at sundown. She can feel her own magic responding, warming as it flows through her.

Beneath their joined hands, the Amor Lapis begins glowing again, a soft white light like a tiny flame igniting inside the stone. Her heartbeat roaring in her ears, she slowly withdraws her hand from his and watches as the glow dims and then, when they are no longer touching, winks off like a tiny candle snuffed out by a breeze. When Emma has gathered enough courage, she raises her gaze from the milky-colored stone to Clavis and her heart trips over its own beat. His eyes rival the glow of the stone, something new burning in their golden depths. The light of revelation. The light of truth. The light of desire.

When he finally speaks, his voice sounds soft, breathy in a way that causes Emma to bite the inside of her lip at the sound.

“Dearie me,” he murmurs, his gaze locked with hers, bright with an intensity that feels almost physical. “If that happens when we touch hands, imagine what might happen if we actually kiss.”

The word lingers between them, shimmering in the air like desert heat over sand dunes. Emma unconsciously licks her lips and Clavis’s gaze drops there, fast as quicksilver. His own lips part slightly as he stares at the full curve of her lower lip, the sweet bow of the top. His own voice, his own words, echo like thunder between them. 

….if we actually…..

….kiss….

Emma hasn't moved, hasn’t said a word, her soft eyes wide as a deer’s startled by a sudden, unexpected sound. And then he realizes what he said, what he has actually suggested and shame floods him, a tsunami of embarrassment that washes away the glimmer of hope, the clouds of desire that had overtaken him. 

What the hell was he thinking, talking like that? As if someone like her, someone so intelligent and kind and talented, someone beautiful inside and out, would ever be soulmates with someone like him. Forget soulmates, she doesn’t even like him. 

He hangs in head, soft twilight locks falling across his forehead, his knuckles white as he grips the counter with trembling hands. Stupid. Idiot. Never good enough. Never smart enough. Never ever would he be enough for someone else.

“Nevermind, I lost myself for a moment.” The words are acrid on his tongue and he feels the hot wash of color staining his cheeks and neck. “Obviously, there’s no way–”

Her hands are suddenly gripping those warm cheeks, pulling him towards her, forcing him to lean over the counter, above the stone, where she presses her lips to his. The Amor Lapis explodes with radiance, a tiny supernova encased by smooth stone. Even with closed eyes, Emma notices the brightening of the light but right now, she does not care. Because right now, she is holding Clavis’s face in her hands, and she is falling falling falling into kissing him.

At first he freezes, shock turning his blood to ice water in his veins. But then he realizes her mouth is really there, pressed against his, and then the burst of light automatically closes his eyes and the shock begins to thaw.

Now all he feels is the warmth of her kiss, the tentative movement of her lips and he gasps, reaching across the counter to touch her. Cradling each other’s face, they kiss, at first slowly, drinking in the fragile newness of the sensation, the unveiling of the truth that has been growing in both their hearts, quietly. Steadily. And then novelty slowly turns to pleasure, to desire. He grows bolder, sliding a hand down to the nape of her neck, holding her there so he can part her lips and sink into the sweet taste of her. If this is a dream, may he never wake up.

Emma sighs against him, a sound that echoes the twinkling of diamond-bright stars in a black velvet sky. All this time….all this time she’s been falling in love and never even realized it.

Minutes pass. Or maybe hours. Neither of them can say when they finally pull away from one another. Breathless, light-headed, floating, they both glance down at the Amor Lapis. The stone is luminous, glowing like a tiny moon dropped from the heavens. 

And it will continue to give off its beautiful light, for the rest of their days.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381 @bubblexly

[co-sharkie]

My Girl–

Grayson Waller x F! Wrestler! Reader

Summary: Bron Breakker flirts with Grayson’s girlfriend.

This was a request from @there-goes-thefighter 💖

Bron Breakker made his impression on the WWE universe with his Smackdown debut and signing. He observed the competition beforehand. He saw many familiar faces, but one stood out--a beautiful woman who he saw in the ring multiple times.

He loved the way she executed her moves flawlessly and her crowd work was phenomenal. It was only a matter of time before he tried to talk to her. And luckily, he saw her backstage. She was occupied on her phone while sitting on a crate. Bron strut up to her, ready to shoot his shot.

You looked up from your phone and spotted a huge man making his way towards you. He leaned on the crate and you thanked your past self for making sure the wheels were locked. He had a flirtatious smirk on his face. "I don't think I got your name, beautiful."

You quickly recognized him as Bron Breakker, the newly signed superstar. He was a man you remember Grayson having a ton a issues with during his NXT time. Grayson complained non-stop the night Bron was signed. He stayed up all night telling you every single detail about the man and why he hated him.

"Did you not look at the roster before signing with Smackdown?" You innocently smiled after your attitude showed. Bron blinked, surprised with your sass. "My name is all over the women's division."

He tried to laugh off the embarrassment as he must have missed your name (he didn't look at the women's roster). "What I'm trying to say is that I didn't see you at my meet-and-greet." The superstars typically host a small gathering backstage at catering after someone new is signed. It gives them a good opportunity to meet the new person and exchange socials with them.

"Sorry, I was going to go, but I got busy." Grayson had refused to go to the meet-and-greet. He knew that they still had bad blood. You decided to leave the arena with your boyfriend, much to his relief.

"That's fine. How about I take you out for dinner tonight so we can officially meet?" Bron offered. You were going to give him another sassy remark in hopes that he would back off, but your knight in funky button-ups had other plans.

Grayson was taken aback by the sight of Bron so close to you. He stormed up to you two. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Grayson was fuming.

Bron quickly pushed himself off of the crate and made himself look bigger. "Getting something you could never." Bron's snarky remark made you snort. You stifle your laugh behind your hand. Thankfully, Bron didn't notice.

"What, a girlfriend? That's really funny, mate, because you're talking to mine!" Grayson picked you up from the crate and held you in his arms. "And trust me, she doesn't want someone with a brain the size of a walnut."

You waved goodbye to Bron over Grayson's shoulder. Bron stood in silence, totally stunned by the interaction. He was unaware Grayson had a girlfriend, or that he could even get one. He was disappointed that the beautiful girl he held interest in was taken by one of his old rivals, but maybe he could prove his worth in the ring.

Grayson didn't say anything until he was almost on the other side of backstage. He set you back on your feet. "What was he saying to you?" He was much more calm now that it was just you and him, but you could still hear his frustration.

"He just asked for my name and if I wanted dinner later. I had it under control, but thanks for coming to save me." You smiled and gave him a quick kiss. Grayson grumbled something you couldn't hear but it sounded somewhere along the lines of, 'who does he think he is'.

[dr-demi-bee]

Day 7 ---------------------Read on AO3-------------------------

Pairing: Raphael x Tav Prompt: Against a Wall Uhhhh idk. Sneaking into the House of Hope, Bad idea, NSFW

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

It had probably been a mistake for Tav to search the House of Hope alone. But sending Astarion ahead to search the archives while she searched Raphael’s quarters was the only way to ensure they’d get what they needed and only one of them could get caught. And Tav was betting (foolishly) that Raphael liked them too much, in his way, to do something harmful. Or she’s at least betting that they’re too valuable.

Or that’s what she had been thinking when she crept her way into the opulent room. It was terribly him - garish shades of red and gold, walnut and black, everything dripping with excess. Much like the glimpse she had seen when last the cambion teleported them all here in what she could only consider a thinly veiled threat. Thankfully his incubus is nowhere to be seen.

And while Tav, admittedly foolishly, sets to using her thieves tools to pick open a drawer in one of his garish desks she fails to notice the sound of him entering the room over the bubbling of his bathing pool.

“Well, well,” drawls the deep baritone from far too close, “A little mouse come scurrying into my home. Snooping, no less.”

Heart hammering in her throat, Tav whirls, straightening to her full height. But she feels suddenly indescribably small as she meets the gaze of the cambion towering over her, wings splayed and teeth bared in a menacing grin. She’s only seen him in his fully devilish form once before. And it was unsettling, but at least then there’d been some distance between them. Gods he’s huge. And those wings.

“Cat got your tongue, little mouse?” Raphael purrs, stepping ever closer.

She backs away from him, scrambling for something - anything- to say. It had been easy to assume she’d somehow be safe from harm because of the cambion’s favor. But as he presses ever closer, crowding her back towards the far wall, it’s hard to fathom why she had ever thought that at all. Raphael practically exudes malice through those fiery eyes and that sharp grin. Even with his hands tucked behind his back it still somehow feels like a threat.

“I’m not a fan of silence, little mouse. I’ve asked you a question,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower as he lets some of his irritation show. “And I very much want you to explain how you came to be here. In my house. In my bedroom.”

Well, in for a penny...

She steels her expression, giving him a firm glower as she replies, “I’m looking for a contract.”

Raphael first quirks one brow high, touching a hand to his chin in thought, as if disbelieving. But then when she doesn’t elaborate any further the cambion tilts his head back and laughs. Laughs.

“Oh, little mouse,” he gives a soft sighing exhale before his gaze is back on her once more - more full of devious delight than before. His lips split wide in a sharp grin and he takes another step forward. “You think I’m so foolish as to keep contracts in my own bedroom?”

He looses another soft, barking chuckle as he prowls forward another step. Tav’s feet move in kind, automatically retreating. When her back connects with the wall and Raphael keeps moving closer, a cold pool of dread wells in her stomach.

“No, oh apple of my eye,” Raphael croons in that rich, low tone, “There is naught in this room to peak your interest. Naught but you. And I.”

Tav’s breath catches, and something in the way his gaze shifts - trailing over her face and to her collarbones - and his tone darkens has that ice in her stomach heating. Rapidly set to boiling in a way her frightful mind isn’t ready to consider.

Raphael’s hand is suddenly beside her head as he backs her fully against the wall. His wings splay out - gods how long are they - and the effect has her swallowed in a cocoon made entirely of him. Her back against the wall, and nothing in her vision but Raphael towering over her, his wings on all sides.

The cambion leans his head down to get closer to her, and he lifts his free hand to trail one thick, hot finger down the side of her jaw.

“You’re far too clever to have been so easily found and captured, my dearest little mouse,” he murmurs with a twist of his lips. “So I am left to wonder - just what you were intending when you crept your way into my boudoir.”

“What do you mean to say, Raphael?” Tav growls back.

His brow furrows with a mock distaste for a moment, before returning to that smug stoicism once more.

“I think you know precisely what I mean to say,” he murmurs. Raphael slides his foot forward to wedge between hers, then leans in further to notch his knee between her legs. A simple flex of his leg and he has her legs parting. Tav gasps a sharp inhale, startled by the way heat rockets through her.

Tav’s not particularly tall - but confronted with a Cambion well over a foot higher than her in armor - even excluding those fucking horns - well, she doesn’t exactly feel big. And it’s when Raphael rocks his foot forward and grinds his knee against her that she realizes just how much taller he is. She lets out a sound she immediately regrets - not only mortified, but now terrified at the gleam in his eyes.

“I thought as much,” Raphael purrs darkly. His hands move to grasp her sides and he holds her fast against the wall. “Whatever it is you came for, little mouse,” Raphael growls, continuing a torturous movement of his large knee against her, “I’m afraid you’ll be leaving here with something else entirely.”

“Fuck you-” Tav grits. She wants to argue, to fight back against his advances. But gods does her body ever agree with whatever he’s promising.

“Oh, perhaps you will,” the cambion returns with a dark laugh. He bites against her neck and she yelps. Then those hot hands spin her faster than she can fathom, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. And just as quickly his forearm is flat against her shoulders, pressing her roughly against the wall.

“But first - you’re in my home, and in my room,” Raphael growls low in her ear. He presses his body flush against hers and she lets out a soft moan at the feel of his excitement hot on her back. “And I plan to take what is owed to me as your gracious host.”

@lanafofana @lastlight-inn @waterdeep-weavemoss

@crimson-and-lavender @feedthepheasants @spooky-lil-bee

[qiutls]

TNGDH 005

That bad man.

A man without blood nor tears. A really terrible person. So merciless... I roared into the sawdust, floundering my limbs all around.

― Squeak! [ Give me back my wheel, you punk! ]

I'm not even halfway through the mission!

How can you only look at documents and pretend that you're not interested in this hamster at all then stab me in the back like this, huh? If I knew you were looking, I would have pretended to run moderately.

Indeed, I was stupid to believe that a crazy hamster otaku like him would be indifferent to me for even a minute. I'm the Northern Grand Duke and I'm superior to a running hamster, as if.

Kyle even went on patrol the next day taking the wheel with him. It's absolutely insane. There's no work to do, nor miracles in this cage, and I can't even do other quests.

That enemy-like miracle...

I climbed the slide from the end part to the middle, then let myself slide down, repeating it a few times and then sighing heavily at the end. 

I want to live like a human being until I die. Forget about eating well, or living luxuriously. I just want to live as a human, as defined by the dictionary!

Anyway, time went by against my will.

It was a day filled with playing and eating. Riding down the slide, eating walnuts, taking a nap, eating peanuts, stretching my body at a breathing room, eating sunflower seeds, riding the swing, eating pistachios...

I hear it's a cold neighborhood, are nuts a specialty? It's a great place to build a burum restaurant. It's only difficult to peel the nuts if you try and peel it all at once, but if you put it in a bowl, peel it little by little whenever you think of it...

/burum means assorted nuts, specifically walnuts, pine nuts, peanuts and etc./

...Fuck, what the hell are am I thinking?

I'm already thinking like a hamster.

All of a sudden, I started to fear what if I adapt to the situation casually like this. I'm a human being! I'm an intelligent person!

"Cashew Nut."

Kyle came back long after sunset.

I don't if he came in at a late time since I couldn't see the clock from here, and during winter in Blake's estate, nighttime took up more than half of the day.

He returned to the study to find me, but I pretended to not know. I wasn't in the mood.

Well, isn't this situation pretty.

I crumpled my body into the passageway between the first and second floors of the house that's not easily seen from the outside. He looked around the house for a while before giving up and returning to his bedroom.

He obviously looked disappointed, but....

Well, if you give me back my wheel, maybe I'll meet you face to face for a bit.

The next day, we met with a transparent passage between us. The frustrated Northern Grand Duke visited the study before sunrise.

"I'll be back soon."

He spoke affectionately, with his face close to mine.

"From today on, let's control your diet. Your body seemed to not be able to fit in that passageway."

Wait a minute... What the hell is this guy saying?

I lost my breath for a bit due to the shock of hearing those words.

But Kyle moved quickly, he was already pouring out the contents of my bowl. My bowl full of nuts... No... It's all empty, leaving only three almonds.

"I don't want you to strain your joints. I've still left some, so it'll be fine until the night. I'm busy preparing for the festival, so I think I'll come in late again today."

―…….

"...As expected, is it too little?"

Before I could protest, the man behind him said.

"No, I have heard from the magician that the growth period for the hamster have yet to come, Your Highness. The food is enough."

What are you talking about. What do you mean controlling my diet? Do you not have eyes? It's wrong to eat just one nut for breakfast, lunch and dinner!

It's the first time since school meals, that I'm eating food as someone else had planned. I looked up at Kyle, staring at him ridiculously and kicked the bowl over.

A dirty and cheap life, I can't even eat whatever I want.

I want to eat chicken with beer, salmon with capers, chicken feet, tteokbeokki, pane pasta.... Greasy, spicy, and bad for your health, it's something that only Koreans can eat!

"I guess, I'd better let him exercise a little."

"Yes, Your Highness, it's not good to overdo it, but it's still better than having it gain too much weight."

"Alright."

Kyle nodded his head, and with a grave look, put back the wheel in my house.

Yes! That's right!

I looked up at him, my blue eyes shining. He really looked like an angel today.

Get ready the party will start shortly. I only need to run 800 laps, not a single more and I'm done with this hamster life!

Let's calm down for now, if I ride it as soon as you give it to me, you'll probably take it away again. I pretended to be as calm as possible, and turned my head away from the wheel as if I didn't care that it has finally returned to my arms.

Kyle looked at me for a long time, his eyes were practically saying, "you're so cute, I could die."

Look at him, it seems like he had kissed me a hundred times with just those eyes alone. You've grown a lot, you already know how to control yourself when someone's next to you.

"Do you like that demonic beast that much, Your Highness?"

I heard their conversation as they were about to leave.

"Apparently, it's a northern field mouse type of beast, it's a bit late to give a mana stone for it's heart, so it's physical strength is weak but... It's able to socially interact and above all, it's pretty smart.

"Anyways, it's still young, that's why the size is a bit... It does resemble a hamster, however, if you look closely, it's just golden fur...

"It's just a mouse." /all the dialogue above is from the man accompanying Kyle/

"What do you mean, just a mouse?"

Kyle answered coldly and turned to him. "Are your eyes defective?"

"... Y-your Highness, I-"

"Enough, while I finish the paperwork for the celebrations, fetch me a small needle and some yarn."

"What will you do with it, Your highness?"

"There's no need to know, I'll be using it for important stuff, so only bring high quality ones."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Kyle left the study, while coughing. "This winter is especially cold."

This punk, don't tell me...

You're not going to knit my clothes, are you? Don't be weirdly domestic, Grand Duke, if you don't want to see this fragile hamster grab the back of your neck with just one hand.

The mere imagination of it made my body shiver and I rubbed my limbs quickly. Forget it, let's not think about it.

I quickly climbed onto the wheel. That's right, running on the wheel is best way to empty your mind. Now that I have the hang of it, I'll surely be able to finish 800 laps quickly.

I took a deep breath and began to move my four feet.

With a clatter, the wheel began to move slowly.

Now let's go with the flow, think about something peaceful and pleasant. Pizza, bulgogi, sundae gukbap... I felt my mouth watering and continued to run on the wheel with more force.

[ 0217/1000 ] …… [ 0322/1000 ] …… [ 0445/1000 ]

The numbers went up smoothly.

At this rate, I'm confident that there will be no hamster who can spin a wheel better than me. It's worthwhile to do this and count the number of times, so I think I'm accumulating points.

I just looked at the system window running, the number was between 600 to 700. Look at this, won't I be able to finish it soon.

I was a little hungry, so I was going to take a break and eat, but then I remembered what Kyle and the man discussed earlier.

What? Control my diet? Was I stuck in the passageway with my big body?

No, I won't eat anymore. I'll lose weight, and if I die, then I'll make him regret it.

I turned the wheel frantically with strange enthusiasm, refusing to rest. I was a little bit worried that the screw might fall off at this rate.

So, when I first heard a creaking sound, I thought this enormous wheel have finally met its end.

Huh, but is this really the right sound?

"Does the Grand Duke hide women in the castle?"

"I heard he loves her so much that he'll spend the day cooped up in here."

... A woman?

"You idiot! Why would you hide a woman in the study? You should put her in your bedroom, of course."

"... Really? Well, let's just search here for a bit, then go to the bedroom."

"That's right, by any chance we might get lucky and find some military secret in here."

I stopped turning the wheel and looked down at the men that crawled in through the door, literally.

The approached the desk, in a weird posture, they were wearing black masks. One look and you'd be able to tell, these people were not invited guests.

"Let's catch the woman, or maybe kill her."

"Right, if it's a commoner, then it will be pretty easy."

"Isn't that why he keeps her hidden, because she has no status?"

The masked men, no the thieves exchanged stories amongst themselves and searched the drawers. Documents in the top column, documents in the next, as well as third one. And in the last column-

"What's this?"

One of the men pulled out a bag from the drawer. I sat next to my bowl, eating the almonds as I watched them.

"Macadamia?"

There's one there too? For your information, there's also a bag of those in the small drawer next to the door.

Crunch. Crunch.

The thieves fell silent, and only the sound of me eating nuts could be heard in the study. Only then did they notice my existence and slowly approached me.

"What's this?"

"It looks like a mouse."

"Doesn't it look weird, this fur... it's gold right?"

"... Is it a demonic beast?"

"As expected from the Northern Great Duke."

No, I'm just an ordinary hamster.

I took the last almond and filmed a mukbang. Well? Bring me the macadamias in your hand. Three almonds are not enough for me.

"... Do you think it's expensive?"

The thief moved it's mouth after staring at me for a long time. They exchanged glances and soon began to open the hamster cage. 

You guys really didn't have any plan before coming here huh?

Talked about finding a woman and kidnapping her. But now you're kidnapping a hamster instead?

There's no backbone at all. How could such clumsy people try to steal. It's a miracle they didn't get caught on their way here.

I sighed without looking at the hand coming down from the ceiling of my house. Should I approach slowly? Is now a good time?

At that moment.

Clang! The sound of glass breaking echoed throughout the room.

"W-What's that?"

The three thieves, no, more like meerkats suddenly turned their heads towards the window, like real meerkats. 

"How dare you touch what's mine?"

The voice was like a sharp blade, resembling the wind of the highest highlands of the north. It felt like frost. The cowards, then began to tremble, as if they had already died three times just by hearing the voice.

Ah... I mean, this is karma if you look at it technically. In other words, it's time for the teacher to reprimand you.

[ How dare you kidnap my sweet little hamster! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ]

I didn't mean it that way. By the way, why are you so excited?

"You won't be able to take another step."

No... Is it really a death penalty for touching a hamster?

Kyle pulled out a knife from his waistband.

... I really didn't think it would turn out this way.

novel ⠀✿⠀ next

[marlynnofmany]

The Ability to Smell Beauty

“Do you smell that?” Paint asked, flicking her tongue out to taste the air, just like the orange-scaled lizard she resembled. “That is LOVELY. Where is it?”

I looked around the forest-lined landing pad. All sorts of plants that I’d never seen before waved on the breeze: tree-things shaped like willows that someone had coated in enough hairspray to make them stand on end, bush-things with leaves that snapped at flies, moss and mushrooms and lumps that could have been frogs or seedpods, or maybe oddly-shaped rocks.

“I have no idea,” I told Paint honestly.

“Help me find it,” she said, striding away from the ship with her shoulder bag held tight and determination on her scaly face.

I glanced back at the captain and several others, who were passing time with an alien card game. The person who was supposed to have delivered our next shipment was late. Nothing else to do but hang around and try not to be bored.

“We’re going to look around a little,” I called, walking after Paint. “We won’t go far.”

Captain Sunlight nodded, her own scaly yellow face focused on the cards. “Scream if you need anything.” Then she triumphantly played a card that made Mur flail his tentacles in aggravation.

I said that I would, and followed my shorter crewmate as she waded into the undergrowth with her tongue flicking madly.

“So what exact smell are we looking for?” I asked, wondering if that was the right word. “Smelling for?”

“It’s kind of sharp, but in a good way,” Paint told me distractedly. “Sharp like a good kitchen knife, like string music, like a poignant memory.”

“Right,” I said, taking an experimental sniff. Everything smelled like alien plants, and not like violins or whatever. “Hm.”

“I think it’s this way. Low to the ground.” Paint scrambled under bushes, getting her bag caught on one of the flytrap mouths.

“Do you want me to carry that?” I asked.

“Yes please.” She held it up, still under the bush. Flytraps slapped at both of us, but weren’t strong enough to do any damage, even to my soft human skin. Paint probably didn’t even notice through her scales.

I shouldered the bag that held Paint’s sketchbook or novel or entertainment screen; whatever she’d brought out for waiting in the sun. I’d been about to go back in for something similar when she’d hared off on this quest.

“Over here!” Paint said, sounding more sure. She rustled out the other side of the bush and made delighted noises. When I made my way around the shrubbery, I found her at the base of a large boulder, gathering walnut-looking things into a greedy pile.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“Yes! Smell one!” Paint thrust one toward me.

I took it and sniffed. Not bad. Kind of like cloves, that sort of spicy sharpness that just felt festive. “Huh. Pretty good.”

“Isn’t it amazing?” Paint asked, holding up a double handful and taking an open-mouthed whiff. “Gimme the bag back; I’m taking these with me.”

“Are you sure they’re safe?” I asked as I handed it over. “Do you know what kind of plant they are?”

“Yeah, it’s that one from the store on the beach back home,” Paint said, shoveling eagerly. “The good one I could never find again. I forget the name. Sunlight will know.”

“All right,” I agreed. They really didn’t smell that special to me. It would be interesting to see if Captain Sunlight also treated the things like lizard-alien catnip, or if this was just something that Paint liked. A lot.

When she’d gathered everything on the ground — a few good handfuls — she looked around for more. I spotted one growing from the spindly sapling that poked out of a crack in the boulder, and Paint happily added it to the rest.

“I wonder if there are any other bushes like that,” she said, standing with the bag and studying the trees.

“We shouldn’t go far,” I reminded her. “Gotta stay in screaming range.”

“Sure, sure,” Paint said. “Just a quick look over this way. I think those plants grow near the beach, and I hear waves.”

Remembering Kavlae’s description of the landing pad as being “within dancing distance of the sea,” I put more attention toward the ambient sounds. That wasn’t all windblown foliage after all.

Paint was already disappearing into more bushes, so I hurried after, not wanting to lose track of her. “Slow down! I’m sure they’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes, but they’re so beautiful!” she said from somewhere ahead. “There are whole worlds in that smell. Don’t you think so?”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

“Okay?? It’s gorgeous! I want to decorate my room with them, and smell these every day! You really don’t think it’s that big a deal?” Paint sounded insulted.

“I think my nose just works a little differently from yours,” I said gently. “I’m sure they’re very nice.”

Paint huffed, pushing through the leaves harder and muttering something uncomplimentary about a nose that couldn’t smell beauty.

I had to laugh. “There are plenty of good smells out there,” I said. “And I don’t need my nose for beauty; I have my eyes for that.”

“Really,” Paint grumbled. “If you can’t appreciate this, then forgive my doubts.” She was still grumping about loveliness and the ability to sense it when she shoved through the last of the bushes. “Well, there’s the beach,” she said. “No trees, crackle it. Let’s go back.”

I ducked under a leafy branch to join her just as she turned to go. The view stopped me in my tracks.

Blue waves crashed against a beach made of glittering gemstones, sprawling as far as the eye could see in either direction. Every color under the sun, fist-sized and head-sized and a fine shimmering sand, washed bright by the waves. I could swear that native birds somewhere were singing a dramatic crescendo of a symphony, though maybe that was just in my head.

“Paint,” I said, not moving. “Can I borrow your bag? I’ll carry it back for you.”

~~~

Further adventures in backstory for this book. More to come!

[balkanradfem]

In my neighbourhood, there was a small abandoned-looking backyard, filled with grass and flowers. An old abandoned house next to it, small metal fence protecting it from the road. I liked walking past it because I love abandoned houses, the nature starts to take over them and I dream of sneaking in, exploring, finding a weird bug or a trinket that looks interesting. I also loved seeing the grass and the flowers, allowed to grow naturally, bees buzzing in it happily.

That was 8 years ago, and since then, the city decided to build a hotel nearby, and the whimsical backyard was to hold a road connecting to it, and to be converted into a parking lot. I mourned the loss of the grass and the flowers, watched them do construction on it, walking past every day. In the end, they left a little patch of soil, planted a few decorative bushes on it, and a few very small, decorative trees. They poured a bunch of tree bark around them as mulch, so grass wouldn't be able to grow anymore. Few meters of bushes and trees was the entire landscaping that the hotel got.

They didn't maintain it though, so eventually the bark decomposed, and grass grew once again. I missed the old big patch of green, but I liked the little patch, bushes and trees well enough, and I hoped the trees would grow large, make some shade, house some animals. They did buy pretty big bushes, and I can imagine the tree saplings also cost them some, so I hoped they would grow to be a part of the neighbourhood.

I was, of course, wrong. I walked past it last week, and found the orange plastic fence all around it, big machines flattening everything to the ground. Trees, bushes, grass, all gone. Another painful punch to my heart, and also general disappointment and frustration to my faith in humanity. It was more profitable to them to clear the area completely than to let those few bushes and trees grow. I don't know yet what they're planning to do with the area, I can assume they're going to pour cement over it first.

Similar goings-on have been happening all over the city. When I first moved in, there was a grassy patch where people would park their car, and then there was also an interesting well-like brick tower in the middle of it, which I found magical and cool to look at. One day the tower was missing, and the grass was flattened, to make it a regular, asphalted parking lot. Parking on top of the grass patch just wasn't good enough I guess. Tower was blocking the space where one car could have been parked.

There was a big space of abandoned bushes, trees and some very big walnut trees, just right next to where I live. They were such a big source of oxygen, walnuts, beauty, and not only that; they were blocking the sound of cars and vehicles on the main road, making our neighbourhood quiet and well shaded. Cars would park under the big trees, cooling in shade while their owners were off. One day as I was going home, two people with chainsaws were cutting it all down. Huge walnuts trees were lying next to the parking lot. I stared in shock and disbelief, and they ignored me. In a few days, the entire green area was cut to the ground, trees collected and hauled away.

The noise from the main road now reaches our building, and it ruins spending any time on the balcony. There's no more green backdrop, no more pretty sights to see, only empty space and buildings. The cars have no shades to park under. The area didn't stay brown for long; invasive species planted themselves within weeks, and are now covering the area. It's covered in thorns and ferns, impossible to navigate trough. They didn't do anything with the area except clear it, and now it's left to it's own devices. I still don't know why they did it.

I've talked about this to a few local people, and they're not as upset about it. 'They're probably going to build a factory there, or a store' was the common response. They've been surprised to hear I'm mourning the trees and the grass, as if such thing has never occured to them before. Technically, we do still have some trees and grass left, but I can see it disappearing, bit by bit, every year.

This lets me know that I'm living among people fully ignorant of what is going on in the environment. They don't know pay attention to how their area is slowly being cemented and asphalted over, soon to be unhabitable to any plant life. They don't know what happened to such areas in more commercialized countries; they are not afraid of food deserts, of what will happen to the air quality, the dust and heat of hot sun reflected in the white asphalt. They don't realize their children will soon be out of safe places to play with, or that soon being outside will become untolerable.

Progress can't be stopped, people will clear out the areas of nature to build something that brings them profit. They'll make money by building a store, or a factory, or a parking lot. The green area doesn't generate money. And money is all we need, it's all anyone on this planet needs.

But will the money-making area still be habitable by humans, 10, 20 years on? When the climate change hits harder, when the temperatures outside are over 40 degrees commonly, just walking from one building from another will become sickening, dangerous. A giant tree surrounded by grass and flowers would be invaluable. A green area shaded and life-supporting, would make it possible for people to be outside, to hide from the sun. An area filled with green spaces, trees and bushes and balanced plant life, would be able to actually decrease temperatures and stabilize everyone's ability to survive. It will become invaluable.

But you can't build a green city in a year, like you can build a parking lot, or a store. You can't bring back the huge walnut trees that shaded you and gave you a refuge from the hot sun.

But they don't think like this. Once the city is out of areas that can be lived in, the heat is overwhelming, the buildings and asphalt reflecting the sun back into people's faces, making it impossible to breathe – people will just take the money they earned and go live in another green space that wasn't ruined yet. As green spaces become monetizable, the more scarce they are, the more people will be willing to pay for them. Then the unlivability of the cities will become an incentive to charge people money to go spend summers outside of them, and only poor people will remain struggling with the heat, missing the big walnuts trees and the green grass that once was theirs to enjoy.

This would not have happened in any circumstances where nature was held sacred and protected by the people. If we understood that our lives and our happiness came from those trees, from the grass and the green spaces, a person would not be able to cut them down and rationalize it with personal profit. Only capitalism could support this brutal destruction of everything that supports life. The moment we started regarding to nature as 'resources', we had it wrong. Nature is where life comes from. The trees and the soil and the rocks, the rivers and the mountains, forests and grasslands, they're the reason we're able to live, to thrive. Taking them away is like taking life away. There's nothing valuable enough to give this away for.

[cambion-companion]

aemond falling in love with a musically gifted woman and every time they’re getting ready to sleep he asks her to sing to him 🥺 this thought JUST popped up in my head. like imagine he hears her before he sees her. like she’s singing for some event or something but aemond gets there too late and only sees the back of her head. it could be a whole thing where he’s trying to find her because her voice intrigued him that much.

Beneath the Mistletoe

This fic took ME on a ride

I have been waiting to do this one for too long and I made it Yule-themed as well...reader introduces Aemond to some winter traditions hehe

Aemond x fem!reader | Aemond reluctant to take part in festivities | harpist!reader | cheeky banter | mistletoe kiss

You fingers plucked the strings of your harp, constructed of the finest walnut wood, filling the dining hall with lovely music as you accompanied the other musicians. Your keen eyes swept the dance floor, taking note of all the noble lords and ladies swirling about, strung to the music you were creating.

All were dancing and making merry, save one obvious exception.

Aemond Targaryen. The silver-haired enigma. The young man who had all the ladies gossiping and giggling as they whispered behind hands, surreptitiously glancing at the rigid form of the prince.

As if he felt your gaze upon him, while he sat at the long table, his eye flicked to meet yours. Neither of you broke eye contact, you watched as he studied you and the instrument you played. A pleasant shiver prickled the back of your neck, he seemed interested in you. A small smile tugged at his lovely lips, curved and plush as they were. You longed to run your fingers along the shape of them.

Your fingers stumbled, you lost the beat of the music and faltered.

"Come on now, Y/N." The fiddler beside you chided. "Keep up! Don't let pretty princes distract you."

You mumbled a curse at him, steadying your fingers upon the harp strings once again and reentering the melody. You shot a quick glance back at the table, Aemond was grinning slyly at you now.

Your face burned, and you had to look away before you messed up the song again.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

She was quite a lovely sight, seated before the wooden harp, fingers so dexterous as she conjured music as though it was magic.

Aemond was loathe to admit it, but he was entranced at the sight. The harp perched between your legs, a rather intimate instrument he mused.

With long fingers grasping his pewter goblet, Aemond raised his cup to his lips, pretending to drink the wine therein, still observing you over the rim.

"See something interesting, brother?" Aegon prodded his shoulder, rousing Aemond unpleasantly from his contemplation of your form.

"Is there no one else for you to bother?" He cast an annoyed look at the elder prince, appraising his unkempt state. "Did mother not instruct you to wash before the Yuletide feast?"

"I'm presentable enough." Aegon defended, tucking a greasy strand of silver hair behind his ear.

"You look like an urchin."

"You have the look of a man who sees a woman he likes." Aegon wiggled his eyebrows at Aemond, his cheeks ruddy from all the wine he'd consumed. "Go talk to her."

"She's busy at the moment." Aemond actually took a sip of wine this time, almost choking as Aegon clapped him hard upon the back.

"I'll be right back, don't go anywhere."

"What are you-?" Aemond's eye narrowed as he watched Aegon cross the dance floor, almost getting clotheslined by a waltzing couple as he did. "Oh no." He murmured, rising to stand, bemusement and bewilderment furrowing his brow.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

"Excuse me. Harp lady. Stop playing a moment." You looked around, your hands stilling upon the vibrating strings. The last person you expected to be speaking to you was Aegon Targaryen, the eldest son of Viserys and Alicent. Yet here he was, his cheeks red from the influence of wine as he grinned down at where you sat. "My brother would like a word."

"I'm sorry my prince." You bowed your head. "I have been commissioned to play for the royal feast."

Aegon was having none of it. You made a disgruntled noise as he took you by your elbow, guiding you ungently to your feet. You steadied your instrument as it teetered, jostled by the abruptness of your movements as Aegon practically steered you away.

You looked guiltily over your shoulder at your fellow musicians, giving them a little wave of apology as you were dragged toward the long dining table.

Aemond stood as Aegon approached, his hand still gripping your arm.

"Let her go, Aegon." Aemond's voice was terse but still held a quality that made your skin tingle pleasantly.

"Talk about a first-class delivery." Aegon chortled, smacking you between your shoulder blades, making you stumble slightly forward.

You noted how Aemond raised his hands as if prepared to catch you should you need assistance. Luckily for you, Aegon wasn't that rough.

"I'm not a Yuletide package." You grumbled, straightening your skirts and giving Aegon a displeased glare before curtsying to Aemond.

"Indeed not!" Aegon agreed, crossing to pour himself another generous glass of wine. "Aemond here is the one with the package for you."

"That is quite enough." Aemond hissed, his jaw clenching as his lilac eye cut from you to his brother. "My lady." He gave you a curt bow and held out his arm for you to take. "Allow me to escort you elsewhere, the better to escape my inebriated brother."

"You can thank me later, Aemond!" Aegon called after the two of you as Aemond guided you away.

You had to remind yourself how to breath properly, the feel of Aemond's leather jerkin smooth beneath your fingertips as you entwined your arm with his. He smelled lovely, a combination of smoke, leather and spiced wine.

"I do apologize." Aemond intoned, inclining his head toward you as he spoke softly. "I do not even know your name."

"Y/N." You answered, your voice almost catching in your tightened throat.

"Y/N." He repeated, your name sounding sinfully good on his lips. "My brother gets certain...ideas in his head and will not be dissuaded once his course is set."

"What idea inspired him to lead me to you?" You asked, a mischievous spark lighting in your chest. "My prince." You remembered your manners at the last second.

"Please, call me Aemond." The two of you stepped together out onto a moonlit terrace, complete with rosebushes and archways covered in vines.

The night air was brisk, you subconsciously pulled Aemond's warm body closer to your own. You noted how he had not answered your question. "Aemond, then. I noticed you didn't seem a fan of the festivities."

"I enjoy feasts well enough."

"But not dancing?"

"No, not dancing."

You stood at the railing now, under a mossy archway, overlooking the red roofs of King's Landing, now bathed in silver light under the night sky. The waves of the sea far away sparkled merrily, catching your eyes momentarily before you turned to face the silver prince.

"What do you like, then?"

Aemond clasped his hands behind his back, his profile sharply illuminated by the moonlight. His eye flicked to your face, he was very close to you, closer than you had ever imagined you would be to a prince let alone a Targaryen.

"I enjoy reading. Swordplay..." He hesitated, turning away from the urban vista to give you his full attention.

You arched an eyebrow, a small smile playing along your lips. "And?"

"Hmm." He tilted his head at you, shining silken hair falling over his shoulder. "I enjoyed watching you play your harp." His eye widened slightly, as he straightened, catching himself leaning closer to your enticing smile. "That is to say, I enjoyed the music you were making."

"I'm surprised you heard it." You leaned an arm on the balcony railing afraid your knees were about to give out. "Harps are notoriously hard to hear in a setting such as a feast."

"I heard you." Aemond was still studying your face, seeming to like the little changes in expression he saw as your lips quirked up, your eyes crinkling at the corners, the scrunch of your nose. "You are quite skilled. Perhaps you would play for me sometime?"

"So long as Aegon isn't there."

Aemond chuckled at that. You wanted him to laugh again, it was a sound that sent shockwaves straight to your center.

"You're biting your lip, Y/N." Aemond's eye had found your mouth, lingering upon your lips as you wet them with your tongue.

"I just noticed something." You pointed to the space above your heads, a strand of foliage hung from the apex of the archway, white berries nestled amongst sprigs of green.

"What is that?" Aemond asked, looking up to where you pointed.

"You don't know what mistletoe is?" You looked aghast, pressing a dramatic hand to your heart. "It's a Yuletide tradition."

"I believe we've established I don't give much credence to festive traditions, Y/N." He seemed to like saying your name, waiting for you to explain what it was.

"When two people stand under a bundle of mistletoe they have to..." You trailed off, your boldness turning to sudden shyness as you realized what you were about to say and who you were speaking to.

"They...what?" Aemond prompted, looking again at the plant, sudden wariness upon his features.

"Kiss."

Aemond looked at you in surprise. "I'm sorry?" He chuckled. "That's a tradition? You're having me on."

"I promise you I'm not!" You blushed furiously.

Aemond seemed to be enjoying making you squirm. "You're making this up."

"I am not!"

"A clever scheme."

"I will bet you money that it's true." You felt lightheaded from the embarrassment. "Ask anyone inside."

"Kiss me then."

"I am not lying-what?" You must have misheard, you had to fight not to gawk up at the prince as he looked imperiously down at you.

"Since you're so adamant this mistroe forces two people to kiss..."

"Mistletoe." You corrected quickly.

"Then make good on your claim." He leaned into your space; you felt his breath upon your face. "Or else I suppose we will be stuck here for eternity, held captive by this plant."

"Aemond, we don't have to..." Your words caught in your suddenly dry mouth as Aemond hooked a slender finger beneath your chin, pulling you gently forward.

"I want to." He breathed, waiting for you to close the final distance separating you.

Your eyes roved across his angular features, his lilac eye turned silver in the moonlight, the leather eyepatch covering his other eye, a vertical scar running up his forehead and down his cheek. Your gaze fell to his lips, the very lips you had been daydreaming about not an hour earlier.

Your eyelashes fluttered, a sudden rushing sound filling your heated ears as you leaned forward, Aemond's finger on your chin moving trace your cheek as his lips parted.

As if guided by an invisible force your lips brushed against his, a wanton moan escaping your mouth that he captured as he pressed harder against you, pulling you by your waist flush against him.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

You tasted like starlight and mulled wine. Your body warm against his. Aemond could feel the soft well of your bosom flush to his chest, the enticing scent of you filling his lungs as he breathed you in.

Thank the gods for mistlewhatever, his mind was too full of you within his arms for him to think clearly. Aemond drank down your sighs of pleasure as he greedily moved his lips with yours, only pulling away slightly when the both of you needed to catch your breath.

"Did we satisfy the tradition?" He asked, his eye crinkling as he smiled at your eager expression.

Your hair was a little mussed from the intensity of your embrace, Aemond smoothed an unruly tress and tucked it behind your ear.

"I'm tempted to say 'no'." You quipped, finding your voice at last.

"I would like for you to play your harp for me later this evening, before I retire." Aemond kept his hands upon your waist, loathe to let you go. "Perhaps we can revisit this," he reached up, plucking the sprig of mistletoe from where it hung. "later." He pocketed the plant, relishing the way your cheeks flushed pink as your lovely intelligent eyes followed his movements.

"Where should I find you, my prin-Aemond?"

Aemond let his hands fall away from you at last, only to clasp your hand formally and press a warm kiss to your knuckles. He lingered there, enjoying the feel of your soft skin on his lips. He had to suppress the urge to flick his tongue out to taste you.

"The sitting room adjacent to the library. I will find you there after the festivities adjourn."

His gaze lingered on your upturned face, softly taking in your lovely expression.

"You're not going to ask me to dance?" You gave a mock pout, drawing his attention back to your enticing lips.

"Oh no, my lady." Aemond chuckled dryly. "Enchanting as you are, I do not indulge in dancing."

"Maybe I can change your mind one of these days."

He gave a pause, feeling the bundle of mistletoe inside his jacket. "I wouldn't rule that out as a possibility." He extended his arm to you. "May I escort you back to the feast?"

You shook your head. "Thank you, no. I need a moment...that is, I would like to enjoy the view a little longer."

Aemond watched as you turned back to the scenic vista of the sprawling city below. He allowed himself a moment of weakness, his eye trailing down along your body, taking in the way your skirt shifted in the light breeze, accentuating the curve of your hips and your full...he needed to depart.

With a final shallow bow Aemond turned briskly upon his booted heel and strode back toward the Yuletide festivities, silently wishing he could get away with remaining at your side for the rest of the evening and perhaps even longer. He had been gone from your presence for mere seconds and already craved you.

Aemond would never admit it out loud, but Aegon had been correct.

Aemond desired you.

And what he desired, he claimed.

[astragato]

OH somehow I completely missed/forgot that, lol. Hopefully if/when we do learn anything more about her, it won't be too far in the future. There's definitely a fair bit of setup there with her and it'd be a shame if it wasn't followed up on.

As for why she looks so sickly, I'm inclined to believe it's probably (or at least partially/mostly) because of the Sunshower EGO she wore all the time if Heathcliff's Sunshower ID is anything to go by. Even if it's more refined EGO than what the sinners are provided, it still seems to mess with the wearer's mind and I don't imagine continuous use does any service to anyone's general health.

Another random detail I've been thinking about recently, what happened between Young-ji and Dongbaek? It's such a strangely specific detail to drop that she out of everyone was invited

It's also Dongbaek in specific alluding to some kind of event that led Young-ji to creating the glass mirror.

She and Yi Sang are also the ones standing to Young-ji's side, and in the flashbacks Young-ji had a very particular interest in Yi Sang's potential, so it's possible that they were the two closest to him.

[beemers-hell]

you did doc hcs....and tricky hcs...how about Jeb (not biased)

this is perfect actually bc like a week or so ago I was asked by Another particular Jeb enjoyer to spill my hcs about him (hi walnut lmao)

anyway:

Jeb HCs!

Around 65~70ish

Trans Man, doesn't care enough about relationship stuff to pick a specific orientation label

Around ~7'04"

South West Asian

Autistic As Fuck, generally very anti social and self isolating but people can get into his good graces and he'll try to show a bit more for them

Due to the fact his body has literally fuckin blown up + he's been in possession of the keystone fragment for so long (and I imagine wielding the KF is gonna fuck you up in the long run) he deals with a whole host of body aches and pains and afflictions, and also arthritis bc that dudes pushing 70 ofc lol

His savior complex thing is a direct result of him having the "I have to fight tooth n nail for what I think is right" brand of autism, compounded with just the insanity of everything in Nevada of course. His initial plan to end Project Nexus was gonna be it for him for his "I need to do whats right" mission, but the keystone fragment kinda drove him fucking nuts, so the "i must purge Nevada of all sinners Period" thing happened as a result

Yeah him n hofnarr had a thing going on, he was a bit too closed off to be fully open n honest about it at the time and now that hofnarr is tricky and he's the way that he is, he regrets how shut in he was. he's too stubborn to give up on tricky entirely which is why I have them still working together to do shit in general, esp in dad au stuff cause boxxy right, but he's not tryna like, figure out how to revert tricky back to hofnarr, he's just tryna maintain a connection with him in general despite the insanely different routes they went down

Jeb is incredibly selfish and Will do whatever the hell he wants if he thinks it serves his mission to do good by Nevada, however he isn't an evil morally bankrupt mf, like doc he's just an asshole, and he's tunnel visioning his way through his crusade. You won't catch him harming people for no reason, and this esp applies to like, kids n shit, but he's not above putting a mf through hell if it means his goals are accomplished

could argue everyone loves guns n shit but Jeb LOVES loves his guns, lil weirdo autistic special interest in firearms (and religion in general but this is about weapons lol)

masks like 24/7 this dude is not comfortable at ALL being ND. He's reserved for the most part but when he speaks oh boy is he bringing out that fuckin thesaurus!

he tries his best to look kept together bc "Savior of Nevada" and all that but dude struggles fuckin bad with executive dysfunction, like his hair is greasy as hell </3

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Cale Snow's Chapter 236

TL;DR - Rasheel beats up Kendall physically and mentally. Cale and Raon arrives. Rasheel feels awkward at Raon worrying about him.

Victor Rasheel and Loser Kendall We have a winner! Well, it was quite obvious that Rasheel would win in the end, but how it played out was interesting. Rasheel was heavily wounded and even suffered from severe burns because of the explosions, but he endured it and continuously beat up Kendall.

But a physical beating was not enough for Rasheel. He wanted Kendall to be mentally shaken too. Rasheel instilled doubt in Kendall about his victory attribute by declaring that he was a loser, a coward who only fought battles he was guaranteed to win.

Even Kendall's fellow dragon, the goddess of struggle, refused to fight him because she said that he did not understand how to struggle. Kendall only knew how to win, and knew not how to give up or run away.

Rasheel understood that giving up or running away were not bad. Him obeying Eruhaben was a form of giving up because he knew that he could not beat Eruhaben. And he was aware that in life, there were situations where it was okay to run away.

Rasheel's words mentally shook Kendall, and he was sure that in the future, Kendall would never be able to use his attribute properly because he would always doubt his victory.

After Kendall was knocked unconscious, Archie came and said that Rasheel was too harsh. But Rasheel retorted that he was not generous to his enemies.

Frankly, I don't see Kendall as super evil. DHB in the past was similar to him, so Kendall could still be redeemed like DHB. Kendall also had ambitions of being the dragon lord, so Cale might use him to create division among the Aipotu dragons.

Worried Raon Cale and Raon finally arrived, and Rasheel proudly told them that there was no need for them to come because he already took care of the problem. But Raon was shocked at Rasheel's wounded state, becoming teary-eyed and worried about him.

Rasheel was not used to having someone worry about him, so he felt awkward. He eventually turned to Cale to look for compliments, boasting that he did not kill the enemy and only knocked it unconscious before asking Cale if he did a good job. 😂

Cale could only sigh, and Rasheel was puzzled why he was not being praised for doing a good job. The funniest part of the chapter was at the end though. 🤣🤣🤣

Cale and Raon: *teleports* Rasheel: Oh, you didn't have to come. I solved it. Raon: Ra-Rasheel! Rasheel: *flustered at Raon's worried expression* Raon: Who made you like this? Why are you so beat up? You're not the type of person to go around getting beaten up! *approaches Rasheel with a teary-eyed expression* Raon: Rasheel! Don't get hurt! Don't be sick! Rasheel: *speechless on how to reply to a worried Raon* Rasheel to Cale: Ah. I didn't kill the dragon. I knocked him out. Did I do well? Cale: Sigh. Okay? Rasheel: ??? (Where's my praise for doing a good job?) Raon: Rasheel, here's apple pie- no, that's for my human! You should eat walnut pie! Rasheel: *gets walnut pie shoved into his mouth by Raon*

Ending Remarks The fight finally ended, so up next is Cale returning to the black castle. And what did Cale say he would do when he returned from his visit to the king? Naming DHB! Of course, the author might postpone this with some other issue like talking about what happened to Lock's side. Or find some other reason to delay it like how Cale keeps delaying his talk with the Molans... Please, author-nim. Give us the DHB naming scene soon!

[conkers-thecosy]

Bagginshield-tober / Day 8 / Harp

Hey folks! Here's my offering for day eight of the "Bagginshield-tober" prompt list, by the lovely @smolestboop 💛 (I'm a day late, please forgive me!)

You can also find these little snippets compiled into one fic on AO3 - all the chapters link into each other, in chronological order as one big fic, so it's worth reading from the beginning, if you're interested!

Hope you enjoy!

*~*~*

“It’s a Shire tradition!”

Thorin looked in confusion between the small crate on the kitchen table, and the clearly excited, but also oddly bashful Hobbit standing beside it. Thorin had just entered for breakfast, surprised to find such a sight greeting him, not to mention all the other parcels that Bilbo had apparently been sat up wrapping for most of the night, littering the table in large piles.

“It is your birthday?” Thorin clarified slowly, feeling like he was missing something. “And you… wish to give me a gift?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Bilbo smiled, though a little uncertainly as he fidgeted a bit.

“I wish you had told me,” Thorin felt very odd about all this, though he didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t ever thought to ask when Bilbo’s birthday fell. “I might have made you a gift, organised a party for you…”

“Oh, no no!” Bilbo held up his hands and stepped forwards. “Birthday parties are always to be arranged by the birthee, and I have it well in hand. And it would be deemed terribly rude if I were to accept a gift! In all honesty, that was why I took such pains not to mention it to you, I thought you might try to find a way to help or, ah, give me something.”

He could immediately see how concerned Bilbo was by all of this, and resolved not to let his own idea of what a birthday should look like throw a dark cloud over the morning. Besides, there was nothing to stop him from giving Bilbo a completely unrelated gift in, say, a week or so, and perhaps treating him to something special for dinner, or a day out somewhere, or both. Thorin offered up a small smile and nodded his understanding.

“Very well, I will be happy to take part in this aspect of your culture. Consider me a willing student.”

Bilbo brightened considerably, his eyes lit up and his smile widened, and Thorin suddenly ached to pull him into a hug. He found some relief at least, as the Hobbit closed the distance between them and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the table where the crate waited.

“This one’s yours!” he practically sang, more excited than anyone Thorin had ever seen when gifting another with a present. “It’s traditional to wait until the Do later, but I really have been desperate to give you this! It’s been burning a hole under my bed for weeks!”

Thorin couldn’t help but laugh, Bilbo’s enthusiasm was so infectious, but felt a little nervous as he opened the lid of the wooden crate with great care. He couldn’t fathom what Bilbo might have got him, and he was suddenly anxious about making sure he reacted correctly to whatever it was.

He needn't have worried, of course, as Bilbo seemed to have a knack for giving gifts just as much as he did for spinning words into beautiful tapestries of story. With great care and reverence, Thorin cleared the last of the packaging to reveal a beautiful, wooden harp.

It was small, similar to his gold one he had lost while on the road, though this was made with deep, polished maple, with accents of walnut and oak. The crown was fashioned into an intricate little circle of oak leaves and acorns. It was an absolute masterpiece.

He looked down at the instrument in awe, his fingers hovering over it for a moment before he brushed the strings delicately. The sound was beautiful, perhaps even more beautiful than his golden one had ever made, and his breath caught in his throat as a hundred memories assailed him. Being taught how to play by his grandmother, practising with Frerin and Dis, playing for and with friends and kin over the years. Happy memories, all.

“Do you like it?” Bilbo asked, his voice quiet, and eyes worried.

Thorin couldn’t help himself this time, and swept the Hobbit up into a close embrace, as he choked on his words and emotions in turn. “I love it, Bilbo. Thank you.”

“Oh, I am glad,” Bilbo sighed, sagging his small weight against Thorin and hugging him back tightly. “Perhaps, if it’s not an imposition, you might play for me later? Not if you don’t want to, of course, only I have missed your gift for music these past months.”

Thorin smiled, his heart warming even further at the compliment and the hesitance in turn. An imposition, indeed. “I would play for you all day, every day, if that was what you so wished, and I would take great pleasure in doing so.”

Something about their embrace seemed to change a little then, as Bilbo shifted his weight so they were set a little firmer against one another. His hands slid almost languidly from where they were grasped at the back of Thorin’s tunic, palms flat as they ran downwards and around to stop at his hips. The dwarf felt a jolt in his gut at the motion, but as Bilbo pulled back and looked up at him with a laugh, Thorin fought to keep his composure.

“I would love that,” Bilbo grinned. “But sadly I have too much to do today to fully appreciate such a gallant offer! I’ve outsourced most of the catering, but there are some things a Baggins simply must do himself, after all.”

Thorin swallowed hard, willing his face to stop tingling with the threat of a blush. “Indeed? Such as?”

“Why, the cake, of course!”