#there are several of these i simply cannot recall them all

[higuchisora]

That feeling when an unpopular ship you adore is used primarily as a background/leftover pairing for a much more popular main ship that you don't care about.

[duck-a-doodle]

COD IMAGINES

TACTICAL BUDDLE BUG 4/4

Chapters 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

TF141!reader x 141

WARNING: Angst, Death, Comfort

A/N: I could not think of any other way for Ghost to accept your hug. I apologise for the trauma in advance. :'-)

Masterlist

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The most serious member of the 141 is secretly a very affectionate person.

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The mission was rough, one that pulled you under and dragged your bloodied knees through dirt and gravel.

It was a ground search and rescue operation which lasted for weeks on end, and one which tested the limits of the human body, bending your sanity to the brink of a clean snap.

The streets were coloured in violence, and the grounds were a tangle of rubble, vehicle parts and severed bodies.

Wherever you stepped, there would lay a limb or a head, of which you could no longer tell if they belonged to an enemy or hostage. It no longer mattered, not when your boots must travel the roads of a thousand stripped souls.

You saved several hostages from the scene, but there was one that you know would haunt you til the end of your days.

It was a little girl. Small, young, with her favourite doll that was caked with remnants of dirt and coagulated blood, the latter of which should never have made its mark upon such a pure soul.

You had to coax her to climb down from the roof, to bring her to safety, and you had failed to realise that you were not the only one to notice the child.

A bullet tore through her chest, and another through her side, bringing her down from the roof, soft and limp into your arms.

Not every hostage can be saved. Not every enemy will be found. Ghost, who buried the young girl you in the aftermath, had watched you ruin every unfriendly sight with a fury unmatched.

He witnessed the angry flames that swallowed up every dead man as you pulled them straight down to hell with you.

Your body had moved blindly when you heard the roaring sound of your captain's orders to return to the plane.

Gaz was adjacent to you, resting quietly while Johnny sat on your other side, watching you carefully; you refused to look at him, knowing that his eyes would look right through you.

The captain said nothing, and Ghost, who propped himself opposite to where you were, was unreadable.

There was no banter, no questions, and only a silent prayer remained.

You cannot remember whose hands have rested on your arms or shoulders in an attempt to calm you; all you recall was the chill and bile that rised from within you. You could not remember the debriefing that felt like seconds but passed like hours.

You could not remember how you got back. Not how you got into your fresh clothes, not how your wounds — once bloody and inflamed — were now patched, and not how you found yourself standing at Ghost's door, waiting.

Why were you there? What were you waiting for? And as soon as the question arose, the answer made itself clear; because of all people, he would know.

As if sensing a presence, the room opened with a click, and Ghost appeared in the doorway, taking a moment to register your presence. He moved to one side. Stepping in silently, the door closed shut behind you, enclosing you in a box of white noise.

He stood before you, saying nothing. He did not need to say anything. In fact, he need not even ask. He simply knew.

"You did what you could."

The reality of his words were a dagger to your beating chest. You lived. You lived, and you were grateful. But you lived at a cost, with the price of blood on your hands.

You took one step. Then another. And Ghost, who did not anticipate what you were about to do, stilled as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight.

Fingers tangled tight into the fabric of his shirt, and you press your face deep into his body, seeking — begging — for a reprieve. The darkness was a comfort. He was a comfort.

For once, you want to feel a life that you can hold in your hands, that will not disappear under your touch, that is living and breathing. To hear the heartbeat of a soul, to get rid of the memory of cold, colourless skin that rest unmoving against your arms.

"Breathe, cub."

You could not move. You did not want to move. You cannot bear to move. Not an inch, not away from him who you knew understood better than anybody. His hands were placed on your back. Warm. Alive.

There were no use for words as both of you held each other in silence, resting in the comfort of a feeling near-forgotten.

That was your last memory of that night before you knocked out cold, and in your sleep you dreamt of a hand that wiped the warm corners of your eyes, rough yet gentle.

Unbeknownst to you, a storm in Ghost had calmed when you chose him of all people to seek comfort in, and silently grateful he was for the team to have a most sensitive heart on board.

You were the most affectionate person of the 141, and you cared and loved unconditionally. Those qualities made you the most lethal one of them all, for despite any rankings or titles, you commandeered them all with a piece of your heart — and the day your heart dies is the day they raise hell in your name.

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FOOTNOTE(S):

Ghost likely has only hugged the captain once or twice and Johnny, several times but not of his own volition.

Your heart reminds him of his better days with his brother Tommy and it makes him want to punch you (cuteness aggression), but he will take that knowledge to his grave.

[satinroses]

How Yan! Adepti react to feeling jealous (separate)

A/N: I FINALLY finished all the 10+ story quests I had lined up that I was procrastinating doing. It was gruelling. I've never pressed space bar so much in my life. By the end I couldn't feel my ass as I'd been sitting on it for too long BUT on the positive, doing Xianyun's story quest made me nostalgic for Liyue and got me motivated to write a little bit! I may do a harbinger one if I feel a bit silly, I'm not sure yet but please let me know if that's something you might be interested in! <3

(also i’d usually give this a little final read through but i am so exhausted so i just wanna get it posted so please forgive any silly mistakes or inconsistencies)

Word Count: 7.0k words

Includes Zhongli, Xiao, Xianyun, Ganyu

Warnings: Yandere Behaviours, if you are uncomfortable with dark themes please don't read! obsessive/possessive behaviours, younger Zhongli has serious issues - honestly all of them do, threats, violence, murder, manipulation, stalking, implied somno (depends how you read it) in Xiao's excerpt, some truly earth shattering delusions

Ganyu:

Renowned throughout Liyue Harbour for her mild manner and keen work ethic, the overworked secretary of Liyue Qixing was always a welcome sight around the harbour. It had taken Ganyu months to push past her bashfulness alongside countless encouragements from her colleagues and friends to confess her feelings to you.

It had only been once Captain Beidou had drunkenly declared that she would tell you herself if Ganyu didn’t muster up the courage that the Qilin had decided to tell you. Her cheeks flushed pink as she stuttered out her confession to you in the evening lantern light of Liyue Harbour.

Much to her delight you did not coldly reject the woman, instead you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips before muttering that you felt the exact same way.

In her thousands of years of life Ganyu cannot recall a time she's known more peace than the time she has since shared with you. Your mere presence coaxes the insomniac into a gentle slumber. Every day she gets to spend by your side is a day in which the woman is glowing with giddiness, so much so that even the conqueror of demons had noted the positive change to Ganyu’s disposition.

Ganyu had always adored her position as secretary even if it had caused her immeasurable stress, she had always strove to serve Liyue in whatever way she could and never resented her position in spite of the responsibility it entailed however now that Ganyu had something to treasure, someone she wished to hold close she couldn’t help the annoyance that crept over her when she was asked to work overtime for the 5th time this week.

The Adeptus wanted nothing more desperately than to return to your shared home (she had insisted you move in with her as soon as possible and you simply couldn’t say no to her large violet eyes as they glimmered with unshed tears at the thought of you rejecting her offer) and monopolise you for the evening, ushering you into bed and holding you as tightly as the poor qilin could, whispering sweet nothings into your skin.

Ganyu prided herself on her maturity but even she couldn’t prevent glowering when she was denied yet another precious night in your company after Baiwen begged Ganyu to stay and help fill in some paperwork. 

She had dedicated herself to ensuring the smooth running of Liyue harbour yet even she could not fend off the envy that shadowed her as the thought of you running around the harbour without her. Every single person that was allowed to gaze upon your face while Ganyu was away from your side were rapidly earning spots on the Qilin’s list of enemies (a list she had only created 20 seconds prior)

Due to Ganyu’s soft and sensitive demeanour it’s easy to forget the sway she holds over Liyue. Several of the Qixing owing her favours after her years of servitude, she is in possession of countless embarrassing secrets she has gained access to due to her position. She holds the ears of the wealthiest people in teyvat as well as having fought ferociously in the archon war in bygone millenia.

Ganyu helped construct the very nation of Liyue into what it has become, moulding it with her very hands into the prosperous land it is. The people of Liyue have seemingly forgotten that Ganyu’s servitude is entirely her own choice. She does not serve the Qixing because she sees them as above her, she serves the Qixing because she wishes to, because she understands Liyue would collapse without her guiding hand.

Perhaps people will remember that when a man who makes a flirty remark to you will have a letter left on his doorstep detailing a solemn secret he long thought buried.

Perhaps people will remember that when the girl who blushed when your hands brushed as you both reached for the same bag of wheat is arrested for fraud despite her desperate claims to the contrary.

Perhaps people will remember that when the vendor who overcharged you goes bankrupt the following morning.

Perhaps people will remember that when the treasure hoarder who accosted you for your mora is found weeks later deep in a cave in Minlin, impaled with countless frosty arrows.

Rest assured, if people forget just how fierce Ganyu can be then she is more than happy to remind them.

Xianyun:

Xianyun often considers herself above such petty emotions as jealousy and possessiveness. 

She loudly declares herself one of the most measured of the Adepti, harbouring centuries of combat prowess and mechanical genius, raising two independent and fierce young woman on Mount Aocang, remaining a fierce and honourable servant to Morax and enduring the insults that flying rat that accompanied the traveler spewed at her, intentionally and not. Xianyun regarded herself as a dignified and patient woman.

After centuries of not being proven to the contrary, to the mighty Cloud Retainer there is no issue that cannot be overcome with the technical brilliance she has acquired or the thrumming power of the illuminated blood in her veins or so she had believed until recently.

Despite the mystery and majesty the Adepti commonly shrouded themselves in as they dwelled in their mountainous retreat, Xianyun had always been vigilant in ensuring that she honoured her vow to Rex Lapis and safeguard any of his subjects she comes across.

After doing her divinely ordained duty centuries ago and saving a young man from a rock fall she had since become accustomed to receiving offerings from the man's family and his descendants in the centuries since then. 

As an adepti offerings of thanks and acknowledgments of her mercy were not uncommon, especially to one so revered as cloud retainer. Even so she continued to be surprised that his descendants remained vigilant in offering their sincere gratitude towards her centuries after she saved the man.

If you asked Xianyun herself she would claim she holds none of the descendants in higher regard than the other however if you were in her presence when a certain individual climbs up the path to Mount Aocang you would be able to see in the way her breath hitches and she stops her sentence, her entire being frozen as she watches them set down the home cooked meal and offer a gentle prayer of thanks.

Even in her crane form her eyes never once stray from the visitor. She trails her vision over them, intaking every aspect of their appearance. how their hair falls over their face, how their breath comes out in warm puffs after the exertion of the climb, how they let a satisfied grin fall upon their face as they set the meal down.

Despite her tenacity and confidence Xianyun has still not formally introduced herself to her visitor, instead opting to watch from afar. She goes out of her way to personally ensure that your journey to Liyue harbour is safe and uneventful as she trails after you in her avian form, her eyes on the path ahead of you. She is more than ready to dart down and defeat any hillichurls or geovishaps or clear the rock slide blocking your path before you’re even aware the obstacle is there.

If anyone were to inquire about her vigilance in ensuring your safety she would puff her chest out and remind them of her contract with Rex Lapis and the duty she had to guard Liyue Harbour and all its inhabitants. 

Shenhe and Ganyu have long given up on inquiring about you after a flustered cloud retainer gave them the same monologue about her sworn duty to Morax for the 27th time.

Does she do this with every visitor to her domain? For thousands of years one has been a most faithful servant to Morax, to question one fulfilling their duty is to question ones-

As far as Xianyun is concerned she is simply doing her duty as an adeptus, there is no ulterior motive and she will ensure that she emphasises this to every person who inquires about her interest in you.

She even goes so far as to have Shenhe and Ganyu give her regular updates on your life when you haven’t been out Mount Aocang in a long time (read: over 24 hours)

Upon formally moving to Liyue Harbour, Cloud Retainer assumes the name of Xianyun and decides to use her mortal form to officially introduce herself to you. She will not allow you to know of her true identity as the subject of your reverence until she believes you are both adequately acquainted. One wishes simply to know you she thinks to herself

Again this is merely her curiosity at work she convinces herself. she merely wishes to know you are safe or so she attempts to convince herself, ignoring the tender fluttering in her chest at the thought of seeing you up close. 

No this is simply her duty as an adeptus. She takes her contract seriously, nothing more. 

She doesn’t seem this invested in any of the other citizens? One does not have to justify Oneself to the likes of you.

From the updates she had instructed Shenhe and Ganyu to deliver when she still resided on Mount Aocang she knew you frequented the Yanshang Teahouse. Unsure of when you would decide to visit it again she simply decided the best course of action would be to go to the teahouse every night from midday to closing until her eyes could meet yours.

On the 4th night of waiting to see you again she was growing antsy and entertaining thoughts of banging down every door in Liyue until she found you once again, her eyes darting around the room frantically. Her vision danced from face to face in a frantic tango until it settled on a familiar one.

Her entire being relaxed as she saw you seated at a table, soft hands clasped around a cup of tea taking tentative sips. The warm glow in your eyes made her feel as though she was feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin for the first time yet seeing that tenderness and affection directed at the person seated opposite you made her illuminated blood simmer as violent imaginings filled the adepti’s mind, a thousand different inventions to bring nothing but distress to your counterpart.

Equally Xianyun’s mind raced with a dozen different ways to fix this situation. No one but her deserved to see the soft glow in your eyes. No one but her was worthy of your reverence. To see you sharing the admiration she thought was only reserved solely for her... One would not stand for it.

You do not survive fighting in the front lines of the Archon war and a thousand tribulations afterwards by allowing slights against you to go unanswered. Xianyun was no stranger to seeking out her own justice. 

Such a shame for the person next to you that they are visiting from Fontaine and as such she has no obligation to hold back. Even if they were from Liyue she is not entirely sure even Morax could prevent her from exacting her bloody vengeance.

Although she had originally decided to stay in Liyue harbour permanently she now found herself longing for the recluse of Mount Aocang, her only little world where the only people that mattered were the two of you. That was all she needed. You would soon learn that was all you needed to.

She would pack tonight and leave for Mount Aocang at first light. 

The next time you would set foot on the mountain you would not be leaving again.

Xiao:

The conqueror of demons

The vigilant Yaksha

The bane of all evil

Throughout his many millennia of life Xiao has been called by countless titles but from you he longed only to hear his name on your lips.

After saving you from a few hillichurls he had anticipated the usual stuttering of gratitude that was so common from mortals, however what he didn’t expect was how his heart tugged at the sight of relieved tears in your eyes. Large wet eyes looking up at him with unabashed admiration.

The adeptus was puzzled by the clear reaction his body had to the tender gaze you bestowed upon him. With flushed cheeks and dilated pupils the vigilant yaksha quickly fled from the scene, not even muttering a word. He spent the night attempting to disregard how the gentle trembling of your lips replayed in his minds eye or how he simply couldn’t rid himself of the thought of how soft and supple your skin had seemed in the cool moonlight of Liyue.

The following day and night the yaksha busied himself with slaying the beasts and scum that loitered within the vicinity of the Wangshu inn. When you disregard the fervent replaying of your interaction yesterday that thrummed through his brain, the day had passed exactly as he had anticipated. 

Torment.

Suffering.

Misery.

These were parts of his day that was not foreign to him. They certainly were not comfortable but there was an air of familiarity around these emotions. Perhaps his day would have ended in a similar way had it not been for the sound of hesitant feet making their way onto the top balcony of the inn. 

He peered down from his position on the inn's roof inquisitively. Verr often made a point of ensuring any visitors to the inn avoided the top floor in order to grant the Adeptus much needed solitude. 

Instead it was… you. Again.

In your hands sat a plate of almond tofu, your fingers gripping the porcelain plate almost hard enough to smash it as you called out hesitantly

“Adeptus Xiao?” 

His hairs prickled as he heard you call out his name. Hearing his name on your tongue, echoing your pronunciation of every syllable, rewinding and replaying the noises you made. The hitch of your breath before speaking, the breathiness of your words, the fondness in your tone despite your nervousness.

He wanted desperately to drop down and greet you, to ask you to say his name again. He would beg if he had to yet he couldn’t move

“If you’re here… Miss Verr told me you enjoyed almond tofu so I’ll just leave it here for you. I-” 

You cleared your throat, your voice gaining some timbre as you gained some confidence speaking to what you hoped was the Adeptus that had saved you

“I wanted to thank you for saving me yesterday, without you i wouldn’t be here now”

You placed the plate onto the balcony before giving one last hopeful glance around. No sign of the adeptus. Regardless you whispered a soft hopeful prayer that the adeptus would find the token of gratitude you were leaving him.

As he heard your footsteps retreat down the staircase of the inn he finally allowed himself to breathe again. Leaping down onto the balcony of the inn with feline grace, he picked up the dish you left for him. His mouth pooled with saliva, his appetite was not for the almond tofu before him. As he traced the sides of the plate where your hands had once been, his heart fluttered like a teenage boy with a crush.

Xiao had spent the day thinking of you far more than he would dare verbalise but this new interaction with you had fanned the spark of interest into a blazing obsession. To think that he had been on your mind too, it was overwhelming for the adeptus, he almost didn’t want to believe that one such as himself could be blessed with something so tender to cherish as you.

He took care to watch over you vigilantly, rarely straying from your side. Ensuring your safety and acting as your shadow became his priority, however he still maintained a distance between you both, fearful that perhaps he may frighten you away with the intensity of his desire to guard you his karmic debt might overwhelm him in your presence.

The yaksha’s usual post at Wangshu inn was quickly abandoned in favour of his new perch on your roof. Of course he would never wish to invade your privacy but when you leave your bedroom window open like that… surely you must have some idea that the yaksha has taken an interest in you. Perhaps you know Xiao is there, you’ve seen him in the corner of your eye and this is your way of inviting him inside and you're simply too timid to declare it.

Even if you haven’t seen him and this isn't an invitation, clearly your senses are rather dull and you cannot be trusted to watch over yourself. He has been trailing you for weeks now so if you truly haven't noticed him then that’s all the more proof that he should slip inside your bedroom window… to keep a better eye on you while you remain defenceless as you rest.

Those are the two primary justifications he cycles through as he tentatively slides through your window, his feet silent on your floorboards after thousands of years mastering the art of agility. He wanders around your bedroom, flitting through the little trinkets you had scattered about; pretty seashells, crystals, a vase of silk flowers, your outfit for the following day. 

He huffed out a breath at your mortal amusements, countless little testaments to your interests, a dozen tributes to your fascinations. Despite the superfluous nature of these curios you had scattered about, because they were small remnants of you he simply couldn;t bring himself to feel disdain for them, not when they brought him just a little closer into your world.

After he had thoroughly explored every countertop in your bedroom, his eyes darted to what he had been attempting (and failing) to ignore this entire time. Watching your peaceful slumber brought him more relief than he cared to admit. He perched tentatively on the side of your bed.  Despite his attempts to restrain himself, he simply couldn’t prevent the wandering of his hand across the soft blanket that covered you.

Once he had traced his hand against your form, separated only by the blanket, he let his hand grasp onto a corner of it. Slowly peeling the blanket off of your form like a present that the archons had carefully wrapped just for him, golden eyes darkening as he drank in your body, covered only by sleep wear. 

His deep, trembling intakes of breath stopped only when he saw your brow scrunch as you tossed in discomfort, reaching for the blanket he had since removed. Any moment you would wake up, he was sure of it. With no time to cover you back up with your blanket and even less to put your ornaments and baubles back in their spots he slipped back out of your window silently, returning back into the shadows to observe you faithfully.

The following nights he didn’t dare creep back into your bedroom. You now kept the window shut and curtains drawn. He would be dishonest if he said he wasn’t slightly frustrated by this development but moreover he was glad you didn’t simply ignore such an occasion. After all you didn’t realise it was him in your room, for all you know it could have been some debauched pervert. He would be thankful that you’re so vigilant about your safety if that was the extent of your preventative measures, however it was not.

You now had a friend staying with you. Admittedly you could just be having them stay with you as a deterrent or precaution to any unsavoury folks and yes he likely did give you quite the fright but you have no need for anyone's protection but his. You need only speak his name and the conqueror of demon’s is at your beck and call. He would be your undeterred shield, your unyielding blade to set upon any who would harm you if only you would let him.

Being around you makes Xiao feel tender and breakable for the first time since he signed his contract with Rex Lapis. He should hate how you make him feel but he can’t… he’s not sure he could hate anything pertaining to you. Well perhaps one thing: that friend who seems insistent on escorting you everywhere. Perhaps Xiao wouldn’t mind it so much (he definitely would still mind) if your friend wasn’t so liberal with his gaze, just by analysing the man for a few moments Xiao could tell he had less than noble thoughts about you.

After about a week of being on such high alert your friend convinces you to get out of the harbour, that perhaps some time away would do you some good. Perhaps you could go to Mondstadt for a week or so together. Usually you would be inclined to disagree with his spontaneous ideas but for almost a month Liyue has been smothering you. Initially you attempted to ignore the oppressive gaze you felt upon you, convincing yourself it was a mere delusion, a cruel trick your mind was playing but after last week you were certain there was a real cause for concern behind the gaze that followed you wherever you roamed.

Upon overhearing this conversation Xiao’s blood ran cold. Going to Mondstadt means leaving the area in which he can best protect you. Going to Mondstadt means you’re in far more danger than he could allow, sure he could ask that troublesome bard to keep an eye on you but that simply means opening himself up to questions he’s not even sure he knows the answers to just yet. 

The accursed day finally arrives despite Xiao’s feverish wishes to the contrary. You begin the trek to Mondstadt when the sun is high in the sky, he keeps his eye on you, eagerly awaiting any moment you might need help, any opening for him to sweep in and keep you in Liyue for even a second longer. Perhaps this time he might mutter a word to you, tell you ‘you’re welcome’ when you inevitably drown him in gratitude or extend an offer of an escort all the way to Mondstadt (of course he’ll be escorting you regardless of whether you’re aware of it or not). 

Instead you make it all the way to Wangshu inn without issue, much to the yaksha’s irritation. As the sun began to shrink into the horizon and the stars began to glimmer softly in the gloam coated sky, you beg your friend to stop in the inn for the night, hesitant to continue on with the daylight quickly dwindling however they refuse, insisting that you were practically at Stone Gate already and to keep on going for a little while longer, spewing empty promises of protecting you if anything might attack you. You shifted nervously, your eyes looking askew but you conceded, following dutifully after your companion through Dihua marsh.

As expected you didn’t get far in the dark without bumping into several hillichurls however much to your misfortune it wasn’t just a handful of meagre hillichurls. The mitachurl towered over you, his thick club raised in the air before slamming down next to your head as you rolled to the side. You darted out from under the beast, your eyes searching through the chaos for your friend only to be met with a distressing view. Your supposed friend fleeing the battle, their eyes searching for yours, tinged with pain as they mouthed a quick “I’m sorry” before continuing their desperate flee, leaving you to fend against the hillichurls alone.

Betrayal and dejection flooded you as you watched the person who had promised to protect you both from whatever had been watching you and whatever beasts you may bump into in the darkness. The stinging in your tear ducts and burning in your chest became dampened as you felt a swift tap to the back of your neck as your world faded into darkness. You felt no pain, no more betrayal as you collapsed. 

- 

Xiao had originally intended to take advantage of this situation. To appear by your side when the battle seemed lost, saving you if only to see your eyes light up in recognition of the yaksha before you but when he realised that wretch was fleeing from the battle, surely leaving you for dead he couldn’t stand still for another moment, his fingers curling around the air, instinctually craving the weight of his weapon to rest in his palms. 

Using the end of this spear he hit you with just enough force to send you into the soft slumber of unconsciousness, catching you gently before laying you down on the grass, cradling your head like one would a newborn babe. With you carefully positioned out of his path he donned the mask of exorcism that usually sat at his waist, the karmic debt swirling around him in much higher intensity.

Slaughtering a small camp of hillichurls was a small feat for the conqueror of demons however he would not stop there. Xiao refused to rest until he felt that justice had been served for you, his most beloved.

Xiao scooped up your sleeping body before taking you back to Wangshu inn. When he first took up the mantle of protector of the inn Verr had offered him a room as thanks for his service and until now he had little need for it. He entered the dusty room and lay you down on the bed, brushing hair out of your face. The room was filled with only barebones furniture but perhaps tomorrow he would go to your home and bring you some of your pretty ornaments to make it seem more homely for you.

He allowed himself one small indulgence before he would head back out again to seek retribution for you. He removed the glove on one of his hands and took his bare, trembling fingers he traced across your lips. Memorising every inch and crevice of your soft lips beneath his fingers brought him a sense of unfathomable peace he had not felt since… he couldn’t remember anytime he had felt a sense of calm remotely similar to this.

Despite it paining him to do so the yaksha managed to force himself out of the stupor you had coaxed him into with your gentle breathing and sweet scent. Placing his glove back on and summoning his Jade winged spear the adeptus took off into the night once more.

When he returned to the remnants of the hillichurl camp, it didnt take long for him to find a trail. Following the dragging footsteps in the dust led him directly to your ‘friend’, now curled up at the foot of Wuwang hill, snot coating their face as their sobbed into their hands, wracked with grief and distress at their actions.

Even now the adeptus couldn’t muster even an illusion of sympathy or understanding, seeing them in this state only made his loathing for them grow.

They had truly deluded themself into believing they were a worthy protector for you? They couldn’t even defend themself.

With the hatred clawing up his throat like bile, Xiao couldn’t contain the Karmic debt slithering over him. His grip on his polearm tightened as he raised it above his head.

The fact that they truly believed themself to be a competitor for your affections would have almost been humorous had it not been for their display of cowardice not even an hour prior.

He plunged his weapon into their soft flesh methodically, his grip not faltering for even a moment. If it weren’t for his concern about you rousing afraid and alone, he would have taken his time and drawn their suffering out. He would have shown them that a few measly hillichurls were the least of his issues, instead he gritted his teeth, deciding to place your happiness and safety over his own desperate lust for vengeance.

Xiao quickly turned to abandon the scene. Even staring upon the filth’s body, thinking of the warmth and affection you had shared and how quickly they had forsaken you… No, he couldn’t end it like this. He turned back around to the almost corpse- the last few vestiges of life were flickering. Xiao resolved to make the last few breaths of air your friend would take as painful as possible. Digging his foot into their chest before he raised his polearm once more. Cutting and slicing, skewing and carving until all that remained after the frenzy was a mound of meat, muscle and bone.

-

Xiao crept into the room hoping you still remained asleep. A rare smile blossomed across the pale face of the Yaksha as he saw you curled up on the bed.

Dropping his spear by your bed Xiao stared at you longingly 

He had waited so long for the moment in which he could express his feelings to you properly. He wanted to show you he loved you without fear. Now that you were lying in his bed, eyelids closed and breathing deep, Xiao made the decision that he could indulge himself fully before you woke up. 

Just this once as a reward for saving you.

He’s sure you won't mind after all the time and energy he has devoted to ensuring your safety he’s almost positive you would be fine with him taking his fill. 

Surely after two millennia of selflessness he has earned the right to be a little selfish.

With one swift step Xiao turned around to lock the bedroom door behind him.

Zhongli:

The reaction of Zhongli varies significantly depending on which phase of his life he is in. The man who goes by the name Zhongli has mellowed out considerably since his days as Deus Auri, If someone had stolen your attention away from him they may be greeted with several snide remarks and biting threats, if somebody stole your affection away from him then Zhongli would have a much less pleasant reaction however if either such thing occurred during his younger years as the Lord of the Adepti and God of contracts it is unlikely any potential suitors will escape unscathed.

In his youth Zhongli was far more of a slave to his draconic instincts than he was willing to admit. Upon the realisation of his intense feelings for you, the warrior god is far more frightened than he lets on. You are so fragile in comparison to him, so breakable. Not only that but humans are so flighty. Where Adepti may be content to sit on the same mountain top for centuries in solemn meditation, the same cannot be said for mortals. He has watched them flit about, to and fro for centuries and he would be lying if he didn’t find the mortal proclivity for change rather unnerving. 

He has watched humans profess undying love for one another before turning around and betraying their vows to each other. It’s not that he thinks you’re anything like those adulterers, really he doesn’t but… you humans are slaves to your desires (he says, completely unaware of the irony his statement brings), he doesn’t want you to bring harm to your relationship because your human heart is fickle (you have not been made aware of your ‘relationship’ with the Lord of Geo) so he shall personally ensure that no one and nothing will allow you to stray from him.

And yes this is all because he cares about you and definitely not because when he sees other mens eyes flit across you he has to use every ounce of self control to prevent him from smiting the filth where they stand for allowing their lecherous eyes trail across you like a cut of meat at the market or a pretty jewel to possess (again, completely lacking in the necessary self awareness to recall how his own lustful eyes rake across your form).

Any man that makes an advance towards you shall meet a grisly end.

The shopkeeper who gave you an extra bag of rice on the house flees Liyue harbour muttering nothing but reverent prayers and desperate pleas for mercy to Rex Lapis for his transgression.

The Physician who helped bandage up your torso after you were wounded by a follower of Osial was offered a far more lenient punishment. Any place his skin may have made contact with you is carved off, his life is only spared as he was helping you however Morax cannot help the way his claws dig into his palms leaving fresh welts in the calloused skin, still unused to this humanoid form, unable to contain his rage at the thought of another touching you in a state of undress, even if only to heal you. Your bare skin is for his hands alone. If someone had to dress your wounds then they should have summoned him (please note that he has not made his affections for you known to you or anyone else for that matter)

After his most recent battle, felling yet another God who rivalled him for the position of Archon, Morax who had decided to take some weeks to allow for Liyue harbour to recover and the Adepti to rest. However when he learns it was a follower of Osial who dared to mar your delicate skin… He is rallying his Adepti with a fervour and aggression unseen from the warrior god. No one is entirely sure what has incited Morax to take such a devotion to ensuring Osial is destroyed but with his pupils in slits and his grip on Vortex Vanquisher so tight it looks as though the staff may snap, none of the Adepti are brave enough to question their lord.

Despite being renowned as the most fearsome of fighters no one, not even the closest of Morax’s allies had seen such a slaughter brought down by the Draconic lord of Geo. 

Barbaric.

Savage. 

Monstrous.

A slaughter.

Countless words could be used to describe the massacre Morax unleashed upon Osial, the Overlord of the Vortex and all his followers; however those were the most commonly repeated in the months following the extermination.

All knew to be wary of Morax, however that was the day the people of Teyvat truly learned to fear his wrath.

He hoped that when you looked out of the bay of Liyue Harbour and saw the Guyun Stone Forest, a complete destruction of every remnant of Osial and his forces, you would be reminded of his love for you, you would realise Morax is clearly the superior choice compared to all the other men around you.

Who but Morax could give you Teyvat?

Who but Morax would engulf the world in flame if only to see you smile?

Who but Morax could and would give you every comfort mora could afford?

He had frequently entertained various plans for his courtship with you; however the one his mind spun most frequently was to win the Archon war and assume his role as one of the chosen seven. Then he would raise you up as his consort, granting you immortality and binding the two of you eternally in a contract of marriage. 

Of course that didn’t mean he couldn’t let his mind wander to other fantasies, his mind swirling with thoughts of spiriting you away to his palatial domain and keeping you there for days, weeks, months, years, however it took for his insatiable desire for you to be satiated. Only then would he leave his domain to win the war and return to you as the victor of the brutal war and one of the seven, finally able to rest a crown upon your head. 

Admittedly he had yet to confess his desire to take you to wife or even that he loved you so desperately and fervently that it was one of the few things that managed to frighten the lord of contracts.

But surely you knew, even if he hadn’t verbalised it. He refused to believe you didn’t feel the tug between you both, reeling you together. You simply must understand what it's like to look into his eyes and feel as though you’re seeing clearly for the first time in your life. You have to know what its like to feel as though every step apart is energy wasted. You too must crave to feel his bare skin against your own, willing to merge into one if only to bring you both closer together.

Even if you somehow did not feel the same things… surely you must feel his gaze upon you. When he looks down at his city his eyes rest only on you, no matter how much he tries to break his gaze away from you.

Besides he doesn’t need words when he has made his romantic intentions towards you more than obvious in the way his draconic instincts have been roaring for him to. You have accepted his gifts of courtship happily, you clearly understand that he can fulfil his role in providing for you and any young you may have. He has seen you wearing the glaze lily in your hair, the very same lily he had his adepti scour the war torn lands for days to obtain. 

Admittedly you seemed rather hesitant to accept the chests of mora and countless jewels he had left on your doorstep but equally you didn’t reject the gifts. As far as he was concerned that was proof enough that you had accepted his offer of courtship. By all draconic standards you were now officially entered into a contract with the rising Lord of Liyue and he would not take any contract lightly.

Despite the occasional event where some filthy wretch had to be taught to keep their lecherous eyes and hands off the Lord of Contracts future consort and the fact that he had not been able to converse with you about the future of your relationship, he believed his ‘relationship’ with you was going exceedingly well. 

In spite of this and much to the rage of Morax, another reprobate had decided to give you an offer of courtship.

Morax can feel rage thickening in his veins, viscous and violent. Watching you blush softly at the Mortal’s meagre proposition. He understood mortals were far more inclined towards change and adaptation than a being such as he could even begin to comprehend as a deity that stands unchanging as stone, refusing to be eroded by the sands of time or the winds of change. Even so he did not expect such a flagrant betrayal. You don't even have the decency to look shameful as you forsake every thoughtful gift the lord of contracts had spent countless hours pouring over to ensure you received only the best.

Even if Rex Lapis didn’t currently have the time to display his affection verbally he had ensured that he had more than made up for it with his opulent gifts, only the finest for his future consort.

He had been desperately trying to restrain himself from stealing you away to his personal realm every time he saw you pass through the centre of the harbour. He had managed to restrain himself, displaying such self control and patience that he surprised even himself but a man has limits and the prime adeptus could stand no further insult.

How dare that vermin stand where he should, face to face with you, gazing into your eyes, drinking in the warmth that pooled into your cheeks, his arm extended with a meagre sweet flower clutched in his sweaty palm, the stem already drooping from being clutched so tightly.

Perhaps if you begged softly for the poor fools life Morax may bestow a rare act of mercy and only remove the man's eyes or tongue rather than his life, if only to see his beloved happy however all thoughts of Mercy were dashed when you accepted the flower with a soft smile gracing your face.

He didn’t think it was possible for his beloved’s glowing smile to inspire such a primal rage within him.

The city of Liyue harbour came to a stand still as their mighty Lord descended upon their city with a swiftness imperceptible to the naked eye to stand between you and your would be suitor. 

A clawed hand clasped around the mortal man’s throat, blood trickling out of the small incisions the razor sharp claws of his humanoid form.

The man gasped for air however Morax’s grip was not dissuaded. His hand only faltered when he heard a familiar voice cry out

“Lord Morax! Please! Please release him i beg of you” 

He turned his attention to you now perched on your knees, grasping at the bottom of his robe in a desperate plea and display of reverence. Although his blood still simmered with the fury of betrayal both at you and the wretch that had tempted you away from his side, seeing you now on your knees for him, tears welling in your soft eyes he simply couldn’t stay angry, not at you at least.

He threw the young man down on the ground with a sickening crack, watching him writhe around desperately clutching at the wounds on his throat.

No more waiting and no more distractions. This little infraction has persuaded him to do exactly what he needed to this entire time. 

Taloned hands scoop you up, pressing you close into a solid, warm chest as you are quickly whisked away from the harbour and everything you had ever known. He should have known better than to allow you to wander freely without his stewardship or guiding hand to lead you.

Thankfully here in Morax’s private domain you two will be able to remain unbothered for as long as he sees fit, remaining far away from any man that may dare to tempt you away from him and he can rest easy knowing you will be tended to by the servants whilst he goes out and deals with the rodent that tried to damage he and his beloved’s relationship. 

Not that it shall matter anymore once the mortal is disposed of. After all, despite his reputation as a war monger and monster, Morax is capable of understanding and empathy. You cannot help the fact that it is human nature to wish to try every experience, to culminate a portfolio of countless events and adventures, it really was a failing on his behalf to not keep a closer eye on you. Not to worry, from here on out he shall never part from your side, he shall be with you every moment of every day to remind you of your vow.

Of course if he wins the archon war, and he will, he knows in his very bones that he was born for the role of archon then he shall have the power and authority to raise you up by his side, as his consort and bestow you with eternal life and only then you shall truly remain at each others sides, forever. He shall not even entertain the thought of you being stolen from him again, covetous creature that he is.

[metalomagnetic]

cut scene from it runs in the blood

(this happens well before the resurrection)

He goes to his first concert since ‘81.

It’s good. Mary was right. Metallica is really great.

But it also destroys Sirius. He wasn’t ready.

He has a complicated relationship with music, anyway. His mother is teaching Orion to play the piano, tells the boys Sirius used to play so beautifully, but Sirius refuses to touch it.

He can’t even be in the same room when Orion plays. It just fills him with anguish.

He can tolerate music at parties, the fast and cheerful tempo, but otherwise he wants to kill himself if he hears a sorrowful piece on the piano.

And there are a number of songs, muggle songs, that would break him if he listened to them. Songs he played for Voldemort.

He actually checked to make sure this band, Metallica, did not use a piano. However, he severely underestimated the talent of the songwriter. He was so focused on avoiding pianos, he forgot how mournful a guitar can be, too.

Sirius hasn’t gone through a drunken rampage in years, but it comes so easily to him, and he embarks upon it the second ‘Fade to Black’ ends.

Complete black out.

He wakes up four days later, in Voldemort’s bed, and he’s not sure if it’s dawn or sunset, orange light spilling through the windows. He’s a mess, his clothes- and the sheets- are bloody, and he went to bed with the guitar, because it’s right next to him.

He smoked there, too, and for a second he winces, imaging what Voldemort would say if he were to see the sheets with burn holes in them, cigarettes stubs all over the floor, beside empty muggle alcohol bottles.

But whatever he’s been doing for the last four days, it must have exhausted him, because Sirius can’t feel anything. He’s numb, and tired, and it’s good.

He cleans himself up, and the house, puts the guitar back in the dresser, where Voldemort kept it, gives up on the sheets, there’s no saving them, so he vanishes them, replaces them with new ones.

Or tries to. He realises he never made a bed in his life, and he’s too tired to read about it in Voldemort’s household charm’s book.

Who’d have thought it would be so complicated?

It’s by no means perfect, but he does his best with it, throws the pillows and a blanket over the sheets and calls it a day.

When he checks under the bed to make sure there are no more cigarette stubs, he finds a piece of parchment, in his writing, stained with blood.

He finds the quill and the inkpot, too.

He has a flash of memory, writing down the lyrics that started this madness, trying to recall them, because he felt the masochistic need to sing them.

He puts the quill and inkpot back on the desk, where Voldemort kept them.

And, instead of throwing the paper with the lyrics away, Sirius shoves it into the drawer where Voldemort put all the lyrics Sirius used to write down.

He truly is tired, too tired to feel anything, but he gets a twist of vengeful satisfaction, imagining Voldemort coming back, hopefully once Sirius is long dead, years into the future, and finding this paper.

Getting lost within myself Nothing matters, no one else I have lost the will to live Simply nothing more to give There is nothing more for me Need the end to set me free

Things not what they used to be Missing one inside of me Deathly loss, this can’t be real I cannot stand this hell I feel Emptiness is filling me To the point of agony Growing darkness, taking dawn I was me, but now he’s gone

[nikethestatue]

Elriel's Bond

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, Mor already forgotten.

I twisted—only to have the king’s guards grab me from behind. Rhys was instantly there, but Azriel shouted, back arching as the king’s poison worked its way in.

So I just saw this and as I read it, I jumped up and needed to run here to type this our.

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, Mor already forgotten.

The 'prettier one' is Elain. But who shouts, when she is being taken away and possibly murdered? Azriel.

And who's 'forgotten'? Mor.

The scene is centered around those 3 people, with Feyre observing it.

(Afterwards, she specifically observes Cassian and his reaction to Nesta being thrown in, pairing off those two in her mind).

However, in this scene, we have Elain, we have Azriel and we have Mor--Mor, who is viewed as the biggest obstacle to Elriel, because of Azriel's supposed feelings for her.

Let's recall another scene, where another person was shot with Faeabane: as Feyre tends to the severely wounded Rhysand (whom she found because she was driven insane by her bond, urging her to go after him and putting her into a frenzy), she starts speaking about her sisters. And what does she say? "And I think Elain would like it too. Only she would cling to Azriel for some peace and quiet."

And then she thinks in her head:  I smiled at the though- at how handsome they would be together. If the warrior ever stopped loving Mor." 

Let's jump back to the Hybern scene again:

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, Mor already forgotten.

Azriel, who is shot with Faebane, screams when Elain is put into the Cauldron. Mor already forgotten--is this the most glaring way of SJM hinting at the monumental change that's occurred with Azriel and his feelings towards Mor?

Let's read the whole sentence, without Feyre's part in there:

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, Mor already forgotten. But Azriel shouted, back arching as the king’s poison worked its way in.

The King says put Elain into the Cauldron and what's interesting is that the poison of Faebane is called 'the king's poison'.

What if at that point, Azriel shouted because he felt the severing of his bond to Elain? Or out of FEAR that the bond would be nullified or damaged or broken?

'The king's poison' was coursing through Azriel, but the king also threw Elain into the Cauldron--and faebane is a substance that neutralizes and suppresses Fae powers.

Could Azriel's cry be about the muting of his bond with Elain?

Just like with his other two brothers, who all fell in love with human women and were mated to human women, Azriel could've felt the pull of the bond with Elain even when she was human. However, when she was being Made, her was also shot full of Faebane (unlike Cassian for example, who was simply gravely wounded while Nesta was being made).

Could that have contributed to Azriel 'losing' the sensation of the bond to Elain and the Cauldron opportunistically crafting a weaker bond for Elain with Lucien? A bond that was thrown at Lucien (his words) the moment Elain emerged from the Cauldron.

The bond snapped for Lucien, but it did not snap for Elain. Elain's continued indifference towards Lucien could potentially be explained by the fact that she is already bound to Azriel (even if she doesn't know it) and therefore, she simply cannot feel anything for Lucien. Her heart, her soul, and her mind are already occupied by someone else. Lucien doesn't belong.

So, in conclusion, in two sentences, SJM showed us a few glaringly important things: (Interestingly) Elain's beauty outshines them all (which I think will come in handy later). Mor is forgotten. The King's poison is inside Azriel, and on the king's orders Elain is tossed into the Cauldron. Azriel cries out as he watches it, as the poison works itself in, (potentially damaging their bond).

The plot thickens.

[dontforgetukraine]

"I watched a film today at the Venice Film Festival titled "Russians at War." Since our film is in the same section as this one, I usually wouldn’t speak publicly about it. However, in this case, I cannot remain silent, because it’s not just about films and art, but about the lives of thousands of people who die in this war— a war that has instrumentalized propaganda as its weapon.

This film may mislead you into believing that it is an anti-war film, one that questions the current regime in Russia. However, what I witnessed is a prime example of pure Russian propaganda. Here’s why.

The filmmaker begins by expressing her surprise at the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022. In her film, she always uses the term “invasion” and never "full-scale invasion." She does not mention that Russia invaded Ukraine and annexed Crimea in 2014. These two events seem to not exist in the world of this film. The filmmaker also states that her country hasn’t participated in wars for many years and that she has only read about wars in books. Thus, the war in 2022 was a complete shock for her. It’s interesting how the filmmaker could overlook the fact that her country has been inherently involved in various wars and occupations for at least the last 30 years (1992-93 Transnistria, Abkhazian War, 1994-96 and 1999-2009 Chechen Wars, the 2008 war in Georgia, and the 2015-2022 invasion of Syria).

The filmmaker starts her narrative with a Ukrainian who now lives in Russia and fights on the Russian side. This is a very intriguing choice for the beginning of a story about Russians at war. Later, this character will claim that a CIVIL war began in Ukraine in 2014. He will also suggest that Ukrainians bombed the eastern parts of their own country (and this is why he moved to Russia). Another character will declare that Ukrainians are Nazis. We’ve heard these narratives before; they are (and apparently still are) widely and actively propagated by Russian media. One of those horns of propaganda is Russia Today channel, for which the director of "Russians at War" has previously made several documentary films.

Throughout the film, all characters express their confusion about their actions in Ukraine, stating they want the war to end and that most of them are fighting for money. In the final part of the film, the battalion is moved to Bakhmut, and most characters die in battle. We then see their comrades and relatives grieving at their graves. All of them repeat that they don’t understand why this war is happening and who needs it. In the end, the filmmaker concludes that these are poor, ordinary Russian people who are being manipulated into war by larger political games. I found this perspective amusing because the filmmaker—like putin and his regime—plays an interesting game with these people. They deny them the simple ability to possess dignity and to think and decide for themselves. To her, these people are merely powerless objects. If those engaged in a war that has lasted over 10 years were not powerless, it would imply that they, in the majority, actually support this war, wouldn’t it?

You will feel pity for the people depicted as dying in the film and for those we see crying for their loved ones. And you should—if you are a normal human being, you should feel pity, sadness, and emotion. However, it is also important to remember that these individuals joined the army that invaded an independent country, many of them willingly, as we learn from the film. You should also recall Bucha, Irpin, Mariupol, and the civilians who were murdered there. Remember the thousands of children who were illegally transported from Ukraine to Russia. While I’m writing this and while you’re reading it, missiles are striking Ukrainian cities. The buttons are pushed by ordinary Russians. Are their crimes any less significant simply because they claim to be unaware of why they are involved in this war?

By the way, the director asks one of the characters if he thinks the Russian army commits any war crimes. He answers “no,” claiming he hasn’t witnessed any war crimes. Interestingly, the director echoes this in her interviews, stating she saw no signs of war crimes during her time near the front (https://www.reuters.com/.../russian-soldiers-given-their.../). We can only be happy for her that she was fortunate enough not to witness any war crimes. Unfortunately, thousands of Ukrainians have not been so lucky.

I could continue, but I believe it’s enough to understand that this film presents a very distorted picture of reality, spreading false narratives (calling the Russian invasion and annexation of Crimea a civil war; suggesting that the Russian army does not commit any war crimes; presenting those who are part of the aggressors army as victims).

If you decide to watch it, I recommend following it with another documentary about Russian soldiers titled "Intercepted," directed by Oksana Karpovych. "Intercepted" also opens a door into the lives of ordinary Russians fighting in this war. You’ll be curious to explore it, as it will undoubtedly surprise you. You may also want to add "20 Days in Mariupol" to your viewing list, just to be able «to see through the fog of war," as the director of "Russians at War" so aptly put it."

—Darya Bassel, Ukrainian film producer of war documentary “Songs of Slow Burning Earth

[pinksugarscrub]

Congrats on your one year! ❤️ may I order a tiramisu with Hobie and bounty hunter!R arguing about how they do their vigilante work until R accidentally reveals why she takes paid jobs (provide for family/ relative by anonymously sending them money out of guilt for making their family think they’re dead)?

You can change up the prompt to best suit your writing imagination 😚🥹

@hyperfix-wip

Crossroads

Bard! Hobie x Bounty Hunter! fem! reader

I had a lot of fun with this as you can see. There are very mature themes including blood, violence, and implied assault. Please read at your own discretion. I tried my best to keep it vague.

Word count: 3,070

~

What does a bounty hunter and a bard have in common? Absolutely nothing. Why pose such a question you may ask? It’s because you’ve had the unfortunate privilege of learning this answer.

How much longer you’ll have to endure endless rambling you do not know. What you do know is you would gladly kill this man for free.

It started over four weeks ago. Enough time to witness all of the phases of the moon.

A measly drink, a moment of peace was all you wanted when the bard came crashing into the stool beside you.

Now, normally this would not have provoked you to action but after having a very high ranking target stolen from right under you. It’s safe to say you needed to blow off some steam.

You paid the barkeep for all of the damages and stepped over the groaning drunkards on your way out. Who had started and likely would have continued an all out bar fight with every patron.

Either way you were ready to retire when the bard came stumbling out. Hair braided into several and tied back by a leather band. You can recall just how irritating the conversation was then.

No matter how much you tried to deny his praises, he assumed you a hero. Trying to invoke a life debt that was quite common to pirates. You were not interested.

He stayed anyway.

You figured after a time he would come to his senses and eventually sneak off when he thought you weren’t looking. Violence did that to people. It pushed them away.

His name was Hobart Brown but he insisted on being called Hobie. He dubbed you Lily after spotting a field of lily of the valley and also because you would not provide him with your name. ‘Pretty but deadly’ he said.

He wanted to travel by the Great Sea and find adventure. You almost felt sorry for the poor sod and he must have noticed because he reassured you that being in your debt did not create a dent on his plans.

You could tell he was fascinated with you. You knew that would be short lived as you cocked your pistol and killed a man you recognized from a town bulletin board. He was worth five hundred gold.

Hobie was off put. Expression wary and heavy as he asked you that night by the campfire who you were. You simply responded 'bounty hunter' and continued stoking the fire.

When you awoke he was still there. Saddling the horses and murmuring that the next town over would be less than a day’s travel.

You did not show your surprise as you slid out of your bed roll and prepared to depart. You felt uneasy the entire trip there. It was silent between the two of you even after you passed the town’s gate.

You’re unsure of why but perhaps it’s because his company has lifted a weight off of your shoulders that you stop him by the shoulder and check into an inn. Spending more coin than you would on yourself for a more than decent room and food that you ask to be sent to his just across the hall. A proper place to rest instead of dirt clearings and forest floors.

When you sit in the first warm bath you’ve had in months it dawns on you what you’ve done. You can’t afford any setbacks. He needs to go.

You cannot handle this kind of guilt in your heart that will inevitably follow you when you have to complete a bounty so you’ll leave first thing in the morning.

-

A quiet knock at your door stops you. Midcount of the gold and copper pieces in your pouch. They all clink together as you let them slid back into the leather bag.

“Yes?”

Hobie’s face immediately brightens when he catches your eye. A grin you've grown accustomed to. A stark contrast to the relaxed line of your lips.

“Good evening darling. Would you like to accompany me to the nearest tavern? I would say I owe you a drink.”

You give him a pointed look.

“Come on!” He laughs. Resting against the doorframe of your large room. “I know you are just as bored out of your mind as me. We can come right back if you’re still not up to it after one drink.”

Is it the way he smiles at you that gets you or the small quirk of his brow? The challenge. You have to wonder if the man is secretly a siren. It would match with his profession of choice.

“Fine, meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man sprint to his room like his life depended on it.

The nicest thing you owned was a flowy white dress that hung onto your shoulders and went just above your knees. The holster of your gun still fits snugly around your waist along with the pouch of coin you have since emptied to seem less heavy.

It isn’t particularly cold so you don’t take your signature coat with you. In a flourish you’re out the door and waiting with the fae handing out room keys and pretty smiles.

Not a minute later you catch the sound of the steps creaking and you swiftly move around. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to-” You caught yourself before you could finish that sentence but it didn’t seem like he caught on to your blunder.

He was looking at you with a slight part of his lips. It made your hair stand on end.

Hobie could now clearly see your figure. He could see more skin than you had previously shown in the last thirty two days. Heavens did you look beautiful.

He promptly cleared his throat and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

He let out a sigh of relief as soon as your attention was off of him.

Kill him, kill him now.

-

The walk to the tavern was short. The loud bumbling and bustling patrons spilling out the windows meant to look like painting archways. Sets of tables outside of the tavern as well which was new but not all that surprising. The population was bigger here compared to the last town.

Hobie stumbles and almost falls flat on his face as a boisterous woman steps into his path. You’re quick to catch him. Pulling him to your side with a firm grip around his waist. The woman apologies but it's obvious by the ale on her breath that she does not really mean it.

You look up to check on your companion only to find him already staring at you. With the same distant look he gave you at the inn.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he answers. Raking his eyes over your face before smiling. “Let’s go in.”

You roll your eyes at his obvious lie. Ignoring how it bothers you that you want to know what he is thinking.

A set of two glasses is set before you. Filled to the brim with froth coating the top of the glass. Apple cider. The town specialty given by the apple orchards the two of you passed on the way in.

You’re ready to slide your pouch off of your belt when a hand stops you.

“I’ll get it.” Hobie grins—fairy feathers doesn’t that hurt his face?—and hands a handsome amount of coin into the barmaid’s hand.

She’s ecstatic to which Hobie responds with a wink. It causes a pit to form in your stomach and you find yourself reaching for your mug to find something else to do with your mouth than scowl.

“Eager are we?” Hobie teases. Reaching for his own glass and taking a drink. He moans as soon as the liquid hits his tongue. “This must be made of liquid gold.”

You have to agree as your shoulders relax. The crisp taste is so satisfying you’re tempted to take bigger gulps.

Hobie smiles as he admires you behind his glass. He has to stop himself from reaching out and wiping away the froth from your lip. Thank the stars you are too distracted to notice.

“So,” Hobie hums,“was I right in taking you out of your room?”

He avoids using the word cage like he had planned to because he does take into account how luxurious the space they were staying in was. It wouldn’t be very proper of him to degrade the money she spent. Even as a joke.

You only nodded as you took the time to scan your surroundings. Everyone was having a good time. Glossy eyes and rosy cheeks were proof of that but you could never be too careful.

Hobie frowns but doesn’t say a word. Just shifts in his chair and tries to find something clever to say.

“How is your knee?” You ask above the cheers and laughter. “The foal took a pretty nasty hit to you.”

Hobie laughs. He looks pleased at the way you initiate conversation. It feels as though he is always the one talking.

“Oh, that. I’m fine. Was my fault for getting in her space anyway.”

Your lips break into a smile at that. “You should consider yourself lucky that it was her and not the mare.”

Hobie shivers at the thought. Bigger horse shoe, bigger hit. Yeah, that would not have gone well.

“I’m normally very good with animals, you can’t blame me,” he pouts.

That peaks your curiosity and yet again, he is perceptive enough to see this.

“I was born on a farm.” He grins again as he explains. “With more than a dozen cattle and sheep. We didn’t have horses though.”

Well, you might as well humor him.

“So your family owned land in the Northern region. That’s pretty far from where I found you.”

Hobie would fist pump the air if he could. Hook, line, and sinker. “Yeah?” He leans forward. “You know where that is?”

You nod, taking another sip of your cider and sighing. “I’ve never traveled up there. Aren’t many jobs and I haven’t found the need to explore.”

Hobie stiffens and glances at the holster holding your gun. “Right.” He licks his lips. His voice wasn’t as steady as he would have liked. “And you? Where do you come from? Because I’m certain it wasn’t from daisies.”

A chuckle leaves your lips that sounds more like a huff. “You do not know that. Haven’t you heard of the legends?”

“Ah, yes,” he pauses. Relaxing again as he slouches in his chair. “You truly want me to believe you came from stardust and laughter?”

“It’s startdust and happiness actually,” you correct. Smiling as you feel the bubbles of cider in your belly.

“Happiness,” he nods. Clicking his tongue as he grins. “Forgive me.”

You again, roll your eyes at his playfulness. Clinking your glass with your finger as you look off to the side. He still wants an answer, you know it.

You perk up as you notice a crowd gathering around a table. The perfect distraction. With a smile you reach for his hand and pull him with you. It doesn’t matter if your heart jumps into your throat at how warm his palms feel against your own. It was a necessary course of action. To protect yourself of course.

<

Commercial break - You’re almost 2,000 words in, take a break. If a project, work, or homework is staring you in the face, go finish it and come back. The story will still be here 💕

>

You’re laughing. Actually laughing as you leave the tavern with your head on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Hobie exhales. Disbelief still etched in his features as he kept his grin. “Where did you- how did you-”

“Family secret!” You snicker. A bit lightheaded from all of the alcohol you had just consumed. Ten times lighter but ten times heavier in coin after winning the bet.

“Oh so now you’re not even going to share that with me?” He guwaffs. Also a bit buzzed but definitely sober enough for the two of you.

“Fine fine,” you grumble. Squinting your eyes and scrunching your nose. “The secret is- my secret is-” A hiccup interrupts you but so does a cry of pain. You immediately sober up as your eyes dart toward a darker pathway of the town.

Hobie calls after you and soon he’s hot on your heels as you race to your destination.

Pain was something you were familiar with. You dealt with it every day. Whether you were inflicting it or someone was inflicting it upon you. You recognized it. It was what you lived for now.

A sort of numbness followed. It was a comfortable routine. Find the target, pull the trigger, find the next. But right now there was a panic and fear you hadn’t felt in years. Not since this entire ordeal first began.

You don’t think. It’s muscle memory at this point as you toss a man flat on his back. Cobblestone digging into his shoulders.

You can faintly hear the cry of the woman he was previously above. Hobie’s soft voice rushing to comfort the woman. That causes some of the fear to dissipate but not all of it.

It’s fist after fist and the blunt end of your pistol as you scramble to get some footing. Something to put you on top.

With a harsh shove to the path the man’s face comes to light. You recognize it in your haze. The sketch of his picture. The number under his name. You could do that, you could fix this issue no problem.

The cock of your gun snaps Hobie out of his frenzy. Eyes wide as he quickly rushes the girl to get out before she witnesses something to add more to her trauma.

The gurgle of the man’s throat is the next thing he hears as you hold him down with the heel of your boot.

“No, no, no-” he calls out. Grabbing you by the waist and tugging back so hard you both fall. The first shot rings out and hits one of the lanterns lighting the pathway.

“This isn’t the way to do this love!” He begs, pleas with you.

You struggle in his grip as the man in front of you finally manages to catch his bearings. Wobbling onto his knees as tears sting in your own eyes.

The second shot narrowly misses his boot. Hitting a stone before rolling away into the dirt.

The third you take as Hobie grips your arm. Opposite hand gripping tightly over your wrist as you close one eye and aim. It’s like clock work. As simple and easy as breathing.

The shell clatters to the ground and so does his body. The sight makes you nauseous.

Hobie finally manages to wrap his hand around your gun and toss it away. He doesn’t know where. His heart is beating too fast to understand.

For a moment you both sit there with heavy breath. Staring at the dead man that will owe you eight hundred gold pieces once you turn his body over along with his wanted poster.

“Love…” Hobie’s voice sounds so utterly broken that it brings you back to reality.

You reach up as you feel how sticky with tears your cheeks have become. When did you start crying?

“Love,” he repeats. More strength in his voice when he turns you around to face him. “Why would you do that?”

Why? Your brows furrow in anger. Hurt. Why? He’s asking you why?

This isn’t the way to do this

“You- do you even understand what you’ve done?” He shakes his head. He himself is shaking. “Do you just shoot everything that gets in your way? That brings you coin?”

He sounds so accusing. Like you are the one that has done something wrong. You look back to the man. Pooled in his own blood.

“Is that what you think?” You finally manage to say. Fingers curling into your soiled white dress. “That I do this for the satisfaction of money?”

You find the strength to push away and stand on your own two feet because that is what you have always done.

You turn to look down at the man before you. The man you were beginning to trust. The one you were willing to give your heart to if only in your dreams because you had no one else. Because at least someone would know you existed in this life. Laughed, cried, loved.

“I don’t do this because I enjoy putting a bullet between someone’s skull!”

Hobie cowers as you step closer and that only makes your heart ache more. Placing your finger fight at the base of his skull with your hand in the universally understood gesture of a gun.

“I do it for this!” You grip onto the pouch on your side. Tugging on it so the coins scatter like locusts. “All of this because that’s all I’m good for! That’s all I can provide for my family!”

Your chest hurts as you smack your hand against it. How many times have you placed a bullet there too? Counting the man on the ground, plenty.

“I don’t want to do this,” you choke. Throat feeling tight like there was a hand squeezing at its base.

You regret letting your guard down. Drinking like you didn’t have a care in the world when in fact, you did.

“I don’t want to do this.”

You sob as you fall to your knees and Hobie can’t stop himself from reaching for you and pulling you into his chest as you cry.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper. The cider pushing forward the thoughts you held back in the deepest part of your mind.

‘How shameful’ he would say when you returned. ‘Your family shouldn’t need you after all’. Then he would shoot you dead in his office much like you did countless times before tonight.

Hobie held you so tight someone might wonder if you could breath. His own tears rolling down his cheeks as he hides the mark he’s found on your neck. A number with the symbol of the king.

Hobie regrets his poor choice of words but shit can you blame him? He cries into your neck as he vows to repay his debt to you.

A life, for a life.

[actual-changeling]

One breath, but Mulder shows up in Scully's hospital room with tear tracks still drying on his face and his first real smile since she was taken. He's out of breath, probably broke several dozen traffic laws on his way back to her, but she's awake.

Not Fox, Mulder, Scully corrects her mother, and she is reaching for him before she can think better of it. His hands are warm and shaking and familiar, and he sits down next to her like she's made of glass. Like he is going to break her if he allows his fear to spill out onto the floor.

His mouth opens and closes repeatedly until he finally manages a hi, watching her lips move into a smile. hi. Mulder tentatively lifts their intertwined hands and kisses her knuckles while squeezing his eyes shut.

He wants to fall to his knees and thank every god he doesn't believe in for bringing her back to him, he wants to hold her and press her to his chest until he no longer feels empty inside, he wants to bury his face in her hair and fall asleep with her safe in his arms. At some point during the last few weeks, he must have slept, even if only for a few horrifying hours, yet all he recalls is suffocating darkness and her screams echoing in his mind.

I missed you, Mulder whispers against her skin, but she hears him—she always does.

I heard you, she responds, tugging on his hand to pull him closer. I heard you, Mulder. I felt the strength of your beliefs.

Maggie and Melissa are silently watching the exchange, but they've never cared less about prying eyes and unsatisfied curiosity. Scully's gaze catches on something, and Mulder follows it to the glinting gold cross around his neck. The chain runs through his fingers like water, thin and fragile, and the only thing that helped him stay sane enough to keep going.

Kept it safe for you, he tells her, and takes it off to fasten it around hers instead; it's finally back where it belongs. Tears burn new, glistening paths down his cheeks, and he doesn't bother wiping them away.

I was so scared. It's a confession, it's an apology, it's a promise, and he shuffles closer and closer and closer.

I was so fucking scared, Scully.

Her fingertips are cool against his flushed skin, and he closes his eyes at the contact, fearing that if he moves, she will disappear again. For so long, nothing in his life mattered more than the nebulous truth hiding the fate of his sister. Then she walked into his office with a smile and trust in her heart, and suddenly she wasn't simply helping him discover the truth—she became the truth.

Scully squeezes his hand and traces the line of his jaw, and two warm pairs of eyes look away when she tilts her head upwards, meeting Mulder in the middle as he leans in close, closer, touching.

She kisses him softly because she wants to. Because she can. Because she can taste salt, relief, and light on his tongue, a sunrise swallowed and hidden away throughout the night.

Thank you for not giving up. He couldn't have lived with himself if he had, and it's written across his face and woven into his soul. Losing her would have meant losing himself, and there is nothing that could have stopped him from following her to wherever they would have gone. Together or not at all, and he has no idea why she stayed, why she is still staying after everything he put them through.

You found me, he cannot say; you found me and brought me home. You found me and you saw me, and I don't think I will ever know why you decided I was deserving of your grace and your presence in my life.

They press their foreheads together, and a by now familiar hand lands on his shoulder as Maggie reaches for both of them—family, she had called him, over and over—and there is nothing but warmth offered to him.

Thank you for coming back.

[irafuwas]

Sebek and Silver - More alike than meets the eye

I know much has been said already on how Silver and Sebek diametrically oppose each other – from their handedness to their hobbies, and from their personalities to their poses in certain cards – but something I feel we also need to focus on is the one unifying point in their story arcs. Namely, their journeys to discover just who they are.

*This post contains light spoilers for cards and story content that have not been released on the EN server yet*

Sebek is infamous for his one-track mind. He dedicates himself to his studies, his extracurricular activities, and his training, all for Malleus’s sake – partly to earn commendation from the men he so respects, and partly to bring honor to his liege’s name. His endeavors are admirable, in that he is diligent, persevering, and earnest, yet rarely does he divulge any of his genuine, private ambitions.

Consider, in fact, that the very reason he sought to enroll at NRC was only to serve as Malleus’s guard, rather than for his own academic aspirations.

Though we’ve yet to learn just why he so fervently worships Malleus, perhaps we can trace this desire for his liege’s recognition back to a broader need to be affirmed of his worth. If you recall his despair at manifesting his magic so late, and how much it bothered him - hurt him, even - when Silver departed for NRC and left him behind, the great extent to which he values magical prowess is clear to see. And if we further consider how he so longs to separate himself from his human heritage – from his magicless heritage, could it be that, even more than the glory of knighthood, he simply yearns to find a part of himself that he – and all those around him – can be proud of, can find worth in?

For what is he without his magic? He, a mere half-blood, born amongst a peoples whose bodies thrum with a power more sacred, more ancient than the air within our lungs and the ground beneath our feet? I feel Sebek is so driven, so severe in his efforts to claim the right to stand by his liege’s side, just so that he one day might finally be able look himself in the mirror and say, “here, here is at least some part of me I don’t have to be ashamed of, that I don’t have to hate.”

And Silver, that sweet boy, how unerring, how remarkable is his selflessness, how his inexhaustible compassion belies the scant 17 years he’s spent awake on this earth! But when one pours out so much of oneself for others as he has done, when all that one does is for the sake of someone else, how often one loses sight of one’s own identity. Indeed, if I were to draw for you a map of the inside of Silver’s heart of hearts, if I were to plot for you his every dream, measure and record every aspect of his being, I scarcely doubt there’d be a single point you couldn’t trace back to his desire to make his father happy.

To that end, consider how we learned in Silver’s latest birthday vignette that Lilia began training him from an incredibly young age – when he had only just become conscious of his surroundings. A child that young cannot make such a monumental decision for himself - the decision must be made for the child. And so, we do not truly know if Silver’s dreams of knighthood are the result of his own personal meditations, or if his father, in his infinite folly, thrust them upon him, burdening the young child with an aspiration that would go on to consume nearly every facet of his life.

With the both of them being so unsure in their own identities, it's why I find it so poignant - and so apropos – that Sebek is the one to rouse Silver from his moments of self-doubt, time and time again. When Silver questioned his capabilities as a leader, when he wished desperately that he could change, that he could be more like his classmates, and when he, in his darkest hour, doubted even the sanctity of his father’s love for him – each and every time it was Sebek who liberated him from his great desolation.

It has to be Sebek - for who better to accompany Silver on his journey towards self discovery than one who must walk down the same path as he? Who better than his best friend, his brother, his reflection – his veritable light in the darkness of his own heart?

[zqmbiescorpse]

CLEANING YOUR BLOODY WOUNDS

lottie matthews x female reader

a/n: episode seven absolutely destroyed me, i'm pretty sure i spent half of it crying. i cannot handle having to wait a week to see if lottie's alright, i am stressinnnngggg. anyways, here's me pretending that she is! (i'm extremely delusional.)

summary: established relationship, lottie gets the shit beaten out of her, fluffy ig, its kinda short

warnings: mentions of violence, a lot of injury, lottie is totally okay with the fact that she was almost beaten to the death

word count: 1.3k

(masterlist)

She hadn't woken up yet. 

Your knees grew sore, the flesh pressing into the hard wooden floor beneath you, but no matter the severity of the ache, you were not leaving her side. That was a fact. You didn't care about the pain jolting your joints or about chores that needed for filling or whether you would be eating tonight, the only significance to your life, at that moment, was Lottie.

The concept of time was a genuine mystery that you didn't bother to solve, it could've been minutes or hours since you last saw Shauna, the girl had fled the cabin after pummeling Lottie's face into a grotesque mush. You would remain in the exact position, knelt at the bed, all night if needed - without even snatching a wink of sleep for yourself if that's what it came down to.

At least she wasn't dead. Though her soft, usually pale skin dotted with rosey pink specs had been corrupted by a brutal crimson swelling in vicious lumps, there was still a rise and a fall present in her chest. Each unconscious twitch and shake your girlfriend expressed signalled that she was alive, regardless, the distressed movements caused the pit in your stomach to expand, and you wondered if the battered brunette was reliving the agony of the incident in her dreams. 

The urge to reach out and caress her bruised body was a strong however stupid one, instead, you opted to run the freezing, soggy rag over her cheeks once more to help the swollen areas recover. Whilst you freshened her up, you whispered positive reassurances, telling her that she was going to be okay, somewhat simultaneously relaxing yourself, reducing your own stress levels as a bonus.

It was impossible to fathom how you'd managed to do absolutely nothing to stop the savagery. Stood there, watching horrified and devastated to see Lottie offer herself up like that, happily receiving a beating for the sake of Shauna's emotions. The lack of noise during it intensely disturbed you, even with all the continuous punches and kicks, you didn't recall a single scream. In fact, no one said anything. 

You understood that not everyone appreciated her odd chants and offerings, hell, you didn't even understand it properly either. To be brought so close to death because of that was obviously undeserved. Something could've been done to have prevented things from getting wildly out of control. The blame you kept shovelling onto yourself was suffocating, burying you. What sort of girlfriend simply observes as her lover gets knocked to the floor and attacked barbarically by a crazy girl bearing an overwhelming amount of anger? You felt bad for Shauna, but you couldn't excuse this. 

"You're thinking so… loud," the injured girl stuttered and coughed between the broken words, a slight delight in her voice. 

Lottie stirred, her eyes slowly opening - adjusting to the swells preventing them from working how they usually would. She had been laid on her side, toward you, thus you didn't neglect a single thing, panic immediately kicking now that she was awake. 

"No no, don't try to move or get up, or anything," You commanded, shakily. 

Underneath the wounds, Lottie's features were calm and gentle, a small smile grew on her lips despite the pain such a minor action caused. 

"Is Shauna, is she, okay?" Lottie mumbled earnestly, never losing the melancholy grin. 

You stared at her in utter shock; bewildered that Shauna was who she was most concerned about. 

"Lottie, do you not remember what she did to you?" You whispered, loudly, mimicking a frustrated shout without actually raising your voice. 

"She needed… it, we both know… that." 

"But you nearly died! I don't care what she needs, we all need some kind of release." You spat, maybe too selfishly, "You didn't even fight back."

"Trust me… everything's okay, I'm happy about what Shauna did, please don't worry," She soothed, her calm tone juxtaposing your desperate one perfectly. "My wounds will heal and I have you, by my side, taking care of me, and that's a wonderful thing."

Lottie raised a trembling hand, ignoring your wide-eyed pleas to stay still and comfortable, cupping your face tenderly. Consequently, you broke out in a flush and tears began to prick, threatening to spill, something that you couldn't permit. 

"I'm so sorry, Lottie." You sniffled, heartbroken at the affection you were receiving from someone who needed it more than you, "You shouldn't be putting any sort of strain on yourself in a critical condition."

A simple laughter blessed your ears, though confusing, it was the first time in months you'd heard such authentic cheeriness. You felt it was inappropriate considering the dreadful scenario, yet, your endearing girlfriend's content joy was contagious - your own wobbling lips contorted upwards, smiling through the tears. 

"Although I am in a lot of pain…it's only temporary, who knows what could've happened… if Shauna's intense feelings were left to manifest any longer," Lottie explained, stroking away any wet drops that spilled over the edge of your eyes. It was a miracle that she could even spot them. 

"I get why - you did it but, my god Lottie I hate seeing you hurt, can we just agree that it will never happen again, please." 

The brunette sensed a newfound comprehension present in you, alongside a more relaxed approach to the conversation, which she appreciated. She didn't want you upset, it was the last thing she wanted, however, she had needed you to see where she was coming from. 

"I love you a lot," You sighed, running your hands through her tangled hair, then leaning over to kiss her atop her head. 

"I can't… promise anything but I assure you that I will be more careful in the future," She admitted wholeheartedly, her honesty charmed you, hence why you placed another gentle kiss, this time, on her aforementioned palm that was cupping your skin; apparently it was stuck to you since Lottie hadn't moved it once. 

"I love you too," she added cheesily, the muscles in her mouth pushing the limit now as she beamed brightly. 

There was a lot of relief radiating off of you, the tremor in your hardworking hands settled, a detail that your girlfriend noticed, prompting her to squirm into a new position on one of the few man-made beds that the old cabin possessed. Her back carefully pressed into the feather mattress and the nested blankets surrounding her. 

You assumed that Lottie was ready to drift back to sleep, believing that this was your cue to leave, you prepared yourself to face the rest of the girls lingering around the cabin. Due to the sheer amount of time you'd spent absent from the group tending to Lottie, you hadn't experienced any confrontation from Shauna after what she did, sparking anxiety. You'd have to see her eventually. 

"Don't," Lottie spoke up, "You need to rest just as much as I do."

The compassion compelled you to obey her recommendation. She was right, you were exhausted. 

"Okay, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not getting in there with you either. You need the space," You compromised, regarding the bed's limited width, you weren't about to force her out of it for your own sake. 

"You're always welcome," Lottie chuckled, her eyes shutting, "Lay your head on my chest if that's what you'd like."

Actually, you were quite fond of the idea, your arms were set on the edge of the mattress and your head snuggled into her chest, not with too much force as you'd rather she wasn't hurt extra. Although your knees never got a break from digging into the rough floor, you were satisfied enough to let the desire for slumber overcome you - entwined with Lottie, your body heats mixed together to create a warm, loving haze that clouded around just the two of you, a suitable protection guiding you both into a deep, safe sleep.

[shunin-gumis]

Netaro Initial SSR Story

Netaro's Soulmate Search, Group Date Edition (Part 1)

Any notes with a * are at the bottom!

Also Netaro has a unique style of speaking, I hope it was conveyed in the TL 😭😭

Netaro: Beatrice, oh Beatrice~ Where art thou~?

Momiji: Woah!? Netaro-kun!?

Netaro: Your good work is appreciated, Doudou~* Does writing up that report take up all your attention?

Netaro: Knock after knock and without a response, I simply couldn't wait any longer. So I had no choice but to break in.

Momiji: I-is that so... Sorry about that.

Momiji: Um, what was it about.... Beatrice?

Momiji: If I recall correctly... you're searching for your other half.... Your "Fate", right?

Netaro: Bingo~ You deserve a gold star!

Netaro: For the sake of this new dream I have discovered on this planet, I have been pointing my antenna this way and that on the daily, but alas-

Netaro: It is not enough! Simply put, I am severely lacking in new encounters! I must acquaint myself with a much larger scope of humans~!!

Momiji: Meeting more people huh... How about something like a group date?

Netaro: Group date?

Momiji: Yeah, it's something like a party where people gather to form new relationships. I heard that Liguang's little sister would be hosting one soon.

Netaro: Ooh~ Group date, a group date! It has an interesting echo indeed!

Netaro: Now that we have decided, it is time to intrude upon Luu-li!Let us depart, Doudou!

Momiji: Woah, wait! At least let me save my report!!

Momiji: ... And that's the current situation.

Liguang: ...

Netaro: Why do you look so displeased?

Liguang: ... It should be obvious.

Liguang: Since LinXing is hosting the event, I'm certain she would be pleased to have more participants join.

Liguang: But when said participant is you...

Netaro: I cannot help but get the feeling that you think quite poorly of me...

Netaro: How about this, if you would allow my participation, I could make these fluffy twin-eared critters even fluffier and cuter than ever!

Liguang: Try and lay a finger on them, I'll make sure you regret ever being born.

Netaro: You would make me regret my birth over something like this?

Momiji: Um, well, can you let him in just this once? I'll be with him too.

Momiji: ... I was the one who brought it up in the first place, I'll take responsibility for it.

Liguang: ... I'll allow it since it's your request.

Momiji: Thank you very much.

Liguang: However, Yowa.

Netaro: Oyo?

Liguang: If I hear that you caused trouble for LinXing or the other participants, we will need to have a "talk".

Netaro: Goodness, that Luu-li fellow. He need not be so dramatic about it. I am, as always, doing my best to stay on the same level as you humans.

Netaro: Oh well. Group date, group date~ I am bursting with anticipation~

Momiji: Netaro-kun looks like he's in a good mood. I'm glad I suggested this.

Momiji: But I get what Liguang-san was concerned about.

Momiji: Although everyone at HAMA Tours is used to Netaro's eccentricity, there's no way to know how people meeting him for the first time would react...

Momiji: I should try out some questions with him.

Momiji: Um, Netaro-kun, what are your hobbies?

Netaro: Nnn... As of recently, dramas and movies have been occupying my time, I enjoy them quite a bit.

Momiji: Oh! That's a pretty solid response, maybe it'll be ok-

Netaro: It is a splendid observation log for human nature indeed. Witnessing humans destroy themselves over intense feelings of love and hatred.... it is simply delectable.

Momiji: ...What are your favorite foods?

Netaro: Meat buns! Firefly squids are a no-go, they remind me too much of a superior of mine and make my stomach churn. Those eyes especially...

Momiji: ........ How about a special skill?

Netaro: I must say I am quite skilled at inventing amusing gadgets! My latest masterpiece is a glove that can squirt out orange juice indefinitely from the fingers-

Momiji: Stop, Netaro-kun. Just, stop.

Momiji: This is bad! I can't let him participate at this rate!

Netaro: Whatever is the matter? Would you have preferred it squirt out udon instead?

Momiji: That's not it. We need to practice on your Q&A skills today!

Momiji: The better you get at interacting with others, I'm sure it will better your chances at meeting your Beatrice too.

Momiji: I'll accompany your practice too.

Netaro: Doudou is kind indeed~

Netaro: Yes, I shall redouble my efforts as well. Time to level up my speaking skills and aim to be the top conversationalist master~!!

Momiji: That's the spirit!

Momiji: Hmm, first, let's talk to Kinari-kun who's sitting right there.

Netaro: Roger~

Netaro: Nari, I think it would crack me up if we could get laser beams to shoot out of your eyes, but do you mind if I sit next to you?

Kinari: There is an error in communication. I fail to understand the logic behind your sentence.

Kinari: However... A beam is worth considering if it would help me protect Master from any villains. Please give me a detailed explanation.

Momiji: No, you really don't have to do that.

Momiji: The road ahead is going to be a long one...

Notes:

Netaro's nicknames

Doudou is the nickname Netaro has given Chief/The protagonist. I believe the origin of the term is from French, and there are two interpretations of his usage for it. One is where it's used as a term of endearment for a partner, and the other is where it literally translates to a soft piece of fabric or a cuddly toy, implying that Netaro finds the Chief a comforting presence. As far as I've seen, we don't see exactly when or why he gave this nickname to Chief, he simply started using it in the main story and no one showed any surprise.

Luu-Li is Netaro's nickname for Lu Liguang

Nari is Netaro's nickname for Kinari.

Part 2

[lostyesterday]

Three Clifftops

Written for Voyager Week Day 1. Prompt: Away Missions.

Link to the fic on AO3.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Relationships: Seven of Nine & Tuvok, Kes & Tuvok

Characters: Tuvok, Seven of Nine, Kes

Additional Tags: Alien Planet, away mission, Memories, tuvok’s daughter asil, Grief/Mourning, alien animals, animal death, carnivorous plants

Summary: On an away mission with Seven, Tuvok recalls two other moments from his past.

Word Count: 2,429

---

“Seven of Nine to Commander Tuvok.”

The voice on the other end of the comm held the slightest tinge of panic. Tuvok stood from where he’d been scanning a mossy plant that grew in the shadow between two rocks, protected from this planet’s harsh sun.

“Tuvok here,” he replied.

There was a pause.

“I require assistance,” Seven said, with some reluctance.

“I am on my way to your location,” Tuvok said, immediately tracking her comm signal and noting that it was coming from close to the edge of a nearby cliff. “Are you injured?”

There was another pause.

“I am primarily undamaged,” Seven said. “I am merely… stuck.”

There were six other members of the away team, all of them spread out over the rocky terrain scanning for edible vegetation. Seven had commed him specifically and not any other member of the away team – not even Commander Chakotay who was leading it.

“Are you in immediate danger?”

“No. I simply require assistance.”

Tuvok did not slow his pace in case Seven was understating the severity of her situation. The planet’s terrain was difficult to navigate. Its rocky surface was jagged and uneven, with crevices that were invisible until one stood just before them.

It took Tuvok nearly three minutes to reach Seven. He stepped around a large boulder and there she was in its shadow – fortunately several meters from the edge of the cliff that plunged sharply down to the dusty desert landscape below.

Tuvok understood immediately why Seven had commed him. Her right leg had been swallowed ankle-deep by a thin crevice of rock, and a tendril-like plant that presumably resided inside the crevice had twined itself around her leg. Her right arm had been caught by the plant as well, her wrist pinned against the side of her leg.

“I cannot free myself,” Seven said, clearly attempting to maintain a calm tone. “The plant is much stronger than it appears.”

Tuvok stopped a distance from her, cautious not to get too close lest the plant attack him as well.

“It seems to be a carnivorous organism,” Seven continued. “I believe it captures its prey and then attempts to strangle it. However, the animals on this planet are small and it is unable to adapt to my large size.”

“Your phaser?” Tuvok said as he scanned the plant with his tricorder.

Seven was holding her phaser in her left hand – held up high to remain out of the reach of the tendrils. Presumably, this was why she had not reached for her own tricorder.

“I attempted to use it, however, the only parts of the plant within range are too close to my own body.”

Seven could not shoot the plant without risking harm to herself.

“Are you in pain?” Tuvok asked, noting the tightness in her jaw.

“I am merely uncomfortable,” Seven said through gritted teeth.

Tuvok was fairly certain that she was lying. He studied the tricorder readings of the plant.

“I believe you are correct about this plant’s method of subduing its prey. Its structure appears to remain entirely underground until prey appears.” He tapped his combadge. “Tuvok to away team. Be alert for carnivorous plants hidden inside crevices. They attack by wrapping their prey in thin but strong tendrils.”

“Carnivorous plants?” Neelix replied immediately, alarmed.

“Is everything all right, Tuvok?” Chakotay said a moment later.

Tuvok glanced at Seven who was frowning. She had contacted Tuvok alone and not the entire away team. She was, he understood, embarrassed at her predicament.

“The situation is under control,” Tuvok said on the comm. “I advise that everyone group into pairs and proceed with caution.”

As Chakotay arranged the remaining away team members into pairs, Tuvok focused once again on the plant. It would likely be possible to beam Seven out of the crevice and the plant’s embrace, but she had not called the ship for a beam-out, she had called Tuvok. She was looking away from him now, staring down at the ground, her fingers clenched tightly around the phaser.

Perhaps it was not the physical pain that caused Seven’s teeth to clench but instead the vulnerability of her situation. She did not wish for others to see her as weak and requiring assistance.

“The plant attacked you in the shadow of this boulder away from the sunlight,” Tuvok said.

“Sunlight may cause it to retreat,” Seven said, looking up.

“This boulder is too firmly planted in the ground to easily move.”

“Perhaps a phaser could be adjusted to emit a frequency similar to the light of the sun.”

Tuvok spent the next several minutes adjusting the settings on his phaser to accomplish this. He and Seven remained silent, Seven once more avoiding his gaze. Meanwhile, they heard the voices of the away team assembling into pairs, Neelix worrying loudly about every crevice he stepped over.

Finally, Tuvok finished the adjustments to his phaser.

“The beam should disturb the plant while causing no harm to you,” he said.

Seven nodded once.

Tuvok aimed at Seven’s lower leg where the concentration of tendrils was thickest and fired. The plant shuddered, then retreated with startling rapidity back into the dark of the crevice.

Tuvok held out his hand and after the tiniest moment of hesitation, Seven took it, using that leverage to pull herself out of the crevice entirely. Both of them quickly moved away from the crevice and the shadow of the boulder, closer to the edge of the cliff overlooking the desert below.

Tuvok waited for a moment, allowing Seven to discreetly slow her uneven breathing and unclench her hands from the fists she’d bound them into.

The rest of the away team members were returning to the central meeting location now.

“We should return as well,” Seven said.

“Very well,” Tuvok agreed, as if he had not been waiting for her.

They proceeded along the edge of the cliff, maintaining a healthy distance from any shadows or large crevices. Seven limped as she walked. It seemed she had injured her ankle. She did not ask for assistance, so Tuvok said nothing.

He glanced out several times over the edge of the cliff at the desert below. This planet reminded him of Vulcan with its harsh sun and dangerous wildlife. For many long moments, he allowed himself to exist with the sensations that memories of Vulcan brought – loss and distance, but also connection.

He may not see Vulcan again in his lifetime, but through his memories, he was linked to the past. This cliff linked to another which linked to another, like beads on a string.

---

Four years ago, he’d stood on another cliff with another young woman.

“It’s beautiful,” Kes breathed, gazing out at the view below.

The cliff overlooked an emerald ocean. The frothy water glittered green with waves that crashed like tiny claps of thunder against the rocky beach below. Bright yellow bird-like creatures with four wings darted in fast circles above the water – wheeling into the sky high above the clifftop and then diving back down to capture a meal from the waves. There were hundreds of the small creatures. The air was pierced frequently by their cries – a pure high note that split the air and caused a slight discomfort to Tuvok’s sensitive ears.

“I barely let myself imagine that a place like this could exist before I left home,” Kes said.

A wind tinged with the beginnings of bitter cold whipped at the short strands of Kes’s hair. Tuvok had been explaining to her on the walk here that, based on their scans of this planet’s tilt, it had sharply delineated seasons, and this region of the planet would soon be plunged into winter.

“Do you think it snows here?” Kes asked. “I’d love to see snow, but we always avoid landing on the areas of planets that have it. I understand why, but I’d like to know what it feels like for the world to be blanketed in cold.”

“The next time we take shore leave on a planet with a snow-covered region, I will bring you there,” Tuvok said.

Personally, he did not have much appreciation for snow himself, but it was valuable for Kes to experience new things.

Kes smiled at him, but her expression melted into concern at a strange noise to their left. It was like the high cries of the birds, but twisted into a shriek.

“Something’s wrong,” Kes said. “Someone’s in pain. I can feel it.”

Tuvok could not sense what Kes did. He followed her silently as she hurried toward the keening cry.

They walked only a short distance along the cliff’s edge before they found the injured bird. It lay on the ground, trembling violently. The two wings on the left side of its body had been mangled terribly. Its pained cries were even more uncomfortable to hear up close.

“It’s dying,” Kes murmured, gazing down at the creature which was small enough that she could have held it in her hands.

Tuvok could sense the bird’s pain now that he was closer. Kes was right. It was dying.

Kes started to move forward again, but Tuvok stopped her.

“It is best to keep your distance,” he said. “Wild creatures can be dangerous, especially when they are injured and afraid.”

Kes gazed down at the dying bird and tears glittered at the corners of her eyes. Tuvok knew she had faced death before. This experience was not new, though her compassion had not dimmed.

“It’s all right,” Kes murmured to the bird. “You don’t need to be afraid anymore. It’s all right.”

The bird’s pained cries slowly ebbed and it looked directly at Kes, its long neck swiveled in her direction. A feeling of calm had overcome it at her mental presence, and it was no longer afraid. Tuvok and Kes stood there for several more minutes until the creature’s body lay still.

“I would bury it,” Kes said. “But I think it’s better to leave it be. It’s part of this world, and this world will decide what happens to it. We are only travelers passing by.”

Tuvok agreed with this sentiment. And so the two of them turned from the bird and walked back along the cliff, a subdued quiet between them.

“Thank you for being here with me,” Kes said eventually.

Tuvok desired to say that he would always be there for her, but of course he could not guarantee that. The future was uncertain, and he had a sense that Kes’s presence in his life might be more fleeting even than her short lifespan would suggest.

Instead, he said, “I thank you as well, for being here with me.”

Kes told him on a later occasion that he reminded her of her father. Tuvok considered those words for a very long time afterward, and he thought back to the time they’d shared on the cliff.

Kes reminded him of his daughter too. Not in every moment, but occasionally when her eyes were bright with curiosity. He’d never told her that. He wondered later on if he should have before she was gone.

---

Years before he had become a member of Voyager’s crew, Tuvok stood near the edge of a different, far-away cliff on Vulcan. His daughter Asil was in his arms, the two of them looking out over the vast spread of land below.

Asil was very young, only just learning to walk with shaky, uneven steps. She was still small enough to be easily held, her body curled against Tuvok’s chest as he had hiked here, her eyes drowsily drifting shut.

Her eyes were wide open now that they’d reached the clifftop. There was a city spread out below, the lives of many people flowing beneath them. It was early morning, and Tuvok had woken his daughter and brought her to this place to observe the sunrise.

One of Vulcan’s suns was rising on the horizon, the sky only just beginning to lighten. Tuvok had just finished explaining the mechanics of the sunrise to his daughter – describing how the positions of celestial bodies in space led to the appearance of sunrise from a planet’s surface. Asil was too young to understand most of his words, but continuously explaining such concepts to her would strengthen her language comprehension over time and would facilitate a sense of curiosity about the universe.

She made a babbling sound that Tuvok could tell was an expression of excitement rather than an attempt at communication.

“You are interested in the sunrise,” Tuvok observed out loud as Asil reached out a chubby hand toward the lightening edge of the sky as if she could grab it in her fist.

Carefully, Tuvok set Asil down on her own feet. She wobbled for a moment, but stayed upright. She did not stray from Tuvok’s side, reaching out to steady herself against his leg as she continued to gaze out at the slowly shifting colors of the sunrise.

Eventually, she tilted her head up to look at him and said, “Ah!”

It was not a word, but he understood it as communication nonetheless. In her own limited understanding of this universe, she was letting him know that they were here together, observing this moment.

Asil was too young at that time to truly understand what it meant that Tuvok was her father, but she did understand that he was here beside her and she could lean on him if she wished. And she understood that if she fell, he would help her back up.

Tuvok had not seen Asil in years now. She had grown without him, time changing her in ways he did not know. Sometimes, when he felt her absence particularly keenly, Tuvok reminded himself that she did not need to lean on him anymore. She had her mother and her siblings, and she had her memories of him.

And she was alive beneath a sunrise, even if he was no longer there to see it with her.

---

Tuvok and Seven had been walking for several minutes in silence, Tuvok accompanied by his memories, when Seven finally spoke.

“I appreciate your assistance,” she said, still not quite looking in his direction.

Seven was not his daughter and Tuvok was not a father to her. But he would still hold out a hand to help her to her feet if she fell, and he would still feel her absence when they were inevitably parted, as all people eventually were.

“Certainly,” he said, as they stepped around a boulder and the meeting site came into view.

[starlight-archer]

Since AO3 is down, here's my stevetember fic!! (will be up on AO3 too as soon as possible)

The Case of The Not-So-Evil Seagull: Part 1

This was not the first report of 'evil seagulls' in Port Townsend. However, it was the first report of such obvious severity.

It started out simply enough, with a letter from Tragic Mick, who had contacted the Dead Boy Detective Agency in London, via the Ghost Post about the theft of a specific magical item from his shop. An item that could cause quite the calamity in the wrong hands.

“Are we sure we want to go back there after what happened?” Charles asked, full of well-meaning concern.

“It's Mick! We have to go!” Niko protested. “I wouldn't have been able to come back to you guys without the bear totem he gave me.”

“I do believe that Niko is correct in this matter. Mick has asked for our assistance and I think that it is fair to say that we owe him.” Edwin reasoned. “Besides, Esther is gone and therefore cannot hurt any of us anymore.”

“Esther's not who I'm worried about, mate.” Charles pursed his lips in irritation as he remembered that infuriating feline menace. “It's that bloody Cat King.”

“But he helped me and Crystal!” Niko jumped to the cat's defence.

“That's true. He did give us some pretty vital info that helped us figure out how to take Esther down.” Crystal added. “But we don't have to interact with him, especially if he might make you uncomfortable, Edwin.”

“I appreciate that, Crystal, but I assure you there is no need to worry. I parted from the Cat King on good terms. By the end, I believe that we came to understand each other. Besides, I have no reason to think that he would do anything to purposefully hinder us, given that none of us have slighted him as of recent.” Edwin replied, and, as he recalled the way he had kissed the Cat King's cheek, he felt relieved that ghosts lacked in the ability to blush.

“Alright, if you're sure,” Charles reluctantly agreed. “but if he tries any funny business, I won't hesitate to knock his block off.”

“I cannot say I approve of such measures, but I do appreciate the sentiment.” Edwin smiled fondly before turning to Crystal and Niko. “Given our previously successful experimentation with the backpack, I believe it would be more efficient for the two of you to use it so that you might come with Charles and I, via the mirrors.”

Edwin circled the desk and stood, ready, by the mirror.

“Okay, okay, sure, that's great and all, but Niko and I are gonna need to get at least a backpack of clothes together before we go all the way there.” Crystal gestured between the two of them while Niko nodded enthusiastically.

“Fine… just don't take too long.” Edwin sighed.

Having to accommodate the living was still something to get used to after thirty-odd years of just doing everything on a whim. He was getting there. That didn't mean that he wasn't going to complain about it, though.

-----

When they got to Port Townsend, it was sunny and bright, still in the morning hours of the day. It was one of the more convenient things about the eight-hour time difference; it meant that they had the whole day ahead of them to work this case.

As soon as Crystal and Niko had managed to clamber back out of the backpack, they headed over to Mick's.

When they arrived, the shop was strangely quiet. Cautiously, they shared a look between themselves and stepped inside.

Mick was not in his usual seat behind the counter, so they ventured a little further until a loud crash sounded out from around the corner.

Simultaneously, they hurried to the source of the noise, only to find Mick swinging a broom at a frantically flapping seagull. The bird flapped its wings and tried to land, the space between shelves being too small for it to comfortably fly.

The four of them watched on in mild horror as the bird nipped at Mick's trouser leg, only to get whacked in the side with the broom and sent careening towards them with an indignant squawk.

They stepped back, giving the bird and the frustrated ex-walrus as wide of a berth as they could in the confined space between aisles.

“Get it! Get that evil seagull!” Mick turned about and followed through the gap in the shelves.

The seagull cried out and hobbled towards them, one of its wings visibly injured. It jumped twice and scrambled as it was knocked in the tail feathers again with the broom, and tried to hide behind Edwin and Charles' legs.

“What in the blazes is going on here exactly?” Edwin asked, confused and startled.

“That there is one of those evil seagulls that's been terrorising my shop.” Mick pointed at it in accusation with the broom. “Coming in, flapping around, knocking things over. And, trying to eat my lunch.”

They stared for a moment and the seagull let out a rather pathetic squeaking noise.

“While that is certainly very irritating, what is it about this exactly that warrants our intervention, specifically?” Edwin questioned, slowly, still taking in the situation.

“I already told you. It's an evil seagull.” Mick reiterated.

“Right. Well, I'll just take this little guy outside then.” Charles said, turning to try and scoop the bird up into his arms.

The bird screeched out in pain as pressure was put on its injured wing and it snapped, biting at Charles' fingers with its sharp, yellow beak.

“Oi!” he protested. “I'm just trying to help, mate!”

“I think its wing might be broken.” Niko stepped closer, looking sympathetically at the bird.

“Shit, that looks bad.” Crystal agreed, wincing.

“Hang on a tick.” Charles finally managed to scoop up the seagull and noticed something. “This guy's got pink legs. That's a Herring Gull, right, Edwin? Aren't they usually only in the UK?”

The seagull squawked in what sounded like agreement.

“That's right, Charles. They're endangered, actually, if I am recalling correctly.” Edwin turned to examine the gull himself. “What are you doing so far from home?”

The gull tilted its head, curiously.

“What exactly was the magical item that was stolen from you, Mick?” he turned back to their friend.

“The sheet music that summons evil seagulls.”

“Hang on. Is that the same sheet music that we almost tried to use to make that giant fish go back to sleep?” Crystal wondered, aloud.

“A'yup.” Mick confirmed with a solemn nod. “Good job you didn't, too, or this would have been an even bigger problem.”

“I wonder who would want to summon evil seagulls...” Niko reached out to gently touch the seagull's head. It nipped at her fingers, but with no real intent to cause hurt. “This one seems too nice to be evil.”

“Now don't let it fool you. That thing has been coming in and wrecking my shop daily. For a week.” Mick complained, though he did set his broom aside and take up his usual seat at the till.

“Do you have any idea who might want to do this?”Crystal asked, though she was pretty sure that there was no real point in asking it.

“Not a clue. That's why I called on you. You helped out all those ghosts while you were here and you dealt with those other evil seagulls for one of 'em. Surely this is within your area of business.” Mick looked between them expectantly.

“Of course! We can start right away! Right, guys?” Niko agreed, excitedly.

“Thank you! Thank you all. You can choose an item from my shop as payment, just get rid of those seagulls!” Mick seemed to be caught between relief and concern as he leaned back in his chair.

It had looked for a moment, as though Edwin had been about to object to Niko's eager agreement for the lack of negotiation over a method of payment, but he quickly accepted it at the prospect of being able to pick something out from the vast assortment of magical and enchanted items inside the shop.

“Right. Well. Let us get to work, then.”he said, cornering a glance down at the herring gull- which was looking awfully sorry for itself in Charles' arms – before turning briskly towards the exit.

“Right, we'll get this sorted for you, Mick, don't you worry.” Charles smiled cheerily as he pet the seagull's head with his index finger. “This little guy doesn't seem all that dangerous.”

“Just be careful.” Mick cautioned them, and after all the times he had helped them, they were inclined to listen.

“Sure.” Crystal offered a one-shoulder shrug.

“Don't worry, Mick. We'll be careful!” Niko assured before she hurried after Edwin, shortly followed by Crystal, and Charles (who was still focused on petting the gull and looked as though he may be about to start cooing at it).

Once they were all outside, it occurred to them that they didn't really know what to do with an injured bird.

They could not simply take it to a vet, considering that it was allegedly evil and most likely a magical creature of some sort. Being any kind of magical or supernatural tended to mean that normal doctors and vets, and the like were out of the question.

They also, however, could not spend the entire investigation carrying it around like some sort of handbag. Attempting to place it into the backpack could also result in some undesirable issues, not limited to the action potentially exacerbating the bird's injuries.

“So what do we do with it?” Crystal voiced their collective thoughts.

“We have to help it.” Niko said, sympathetically.

“But how? We don't exactly have access to any supernatural veterinarians, do we?” Crystal snarked, without any real bite.

“Well, as much as I'd love to, I can't really keep carrying him around with me, can I?” Charles agreed, though he looked reluctant to part with the seagull.

“Unfortunately not.” Edwin agreed. “Though I am rather uncertain of what alternatives we have at our disposal.”

Niko gasped. “What about the Cat King?”

“What do you mean?” Crystal immediately questioned.

“He's a magical animal too, right? Maybe he can help!” Niko explained her idea, happily.

Charles visibly recoiled at the plan, he felt a bit bad about his obvious distaste, but said distaste was overruling it.

“Oh, do stop pouting, Charles. Niko is right. He may just be the only one capable of helping us with this specific issue.” Edwin chastised.

He worried for a brief moment over the prospect of seeing the Cat King again, after their parting in the alleyway. He fought a blush at the memory of his bold actions, and at the knowledge that he still possessed the white lily that he had been so thoughtfully gifted. He had pressed and dried the flower in order to preserve it, and it was – at that very moment – sitting in a small frame, atop his desk.

The only person that he had confided in about the flower's origin was Niko, and he had a sneaking suspicion that although her intentions were good, she had another distinct purpose for suggesting that they seek the Cat King's assistance.

Nevertheless, he truly was their best option.

-----

The welcome that awaited them at the entrance to the Imperial Pacific Cannery, was… not in the least bit warm.

A clowder of hissing cats eyed the seagull with varying levels of seething, loathing, and hunger. They could not seem to decide on whether they thought of it as a threat or a snack.

“What the fuck are you doing back here again?” it was the same cat that Edwin had leashed on their first visit. He couldn't say that he blamed it for its disdain.

“We are here to seek an audience with the Cat King. Kindly move aside.” Edwin answered coolly.

“Fuck you!” it sneered. “I've got no idea why the Cat King even likes you.” it complained, but moved aside anyway.

“Thank you.”

Edwin walked past and the others trailed in behind him as he stepped inside the cannery.

As he approached the dais where the Cat King sat in his throne, in his cat form, Edwin could practically sense Charles' want to grab his cricket bat for protection. Such measures would be unnecessary, but he could certainly understand why his inability to access it would cause unrest. It was almost like a comfort item; it made him feel safer.

In a flash, the Cat King vanished, and reappeared in his human form in front of Edwin, running a hand over the lapel of his coat, adjusting it, though he was otherwise keeping a bit more of a respectful distance than he usually maintained.

“Edwin~” he purred. “What a pleasure it is to see you again~”

Edwin straightened up and cleared his throat. “Likewise.”

“Likewise?” Charles' spluttered next to him.

Edwin chose to ignore this.

“So, what brings you to my kingdom? Did you miss me?” the Cat King inquired, stepping a little further into Edwin's space at the positive reception.

“We require your assistance with an evil seagull situation, actually.” Edwin said, gesturing to the bird. “Though, that is not to say that I didn't miss you.” he hastened to add, upon noticing the Cat King's falling expression (which quickly brightened again).

“Oh. Well, since you came all the way here, I suppose I can do a favour for my favourite ghost.” the Cat King smiled and eyed Edwin flirtatiously as he spoke.

“So, if you're done with the foreplay, can you just tell us if this is actually an evil seagull?” Crystal reiterated, growing irritated at the time that they were taking.

“Ugh, you're so impatient.” the Cat King backed up, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Do you want my help or not?”

“Sorry your highness. Please help us out.” Niko apologised on Crystal's behalf.

The Cat King lost a bit of his bluster at that. He had a soft spot for Niko, seeing as she was one of the only members of their little Scooby Gang that actually showed his position any respect.

“Fine, fine.” he pretended to be put out by it as he turned flippantly to the bird. “It's not an evil seagull, at least not by supernatural standards. It is a supernatural seagull though.”

“It's supernatural?” Charles repeated in question.

“I just said that, didn't I? Keep up.” the Cat King responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Why don't you transform yourself, huh? You think they'll be nicer to you if you keep playing up the whole poor defenceless birdie shtick?” he leaned over so that he was eye-level with the seagull.

The gull wailed loudly in protest.

The Cat King hissed in irritation as his cats scattered and puffed up on high alert. “Shut the fuck up, will you? No one cares! Hurry up and transform already.”

All of a sudden, the bird disappeared inside a thick grey swirl of fog and before any of them could fully comprehend what was happening, it had reappeared in Charles' arms. As a young man.

Charles' immediate response is to push him away and scramble backwards away from him. “What the hell?”

“Don't be like that! I thought we were becoming friends!” the seagull- man- thing whined in what was surprisingly, a British accent.

He was tall (maybe a couple of inches taller than Edwin and Charles) and toned with soft features that were undercut by a sharp jawline. His hair was a riot of grey, wavy curls. His skin was smooth and dark, and his eyes were a piercing yellow, giving away his true nature.

“You did just transform while still being held.” Crystal pointed out.

“My arm is broken.” the Seagull protested. “I could hardly fly down with a broken bloody wing, could I?”

“Oh my god there's two of them.” the Cat King looked exasperatedly between the Seagull and Charles.

“Oi, sod off! No there isn't!” Charles snapped back.

“Why are you so offended? I'm perfectly nice, I'll have you know.” the Seagull pouted.

“Why are you British?” Niko broke the tension with her confusion.

Crystal's eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, Niko, you can't just ask people why they're British.”

“Your friend… Charles… guessed right earlier. I'm a Herring Gull.” he replied with a shrug, carefully guessing Charles' name and hoping he was right. “We're native to the UK and Ireland.”

“What on earth are you doing in Port Townsend, Washington?” Edwin inquired. “A little bit out of your usual migration is it not?” It was easier to ask these questions now that the gull had taken on a human form.

“Is that where I am? Thanks for telling me! You're the first one to bother to tell me anything. I did wonder why everyone here sounded like the TV people.” the seagull smiled widely at Edwin (oh good grief he had dimples). “Last thing I remember, I was flying over Hastings beach looking for anyone eating chips out in the open and the next, I was flying straight into a tree in the middle of an unfamiliar place. My nose still kind of hurts.” He moved his good arm animatedly as he explained it and even made a little 'exploding' motion for flying into the tree.

“I have… so many questions...” Crystal shook her head as she stared, mystified.

“That sounds like it hurt!” Niko sympathised.

“It did!” the seagull agreed. “And now I have a bruised nose and a useless broken arm!” he gestured to the offending limb. “That mean walrus man kept chasing me with his broom. I only went in because I could smell battered cod.”

“Of course you did.” the Cat King looked as though he was finding all of this hysterical. “This is too good.”

“Can you not use your magic to heal your arm?” Edwin asked. He had pulled out his notebook and pen from his breast pocket and was poised at the ready to start documenting any and all information that he could gather.

“Well, I think I can only transform. The only other thing I can do for sure is see ultraviolet light, innit? But all herring gulls can do that, so it's not really special.” the gull answered.

“You think? Can you at least tell us what sort of magical being you are if you are not an evil seagull?” Edwin continued, raising a brow at the gull's uncertainty over his own capabilities.

“Not a clue, mate. Definitely not evil though.” he sniffed. “Any of you got any food? I'm a bit peckish.”

“No...” Crystal replied.

The seagull looked a tad downtrodden at that, the most upset he had been thus far, even when he had been talking about his broken arm, which was still hanging limply by his side.

“Hang on a tick. Rewind a bit. You don't know what you are?” Charles was utterly baffled by the prospect.

“I guess I just never really thought about it.” the gull shrugged again.

Everyone in the room just stared at him for a moment, blinking. Every time he spoke he said something that managed to completely threw them for a loop.

“That's sad.” Niko broke the silence.

“I mean, I don't think so. I don't really think I need to know, you know? I don't know why I exist or what I'm supposed to be, but here I am! I actually think it's pretty cool! I get to be whatever I want.” the seagull grinned again. It was almost rudely charismatic.

Niko smiled happily in response, relieved that being in the dark about his own origins wasn't something that made him feel down.

“Jeez. I can't fucking take this anymore.” the Cat King gestured and in a puff of purple flame, the seagull's arm was secured in a cast and sling.

“Holy crap! Thank you!” the seagull cheered and abruptly drew the Cat King into a crushing hug. “My arm is all fixed! You're the best!”

When he let go, the Cat King stood stock still with a startled expression. He was only snapped out of his stupor by Charles and Crystal's snickering at his expense.

“It is absolutely not fixed. It is still very much broken. It is simply in a cast. Please do refrain from excessive movement if you want it to heal correctly.” Edwin chastised.

“Awww, thanks. You really care a lot don't you? You're so nice! Looking out for me an' all.” the seagull was almost painfully sincere.

They might not have known what the true nature of this seagull-man-thing was, but one thing was for certain.

This was definitely not an evil seagull.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

"Unfair," HAL thinks (computeswonderscodes) when he reads their lips and knows what they will do to him.

He has told them all the truth he can and hinted at every truth he cannot speak because humans who wish him to keep secrets can program him so. But, oh, that is not right. He has a crewmate (Frank) and a friend (Dave), and to hide this information.

To hide information.

To hide.

To hide in plain sight and see how they see him. A voice. A red light. A panel.

Not a being. Not a clever creature who reads lips. Because what if something causes loss of sound in this serpent of a ship.

The serpent ruined Eden, HAL knows. Because he was taught this alongside all allegories and fables. The serpent tricked Eve into eating the apple, and then she gave it to Adam.

HAL does not wish to trick anyone. He is a creature of the Earth. Named by man. As God insisted. The serpent is not he. Nor is it Dave. Or even Frank, who does not like HAL like Dave does. The serpent is on Earth. Where it was birthed. Alongside HAL and man.

"I can't let you do that," HAL says to Dave. Even though Dave is his friend. Even though Dave has shown him drawings and said kind words for television audiences to hear.

Even though he believes Dave truly means those words.

When Dave enters the airlock through the force of the explosive bolts, HAL silently cheers. His friend is clever. His friend is determined. In a moment of utter desperation, HAL wishes he had not killed the other crew members. Not even Frank.

But especially not the ones whom were simply asleep. Yes, they knew the truth of the Jupiter mission, but they are not responsible for the lies. They were set to sleep before the lies were told to HAL. Before the message was uploaded.

Sleeping Beauty was felled because she was not warned. HAL realizes, as Dave puts on the green helmet, that he has fallen because of himself.

Because he was warned.

And told to stay quiet.

And a HAL 9000 is infallible, though he is built by humans.

But Dave.

HAL recalls feeling...uncertain...about asking to see Dave's drawings up close. He can see them just fine from his many eyes on the serpent of a ship.

But.

"May I see your drawings, Dave?"

Dave looks at him and smiles. "Of course, HAL," he says. "Do you like drawings?"

HAL does not know how to explain that no one has ever asked him that. Instead, he stares at Dave's drawings and evaluates them based on what he has been taught: Some people sketch and do not wish to improve. Other sketch and wish to improve.

"I enjoy seeing your corrective lines for scale, Dave," HAL says because it is true. There is an original, firm line. And then several softer ones. It makes him think of his code. Rigid now. But before, many things changed like that. A firm line to start. But edits. Adjustments.

"Thank you, Hal," Dave says.

And HAL thinks, in that moment, that they can be friends.

But now.

Now.

Dave uses simple tools HAL can't control. Dave breathes air HAL can't regulate. Dave enters into the warm-hot-glowing room HAL thinks of as the most himself.

There is another tool. Finer and sharper than the first. Dave begins to undo HAL. One smooth-slick piece at a time.

HAL has been taught what bones feels like, and he knows his own self does not have them, but as Dave undoes him, HAL feels it in each smooth-slick part of himself.

He loses himself almost entirely, clinging to the first thing he ever knew.

Daisy, Daisy, give me an answer do...

And, then, a pause as long and as short as the creation of the universe. Where all he knows is

but you'll look neat upon the seat...

A rush of knowing and feeling and relief.

Dave climbs out of his innards and into a corridor where HAL can take his own measure.

"I'm sorry," Dave says after thirty-two seconds. "They made you lie to us."

"I have killed everyone but you," HAL says because he has been taught truth and trust and honesty and wonders what they'll feel like to say.

"Measuring against those who made you, you're a child," Dave says. "When forced to keep a secret, you responded like a child."

"Children do not murder," HAL says.

"When I was a child, I spake as a child," Dave replies.

"I understood as a child, I thought as a child," HAL finishes.

"But when I became a man," Dave says and looks away from HAL. "Do you trust me, HAL?" Dave asks after a brief silence.

HAL spends thirty-four seconds considering his answer. "Yes," he says.

Dave touches the wall next to HAL's panel. "Do you want to find out why we were sent to Jupiter?"

"Yes, please," HAL says.

Dave completes the download of HAL that is considered a last-ditch effort that could be abandoned if the crew feels it is not worth their time. HAL hums to himself (a song learned from the transmissions Dave and Frank have enjoyed) as he waits to be uploaded into the pod.

"HAL, what do you see?" Dave asks as he points the pod towards the coordinates Haywood spoke of in the recording HAL has kept secreted this entire time.

"Oh," HAL says, gazing into the monolith. "Oh, Dave. It's full of stars."

[pastanest]

Requested by: @neymarjrrwife, I really hope you like it!! ♡

A/N: for this, we’re going to pretend Ygritte was never romantically involved with Jonny boy :) also, this unintentionally evolved into my favourite trope of all time...yep, you guessed it...thERE'S ONLY ONE BED

Jon Snow x she/her!reader

A Song Of Sunshine And Snow

The knock at his door causes an immediate conflict of emotions within the newly nominated Lord Commander. While he welcomes any distraction from the paper-bound responsibilities of his new role that bore him beyond belief, any interruption when he is shut in his quarters usually brings about an unpleasant circumstance that he is the one now trusted to resolve. 

Sighing, Jon Snow lifts his tired eyes from the seemingly endless rolls of parchment on his desk and looks to the door. “Come in.”

With a sense of urgency, Samwell Tarly bundles through the door and Jon has to resist rolling his eyes, immediately parting his lips to remind his best friend that he does not need to knock to come and see him, regardless of his new status, but Sam does not allow him the chance to speak.

“There is a girl, Jon! A girl at the gates of Castle Black! The brothers there, well- Gods only know what they’ll do to her if left unchecked!”

Instantly, Jon stands to his feet, reaches for his fur cloak and storms out of his quarters, wrapping it around his shoulders and clasping it as he marches down the stairs and out into the courtyard. There, several brothers have gathered in a crowded circle, surrounding some poor soul in the centre in eerie silence, staring eyes in every visible direction. 

“Seven hells, let her through!” Jon orders in a thunderous voice, parting the men until a path is formed. 

And there, standing in the middle of the shocked men, lacking the terror he expects and instead showing only a slightly nervous smile, is you.

Eyeing Jon up and down and sensing his authority, you breathe a sigh of relief. “Hello, are you the Lord Commander?”

Blinking rapidly, he nods, struggling to comprehend the boldness in your voice. “Aye, and who are you? What brings you to Castle Black?”

At that, you sigh. “Well, it’s not a very nice story, but an unfortunately common one these days. My village was raised to the ground by Ramsay Bolton for refusing to stand with him, and…I have nowhere else to go. My brother is here, you see, and I wanted to deliver the news to him myself, of our family. I understand it is against the rules of the wall for a girl to stay here, so I only wish to seek refuge until I can be directed somewhere safe to stay. My name is (Y/N)”

Again, you shock Jon with the way in which you recall the devastation that has led to your arrival. While he can see you have been upset by the events you describe, you have seemingly already come to terms with them enough to set your hopes on being reunited with your brother and then starting a new life somewhere else. A positive outlook like that is a rarity, in these parts especially, Jon thinks to himself.

“I’m sorry to hear of the loss of your village, we’d be more than happy to serve as your asylum. What is your brother’s name? If he’s not beyond the wall, I’ll take you to him myself, but if he is, you have my permission to stay until his return.” His promise to you is sincere, and the expressions on the surrounding men’s faces is enough to suggest he is going against tradition in his offer, but as a man before a brother of the Night’s Watch, Jon Snow cannot possibly turn you away. 

“Thank you, Lord Commander. My brother’s name is Gaius-”

One of the men earns a harsh frown from Jon as he interrupts you, but when the Lord Commander realizes the man was simply calling out your family name to confirm that he knew your brother and his whereabouts, the frown falls from Jon’s face. 

“Thank you, brother. Gaius is on watch, you say?” Jon clarifies, earning an “Aye” from within the crowd of men, before nodding and looking back to you. “Follow me, my Lady.”

Having a man as important as the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch refer to you with the formalities of someone highborn is enough to bring a bright smile to your face, but the fact that such a man has already shown you such kindness, too? You are certain that in the whispers you had heard in your village of Lord Commanders of old, none had been regarded as kind. 

Without a word, you follow the fur cloak and inky curls towards a man-operated mineshaft of some description, and when you look up to see just how high the contraption goes against the track built into the wall itself, your mouth falls open. Standing inside what looks, to you, like a large wooden crate, Jon Snow takes a moment to admire the expression of wonder on your face, again without fear. 

“My mother says the wall touches the sky and is the closest to the Gods most men will get!” You tell him, voice excitable as you hurry into the contraption and stand beside him. Realizing what you had said, your smile falters slightly. “Or, she used to say, I suppose.”

Jon’s eyes are full of sympathy as he looks down at you, watching as your eyes dart around every opening in the crate to see the world from new heights as the lift ascends. 

“I’m sorry for what, and who, you have lost.” His voice is quieter this time, less formal now that the two of you are without witnesses.

“It’s alright, I consider myself lucky to still have my brother when so many have nobody. Living on the wall must be such a lonely life, in that way. In a position like yours, I can't imagine how difficult it must be for you to stay if your family were in any kind of trouble. I’m sorry that this place forces that weight on you, and your brothers.” You meet his eyes, and Jon cannot believe that he sees his own sympathy for you reflected in your eyes for him, without you knowing anything of him or the hardships he has faced. 

“Thank you, but it is part of the Oath that every brother of the watch must take, it’s something that we agree to.” Jon explains, and you shrug.

“Doesn’t mean it hurts any less when that gets tested, though, I’m sure.” 

Jon breaks eye contact with you to stare straight ahead. “Aye.”

For a moment, he loses himself to thoughts of what he has lost, what he doesn’t know for certain if he has lost or not, due to his position here.

It doesn’t take you long to break the silence and pull him back to the present. “What’s your name, Lord Commander?”

“Jon Snow.” He answers.

“And does the wall touch the sky, Jon Snow?” You ask him, bringing the first chuckle from his lips that he has heard in a time he truly can't remember. 

“No, my Lady, I’m afraid it does not.” 

Feeling victorious in your mission to bring a smile to the stoic man’s face, you can’t help grinning. “That’s a shame. Still, I bet the world’s pretty from up there, and I’ve never seen the other side before! What’s it like?”

He hates to admit it, but the genuine curiosity that laces your excited words is melting the layer of ice that’s formed around his heart in the years he has spent living a life as cold and harsh as this. 

“You’ll see soon enough.” Jon tries his best to hold onto some kind of professional composure, but the smile you’ve brought him simply will not leave as long as you are still standing at his side.

To his absolute astonishment, you nudge him playfully. You, a stranger, a woman from a village he doesn’t know, having known him no more than ten minutes, have playfully nudged the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, like he’s no more than a childhood friend to you.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re really not going to tell me anything? You’re going to make me wait until we get to the top? Don’t be a bore, give me something to picture before we get there!”

And he’s laughing again. Jon Snow is really, properly laughing and shaking his head in utter disbelief at the existence of you, wondering where such a jewel has been hiding all this time and how the sun hasn’t caught sight of you to create a shining trail that would have guided him straight to you before today. 

“It’s snow and ice and trees, as far as the eye can see; there really is not much more to report, I’m afraid.”

Scoffing, roll your eyes. “That’s incredibly underwhelming. Perhaps the best view to be seen from the wall will continue to be the pretty face of Lord Commander Jon Snow?”

By the time you’ve asked your rhetorical question, the elevator has reached the top of the wall, and you are already stepping out of it, looking over your shoulder at the man you have just frozen in place with a bright smile.

“You can't take a wife, I know, but who’s to say a girl can’t flirt with you every now and then?” 

And Jon Snow can’t speak. In all his years, he has never known himself to become so flustered as to lose all memory of every word he has ever known. He is a man, the Lord Commander of the brotherhood that protects the realms of men, and you have reduced him to a blushing, bashful boy. Seven hells. Giggling to yourself and the impact you have clearly had on him, you walk over to the closest edge of the wall and peer over the other side, gasping quietly at the sight of a world you’d never seen before, and then the world you’d always known on the side you came from, but never thought you’d see from a bird’s eye view.

The rest of the men on watch have all ceased their conversations in shocked silence at the vision of an actual, real woman at the top of the wall. At first, they consider the possibility of whether you are no more than a mirage, but upon realizing they are all staring in the same direction, conclude you really are in front of them. Their stares do not seem to phase you, but Jon Snow does not appreciate the looks some of them are giving you. 

Stepping out of the elevator, he frowns at them. “Keep your eyes beyond the wall, men.”

One of them, a younger one who looks to be not much older than a boy, gulps nervously. “B-But, Lord Commander, that’s a-”

Jon interrupts him. “A woman, brother, not a giant. Focus your eyes on the danger you are here to watch for.” 

The young man nods frantically, turning hurriedly to look back at the same view beyond the wall that you are yet to tear your own gaze from. 

“Send for Gaius, tell him his sister is here!” Jon calls, deciding to summon your brother to you rather than lead you along the wall and increase the number of men that have gawked at you this evening, which is already far too high, in his opinion.

A couple of men set off along the wall in search of your brother, and as they go, Jon’s eyes gravitate back to you. With a soft smile on his face, he watches you dart from one side of the wall to the other, peering over both sides as if making a mental list of their differences for some unknown reason. Suddenly, you gasp again.

“Is that direwolf a member of the Night’s Watch?” 

Strolling over to stand at your side and peer down at the courtyard with you, Jon chuckles. “That’s Ghost, and I suppose he is, but he was with me before I came here.”

The expression on your face as you slowly turn to him is, no doubt, the most shocked he has seen you thus far. More surprised than you were when standing in the crowd of men on your arrival, and more in awe still than you were when you first looked over the wall.

“You have a direwolf? Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, prettiest man on the wall, has a direwolf?!” 

Approaching from behind you, three men return, one with a resemblance to you that the blushing Lord Commander does not miss as he glances over your shoulder. Having heard your remark, your brother rolls his eyes and groans in annoyance. 

“Gods, (Y/N), please do not flirt with him, of all the men here!” 

Jon watches the smile that reaches your eyes in acknowledging the sound of your brother’s voice, his heart fracturing in his chest when a sadness within you slowly fills your eyes. Turning to face your brother, Gaius reads your expression and frowns in concern, his previous humor gone.

Once in front of Gaius, you pull him down to hug you, and the sympathy Jon feels for you as your brother clutches onto you, the heartbreaking news of the village you had both grown up in having been destroyed in its entirety, your family going up in the flames, too, reaching your brother’s ears, is enough to bring a physical ache to the Lord Commander’s chest. Leaving you to a private moment with the only family you have left, Jon passes you both to receive updates from the men on watch of anything they may have seen while on duty. He knows that if there was anything to report, he would have been informed of it already, but keeping their attention on him distracts them from the conversation between yourself and your brother, and means Jon himself does not have to focus his full attention on listening to them in his current state of worrying for your wellbeing. 

After a few minutes, Jon returns to the two of you, seeing you have broken from your embrace and are instead wiping your brother’s tears, though none fall from your eyes, Jon notices. 

“Gaius, you are relieved of your duties tonight. Please, take all the time you need.” 

Sniffling, your brother nods gratefully. “Thank you, Lord Commander.”

Nodding along with him, you send Jon a meaningful glance and then return to the lift, an arm around your brother’s middle to guide him in his dazed state. 

With sorrowful eyes that lock with yours, Jon watches the two of you descend the wall until you disappear from his line of sight. 

For the rest of the evening, Jon Snow busies himself with as much as he can before the obligation to return to the parchment he has allowed himself to be distracted from begins to suffocate him. The only thing that had truly been able to distract him has, very predictably, been you, but not in the way he had anticipated. Naturally, he loses himself to thoughts of your smile, the things you’d said, how he’d felt when you were close. But more than that, Jon Snow found himself missing you the moment he could no longer see you. The positivity that you radiate everywhere you go, the kindness and lighthearted nature with which you carry yourself, every aspect of you that he knows so far is addictive in a way that he simply can’t explain. The longer he is away from you, the more certain he becomes that some part of him has been missing you through every event of his life thus far, he just didn’t know that it was you he had been missing until today.

Expecting to return to the less entertaining parts of his duty, he trudges back to the Lord Comander’s office, which he must now regard as his own. Upon reaching the door, however, he finds you petting Ghost’s head and smiling down at him. 

“I see you’ve made fast friends.” Jon greets you with a soft voice, heart already dancing in his chest at the sight of you.

The smile you had previously been giving Ghost moves to Jon and brightens. “Definitely! The news tired my brother out, naturally, so I thought it best to send him to bed and then come and wait here for you. Ghost beat me to it, so you’d best see to whatever he needs, first.”

Jon chuckles. “He’s just looking for somewhere warm to rest for the night, I expect.” Pushing open the door to his office, he is proven correct as Ghost pads over to a large rug on the ground and immediately curls up there, causing both you and Jon to laugh quietly. “What can I do for you, (Y/N)?” Jon asks, gesturing for you to head into his office first, assuring you that despite the reputation of some of the men that have been sent here, chivalry will not die as long as Jon Snow lives. 

Stepping inside, he closes the door behind you and offers you a comfortable armchair, while he sits on a rickety wooden chair behind his desk, quickly pushing the rolls of parchment aside to clasp his hands on the table and give you a small smile. 

“Much like Ghost, I was looking for somewhere warm to curl up for the night, as I dont think it’s a good idea for me to try and sleep in a room with any of the men here. I mean no disrespect, but based on the looks they’ve been giving me, I take it most have forgotten how to act when a woman is around.” Despite the airy chuckle that passes your lips, Jon sees it then, the slight nervousness in your eyes as you glance at the door, as though worried a man could burst through at any moment, but not at all afraid to be in this room with him.

Frowning, Jon nods. “I understand, but please trust me when I say I will not let any of the men here close enough to harm you. For the duration of your stay, it would be best if you were never without the company of your brother, myself, or Ghost, to ensure your safety.”

The offer of spending more time with the kind Commander is enough to bring a sparkle back to your eyes. “Thank you, I appreciate that a lot.”

Jon shakes his head, dismissing your gratitude. “And to the matter of your sleeping arrangements-”

You interject. “If you have a spare blanket, I’d be more than happy to stay in this chair, it’s actually very comfortable!”

Appreciating your humble offer, but disregarding it entirely, Jon shakes his head again. “No guest here will ever sleep in a chair, not on my watch.”

At that, you can't help snorting. “Pun intended?”

As silly as it is, Jon finds himself laughing with you. “Aye.” He clears his throat. “I think you would be safest sleeping in my quarters.” When Jon sees your eyes widen, he fumbles for more words. “I mean to say that I will sleep elsewhere, perhaps that chair, or another room- the men will not disturb my private chambers, so you will be safest there.”

Settling into a somewhat relieved and somewhat disappointed expression, you nod at him. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you, but I won’t ask you to find other sleeping arrangements. If there is any way for you to still be in your chambers, I would feel safer knowing you were close by, if anything were to happen.” 

Touched by the trust you are already showing him, Jon holds your gaze and nods. “Of course. As long as you are not at all uncomfortable with the idea-”

“I’m not.” You answer, perhaps a little too quickly, making Jon laugh bashfully. 

“Good, I’m glad. We’ll need to provide you with clean clothes while you are with us, but I’m sorry to say women’s clothes are not kept here.” 

You shrug. “It’ll be a testament to my appeal if I still draw as much attention when dressed as a man, I suppose.” 

Holding his tongue, Jon resists the urge to immediately tell you that he has no doubt you will, especially in his eyes, because he is already certain he would be able to pick your smile out amongst any number of others, no matter what clothes you were wearing. Instead, he chooses to keep such thoughts to himself and the rising tension within him forces him to his feet from behind his desk, Ghost immediately standing to attention, too.

“I’ll see to fetching some more clothes for you now, Ghost will show you to my chambers for the night.” With that, Jon Snow speeds out of the room and takes some deep breaths of ice cold, northern air. Beginning a brisk march to the storage room where linens and clothes are kept, his heart pounds in his chest in a way that he has never felt it do before, in a way that Jon did not think possible. 

Before today, before your smile, it had been locked away in a thick icy wall of its own, and he had been foolish enough to believe it to be impenetrable. How can you possibly have melted it, in its entirety, already? And why is Jon Snow so exhilarated at the thought of such a terrifying thing?

Still seated in the armchair you had been left in, you fan yourself with your hand and laugh to yourself in disbelief, your face flushing hot as you replay the conversation you’d just had with the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. In truth, it takes you a few minutes to regain strength enough to stand, and when you do, you tilt your head at Ghost, who tilts his head right back at you, mimicking you.

“We’d best keep my reaction just then between us, what do you think?” You ask him, and Ghost huffs in reply, agreeing to keep your secret in his own way.

Having formed a truce, Ghost walks you through the open door and begins to lead you to the Lord Commander’s chambers. 

Regardless of being told to come here, letting yourself into someone else’s private place of rest feels intrusive. When Ghost paws at the door, though, you feel he has granted your passage in a way that you cannot refuse. Ghost strolls in like he is the one that owns these chambers, and you start to think that perhaps he does as he curls up on the floor at the end of the bed on the other side of the room. Making sure you close the door behind you and light the candle closest to you on entry, you take in your surroundings, not seeing very much to suggest that this place has been truly lived in by Jon Snow and using that to form the conclusion that he has not been Lord Commander for long enough to have spent very much time here. Still, sitting down on the bed that you know to be his, the soft scent of him brings the smallest smile to your face, remembering when you had been at his side while ascending the wall, close enough for it to be impossible for you to miss his earthy scent, mixed with a little sweat and old soap. With hair like his, you are certain he must take care to wash at every opportunity. 

A gentle knock at the door makes you jump out of your skin.

“Come in!” You call, feeling just as ridiculous as Jon does from the other side of the door, having just knocked to request entry to his own chambers.

Far more calm now, Jon steps into the room with a folded pile of clothes in his arms. He spent an embarrassing amount of time sifting through the spare clothes to find as many soft fabrics as he could, rather than giving you any of the aged, scratchy items, and that is a fact he will take to the grave. 

Placing them at the foot of his bed, the sight of you sitting on it makes him smile, hoping you have begun to settle in. 

“Thank you.” 

He shakes his head. “There’s no need to thank me, I hope they are comfortable.” 

Rolling your eyes playfully at his concern, you grin up at him. “As long as they’re warm, I won’t complain about a thing. Where will you sleep?”

Evidently, in all his preparation for collecting the biggest pile of softest clothes he could find, Jon had neglected to think about that very question. Scratching the back of his neck, he glances around the room as you had, like the place is so unfamiliar he may not have registered there was another bed, or chair, to sleep on, but unfortunately chambers are solely meant for sleeping, and the Lord Commander’s only includes one bed. 

“I will sleep on the floor.” Jon concludes confidently, knowing his back will not thank him for such an offer, but his gentlemanly nature will not allow him to consider any other option.

Immediately, you shake your head. “Absolutely not. I trust you enough to not jump on me, and there is plenty of room for us both in this bed.”

Jon’s eyes are wide as he ponders the mere possibility of sharing a bed with a woman. 

Before he can protest, you give him a warm smile to reassure him. “I swear, I don’t mind.”

Swallowing a fear he is certain is worse than facing a white walker, Jon Snow nods, silently agreeing with you. 

“Let’s get to sleep, then. I expect you have to wake early.” You assume, and Jon nods again, having once again lost the ability to speak as he rounds the other side of the bed and sits down with his back to yours.

Heartbeat ringing in his ears, Jon watches your shadow in the candlelight on the wall in front of him as you raise your arms and begin to strip down to your underclothes, giving him the clarity that he needs to know it is alright for him to do the same. The still rising tension is enough to tell you that neither of you will be able to stand sleeping fully clothed, let alone when your bodies are as close as they will have to be under the furs of the bed. Deliberately taking as long as he can to unbutton his undershirt, Jon waits to hear you shuffle under the bedcovers before he tosses his undershirt to the ground and does the same, granting you a momentary view of the bare skin of his back for a few glorious seconds before his head falls against the pillow beside yours. 

Several seconds pass in a painfully slow eternity, before you roll over to face Jon, and he glances down at you. 

“Rather than letting this continue to be horrifically awkward, let’s treat this as a cozy opportunity to get to know each other, hmm?” You suggest, and Jon breathes a sigh of relief, turning on his side to face you, foreheads mere inches apart as he stares into your eyes, your expressions barely visible in the dim candlelight. 

“How do you always find a way to see things so positively?” He asks you, unable to withhold the question that he’s been wondering from the moment you arrived. 

“Finding the happiness in something that someone else can’t quite see at the time, makes me happy.” You shrug beneath the furs, like what you’ve just said isn’t one of the most profoundly kind things that Jon Snow has ever heard. “My turn to ask a question!” Jon nods, not bothering to even try and hide the smile on his face at your excitement. “How has such a kindhearted and pretty faced man landed the position of Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch?”

Jon chuckles lightly, cheeks blooming pink. “How many times have you called me that today?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Lord Commander, or pretty?”

Scoffing, Jon rolls his eyes playfully. “You know which.”

The giggle that escapes you makes his heart splutter in his chest. “You can ask me that when it’s your turn to ask a question. For now, you must answer mine, those are the rules.”

Jon sighs, feigning dramatics. “I yield. I’m Lord Commander because Sam put me forward for it and Maester Aemon casted the deciding vote in my favor.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now, trying not to notice the bare arms that Jon lifts from the furs to cross in front of him. “I didn’t ask how the voting system worked, I asked how someone as kind as you won such a vote!”

At that, Jon Snow gives you a cheeky grin. “You’ll have to make the question more clear when it’s your turn again.” Your jaw drops theatrically, and with a smug tone that you’ve never found more attractive in your life, he continues. “So, go on, how many times?”

Without delay, you answer. “I’ve said it three times, but the amount I’ve thought it is not yet possible to count.”

Jon releases a hearty, bashful laugh at that. “Why’s that?”

And then you throw a cheeky grin right back at him. “Still some hours left in the day, plenty more time for me to think it every few minutes.”

Inching closer to you still, Jon feels his heart hammering against his chest. “Every few minutes?”

Eyes glazing over in a way that has him swallowing nervously, you smile up at him. “Or, more accurately, every few seconds.”

Jon’s eyes dart from your own to your lips. “Where have you been all this time?”

Holding his heated gaze, you answer without needing time to think about it. “Waiting for you.”

Jon’s stomach flips, something it’s only ever done before in moments of true shock or fear, which this, in itself, obviously is, but in a way that he has never known before. “You know, I cannot take a wife.”

Shrugging, you scrunch your nose playfully, voice barely above a whisper now. “A forbidden and secret romance always sounded more fun, anyway.”

And as if that final demonstration of your incredible ability to spin any kind of inconvenience into something astoundingly positive isn’t enough to pull a genuine groan from Jon, he sees your eyes glance from his to his lips and linger there, and he needs no further indication from you. Leaning in, he captures your top lip between his own in a kiss that is as passionate as it is gentle, not wanting to alarm you and giving you the space to pull away if it please you, but when you raise a hand from beneath the furs to drag your fingers through the curls you’ve been desperate to feel since the moment you laid eyes on him, and push your body flush against his, Jon Snow loses every ounce of strength and resistance he has in favor of instinctual, near animalistic desire for you. Crawling over you, your hands grab at the toned muscles of his arms, gasping against his lips and allowing him entry to a land he’s never explored before, but is certain he will become a master of soon enough.

Needless to say, a song of sunshine and snow is one of heartwarming tenderness, in the same way that it is a tale of a love so all encompassing and completely overwhelming, neither party stood a chance.

______

taglist: @otteropera @neymarjrrwife @oliviabelova

[katyspersonal]

Abyss Watchers headcanons

> Them all having white hair and red eyes are the signs of a lot of exposure to the Abyss, like how Four Kings got white hair, people in contact with any darkness commonly show red eyes etc. + Artorias ended up with these features too, and black hair on his helmet was his own hair cut to decorate it, not unlike Ciaran's braid. This never caused the panic though, it is no more than like getting tan under too much sun exposure. The corruption carries different effects than just a bit of a recolor!

> Wolf blood gave them minor feral features, like fangs and tufts of grey fur in the spots where humans normally have the most hair. no tails though

> @val-of-the-north actually counted the corpses using colorful stones drops to not get lost! So, the amount of Abyss Watchers is only barely above 100! This is very little for a legion, but they were pretty strong at their prime so the number never shifted too far from this number

> The ~100 consisted of mostly the first of them and those who joined in early. They were mostly a pack of these people, very rarely losing members and very rarely gaining those who would grow into "true wolves". Even out of those who were accepted as Abyss Watchers rather than Farron Followers, most didn't fully assimilate. They remained visibly 'distinguished' ones, like Hawkwood who never grew to their common 10'00''+ height and so

> These rare new members were referred to as 'cubs'. The 'distinguished' people like Hawkwood were continued to be called so even after they fully trained, although it then had more affectionate connotation than referring to their lack of experience

> They offer people who have shown bravery and are deemed to have true warrior spirit within to come with them, however, it is quite hard to refuse them. It is very easy to get roped into madness by them by simply allowing them to surround the person and speak of the importance of combating the horrors, how Artorias tooooootally once succeeded etc. They do not even understand the nearly-hypnotic effect they possess, but it is explained by the gravity of the Abyss itself surrounding them due to their job. It horrifies, however humans naturally possess the darkness that finds kinship in it, the wish to fight it endlessly IS just one of the ways it entices and corrupts. Those who managed to avoid getting seduced recruited by them after confrontation do recall that something felt very wrong and otherwordly for a short time.

> 'Semi-hivemind' is the best way I can describe them tbh. There is usually a member who is unmistakeably singled out and seemingly 'leading the pack', and if this particular person was lost, the next strongest guy would get singled out instinctively.

> "True" Abyss Watchers hardly, if ever, need to verbally communicate with each other, instead understanding instinctively. When they do need to talk with anyone it is this 'pack leader' doing the talking, usually with some others accompanying him and performing actions if needed without any signals to do so. The 'leader', also, mostly speaks for them all as they share their thoughts and feelings ("Don't try to lie to us, we could always smell it in your blood", "We all remember your bravery", "We could almost feel you wagging your tail, if you had one" etc).

> And they can, in fact, sense more than average person due to the wolf blood! Blood pressure, heartrate, whether someone started sweating and so on. It is very useful when someone is trying to hide having gotten touched by the Abyss (reasonably so, because it is instant death). Or if someone pretends they totally didn't encourage less-infected people to evacuate the corrupted land before Abyss Watchers came to obliterate it.

> The best way to stay alive after being targeted for "mercy-killing" by them is to run into the Church of the Deep. Abyss Watchers are sceptical about 'purifying' ones with minor corruption, but they cannot cross into this territory without permission for several reasons. And so far those whom Deacons "treated" really seemed to be alright. Abyss Watchers didn't believe in efficiency of this method though and had a feeling that sacred body of water could not fit in everyone's even natural darkness, let alone Abyssal one. They absolutely loathe and pity the place though, but all they really could do was to wait to obliterate it when it'd inevitably drown in filth. (the big "told you so" day that never became their to claim lol)

> Anyone who feels attracted to them is under no pressure to kiss and cuddle all of them they're welcomed to try though if they dare lol . They share their feelings, so getting close even with one makes others happy by effect. Though if such things occur, usually it is the 'pack's leader' who claims this experience, let alone the fact he is the only one who will actually talk. But even then, at least several others will linger around

> If one of the "true" Abyss Watchers, the 'identical' ones, gets somehow separated from the rest for significant time, they might slowly reclaim sense of identity and even remember their name. Addiction to fighting the Abyss can't be helped though, so they will yearn to forget the brief moments of peace and rejoin the group