#they are her past but also her precious ongoing companions

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 16, "Full of Surprises"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: The party sets up camp with the myconids, resting before doing the Sovereign a favor. They meet the other colony guests—a hobgoblin, a mind flayer, and a sanguine alchemist. Astarion is put in a position to stand up for himself (and Áine has an opportunity to stand up for him as well). Astarion is honest with Áine about his complicated relationship with intimacy and about what spurred their affair in the first place. The pair decide where they’ll go from there.  

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Descriptions (in-depth but not graphic) of Astarion’s sexual trauma; early Araj appearance (we will still probably run into her at Moonrise later); fluff; comfort/hurt; angst; trauma; flashbacks and descriptions of physical anxiety responses and feeling triggered; blood & blood-drinking; lightly proofread

Word Count: 8k

Listening to: Quiet the Monsters - Victoria Carbol

A/N: Just want to quickly say thank you so much for all the comments, feedback, and kind words on Unbound, it helps the headspace a lot and it means the world to my sappy little heart. x

Áine’s heavy rucksack hitting the ground caused a blossom of tiny, glimmering bioluminescent spores to rise in a small puff from the base. The cloud also subsequently caused Áine to sneeze. The bard frowned at the discovery, shaking her head as she rifled through her bag for a health potion, thinking how she’d never live it down if she was half-drow and somehow allergic to the fungal flora of the Underdark.

“That was precious,” Shadowheart remarked on the sound of Áine’s half-muffled sneeze, earning a glower from the bard. “Have what you need to heal up?”

“I should,” Áine said, her fingertips skimming the side of one of the glass bottles she was searching for. She plucked it out and checked it before uncapping it to take a long sip. “I just got knocked around really. I’ll be glad when that burrowing monstrosity stops retreating every time we almost kill it.”

“Indeed,” she sighed, rubbing her hand along her arm as a turquoise glow emitted from her palm. “Between that and the minotaurs, a clan of agreeable mushroom folk was a welcome find. Although I could do without the strange voices that keep projecting into my head.”

“Other than the usual ones, you mean?” Áine teased her, earning an eyeroll. 

The bard glanced across the little foothills they’d stumbled upon, the different levels connected by toadstools as big as trees. It felt like a sort of haven, perhaps because it was the first time since they’d left the Selûnite outpost that she’d felt like she could relax a little. Unless that godsdamned bulette came back, but the myconids seemed to maintain this area firmly for themselves and she hadn’t seen any evidence of the thing disrupting the dirt through their settlement.

“Tell me you didn’t pick up another ‘hero’s quest’ side job from that creature on the roll,” Astarion grumbled as he walked to join them, already exasperated because he knew Áine and of course she’d said they’d help someone else. Yet another useless venture for gnomes this time of all things.

“Astarion,” she murmured, her tone scolding. “It won’t kill us to help her.”

“Well, it might,” Shadowheart posited with a shrug.

“See?” Astarion griped, gesturing toward the cleric. “Someone with sense. Imagine.”

Áine glared between them, her lover and her best friend teamed up against her. Unbelievable. “We’re going that way anyway to cull those slavers for Spaw,” she pointed out. “And it’s not like I take these things on for free. We need the extra coin.” She sighed as she set her bag back down, placing the empty potion bottle next to it. “Especially after I suck it up and stock us back up on supplies.”

“And where do you plan to do that?” Shadowheart asked, glancing around and finding the area just as shopless as she’d first assumed.

Áine nodded toward the side of the settlement where a studious hobgoblin worked over a table. “I’d like to see if he has anything to trade. There was a drow over there too who might be worth speaking to. She looked like she had some alchemy equipment,” she said as she got her coin pouch from her hip and took a tally, mentally preparing herself for inflated Underdark prices.

“You’re going back over there? Where the mind flayer is?” Shadowheart demanded. 

“Sure,” Áine said, shrugging when she met Shadowheart’s skeptical eyes. “They seemed perfectly fine for being a mind flayer. And vegetarian.” 

“Ugh, fine,” Shadowheart sighed. “Just be careful. And here.” She took a handful of coins from her purse and put them in Áine’s palm. “To help with the potion restock.”

“Thanks,” Áine said, looking at a pouting Astarion. “You coming?”

The vampire made a noncommittal grunt in his throat, which she just took to be a yes.

“Can I come?” Karlach piped up nearby. “I’m bored to tears.”

Áine laughed as she led the way from their campsite, ending up with an entourage of Karlach, Wyll, Astarion, and Scratch. She dropped her hand to her side and stroked Scratch’s ears as he trotted alongside her, just pleased to be among his friends. As she drew close, she said, “Erm, Blurg? You wouldn’t happen to have anything you’d want to trade, would you?”

“A curious mind would never refuse to peruse,” the hobgoblin said amenibly. “What are you looking for? And what can you offer?”

“Some basic supplies and medicinal tonics are what we seek,” Áine explained. “To trade we have a bit of gold, some odds and ends, and at least one charming smile.” When he looked at her, she jokingly gestured to Wyll and said, “That’s his specialty.”

Wyll smirked, laughing when Astarion gave a disgruntled huff in Áine’s direction that she ignored. 

“In the way of supplies, I do tend to overstock for myself so I would be happy to trade something of that ilk with you,” he suggested. “Let me have a look at the ‘odds and ends’ and if nothing strikes, gold always sits well.”

Áine got out the items she’d collected for bartering purposes to let him have a look. As he stooped over the array to have a gander, she heard Karlach hiss to get her attention. “‘Ey, soldier,” she said, nodding just down the wall toward the female drow that Áine had seen earlier. “She looks more like the potiony type. Might be worth asking her?”

Wyll pulled a face when he followed Karlach’s gesture. “Hmph, an underelf?” he mumbled.

“Gods’ sakes, Wyll,” Karlach chastised him, making Áine smirk to herself. “You do recall that Áine’s half-drow, right?”

Wyll blushed with the appropriate amount of chagrin. “Right. Sorry, Áine,” he mumbled.

“That’ll be Araj over there,” Blurg said absently as he picked out a couple of things from Áine’s stash and gathered some supply packs to offer for compensation. When Áine agreed to the trade, he pocketed the trinkets and said to Karlach and Wyll, “She would be a good ask for your tonics and elixirs, but she does follow more of a…specialty than most alchemists I’ve met.”

“Hopefully she’s not opposed to half-bloods,” Áine sighed, already readying herself to be condescended to. “Thank you, this helps us a lot.”

“Thank you,” he said. “And good luck with your tadpole dilemma.”

It was refreshing to not be balked at for having a parasite in her brain, which wasn’t a thought or feeling Áine had ever thought she’d experience before her abduction. Karlach and Wyll led the way to Araj’s setup while Astarion fell in step with Áine, lowering his voice to chat with her as he was curious as to what she’d decided to part with. They paused their conversation with murmured “later”s and a sneaky brush of hands when they caught up with Wyll and Karlach, who had just gotten the drow’s attention.

“Ah,” she huffed, looking at Áine with undisguised speculation. “Half-human, I assume?”

Here it comes. “Indeed, but I prefer to go by Áine,” she said dryly. Astarion and Karlach snickered, both trying to hide it at least until they got whatever potions they could get from her. Their efforts only grew more difficult when they made eye contact just to see the other in equal shambles.

“How lovely,” the drow alchemist purred and Áine wasn’t sure if Araj referred to her name or her genetics. Either way, it was preferable to another person telling her that she’d muddied her lineage. “Araj Oblodra, trader in blood and the sanguineous arts. It is a pleasure to stand before a True Soul if what I caught of your conversation next door is accurate.” Her garnet eyes slid toward Astarion. “And your pale companion, of course.”

A blood alchemist? she wondered, both intrigued and alarmed. She’d never heard of such a thing. And, it seemed, an Absolutist nut at that. “You know of the Absolute?” Áine asked, playing into the narrative seamlessly. She tried to ignore how Araj took in Astarion like he was on offer with the rest of their wares.

“Who does not, this side of Faerûn?” Araj mused. Based on everyone they’d met, Áine couldn’t disagree with her. “I’d like to offer you my services if you’re willing?”

Áine’s expression turned bewildered. “If I’m willing? What exactly are you offering?”

“As I said, I trade in blood and the potions that can be wrung from it,” the drow said. “I’m more than happy to make one for you…if you’ll honor me with your blood. With one drop, I can brew a potent potion just for you. The rest, I keep for myself.”

“What sort of potion?” Áine asked, considering it more now that she knew the alchemist was only after a drop. Although she did wonder what she’d want with the “rest” she mentioned keeping. Research probably.

“No idea!” Araj exclaimed, enthused by not knowing. “But it will be unique to you—your blood essence and the Absolute’s blessing intertwined. We can learn exactly what that means together.”

“Hmm…,” Áine hummed, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Alright.”

“Just a little prick and it’s all over,” Araj assured her as she reached for Áine’s hand. She created a tiny incision in her fingertip, methodically milking the wound over a vial. 

Áine shifted uncomfortably, flicking her eyes up toward the ceiling to ignore the procedure. It was wild how blood didn’t bother her whatsoever when it was on a battlefield but as soon as it was something as sterile as a medical process, her stomach turned. She’d even gotten used to Astarion drinking her blood somewhat, but just barely. Half the time she had to just pretend he was necking her a little too roughly. She supposed that wasn’t not the case.

Araj took the vial and turned to her tools and glass implements, the gurgling of boiling, steaming liquids amplifying as she started to create a brew. Subconsciously, Áine popped her bleeding finger into her mouth to hasten the clotting, only glancing toward Astarion after she did. He was giving her a withering look that made her smirk around her fingertip. 

“Later,” she mouthed after freeing her digit and Astarion’s annoyed glance faded, satisfied with the compromise.

“And there we are!” Araj proclaimed as she turned around and offered a corked flask to Áine. “All of your best traits in a bottle. Use it well.”

“Thank you,” Áine said, smirking as she added, “I think. Maybe we should wait to see what it does before I thank you.” Araj chuckled and Áine asked further, “Would you have anything pre-brewed that you’d want to sell? I know it’s not your focus, but we’re hoping to restock on some basic stuff for the road.”

She gestured toward a cluster of bottles set aside from her workspace. “I have a hodgepodge of elixirs and potions just over there if you’d like a look,” she suggested. “Some extra stock from my journey. Some of that gold back would be a positive.”

“I’ll take a look, thanks,” Áine said, pocketing her pricked hand so she didn’t touch anything that might infect the little cut before she could clean it back at camp. She stepped over to the cluster of potions, lifting a bottle here and there to check for labels. With her back turned, Araj’s attention drifted again.

Astarion noticed Araj’s hungry stare and his eyes narrowed, glancing fleetingly toward his companions. Áine and Karlach were hunched over the bottles and Wyll stood nearby, staring down the path while lost in thought. Astarion cleared his throat and continued to avoid Araj, but he could feel her eyes on him, rooting him to the spot and peeling him apart. He hated it.

Áine, not seeing a wink of what was happening just over her shoulder, was a little startled when Araj spoke again. And then deeply unsettled by what she said. “Perhaps there is one more thing we could discuss…,” Araj mused, her eyes still hooked into Astarion. “Your friend.”

Astarion’s jaw tightened, his posture rigid. Áine, Karlach, and Wyll all looked over from what they were doing but Áine was the one to speak. “Um… Excuse me?” she asked.

“He’s a vampire, no? One of their spawn at least.” She spat the word like a curse. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion swiftly said, his mask fully up. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” Araj countered. All their eyes had gone a little round at that and Áine’s expression remained bewildered as Araj turned to her. “He belongs to you, I assume?”

Astarion faltered, hiding it well. Suddenly he was little more than a slave again and that old, familiar dread started to creep in. Meanwhile, something in Áine began to unhinge.

Her eyes narrowed, hoping she was just being dense and misunderstanding the woman’s question. “...He belongs to himself. If you have questions for him, you can direct those questions to him,” she said in a hard voice. Astarion’s eyes darted toward Áine’s bristling tone, vulnerability flashing through his eyes faster than light.

Araj gave an amused hum. “I’m sure he really believes that… How utterly adorable.” She slanted her gaze back to Astarion. “Do you have a name, spawn?”

“A-Astarion, but hold on!” Astarion stammered, holding his hands out in front of him.

“Good,” she purred back to him for, as she saw it, following her order. “Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamed of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice creeping a note higher in disbelief, “you want to be bitten?”

Áine was watching the exchange with discomfort. Araj had struck her in odd ways when they’d first spoken, but now she felt genuinely disturbed. And oddly a faint twinge of jealousy. Maybe because most of the times Astarion had bitten her at this point had been mingled with something more intimate or maybe because it would be the first time outside of a quick chomp during a fight that he elected to drink from someone that wasn’t her. 

It was an odd train of thought, so she abandoned it and continued to listen in while she placed a couple of bottles she’d set aside to buy back into the original cluster. She’d scrape up ingredients and make her own healing draughts if Araj was their only option for the stuff.

“To feel your life’s blood slipping away?” Araj mused, her tone painting the experience as a sensual one. She’d heard of a vampire’s bite being fetishized but it was something completely different to see it in real time. “To dance on the edge between life and death? Yes. I want it.” 

Infuriating Áine further, Araj turned to speak to her again as if she were Astarion’s keeper. “I’ll even compensate you. Whatever vials you require from that pile plus a potion of legendary power that forever increases the strength of the one who consumes it.” She slid her gaze back to Astarion, who stiffened beneath it. “It’s not for sale. But it’s yours…if you bite me.”

Áine wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do, but it did surprise her a little when Astarion said without a second thought, “I will have to decline.”

“Excuse me?” Araj laughed, incredulous. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you’re squandering it.”

“I gave you my answer,” Astarion gritted, something disgustingly close to fear rising in his chest. The compulsion to obey his master. The demand to use his body, his entire being, in bent form to his sire’s will. This wasn’t the same, but he felt its echoes.

Offended and blustering, Araj directed her next words at Áine. “Ugh, can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?!”

Astarion dared a look at his lover. Áine’s eyes were colder than he’d ever seen them as she inhaled a deep, steadying breath and leaned away from the table to face Araj. Her anger was barely contained. “He said no,” she growled.

“How very disappointing,” Araj murmured. “Right. Well, then I suppose gold will—”

“Keep your wares,” the bard muttered, leading Wyll and Karlach back toward Astarion and Araj. His tension eased a bit once they were back in his proximity. “And keep to yourself. Come near him again unbidden and that dealing, you will have with me.”

Araj tsked at Áine. “I’d always heard half-breeds were feral,” she spat.

A dangerous smile crossed Áine’s mouth, her eyes boring into Araj’s. “Would you like to find out for yourself?” she asked, positively saccharine.

Araj’s face flickered with a twinge of fear and she huffed, looking toward Karlach and Wyll. Finding no sympathy on their faces, she muttered a few choice words in elvish and turned away from them, back to her work. Áine had half a mind to teach her a lesson, but she forced her burning gaze away from the alchemist’s back and whistled for Scratch before leading them all back to camp.

Astarion was more than relieved to be away from the drow, his jaw finally unclenching when they were a few paces back down the path. 

“The audacity!” Wyll was exclaiming, absolutely floored by what had just happened. “What a horrible woman!”

“Proud of you for sticking up for yourself, Fangs,” Karlach said, equal parts agitated and fired up in her protectiveness. “That was fucked.”

Astarion found himself relaxing further at Wyll and Karlach’s praise and validation, his gaze lingering on Áine walking just ahead of them with Scratch. Her shoulders were still rigid, proverbial hackles still up, and her hands were balled into fists at her sides. 

He would’ve done it if she’d asked, he realized, even with his autonomy returned. Even if he’d been left to Araj wearing him down, he may have buckled despite how positively fetid the drow’s blood had smelled. He’d had so little opportunity to make his own choices unpunished in this life that the word “no” had felt foreign on his tongue every time he’d said it back there.

Even at the offer of a potion that would’ve arguably been quite useful for their cause, she hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t questioned why he didn’t want to bite the drow. Hadn’t expressed an ounce of disappointment or inconvenience when he’d opted out. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so deadly angry either.

They arrived back to camp and Scratch immediately bounded off to find the owlbear cub, who was sitting next to Halsin with a dopey expression on its young face. They’d become fast friends and it was adorable. It did little to calm Áine’s ire at the moment, but only because the flames were burning so high. 

How dare she?! Suddenly she could empathize with Astarion’s impulse to go back out to the woods and kill Gale after originally deciding not to—not because of anything to do with Gale but because it was taking everything in her not to go back to that table and reduce Araj to resemble her own nasty spread of potion ingredients. Half-breed comments be damned, she wanted to kill her for placing Astarion in even a semblance of one of the situations he’d finally escaped.

Muttering under her breath, Áine slammed the supply packs down next to her rucksack. Methodically, she started to paw through the pack to put back the bits that Blurg had passed on and do some updated inventory. It was necessary and it gave her something to do. The stuff she’d gotten from Blurg seemed good and that would get them through their trip to track down the duergar at least. If they rationed a little more harshly, then—

“Ahem.”

The meek intrusion jarred her from her scattered thoughts, and she looked up over her shoulder, finding Astarion lingering behind her and fiddling with his fingers. “Do you have a moment?” he asked, obviously anxious.

“For you?” she suggested, getting to her feet and brushing off her pants as she turned to face him. “Any moment you’d like.” Had she ever seen him so timid?

“I, uh…,” he began, faltering. His voice was soft and emotionally raw. It did funny things to her heart. “I want to thank you.”

Áine’s brow creased. “For what?”

“For what you said,” Astarion replied, “whilst I was in front of that vile drow. All my years serving under my master, what I felt about what I was doing…it never mattered.” He sighed. “You could’ve asked me to do the same just then. To throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned. I likely would have done it, you know.”

Áine frowned. “Astarion, I would never.”

“I know,” he reassured her, his voice gentle. He was silent for a long moment, seeming quietly overwhelmed. “...And I’m grateful.” He made an impatient sound as he waved his sentimentality away and, gesturing, said, “It would’ve been so easy just to bite her! To just go along with what I was being told to do. A moment of disgust to force myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.”

Áine’s brow crumpled. “Isn’t that what you’ve been hoping to leave behind?” she ventured to ask. “What could possess you to repeat the motions now?”

“Repeat the motions,” he repeated in his head. You’ve no idea how close you are to the truth. The thought made him sullen and panicked for their eventual conversation about just that. 

“Habit perhaps,” Astarion said on a sigh. “It was all I knew for a very, very long time. Even still, amongst, well friends I suppose, it’s difficult not to expect a trap in every question. A punishment for every wrong answer. The illusion of choice. In any case, that made me realize that despite being ‘free,’ I’ve still been living as if I’m not in many ways.”

Áine listened, nodding slowly as she processed his answer. She remembered her first couple of years out in the world on her own. 

Everything had felt like a trap. She’d been utterly paranoid out of her mind. Every too-friendly face she met, she’d met with suspicion. She’d run any time someone got too close to her and veered firmly away from anywhere that could’ve been described as “bustling,” but she’d been terrified when she was completely alone too, a sickly member of a herd to be picked off. 

It had been the worst those first few months, her old strength and left shoulder shattered along with her sense of identity. He was in one piece physically, but he was only about a month or so out from his escape. She couldn’t imagine he’d felt safe a moment since. And in Áine’s experience, she wasn’t so sure he’d truly feel safe for quite some time. Ten years later, she still didn’t.

Astarion watched the understanding soften her features and could only hope that it would carry over into harder topics. Knowing he’d back down if he didn’t, he asked, “May we talk later tonight?”

“Later?” Áine asked, tilting her head. “We can—”

“Later would be best, if that’s alright, my dear,” he suggested, knowing she would offer to have their conversation now. He could see in her face that his request worried her.

Slowly, Áine nodded. “Sure. I guess…just come get me when you’re ready.”

“I will,” he promised and it held none of his usual sensual spin he liked to put on everything. He nodded toward her pricked finger. “How is your hand?”

Áine smirked as it all came around to blood again, extending her hand and raising her fingertip for his inspection. “It’s fine, but I do wish I hadn’t given her a damn thing now,” she said, the edge back in her tone.

Astarion’s eyes flickered down to the small clotted cut on her finger, leaning in closer to examine it and taking her hand in his to bring it to his eye level. Áine smirked, expecting him to reopen it and take a sip—she’d promised after all—possibly with the addition of making it an innuendo. 

However, when she braced for the sting of his fangs as he dropped his mouth to her cut, she was surprised when all he did was kiss it. She saw his craving in the way his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared at the scent, but he didn’t try to partake. 

“Perhaps get a salve on it, darling,” he suggested while Áine still watched him, bemused.

“Sure,” she said, watching him step away with a mix of confusion and affection. He was acting strangely, but she didn’t quite feel as if it were the sort of “strange” he’d be acting if he intended to end things later. 

But, if not that, then what?

Reassuring herself that Astarion’s wasn’t the behavior of someone who was soon to end a relationship sufficed to steady Áine’s nerves through the evening. There was no “breaking up” when they’d never been exclusive, she kept reminding herself. Even if she’d felt exclusive with him the moment she’d realized there was a mutual interest between them, nothing had been spoken into existence. She’d just leaned in too far and fallen. 

She knew how she was with these sorts of things—at the inception of a crush, she was all-in. That wasn’t the norm.

Áine did her damnedest to not let her anxieties creep out in the open, too. As much as this was eating away at her, something had eaten away at Astarion enough for him to ask her specifically for a time that they could speak. There was something on his mind, too. 

Knowing she’d just wear a rut on her tent floor, Áine took up her usual spot near the fire. She was without her lute, but the myconids’ melodies interwoven in the spores around them felt like more than enough of a nightly treat for the ears. She laid back on the dirt, her fingertips tracing faint patterns in the deep earthen soil and her eyes cast toward the black ceiling overhead serving for a sky. She marinated in her thoughts and the interesting flow of the unearthly music in her mind until Astarion’s beautiful face peering over her blessedly cut her overthinking short. 

She smirked up at him and shifted one of her hands behind her head. “Huh. A star in the Underdark,” she mused aloud, making him smile and roll his eyes. “How poetic.”

“Aren’t the romantic advances and suave pickup lines meant to be my job?” Astarion asked as he sat down next to her, his gaze following hers to skim the towering caverns.

“Mm, we can take shifts,” Áine said, nonplussed by his grumbling. Subconsciously, she moved one of her hands over to gently rub his back, but she stopped herself shy of his shirt when she remembered his scars. When she looked at his face, she saw he was already observing her dilemma. “Sorry. Instinct,” she said as she started to tuck her hand back under her head.

“What instinct exactly?” he asked. 

“Uh,” Áine mumbled, suddenly flustered at having to put her silly little notions into words. “I was going to rub your back. Didn’t fully think it through. Unless…that sounds interesting?”

Astarion was amused by something, whether it was her tone or her wording. He thought over her offer before giving her a measured nod. “You may try if you’d like.”

With care, Áine laid her hand against his clothed back, feeling the faint shudder that rippled through him. “As ever, just say the word,” she murmured, her voice and her touch tender as she began stroking his back, beginning with small predictable circles. Her heart broke as she felt the raised lines of his scars through the fabric of his shirt. “True vampire” rules be damned, she’d bleed Cazador on his own palace steps if they ever crossed paths.

He interrupted her ferocious thoughts when he said, “I think the others have all taken to bed… I mentioned it earlier, but I think we need to talk.”

Áine’s hand stilled against the small of his back, almost feeling stupid for having it resting there now. Her throat suddenly dry, she asked, “Is here okay or did you want to go somewhere else?”

Astarion shook his head. He wanted to keep this on neutral ground rather than in one of their tents. Just in case. “No, here is fine.”

Áine’s brow creased, her eyes speculative. “...Are you alright?”

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” Astarion quickly said. “I just… Well, I feel awful.”

Áine’s chest felt like it was constricting. Here it comes, she chided herself. You got in too deep, as always. Well, actually opposite of always. Regardless, just as much of a fuck-up. She drew a breath and sat up, pulling her knees toward her chest and looking at his profile. “I’m listening?”

Astarion seemed almost scared to look at her, which she couldn’t comprehend. But he still made himself do so, sitting on his knees and turning his entire body toward her. When he met her eyes, she read the precise fear there that she’d anticipated, but she couldn’t imagine the why of it. His attention faltered for a split-second as he studied her face and seemingly without thinking, he mumbled a dumbfounded, “Gods, you’re beautiful…”

He cleared his throat too harshly and coughed against his fist, creating even more confusion in Áine than before along with a bright blush in her cheeks. “Mmf, no, that’s—it’s true but that’s not what I mean to discuss,” he scrambled. He was so uncharacteristically scattered that she may have laughed were she not frightened of whatever he was about to drop on her. 

Astarion found the wherewithal to continue after searching himself for that singular selfless bone left in his body. He couldn’t bear to lose her, but it wasn’t solely his choice in the matter. Not anymore.

“Right. Look. I had…a plan. A nice simple plan. And that plan…well, it’s been my most solid strategy for the past 200 years. Never played for myself, but for Cazador.” As ever, he sneered the name like a curse. The shadows beneath his eyes seemed to darken further as he spoke. “We’ve spoken of the torture, of the compulsion, of the rancid vermin and insect-based diets… There was…much more.

“My ‘duties’ to Cazador entailed bringing him the most beautiful souls I could lure his way from the streets of Baldur’s Gate,” Astarion explained, his eyes far away. “I was meant to do so…with my body. With sweet words and promises and sex. From a tavern corner, from an alleyway, it didn’t matter. What happened to me, what I wanted…none of it mattered. I was a puppet with my orders and I served those souls on silver from the time I could be let off the leash to prowl the city proper. I was told time and time again that my body was all I was good for until I believed it. I still find myself believing it. It’s my only token of trade.

“I may have been free of Cazador from the time the mind flayers snatched me up, but I’ve been realizing that I’m working in the same patterns. Less and less over time, but my survival instincts still default to those old methods. Whatever worked, whatever kept me alive since I wasn’t permitted to die. 

“All that to say, I…needed help. When you found me, I needed protection. And therein hatched the plan,” he drew a sharp, anxious intake of unnecessary breath. Áine sat stone-still and just listened, dread still coating her stomach. 

“My ‘simple’ plan…was to seduce you. Sleep with you. Manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. At least until I didn’t need your help any longer,” Astarion said, a panicked chuckle passing his lips. “It was easy. Instinctive. Habits from two centuries of charming people kicked in. All you had to do…was fall for it.” 

His voice cracked as he forced himself to keep looking at her when he wanted to run and bury himself back in the grave. “And all I had to do…was not fall for you. Which I think we both know is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”

Astarion’s throat worked as his hands rose from resting against his knees and gestured toward her as if pained. “You… Áine, you are incredible. You deserve something real,” he said, swallowing hard. “I want us to be something real.”

He stopped speaking and Áine knew that he was waiting for her to say something now. She could feel the preemptive tears pooling against her lashes, her nails picking anxiously at her shirt sleeve. She was relieved that it wasn’t over, that she hadn’t done something wrong, but…there was still that sense of betrayal, too. 

The signals she’d gotten from him since that night had been real, she knew that, but before… Well, she’d just been stupid before then, was that what she was to take from this? Shadowheart had been absolutely correct in warning her against his advances at that time and she’d just hopped too-willing and wine-flushed into his lap. And she realized the gutting feeling she was experiencing wasn’t necessarily betrayal or anything to do with him, it was embarrassment at her own actions. It was shame. More than that, she was devastated for him and his past.

Áine drew in a shaky breath and asked slowly, “...So the nights we spent together… They didn’t mean anything?” Gods above, don’t you dare cry now, she chided herself. Her inner voice almost didn’t sound like herself in that moment. You weak little thing, why must you always cry?!

“Of course they did, that’s the point!” he said emphatically, his hands twitching like they ached to take hers. “Or…part of it anyway.” Astarion pushed down a grumble of frustration. “Áine, being close to someone—any kind of intimacy—was something I performed to lure people back for him.” His brows canted upward and she saw the heartache in his eyes unmasked. “Even though I know things are different between us, being with someone still feels…tainted. It still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. Sporadically, most days. Other days, constantly.

“I don’t know how else to be with someone… No matter how much I’d like to,” he confessed. “And I would like to. It terrifies me sometimes how much. But I fear misjudging my own capabilities after being so thoroughly broken and taking us down a path leading to ruin. I fear hurting you in trying to do the opposite. But I want to…if you still do or ever did.” Astarion sighed again and it sounded a mix of morose and relieved. “However, I couldn’t keep this from you any longer, as much as telling you felt like a form of sabotage. It would have been unfair to you for me to keep this up.”

Áine’s musings to Shadowheart that night at the party bubbled up in her memory. Of fretting over a similar yet completely different fear. That she would ruin what was between them before it ever began. And now here he was, fretting he’d ruin what they had after it had begun but before it truly blossomed. They were quite a pair.

The bard leveled her gaze at him, unable to help the tears that she tried to manage by swiping her sleeve against her face. “I care about you,” she murmured, the tension in her throat coming through in her tone. “Deeply. But you know that.”

Astarion frowned. He did know that. Firsthand thanks to the tadpole. And in every gesture, every compliment, and every kind touch she’d graced him with, romantic and platonic both. “I do.”

“What do you want?” Áine asked him point blank, sniffling a little as she tried to get her weepiness under control. 

The question, as ever, took him off guard. “I…,” he hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve had to decide what I wanted.” Astarion’s resolve seemed to renew in the square of his shoulders and the intensity in his gaze as he said, “I—I want to try. With you. If you’ll have me after all this, that is.”

Áine tilted her head a touch. “Astarion, if this is too much for where you’re at right now, I’ve told you before that those ‘friend-based feelings’ exist,” she said. “They’ve been well and truly archived, but I could dig them back out. I hate the idea of worsening the things you’re feeling because you mean to appease me with this.”

“Darling, I don’t mean to appease you. Or at least that’s not my sole reasoning,” he said, his rebuke gentle. “I’ve meant all I’ve said. I want us to be something real. If you can forgive me.” Something crossed his mind then. “Most of my unpleasant reactions arise when it comes to sex specifically. What we’ve done otherwise, I never needed or felt compelled to do before. That’s all new to me. And it’s wonderful.”

Áine nodded slowly, thinking. “So it would be helpful to you if we didn’t for a while? Have sex, I mean.”

Astarion pulled a face. “That seems a poor bargain for you, doesn’t it?”

“Not if it’s not for you,” Áine answered in kind.

“I think I just don’t want you to think of me in terms of sex. I don’t know if I want anyone to,” he admitted, giving a frustrated tsk at his own verbiage. “I don’t quite know what I’m saying anymore, I don’t know how I can expect you to understand if I—”

“No, I…,” Áine murmured, “I get it. More than you might expect.” She held his gaze, searching and vulnerable. “You’re more to me than your body, Astarion. You always have been. And if you don’t want to, then we won’t.”

Astarion looked a mixture of guilty and unsure. “I want to be clear that I do find you unbearably attractive,” he murmured. “And that every time that we have slept together thus far, I’ve wanted to. Even the first time got swept into an emotional affair for me as soon as it started. I just tried to deny it. Clearly, that didn’t work.” He chuckled. “But I do feel awful when those memories resurface while we’re together. So…as tough as it may be to abstain…”

Áine nodded in agreement. “It sounds like perhaps you need some time. And that’s okay. Have as long as you’d like.”

“Does that mean then that you’ll stay with me?” he ventured to ask, hope laying bare in his eyes. “Despite everything I’ve put you through? Everything I’m unsure I can give you?”

“The original intention set aside, you’ve not put me through much of anything,” she pointed out. “The rest unfolds with time if we let it. Believe me when I say that the pause on sex doesn’t bother me. I’ve always been strange in that way. At least it’s finally working to someone’s benefit.”

“Strange?” he repeated. “In what sense?”

Áine shrugged and it was her turn to be embarrassed again. “Most people seem to want more in that regard than I ever have. I’ve spent years trying to understand it, but it’s just how I’m wired,” she explained, her gaze falling to her kneecaps. “I only want to do those sorts of things with someone I care for. I don’t really experience attraction otherwise. Things like one-night stands or romps with strangers have never appealed to me. So, at least in comparison to everyone else I’ve ever met, I’m a bit strange.”

Astarion measured her response. It added more context to his understanding of how she liked to navigate her relationships at least—he’d thought she was just one for long-term love interests in a general sense, but she couldn’t feel attraction unless she was invested, it seemed. And now knowing that her “yes” that night at the party had also meant she already cared for him so much… 

“I see,” he said, pensive as he looked her over and noted the way her eyes timidly shifted away from being studied. “I may not have always felt that way, but at least now, after everything… I find that relatable.”

She offered him a faint smile. “You’d be the first.”

Astarion inched forward, cautiously reaching out and taking one of her hands. He looked at her to ensure that he wasn’t doing anything out of turn, reassured as she squeezed his hand. “Honestly,” he murmured, an almost giddy smile touching his lips, “I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.” He smoothed his thumb against her knuckles, his other hand coming to stroke along the veins lining the back of her hand. “But this? This is nice.”

Áine’s features softened. “It is.” She sighed and gestured toward herself with her free hand. “Come here, you sweet man,” she mumbled, pulling him into her lap when he shimmied forward, starved for affection but not sure what she wanted him to do.

Astarion laughed, wary of letting his full weight rest against her. “I’ll crush you, you cheeky little pup,” he mumbled, but ultimately relaxed and let his cheek rest against the top of her head. He was infinitely grateful for the comfort of her arms around him. She still wanted him. He could hardly fathom it.

“I’d like to see you try,” she muttered in response to his fretting, gratified when he leaned into her and nuzzled her hair. It almost brought tears to her eyes again how adorable he could be when it was just them. He’d already come such a long way in opening up around her and she only wished that it would continue, more for his sake than hers. She just felt honored to witness it. “I’m pretty sturdy still, even if I’ve been out of rank for a while.”

“No doubt,” he murmured against her crown. “But could you take a vampire? Now that, my darling, is the most interesting question.”

Áine tilted her head back to peer up at him, a challenge gleaming in her eyes. “Spar with me some time and find out. Just for fun.”

Astarion snorted softly and dropped a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Deal.” 

It still sent him reeling that he could engage in physical affection, in touch, without it needing to be sexual. It was intimate yet not carnal. When what held him back or sent him into quiet dissociation wasn’t a years-old trigger or that familiar bile of self-loathing, he sometimes found himself holding back because he defaulted to sex as a means to express all degrees of affection and wanting. He didn’t want to “default” to anything with her—he needed to form new inclinations like seeking a handhold (which he was getting better at) or a hug.

Astarion briefly remembered telling Karlach just weeks ago that he wasn’t a hugger and scoffed softly at his foolishness. Perhaps he wasn’t with anyone but Áine, but at least in that regard, so far he was. As if to prove it to himself or practice new motions, he raised his arms from his lap and looped them around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her arms tightened around his waist, one of her hands tracing up and down his side. 

In his euphoria, he felt some startling words start to bubble up from his heart, but he stalled them before they could tumble out. Red eyes widened and, out of her view, Astarion found himself reeling all over again with new things to fret over. Gods, she truly has been sent to ruin me.

“I would stay like this all night,” Áine said, jarring him from his panic, “but I don’t think my back would ever recover if we did.” Her features grew serious as she pulled back to look at him. “Thank you, by the way. For trusting me. Again.”

Awkwardly, Astarion inclined his head, his mouth opening and closing like he’d considered something to say and thought better of it. Áine took his silence with grace—it was hard to open up. He huffed a sigh and surprised her when he said, “Well, thank you. For… Well. Everything.” Astarion met her eyes, his expression a bit more dreamy. “You’re…well, you’re full of surprises. Aren’t you.”

It wasn’t particularly a question and it made Áine’s blush return. They sat like that a while longer until it was clear that Áine wasn’t long for this conscious world and Astarion finally moved and let her up. She was brushing herself off when she glanced up and found Astarion hesitating near his tent, looking like he wanted to say something again. She took a glance around and guessed at what ailed him, asking, “Do you…want to cohabitate tonight?”

“I do,” Astarion said, combing a nervous hand through his curls. “But just…that. I’m sorry, I just…think we’re correct in taking a break from sex.” He sighed, his brow furrowed in pained frustration as he looked at the ground. “I’ve made this far more difficult than it should be.”

“You haven’t,” Áine assured him gently. “Even if we weren’t holding off, it’s not like that’s something we have to do every night anyway.” He peeked at her, looking unsure. “Just get comfortable, I’m going to grab a couple of things and I’ll be in. Alright?”

Astarion nodded and cleared his throat before he ducked into his tent. He hardly knew how this was helpful, he was just finding new ways to hate himself by putting her through this. No matter what she said, the guilt still hung over him, thick and suffocating. How long until she realized he wasn’t all she seemed to think? How long until she saw the full extent of the baggage he brought with him everywhere he went?

Áine didn’t take long to return to his side and he looked up to see her toting a few of the plush pillows from her tent and her blanket. He smirked at her, but the expression didn’t touch his eyes, and he could only be glad that her darkvision didn’t seem to be as good as his. 

“Moving in?” he teased her as she set down the pillows and arranged them to accommodate them both.

“Problem?” she countered, collapsing on her work when she was satisfied.

“I suppose not,” he allowed. In reality, his dead heart was full to bursting.

“Good,” Áine remarked through a yawn as she got comfortable. She’d staked her spot confidently, but in truth, she’d worried about overstepping. His teasing put her somewhat at ease, but she still wasn’t sure what he was comfortable with. They were firmly back to testing the waters, which was always unnerving, but she didn’t mind because it was him.

They were silent for a while after Astarion laid down next to her and Áine was sure he’d gone into reverie until she heard him tentatively say her name. “Yes?” she asked, her immediate worry apparent in her voice.

“I…,” Astarion began and then retreated. “Hm, nevermind, darling, I’m sorry.”

Her brow furrowed. “Um… You sure?” she asked.

Another long pause. Astarion cleared his throat and murmured, “Would it be alright if… If I held you again? The way we did the other night?” 

Áine smiled, blinking back tears as she turned on her side to reach out and pull him close. They adjusted around each other until they were in a perfect tangle again. This time, however, because Áine sensed perhaps he was the one needing to be held, she gathered him into her arms and kissed his forehead. He rested his head against her chest and felt something close to peace as he listened to her heart.

Gods above, she’d broken him. He considered that with some measure of horror as he felt tears well up in his eyes, tears he buried against her chest and in the crook of her neck. Her warmth and her pulse sang to him like her evening serenades and he sank into her with all the reverence of a prayer. 

He was almost startled when she spoke again, pausing in tracing his little patterns against her back. “You can still drink from me tonight if you want to,” she mumbled, sounding utterly content and almost half-asleep.

Astarion’s brows rose. “I can?” he replied, giving an embarrassed cough to belatedly cover how shocked he sounded. “I mean, I… I just thought…” I’m not holding my end of our bargain anymore, he finished in his mind alone, not sure how to speak the words. How is this possibly fair to you?

As if reading his mind, Áine laughed softly and kissed his hair as her fingertips traced against the nape of his neck and the finer hairs there. “Nothing about this has ever been transactional, darling,” she murmured and he noticed that she didn’t put her usual spin of mimicking his drawl on the endearment. Perhaps she was too tired, but it sent a little thrill through him nonetheless. “And it certainly isn’t going to start being transactional now.”

A sigh eased from his chest. He considered thanking her but thought better of adding yet another one to the pile of the night, wary of those words of gratitude growing overused. Instead, he kissed across her neck before he bit down across his old marks, his eyes rolling back and his snowy lashes fluttering in ecstasy as her essence wept past his lips.

He was careful to stop well before he would’ve even caused her to feel lightheaded, but after licking the wounds closed, he drew back just to make sure she was okay…only to find her sound asleep. 

Bleeding Hells, I refuse to start crying again, he swore inwardly, raising his fingertips to gently trace her features. To trust him enough to doze off while he was fangs-deep in her was…

…well it felt hardly deserved, but he’d never before felt such a tender ache in his chest.

Next chapter: Chapter 17, "Get Up"

[valoisfulcanellideux]

I don't usually self-promote (outside of posting about new chapters on my blog) but I have one fic that consumed a year of my life that's complete and that I'm incredibly proud of, and another that's currently ongoing, and I would love to get some more eyes on them both. I'll also add a couple more recs for other people's stories at the end :)

The first of mine is These Stones Remember (already recced in this chain by @cattobee - thank you so much!) and it's an 185K behemoth that deals with time and love and guilt and forgiveness. It's an Empires S1 & S2 Pixlriffs fic, but a few others (most notably fWhip and GeminiTay) also feature. (Note: The chapter count makes it appear unfinished, but the actual story is finished. Only the second of the Companion Reader sections is still unpublished, and I'm holding back on finishing that for a while, for Reasons.)

Summary:

"The past changes a little every time we retell it." A wandering scholar and his ethereal companion find a long-abandoned treasure. At first glance he thinks he has simply stumbled upon a ruined ancient capital, filled with the promise of incredible archaeological treasures and riven through with the history of a long-dead civilisation. But when he wakes up one day and finds the city has come alive around him, its people bowing to him as though they know and respect him, he has unknowingly begun a journey toward redemption for a terrible mistake he made two thousand years ago.

The second of mine is A Tale of Two Devotions. A darker tale of the Copper King and the Phantom Assassin (so you get two Pixlriffs for the price of one!) this one is ongoing and releasing a chapter every two weeks.

Summary:

There are tales of ghosts that wander the desert with their eyes and mouths sealed shut with wax. Legends tell that this was so they could neither see nor speak of what was done to them in their dying moments. The gilded, adorned, and adored Copper King did not know he had a twin; a freak of nature taken from their mother's childbed and raised to protect the glory of the Vigil, the city, its people, and the king. Denied a name, known only as Phantom, the rooftops and alleys are his haunt as he watches over his brother's devotion to the Vigil; an obedience so deep that none in the city know how chained their king is to keeping their precious monument alive. Nor do they know the price paid by their dead.

Now for the stuff by other peeps!

the corpse of your people, uncovered and coveted by Yylfinn_00

Archaeologist!Pix gets called to work on a new archaeology site, which happens to be in a desert. Dear god, this one left me absolutely aching. One of the best Pix stories I've ever read.

”Now leave me to mourn the corpse of my people in peace, Scott, before I have to watch them rip her bone from bone in the morning.”

City with no name, person with no history by viridis_mundi

A beautiful piece about Archaeologist!Pix and Goblin!fWhip, filled with all my favourite things in fic: memory, time, love, loss, friendship. It's short, but so beautifully sweet.

Pix’s gaze is soothing, like a heavy blanket after a nervous day, like a mug of warm milk before bed, like the quiet dance of stars in the night sky. And just as centuries ago, people looked at the sky and looked for constellations, so Pix is always looking for something in someone else’s soul.

you know what I haven’t seen going around in a while, and could use some of myself? fic recs! so, consider this both a rec and a self-promo post: recommend some fics to me in the reblogs and I’ll reblog your recs! in general, try to include both a summary and why you’re reccing it (whether it’s a self-promo or someone else’s), and let’s get some eyes on fics!

[fujunfuren]

It means we all love you. In other words, Omameda Towako is the best. Omameda Towako to Sannin no Motootto (2021)

[theladygia]

Ongoing and Completed Works Check

Here's an overview of what I've already published and what's still being updated for any readers who came to see what I'm up to/what I've done in the past!

I am happily open to questions, comments, and prompts, but I make no promises that I'll fill every request I receive. Come chat with me, if you're so inclined. I'd love it!

Multi-chapter Works:

Entwined (Harry Potter || Tomarrymort) -- Ongoing, Main WIP -- Next update: Chapter 11, Drafting.

Soulmates, Magical Culture and Politics, Family, Magical Society. Harry discovers he bears the soul mark of the older, politically powerful Lord Slytherin, who may or may not also be the rumored Dark Lord. There are companion pieces set in the same universe that will be outtakes and flashbacks to the previous two generations. Two outtakes, entitled Kedavra Your Heroes and Emerald with Envy, are already posted.

Dandelions Growing Through Cracked Pavement (Harry Potter || Tomarry) -- Ongoing -- Next update: Chapter 5, Drafting.

Greenhouse AU, Herbology, Magic-Heavy. Tom Riddle is a herbology intern at LHR Inc. where he catches the attention of the company owner and top-specialist in his field, Harry Potter.

Come on Down, to Hadestown (Harry Potter || Tomarrymort, Hinny) -- Ongoing -- Next update: Chapter 5, Drafting.

Inspired by Greek Mythology, Hades and Persephone AU, Orpheus and Eurydice AU, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations . Ginny Weasley is going mad after the death of her husband. She'll do anything to get him back. Tom Riddle is growing listless after a millenia alone. He'll do anything to keep the one person who makes him want to live after all this time. Harry Potter is always losing someone precious to him, one way or the other. Now that he's dead it's no different. Or is it?

Helluva Way to Find You, Wasn't It? (Harry Potter || Sirry) -- Complete

Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Sex Magic. When the only way to find your soulmate is via orgasm, you sometimes gotta ask the tough questions. Like possibly asking your godfather to fuck you because your soulmate senses actually seem to match him pretty perfectly. Harry Potter has never caught one (1) single break. Part of the 2022 Soulmate Collection and Sirry Bingo 2022.

Demon in the Details -- Do you think you're clever or something? (Harry Potter || Tomarry) -- Ongoing -- Next update: Chapter 3, Drafting.

Alternate Universe, Demon Harry Potter, Politician Tom Riddle. Tom's Riddle new home is an interesting place. The site of a triple murder, an untouched magical reservoir, the prison of an elder demon with a grudge--yes, Tom's quite pleased with his purchase. Written for the Tomarry Big Bang 2022.

She impatient and I'm complacent (honey) (Harry Potter || Hermione Granger/Lavender Brown) -- Complete

Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Divination Practices. Hermione's soulmark refuses to appear. Lavender Saw hers years before she received it . Now she's just waiting to see which path her roommate will walk: the one Hermione's currently on or the one that leads to Lavender.

One-Shots:

Lilyflour and Other Endearments (Harry Potter || Tomarry) -- Complete

Soulmates, Adult/Similar Age, Magical Bakery, Spells & Enchantments, Fluff and Humor. Tom Riddle has learned a lot apprenticing under renowned enchantress Pandora Lovegood, but how to put up with that infernal baker boy next door is not one of them. Written for the Tomarrymort Solstice Fanwork Exchange 2021.

How Bout Them Cannons?! (Harry Potter || Tomarry) -- Complete

Soulmates, Adult/Similar Age, Quidditch. Harry encounters his soulmate during a Cannon's match on Ron's Stag Night of all things, and what a first meeting it is. Light smut. Written for the Room of Requirement's Tomarrymort Quidditch Event.

Harry's Apokalypsis (Harry Potter || Tomarry) -- Complete

Established Relationship, Angst and Feels, Confrontation. Tom prepares to ask Harry to move in with him, but Harry has some harsh truths to share before he can get the words out. Eventual sequel (Tom's Requiem) to come.

Stuck In The Middle With You (Harry Potter || Tomarrymort) -- Complete

Soulmates, Angst, Alcoholism, Politics, Mind Connection. It's been three years since Harry woke up the morning of his 24th birthday to see Voldemort's name on his wrist. He should have known his luck would pair him with that monster. Written for the Tomarrymort Valentines Exchange.

I may look calm (but in my head I've killed you three times) (Harry Potter || Tomarrymort) -- Complete

Non-Magical AU, Murder Husbands, Crime Lords, Gang Violence. Draco is sick of these boring dinners where the Death Easters are joined by the Hogwarts professors. Honestly, what could any of them possibly have in common with the crew of one of the largest crime syndicates in London? More than you might think, actually.

The Volume Inside of this Bus (House) is Astronomical (Harry Potter || Tomarry) -- Complete

Same-Gen, Post-Hogwarts, Established Relationship, Curtain Fic, Slice of Life, Fluff and Humor. Tom is at his wits end. It's not that he can't bring Harry anywhere, it's that he can't bring Harry to the Magical Menagerie.

enter at your own risk (Harry Potter || Tomarrymort) -- Complete

Same-Gen, Established Relationship, Non-Linear Narrative, Introspection. Harry works on coming to terms with the moral dilemma of loving Tom more than he hates Tom's (Voldemort's) career choice.

The Loveliest Crown of Thorns You Ever Did See (Harry Potter || Tomarrymort) -- Complete

Soulmates, Soul Flowers, Seer Harry Potter, Ambiguous/Open Ending. Harry has a begrudging fondness for his soulflowers. The collar of black roses is striking, even if also depressing. However, he's much less fond of all the other death omens that crop up in his life. Part of the 2022 Soulmate Collection. Prompt from wolfsantlersinspace.

you look so perfect standing (sitting) there (Haikyuu!! || Kenhina)-- Complete

Soulmates, Shared Hair Colors. On your fifth birthday, your hair changes color to the exact shade of your soulmate's natural hair. For most people, finding your soulmate can be impossible, but when Kozume Kenma looks in the mirror everyday and sees bright orange hair, he thinks it's impossible for his soulmate not to find him. Part of the 2022 Soulmate Collection.

scars (to your beautiful) (Harry Potter || Tomarrymort) -- Complete

Dream-sharing, Ambiguous/Open Ending. Harry's life has always been ruled by how other people see him, and the first and foremost thing anyone sees about Harry Potter is the expansive, jagged scar that mars his face. Except, for the past few years, someone has seen past that. In their shared dreams, Tom or Voldemort or whatever combination he's become sees Harry for exactly who he is.

The Puddlemere United Calendar Fiasco of 2002-03 (Harry Potter || Harry/Fred/George, Perciver) -- Complete

Quidditch, Post-Hogwarts, Established Relationship, Fluff & Humor. Due to a little mix up when they hired a new photographer to shoot the annual team calendar, Puddlemere United's 2003 calendar spread took a more suggestive route this year. And to think, the whole fiasco could have been avoided if Harry, Oliver, and their teammates weren't so very, very competitive. Written for Quidditch Fest 2022

I walk the line (Harry Potter || Sirry) -- Complete

Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Polyjuice Potion, Angst, Ambiguous/Open Ending. When Harry cast the soul view spell only to see the Canis Major constellation appear before his eyes, he tried to imagine a scenario in which Sirius wouldn’t recoil the moment Harry told him they were soulmates. But in every set of circumstances Harry’s brain came up with, Sirius could never get past it. So Harry decided to create a scenario where none of his objections would apply. Written for HP Soulmates Fest 2022. Part of my 2022 Soulmate Collection.

(Don't you know what you're finding? This is) heaven in hiding (Harry Potter || Harry/Bill/Fleur) -- Complete

Post-War, EWE, Magical Synesthesia, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together. When Harry decides a career as an auror isn't the right path for him after the end of the war, Bill and Fleur offer him a better opportunity than Harry thought he'd ever get with no NEWTs to his name. As his abilities grow, so do his feelings for the married couple who've helped him come into his own. Written for HP Rare Pair Fest III.

This Father Means Business (QZGS / The King's Avatar || Gen) -- Complete

Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Friendship, Found Family. Wei Chen takes his self-given ‘this father’ title seriously, and he can’t just sit at home after watching the utter travesty that was Season 5. Written for the QZGS Big Bang 2023.

The Power of Survival (Harry Potter || Tomarrymort) -- Complete

Fairy Tale AU, Inspired by Rumplestiltskin, Pre-Slash. Harry Potter is put into a terrible position by his muggle family. Death approaches with the dawn, and Harry doesn't see a way to avoid his fate. At least, not until a fearsome creature arrives, offering him a way to live if Harry's willing to provide the requested compensation. Written for the Restricted Section's 2023 Secret Slytherin.

Redacted Hogwarts Parchmentwork (Harry Potter || Harrymort) -- Complete

Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Comedy. An excerpt from the parchmentwork of Alastor Moody, Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor 1994-95, later discovered and annotated by Professor Severus Snape on 31 October, 1996 as he polished off his second bottle of elven-made wine. Written for the Restricted Section's Blind Blood Best Guess Fest.

twin flames or suns or other things that burn (Star Wars || Anakin Skywalker & Leia Organa) -- Complete

Platonic Soulmates, Introspection, Non-Linear Narrative. That is Anakin and Leia, twin flames, two beings burning brighter than the surfaces of all the suns in the galaxy combined. Their heat is not the gentle, life-giving warmth of his wife or his son. No, theirs is a blinding, suffocating blaze that could snuff out all sentience and sapience in its beautiful destruction.

[ruskinbondstories]

Why Ruskin Bond will always remain our favorite

From our early school days to the age of stepping into our respective career paths - we all grow up undergoing many changes. But only the writings of Ruskin Bond remain our constant companion. The close relationship between Ruskin Bond and us emerged slowly. The first introduction happened through textbooks, mostly after which people regularly saw a curious kid sitting at the corner of a bookstore with amazement in his eyes. And this amazement continued to appear on our faces every time we opened a book by Ruskin Bond. Unknowingly, we formed a strong bond with our favorite, Ruskin Bond. 

It's pretty impossible not to smell the hills, our childhood, winter breezes, the old and rusty cottages in his words. Ruskin Bond's stories feel like a legit time machine that never fails to transport us into a newer world or the world of the past. His stories made us enjoy natural affection, subtleties, and the lucid pleasures of life without delving into the materialistic way of living. So, let's try to get lost in the world of Bond and relive our sweetest memories again to remind ourselves why he will always be our most favourite.

Nature as its best

"Never mind. Men come and go. The mountains remain." - "Our trees still grow in Dehra."

Due to his intimate understanding of nature, Ruskin Bond successfully presents how nature could actively become a significant part of a person's well-being. We can't help feeling the solitude and the peaceful purity of being amidst the forlorn mountains, the Magpies, the beautiful forest birds, and the freshness of trees while reading his stories. Nature in his reports does not only provide background, but it becomes a character itself. He allows the free-flowing river, the little birds, the wildflowers, the sky, and every aspect of nature to convey their own messages to the readers.

That's why we perceive nature as a catalyst for healing our minds and making us transcend in the spiritual world. So, in most of his stories, he tries to convey the message of preserving nature. For example, in "The Coral Tree," Ruskin Bond has painted an essential aspect of teaching children the importance of planting and nurturing trees, thus, making a lasting partnership with man and nature.

Many great critics of our generation have declared the significant presence of the pantheistic nature approach in Bond's writings. He profoundly portrays both the nurturing and the destructive sides of Nature in his stories like "The Blue Umbrella," "Time Stops at Shamli," "The Angry River," "Rain in the Mountains," "Roads to Mussoorie," "The Room on the Roof" and many others. It's evidently clear that nature is the Muse of Ruskin Bond, and he will continue to strengthen the friendship between us and nature.

Bond's Art of Characterization

One of the most captivating qualities of Bond's stories that make them so relatable is his art of characterization. He amazingly creates a fellowship between the reader and the characters by presenting various characters and showing every character's development through the thick and thin of life. The most amazing part is that his feelings are rooted in reality and possess a breadth of genuineness without pretensions.

Ruskin Bond is the master of creating various characters who fall into every social and economic background of the vast spectrum of our society. He beautifully paints the difference between the characters belonging to both the backward and underprivileged class and the flourishing upper-class. But most surprisingly, each character's life becomes significantly inspiring to the readers because of their physical and mental struggles, their realization and acceptance, and their close connection with their conscience. Our eyes suddenly get wet whenever we go through the brief encounter of the two potential lovers in "The Eyes are not Here." Similarly, we feel the same adrenaline rush while witnessing Binya's adventurous journey down the stream to save her most precious possession in "The Blue Umbrella."

Ruskin Bond's excellent insight into human psychology makes the readers understand exactly what the character is going through. That's what makes it way easier to discover the characters' reasons, hesitations, dilemmas, joy, anxiety, happiness, and all sorts of emotions. We somehow get attached to the characters without consciously knowing it and start to fascinate them most realistically.

Accurate Representation of the Indian Society

Bond's literary works serve a great purpose of expressing the social, economic, and political issues concerning the public and the country at large. He conveys the different opinions of the differently brought up characters in society in the most effective way. The state of India when it was under British rule, the bloodshed during partition, the ruins made by corruption, the conservative approach of the society, the superstitions, and the prevailing problems of dowry and child marriage - all have become an integral part of his writings. That's why his stories are considered proofs that aptly documented the then Indian society comprehensively.

Ruskin Bond's excellence also prevails in enriching the native language, bringing forth ethos and culture, and portraying the existing complexity of the socio-political scenario. At the grass-root level, his stories present a great insight into the ongoing social stigma without being a complete rant about problems only. His characters depict juxtaposition by making readers experience the constant tension that goes on within themselves between their rural and old values and the new urban moral code that they are exposed to.

Although Ruskin Bond Books is majorly known as one of the best writers of children's books, his adult and adolescent novels deal with the aspects we all go through in adulthood. For example, his "The Room on the Roof" brings up issues faced by the protagonist Rusty that had never been the table talk back in the 1950s. The life of Rusty resonates with us because we all have witnessed the problems like identity formation, wanting financial independence, emerging sexuality at some point in our lives. On the other hand, "The Room on the Roof" and its sequel, "The Young Vagrants," also successfully bring out the pain and loneliness of the orphan protagonist while depicting the prevailing social concerns such as racial and cultural differences, narrow-mindedness, and the social pretensions.

A Master of Stealing Children's Hearts

Risking Bond's fantastic insight into child psychology has contributed to making him our most favorite writer. The most incredible element found in his children's books is that he shows immense respect to a child's emotions, a thing which is not openly discussed or even given much value to. He captures the innocence of children in the best possible way while providing the utmost importance to the adventures, the hidden complexity, tragedies, and determination of the little minds. The self-seeking attitude of children is beautifully painted in the subtle yet strong words of Bond. "The Blue Umbrella" and "The Angry River" are perhaps the most outstanding examples for showing the strength and abilities children inherit along with the intricacies of life- all presented with a mesmerizing touch of simplicity. Through these stories, Ruskin Bond successfully raises a very pertinent question on the conviction of getting attached to trivial materialistic things of life, which exposes the futility of the entire concept.

Ruskin Bond is a master of depicting the innocence and simple pleasures of children, which contrasts with the cunning, shrewd, and envious nature of the adults in his children's books. It inspires the readers worldwide to adhere to the old pleasure-seeking and joyful spirit we have left in the past. The children's stories highlight the lessons of sympathy, kindness, and brotherhood among the readers of every age. 

That's why Bond's significant contribution lies in the fact that Bond's children's stories do not only evoke happiness in kids, but adults also perceive the same amount of gleeful experience while reading them.

Conclusion -

Ruskin Bond's simple style of writing delves deep into our conscience. It is a potent weapon of his that beautifully depicts both the complexities and the ease of life. Bond never wants to "make readers toil and sweat" because he never believed in the concept of putting complex and unconventional words to sound more serious. In "It's a Wonderful Life," he shared why he always chooses to write simply. He also shared his views on social media regarding his writing style by saying, "I have always tried to achieve proses that are simple and conversational. Those who think this is easy should try it for themselves." It is always astonishing to see how the subject matters of Bond's writings are given such high importance without presenting them in a twisted form by using complex words. That's why his stories can be read repeatedly regardless of the reader's age, as the Ruskin Bond Stories have something interesting to offer you each time you turn the pages. 

[timeagainreviews]

The Doctor with a Thousand Faces

Art by Paul Hanley

When I say the words "Fourteenth Doctor," what springs to mind? Perhaps you may say "Peter Capaldi," if you want to get super technical. Or perhaps, you may be thinking about Jodie Whittaker’s future successor. And to that point, you may already have someone in mind. Whoever he, or she, or they may be, there are key traits that you tend to expect. The Doctor may look and dress different, but they must also possess a certain "Doctoryness," about them.

Doctor Who is unique. Very few live-action shows have the ability to change their lead actor while maintaining the same character. Sure, they did it on "Bewtiched," but it never became part of the narrative. You could argue that Twin Peaks achieves this with characters like Laura Palmer returning in the form of Madeline Ferguson and Carrie Page. Or even more recently, American Gods with Media and New Media. But what about before that? What about a time before foreign Gods came to America, or certain Time Lords came to British television? What if the undying hero is part of our fabric as a species?

Within its title, Doctor Who has dared its viewers to ponder the question- "Who is this mysterious stranger?" I would venture to say the answer lies somewhere within the culture of the era. Our concept for who the Doctor is, and what they represent has changed throughout the years. As we change as a culture, our expectations of the hero change. The new gods of our pop culture mythology are still fallible, and therefore, subject to change.

It's a fairly popular fan theory that every one of the Doctors is a response to his or her predecessor. And there are even real-world moments when you can see the showrunners course-correcting a bit of bad writing. The Sixth Doctor was so loathed within the higher ranks at the BBC, that the Seventh Doctor is clearly a conscious response. Where Six was brash, Seven was quiet. While Mel was a screamer, Ace was fierce and brooding. On an even deeper level, because Doctor Who is so unique, you can also apply these course corrections narratively.

The Doctor's incarnations act more as avatars of an overarching hero of great power and intelligence. It would seem as though every regeneration is an opportunity for the Doctor, and us as an audience to ponder the identity of the Doctor. Christianity has God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit, all aspects of the same one God. What does each of them imply about the other? Is each Doctor informed by an overarching consciousness? Is every aspect made in its image, or is the Doctor the sum of their parts? After all, the Doctor is still alive. We are actively watching the Doctor’s lifetime, which as of yet, is still ongoing.

In the Hindu pantheon, we get gods like Vishnu and Shiva who also take up corporeal form as avatars on earth. Much like the Doctor, these avatars are usually direct responses to their predecessor. Take Vishnu, for example. Vishnu incarnates in several different eras, usually as a response to some great imbalance in the world. But often times, their personalities explore a different aspect of Vishnu overall. As the avatar Rama, he lived so lawfully that, depending on which version of the Ramayana you prefer, cost him the love of his life. In his next incarnation as Krishna, he corrects this by being more anarchic, more bohemian, and much more free-loving. On the other hand, he was also more authoritative, as compared to Rama's gentler nature.

You could compare these two characterisations to the Third and Fourth Doctors. The Third Doctor literally worked with the military while the Fourth Doctor flew in the face of the Brigadier, hanging his feet out of the Jeep like a petulant teenager. While both Doctors have the same authoritarian streak, they're usually found in opposite directions. The Third Doctor's officiousness melts away into warmth, while the Fourth Doctor's charm burns away with his fury. All the while, each of them demands we as viewers continue to ponder the nature of our terrifying friend.

We’ll spend the entirety of the show pondering that nature. Because, as I stated before, the Doctor’s life is ongoing. Much like Vishnu sustaining the universe, Shiva’s dance has not yet ended, Brahma has not yet awakened. The dance of life continues. We can live in the past or the future, but we can never escape the present. Each Doctor stares down the barrel of their own demise. Even we as an audience see each successive Doctor as temporary. Their days are numbered, and no matter how many times you change your hair, your wardrobe, your gender, we all fear the reaper. So we focus on the now, when we’re alive. We focus on our own unique challenges.

Every son of God, it would seem, has their own cross to bear. Each hero meets a greater burden that speaks to the culture of a time. As Jodie Whittaker's Doctor is yoked with the incumbrance of sexism, so too was Colin Baker yoked with censorship. Conservative backlash has often times landed Doctor Who in the hot seat. "The Trial of a Time Lord," is a story arc that directly addressed the real-world accusations of the show's violence. In "Rosa," the Doctor goes toe-to-toe with the embodiment of a nasty internet troll in the form of Krasko.  

It's funny then, to view how this response to popular culture has changed throughout the years. Ben and Polly were practically Bible thumpers compared to the real world culture of hippies that were capturing the hearts and minds of people everywhere in the '60s. In their own way, they're a couple of squares that fly in the face of what was actually "cool," at the time. Even this goes against the mercurial trickster that was the First Doctor, who bit his thumb at your fuddy-duddy schoolmaster in the form of Ian Chesterton. Doctor Who of the '80s seemed like more of a "2000 AD" comic book world, which makes sense when you consider who was Prime Minister at the time.

Not only is the Doctor's personality explored throughout these incarnations, but the symbolism surrounding the Doctor as well. The name "Doctor," itself has been explored to some depth within the show. What does being a doctor mean to the Doctor? A doctor is a person who can bring us hope. They can also bring us dreadful news. Some of us don't like seeing the doctor because death seems to follow them around. The Doctor also carries a tool as opposed to a weapon. We're given the impression that the Doctor is a person who wants to fix things. Even psychic paper is a symbol for the Doctor's anarchic streak. "Badges? Badges? We don't need no stinking badges!" Psychic paper plays to that devilish side in all of us that wants backstage access and lies on our résumé.  The symbolism of the TARDIS has also changed over the years. Modern perceptions of the police may taint the image of a police box in the same way modern perceptions of America may taint the image of Captain America. However, I would like to think that both Cap and the Doctor represent the potential of what these things could become. The Doctor is what a good cop should be.

People say Doctor Who shouldn't be political, but from a historical standpoint, that's impossible. It's always had the same character, fighting for freedom from unjust capitalism, to totalitarianism, to unimaginable callousness. The Doctor has never asked what a person's sexuality was before saving their life because the Doctor is an actual hero. The Doctor doesn't have to agree with your lifestyle to agree that life is precious. What kind of Doctor would they be if they went around allowing someone to die? That's no kind of Doctor at all. This is why Doctors sometimes need people around to kick them in the ass when they're being total kumquats.

Whether we call them assistants, or companions, or friends, the Doctor's fellow travellers remain cyphers for the audience, though some more than others. While on the other hand, it would seem as though the Doctor represents something deeper, something more conceptual. Like a doctrine passed from leader to leader. "Never cowardly, never cruel." Keeping humans around to keep the leader in check. We the viewer have this abstraction of our greater self, playing companion to the strangeness that is this existence. We love these stories because they’re our history, our world, and our trajectory. Past, present, and future. They're embedded in our religions and in our myths. So we keep the tradition of storytelling alive so that we might never forget these elements within ourselves. And to remember that no matter how bad things get, to appreciate being alive now.

Hello friends! For those of you who may be wondering, yes I have posted this article already. However, I wasn't completely happy with it, so I retooled it a bit. Sometimes you gotta do that! I've been up to rather a lot since we last talked. I went to see Andrew Cartmell speak in Leeds a few weeks ago, and that was great fun. He had so many wonderful insights into his era. We're still working on K9, but things have been a bit slow because of my pal's schedule. I've still got plans to write an Eighth Doctor article, but I decided to put it off for the time being. I'd like to go a little deeper into his audios and books now that I've finished his comics. I've also got articles planned for Doctor Who in video games, Doctor Who canon, and I might start doing profiles for villains I love.Speaking of profiles, I may also start interviewing some of my favourite Whovians. I know so many avid fans of the show with their own wonderful perspectives, that I wanted to incorporate them somehow! On the Twin Peaks front, I was thinking about sharing a series of comics I've been working on. Each comic explores a different theme in the show. I've also been toying with the idea of writing about other shows. Speaking of which, who all watched Good Omens? I loved it. What did you think?

[tirnelkai-blog]

Home is Where the Heart is Ch. 1

Summary:  You're content with your life on Alfheim, living a peaceful existence in the elven forests as a warrior and diplomat for your people. But war has come to the realm and the only way to secure its survival is an alliance with Asgard that is secured by your marriage to Prince Loki. Neither are you are thrilled with the arrangement but can the two of you see past your pride and mutual dislike for each other to form an everlasting bond? Whether you do or don't, you and Loki are stuck with each other until death does you apart.

Chapter 1: Arrangements

Chapter Summary: Bad news for you.

Word Count: ~1400

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Warnings: None

Chapter 1 of my ongoing Loki series. Current chapter list can be found on AO3 as I work to get them uploaded on Tumblr. 

Reflections cannot lie, cannot allow the truth to remain hidden. No matter how a person may cover themselves, no matter the clothes they don, no matter the expression they put on for others, their reflection knows as their eyes give away all. Eyes are the window to the soul after all.

As you looked at your reflection in the water basin, you knew the image staring back showed the truth. As hard as you tried to hide the exhaustion from your companions, the face in the water revealed the dark circles under your tired eyes, along with the scratches and specks of dried blood scattered across your face. Despite the nightmares that kept you from fully resting some nights, the late hours you spend training when you were sure others had gone to bed, pouring over books during the day and time spent preparing the elven armies for war, you told yourself you were fine.

Today’s sparring match with the others proved that was not the case. Your movements were slow as Elve managed to dodge almost every attack. You did not win a single round of combat and when you insisted it was fine to continue, to move on to a different opponent, the others refused, demanding you get some rest.

You groaned into the wet cloth you pressed against your face, frustrated with your performance today and the exhaustion that pressed down on you like a weight. Sighing, you began to wipe the dried blood from your face and arms.

“Y/N? I heard you come in. Can you spare a moment?” You jumped, cursing as your hand bumped the water basin, knocking it to the floor.

“Gods, Father! Was your intention to stop my heart?” you asked the tall, black-haired elven man standing in your doorway, frustration clearly plastered on your face.

“Apologies,” he murmured, looking you over before he reached for the empty basin, keeping his bare feet clear of the puddle that formed from the spill. “It’s not like you to scare easily. Is everything alright?”

You sighed. “Just a little tired. The preparations have me stressed.”

“Then I hate to spring this on you now but there is something we must discuss.” While he expressed regret in words you could see his face did not show the same emotion. Haldir, your father, was a hard elf to read and, as usual, you could not determine how he was feeling at this moment. “Come to my study when you are finished here.” With that, he left as silently as he arrived.

You closed your eyes for a moment, toes growing cold from the water you were still standing in. Haldir’s study was his private space, a place he went to work and think on the happenings of Alfheim in peace. As children, you and your brother were forbidden from ever bothering him while the door to the study was closed. Even as adults you knew it was best to follow the same rule. To call you there meant this was a serious conversation.

You opened your eyes and worked on wiping away the remaining scratches along with the water on the floor. Donning a clean tunic and pants you crossed your treetop home and climbed the winding stairs around the tree’s trunk to your father’s study. The door was ajar as you approached. Haldir nodded as you entered. “Close the door behind you.”

Your eyes scanned the room as you did what he asked. This was not a place you frequented. On one side of the room, the wall was lined with books written in all the languages of the races of Alfheim. On the other wall, behind your father’s desk was a large map of Alfheim which labeled the capital cities of the realm’s races along with mountains and rivers. The small trees painted onto the map to indicate elven forests looked much more vibrant than the real ones you have seen in recent months.

“Y/N.” You looked at your father, again trying to read what he was feeling. As he sighed and looked at you, you could tell that he too was tired. The weight of the impending war rested heavily on his shoulders.

“The Council has decided that the only way to win the coming war and ensure the survival of all of Alfheim’s races is to seek an alliance with Asgard. There will be true peace in place of this uneasy tolerance of the other’s existence. If we can negotiate a treaty, the Council believes Odin will agree to provide us the assistance we need to destroy the orc armies.”

You frowned. “What can we possibly offer that will interest the Asgardians?” You searched your brain for an answer to your own question. Truthfully, you did not know much about the other realm. However, you knew the Asgardians were wealthy. It was rumored their cities were made from gold and other precious metals. Their technology was centuries ahead of Alfheim, which was quite primitive in comparison. It was said Asgard even had flying ships. You almost laughed at the thought.

“Not much,” Haldir admitted. “Which is why we need to form an alliance which can never be broken. The Council will send representatives to Asgard to propose a marriage to bring the realms together.”

Your heart began to pound uncomfortably fast in your chest and you gripped a chair for support. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt the energy hidden inside of you ready to explode along with your emotions. No, that’s ridiculous he couldn’t mean me. But why else call you to his study to explain the Council’s decisions and not bring it up during dinner with your brother? “Why me?” You finally managed to squeeze out the words. “Why not anybody else?”

“The members of the High Council are the closest equivalent Alfheim has to any sort of nobility. As my daughter that grants you status far above many others in the realm.” Haldir’s voice was even, steady. It betrayed no hint of emotion.

“That still does not answer my question, Father. Why me? Why not that Elf, Reylynn? As an actual Council member her status is greater than mine. Or one of the dwarves or tieflings? Surely someone else has a daughter they would love to see married to Asgardian nobility. I’m a soldier. I’m not suited for any kind of marriage or, or…” Words failed you. You knew your father. He had already made the decision. No amount of pleading would change that. For the first time in a long while your eyes stung with tears but you refused to let them fall.

Haldir sighed and rubbed his eyes. “As the oldest member of the Council, my word often has the most sway, which is why we determined an alliance between my family and Odin’s would be the strongest, considering it is likely your brother will take my place one day. The family bond will remain strong that way. Also, your age is more closely aligned with that of the princes’ than anyone else’s. That can also be important when negotiating a marriage, especially when the elves and Asgardians tend to outlive many others.”

At the word “princes” you stopped listening. “What did you say?”

“You weren’t listening?” Haldir growled in frustration.            

“No. I mean yes. I mean…” You ran a hand through your hair, pushing it back, mind racing, trying to understand the situation. “Princes?” you managed to whisper.

Haldir nodded.

“Why one of them? Why not some noble or Odin’s second cousin or something?” You were still trying to grapple with the idea that you were being wed off, to spend the rest of your life among the cold gold that Asgard was likely built of, so different from the forests of Alfheim. So different from your home. To marry a noble would mean some degree of freedom, but a prince? Would that mean permanent confinement within the walls of the palace? To never ride your horse along the river again or to never pick up a blade to spar? Would you still be able to sneak away and train in secret?

A humorless laugh escaped you. “Am I being exiled?”

Confusion revealed itself on Haldir’s face. “What are you talking about?”

“Is this a convenient way for you and the other elves to be rid of me? To ensure I can never pose any danger? So I don’t end up like Mother?”

“Enough.” There was a hint of anger in his voice. “You will not say such things again. I leave for Asgard in two days to meet with Odin and propose the marriage between you and Prince Loki. I will send for you if we reach an agreement.”

[eorzeanalliance]

Meeting my Soulmate

A/N: So my first ever writing commission, and it is FFXIV related! If you’re interested, I am currently doing super cheap ones over on my Ko-Fi page as it is just launching! Well, shall write more at the end, for now enjoy and let me know what you think? Also this was edited by an amazing FFXIV friend of mine, so all thanks to Elora Fiery <3 (This is about two people who fall in love through FFXIV and it’s from the perspective of the male. Based on a true story)

Meeting my Soulmate

"Shiny soul, the shape of light in me." Those were the words that came to mind that day. When our eyes first locked. The tranquil marketboard of the Lavender Beds, peacefully located within the heart of the Black Shroud. There I stood, gazing around the many wares various vendors had to offer. Some items stranger than others, from you bog standard potions to the most exoctic of mounts. Gathering items for our next grand adventure, my two companions almost falling into my shadow, when I turn and see... you.

The lack of people, the sounds of birds tweeting happily, the general serenity of the surrounding forest. But that all ceased to exist around me. Time stood still when our eyes met even thought I was fully focused on my duties, there was something... Something which drew me to her and that elegant smile which graced her lips. I found myself wavering, albeit for a mere few seconds but that was all I saw...

When she first waved at me everything stood on end. Her slight smile, the happiness radiating from her face, her sky-blue eyes shining brightly. At the time I didn't really think about it... So focused on my next raid I would be doing with my companions, I didn't acknowledge it at the time. It's embarrassing to think that in that moment I could do no more than flash a tiny smile, wave my hand in almost passing greeting you'd give to a passing stranger, and head to my FC house with great haste. Must've seemed like I was running for my life...

The usual suspects and myself, ready for the fight! Geared up to the sunless sea! My brother Shyn and a cheerful friend of his, another Lalafell called Mimo and... You…

It was as if Nymeia herself interwove our fates together and Menphina had added her own little sprinkle to the concoction which ultimately brought us together. The name of this shiny soul continued to remain in shadow, much like my companions when I gazed upon her. I can't say it was love at first sight, but she was kind and warm and I found myself drawn to her. 

The transcendent light she blessed me with cast a shadow on everything around me, engulfing me in her beautiful embrace almost. Just what in the Seven Hells were you doing to me!? The warmth you gave, the joy you radiated, your whole being enveloping me and working into every part of my being, taking over all of me. The battle didn't go as initially planned. A monster had taken us by surprise, emerging seemingly out of nowhere! One side swipe and lack of time to move, it knocked a few of us down, and rendered several of our party members completely unconscious. That will leave a mark in the morning!

But there you were. As I am out front, grabbing this cruel beings attention and trying to protect the others who were down, the fight between the two of us breaking into complete and utter chaos… She smiled at me. All she had to do was smile and the warmth overtook me. A smile back was all I could muster, I was still embarrassed from my quite frankly appalling display earlier on in the day. 

But in those few precious moments, the diabolical being saw my quick moment of distraction and brought his claw down upon me with such force, such ferocity, it was too much to bear and I was down for the count... 

Dead. 

“The end is coming!” “The end is near!” “I have failed my comrades!” “Death finally gets to embrace me and I get to walk Halone's halls” Those were the words that screamed in my mind, over and over again before the shadow finally swallowed me into the vast emptiness. 

Or so I believed... "Rise and shine, continue fighting."

The words struck me like lightning, shooting through my being and electrifying me. The thunder of your words echoed in my ears, raising me up from what I thought would be my untimely demise. It wasn't death that had come to greet me, but life, commanding me to wake up from an almost eternal slumber.

It energized me to keep going, keep on fighting! This wasn't the end of the fight, it was merely just the beginning! Her voice and words resonated through my mind, giving me the inner motivation to keep going, to keep fighting. Not just for myself or my comrades, but for her! 

That was the first time I had heard her voice. It was a rather serious tone for someone who looked so sweet. Maybe it was because my head was in a bit of a mess, considering the fighting was still ongoing around us.

"Rise and shine, continue fighting." I sat up suddenly, my eyes flying open to see the new spectacle in front of me. Fortunately one of my companions had managed to provoke the creatures attention away from myself, whilst the beauty before me helping me to wake. The princess waking the prince from the eternal sleep... Not sure if that was how it goes…

Nodding to my companion, I stand feeling almost reborn. I called out to the monster and it turned to face me. It's face twisted with rage from being provoked and tormented by the adventurers. It ran towards me with incredible haste. As I picked up my sword, I found myself, in my new found resurrection at the hands of this woman, charging at it with full speed. 

Moments that felt like hours passed and the fight was finally over. The battle won. Letting out a thunderous cheer, the few companions whom remained alive let out a yell of victory. We began to slowly gather up, some helping the gravely wounded and others making sure the unconscious were still among us.

But this woman, this light whom had pulled me from the precipice of death, stood before me. The brightest smile spread across her beautiful face, her cheeks blushed a subtle pink. She let out a loud cheer, jumping and spinning around in a dance, happily and seemingly without a care in the world. I felt my whole being melt within. This pure being had been blessed upon me. Whatever I had done in this world, I had clearly done something right!

I could do nothing more than break out into a smile, I think her joyous personality had started to rub off on me. Caught up in the moment, I let the biggest, widest grin etch across my face and I jumped up in jubilation alongside her dance of pure bliss.

In a way, I felt like I had found something in her that I hadn't felt in a long time. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Being in constant need across the realm had it's perks in notoriety and wealth both, but life had been losing that small spark. But that changed when I saw her in those brief moments. Just being near her filled me with a flood of great joy that I felt overwhelmed. "Shiny soul, the shape of light in me.”

Life returned to relative normality after that. Besides the fact this deity from the sunless sea above continued to linger in my every waking thought; appearing in my dreams and pressing herself onto every corner of my small existence. Even when I took daily trips out to get a head start on the latest request someone had given me, she was there like a phantom in my thoughts.

But in the sheer happiness she gave me, I was silly enough not to ask her name. This wonderful woman whom had such a profound effect on me and she was nameless. Good one Papamun! Well, given the circumstances, it had all been rather hectic… Oh yes, my name is Papamun, one of the many Warriors of Light who exist in Eorzea! I can remember to mention my own name, yet fail to get the name of this most elegant woman.

--- Once again it was time to go back to my usual duties with Mimo and my companions. Another day within the sanctuary in the forest, the calm housing of the Lavender beds. Back to the marketboard to pick from the array of merchandise on offer to us. Just like before, when my whole world was shaken to its core. The feeling was still very prominent in my chest, my heart raced at the simple thought that she might grace me with her transcending presence again.

It was almost as if Mephina was watching over me. There among the calming serenity of the housing area, the birds suddenly started to sing and the breeze picked up lightly like something read in religious texts, and there she stood. She was also perusing a marketboard located just down the path. Menphina watching over her as well because she suddenly looked towards me, catching my watchful gaze. Then that beautiful smile spread across her face upon seeing me, I smiled back once more. I failed to even notice the two companions with her, who were mere shadows within the glorious light of this woman.

"Shiny soul, the shape of light in me." I had seen it there and then. I was transfixed upon this beautiful woman before me. Her smile moved me in ways I still cannot fully describe. That same smile which always stayed with me filled me with an abundance of euphoria. It always seemed to perk me up when I felt the past few days  starting to take their toll, and when the darkness could potentially engulf me within it's shadowy embrace. 

I almost met another dark abyss, the one known as death. It seemed the next adventure would take me further away from the radiating glow of her presence. It seemed we had been paired up with the two companions that was with her in the Lavender Beds, but my heart sank into the deepest depths of despair upon realising that she wouldn't be in their stead. 

This situation was different. Fighting within the 'Weeping City of Mach' we continued through several of the trials but in the end, we were... I was no match for the monsters that laid further within the depths of the city streets. I was tired, exhausted and then I fell once more, just like with the monster I had fought before... 

I hoped and I prayed to hear her voice, for her to appear and save me like she had before, but nothing came. I greeted the darkness wholey this time, losing my grip on consciousness and trying to claw my way free of it's sweet embrace, but to no avail. I let it consume me. We had lost this fight. I had lost this fight.  

Luckily everyone was left relatively unscaved by the harsh encounters within the city walls of Mach, but there would always be a next time. So long as there was another sunrise, we could begin anew. The darkness took me this time, but it would be the last time I would fall victim to it's twisted and sinister ways. 

In case you were wondering, I didn't really die in that moment. That might cause some confusion to anyone reading this. The creature knocked me for six and it may seem a little over dramatic from the way I described it, but it truly felt like death! ---

And as the days went on, drifting into one another, I found my thoughts continually lingering about that brilliant ray of light. Specifically, that smile. Nothing else; just her smile, always thinking about that smile. 

I came to the Lavender Beds once more. I couldn't really describe what brought me here that day. Something, something was pulling me here. Menphina? God knows, but maybe because of how much the smile occupied my every waking moment, I wanted to see it again, to behold it with my very own eyes. She'd infected my mind with these images and yet... Yet, I welcome them wholeheartedly. I was hopeful that I could see her again, just like I had done before.

Much to my dismay, her usual spot was occupied by her companions, the nameless faces I'd not known. She was not there. The ache in my heart felt like it was being pierced by something razor sharp; my eyes widened suddenly upon realisation, the feeling slamming itself onto my whole being. This wasn't right, this didn't feel right, something was wrong. The moon had been crying before the dawn that night, so I asked the nameless companions about her. I was wracked with sudden dread, the worry consumed me whole.

"You're looking for Artemis?" One asked me.

"Artemis..." I muttered in reply.

The beautiful light had a name. Artemis. The name left my lips for the first time, it felt bittersweet like the taste of the finest Sour Red made from the freshest of Lowland Grapes found throughout all of La Noscea. This being blessed upon me by Menphina was named Artemis. A name I would not soon forget. I found myself raising my fingers to my lips upon saying the once unknown word, repeating it to myself a few times to make sure it was real.

"You can find her at her Apartment." They said.

I asked the person to tell me where her apartment was. After getting the directions I went with great haste. Something must be very wrong with her, with Artemis. My heart pounded a thousand malms per second within my breast. I would do anything to never let that smile fade from her beautiful face, whatever it took.

It made sense for someone with such joyous light to be located in the happy location of The Mists. The housing areas of the La Noscea; the sandy shores, the clear blue skies. It was heavenly to say the least. But I feared what was waiting for me wasn't going to be as bright and radiant as the elements currently dictated.

Upon arrival outside, I looked up at the building towering above me. The shadow cast upon me as I continued to look. Dread started to seep in, terrified of something being very wrong with her. My life, my light, could very well be in danger of being extinguished. I shook the thoughts that flooded my mind and without thinking, my legs carried me into the building. 

Upon finding the right number, I stopped. Just before I knocked I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep breath, getting all my bearings and thoughts together, then exhaled lightly. Pushing aside what fears I had, I gently knocked on the door. I noticed the door ajar just enough to know it was already open. I pushed it open cautiously, as not to startle her.

There she was, sat on the sofa, alone in her apartment. Upon seeing me push the door open, Artemis smiled. But it wasn't that same joyous smile which filled my body with such euphoria, it was one hiding such sadness behind it. The everlasting light of this magnificent woman was at risk of being put out. No, I wouldn't have it. I wouldn’t ever let it happen to her! I swore a vow that day, that I would never let her lose that radiant and beaming smile, the light she shines around her would never fall to the dark. And I will see that through until my last breath.

I had walked towards her and slowly placed my hand on her arm, patting it a few times in comfort. She didn’t have to be alone. I would be by her side, no matter what. This feeling I had, bubbling up to the surface, the need to make her happy... Always. 

It was then she looked at me, that smile which always moved me and this time, this time the joy had returned to her face, she even laughed slightly. Maybe she thought herself silly for crying. I didn't think so, not for one second. She wouldn't never be silly for showing her emotions, not to me, not ever. The last few remaining tears dripped from her face, but she continued to smile through it all. 

"Shiny soul, the shape of light in me."

---

It was a new day, a new sunrise, a new chapter in the story we've come to weave together. The moon had burnt before the dawn. There was just the two of us, making a pact to not look back on past events. To keep looking forward, looking towards the future we'd be sharing together, a future to make sure she kept smiling.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into years. We did all sorts of things; sharing adventures together, having lots of laughs, fighting together, always side by side and after spending all this time together, we both realised that something more could have possibly been developing here. I know for sure it was from my end, with this feeling I felt, now when I reflect back on it...  

It was love.

I was in love with Artemis.

Even saying that name now still gives me chills. I was in love with this magnificent, wondrous woman and her name was Artemis.

Both of us were growing in light for one another. Our two souls were connected as one. She was to me as the moon is to the night sky; illuminating, radiant, beautiful. I basked in the bright glow of her elegance which kept the darkness far away from me, never for it to come and pull me back into it's deathly embrace.

After more time had passed, I'd started to daydream. I would let my mind wander about the wide array of things our future would hold together. The two souls connected as one and the endless possibilities the future held before us. I thought it silly of me at the time, that I could very well be throwing away all the time we spent together, risking everything just because my mind took a tiny step into the future. 

I asked her to marry me.

Still, I was consumed with my fears and doubts. I mean, asking someone to marry you isn't anything small. But the thought of her saying no left me petrified. I couldn't imagine a future without her in it. Not only with her brilliant smile; her beautiful eyes or the radiance she glowed upon my once dark life every day. The doubts continued to echo within the confines of my mind, they would've consumed me if she hadn't pierced through them with her next few words. 

"I want to, yes."

Looking at her, a shining star. Both of us sharing the same surname, the same soul.

Kind, noble, brave, faithful, beautiful.

Papamun Elspeth 

Artemis Elspeth

For the future adventures we will face. The trials and tribulations, the laughs, the sadness, the hurt and the comfort.

And that is the story of how I met my soulmate. 

A beautiful, bright, brilliant Lalafell: Artemis.

Thank you for being with me, for being the magic in my life.

"Shiny soul, the shape of light in me.”

A/N: Any criticism I will happily take onboard. This was something which I put my heart and soul into and writing this re-ignited something in me to continue writing, even though I’ve had writers block for a good few months now. But asked by Papamun to write this about meeting his now fiance in FFXIV as a birthday gift for Artemis and it was an honour and a priviledge that I was asked to write this and it came out not bad if I do say so myself. They were kind enough to give me permission to post this.

There will be more to come, but it will be more about WoL/Canon and all that some such. But if you liked this and would like to see more, for a certain amount of time only I am doing stupid cheap commissions over on my Ko-Fi page

[novantinuum]

jen’s doctor who s11 review

On the whole!

I really enjoyed series 11 for its nice change in pace and especially the relationship built up between Graham and Ryan. I really liked how many of the episodes were lighter and kinda more adventure-y in nature than in past, instead of constant “the world is gonna end” danger. Like I love those kinds of episodes, believe me, but the lighter tone is very welcomed after many series of heart wrenching angst ahahahah! 

I loved how they handled the historical episodes this series, and really dug into the truth of human condition within those time periods, and took risks there. I actually learned a lot about the time periods they visited- for example, I never really heard much about the Pakistan partition in school. 

Thirteen is precious and I want to hug her. She’s so full of hope and that makes me so happy! :DDD I love how she’s a sciency tinkerer and likes cobbling stuff together out of whatever loose ends she can find. I’m still waiting for her to snap, though- maybe that’s just me as an angst lord talking, but I want to see her super super angry. The scene in The Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos with her sternly disagreeing with Graham was very good though. But anyways, I love her positivity and her quirky alien charm, and her character feels like a natural progression of where the Doctor left off at the end of Twice Upon a Time. The Doctor has gone through a lot of healing since the Time War, a lot of self reflection and forgiving themself, and Thirteen is absolutely a product of that and it shows. It’s so nice to see them back on their feet, unshackled by that guilt finally, just wandering about the universe like they always did. 

Yasmin is so sweet and so loyal, and h o h boy if there’s anyone I can see sticking with the Doctor until the bitter end out of this crew it’s her. (*nervous laughter*) Out of all the crew she’s the one who’s had the least development though, so I’m looking forward to seeing where she goes as a character moving forward. Also, I hope we see her family more, I like them! Maybe in the New Years special, we’ll see. I’ve absolutely hit the “ADOPT KID” button on Ryan, the more I think about him the more I love him- just, all this time he’s been looking for belonging, for people who aren’t gonna leave him behind like his dad, and he had that with his nan Grace- but he didn’t know if Graham was gonna be the same or if he was only there for him bc of association with Grace. But now through all these adventures through space and time he has absolute proof that Graham will be there for him, and so he’s made the conscious decision to make Graham his family. And Graham, hhh... his grieving throughout the series, while not acting as a shadow on it, was always woven through and it’s nice to see both him and Ryan actually make peace with things through seeing Tim Shaw again and giving him his humble pie. 

In the end when it comes to this series, I love the strong found family vibes it gives. Graham and Ryan and Yaz, they all knew each other in some way before, but they didn’t truly know each other. And through being thrown together with the Doctor, entering her wild adventurous life, they got to grow closer as friends, but more importantly, as a family. The whole series the Doctor was looking for a word to describe her little ragtag group, and she wasn’t exactly sure if “fam” was the right one, but in the end it’s what she settles on because this has become a family. 

Now, what I’m hoping to see more of in the future! 

1) I’d love to see more extended domestic-y TARDIS scenes! We’ve got a lot of pre/post endcap TARDIS scenes, but I’d love to see more small little convos between characters on the way to their destinations, in between, etc. For as long as these episodes were I feel like so much time was spent providing exposition and story for the plot, but I’d love to see more fun nonsense. More glimpses at what they get up to in between, if that makes any sense. (As an example of what I mean, we got a bit of this in The Tsuranga Conundrum, at the very beginning when they were just poking about a junkyard planet, and I quite liked that.)

2) As the characters keep developing I’d love to see more conflict arise between them to test their friendships. We saw some good moments of this with the Doctor telling Ryan to stay behind with Hanne in It Takes You Away after he made a kinda narrow-minded comment about her disability, and when the Doctor flat out told Graham that if he killed Tim Shaw he wouldn’t be traveling with her anymore in the finale. I’d love to see more of this.

3) This may just be because I’m really queer, but I want the Doctor to snap and yell and get really angry at something. That’s the ONE thing that felt entirely missing from this series. In the end I get the sense that this Doctor has a far greater reign on her emotions and self because she’s healed quite a bit, but I still know she’s capable of that righteous anger and I’d love to see Jodie show off her full range with a scene like that.

4) We’ll probably get this in the New Years special, but I’m super anticipating Thirteen facing the Daleks. This is a quintessential thing for every Doctor, in my opinion, and I can’t wait for when they (hopefully!) eventually do that.

5) More of a plot arc. I definitely know the lack of a tight plot arc was because they wanted it to be more accessible for people to just tune in and watch without context,, as they’re gaining some new fans, but I hope that there’s more of a return to an ongoing series plot arc with this next series since everything’s been established. I personally really like those, because I get to be a plot arc detective! I will say that I’m very pleased that Tim Shaw was brought back for the finale, though- that acted as a very nice bookend and helped tie up all the emotional threads.

6) Also not exactly anything I can fault this series for, because I can tell one of the points/themes of it was “not everything is what it seems on the surface” and “sometimes the real monsters,,, are humanity” and I very much respect that, but I do wanna see some more just... alien baddies who ARE baddies and not misunderstood. Listen,, I’m a simple minded person. Love me some monsters! 

My rankings! 

For context, I’m generally very easy with my ratings. I’m not rating them on how critically perfect they are as plots or anything, this is purely based on how much I enjoyed them. I’ve only actually rated nine episodes of Doctor Who 2005-present with scores of 6 or below.

10- Absolutely SUPERB  9- Excellent! 8- Great! 7- Good 6- Okay

1) Demons of the Punjab    (10) This ep made me cry more than any episode of Doctor Who has in a very long time. Incredibly poignant, stunning music and cinematography. Taught me a whole lot I never knew about the partition and how it affected everyday people. I liked how the Doctor assumed the whole time that these aliens were  A good Yaz centric ep, too. It ranks 7th in my list of all-time favorites.  

2) It Takes You Away   (9.5) Wowee, another very poignant one! Some FANTASTIC acting from Jodie in this ep, and a very trippy concept with the sentient universe. Loved getting to see each companion getting a good role to play. ALSO CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT HOW MUCH I STAN THAT FROG??? AND THE DOCTOR SEDUCING AN ENTIRE UNIVERSE???? B R U H. Hanne’s actress did a wonderful job too! 

3) Kerblam!   (9) What a heckin fun episode! This one will definitely become one of my comfort eps, I can already tell. The secondary characters were all lovely, and the bots were delightfully unsettling too! I spent the whole thing going “wow I totally experienced this working at Amazon” and I thought that was pretty funny. Also, I might highlight all the wonderful Graham snark we got in this one. 

4) Rosa    (9) Gahhh this was a hard one to watch, but very truthful in its depiction of the time period, and a lovely tribute to an incredibly courageous woman. Shout out to how the ep forced Graham to recognize and accept his white privilege (and the Doctor too for that matter), the scene with Ryan and Yaz discussing racism they’ve had to endure, and also for the scene with the Doctor making jokes about Banksy. That made me laugh. “Banksy doesn’t have one of these! Or do I?”

5) The Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos    (9) I was VERY glad to see Tim Shaw return for some finished business, and how it allowed Graham and Ryan to finally get a bit of peace for what happened to Grace because of him. This was a solid ep, with some SOLID character moments between Graham and the Doctor and Graham and Ryan. The Ux were interesting, too.

6) The Woman Who Fell to Earth    (8.5) Solid, fun episode. It wastes no time in setting up who Thirteen will be. Still one of my favorite scenes in this whole series so far is when she builds her own sonic screwdriver- GOD the music there is so damn iconic. And gahhh I love Grace so much. How dare they make me love a character so much and then let her die? Rude. That’s homophobia. XD

7) The Witchfinders   (8.5) The Doctor gets dunked in water and has soaked hair. Dare I say more? No, but I was glad to see an ep with an alien danger that actually IS an alien danger that seeks to destroy and conquer, I always love those- and this one, with weird sentient mud that can fill corpses, was delightfully grim. Willow was a great secondary character, too- loved her especially. 8) The Ghost Monument   (8) Okay so I really loved how slice-of-life this episode was? We actually got to know our secondary characters Angstrom and Epzo and I appreciated that. The bit with the Doctor thinking the TARDIS was gone forever at the end... hhhhhhng... that was such a good scene. You could just see the hope drained from her face, and then to see it all rush back as she finally found her?? W o w I’m so emo, y’all ;D;

9) The Tsuranga Conundrum  (7) So I enjoyed this one, but there were some kinda oddly phrased bits of dialogue in it that marks it down for me. The Pting is a delightfully weird and cursed creature, 10/10, would yeet out of a spacecraft. I already mentioned this, but I LOVE the scene in the junkyard and how slice-of-life it was. I also appreciate how someone called out the Doctor on being selfish during this. 10) Arachnids in the UK   (6.5) So this episode was riding right on the edge of “ehh” for me, but it still has some great moments in it, with the Doctor awkwardly interacting with Yasmin’s family and all those heckin spiders bee-boppin down the hallways to the tune of rap music. XD I can’t exactly pick out why it was an “eh” for me, but it just didn’t click. Maybe I was just hoping it’d be an alien thing and was kinda left wanting with the way the episode felt kinda... unfinished. Like, there’s still a bunch of giant spiders? They didn’t solve that. They just- trapped them and left. I dunno I was left wanting with this ep.

[marklineson]

RED THREADS (ACT IV)

Park Chanyeol × Park Sooyoung

Park Chanyeol loved his wife enough to think she’d be blinded by love as much as he was when he took her for granted and started meeting another woman behind her back. He thought he, as a respected police officer, would be strong enough to take any damage given to his heart and mind-

The less was he prepared for the day his wife, Sooyoung, ended up leaving him. The day he had asked her out. The day he had proposed to her.

Christmas Eve.

Chapter Song: 

Word Count: ongoing

ACT IV - STILL

“And he was still hung up on her with every single fibre of his body.”

24th of December, 2020

A bell chimmed as the door to the small bar was pushed open. Kim Minseok's eyes left the wine glass he was polishing skillfully, shifting to the tall visitor who was just about to put off his long coat, greeting the few customers at the back of the room with a nod.

"Oh, you're early today, Chanyeol." Said man smiled weakly as he instinctively took his seat - really, if only you'd squint your eyes at his stool, you would be able to see his butthocks engraved from all the hours he's spent sitting on it in the past years.

"Well, it's not like anyone's waiting for me at home", he growled, immediately grabbing the whiskey glass Minseok had just placed on the counter knowingly, and took a sip. "No need to sit on an empty couch any longer when I know you're opening up at 2 in the afternoon."

Minseok sighed soundlessly as he put the glasses he'd just dried on top of the counter. He knew Chanyeol felt lonely all around the year, especially in December. "Listen, I know you're still having your hopes up, but don't you think it's time to move on? It's been four years, Yeol. I have the feeling living in this huge house on your own isn’t very healthy for someone like you." He had thought about it for some time, noticing early how much Chanyeol had changed ever since Sooyoung had left him, and gave him a worried look as he poured him a glass of his usual.

"Someone like me?" Chanyeol didn't answer his best friend's stare, all his attention now lying on a group of women in their late twenties, laughing a bit too loud for his taste. He merely shuttered at the thought that they were nice to look at, but unbearable either way, and he shook his head when he caught himself comparing them to his ex-wive. They couldn't compare. No one could.

"Someone who's usually loud and all over whatever place he's at", Minseok smiled gently and chuckled a bit at the way his old acquaintance eyed said females disapprovingly. "Someone who'd mope around like an immature teenager whenever he's not our center of attention for half an hour."

 "Maybe I've become more mature?", Chanyeol pondered as his gaze returned to the glass in his hand, alcohol gently swaying inside as his hand spun the glass around on the table.

"-Or maybe you've become depressed?"

Chanyeol pulled a face when Minseok quickly took the whiskey glass away from him to prevent the precious item from falling off the bar table."Listen, it's not like you to come here to drink in the middle of the day. I've seen lots of different types of people come and fall in this bar over the past ten years, and believe me, I don't want you to be on that list."

For the first time in a while, Park Chanyeol remembered that this specific friend in front of him was a few years older than him. Minseok usually was a pretty chilled and rather soft companion, someone you could always call up whenever you needed someone to pour your heart out to- and Chanyeol was able to foresee the words that would come out of his mouth in a moment. He remembered having a similar conversation with Minseok back when Chanyeol had just graduated from High School and had decided to rather not go back home to his parents for a week and sleep under a bridge  than tell his father that he'd not fullfill his dream of his own son following him in his footsteps as a renowned lawyer, but to chase his own dreams and become a police officer.

"You know that it irks me to see my friends being so down in the mouth. You're not the type of person to come here and get drunk and mope around for the rest of the day-"

"People change, I guess." 

Both of them raised their heads at the sudden sound of Do Kyungsoo's voice that rang over to them from the front door. They watched said man as he walked over to them and occupied the seat next to Chanyeol, throwing his thick beige winter coat onto another bar stool.

"Wow, what a rare sight", Minseok snickered and nodded at Kyungsoo to greet him. "I can't say I'm unhappy about some help with this tough one we have here-"

"Guys, please. Can't you leave me alone with this whole shit for a single day? It's Christmas." They both raised their eyebrows at the way Chanyeol hid his face in his hands and slouched down, his upper body now lowered to half of it's actual height. 

"-Christmas, the most romantic time of the year", Kyungsoo added and his face lit up as he playfully hit his tall friend's shoulder who'd been groaning at his addition,"that's why the guys are all coming here with their better halves, including me... and sadly, excluding you, dumbass."

 Chanyeol, his head still face-down on the counter, murmured: "What does all mean?" 

The one behind the counter threw in- "All of them- us. Kyungsoo, Jongdae, Baekhyun, even Jongin came here from New York with his girlfriend to-"

"--Wait, so Baekhyun's not coming alone, either?" Chanyeol finally raised his head, eyes widened from the sudden shock the news had put him in.

"Yeah, her name is... Kyungri."

It took a while for Minseok's tone, oozing with irony, to sink into Chanyeol's brain that still couldn't deal with the sight of the blinking fairy lights behind the bar, when-"Wait, your sister and Baekhyun-", he finally exclaimed, but was interrupted by Kyungsoo slamming his empty glass on the table.

"Don't remind me", he growled, "I still can't believe my sister lowered her standards enough to hook up with this horrible excuse of a police-"

"Soo, please. Just a few minutes ago, Chanyeol stated that it is Christmas, the feast of love and joy",  Minseok snickered, and they heard the tallest among them mumble something close to "using my words for your own purpose".

The three of them ended up downing a small shot of Bourbon in silence, giving Chanyeol some time to think. Again.It wasn't like he hadn't been thinking about this matter before- heck, there hadn't been a day without him thinking of his wife, the smug looks on his face whenever his friends had pulled faces oozing with jealousy. He had been thinking about her non-stop, and whenever he was close to forgetting for a second, he'd been reminded of her absence by the smallest things- starting with the same bouquet of flowers he bought every two weeks at her favourite flower shop or the scent of the car air freshener he still bought every month because he couldn't bring himself to change it. Change was something he had loved when he was younger, but it had become a nuisance when his luck walked out of the door of their shared house. Something that pained him when he knew that with every fibre of his body, he was still hung up on his previous wife.

Chanyeol noticed Minseok handing him another glass of liquor, downing it in one go when it hit him that he was still hung up on Park Sooyoung with every single fibre of his body.

“At least the chief’s still single as well”, he murmured, the image of Kim Junmyeon popping up in the back of his mind.

“Actually-” Kyungsoo was cut off the bright chimmng of the bell above the entrance and a mix of laughter and whinng that surely belonged to no other than Kim Jongdae.

“I swear, we tried everything to tag him along, but he said he was having plans!”

“Yeah, we tried bribing him by promising to behave in the office, but even that wasn’t enough to get him to come- I bet he’s visiting his parents for a family reunion”, Baekhyun added, rolling his eyes at the thought of their traditional chief.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s always been very fond of his family-”

Chanyeol, obviously happy to see his friends coming to brighten this evening (but also fairly annoyed by the noise and the happiness everyone was radiating), looked over to Kyungsoo, whose wife had just walked over to give him an affectionate kiss (Yeol noticed that his friend couldn’t supress the redness creeping up his cheeks and ears). He himself responded to her affectionate greeting with a mere nod and a week smile, and the moment she walked over to get a large table close to the counter occupied, Kyungsoo ruffled his hair and simply, but loudly stated:

“Wouldn’t be too surprised if Junmyeon’s far, far away from home at the moment.”

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows, getting up to greet the rest of the group. “Why’s that? Family trouble?”

The smaller guy snickered. “No, but I think he’s started dating someone again. That one team leader you worked with in division five.”

Kyungsoo grinned, while watching the faces of his friends and collegues fall one after another, Baekhyun’s mouth ripped open in disbelief while his girlfriend gently patted his back, and Jongdae being hit by his own female counterpart when he snorted.

 “Irene?!”

The following two hours passed in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Jongin and his girlfriend had eventually arrived half an hour after everyone else had managed to get cozy. While everyone else was engulfed in talks about their plans for Christmas and New Years, Chanyeol was happily looking at photos of Jongin’s twins on his friend’s phone. 

“They’ve grown so much since the last time you sent us a picture.”

Jongin’s nose crunched as he laughed. “That was like, a week ago,”

“-Still!”, Jongdae threw in, looking past Chanyeol’s shoulder to look at the girls. “How old are they? Two?”

“They’re turning three years next month.” Everyone could see Jongin’s chest swelling with the pride of a father. Something in Chanyeol stirred when he noticed his hand brushing the one of his girlfriend. 

“9th January, wasn’t it”, he asked, voice suddenly a lot raspier than before.

Jongin’s girlfriend nodded, glancing at him lovingly, before her gaze took a turn to the sadness that overcame her whenever she thought of what a good father Chanyeol would have been. The softness washing past his features caused her to tear up, reminding her of the most beautiful moment she had shared with Jongin- the birth of their twins. She thought of the first time Jongin had held his baby girls in his arms, and the moment Chanyeol put his arm around her shoulder, congratulating her. She was sure she would never forget the first time she saw Jongin’s friend holding one of their girls, tears of pure joy trickling down his face while Jongin showered her face with kisses. 

What a good godfather Chanyeol was.

“Is that the blanket I sent you as a present for their first birthday?”, Chanyeol exclaimed, face lighting up more and more with every photo.

“Yeah, though I have to admit Yena uses it as a napkin these days-” Jongin laughed, but suddenly raised his eyebrows, his grip on his girlfriend’s hand tightening when he saw Chanyeol’s face was taken over by confusion, his eyes wide and dark as he put Jongin’s phone on the table. 

“ Yeol? You okay-?”

But neither Jongin’s voice, nor Jongdae’s hand on his shoulder could keep Chanyeol from jumping up, throwing his chair back in the process, and running out of the bar within seconds. 

It had been nothing but a glimpse. An image that triggered various memories- dark hair falling down a naked back in waves; soft curves covered in blue, leaning into his touch; dark red lips, curving upwards, consuming his soul; 

He managed to locate the waves of dark hair he had seen in the corner of his eye before, the blue bell coat that had seemed familiar. 

He heard the bar’s bell chimming once more behind him, Minseok stepping out, Chanyeol’s coat in hand. Heard his friend calling out to him, repeating his name over and over, as the woman a few steps ahead turned around, glancing at the phone in her hand, before lifting her head. Her face was taken over by the most radiant smile Chanyeol had ever seen, and he managed to open his mouth to call out to her, when he felt something -someone- brushing past him, nearly knocking him off his feet with a single word.

“Mommy!”

Chanyeol’s gaze shifted from the woman’s face to the small ball of pink fur, sticking its arms up and jumping high, obviously wishing to be picked up, when a man around his age walked up to them leisurely, fullfilling the childs wish and hugging the female shortly after. 

Minseok’s eyes, round and clear, shifted from the young family to Chanyeol’s face, and for a second, he thought he could hear his friend’s heart breaking anew, when Yeol managed to raise his voice.

“Soo... Sooyoung?” 

The woman’s eyes focused on them, and as expected, her face fell.

[loveiscosmicsin]

5. "You're burning up" - Ignoct

Hurt/Comfort Prompt Meme

You can check this out, too, if you want. Just pics of my dumb drafts I wouldn’t post in my fics: https://mobile.twitter.com/loveiscosmicsin/status/827227422009364480

-

An AU that features Oracle of Futurity Noctis Lucis Caelum, Crown Prince of Lucis and Ignis Scientia, Royal Retainer and “Blind Seer” to the Princess and King of Light Lunafreya Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae. Fate Swap. Loosely follows canon. How IgNoct would’ve been under these circumstances had Ignis grown up in Tenebrae as Luna’s best friend. Not genderbending the characters, the roles have been masculine and feminine respectably in the lore until the roles were reversed in the current generation. Sorry if you get confused.

@letshareapapou was kind enough to write this fic with me Radiance is also on Ao3

-

5. “You’re burning up.” – IgNoct

“It’s been some while. Do you remember the last time you saw Prince Noctis?”

Luna glanced away from the scenic view of the window to address the traveling companion sitting across from her. “It’s been twelve years.” When her companion didn’t react to the given answer, she added, “Though he had stayed in Tenebrae for only two weeks, we’ve remained in contact after that time.”

“This will be our first time going into the Crown City.” Ignis inclined his head, registering information he already was aware of. “He’ll expect to see a fine young lady.”

The lady in question let out an astonished gasp. “Ignis! Have I not achieved outstanding ovation for my maidenhood? Am I not the paragon in both etiquette and citizenship surpassing all expectations?”

“Ah, yes,” Ignis stroked at his chin, unaffected by Luna’s protests. “How could I forget the polls unanimously declaring you a winner in all fields…” He fixed the young woman with what Luna defined as a cheeky remark, “All from publications that target adolescent girls and mature women, I may add.”

The woman crossed her arms over her chest. Ignis’ attack was uninvited and she mentally chastised herself for falling in a trap. “And just what is it that you’re implying? What do you know that I don’t?”

“I’m afraid we don’t have time for all that.”

“Oh you!” Luna kicked at Ignis’ shoe in a huff.

Ignis chuckled, “Fine display of refined behavior, indeed, Lady Lunafreya.”

The anointed King of Light and Princess Lunafreya Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae and Royal Retainer to the Crown Ignis Scientia were well on their way to Lucis. The King’s elder brother, Ravus, was able to secure safe passage via train. He had his qualms about letting his sister go off alone, but couldn’t compromise a peaceful visit with armed guards so he allowed her retainer to accompany her. For additional insurance for the lord commander’s conscience, he had asked for the two travelers to don on the ceremonial robes so they could blend in with the crowd of pilgrims arriving to the Citadel. There was an ongoing festival and many from all parts of Eos came to receive the Oracle’s blessing as well as experience Lucis’ hospitality. The conditions were fair and they agreed to return once they concluded their mission. After all, Tenebrae achieved some autonomy because of the King of Light’s emergence and contesting on her people’s behalf.  

Ignis was two years Luna’s junior, and had been in service to House Fleuret ever since he was a young boy. His brilliance and stoicism provided a contrast to the passionate and often, rebellious princess. They were polar opposites yet while Luna wasn’t as demure as she appeared before others, Ignis had a mischievous side to him, they developed an unbreakable bond.

Not only was Ignis her retainer, he was also her childhood friend. Ignis was expected to serve the future Queen of Tenebrae and was nearly removed from service when he lost his vision twelve years ago, the very day Niflheim set their beloved homeland ablaze. The Empire and remnants of the Tenebraen government didn’t hesitate with what to do with the vulnerable chamberlain-to-be. At that moment and before the new regime, the princess and future King of Light-to-be vetoed the forced resignation and asked Ignis to remain at her side until the day he died. Ignis accepted and he overcame his disability, his devotion rang louder than the hindrances along the way. He rose as advisor to the crown princess.

Luna breathed out softly and leaned back, glancing out the window, lips pursed as she drummed her fingers on the table.

“A gil for your thoughts?”

“What if… What if he’s disappointed?” She spoke in a whisper. It was a question she desperately wanted the answer to but at the same time, shield her ears to avoid it. It had been years, they were children then, expectations low and the cherished moments seemed to stretch out for eternity. The world seemed as open as the sylleblossom field that they had played in. But that was no longer, Noctis had grown into an amazing Oracle, renowned and bright as the stars in the night sky and Luna was… simply exhibited about as Niflheim’s priceless centerpiece and lauded as a celebrity in the tabloids.

“Luna.” She blinked back to Ignis, his gloved hand extended to hers, eyes set forward though there was nothing he could see in them. She gave a small smile and placed her own hand over his. He leaned in and kiss her knuckles gently. “You are a beautiful and extraordinary young woman. You need to give yourself more credit. Pay no heed about what the Oracle might think.” Ignis sighed, squeezing her fingers. “Remember that you must also be wary. Boys grow up into—”

“Men?” Luna interjected.

“Beasts with a ravenous hunger at even the sliver of exposed flesh. Oracle or not, the prince is still a man.”

Luna laughed softly. Her advisor never had the pleasure of meeting Noctis. He didn’t hold a favorable opinion of men who Luna showed the slightest interest over. Had Ignis succumbed to this ravenous hunger since he was also a man? Never once had she witnessed such crude behavior.

“I find your distaste of Noctis silly, Ignis. He’s been nothing but kind to me. He’s a very good friend.” She laughed outright at Ignis’ sneer, “Besides you, of course.”

“As it should be,” he said haughtily as he released Luna. “I’ve been at your side for nearly my whole life. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

The princess smiled to herself. Ignis was rarely so outright rude but when it came to the Oracle he was always a bit adversarial, at least when it was just the two of them. Luna sensed a bit of jealousy, but overall concern at how she would be received.

She knew he only wanted what was best for her, and that thought was comforting as Lucis came into view.

-

“My word, that was an experience we’ve endured.” The Crown Advisor panted as he and his lady boarded the elevator. Normally, he could walk around without his walking cane with ease, but as it was his first time in Insomnia, he had to rely on it. The princess filed no complaints about the pace nor did she walk ahead of him, simply stood at his side. “Next time, perhaps we should consult a map. That errand left us chasing after our own tails.”

“But didn’t it feel nice to help?” Luna chided gently as the doors closed with a whoosh, and the floor under them shifted upward. “Those chocochicks were devastatingly precious especially the one that mistook your hair as a nest.” She made no attempt to conceal her jovial laughter, much to the advisor’s chagrin.

“Yes…” Ignis swore that he could smell the unpleasant musk of the foul fowl that had catapulted itself at him. It took a handler several minutes to dislodge the chick’s claws without ripping out his hair. That quest was a story he rather not take home to Tenebrae and he would appreciate it that Luna did the same. Unfortunately, knowing the good lady like the back of his hand, she most likely wouldn’t let the ordeal go unheard. “Altruism is all well and good, but Lucians are a peculiar lot. You could only go so far on the kindness of strangers.”

“It was fortunate that we were able to help those people. The petting zoo attraction would’ve been short of animals to exhibit. The children would’ve been devastated.”

Ignis hummed at this. Luna, a woman of class and virtue, had always offered a hand. No task was never beneath her and as her advisor, it warmed his heart to witness generosity even if it led to unexpected adventures. The lord commander’s concerns were unfounded, the two companions’ identities went unrecognized and thus, it made their explorations unrestained. He had a hunch that getting out of the city would be uneventful as it was getting in unless those chocobo wranglers or other venders found themselves in assistance, Luna could never say no. It would be a hassle if reporters caught wind of Lady Lunafreya’s whereabouts and her business in the Citadel.

It was fortunate that his dear friend didn’t insist on taking one of the birds home, he would’ve enabled her and poor Umbra and Pryna would have had competed for Luna’s divided attention.

“At the price of missing the Oracle’s speech.” He turned to the young woman, the endpoint of his cane scraping the carpet beneath them. “By the by, how are you faring, Luna?”

“I’m… all right,” Luna answered though the lack of cheer in her voice was disconcerting. “We missed the speech. They’re bound to replay it as the festival goes on, but we’ll finally be able to meet with him soon.”

The two friends were silent after that. The music, banter, and sound effects from the festivities were distant the longer they rode on the elevator. All Ignis could detect is his companion shift from one foot to another, her clothes rustling, restless.

“You seem a little on edge.” Ignis observed. There was little that slipped past the advisor’s intuition.

“Not at all,” Luna denied as the rustling grew louder and her voice quaked. “It’s unbelievable the people could wear these garbs during a sweltering summer’s day here. You insisted that I keep my hood up at all times.”

Ignis still wasn’t convinced. His lady would never bring up meager excuses, not when she had something to hide. “I haven’t felt you this tense since we stumbled in that cave full of tonberries.”

“You fell into that nightmare, Ignis, and I rescued you.” The royal scion sniped, sounding crossed.

“Oh. Yes. I was attracted to the glint of their blades and I assumed that they were interested in a culinary match.” Ignis laughed to himself. Light was the only thing his eyes could detect and in his curiosity, he made contact with daemons. He and Luna made quick work of them and retreated when the horde arrived.

“I can’t believe I’m finally going to see Noctis, Ignis.” Had Ignis continued musing over a fond memory, Luna’s words wouldn’t have broke his thoughts. “This notebook we exchanged… means the world to me.”

“What brought this up…?”

“I thought over what you said. About you being there for the good, the bad, and the ugly. Does it seem silly that I haven’t done the same for Noctis? I mean, Umbra and Pryna have more physical contact with him than I do.” She paused, her throat constricted the rest of her words, “Maybe I’ve been insincere or dishonest to him… Or has he been withholding something from me?”

“Luna,” Ignis stopped her, holding out his hand. “Hand me the notebook, if you will.”

The advisor ran his fingers over the hardcover, tracing the smooth designs embellished on it. He never been privy to what the King of Light and the Oracle wrote in it and even if he was, it was never his place to ask about the contents. When Luna wrote to Noctis that she would be embarking a trip to see him in Insomnia, the cur had the audacity to write “Got it” in response. Luna’s heartfelt words, paragraphs she had requested Ignis to listen as she read them aloud and two words were all Prince Noctis wrote. She found it amusing, but the advisor didn’t take kindly to it.

“I’m confiscating this.”

“I do not under—”

Ignis waved the book lightly. “It’s in the past. Your future’s ahead.” He motioned above them before pocketing the book in his vest. It weighed heavy for such a slim memento.

Luna’s eyes were on him, he could sense her soft stare. Surely, she wasn’t plotting to overpower him to retrieve the book back, was she? “Why, Ignis, are you telling me I can’t learn anything from a book?” She teased further with a jest, “That would be refreshing hearing that from you for once.”

“Rereading pages from the same chapter won’t get you to the next.” He said softly, feeling an ache in his chest at the words. “This simply isn’t an exam you could cram for like you have in the past, Highness.”

It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly, but there was a vise over his ribs. Noctis was the Oracle, this fact couldn’t be denied, but under that authority, he was still just a man. What if he didn’t live up to Luna’s impressive commendations whenever she spoke of him? Ignis wouldn’t allow her to be hurt, never again. The fires of Tenebrae had been nothing, he would take out Ifrit himself if it would procure Luna’s happiness.

Everyone knew of the legend, a woman, blood of the Oracle from the Nox Fleuret nobility and a man, the King of Light, born into the Lucis Caelum dynasty, were chosen by the divine to safeguard the natural balance of the world. Together, the Oracle and King were to vanquish the Starscourge, it was their calling to fulfill, it had always been a woman who was the Oracle and a man who was the King. But then a phenomena occurred, the roles switched when Lunafreya and Noctis were born. History witnessed the first woman accept her calling as the King of Light while a man ascended to deliver holy testaments as the Oracle of mankind. Ignis was uncertain of what trials Luna had endured or what the future would hold for her. If Ravus’ training sessions were any indicator, then Luna would encounter conflict and grand battles. Ignis wouldn’t falter nor would he fear for Luna’s side was his place until the very end. But now wasn’t the time for fighting.

Today was an important day. Luna had longed to see Noctis and the desire went beyond a shared sense of duty.

The elevator came to a full stop, a bell jingled and the doors parted with a sharp whish. Ignis stepped first and Luna’s heels clicked after him before she touched his arm. A melodious and airy voice greeted them.

“It is heartening to see the King of the Stone once more. A sentiment that I do not enjoy alone.”

“Gentiana.” Luna was elated, her hand on Ignis’ arm trembled slightly as though uncertain of how to react to the welcome. “It’s wonderful to see you again. Blessed be.” She dipped low for a bow.

“Gentiana?” Ignis asked, tilting his head to how the King performed that bow, practically a bounce in her step.

“Gentiana’s a Messenger,” Luna informed the advisor. “A spirit faithful to the Oracle. She had accompanied King Regis and Prince Noctis to Tenebrae.”

“You are the blind seer,” Gentiana spoke out. “The stars have aligned for our fortuitous meeting, my prayers answered. Blessed be.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a seer…” Ignis was skeptical about this fabled guardian and how she held knowledge of him. Predictions of the political affairs held no water for what concerned his lady the most. “Blessed be, Messenger.” He returned the greeting with a bow.

“I apologize, the Oracle couldn’t be here to greet you formally. He has many duties to tend to after the ceremony. I stand here in his stead until he able to break free from them.”

Luna’s fingers anxiously tightened on Ignis. “Oh, of course! Today is very important. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Noctis.” She agreed, however, Ignis was seething inside.

How far they had traveled? How long had Luna waited for this moment? Did she mean that little, to be shoved aside this way? The Oracle was given a two-week’s notice of their arrival and he couldn’t prepare accordingly. Ignis squeezed a fist and did well to conceal it at his side. Unbelievable.

“Shall we retire to lounge? I have arranged tea and… coffee can also prepared if the drink is not to the seer’s liking.” Ignis flushed, he’d never been one for tea, piqued at having been outed so easy. He wondered how much the Messenger knew of him.

Luna giggled, “That sounds lovely, thank you.”

“This way then, my King.” Gentiana voice was soft and bell-like, echoing sweetly down the long hall.

Ignis couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed as he followed Luna’s gentle motions and words, the heat dying out of him like ice on a flame, her joy was almost palpable.

“How have the years treated you, Gentiana?” Luna initiated a conversation after the Messenger dispensed the beverages and tea cakes. “You look as lovely as ever.”

The Messenger hummed thoughtfully. “As of now, trying times are at a standstill, O King, but the Oracle has yet to reach his full potential. For the first time in many cycles, my liege may live a long and joyous life. I am very content witnessing his growth.”

Luna sniffled and behind a wobbly words, “I’m so happy to hear that, for you and Noctis.”

“Sweet girl, may I sing my praises that you have bloomed into a brilliant flower after all these years? You were but a bud facing towards the sun. I am enraptured by your presence today, a kingly aura like petals glistening and flourishing after the rain.”

Ignis nearly choked on a pastry, feeling like he was in the middle of some very heated flirting. Luna wasn’t faring much better, she was probably just as red.

“Oh-ah-um, thank you!” She said quickly, voice high and flustered. Ignis decided he liked the Messenger after that.

The royal retainer rose from his seat and the act didn’t go unnoticed by Luna.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to visit the loo,” Ignis retrieved his cane before directing a question to Gentiana. “Where may I find it?”

“The bathrooms are two doors down the hall on your right. You will pass the water fountain on the left, then the men’s room is on the right.”

“Thank you.”

“Maybe I should go with you…” Luna suggested.

Ignis shook his head. “You shouldn’t concern yourself. The directions were clear and concise.”

“All right…”

The advisor smiled. “I’ll return shortly.”

After Ignis’ visit to the toilet, he took his time exploring his surroundings. He was never one for staying in one place for long and though Luna would never accuse him of this, Ignis felt that he was encroaching on an intimate reunion. Luna never had close friends who were women, a cloistered lifestyle enforced by the Empire no doubt had a hand in the King’s interactions. She had earned this.

The advisor followed the rhythmic orchestra of water crashing into a pool from the fountain. He went close enough to feel the drops spray his face before backing away. Stretching out a hand, he felt the walls, stopping at coiled metal mounted on it. There was an intricate appeal that Ignis appreciated in the ornate swirls and twirls. He realized that it was a frame. As to what, Ignis sought the answer as he continued investigating.

Layers of paint cleverly collected on the canvas left a distinctive style in each brushstroke. It was an oil painting, but of what Ignis cannot distinguish. Even as he caressed the image, detect the techniques used, and find no flaw to distract him from his inquiry, the mystery remains such. Then he discovered a blemish, definitely not something the artist had intended. It felt like a scorch mark, a hole left in the painting. Almost small enough to go unnoticed, but someone deliberately made an effort to conceal it by plastering more paint on it.

“Who could’ve done such a thing?” He asked himself.

“Are you lost?”

Ignis dropped his hand immediately. He didn’t anticipate that there was an audience or a bystander. He would’ve heard the intruder’s footsteps approach. How careless he was for pondering over a mere painting. But then again, the advisor was the intruder, a permitted guest who was simply immersed into details.

Being caught in his zealous affection for the arts wasn’t what made Ignis’ heart stop. It was the voice of the speaker. Many times had Ignis observed Luna falling upon every word articulated from the public broadcasts, nearly dropping whatever she was doing at the time to listen and deliver her own prayers. There was no denying that those three words belonged to Oracle and Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum.

Ignis blinked on instinct at the voice, it was low and intimate, passing at him gently like the summer breeze. He closed his eyes and breathed out, it was more beautiful next to his ear than through a radio or a television, the static running it thin. In person it sounded light and airy, curling around him gently and encompassing him in an embrace before teasingly fleeting from reach.

Ignis hated himself for wanting to hear more of it. He let his hand trace over the edge of the painting before dropping it slowly. “Not lost in that sense. I was merely enjoying the piece. The artist showed great care in crafting it.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Though someone left a mark on it. Most curious.” He continued as he stroked at his chin, puzzled. “It couldn’t been of the artist’s doing.”

“The Oracle did it,” the other man replied. “Maybe he thought could make a statement shortly after its completion. If someone didn’t come to put the fire out, that painting would be more than a little singed.” With mock exasperation, he passed over his own woven speculations. “He had his attendant cover it up pretty good or so he thought. Well, I won’t be the bearer of bad news that someone spotted it.”

Ignis wasn’t certain what scheme the man was cooking up or why he was referring to himself as a third party, but he’d play along for now. Contrary to his words, Noctis didn’t sound upset at all about the incident. What compelled him to commit vandalism? “A pity that he held a unfavorable viewpoint. It’s a marvelous painting.”

“You think so? Well, that’s the Oracle you’re touching.”

“My word! You can’t be serious!”

“Dead serious. Closest you’ve come to touching the real deal. The nose’s way off though.”

The Prince Oracle’s laugh was playful, Ignis felt his ears heat. Of course, the palace was where the Oracle resided, most of the paintings were probably of him. Ignis felt like a fool. To be caught stroking a depiction of the Good Lord, Shiva preserve him for his folly.

“Guess he’s pretty marvelous, huh?” The Crown Prince hummed, his voice a bit closer than where he last stood. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell if you don’t reveal that mark to anyone.”

Ignis turned to him, readily expecting a gasp at his unsightly scars, a normal response from new acquaintances. Instead a hand slid over his face. Astonished, Ignis turned away from the touch, his own hand flew up to seize the offending appendage, fingers curling tight around a wrist. Does this man not have no gauge of personal space?

“Sorry, that was rude,” Noctis apologized. “Should’ve told you I was going to touch them.”

“You should’ve asked instead.” Ignis growled, feeling out of his element before being entrenched in a cold wave. He was touching the Oracle, one of the most paramount figures of Eos. His office, body, and vestments were considered holy. He was also a prince, Ignis was a mere servant. He quickly released the wrist.

“My sincere apologies, I shouldn’t have done that.” Ignis said lowly and shakily reached up to adjust his glasses in attempt to free himself of his worn nerves, his body tense at the invasion. He expected the Prince Oracle would have his head for this and report to Lady Lunafreya to administer the appropriate punishment. His fate was sealed.

To his surprise he heard a snort. “Done what? Defend yourself? You got fast reflexes.” The last words sounded like he was praising Ignis.

“I’ve had time to adjust.” Ignis replied coolly.

The Oracle chuckled. “I suppose you have… Can we try this again?” The voice questioned, it was barely above a whisper and wounded tightly. Ignis sighed in disbelief, but nodded mutely. Consent was given. This time, the hands caressed his cheekbones and paused. “Can I remove your glasses?”

“Do what you wish.” He said pointedly. He should be bowing to the Oracle’s whim, but the last few minutes left him with him tense. Ignis never liked being touched there. He still had nightmares of the healers trying to preserve his life. The tonics they used left him in perpetual agony. Fingers teased over the rims and they were oh, so gently pulled away.

Ignis swallowed at the feeling of his last barrier being removed. Soft pads edged over the cut on his right brow then fluttered towards the worse of the damage: his left eye. Ignis flinched and the movement halted. There was a warm breath on his face.

“Shh, it’s okay.”

Ignis wanted to scoff and say something scathing in return but he couldn’t. He felt himself lean into the touch. Just why was he letting the Oracle have his way?

“There you are, Ignis!” Luna called out as she scurried towards the men, another set of heels followed at a more languid pace. “Gentiana and I were worried and—” The woman gasped. “Noctis, it’s you!”

“Your lordship is right welcome back to Palace Caelum.” The Messenger’s gratuitous greetings reverberated the room. “You humble us with your presence.”

And just like that the spell that the Oracle held over the advisor broke as the former lowered his hands.

“Thanks, Gentiana,” Noctis said. “Glad to be home in one piece. Sorry, I took so long, Luna.”

“No, that’s all right. I knew you were busy and… You must be exhausted.”

“Not exhausted to see you.” Noctis replied as metals clinked together. “I trust Gentiana kept you company while I was away.”

“Yes, she’s been a gracious host.” Luna paused before realizing her place. “Oh! Ignis, this is Noctis. Noctis, Ignis is my most cherished friend and advisor.”

Ignis bore in mind that Luna was watching and gave the Oracle a respectable bow. “It is an honor to meet your acquaintance, Your Highness.”

“And I liked it better when you were pretending to not know who I was.” Prince Noctis joked as he tapped the advisor’s shoulder with his fist.

“Ig-Ignis!” Luna gasped.

Ignis straightened his back, meeting the confident voice with a tilt of his head. “And who’s to say that you weren’t doing the exact thing?”

“Noctis!” Luna scolded. “How could you not introduce yourselves? That’s so rude!”

“Sorry Luna, Specs and I were just teasing.” Noctis laughed.

Ignis mouthed the new nickname to himself with a scowl.

Luna must have saw because her voice came out playful instead of trying. “Of course, boys will be boys after all.” Ignis felt his hair raise at the words.

“Oh yeah, speaking of Specs, here.” Prince Noctis voice was warm as he reached slowly and curled his fingers around Ignis’ forearm. Ignis felt something light placed in his palm. He blinked and made a low sound of embarrassment before placing the glasses back on his nose. “I’d put them back on for you but I feel like I’d get a fist to my face if I tried.”

Ignis hummed thoughtfully, “Capital idea.”

Luna made an annoyed sound. “You two, really.”

There was a sound of bells, clothes rustling over skin before a voice spoke.“It is growing late. Shall I show Lady Lunafreya and the lord seer to their rooms for the evening so you may recuperate?”

“Mmm, I’d like to do something else tonight.”

Ignis blinked, for once out of the loop as the conversation turned.

“That would be ill-advised, my liege,” the Messenger gravely implored.

“Noctis, you’ve had such a long day…” Luna said softly.

Noctis sighed, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Luna, you’ve traveled a long way and waited so long. I think I should start as soon as possible to grant your request.”

Ignis stood quietly. Request? His stomach churned. He moved, gesturing for Luna. A familiar hand curled in his and squeezed firmly. He stared in her direction.

“I was unaware you requested something of the Oracle… Are you all right?” He wanted his words to be light but his voice came out a bit strained. Was she afflicted with the Starscourge? How had he missed Luna’s illness? Had it been long? Was she in pain?

“Oh… Oh! Ignis, no!” A forehead was placed against his. “I’m okay!”

The advisor felt the tension he planned to unleash dissipate. He sagged against her. “Thank the Six.” He breathed.

“You honestly jump to such horrible conclusions, Ignis.”

“It’s my sworn duty.” He said dryly, feeling his charge chuckle. The corners of his lips twitched upwards.

“Your sworn nature.” Luna pulled away, squeezing his hands. “The request… was about you.”

Ignis froze. “About me?”

“Luna told me you lost your sight a long time ago,” the Prince Oracle explained. “She asked if she could bring you here for healing.”

Something broke inside Ignis. It clicked as to why Luna was so adamant pleading Ravus to allow Ignis to accompany her. The lord commander probably had a handmaiden in mind given that it was considered improper for people of the opposite sex to be alone together, no matter what the nature of their relationship was. Ignis always had followed the orders given to him. Perhaps Ravus had shared the same sentiments of male and female relationships and rather not leave his sister alone with the Oracle. While Luna made this entire about meeting a distant pen pal, she had been thinking about Ignis the entire time.

“Lady Lunafreya,” the advisor swallowed a lump lodged in his throats as he lowered his head. He suddenly felt like the wounded little boy with bandages draped over his face, begging not to be sent away from the court long ago. “Am I in the way?”

“What? No, of course not. How could you ask me that?”

Then there was the girl, just two years older than he, who stood in his defense, declaring that she would claim full responsibility for the boy though she was asserted that he was his own person first. She had nothing left, the jewels of her crown forcibly removed and no standing to demand anything of her oppressors. To demand the servitude of a mere chamberlain was a reckless and foolish gesture.  

“Because I…”

The retainer was a sniveling boy then, fearful of the unknown variables of the future if he was removed from Luna’s side. Ignis owed his life to her. It didn’t take long after the accident for him to realize that he was a burden. The rebellious princess had fled the Fenestala Manor many times and Ravus publicly humiliated her before the imperial captors. When Ignis was ordered to apply salves to the welts and angry scores on her back, the girl didn’t cry once. Ignis decided he had to be better in order to serve Luna, as her equal, in fulfilling her destiny and seeing their homeland liberated. Together, they had the will and they were far from powerless.

Luna brought Ignis into her embrace, swaying slightly as she rested her chin on his shoulder. The advisor returned the motion almost mechanically. “Ignis, you have been my pillar of strength. We were apart when Tenebrae burned, but when the flames were extinguished, a greater menace became our reality. You stood by me, let me lay my burdens on your back, but never gave me any in return. For every complaint and worry I had, you listened without fail.” Luna pulled back to take him my the shoulders. “There’s no else I would rather have by my side.”

“Luna, that’s hardly true—” Ignis argued.

“Remember the goblins?” Luna interjected.

“As you would let me forget even if I tried.” Ignis winced. Reminiscing about the past was almost an guarantee that it would lead to who saved who first and why. The advisor and the princess had plenty adventures when they were younger. Most of those exploits having to do with encountering monsters. Never a dull moment at the Tenebraen princess’s side. They encountered more creatures than a princess and advisor should.  

“I may had joked that I saved you, but I chose to go in that cave.” Luna’s voice turned a bit whimsical, “I’d stumbled upon an old wives’ tale about a beautiful creature who could recreate any sound in this world. Said creature could be found in that cave.”

“You wanted to hear your mother’s voice again.” Ignis said gently, remembering.

“Yes, it was reckless—”

“You were a child.”

“Yes, but I knew the cave was no place for children. You tried to stop me but I insisted, and you… You came with me. You held my hand, shielded me from the goblins, spoke to me softly as I wept and we came out of there alive. You saved me. I was wrong and put us at risk, but you always came to my rescue.”

“I only wanted you to be happy.”

“I know, and that’s why I asked this of Noctis. I know you’re not sad or alone, but with this you could be so much more. You guided me through that darkness. Now let me do the same for you.”

“It’s like what I told Luna,” the Oracle interrupted, his tone serious. “I can heal you but it has to be on your own terms. Nobody’s forcing you to choose.”

“Y-yes…” Luna stammered. “Please don’t see this as an order. If you refuse, then I won’t stop you. I only wish to help as your friend…”

“There’s no need to explain yourself, Luna. I know you have good intentions.” Ignis smiled before turning to Noctis. “Can it be done? Could you heal my sight?” He shook his head. “The healers said nothing could be done for me and it’s been many years…”

“I knew the moment I touched your face that it can be done.”

“You knew immediately? That’s impressive.”

“Well, I’ve had a very good teacher. Gentiana knows her stuff for sure.”  Noctis laughed off the compliment, sounding a bit embarrassed by it. “Still got a long way to go.”

“I am merely a guide, my dear Oracle, nothing more. What you have done, it was but with your own hands.” She replied, sounding proud and aloof all at once.

Prince Noctis made a sound. “Gen, you’re too modest.”  

“A trait I fear I’ve imbued in you.” She countered easily.

“Anyway,” The Oracle sidelined, “If you need time to decide, Gentiana can take you to your rooms and—”

“I’ll do it.” Ignis’ voice was strong, he licked his lips, “I would… very much like to see again.”

It was a will yet foreign to his ears. To reclaim a sense should be what anyone would desire, but to Ignis, he had lived in darkness for the past twelve years and adapted to it. The loss gradually became something that didn’t weigh on his mind aside from the opportunities locked from him. It would be a new perspective even though he didn’t know what it meant just yet.

“Sweet.” Prince Noctis replied, “I’ll take you my room, then.”

“What…?”

“I mean, it’s comfortable, has a casual ambience, and we’ll have our privacy.” The Crown Prince postulated slyly. “What’s not to like?”

“Plenty! For starters, our… relationship hasn’t progressed beyond acquaintances.” Ignis retorted hotly. He wasn’t aware whether this was a case of conflicting cultures or Prince Noctis was proposing something. Normally, one doesn’t invite someone to their room upon first introductions. Given all the buzz of admirers, Ignis was positive that the Prince Oracle was indeed a handsome man, but…

“Then let’s get to know each other better,” Prince Noctis laughed. “Just joking. It might take a while to reverse what’s been done to you and there’s no telling what’ll happen if we’re separated for too long.”

“Prince Noctis, are you certain you wish to do this?” Gentiana asked. “You have never performed a miracle that took longer than a few hours.”  

“And I’ve healed thirty people in that time. Broke my own record.”

“Then I’ll see that you are not to be disturbed.” Gentiana conceded with a sigh.

“Thank you, Noctis…” Luna’s voice sounded as it was submerged in water. “But if it’s too much…”

“It’s not,” he assured her. “No favor’s too much when it’s from a friend. Maybe Specs and I can become friends after this.”

Silence followed and Ignis sensed their gazes fall on him. “I… Yes…” He mentally kicked himself for sounding insincere.

“Well, I leave Ignis in your hands, Lord Oracle.” Luna exalted in an optimistic tone.

Noctis groaned, “Please don’t call me that…”

“Good night, Ignis,” Luna’s hand found Ignis’ and squeezed it. “I… I hope everything works out all right.”

“Rest easy,” Ignis patted her hand. “You’ll see a new man come morning.”

At that, the group parted ways. Gentiana was to show Luna the guest room and retire for the night while Ignis was escorted to the Prince Oracle’s personal quarters. The advisor found it strange how Prince Noctis insisted on healing him instead of meeting Luna’s expectations of nightly conversations at a cozy cafe until morning came. What special interest did he have to gain from this? It had to go beyond the request of a friend.

“There’s another reason why I wanted to take you here,” Prince Noctis began as he helped Ignis to a chair.

“Why’s that?” Ignis inquired. He felt around for a table before removing his tinted spectacles.

“I want the first thing you see be Insomnia’s skyline. My room’s got the best view of the lights, sunrise to dusk. The Citadel’s got a life to it, activity, there’s noise, but it’s relaxing. I can stand over there by the balcony and if I distance myself long enough, sometimes I’llforget that I’m the Oracle and Crown Prince.”

Ignis blinked, it shouldn’t be so strange for a person to speak about his homeland especially if it’s a place he’s fond of, but to hear the Oracle rave about it enthusiastically felt uncharacteristic to the way the media portrayed him. Prince Noctis seemed like a normal person who genuinely loved his home.

“I spared you the possibility of running into more paintings of myself. I can share the gorgeous sights with you.”

“There are more paintings of your likeness…?”

“Yeah… Like a timeline. People think that sending paintings of me are the greatest gifts they could bestow and my old man keeps on accepting them. It’s not flattering, just annoying.” Prince Noctis groaned. “No paintings here though.”

“I see…” Ignis nodded pensively, mildly absorbing the facts and thinking back to the mark on the painting.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“What do you look like?”

The two men froze and Ignis felt the informal atmosphere that Noctis projected was instantly vacuumed into regions unknown. They had spoke at the same time, syllables clashed and then realizing that their questions strayed off to different tangents, fell silent. Ignis made a massive error, he had forgotten his place. Simply because he didn’t possess knowledge of other people’s faces didn’t mean he had to ask the Prince Oracle of his. Word would reach Luna’s ears that her advisor wasn’t mindful of his courtesies, his reputation and career ruined, he single-handedly besmirched House Fleuret’s good name.

“My apologies, Your Highness. I—” Ignis stammered.

“Noct.”

“What?”

“Noct. It’s just the two of us here.” The Oracle said, quietly. “Can you say my name?”

Ignis swallowed. “Noct…” It felt foreign on his tongue. It wasn’t just the name, it was a nickname.

“Ignis,” Noctis sounded appeased. “Want something to drink?”

“Water would be lovely, thank you,” Ignis felt as though he was being asphyxiated, reminding himself that it was common courtesy to address someone by their preference. But a hoarse “Your Highness” managed to slip out. He needed that water, Merciful Shiva.

“Noct.” Noctis reminded from the other end of the room. He returned with a chilled bottle of water and Ignis downed a gulp. “So… You want to know what I look like?”

“N-no, nothing like that…” Ignis was in a barren desert and all the water in the oasis cannot rid him of his dry throat. “How would you describe yourself?” Just what about the Prince Oracle caused damsels’ hearts to race and devout followers’ tones to change? Why would he desecrate a self-portrait?

“Wanna touch my face and tell me how you’d put it? I can’t be held responsible if you get nightmares.”

“Well, I hardly think I’ll have nightmares. I don’t scare easily.” Ignis replied with an upward a curl of his lips, hearing Noctis move closer. A light, but pleasant citrus musk wafted, it must’ve been the man’s cologne.

“Only giving you a fair warning.” The Oracle replied lightly, a tease in his voice. “Here.” Fingers pulled at his gloves before they paused. “Uh, do you mind?” Noctis asked, a bit embarrassed.

Ignis had forgotten he had been wearing them. He almost never removed the gloves so the barrier was easy to brush off and placed in the back burner of his mind.

“No, I don’t.”

Softly, Noctis peeled them off, holding Ignis’ hands in his before carefully raising them.

Ignis followed the movement and reached out. The first contact was like ice. He must have made a face because Noctis’ voice was low, suddenly intimidated but he made no effort to pull away.

“Sorry, I run cold these days.” Noctis apologized as Ignis traced the delicate cheekbones. Hair brushed against his inquisitive knuckles. So young and dare Ignis note to himself, handsome. “I think… it’s because healing takes so much out of me. Someone told me it’s like laying on the grass on a midsummer’s day when they receive my healing.”

Ignis paused on Noctis’ chin, daring not to laid his fingertips on his lips. He found himself drawn to this man, wanting to hear more. “What does it feel like to you?” He questioned, curiosity winning out. “What sensation do you feel in return?”

Noctis’ answer was somber. “Like I’m caught in a never-ending blizzard.” His jaw clenched slightly.

“I’m sorry.” The response was lame but it was all Ignis could think to say.

Cold hands clasped his, Noctis had removed his own gloves, and the two men were forehead to forehead. The familiar caress had the advisor breathing lightly.

“Don’t be, I feel like I’m starting to warm up to you…” Elegant hands cradled Ignis’ face. “I’m ready. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Blessed stars… Kings of Lucis… Oracles of Yore…” Noctis projected his essence into the calling, voice detached and weightless in a request, “Please guide me.”

Behind atrophied and ruined eyes, Ignis detected two rings of gold light, nimbi around gray clouds, hovering over his face. The Prince Oracle’s hands carried a wonderful low-pitched hum. When the former moved them, the volume changed, like bells tolling in the distance, sending pleasurable sensations to the latter’s scalp and entire body. Ignis felt himself enveloped in warmth and understood what Noctis meant about the feeling. Above him, Noctis was muttering sacred passages, but nothing that the advisor could make out, a dead language in a hushed tone. Ignis’ eyelids fluttered, the amiable presence was soothing, warmth permeated his chest, and he nuzzled against the Oracle’s forehead.

A warm breeze, much like the emergence of Tenebrae’s summer solstice, captivated Ignis. This presence lulled him and lowered his defenses, allowing Ignis to bask in this heat he couldn’t see…

“You can talk,” Noctis ceased his indecipherable prayers, addressing Ignis normally. “It’s kinda weird if we stay quiet the entire time.” He chuckled. “Or you can sleep. Last guy I healed snored if you can believe it.”

Ignis blinked at the comment, slow to reach back into himself to gather a response. Words seemed few and far in-between but Noctis sounded like he wanted  something other than silence, so Ignis obliged.

“What would you like to discuss?” He questioned softly, honestly not sure his level of skill was on par with the Oracle, Luna would call him foolish, but outside customs and rules, Ignis knew little, and Noctis hardly seemed the type for either, if Ignis was being brutally honest.

There was a low humming, from Noctis this time, contemplative of the proposed question. “How about… you?” He said like it had been the obvious choice all along, Ignis flushed and felt Noctis forehead move against his own.

“Me? I’m hardly a topic of interest in conversations.” Ignis said lowly. He felt a heat pool in his stomach, continuing up to his chest, to his neck and stopping at his eyes as Noctis shuttered and breathed out, pushing the energy to a low simmer under his skin.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Luna thinks very highly of you. I’d just want to hear it from your mouth.”

Ignis snorted. “I’m not going to wax poetry about myself.”

Noctis chuckled, “There are other things I’d like to hear come from your mouth.”Ignis’ lips suddenly felt hotter than anything as he pursed them.

“Are you this brazen with everyone?” He whispered, horribly unnerved at how easy it would be to touch lips to Noctis’.

“Only with cute guys who wander in and feel up paintings.” The Oracle teased.

“C-cute?” Ignis repeated. “I wasn’t feeling up your painting, I was simply—” No, correcting that he was admiring the artwork wouldn’t have made a difference either way. He wasn’t certain if the Prince Oracle was either refreshing or downright frustrating. “If you’re curious, I suppose I’ll tell you.” He paused for a moment before speaking, “I hail from a hamlet in Tenebrae. Being that I was the only son, my parents wished a better future for me than to become a carpenter. My uncle used his connections within the royal castle to enroll me in a special program. I was considered gifted at a young age and given an important task to serve Lady Lunafreya. I was to be chamberlain of the household. Then…” He swallowed, his tone low, “Lunafreya allowed me to pursue a higher education despite my disability. Her encouragement led me to where I am today.”

“Made top of your class with honors and Luna still fights off nobles who are interested in you.” Noctis stated. “But what do you do for fun? Got any hobbies?”

Ignis wanted to turn away but he couldn’t. His wide eyes stared to nothing, but an awfully inquisitive shadow.

“Come on, Ignis, tell me.” Noctis said quietly, voice turning intimate.

Ignis let out a breath. What did he have to lose at the admission? “I had… at one point envisioned myself as a chef. It was silly given my upbringing but the idea appealed to me. Maybe it was one of my childhood aspirations at one point. Mind you, it was easier to concoct meals that weren’t too complicated in preparation.” The advisor chuckled darkly, “But as chamberlain and retainer, I couldn’t be lax in duty so I memorized recipes no matter how difficult they were. I was told that my dishes are quite delectable.”

“I really want to kiss you.”

Ignis jumped, head slamming into Noctis’. The Oracle’s hands came up and clasped his shoulders loosely.

“Sorry, sorry, a bit too much.” Ignis relaxed and sat back down. “You’re just too perfect… Can I ask you something crazy?”

“I don’t think I want to kiss you right now, to be perfectly honest.” Ignis said bluntly.

Noctis laughed, “I know, I was being a bit much, but that wasn’t it. Will you let me taste something you cook after this?”

Ignis blinked. “I… hadn’t thought of the first thing to do after I’m healed, but yes… If you think you’ll enjoy something mediocre. What would you like me to make?”

“I like pastries.” Noctis said, sounding a bit shy, his hand swept over Ignis’ brow.

“A sweet tooth. Who would’ve have known? Given your forwardness, spicy food might be something of your preference.”

“Well, spicy food is a close second.” Noctis cleared his throat. “No, last time I was in Tenebrae, I had these amazing desserts, but I forgot what they’re called.”

“Hmm… Tenebrae is renowned for many things, not limited to its cuisine. You want me to recreate these pastries for you?”

“If you can. I mean, you’re from there so I thought maybe…”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Ignis promised. He once baked cookies and cakes for Luna in the past, simple but edible things that the princess cooed over their sizes. That was before her taste buds for sweets had changed and Ignis ceased baking accordingly. “What are your hobbies, Noct?”

“Fishing. When I can. There’s not much open land in Lucis, you know. Ravus taught me.” Noctis sighed. “There was this lake and my dad wheeled me over and we sat on the pier all day.” Noctis smiled, his voice fond, “He was probably bored because I wasn’t at good at it. But instead of making me release the small fish, he let me take them home as pets.” He paused, quietly adding, “I’d like to go back to that lake someday.”

Something wet hit Ignis’ face.

“Sorry. Yeesh, this is embarrassing.” Noctis’ voice was light but it wobbled at the end. Ignis reached up the face, trailing his hand up the Crown Prince’s cheek.

“It’s all right to miss something.” Ignis said, gently.

“It’s just a fishing spot.” The other man argued weakly.

“It was where you and your father found peace for a time.”

“It was nice,” Noctis confided, “When I was chosen to be the Oracle, it was hard. But when I saw that look of relief on someone’s face after I performed a ritual, it was worth it, you know? But I can’t help everyone. Things just went out of my control. We’re taught, the end… it’s peaceful. The Six welcome you with open arms and you’re happy… I don’t believe it and I don’t think I ever will.” Noctis whispered, like it was a shocking secret, for an Oracle, Ignis supposed it was. “But… for the people that I couldn’t save, I want to believe it.”

That sort of belief, Ignis thought, is what made Noctis a great Oracle, a belief for someone else’s happiness even when your own was waning.

Silence settled between the two men for what almost felt like an eternity. “This is coming along great,” Noctis assured. “I can almost taste those pastries.”

“Is that all you’re looking forward to?”

“I told you, I can’t wait for you to see Insomnia. Maybe I’ll give you and Luna the grand tour while I still have you. Anything you want to see, you’ll get.”

“Noct?”

“Yeah?”

“Will I be able to look at my face?”

“Yup,” Noctis sounded perplexed by the question. “I mean, you should.”

Ignis shook his head. The Prince Oracle misunderstood so he asked a different question, the young man talked so much about recovering the advisor’s sight but nothing else. “My scars… would remain after this, won’t they?” A forced laugh pushed past his lips. “I’m told that they’re a frightening sight to behold.”

“What? Really?” Ignis was surprised Noctis’ voice held only shock.

Ignis’ lips twisted bitterly. “They must’ve disturbed you considerably when you approached me.”

“Touch.” Noctis said.

“Pardon?”

“My first reaction was to touch them. They’re very attractive…” His voice got quiet. “Is that morbid? You just… You’re so attractive. I can’t imagine how you looked before but I don’t really want to. The scars, they’re part of you and proof that you’re alive. Especially the one on your lip…” Noctis’ voice droned off with a sigh.

Ignis has never quite gotten that reaction, it was usually pity or sympathy though not often expressed in words, it was in their tone that soured the conversations. It got a bit exhausting to feel people’s stares, his glasses could only cover so much after all.

“They make you look… I dunno, striking? Powerful?” Noctis hummed, “It’s hard to describe. Your eyes are a beautiful green, a bit pale but boy, do they shine.”

“Ah yes, a milky film over green, lovely.” Ignis sneered, he’d been a told of that as well, it made him a bit queasy the first time it had be described to him.

“Whoever told you about your looks must have been jealous, Specs. You’re a vision.”

Ignis woke up lying on something soft, no longer sitting upright like he was in the chair. A bed. He didn’t recall ever falling asleep nor walking to a bed. Did it mean that the healing was complete? He dared to open his eyes, exhaustion fought at his lids and instead of seeing endless darkness, he saw dawn broke.

Soft rays of light peeked over skyscrapers and the sky was blushed with an array of radiant colors, colors that had served no purpose to Ignis for he had forgotten, save for gold and black. Daylight would soon bathe the streets of the Prince Oracle’s homeland. What seemed like absolute darkness was of the past and it permeated deep to his core. Noctis was right, Insomnia was breathtaking.

As he let the moment sink in and cherished the first sight in twelve years, fire embraced the space between his shoulder blades. Ignis rolled over.

A man’s raven locks were messily sprawled out over a pillow and delicately framed his svelte face. His black button-down shirt and white trousers were chaotically wrinkled by a poor sleeping position. Serenity and incandescence was about this man, no longer a silhouette but just the man in peaceful slumber. Ignis’ breath hitched in his throat and couldn’t help but be enraptured. He was stunning, possessing an almost otherworldly beauty. Ignis found himself questioning if this man was the savior who reclaimed his sight, that with his infernal mannerisms yet retain an air of modesty. This was Noctis.

But trepidation made the advisor’s heart uneasy. He sat up. Noctis’ complexion was flushed, splotchy and his slender brow was knitted in discomfort. Ignis’ hand pushed past the damp hair and rested on Noctis’ forehead. The advisor placed the other hand on his own. Noctis was running a fever.

“Feels good…” Noctis groaned, his eyelids fluttered, revealing stellar blue eyes as smoldering and subtle as open flames. “Morning, how you feeling?” His voice was groggy and slurred as he leaned in the advisor’s hand.

Ignis dropped his hand but swept at the Prince Oracle’s hair. “You’re burning up.” He murmured. “You said healing makes you cold.”

“Told you,” Noctis said through a sheepish grin as he closed his eyes. “Something about you… Burns me up.”

[mind-of-luxe]

Luxe’s Thoughts: FAVORITE CRIME TV SHOWS!

Welcome to a non-bookish post! This post is the product of my never-ending book slump and my overall laziness to get up from my bed and do something useful. In here, I share with you the different crime TV shows that I am currently obsessed with. So, here they are, in no particular order because ranking them would be unbelievably hard for me. Hopefully you'll get some good recommendations for what to watch next.

This show, oh my goodness, where to begin? This is simply amazing. Although I have started reading The Complete Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle long ago, I haven't really got much into it before I had to stop (unsurprisingly because of school) so I don't have much knowledge about Sherlock Holmes. I've always had a great liking for the mystery genre though, specifically in crime. What can I say, murders and heists hold a special place in my heart. Well, this TV program blew me away. This is based on the aforementioned book, but with a contemporary twist. Sherlock follows Sherlock Holmes, an incredibly  detective, and John Watson, an ex-military doctor, helping the police solve different crimes in modern-day London.

I absolutely love the banter between Sherlock and Watson! Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman have great chemistry being Holmes and Watson. Anyway, I basically went through an emotional rollercoaster on this one. I laughed, I cried, got frustrated, and got scared. And let me tell you, this will keep you on the edge of your seat, I swear on my life. Well, maybe not, I'm not ready to die just yet. But you get my point. The crimes for each episode will really get you thinking and the plot twists are jaw-dropping. Also, this is only four seasons long, with three episodes (around one hour each) per season, and a special episode set in the Victorian era. Very easy to accidentally binge-watch and leave your mouth hanging open at the end of Season 4 Episode 3, wondering where the hell the next one is. *sobs in detective*

P.S. I personally think that Benedict Cumberbatch is the perfect actor for Sherlock, although I've only seen like two other actors portraying the character. Oh well.

"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street." - Sherlock Holmes (played by Benedict Cumberbatch)

After I've finished Sherlock, I obviously couldn't get enough so I looked for similar TV programs and this one came up. I'm glad it did because it's basically just the same, except that this one isn't as closely based to the book from what I can gather and this one isn't set in London. Here, Sherlock Holmes is a recovering drug addict. His father hires Joan Watson as Sherlock's sober companion and together, they assist the New York City Police Department in solving numerous crimes. I really like the concept of how Holmes and Watson became acquainted. Also, Watson is a woman. I'm really excited about that!

This is still an ongoing series, and currently on Season 6 (with 24 episodes each season). I'm not yet up to date with this one though, still on Season 2, but I'm already loving this. I'm taking my sweet time on this precious one, and watching other shows alongside of it as well.

"For future reference: When I say I agree with you, it means I'm not listening." - Sherlock Holmes (played by Jonny Lee Miller)

Ah Scorpion, another amazing one. I feel like I've been using the word "amazing" quite a lot now, have I not? Anyway. This is my current obsession! Scorpion is about an intellectually well-equipped team dealing with a variety of "complex, high tech threats around the globe." To let you have a better view on the capabilities of the members of Team Scorpion, here is the intro for the episodes:

My name is Walter O'Brien. I have the fourth-highest IQ ever recorded: 197. Einstein's was 160. When I was 11, the FBI arrested for me for hacking NASA to get their blueprints for my bedroom wall. Now I run a team of geniuses, tackling worldwide threats only we can solve. Toby's our behaviorist. Sylvester's a human calculator. Happy, a mechanical prodigy. Agent Cabe Gallo is our government handler. And Paige? Well, Paige isn't like us; she's normal. She translates the world for us, while we help her understand her genius son. Together, we are Scorpion.

I was intrigued by the premise at first so I decided to give it a go. To say I was pleasantly surprised is an understatement. I'm always really awestruck at each episode. Each case Team Scorpion take on, even if it sounds simple at first, gets very interesting as the episode progresses. There was never a dull moment in this TV series! I also love how the characters are all unique, with different abilities and characteristics, so they depend on one another. They have such great teamwork and friendship! Not only that, I also got to know the members of the team bit by bit; their fear, likes, dislikes, their past. Each of them has their own complexities. Plus, I learned a lot through this, believe it or not. Like a lot of chemistry stuff I forgot by now, and to always go for the nose when in combat, and that a group of jellyfish is called a smack. Well, obviously there's a lot other facts but those were just at the top of my head.

I hope you feel my enthusiasm for this show. I just freaking love Scorpion so you can't imagine my total horror disappointment that it got cancelled. It only has 4 seasons with around 22-25 episodes each. That's not enough for me! I miss them already. :(

"Rappers may have ninety-nine or so problems, but misplacing paychecks is not one of them." - Toby Curtis (played by Eddie Kaye Thomas)

I'm kind of torn on this one. I absolutely loved the first season but I wasn't so keen on the second one. That being said, I am still anticipating the release of the third season on October. Riverdale's characters are based on the legendary Archie Comics. That being said, the plot has no connection to the comics because this CW show (and Netflix original, I'm confused) has a really dark story line. In a nutshell, Riverdale revolves around a group of teenagers discovering that the town they once thought was peaceful, apparently has a web of sinister secrets.

I am a huge fan of the Archie Comics. It was my childhood! I remember literally not eating at school just to save up my allowance to buy those. I wonder where my humongous collection went. Maybe they're scattered all over the place because we've moved several times already since I've last saw them. That sucks. But I'm thinking of restarting my collection once again.

Anyway, when I first heard of Riverdale, I was so excited for it. The ominous, dark vibe they were aiming for was depicted well but it also has light scenes as well to balance. The mystery aspect of this was so thrilling and waiting for the next episodes were very painful. It was also so weird to see such contrasting moods from the same characters from the TV show and the comics. Oh, and also, let me mention how I've really taken a liking to the cast of this show. I mean, seriously, they are such a close-knitted group despite not knowing most of each other when they first started and how they have two different age groups. This just adds to their on-screen chemistry.

I know that a lot of people have such a great dislike for this TV series but I genuinely think it's worth watching. There are currently two seasons out on Netflix, the first one has 13 episodes and the second has 22, with each episode around 40 minutes.

"Fear. It's the most basic, the most human emotion. As kids, we're afraid of everything. The dark. The boogeyman under the bed. And we pray for morning. For the monsters to go away. Though they never do. Not really." - Jughead Jones (played by Cole Sprouse)

That's about it for the crime TV shows that I currently enjoyed. I have more on my list though, and I can't wait to get started! What are your favorite crime TV shows? If you don't like the crime genre, what are your all-time favorite TV shows are instead?

[comixconnection]

Counter Monkey John Arminio reviews ‘Soupy Leaves Home’

Cecil Castellucci has been fighting the good fight for smart, heartfelt slice-of-life graphic novels before such works were fashionable. That is, well before they were found at retailers like Barnes and Noble or had their own category on the New York Times bestseller list (though that particular exhibition for graphic novels is now, sadly, gone from the “Old Gray Lady”). Works such as The Plain Janes and The Year of the Beast showcased Castellucci’s talent for rich characterization and compelling voices, effortlessly constructed in a minuscule amount of time. Her current ongoing comic series for DC’s Young Animals imprint, Shade the Changing Girl, is a psychedelic deep-dive into one alien girl’s lonely quest for meaning on an Earth that does not understand her, all while dwelling among earthlings that don’t understand each other. It’s utter madness yet totally tangible and real. This quality of being able to balance the everyday and the unearthly is why Castellucci is perfect for telling a story like Soupy Leaves Home, and in Jose Pimienta, she has chosen a collaborator and illustrator who is able to match her storytelling gifts with his artistic ones.

The story begins with the titular Soupy (though she has not taken up this moniker as of yet) leaving home to escape her cruel father after a family tragedy. The title is literal, yes, but it is also perfectly suited for the type of journey Soupy ventures upon. She does not just leave her house; she dresses as a boy, abandons her birth name, and becomes determined to put as much physical and mental distance between herself and her former address as possible. She abandons all she knows of her previous life, whether they be things that imprisoned her or brought her comfort. Everything from the roof over her head, to her gender, to her very identity is now left in the ruins of her old life, with the people and circumstances who drove her out.

Soon, she meets a kindly old hobo named Ramshackle, a man so archetypal and perfectly suited to gently guide Soupy on her journey, he might as well have been plucked straight from myth. But in his characterization, Castellucci has managed to combine the hard-won, weather-worn wisdom of Walter Huston with the unfettered optimism and warmth of James Stewart. He’s like a character from a Preston Sturges or Frank Capra movie, and instead of being cliche or unrealistic, Ramshackle is full of life, empathy, and even magic. Castellucci manages to make him relatable and real, even as he guides both Soupy and the reader through the ways and rituals of hobo-dom, a way of life that has not existed for over a half a century. Ramshackle is just one of those characters that is a joy to read, and the fact that his ultimate fate is telegraphed to the reader early on in the story only increases that fact. We savor every moment we have with him. This is no spoiler, by the way. When an Elderly Sage character is seen going into coughing fits practically the second page after he is introduced, it’s not much of a mystery how his story will end. 

But it is the vast amount of experience coupled with his awareness that all things must pass that makes Ramshackle such an invaluable companion for Soupy, as well as one the reader can learn from. Ramshackle knows that Soupy is hiding something, if not many things, about herself but loves her and accepts her all the same, though it clearly hurts that Soupy does not take her mentor into her total confidence. Throughout their partnership, Ramshackle takes Soupy on a guided tour of hobo haunts and customs, showing her secret signs and paths that enable their unique and free, though burdensome, existence in a world that often demands subservience and conformity. Hobos are not “bums,” for they work for their food and look out for one another. They move on, they do not wallow in misery, whether that be their own of that of others.

Hobo society is not free of intolerance, however, no matter what its members might think. Occasionally, travelers are ostracized, or at least looked down upon, for not looking or feeling “right,” like there is some intangible shiftiness about them. While the nature of hobo life might necessitate being able to “feel” who is trustworthy and who is duplicitous, what with the constant traveling and having to ask strangers where one might find a square meal or medical assistance, this still leaves certain hobos open to easy prejudices. Being new to this life, and being full of fear herself, Soupy is prone to these sort of detrimental biases. Fortunately, she has the counsel of Ramshackle to gently guide her to the realization that such suspicions rarely lead to good outcomes. Even if there are mistakes and pain, even great trauma, in our past, suspecting people we meet of furthering these traumatic experiences because they seem like they might, because of a subjective scale of judgment in our own minds, is no way to go through life.

While these life lessons are difficult enough to impart in any work of literature, Castellucci is able to write about them with a ample amount of profound magic that makes Soupy Leaves Home a wonder to read. There are moments of dreamlike flashbacks, of magical-realism-infused meditations on the meaning of life, all swirling out from what might otherwise have been minor or incidental events. Just like Ramshackle knows that every moment is precious, Castellucci might catch us off guard and imbue the most mundane acts with a profundity that knocks the reader to the ground. With the muted pallet somehow transforming into shimmering sepia, artist Jose Pimienta navigates between tragic memories, current struggles, dreams of the future, and fantastical what-might-have-beens with subdued grace. The dialogue and text is sometimes sparse or meditative, and it is in such cases that the emotional narrative of Soupy Leaves Home depends upon the facial expressions, body language, and subtle shading of Pimeinta’s art. These instances demonstrate just how in-sync Castellucci and Pimeinta are, as Soupy Leaves Home never feels disjointed or uneven. It moves and flows and hypnotizes the reader, like a story told in the glow of a campfire under a clear night sky. Once it is over, the light may be gone, but the warmth will stay with the reader for long after closing its pages. Highly recommended.

[theguardian911]

This Is What Loving Pet Parents Do When Their Pet Feels Rotten and Is Near Death By Dr. Becker If you're a dog parent, you've either already faced the death of a beloved pet, or at some point you will. If you've lost a canine family member, you know it can be an extremely painful experience. In fact, many people are surprised by the overwhelming grief they feel when a dog dies. Because the loss is felt so sharply, many dog parents brave enough to open their hearts to a new pet live in fear of "the next time." We know the day will come when it's time to say good-bye to another precious companion. That's why we often have a tough time coping with the news that a current pet is now also at the end of his or her life. Like many people, when the time comes, you may choose palliative care (comfort care) rather than aggressive treatment for an older dog with a terminal illness, and so you enter into a period of caring for a furry family member in his final days. You know what's coming, and it can take a heavy emotional toll. It's important at such times to understand that while your grief and sadness may feel suffocating, there is hope. Licensed professional counselor Chris Corrigan Mendez, M.Ed., LPC, NCC, offers this reassurance in an article for Dogster: "You can, while accepting and understanding the presence of your negative feelings, also invite in those that are more positive, supportive and comforting."1 To make your remaining time with your pet the best it can be, Mendez offers five suggestions to help you maintain your emotional health and strengthen the bond you share with your pet during this crucial period. 5 Ways to Stay Emotionally Healthy When Your Dog Is Terminally Ill 1. Stay present in the moment It's easy to occupy your mind with regrets about the past or fear of what's to come, but when you let yourself go there, you're missing the here and now with your dog. Your canine companion, by example, can help you stay present and live for today. Dogs experience each moment of life as it arrives, and so can we if we follow their lead. As Mendez points out, "… [Y]our ailing pooch may still be experiencing fun walks with you, enthusiastic mealtimes and exciting adventures to the park, but you may not be really 'there,' enjoying them with him or her." When you're with your pet and your mind is elsewhere, take some slow, deep breaths and refocus on your dog. Use your senses of sight, smell, hearing and touch to bring yourself back to the present, appreciate what's happening right now and reconnect on an emotional level with your dog. 2. Remind yourself that you've always done the best for your pet It's very easy for the caregiver of a terminal pet to engage in a lot of "woulda coulda shoulda" and self-blame about their dog's health. Our dogs are 100 percent dependent on us from their first day in our lives till their last. That's why it's easy to feel your dog's illness is your "fault." "It can be difficult to accept the terrible illness as a 'no fault' occurrence or mystery," says Mendez. "However, you can divert yourself from this path of self-blame." "You can think honestly and positively about how you prioritized your beloved pet through caring actions: the medical care, quality food, exercise, socialization [and] affection." She recommends using affirmations to strengthen positive thinking: "Five to 10 times each morning, midday and evening, speak words such as, 'I am continuing to do the best I can for my beloved pet,' or 'I am a loving pet parent. I am making our remaining time together the best it can be.' As a result of these affirmations, you may find your self-judgment softening and the belief in yourself as a supportive pet parent strengthening." It's important to always remember that no one has, or ever will, love and care for your pet in the same way you do. 3. Take time each day for meditation and deep breathing It can be quite hard when you're feeling sad and also slightly overwhelmed by all that you need to do, to take time to "do nothing." But believe it or not, it can be extremely beneficial to set aside a few minutes to do nothing each day. "As you progress through your pet's palliative care," says Mendez, "you may find your mind buzzing and your body scrambling to keep up with ongoing hospice duties. This can result in losing touch with yourself, your physical sensations and the appreciation of just 'being.'" She recommends taking a few minutes each day to do deep breathing exercises and guided meditations. There are even guided meditation apps you can download to your cell phone that allow you to select how long you want to meditate, the music you want to listen to and more. Setting some time aside each day to relax your body and quiet your mind can help bring you back to the present moment. It's also a great way to bring your stress level down as well. I also find taking homeopathic Ignatia and the Bach Flower remedy Honeysuckle to be very beneficial. 4. Reach out for kinship and support Thankfully, more and more people in society are becoming aware of the importance of pets in our lives, and there's also increased understanding of the tremendous grief and sense of loss many people feel when they lose an animal companion. There are resources available if you need them, including veterinary hospice, articles, books and websites dealing with the loss of a pet and pet loss grief counselors and support groups. Reach out for information and support if you're feeling isolated or confused. These resources are available, as Mendez points out, "… to help you feel more informed and supported as you move through the illness period with your beloved friend, arrive at the final journey decision and then grieve, mourn and heal." 5. Express your thoughts and feelings "For many pet parents, keeping everything 'inside' significantly contributes to emotional distress," says Mendez. That's why it's important to keep in mind there are people out there who can empathize with your experience and help you cope. One way to dial back negative emotions is to write down your painful thoughts and feelings in a personal journal, or share them with a trusted family member, friend or support group. You can also consider talking with a professional counselor. The benefit of this type of processing, says Mendez, is that it can help you "… gain understanding, acceptance and space in your mind for the positive beliefs and emotions that also deserve to be included. And with strengthened emotional health, you will be better able to fill the time you have left with your beloved friend with true connection, love and joy — making it the best it can be."