#try as you might but you cannot pry them away from me I love a ship where one character has a canonical crush on another

[emily-mooon]

Me after rewatching the last naruto movie:

[suuuupernovaaa]

zaldrīzes

zaldrīzes - dragon

Aemond's intended claims a dragon, quite unexpectedly, and he is greatly pleased.

Tags: aemondxoc, aemondxreader, no use of y/n, sexual content, 18+

Word Count: 1.1k

Her footsteps echo through the hall, wet and loud, thwap, thwap, thwap. Heads turn, watching her soaking skirts flying behind her, but she notices no one and nothing except him.

His arms open as she flies to him, soaking him completely as she wraps him in a tight and boisterous embrace.

"What is it?" Aemond asks, unsure if he should be concerned or scared. She is never affectionate in public, and always the example of composure and quiet elegance. To see her sprinting through the halls, white hair loose and wild, skirts filthy, is a brand new sight for him.

"I claimed him," she hisses, pulling apart only a few inches from her husband-to-be.

"Claimed?" Aemond asks, leaning into her. "A dragon?"

"Zaldrīzes iksis ñuhon." The grin upon her beautiful, flushed face grows, ear to ear, painfully wide. The dragon is mine.

She has left Vhagar's rider speechless, for the first time in all his years. "Which?" is all he can muster in reply.

"Cannibal."

His beloved has never lied to him, and he does not think she ever would, but this must be some untruth. A joke she is playing on him. Cannibal cannot be claimed - should not be claimed. No one has ever been foolish enough to try.

He pulls her by the elbow, away from prying eyes, into an alcove, and presses her gently into the cold stone wall. She shivers.

"You lie."

The smile falls from her face, and through he is confused and a little angry, he feels guilty still.

"Why would I lie, my love?"

xx

The high of claiming the dragon they say could not be claimed is starting to wear off, and the dampness of my clothes is beginning to bring a chill to my bones.

I shiver again, but not because of the cold. It's entirely because of the way my husband-to-be stares down at me, with rage and confusion in his eye.

"Aemond," I reach out, cupping his angled jaw. "Why would I lie?" I repeat. "The beast, he was upon my riding path. I had never seen him before. He is... so large, Aemond. I made to turn, but he turned and looked at me. Looked into me, it felt. When I approached and commanded him, he bowed. He lay down his wing, so I might climb on, and we rode."

"With no saddle?"

"I admit, that was a challenge I did not foresee. His scales are so large, Aemond, that I was able to settle into the grooves of them. Were it not raining, I daresay I may have been able to easily hold on. As it was, the ride was short. But I claimed him, Aemond! Cannibal!" It was hard to keep my voice hushed with my excitement, and my nerves. I had not thought Aemond would be so angry.

He steps forward, just half a step, closing the distance between us and pressing me tightly to the stones.

"You could have been killed," he hisses through a tight jaw.

I nod slowly, and shiver once more. "I know. I am sorry, but I... I could not help myself."

Just as I am beginning to wonder if Aemond is going to really hurt me, his mouth is upon mine, a welcome warmth in the chilling cold. His kiss is urgent and demanding, and my hands find their way into his hair with a mind all their own. Aemond's hand slides over my backside as his tongue explores my mouth, then his curious hand moves down my thigh, and to the back of my knee. He pulls my leg up, and presses his core into mine through our clothes, eliciting a moan from deep in my chest. A chill runs through me, nothing to do with the cold air and my wet clothes.

"Aemond, someone will see," I whisper, pulling away just long enough to do so, before he silences me with his mouth upon mine once more.

"Let them see. Let them see me fuck Cannibal's rider right here, in front of them all," he drawls, his lips trailing down my chin, my neck, and to the small area of flesh visible above my dress. He presses his hard cock into me once more, and my head rolls back against the castle wall. "But I think I'll take you in a warm bath instead, dragon rider."

xx

True to his word, Aemond requests a hot bath in his room, and while it is filled, helps me undress and hangs my clothes gently by the fire - something I have only ever seen our chambermaids attend to.

He takes my hand gently and escorts me to the scorching bath. Settling in, it causes gooseflesh to break out on my skin, going from so cold to so hot, but I quickly settle in, releasing a moan.

I turn my head to the side to see Aemond undressing, keeping his eye trained on me as his clothes drop to the floor, revealing the beautiful and toned body of a warrior.

Eagerly, I lean forward so that he can slide in behind me, and he pulls me back once seated so I can rest against his chest.

"Are you terribly angry with me?" I ask after a long, comfortable silence.

Aemond reaches over to the small wooden table next to the bath, and grabs the soap. "Not terribly, no," he replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

He starts to wash me gently, with great care. My arms, over my chest and stomach, my legs down to my toes, until I am the cleanest I have ever been, as well as the warmest.

"Were you scared?" he asks.

"Of you, or Cannibal?"

He snorts, but does not answer.

"Yes, I was terrified. But once he laid down his wing in invitation, the fear disappeared. It felt so right, to mount and ride him. He is so large, Aemond."

He sets down the soap and runs his hands up my arms once more. "We are unstoppable now, you and I."

I lean back into my lover, pressing my forehead to his cheek, as his arms encircle me tightly. "Now I can protect you, as you have always protected me. You, and the entire royal family."

He sighs once more, and presses a kiss to my forehead. "I am in awe of you. Tomorrow, I will request the wedding be moved up."

"To when?" I ask, closing my eyes as Aemond's wet, strong hands begin to roam my body.

"The earliest possible moment. I will not be unwed to you a second longer than is necessary, my dragon-claimer."

Aemond's adept hands find their target, and I arch my back, gasping. "Yes, my lord," I reply, and he chuckles.

"No one is lord to you, not anymore," he replies - and then devours me whole.

[neousfics]

Dead Boy Detective Fic Recs (Hurt/Comfort Edition)

All of the following fics are completed :) The lamps are going out by MagicAio1 Words: 9,755 Rating: T Summary: Evil spirits, vengeful spirits. At the time, he didn't yet have the words to explain what had happened to him –even though, without a frame of reference, he could still tell something was wrong– They formed when a ghost felt an awful injustice had befallen them, and few ghosts could claim to have been as wronged by everything as Edwin Payne.

He just hoped the boy from the attic wouldn't put two and two together.

Review: Vengeful Spirit!Edwin is an incredible idea that is beautifully executed in this fic. Edwin being convinced he's evil or tainted in some way because of the way he has been wronged makes for some fantastic angst, and Charles and Crystal loving him anyway makes for some equally fantastic comfort.

Still a Better Love Story by Vamillepudding Words: 18,000 Rating: T Summary: “That about did it,” Edwin says, patting himself down and straightening his bowtie. “Now, if you’re ready, I suggest we find a mirror and-“

“Did you just cough up a flower?” Charles interrupts. Flower, perhaps, is a slight exaggeration. It’s more like a petal, red and incredibly out of place here on the shore.

Edwin clears his throat, but this time no petals follow. “Certainly it’s nothing to worry about.”

Or: Edwin is suffering from a weird curse, but for some reason, he's refusing Charles' help. Charles is trying his best to fix it anyway, but Edwin is being oddly secretive about the whole thing.

Review: I'm a sucker for a good hanahaki AU, and Payneland is made for them. This fic really leans into Edwin not wanting Charles to suffer or feel pressured as a form of angst which works very well.

for my soul he made an offer (and to dust again i fell) by aletterinthenameofsanity Words: 37,687 Rating: M (CW: rape, blackmail, violence) Summary: Monty gets up on the interview stage and it doesn’t matter what the other tributes have to say, because Monty tells Caesar Flickerman that the boy he fell in love with is the very Mentor trying to save him from the Arena.

It’s a dangerous move, but it just might save Monty’s life in the Arena and his body post-Arena. It might just keep him out of the same deal that Esther made for Edwin.

A familiar hand touches Edwin’s wrist backstage. Charles’ hands gently pry Edwin’s fingernails away from the bloody crescents they are carving into his palms.

“It was the only way I could protect him,” Edwin says, trying to plead with Charles to understand, because Edwin has to do anything he can to protect just one of his tributes.

Charles gives him a small, sympathetic smile. “You could’ve told me.”

But Edwin twists his wrist slightly so that Charles isn’t touching him, because he knows where this is going even if Charles does not. He knows whose life lays on the line if this plan fails, and it’s not just Monty’s.

(Years ago, the President made Edwin kneel and told him that Charles’ life was forfeit if Edwin ever disobeyed. And he won't risk that, even if it means breaking both of their hearts.)

Review: One of my absolute favorite DBD fics to date. Hunger Games AUs are notoriously difficult to pull off, but this one knocks the ball out of the park. It focuses on Edwin's experience as District 10 victor and all the brutality that comes with being in the Capitol. This fic had me actually gasping and jumping about.

By Lantern's Light by babyseraphim Words: 13,620 Rating: T Summary: Edwin is terrified. He feels as though he is a wounded deer caught in a bear trap, simply waiting for the hunter to discover his misfortune. The room is dark enough that he cannot make out a single landmark, the deprivation of all sounds playing tricks on his panicked mind. He swears that he hears distant giggles, the sound of grotesque dolls laughing at his renewed torment, but no creature ever makes an appearance. A hysterical laugh threatens to spill past his own lips, accompanied by a sudden rush of tears. He closes his eyes and wills them away, steeling himself for whatever is to come.

The question is not whether Charles will come; the question is when. Until that question is answered, all Edwin can do is endure. --- A heartbreaking story of love and near loss told from three separate perspectives.

Review: Explores Edwin experiencing the effects of trauma and PTSD from his time in hell as well as his unwavering faith in Charles which makes for a beautifully bittersweet experience. Babyseraphim does a great job exploring the hurt/comfort that occurs on all sides of this story.

the taste in your mouth by greenaerie Words: 14,004 Rating: M (CW: non/con elements) Summary: An unexpected attack from Esther shocks the Dead Boy Detective Agency, taking Charles out of commission.

Edwin solves this the only way he can. A good detective does what they must, after all.

Review: This is one of the only fics I've found that explores the idea of Edwin taking the Cat Kings initial offer from a place of risk-assessment/desperation to save his friends, and I love it! I do wish it had a bit more angst w/ Edwin's experience / Charles reaction to it. However, the author does a great job w/ Edwin's characterization.

dulcet tones of broken bones by gremlininthemachine Words: 20,173 Rating: M (CW: suicidal ideation, suicide attempt) Summary: Object: cardboard shoe box, pilfered from Crystal's overflowing wardrobe; location: the London office, on top of their desk; box contents: several labeled cassette tapes enclosed in plastic cases, along with a handwritten note in perfect script; note contents: "Dead Boy Detective Agency - Recorded explanation for my unannounced absence is enclosed. Sincerely yours, Edwin Payne" | Or, the fic where Edwin no longer wants to exist and seeks to make that reality. Inspired by Thirteen Reasons Why, knowledge of series canon not required.

Review: More hurt than comfort, but in the best way possible. This rips your heart out, but it still leaves with a distinctly hopeful note which I highly appreciate.

the phantoms here will never have their fill by ahyperactivehero Words: 45,874 Rating: T Summary: Poltergeists are created when a ghost experiences extreme emotional distress. Poltergeists are notoriously hard to reign in, and they almost never gently move on. Neither Edwin nor Charles ever imagined it would happen to them.

Basically, five times where the Dead Boy Detective Agency dealt with the threat of a poltergeist.

XXX “Once you choose to go down the poltergeist route there is no coming back,” Edwin said. “And I will have no choice but to follow you.”

“You can’t do that mate,” Charles said. His voice had cleared up some, his form less wavy.

“Then do not go where I cannot follow,” Edwin said.

Review: Obsessed with how the ghost lore works in this fic. The author plays into the idea of how a ghosts emotions can affect there form and tackles the question of "How far is too far?" brilliantly. Great characterization!

The Case of the Lovesick Student by amurusk Words: 5,151 Rating: Unrated (CW: child abuse, implied SA) Summary: It's not unusual for Charles to bear the brunt of an attack during cases. Charles is the brawn, after all, and he’s thrived in that role in life and death. He’s a soldier, taking a beating and giving one back. It just feels right, keeping his loved ones safe from harm and trusting them to fix whatever mess they’re in. Not that he faces danger alone, they just think of the big picture while Charles handles the immediate threat. Edwin, Crystal, and Niko have all saved him back multiple times over.

But no one has ever physically stepped between him and pain, taken a hit for him.

Review: Charles finally getting to be the one who's defended is a fic premise that we need more of. I love getting a glimpse into Charles experience of wanting to be protected/vulnerable.

it feels real to me now, it felt real to me then by ethan_elliott Words: 3,658 Rating: T Summary: Ghosts could not feel pain. Or much of anything, really. Except in Hell. A place designed to cause eternal agony, and so levelled the playing field by making humans and supernatural entities equal in their perception. Edwin had been corporeal there, subject to hurt and cold, the hammer of a heart in his chest and the struggle of lungs for breath. It was the one place he felt everything.

Charles had rescued him from Hell the second time. So then why, as Edwin lay in Esther’s torture device helplessly watching Niko disappear from sight, could he feel everything?

Charles had rescued him from Hell the second time. Right?

—

Or, after Niko’s death, Charles has to rescue Edwin from Hell once more, but this time it’s all in Edwin’s mind.

Review: A great one-shot exploring a world where Edwin isn't sure if he really made it out of hell. I honestly wish this was longer because it was excellently written and the premise is awful /pos.

a kingdom never bound by piilu Words: 1,974 Rating: G Summary: “Fuck, Edwin,” Charles breathes. “You could’ve come got me, you know?” Edwin doesn’t know what to say to that. He would be fine, soon. Not really worth bothering anybody. He just shakes his head and curls up tighter. “You’re alright,” Charles says. He wraps an arm around him. Then his face changes, into something like determination, and he pushes Edwin’s head onto his shoulder. “You’re alright, mate.”

Review: Short and sweet fic about Edwin havin' a bit of a panic attack/sensory overload moment.

Cry With Joy At The Depth Of My Love by coloursflyaway Words: 18,028 Rating: T Summary: “Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there are more important matters at hand. “Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…” He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head. “Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.”

____________

Edwin takes the Cat King up on his initial offer, so instead of a few hours, he is gone for six weeks. Charles isn't good at coping with it.

Review: Charles really goes through it in this one, so if that's what you're looking for than this will be quite fun. The author does a great job at infusing a sense of panic and despair into the story.

here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed by pinklemonades Words: 3,095 Rating: T Summary:

Edwin is in love with his best friend who doesn’t love him back, and the world has not ended. In some ways, he wishes it had.

Edwin deals with the pains of losing a friend while living through the consequences of falling in love with his best friend (aka a Hanahaki Disease post-canon fic).

Review: Very good, short hanahaki AU! Loved the characterization and angst w/ happy ending.

[ddollfface]

lm a bit nervous asking this but it’s okay ^u^

I was wondering how your ocs would react to their darlings hurting themselves sorry if this is too weird for you!! I absolutely love your writing btw!!

𝐏𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲

LoveSick!Characters reaction to reader doing self-harm

Warnings; obviously self-harm, possessive behavior, crappy writing, me rambling, yandere characters, little suggestive on LoveSick!Friends part whoops! I wrote reader with a fem!person in mind sorry ╥﹏╥ You’re totally fine! I don’t mind these asks whatsoever, thank you for requesting, love! Just a small thing though, and this isn't necessarily directed toward you, but if you're ever, ever having thoughts of self-harm, there's no shame in seeking help! Take it from a gal who went through it herself! You are loved! Always remember that, babes ♡

....

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲

He’s not mad, just disappointed, which is arguably worse. LoveSick!Athlete could never ever be mad at you. You’re the love of his life! The center of his universe, and all he ever thinks about, so how could he be mad at you? It’s just that… He hates, loathes even, the fact that you didn’t trust him enough to come to him! He’s your boyfriend, your future husband (not that you know that, yet), for God’s sake! 

Anyways… It’s likely you didn’t tell him, and he found out by accident, seeing new and old scars when your hoodie lifts up, or when you guys go to the beach (something along those lines). The first thing he does is pull you into a hug, pressing your face against his chest, just so you don’t see the intense gleam in his eyes. There are so many things that are spiraling in his mind, so many thoughts, and so many feelings that he can’t exactly pin them down. 

He doesn’t know what to do with himself, and he doesn’t exactly know what he’s feeling, but he knows he doesn’t like it. The idea of you ever, ever, harming yourself never came to mind. He never even thought that’s something you’d ever end up doing! He thought that everything was fine and dandy, that you were enjoying the relationship, that you loved him, but apparently not. 

LoveSick!Athlete scolds himself for not seeing the signs, for seeing how you seemed to take longer in the restroom, or how you covered more, even when it was oh-so warm outside. How did he not see the signs? How could he fail you? 

After a moment or two, he pulls you away from his chest, staring at you with an uncanny look, as if he’s trying to pry into your very being. He needs to know why! Why are you doing this to yourself? Is it because of him? Don’t say it’s because of him (it is), or else he think he might start spiraling. Of course, you make up some half-assed excuse, attempting not to place any blame on him, and so, the next thought in his mind is that it’s someone else. After that thought flickers in his mind, let’s just say that you’re not going to be going out with your friends for long while. 

He’s convinced that he cannot leave you alone, that he needs to be there for you at all times. He cannot let these outside influences spoil your beautiful mind! He has to protect you, and he will. Don’t worry, baby. He understands that you’re going through a hard time, but he’s here now! And he’ll take care of you, just let him do everything.

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝗿𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘁

Okay, now he’s mad, very mad, extremely mad even. LoveSick!Artist is very emotionally constipated, very quick to anger, and violent with his tendencies. He hates what you’re doing to yourself, and it makes him mad at himself, you, and just the world! What did he do wrong? Why are you harming your beautiful body? 

You’re his muse, his inspiration, and he hates that it’s being tainted by your own hands! Immediately, his mind goes to who else has caused this because there’s no way that you, the sweet angel he’s made you up to be, could ever do this to themselves. Someone, some evil, nasty person, has pushed you to this, and he’s going to find them and make them wish they were never born. He’s already conjured many different scenarios in his mind, but not a single world slips from his mouth, which just makes the situation all the worse for you. It’s awkward. On the inside, he’s scathing, thinking of so many things to say, to do, but on the outside, he’s just staring at you with fiery eyes. 

You can tell he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, and that makes you nervous. Like LoveSick!Athlete, LoveSick!Artist likely found out by accident or something of the sort, probably when he was painting you. At the time, he didn’t find it odd that you were more hesitant, refusing even, to strip off your clothing, to change into the skimpy dress he wanted you to wear, scraping it up to be you just nervous. He found that cute, and let you be, what he thought, was your flustered self. What he didn’t realize is that you were hiding something from him of all people, which just made the reveal all the worse. 

Even though he’s unreasonably pissed, he’ll try to calm himself down for your sake, knowing that it freaks you out whenever he gets amped up. This means that he’ll grab your arm or push you onto some surface to take a look at your leg, this all depends on where you’ve marked up, and he’ll huff as he looks over the old and new scars. His eyes are fiery, flammed with an intense heat that makes you nervous, too scared to do anything. LoveSick!Artist will wait until his mind is, somewhat, cleared, standing up to grab your cheeks, pulling you into a oddly, and uncharacteristically, soft kiss, and wrapping his arms around you.

You can feel him shake as he hides his face against your neck. You’re so stupid, he’ll mutter, suddenly you feel your skin get slightly wet, God, don’t pull this shit again. Next time just… just be fucking normal and talk to me, you dumbass. You guys will stand there for a moment before he storms off, slamming the front door, not knowing what to do with himself.

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗕𝗶𝗺𝗯𝗼

Okay… She’s a little insensitive when it comes to this topic. Actually, it’s more like a culture shock, in a weird way? I’m not too sure on how to describe it, but it’s in the sense that it’s impossible for her to think that you would hate yourself. To her, you’re absolutely stunning! You’re her hot girlfriend; how could you ever think of yourself like that? It’s something she doesn’t understand, and so she kinda goes into shock when hearing about it. 

She’s very quick to comfort, tackling you into a big hug, tucking her face into your chest as she cries, and cries, and cries, and cries. She cannot believe this is happening! Why would you ever do this?

A situation where you should be the one comforted has turned into you holding her, trying to explain yourself as she straddles your waist, staring down at you with puffy eyes. Her lips are puckered as she cups your cheeks. With the tilt of her head, LoveSick!Bimbo will begin to list off every. single. thing. she loves about you. 

Her hands will start on your cheeks, blubbering out how she loves how full they are because it fills out your face, and then she’ll graze your eyelid, bringing her thumb up to your brow. Oh, how she wishes she had your brows! They’re so, so natural! But she has to get hers done, and God, your eyes. They’re super duper pretty! They’re one of her favorite things about you, can’t you see that? Why would you ever hate such a pretty face, when it’s all so cohesive, all so matching? She’ll go on and on, touching every part of your body as she names something positive, not caring as you try to push her off. LoveSick!Bimbo will hold you down, even using her fluffy, pink handcuffs if she has to! She has to prove to you that you’re an absolute beaut!

Once she’s done with that, she’ll bring you into a big hug, lying next to you as you, somehow, managed to end in her bed. LoveSick!Bimbo will force your face into her chest as she pats your head, urging you to go to bed, baby! I think you’re suppperrr sleep-deprived from finals, and that’s why you’re thinking so silly! Curling up to you, she’ll sniffle a little, huffing under her breath that she can’t believe you’d ever do such things… Maybe we can get our nails done! Manicures always make me feel better!

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱

Baby, she already knew what you were doing the moment you put a blade to your skin. LoveSick!Friend has adopted the knack for reading you like a book as she’s been around for quite a while and has watched you like a hawk. You think she doesn’t know when you’re falling into fits of depression? Please, baby girl, she clocked it when you started avoiding your guys’s girl's nights. 

Immediately, she took to action, subtly trying to pinpoint exactly why you were doing this to yourself and finding a solution to said problem. Of course, it wasn’t easy as she didn’t want to make her intentions known as she was a little worried that you’d recede into yourself if you knew. She wanted to find out organically, get you talking to her, and then comfort you. 

After all, she is your best friend, and you are hers, so why would you not spill your heart out to her? She’s always been there for you, comforting you whenever your shitty ex dumped you, or when you had a fight with your parents, or even when your other friends conveniently stopped calling (which may or may not have been her doing, but I digress).

Really, because she understands you, and is quite the manipulator, she got you spilling to her in days. All it took was soft touches and sappy eyes, and you folded, not that she didn’t want you to. She wants to be the gal you come to. She wants you to come talk to her instead of tearing through your skin. Baby, you don’t need a therapist when you have her! She’ll hold you through the night, rocking you to sleep as she whispers comfort into your ear. She’s the perfect one for you, don’t you understand?

And don’t question it when her lips travel from your temple to your scarred wrist, and then your scarred thighs. Maybe she can make you feel better? Babydoll, she’ll make you understand how beautiful you are, just you wait. Just lay back, relax, and listen to her. This is what friends are for, right?

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗞𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

And… What’s that going to do, love? Now, he’s just confused, a little annoyed, but mostly confused. Why would you, the Empire’s Beaut, ever harm yourself? I’m not too sure if this is accurate, but I don’t think self-harm was too common back in the day. From what I know, the only recorded self-harm was self-whippings as a form of penance in the Church, or condoned by the Church at least (someone correct me if I’m wrong, but this is what I’ve found from surface-level googling lol). 

Based on this, the idea of you taking a blade to your skin is insane to LoveSick!Knight. He didn’t understand why you’d ever do such things as you live in the finest conditions he can provide! You’re served the finest meals in the nation and are treated with the uttermost care. To him, those are the only things one could ever ask for, so this is one bitch of a situation you’ve put him in. It’s frankly annoying to him, but he loves you so he’ll sit you down and speak with you.

Scooping you up in his arms, he places you on his lap as he combs your hair back, looking at you with an unamused expression as he gently holds your arm/thigh (whatever you choose to harm). With the click of his tongue, he’ll pinch your cheek and scold you, asking you if you understand what you’ve just done, darling? You’ve gone and scarred your beautiful skin. So now, what shall we do, hmm? Want me to go and patch you up, yes?

Of course, you’ll just nod your head with teary eyes, having no idea how to respond to his softened demeanor. Honestly, you were expecting far harsher treatment, seeing as LoveSick!Knight has done far worse to you before, so this was much preferred for you.   The two of you will sit in silence as he bandages you up, and surprisingly, he’ll mark each scar with a kiss, looking up at you with loyalty. In sickness and in health, he swore to you that he’d always be by your side, even when you’re making silly decisions like this. In the past, he may have harmed you in such ways, but he refuses to see you do such to yourself. Even with his hardened exterior and violent tendencies, you are still his wife, and he your husband, so he’s stuck with you until he dies, whether you like it or not.

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗣𝗼𝗲𝘁

Oh… Yeah, you thought he was scared of you before? Now, he’s avoiding you like the plague, absolutely terrified that he’s the one that caused you to harm yourself. LoveSick!Poet barely talks to you, and when he does, it comes out in stutters and flushed cheeks. He’s not the best when it comes to talking to girls, so he gets nervous, but you’ve always been so kind to him. However, the moment you open up to him about your self-harming, whether is present or past, he kind of freezes, not knowing what to do. Does he comfort you? Well, duh! But how do you comfort a girl? Does he hug you? No! You guys aren’t that close yet… A handshake? No, that’s awkward…

God! He doesn’t know what to do! And because of that, he disappears for a while, and you fall into your own pit of self-loathing, wondering if you overshared. I mean, he is just your neighbor, a weird one, but one that you see every morning, and one who leaves you little notes. You know that LoveSick!Poet is a sweet guy, and now you’re scared you ruined all that because you’ve told him something personal…

But all that ends when you find a little gift basket at your front door. Inside, there’s a letter, one that looks made out of very fine, very expensive-looking paper, and was written in fancy handwriting. You never knew his handwriting was so pretty. It was in purple ink, and there was a photo of the two of you, albeit a little awkward, attached to it. You forgot the exact occasion, but you think it was a neighborhood potluck? You’re not sure…

In the letter, LoveSick!Poet wrote a beautiful poem (obviously) about you, aimed toward your appearance, but also your personality. It had tiny details that you didn’t even notice of yourself! You were a little confused about how he even knew that, but you brushed it off as you felt your heart thump a little faster. It was very sweet, very genuine. And it was accompanied by a small bouquet of flowers, cheap(ish) perfume, and some chocolates. 

Although you would’ve really liked it if he’d said all these things to your face, as it would’ve saved you a week or two of anxious suffering, it was still sweet to know that he cared, even if it was in his own, weird way. Catching a small note on the bottom, you couldn’t help but feel warm, giggling at the note that wrote to please look at the bottom of the basket. I got you something I think you’d love ♡

And at the bottom, folded neatly was a portrait of you, smiling softly as you seemed to be looking somewhere else. There were pretty, lilacs framing the photo, and you looked otherworldly, if you don’t say so yourself. You have to admit, it was definitely an ego boost, knowing that this is how LoveSick!Poet saw you. But who knew he could draw?

[consoledacup]

I have spent so long trying to feel less, trying to be the kind of man society expects me to be. And for a moment, I thought I had succeeded. But these past few weeks have been full of confounding feelings. Feelings like a total inability to stop thinking about you. About that kiss. Feelings like dreaming of you when I'm asleep, and in fact, preferring sleep because that is where I might find you. A feeling that is like torture, but one which I cannot, will not, do not want to give up.

–Colin Bridgerton, "Old Friends," Bridgerton

So the fact that I just typed all of that out by memory means that this is the best romantic declaration. As tender as Colin and Penelope's speeches to each other are at the Dankworth-Finch Ball and the Bridgerton study respectively, Colin's desperate plea quoted above is the passionate sound bite of the season.

And it is so in line with Colin's character. For anyone that had any doubts about how he was playing a role earlier this season, he explains it plainly. He said, I've done everything unnatural within me to finally try and fit in, and wouldn't you know, it worked! God, the fact that he was aware that he was forcing himself to feel less??

He says, you may have forgotten about that kiss, but I sure haven't. You've asked me to stay away to avoid more scandal, but you've never escaped my thoughts.

I think the line about seeking sleep because he can always find Penelope in his dreams is probably the most romantic thing I've ever heard. To me, it harkens back to what Colin said about Leander to Daphne when he was desperately wanting to talk to Marina:

"Leander swam Abydos to Sestos every single night in complete darkness just to see his love."

He believed himself in love with Marina then, but he was merely posturing about it. His pride was wounded and his savior complex was ignited.

But saying that he welcomed the darkness of sleep because he knew every single time he'd see Penelope in his dreams? That is some next-level yearning. And we're privy to one of those dreams, so we know his words are true.

Then he concludes with, these feelings are driving me mad and making me sick, but you'll have to pry them from my cold dead hands because they are now a part of me. I may have been trying to feel less before, but I refuse to feel less in this. Because as painful as they are, they are also real, and for the first time in my life, I have found that sense of meaning that I had been feverishly searching for.

He says this all to simply share how he feels. He's hoping that she at least somewhat reciprocates, but it's been tearing him apart to keep his feelings for her hidden. He knows that he could love her so ardently and worship her so reverently if she'd just let him. He is on his knees, begging for her to listen to him. It's high time that they're finally honest with each other, and he takes the first step with this perfect speech.

[angelasscribbles]

Crush: A Bad Romance One-Shot

Series: Bad Romance Continues

Original Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Liam with tiny hints of Liam x Max

Rating: Fluffy

Warnings for this chapter:  None

Word Count: 3,274 

Thanks to @kyra75 for this ask for the "secret admirer" prompt for the @choicesprompts 2024 Flufftober event. This is my late submission.

A/N: This is a prequel because we already know what happens during Bad Romance so it doesn't fit there. I could have placed it after but I would have had to either bring in a new person which I didn't want to do or go the predictable route of it turning out to be the person's partner all along. Instead, I decided to place it before the events of Bad Romance, and here's why: I've written next to nothing about Riley's first few months in Cordonia but Bad Romance does state that Liam had to work his butt off to pry Riley's attention away from Max during that time. In fact, Liam mentions it often because he's still salty about it. Max mentions it too because he did eventually get dumped for Liam. I thought this was a perfect place to show some of that. I know it's a little angsty, but I hope it's got enough fluff to satisfy the requirement.

To reiterate: This takes place in the first month of Riley being in Cordonia, while she is sleeping with Max, Liam is trying to change that and Drake is trying to pretend he doesn't like her like that.

My other stuff: Master List.

For the life of me, I cannot remember if someone sent me this image or if I stumbled across it myself. It's been in my save folder for awhile. I'd like to give proper credit, so if you sent it to me, speak up!

Riley entered her room and stopped to smell the roses. The two dozen red roses to be exact. They had been delivered to her room earlier. She closed her eyes as the sweet floral scent washed over her.

The smell was sublime.

She opened her eyes to admire the blood red petals. Her fingers gently stroked a lush bloom, her expression contemplative as her mind whirled.

She turned her head to observe the man who had entered the room with her. “You’re sure they’re not from you?”

“Yes, Riley, I’m sure,” Max admittedly a little reluctantly.

“Any ideas who they might be from?”

He shrugged dismissively. “Could be anyone, really. You have many admirers at court. I’m not surprised one of them decided to shoot his shot.” Hana’s face flashed before his eyes. “Or hers.”

She fluttered her lashes at him. “Does that bother you?”

Max shook his head, and then gave her that boyish grin that always made her heart flutter. “How can I blame them? You’re the total package, babe.”

“You sweet talker.” Riley grinned at him as she strode across the room to pinch his cheeks.

Despite the fact that they were sleeping together, the simple sign of affection from her caused heat to flame across his face. He studied the toe of his shoe as he told her, “You deserve flowers. I should have thought to send you some.”

“Hey,” she put a finger under his chin and lifted his head. “The roses are lovely, but you do sweet things for me all the time. I’m very happy with our little…. Arrangement.”

His face lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips softly across his. “We’re staying in tonight, right?”

They were in between royal events for the next week and while eating in the main dining hall was always an option, Max had suggested room service and a movie marathon in her room instead.

Riley had agreed because frankly, she was sick of Madeleine’s shit. Eating with all the bitchy divas of the nobility was not her idea of fun. Drake avoided her like the plague ever since their encounter on the plane ride over, and Liam rarely made appearances in the public dining hall in between official royal events.

Not that she was interested in him. Their night in New York aside, she knew he would never choose a waitress to be queen. He couldn’t. So, she had found other diversions.

She could certainly do a lot worse than Maxwell Beaumont.

“Right,” Max agreed, as a shiver ran down his spine at her touch. “I had the kitchen make your favorite dinner.”

“See?” she purred. “That’s what I mean about how thoughtful you are.”

“Let’s meet back here at dinnertime, okay?” He stepped away from her and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“You’ll see.” He gave her a mischievous grin as he exited the room.

“Okay then.” With a furrowed brow, she returned her attention to the roses. After a brief moment of consideration, her decision was made.

She might not know why Max was acting weird all of a sudden, but she had enough time before dinner to do a little investigation into her secret admirer.

****

“I’m coming!” Drake yelled in irritation.

Who the fuck was knocking on his door in the middle of the afternoon on his day off?

“Can’t get any peace and quiet ever.” He muttered under his breath as he yanked the door open. “What?”

His eyes widened with a sharp intake of breath. “Riley! What are you doing here?” His eyes darted frantically up and down the hallway. This girl was a scandal waiting to happen.

“Was it you?”

“Was what me?”

“The flowers. Were they from you?” Her gaze bore into him with laser intensity.

His forehead creased as he tried to make sense of the conversation. “Flowers?”

Her eyes scanned his face, then she shook her head. “Of course not.”

His brain finally caught up. “Someone sent you flowers?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Weren’t they from your boyfriend?”

Was that a note of bitterness she detected? She smiled from ear to ear as her body swayed slightly back and forth. “What boyfriend would that be?”

His face fixed in a scowl, he grunted, “Max.”

She bit into her lower lip as she leaned forward and ran a hand up his arm. “Are you jealous of Max?”

His arms crossed defensively over his chest as he took a step back. “No!”

“Sure, you’re not. But someone sent me two dozen roses, and it wasn’t Max. Any ideas who it could have been?”

Drake blew out a resigned sigh. Of fucking course he knew who it was. Who else would it be? But he wasn’t telling her that.

While he wasn’t going to stand in Liam’s way, he sure as hell wasn’t going to help him. Instead, he shrugged with what he hoped was nonchalance as he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Okay. Bye then.” She spun on her heel and started back down the hallway.

“Riley, wait!” He stumbled out the door into the hallway, ready to sprint after her.

She stopped and turned back with arched eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I…” All the reasons he should not and could not pursue this woman poured through his mind as he stood frozen in the middle of the corridor.

“Well?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“Hm. Well, if it’s ever something, you know where my room is.” She wiggled her fingers at him before spinning to leave again.

He watched her go as frustration and regret danced through his chest.

****

Riley questioned several guards and a couple of butlers, but no one knew anything.

She was on her way back to her room when she bumped right into Liam. She found herself tangled in his embrace, laughter rumbling through him as he caught her. “Whoa there! Where’s the fire?”

“Liam!” She made no move to extract herself from his arms. Instead, she smiled up at him. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.”

“I see that!” He stared down at her with a sappy grin for several long seconds before remembering himself. He cleared his throat as he stepped away from her. “Were you on your way to the dining hall?”

“No, my room, actually.”

“I hope everything is okay.”

She gave him a bright smile as she leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Everything is fine. I just can’t take another dinner with those fucking harpies.”

Liam threw his head back and laughed. Yes, it was a scandalous remark, but he found her honesty refreshing. He found everything about her refreshing, not to mention alluring. He moved closer to her to whisper, “Why do you think I never eat in the public dining hall?”

It was her turn to laugh. “Oh, my! What an unprincely thing to say!”

“You seem to bring out that side of me.” His tone suddenly serious, he blurted, “Have dinner with me tonight? In my private dining room?”

“I’d love to, but I already have plans for tonight.”

“Oh. I thought you said you were having dinner in your roo—”

“Yes, we are.”

His shoulders slumped. “I see.”

“Tomorrow?”

His head snapped up. “You’ll have dinner with me tomorrow?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“That’s…. not exactly the response I was hoping for—”

“I mean, if you’d rather not—”

“No! No… I mean yes! I mean… I definitely want to have dinner with you, Riley. Tomorrow night it is.”

“Great. Just text me the time.”

He immediately whipped out his phone and sent her a text.

She rewarded him with a seductive smirk. “That was quick.”

“He who hesitates is lost.”

“I would have said you snooze, you lose. But that works too.”

“I don’t intend to lose.”

“Lose what?”

His voice was unusually low and quiet as he returned the phone to his pocket. “You, Riley.”

Riley Brooks was seldom taken aback by anything a man said, but that did the trick. “What?”

“Surely you haven’t forgotten our night in New York so easily.”

“Of course, not. I just didn’t think—”

“Did you like the roses? They’re from my mother’s garden.”

“That was you?”

“Yes.”

“But…why?”

“Why?” He looked at her with his mouth agape. Glancing around quickly to ensure they were still alone in the hallway; he reached for her and yanked her body to his. Lowering his lips to her ear, he murmured, “I know you think New York was just about sex and that a prince would never marry a waitress, but you’re wrong, Riley. Dead wrong. On both counts.”

She pulled back to search his onyx eyes with her emerald ones. She couldn’t help the skepticism in her voice. “Really?”

“Yes, really! What do I have to do to convince you of that?”

“I don’t know, Liam. But it’s going to take more than a few roses.”

Gifts were not about to win her over. Sure, she had come from poverty, but he hadn’t. Material things were easy for him to come by and easy for him to part with. Simply spending money on her only convinced her that he wanted to sleep with her.

While sex with the smoking hot prince was something she was more than willing to engage in, she refused to let her heart get involved when she already knew disappointment was waiting at the end.

No matter what he said, he was never going to marry her. He wasn’t in love with her. He was in lust with her and that was something she was familiar with, something she could roll with. But she would not be tricked into letting her feelings get involved.

If he expected her to fall in love, he was going to have to invest a lot more than just money. That was too easy. She refused to be merely one more victim in the trail of broken hearts he’d left behind him.

Liam watched her walk away with a myriad of emotions crashing through him. If she wanted him to work harder to get her attention, he would do that. He knew she liked him. The night in New York had proven that. But since her arrival in Cordonia, she had frozen him out. Were her plans tonight with Max? What the fuck did she see in Max that she didn’t see in him? It was frustrating, galling, and, if he were being honest with himself, a little thrilling. He did love a good challenge.

***

Riley let herself back into her room to a stupendous surprise. The two dozen red roses still graced the console table near the entry, but every other available surface, save the bed, was now covered in vases brimming with all manner of blue flowers. Deep blue roses, baby blue hydrangeas, several shades of carnations, and blue and white morning glories, among others, were spread across the tops of the dresser, the end tables, and the vanity.

She gasped as she turned circles, taking it all in. “Max! What is this?”

“Ah…” pink flamed across his cheeks. “I know red roses are romantic and all, but I also know blue is your favorite color, so I took a chance that you might like them.”

“Like them? Max, I love them! But you didn’t have to do all this just because Liam sent me flowers.”

“It was Liam?” His heart sank.

He felt pretty confident about his chances of competing against most of the men at court. But Liam was another story entirely. Of course, she would want Liam. Hell, he wanted Liam, so he certainly couldn’t blame her.

Maybe now was the time to tell her that his feelings for her were real. That it was more than just fun and games for him. “Riley, I—”

There was a knock on the door.

“Hold that thought,” she told him as she strode across the room to answer it.

She pulled the door open to find Drake standing in the hallway. Her face lit up with surprised delight. “Hey, handsome! Did you finally decide on something?”

“I…ah... wanted to talk—” his words cut off mid-sentence as Max appeared in the doorway behind her. A storm raged across his face. “You know what? Never mind. I shouldn’t have—”

“Drake? What are you doing here?”

All three heads turned toward the new voice.

Drake’s brain spun frantically, trying to find a reasonable explanation for his presence. “Ah, I noticed they were missing from the dining hall and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Liam’s shoulders relaxed. He had asked Drake to keep an eye on her for him. To personally ensure her safety.

“What are you doing here?” Riley directed her question to Liam.

“I needed to change the time of our date tomorrow night.”

Max stiffened. Drake inspected the casing around the doorframe.

“You couldn’t have texted me that?”

“I could have…” that sparkle that she remembered from New York was back in his eyes. “But I wanted to see you in person.”

“Hm.” She smiled as her finger tapped her lips. “Well, since you’re both here, would you like to come in and join us? We were going to have dinner sent up and have a movie marathon.”

Drake looked skeptically from her to Liam to Max. “I don’t know if we should—”

“I’d love to!” Liam swept into the room with satisfaction radiating from every pore of his body. He pushed past a dismayed Max.

That satisfaction evaporated as he took in the scene in front of him. “That’s a lot of blue flowers.”

Max perked up as his arm went around Riley’s shoulder. “Blue is her favorite color, so I thought she might like some to offset all that red.”

“Yes, I get it. You had to go big after copying my idea.”

“I—” Max’s reply was cut off by Riley’s hand on his chest. “No fighting, boys. We’re going to watch movies and have fun tonight.” Turning back toward Drake, she motioned for him to come in. “Are you going to stand in the hallway or are you going to get in here and help me make sure these two behave?”

Drake hesitated only a second or two.

What could it hurt?

He glanced around at the room full of flowers. Two dozen of Cordonia’s finest red roses, straight from the crown’s own garden shimmered in the waning daylight. At least a dozen vases of flowers turned the room into a shimmering ocean of blue. The younger son of one of Cordonia’s noblest houses and the crown prince himself at a standoff over her attentions, and still she wanted him there. That meant something, right?

Not that he was interested in her. If Liam got his way, and Liam usually did, she was going to be the next queen and his best friend’s wife. Both of those things put her firmly off limits to him, no matter how much she inflamed his desires, haunted his dreams, and bedeviled his waking hours.

Still. What could it hurt to watch a couple of movies with her and two of his oldest friends? It was really Liam and Max he was staying for. To make sure they didn’t fight over her too much. Yeah, that’s why he was staying.

Riley leaned over and whispered into Max’s ear. His scowl was replaced with a flushed face and a broad grin. He nodded as he pulled his phone from his pocket and started swiping. His eyes flicked up long enough to say, “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll have the kitchen send up more food.”

Drake took the lounge chair next to the bed just as Riley climbed up and settled herself in the middle of the bed. She patted the space on either side of her. “Who wants to join me?”

Before Drake could react, Liam was in the closest spot and Max had hurled himself onto the bed, clambering over two sets of legs to claim the other side. With a disgruntled shake of his head, he thumped back into the chair.

This had been a bad idea.

But it hadn’t been a bad idea. His misgivings were soon put to rest as they all balanced their dinner plates on their laps and got completely and inexplicably sucked into Barbie.

Not a movie he would have picked, but as it turned out, it was not a kid’s movie at all. The existential angst, the clever humor, the insightfulness, and the adventure had him forgetting the awkwardness of the situation and laughing along with his friends at the onscreen antics. He was relaxed and actually enjoying his night off.

Max had pushed aside his insecurities about Liam, choosing to focus, instead, on the promises Riley had whispered in his ear about the rewards he’d receive later for being a good boy and playing nice with everyone. His eyes kept sliding sidewise to gauge her reactions to the movie. He wanted to share all of them with her…. every laugh, every gasp, every moment. Not just of the movie, he realized, but for the rest of his life.

His gaze flicked briefly to the man on her other side. He knew Liam was still an obstacle, but he had infinite amounts of patience and faith, deep in his heart, that everything would work out in the end.

Liam didn’t miss the sidelong glances Max was throwing at both him and Riley. He couldn’t say he was completely oblivious to Max’s charms, but he was nothing if not persistent.

She didn’t trust him yet. That was fine. He would prove to her that she could. She needed him to put in work, and he would do that. He had yet to set his mind to any task that he couldn’t master. He just needed to try harder, be smarter, and focus deeper. Winning her heart would be worth it. He knew to the very core of his being that they belonged together.

Long after the dishes had been cleared, and the night had deepened, Riley lay with her head on Liam’s shoulder, drifting off as the credits for the latest Ghostbusters movie rolled. Max was curled up against her on her other side, one arm slung over her waist as Liam’s fingers gently combed through her hair. The sound of Drake’s soft snoring drifted through the room.

She should probably wake everyone and tell them to go sleep in their own beds. That would be far more comfortable, especially for Drake, who was dozing in a chair. But the warmth emanating from the men on either side of her, combined with the softness of the bed and the darkness of the room, lulled her into a contented coziness that she was loathe to break.

The quiet hum of the air conditioning filled the room as the TV clicked off, sealing her decision as she let herself drift off to sleep surrounded by the sounds, scents, and warmth of the three men who had commanded all her attention for the last month.

For the moment, none of them were fighting each other or her. Their earlier laughter still rang in her ears. For tonight, things were peaceful, calm, and happy, and not a single one of them wanted to do anything to disrupt that.

Liam was the last one left awake. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “Good night, Riley.” Before closing his eyes and slipping into a contented slumber of his own.

[tumblingxelian]

Songvreign

@kari-go

Seeing as you liked the Songvreign art (Thanks so much!) & the premise of Akuma-Juleka kissing Chloe I had some scattered thoughts you might appreciate to share, its late to they may a lil clumsy but here goes:

Four weeks.

It had been four weeks since Juleka's first awkward encounter with Jagged Stone at the front Desk of the Le Grand Paris Hotel. Before Pixelator had arrived and distracted everyone.

It had been three weeks since Juleka had learned the truth from her mother on the day of the Class Elections and Dark Blade. None of them should have even been there, he shouldn't have been there, Chloe hadn't even been running save for her father's prying.

It had been two weeks since Juleka tried to speak with him as a fellow panel judge, Chloe having given up her seat to bolster Juleka's burgeoning career.

Sine then, it had been a week of endless rebuffs, run arounds and rejections. Of silence in the face of her words, of eyes glancing off her like she didn't matter.

Like she didn't exist.

The thought burned in her chest and left bile on Juleka's tongue.

Their mother raged, but could do nothing. Rose argued for empathy even while trying to comfort her. Luka was content to wait, confidence the man was merely afraid. Somehow it was only Chloe who seemed to key into Juleka's anger.

"Empathy for a man who can't even bother to be a parent? he doesn't deserve it!. As for fear, what could he have to fear, Jagged Stone is beloved and rich, he is by all rights exceptional. He should feat nothing."

She snuggled up closer to Juleka, who at this point had just gotten used to Chloe hanging off her arm whenever she could.

"If he doesn't see how exceptional you are then his brain is broken."

A part of Juleka wanted wanted to focus on that, but she hadn't been able to, not right then. So it was merely added to her ever expanding and concerning Chloe file as she resolved herself to try again.

"Jagged Stone will not suffer any interruptions." His assistant said, barring her path.

"He will suffer me," Juleka rasped, "I am his-" She was yanked back from the door and practically tosed to the hotel hallway floor.

Bob Roth didn't even look at her as he announced, "You are less than nothing, not even a mistake worth covering up."

Juleka felt a firm hand on her shoulder as one of the staff cringingly said, "Mademoiselle, if you would please follow me, you have been banned at the request of Bob Roth and the man whose hotel this is."

Juleka only half registers Chloe storming through the halls, voice loud enough to shatter glass. "This is RIDICULOUS! You cannot ban Juleka! If you do I'll move into her house boat! This place will never survive without me you know!"

Juleka didn't even bother registering Andre's snakey retort, mind and body disconnecting as she was pulled away, words ringing in her head.

Less than nothing.

'Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING!'

Then her whole world was warped in shadows and miasma, a booming voice echoed in her head that wasn't her own.

'To be treated so coldly by a father, the rage burning in your heart is kindled and your voice ready to be a roar. Songvreign, bring me Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous and you can force the whole world to see how unworthy Jagged Stone is his esteem!'

"Yes, Hawk Moth."

-

Chloe wasn't used to fighting with her father. When he did punish her she had no choice but to listen and when she wanted something she had to butter him up.

Actually arguing with him had been becoming more common recently and she couldn't say why, save that he didn't quite seem to approve of Juleka.

Which was absurd, Chloe's future girlfriends was exceptional!

A match for Chloe is the arts of zealous love and since beginning their... Courting. Chloe's life had been going from strength to strength!

The class listened to her more, she was making real connections in the modelling world, she was even doing better in class. Which was to say doing anything in class.

In truth she'd barely even thought to seek her daddy out for anything recently and felt the better for it. But now she had to fight him, because he was being utterly ridiculous and enabling a pathetic excuse for a man who wouldn't even parent his own child!

'Its Gabriel all over again!' Chloe thought as she built herself up for another tirade at her father, only to see him pale and flee down the hall, leaving her behind.

'Well, that's more like it I suppose.' Chloe turned and felt her heart jump into her throat at the sight of Juleka swirling in black miasma as everyone form staff to that creepy perfect Bob Roth and Jagged fled in terror.

A pillar of black energy tore through he roof of the Le Grand Paris hotel and then faded to reveal... Juleka, but not quite.

Her skin was an ungodly pallor of purple though it worked on her. The neon purple and green shades in her hair and clothes had been replaced by crimson reds. Spiked accessors of gold covered her frame and a short vest with jagged sleeves covered a matching black and purple top. On her back was a glowing axe-guitar that crackled with red energy.

"Juleka?" Chloe croaked, unsure if she should bolt or not. She didn't have the best record with Akuma after all-

Juleka looked at her, a pleased smirk on blood red lips revealing fangs. "Chloe... My Chloe..." She said, voice reverberating and roiling with power like a tidal wave that had yet to strike.

Juleka gestured her closer and Chloe obeyed without thinking, letting the Akuma, letting Juleka tilt her chin up to meet those blazing crimson eyes.

"There's no need to fear me my muse," Juleka's free hand grasped Chloe's hip and without a second thought pulled Chloe into a kiss.

It was not technically their first kiss, but it was the first Juleka had initiated and Chloe's brain was frizzling itself up as she tried to match the demonic pace of Juleka, pressing herself closer and gasping as forked to traced along hers and-

Juleka pulled away, a purple butterfly blazing on her face.

"Hawk Moth," She snarled, the action making the very floor vibrate and Chloe's knees go weak, and not with fright~

Juleka threw her head back, ears clasping both sides of Chloe's head and magically muffling the sound as she roared.

"I'll get to it, shut up Hawk Moth!"

The roar completely disintegrated the roof of the hotel and the purple butterfly faded, leaving Chloe bouncing on her feet.

"You really put that loser in his place darling, to be expected from-" She was stopped by Juleka pulling her into another kiss, this one deeper and more breathless than the last even if it was quicker.

Pulling away Juleka licked her lips, "I'm going to find and kill Jagged and maybe a few other worthless fathers while I'm at it. Wait for me here my dear, I'll be even more ravenous when ankle deep in crimson."

"OK," Chloe said breathless and wide eyed.

With that Juleka turned, took out her axe-guitar and took to the sky with a roar of "Jagged! Come out you coward! You won't escape! MY WRATH!!"

-

Notes:

I am sadly too tired to write more, but Juleka hunts down Jagged loudly ranting at him with murderous intent as she tears through Paris.

I'd borrow the world building from @sillysiluriforme and have Juleka, Luka and Anarcha be Romani. Which ties into Roger's harassment of them. & tied into Jagged bailing on the family, either to hide his own heritage so it wouldn't effect his career. Or cos he didn't want the baggage that came with such a relationship on his career.

Suffice to say Juleka's not super sympathetic.

Afterwards I imagine Luka, Anarcha & Rose do try to be there for her, but right now she needs to be angry about this so she goes to Chloe. Who was waiting for her, cos she s very devoted to people she's enamored with and tends to listen to such firm instruction.

Juleka doesn't want to do anything romantic "While being too angry to focus" and fortunately Chloe understands and is very good at anger. They start with trashing Jagged Merch and eventually graduate to smashing up his tour vane and setting it on fire.

Jagged amazingly opts against pressing charges or even letting it get out, and also has the ban lifted, cos he does feel kind of shitty about all this; even if he's not in a head-space to better deal with it.

Also yes, Gabriel was being a massive hypocrite when it comes to talking about negligent fathers. Also Luka wasn't seeking comfort cos his empathy power kind of let him process this whole situation before it even came about. Also being around angry Juleka is a lot for him so that plays into it too.

@personwithaknife & @maestro04yayyy may enjoy this to.

[meowzilla93]

If you would be so kind, headcannons about Baxter between the end of step 3 and the beginning of step 4? How he handled the breakup, what he was like in college, etc. ☺️

I apparently cannot give this man a break

I love him so much but gods he was just such a moron

Alright

Lets go

So night of the breakup, where he is being a prick and making excuses to leave you

He goes back inside after that line ‘if I could take back the days we spent together I would’

Oh you better believe that he is trying to justify all the cruel things he said

‘it was never going to work out’ ‘they deserve better’ ‘they were going to forget me anyways’

All this is happening whilst his heart and gut are doing somersaults

But he follows his stupid brain because of course he is right

Cant sleep that night, pulls an all nighter before he needs to call the taxi to take him to the airport

 Try as he might, he cant get that sick feeling from his stomache

Doesn’t really eat for a few days, until he has to

Gets to Virginia, unpacks his bags and lo and behold

There is the souvenir you got him

He just sits on the bed holding onto it, numb

After a few moments of fighting with himself about what he should do, he puts the gift away

From prying eyes, from his own eyes

A treasure to be kept safe

But one to leave alone until maybe he is ready one day

And so start the flings once again

One night stands just so that he can rid his mind of you

Surely a 3 month summer romance shouldnt keep a hold onto his heart as much as it had

So he will do anything to shift it

So he focus on schooling, and being sociable, and dealing with his family

After a while, everything else takes precedence and you don’t occupy his thoughts as often anymore

He gets notifications that you sent a message, but he wont allow himself to read them

You will forget him, there is no point reading the messages, besides, they could be hurtful to him and gods he just doesn’t want to know the truth of what you feel for him

It could actually break his heart

A few years pass, our man can drink without issue now!

And maybe one night he has a bit much

Meets up with a pretty someone at a function, goes back to their place for a fling

But there is a problem

There is just something about them that reminds him of you

But no, that’s not possible so he pushes it out of his mind

That is until he inadvertently whispers your name

Mans goes from 100 to 0 real fucking quick

Apologizes, goes back to his place and just sits on his bed

He takes out his phone, considering to look at those messages you sent him time and time again, but he just cant

So instead he goes looking for your gift, and takes it out to look at once again

And the memories flood back to him, and he just quietly sits there and cries

Once he is done, he puts the gift on display, he doesn’t want to keep those memories hidden anymore

He hurt you, he knew he did but he cant help but be so grateful for the time he had with you, the fun and laughter and love he had during that time

He should at least keep those memories alive and not hide them away

That doesn’t mean he will go out of his way to make new friends, no sir

Twice now, he made friends with people, cared about these people, and hurt them with his antics

He cannot do that again

So he puts on the air of the professional fancy man, puts on the mask of the perfect gentlemen and finishes his schooling and starts his career

One that of course that doesn’t require him to make friends, just work acquaintances

Throughout uni, he was that really sociable, affable guy

Touch strange, very elegant but nice regardless

Some of the other students found him very attractive, some got to spend the night with him and experience the slight cold shoulder afterward

It was only for fun after all, and he made sure that they went into it with that knowledge

Was known for being a top tier student once again, but there just wasn’t a bad rumor circulating around him this time

Probably the most amount of peace he has had in a while, if lonely

Oh but his parents

Try as he might, some holidays he just couldn’t get out of seeing his parents, mainly because they wouldn’t spend it in Golden Grove and they would find a way to twist his arm about it

One such outing, his parents where their obnoxious selves and they finally said something that snapped that thin string of patience he had with them

Without raising his voice, he advised he wanted nothing further to do with them, he doesn’t hold the same ideals as they do and never wants to

Cuts all ties and removes himself from their funds, forcing himself to fend for himself and earn his way in the world

I think this was the first official time he was happy after all that he did in his life

The first time he did what HE wanted and what made HIM happy, he is just sad he didn’t do it sooner

And so a few years passes, he finishes uni, starts working at a company, and repeats the cycle of being affable enough for people to feel comfortable around, but put up walls to avoid having anyone get too close to him

Though Xavier has something to say about that and start to slowly chisel away at those walls of his

He picks up an event that needs to be prepped and completed in 5 days, a worthy challenge for him

But low and behold when he meets for dinner with the party, there you are, 5 years on

You look as beautiful as the day he walked away, and you walk with an air that would make anyone stand to attention

And your eyes meet, and all there is, is shock

He really hoped you would never meet again, not because he didn’t care but gods he cared too much

Seeing you again tore at him, it was like a waking nightmare, he didn’t want to hear what you had to say or what you really saw in him, he just wanted out

So he runs, like he ran 5 years ago and kept running

But this time, running just kept making him run back into you

keep em coming, i have so many thoughts i need to put to paper

[shentheauthor]

That last ask got me wondering...can I request headcanons for how the Harbingers would react if their S/O gave them flowers? 👀💐

Hell yeah let’s go (slight angst on Signora’s)

Pierro: thanks you softly and sincerely. Those flowers will be put in the nicest spot in his office for everyone to see. I hc that he likes gardening, so he would try to plant them and regrow them if he can. He is not immune to old timey rizz

Capitano: Honestly he would not expect it at all. He isn’t really the type people are “soft” for, but by god he is soft for you. He’s on the move constantly, so he doesn’t really have a safe place to put them, but he’ll keep them safe as long as he can

Dottore: “Hm, fascinating” headass NRKHKEKG. He would press the flowers and dry them to keep them as bookmarks. He might also cast them in resin as paperweights. Living things don’t tend to stay living around him for long, but he’ll preserve them in his own way. He will also lecture you on their exact classification and how the flowers’ structures work, whether you want him to or not

Columbina: weaves the flowers into a flower crown and has you wear it. She would love to see them catch the eye of other people. She isn’t easily jealous, so she takes pride in people seeing that you’re hers. Shockingly sweet for someone who keeps her emotions close to her chest

Arlecchino: she also displays the flowers in her office. She’ll snap at anyone who so much as breathes on them. A recruit lost his fingers bc he dared to touch the flowers. Arle isn’t the romantic type, but she cherishes any gift you give her

Pulcinella: another old timer, also not immune to old timey rizz. He has a big ol nose for a reason, and he will use it. Those flowers will be well cared for, and he will be v happy that he got them

Scaramouche: He’s the tsundere of the bunch, so he won’t accept the flowers if they’re given to him around anyone else, but if you’re alone, he’d give a quiet, flustered “thank you.” Followed by some narcissism bc “of course this offering won’t suffice in the future, but this is fine for now.” Asshole (affectionate)

Sandrone: She also preserves the flowers, but she’ll find a way to turn them into machines… somehow. You are very, very lucky if she hasn’t turned you into a puppet as well. Still, she appreciates the gift, and she WILL murder anyone who touches the flowers (unless it’s you) without hesitation

Signora: Rostam used to give her flowers. It would take a lot of effort to get her to open up her heart again, but if you succeed, the relationship will always have a hint of sadness behind it. She cherishes every gift, bc it may just be your last. She will keep those flowers alive at all costs, bc she doesn’t want to lose anything that has to do with you

Pantalone: money is the most important thing to him (besides you, hopefully), but he loves gifts anyway. It strokes his ego, but it also comes from a place of love he isn’t used to receiving. He especially appreciates it if the flowers are hand-picked and not bought from a store. Time is money, and taking time out of your day to do smth so small for him is touching. He will spoil you after

Tartaglia: MAN. This man is cheesy. He is CORNY. He will write you a love poem in return, deadass. He will take you flower picking. He will serenade you. This man canonically does theater, you CANNOT tell me he wouldn’t be the corniest motherfucker in a relationship (I’m projecting onto him). He will wear the flowers in his hair until they shrivel and die, and then he’ll just ask you for more so he can wear them again. He’ll take them out on the job so they don’t get ruined (and also for his reputation), but away from prying eyes, those things will not leave his hair

Hope you like these! I’m thinking ab opening up an ask blog tbh, just to reduce clutter here. We’ll see if I get the motivation and time to run it!

[chaifootsteps]

One of the many things that bugged me in the final, was Al's segment in the last few minutes, mostly because like everything in this show there was so much missed potential. So I present a part of a re-write I would love to do, this part focusing on Al because he could have been really cool and not an edge lord. Also most of this is stuff I've seen in other asks/re-writes that I think would be cool.

So Al in this version is pretty close with pilot/original Al. He was still a serial killer who loves to make deals. He has his code for killing of killing those who take advantage of the weak and most of his deals are deals of protection(ie. every time you help me, you can call on me to help you that number of times), he still makes deals for his own gain of course and is still as ominous as in the pilot. Also he functions like a warlock from dnd, with no real power of his own. Also also, he never swears at all, not once and if he does its a more old timey swear, he cannot talk with out his staff and has to perpetually smile.

Have him keep his sentiment from the pilot that he's here at the hotel for his own amusement and that he does not care about anybody in it. Have Al start of as very aloof and keep him this way for the frist 10(give or take) episodes(also give the show more episodes). Have Al never use his powers on screen have only give hints that he's as powerful as everybody says he is. Over the first season have the cast grow to like each other more Al include but much much more mildly. The main villains of s1 should be the Vs also save Heaven for last or later. So s1 final, the Vs attack the hotel or sm and the main cast + sinners who have checked in to the hotel(believing it not to be a lost cause, which also gives Charlie some extra motivation). During this have a part where Al has to use his suposed powers only to reveal that he has none or that they are extremely weak. At some point either durning or before his 7 year sabbatical they where either taken or disappears for some reason(maybe because of a deal he broke?). After this have Al use what little magic he has to teleport away leaving the hotel(because he's a coward/does not want to be seen as weak in anyway). The cast gets the Vs to leave them alone with one of Sir. Pent's machines bc he's the best and we love him.

Another thing that I want to do is show Al being aroace. Have an episode where he goes with Angel to the Vs tower just to mess with Vox but they run into Val and Alastor is very obviously uncomfortable near him, you could even have Angel notice this and try to have Val piss off.

Ok moving on to next season, Al is missing and have the gang(mostly Niffty and Husk bc in this au those three are friends and you can pry that from my dead hands. Also Husk and Al have a deal of mutual protection, they help each other out. Hell this could be another reason why Al left at the fight because he could do anything to help Husk.) start looking around pride to try and find him. They do and he immediately teleports away leading to a short chase until Al runs out of magic. Then the rest of main cast confront him about the whole ordeal. I'm not sure how exactly it goes but Al durning the whole conversation is trying to doge all questions and lie as much as he can(the main cast after this still don't know all the details but the main idea is that, Al had a deal with somebody who gave him powers when he first entered hell, maybe Lilith? And 7 years ago he broke it somehow, leaving him to disappear trying to regain lost power). Husk and Niffty manage to convince him to keep helping the hotel and probably question him more in private. I'm not sure what the rest of s2 would be about, I know that s1 is about more sinners checking into the hotel and also getting Angle away from Val. s2 Might be about Charlie finally getting to talk w/ Heaven and would you look at that they love the idea of a hotel for sinners to reform because heaven likes the exterminations about as much as hell does(exterminations are still about over population in this au). Also s2 introduces Lucifer.

I'm not quite sure what exactly happens in s3 and 4 but I know that in s3 Al starts believing in the hotel more and caring about the people in it(would he ever admit this? no.). Somebody in this season also presents him with betraying the hotel which he says no to. Idk how s4 goes but it ends with some angels(not all of them, only the most dedicated exterminators) going to hell against heavens rules to kill as many sinners as they can. They get stopped obviously but I still need to work out more details.

I'm still working on sorting out other stuff for this re-write also sorry if this is really long or annoying, I've had this sitting in my brain all week. If you don't mind I might also send asks about the other characters in the re-write

Good rewrite! Interesting stuff!

[astra-aeterna]

party foul

It's an unspoken rule that you should never fall asleep at a college party. But Feyre's so tired, and all of her friends are around, so it won't hurt if she closes her eyes for a little bit, right? AKA Feyre falls asleep at a party and falls victim to a humiliating prank.

this is just a little idea that was lovingly gifted to me by a friend and now we're here

read on ao3 or below the cut

Feyre knows it's not a good idea to fall asleep at a college party. Even if it is at her friends' house.

But it's been such a long week, and she's absolutely exhausted. Not only did she stay up far too late studying for her finals almost every night, she lost extra sleep tossing and turning and trying to parse out her feelings about her closest friends. She's known Rhys and Mor since freshman year, and she loves them. They're also stupidly gorgeous— Mor with her golden curls and brown eyes and supple curves, Rhys with his sculpted muscles, dark hair, and sinful smirk. Anyone would have to be blind to not acknowledge that.

Her feelings, though, might be going a little further than pure aesthetic admiration. It feels stupid to call it a crush when she's almost twenty, but Feyre doesn't know another word for it. And goddamnit, she's pretty sure she's managed to develop a crush on both of them.

So she's dead tired and sprawled out across Rhysand's couch. Mor is dancing across the room, swaying hypnotically in that little red dress, and Rhys and his friends are chatting just a few feet away. What's the harm in a little nap?

Despite the loud pulse of the music and chatter of students, Feyre finds sleep coming to claim her rather quickly once her eyes flutter shut.

Yelling wakes her some time later, familiar voices overlapping with each other.

"What kind of childish, stupid, idiotic idea— I cannot believe you three." Mor's irate voice floats over her mind, not fully pulling her from sleep.

"I was trying to st—"

"I don't want to hear it, Rhysand. This isn't funny, it's fucked up."

Feyre's almost fully awake now— awake enough to register the warmth and wetness between her thighs, pooled beneath her ass—

Oh, god. Oh fuck.

This can't be happening again. The shouting fades to background noise as Feyre sinks into an all-too-familiar panic.

Waking up having… wet herself isn't new, but it hasn't happened in years. It's like she's eight again, after her mother died, waking up in soiled sheets. And every time she dragged her bedding and pajamas to the washer, she'd be followed by her sister's disgusted scoffs and disparaging comments about how gross it was, how babyish, why couldn't she just grow up?

Tears line her eyes as she squeezes them shut, trying to block out the humiliating memories, the not-so-secret whispers between her sisters. Whatever they said about her when she was little would have nothing on what everyone would say about her now. She's a grown adult, and yet she's sitting on her friends' couch in a puddle of her own urine because she couldn't control her bladder in her sleep.

A whispered apology sits on the tip of her tongue, but she can't bear to look at her friends— a small mercy that they seem to be the only people remaining— and watch as their faces turn in disgust.

Her breath hitches, and she can't silence the sob that escapes her.

The argument that she's been tuning out stops.

"See what you've done?" Mor reprimands. Feyre curls further into herself as if that'll save her from the scolding that's surely coming. "Go make yourselves useful elsewhere."

Then Mor's clicking footsteps approach, but when she speaks, her voice is gentle and soft. "Oh, Feyre. Honey, I'm so sorry."

Managing to pry her eyes open, Feyre gazes at Mor through a blur of tears. Her warm brown eyes don't hold any anger, only… understanding? "No, I— I'm s-orry," she practically whimpers, voice pathetically thin and shaky.

"Nope, none of that," Mor tuts, gently shifting Feyre into a sitting position on the couch. "This isn't a big deal, and it's certainly not your fault."

The warmth in her voice is soothing away some of that primal anxiety, releasing the tension in her muscles.

"Now, what do you say we get you cleaned up?"

She nods weakly, tears still spilling down her cheeks. Feyre's not thinking about what 'cleaning up' entails, too wrapped up in the fact that Mor isn't mad. Not only is she not mad, she's… taking care of Feyre. Her warm arms are wrapping around Feyre, scooping her easily up into her arms.

It's automatic for Feyre to rest her tear-soaked cheek against Mor's shoulder, taking in her strong, cinnamon perfume as she relaxes into the hold.

Mor flicks the light in the bathroom on, and reality comes crashing back into Feyre. She's going to be cleaned up. By Mor. And that involves undressing, being naked. Every instinct in her body roars against the idea, hates that the girl she's slowly catching feelings for will see her naked in such a demeaning context. She wriggles, trying to escape Mor's grip and settle on her own two feet, but Mor holds fast.

"Shh, Feyre, honey, you're alright. It's alright. I've got you."

"I can— I can clean myself up, it's fine," she sniffs, wiping at her eyes. "You don't need to see me like this."

A soothing stroke of a thumb over her ribs.

"I know you're capable, baby, but you don't have to be. Let me take care of you."

Baby. The word echoes in her ears in Mor's honey-sweet voice, and it, along with the promise of being taken care of, drains the fight from her. Maybe it's weak of her to fall for the first modicum of kindness that's been offered to her in such a vulnerable moment, but Feyre can't bring herself to care. Even if Mor never sees her the same after this, she thinks it'll be worth it simply for the warm glow of affection she feels in this moment.

She nods her assent, and then Mor sets her down on the counter next to the sink just as a knock sounds at the door.

"Fuck off," Mor snaps.

"It's me," Rhys says from the other side of the door, sounding… almost forlorn? "I figured Feyre might want some comfy, dry clothes, so I grabbed some for her."

Oh, great. He knew exactly what happened, too. At least, Feyre supposes, he doesn't sound disgusted or disappointed in her either. He'd brought her clothes.

Grumbling under her breath, Mor snatches the clothes from him and shuts the door in his face, demanding he 'fuck off and give us some privacy, for god's sake'. When she turns back to Feyre, she's holding a black t-shirt and a pair of grey joggers— both unmistakably belonging to Rhys. It is his house she's sitting in, and he brought the clothes, so it makes sense, but it sends another rush of embarrassment through her all the same.

In all the scenarios she's imagined herself wearing Rhys's clothes in, none of them have ever been as humiliating as being changed out of her clothes because she wet the bed. Couch. Whatever.

Mor starts the shower running, and Feyre lets out an audible sigh at the mere suggestion of the warmth it offers. Her damp jeans have grown cool and distinctly uncomfortable, and a warm shower sounds heavenly.

She only remembers that Mor is intent on helping her when those perfectly manicured hands land on her hips and pull her gently to the edge of the counter. A hot flush paints her cheeks, and she can't bear to meet the warm, open gaze she knows is fixed on her.

"Can I take your shirt off, honey?"

Feyre nods, resigned to her embarrassment. Mor's fingers brush against her waist as she pulls the navy blue top up and off, leaving Feyre's chest bared to her. She shivers at the touch, nipples peaking in the chill of the air. Instinct has her crossing her arms across her breasts to hide them from sight.

"Good," Mor murmurs, bending down to carefully unbuckle Feyre's heels and tug them off before helping her to her feet. "Is it okay for me to take off your pants and underwear, too?"

Another nod, even as her head spins with the improbability of it all. How is Mor being so nonchalant? Feyre had… she'd pissed herself, and had a breakdown about it. She's still only half-present in her body, letting herself be maneuvered and taken care of. She's standing half-naked in a bathroom that isn't her own as Mor drags her pee-soaked jeans and panties down her legs.

And Mor doesn't bat an eye.

She has her raise one leg to get out of her jeans, then the other.

There's no time to be mortified about her nakedness, because Mor simply helps her into the shower. With soft, gentle touches, she uses a warm washcloth to lather soap across Feyre's body, scrubbing at her stomach, back, calves, and thighs. It feels nice, to simply let go, to let herself be taken care of. The steam of the warm water clouds her thoughts; the fresh jasmine scent of the soap washes her humiliation away.

"Now," Mor hums softly, hands withdrawing from Feyre's skin. "It's a good idea to clean your vulva, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

It should make her uncomfortable, shouldn't it? The idea of her best friend, the most beautiful woman she's ever met, the girl she's slowly falling for, washing up between her legs after she… had an accident. And on some level, Feyre's logical self balks at the idea, but she's just so tired.

And here, in this shower, Mor perched on the rim of the bathtub, Feyre feels warm and safe and cared for. Selfishly, she doesn't want to let that go. "It's fine," she mumbles, shifting to further part her legs. "I don't mind."

If Mor is surprised, she doesn't show it, just nods. Just as gently as before, she drags the washcloth up the sensitive inside of Feyre's thighs and higher, using the lightest pressure to sweep across the soft skin between her legs. Feyre shivers, just slightly, at the intimate touch, but quickly relaxes into it.

Then the warm spray of the shower cuts off, dragging Feyre's attention back to Mor, who's already procuring a soft, clean towel.

"There we go," she soothes, wrapping Feyre up in the towel as easily as if she's a small child. "That must feel much better."

"Thank you."

"It's no big deal, Feyre. I promise."

She blinks up at Mor. "But I—"

"No, honey. It wasn't your fault."

"How can it not be?"

Mor scoffs. "The boys thought it would be funny to pull the 'hand in a bowl of warm water' prank on you. I didn't realize until it was too late."

Oh. That brings a little relief, knowing that she hadn't suddenly regressed to where she'd been at eight and nine years old. But… all of them? Rhys, who had brought her the dry clothes that are sitting, neatly folded, on the counter without prompting? Feyre shakes her head, not wanting to think about it right now.

"That's what I get for falling asleep at a party."

"No. Nope. You being asleep is no excuse for them being MASSIVE FUCKING ASSHOLES." The last words are shouted at the door, ensuring the boys heard her displeasure.

The ire on her behalf makes a funny, fluttery feeling rise in Feyre's belly. When was the last time anyone had cared enough about her to be mad for her? She can't remember. She's not sure it's ever happened. "Thank you," Feyre repeats, looking into Mor's deep brown eyes in the hopes that she'll understand just how much she's thanking her for.

Mor just smiles at her and starts properly drying her, then helping her into Rhys's soft clothes. "Sorry there's no underwear. I don't usually bring a backup pair to parties."

"I'll survive."

"That you will, baby. Which is more than I can say for those three imbecilic boys. I'll kill them myself."

An involuntary giggle escapes her. Of course Mor would jump straight to murder— but… on her behalf? It's a concept that's been thrown at her over and over again for the past half hour, but she's still trying to wrap her head around it.

Finally, Mor leads her out of the bathroom and through the hall back to the living room, where only Rhys is sitting, perched on the arm of the couch like he's been waiting for them to emerge.

"Rhys, for fuck's sake, just go. You've done enough," Mor sighs.

"I keep trying to tell you, I tried to stop them."

Relief floods through Feyre's body at his insistence, and she believes the truth of his words inherently. The way he's looking at her, at Mor, his eyes begging them to believe him.

"Well you didn't do a very good job, then, did you?"

"Obviously not, don't you think I know that?" His voice is raw with emotion, and it cracks something open within Feyre's chest. He's always been so good to her, of course tonight wouldn't be any different.

Mor, however, doesn't seem convinced. "Well, at least you know, because that totally helps."

"Shit, Mor, do you need a written and signed confession? It wasn't me! I was trying to help her then and I couldn't, so just— please, let me fucking help now." Rhys looks almost desperate, glancing between Mor and Feyre, waiting for a rebuke.

Instinctually, Feyre takes a step forward, toward him. It's like she's seeking any comfort offered, inhibitions lowered by some… something. She isn't sure what it is, but after being taken care of by Mor and being wrapped up in Rhys's clothes and his scent, something within her has unwound.

"Let me help you, please, darling."

"Okay," she breathes, squeezing Mor's hand once before letting go and stepping into Rhys's offered embrace. He's so warm, his body heat radiating through her like an electric blanket. Feyre melts.

"I'll be staying in the guest room tonight," Mor says, voice soft. "Come get me if you need me, Feyre."

She mumbles her thanks into Rhys's broad chest, her thoughts slowing to molasses as his drugging presence consumed her. It could be seconds or minutes later that he takes her fully into his arms and carries her to his bedroom.

"I'm so sorry, Feyre," he breathes into her hair. "I promise you, I tried to stop them. They shouldn't have— it was a horrible prank."

Feyre doesn't have the words to reassure him, not right now, when she's still so drained. Instead, she just hums into his shoulder and clutches onto him tighter.

Eventually, Rhys shifts them onto his bed, tucking Feyre into his side.

"You're not— mad at me?" Her voice is small when she asks, afraid to break the comfortable quiet between them.

His large hand rests on the back of her head, fingers twining between the sections of her braid. "No, darling. Of course I'm not mad at you."

He should be. Feyre ruined his couch and caused a scene and now she's wearing his clothes and laying with him in his bed, a leech to his generosity. "It'd be okay if you were," she mumbles, "mad at me."

"Feyre," Rhys breathes, tilting her chin up so she has to look at him, gaze into those fathomless starry eyes. "I'm not mad at you. You had an accident, that's all, baby. It's not your fault. All I want is to make sure that you're okay."

There it is again, that word: baby. It raises a flush on her cheeks, sends her heart racing, makes her feel something foreign and fuzzy inside. Especially when it's falling off of the lips of Rhys or Mor, her— well, they are her best friends, but tonight has convinced her that her feelings definitely go beyond the platonic. And she doesn't want to hope, but… the way Mor cleaned her up, gently and without question, the way Rhys is holding her…

Maybe they feel the same way.

That thought is far too big for her current brain to handle, too big for how small she feels nestled into the safety of Rhys's arms.

He just wants to make sure she's okay.

Is she okay? Feyre doesn't know. She's tired and mortified, but the mortification is sequestered in the back of her mind, most of her just soaking up any of the comfort offered to her like a sponge. "I'll be okay," she murmurs, resting her cheek back against his chest, right where she can feel the soft thrum of his heartbeat within his ribs.

"I'll hold you until you are." He presses a kiss to her head, lingering for moments longer than is probably necessary. "Forever, if you need it."

That offer sounds nice, she thinks, though maybe she'd like Mor to hold her a little bit, too. Feyre smiles at the thought, letting her mind be lulled into sleep by the constant rhythm of his heartbeat.

[cilil]

I've seen many posts about people missing how common asks used to be so I have been trying to send about an ask a week. Now I send this ask first anytime I follow someone as I really don't want to bother anyone, so I'd love to know if you enjoy receiving asks and if so what kind of asks. Not having energy for asks or being comfortable with them is perfectly okay.

The categories I have in my ask notebook that I file under are in colour. Please feel free to make your response as long as you want or private (the asker cannot directly respond to private responses).

Self, Job/Work: please let me know what you are comfortable with from eh idk just ask it to nothing personal at all.

Baggishield/Tolkien, Dragon Age, Johnlock/Sherlock, ineffable spouses, other fandom: Please let me know what fandoms. I think my main fandoms and ships are Bagginshield/The Hobbit, Sherlock/Johnlock, Dragon Age Inquisition, {Pippin/Faramir Merry/Eowyn}/The Lord of the Rings and I dip my toes in a few that I currently can't remember but ships I don't engage with the canon of at all are: Good Omens but only for Crowley/Azirapheal, Stranger Things but only for Steve/Eddie , The Witcher but only for Geralt/Jaskier.

OC's, art/drawing, their writing, blog specific only

Story snippets ideas and prompts: Do you like receiving them?

Pets: I'd love to know all about them

Garden and Hobbies: What type of gardening and/or hobbies?

Like being tagged in things: If so what kinds of things?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

Oh thank you so much for this, what a lovely idea! And I hope you don't mind that I did indeed lack the energy during the last few days... was out seeing friends and now I'm sick too x) anyway!

Job/work/about myself: Sure thing, ask away, I won't have many interesting things to talk about since I'm currently finishing up my degree and going into exams for the next few months so it's basically same old every day (-> desk and books). I may also choose not answer certain questions if I feel like they're too personal in the sense that me answering would reveal too much about my real life self, like location, identity etc, but that's on me, I'll decide that in the moment and there are absolutely no hard feelings. I do appreciate people's interest and as long as nobody is overly pushy or prying that's all completely fine :)

Fandom: Tolkien, mainly Silmarillion. Happy to chat about Hobbit and LotR too of course, just may have less to contribute. I do love Bagginshield and Aziraphale/Crowley, but don't really talk about the latter as I keep this blog Tolkien-focused

OCs: I have a few and enjoy talking about them every once in a while. They're all Maiar though so it might not be of interest to everyone and that too is very okay :)

Writing: I write and talk about writing all the time so... always love that :D

Art: I make art very occasionally. I don't mind talking about it or answering questions, it's just that I don't have much to show or be proud of or new developments happening x)

Snippets, ideas & prompts: LOVE THEM! Just a dangerous business because I get tempted easily...

Pets: While I love pets, my dog has recently passed away so it sadly remains a bit of a triggering topic for me. I sometimes share old stories about him when I have the mental and emotional capacity for it, but would prefer not to be asked about it for the foreseeable future as it can catch me off-guard and put me in a dark place🤍

Garden/hobbies: Due to my current living situation, my gardening is pretty much just maintaining my cacti collection. Also writing is currently my only hobby due to aforementioned circumstances

Tagging: Everyone, tag me in cute seal and bird pics! I also love doing tag games and ask games and the like, even if it sometimes takes me a while. In general: Never hesitate to tag me for stuff ^^

[gayest-classiclit]

behold, more powerpoint

this one has text in the speaker's notes so there's a cut (it'll be long)

"basically it’s hamlet fanfiction by tom stoppard and somehow he got away with it and the americans do it in their high school english classes. i’m british, so i’ve never studied it - BUT! as resident gay shakespeare powerpoint guy, i felt obligated to read it at some point. anyways i love this play and the main dumbasses are my blorbos forever and ever and you can pry them from my cold dead hands."

"good question: they are. they’re gay and probably married and they’re in love and you cannot convince me otherwise. like. look at them. look at these idiots and tell me they aren’t even a little bit fruity. exactly. you can’t. THEY TALK LIKE A MARRIED COUPLE???? legit they can understand each other almost perfectly and the other’s don’t understand shit."

"my gay brain thinks that they were sleeping in the same bed or something which is both really cute but also suspicious."

"self-explanatory."

"this is a compilation of guil comforting ros because he’s surprisingly good at that ros seems to appreciate guil’s presence and it calms him down a little. that’s good!!!"

"just… w h y why would he say this shit ‘just being friendly’ ahaha n o that is some cursed shit right there to quote one particular lord and saviour… ‘KiNkY!’ honestly those parts where guil says ’somebody might come in’ (it happens twice) are both kind of… hmm. rosencrantz foot kink real /j also ‘down ros’s throat’ THAT IS GAY."

"this is just adorable i want what they have please and thank you this becomes a bit more important in a bit btw!!"

"what do you MEAN ‘ros takes on a shifty look’ what does he know sidenote: he could be referring to hamlet too - he goes ‘you loved me once’ in og hamlet which leads me to believe ros/ham was a thing AND AND if he did do gay shit with guil, it would make sense that they hid it! Because it was forbidden-tm!!!"

"this is essentially a repeat of the toes scene. note the other ‘somebody might come in’ perhaps guil is just a closeted gay ros is genuinely trying to help his husband and i’m all for it"

"so,,,, this scene. i told you about the other coins scene, which this is a parallel to i think??? earlier on there wasn’t a coin in either hand, and now both of them have coins. this could mean a change in the boys’ situation, or maybe character development for ros - he’s becoming more aware of what’s happening also,,,, he wanted to make him happy that’s adorable hang on a sec while i cry /j"

"HE’S BEING SO SOFT I,,,,, guil can’t stay mad at ros this is evidence also,,,, dominant,,,,,"

"ok this is scraping the bottom of the barrel (hahagetit) but this is kinda gay ok the fact that they share a barrel and stick together in situations where they probably aren’t thinking??? also at this point they’re hiding from pirates, and hamlet deadass gets yoinked this could realistically take a while, i think. so it’s perfectly plausible that they might have snuck a kiss or two."

"note that guil has to ‘gather himself’ in this scene he’s alone for once, without ros to keep him company and throughout the play, he’d been kind of an asshole to ros??? instant regret, essentially maybe i’m reading too into this, this bit makes me plain sad"

"this scene wasn’t in the script originally but it’s one of the parts in the movie which stood out to me the most ros basically makes a paper airplane!! it’s a surprisingly complicated paper airplane!!! guil crushes it up like the asshole he is, which probably breaks ros’ heart at least a little bit see, the thing that stood out to me was how ros is so eager to show him the plane,,, like,,, hello husband!! i made a thing that you might like!! ros tries hard to cheer guil up from being a pissbaby all the time and that’s something i can really appreciate."

[angstmongertina]

Make Me Write More Results/Sentences

Okay, my poll is over, so it's time to write. As i said in my little update reblog, since I didn't get all too many votes, each fic gets new sentences based on the number of votes it got, in an effort to force me to write more for all of them.

Thanks for playing, everyone (and thank you again to Jilly for the inspiration)! If you had fun, I might do this again on Tuesday for WIP Wednesday. No pressure to vote if you don't want to though. :D

Accountability sentences (and fic premises) under the cut! Please be warned that some of these sentences will probably make no sense out of context, and are also rough first drafts. :P

Letters to Nadia -- From a shared 7KPP 'verse with @teaandinanity's Valya where our characters' kids decided they were in love with each other. (4 sentences but I cheated and added an extra.)

But now, he’s finally, finally, made it back home, back to the safety of the empty study with a decanter of baijiu, free from prying and judging eyes. Free from her eyes. He groans, barely resisting the urge to dash out the door. For one thing, he’s not sure if he’s cogent enough to make it next door, and for another, she’s likely long gone to bed, never mind the fact that there is absolutely no way she’ll even want to see him in the first place. And that is a thought that stings worse than the liquor.

Evenly Matched -- The previously hinted at 7KPP Jaslen/Falon smut that I am PRAYING doesn't start a new ship in me. (3 sentences)

“My dear general,” and there’s the scowl she is familiar with, that seems to make its way across his face with almost military precision, “I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to. Are you quite well?” Her estimation of him is satisfyingly correct.

forever i'm yours, forever i do -- A retelling of Artem's second anniversary card that started as just an attempt to write out the smut and that VERY MUCH grew out of control HELP (3 sentences)

“You’d think you were the one getting married today, not me,” she says, amusement dancing in her eyes as she shoos him away. “Now go and tell my soon-to-be husband that no, he cannot come see me before the wedding; it's bad luck. Nor are you allowed back her to see her either.”

Oh Brother -- Again from the shared 7KPP 'verse mentioned above, Thomas' little sister's version of what happened. It's still in the very early stages so this is more exposition than anything. (3 sentences but adding in a fourth because it was half-finished anyway.)

The eldest daughter of the entire Galeric-Wu clan and the future heiress to the Galerford estate beyond, she could easily have humored and generally ignored a young cousin twelve years her junior and perhaps another girl, another future duchess, would have. But instead, Nadia had chosen to dote upon them all, treating her with the same understanding and love that she gave all of her friends and loved ones. Well, perhaps not all. Because it is an equally well-established fact that, despite all attempts to hide, dismiss, or minimize the fact, Nadia has a favorite cousin.

Spiral Point -- More 7KPP because the brainrot is real, but this time for Camyon's childhood friends AU. Here is their first interaction at the Summit, when neither of them actually recognize the other. :D (3 sentences)

There was no sensible reason why she should have been struck by his appearance, by the way his brow furrowed, first in search and then in recognition, but for one illogical moment, her heart climbed into her throat, only to settle back into her chest with an inexplicable twinge once he spoke. Of course it was about her cousin. He had known Cousin Jiya, a fact that her mother never failed to tease her with, when it came to her own lack of socialization at those academic events hosted by her fellow Jiyelese elite.

Dinghun Zhou -- My attempt at a fairytale AU, it's CinderLia. In an alternate universe in which there is no Summit, but there's still an event to try and find a wife for the perpetually single Duke Lyon. (2 sentences)

She pursed her lips, studying the flimsy pieces of parchment as though they might contain answers, or at least a logical explanation for her misgiving. Unfortunately, and just as expected, none were forthcoming.

Homecoming -- For the CoG story Teahouse for the Gods, because the A'Li romance was right up my alley but we didn't quite get enough of it, in my humble opinion. It's technically two different fics (I should really come up with a proper name for the other one) but I picked the one I had more inspiration for--which you may be unsurprised to learn is probably the angstier of the two. (1 sentence but I cheated again with two.)

It takes a moment for her to clear the memory out of her mind’s eye, to remind herself of the present, and in that time, he’s already stepped into view, though his head is turned, this way and that, as though cataloging every difference in the ensuing decades. Jacqueline darts to her side, half in shock, and she makes a mental note to sit down with the poor thing before his eyes fall on her and the entire mountain seems to hold its breath.

Seasong -- Back to Tears of Themis, a friend did some art for Mermay which inspired an AU in my head that I never got very far in because I am terrible at multichapter things. (4 sentences)

She knew of cages, had seen the ones that sunk, irrevocably, ceaselessly, to the bottom of the sea floor, had heard them whispered of by those unlucky few who had witnessed the capture of one of their own, and the stories of those even unluckier who had somehow managed to escape from such capture. She had heard of the fear, of the isolation, of the greed and malevolence of those humans, who hunted and tormented without need, who captured and traded without compassion. She had heard tales, once meant to frighten her away from the surface, of the many, many who were unable to escape. And now she was trapped in one.

Okay, that's everything, I think. If you read until here, thank you, and maybe see you on Tuesday for another poll? :P

[your-tutor-abacus]

The Shipyard Control Rooms

Which I will describe in a moment. But first, that annoying thing that food blogs do, where they write about something else at length first. You know, to set the scene. (I've read some human blogs now. Am I doing this right?)

This is long. To be enjoyed at leisure.

I don't have to eat, but I like to. And food that I do eat is not wasted in any way.

I get enjoyment out of it, and the nutrients and energy are recycled more perfectly than if the food were composted.

So, if you too have a nanite exobody, do not be ashamed to eat food. You should try it. And I mean real food. Not Network approximations of food. You should visit the Garden and eat something made by one of the Artisans amongst the Children of the Sunspot.

With the sensory array afforded to us by the nanites and their ingenious programming, you will experience flavors and textures in a way that cannot be approximated by anything else, not even biological mechanisms.

I make it a point to eat at least one meal every day, usually the first thing in the morning.

Usually, I like to eat the food right there in front of the Artisan, so that I can show them my appreciation for it, and talk to them about it. But sometimes I'm not feeling like being sociable, and when that happens I go for an old favorite and take it someplace else to eat. Someplace interesting.

That way the Artisan already knows my opinion of their food and is simply happy to give me more of it, and I get to appreciate a full sensory experience while visiting a place I may not have seen before.

Today, I went someplace I've already been. The very same shipyard where I took Ni'a and Aphlebia on one of their first tours of the Sunspot. And I took with me some... In English, I'm going to use the words "apples" and "cheese", but it's not that. Close enough, though. The "apples" are a fruit that structurally resembles Earth apples and can be eaten in a similar way, but might taste really different. And the "cheese" is made from processed mushrooms and algae mixed with spices. It has a consistency similar to some cheeses you might eat on Earth, but it probably tastes very different. I personally love how the spices go with the fruit, but I'm told it's an acquired taste. A very acquired taste that I highly encourage you to acquire if you can. It's bold and it's complicated.

When I arrived at the place, I commanded the shipyard doors to open, as we had done before, because watching actual stars revolve around the ship with your own optical receptors or eyes is an emotional experience that defies logic. And I couldn't pass that up, even if it was for the tenth or twelfth time.

But I described that in my book about Ni'a and their experiences, and I wanted to paint for you the meaning and beauty of something I left unexplained in that story.

The control room of the shipyard itself.

This is architecture that, in most Exodus Ships, is rarely ever seen by anybody. Not even when the shipyard is being used to create a new ship. But it is still built with an old, old, forgotten tradition that not only keeps biologically bound people in mind but imagines that one day the shipyard and its control room might be used to host visitors.

It has consoles and chairs, and it is decorated.

Normally, this shipyard is operated via Network channels, when it is needed. And it has been locked away from prying eyes, even from access by Monsters, for over 131 millennia. There should be no need for consoles, chairs, and decorations.

And yet, here they are.

It's interesting, too, because the color choices for the surfaces and decor must have been deliberate, as well.

This morning, I sat with my back to open space (well, with a glass portal between me and the vacuum), with my be-tailed ass on the floor, eating my food. So that I could focus on this room from a view approximating what someone might see if they were docking their own space vessel in the shipyard itself. If they were lucky or astute enough to focus on the relatively tiny portal of the control room.

This is a small shipyard, six by three kilometers long and wide, and half a kilometer deep. The control room, in contrast, is measured in meters, twenty by fifteen by five. Eh can stand up straight in it, but it is minuscule in comparison to the shipyard it belongs to.

To my left, as I sit here, is the hatch to an airlock that sits between this control room and it's counterpart. A redundant system.

Someone visiting us, which as far as I know is something that has never happened on any Exodus Ship yet, would enter through that airlock and then make their way into one of these two control rooms. Which ever one was opened to them.

In the back of the control room is the hatch to the lift.

There are two consoles and two chairs. Our imaginary guest would walk in front of the consoles and down the short aisle between them in order to get to the lift. Especially if the consoles and their chairs were occupied by people. Because they are designed for people as big as Eh.

Eh can vary in size however ihn wants, but usually tends to stand at about four meters tall these days, and ihns tail takes up just as much room behind ihn, with ihns huge, wavy spinal fin. And the furniture of the control room was obviously designed for ihn.

Was this furniture made specifically in honor of Eh? If this architecture was designed for anyone aboard the Sunspot, it seems likely. The Children rarely ever grow that big, and their physiology is all so varied and different that, if they were expected to use the control room, it would make more sense to use configurable chairs and consoles.

At this point, it would be easy enough to replace them with nanite bins that any person could use to create the furniture they need.

But that's not how it was made. And because we didn't start using nanite exobodies until very recently, it probably wasn't imagined that Eh or any Founding Crew Member would actually sit here.

So, I could ask about that. And when I get an answer, I'll report back. But for now, I'm entertained by the mystery and I give it to you the same way that I find it.

With more questions.

If I made my own body larger, I'd find those seats fairly comfortable. They are designed for a person who has a tail and does not stand fully upright like a few people do. The tall end, with a chin rest, is nearest the console, though they do swivel. Swiveling is less for providing a convenient exit to the chair, and more to help you reach all the controls of the console with either hand.

This seems to fit the body type described by the elemental root words of Fenekere, our most ancient language.

Are the control rooms of other Exodus ships built like this? Were they built like this even on the Terra Supreme, where every person looked almost exactly alike, stood fully upright, had no tails, and were only two meters tall at most?

Who designed this control room, and how much input did they have? What did they use for a model? Where did they get their directions? How much of the rest of it was customized specifically for the Sunspot to set it apart from the Terra Supreme?

I know that the symbol of the Inmara, Eh's own resistance cell aboard the Terra Supreme, is unique to the Sunspot. Fenmere, Gesedege, and Eh worked together to design it. You can see it on the hanging scale in the image on my blog's banner. The comet and dragon, or Hunter's Bow and Guardian, appear above the word "Inmara", meaning the Great Alliance, etched clean through a sculpture of a Scale of the Great One from the old myths.

And, let me tell you, I still don't know the origins of those myths or just how old they are, just that the Founding Crew hold them dear for some reason.

I'm pretty sure that the scales that are hanging to either side of the lift hatch, right behind each chair, each adorned with the symbol of the Inmara, are meant to clearly establish the character of the Sunspot.

They could have just as easily held the name of the ship on them, but they don't. "Welcome to `etekeyerrinwuf," is, however, written on a plaque above the lift hatch.

There is also, on the wall opposite the airlock, a Founding plate. It lists the name of the ship, the name of the resistance cell that was in charge of creating the ship, the names of the Senior Founding Crew members, and the coordinates and relative direction of the ship's creation. The is also a bas relief depiction of the Sunspot on that plaque, above the words. The plaque is a septagon, like a typical Scale of the Great One, but it is quite a bit wider than usual in order to accommodate the information. And it is made with the same material as the outer hull, which stands out against the painted walls. It's hard to miss it.

Are there plaques like that in the Terra Supreme? Are they the same shape? What language are they written in? What about the other Exodus Ships?

Then there are the colors of the room, which I mentioned. These, I'm also pretty sure are unique to the Sunspot, though I don't know.

The floor is a navy blue that has been faded to gray. A deep blueish gray. (Our translators are helping us with this description, and you'll have to excuse me if some of my phrases don't make sense to you. I'm trusting them, but I don't know what "navy blue faded to gray" really means.)

The trim around the edges of the portals, hatches, floor and ceiling is a gold color. Not metallic, but the kind of color you'd expect from an unfertilized dandelion during a sunset, I'm told. Somewhere between yellow and orange.

The walls are a gradient from a muted violet near the floor to a soft pink near the ceiling, making the gold the strongest color in the room.

The support structures of the consoles and chairs are also that gradient of muted violet to soft pink, but with aglae green trim that is almost as bright as the gold.

The hatch doors are that same green.

The Scales of the Great One are solid bronze, maintained and kept shiny by nanites. There are metal rims and bits in the chairs and consoles that also the same bronze. Anything metal in the room, besides the Founding plaque, is that bronze.

All of the hallways and rooms of the same deck are painted in these colors, as is the shipyard itself.

I have yet to find another part of the Sunspot that is colored and structured like this. In fact, this room is rectangular, a simple block, like the shipyard itself, unlike most other rooms aboard the ship.

There is definitely meaning here.

It is this astounding mix of unfathomably ancient and relatively new but still unfathomably ancient that frankly captivates me more than a glimpse of a pulsar in a nebula that resembles where the Sunspot was built.

If you do come down here for the stars, do not forget to turn around and stare at the control room for a while, too.

Who was it made for? You? Me? Or as some sort of big "fuck you" to Father `e of the Terra Supreme, who will never, ever get to see it?

The answer to all of those questions is probably "yes".

[overly-distressed-mouse]

Putting in my own 2 cents, these are all things I've done personally that have worked for me, but you know your situation, I do not, so keep in mind not all of this is guaranteed to work for you.

- If you can manage to collect enough change, gas stations usually have small "travel" packs of Band-Aids, tampons, pads, Advil, Tylenol, after bite, tissues, etc. for a few dollars at most. These travel packs, especially the bandaids and menstrual products, are an absolute life saver. They're small enough to stash away and can be pretty versatile if you're willing to get creative with it

- If you can, try to go for walks every night. Is it dangerous? Yes, but it's also easier to hide away if you need to. Obviously do this with so much caution, I can't tell you how many times I was followed home by dangerous men on the street. Alternatively, go during the day when there's a lot of people out, whichever works best for you. Along that same line, if you're able to safely and without suspicion, volunteer to go on grocery runs for your parents. Both going on walks and grocery runs give you a chance to get to a store to buy anything you might need, this is how I bought my menstrual products

- On the topic of menstrual products, I pretty much wasn't allowed to have a period. There had to be zero indication at all times of the fact that this was something that I experienced. If this sounds familiar you can use old gift bags, grocery bags, etc. to dispose of things temporarily until you have a chance to properly throw things out. This can also be used for other things

- Personally one of my abusers liked to give me gifts instead of apologies. This usually came in the form of iced tea. If you also have access to bottled drinks, try to sneak to the bathroom or kitchen at night to rinse out the bottles, and you can use them to stash away water

- When opening cabinets, try to pry one of your hands slowly into the gap of the door on top and the other on the bottom, it keeps things quieter

- When getting water from the tap, position it to fall onto the side of the bottle/cup/whatever, not the bottom. It's quieter

- If your abuser is actively trying to take your phone or you suspect they're about to and you don't have time to hide it, I hid mine in my bra. If you're a good enough liar, they'll be pissed off when you tell them you don't know where it's gone, but at least you'll have your phone in case you need to call someone

- If you have adhd or are just generally forgetful and they're aware of this and will accept it as an answer, you can "misplace" things as often as you need to (seen in action in the tip above this). Generally it's frustrating to them but they can't do much about it besides be mad

- If you have a pantry full of things people don't check/use often (for example, mine usually had a bunch of cans and stuff stashed away in the back untouched), you can stash snacks back with those things until you can go back and get them (do this sparingly though)

- Going to "take a shower" gives you an opportunity to make noise in the bathroom (for example, if you need to eat something but it's in a wrapper that'd be loud). Turn on the shower, stand as far from the door and as close to the water as possible, and do what you need to. Don't forget to wet your hair though

- If you can't shower, wash your hair in the sink, and you can use rubbing alcohol to kill bacteria where you sweat the most

- If you were left to cook a lot, another opportunity to sneak food

- Keep in mind that calling CPS might not necessarily be an option. They usually don't do anything and more often than not only make things worse. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. IF YOU HAVE A LOVED ONE IN AN ABUSIVE SITUATION. DO NOT CALL CPS WITHOUT AT LEAST CONSULTING THEM FIRST. YOU COULD ENDANGER THEM MORE.

- Schools usually have paper bag lunches for kids without them, take advantage of this. Take the food. Take the bag.

- Mirrors, clocks, paintings, and posters. Basically if it's hung up on your wall, you can probably hide any papers you need or anything equally thin behind it. Tape it to the back if you have to

- If you live with a small child, please please please mind what you say. Don't let your guard down just because you're watching them or whatever. Children talk, a lot, and have no filter and no sense of what might not be information that's safe to share. Even if you're talking to yourself planning out something, assume they're hearing you and will tell your abuser about it. That said, remember that they likely have no ill intent. It isn't their fault, it isn't anyone's fault, it's just how kids are, and it's up to you to be aware of and accommodate that

And I know this has been said 1000x before but just stay safe. Please. I promise it is not forever

hey so protip if you have abusive parents and need to get around the house as quietly as possible, stay close to furniture and other heavy stuff because the floor is settled there and it’s less likely to creak