#written ( scales and flowers )

[lgchyoseop]

scales and flowers

hyoseop had been surprised when he was told he was the younger out of the pair, and that he needed to pick their date spot. he’d been used to being older than many as a trainee, he would argue it wasn’t because he was old, but because these trainees and idols kept getting younger and younger. he’d originally chosen another spot, but as he talked with his sister and talked about the idea, she took the idea and left him to find another spot to have his date. he wanted to look good in front of his date, hence he’d chosen ‘cafe jool’, a place they could get something to drink, and paint a piece of pottery, which meant, hyoseop would get to show off his painting skill.

who his date was though, he had no idea. he’d been given an item as a hint who it was, a ‘justice scale’ had been shown to him, he’d stared at it for a long while before asking if he was going on a date with one of legacy’s lawyers. safe to say, he had no idea who his date was. still, he’d dressed up for the occasion, dropped his usual look that consisted of sandals, white tight shirt and sweatpants. changed it out with denim pants, converse and a shirt with flowers on it. he stood with a rose in his hand, waiting for his date (whoever they were) to show up.

<3 @lgcyein

[missallanea]

I know the books say Clarion is a Queen talent and that's sort of its own thing but there's really nothing stopping me from saying Queen Talents have a small grasp over all the elemental talents (warm weather wise, at least, for Ree.)

[reasonsforhope]

In the Willamette Valley of Oregon, the long study of a butterfly once thought extinct has led to a chain reaction of conservation in a long-cultivated region.

The conservation work, along with helping other species, has been so successful that the Fender’s blue butterfly is slated to be downlisted from Endangered to Threatened on the Endangered Species List—only the second time an insect has made such a recovery.

[Note: "the second time" is as of the article publication in November 2022.]

To live out its nectar-drinking existence in the upland prairie ecosystem in northwest Oregon, Fender’s blue relies on the help of other species, including humans, but also ants, and a particular species of lupine.

After Fender’s blue was rediscovered in the 1980s, 50 years after being declared extinct, scientists realized that the net had to be cast wide to ensure its continued survival; work which is now restoring these upland ecosystems to their pre-colonial state, welcoming indigenous knowledge back onto the land, and spreading the Kincaid lupine around the Willamette Valley.

First collected in 1929 [more like "first formally documented by Western scientists"], Fender’s blue disappeared for decades. By the time it was rediscovered only 3,400 or so were estimated to exist, while much of the Willamette Valley that was its home had been turned over to farming on the lowland prairie, and grazing on the slopes and buttes.

Pictured: Female and male Fender’s blue butterflies.

Now its numbers have quadrupled, largely due to a recovery plan enacted by the Fish and Wildlife Service that targeted the revival at scale of Kincaid’s lupine, a perennial flower of equal rarity. Grown en-masse by inmates of correctional facility programs that teach green-thumb skills for when they rejoin society, these finicky flowers have also exploded in numbers.

[Note: Okay, I looked it up, and this is NOT a new kind of shitty greenwashing prison labor. This is in partnership with the Sustainability in Prisons Project, which honestly sounds like pretty good/genuine organization/program to me. These programs specifically offer incarcerated people college credits and professional training/certifications, and many of the courses are written and/or taught by incarcerated individuals, in addition to the substantial mental health benefits (see x, x, x) associated with contact with nature.]

The lupines needed the kind of upland prairie that’s now hard to find in the valley where they once flourished because of the native Kalapuya people’s regular cultural burning of the meadows.

While it sounds counterintuitive to burn a meadow to increase numbers of flowers and butterflies, grasses and forbs [a.k.a. herbs] become too dense in the absence of such disturbances, while their fine soil building eventually creates ideal terrain for woody shrubs, trees, and thus the end of the grassland altogether.

Fender’s blue caterpillars produce a little bit of nectar, which nearby ants eat. This has led over evolutionary time to a co-dependent relationship, where the ants actively protect the caterpillars. High grasses and woody shrubs however prevent the ants from finding the caterpillars, who are then preyed on by other insects.

Now the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde are being welcomed back onto these prairie landscapes to apply their [traditional burning practices], after the FWS discovered that actively managing the grasslands by removing invasive species and keeping the grass short allowed the lupines to flourish.

By restoring the lupines with sweat and fire, the butterflies have returned. There are now more than 10,000 found on the buttes of the Willamette Valley."

-via Good News Network, November 28, 2022

[akunya]

"somewhere only we know.”

pairings: dragon!sylus x m!reader

summary: thinking out loud, you begin to wonder how things would be under different circumstances.

tw: slight angst, sfw, fluff, MYTHIC SPOILERS.

notes: truthfully, the gender here isn't specified. however all of my fics are written with a male!reader in mind. do with that as you wish.

"Do you think, in another life.. We would still be together?"

Your voice cracked as you watched the petals whisk away. The soft grass swayed with the wind, a gentle comfort as you clutched it in your palm. The clouds swirled as you both sat in silence, staring at the sky in a comfortable quiet.

It was just the two of you together, in your secret little place that Sylus had brought you to that day. You found yourself asking to be flown back there often. There was something so calming about this side of Tarus, so serene, it nearly felt unreal every time you two sat here.

Sylus was the first to break the tension as he looked down at you with an amused smile. "Together?" His tone was teasing, but not enough to ruin the atmosphere the pair of you made for each other. The dragon was about to make another teasing remark until he caught a glimpse of your clenched fist.

"You know what I mean."

The slight tremble in your words struck his heart with guilt. He wished, for once, he didn't try to poke at you so often.

There was another long portion of silence between you two. Taking a flower into your palm, you fiddled with its petals, the delicate red smooth under your fingertips. Worried you made things awkward, you dug your feet into the ground to pick yourself up - almost, that is, until the man next to you began to speak.

Barely above a whisper, your eyes met for the first time that evening, looking at him with an emotion you couldn't quite describe. "I think so," Was it uncertainty? Fear? Relief? You didn't know what you expected from his answer, nor did you expect one in the first place. You felt as though he was staring into your soul, his red pupils shining in the warm tones of the sunset. A part of you wondered if bringing it up at all was foolish.

"..Yeah. We would be."

Blinking, you let out a heavy sigh you didn't know you were holding. A small chuckle left your lips. "I wonder what it would be like. Would we look the same?" You wondered aloud. It would be amusing if you were the taller one in the relationship in your next life, however, a part of you knew that was never going to happen. Your gaze went back to the sun as it set behind the mountains of Tarus city, the hues creating a cascade of orange and yellow across the sky.

"What does it matter? I wouldn't mind. Unless, you prefer if this fiend always has horns." Sylus nudged your side playfully, your laugh making butterflies swarm in his stomach. Sylus with his draconic features were like the cherry on top. Once scared, you grew to adore the rough scales of him the most, finding yourself caressing the smooth surface with your thumb on nights alone with him more than once. "The horns are a nice touch. I would miss them a bit." Looking back at him, you inched a bit closer, testing your luck to see if he would retract from your closeness.

He would not. He never did, not from you.

Taking his silence as a cue to continue, you started up your thoughts again. "We could have our own home together. It doesn't have to be big." You imagined a quaint little cottage in the middle of the forest. Small, but big enough for the both of you, adorned with treasures and trinkets from your past adventures. It was remote, but that's how you would want it: away from everyone else. Just you and Sylus in your own trove, shielded from the harsh outside world. After all that you have been through, you didn't really yearn for something lavish and grand.

"A small home isn't bad." Sylus found himself imagining too as he listened intently to your thoughts. He rarely let his mind wander and think about such trivial things, but this once he could make an exception. Thinking of a divergent future than what he was destined for always seemed futile. In the end, there was nothing he could do to break the curse he was born into. He was a monster, destined for his death by your hand, even if you didn't know it yet. And that was how the world saw him.

But, if it was for you, he could entertain your fantasy a bit.

"Is there something you want, Sylus? If we could be somewhere different."

You looked up at him again for answers. His throat tightened, looking down at how hopeful you were. So innocent, so pure.

For a moment, he had forgotten all of the crimes you had committed. Your hair flickered with the wind as the sunlight framed every part of your face beautifully. The outfit that matched his ever-so-cliche has never looked so right before. If he had no idea who you were, he would have thought you were an angel descended from the heavens, a blessing to bring some ease to his wretched timeline.

Maybe you weren't his arch-nemesis. Perhaps, his destiny wasn't as harsh as he thought it was growing up.

Maybe death wasn't so bad, if it were by your hands.

"So long as you're with me, I don't care about anything else." The dragon's words were taut. Fiddling with a flower in his claws, he twirled the stem mindlessly, letting it float away with the wind that brushed against you both of you.

Leaning against his shoulder, you didn't bother fighting them when your eyelids started to feel heavy. You didn't need to question or ask anymore. He was right, in the end. Sylus didn't care for moving either, watching the sun slowly set and cast the city in darkness once again.

If you two were together, that would be enough.

[chantersboard]

Spackle

2.5K. super!Joel x f!reader. Joel is your building's hot super and he helps put in your air conditioner on a hot NYC day.

warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, no outbreak AU, unprotected piv, creampie, Joel is punny

a/n: I hate that I had to youtube how to install an air conditioner for this because I had my own super put mine in lol. I also got the plant thing from my super. he was really interested in my dragon scale when he caught me bringing it home.

EDIT: thought I should give a quick definition of a super to those that may not know. A superintendent, or more commonly known as a super, is the property manager for an apartment. They often live on-site, or if your landlord owns multiple buildings, usually in a nearby building. They deal with the structure, safety, and cleanliness of the building. If your toilet is clogged you call the super. If you locked yourself out of your apartment you call the super. Supers will also do things like shovel snow, clean shared areas, bring out the garbage for sanitation, and minor adjustments to your apartment such as patching holes and replacing damaged floorboards.

as always you can see #chantersboardwritessometimes for other stuff I've written

Spackle

With labored breath you take the final step to reach the fifth floor. Sweat beads down your face as you haul a load of groceries to your door. You place the bags down and fumble in your pocket for your keys. 

This summer in New York City has been brutal. The temperature is oppressive and the humidity is stifling. In the short walk from the grocery store to your apartment, your thin, breathable top was already sticking to your skin. You needed to cool down but there would be no reprieve, even after you entered your home. While you had purchased a brand new air conditioner, the building’s management still hadn’t answered your email about assistance getting it installed. 

Just as you push your key into the lock and twist the core, your neighbor’s door swings open. 

“Thank you again, Joel.” You hear the old woman say. 

“Of course, Mrs. Nunez,” Joel says. 

The building’s superintendent, Joel Miller, walks out of the old lady’s apartment. He’s an older man, tall with broad shoulders and toned arms. The hair on his sparse beard is sprinkled with gray, much like the thick hair that curls around his ears. He’s a little rounded about his midsection, but it doesn’t distract from how undeniably handsome he is.

“Anytime you need help again just call management.” His voice floats through the air. The southern accent that turns his words into music is out of place in this fast paced city. 

As you push open your door you turn to look at him. His short sleeve navy blue shirt is unbuttoned, revealing a clean white tank top underneath. His jeans sit nicely on his hips, the knees of them the only dirty thing about him, other than his scuffed and paint splattered boots. He juggles his tool bag between his hands and the muscles in his forearms tense and loosen. 

On more than one occasion you have wondered what those arms feel like. A grown man like him, working with his hands all day, carrying around that heavy tool bag. You imagine your hands sliding up his arms, squeezing the muscles along the way before landing on his chest that bursts through his tank. 

You swallow hard, excusing your fantasy on the maddening heat, and wave at the super. 

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Orchid,” he walks across the hall, bringing the scent of cedar with him. Joel very well knows your name but has called you Orchid since he saw you bringing home the flowered plant when you first moved in. You were so gobsmacked at the idea of him giving you a nickname that you let it stick. 

“Good afternoon, Joel,” you say, your eyes trained on his lips curled into an easy smile. Snap out of it! “I was wondering if management spoke to you about my air conditioner?”

Joel’s features twist in confusion. “I don’t think so, lemme check.” He pulls out his phone and scrolls through it for a while. “Nope. I only have a work order here for Mrs. Nunez.”

“Oh,” you say dejectedly. “I emailed them late on Thursday but I guess with Friday and then the weekend they didn’t see it.”

“What’s a’matter, Orchid?” The concern he displays makes you melt even more in the heat. 

“I normally wouldn’t bother you like this but it’s just so hot.” Joel really looks at you then, taking in the way your shirt clings to your curves then looking at the length of your legs in the littlest pair of shorts you could find. You swallow hard again. “I have the support bracket and everything but I didn’t want to put it in wrong or something. I would rather someone who knew better put it in me—for me!—put it in for me, I mean,” you stammer. 

Joel chuckles, the joy in his eyes making him even more attractive. “Well we can’t have a pretty lady like you suffer in this heat. I’ll put it in for ya.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank you so, so much Joel.” You bend to grab your groceries off the floor and notice Joel watches as you do so. The thought of him looking at your behind makes you pulse between your legs. You shuffle inside, head straight for the kitchen, and begin loading the cold things into the fridge. 

“Everything’s there in the living room,” you yell across the apartment. “I’ll be there in a bit. I don’t want these popsicles to melt. Can you put it in that first window?”

You hear Joel moving stuff about, probably pulling the AC out of its box, then you hear the window scraping open. 

“Yeah, this window’ll do just fine.”

As you continue unloading your groceries you can hear more movement, than the whirr of Joel’s power drill. Once the last item is neatly tucked away you yell out into the other room again. 

“Do you want something to drink? Water? Soda? Corona?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

You come out of the kitchen with a popsicle in hand. Joel is bent over, part of his body hanging out the window as he installs the support bracket for the air conditioner. Now it’s your turn to look at his behind. He comes back in and lowers to pick up the AC off the floor. You make no attempt to hide that you’ve been watching him. 

“What about a popsicle?” You ask, dangling the wrapped frozen treat in the air. 

“No, you go ahead and enjoy that, sweetheart,” he drawls. 

You shrug, rip open the package, and bring the red, white, and blue dessert to your lips. The cold sensation immediately washes over you. You close your eyes and welcome the relief. You push the popsicle further into your mouth and moan as the cold syrup slides down your throat. When you open your eyes again Joel is still there, squatting over the air conditioner, looking up at you. 

“That good, huh?” He asks. “Maybe I’ll have one of ‘em after I finish?”

You pull the popsicle out of your mouth with an audible pop and lick your lips. “Yeah, sure.”

The super continues his work. He lifts the heavy machine with ease and pushes it into the open window. You walk over to him and watch as he lowers the window and begins drilling screws into the frame. He opens the fins on either side of the device then screws those into place as well. The whole ordeal doesn’t take long at all with Joel's swift, knowledgeable hands. He takes the dangling power cord and pushes it into the wall socket. 

“Ready to try it?” He asks, his large index finger hovering over the power button. “Come close, now.”

You walk over to Joel and press yourself close to him so you’re both in front of the window unit. “Go ahead,” you say, pushing the popsicle back into your mouth. 

Joel pushes the button and the machine rattles on. For a brief moment it pushes out horribly hot air but then the temperature drops and it hums as it pushes out a steady stream of cool air. 

“Aww, yessss,” you mumble around the popsicle. In your happiness your mouth opens and some of the melted dessert dribbles out. 

“You’ve got—” Joel’s finger brushes up your chin, catching the sugary liquid “—popsicle on ya.”

You look up at him and see desire in his eyes. The image makes your pussy throb. Before Joel can pull his hand away you grab his wrist and wrap your lips around his sticky digit. You swirl your tongue around his thick finger then begin to suck on it. 

His free hand comes to your waist and he pulls you close. Your breasts press against him, your nipples beginning to harden as you continue sucking his finger. Joel lets loose a deep moan. The vibration goes through you and ends at the wetness that has started pooling in your panties. You release his finger as you did the popsicle, the loud pop rings through the room. 

Joel licks his lips as he looks at yours. “Is there anything else I can fix ‘round here?”

A playful grin spreads across your face and you pull on his hand, leading him out of the living room. You discard your popsicle on the coffee table as you pass it and lead him into your bedroom. 

“There’s this hole—” you say, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as you remove your shirt. You lean back onto one of your elbows and spread your legs wide. Joel’s eyes immediately snap to where you rub yourself through your shorts. His own hand feels against the tent growing in his jeans. “—that I’m hoping you can fill.”

Joel smirks, his hard cock pushes against the confines of his jeans. “I might have the right tool,” he says as he undoes the buckle on his pants. He lowers his jeans along with his boxers to his knees, freeing his massive cock. “I would have to see the hole first.”

Your eyes are wide in amazement at the size of him. Joel is large and thick. You watch him wrap his fingers around his dick and lazily stroke himself. His large head bobs with each stroke, the slit at the end already pearling with precum. 

You kick off your shoes and lift your behind off the bed to remove your panties and shorts all at once. You spread your legs wide again and run your fingers through your pussy lips. You’re so aroused there’s an audible wet noise when you spread your lips to show Joel the hole of your waiting cunt. 

Joel tuts and steps between your legs. He presses against your chest with the flat of his hand and forces you to lay down. With his cock in hand, he swipes along your slit, spreading your slick juices over himself. When he speaks his voice is dark. 

“Beautiful fucking flower my Orchid has.” He rubs his head against your clit and you gasp as the pleasure spikes across your body. “Is it as sweet on the inside as it looks on the outside?” 

He lowers his cock to your entrance and slowly pushes himself inside of you. Your legs begin to shake as his thick head spears into you. Deeper and deeper he goes. Inch by agonizing inch he pushes into you, going slowly to give your body time to accommodate the unbelievable size of his unit. He pauses once he’s fully inside and you can see the need twisted in his face. 

“Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweetheart,” he says, pulling out the tiniest bit and pushing back in. “I know it’s big but you’re taking it so well right now.”

You look up in complete awe of him, having no control over the way your pussy squeezes around him. He lowers a thumb to your bud and rubs gently, causing you to throw your head back with a long groan. He slowly pulls halfway out of you, then slides back in. 

He goes a while like this, rubbing your clit tantalizingly slow, and softly pumping in and out of you until he’s able to pull almost completely out then back in with ease. 

Joel picks up the pace as your body relaxes, yet he’s still incredibly large and your tight ring pulses around him. His hips rut faster as his thumb moves quicker. He wants to fuck into you with everything he has. Thrust. He wants your release on his shaft. Thrust. He wants his dick to destroy you. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. 

“Oh my god, Joel!”

A growl rumbles in his chest. “Yes, Orchid. I think I have the right tool for this hole.” He’s moving faster now. Harder now. He splits you in two over and over again as his giant cock rams into your soaking wet hole. “It needs some drilling!”

Joel completely lets himself go then. Snapping his hips, driving his member in and out of you as his thumb still circles your clit mercilessly. You cry out, pleasure wracking every fiber of you. It’s a lot to take in, the size of him, the mind melting thrusts, the constant pressure on your clit. You’re moaning his name over and over again as the headboard rocks against the wall. You are dizzy with desire and you feel an orgasm is soon approaching. 

Joel removes his finger from your clit and swipes it against his tongue. He savors the taste of you and licks his lips. “You’re fucking sweet, Orchid. You know that? Ya gotta pretty and tasty pussy.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Why don’t you cream on my cock for me? You’re so sweet and tight I won’t last much longer.”

His large hands push on the back of your thighs, folding your legs against you. The subtle change in position allows him to stroke even deeper inside you and his large head now hits against that sweet spot that has you grabbing the sheet underneath you. 

“Jesus, Joel,” you gasp as he continues to ram into you. The wet sound of your pussy mingles with Joel’s moans of pleasure, the melody of your sex creating a heady mix that has the building pressure in your core creep closer and closer to climax. 

“Yes, just like that, Orchid, my sweet fucking flower.” His fingers dig into your thighs and his tempo begins to falter. He’s dangerously close to finishing. “Come for me baby. Come on my cock.”

With a guttural groan your pleasure peaks, the pressure in your core snaps and your orgasm finally washes over you. Joel continues to ram into you, each deep drag of his dick sending more waves of bliss across every inch of your body. 

With a few more thrusts, he follows you. His hands grip onto your thighs and he pulls you tight against him as his cock twitches inside you. His spend releases deep inside you, coating your walls as he moans between deep gasps of air. 

When his cock has finally stopped twitching, he slowly pulls out of you then lowers close to your cunt. He watches the mixture of your release spill out of you before he scoops it in his fingers and pushes it back inside you. 

“Gotta make sure this hole stays filled, Orchid.” Two of his thick fingers slip into you and your sensitive hole tightens around his fingers. “Unless…” he pulls his fingers out and smears the slick along your slit. “You want me to come back another time and try filling it again?”

You peer at him between your legs, still swiping up your slit trying to keep your hole filled. “I might need regular visits,” you innocently say, squeezing your core and forcing some of the come out of you. “This hole just won’t stay filled!”

Joel grins as he continues to play between your lips. “I can’t have you go complainin’ to management that I’m a bad super, now. Give me a call, day or night, and I’ll come and fill that hole again. I’ll fill that hole everyday if that’s what it’ll take.”

You smile at the prospect of getting drilled then filled by your super on a daily basis. “Yes, Joel. I can make that work.”

[galedekarios]

waterdeep's festivities & celebrations

(credit: midnightfriday)

in contrast to baldur's gate, which has few festivals and gatherings, waterdeep in contrast has a great variety of them, prompting volo to write the following about waterdeep in his chapbook about the city:

"At many times of year, hardly a tenday can pass in Waterdeep without the staging of some rite, race, or rousing ceremony of civic pride." (from: Volo's Waterdeep Enchiridion)

in this post, i want to give an overview of these holidays and festivals. some of them are mentioned in the game, like fleetswake in a banter between gale, lae'zel and wyll, but most of them are not. they give an interesting insight in the city, its history and its people.

the most used calendar in faerûn is the calendar of harptos. it's pictured above to give you an overview of how the months and seasons work in faerûn.

The days making up a tenday did not have formal names. If precision was required, the number of the day and the number of the tenday were used, as in, "the fourth day of the first tenday of Flamerule". Days of the month were typically written as the numerical date followed by the month name, for example, "15 Hammer" or "15th Hammer". Informally or poetically this could be spoken or written as "the 15th of Deepwinter". [x]

the names of the months in faerûn are:

hammer (deepwinter)

alturiak (the claw of winter, the claw of cold)

ches (the claw of sunsets)

tarsakh (the claw of storms)

mirtul (the melting)

kythorn (the time of flowers)

flamerule (summertide)

eleasis (highsun)

eleint (the fading)

marpenoth (leaffall)

uktar (the rotting)

nightal (the drawing down)

hammer 1: wintershield

Marking the start of the new year, this observance is a widely recognized day off work, when folk sip warmed ciders and broths (often laced with herbs for health and to bring on visions) and stay inside. They tell tales of what interested them or was important in the year just done, and discuss what they intend to do or should deal with — or things that everyone “should keep a hawk’s clear eye on” — in the year ahead. Such talk inevitably leads to discussions of politics, wars, and the intentions of rulers. Maps are usually consulted, and it’s widely considered lucky to possess and examine a map on Wintershield. Map sales are brisk in the tenday preceding this holiday.

alturiak 14: the grand revel

Led by the clergy of Sune, Sharess, and Lliira, the Grand Revel is a day of dancing, music, and the consumption of sweet treats of all kinds, from chocolate to red firemint candies. Although some of the dancing is wanton and performed for show, large-scale ring dances in the street for all ages are also popular. All the dancing ends at dusk, after which bards and minstrels perform at “love feasts” for families. Couples — or those desiring to become couples — slip away together to kiss, exchange promises, and trade small tokens of affection (often rings blessed by clergy with prayers of faithfulness). Even if you have no paramour, indulge a little in the dance and food of this fine tradition. The night might be cold, but your heart will be warmed.

we learn in the game about sharess, we hear a bit about sune, the goddess of beauty and her temple of beauty in waterdeep in a banter between gale and shadowheart, but lliira is mentioned only in passing: llira is a minor goddess in the faerûnian pantheon. she's called the joybringer and is the embodiment of freedom and happiness, inspiring many poets and musicians. gale does mention her in game - or at least the llirian suites that his piano is enchanted to play.

ches 1: rhyestertide

This holiday is named in honor of Lathander’s first prophet, Rhyester, a young blind boy who was cured of that blindness by the dawn’s light on this day more than seven centuries ago. That holy event occurred in the vicinity of Silverymoon, but Lathander has long had a much larger temple in Waterdeep, and a following to match. Each of the faithful dons bright garb of sunrise hues and keeps one eye covered until the next dawn in honor of Rhyester. If you want to feel like a local, catch the eye of any celebrant you see and wink. Fine friendships have grown from far less.

ches 19: fey day

The veil between this world and the faerie realm of the Feywild is thought to be weak on this day. Though this phenomenon provokes caution in rural areas (with folk avoiding woodlands, putting offerings of food on doorsteps, and the like), it is an occasion of much drinking, singing, and dancing in Waterdeep. The wealthy host elaborate masked balls, while poorer folk don costumes of their own make and travel door to door, gaining brief entry into the celebrations in exchange for performing a song or a short play. All adopt the guises of fey beings and the supposed rulers of the Feywild, such as Queen Titania, Oberon, and Hyrsam, the Prince of Fools. Those inclined to remain sullen in the face of such frivolity had best stay home, for celebrants do their utmost to evoke a smile from those they meet.

chest 21 - 30: fleetswake

This festival celebrates the sea, maritime trade, and the gods of the sea, navigation, and weather. It spans the last tenday of Ches, and includes a series of boat races, the Shipwrights�� Ball at the Shipwrights’ House, and guild-sponsored galas at the Copper Cup festhall. According to custom, the winners of the various competitions don’t keep their trophies and earnings, but deliver them to the priests of Umberlee at the Queenspire, her temple on the beach by the east entrance to the Great Harbor, at the conclusion of the festival. The last two days of Fleetswake are the occasion of the Fair Seas Festival. During this time, there is much feasting on seafood, the harbor is strewn with flower petals, and City Guards go from tavern to tavern collecting offerings for Umberlee. Collection boxes also appear at large festival gatherings. Upon sunset of the final day, the collected coin is placed in chests and dumped into the deepest part of the harbor. This festival has existed in a number of forms since the first trade-meets occurred here more than two millennia ago, and an uncountable amount of wealth remains sunken in what has long been known as Umberlee’s Cache. The area is closely watched by merfolk guardians, whose standing orders are to kill anyone attempting to disturb it. Rumors abound that the chests have magical protections; one story tells of thieves who stole some of the collection years ago and tried to leave the city under false pretenses, only to see a squall spring up as soon as their ship left the harbor. A huge wave shaped like a hand swept the thieves overboard, but spared the ship and its crew.

this festival is one of the few mentioned in baldur's gate. as stated previously gale, wyll and lae'zel mention it in one of the banters between them in act 1:

Lae'zel notes that Gale knows a lot about mind flayers. He responds with information about his training. If there, Wyll chimes in as well. Lae'zel: You strike me cleverer than most istiki, Gale. Multiple tutors, I should guess.devnote Gale: Many a wise man and woman indeed. Waterdeep is the home of myriad scholars. Wyll: Ah, the City of Splendours. Spent a whole Fleetswake there with my father. What a delight.

tarsak 1 - 10: waukeentide

This festival has long gathered a number of older holidays under one name, stretching those celebrations into a holiday season that lasts a tenday. Among the rituals in homage to the goddess of wealth and trade are these: Caravance (Tarsahk 1). This gift-giving holiday commemorates the traditional arrival of the first caravans of the season into the city. Many parents hide gifts for their offspring in their homes, telling the children that they were left by Old Carvas — a mythical peddler who arrived with the first caravan to reach Waterdeep, his wagon loaded down with toys for children to enjoy. Goldenight (Tarsahk 5). This festival celebrates coin and gold, with many businesses staying open all night, offering midnight sales and other promotions. Some celebrants and customers decorate themselves with gold dust and wear coins as jewelry. Guildsmeet (Tarsahk 7). On this holiday, guild members gather in their halls for the announcement of new policies and a celebration of business concluded for the year. These gatherings culminate in a gala festival and dance sponsored by several guilds, which lasts from dusk till dawn and overruns the Market, the Cynosure, the Field of Triumph, and all areas in between. Leiruin (Tarsahk 10). In times long past, Waukeen caught Leira, the goddess of illusions and deception, attempting to cheat her in a deal, and buried her under a mountain of molten gold as punishment. A commemoration of that event, Leiruin is the day for guild members to pay their annual dues and for guildmasters to meet with the Lords of Waterdeep and renew their charters for another year.

waukeen is a goddess and her domain is trade and wealth.

mirtul 6 - 9: the plowing and running

Rural areas around the city observe this holiday in the traditional sense of shared activities of plowing fields and moving (or “running”) livestock. But within the city, the holiday is celebrated with a series of races. Foot, horse, and chariot races are run through courses in each ward, and the winners from each ward compete at the Field of Triumph. If you really want to see the wards come to life, this is the time. Pick your favorite, wear its colors, and cheer alongside its residents. Better yet, if you’re of an adventuresome bent, register in your favored ward and compete! Who knows? Your name or visage might soon have a place in the House of Heroes.

kythorn 1: trolltide

On this day commemorating Waterdeep’s victory in the Second Trollwar, children run through the city acting like trolls, banging on doors and growling, from highsun till dusk. Home and shop owners are expected to give the children candy, fruits, or small items. Those who give no treat can expect to become the target of a trick at sundown. This mischief typically takes the form of “troll scratchings” at doors and windows. Those with more malicious intent sing screechingly in the wee hours, and hurl raw eggs at windows, signs, and the heads of those who try to stop them. Have some candy on hand or some sweet rolls, and all will be calm where you live.

kythorn 14: guildhall day

This day is a time of trade fairs. Most shops are closed, and street sales are suspended for all but walking food peddlers. Guildhall Day celebrates the fruits of everyone’s labor with revelations of new products, innovations, fashions, and signage extolling the extent and quality of guild members’ services and wares. These offerings usually take the form of glittering displays, but guilds sometimes also sponsor brief plays or other hired entertainments (jugglers, singers, magic shows put on by hedge wizards and professional raconteurs) at which prizes or free samples are distributed. Many guilds try to recruit during this time. Guildhall Day is an excellent time to browse the city’s merchandise — and it doesn’t matter if you can’t afford what you see, because you can’t buy it that day anyway.

kythorn 20: dragondown

This day in Kythorn is celebrated with bonfires and rituals to “tame” or “drive down” dragons. In Waterdeep, the celebrations take the form of parades that center around effigies built of wood and cloth and filled with straw. Each effigy is named and has a traditional depiction, for it represents one of a handful of dragons the city has faced in its history. After being paraded to a square near where the dragon was defeated or driven off, the enormous effigy is burned. The height of the celebration comes when the effigy of Kistarianth the Red is burned on the slopes of Mount Waterdeep. A dracolich version of Kistarianth is then carried up the slopes and burned as well. These proceedings symbolize the defeat of Kistarianth first by the paladin Athar, and again decades later by his son, Piergeiron. Tradition dictates that the winners of the races run during the Plowing and Running take the role of the dragons’ slayers, with the champion of the chariot race representing Athar and the champion of the horse race playing Piergeiron.

flamerule 1: the founders' day

This day commemorates the birth of the city. The Field of Triumph is the site of illusory displays that chronicle the history of Waterdeep, as well as martial exhibitions by the Guard and other worthies. Many festhalls sponsor Founders’ Day costume contests, with prizes going to those who wear the best recreations of the garb of historical personages. Once banned as frivolous and distracting, the practice of veiling Castle Waterdeep with an illusion has been reinstated. Several mages come together to produce the effect, which seemingly transforms the castle into the ancient log fortress of Nimoar. The illusion typically lasts from midday to sunset (unless someone has the audacity and magical might to dispel it) and is regarded as a stunning work of magical art.

flamerule 3 - 5: sornyn

Sornyn is a festival of both Waukeen and Lathander, and is used for planning business, making treaties and agreements, and receiving envoys from unknown lands and traditional foes. Much wine is drunk over this three-day occasion when, as the saying goes, “My enemy is like family to me.” If you are a newcomer to the city, this time is an excellent opportunity for you to engage with new partners in business or to gain financial support for some endeavor. My agreement to write Volo’s Guide to Waterdeep was signed on a warm Sornyn evening many years ago, so who knows where your own initiative will take you?

flamerule 7: llira's night

Originally a celebration held only in Waterdeep, this holiday has since spread up and down the Sword Coast. It has received a recent boost in popularity from the custom started in Baldur’s Gate of lighting celebratory smokepowder fireworks — all purchased from Felogyr’s Fireworks of that city, and utilized only by the City Guard, of course. This nightlong festival honors the Lady of Joy with dances and balls throughout the city. Pink beverages, ranging from healthy juices to deadly strong intoxicants, are imbibed. The boom and crackle of smokepowder explosions go off all night long, so you might as well stay up with the locals and enjoy the show.

eleasis 1: ahghairon's day

Many small rituals are held throughout this day, dedicated to honoring the first Open Lord. The Lords of Waterdeep toast Ahghairon and the Watchful Order, and guildmasters toast the Lords in Ahghairon’s name. Commoners leave violets (Ahghairon’s favorite flower) around Ahghairon’s Tower, on his statue in the City of the Dead, and atop the altars of the House of Wonder. Bards perform songs in honor of the wizard all over the city. The Open Lord visits taverns and inns throughout Waterdeep to wish the people well — giving short speeches, offering toasts to Ahghairon’s memory, buying rounds of drinks, or paying for meals or accommodation. Needless to say, establishments of those sorts are generally full throughout the day.

if you are interested to learn more about ahghairon - who is mentioned too by gale in passing - or rather his lost nose - you can do so here: i've written a more extensive meta about him in this post.

eleint 21: brightswords

On this day, the City Guard, the City Navy, and the City Watch — all in glittering array — conduct parades, give demonstrations of martial skill, and stage mock battles. Those desiring to join their ranks are given a chance to demonstrate their prowess, usually with wooden practice weapons in contests against veteran soldiers. Makers and vendors of weapons sell their wares openly in the markets, experts who can hurl or juggle weapons show off their skills, and the wards compete in wrestling and boxing matches. The most anticipated part of the day is when horses are cleared from the Field of Triumph and the surrounding streets so that the Griffon Cavalry can perform aerial displays over the crowds in the stadium. Members of the Watchful Order present the cavalry with illusory foes to fight, allowing the griffon riders to engage in thrilling battles as the people watch.

marpenoth 3: day of wonders

The imaginative inventions of the Gondar are revealed on this day and paraded through the city. These devices range from something as humble as new cabinet hinges to massive mechanical constructs that walk or roll about. Failure is the paramour of invention, though, meaning it is a rare year when there isn’t some notable disruption of the celebration. The flying chair of Marchell was one such recent oddity — a device that worked marvelously on the way up but was incapable of descending. Marchell was rescued by the Griffon Cavalry, but his flying chair drifted away and was never seen again.

marpenoth 7: stoneshar

Stoneshar is an all-faiths day during which folk strive not to be idle. Even children at play are encouraged to dig holes, build sand castles, or construct crude models. Waterdavians consider Stoneshar the best day of the year to begin construction of a building, either by digging out a cellar or laying a foundation. The common wisdom is that folk who undertake new projects on Stoneshar can expect blessings upon their works in the coming year, whereas individuals who do nothing constructive on this day can expect all manner of misfortune to rain down on them in the year ahead.

marpenoth 10: reign of misrule

Swift on the heels of Stoneshar comes the Reign of Misrule. This day honors Beshaba, goddess of misfortune. People of the city are expected to break trust, belie oaths, and disobey the normal order — as long as no laws are actually broken and no rift is made that can’t be later bridged. During the Reign of Misrule, nobles serve meals to their servants, children take control of schools, priests give worship to their god’s foes, and any who wish to may participate in a guild’s trade. Pranks are played by and on many, from simple tricks to those requiring elaborate planning. Sundown brings an end to the festivities, and most folk spend much of the night cleaning and reordering things for the following day. Many visitors decline to participate, but doing so often inspires misfortune rather than avoiding it. For fear of catching the bad luck of cynics, citizens do their best to avoid talking to anyone known to not have played along, or dealing with them in any way until Gods’ Day.

marpenoth 15: gods' day

This holiday observes the anniversary of the end of the Godswar in 1358 DR, when the gods of Faerûn returned to the heavens. Private shrines are brought out into the open, and many people wear holy symbols of their favored deities. A Gods’ Day tradition in Waterdeep strictly limits the use of magic, in remembrance of the wild magic wrought during the Time of Troubles. Though not outlawed fully, spellcasting is allowable only in self-defense or in cases of extreme need. At night, this holiday becomes solemn and serious, as many Waterdavians offer prayers in thanks for the lives they have under their gods. The Griffon Cavalry sets up an immense bonfire at the peak of Mount Waterdeep, honoring the fallen and the risen gods Myrkul, Cyric, Kelemvor, Mystra, Helm, and Ao who appeared here. In thanks for their defense during Myrkul’s invasion and the resulting fires that raged through the Southern, Dock, and Castle Wards, Gods’ Day is also a semiofficial “Be Kind to the Guard and Watch Day” in Waterdeep. Feel free to participate by handing out small gifts and kind words, but be aware that any gift of greater value than a few nibs might be interpreted as a bribe.

marpenoth 30: liar's night

This holy day pays tribute to Leira and Mask. To placate those deities and ward away their attention, folk of all walks of life don masks and costumes (magical or mundane) to disguise themselves and play at being other than what they are. Commonly seen mask styles include the black mask symbol of Mask and the mirror face of the priests of Leira. But there are no bounds on the disguise you don, and the more elaborate and outlandish it is, the more celebrated the wearer. The festivities begin in the evening, when people place candles in hollowed-out gourds or pumpkins carved with faces. Each pumpkin represents a person donning a mask, while the light inside represents the truth of the soul. For as long as the candle remains lit, lies told and embarrassing things done don’t sully a person’s reputation, so celebrations often descend briefly into anarchic hedonism. Misfortune is said to come to anyone who returns to their pumpkin after celebrating to find it unlit, so buy a candle of good quality and put your gourd beyond reach of the wind. Intentionally blowing out someone else’s candle or smashing someone else’s pumpkin is taboo, and risks the wrath of both gods — yet it does occur. Tricks and pranks of all kinds are common on this night, and folk expect lies and foolishness. Pickpockets are rife on this day, so few carry much coin with them, having secreted it away somewhere the previous evening. Instead, people fill their pockets and belt pouches with candies. Traditionally, a pickpocket is meant to take the candy and leave a token in return (a tiny toy, a colorful paper folded into a shape, or the like), but this has changed over the years into adults exchanging candies among themselves and simply giving candy to children who ask for it. By custom, no deals are made nor contracts signed on Liar’s Night, because no one trusts that parties will abide by them. Illusionists and stage magicians (whether through magical or practical abilities) make the rounds to entertain private parties (having been paid in advance the previous day) or to perform in public spaces, in the hopes that a good show will earn them a meal, and perhaps a place at a private party in the future.

uktar: selûne's hallowing

On whatever night in Uktar the moon is fullest, Waterdavians celebrate Selûne’s Hallowing. The goddess is the focus of worship throughout the full phase, of course, but the major ceremony on this night is a parade of worshipers leaving the House of the Moon at moonrise and moving down to the harbor, where the high priestess wields the Wand of the Four Moons in a ceremony blessing all navigators. This holy relic is said to be the mace wielded by Selûne in her first battle against Shar, and again in a fight with her sister during the Time of Troubles. It miraculously appeared in Waterdeep after the Godswar, and has since been the focus of many divine signs. You can view it in the House of the Moon at other times of the year, but only from a well-guarded distance. If you’re lucky, you might see the Wand of the Four Moons weep. Droplets said to be the tears of Selûne manifest on the mace from time to time, and are collected by the priestesses for use in potions that can heal, cure lycanthropy, and be used as holy water.

uktar 20: last sheaf

Sometimes called “The Small Feast,” this day of residential feasting is held in celebration of the year’s bounty. Small gifts (traditionally hand kegs of ale, jars of preserves, or smoked fish and meats) are exchanged among neighbors, and “last letters” are gathered for carriage by ship captains and caravan merchants — so called because they are the last to leave the city before travel becomes difficult. Of Waterdeep’s many celebrations, this one is perhaps the most relaxed and relaxing. Plan to spend a little extra on good food and enjoy a meal with those nearest you, be they dearest hearts or the folk across the hall in the inn.

nightal 11: howldown

In honor of Malar, members of the City Guard leave the city in groups on this day to hunt down known threats to farmers and travelers, including brigands, wolves, owlbears, ogres, and trolls that haunt the roads and wilderness. These hunts typically last no longer than a tenday. During the same span of time, the City Watch engages in its own rigorous hunt for malefactors within the city walls. If you’ve any reason to doubt your standing in the eyes of the law, avoid Waterdeep for at least a tenday after Howldown. With no real hunting to do of their own, the children of Waterdeep spend Howldown engaging in mock hunts of adults dressed up as monsters, and play at the killing of these predators.

nightal 20: simril

When dusk comes on this day, folk go outside to locate particular stars that were lucky for their ancestors, or that were associated with their own births. They then attempt to stay up through the night, celebrating outside with bonfires, song, and warmed drinks. Cloudy nights often draw larger crowds than clear ones, since glimpsing your star through the haze is thought to be a blessing from Tymora. Inside buildings, service folk keep roaring fires and engage in making food to keep celebrants fed throughout the long night and into morning of the next day. If you have no particular star of your own, you’ll find many vendors of star maps willing to divine which is yours — based upon your place and date of birth — and to point you in the right direction for a shard or two.

all information is taken from volo's waterdeep enchiridion.

i hope this was helpful and information to some of you!

🖤

[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 8 (Final)

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability. Sylus myth mentions.

Word Count: 5610

Written: 17th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. This was rough... Truly romance is hell for me to write (don't ask why an otome game is the only game I write fic for, it's a mystery). I hope you enjoy, final chapter of Turning Point. Thank you for reading ❤️

Now Playing: I Adore You, By HUGEL

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous

Sylus has spent a lot of his life alone.

It's an indisputable fact of who he has been, and who he continues to be.

A monster, a warlord and a criminal.

There was one fragment of time when he was surrounded by those that loved him, and then they were taken from him.

The dreams of cutting through thick scales, of tearing parts of himself off, throwing them across the cave floor, shivering in the corner. He begs and pleads with gods that don't listen, to fix him. To make him better. To make him worthy.

Good.

Instead he is punished, and reminded of why he is a beast. A failure. A creature to despise.

His hands useless when faced with the blood splattered members of his family. The once warm home turned to a desolate cave, full of nothing but remains.

Home is deeply embedded in a soul, the parts of himself that he wishes he could erase, will never leave him. He is a beast that has little value, outside of what he can provide. Be it a scapegoat, or sating greed.

Throughout his life, he has abandoned being seen as anything other than a monster. That even you, with eyes full of hatred and hurt, had seen him that way. Fury curling your lip, and snarl in your throat. Lunging for him with the knife in your hand.

He has been alone for such a long time, he has forgotten how to be around others. Luke and Kieran are the sole exception. They are unbothered by his harsh tone, finding him more amusing than terrifying. It should not surprise him that EVER are as capable of breaking a mind, as the Justiciers were. They may as well be cut from the same disgusting cloth. He sometimes wonders if they are.

So when he snarks, or bites, or teases, they respond with laughter and response. He has adapted to their countenance. Understands that they will mirror what he offers back.

You… sometimes you respond in kind, biting and scratching, little crooked smile on your face and a twinkle in your eye. Other times, you ache. Look at him like his words have cut somewhere he can't reach to heal. That is when he eases, remembers a field of flowers and the ways he wanted to be before the world decided to destroy dream and hope.

He thinks he is learning to be around you, how to hold you without hurting, and how to soothe your heart with his words and actions. How to be who he wants to be… a fragment of the man left over from the moment he truly thought you could be together after you shared your souls.

With poetry and music, he has carved out a place as himself, so that he can share it with you. In a world where he gets more time, and more space, to share and offer what he is to you. Regardless of what the world says about him, he has only ever cared what you say about him.

He is learning to believe the words you offer him, as who he truly is.

You may not remember, but he always will.

He is, however, still adjusting to the others. He has no basis for adjusting to others, it has been too long since he was in a home that was warm. He has approached them similarly to Luke and Kieran, and while their responses rumble his chest. Fill him with amusement at the discovery of something new, he is aware that they are not as unbothered.

The doctor will ignore him if he teases, until his buttons are pressed enough that he will get a furrow between his brow and speak to Sylus in a voice that is deep and close to a growl. He finds the push entertaining, because breaking people who are so upstanding is a sick satisfaction of sorts.

There are, however, moments when he returns with a wound, and the doctor tends to it. Your hands aren't as steady yet to handle a needle and thread when his EVOL cannot help repair him. The shackles around his power too sturdy, too hindering, and he cannot keep pulling your resonance to him until you feel stronger. Wary of pushing you too far, or making you feel as though that is all he wants. As the doctor watches over him, carefully mending his skin, he wonders at the concern in the man's eyes. Teases him for it.

To worry for a criminal. Not many would.

It receives a huff and eyeroll, and a slight pressure in his wound as the needle pushes through skin, "What you are doesn't matter, who you are does."

Sylus finds himself thinking about it, he knows the doctor is a moral man. His files affirmed that much, observations to understand your life. To blend in better… to be part of it.

It still feels odd for the doctor to help tend to his wounds. Like he doesn't deserve it.

He finds the fish the most fun to tease, to argue with, no fire in his words as the fish gets more agitated with him. He reminds him of you, feline-like and prone to swishing his tail and baring fangs. You are jovial with yours ever since he has gained access to your life with affection. The fish it depends, on his mood, on his health, on the day of the week. Some days he enjoys the clash, Sylus notes, finding the chance to bite and growl fun, other days it is accompanied by genuine frustration. Evening out as the months have gone on, settling down to be less angry.

The more they argue, the more Sylus sees the entertainment in his eyes, even though the fish denies it. There are times when he sees the man painting, stepping over to watch the paint to canvas. Sometimes the fish will ask if he's looking for anything in particular.

"I'm trying to understand." He answers honestly sometimes.

He would be ashamed at the widening of the fish's eyes, but then he shrugs, and speaks as he paints, "Everyone sees something different in my work, some see nothing at all. I see something that others may not. Doesn't matter what you see, as long as it's what you see." 

So Sylus stands, and watches him paint, and thinks. The fish makes no other comments, but moves to the side a little, so that he can see better. So he can study easier. Sylus thinks he sees the sunrise over daturas, another day coming, this one with more hope than the last.

He later goes to buy one of the fish's paintings. To think about more.

The prince is more complicated, he is quiet and he sleeps often. Sylus is unsure if he's sick, or simply prefers the land of dreams to reality. If he had been asked many years ago, he would have agreed. Dreams had been the only time he had kissed you, afterall.

He teases the prince, but receives little in response, except for the occasional cold look. The moments he understands the man most are when Xavier is helping you. He notes the way he lights up, and takes account of the differences. It is in small actions, often that you may not notice, but Sylus does.

He, along with the doctor, ensure Xavier's pillow is clean, that he has food when he returns from missions, that he isn't eating junk food every day.

That when he returns, there is something warmer waiting for him.

Sylus thinks if it were him, that is what he would want, after long days working.

This process, of understanding, of learning, unsettles him to begin with. That he is changing, not just for you, but for others. He enjoys feeding you and your heart, and he begins to look forward to reactions to his food from the others. It is a strange feeling to sit down at a table with others, to share food.

It is… pleasant. The voice that sounds like yours speaks in his mind. Like your busy soul in his chest. Singing and dancing everytime he teases the fish, or chuckles at the doctor's dry wit, or realigns the blanket on the prince's shoulder.

He enjoys his days more, the more you grow and become yourself. No longer as restricted into yourself. No longer aching as dearly. He sees when the days are harder, but you are brighter. He knows that being able to hunt again, likely buoyed you beyond anything else. Still, he is relieved to have a hand in helping you climb the cliff out of the abyss.

Sylus was honest, when he told the others that he had no intention of leaving. That no matter what your heart spoke to you, his path would always lead him to you. That he would keep hold of your hand as long as you wanted it. No matter what form it took. That he was not simply there for your heart but every part of you, that no matter the snapping fangs of fate, you are his destiny.

He has spent too long without you, he is not about to lose you now that he has you again.

While he has long known himself to be greedy, craving your presence, what contact he can receive, every laugh from your lips, every look in your eyes that tells him more than your mouth has managed to… He has found himself craving more.

The warmth around a table he has never known.

The return to a home that is not empty, or full of skeletons.

A place that does not tell him he is a monster.

Perhaps it is the blood on the fish's hands, and the blood on the prince's, that he knows he is not a beast to them.

It is the lack of judgement in the doctor's eyes, that he still matters despite what he has been created to be, forced into being.

Every choice he has made, every path he has taken, he has never expected to find those who do not look at him and see what he is told he is.

You bring change to his life, no matter the time. Opening up worlds he cannot hope to understand in just a moment. He needs many moments, all of them. So he is greedy, he does desire, and he knows those feelings will never fade away from his soul. That hungers and needs and demands.

Seeking the warmth of this space for as long as he can, not leaving its embrace without good cause, just like he does not leave yours easily, when it is offered to him.

Sylus can only hope you will see his heart as well, and accept it once more.

He is, however, struggling with the fact that his kitten has decided to become jumpy once more. Skittering out of his grasp, fleeing at the first moment.

The recent weeks you had sat in thought, mumbling to yourself, keeping them at arm's length. He has seen you leave with Tara and Simone, and he has waited for you to come to him.

To explain the startled look that you give when he sneaks up on you. To finally stop running away from him.

He believes that he is growing accustomed to you, that he knows now when you run from him to hide in an alley, to lick wounds that you're too scared to show, when he would happily dress them for you. To when you are simply thinking, and processing, and trying to find the space to work out how to approach.

He did not lie when he said he did not wish to pry, despite his impatience, and his need to know everything there is to know about you. He does not want to pull it out with his EVOL or against your will. You will speak to him when you are ready.

Sylus does find the skittish nature somewhat adorable, but the fact that he has not been able to hold you, touch you for any long period of time, or share a bed with you as you slept and he watched over, is bothersome. He misses watching you lower your guard, and he does not want to go back to when you daren't even touch him casually with a tease.

So he uses the morning to try to… corner you. He will not pry into your mind, but he will seek out the touch of your hand. Place it against his chest, and let you feel your joined hearts beat a song against his ribcage.

Instead, however, as he approaches you before you leave, intending to go out with Tara, yet again, he is called by the twins. Demanding his time, a report that cannot wait. Time he cannot waste, because he needs to see to Onychinus.

As much as he wishes to tell them to handle it, he has not heard them sound so frantic and serious in a long time. While he has little desire to leave, he is not willing to abandon them or his organisation, when he needs both.

Sylus catches your hand before you pull away, tugging you into his arms and crowding you against the door.

"Sy?" Your voice shakes, soft against his ears, as beautiful as always.

He leans down, long fingers tilting your face up so that he can look at you. Mismatched eyes wide, and trembling with something. Something he wants, something he yearns for, something he desires desperately. Waiting for the moment you speak it into existence.

"Have a good day, kitten. Miss me." His lips brush against your temple, and he inhales against your hair, before leaving you.

Not before he feels the twitch to your fingers, and the tightening of your grip…

And the soft, pleased exhale against his skin.

—-----------

You have spent two hours setting up. Two hours spent scurrying around, cooking, decorating, arranging.

Tara has run in to grab supplies for you as well, eager and excited. You're sure it's so she can hear every single detail when you're done, but you're thankful. You can leave the house alone, but it is always to meet someone. Being alone in a supermarket fills you with dread, least of all because of your arm.

She doesn't question, and she helps. When she finishes lining the things up you forgot, she offers further help which you reject.

You have to do this, you have to make this worth it. They have raised you up off the ground, caught you when you slipped. You have to return it.

You know they would not ask, would not want you to see it as something to return, but you have to make them see.

When you have struggled, or been tired, or worn down, they have offered food, or gifts, or presence. If that is how they show you that they care, you will return it.

You can only hope you return it in the way you hope.

There are some half deflated balloons that you failed to breathe enough air into, your lungs aching before you could even get through one. You are not as dextrous with your metal hand, so when you cut ingredients they are uneven. You fight to swallow the irritation and the pain in your chest. Even though the need to cry burns at them at things you cannot quite get right.

That it has to be perfect. You have to be perfect. Even if you never were, and even if you never can be. At least for this, you want to be…

There's a voice in your head, cold as the chain around your ankle, that reminds you you're incapable of perfection. That you are going to mess this up, and hurt yourself and others.

The knife trembles in your grip as your limb shakes.

It is a squawk that shakes you out of it, Mephisto flies over in a flurry of feathers and glowing red. To settle on your metal shoulder, talons steadying him. He has gotten familiar with perching there over time, since you stopped flinching at anyone touching your prosthetic.

It has become his favoured perch.

His feathers settle, and he bumps your cheek with his head, keeps red eyes on you as your hand settles.

He does not move, as you resume cutting, as you breathe through the feeling, edges closer to the heat of your neck with his body overtime. You think if a robot bird can sleep, he would do so settled there.

His presence helps, he reminds you of Sylus, but he also reminds you that you're not alone. That even the robot bird that Sylus denies is his pet, cares to see you keep going. It silences the beast at your ankle enough that you keep going.

You prepare meals that Caleb taught you how to cook, when he worried you wouldn't be able to survive alone during your studies, even though he never left you alone long enough to really go that long without food. Turning up at the apartment you shared with friends when he got chance, to hand you over a tupperware of food. To poke around the place and make sure you were alright. To lie on your bed and listen to you tell him about what you had been doing.

Even if you lied. That things were fine, that you were doing well. You knew he saw the truth, but you think he just liked the moment to listen to you talk. To see you in front of him. Alive.

You think you understand better now, how he felt. It always hurts to remember that it took losing him to realise.

Tara's words about regrets flit in and out of your mind. That there would be things you wished you'd done if you died tomorrow. As you cook, and you think about the last hour you have before the people you care about return, you know there's a few.

You're going to make an effort to tick them off.

—-----

He has been listening to the twins talk for two hours, and he cannot help but feel like this meeting should have been a call. Or a message.

The twins aren't stupid, despite their chaotic inclinations and their need to cause trouble wherever they can, they don't often bother him without need. Not concerning work. He trusts their capabilities for a reason. Despite their curiosity over if someone will ever claim his head.

He has been tempted to tell them that you are the one, but has decided when the day comes for you to cut his shackles, he would rather see the looks on the twins' faces.

No warning. He imagines it would be quite a sight. He hopes they're not wearing their masks when it happens.

Still, as he reads through his messages, he thinks he knows why they dragged him out here.

So he looks at them, watches as they chat. Luke waves his hands as he speaks, and there is something he notes. The two are trying to feed off each other's energy. Getting more animated as they go.

They are running out of fodder.

"You two-" They jump as his voice drops, looking at him through their crow masks, "are you going to explain why Kitten sent you to summon me away?"

"We don't work for the Hunter!"

"We work for you, boss."

"That's not an answer to my question."

"Why would we follow their orders-"

"-when we don't work for them?"

He says nothing, watches them, watches the way their shoulders pull in, and they gravitate towards each other. As if being closer will defend them from the glowing red eye in Sylus' head.

Before he even gets time to pry, they deflate. "Aww man, we didn't even manage three hours like they asked."

"We got close though bro. Two hours and twenty minutes with the boss, that's good going."

"Is it enough?"

"You two!" He raises a brow, and watches as they look at each other, then back at him.

"We were told to keep you away for three hours, so they could do something at home."

"Don't tell them we told you, they'll be disappointed…"

He's joked before that you have the two acting like your henchmen, and he's starting to realise it is not simply a joke. He shouldn't be surprised, he supposes. You have full control over Onychinus, every password, the location of every base, access to all of his weapons.

Full dominion over him.

Of course you've won over the twins.

"They won't be disappointed." Sylus sighs, "I'll stay for the last fourty minutes." It's a small concession, time wasted in favour of not ruining whatever you are doing. He could check with Mephisto but there is some warning in his chest. Over the heart he has shared with you, that asks him to wait.

That the waiting is worth it.

So he will wait for the three requested hours, and not a second longer.

It is a long wait, however, so while the twins chatter to him, they have abandoned mission reports and are now sharing information on games they want to play, or places they've been, he messages the other three.

The minutes go slower than expected, but finally he watches it pass, and stands.

"Have fun boss!"

"Good luck!"

He doesn't question them, he's almost curious what you told them to gain their help, but he thinks if it was any plan to be mischievous with him, they'd accept without any reason.

There is a kind of satisfaction in knowing he has the twisted loyalty of the two, they certainly don't work in any way his enemies would understand.

He also doesn't hate the fact they bring a smile to your face, or you to theirs.

When he finally returns to the apartment, he sees the other three sat outside, staring at the door. "You all look like loiterers. You're going to get reported. How will the good doctor cope with a criminal record?"

"How does one suit you?"

"Always a story to tell at parties."

The prince's head is resting on the fish's shoulder, he blinks a little, "You're late." Before he stretches and stands.

"Yeah crow, we've been waiting."

"Rafayel almost walked a hole into the floor going around in circles." Xavier adds.

"You almost broke the door down."

"Impatient." He yawns, shrugging as if it's not a problem. "Sylus can replace the door again, it's fine."

"Have you forgotten your fingerprints are registered?" Sylus asks, raising a brow.

"Quicker to break through the door."

He watches as the doctor rubs at the bridge of his nose, sighing so deeply he's surprised he doesn't fall under the weight of it, "You two act like such children sometimes."

"Not gonna share the macarons I bought with you then."

The doctor frowns, the furrow of his brow deepening, turning his face so he can hide some of the blush on his cheeks, "I'm alright with that."

"They're strawberry."

"I apologise."

"Too easy doctor."

"Can we go in now?" Rafayel stands, barely holding himself back from beginning to bounce on the heels of his feet.

"Alright fish."

Sylus watches as Rafayel opens the door. When it swings open, and they enter, the first thing he notices is bunting.

Hung from the ceiling, along the walls, in purples and blues. There are large red ribbons tied around chairs. Balloons half inflated on the floor in pink and green. A banner along the length of the dining table that has 'Thank you' drawn onto it in messy block letters, yellow stars decorated around it.

All four of them pause. The smell of fresh food, plates and bowls piled high on the table. And gift wrapped boxes, messily wrapped with some torn paper, next to each of their seats.

You are standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot to music, bouncing a little on the spot. Singing along with Mephisto whose squawks leave a lot to be desired in the music department.

He is sure that in this they are unified. Watching as you sing, and move, and twirl to grab something from the side. The feeling in his chest is molten and bright and warm, and if he ever loses it he knows he will have truly died.

"Kitten." Escapes him on an exhale as you smile that familiar crooked smile to yourself.

Your spatula clatters to the floor as you twirl to face him, and see all four of them. "Oh, I lost track of time, shit." You squat to clean up the mess in a panic, receiving a disgruntled cry from Mephisto as he flies off his favoured perch over to sit on the top of a dining chair.

"What is all of this?" The doctor asks, as Xavier rushes over to help you clean up.

You hesitate where you stand, toying with your fingers, before pointing over at the table, "I wanted to thank you."

"You don't have to thank us, cutie. Is this why you've been so jumpy?"

You close your eyes and he watches as you take in a long inhale, steadying yourself, and shivering a little, before you open them again. Flames burning in the depths of them, "No. I wanted to tell you something."

He wants to make a joke that you look like you're about to go to war, as you walk past them and indicate the table, to where there are gifts on the table, each with an initial scrawled on the paper. Yet there's a feeling like if he jokes, he's going to shatter something, and he hesitates before pushing it down, to follow as you lead.

He finds the one with an S, and lifts it up, it's a cube wrapped in black and red paper, with a small golden ribbon. He can tell you've torn the paper, struggling with the hand you still can't control for intricate work. You have given him one gift before, the handmade crow phone charm, one he knows matches the charms for the others. It's crooked and it's not perfect, but you made it. For him.

He has shot a man for almost breaking it during a fight.

His chest feels too hot, as a dragon he isn't sure he's ever felt such a thing before. He thinks if he had really kissed you that day so long ago, before it had all shattered, it would feel like this. It makes him feel sick, but he wants it to last forever.

"They're nothing big, it's. I wanted- You needed-" You sit then, slumping and covering your face to force their air in and out of your lungs, "Sorry. Please open them."

The paper comes away easy, and nestled inside with tissue paper is a red mug with a crow that looks suspiciously like that plushie you'd had him catch, and a key inside, with a series of charms. A crow, a star, a snowflake and a fish. He hesitates as he stares at it, hand careful. Like he could crush it easily if he tenses too hard.

Like it will shatter if he moves just a little.

Disappear if he blinks.

"Rafayel was right, when he told me that the password to your place can change easily, your key can't." You're looking down as you speak, and he can see you out of the corner of his eye, though he doesn't want to look away from his gift, "Well I could change the locks, I guess, but it's- That's not the point."

There's a wince before you tighten your hands into fists in front of you, the air is still and they watch. He can feel something and he's not sure what it is.

"You all made sure I could stand back up again, you were here for me when I needed you and wanted you. I wanted- needed you to know that I'll always want you here. That when you go back home, you're welcome anytime, that I-" Your voice keeps trembling, and pausing, and he wants to reach out, to hold you, to take your face in his hands, to cry with you he thinks, "I love you all so much. I needed you to know, before you went. Before this was over, and I had to say bye to this life."

"Cutie, do-"

"I love you. The- ah- the kind with- shit. I should have written this down."

He finally releases the keychain, approaches you as your hand trembles, eases his thumb over your skin, and watches as Xavier hooks his chin over your shoulder. Zayne and Rafayel crouch down to look up at you, a hand pressed to your knees. The contact eases the strain out of your body, but you must feel the small tremor in his, because you tighten your grip on him.

When you speak, you have found your ground, "I never settled down long enough to think about it, what you all are. I knew you were important, precious, but I didn't have a name for it, or wanted to think about it. I was sure if I didn't think about it, if I lost you it wouldn't hurt as much. If something happened to me, you'd be alright." He watches hands tighten against your skin, because he knows his own does, losing you is not an option, "I was wrong. Even though so many days have hurt, or felt like agony, you were home for me. Safe. You feel like love should feel. When I think about where I want to be, it's anywhere you are."

Your hand shakes as you reach out, to ease over Zayne's cheek with your fingers with your metal fingers. Flinching when he gasps at it, when he leans into your hand, taking it in his to press it further against his skin. "I don't know where to go from here, or what you all want. I know I'm asking a lot, and I understand if you don't feel the same way. I needed you to know, before you left, when I was ready. I don't want to keep looking back, I want to move forwards."

There is a shudder in your frame as you swallow, you take the time to look at them all, even though the angle Xavier at pulls at your neck, and Sylus feels that feeling he got when he used to fly, when you hold his gaze. Freedom, falling, soaring. Able to go anywhere, and do anything. When he held you and soared when you could not sleep, while he can't do that now, he can always take you on the back of his bike. Every sleepless night.

Forever.

"I love you."

It is measured, it is careful, and it is spoken on a tremble. Unused to vulnerability, wilfully shown. A wound on display, not hidden and kept under covers. No longer smothered under the bloody blanket, no longer trembling in the darkness.

He watches you look at him, tears streaming down your face with the weight of feelings he knows you struggle to process, and he was right.

You truly are beautiful when you cry and let him see.

"We're not going anywhere, darling." Zayne whispers against your hand, as he kisses against your palm. Cool lips against cool metal. You close your eyes at the feeling, shiver down your spine.

"You're home, starlight." Xavier nods, brushing lips against your cheek.

"Of course we love you cutie, forever, and always."

Sylus watches as Rafayel kisses your knee and squeezes your leg, watches more tears spill from your eyes, in what he knows is relief. Turns your hand so he can press his lips to your wrist, to your palm, to your fingertips, and sighs against your skin, "Thank you for telling us, beloved."

Thank you for loving him again. For embracing him once more.

For seeing him as more than a monster. For seeing a future that he has a part in.

For walking the path with him once more.

For accepting him as your home.

Later when Sylus has had his moment of breathing in the scent of you. Eased against the junction of your neck, hand tracing shapes into your hip. Whispering affection and murmurs of beloved against your skin.

When they have eaten, when mugs have been placed in the cupboard of your apartment, waiting for when they are needed. When he has stared at the key you have given him willingly. Offering him entrance whenever he wishes, trusting him in your territory. That he watches you sleep against the doctor's chest. Relieved and exhausted.

He knows there is more to do, conversations to have, things to fix, to arrange, but he feels like he is finally back at the starting line, prepared for the race ahead.

As he places your prosthetic back on its stand, and pulls a blanket over the prince who has rested his head in your lap, and cleans up some of the mess, so that the fish can paint the image in front of him, he leans down to place a kiss to your head.

Sylus thinks back to the empty cave, the blood splatter and the bones of the past. He thinks about loneliness and eternal exhaustion, of a search for something he worried he may never grasp again.

He is a boy again, standing in the cave, surrounded by family and loved ones, and this time, he has the power to protect it.

[painted-flag]

From Eden, II - Benjicot Blackwood

✧.* masterlist (part three here)

✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x velaryon!oc

✧.* warnings: 18+ minors DNI. fluff with hints of smut.

✧.* note: this is a continuation of this imagine, but can be read as a stand alone work. this is the first of many smaller installments going over events in Daenys' and Ben's life.

✧.* summary: With the coming preparation of her wedding, Daenys finds that she has few moments spent with Ben. Finally, after weeks, they can spend time alone together.

✧.*word count: 1.9k

Daenys sat on a plush lounging chair in her chambers on Dragonstone. The day was waning to evening and she was embroiled in one of her latest books; a Valyrian tome that went over flying strategies. In these pages of parchment, she searched for an escape from the stress coming down on her. Her wedding had arrived sooner than expected, and the plans for everything had begun to compound. 

The day marked three months since her trip to the Riverlands. It was a successful mission, as she managed to catch the eyes of Benjicot Blackwood. The need for a prominent hold over the Riverlands was secured, yet that previous stress had been replaced with a new one. The days she spent with him in bliss were replaced with hours of wedding planning. Monotonous tasks such as picking out flower arrangements and organizing various types of decor became her daily routine. Multiple barriers had blocked off any sense of relief. 

The first barrier was where the wedding would take place. Raventree Hall, while beautiful, would not be equipped to hold such a large retinue of lords and ladies on the scale required of a royal wedding. Naturally, it was set to be in Kings Landing, which Daenys immediately shot down. A day of unity and delight would not be sullied by the Hightowers. Thankfully, Rhaenyra used the excuse of her newly developed pregnancy to argue that she could not travel under such delicate conditions; which led to the ceremony being held at Dragonstone. Daenys, once again, was saved by her mother's aid. 

The second and final barrier was all the planning. Daenys and Jacaerys flew home from the Riverlands shortly after the engagement while Benjicot and his men made their way on land. The days spent without him were bland, but even when he arrived they were both being pulled constantly to various tasks. The day he arrived at Dragonstone, Daenys got to see him for half the morning and then was swept away to pick fabric for her gown - a task immensely more difficult than she had expected. 

It was frustrating - on both ends - to be so close to one another, yet so far. The only positive Daenys saw was how smoothly Ben had befriended her brothers. He and Jacaerys had already established a mutual understanding, but it developed into a friendship as they ventured around Dragonstone and the island. They both enjoy sparing and had a routine of meeting in the morning in one of the courtyards. Daenys felt conflicted about their forging brotherhood. It was gladdening but also drove her crazy with how Jacaerys loved telling embarrassing stories of her youth to Ben. The two men had occasionally teased her together, but she quickly - jokingly - threatened the absolution of their engagement. It was incredible how fast that managed to make Ben shut up. 

The next brother Ben bonded with had been Lucerys. While he and Jace connected over fighting, Ben’s more shy side established a sense of mutual respect between him and Luke. It was their joint interest in a book series of adventures written by a maester many years ago that sparked a conversation between the two. After that ice broke, other topics of discussion came easily. Daenys remembered that particular evening at a family dinner when they talked through almost the whole meal together. Afterwards, Luke had grabbed her hand before she left, and leaned in to whisper, “I like him and I’m happy for you, sister.” 

The little ones - Joffrey, Viserys, and Aegon - were the easiest for Ben to win over. He had packed some toys from the Riverlands, which were specially crafted figures of knights and dragons. Once given to them, they had immediately formed a likening for him. Whenever they would see Ben, their little voices would call out his name and ask if he could play with them - to which if Ben was not busy- he would agree. 

Her mother had been warmed to Ben before he arrived at Dragonstone. The information she got from Daenys made her more than content with the union between the two. Daenys had spoken about his interests and personality over lunches with her mother. She also spoke about how he treated her with kindness and unflagging nature to make her happy every day he could. She spoke of their time together in the Riverlands while omitting the more raunchy details. 

Daemon, however, had not revealed his thoughts on Benjicot. Another stressor that weighed down on Daenys. The two conversed multiple times and all seemed well, but the rogue prince did not reveal anything. They were pleasant conversations, but Daemon had always been good at concealing what he thought. 

Daenys stretched in her lounging position and adjusted the book. The day had been long and her body was sore. She spent most of it standing in her wedding gown as the seamstresses made adjustments, poking her occasionally with needles. 

A low creak sounded from the corner of her chamber. The false wall opened and Benjicot stood on the other side with a mischievous smile on his face. Daenys shook her head as her shoulders moved up and down with silent laughter. She moved back to read her book.

Ben marched carefully into the room. He leaned over the chaise and wrapped his arms around her front, “And how is my lovely bride?” He repeatedly placed kisses on her cheek and temple, while purposefully making a loud smooch noise after each one. Daenys giggled while she clutched her book. 

“Truthfully I am exhausted,” She replied. 

Ben walked around and joined her on the chaise, settling behind her body. He stretched his legs and wrapped his arms around her middled and pulled her into the side of his chest. 

“I heard they finished your dress today.” His nose buried into the juncture of her neck as he placed soft kisses there. 

“After poking me countless times with their needles.” Daenys flipped the page of her book. Ben grabbed one of her hands and lifted it closer to him. His inspection spotted a couple of small scratch marks. He proceeded to kiss them one by one. Daenys soaked up the attention.

“And what has made you so affectionate today?” She questioned. 

Ben sighed and buried his head in her shoulder again. He let out a muffled groan. “It has been weeks since we spent time alone. I only get to see you for longer than a few minutes during dinners and those are spent with your family as well.” 

“You don’t like my family?” Daenys jested. 

“I love your family, almost as much as you.”

She sensed some motive behind his words, “You want something.” 

Ben lifted his head and looked as Daenys craned her neck to glance at him. He shook his head and faked innocence, “I have no idea what you are talking about, my love.” 

Daenys raised her eyebrow at him and that was more than enough to get an answer from the dark-haired man, “I miss you.” 

“I do as well. I have half a mind to cancel all the preparations and run to the nearest sept with you. Get it all over with.” Daenys huffed. Her free hand reached up to brush his chin gently. 

“Do not tempt me.” Ben leaned in to kiss her feverishly. It had felt so long since their last kiss. The past few weeks were full of chaste ones whenever they found little time alone with one another. The passion burned through her. Suddenly, all of the stress she had felt went away in mere moments. The comforting feeling of his arms that encircled her waist made her feel safer than any of the high walls and guards at Dragonstone. 

Ben moved around, only briefly pulling away from the kiss. He slid to the floor and on his knees while still moving his mouth against hers. He settled between her legs and Daenys pulled away, knowing what he was thinking. 

“Ben, you know how risky it would be to do that here?” 

“Dany, I feel as though I am a dying man wandering the Red Waste looking high and low for a drink to save me.” Ben feigned hurt, frowning in fake pain as though he was truly going through what he described, “My saving water just happens to be on low ground.” 

Daenys shoved the book off her lap and crossed her arms, “Do you think sweet words like that will work on me?” 

“They have before.” Ben, despite being on his knees, was still almost level with her face as she sat on the chaise. One of his hands brushed her ankle and slowly moved up her leg in a featherlight manner. 

“You’re insatiable,” Daenys observed. 

Ben leaned in to kiss her before he pulled away, “I know.” 

His hand, now resting on the back of her calf, squeezed. His other hand lifted the skirt of her dress and he quickly ducked under. Ben began to leave light kissed up her leg. His hands moved up quickly, brushing the plush inside of her thighs with his thumbs. His kisses reached the bottom of her right thigh when an abrupt knock on the door sounded through the room. 

Ben groaned against her skin, “I swear to all the gods that I will kill whoever knocked on that door.” 

Daenys ignored his words and responded, “What is it?” 

“The Princess Rhaenyra has called for an early supper, your grace.” A servant's voice sounded from the other side of the wooden door. Ben huffed and emerged from under Daenys dress, a look of displeasure on his face. 

“I will get ready by myself. Send word that I will be there soon.” 

“Of course, princess.” The two of them heard their steps retreat down the stone hall. 

Daenys looked at Ben and saw an intense frown had etched its way across his face. She nearly giggled at his expression. He looked like a spoilt child who had their favourite toy taken away. She cupped his cheeks and leaned in to kiss him. 

“It is not the end of the world, love.” 

“It may as well be.” Ben stood up and pulled her up with him, “Must we wait for the wedding to finally have time together?” 

“All you have to do is wait two weeks. After that, you may take me to Raventree Hall and nobody can disturb us anymore.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and carted her fingers through the hair at the top of his neck. 

“Two bloody weeks,” He kissed the bridge of her nose, “I must go before they find my chamber suspiciously empty.” 

Daenys laughed and leaned in to hug him. They both stood there for a few seconds, relishing in what would be the most contact they will have for many days. Ben rubbed her back and pulled away. 

“We will finish this later.” Ben’s voice gave no room for question. 

“I promise.” 

“Good.” Ben kissed her quickly again before retreating to the hidden passageway in the corner of her room. Upon opening the door, Ben sent her a wink and retreated into the small passage. Once he was gone, Daenys allowed her disappointment to wash over her. They only had a few minutes, and even then that was taken from them. It felt as though the gods were playing a sick trick on her. 

Daenys knew that the next two weeks would feel like an eternity.

_____________

✧.* endnote: this was a little rushed, but i managed to get this done between lectures. i do plan on leaning more heavily into smut, but i know my skills in writing that stuff are nonexistent so i need a little more time.

also, i seriously cannot thank you all enough on the amount of support given to the original imagine From Eden. it has blown me away. you are all amazing <3.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Flower Dance

Haley (Stardew) x She/Her Reader

A/N: I liked the idea, but I don’t think I executed it as well as I hoped I would because I got impatient. Still not too bad though I think. I wrote this in November of 2022. Sharing it now because why not. Word Count: 2,383

“Ew, no.”

Haley had regretted the words as soon as she had spit them out like an defensive cobra.

Hurt was written all over the farmer’s face as she recoiled from Haley like she had been burned.

Haley saw the year’s worth of progress she had made getting out of her shell and becoming friends with (Y/n) crumble before her very eyes. She tried to say something, anything, to peddle back from the harsh way she had answered, but (Y/n) recovered first. At least somewhat.

“…Alright then, sorry. A simple no would have sufficed.” She mumbled. “Excuse me.”

Haley reached for her but froze halfway before withdrawing. Her hands fell to her sides in tight fists.

Why did she say that? It was only (Y/n), the sweet farmer who had taken the time to scale Haley’s walls to find her soft and more vulnerable self within.

Daffodils in the spring, ice cream in the summer, sunflowers in fall, pink cake in winter… (Y/n) had been nothing but nice to her even from the beginning when Haley insulted her clothes and earthy scent. Back then the farmer had been able to brush her off, but Haley’s words definitely had a direct impact this time.

She didn’t mean to speak to her like that. She had just been startled that (Y/n) would even think to ask. The thought of dancing with her made Haley’s face burn and her heart thump in her ears. She wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear that was causing those reactions, but clearly fear had won out when she opened her stupid mouth.

What should she do now?

“Haley,”

Haley turned to find that Alex was walking up to her. She tried to school her expression into something more neutral before he got too close to notice.

“The dance is starting soon. Are we partnering up again this year?”

Haley scanned the field for (Y/n) and bit the inside of her lip when she couldn’t see her. She was the Flower Queen, she was expected to be a part of the ceremonial first dance. As much as she wanted to go look for (Y/n) and apologize, that would have to wait. It would be better to talk to her when her heart stopped pounding anyway.

“Yeah,” Haley nodded, linking Alex’s elbow with hers, “let’s get in position.”

When they did find their places, Haley watched the usual pairs link up. Finally she saw (Y/n) conversing with Robin and Demetrius on the sidelines. Haley remembered last year, wondering why the new farmer hadn’t bothered to come to the dance. At first, she thought she had some kind of sense of superiority over the townsfolk, but it was a traditional town event after all, not a club in Zuzu City. It would probably have been uncomfortable after only being a part of the community for a couple weeks.

Now a year later, (Y/n) had felt comfortable enough to join in on the festivities and Haley had surely made her regret stepping away from her busy farm life with the utterance of those two stupid words.

Good job, idiot.

She continued to watch over Alex’s shoulder as Leah unexpectedly walked up. Leah? Leah usually danced with Elliot. What was she doing sidling up to (Y/n) like that? Haley looked around for the writer, but he was nowhere to be seen. Was he sick or something?

Haley looked back in time to see (Y/n) smile kindly at something Leah had said and felt something burning within her as Leah offered (Y/n) her hand and the farmer took it.

“What’s going on behind me that has you squeezing my shoulders like that?” Alex asked, craning his head back, “It kinda hurts.”

“Nothing.” Haley snapped.

She turned her head away from (Y/n) and Leah, trying to ignore them bonding over being the newest residents of the valley and how Leah’s first Flower Dance went. How Leah taught (Y/n) the steps, something that could have been Haley’s honor not even ten minutes ago.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Alex winced, “Come on Haley, I can feel your nails through my shirt.”

“Sorry.” Haley eased up a bit, but her steely gaze still lingered on the two women butchering the steps while snickering to each other.

Haley was furious. They were making a mockery of the long standing tradition! That was definitely what was pissing her off. Not the fact that she could have just as easily been in Leah’s shoes, helping (Y/n) find her footing and laughing with her instead—

“Too tight again Haley, damn!” Alex hissed, finally twirling Haley around so he could take a look at what was pissing her off so bad that she felt the need to leave him bruised.

“What am I supposed to be seeing here?”

“Just drop it.” Haley nearly growled.

“Ohhhh,” Alex winced upon spotting Leah and (Y/n) spinning together, “I get it. Well, they could just be dancing as friends like us you know. You’re not out of this yet.”

“What are you talking about?” She grumbled.

“(Y/n) and Leah. I figured farm girl would steal my spot this year. I was kinda hoping for it too,” Alex pulled at his collar, “this outfit is always so itchy.”

“Why would I dance with her? That makes no sense.” Haley shot defensively, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but loud enough to make Emily peer over Shane’s shoulder to try and see what her sister was so grumpy about.

“Uhh, don’t you like her?” Alex asked with uncertainty, “I could have sworn—“

“I do not!” Haley fumed, heart pounding and face flushing once again, “Why would you think that?”

“The last time we were in your dark room. I mean, dude, like, a loooot of your pictures lately have been of (Y/n)…”

“I needed to have a gallery that showcased humans and nature for an online class!” Haley defended, though her cheeks blushed darker, “I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask that weirdo in the mountains if I could follow him around for a couple days. (Y/n) was the obvious choice.”

“I don’t get why you’re so defensive about it. It’s cool if you like her or whatever. You know I don’t care. Emily definitely wouldn’t. I think no one would mind as much as you seem to, or you’re at least in the minority on the subject.”

“I. Do. Not. Like. Her. Like. That.” Haley gritted out.

Alex sighed heavily. Why did Haley always have to be so stubborn? He had an idea, but it was going to be just a little mean…

“Oh whoa, they’re totally making out.”

“What?!”

Haley’s heart dropped as she yanked Alex around so she could look at (Y/n) and Leah again. They weren’t kissing, nor did it look like they had been. They were still clumsily dancing together as they talked.

Haley turned her eyes back on Alex, who dared to wear a smug little smirk on her face that Haley desperately wanted to slap off.

“You do like her, Hales. You haven’t liked anyone in forever! And as your best friend, it’s my job to help you shoot your shot. Come on, let’s dance over and see if we can’t get you to cut in.”

“No, Alex,” Haley pulled him back, a touch of fear in her voice “I, I can’t. Not after what I said. She must think I’m such a bitch.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She already asked me to dance, Alex,” Haley groaned angrily at herself, “and do you know what I said? I said, ‘ew, no’.”

“No.” Alex sucked in air through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, try coming back from that. She’ll never talk to me again.”

“You could tell her you’re sorry. Say you got so nervous you insulted her. That might help.”

“Oh sure.” Haley scoffed.

“It would be better than doing nothing!” Alex whined. “Haley, before (Y/n), I was basically the only person you ever talked to. You really stepped up this year and I’d hate to see you close yourself off again.”

(Y/n) and Leah seemed to have grown tired of dancing and went to join the sidelines once more and Haley looked to the grass at her feet. She wanted to say to hell with it. People come and go all the time, just look at her parents and their never ending trips. However, she couldn’t bring herself to slip away from (Y/n). She didn’t want (Y/n) to slip away from her either.

“What do I do, Alex? She’s not going to want to talk to me after this.”

“We’ll think of something,” Alex promised, giving Haley one last twirl, “We’ll think of something.”

***

“H-hello?” (Y/n) called out as she entered the Secret Woods.

She had received a letter in the mail that morning, urging her to arrive at her earliest convenience. She had half a mind to suspect it was the bear again, although the only thing she had been instructed to bring was herself, not syrup.

As she wandered further into the clearing, she faintly heard music playing and decided to follow it. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Haley flattening a table cloth over a large tree stump. The sting of yesterday was still very fresh in her mind. Surely Haley didn’t send her that letter… she took a step back, but her foot snapped a twig, causing Haley’s head to snap up.

Haley quickly finished what she was doing, hands moving clumsily from nervousness. She dried her sweaty palms on the back of her skirt and then took a deep breath as she approached (Y/n).

“Hey,” Haley said, her smile looking a bit too pained to be sincere. Much like the polite smile (Y/n) was trying to hold.

“Ah, sorry Haley. I didn’t know—“

“I want you here,” Haley spoke quickly, “I wrote the letter.”

“You did? Why?” (Y/n) asked, her body language defensive. After yesterday, she wasn’t too keen on listening to whatever Haley had to say. She didn’t think she knew Haley as well as she thought she did.

“Because I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I- I was totally out of line. I’m really, really sorry.”

“But why did you say that at all? Haley, that really hurt me.” (Y/n) crossed her arms over her chest.

“I know, I regretted it as soon as I said it. I was just scared I guess. I didn’t expect you to ask me to dance and I know that’s a dumb excuse, but I swear I didn’t mean it.”

“What were you scared for?” (Y/n) asked softly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Because I,” Haley took in a shaky breath, “I like you a lot.”

“You were scared to accept my invitation to dance because you like me?” (Y/n) tested the words on her tongue, finding them just as confusing as when Haley had said them.

“Yeah, well, when you repeat it back like that it sounds dumb,” Haley blushed, “but, ugh! You know me. I’m not easy to get along with. I also don’t like being vulnerable so this whole thing is killing me now, but, I also like you too much to not try to apologize so,” Haley tentatively held her hand out to the bewildered farmer, “will you please let me have this dance in an attempt to redeem myself?”

(Y/n) studied the offered hand for a moment, making Haley so nervous she stopped breathing, but then (Y/n) gave her a small smile and took Haley’s hand.

“Okay.”

Haley inhaled deeply, feeling a weight come off her shoulders. She hurriedly put her free hand around (Y/n)’s waist and took the lead. Her skin tingled when (Y/n)’s hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Thank you.” Haley breathed a sigh of relief.

“You know, you really surprised me yesterday,” (Y/n) began, making Haley wince, “I know you can be a little grouchy, even mean sometimes,” Haley wished the ground would swallow her whole,

“but the more we got to know each other, the more I got to see who you are trying to protect, the person who are underneath the prickliness. Granted, the prickliness is just as much a part of you, but I think it’s cute when you’re a little snarky,” Haley bit the inside of her cheek. She felt like she should be insulted, but (Y/n) finding something about her cute was making her blush,

“I was hurt when you turned me down like that yesterday, but I was also worried that would be the end of our friendship.”

“Why would you worry about that? If the shoe had been on the other foot, I would have said good riddance.” Haley asked, mentally kicking herself for possibly giving (Y/n) the idea to back away now.

“Yeah, I kinda did feel that way at first,” (Y/n) admitted, “but when Leah helped me cool down, I at least wanted to know why you reacted the way you did. I’m glad you reached out to me before I did, because I honestly had no idea how to approach the subject.” (Y/n) said with a sheepish grin.

“What, are you afraid of me or something, Miss spends-all-winter-in-the-mines?” Haley Scoffed.

“Oh definitely.”

“Really?”

“You are scarier than you give yourself credit for.”

Haley tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help it. She lowered her head to rest against (Y/n)’s shoulder and giggled, making (Y/n) laugh as well.

They swayed through a couple more songs before Haley pulled back and asked (Y/n) if she was hungry before motioning back to the the covered tree stump. They ate and talked together while listening to the portable radio Haley had brought along. When there was a lull, Haley asked,

“Hey, it’s not exactly the Flower Dance, but there’s always a dance floor at the summer Luau… be my dance partner?”

(Y/n) perked up, giving Haley another smile that gave her butterflies, “I’d like that.”

“Awesome.”

Maybe by summer she’d work up the courage to ask (Y/n) if she wanted to be her girlfriend, but this was perfect for now. Alex was going to need to help her with a plan, but when (Y/n) reached across the stump the tuck a bit of Haley’s hair behind her ear, she was feeling a little better about her chances.

[weebsinstash]

HMMMM. You know what I've never written for, stories OR drafts or prompts or posts. Hanahaki disease!!!

Your yandere is absolutely freaking the fuck out because you're choking up flowers, vomiting on thorns, choking, gagging, blood and petals dribbling down your chin, you're getting sicker, weaker, DYING, but you won't share ANYTHING WITH THEM. They have NO IDEA who it is you love and it's driving them INSANE because one you're DYING and two.... oh. So you. Love someone else. Ok... well. All you need to do to be cured is confess to that person, right? Your 'true dedicated love' can always swoop in afterwards, or so they try to tell themselves...

They're just watching you wither away, you looking absolutely heartbroken, and worst of all, you're starting to AVOID THEM. They're having to stalk you, more than usual anyways, just to check in on you, make sure you're still doing ok, still ALIVE--

Eventually you're laying there in the hospital, at death's door, and your yandere, someone you've known and trusted for some time now, is just, ready to start bawling their eyes out at your bedside as you can barely breathe, begging begging BEGGING you to tell them who you love so they can bring them to you, so you can live, like this is SO AVOIDABLE WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO YOURSELF and your "beloved" is so tormented by the fact they're watching you wither away and they can't do ANYTHING and--

you just. Weakly reach over and grab their hand. and you stare right at them with your big sparkling crying eyes and quivering lips even as more petals and pollen slip out with your breaths,

"but then you'll leave"

and that's when your yandere figures out, oh, it's THEM that you love, and you were willing to die with your secret just to avoid hearing 'no', being alone, not having THEM, losing THEM--

You're laying there feeling the pain and the aching slowly fade from deep inside your withered body, barely energized enough to feel shame, so weak, so vulnerable, and, of course you'll need someone to look after you while you recover, and here's your loyal friend, clutching your hand so desperately, and unlike all of your deepest fears, they're not going anywhere or rejecting you in the slightest. I mean... you might as well have just PROPOSED to them, declaring your love and all, so, surely you won't mind if your crush, who was secretly significantly more mentally unhinged than you were could have imagined, moves you into the perfect scale replica of your bedroom that they have in their house, right? Since you two love each other, you're gonna get married as soon as possible and live together, right? What's that? You're a little turned off by finding out they have stalker shrines of you? Haha, you must still be light-headed from all that coughing! You can't LEAVE YOUR SOULMATE, that's so silly! let them tuck you into bed and get you some pills and they can cuddle you to sleep during your first official night together--

[hurthermore]

Okay, so, absolutely loved the newest chapter!!! Alastor’s POV is always *chef’s kiss*, your iteration especially.

On another note, I can’t get the thought of an AU of Alastor finding reader…not very alive…after the altercation with the husband after the pairs visit to the radio station, just…what would his reaction be, how many would end up dead? Would he keep the readers body? How delulu would he be on a scale of 1-10? Especially seeing the body next to the crushed flowers he gave, and the realisation that those were probably the catalyst…just…so many thoughts

Oh lord… FIRSY TYSM!! I’m sooo happy you enjoyed this chapter! And wow heavy ask HEAVY ASK haha, poorly written as I did this whilst at Uni Lmaoo warnings for death and heavy angst

Realistically, if you had died that night, Vincent would’ve moved your body, but for this ask we will assume Vincent has just left reader dead on the floor.

Alastor would’ve found his way into your house if you hadn’t answered the door. He’d break down once he saw your body on that floor, and I mean. Break. Down. He would obviously see if you were okay first, but once he realised you were dead? Oh honey…

He will delude himself into thinking you were just unconscious, just sleeping, maybe even a coma. Nonono you weren’t dead! You were just pretending; it’s okay! He isn’t mad he promises, just fucking wake up!

Once he looks at the crushed flowers beside your corpse, he will cry. He will cry knowing this was all his fault; but was it really? Why had this happened?

The only finger pointed to your husband.

Alastor will take your corpse to his home; he hadn’t realised things would turn out this way, hadn’t realised what the fuck was going on behind closed doors and that was his own fault; he was so good at perceiving people, how had he not noticed that your husband would eventually do this to you?

He’ll lay you in his own bed, just staring at you for days waiting for you to wake up; he will miss work, won’t go out, and by the time he knows it, he hasn’t eaten in a week.

That’s when the anger will come in. When his need to kill your husband will finally imbed within. And he will; even in such a state, he will murder Vincent.

He will bring you his head, just to show you that he’s no longer here to torment you! So wake up.

Even as your body begins to rot, he will hold you close, even has your bones begin to show, he will kiss you.

It’s only when you finally rot to pure bone that he will accept that you’re dead.

The worst part?

You would wind up in heaven if you died at this point.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

The school year finally ended... I hate college SO much :( but I am alive!! I beg for some crumbs of thoughts on Sunday... -chubby darling anon who is very much alive and finally got a mitsuri scale figure <3

putting all of my other fics, blurbs, and asks on PAUSE for this!! congrats!! no more school foorrr… 3ish months!! after dropping out of uni, i’ve been finally considering going back myself for phlebotomy!! canadas health situation is lack lustre rn and the course is less than one year + paid practicum + immediate job placement which is kinda sweet… CONGRATS ON THE FIGURE TOO!! i recently (like a month and a half ago) procured the hatsune miku jirai kei subculture fashion figure and i cannot stress how pretty she is <3 sits on my pc right now bc my shelves are full… ANYWAYS… love you!!

includes: silly sunday hcs, potential story spoilers, maybe ooc im still feeling him out, praise, degradation, riding crops, his hands…, and gender neutral reader!!

very poignantly the hopeless romantic type. he’s always functioned as a ‘singularity’ of sorts and over the years developed a certain fondness of it, even if it hurts. it’s worth noting he vividly reminds me of the line ‘i miss the comfort in being sad,’ from nirvanas ‘Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle.’ he’s the type of partner to always be stuck in that self-absorbed martyr mindset a little bit.

pragmatic to a fault. Sunday is deeply a skeptic, take his departure from the harmony in favour of the order, as an example. it’s cool because it means you’ll never have to worry about any technicalities but it also means he has a hard time letting go of control or being spontaneous.

very into more subtle romantic gestures and an absolute gentleman. you’ll have flowers at your door at least once a week and he makes sure to take all of your preferences into consideration when planning dates (he will be the one planning). keeps his hand on your lower back most of the time, the waist is far too scandalous!!

not a big texter. he prefers speaking face to face and will call if he can’t come see you. that said, he’ll make sure to like or respond to all of the silly pictures and messages you send, even if it’s a dry ‘haha’ or just a heart. occasionally, you’ll find that he’s sent you a letter, ask about and he’ll shrug and say he simply wanted something more heartfelt if he’s to communicate written. he’s got a special stamp to seal the ones he sends you.

grabs your phone when you go to show him something. no explanation i just feel it in my bones.

although he’s no singer, he’s still a classically trained musician. i imagine he was taught the violin but went on to learn his preferred instrument, the harp, himself. he’s a bit shy about playing so rather than asking, just wait until he thinks it’s late and you’re not around to hear; he’s got quite the set of fingers.

…speaking of fingers, my bread and butter, he’s beyond skilled with playing you. while he enjoys getting down to business, getting to leisurely spread you open and thrum against all your nerves gets him going. could spend hours having you laid out, in his lap, on the floor, wherever, just gently coaxing you open, wet, and pliant for himself.

off of that, he likes you best worn down to soft edges and weak desperation. getting to play the saviour, making you come undone, has him stiff in his pants.

lots of sweet praise and subtle degradation. things like, “you want to be good for me, don’t you my sweet?,” or, “now, now, don’t get greedy on me. be patient, silly thing, and i’ll appease all of your foolish whims,” annddd, “come now, you’ve been so well for me, angel, don’t ruin that with any useless whines.”

he’s not one for being too harsh against you but push the right buttons and you’ll get a ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’ here and there. Sunday doesn’t curse but he knows his way around how to make you feel inferior and looked down upon.

he likes the power play of staying fully and pristinely clothed while your completely nude, save for maybe a pretty collar he’s got you belled with. if you’re real trouble, say maybe a no good criminal causing problems on Penacony and once arrested you’re at his disposal and oh so pretty, he’ll find a nice muzzle to fix you with.

strikes, no pun intended, me as the type to have an affinity for riding crops over anything else for punishments. you’ll get the same sugarcoated degradation while he comments on how you’re not even good enough to be so close to his gloved hand that he just must use the crop!! (he likes the pretty bruises it leaves).

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

This story, for which there are seven parts, is dedicated to everyone affected by Hurricane Helene. It was not written because of that, but a water-based natural disaster is part of the plot. It does not focus on it, but is a story of hope. The text of section one is under the cut. I hope to post all sections before the end of the Inklings Challenge. Despite this being my third year, this is the first I've actually posted anything other than snippets, so I hope I'm doing this right. I haven't yet written more than this, but I do have an outline for the other six parts, so hopefully that will work. @inklings-challenge

One: Admonish the Sinner

First of all it must be understood that every world is connected, as every village is. Some are just further away.

This is not a story of Earth; this is a story of a world nobody bothered to name, in a village nobody called anything other than the village. But that does not make it any less beloved—by people or by God. Sometime, a long time before this story is set, someone from Earth came to this nameless world and gave them the greatest gift of all, truth: but that is another tale entirely.

The night sky of this world is strikingly different from ours. Most prominently, two moons watch the world below, and every forty-seven years or so, flooding hits the island. They call it Big Tide, for it is the pull of the two moons combined that does this. It is regular enough, and has enough warning signs, that everyone should be perfectly ready for it.

As is common in humans (and these are humans like us, though the world is different), not everyone believes the evidence laid out in the world.

This is a story of Big Tide, specifically the one of the year three thousand, two hundred and twenty by their reckoning. This is a story of Paula McArthur.

%%%%%%%

The wattles were flowering, and it was Paula’s favourite time of year. There were several different wattles, but this was the deep gold ones she loved the best, the ones she gathered by the armful and adorned her home with. Now she only held a single sprig and enjoyed it to the full. It was too close to Big Tide to unnecessarily damage the wattle trees; they could be badly damaged by the rushing waters, and might need everything they had to survive. But one twig wasn’t going to hurt it.

The sky was a clear pale blue shot with fine clouds, a mass of them shining near the horizon with the sun gentle on them. Paula raised her face to the sunlight and closed her eyes, smiling. It was spring, and she never felt more alive than in springtime. 

She had been working all morning to prepare for Big Tide, largely transport. Her hands were tired of the precise positions needed to be held in order to hover exactly enough to transfer items in mid-air between hoverboards rather than landing to do it, which would waste time. Tide waited on no man, but Paula was skilled enough to know when she could be sloppy about hoverboarding, and enjoyed hoverboarding in a more slapdash manner than most people she knew. She had graduated earlier than most of her classmates from a controller to haptics. Tomorrow, though, she might use the controller again to make sure she was fresh enough to hover efficiently overnight during Big Tide itself. 

Presently she took out her lunch, and ate it while walking. In the distance a kookaburra laughed; Paula came to an abrupt halt as a green-blue iridescent flash clued her into the presence of a river dragon nearby. It turned and looked at her, bright blue eyes wise and calm. After a moment of silence and mutual respect, the dragon moved properly into her view and arched its sinuous back, raising its crest. Paula lifted her chin and brushed back the dark fringe to look more intimidating. The only sign the dragon gave of seeing any change was to raise its scales in a largely vain attempt to inflate its size. Abruptly it put down its scales and ran in a blaze of colour, uttering a high keening cry that faded as it retreated.

Paula turned to see who had disturbed her, smiling as she recognised the intruder. “What brings you here, Martha?”

Her friend grinned in response, lighting up her tanned sombre face. “You, actually. I came in search of you.”

Paula half gestured to herself, merrily. “Why trouble yourself?”

Martha grew serious at once. “I care about you. Aren't I allowed to?”

“Certainly, as I do.” 

Martha smiled a little incredulously. “Anyway, surely it's time to go back now?”

Paula raised a single eyebrow, then tilted her head back and assessed the position of the sun. “I guess. Why did you come to find me, Mar?”

“Oh, you know, I hardly see you now.” Her manner was evasive, which baffled Paula. “You're always out walking.”

“It's spring.” Paula waved the sprig of wattle at her. “The best time of the year. What's your favourite season?”

“Winter,” said Martha definitively. “Cold and empty and bleak.”

“Why do you like it that way?” she asked in surprise. Last time they'd talked about the seasons, she thought Martha had waxed poetic about the dying fire of autumn. 

“It's silent,” was Martha's quiet response. “Nobody bothers you.”

Paula paused to assess the time, decided they had to go back and led the way; Martha trailed her. “I thought you liked people.”

There was a short silence. “People don't tend to like me.”

“That's nonsense,” she responded immediately. Martha smiled, sad and sarcastic. 

“I don't tend to like me.”

Her calmness bothered Paula, and she sped up slightly. “Well, I do. You're fun, conversational and well read.”

“Which is why you disappear alone for hours.” She caught up and shot Paula a sidelong look, as if to say, I know your secrets. Except there were no secrets to know. 

“I like spring. It feels so alive and fresh, like all the past year's mistakes are washed away and there's new growth instead.”

“Very poetic.” Instead of amusement, Martha's tone was sour. She dodged past Paula and trotted quickstep the whole way back.

%%%%%%%

“I don't know what I did wrong,” finished Paula, twisting her hands nervously. “She got mad and I don't know why.”

Her mother glanced hurriedly across to check the next load wasn't ready, then turned to Paula again. “When people aren't happy it can be a temptation to take it out on others, especially those who are.”

“She said she was worried, and then she just changed and didn't want to talk to me.”

“Rebecca!” The shout made her mother focus on her own work; Paula moved her hoverboard closer to her father so he could load it up. This one was three bags of flour, heavy on the back and requiring stabilisation, which Paula remained still for while her father adjusted the controls. When it was done, he gave her a thumbs up and she gestured with her gloves, rising away from the site and on the journey to higher ground. It wasn't as easy to handle the unbalanced board; she would have done a lot more, and easier, with a transport hoverboard rather than the jury-rigged family board, but it was more economical and the decree had been that fuel, not time, was of the essence, since they'd planned well in advance. Indeed, today being the day before Big Tide, they had expected to have no more transport to do apart from the people, but someone had been digging too enthusiastically in their garden and cracked an underground storage container, so all of that had to be moved. 

She was most of the way there, wind in her face, when a fast personal hoverboard raced up beside her, village elder crouched to stave off the wind. He matched her speed, then unwound and said, “I'll take over from here. Take my board and go back—we need you to persuade people to go.”

“What?” She was already moving, assessing how to swap boards without any risk of either of them tumbling into the trees below while stepping across. “Why?”

He grimaced. “Turns out there are people who haven't prepared and don't want elders coming to help. Your dad suggested you could try and help instead.”

She started to shuck the gloves, then changed her mind and pressed buttons, keying them to the elder's hoverboard instead. As ownership switched, both boards lurched violently, and Paula barely held her position. The elder was wearing magnetic boots and so didn't run the risk of falling. Once she had stabilised it, she said, “So where do I start?”

“Ask your dad when you get back.” His expression was calm and focused as he adjusted the settings to accommodate for his weight. “For now, just get going. Time is of the essence. Big Tide waits for no man.”

[lowkaylove]

Anything Less Than, Everything & More

Pairings: Sylus x MC

Please be kind. This is my first ever fic.

CW: Angst, MC remembers everything, comparing herself to past!MC, hurt/comfort, Sylus’s horns make an appearance, Mephie is the best boy, PTSD, feelings of survivor’s guilt/shame, references to Dragon!Sylus’s death, please let me know if I’m missing any tags (I’m bad at this)

Notes: not beta read-we explode like Josephine. Not really edited as I have never written anything before in my life. I’m not creative, I’m just hyperfixated on fictional men that a girl can only dream of.

Prompt: You remember everything. And Sylus couldn’t be happier. You both could finally move forward and conquer the world like you were always meant to do. The problem is…you realize that you’re not her…and you never will be. She was enough for him to sacrifice his life for. Who the hell are you to deserve that kind of devotion from a man like Sylus? Honestly, who are you to demand anything from him after everything he went through to find her, only to end up with your version of the woman he loved. The one who showed him nothing but undeserved hatred and disgust in the beginning. A fucking rookie hunter with a mediocre evol at best. Someone who was useless to him from the beginning.

Why couldn’t you just be her? Doesn’t Sylus deserve to be happy? Maybe…if you can’t be her…maybe there’s a way to become useful and worthy of a little more of his time, however short it will last.

Prologue

You barely make it to your bed after an exhausting day.

It’s been almost nonstop missions for the last month, one after the other. And when you’re not on a mission, you got a second job at a boutique thanks to a recommendation from Rafayel to the owner. You still need to figure out a way to pay him back for his help.

For now, you’ve just been less of a brat when you work for him and will cater to his every whim so he’ll hire you for more bodyguard work.

Truly, nothing has exhausted you more physically. But it’s nothing compared to the mental toll you’ve suffered since a little over 2 months ago. But you are determined that this will all be worth it in the end.

Sylus is counting on you, and you won’t fail him this time.

2 months ago

It happened all at once.

Sylus had taken you to a field of flowers to watch the sunset. A perfect date as you two grew closer.

After settling down on the hillside, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the beautiful flora that surrounded you. Bold and intimidating red flowers blossomed all around you. The air felt familiar. Sylus felt a little too familiar and yet you swore you’ve never been here before.

After enjoying a small picnic, you stand up to stretch your limbs, gazing out towards the horizon. “It’s really beautiful out here, Sylus. I’ve never seen these flowers before, but the sunset makes the hills looks like they’re covered in rubies.”

“A fitting description, sweetie. The hills are bathed in rubies as far as the eyes can see.” But Sylus’s gaze rests on your silhouette turned away from him, his eyes filled with longing and devotion like no other.

Your heart clenches at his words. A sudden pang sends a tremor through your body. You’ve heard those word before…where have you heard them before?

“Sweetie?” Sylus calls out to you, concerned.

You turn to find him with one leg bent, arm resting on the knee. The other leg is stretched out. He removed his leather jacket and looks comfortable in is burgundy sweater and black denim. His eyes are full of worry though.

Then, images flash before you. Sylus, sitting the exact way he is now, but something is off. This Sylus is different. Black scales adorn his skin. His outfit does little to cover his chest and abdomen, a red gem rests in the middle of his chest.

This Sylus has horns. A tail.

This Sylus isn’t a human.

He is a Dragon.

My dragon is gone.

All of a sudden, an entirely different life floods your vision. You’re there, and so is Sylus. But it’s somewhere you’ve never been. The flowers on the hill shine under the sun. An organ plays beautifully in the distance. A beautiful Dragon carries you across vaguely familiar lands. It’s so beautiful, but all too much at the same time.

Pain sears through your head and you cry out. Your hands move to your temples as you land on your knees. They cover your ears as you moan in pain.

“Kitten!” Sylus rushed to you, he places his hands over yours then trails them down to your elbows and up to your shoulders. “Sweetie, what’s happening?”

It felt as if your head was splitting open. Your eyes were clenched shut but the visions were clear behind your eyelids.

Stayrus? …Can I call you a name that sounds similar? How does Sylus sound?

“Sweetheart, please…look at me…” You faintly hear Sylus’s voice break as if he’s in pain as well.

Sing that song again.

You feel the world spinning as this other Sylus rolls the both of you down a hill of flowers.

Only you and this flower can touch me here…

Your lungs are heavy with exhaustion as you feel your throat tighten. Tears run down your face as you finally look up at Sylus.

“S-Sylus…it hurts…” His eyes widen in panic before checking you over for an injury that isn’t there.

Taurus City can have flowers bloom everywhere…as far as the eye can see…

“You’re okay, sweetie…is it your heart? The Aether core?” Vermillion eyes scan over your face in worry.

But only for one person.

A kiss that never happened. It was all in your head. An illusion the both of you conjured to survive the pain and loss of each other.

You reach up, your shaky hands hovering over Sylus’s head…where his horns should be.

You must press on.

Pain sweeps over your entire body in waves. Your eyes clench shut again. Bile rises in your throat. You know exactly what happens next. You’ve lived this before. You were the one who committed this sin against your beloved.

Sylus won’t stop saying your name, desperate to grab your attention away from the pain your feeling. You faintly hear him shouting in the distance. “Luke! Kieran! Get a doctor to meet us at the base!” The twins respond from a speaker, likely Sylus’s phone.

Because…if you don’t…there’s no going back…

He’s gone. You’re alone in the field this time. You killed your Dragon, and now he’s gone. You remember the agony tearing out of your throat as you wail into the air, mourning the wonderful life you had lost, and the one you never got to have with your dragon.

And then…silence.

Air fills your lungs again. Your entire body goes slack and falls into Sylus’s embrace. You cough and choke on the oxygen overwhelming your senses. The tears don’t stop falling. The tremors do not leave your hands. And Sylus…oh Sylus

Labored breaths rack your entire body. Pain and relief clash together as you try to get your bearings.

“Kitten…are…are you o-okay?” His voice is shaky, as if he’s hopeful, yet afraid the agony isn’t over.

As you continue to breathe heavy and gasp for air, whimpers escape your lips as you nod weakly.

“I-I think I’m o-okay.” Your breathing eventually evens out.

Sylus takes this as a sign that he can touch you without causing any pain. His hands cup your cheeks as he lifts your gaze to his.

“We need to get you home. There is a doctor waiting to check over you. Can you walk, sweetie?” His eyes search your tear-filled ones.

“Wait. Sylus-”

“If not, I don’t mind carrying you. I just don’t want to cause you any pain if I touch you.” Sylus is desperate, frantic to get you somewhere safe. What if he loses you again? He can’t risk that.

A faint smile lifts the corners of your mouth. A sob escaped your lips as you really look at this beautiful man worrying over you.

“Sylus…you could never hurt me. How could you ever think that?” Your hands are hovering over his head again, as if searching for the horns. Maybe they’re hidden by his evol. Maybe he doesn’t have them in this life.

You can only pray that, if he still has them, he didn’t cut them off again like countless times before.

Your voice trembles. “Oh my Dragon…” another sob escaped your lips as Sylus’s heart stops beating for a moment. “I’m so…I’m so sorry.”

Everything stills in the world. Carmine eyes turn glassy as they peer into your very soul. His breaths quicken.

“What…what did you say?” He can’t believe it. He wouldn’t dare hope. This is a trick. Someone has trapped him in an illusion where you remember him. His heart will surely break beyond oblivion. Cursed by his beloved or not, he would not come back after this. This death will be absolute.

“Sylus I-I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. For what I did to you then and in this life.” You can’t stop crying.

A slight mist rolls over Sylus’s eyes. Deep vermillion turns into shining garnets as one tear, then another, and another makes their way down his face. A look of hope and despair is all you can see. He then whispers your name so softly you thought you imagined it.

“How…how did you-? How much do you…remember?” Sylus releases short and shaky breaths with his words. A man of calm and collection and dignity has never looked so terrified and unsure and small.

You’re afraid to answer, but he deserves that at the very least from you. You took everything from him in his last life and condemned him in this one. You owe him this.

You slightly look at your surroundings. “Today is the most I’ve felt at peace in a long time. You gave me that. And in a field of datura flowers no less.” Your gaze lands on him, a small reassuring smile graces your lips.

“You gave me everything I could have ever wanted. You fulfilled every desire I craved. You…you protected me when we were ripped apart.” Your voice breaks on that last word.

A hand cups your cheek. “Sweetie, tell me…please. I need to know.” Sylus knows he sounds desperate, and he doesn’t care. This was everything. And he’ll be damned if this moment is gone before he loses you again.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you tackle him in an embrace. Truly giving yourself to this moment, you leave no room for any misunderstandings.

“I remember everything, Sylus. I remember giving you your name. I remember the mark you left me. We conquered enemies together. We took what was ours and fed into each other’s desires. I remember singing for you. I remember…” Your arms wind tighter around him.

“I remember being ripped apart from you. I remember the datura field. I…I remember being reunited with you once again only to take away everything from you. I remember the…curse I gave you…” Your crimes against him hit you hard.

You suddenly back away, already missing his comforting touch. But you don’t have that right or privilege anymore. You can no longer claim him as yours now that ignorance is out of the question. You remember everything. And now it’s time to repay for your crimes.

Your hands hover in front of you, palms forward in a surrendering position.

“And I’m so sorry, Sylus. I’m so sorry for everything I did. And for all of the pain I caused you. You have no idea how much I wish it was me instead of you…”

Your eyes remain on his as you vow to him, “I swear on this life and every one after that I will make things right. I will do anything you ask. Anything you command of me. I will accept any punishment you demand. Whatever penance you desire to inflict upon me. I swear it…” A small glimmer in your eyes begs Sylus to have mercy, but it is immediately shadowed by all of the guilt. You don’t deserve all of this kindness he’s shown you again. Why hasn’t he tossed you to your demise after all of this? What could you possibly have done to be shown his mercy?

Sylus doesn’t move except for the inhale and exhale movements from his chest.

“Sweetie…do you swear this isn’t a dream? Do you really remember everything?”

You nod, the lump in your throat makes it difficult to formulate words.

Suddenly he’s right in front of you. His movements are frantic again. Tremors run through his hands as they trail up your arms to your shoulders and up your neck to cradle your face again.

“My Sorceress. My beloved…I have waited so long to find you again. You’re as beautiful as that day in the datura fields of Taurus City…I finally found you…” he breathes out the last words with a smile.

“And you are my everything, I wouldn’t dare let any harm come to you. You have nothing to apologize for. I knew that…I knew I was losing myself. If you hadn’t done it, I would’ve…” His voice is choked.

He pressed his forehead against yours, and you bask in his embrace. The warmth from his breath, the soothing touch of his hands, the piercing gaze he has over you make you want to melt in his arms.

“I would’ve done something I’d never forgive myself of. Trust me, my love, the sword going through my chest was the better option.”

Although I feel a semblance of relief from his words, it doesn’t shake away the guilt I feel for cursing him.

“But I cursed you, Sylus. You’ll never truly be free. You’re forever chained to me. And I’m not…I’m not her. Not really. All the possibilities of who I could be in the next life and the next…it’s not fair to you.” My gaze drops in shame.

Sylus’s face turns into one of resolve. “Look at me.” He uses his evol to slightly jerk my head up and look into his eyes.

I start pleading again. “I promise I’ll fix ev-”

“You will do no such thing.”

My watery eyes widen in confusion. “I don’t-I don’t understand…”

He gives me his signature smirk. “My love, I’m a little heartbroken. Even after remembering everything, you still don’t get it.”

“You will do nothing of the sort. I am not chained down to you. I am not here unwillingly. From the very beginning, I swore to move mountains for you, crush your enemies, and give you everything you desired. That hasn’t changed…and it never will.”

After all this time, Sylus finally has you back. And he couldn’t be happier. Everything working up to this moment was worth it.

Externally, your eyes shined with relief that his love for you has held strong all these years. You were beyond elated that you have returned to each other.

Internally, you knew what had to be done. You knew that you had to make things right. You weren’t good enough in this life to deserve a man of Sylus’s caliber. He deserved his Sorceress.

Now you just needed a plan on how to become her, or at least anything better than what you are, before Sylus realizes just how much you pale in comparison to the woman he loved in Taurus City.

Sylus would never accept anything less than her.

Maybe I can do a part 2 if y’all want to get into the rest of what I planned to write. I’m hella self-deprecating and self-sabotaging in my own life, why not be the same in fiction.

Let me know if y’all think this can be something

[gatheredfates]

Hi everyone! It's been a hot minute since I did a Compendium update, but I promise I'm not dead. For those who don't know, I got a new job! That meant pretty much the entirety of October was spent wrapping up my old job, going to my new site and trying to learn the new one. I'm on break in approximately two weeks, yay! ☃️

These updates will take on a wintery/Starlight theme to celebrate the season, much like All Saints. I hope you enjoy.

Additionally, myself and the lovely folks at SEAFLOOR are having a Catch up (for) Starlight Challenge! You should join us if you're interested. ❄️

However, without further the following communities have been added to Sea's Community Compendium for XIV Creatives.

LARGE SCALE

The Help Lines—We are a community-based discord to be used to play the critically acclaimed MMORPG Final Fantasy XIV. We host almost all content including DRS and BA, Raiding, Deep Dungeons, Blue Mage and more. Our mission is to create a welcoming space for any individual in need of assistance to reach out and accomplish their FFXIV goals in a toxicity-free environment.

The Aether Entertainer—Founded in 2021 on Aether, The Aether Entertainer is player-made virtual magazine covering music, theatre, art, current events, and Eorzean popular culture.

LORE

Final Flowery XIV—Compiled by ann0yance(bsky)/@sa8oteur, this guide explores the various flowers in XIV, comparing them to their real-world equivalents and meanings.

On Elementals, Accountability and Criticism—An essay written by @morgana96 that explores the lore of elementals and their place in Gridania (and beyond)!

MISC

Vanilla Gpose Tips by Winterdeepelegy—A how-to guide on effectively utilising the vanilla gpose tools to create visually stunning screenshots, written by @winterdeepelegy.

WoL Reference Sheet—Created by @coldshrugs, a handy WoL reference sheet you can build in Canva!

NA GPOSE Studio/Themed Housing Directory—A player-made repository of North American Gpose studios and themed houses!

CHANGELOG

The Scholar's of Nym—The link has been modified at the request of the owner.

Skystone Co.—Has been removed at the request of its owner.

UI Macro Menus—The link has been modified to accurately reflect the bookmark.

Have you thought about joining our Tumblr Community? You can find it here!

Want to submit? You can either fill out the google form here or send me an ask with the relevant information!

Is my space suitable for the Compendium? Most of the time, yes! Below the read more is some more information/stipulations. This is all publicly available on the document. 🦌

Below are the following things I do not accept on the Compendium:

Personal/Single-Character LFC ads. (Though these get posted to the SEAFLOOR Tumblr Community when I find them!)

Content intended for or can be used for bullying, harassment and OOC gossip. E.g. ‘Secrets’ blogs, receipts, callout posts, etc. This does not include IC tabloid blogs or other ventures used to generate roleplay.

Communities that do not have an RP/writing element (large-scale exempt).

Anything I find personally distasteful or goes against the spirit of this project.

Common-sense rule applies.

I want to put my community on the Compendium but we have an application process. Is this okay?

Yes! Just note somewhere in your application that's a requirement. The only thing that is mandatory for the Compendium is that you must be open to new members or have a public-facing/accessible facet. There's no point advertising a community if no one can join it in some way!

I want to put my Community on the compendium but I only have x number of members —

Also totally okay! People don't start with large communities. Activity is a must but, whether your server has two or two thousand members, if you're looking for new people to join, I'd love to help you find people.

I want to put my community/resource on the Compendium but I worry its too niche?

Okay, and? If your Eorzean Fishing Alliance has four members but you roleplay every second weekend, I still want to know about it. The same goes for resources; if it's relevant to the game, it'll be useful to someone.

How active does a community need to be?

If you find a community has not been active in about two/three months, send me a message and I'll take a look at it. Communities have ebbs and flows, especially event spaces that may take hiatuses depending on member interest/life events. I'm not strict in my implementation provided a space isn't dead. If a link or anything is broken, contact me asap!

I have [insert a question not stated here]?

No drama! Send me an ask or use the #Compendium channel in my Discord!

[gamerbot-22]

Whenever you have time, and of course if you’re comfortable, I’d love to hear some yandere headcanons for Trigun characters!

And if you want my help 👁️👄👁️ you know where to find me

Oooo this is so exciting! I had my first time writing Intentional Tsundere a little while ago, and now we got Baby's First Yandere Rodeo!

Trigun Characters as Yanderes

TW/CWs: Yandere (but you knew that already <3), mentions of stalking, no explicit details about any damage done to "the competition,” maybe a bit OOC but fuck it this is the space we ball in, Nai talks some shit in a backhanded compliment way, written with no specific versions of these characters in mind, barely proofread but I appreciate spellchecks!

Characters included: Vash the Stampede, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Millions Knives/Nai

A/N: Please let me know if this is any good! I've been spinning the yandere concept in my mind for a good while, being someone who already adores a protective LI, but I've never actually kicked back and played in the space outside of a few concepts with you lol. And I feel very clever for using a GIF of flowers in a vase for this instead of a field to highlight the possessive/protectiveness of our lovely subjects towards their Darling <3 Also, I have some suggested listening for this post, if you so choose :3c

Likes and Reblogs appreciated, Requests are Open, and it’s all under the cut!

The dividers in this post were made by @/strangergraphics ☆

🥀 Vash the Stampede

Oh honey. Oh baby. The clingiest yandere out there. Like you’re never more than a couple feet away from each other at all times.

And I do mean all times. Vash likes keeping tabs on his Mayfly. I do think he tries to be like… “polite” about the stalking keeping tabs, but however you slice it it’s still an invasion.

Like you’ll think you’ve said goodbye for the night and will go to sleep on your own but he’s already in the process of scaling the nearest building so he can watch you through the window.

You’re just so cute and he knows you aren’t going to be around forever so he wants to make the most of the time you do have. Ain’t that sweet?

He still holds to his no-killing rule and generally tries not to hurt anyone, but oh god, does he feel like it sometimes.

Like if you’re traveling with him and you catch a stray? Even if it just grazes you or doesn’t hit you at all, there’s a dark part of him that, for the briefest of seconds, considers sending a bullet of his own right back. See how they like it, huh?

But no. He doesn’t give in like that. Besides, if your attacker was dead, there would be no way to spread the word about the Stampede’s Darling, would they? They have to know you’re off limits! That you’re protected! That if anyone comes close to hurting a hair on your precious head again, everyone will know why Vash is called a Stampede.

🍭 Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Okay so Vash is decent at covering for himself. Wolfwood is too but it’s in. A different way?

Vash will fall over himself with excuses. Wolfwood makes it sound like he has a point. And to an extent, he does. He knows better than most just how goddamn dangerous Gunsmoke is if you’re not ready at every single moment to fight for your life. And he’s lost enough.

You don’t get the illusion of privacy here. It’s like you’ve got a leash on him, keeping him at least five feet from you at any given moment.

And he looms over you, regardless of the height difference (The Punisher makes up for it anyways,) staring down anyone who looks at you for even a second too long.

He insists you share rooms when you stay at inns, and if you’re slumming it out in the desert, he’s either in the same tent or has his right next to you all night. He insists on keeping watch, too. Big guard dog energy.

A lot of the danger comes from him, he knows that, but he can make it up to you more than twice over if you’d just let him. He’s good for it. You’ve seen him fight.

Hell, he can be gentle too. He’s not used to it, but he can learn. For you. If you ask. If you’re patient. And you should be, because again, look at all he’s done for you. Because of you.

🔪 Millions Knives/Nai

Oh you’re not allowed to do. Anything. Like even a little bit I don’t think—

Like if we’re gonna play in this space of Nai being a yandere, you look me dead in my fucking eyes and tell me he doesn’t treat you like some china doll he wants to keep perched by his piano at all times.

He pampers you but it’s very much part of like. A flex in a weird way? Like the doll thing is barely a simile, he idolizes you so hard that you best keep your mouth shut for risk of disappointing him.

But don’t you dare think he neglects you. You’re always in finery, and you’ll never want for anything. And if you’re ever bored, he’s more than happy to play you music. And he even has a little shelf of books for you to read!

He talks about how his Darling is almost entirely perfect. You’re the closest thing to an angel a human could possibly be. Your spirit is too divine for your body! If only you weren’t so fragile as to break if he tried to free you.

If anyone so much as looks at you for too long he gets very defensive. His most devoted followers know to avert their gaze, and newcomers learn fast or are never seen again.

Honestly, he should be grateful. Those with wandering eyes… they’ll make good offerings for Good Doctor Conrad’s experiments.