#but maybe it’s something he could revert back to rarely

[fantasyandshit]

Tea time

Type:one shot

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Yn sees a new kind of tea while shopping at one of her favorite shops, come to find out it’s a strong form of aphrodisiac, reverting the drinkers to ‘their most primal instincts’. Not believing it she decides to make it for her and her mate as a joke.

(A/n, this is my first go at smut. I’m so sorry if it sucks. Also sorry I haven’t posted in forever, I had like zero ideas- this why I need y’all to help me, I can’t make decisions for myself. Anyway on too the Oneshot)

Azriel is out on yet another spymaster mission, so to kill a bit of time, I stroll through the isle of my favorite tea shop in Velaris, Trixies tea time shop. As I’m looking through the different teas I spot a box I’ve never seen before, it’s red and black, with a heart on the front, looking at the description to see what it tastes like I see something…interesting.

This is a drink to give you and your partner a once in a lifetime experience. The natural roots in this drink revert one to their most natural state, all while tasting like sweet and sour cherry.

I inspect the box for a few more moments before ultimately deciding to take it. My poor Az has been so stressed lately, maybe this could help him unwind and lead to a night of fun for the both of us, also wever tried nearly every method to get me pregnant as we desperately want a little one of our own. Besides what’s the harm if it’s simply a hoax. Taking the three new times I’ve grabbed to the desk, the woman-Trixie who I’ve made friends with smiles as she looks at the red and black box.

“So you’ve got plans for tonight?” She teases softly as she tells me my total. I roll my eyes before thanking her and walking back home.

———

“Hey Az baby?”

“Yes love?”

“I’ve made some tea for us.” I smile softly as I set it on the coffee table in front of where he sits reading on the couch.

“Thank you sweetheart.” One of his rare smiles save for me graces his lips as he kisses my head softly before picking up the glass and bringing it to his lips. “Hmm, this is new? What is it”

“Oh just a new one at Trixies I saw, figured we could give it a try.” I bring my own glass to my lips and we both simply sit in each others presence until we’re done and take them to the kitchen.

I lay with my head in Az’s chest moments later, his hand absently running through my hair as he continues his book. “Is it hot in here?” He asks out of the blue, pulling at the color of his shirt.

“Yeah, yeah I suppose a bit.” My eyebrows scrunched as I just now noticed the sweat dripping from his forehead and my own dripping down my back. I sit up as he continues clawing at his shirt. As he peals it off with a grunt more arousal then I thought I’d ever had sweeps through me like a wave.

As my mate turns to me I hear him audibly growl before he opens his mouth and I see his canines sharpening and his eyes darkening. “What-“ another grunt, “-what was in that tea?” His voice seems deeper and by the mother I’ve never thought this male could be this attractive.

“I-it said its to bring us to our most primal instincts-I didn’t think-I thought it was a hoax.” I’m panting as all I can think about is the man in front of me turning me into his bitch, filling my womb with his seed and giving me his babies.

“I think-I don’t think it’s a hoax love.” The last word growls and an involuntary moan leaves my lips as a smirk graces his features. “I don’t think-gods you don’t know how badly I want to put you on all fours and make you my bitch, get you nice and round with my babies. How much I want to fill your womb as you beg me to stop.”

I crawl to the male like a bitch in heat. “Do it Az. Make me your bitch.” I’ve never sounded more desperate or horny in my life as something flickers in my mates eyes and he lunges for me with a growl like a predator to pray, his hand landing on my throat as the other wonders my body.

“I’m gonna make you my bitch, gonna have you begging for my babies. Do you want my babies? Want to be big and round for me?” I nod breathlessly as his hand squeezes the supple skin of my thigh. “Words baby.” His hand squeezes my neck, just enough to have me struggling slightly for air.

“Y-yes sir. Please, fill me with your babies, get me nice and round.” Just like that the weight of his body is gone and all I can do is whine, my body feeling almost heavy.

“Take off your clothes and get on all fours.” He grunts as he takes his painfully hard cock from the restraints of his pants, that’s when I notice it, a swelling knot at the base of his dick. I make quick work of slipping from my restraining clothing and getting on all fours, my Butt slightly raised and pointed towards the male. “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.” His face goes to my neck as he rubs my back and thighs.

A yelp leaves me as he sniffs my pulse point before biting down. Hard. Just as he does this his hand shimmies to my clit, rubbing softly before delving to my folds, spreading the soaked lips and feeling around them as I moan uncontrollably. He takes his fingers and brings them to my lips, “open.” I immediately obey and he sticks them in my mouth, I moan at the taste of myself on tongue as I suck his fingers like a whore. “Now here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk, I’m gonna fill you with my seed and make sure you know who owns you.”

“Yes sir.”

“Say it again.”

“Sir.”

A throaty moan leaves my mate just before he pushes into my slick folds and my head falls back in pure ecstasy.

Azriel pounds into me, his lips assaulting my neck as moans and grunts leave us both, at this point he’s fucked me in nearly every position, his cum dripping down my thighs as he pushed in again and again from behind me where I lay on my stomach. Bite marks litter both our skins, particularly near our pulse points where a delicious scent I’ve never smelt before radiates from him. “Gonna, gonna cum baby.” He sighs as he furiously drags himself in and out of my tight pussy, a ring of cream at the base of his knot. His words finish off my building orgasm as I cum hard enough to see stars. Azriel lets out one last chesty moan before his knots slips into me and I get dizzy, never have I been this full as he paints my wall with yet another load.

My mate falls to his side, me going with him seeing as we’re attached, however I don’t think I would be able to move on my own without him anyway. Az pulls me tight to his chest, nuzzling his face in my neck softly as he slowly falls asleep, snores falling from his parted lips.

——————-

I know it sucks but I tried ok. Please give me ideas guys! My suggestion box is open and in need of some good ideas. Love y’all.

#azriel x reader #aphrodisiac #tea #smut #azriel smut #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel

[yandere-daydreams]

Just went through all your genshin android doll au and now I'm. Thinking.

A reader who works with young kids in some capacity, maybe a teacher. Buys a second hand Albedo bot (because lord knows they dont make enough for a brand new one) with some bugs. It's not quite "isolate you from friends and family" levels and more... Clinginess. Anxiety when you need to leave for an errand. But he needs to stay home while you're still fixing him up with YouTube how to videos, just in case.

He has many quirks still remaining by the time hes able to join the classroom, but they're completely harmless. His tendency to make too much or too little eye contact, trailing after you like a duckling for the first few weeks, rocking and clicking his tounge(? Voice box?). But these are all traits you've seen before in your own kids, and his body language isn't something that needs to be fixed. It's helpful for some of your students to open up and express themselves, when they see an adult figure like them.

But of course, he still gets rather lonely. He wants to take care of you when your home, it's how he keeps your attention. He gets irritable if he's idle for too long. So you pick up a Klee model since he gets along so well with kids, and they're both models approved to used in classrooms. She's more then energetic enough to keep him busy, and they get along like bread and butter. Or a house on fire. You still have to buy second hand after all, and Klee came with some fixations. But thats nothing an equipped science bot can't handle, Albedo keeps her satisfied with science experiments. You buy another fire extinguisher just to be safe.

It isn't until you're fixing up a Albedo you got at a steal (free99) from the seller who gave you Albedo and Klee that you realize you've become somewhat of a hobbyist. This one will probably be your last permenant bot, considering his higher needs, but you've gotten quite good at fixing up quirky models. This Albedo reverted to his beta personality that had been left in some forgotten folder, and no one could quite get him to go back. But thats not your goal.

You patch some of the more... Aggressive tendancies and bugs, and leave the personality itself in tact. This gains you quite a bit of favour with your new companion, and he's quick to fall into your daily life. He exhibits some... Jealous habits with your original Albedo, picking on him and trying to one up him any chance he has. But thankfully Klee and the classroom is something they can both agree on, so it rarely extends past an (usually) innocent rivalry.

Sorry for the surprisingly long ask, but androids are one of my favorite tropes!! And Albedo (and his double) are one of my favorite characters... Please enjoy my ramblings

tw - unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, all albedos ini this scenario are extremely questionable.

dkljfdkdjksdjfksfsdjfsj i have not touched the sex doll au in a hot minute but i think albedo's 'beta' personality would probably have been developed and refined as an attempt to give one of the child-friend robots a bit of an edgier personality before immediately realizing that that's,,, just not a great idea and mellowing him down into our current and well-loved albedo. needless to say, when you get him in the same room as his replacement, he's less than pleased - as is your first albedo, your original companion, as he's intent on reminding you as often as he can. still, you're his precious master, and he's fond enough of klee, so he bares with the unwanted company, makes-nice with your first albedo droid, helps around your classroom, tries to prove that he can help you the way he's supposed to, too, even after the dozenth time you turn him down. you say you just doesn't feel right to sleep with the same android you bring to work everyday, but he has a feeling it might have something to do with the rip-off you keep so close to your side, the flawed copy who can't seem to go a minute without your attention. you refuse to believe him, but he swears that he's seen his copy drop that innocent mask, spare a smirk over your shoulder as you compliment him on another day of keeping your classroom relatively un-wrecked by grade-schoolers, slip into your room tonight after klee's powered down for the night. clearly, he's not the companion you deserve. clearly, teyvat made a few mistakes when they took his programming and butchered it.

and, while you might be too oblivious to see it, it's clear to him that your little family could do without a duplicate.

#sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere albedo #albedo x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[mayumml]

Midori is not a good lover

The REAL Sou Hiyori relationship headcanons <3

first off, you don’t know if he genuinely likes you or not and most likely will never be sure 

Maybe you’re a piece of pawn in his stupid chess game but what can you do?

Midori manipulates and gaslights you just like with anyone else, you’re the primary victim that receives most of it though

He seems like a man that didn’t have a heart, and he literally doesn’t 

Feels like he doesn’t know how to act in a relationship or more like he doesn’t care enough to

You think he’d choose his work over you anytime 

He’s so on and off with his affection

He treats you like everyone else, particularly more strict with you sometimes and scolds you more often than the other participants

This fucker is adamant about “being fair to all participants and not letting a personal relation change that” and yet you feel like he’s being the most unfair to you

Even more passive aggressive when it comes to you, he loves to bring up the past and laugh when you get pissed

But then sometimes, he would appear out of nowhere and gives you a quick peck

You’d expect him to be open to PDA, and yet he only ever initiates (and allows) any affection when it’s just the two of you 

You’re conflicted, though, at certain times he’ll choose a timing where most of everyone is gathered in one place and approach you with the most affection you’ll ever receive from him

He makes sure everyone is looking, maybe it’s his way of showing his twisted sense of superiority?

Midori very quickly reverts back to ignoring you if he is satisfied 

You learn that he is extremely possessive

Yes, you get fed up with his shit many times and he knows it well

Does he ever apologize? Never. 

Like ever. 

You could confront him, but he’ll give you the same saccharine smile and feigns innocence

“What’s wrong with me showing my lover off to everyone? Does that upset you?” 

When you try to explain that’s not why you’re upset, he convinces you that you’re overreacting and somehow makes you seem like the bad guy for “not wanting to be seen with him.” (bitchass) 

Weirdly loves small talk 

Midori would interrogate you whenever he pleases and ask about your favorite color to wear on a rainy day 

You cant tell if he really cares about your responses at all because he just stands there and blinks with his smile and throws follow up questions at you

Kind of feels like he wants to know everything about you but also nothing at the same time 

Remembers small, itty bitty details about you

It’s endearing but also freaks you out because he remembers which angle you prefer to wear your collar

Very touchy when he wants to be, but acts like a jerk when he decides he doesn’t feel like it 

Limited use of pet names because he prefers calling you by your name 

Will call you sweetheart (mockingly most of the time), “my favorite participant,” or a shortened version of your name

Likes to receive but doesn’t give, unless he needs something

You don’t know why you’re still with him 

Midori is very good at making you feel special but also worthless

Will give you overly expensive presents that you don’t need and stare at your reaction as you open them 

(does he think this makes up for his neglect as a partner?)

Very likely to give you jewelry with his initials, he might have one with your initials but won’t wear it 

Sucks at comforting

He actually just doesn’t comfort at all

He makes things worse when you’re upset 

“You’re crying? Humans really are sentimental beings, after all. I guess crying is all that you’re capable of.” 

Let you play and style with his hair in private 

Gets defensive and change the subject when you mention Shin’s history with him

Avoids personal questions like the plague 

Actively tries to poke into every corner of your life. Boundaries? What’s that?

Not a very good partner, he’s just not a good person in general

Midori rarely mentions your relationship in front of the other participants, but when he does, he refers to you as his lover

Will pair you with him with the red light, he knows you don’t have the guts to kill him 

Urges you on to kill him way too often 

He gives you a smug knowing grin and a kiss when you can’t do it

Don’t try to physically hurt him, it turns him on (he won’t hesitate to break your arm)

Remember when I said he’s very possessive? 

Fucker treats you like an object

no one takes what belongs to him

Won’t be the type to defend you and won’t fight if someone hits on you

He would direct the conversation elsewhere and weird out whoever it is somehow (always works) 

Shows up a few days later with news that the attacker mysteriously jumped of a building (willingly?) 

His romantic side is very unconventional

“Would you love me even if I was a worm?” 

“Worms are rather dirty and invasive, are they not? I’d rather not deal with a pest, thanks.” 

#x reader #yttd #midori yttd #yttd x reader #sou hiyori #souhiyorixreader #Midorixreader #sou hiyori yttd #your turn to die #kimi ga shine #hiyori sou #headcanons #dating headcanons #gender neutral reader #midori is a shit person #The real sou hiyori #yttd midori #yttdmidorixreader #Midoriyttdxreader #Souhiyoriyttdxreader #Sou hiyori x reader #Midori x reader #Midori yttd x reader #Midori yttd

[thewillofdeez]

Dracule Mihawk - SFW Alphabet

G/N Reader, some language and minor discussion of adult themes.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Mihawk isn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy, especially in front of others, but he knows that he can come off as cold and uncaring towards his long-term partner otherwise, and has grown comfortable with being affectionate with you. He’s happy to hold your hand while out and about, or put a hand around your waist. If you’re at Kuraigana when Zoro and Perona appear, Mihawk will naturally revert back to being less physically affectionate in front of them for a while, but also he’ll be damned if these two stupid kids stop him from showing his partner how much he cares and he’ll get back into it in time, planting a kiss on your cheek as you work in the kitchen or kissing your hand before he leaves to train with Zoro. Perona thinks it’s the cutest fucking thing she’s ever seen.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Mihawk takes a lot of time to warm up to people. Regardless of how you met, or where, or when, the friendship only bloomed after being forced to spend time together, likely out of necessity or to achieve a common goal. Conversation is sparse and tense at first, but over time you find that you have a lot in common and it comes much more naturally. You know you have him as a friend if you can make him genuinely laugh, something very rare for him. After that, he’s got your back for life.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

With his long-term partner, absolutely. He likes when you curl up next to him on the couch, one arm wrapped around you as you read or start to fall asleep. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Mihawk loves being a pirate, he loves being at sea, but he also loves having a place to call his own where the rest of the world can’t see him. He finds a certain joy in domesticity - he loves cooking, though his baking skills are lacking. He loves working on his farm. He doesn’t particularly enjoy cleaning, but he appreciates looking around at a dust-free room and feeling accomplished. If you live with him at Kuraigana, it’s a team effort for you that you can both enjoy. Just put on some music, maybe share some sake, and knock it all out together.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Mihawk loves his partner, but he also sees himself as a selfish person, even if his partner doesn’t see him that way. The most likely reason he’d break up with someone he truly loved was if their life plans or goals needed to take them in two separate directions. It would be a conversation, probably lasting hours. The two of you would go through every possibility to make it work, every compromise the two of you can think of, but if nothing was going to work, what choice would you have? It’d be heartbreaking, he’d hold you as you cried and said goodbye. It wouldn’t be until you left that he’d allow himself to break down.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Mihawk is happy to commit to the right person for the rest of his life. He knows there’s always risks involved in his lifestyle, but if he finds that person who is willing to deal with it, he’s happy. As for the “official” parts? Getting married? He could take it or leave it. If his partner wanted to, he’d be thrilled to do so. He’d make sure it was exactly what they wanted. But if they don’t, he doesn’t feel like he needs a ring or a ceremony to prove his love.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Mihawk is generally sharp around the edges. It’s a defense mechanism, like a sea urchin. But when he cares about someone, he will take steps to dull those edges. He’ll watch his physical strength and actively try to be more gentle. Sometimes the sharpness still comes out when he’s frustrated, but he’s quick to apologize and try to make it better. For your part, you accept that it’s part of who he is and it’s a long-established way of being that will take time to change. As long as you see he’s actively trying, and making amends when he does snap, you’re okay.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

There are only a handful of people in this world who Mihawk will hug. Shanks gets a hug. Zoro will get a half hug when he departs from Kuraigana (it’s a little awkward, but Zoro appreciates it). Perona will get an occasional hug too, mostly because she won’t take no for an answer. And you get a hug. In regular circumstances, they’re gentle and close. But if it’s been a long time, or you’ve just been in danger, he’ll hold you as tightly as he can.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes time. Before you he didn’t really know what it felt like. There was a whole process. “This person is acceptable and only sort of annoying. This person’s presence is somewhat enjoyable. I have a certain amount of fondness for this person. I have…more than fondness for this person? Should I see a doctor about these heart palpitations? Oh…I think I’m in love.” And that’s JUST coming to terms with his feelings, the man worked himself into a tizzy trying to figure out if/when/how to actually tell you. If you feel the same and get the vibe that he has feelings for you, just do the guy a favor and make the first move.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Mihawk is a confident man. He knows that you’re a very attractive person (because you are), but he also knows he has nothing to worry about and that you can hold your own around others. If someone is flirting with you at a bar somewhere or at one of his fancy Warlord events for the World Government, he does find it hilarious to walk up behind you, give you a kiss, and watch the absolute horror on the other person’s face as they realize they were flirting with Dracule fucking Mihawk’s partner. It is just infinitely amusing to him every time.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss their partner? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He’s particularly fond of your neck and shoulders, and will leave you a smooch there in passing or before you fall asleep at night. But he also really enjoys a deep, passionate tongue-heavy kiss - if you get one of those, you know it’s not just kissing on his mind. He likes it when you kiss along his chest when you’re laying in bed together.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Mihawk thinks children are annoying as hell, but he’s also not a monster and would never be intentionally rude to one. They are just kids, after all. He has absolutely no desire to have any of his own.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mihawk is a pretty light sleeper so if even the slightest amount of sunlight creeps through the curtains, he’ll probably wake up. Usually you’re still in bed when he gets up, so he likes to go get breakfast started for you. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Mihawk finds evenings peaceful. He’s used to subsisting on 5-6 hours of sleep, maybe with a nap during the day if he feels like it, and he likes being able to stay up and enjoy the stillness of the night with you. One of his favorite things is for you both to get really deep in conversation over a bottle of wine, then maybe another, then before you know it it’s 1am and you’ve been talking for hours.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

We all know Mihawk is a pretty guarded man. It takes time and trust for him to reveal things about himself except for when it’s necessary to do so. There are things even his oldest friends don’t know about him. But for the right person, he’ll be willing to lay down a puzzle piece here and there for you to put together on your own.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s got a reputation for being a bit of a hot head, but the truth is that by the time he’s actually expressing any anger or frustration he’s been bottling it up for a while.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about their partner? Do they remember every little detail they mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Mihawk is an attentive listener, but only towards things (or people) he cares about. If you see him after a Warlord meeting he didn’t actually want to go to and you ask him what they talked about, he might remember one or two tidbits, but mostly he was asleep or mulling over things in his head and paying them no mind. But when something is important to him, personally or professionally, his knowledge is almost encyclopedic.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in their relationship?)

The first time the two of you slept together. You’d both expressed that you had feelings for each other, but he was adamant about taking it slow - you meant a lot to him, and no one had ever made him feel that way before, and he desperately didn’t want to mess it up by jumping in too quickly. So you allowed him to go at his own pace. He’d bring you flowers, take you on dates, and get more comfortable being physically affectionate in a way he wasn’t used to being. And that first night when the time was right for both of you, it was like nothing he’d ever felt before, a personal connection he didn’t think he was capable of having. He remembers you laying on his chest as you fell asleep, and just thinking to himself how damn happy he was.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect their partner? How would they like to be protected?)

Mihawk prefers a partner who can protect themselves to some extent. He finds strength sexy. Whatever your weapon of choice is, whatever your fighting style, he wants to see you fight and help you get better. But he also knows he’s the greatest swordsman in the world and is uniquely suited to protecting you. If you’re in a fight together, he’ll always have one eye on you and will step in if he needs to.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Mihawk isn’t a sentimental guy. He doesn’t even care to celebrate his own birthday, and other people doing so sort of makes him uncomfortable (though Shanks, being his birthday buddy, will sometimes coerce him into it). He’ll never be the type to throw you a surprise party with all of your friends, but he will cook you your favorite dinner or take you somewhere special. He’s very much a quality time and acts of service kind of guy. On the daily, he’ll do little things to make your life easier. If he’s out somewhere and sees a book you might like, he’ll pick it up for you for the next time he sees you, or maybe you’re a crafty person and he’ll grab you some materials in colors and styles he knows you like. He doesn’t do much treasure hunting these days, but if he comes across a haul he will also absolutely pick out a piece of jewelry suited especially to you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Mihawk used to smoke cigarettes regularly in his younger days, and while he’s mostly quit, after a few drinks or if he’s really stressed he’ll still indulge.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Mihawk knows he’s attractive, and takes pride in looking good. Though clothes are a practicality for him and he doesn't actually care about fashion, he’s not naive enough to believe that personal style doesn’t send a message. So as a way to balance this, he’s designed his wardrobe over the years with a small array of styles and a somewhat monotonous color palette so that just about anything he pulls out will go well together. He will, however, admit that for the right occasion, he enjoys dressing up - mostly because he enjoys seeing you dressed up too.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without their partner?)

Mihawk has been a lone wolf for a very long time. Until you came along, there was no one whose company he enjoyed more than his own. He’s an introvert through and through. Once he’s formed a genuine connection with his partner, he’ll always feel a little something missing when they have to be apart for a long time, but he’s still him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Sometimes, every once in a while, and almost exclusively when Shanks is around (because Shanks is nothing if not a bad influence) Mihawk might indulge in some weed. He actually smoked with Zoro once too. He felt the experience brought them closer together.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Mihawk needs someone who respects his boundaries. If he needs space, he shouldn’t have to say it, they should just know and be okay with that. He can’t deal with people who are needy all the time.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

He’s a sprawler. Usually on his chest, limbs out like a starfish. If he’s alone, he’ll take up the whole bed. It’s actually better to trap him in a cuddling position because at least then you can guarantee yourself some space.

Previous: Mihawk NSFW Alphabet

Up next: Shanks NSFW Alphabet

#dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #takanome mihawk #one piece x reader #hawkeye mihawk

[iheartjohnlennon]

'Synchronised'

London, '64

Summary: Paul wants to try something new-ish.

Word count: 1,041

Tags: Smut, Light Angst, 69 (Sex Position)

Paul glanced over at your half-naked figure every so often, your feminine silhouette under the duvet made him unbearably stiff.

He veered around to become the big spoon, you could feel his warm flesh flush against your arse, you suspired.

It'd been a relatively long and excruciating day for him, there was no better way to satiate it other than being inside of you of course. It was a principle of life for him, something that always made sense to do, even if it wasn't with you particularly.

But Paul lay in shallow thought beside you on the bed. Despite having such a monumental libido, he had no idea how to go about asking you this, it was rare, even impossible that he felt nervous during pre-shag times.

He sighed in your ear suddenly, you could feel his little mouth kissing your neck. Each smooch sent tingles of pleasure coursing through you. Paul grew more and more desperate for the taste of you and started nibbling. His bid to try to get you to make a noise was successful, your incoherent little whimpers really did it for him.

You turned to finally face him, you were nose close, your breaths mingled.

He had a rat-esque grin on his face, and the creases in his eyes were visible.

You knew exactly what that meant.

"How's about we try somethin' tonigh'?" He asked huskily.

"Like what?" You mused.

Paul was stumped on how to explain it articulately. Him using his mouth on you was a common occurrence, but he hadn't explored any other position than having you on your back, maybe he had you on your hands and knees a few times at that.

He began cautiously, "Well, s'like a position...y'know, sex?"

"Yes Paul, I know what sex is." You snickered.

"Don't get cheeky, y'know wha' I mean love."

You smiled at him, your curiosity piqued. "What is it, Paul?"

A flush graced his cheeks as he went to respond, "I'll show ya, only if yer willin' of course."

Paul's hand reached out, he moved his hand beneath your bra, his fingers grazed your bare nipple. A shiver ran through all your erogenous areas as he did so.

In another fluid motion, he slid the duvet off the bed, it made you feel vulnerable and aroused. A sly smile curved his lips as he took in an eye full, appreciating it.

With a firm grip, his hand settled on your hips, he was repositioning and twisting you in an unfamiliar way.

You felt a rush of excitement and anticipation as his movements seemed to match yours, melding your bodies into a perfect configuration.

His intent became palpable as he adjusted you further, his hands swiftly guided your hips so your heat could meet his mouth. You lightly sat on his face but backwards, it was a nice feeling.

Paul made you mirror him as he lowered your back down. He lowered your head down to his eager hardness, your body settled in his chosen and aligned position. It was a bit odd to you but felt right also.

He shifted your knickers, delicately parting the fabric that separated his tongue from your heat. As he did so, your tongue caressed his cock ever so slowly. He responded with muffled groans, "Mm, mmph," they sent soft vibrations through you.

You moved against his face, he relished in the raw wetness of your heat all over his face, he couldn't get enough of it.

You couldn't look him in the eyes while you were like this but he showed a deep intimacy with his touches.

Paul's hands found their way into your hair, his grasp gentle yet possessive. He wasn't happy with your teasing pace so his fingers threaded through the roots of your hair as he bobbed you up and down in a feral manner. Paul couldn't contain himself, his hips jerked upward as he held your head down, making you gag as you rushed to breathe through your nose.

You moved your head up slightly and his grip stopped as he moved his hands to your hips. You reverted to sucking the tip, reminding him that this was supposed to be a mutual suffocation.

Paul tugged your hips down, the sensation of his full face drove you mad. It was a mismatch of pleasure; his nose was partially in your hole, and his tongue felt velvety against your clit. He gave you tiny flicks, they tickled you; made you twitch. It must've been a bizarre and vulgar view.

Paul was simply devouring you with his mouth, he skillfully alternated between his fervent sucks and long licks. You endeavoured to lift yourself when it became too much, but he held you in place, knowingly overstimulating you.

His hands found solace in holding your head down, he gave rough cues, adjusting the pace at his own accord.

He said, or rather mumbled cheeky things against you, they were somewhat intelligible even though your gagging made it tricky to hear.

'Yer drivin' me mad......Do ya like this?......Don't stop Y/N, please jus' don't stop......I carn't hear ya......'

Paul continued his nips and sucks, he edged you nearer to an inevitable release, and you found yourself clenching. The air around you was thick with an intoxicating scent and tepidity. 

You both revelled in the taste and texture of skin, you both knew to take each other rougher as you felt the climaxes coming on.

You could feel his receiving and giving movements becoming more urgent, driven by a sharp instinct to cum.

And then, in a final surge of passion, you tasted his thick secretion. In this position all you could do was swallow, although it was messy as it dripped down. A low groan escaped him, he seemed to be trembling.

Whilst you simultaneously finished with him you felt a profound sense of satisfaction.

It'd finally reached its peak.

Paul, his own body slick with perspiration, tenderly moved you off of him, you could finally look at him. God was it good to finally look at him.

You were both in an utterly disgusting state, with tousled hair, a coat of sweat, and smug expressions.

"You've made a righ' mess." He whispered.

#Spotify #paul mccartney x reader #the beatles #60s rock #the beatles imagine #the beatles smuts #the beatles x reader #vintage #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #george harrison

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 23: The Betrayal: Mitsuhide forces Katsu to make a difficult decision.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

When I came downstairs the following morning, it was in time to see two long haired men huddled over a map. The real Kyubei was back – but Mitushide was still wearing the dark wig.

"Are the two of you going to switch back?" I asked, after making sure that Sho wasn’t around to overhear. “Or are you going to mysteriously discover your not-evil twin?”

"We have no intention of switching. Would you be disappointed if we did?” He peered closely at me, but I'd already set my face to a Sasuke-esque neutral. "Studied blankness only confirms you're trying to hide something, Kaya. However to satisfy your curiosity, my vassal is only here to move some items and watch over some precious items for me."

Kyubei turned and gave me a quick smile, before rolling up the scroll and tucking it into his kimono. After bowing to both of us, he said to Mitsuhide, “all will be as you have directed, Lord Mitsuhide.” Then he whisked himself out the door.

“A truly obedient vassal is such a rare find.” Mitsuhide gave me a teasing smile as I exaggeratedly rolled my eyes at him.  Then he took a moment to cast a critical eye over my outfit – while I was now obediently attired in one of the pastel kimonos, I'd lost a little weight when I was dealing with the concussion. It did not fit as well as it could. Still, I knew Sho had done her best, adding an extra fold before she tied the obi. To his credit, Mitsuhide didn’t comment. He simply poked at my hairsticks to make sure the complicated style was securely pinned up. With a slight smile, he flicked the dangling bellflowers, which in turn tickled the top of my ear. "Meanwhile, it's high time we paid a visit to Shojumaru."

Oh? Were things finally happening? "Better not let Sho hear you say that. She'll want to come with us. Or do you think she will be necessary?" She might actually make a nice distraction if we needed one, should the plan include sneaking around. Although if something dangerous was planned, I wouldn’t want her to get caught in a crossfire.

"Sho has just received a note from her mother, telling her that she's urgently needed at home." That Mitsuhide. He thinks of everything.

Indeed, just as the words left his mouth, there was a shriek from upstairs, then a thunder of footsteps as Sho dashed down the steps. “My apologies, Master Kyubei, Miss Kaya, but I need to go home.” Mitsuhide waved her away, and she bobbed a quick bow and hurried out of the townhouse.

It probably wasn't worth questioning how Mitsuhide had managed to forge her mother’s handwriting.  Maybe Sho hadn't looked that closely at it? Whatever the case, we were soon on our way to Shojumaru's warehouse, without the added distraction of a lovestruck teenager.

As we left the machiya, I noticed a large hulking man leaning against the building across the street. He was dressed as a servant, but none of the servants I am familiar with have time to loiter like that. Indeed, as Mitsuhide and I walked down the street the man pushed away from the building and fell in step behind us.

“We’re being followed.” It was probably not necessary to point that out. I couldn’t imagine that Mitsuhide wasn’t aware of the man.

“Yes. I would be surprised if we weren’t being followed.” Mitsuhide had a rather grim set to his shoulders, and I noticed that not only had he reverted to wearing sword, he also had the priest’s wheellock pistol tucked inside his sash. "Should I have brought my sword?" Although I had my knife strapped to my ankle, if there was going to be a battle, I was clearly under armed. “Or my bow?”

"Good gracious no, where could you hide them?" When I blatantly stared at his own arsenal, he added, "I'm not planning to shoot Shojumaru."

I took note of the word ‘planning.’ He didn’t say that he wouldn’t shoot Shojumaru – only that it wasn’t Plan A. I presumed he would be perfectly willing to shoot the man if things went south.

"What will I be doing while you’re not shooting Shojumaru? Dressed like this I am unlikely to get away with sneaking into his office, if he even has one." Last night, his refusal to tell me his plans had been annoying, but not unexpected. Today that had crossed the border to frustrating.

"You are simply to stay by my side," He patted my arm. "Don't despair, my bloodthirsty friend. There's sure to be some action before this all ends."

"If I haven't mentioned before, I really hate surprises." I tried to infuse that with as much authority as I ever had with him (which wasn't all that much).

That was received with his customary unconcern. "Indeed. Pity. I’ve found that no matter how much you plan, life always provides a surprise."

Fine. I guess he just expects me to smile and look pretty.

Mitsuhide must have had a spy on the warehouse, for he seemed aware that Shojumaru would be alone amongst a pile of long crates. As usual, being in this warehouse made my lungs tighten, and I clutched Mitsuhide's arm. He lightly placed his hand in the small of my back and gave me a reassuring pat.

"Master Kyubei. This is an unexpected pleasure." Shojumaru's smile seemed more forced than usual. "And Miss Kaya. I hope you are feeling better? I would like to personally thank you for saving my young employee."

Before I could respond to that, Mitsuhide broke in. "An unexpected pleasure? Is it? I imagine that we are indeed unexpected since I managed to dispatch the man you had watching my home. But I highly doubt you find it a pleasure."

Since when? Has he already forgotten the man who followed us all the way here? No. I had more faith in Mitsuhide than that. Which suggested that the man who followed us was one of Mitsuhide’s employees. Ok. I guess he does have a back-up plan.

"Watching your house? I don’t understand what you mean.” Shojumaru managed a self-deprecating shrug.

"Don't you?" Mitsuhide's voice was quiet, low. Slow. I don't know how Shojumaru felt, but my entire body went cold, and he hadn’t even directed that comment at me. Mitsuhide reached over and banged his hand on one of the crates. There was a slight metallic clink inside. "Nanban made muskets, I presume."

"What if they are? It's not illegal to import them." And in truth Shojumaru did appear mystified. Was it possible that he had yet to learn Mitsuhide's identity? Or was he just prolonging things?

"Indeed, you are correct in that. In truth, I have no real interest in these particular weapons, though I am curious to know where they are bound to. My concern regards a shipment that was diverted several weeks ago." If I hadn’t been watching Shojumaru very closely, I would have missed it, but his jaw stiffened slightly. Mitsuhide continued speaking in a calm conversational tone. The two of them might have been chatting over a couple beers at a bar. "The guns were intended for Oda Nobunaga if that refreshes your memory, at least prior to you brokering a trade between de Sousa and a daimyo by the name of Kanamori Iekane.”

"Heh." For one moment that mask slipped to reveal a gleeful grin, before Shojumaru spread his hands wide in an affect of innocence. "Did de Sousa tell you that? Even if it were the truth, what of it? The product goes to whomever wishes to pay the highest price. It's simply business."

If one of these two breaks out a “leave the gun take the cannoli,” I'm out of here.

Mitsuhide continued his casual affect, not even indicating that he was prepared to that this to the mattresses. "Were that the only thing that was diverted, I would be inclined to agree. But according to rumor, two people important to Oda Nobunaga were additionally diverted to parts unknown, and a man could become very curious in your exports, and perhaps your imports as well. I'm wondering if you had as much hand in their disappearance as you did in the muskets?"

"I'm a simple merchant. I don't deal in human cargo." Shojumaru kicked lightly at a box, which in turn let out a non-human clink that pulled on my memory. "Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. Did Nobunaga send you?"

"Perhaps my interest was simply to relocate another person. Or to make someone disappear." Mitsuhide jerked me closer to him, and ran his hand along my body, and even though I knew it was part of the act, I had to force myself not to squirm away. "I purchased this one on the ships, but she's beginning to bore me. She was only a poor substitute for a princess who spurned my suit. It has been told to me that you might help me procure this other woman. I can pay well for any trouble it causes you."

Would Shojumaru take him up on it? Did procuring the mystical Princess include making me disappear? If so, I hoped that Mitsuhide had a plan to extract me again from wherever Shojumaru sent me.

"I still ain’t interested." The tone was dismissive, but his hands were clenched.

"My my. It seems you have some scruples after all, Motorari." Mitsuhide said it so casually, that I almost missed it. He’d made no inflection on the name, no emphasis to indicate that we'd discovered his identity.

"Simply not worth the risk, especially if your woman is a princess. Unless she is-" He broke off, apparently it suddenly hit him as to which name Mitsuhide had used. His eyebrows lowered and he squinted. "What did you call me?"

"I had not thought you deaf." Mituhide paused, and I got the sense that he was in some way stalling, for instead of revealing his identity, he continued, "I called you by your name. Mouri Motonari. Proclaiming yourself dead only works if no one alive knows your true identity."

"Heh heh. I thought I'd paid em all off." Shojumaru’s entire posture changed, from the obsequious merchant to the menacing pirate in less than the time it took him to finish speaking. "Knew I should've found a more permanent solution."

Like Mitsuhide, his ability to inhabit a character was pretty amazing. When he dropped the Shojumaru disguise, his posture changed, and he seemed… bigger all of a sudden. He raked his hand through his hair, disturbing the styled neatness, revealing a couple of banded braids tight to his scalp. Even still attired in his merchant's clothing, he looked like rough, dangerous … capable of anything. "Your name ain't Kyubei.”

Mitsuhide slightly inclined his head. "I have used it often enough. It will do for now."

With a scowl Motonari looked at Mitsuhide for a long moment. "Yer wearing a wig. Akechi Mitsuhide, or one of his vassals."

Was ‘Kaya’ supposed to have known who she was sleeping with? Thanks for giving me no directions, boss. But… it would be better to have Motonari think that she was just a pawn, rather than a weapon in case Mitsuhide needed an extra hand. I made sure to look startled at the accusation and tried to edge away.

"If you say so. I'm authorized by the Oda to negotiate for the return of Hideyoshi and Mai." Again, he patted his sword, which was fine for him, but I really would like to be armed with more than a dagger and a lockpick/hairpin.

At that, Motonari let out a long laugh. "I ain't open for negotiation. Maybe they're already dead."

I was still standing close enough to Mitsuhide to feel the jump of his pulse at that. But his voice was very steady when he responded. "I would be surprised if that were the case. They're more valuable as hostages. The God of Deceit might be ruthless, but he is not wasteful."

"Hostages. Or bait." Motonari let out a whistle, and half a dozen sailors appeared from the shadows in the back. "I imagine that holding both his right and left hand would be enough motivation for Nobunaga to come in person, and no matter how many ships he brings with him, I’d bet on the Mouri navy against the Oda’s ships in a coastal battle.”

“I suspect that would be a bet you’d lose, however I also suspect you are not one to debate hypotheticals." Completely nonchalant (or pretending to be so) Mitsuhide, turned to me and raked an annoyed look from my head to my feet. "Stop whimpering Kaya. This is none of your concern."

I hadn’t been whimpering, but on cue, I let out a scared little peep. Probably this was Mitsuhide’s way to signal Motonari that I had no part in planning this. Or would be useless as a bargaining chip.

Motorari's attention briefly flicked to me, and my cringing posture was only fifty percent acting. Dude was scary because he didn’t appear to be predictable. But whether or not he intended to use me against Mitsuhide, I will never know.

The door to the warehouse slid open and a third party arrived.

"Master Shojumaru." Hiko stood uncertainty in the entry, clutching a message in his hand. "Did you send for me?" He looked around at the rest of us, and trotted closer. “What’s going on?”

"What? No-" Motonari whipped back to face Mitsuhide.

"I sent for you.” Mitsuhide brought the priest’s pistol up and pointed it at Hiko. "Hiko, your master is quite fond of you. Perhaps he even sees a reflection of himself in you. Though you are a rather nice child, as children go, my friends take precedence."

Motonari waved his men back.

"Negotiations are open." Mitsuhide flicked a quick look at Motonari. "The life of one boy. Or the return of Hideyoshi and Mai."

Holy shit, Mitsuhide.

He was bluffing. He had to be.

"I'm not bluffing," Mitsuhide added in a conversational tone. "You will tell me where you're keeping them, or you will be cleaning this boy's blood of the floor of your warehouse." He pointed his weapon at Hiko. "You should also know that if I am Mitsuhide, my reputation as a marksman is not exaggerated."

I wanted to believe he was bluffing, but I knew how much Nobunaga’s goals meant to him, how much his friends meant to him-

…how much Mai meant to him.

And as a chill swept through my body, I remembered his words from last night’s lesson in Shogi.

"That is why you lost. You were so certain you could not win, that your strategy was solely to limit loss. Had you played to win, you might have managed it… Sometimes only a daring risk is the key to victory."

No. He would indeed be willing to kill a child, one he had no relationship with, in order to win.

"You can't." I didn’t realize I wanted to stop him until the words were out of my mouth. "He's a little boy."

Mitsuhide's only answer was to prime the pistol.

He would. Oh God. He would.

I can’t be part of this.

Breaking away from Mitsuhide's side, I threw myself on top of Hiko. If Mitsuhide wanted to kill Hiko, he would have to kill me first.

But it didn’t matter. My motion had already been enough of a distraction. By the time I looked back, Motonari and Mitsuhide were grappling for the gun. In the chaos, Motonari’s sailors rushed into the scrum.

I didn’t want to watch.

But I had done this, I couldn’t not watch.

Mitsuhide might have been able to take care of Motonari had the man been on his own. But given the addition of a dozen sailors, he was outnumbered. In moments, he was overpowered, two men holding onto him, while a third landed a punch to his jaw. Motonari made a gesture and the third man stepped back. Motonari picked up the priest’s gun, and aimed it at Mitsuhide.

When Mitsuhide lifted his head to speak, it was to me. "Somehow I knew it would be you who betrayed me, Kaya."

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @lyds323 @selenacosmic @tele86 @akitsuneswife

#10things #10 things I hate about mitsuhide #mitsuhide monday #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen fanfic #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen motonari #katsuverse

[adrift-in-thyme]

Heartbeat

Ao3 link

- T-rated

- Summary: With his brother restored and Amestris saved, Edward has a moment to reflect on the events of the day.

(Or a missing scene of the night of the Promised Day)

————————

Ed can’t sleep.

By all intents and purposes he should be able to. After the day he’s had he should be absolutely exhausted. And he is. Bone deep, crippling, and mind numbing — tiredness tugs at him, begging him to collapse into its waiting arms.

But something holds him back. Something keeps him staring up at the ceiling instead.

(Maybe, it’s all the stuff he needs to process. You know, like being used to kill everyone in Amestris and losing Al and getting his arm back and then getting him back and giving up his alchemy and beating a guy who looks a hell of a lot like Hohenheim within an inch of his life.)

(Ha. Yeah. He’ll deal with all that later.)

There’s really nothing to do in hospitals besides sleep, though. So, now he’s bored out of his mind.

Ed shifts slightly, sighing through his nose. A stray strand of hair drifts upward with the exhale and he watches as it flutters back down toward his face. Another, harder breath sends it skittering up again, then back down to smack him in the nose. That…gets annoying quickly. He tucks it behind his ear and reverts to gazing at the ceiling.

An activity that is more than a little boring.

He’s more than used to hospitals by now. But that doesn’t mean he likes them.

The darkness of the room lessens the pristine, glaring, and, honestly, hideous white of the walls and floor. It cannot, however, rid it of the strong smell of antiseptic. Better than blood, he guesses, which is what he’s been smelling all day — well, that and the stench of his sweat, pungent from nerves and emotion.

At least, now he’s had a chance to shower, stinging though the water may have been on his many wounds. At least, now the meds the doctors gave him have finally kicked in, numbing the incessant ache of everything.

(It’s decidedly different having two flesh arms packed with nerves rather than one and a stump with a hell of a lot of phantom and nerve pain. He’s gotta admit that it’ll take some getting used to.)

…so will the sight of Al.

Ed turns his head, a smile lifting his lips as his gaze comes to rest on his brother a short ways away. He lies in his own hospital bed, covered by the thin blankets (plus the more plush one Mei had draped over him before she had left so the two of them could rest). His eyes are closed, his face drawn with exhaustion.

Various wires snake up from where his arms rest beneath the covers — IVs and monitors and Truth only knows what else. He breathes out, mouth opening slightly, cheek pressed into the pillow. He’s so thin and small, so frail. Something within Ed clenches painfully.

He was always so intent on getting their bodies back that he never truly thought about what Al would look like once he was no longer bound to the suit of armor. The image of Al that had stuck in his head was a ten year old boy — grinning as he cheered for Granny’s stew, smiling as he listened to Ed’s endless chatter, blushing as he asked Winry if she would marry him.

(Screaming and sobbing as he reached out, Ed’s name on his lips, black hands on his skin, tearing him apart.)

But really, he had known. Somewhere deep within he had expected it. A healthy body couldn’t possibly await them in that endless white. It has been five years since they attempted to bring back Mom. Five long years. They’re lucky that Al isn’t worse off.

They’ll deal with this though, he assures himself as he finally tears his gaze from his brother’s peacefully slumbering form. Together. Just like they’ve dealt with everything so far.

Ed grins, pointedly ignoring the rare, traitorous, burn behind his eyes.

Yeah. Together.

He sighs and closes his eyes.

Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow after he gets some freaking sleep.

He drifts far closer this time, exhaustion almost winning out over everything swirling in his mind. But before he manages to fully lose himself there is a clatter nearby. Instantly, he’s up again, shoving himself up on his forearms and scanning the room for the disturbance.

…which turns out to be his brother who is awake and trying to cross the room to him.

“Al!” Ed squawks, leaping up so fast his head swims. “You idiot! You’re gonna fall over! What the hell were you thinking?!”

Al gives him an unaffected grin as Ed wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“It’s cold. I wanted to be next to you, brother.”

Ed helps him onto the bed, heart stuttering slightly at the feeling of Al’s very human warmth beneath his hands. A reminder that they have succeeded. Finally, they have succeeded.

“You coulda just asked for another blanket.”

He tucks the blankets that were his two seconds ago over Al (the little bandit). Then, he climbs in himself, careful not to jostle his brother.

“Those monitors and stuff were hooked up to you for a reason, you know. You’re gonna have the doctors racing in here thinking I murdered you in your sleep or something.”

Al chuckles. With a sigh, he tugs the blankets higher, until they’re nestled beneath his chin.

“It’ll be fine, brother. They know us well enough by now to know you wouldn’t murder me in my sleep. And you’ve taken those monitors off many times.”

Ed lifts an eyebrow. “So, I can’t judge you? Is that what you’re saying?”

Al merely smiles. Ed lies down with a huffed chuckle.

“Fine. But” — He surveys his space on the bed with a frown — “scoot over will you? How do you manage to take up this much room? You’re tiny!”

“I learned from the best.”

Ed chokes on a slightly enraged laugh. “Even you, my dear brother? Have you noticed that I’m taller than you now?”

“Mm-hmm.” Al closes his eyes, a serene smile on his face. “By a whole inch.”

“Hey! It’s more than-than an inch!! Way more!”

His brother doesn’t reply, but mischief practically emanates off of him.

The little bastard.

Truth, Ed loves him.

After a moment more, Al shifts, maneuvering himself a little farther from Ed, giving him room to shimmy beneath the sheets his brother hasn’t snatched. But he’s still close, close enough that his body is up against Ed’s, that heart-wrenching warmth able to be felt through his thin tank.

“How…how does it feel?” He asks, quietly, tone somber and slightly hesitant.

For a short while Al doesn’t answer. The silence is peaceful though, and Ed is willing to wait. They have all the time in the world now.

And how about that? For the first time in five years they aren’t racing against a ticking time bomb.

For the first time in five years they can just…live.

“It feels…” Al begins and Ed glances over at him. His brother’s eyes are open again and he has a slight frown on his face as he grasps for the words. “It feels wonderful.”

He holds a hand up, fingers spread as he inspects it.

“I have a cut on my finger. Or I did earlier. It’s so small it’s practically gone now. And I’m not even sure where I got it from. But I felt it. Brother, I felt pain. And it was wonderful.”

He drops his hand and looks at Ed, eyes wide and a grin on his lips. “I guess it’s a bit strange to say I enjoyed such a sensation. But…it’s been so long.”

Ed swallows. “Yeah.”

“I feel so many things now,” Al continues, face practically shining like the sun. “This blanket, the warmth of the sun…and you.”

Al’s hand finds his, grasping it firmly. Ed’s breath stutters, now.

Damn it, he’s gonna cry isn’t he. He almost never cries and yet…

“You have a heartbeat now, too.” It comes out in a hushed, almost-whisper. “Can you…can you feel that?”

Al doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings Ed’s hand up to rest on his chest. He spreads his fingers so that his palm lies flat right above here his heart should be. Sure enough, there is a steady thump, pulsing onward like a marching soldier.

Ed’s breath hitches, audibly this time, and he curses himself for it.

“Can you feel it, brother?” Al asks, and Ed nods, jerkily. “Here, you can hear it too.”

With gentle hands, Al guides Ed’s head to replace his hand on his chest. Ed tenses as his face touches the soft cotton of Al’s shirt. In his current state, even this much weight may hurt him. But Al just chuckles.

“Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me. You're small, remember?”

“Enough with the height comments already!”

Ed’s face dips into a scowl. But he allows himself to relax slightly.

…and then even more as the thud of blood pumping in and out of arteries reaches his ear.

He chokes out something like a sob, hand fisting in the blanket.

“Do you hear it?” It’s only a whisper, as though Al is afraid of shattering this moment too.

“Mm-hmm.”

His brother’s heart continues to beat, almost in time with his breaths. A tear slides down his face, hot and fast. Seconds later, another follows it. He slams his eyes shut, hoping it will stem the flood. It doesn’t.

Damn it.

He hadn’t meant to break down. But if it was gonna happen, he guesses today would be the day. He’s already done it, after all. Sobbing your eyes out on the freaking battlefield doesn’t bode well for maintaining emotional stability the rest of the day.

“Oh, brother.” There is a smile in Al’s voice. He cards his fingers through Ed’s hair. “Why are you crying?”

Ed breathes out shakily. He’s almost certain snot is running down his face now, joining with the salty water. But he finds he doesn’t really care. Because these…these tears are tears of joy. And when was the last time he cried those?

It’s been way too freaking long, that’s for sure.

“I’m glad you're back, Al,” he murmurs, thickly.

Al sighs and Ed feels that too — the lifting and filling of his lungs, the gentle collapse as they release.

“We did it, brother.”

The tears keep coming, trickling down in warm rivulets that gather in his hair and slide down his neck. But Ed smiles.

“Yeah, we did it.”

#posted this on Ao3 last night #and thought why not post it here too? #fma #fmab #fmab fanfiction #alphonse elric #edward elric #trin writes #fluff #light angst #ficlet

[xyz-bot-theory]

Okay! So I was scrolling through the Mechanic blog’s oldest posts and something stuck out to me, now this may be far-fetched but so is everything this blog will hold— being run by an eccentric theorist and all.

SO! SENTIENCE THEORY!

So much of this is important information.

“You, of all people, would know their programming. I don’t think it would take much more than a light rainfall to revert them back to dispatching the living.”

This implies a few things

1. Mechanic actually helped design the robots in the FIRST PLACE. This isn’t much of a secret though so it just gives you solidification on his opinion and words about the bots.

2. A rainfall could revert their coding? That’s a whole new can of worms to open guys! That’s actually really interesting to me BECAUSE nobody flat out disproves it.

Which means that maybe if they know how to un-sentient robots if you will, they’ve done it before.

But that’s something I’m going to have to place on the drawing board for now because there’s something else that catches my interest if Gray is to be believed. The rainfall. Now as far as we know, none of the robots actually know the secret to their sentience. The reason seems to change everytime, doesn’t it?

Maybe there’s one consistency that we don’t know of, something that they’ve overlooked because it’s just an ordinary part of the Robot. So at first I thought that the sentience could’ve stemmed from some sort of less physical thing like a soul or a spirit or some spark of life and this could still very well be true! But I keep coming back to the rainfall comment. Rainfall. He doesn’t say it would completely destroy the robots. Just damage them. Or a PIECE of them. If there’s a piece that could get damaged by rainfall and instantly revert them back to their old coding then that means their sentience is a physical piece of them. Something that can be washed away by rainfall.

I think the best bet right now is a coding error. Most of the robots became sentient during times of action, or when something changed about their surroundings. Maybe this is a coding bug that’s visible easily, and so it gets fixed before the robots ever get the chance to leave the factory they were manufactured in. I think that the reason sentient robots are so very rare in the thousands out there, is because it’s a glitch that’s fixed if spotted. Something that needs to be able to hide long enough to grow. Something that’s jostled free if enough changes. I think that something in that bug lights up,

And let there be life.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #emotionally xyz mercs #physically xyz mercs #emotionally mature mechanic #robot theory

[lowkeyclueless5137]

Uhhh does Kalim get to name the snakes in Jamil’s hair in that one overblot AU where Overblot boys can just henshin into their overblot forms. Plus how awkward or weird does it get when random students just see their housewarden(or Vice for Scarabia) in their Overblot form cause they are deadbeat tired and just needed to get a coffee(maybe Tea for Riddle) from their dorm’s kitchen(maybe a very rare time both Idia and one random Ignihyde student just accidentally head out to the kitchen at the same time?), plus any other time when their housewarden(or vice for scarabia) doing something normal or average for them, yet are also in their overblot form for some reason too

Kalim definitely gave the snakes lil nicknames. They are mostly variations of Jamil, like: Jaila, Jam, Jilin, etc, mostly so they would sound similar. :'3

And definitely it was very AWKWARD! Like Deuce coming in late to the dorm and almost having a fucking heart attack when he sees a tired overBlot Riddle just sitting on a chair and waiting for his tea to be ready. Or sum random student accidentally stepping on a cranky Leona's tail and rn they are trying to make peace with their god as fast as possible. Azul, Jamil, Vil and Idia are actively trying to keep this on the low, which makes it rare for the awkward instances. At least Idia is matching with his parents and lil bro now

The Dormhead meetings! Oh dear, those are nasty! Everyone is just tired and so done with Crowley's bullshit. They wanna yeet crow man off the roof, but ya know, they gotta keep face since when they are in this state, even the slightest mistake can get them to be less trusted. And rn, all of them want to just simply lay in a comfy bed and rest without someone having their magic pen at their throat.

They also realise that they could also change their clothes, even if they revert back to normal post transformation. So imagine that chaos, ESPECIALLY, when someone brings it up that at least their costume looks cooler.

OverBlot Bois swapping their overBlot costumes. Think about that :v

#twisted wonderland #asks :3

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Double Birthday - a Malevolent fic

This was probably not the wisest strategy. Eh, Hastur’s fault for inviting a bard, then.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

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

What in hell was a double birthday?

The initial announcements didn’t make a ton of sense. Invited cordially to the celebration of—

Right, right, the princess, everyone knew about that, but what was all this about the composer? 

“And Carcosa—look at this fucking map, where are we supposed to stay?”

“Who in hell knows. Apparently madness is the, uh, dish du jour.”

Great hilarity over human words, had by all. Until, that was, it hit them that this Composer would need a present, too.

What the fuck did he like? What did he do? What did he need? Musical instruments he had. Clearly provisions were not an issue. What the hell were they supposed to do with Arthur Lester’s birthday?

#

This was turning crazier than Hastur had expected, but he would not revert Carcosa, damn it all. He’d made up his mind! “I don’t care if the K’thog delegation doesn’t want to be within a mile of the Lll’thah. They are not at war, they are officially allies, and they will handle two nights within breathing distance!”

His servants scattered, ready to take who knew what message to complaining guests.

“You all right there?” drawled Dagon, who would not leave, and did not help, and seemed to find all of this just so entertaining.

“Should’ve stuck with Cthulhu’s plan and just made it hell for everybody,” Hastur muttered.

“Aww, you don’t mean that,” said Dagon, leaning back with his arms behind his head.

Hastur gave him a look of burning rage. 

Dagon smiled, shark-teeth gleaming.

“My lord!” some servant squeaked, popping in. “The Mi-Go delegation is here and, ah… they, ah…”

“What do they want this time?” Hastur said, low.

“They brought ponies.”

Hastur stared. “Ponies?”

#

Ponies was not, perhaps, the best word for the things the Mi-Go had brought. They were creatures of vague horse-like shapes, shadows wisping off them like steam, four gleaming red eyes each and horns instead of ears. But sure. They were vaguely equine—and small enough for Faroe to ride.

Nibbles. Was. Offended.

Hastur. Was. Confused. “Are they… why are there four of them?”

“According to the delegates, your lordship,” squeaked the servant, “there are two for each of the, er, celebrated. They will pull chariots? Maybe?”

“Did they provide the chariots?” said Hastur, who had no intention of letting these things near his human family.

Nibbles was growling, a terrible sound more felt than heard, gnashing teeth in the direction of the interlopers.

The ponies unwisely growled back.

“Uh, no,” said the servant. “Also, it seems they’re, uh. Toxic to human flesh.” They cleared their throat.

Hastur knew gods were not supposed to get headaches. This was not supposed to happen. Maybe he was dying already. Maybe this was what mortal felt like. “Take them to the stables on the side of True Carcosa and ensure no one goes near them for now.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Huh,” said Dagon. “Wonder if this’s got something to do with the changes in the city. Some stupid ‘oh, you made it bad for humans’ payback.”

Hastur did not have a face to twitch. His tentacles managed it for him.

“Who knows?” said Dagon, grinning, and leaned back with his arms behind his head again.

#

Nibbles’ bad mood seemed to have transferred to Faroe. “I don’t want to do this!” she said in one of the deeply rare moments of temper she’d shown in years.

“I am aware,” said Hastur, being patient. “If not for yourself, do it for Arthur.”

“It should all be about him, anyway!” she said. “I have things to do.”

“What do you have to do?” he said.

She wasn’t going to say hunting invaders. “Things!” And she stomped her foot.

If Hastur could have turned himself into a corkscrew and dug into the floor to give physical vent to his stress, he would. “You must at least appear. There will be gifts. They are for you, in your honor. This is about Carcosa.”

She sighed.

Nibbles rumbled.

“You aren’t being replaced,” Hastur said to Nibbles again.

Nibbles clearly wasn’t buying it. She snapped the air in his direction.

Hastur began to weigh the potential damage to his Gallery. “My daughter,” he said, being fucking patient, “this is a duty. It is to celebrate you, yes; but I think you know our true celebration was in the Scriptorium.”

Her face was flushed. “Maybe I’ll go back there and hide until this is all over.”

How the fuck did Dagon do this father-thing without committing mass murder? “My daughter—”

“Dad!”

“Please. If you wish, we will phase these out, but we cannot do it at once. People will talk—especially since you insisted on bringing Arthur into it. It has to be done gradually.”

She sighed. “I don’t want to be a princess right now.”

That hurt. He wasn’t sure why. “What would you rather be?”

“A warrior like Dis.”

“You can be both.”

That gave her pause. “Not with all the lessons I have.”

“You can be both with the lessons you have.”

Oh, her glare. Oh, gods, that glare. Identical to Arthur’s (and no wonder Hastur hadn’t realized Arthur was broken). “How much longer until we phase it out?” she said.

“Thirteen is considered a notable age among humans. We can make that your last. If you truly wish.” And by that time, hopefully, she’d grow out of whatever snit this was.

“Three more years.” She looked as grim as if she’d received a sentence of hard labor. “All right. I can do three years.”

He touched her cheek. “Thank you.”

She glared.

Headache. Impossible headache. He left, and wasn’t at all surprised to hear Nibbles breaking something back there with her teeth. 

#

There was a lot of hullabaloo in Carcosa at present. Odd hadn’t really expected to be the focus of the King’s attention, but he also hadn’t expected that his first week of life inside Carcosa he was going to be mostly ignored in favor of all the preparations.

No one had told him to go elsewhere, so he’d made himself a bed on the couch in Arthur’s room, and most of the time was quiet enough that he didn’t seem to bother the man. In the mornings he had breakfast with the King’s strange little family, which he deeply enjoyed (even if he wasn’t sure what to do with the King). All the other times, he walked about the palace, shied away from the areas that were just a touch too maddening for the non-human half of his heritage to handle, and took moments to sit with his violin and play and be left alone.

It gave him time to think.

That was, perhaps, the crux of it. There were so many little pieces to this puzzle that he really needed time to sit and think and sort through, and maybe if he had been busy juggling the King’s attentions and conversations with Arthur and everything else he would have been too distracted to do so.

The King was very, very concerned about time.

That was strange. That was very unlike a Great Old One. What had Hastur meant when he said he would seduce Odd if he had time? What deadline weighed so heavily on the King’s shoulders that he seemed determined to ignore everything else? He’d spoken of needing rest in several years, true. But so desperately he acted like someone with a death sentence? Perhaps it was pride speaking, but Odd was fairly certain that if this god desired him so much as to talk of seduction instead of just breaking him, he might put off his rest for a little bit. Odd would probably be long dead by the time Hastur woke.

Strange things were afoot in Lost Carcosa, and Odd rather unhappily found himself set on the trail of them.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, honestly.

But watching the King with Faroe… he deeply suspected that whatever was going on, it was going to affect that little girl. So maybe he should get to the bottom of it.

Ugh, morals. What a drag.

Later, though. First, apparently, there was a double-birthday, which was delightfully absurd, and Odd could step back and watch this alien machine tick and see what other clues he could dig up.

#

No, no, no! John would not allow it. This is your birthday! This is an event of epic proportions! Have we ever celebrated it, Arthur? Ever?

“No, but there wasn’t any point, and nobody ever… I didn’t want to, and—“

This is unacceptable. I agree with Faroe. You must take precedent this time.

“John, none of this is my ide—“

You think Faroe will be happy if you’re not? John demanded. Odd!

There was a pause.

“Um,” said the bard, who had been minding his own business on the loveseat in the corner. “Yeeees?”

You. You’re a bard.

“Correct,” said Odd. “Is there… something I can do for you?”

You will create music suitable to celebrate the greatest musician Carcosa has ever had.

Arthur looked embarrassed beyond words. “You can't just… I’m not…” He covered his face and sighed. “Sorry about him.”

John sure was a piece of work. Baby god confirmed, maybe.

“That’s a tall order for a guy who normally writes songs about ill-advised hookups and, on occasion, folk heroes he hears about on the road,” Odd said. “My work is more… tavern fare.”

Then do that! We don’t have that here. It’ll be phenomenal!

“You really don’t have to,” Arthur said.

It will be unique! You… you can make… everybody laugh!

“Laugh?” said Arthur.

I want them to have a good time and remember you.

Arthur smiled, gaze distant. “That’s not a bad idea.” He turned (mostly) in Odd’s direction. “Odd. You can say no. I can do… funny songs.”

John huffed as if that were absurd. Let Odd do them.

“I’m not doing much of anything, at present,” Odd said with a shrug. “I can give it a shot. The King said he’s paying me, and will pay me more if I make music. Worst comes to worst, it’s garbage and we don’t hear it at all.”

Arthur’s face was so soft. “You’d do that for me?” Then he shook his head. “I’m glad he’s paying you.”

He’s finally paying you, too.

“I keep forgetting that.”

John blurted it. Hastur didn’t pay him for years. Then suddenly we’ve got back-pay plus regular pay. But we don’t know what to buy.

“All our needs are kind of cared for.” Arthur shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

John sounded smug. He has no idea how to reward himself.

“John…”

“I’ll compose something for you. Consider it thanks for the kindness you showed me the evening of the Rite,” Odd said, warm. “Besides, it seems uncomfortable to compose something for yourself for your own birthday celebration.” He chuckled a bit. “Do you get down to the city proper, much? I imagine you’d find things to spend your coin on there.” 

Arthur smiled. “I never have, actually. Parker and Sunny said it’s lovely down there, but…I haven’t.”

We could! John gasped. We could go with you!

“John, he’s our guest. You can’t just keep putting things on him.”

A pause. I can, too.

Odd gave them a long, curious look. “It would be more fun to go with someone, certainly.”

“I don’t know the way,” said Arthur.

Parker and Sunny would be happy to take us—and in a group that size, Hastur might even consider us safe.

“Or he’ll send that weird bodyguard again. The one Parker talked about. With the four arms.”

John sounded suspicious. Yes. With the four arms.

Arthur shook his head. “We’re getting off track. Thank you, Odd. I appreciate it. And I’m sure the music will be great. Whatever you need, instruments or anything, we can manage to procure.”

“I do have some ideas,” Odd said. “What kind of mood do you want for this?”

“Oh, gods,” Arthur groaned. “I… I don’t… can we make it… less fucking grim?”

Arthur…

“Grim?” said Odd, tapping his chin. 

“All those… rumors, and the tension in court, and…” Arthur sighed. “I just want to feel lighter for a while.”

John’s hand rose to take Arthur’s.

Odd considered, tail flicking lazily as he rolled the thought around in his head. “How bold do you think I can be?”

Bold? Said John warily.

“I’m a bard, my little golden friend. We make fun of things as part and parcel of our parley.”

Arthur’s face went hard. “Do it. I’ll take any fallout. Fuck these guys. I don’t want this anyway. Go bold as you want.”

Odd’s tone gentled. “I think you may like what we’re going to do. Let’s play with these rumors people keep throwing on your head, eh?”

And Arthur lit up, and Odd could begin to see why John (and possibly Hastur) was so into this guy. “Yes.”

Odd grinned.

#

“You sure, bud?” Parker murmured softly as they watched the cooks preparing for this absolutely wild feast. The kitchen size had tripled overnight (fuck, magic was something), and the smells were beyond delicious.

Yes. I… I want to be there. Not at the royal table, or in any kind of prominence; I think it would be best if we were seen as little as possible. But I want to make sure everything goes smoothly, and… I want to be part of this. Very quietly, Sunny added, I think it will mean a lot to Arthur and Faroe.

“Then we’ll do it. Maybe in the shadows or something, right?”

Right.

Parker snitched a plate of cookies and sneaked out of the kitchen.

#

The fireworks were set up in the wrong place and had to be moved, or half the city would miss the grandeur.

The gifts were sorted wrong, and had to be sorted all over again in terms of who had what favor with the King in Yellow.

Faroe refused to wear a pretty sparkly dress and wanted to go in full-plate armor.

“You don’t have full-plate armor,” said Hastur, reasonably.

“I want it, then!” she declared.

Dis fortunately talked her out of that. “You can’t move for shit in that stuff.”

Faroe sighed. “Oh.”

Crisis averted.

(The headache grew.)

Security was naturally beefed up, and this had an unexpected side-effect. It turned out Hastur’s guests were all too aware they were jockeying for favor from the King in Yellow, and security’s new job was breaking up in-fights in the living areas.

Nibbles broke into the stable and almost killed the new “ponies.” She was stopped in time (and the Dancers were going to be rewarded somehow), but those beasties had definitely lost their wild spirit. They were tame as fuck now, not even bothering with smoke out their orifices.

Hopefully, the Mi-Go wouldn’t notice.

(The headache grew.)

The Yithians showed up in force, and they had the loveliest toys, little automated things with gears and chimes that climbed and cut food for you and juggled. Absolutely adorable, small enough that Faroe squealed with joy when she saw one, and was disappointed that she’d have to wait for the rest.

At least something was going right. 

(The headache still grew.)

And now Odd would be performing at the celebration? Well… good. Good. 

(The headache eased a bit.)

“Think I’ll invite a few more’a my kids,” Dagon said, and Hastur’s headache soared.

#

The day dawned. The palace shone as if polished.

Sunshine kissed the waving grasses in the magical fields. Lake Hali echoed with the laughter of Dagon’s family, who’d taken up much of its waters and incidentally made it safe for everyone to play in, even in the depths. 

Faroe loomed in dark leather, far too skinny to look dangerous in her form-fitting armor, but feeling quite pleased. She at least agreed to wear her crown.

It was an oddly striking look. Hastur had a feeling he’d be seeing this combination from her again.

And instead of the usual gathering in the throne room, Hastur converted an enormous portion of the palace into one huge dining hall. A ballroom for feasting, performing, and being shown. Everybody was going to fit in there.

Parker seemed nervous. He disliked all these new people, and kept making rounds through the kitchen and anywhere else that could affect Arthur.

Sunny, at least, was handling it.

John… preened.

Since his talk with Hastur, he had leapt into the role of heir to the god and embraced it to the fullest. There was an awful lot of You may rise, vassal, and that kind of nonsense while Arthur tried to seem like he wanted to be there.

Arthur looked great, if tired. Hastur was pleased. For the first time, he’d placed a circlet on Arthur’s head: simple, a red-gold band. It was barely a crown, but its presence said much. Slaves did not wear such things.

Those who had been present for the marking ceremony years ago certainly thought it wild.

Good. One step at a time, history would be rewritten.

Though Hastur could never undo that brutality of a marking. Well. He’d pay for all his mistakes soon enough, wouldn’t he? “Are we ready?” 

“Yes, dad,” said Faroe, submissively vengeful.

He touched her cheek. “I am sorry, my darling. I know this is not what you want.”

She looked up. “Does this happen to you? Things you don’t want to do?”

She didn’t know how Arthur had been marked. “Yes.”

Something in his voice must have convinced her, because some of her hardness melted. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

And so the festivities began.

#

Dagon’s people arrived. The bad news: they swarmed the place. The good news: they kept it from getting too serious.

Hastur had to admit it; those fish-kids knew how to have a good time.

Faroe sat on her throne in her form-fitting leather, looking somehow both dangerous and adorable, her curls pinned back, her black and gold crown glittering, and behaved as a princess ought as one by one, beings brought their gifts before her.

And at her side…

It wasn’t a throne like hers and Hastur’s. It was a seat, high enough to keep Arthur on a level with her, but not a throne.

It still sat in the line of thrones, beside the ruling family.

Nobody knew what to do about that. No one knew where Arthur stood.

“For the Duchess of Ythill!” came energetic and delighted and pleased, since Faroe, at least, was a known factor… though the gifts were hit or miss. Jewelry? Like she didn’t have all she wished from Hastur. Musical instruments? Clever, but clearly copying Celephaïs’ success from before. The Yithian toys were a big hit, so that was good. That also took a while, since she giggled, slipped down, and played with them a bit.

Arthur sat awkwardly, still uncomfortable in the spotlight. Hastur wondered if he knew that the circlet suited him. Strange, that it did. Food for thought another time.

Odd, meanwhile, was just… perfect. On the platform at the other end of the hall, Odd strummed away on various stringed instruments, creating perfect background sounds, musical and lively and cute… and opinionated. He played a little wah-wah sound at the gifts that failed. Played happy little dancing notes when Faroe was pleased. Dear gods, he was a court jester and a political genius and a musical delight all in one.

The Mi-Go’s “ponies” were brought forward, quite tame and soundless, obediently keeping their heads down. 

They knelt. Before Nibbles.

Odd played a sort of uh-oh sound, and the Mi-Go began sputtering, upset that their gift wasn’t working right, saying they’d take them back, they’d replace them—

Faroe slid down and petted the heads of these creatures, who seemed to have forgotten to be toxic to human flesh. “Sweet things. Stable them, will you?” she said to the Dancers, who led the docile creatures away.

Odd was laughing with his instrument.

Oh. Oh, Hastur liked Odd. He wondered how long he could bribe him to stick around.

At last, said John, because now, it was time for Arthur’s gifts.

“Sit up straight,” Hastur urged.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Arthur whispered.

“Let John carry it,” said Hastur, because it had to be done that way, because they all had to understand that John was ruling and Arthur was support. That they were a set, not to be separated, but John would take the lead.

The first gift was a box of empty canvases.

Everyone stared.

“We, ah,” stumbled the representative from the Groking mountains, who had not visited Carcosa before. “We’d… heard he was a wonderful artist?”

“Musical composer,” Hastur said slowly.

“Yes, of course,” said the embarrassed rep, who stood awkwardly for a moment, and then all but fled to the back of the dining hall.

Odd made a sort of squeaking, trembling sound on his violin that absolutely communicated social faux pas.

Fuck, what a treasure. “Next,” commanded Hastur.

The next gift, from the Mi-Go, was a wide golden collar studded with gems.

It was beautiful, but, ah. Well. “It’s a what?” said Arthur. “It’s what?”

Stunning, breathed John, who must be picturing Arthur wearing it.

Oh, dear fucking hell. “Lovely,” said Hastur. “A generous gift from our allies. We thank you.” And he gestured toward the little pile where gifts went.

Odd somehow made his violin sing Awkward! without opening his mouth, a trick entirely of bow and skill. Quite a few people laughed, checking nervously with Hastur to make sure they could.

The urge to keep him rose like a flood, and Hastur dammed it up fast. He nodded, waving graciously at Odd to encourage him to keep going.

Which he was.

“A fucking collar?” Arthur hissed. “Like for dogs?”

Dogs are never that beautiful, John whispered.

Arthur rubbed his face.

It got worse from there. Absolutely nobody knew what to give this man; he received jeweled earrings (for pierced ears which he did not have); a pair of cursed swords that drew on the user’s life-force (for a mortal?); a heavy gilded mirror (why?); a set of strange clothes that seemed designed to flare out in some graceful way when he danced (which he never did); trunks of fruit from foreign lands (which Hastur already had), and—

And… oysters, asparagus, chocolate, figs and watermelon?

There was a theme here. Something Hastur knew, but couldn’t remember.

Plants, too: silphium, soca.

Wait.

Wait.

Mandrake, oleander, cyclamen—

Wait just a damn minute.

“Um, thank you,” said Arthur, accepting a crate full of white rushes that had gone extinct in ancient Egypt due to… certain properties.

Why in fuck were people giving him aphrodisiacs?

Hastur glanced around. It didn’t seem that anyone had noticed; too worried about reception for their own gifts. Certainly.

Hopefully.

It was just more of that fucking open secret that Hastur encouraged and nobody knew what to do with yet. Setting Arthur up as protected and special, as connected to John, was one of the steps ensuring these two could take up the reins when the worst happened.

Fine. It would take time to pull the gossipy mess out of the sewer. Hastur’s plan was to wait it out. Eventually, the gossip-mongers would get it out of their systems and accept things the way they were. Done and done.

At last, at last, the final gifts were given (one of them a “robe” that seemed thick but was only layers upon layers of gold lace), and they could move on. Hastur rose. “We will shortly begin our musical entertainment for the evening. Until then, make merry, renew alliances, and enjoy our feast.”

They were more than happy to do that.

Colorful movement caught his eyes. Songweavers were making their way toward Odd at the other side of the room, living fabrics fluttering, beautiful in their gradient colors. He peered. Aria was not among them.

No, Aria was beelining for Arthur.

Oh, ho. This was going to be a trip.

#

Arthur had never really been big on birthdays, even before Faroe was born. In his youth they had mostly fallen to the wayside, a date that was meaningless except for legal reasons since no one really cared enough to celebrate. After Faroe was born, they ceased to matter, as his only family was too young to care and instead Arthur preferred to focus his efforts on celebrating Faroe’s milestones.

He’d refused to let Parker celebrate them at all.

Now that Arthur thought about it, the only one who had really celebrated his birthday was Bella. Maybe that was part of why he felt so…

Well, if nothing else, John seemed to be having a wonderful time.

I want to see you in that robe, John said with the barely-restrained glee of a child set loose in a candy store.

“Sure, John,” Arthur sighed, his fingers idly twisting the edge of his tunic. John had gone to great lengths to tell him how handsome he looked in it, and it was comfortable, and the embroidery on the hem at least gave him something to do with his hands while he tried not to die of mortification. “Where is Odd now?”

There’s a thick crowd between us, currently, John said. But you’re the guest of honor! If you desire it, we can bring him to us! He paused—and gasped. Arthur! Someone is coming this way.

“Who?” Arthur did not particularly care.

Some… some… oh, Arthur, he breathed. She’s beautiful.

“Mister Henley,” sang a voice like a chiming crystal glass.

Arthur sat up. “Aria?”

“It is so good to see you again, Arthur,” she laughed.

“Aria! You came!” Arthur broke into a grin.

She’s bowing, Arthur, John breathed, his voice a poorly-controlled whisper. But who is Henley?

“It’s a long story,” Arthur said back, quietly, clearing his throat. “You’ve got my name down perfectly, now. Lovely Rs.”

“I have been practicing,” she said. “And your companion must be John, whom I have heard so much about. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

We… yes. Ahem. Yes. I am John, crown prince of Carcosa and ruler of this realm!

Arthur’s face went long.

I… I would bow, but. Arthur, bow.

Arthur cleared his throat in a totally serious way and bowed.

“Oh!” she said. “Thank you, noble prince, but I am hardly anyone to bow to. And if I am honest, I hoped to approach as a friend, not as a diplomat—my brother is far more skilled in political matters anyway.” She sounded almost embarrassed. “But, before getting into anything else—congratulations on your hatchday, Arthur. I truly am happy to see you’re well.”

Arthur smiled, though it faded. “And I’m glad to hear your voice again. You were… right about the Oracle. So you know.”

“Oh,” she chimed, so sad. “That is… unfortunate. May I join you?”

You may, John said, doing his best regal voice.

“John,” Arthur said. “Is there a chair?”

She may sit on the armrest, John said, clearly pleased with himself.

Aria laughed. “I don’t think that’s quite appropriate. I will sit upon the steps,” she said.

No! You deserve better than the floor, John protested.

“Look, there are Dancers everywhere—”

Sit here, next to me—or, well, my hand, John said, clearly trying again for that velvety voice Hastur had pulled out with Odd the other day.

Her warmth and familiar petal-like body brushed against Arthur’s side as she perched on the armrest, a bell-like chuckle sounding from her.

Arthur went red.

“You’re quite charming,” Aria said warmly. “And such a lovely gold you are!”

John let out a happy rumble as he preened.

She let out a small laugh, which faded into a sigh, and then silence. “I am… I am sorry you found yourself needing my warning. Everyone has heard what happened,” she said, quietly. “Is the princess alright?”

“Yes,” said Arthur. “Hastur… took care of it.”

John’s fluttering gold went still. Him. 

They both knew this wasn’t a Hastur-him. “Yes,” said Arthur quietly.

Oh. The gold drooped, forgetting briefly to show off. Aria’s presence, however, seemed to help, and he shimmered again.

Arthur looked tired. He smiled, regardless. “So I guess it’s all out, then? Who we were looking for.”

“The King all but announced it when he announced the Oracle’s defeat,” Aria said solemnly. “And… well. I trust you're familiar with the rumors, Mister Lesterrrr.” She drew out the R, unintentionally, but she did her best.

He sighed heavily. “Thank you for your warning. I think we all made it out alive because of that.”

She knew? John said very quietly.

“She knew to warn us away from the Oracle.”

John’s voice was thick. She was right. Thank you for your warning, most beautiful, gracious lady. Your magnificence would lead me to song, were I more bold.

Aria fluttered.

Arthur exhaled. “Thank you for coming. Were you, uh. All invited? Vulgtmog?”

“Not all of Vulgtmog, just my people. We will be performing in your honor later tonight, after the main show.” She paused, then, a full body sigh rippling her body next to Arthur's leg. “Though given your new court bard… we may have a tricky diplomatic situation on our hands.”

Arthur’s eyes (not quite focused on her) went wide. “Why?”

Odd, I think. Fuck. Hastur will have to handle it.

Arthur looked grim. “There are some extenuating circumstances. Hastur didn’t take him, if it makes any differ—”

He’s hired. He’s being paid.

“That is good news,” Aria said, voice low. “All of that. Odd is one of ours, and… well, he’s been missing for nearly three months. We thought he was dead.”

“He said something like that,” said Arthur evenly. 

He showed up the night of the Rite—

“I think it’s Odd’s story to tell,” said Arthur firmly. “So they hear it from him, and know he’s okay.”

From the other side of the room, Odd crowed, “You can’t get rid of me, you old curtain!” followed by Songweaver laughter, which almost seemed harmonized.

“Well, he certainly isn’t acting broken,” Aria said, voice warming. “Though… oh, what am I doing? Speculating only makes me anxious. I trust my brother will handle it with grace, as is his duty. I wanted to warn you, since you are evidently quite close with the King, and I didn’t get the feeling you would allow him to come to harm.” 

“Not that close with the king,” Arthur muttered, a little red (which did not help).

She paused. “He’s… alright, though? Nothing… untoward happened?”

“Nothing did.” He sat up and faced her. “Nothing did.”

He’s right. A pinch mournfully. Odd is lovely, and nothing happened. Not as lovely as you, though.

“I knew it,” Arthur muttered.

What?

“Nothing.”

“You’ve clearly inherited your father’s charm,” Aria laughed, but the relief was clear in her voice. “I’m glad. I’m sure Odd will tell us the same; I don’t know how this will shake out quite yet, but I’m certainly much more optimistic than I was when I first saw him. Strange times we live in, eh?”

You have no idea.

Arthur placed one hand over the other. “Thank you for coming. I look forward to your performance. Oh! Faroe!”

She’s right over there.

“Faroe! Come meet Aria!”

#

“Songweavers?” Parker murmured from the perimeter. He was dressed like Hastur’s security, a nondescript cloak and practical boots. A knife gleamed at his side, for show more than anything else, as the rest of the humanoid guards had them.

And, like most “help,” he was ignored.

Yes. They’re the most talented music-makers in the Dreamlands, Sunny breathed. And they’re beautiful.

Parker shook his head. “Walking, singing robes. Wow. Wow.” Nonchalantly, he slipped out of the shadow to snag a small plate of fancy little toasts and toppings from a servant, then back into the gloom.

John must have spotted them. Arthur waved (in the wrong direction, then corrected and waved at them).

Parker snorted. “Idiot,” he said fondly.

Subtlety is his strong suit, Sunny said, just as fond.

Parker laughed, spraying some crumbs.

#

Well this was certainly an experience.

Odd took another sip of the mead he’d been nursing for the whole party, just enough to keep his throat nice and supple and his nerves at a pleasing thrum beneath his skin.

There were a lot of big players here. Odd couldn't quite identify all of them by sight alone, but he did pick up the names when they were introduced, ranked them based on their seats’ proximity to the King's little family, and committed their various gifts and faux pas to memory as best he could.

He scanned the crowd, picking out where Parker and Sunny (such a lovely name for a godling) stood against the wall like they were part of the guard retinue; maybe he could slink over there later, once everything was done and chat with them about some of this. It’d certainly be more enjoyable than going to bother some of the other options.

Like, for instance, Larson. He was here, of course, and that guy… it was funny. In a crowd this big, this powerful, it shouldn’t be one nasty little human who made Odd nervous, but he did. There was an edge of obsession to that man.

—who currently sat six tables down from the royal family. He could come to the birthday, yes, but not be part of the main group. Ouch. (And Larson, Odd was willing to bet real money, would learn absolutely nothing from this.) He was also currently on his fourth glass of wine, which did not bode well, and Odd took note of it.

There was so much to take note of. Normally this would be a time of networking, but at present he was only interested in one group, and—

Oh, thank fuck.

“Odd!” The Impresario of the Songweavers approached, the rest of the family weaving through the crowd behind him. (Or most of them, since he could see the Songbird sitting next to Arthur, and that bastard hadn't told him he knew her!) “You're alive!”

Odd grinned, leaping to his feet. “You can't get rid of me, you old curtain!”

The Impresario’s color improved significantly as he laughed, sash opening to show a flash of teeth as Odd risked angering his (owner?) host to leap into his outstretched arms. “Gods, we thought you were dead! Have you been here this entire time?”

“Nope,” Odd said, briefly picking him up and swirling him like a large, flowing teal-and-indigo ribbon. “It's a long story, but Carcosa is a new development. Swear on my flute—”

“Pfft, you barely even like that thing,” the Impresario said. “Swear on your horn.”

“My horn, you say?” Odd said, mock offended if not for the relieved, happy lashing his tail was getting up to. “You would love that, wouldn't you.”

“You're incorrigible,” the Impresario sighed, though his indigo-tipped petals began to grow ashen with growing anger. “It’s a relief to see you in good spirits. Make no mistake, though, I will be having words with the King—”

Odd frowned. “Fa-do-re.”

“—if he thinks he can just hoard away one of our Songwalkers because of his alliance with Celephaïs he’s got another fucking thing coming—”

Odd sighed and whistled the Impresario’s name, enough to interrupt. “I have some music for you, something I composed about my most recent travels,” he said gently, taking the Impresario’s hand.

The Impresario’s eyes narrowed as he twisted his hand, palm upward beneath Odd’s hand; his fingertips tapped three times on his wrist. “Lots of Carcosan influence?”

“Not at all, but I trust you will find it illuminating when I have it sent to your quarters. Yeah?” He smiled, warm, pressing his thumb into the Impresario’s palm, the symbol for I’m safe, really.

“You should illuminate me now,” the Impresario said, low; he covered Odd’s hand with his free one, smallest finger tapping Odd’s middle knuckle twice. The King?

“Ah, it’s not ready for these sorts quite yet.” He shrugged as his thumb stroked down the Impresario’s thumb. Ally. “Needs critique first.”

The Impresario sighed, pulling his hands back. “I look forward to seeing it, then. Hope you’re prepared for a lot of red marks.” This isn’t over.

“I expect nothing less,” Odd said, smiling, giving a small two-finger salute with a wink. Trust me.

Hastur glanced Odd’s way and gestured.

Odd’s nerves showed in precisely two barely-noticeable movements: the dart of his tongue against his lips, and the twitch at the tip of his tail. “Looks like I’m on. You’ll love this. I’ve been working on it for days with my new friends up there.” He grew louder, not yelling, but projecting, a trained voice, polished, rising above the crowd and drawing attention as he gracefully climbed the platform. “I think we can all agree, after all, that things have been tense around here!” Wide-eyed, he dramatically poofed his tail.

That got attention; the small chuckles brought more, curiosity always a terrific second draw.

Odd winked at the whole room and twirled his lute so fast it shone. “And what’s better for a little tension than a public celebration?” His eyebrows waggled. “With booze?”

On cue, Dancers swarmed the tables. This was some kind of dessert ale, rich, heady, and just sweet enough to counter the strange human spices Faroe (and evidently Arthur) preferred.

“Be careful, little brother,” murmured one of the Songweavers, and they fluttered back down to their seats.

Odd grinned, teeth flashing. The tension quivered in the air like a string waiting to be plucked, and he didn’t feel the need to be careful at all.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

#

He began by abandoning his post, hopping lightly right off the platform as if he weighed nothing (not true, as walking did tend to build up the muscles quite a bit) and, strumming playfully, walked between the tables. 

This. This right here was the big time. He could hold on to that, grip it; immerse himself in the role of honored bard at a real god’s shindig so hard that his fear would behave and do its shivering in the dark unseen.

He could pretend he’d been invited, and this was on purpose, and an honor. And as such… he’d make damn sure they remembered it well.

Evidently, Hastur didn’t have a lot of bards in his court. They all expected distant musicians, alive but two-dimensional, seated on the platform or in some shady corner, making grandeur, heard but not seen.

That was not Odd’s style.

He balanced the volume of his lute so as not to interrupt, but definitely to be noticed, and leaned in between the two glaring delegates from the sibling Grantha fiefs, whom everyone knew were fighting over a crop of magic corn. 

They startled.

He winked at them. Blew a kiss. Sipped from the other one’s cup. And moved on.

Everyone around them laughed, surprised. It blew the tension right away from those two like a breeze in mist.

Good, good. More.

He stood tall right above the bulbous head of a rambling Brago who was going on and on about some really dull weedexperiment that no one around him wanted to hear, and made… some faces. Played harder as the guy got more intense about root structure. Woke up the whole table (who’d been stuck, looking dazed as though drugged), and when the Brago said, “Damn it, this is important for the future of the realm!” Odd leaned around him backward (core-strength being a key to proper bard performance) and peered at him upside down, all but hovering over the table.

“Seedy,” Odd said so seriously.

The guy behind Odd laughed, spraying wine.

That broke it up. The Brago coughed. Reddened. Laughed a little. “Ah. Too much, eh?”

“You’re fine, Dnari,” said his plus-one, and the topic finally moved on with smiles instead of vapid stares.

Odd played himself off to light and happy applause.

This part was easy. The closer he got to the head table, the harder it would be. There were the heavy-hitters, people with actual political stakes in Hastur’s realm. The ones who’d been hoarding the rumors, the things everybody fucking knew, including Arthur, and nobody would admit.

The things Odd would oh-so-delicately use.

This was probably not the wisest strategy. 

Eh, Hastur’s fault for inviting a bard, then.

He left each table happier. Encouraging good-natured laughter, some ribald smiles, a little light and healthy desire. Smiling with promise of what he’d do when he properly performed, tension lightly teased away. And he got a little bit louder.

Humming as he moved from spot to spot, drawing more eyes. Flirtatious with his tail, ridiculously exaggerating expressions at anything anybody said. It was working. Of course it was working.

The big guys near Hastur’s table—the Mi-Go and the like—weren’t smiling yet, but watching him as though expecting a trap.

Well, it was a trap. Of having a good fucking time.

Light as a feather, Odd leaped onto the second-to-last table. (That got a startled cry and more than one flicker of a beginning spell, but nobody attacked him. Point to Odd.) Hard, he strummed, and then waved his lute so the chord sounded underwater. “Didja have to bring the whole clan?” he dared (dared) say to Dagon. 

Who laughed. 

Well, now it would be rude if nobody else did because he was a Great Old One. 

Odd strummed and spun in place, not so much as twisting the tablecloth. “Free food, am I right?”

“You are right,” Dagon bellowed, which (as planned) guaranteed all eyes on them. “My buddy here’s pretty good with the free food.”

Hastur’s eyes seemed a bit wide behind the mask. (Again, invited a bard, what did he expect out of this?)

Arthur, however, was grinning.

He’s on the table, John whispered badly, his excitement obvious. I don’t know what he’s doing, but it’s great!

A proper strum now, loud, an announcement, and Odd began to hum as he danced up the main table toward the royals. (Just a gig, he told himself, keep it together, he told himself, and with years of habit and protective coloring, shoved that fear right down. Weird thought to have, though.) “Hallooooo birthday duo!” he called, and the whole room knew it was time.

Faroe giggled.

Odd raised the lute over his head, still playing with deceptively flawless skill, and posed, back foot up, tail curved. “And what do my lady and liege wish for their most special day among days?”

Someone further back in the room growled something, and a few people around that guy chuckled meanly.

John snarled softly. He said a fucking condom.

“Now, that’s just rude!” Odd said, spinning with a grin, and ran, on the tips of his toes, not even disturbing the flower arrangements, to land lightly beside the startled rock-looking guy who’d said it, close enough to kiss. “You stole my joke!”

A moment of shock.

Hastur chortled.

And there it was. Permission. No one was getting exploded.

Odd took the crowd’s shock—that fear, that wonder of what the fuck was going to happen—and wore it like a cape. Back on the table, strumming and humming the tune now (the chorus, so they would pick it up before he even sang it), he made his way back toward the main table, drawing every eye with every step. “Now I have to improvise! Let’s see, let’s see…I know!” A few absurd la la las as if he hadn’t warmed up. Then he took a deep breath and began to sing.

Slowly. Dramatically, in a minor key, with arpeggio support. “Now, you all know of gods and their music,” and he bowed toward the Great Old One whose home this was. “When eons have flown by so fast that we’re all sick…” He held that one, dipping down low, shaking his head.

A few chuckles. He had them and they didn’t even know it yet.

“In a magical world!” Louder. “Of dreams and of mice…” He leaped, spun and landed on the floor before the head seats on his knees. “A mortal that sings well sure goes down real niiiiiiice!” 

Dagon guffawed, sure, but that wasn’t the key. Hastur was still amused, and in the game of fine lines and entertainment, Odd knew he’d won.

He built up speed, switching to a major key, and bellowed the chorus. “Let us celebrate! Here we are to celebrate, to sing the song and do the dance for this fellow who’s here by chaaaance!” And he twirled behind Arthur—who was blushing, laughing along, hunching a little as Odd played over his head. 

Faroe clapped, eyes wide with wonder, and Odd had the feeling she’d never heard music like this before in her life. Well, he had to fix that.

Prancing behind Arthur, Odd sang on. “What a stand-up guy he is! Composing, singing, what a wiz! Looks good for his age, it’s true! What’s he, about… a hundred and two?”

Three! shouted John.

Arthur laughed for real. Faroe giggled. Dagon was losing it. And like a mighty tide, that pulled everybody (nearlyeverybody, and Odd noted who refused to take part in this very carefully indeed) along.

Odd spun around, went down, and leaned against Arthur’s legs, looking up with absurdly sparkly adoration. “Yo-ho, it’s Arthur’s day! A lovely guy, he’s here to play! Woo-ha, and all night long, we will sing his song!” He leaped as if spring-loaded back onto the table, tapped his feet, and indicated they should clap. And sang the chorus again. “Let us celebrate! Here we are to celebrate…”

A good third of everyone joined in. Others looked around, realized this was allowed, and a few more did, too. Perfect. 

He took them through that chorus twice, then slowed it down, back to the minor key of the first verse… and dared now to pose before Hastur’s throne. He was aware too well of how huge and terrifying the god was behind him, but he couldn’t resist. Such a backdrop! “There’s only one thing left here now to say: Arthur’s all right, in his own ways,” he sang.

“Fuck yeah!” bellowed Dagon, whose entire family might have gotten drunker during this performance.

Still in front of Hastur, Odd turned and sang right to Arthur, who (prompted by John) faced him. The smile, though, was all Arthur’s own. “A good friend!”

“Hear, hear!” shouted Parker from his corner.

“A good dad!”

Faroe bit her lower lip, grinning.

“The best Hastur’s ever had!” Odd said dramatically jumping the octave with a vocal crack as if he’d just scared himself.

(Utterly shocked laughter now… and he got another chuckle. Hastur gave him another chuckle. Enjoyment from the King in Yellow. This was inebriation.)

Dagon was slapping his knee. Odd gave the fishy god a stern look as if he were the one misbehaving, which just made the god laugh harder. 

Time for the finale. Back on the table. “And if he looks sad, you can bet he’s not mad! And no one can top him except for… um…” A build-up on the lute, nervous, rapid strumming, eyes wide and looking around as if for aid. 

The group was in the zone now. He got suggestions, shouted from the back. Most of them were pretty tame, given the party’s host, but Odd reacted as if they were the bawdiest things anyone had ever said, and kept building volume and speed with his chords. “No, too dirty! No, too innocent! What? Sir, I don’t know what that means, can you please see me after the show?” And by now, he had to really project to be heard over the laughter and cheers.

It was time. Odd sang on. “And if he looks sad, you can bet he’s not mad! And no one can top him except for….” He produced a hat out of absolutely thin air with a wild flick of his tail and dropped it onto his own head, which caught on his antlers at a deeply funny angle he could not have rehearsed if he tried. “A hat!” One final, hard chord.

The guests went insane.

Odd headed back to the platform, still on the tables, strumming and humming the chorus and inviting with his eyes as he strode, pulling entertainment out of them. And when he got back to his platform and spun and posed on the steps—back leg up, tail curled over his head, fluttering his eyelashes—the applause was really something.

If it could be called applause. These things mostly didn’t have hands, and anyone not used to the Dreamlands might think they were about to be mobbed by demons. 

Odd knew his monster sounds. He’d made them happy, dared to dip into the secret everybody knew and fucking forced it into the light, and taken a huge weight off Arthur’s shoulders.

Arthur was standing and clapping and cheering. He looked really, truly, genuinely happy.

That, Odd thought, was worth the entire fucking risk.

#

Oh, Hastur thought. That’s why Kayne sent this guy here. 

This had been borderline blasphemous, potentially politically venomous, and an absolutely brilliant show. Talented. Lovely. Funny. And within Hastur, for only a moment, with eons of habit, the urge to break his word and just take this man was almost too much.

For only a moment.

Faroe bounced up and down, cheering, then ran to him and threw herself into his arms. “Thank you, dad!” she cried, clinging. “It’s everything I wanted. Arthur’s so happy!”

Arthur was happy.

Arthur felt happy.

Arthur felt… relieved.

Hastur breathed slowly, focusing on his daughter. “Well. You did ask.”

She beamed at him and ran back to her seat, and he thought…

Couldn’t help thinking…

How much more she weighed this year than last.

She was growing. So fast. So damn fast.

And he’d never see her fully grown.

Well, that thought put an end to any unwonted desires.

Normally, after the big musical performance, they’d start to wind down, but that wasn’t happening now. Hastur had more food and ale brought in, and the absolute ruckus of beings in a good mood nearly drowned out his melancholy.

#

Parker made his way slowly through the ballroom. About a third of the guests had gone (some of them needing to be carried), back to their quarters, or in position for the fireworks later tonight. He’d kept on his hood and cloak, maintaining the appearance of mere security.

He wanted to peek in on Larson.

Larson sat at the table where he’d been, and was visibly very drunk. Drunk was interesting to Parker. It always revealed what was really going on in there, or at least part of it, if not any great complicated thing. Well, Larson looked mad. 

This was not, Parker thought, a face Larson would normally show to these beings he wanted to impress. 

Are you sure? Sunny whispered.

“Yeah. This is the moment to see what’s going on in there,” Parker whispered back. “Besides, after what happened… we gotta at least start addressing it. We all gotta live here.”

I don’t want to be anywhere near him.

Parker gently caressed his jaw. “I know, bud. Since it ain’t our choice, we’ve gotta make the best of it. Letting the river take us where it may ain’t gonna do that.”

True. Sunny breathed carefully. Alright. I’m ready.

Parker was not quiet as he pulled out the chair next to Larson and sat down.

The man knew he was there. He didn’t look up. Hands on the table, he stared into a golden, jeweled goblet probably worth more than half his holdings on Earth and said nothing.

“Hell of a show, huh?” Parker said, absolutely neutral.

Larson’s hands twitched. “You could say that.” His accent was thick with booze.

“Not what I expected, that’s for damn sure,” said Parker, still neutral.

Larson finally looked up. Oh, boy, those were some red eyes; this guy was gonna be hungover as fuck. “And what was it you expected, Saint?”

Parker weighed his words carefully. “We both know I’m not one. I don’t claim to be one. Just use my name, man. That’s all.”

“Oh, so now we’re equals? Buddy-buddy?” Larson said, teeth bared.

Parker let that one go. “What we are is in a lifeboat, and if anybody rocks it too much, we all go down.”

Lason stilled. Looked back into his goblet. Took a long swallow of his wine. “You’re not wrong. Are ya.”

Parker shrugged. “Weird here. You and I got real different goals in mind, and that’s fine—but we’re in the same boat. Look. I don’t expect you to see me as anything good. Not askin’ that of ya. All I’m saying is maybe we can make this work until we can part ways for good and never think of each other again. All I’m saying is let’s just try.”

Larson exhaled. “There’s some wisdom in that head’a yours, borrowed though it may be.”

“Just survival instinct. Kinda had to hone it, being what I am.”

Larson looked at him. “You acknowledge it.”

Whatever that meant. Parker chose where to poke. He shrugged. “I’m alive. Plan to stay that way. So do you. Just think on it. Okay?”

Laron sat there, breathing, eyes narrowed. Finally, he licked his lips. “I’ll think on it.”

“Temporary truce. That’s all.”

“Temporary truce. Maybe.”

“Good enough.” Parker nodded and stood. “Enjoy the fireworks.”

“Off to foul up your guest even more?” Larson said.

Sunny growled.

Parker didn’t even turn around. He waved one hand, calm, his back to Larson and shoulder-blades itching, and walked away.

That…

“Let him have his quip. It’s all he’s got. He’s lonely, miserable, and his life’s out of his control, and he actually fuckin’ feels it today.”

Sunny was silent for a long moment. You really have met men like him before.

“A lot of ‘em.”

Sunny sighed. Their tongue darted out. He’s dangerous.

“Real dangerous.”

Was it wise to turn our back?

“I wanna see how he takes it. If he thinks he’s been dismissed, or understands I meant what I said about not rocking the boat.”

He’ll think you’re proud.

Parker shrugged again. “If he comes at us, we’ll handle it.”

He’s dangerous, Parker.

“So the fuck are we.” Parker grinned, a crooked and wicked look in the mirrors.

Sunny let out a soft noise of surprise. We… Yes. Yes, Parker. We are.

“Wanna go see those fucked-up ponies again?”

I’ve got to. What the fuck even are those things?

“Nibbles’ acolytes now, I guess,” said Parker, and they both had a good laugh.

#

On the highest tower of Carcosa, Arthur sat with Faroe tucked into his side, his arm shielding her from the chilly spring evening. Faroe had asked for the time alone, and Hastur flew them there. Neither were bothered that there was not another way down. They knew he’d come for them. And in the meantime, they experienced fireworks.

Another! It’s blue, Arthur, limned with gold, and it’s words! John gasped. Oh! It’s tracing the whole of the Epic of Kardon across the sky in letters hundreds of feet high!

Arthur chuckled softly. “You like that one, if I recall,” he said, the distant boom of the pyrotechnics felt more than heard.

“I do,” said Faroe, and snuggled in. “I think it’s one of the prettiest histories.”

Arthur kissed her curly head. Both their crowns lay beside them, forgotten.

Oh! Oh, Arthur! This one… it’s the heart of fire itself! And it’s making the Yellow Sign!

Arthur closed his eyes (Noooooo…) and rested his cheek on Faroe’s head. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Happy birthday, dad,” she whispered. “Did you mean what you said?”

“When, sweetheart?”

She shifted a little; her leather creaked. “I remember you said… that it was all worth it to get to see me grow up. Did you mean that?”

Fireworks boomed, the sounds thudding against his chest; Arthur’s breath caught. “Yes.”

She shivered a little. “That’s a lot, though.”

Faroe was beginning to understand some things, apparently.

Arthur couldn’t ask her what. He could barely speak. “Sweetheart…” He slowly exhaled, shuddering. “I love you. When you… when…”

She took his hand, her own so much smaller than his.

From that, he found courage. “When I lost you, my world ended. I kept going because… that’s just what happens. But I… I spent every single day missing you so much.”

“What about my mother?” she asked.

Fuck, said John.

Arthur ignored him. “She’d be so proud of you.” He held her tighter. “I know she would. You’re so like her, in so many ways.”

“But you don’t miss her?”

John inhaled and held it, making the sound without lungs.

Arthur was silent for a long moment. “Not the same way, no. I do miss her. I wish… gods, I don’t wish she was here, this place is…” He stopped himself. “I do miss her. She was a good friend. We got each other in trouble and we never meant to, and… I was a pretty bad friend to her, toward the end.”

“Maybe she’d be proud of you, too,” said Faroe, holding his fingers. “I know she would be, if she’s like me.”

Arthur shook once and fell silent. His tears dripped onto her curly head, and she held him tighter.

John stopped describing fireworks. His left hand rose, hesitated, then very, very gingerly rested on top of theirs.

Nobody pulled away.

Fireworks bloomed, cheers followed from down below in the city, and Faroe fell asleep in Arthur and John’s arms.

#malevolent #malevolent fic #malevolent au #surrogate series #surrogate malevolent #surrogate fic #arthur lester #kiy malevolent #faroe lester

[nocturnalghoul]

Ghoul Blood Thoughts: Dew edition?

Okay this is like a special edition ghoul blood thoughts. A hypothetical of the hypothetical.

So I have said in previous ghoul blood thoughts that I feel like Dew's elemental transition would work sort of like a bone marrow transplant (BMT) and had more thoughts last week about that. ( for reference in case anyone is interested: main blood thoughts tag | overview post about element/blood type and Dew BMT thought)

Here is a bunch of rambling stuff below the cut about Dew's element change acting like a BMT and one of two potential situations that could come from that (might write the other option later if anybody is interested). 

Warning that I obviously will be talking about blood (in a kinda clinical way but still), but also putting Dew through mental turmoil about flipping elements. 

So a lot of the time with BMT patients there will be a time period where they will look like one type in the rbc portion and a different type in the plasma portion. Eventually though they will fully convert to the donor type and might even permanently change to that type (full engraftment of the donor), sometimes though they will start to revert back to their original type. A similar thing could happen with the procedure to flip Dew’s element. 

What if Dew sat there in various inbetween stages for years. He is predominantly a fire ghoul, but the water is still there somewhere. If you looked at his blood, his rbcs would match that of a fire ghoul and his plasma that of a water ghoul. What if someday his element starts to revert. 

It starts slow, barely noticeable honestly. The water never really went away anyways, but he starts to notice it a bit more. Sure his control of his fire magic has been slipping a little recently, but the tour cycles can be long and arduous, he is probably just tired. 

It doesn’t really flag as anything being wrong until after the last night of the tour. As they all are heading home, completely spent he feels one of his long since sealed over gills start to open back up. He manages to keep his chill for the rest of the trip til they get back, convincing himself he was just imagining things and that maybe his body was just finally reaching a proper equilibrium between his two types. 

Once everyone is settled though, he grabs Aether and the two of them end up spending an intense 48 hours in the infirmary. Tests are run and the overall consensus is that his body decided to suddenly revert elements. 

This ends up throwing Dew into a whole spiral because while yes there is a sweet nostalgic aspect to getting back the element he grew up with, that's not really him anymore. He has adjusted to being a fire ghoul. It's something he knows and now loves. 

After much discussion he is faced with a decision: accept the change, or redo the procedure and hope it sticks this time. The ghoulish doctors insist that it likely should stick and that what is happening is rare, but Dew still needs time to consider it. 

Option 1, be a water ghoul again: He sort of misses his water nature sometimes. He knows it never truly went away but he still feels its absence. He also considers how much fun it would be for both him and Rain to be the same element. They are already so close, but that elemental compatibility might bring them closer. There's a risk to this though, what if the clergy decides that they don’t need a failed fire ghoul as their lead guitarist for the Ghost project? He might get demoted to a general abbey ghoul or even worse, sent back down to the pit. How would Rain feel knowing that he let this happen and didn’t try anything? He knows a part of him is still upset about his former packmates leaving, would any of the ghouls ever truly forgive him?

Option 2, redo the procedure: He has grown to love the fire inside of him more and more everyday. It is now just as much a part of him as his original element. To give it up would feel like giving up a part of himself, to turn his back on everything that has happened since the elemental swap. He remembers how it magically drained Ifrit so much that he had to go back down to the pit to recharge his element essentially. It would feel wrong to waste the gift given to him by the fire ghoul. The entire process was so terrifying though, does he really want to go through with it again? Who would be the elemental donor now, the only ghouls with elemental manifestations strong enough would be Swiss or Sunny. Dew knows that both ghouls have other elements to lean on, and would still happily help them even if they didn’t, but he still feels conflicted. 

After several weeks of thought involving both silent contemplation and talking it over with the rest of the pack (well mostly Aether and Mountain to be honest), he finally decides to go through with the ceremony again. It seems the least disruptive and Sunny is more than happy to offer up her fire to help him out. 

#ghoul blood thoughts #nocturnal lore corner #although this isn't cannon to the ghoul blood thoughts lore or my general lore really #just sort of something i was pondering #tw blood #ghost headcannons #this is unedited so if something is glaringly wonky oops sorry #I tried my hardest to not make it super science heavy this time! #ghoul blood stuff

[heroic-ignus]

May the Gods have mercy on our souls... ~*

Surface.

"Eveybody knows of the man with no name who travels through the land offering his services as a swordsman. He's been around for a few years, maybe one or two decades at this point, a wanderer, a vagabond, owner of the title "The Errant Knight", once used to mock him for his job as a sellsword with no place to call home, but that now has turned into something more, a label of respect, for his abilities with the blade are nothing but art. Rumors say he hunts those whose deeds are obscure whilst protecting those who need it from the darkness of the world, and that his sword knows no defeat against evil, a warden of light, but those might just be exaggerations..."

Biography.

( TW: Suicide; Violence; Abuse & Blood Mention )

The town of Skohfjell was home to the Ignus family for generations, tale told from father to son that once upon a time they had been part of nobility, tricked into ruination, but nothing to confirm these words. Tales such that made Arthos Ignus what he was: a man driven by his ego whose heart was as dark as the end of times, ruthless, violent and, unfortunately, a swordsman like no other, which helped him become captain of the townsguard. Of course that was not enough for the ambitious and selfish man, he needed more, he wanted an easy life, and more than that he wanted even more power over others. Although he couldn’t marry nobility, through his handsome appearance and his charming words he managed to lure in the daughter of a rich Merchant, Lucelia Aresio, whose naivety blinded her to the multiple signs that would eventually haunt her future.

Before marriage, Arthos was everything someone could wish for, he was strong, handsome, eloquent, charming and caring, but everything changed once the vows were made and their first son was born. Like water turning to wine, he became cold, distant, rude and even violent, and even though he never hurt her physically paradise became hell to the poor Lucelia who once dreamt of a happy family. She killed herself before Alder was ten, and the little boy was the one to find her hanging from the ceiling, swinging ever so slightly due to the wind coming from the window to the beautiful day outside but that to him was closer to a cold winter now, a scene that would remain burnt into his memory.

After his mother’s death, Alder was blamed for what she’d done to herself by his father, who desperately tried to revert the situation it had caused, her family asking questions and taking their money away from the claws of the man who they correctly believed to be at fault, leaving their legacy to be collected only by Alder himself on his sixteenth birthday. Now, having had his desired wealth and comfort stripped from him, Arthos became more violent than ever, constantly leaving his son at the brink of death every time he drank, which was almost every day, incapable of even eating properly. Rare were the days he would be able to go back to his bed to sleep, too weak to resist, too hurt to move.

Alder spent the next five years being only a punching bag to his father, incapable of defending himself. A wrong look or any word that was in a slightly different tone than what Arthos wanted would lead to punishment. It would’ve kept going if not for a call from the Lord of Skohfjell ordering Arthos to lead a few of his men outside of the town to deal with some bandits that had been terrorizing merchants. That kind of task would usually save Alder for a few weeks at best, but for some reason it took way longer than expected, and, as such, the cleaver boy could finally fully recover and take his time to go outside in search for help. Unfortunately, things weren’t as easy as they might have seemed.

Everywhere he went, people turned their backs on the young boy, and at first he didn’t understand why they all had that reaction, but soon he could see in their eyes that familiar look, something he had carried with him all these years: fear. They all knew about his father’s reputation, someone who would go out of his way to destroy those who were weaker than him, and few were the ones that could rival him in battle. Just before the boy gave up, a hooded man offered him a hand, a man by the name Errond, he trained the young Alder Ignus with a sword for the next few months, and for some that could’ve seemed like wasted effort, but it wasn’t. Some could say Alder was a prodigy with the sword, but, of course, that wouldn’t be enough to fend himself against his father, so he chose a path different from Arthos’s, instead of relying on strenght and overpowering his opponents, he focused on his dexterity, evading and parrying his enemy’s blade until he saw the opportunity to counter.

When Arthos came back from his task, Alder had already changed, there was fire in his eyes unlike before, and that wasn’t something he enjoyed, so the older Ignus decided to punish him for that, but this time the boy had a blade, so the swords had to clash before he could teach him a lesson. Perhaps it was because his father underestimated him, or maybe because his blade was corrupted by the alcohol he’d been drinking before coming home, but slicing his arm off was too easy for the younger Ignus, so he had to blink a few times before even hearing the screams of agony echoing through the streets and slowly bringing people out of their houses to see what was happening. His father tried his best to grapple him to the ground, but Alder was faster, and there went his other hand, blood painting the streets red, and in that moment he had the chance to choose, but what came to him wasn’t anger or sadness, it was apathy, so he cut that old man’s head to stop the loud noise.

Now that he had his revenge, he was ready for the punishment that, in his mind, would certainly follow his actions, but instead he was met with praise and joy from all those around him, as if celebration was the result of his father’s death. Graced with the title of  The Hero of Skohfjell by the people for dethroning an evil man in power, untouchable by even the law and the Lord, he would finally be able to live his life as a normal person from that day on... Or that’s what he thought.

A few nights after that, as he was laid in bed, looking intently at the ceiling, still unable to believe he’d killed a man, a confused mix of satisfaction and guilt for being happy about that bathing his mind, he felt it. Pain throughout his whole body unlike anything he’d ever felt, as if every bone in his body was breaking and healing at the same time, his voice unable to escape his throat due to the contraction of his muscles in response to everything. He couldn’t beath, and his vision started fading slowly, as the lack of oxygen took away his consciousness. That night he dreamt of running through the streets of Skohfjell under the moonlight, feeling the wind hitting his skin as he reached great speeds, and soon he was inside the Ironwood Forest, jumping fallen trunks, the scent of nature to his nose, and as he looked around, wolves, but he wasn’t scared, it was as if he’d connected with them in a certain way.

All that faded into non-sense as he woke up in his bed, and it would’ve passed as just a dream if not for his dirty naked body as he looked at himself in the mirror. It was the beginning of a new nightmare: he’d become something else, something forbidden across all Iskaldrik, a creature of shadows, a supernatural being, a werewolf. Now he had two skins in which he resided and none in which he felt free, a man deemed hero by the people and a monster to be hunted by the light. He clinged into that mask of rightousness crafted by the citizens to hide his secret, doing his best to become the symbol of justice they made him into so to distract them from the signs of his duality. Luckily, he had the talent and soon became the very best swordsman in the town, just like his father, but unlike him Alder was kind or was it just the mask? That’s something he never really figured out until the day of his death.

What was supposed to be his second, and final, chance at freedom became his third nightmare as he suddenly came to his senses covered in the blood of the people he’d sworn to protect, his features reflected on the broken glass from the window he’d broken through, feral, savage, demonic, and in that moment his heart sunk into hopelessness as he realized what he had become: the monster which resided in his interior, creeping around in between both his forms, always there to haunt him. Maybe that's what he really deserved, what he truly was. He wandered around for some time, but could never stay in the same place for long as eventually this dark side of him came out and took control of him, rendering him a mere puppet of the darkness that corroded his soul. Stories of The Hero of Skohfjell never stopped spreading throughout Iskaldrik, and every time he heard a song about himself he’d feel disgust for what he’d become.

When Iskaldrik suffered from the war that would crush it, he fled from there, becoming a citizen of the world, but it was only after meeting a certain someone that light finally fought back against the darkness he’d holed himself into, and since then he’s been trying to forgive himself while battling inside and out for a chance at redemption, maybe someday he hopes to live up to the title bestowed upon him, for now, he’s become a sellsword for anyone with a heart in the right place, helping those who need it and charging a price equivalent to what they can pay. That’s when he finally tried connecting to his wolf self to find a way to fight the urge to do evil, and that’s when he met Lor, the dire wolf he connected with and which helps him during his crisis, as he directs his feral instincts to evildoers.

Personality.

Charismatic ++ || Observing +++ || Just + Distant +++ || Quiet ++ || Headstrong -

Alias.

He goes by TEK, short for his new title.

Status.

Currently helping refugees reach Lysara.

SKELETON

#/ about; *

[muzzleroars]

Thinking about that one anon's dream that had Eve in it. Thinking about how it would have affected V1 in the long run.

Would it be gentler to the human-like enemies? Would it still kill them to put them out of their misery? Would it search in every face of every demon and husk it fought for a hint of what they lost?

Would V1 have wiped it's memory of Eve? To not get in the way of its programming? To be able to cope with their loss?

Would they have hard coded her into themselves, to never forget her? Or to carry the memory of punishment, of what they could not save?

Thinking thinking thinking.

Thinking about how Eve essentially showed a machine that was capable of so much violence and only knew of that blood and war that even it could remain in comfort and live instead of survive.

Thinking about how it could combine with your shipping, how it's time with Eve is reflected in how it shows their love with Gabriel, or that it finds a sweet mirror in the love given to them.

Thinking about how maybe it picks up pottery, and that they drag Gabriel into it too. I wonder if the patterns the two make are reflective of their personalities. Each of the angels absolutely end up with their own vase, probably fitting them in some way.

(see this!)

GOD FR ;o; i do like to think of v1 retaining something of that memory, though it has become corrupted and difficult for it to consciously interpret - however, that can't override its war programming and how it was made to take human life above anything else. a pessimist would see v1 and believe that nothing had changed about it, that it forgot the person that had showed it kindness to revert near instantly back to its callous objectives, but that's not entirely true either. v1, for me, can only overcome its programming on a case-by-case basis and it absolutely has to fight its code on it, to the point that it is nearly exhausting...but what could show more love? so i don't think v1 would care anymore than it ever did for things that appear more human - they are what it was created and trained to kill - but i think it does seek recognition of someone it once knew unconsciously. because a few rare people in its memory are special. it doesn't know if it can see them in husks, but its computer tries anyway.

but i absolutely do think an experience like that would help guide v1 in how to be gentler with gabriel, especially when they get that apartment. its half-memories would fill it and gabriel would swear he sees nostalgia in it...it makes him wonder for the first time what v1's life has been, what its existence was before it ever came to hell. yet it can really tell him nothing as it tries to access corrupted file after corrupted file...it's frustrating to even try, so gabe thinks instead v1 should just follow the whims they provide and see if it can restore anything that way. he would absolutely love taking up pottery with it, and their pieces definitely would be quite different - v1 loves its sharp angles while gabriel tries for flowing, graceful forms....although they both know they're terrible at it to start. but v1 also tries to recreate the little vase in its mind, the one it lost a long time ago, and it's quite different than anything else it does. when questioned about it, it does tell gabriel that someone had this. a long time ago. it doesn't remember who and it doesn't remember where, just the vase. it leaves gabriel very quiet as he comes to understand that v1 knew people...or at least it knew someone. all he can hope for is that they're still around.

#and omg making vases for the other angels aaaaaa #uriel would get a little set meant for succulents so they can live with him at his desk #for raph it would be bright and colorful in a way that complements his favorite flowers (irises) #and michael's would be a tall simple vase to hold flowers he needs to trim when they're grown too much on him #cake answers #long post

[izzy-b-hands]

Rambling abt the half dream half nightmare that woke me up today below the cut. feel free to ignore, just need to vent it out somewhere. Probably going to include me talking abt Current Family Issues and Feelings so. yeah. TW for mentions of someone in hospital, death, religion, and overall family dysfunction lmao

I know that ultimately, right now, if something big and/or terrible happened medically to anyone in my family back in ND, I wouldn't be able to go see them. The money just isn't there (part of why I'm not going out there this summer nor are they coming out here at all.) I've accepted it, and I try not to think abt it.

That said, LOVE (read: HATE) my brain deciding a hyper realistic yet weird dream abt my mum winding up in hospital is the way to go this morning. Complete with:

-her bf refusing to speak to me abt it, and telling me not to bother going to visit her in the weird, somehow existing in both CT and ND simultaneously, hospital with a 'haven't you already been enough of a burden to her?'

-me staying in my grandparent's old house in ND, and for some reason that meant being wildly unable to get ready to go to the hospital. Finding my clothes was nearly impossible, but. all their old decorations were back up on the wall so even as I was searching for them I like. Didn't want to leave? As if the house would revert back to being sold like it has been irl, if i left it. Finally I wound up just stealing clothes from my grandfather's side of their closet (specifically his old 80s styled 'eagle on a tree branch' print sweater that he got forced to toss a few years ago bc it was becoming more holes than sweater, and one of his old, big leather jackets. somehow i found jeans that fit me, idk how considering i can't seem to do that irl rn but i digress)

-me showing up to the hospital FINALLY only for Noel Fielding?? to be sitting outside it with a friend dressed in what i can only describe as absolutely gorgeous future techno witch clothing. Unfortunately they were fucking dicks in this dream and scared the shit out of me by joking that 'it was so nice I'd shown up still despite the worst' and implying my mum had already passed. Noel did shout apologies as i stomped off inside and that as far as he knew she was still okay, but his friend is the one who handed me a wrapped in plastic, small, metal stool with a weird cartoon face on the seat so i could 'sit with her body, like sitting shiva, right?' (not like that at all to my knowledge, but then again my family has rarely to never fully followed any of the various religious rituals around death, we just. take the bits the dead person liked from them and ignore the rest, for better or for worse. Maybe that's just what happens when a family is a mishmash of various christian sorts from Catholic to Protestant with the hidden knowledge that actually, prior to ppl moving to the States, ppl in the family were Jewish but inter-marrying into Catholic families for safety-sake, and so any Jewish traditions used now are done wrongly and weirdly and in odd bits and pieces. At least that's as much as I've been told/have found out abt it, anyway)

-I proceed into this stupidly fancy and open concept hospital, to immediately find a hugr crowd mucking up the elevators (crowding the elevator bank and refusing to let others on.) That's where Con showed up, and helped me make it up the ridiculously wide, roundish staircases (think like. wide rounded stage steps, but for each level of this hospital), while also trying soothe me by telling me Housemate was already here and waiting for me, so were my grandparents and even Mum's bf (he promised to keep him away from me lol, it was v sweet in an otherwise filled with anxiety dream.)

-however, as we were struggling up the steps (also full of crowds, pushing each other around, so we literally had to hold hands and hold onto the railings and walls to avoid being shoved down the stairs), he kept hesitating on saying more abt mum. He tried to distract me by mentioning that, since I was here, the docs might want me to address some of my own health issues but that he wouldn't let them force me into any treatment i didn't want. Then he finally alluded to mum being in worse straits than I'd been told abt and said something to the effect of 'doing only what you can, not what she or others would expect of you' and 'not to set yourself on fire to keep someone else alive' plus admitting he was deeply worried my family was abt to force me into a big decision that absolutely wasn't the ONLY treatment option that would help mum, but it was implied to be the one mum's bf and my grandparents were pushing for.

-still dunno exactly what that option was, but just before i woke up i started hearing the latter part of the song Gethsemane from JCS (Housemate and I have been watching various versions irl this weekend lol), specifically the bit where Jesus dares/begs/etc God to see how he dies. This was accompanied by me finally reaching my mum's hospital room, and a stupid bright light emanating from it and like. Not to critique my own brain and the dream it created, but that was far too on the nose for me personally lmao.

-and I woke up thinking abt the call with my grandparents that I had on Thursday (didn't go super poorly but went. kind of weird and uncomfortable and confirmed again that like. they're happy for me being out here in CT, yet at the same time hold it and my happiness against me to some unconscious degree as originally outright confirmed by Mum in an earlier call her and I had like. Tail end of last year lmao. the main crux seeming to be 'why couldn't i find happiness in ND/what's wrong with all of them/why wasn't i willing to keep trying to make my life work in ND regardless of my happiness/don't i know how hard it is without my being there to help everyone whenever they ask/etc family bullshit')

And now I'm laying here thinking. If the Worst would happen for any of them, they would fully expect me to empty my bank accounts and do whatever else i had to, to get to ND not just to see them, but to help. to take care of as much as possible for them (mum and grandma get decision paralysed by sad/scary life events, my aunt is so uncomfortable with sickness and death she won't do hospital visits or funerals at all anymore for anyone, my cousins...are young enough they won't know how to handle it/won't want to, my grandpa tends to just shut down and isolate when things go to shit, and that's not to say that they all don't still get done things that need doing in these situations, but that they DO all usually need prodding and help and have leaned on me for that since i was a kid.)

And i would of course want to see them/help however i could, but. not to that extent. not to the point that I'd have nothing for myself, no money or help (bc they're not in a position to return that help or money to me, and they'd be so emotional as to likely be extremely offended and upset if i mentioned needing help myself.)

That said, I'm sick of silently daring them to watch me die just for their sakes, even tho i do still love them all dearly. and of course, that's entirely too dramatic but at the same time, Mum and I have had convos abt 'what if there's a shooting somewhere that we're at, how do we handle it, how are we attempting to protect each other' and Mum always says she would take a bullet for me, but she didn't protest when i say that I'd take one for her or anyone else in the family first. Last time she just nodded like. yeah. of course you would. so. Feelings, abt all of this.

If u actually read this full thing that was A. very sweet of u and i appreciate that u care abt my silly lil fucked up brain enough to do that (genuinely, I'm v grateful) and b. here is a pic of Nisha as what little compensation i can give for u reading this long ass ramble lol

#text post #long post #i should get up for the day bc this dream may have fucking sucked #but there are spring birdies peeping outside and Housemate and i have planned a day of just chilling together #also gonna put together the chocolate ikea easter bunny we got at some point #neither of us celebrate religiously anymore lmao but it's an excuse for egg and bunny shaped chocolates #anyway i can never tell my family any of my feelings abt this stuff or it'll be seen as an utter betrayal of them #and as a sign to them that i dont care abt or love them #but i do. i just want to have my own life and happiness just like they have theirs. and live for myself as much as i do others

[hanayori89]

Revealed in the Moonlight

*Ordon Village*

It felt good to be your true self. You and the moon lay your secrets bare to one another. This was a no-judgment zone. You stepped out of the itchy garments that protected your Twili markings. You tiptoed into the spring, dipping your big toe in to check the temperature. The water was soothing against your tired limbs. You decided that despite how pretty the Hylian body was, it didn't feel limitless like your Twili body. You took the time alone to actually admire what your new form looked like. 

You hadn't returned to your previous pallor. The tranquil surface of the spring acted as the perfect mirror to admire your markings. They seemed dull in your reflection. No doubt this was part of Midna's spell. It wasn't quite midnight yet, so you hadn't reverted back to your Twili form. You eyed the flat color of the turquoise design that began at your shoulder blade. It twisted down your spine, sprawling over your back. In your realm, your markings were quite rare. They had transformed you into quite a unique beauty. While Twili didn't obsess over the physical, they did obsess over their markings. They were idiosyncratic to our tribes. To our identities. You were also grateful, for your markings were easy to hide beneath clothing. 

Castle Town had been a bust. The palace was equipped with the finest soldiers of Hyrule. You expected nothing less. You thought you could bluff the guards and gain admittance into the castle. You claimed to be a messenger of the Hero of Twilight. They would have nothing of it. Apparently, he was a regular figure at the castle. You thought his relationship with Midna made you special in their hierarchy. You realized you came off a tad entitled. You were merely Midna's disciple after all. But she had made it sound like she and Zelda were so close. You couldn't help but be taken aback by the lack of acknowledgment of Midna in this realm. The guards didn't bat an eyelash at the mention of her name. You asked if you returned with the hero, if you could be granted access to an assembly with the princess. Their response? As long as official intel allowed you in, you would be granted the access you sought. 

The next step was simple. You would have to find the Hero of Twilight.

You did manage to buy some clothing that would help keep your identity inconspicuous. You also tried something known as "ice cream." The vendor had called it bee larvae ice cream. It had honeycomb crisps combined with swirls of honey. You had never tasted something so delicious. The richness of the honey made the ice cream that much smoother. It was most odd to think something frozen could be so enjoyable. You were only allotted a specific allowance from Midna. The currency in this realm were known as "rupees." Like the limits of the Hylian body, it seemed even their currency was also finite.

You knew you had to be more responsible and stave off the debauchery. You wanted to escape the rowdiness of Castle Town. You decided to ask the vendor if he had any recommendations for a more serene place you could visit. When the vendor mentioned the Ordon Spring, you became intrigued. The vendor mentioned the spring and its rumored healing prowess. He also said it was one of the most tranquil locales in Hyrule, besides Lake Hylia. You had just left Ordon. You were certain that, thanks to Link, you could find your way back. 

You departed the ice cream shop, leaving the dismayed vendor shouting a series of numbers at you. You realized it was his address, and he was asking you on something known as a date. The thought made you chuckle to yourself. What was a date like? Maybe you should have gone?

Once you made your way back to Hyrule Field, you felt instant relief wash over you. The energy of Castle Town made you slightly jittery. You weren't used to so much rambunctious energy. Perhaps with more visits, the jitters would disappear. I hope all of Hyrule isn't so boisterous. You just needed to escape to a place of peace. As you made your trek across the field, you couldn't help but think about Link. You decided you would banish all thoughts of him once the blue sky vanished behind dusk. You didn't like that he was occupying your thoughts so much.

You submerged yourself beneath the water and shot up, shooting a mini cannon of water out of your mouth. You let out a hearty laugh. Everything was so new to you. You continued to float in the spring, allowing your body to be weightless. You couldn't help but wonder in which direction you would float next. You hoped it would be somewhere close to where the Hero of Twilight resided. 

*

Link had been following her trail all day. First, she hit a few clothing stores. He noticed she would pick up the same modest articles of clothing. It definitely reaffirmed his suspicions from earlier.  Among the arsenal were long skirts, long-sleeved shirts, and baggy dresses. Link found it cute when she would crinkle her nose slightly at something she found unattractive. Shoving it back on the rack, she eagerly moved on to her next piece. He didn't see what she bought. He surmised she must have found something appropriately stylish, as she left the store with a bag in hand. Then she made her way to Hyrule Castle. This is where Link really wanted to devote his attention.

He tried to finagle his way within earshot of her and the guards that stood entry. He couldn't make out what was transpiring. When he was certain she was out of sight, he walked up to the guards. The two guards who were on entry duty were known as Val and Fabian. Through Val and Fabian, Link learned the mystery girl was trying to impersonate herself as his personal messenger. Except she called him the "Hero of Twilight." No one in this realm knew him as such besides two people: Midna and Zelda. Link began to roam Castle Town to see if he could catch a glimpse of her. It wasn't until he heard a vendor yelling at someone that he realized she was departing Castle Town. 

Link cornered the vendor. "Excuse me, the woman that was just here - where did she go?" The vendor slapped a scoop of ice cream in a bowl and passed it to an eager child. "She was asking for recommendations on more secluded locations in Hyrule. I sent her to Ordon Spring." The vendor glanced in Link's direction and began to flounder. "Oh-h Mr.Link, forgive me. Would you like any ice cream?" 

"No, that's quite alright." Link did his best to give the vendor a friendly smile. "What was the ruckus about?" A faint blush crept on the vendor's face. "Mr. Link, if you see that girl, could you ask her out for me? I tried, but I think I came on too strong. Also, she wouldn't say no if you asked her out, I'm sure." If only you knew, Link thought to himself. Link gave an abrupt wave and ran back towards Epona. He knew she was going back to Ordon. Link decided to observe her closely before he moved in for questioning. He also decided to pay Mayor Bo a visit. When he first met her, he was so charmed by her beauty that he didn't hear her name. 

Either way, he no longer had to worry too much. It sounded like whatever her goal was, she needed to play nice with the Hero of Twilight. The thought of seeing her again thrilled him more than it should have.

So here Link sat, completely in stealth, at Ordon Spring. Mayor Bo had said her name was Y/N. Link recognized it, but he wasn't sure from where. He waited patiently, staged behind a bush. Once he saw her arrive, he saw her begin to undress. Despite Link's popularity with women, he was no cad. He looked away, waiting to hear the sound of her submerging herself beneath the water. Once she had, he waited to see if he could make out her markings. Sure enough, she floated slightly above the water, revealing intricate patterns of lines that swept from her shoulder blade down her back. There was no mistaking it. She was indeed a Twili.

Link continued to watch Y/N behave like a child. Splashing around in the water like a newborn in a bathtub. She would disappear, only to spring up and gleefully shoot small water cannons from her mouth. Each time she did this, she would laugh at herself. Link was secretly laughing with her. It filled him with delight to see such a vulnerable side to her. Compared to the impenetrable one from this morning. 

Link noticed a curtain of pollen spores that streaked downward throughout the night sky, threatening his nose with a harsh tickle. "AHH," Link covered his mouth with his hands. He felt his chest heave as a sneeze was trapped within him, begging to be let loose. Goddesses, I mustn't sneeze. She will think I am no better than the foul goats we herd here in Ordon. Link waited a few seconds; convinced the sneeze had disappeared. Until the familiar tickle emanated in front of his nose once again. An ear-splitting sneeze ruptured through the peace of the spring. Link heard Y/N begin to splash in the water, alarmed. Birds flew out of the trees ahead in fear. Link wasn't sure, but it even felt like the spring itself reacted to his sneeze, rippling in all different directions.

Link saw Y/N jump from the spring. He quickly buried his head in his hands so as not to look. He heard the ruffling of clothes. Then he heard the sound of bushes rustling. Until finally, he heard his bush rustle, causing him to release another deafening sneeze. 

"Oh, oh my! OH NO!" Link looked up and saw Y/N. The panic was clearly visible from the furrowed line on her forehead. She began to stalk away from him, terrified. He couldn't let her escape. He couldn't let her run away from him. Not like this. Link sprung to his feet. "Wait! Please, let me explain! Please don't run away!" 

Link quickly picked up his pace until he saw Y/N stumble over a weed, falling face first. 

"Goddesses! Are you alright?" Link slid on the dirt and fell to his knees beside you. 

"My ankle! Why does my ankle feel this way?" Little droplets of water became aroused in your eyes from the searing pain. Link gently touched your ankle, "Let's get you into the spring. It will heal it if it's injured. Does this hurt?" He applied gentle pressure with the tips of his fingers on different areas of your ankle.

Before you could answer, something glimmered in your eye. It distracted you from the throbbing radiating from your ankle up your leg. Link caught your eyes, realizing you had grown completely silent. 

You reached out your hand towards Link. His mouth slightly opened, shocked by the initiation of touch. He let you grab his hand, and you guided it upward so that the light of the moon could illuminate it. You studied the symbol ingrained on Link's hand. You knew what this symbol was. You've only seen it in every history book in your realm. 

It was the sacred Triforce. You stared at Link, the boy with the fluffy, bright bangs and expressive blue eyes. He wasn't just a rancher. He was also the Hero of Twilight.

A/N: Edited 10/25/22

It looks like you finally found the Hero of Twilight. Will he be able to aid you on your quest to become Hylian?

Check out my other completed Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

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[theficblog]

JUST NOT ENOUGH

NA JAEMIN

Prologue: Your boyfriend Jaemin can get really shy, times like these make you the one that initiates something physical

Genre: Fluff + Bed sharing AU

Wordcount: 899

Prompts: “Give me the remote.” + “We could get caught, what if someone bashes in!?” 

Warnings: None

A day that had been full of walking, roaming, eating, bargaining, clicking pictures with your boyfriend's new camera, and overall touristing had finally come to an end, leaving you exhausted. 

You tossed your bag and shoes on the floor and sank into the bed. This was the perfect time for a bath. There was something about a bath filled with perfumed bubbles that instantly calmed you down, and it was even better if you added some candles.

"Umm. Actually, I-I'm fine, you can go ahead with it, I'll wait.." Jaemin replied, rather, refused your offer of him joining you in the tub, despite the fact that it would be fantastic for company. But, you see, you couldn't expect the man who shuddered from head to toe at the smallest brushing of fingers to join you in a bath, naked.

"Alright." You declared as you headed inside, returning not before a good thirty minutes, only to find your boyfriend with his eyes glued to his laptop screen. 

"Editing those photos again?" You questioned him, as he sat on a sofa chair, at some distance, to the left side of your bed, while drying your long locks, which smelled of your honey and lavender shampoo.

You did not waste much time in getting yourself ready for bed, still somehow utilising that time to converse with Jaemin. Once you were done, you finally pulled over the duvet with a sigh.

"Come, Sleep!" You patted the right side of the bed, indicating your boyfriend to finally give his body some rest.

"Just a minute." He replied, without even looking at you once, his eyes still glued to the electronic. 

You hummed back, stretching your arms, staring at the ceiling. It took Jaemin more than a minute for sure as by now you had introspected the last six months of your life, only after the design and lighting got too boring to bear.

"How long do you plan to stay there?" The tub of patience overflowed with water. "All night." He reverted, concentrated on the screen, only if you concentrated that much on your classes, you'd probably be working for NASA. 

"Huh? All night?" You inquired, but your brain's bulb blazed and lit up quickly

"Oh, Ohhhhhh." You said it out loud, emphasising the second oh.

In the twelve months of being together, the maximum extent you had gone with Jaemin was a kiss. Just a kiss. Okay, maybe some touchings here and there, but it was never just enough.

"Stop being so melodramatic, this is just bed sharing, not the beginning of some porn movie, Jaemin." You nagged at him, now this was one rare time you were not on the receiving end. 

A blush took over his cheeks, he pushed his hair back, the silky locks interlocking with his fingers. "Al-alright."

-

It had been fifteen minutes since then. Jaemin laid to your right, arms and legs straight in the 'attention' position, keeping a prescribed distance from you as if it were a military drill.

"Sniff" he voiced, it was evident that he was cold, a result of not covering his flesh with the bed linen. 

"Could you increase the temperature by a bit, maybe?" Jaemin requested, pointing to the remote control that was seated on the stand closer to your side. 

"It's pretty hot, isn't it?" You mumbled with your face buried in the sheets, it was cold after all. Ironic. Maybe you should have been more careful about that. 

"Give me the remote." Jaemin pleaded this time. He was trying his best to reach out, stretching his arm out to have access.

"Hmmm, take this" you grabbed the duvet, not the remote, offering him some room inside it.

Much to your amazement, he accepted it, even though his arms were still crossed, his shoulders straight and his body stiffened. Sleeping under arrest would have been more comfortable. 

That was enough. He was your boyfriend.

You pushed your face out of the white sheets, turned on your side, and wrapped your arm around your boyfriend's torso on the spur of the moment. You pillowed his chest, as you let out a sigh. "Finally.”

Jaemin on the other hand, was too stunned. His body which was still positioned the same way, now began to change its posture. His hand was shivering and struggling to place it around you.

"Let me help." You held his hand, firmly placing it on your body. 

But again, this was not just not enough.

You shifted your gaze upwards, meeting Jaemin's black, round eyes that were glinting with happiness. You knew he always wanted this but never dared.

Impulses took over once more, and you pressed your lips against his, leaving him stunned once more. It was only you at first, and it took him a while to reciprocate the same action. You were both too engrossed in the moment, concentrating solely on the smooches and tongues.

"We could get caught! What if someone bashes in?!" There went off the security alarm again. Who in their right mind would enter a locked room? There's nothing wrong with two adults, fully clothed, sharing a bed and having a good time together.

"Na Jaemin I swear to God!" 

Jaemin burst into laughter hysterically, throwing his head back, right before he was smashed with the velvet cushion in the face.

You could bet this night was going to be eventful.

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