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kuroshokami · 2 months

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Sk8r boi.

Featuring. Kanata Yatonokami x Fem! Reader.

Your skateboarding lesson ended up being more than just that.

Tags: romantic fluff, Kanata is soft and protective.

🛹 - Dedicated to my dear Kanata lovers @koumeowkami @ahskp and @kanyata 💜 I hope you guys like this.

Light dyed in a myriad of lilac and mauve follows you around as you rush towards the beaten up sofa of his apartment.

Had this been anyone else, he would have rolled around and kept sleeping.

But the lavender infinity in his gaze found its horizon always in you.

No matter how much he pouted or grumbled, “no” wasn’t a word that existed in his vocabulary when it came to you.

Your hand reaches out, gently shaking his shoulder, his worn skateboard rattling against the floor as you try to wake your boyfriend.

A groan escapes his lips.

You giggle, expression tender as you observe his frown and scrunched up nose.

Lashes seemingly threaded of moonlight rest against his pale cheekbones.

To you, he had always been an angel, troubled by the gravity that mercilessly made him plummet on this cold, twisted world.

But you were always there to break his fall.

“Kanata!” You call, kneeling beside his sleeping figure. “Wake up, it’s evening already!”

Another groan, followed by his arm unconsciously wrapping around your shoulders.

“ ‘S too early…” He mumbles, tightening his hold on you.

You chuckle. Your boyfriend was always too adorable when he was sleepy. His clinginess for you showed, and you loved it a little too much.

“Kanata… You’re squishing me…” You laugh, muffled by his hold. “It’s evening now, look, look, the sun is already setting!”

“It’s too cold.” He replies, curling up closer by your side.

“Please?” You pout, playfully, resting your forehead against his, your hand finding his own.

You can hear him sigh, those violet eyes you loved so much finally catching the rosy daylight of sundown.

“You want something, don’t you?” Kanata questions, knowingly, resting his hand on top of your head, softly ruffling your hair.

“Pretty please?” You confirm, showing him his skateboard.

“You want to go skateboarding now? You don’t even know how…” Kanata’s voice is slightly hoarse from sleep, hair tousled as he rests his cheek on his palm.

“That’s the point! I want to learn and I want you to teach me.” You insist.

Despite the determination in your tone, your lover purses his lips.

He remembers the bruises that used to litter his body when he got on a skateboard for the first time.

Black and blue is not a combination he’d like to see imprinted on your skin.

“You’ll fall.” Comes Kanata’s deadpan expression.

I can’t bear to see you get hurt. Are the words he made his heart keep silent.

You whine, tugging on his hand, an indication you want him to get up.

“I’ll be okay! Kanata, you’ll be with me…”

He finally sits up, and there’s nothing but adoration in his eyes when he next lays them on you.

To you, having him by your side equals being safe. How could someone like him be so lucky to find your light when his world was dimming?

“Tsk, fine…” Your boyfriend agrees, finally, as you squeal and wrap your arms around him.

It’s worth it, if you are going to look this happy, he supposes.

—

“D-don’t let go…” You utter, trembling, as you attempt to keep your balance, body stiff, arms stretched out.

Faint beams of sun filter in between the old buildings, akin to strings holding you together as you try not to fall.

“Don’t be silly, of course I’m not letting you go.” Kanata assures you, while his hands are positioned on your waist.

Gaze averted, his face burns; he’s cuddled with you endless times, why is holding you like this flustering him so much?

He sighs, extending a hand towards you instead.

“Let’s try it from another side.” He suggests.

Both of his hands clutch yours firmly, yet with enough gentleness that if you wanted so, you could easily pull away.

With him, it feels safe. And even if you were to topple over, you know you’d find his arms already stretched out to catch you.

“O-okay… I think I got this…”

As much as you’re struggling to only propel yourself a few centimeters and with his help, Kanata can’t help but linger for a little on the thought of how cute you look right now.

Your hands grab onto his tightly, as if he was your lifeline, which right now, (and always) he pretty much is.

“Alright, good, now, push against the floor with your other foot and then put it back up on the board.” Your boyfriend instructs, one of his hands still in yours, while the other hovers nearby.

“Like this- Woah!” Is everything you have time to articulate before you’re bracing yourself for impact, your balance lost in an instant.

Except you land against something softer than you had expected.

Someone.

“I got you.” The voice you loved to hear in angsty lyrics or in the gilded first light of a new day reassures. “I told you I wouldn’t let you go.”

From your position, leaning on his chest, you stare up at him, the relief of finding his embrace instead of harsh concrete, palpable in your features.

You know you’re staring.

You can’t look away.

Your eyes are fixated on Kanata, and yet, you could swear you’re looking at a piece of twilight skies descended just for you.

Strands of silver hair mirroring the purple heaven above sway with the dusk breeze around his shoulders, eyelashes of the same color framing eyes that look at you with equal parts affection and concern.

That gaze of his.

It had always been your weakness; hyacinth petals aflutter amidst a snowy night. So many words hidden in it. He was always better at actions, after all.

Suddenly, his grip tightens around your arms, pulling you upright.

In the silence shared between you and the setting sun, Kanata’s focus is solely on you. A wave of relief washes over him when he makes sure no bruises marr your exposed knees.

“Why did you decide to wear that to come skateboarding?” He grumbles, glancing in the direction of your plaid skirt. “I mean it’s cute- No that’s-“ He lets out a sigh. “You could have easily gotten hurt.” He finally manages, cheeks the same shade dried rose petals stained the pages of a priced diary.

Your hands reach out to cradle his cheeks, gently brushing a few stray lilac locks away from his eyes.

“I knew I’d be safe with you here, Kanata.” Is the soft utterance you confess to reassure him, right as your lips softly brush his.

When you part, you feel a force pulling you against your lover’s chest again, the lips you had just grazed now chasing after you fervently.

You don’t hesitate to kiss him back, the desperation spelled in his every touch known by heart to you at this point.

You’d need way more skateboarding lessons, Kanata thinks, as one of his hands cups the back of your head, his sharper canines slightly nibbling on your lower lip.

And if this is how all of them end up, he’ll take his time teaching you.

For now, though, he’ll just let himself smile into the sweetness of you.

#paradox live #paradox live x reader #paradox live imagines #paralive #paralive x reader #kanata yatonokami #kanata yatonokami x reader #pararai #paralive imagines #paradox live cozmez #paradox live headcanons #cozmez #paradox live kanata #kanata x reader #paradox live the animation #anime imagines #fluff #hailey writes

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bucknastysbabe · 4 months

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You chose the highborn route, be prepared for a night with your sweet sworn sword.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Criston is unhinged, Targ!Princess reader is a little manipulative, soft domme, pet names, slight Degredation, fuck the thoughts outta your head, sub space for Criston, edging, overstimulation, hand jobs, praise kink

Lowborn route

Dividers by: @plutism

Criston had slunk into your chambers that night, eyes dark, posture defeated. You, the object of his desire and forbidden lover opened your arms as always. He knelt by your bedside, letting your smaller hand caress a stubbled cheek, the other palm smoothing errant curls.

“What’s wrong sweetheart, dear babe, coming to me like a kicked pup.”

His voice quavered when he replied, “Don’t want to think. I think too much, it’s driving me mad.”

“Think about what?,” you asked, Criston’s agonized expression making your chest clench. He was of the emotional sort— prone to bouts of anger or deep self-hatred, despondency.

“You, my Princess, it’s always you.”

Figured, he was madly in love lust obsession with you. You’d have to fuck the thoughts out of his pretty head. It would clear the knight up until the next time he got lost in the forever fog of honor, duty, love, oaths, guilt and shame.

“You can hold it,” you smiled down at the poor thing.

Criston was a sloppy mess. Long dark hair sweaty, lips swollen and wet, eyes wide with hot tears. Even his olive skin burned a shade of mauve. Pre-cum soaked his trembling belly, slick oil all over his cock and balls. To you— he was a masterpiece.

Your sweet little Kingsguard who cried and followed you like a puppy. Sick with love. Would do just anything for you. Like now. You’d been keeping the man on the edge from having two orgasms now. His thighs shook from underneath, white teeth biting down on a tender lip as he held off the release.

He whined long, eyes pouring fresh tears. Criston’s voice cracked as he babbled, “M’so close- closeclose oh gods princess- please stop mmh I’m going to pop!” Your hand slowed to a stop, cooing, “Good boy, letting me know, such an obedient puppy.”

He sniffled, “Th-thank you princess.”

You watched his breathing slow down before beginning to jerk him again. You used one hand to pull down the excess skin on his shaft, the other circling his purpling cockhead with a flat palm. The brunette began to sob, almost sounding like a pained laugh. He tried to shy away, writhing, hands firmly tied behind to prevent that from happening.

“Hn- oh- hnghhh,” was his eloquent little reply.

You soaked up his pleas, pussy throbbing at how desperate he got. Leaning closer and pressing your tits against muscled chest you playfully asked, “You gonna pop pup? You hurting? Oh poor Ser Criston, can’t even control himself. I bet you rut your pillow every night, whining for me like the puppy you are.”

He nodded tearily, thick brows furrowed. You could tell the knight he was a stupid aurochs and he would agree. But he wasn’t. Criston was sharper and stronger than he let on. Just liked being used like a flea bottom whore to abate his wild delusions.

Pressing your lips to his cheek you taunted further, “The gallant Ser Criston, unhorsed Daemon, rendered Strong to Brokenbones, the only knight to see live combat here. Yet my hand has you pinned.”

He groaned in frustration, wrists pulling at the bound rope. Criston gritted out, “I- I’m holding it, I’m…oh, it’s all for you!” Patting a wet cheek you sighed, “I know, so strong and valiant. Couldn’t ask for a better shield, mine so true and chivalrous.”

This situation was not chivalrous, but Criston’s desire to please and be polite was. He whimpered softly, lips puckered into a pout. You kissed the swollen flesh, hand still easing him along. He opened his mouth for you, silently begging for a kiss.

Relieving your flat palm from his over-sensitive prick, Criston’s body settled some. You awarded his pretty mouth with a searing open-mouthed lip lock. The brunette arched into your tits, mouthing at you eagerly, letting your royal tongue force his into submission. You loved the shiver forced down his spine when you suckled on a sweet tongue.

Criston began to whimper again, belly tightening, cock leaking so so so much pre. You sped your hand up, pulling away to his agonized noise. Nuzzling at his cheek you purred, “You’re just perfect baby. Not having any more nasty thoughts? Just how full your poor balls are hm? How your princess always takes care of her sweetie?”

“Gooooooods yes,” he moaned.

He was drooling now, unable to stop cute hitching of breath, having achieved his perfect little empty headspace. You cooed further, “Pretty puppy, good puppy, been so obedient. Do you want to come for me?”

He babbled, “Whatever you w-want, mmm, close close, princess please, my angel!”

Swiping a hand across his swollen cockhead you ordered the man to let go. By the gods he did, so wonderfully. Sobbing and mouthing at your neck, thighs jumping in tune with his cock twitching and spitting pearly essence all over his tight belly. He cried your name, some swear words, mainly indecipherable crying gibberish. Tongue and head too thick with heady pleasure.

You eased him through the intense sensation, sliding your smaller palms across his heaving sides. “That’s it Criston, good, good, let it out.” He’d stopped releasing but needed a good little cry into your neck. You scratched at the sweaty hair on his nape, murmuring sappy words.

After taking a deep inhale, Criston childishly blinked and stared at you, waiting for something. You smiled softly and purred, “Relax Ser Cole, I’ve got my puppy taken care of. Just lie down, let me get these ropes off.” He slurred out an ‘m’kay’, tired from the ordeal. You smiled down at his relaxed face, glad to keep your knight complacent and sweet for a bit longer. He smiled softly, utterly drained with bone-deep pleasure.

#ser criston cole smut #ser criston cole imagine #criston x reader #ser criston cole x reader #targtower reader #subby crispy #hotd smut

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bird-slayer-brainrot · 4 months

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Angels Don't Dance - Ineffable Husbands short fluff fic

Angels don't dance blah blah blah blah blah. He'd heard it a million times before. There was that one ball in Venice that Crowley technically wasn't supposed to be at but was at anyway.

(This was because one of the wives of a prominent business man had taken quite the shining to Crowley. As such, he'd made a new effort to steer clear of high society when and where he could. This particular evening and soirée being an exception. He'd heard the new Doge of Venice was making a rare appearance, and it wouldn't really hurt to make introductions.)

It wasn't long before Crowley spotted the angel by the corner, looking thoroughly uncomfortable in the dancing crowd of the ballroom. Crowley abandoned what he was doing (a rather dull conversation with a young women wearing a dark mauve gown that likely cost five years salary of one of the servers she'd chastised for spilling a tray of savory hor d'oeuvres in front of her.) and made his way across the room.

As Crowley approached, Aziraphale glanced up at him from his plate of appetizers. To his credit, he made no verbal comment about Crowley's attire. In typical Venetian fashion (if you could call it that), Crowley had adorned himself in a red gown that hugged his corporation tightly. His vibrant red hair was put up in an elaborate updo. He supposed his getup was rather simple compared to some of the ladies in attendance, but he wasn't there to make a scene.

Aziraphale, meanwhile, took in the demons appearance with a grin. He was dressed in a simple but elegant in a navy set with a gold patterned vest.

(Crowley tried really hard not to notice how it made his eyes look.)

"Crowley. how lovely it is to see you." The angel greeted him politely. "Are you here on business?"

Crowley, who really shouldn't be divulging such information to enemy agents (not that he was a stickler to the rules really), shook his head. "Pleasure, I'm afraid." A look crossed the angels face and Crowley grinned. "Though it is rather dull. Wanna get out of here?"

Aziraphale sighed. It was a game they played. They ran the words like a script. Aziraphale said "can't, I'm afraid, I have some business to attend to."

"Oh?" Crowley exclaimed sarcastically, raising his eyebrows for dramatic effect. "And does that business, by chance, involve sulking in the corner?"

Aziraphale fixed him a stare. Another part of the routine. "I'll have you know I'm waiting for the right opportunity." he emphasized the word with a pop of his lips. "To, well, engage my target."

Crowley hummed. It was no use getting more than that out of Aziraphale if he was choosing not to talk about it. After several hundred years, he knew this.

"Well, my dear gentlemen, would you care to join me in the next dance? I've heard it's a rather lively one."

Aziraphale's eyes darted up to meet Crowley's. He didn't look aghast as he normally did at Crowley's attempts at temptations, but something strange crossed his features. After several moments, a hesitant grin spread across his face, and he shook his head.

"I'm afraid, my dear, I shall not. My associate has arrived, it seems." Aziraphale tried not to make it sound too obvious that he was lying. "Though I'm sure there's many other men here who would have the pleasure." and before Crowley could respond, Aziraphale smiled at him shyly, and walked steadily away.

Crowley grimaced. His potential source of entertainment and only source of decent conversation in the whole Mediterranean had abandoned him in a ballroom full of boring, fussy humans. With nothing better to do, he went to fetch another drink.

That was not the last time Crowley would proposition the angel for a dance. That, too, became a part of the routine. So when Crowley arrived in Paris in the 16th Century (minor temptation of a Priest, shouldn't take more than a month but he was prepared to drag his feet, couldn't be too capable or he risked getting extra assignments from Head Office and he did not want that) at the palace where a grand reception was being held for a visiting monarch, it was with some delight that he spotted Aziraphale from across the room.

The Angel, surrounded by other noblewomen, was draped in an elegant white and silver gown that swept the floor around him with its sheer volume. It complimented nicely, Crowley noted, Aziraphale's pale complexion and his long, white hair worn long and tossed, almost like an afterthought over one shoulder, curling just at his bosom. His lips were accented with a soft pink rouge and Crowley couldn't help but think that the angel looked looked beautiful.

Unfortunately, their reacquaint would have to wait. Crowley followed the gaggle of noblemen (like Venice, they were all dressed ridiculously and were just as dull) of which he was supposed to be accompanying for discussions before the main affair, the Ball. And a small part of Crowley, though he would never admit to it, was looking forward to seeing how to evening played out.

These musings were interrupted, however, by the sudden arrival of Aziraphale by his side. Crowley blinked at the angel, who had seized his arm in the manner one might do a friend or a confidant. He nudged his head, and turned. Crowley followed.

Aziraphale miracle the doors shut. The angel had dragged him to an empty room in the Palace, a sitting room probably reserved for the women in the following days. It was quite an event.

Aziraphale watched him. He seemed nervous, his brow creased and complexion drawn. Crowley waited for him to explain.

"I need your help."

"I assumed." Crowley gestured to the space around them. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"Please take this seriously, dear. I'm in quite the pickle and I'm afraid you're the only one who can help me." Before Crowley could voice his objections, Aziraphale stepped forward, and grabbed Crowley's hands.

"I need you to teach me how to dance."

Aziraphale, who was usually quite particular during assignments from Head Office, was panicking. When he had taken the disguise of a French nobleman in order to infiltrate the Church and voice his recommendations for a promising young upstart as the position had recently become available (apoplexy, the old one, all that cheese). He had, however, failed to commit fully to the disguise. As a nobleman, he was expected to attend all societal gatherings. In the past, he'd managed to get away with making polite conversation with other partygoers, and, on rare occasion, abandoning the ballroom all together to seek out the empty library.

This was not an option tonight. No, tonight Aziraphale would be expected, required, even, to be as involved in the soirée as he could. Dancer, he was not. But that would not do.

"I am dreadfully sorry about this."

It had been nearly an hour, and they'd made little in the way of progress towards Aziraphale dancing at the skill a noble Frenchwoman of his (admittedly false) station would be expected.

Crowley had performed the steps to the four dances ("Just the basics" He had said. Aziraphale visibly paled.) at first by himself. Aziraphale had stopped him midway through the waltz and asked him to repeat the steps. Then again, then again, until Crowley had sighed and given up demonstrating, offering to teach Aziraphale the steps with him, as opposed to Aziraphale watching and learning.

This was slightly less difficult (emphasis on slightly). Aziraphale noticed with some both that Crowley, of course, was a natural. All lithe and graceful. He turned Aziraphale with all the grace of someone who'd had a millennia of practice. He really could dance with the best of them when he felt like it.

He was also enjoying Aziraphale's distress a bit too much. Crowley had one arm looped around Aziraphale's waist and the other held Aziraphale's hand. It probably didn't help that Aziraphale's skirts, layered in white and silver that seemed to move like the wind and exactly in the way of Aziraphale's steps

"Angel, how is it that you spun in the opposite direction from where I turned you?" There was no menace to his words. Aziraphale sighed heavily. The problem wasn't that Aziraphale was bad. Well, he was, but that was mostly a result of his hesitation. His inability to let go. Aziraphale was highly intelligent and a very quick learner, and he had a good sense of rhythm. Crowley did not doubt that Aziraphale would be able to follow the music. Maybe that could be the solution.

Aziraphale looked up as Crowley begun to hum. It was a slow song, something familiar, a simple orchestral waltz. Aziraphale continued to stare before Crowley stopped.

"Angel," he said softly, seriously. "I need you to relax, otherwise this is pointless." before Aziraphale could respond, he began to hum softly again. Then, moving, he led Aziraphale into the steps again.

Crowley would swear that Aziraphale was a natural.

At the end of their nearly two hour session, Aziraphale could dance. If Crowley hadn't been personally there to witness it, he would swear that it never happened. And yet, Aziraphale, flushed from the exertion, took one look at Crowley and grinned so brightly that Crowley was forced to admit that the angel had done a good job. This earn him an eye-roll, but he didn't regret it. They released each other, and, as Aziraphale stepped, back, hesitation seemed to sweep him once again. But before Crowley could say anything, the angel stepped forward again and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. Aziraphale drew back again, and smiled at Crowley.

"Thank you, my dear." he said softly.

Crowley, like the idiot he is, only nodded.

As Aziraphale swept out of the room, (tea with the ladies, Crowley assumed, or something like that) Crowley called out "Angel, save me a dance" and Aziraphale, grinning, nodded.

The angel would make good on Crowley's request later that evening. He was exhausted, having danced his way through the the men (and, on some occasions, the women) but he would dance with Crowley anyway.

#ineffable husbands #neil gaimen #good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #aziraphale #crowley #my writing #writing #creative writing #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #dancing #dancing lesson au #oneshot #fluff #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley

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t-tomuras · 2 months

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tw reader death, angst. Alastor x f reader

His smile has never faltered, never once has it been on the brink of falling away from his features. Only ever marred with his snarl, creating a sinister grin or a displeased twitch to his eye depending on the situation but the expression has never threatened to fall away from his face.

Never has it not felt right to smile. Not even on the day of his mother’s funeral despite the ache in his chest. She agreed with him, instilled the value unto him, it’s why it’s still his favorite song.

You’re never truly dressed without a smile.

Denial can only carry him so far, can only keep the tight lipped grin from shattering and his face fall for the first time in who knows how long. Certainly before Alastor’s own afterlife.

“Alright sweetheart,” he breaks the silence, the eerie ring that makes his ears flick. Already pinned back with an aggression he hasn’t fully felt yet, hasn’t unleashed because somewhere along the way he’d reined it in. Diluted it because you always seemed so adverse to the occurrence, the pinning of your own ears no longer producing a sick delight in him in the progress of the undefined relationship.

You were his though, that much was clear, “I know you favor the dramatics but it’s time that we go. Charlie will worry.”

He cups your cheek soothingly, thumb stroking along the apple and up into your hairline as it’s done most mornings now because you’ve never been easy to wake. Less so as you’d come to inhabit his bed.

“You’ve slept long enough dear,” Alastor sighs, glancing down to the crimson trail from the corner of your lip down your chin. Licking his thumb to rid your skin of the stain the same as he’s done those peaceful mornings following the carnal nights he’d let you bite to your hearts content.

He isn’t the delusional type, subconsciously desiring he was at least in this very moment but the devil was in the details, even the red of your dress is telling of the situation. The brilliant gradient of black into scarlet now steadily stained; the garment dying a dark sticky mauve, spreading slowly down your chest.

You’re bleeding out, no longer gasping for breath, when had you stopped? Relinquished yourself to the struggle for air as the gush of your life force has slowed to a sluggish seep around the holy weapon lodged deeply into your sternum before its splintered at the hilt. Liquid gold staining beneath your sharp claws that rest over your abdomen.

You didn’t go down without a fight did you? Not his little spitfire. You’ve dealt with worse before, you’d told the tale of how you’d found yourself in Hell in the first place

“It’s time to get up darling,” he clutches you just a little closer, intentionally ignoring the way your skin feels cooler already. How there’s no tension to your limbs, surely you would’ve reached for him by now right? You’ve always done so even in deep slumber, searching for him and his warmth. Will you grab for him? His blood is already beginning to boil, the stitches along his body beginning to glow in the ominous viridian.

“Adam is dead”, he comments slowly, static emitting from him in the way it does when he’s agitated, “the extermination is over.”

His voice takes on an ominous warble, teeth glowing as the Cheshire grin grows tight, dials flickering in attempt to replace crimson irises. Sclera dissolving into endless voids that reflect the serene look of your face, too lifeless to be endearing. The backs of his knuckles stroking from your temple upwards into your hairline before he slams his fist into the ground to splinter the already shattered terrain.

What was the point? The purpose? They’d won had they not?

Alastor’s body continues to contort, grow in size as he cradles you in one hand. Hunched forward as the glow he minutes illuminates you in an ironic sickly hue.

“Wake up my dear,” shaking you now, falling limp in his hold. Limbs flailing as if you were boneless now and it causes him to snarl. Bringing you closer to him as his voice darkens to a demonic sound, morphed until Alastor’s softer tone is no longer discernible.

“T̸̮̞͔͐̈͐̂̄ͅḣ̸̨͇̦̳̼̩̲͆̀̐̈͗̕i̴͍̰͍͗̒́̀͋̏̋̅ṡ̵̢̧̬͓̥̹͈̩̦̰̈́͌̿̑̈́̀̕͝ ̶͕̣̤͇̘̉́͋̃ͅí̴̛̛̞͙͖̜̯̫̝͕͂̃̌̋͘͝͝ͅs̸̱͇̫̖̫̟̥̐͑̈́͛̎͠ ̵̨̥̻͈̬͊̈́̐̈̂̀͑̔ͅn̴̰̺̹̪̍̔ȏ̶̡͙̲̈͒̽̽̌̑͝ ̴̻̰̪̮̯͇͇̔͗̀ṕ̶̢̞̝̣͈͎̭̇͐̌͌͜͝ͅl̷̡̜̺̞̒̂ͅa̴̞͙̣̱̼̗͗̀͘͠c̵̡̡̜̙̹͇̘͙̊̾͒́ͅḙ̸̢̲̥͍̰̾̿̀̔̕͘ͅ ̴̝͓̣̮̰͔̽̓̉̿̀ţ̶̛͗̋̓̈́́̈͋̌ŏ̵̹̦̜͉̣͖̖́̀͝ͅ ̸̡̯̮̫̠͚̟͓̄̔́̓̀̊̕͜ͅd̸̼̈́̆̔͐̄̓͒i̵̡̭͚͔̭͚̠̭̇͋̾̚e̸̺̝͖̖̗̓͐.̸̙̹̣̂́̐̔̑̎͛̉͂”

#vixen drabbles #I dunno I wanted 2 be dramatic

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peonierose · 2 months

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Losing Game (4/4)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce Lahela (M!MC) x Luna Auclair (F!OC)

Rating: Mature / Angst

TW: Mental Health

Word: 5,000+

Summary: Bryce and Luna have worked things out. But there is still one visit to make before Bryce and Luna find closure.

A/N: This has been a story that’s very dear to me. I went a bit off-canon so I hope you’ll give it a try. As always thank you to everyone who gives my stories and my characters a chance 🩷🌙

A/N 2: In case you missed the parts before here they are: Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3

A/N 3: Thank you to @annieruok94 🌷🩷 and @aallotarenunelma 🌺🩷 I hope you like the part with Adam, it was inspired by you 🥰

Side note: I also made a playlist for Part 4, (the previous two parts include a playlist as well).

The next day…

Bryce

I traded my shift with Aubrey so that I could have the day off.

I was watching Luna get dressed in a pink overall with a white shirt underneath, while I was lying in bed.

Luna turned towards me as she put her hair in a bun, a few blonde strands escaping her bun. She turned to me as I was basking in her light.

”I was thinking of visiting your dad today and I’d like to come with you if you want me to and if you feel ready for us to go together.“

I raised my eyebrows as I propped myself up against the pillow resting behind me.

”Are you sure? It’s not too much for you?“ I asked while I got out of bed.

She hugged me.

”Yes, I’m sure. Also, I love hugging you like this.“

”Any particular reason why?“ I grinned.

”This fine piece of ass. I like it.“

”Well this fine piece of ass made you feel real special last night. Also, I like this dirty side of you Lunes.“

I started to unbutton the straps of her overall but she stopped me.

”B we can’t. We’ll be late. The visiting hours aren’t that long.“

I sighed. She smiled and kissed me on my still-smiling lips.

”Really?“ I asked and tried to convince her for a quick round.

”Puppy dog eyes won’t work. Come on get dressed babe.“ She slapped my ass. I laughed out loud and got dressed.

And together we drove to prison to visit my dad.

Bryce

It’s weird to be here at the Halawa Correctional Facility, again.

The guards searched us, then gave us visitor passes and let us through. We sat at a dark grey table in the cafeteria, only one other guy was sitting down with his family from the looks of it.

I don’t think I’ve noticed anything that day. Not the color of the table or if anyone else was present. It might even be the same table I sat at the other day.

My dad walked in and they released the handcuffs and let him sit with us.

Both Lunes and I sat there as my dad walked over and sat down opposite us. He looked at me and smiled.

Then he turned to Luna and he offered his hand. Luna shook it and held onto it for a couple of seconds.

”You must be Mr. Lahela. I’ve heard so many things about you.“

I winced and tried to hide the fact that I hadn’t told Luna much. An acidic feeling rose inside of me. Recognizing it as guilt. For not telling her more about my messed up family life sooner.

But maybe I could change that and tell her everything later. I trust Luna, more than anyone. Maybe it’s time to lay all the cards on the table. Talking to Luna about my family might relieve some of the residual pain I’ve been carrying around for years.

”You must be Luna.“ My dad said and smiled at her. Luna nodded and I tuned back into the conversation.

”So Bryce has told you a lot of things about me? Like that pink is my favorite color?“ He joked but Luna didn’t know that my dad's favorite color is blue. Like mine. Well, blue-green is my favorite. I wonder why? I snicker.

”No way! I once told Bryce how good he’d look in pink scrubs. Like a deep magenta or a mauve tone. He’d be a stunner.“

My dad grinned at Luna’s enthusiasm. I haven’t seen him smile like that in a long time. Looks as if Luna can win anyone over.

”Or cherry red like that hickey.“ My dad pointed to me. I blushed down to my hair roots. Luna held out her hand for a high five and my dad smacked it.

”Hell yeah.“ Luna grinned, not embarrassed at all.

”Oh, man.“ I mumbled. She smacked me onto my arm.

”Ow that hurt.“ I rubbed the spot she smacked me.

”Man up.“ She grinned.

”Really? In front of my dad?“ I said and both Luna and my dad just laughed.

”Oh please. I’m sure your dad knows we’re sleeping together. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be pregnant.“

"Looks as if that train left the station a long time ago." My dad laughed out loud and started wiping tears from out of the corner of his eyes, Luna grins.

”I like her, she's got balls.“ My dad said.

”Dad!“ I exclaimed.

”Oh don’t worry. My delicate sensibilities weren’t hurt.“ Luna waved him off.

We kept chatting for the remainder of the visit. When it’s time to leave I help Luna when we both get up, my dad stands up as well.

”It was great meeting you Luna. I can tell you’re keeping my son on his toes.“

”Oh I sure do. Bryce is a great guy. I’m very proud of him.“ Luna said with a hint of a warning in her tone. My dad raised his eyebrows and got the message loud and clear. Then he smiled.

”She’s a keeper. Also, I’d love it if you called me Keola. Mr. feels too formal.“

Luna beamed at him.

”Sure no problem Keola. That would be nice. Would it be okay if I hugged you? You don’t have to, but I’d love a hug.“

My dad grinned and hugged her. God, what did I do to deserve someone like Luna? When they broke apart my dad waited.

”What are you waiting for? Get in here. Maybe before I become a grandfather?“

”Burn,“ Luna commented. I let out a surprised laugh and my dad and I hugged. It felt different to hug him now than it did when I was a teenager.

He felt more thin and frail. But it’s good to hug him because he’s my dad. And just like that something shifts into the right place. When we broke apart we picked up the conversation about the twins.

”We’re expecting twins in March.“ Luna said and my dad nodded happily. I can tell he’s happy. He’s got the same look in his eyes when Keiki was born.

”I have something for you.“ Luna got out a black and white picture. It’s the latest sonogram from the twins. She handed it to my dad.

”It’s an ultrasound picture of the twins. Kehlani Mae and Alaia Rose. You can keep it. We have another one.“ Luna said and my dad looked down at the picture. When he looked up, he held the picture close to his heart.

”Thank you, Luna. This means a lot to me.“ I smiled and hugged Lunes close to me. We all hugged again and then left to get to our car and drive home.

When we were inside the car I turned to Luna who looked at me. I smiled and reached into the glove compartment to get some tissues out and handed one to Luna.

”Here you go sunshine.“

She nodded in thanks and smiled at me.

”Thank you for today Lunes. I can’t even describe how much it meant to me that you went and visited my dad with me. Giving him that ultrasound picture? Making him smile like that? Man, I haven’t seen him smile as he did now in a long time. You made him so happy and me too.“

”Of course B. I’d give you one of my kidneys if it meant you’d survive.“

I smiled at her.

”B?“ She asked, looking tentatively at me.

”Yeah?“

”Can we just get some malasadas to go and then get naked?“

Which drew a surprised laugh from me. It’s like my dad said, Luna sure does keep me on my toes. But I love her, and it keeps me grounded in a way that’s hard to explain. That must be the feeling when you find the one.

”Not what I expected you to say. But sure.“

”I don’t want to ruin my overall, it's so cute.“ She said and together we drove to Leonard’s Bakery.

Bryce

We got home. Had some malasadas. And got lost in each other's touch. It was like coming home. It’s what we both needed.

We stand in our shower outside. Just holding on to each other. Like one of us is going to disappear in the next second. I felt the best when I was surrounded by water. It helped me calm down and it calmed Luna down too.

We toweled off and went into the kitchen. I stopped, putting some strands of her wet hair aside and I kissed her. Wondering how I got so lucky?

”You got so lucky because I’m awesome. And you’re my arm candy,“ she said, her tone getting lighter and I looked up at her. The shadows of pain were almost gone. I just kept looking at her.

”I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you with my actions,“ I said.

She pulled me closer.

”It’s okay B I know you didn’t mean it. And I know a relationship and love are sometimes hard to navigate. But another stunt like that and I won’t be so nice,“ she said.

”Why are you so forgiving? I thought you’d be angrier with me now?“

I asked, honestly flabbergasted.

She gnawed on her lips nervously. Ahhh. She’s been harboring a secret too.

”Spill Lunes,“ I said grinning. She looked up.

”Okay don’t be mad, but Evie sent out invitations for our wedding a couple of weeks ago and I said I’d have to ask if you wanted your mom to be there but I forgot to ask you and now your mom has gotten an invitation and I sort of didn’t ask you?“ She looked crestfallen so I pulled her close and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead.

”You were totally buttering me up. I was thinking of inviting her. Maybe even thinking of giving her and Dad a second chance. Unless they give me a reason to not trust them anymore,“ I said my voice steely.

She smiled and I knew we were good. When she kept smiling I looked at her.

”What? Any more secrets you’d like to tell me? Like how you ate the last piece of strawberry cheesecake that had my name on it?“

”That was Keiki,“ she lied and I shook my head.

We heard the door being slammed and Keiki walked in.

”You said it’s okay if we shared that piece of cake! Now I get blamed for eating the whole thing? Oh come on.“

She went into her room upstairs and slammed the door behind her. Bryce and I burst out laughing. Luna wiggled her eyebrows.

”How about we try out that hot tub we got some time ago?“

I grinned at her getting where she was going with this.

”Getting you naked is my favorite pastime,“ I said.

”Likewise,“ she replied.

We both sprinted into one of our bathrooms where we set up a hot tub. Luna's idea. The best idea she’s ever had if you don’t count on us getting together.

I got put out of my thoughts when she stood naked in front of me.

She’s been feeling unsure of her body because it started changing ever since she got pregnant.

”You‘re the most stunning woman of all time. So get that sweet butt of yours into the water,“ I said and she grinned.

”You only love me for my body,“ she grinned, getting comfortable in the water.

I huffed out a breath.

”That’s supposed to be my line,“ I said and she got closer until our bodies touched.

”Maybe you can change my mind?“ she asked.

”Oh I intend to,“ I said and kissed her until she forgot everything.

Until there’s just us and the love we shared for each other.

After a while when our fingers looked more like raisins, we got out of the hot tub. We dried ourselves and went to our bedroom. Lunes took one of my college shirts from Stanford and I just wore boxers. I turned Luna’s night light on. Illuminating the whole room, transforming it into the night sky.

When we lay in bed we almost stuck together. That’s how close we were. Needing this moment. Together. It’s what’s anchoring us.

I leaned into Lunes and sought her warmth, her comfort and she did the same for me.

Everything’s going to work out in the end, because our love is the loudest.

The next morning…

We got up, showered and lay in bed. Or well Luna was lying in bed while I was putting on some bum bum cream since she can’t reach it herself. I could feel her stare bore into me, making me smile.

”What now? Pillow talk?“ I teased and looked up at her.

”I…just wanted to ask if you’d tell me more about your parents. And what happened?“ Luna said.

I know she won’t push me, but she’d love to know more. I sigh as I put the lid back on the bum bum cream and kiss her calf. Making her laugh. One of my favorite sounds in the whole world.

”When I was younger…I don’t know, I always remember we had a lot of money. I never cared about that stuff. My parents were working in the real estate field. I wasn’t different because of it. And I didn’t act as if I was the center of attention, throwing money around.“ I sat at the edge of the bed and gathered my thoughts.

”Then there was this one night. I remember it was late and I just came back from a round of basketball with Kainalu and some of my other friends. I drove around the corner into our neighborhood in Maui and saw all these blue lights. Realizing the light was coming from police cars. Not having the faintest idea what the hell was going on.“

”Then what happened?“ Luna reached out and I helped her sit next to me.

”I saw my dad getting arrested, being put into a police car. I went inside the house like I was on autopilot. My mom came to me pulled me to the side and whispered I should take this bag from Keiki’s closet since apparently they haven’t checked that out yet. Take Keiki and get out of the house.“

”That must’ve been terrifying. I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt.“ Luna said drawing circles on my hands.

”It was horrible. I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare. Not able to wake up.“

”What happened with your parents?“

”Later I found out how we got to have all this money. It didn’t just appear out of thin air. I learned my parents made some bad investments and the people they owed money wanted their money back. Saying ”pay me back or else.“ I said remembering the court transcripts.

Luna puts a hand over her mouth.

”Oh god. What happened after that?“

I rub a strand of her blonde hair between my fingers.

”As it turns out my parents skimmed money off their clients. They had access to all the clients' private information. At first, nobody noticed anything, since it was only small amounts that disappeared and that could’ve been easily justified. But when larger sums started disappearing, they started an investigation, to find out what happened. My parents became desperate to pay the money back that they owed. But what they didn’t know was that the police set a trap and caught them red-handed.“ I sigh, sharing this part of my life was always hard for me.

As if feeling this was difficult for me, Luna turned my head towards her and smiled at me.

”You don’t have to tell me. I can see this is affecting you deeply.“

I shook my head and lightly kissed her temple.

”So if your parents got caught what happened to you and your sister? I can’t imagine you came out of this unscathed.“ She encouraged me to keep talking.

”I was finishing my last year of high school. I was one of the popular kids and became public enemy number one overnight. The other kids whose parents had lost money from my parents' schemes took their anger and frustrations out on me. It’s hardly surprising, but still, I wasn’t a part of it. Neither was Keiki. She was only what, 6-years-old? And that night my parents got arrested? It was Keiki‘s birthday. I felt so angry that they would be greedy and take some money and drag all of us into it. But I know now that maybe there’s more to the story and life isn’t always as black and white as we’d like it to be.“

Luna leaned into me to offer me some comfort, as I was telling her my deepest and darkest secret. One I’m still ashamed about, though I’m trying to make my peace with it.

”We stayed with close friends until everything was cleared. Mom was acquitted because she testified against my dad.“

”Your parents love each other B. She wanted to help him and he didn’t want her to be in prison. I’d do the same. If I could help you by not making you wear an orange jumpsuit? I’d take it.“

”You’d lie on the stand?“ I was shocked.

”Depending on what the lie would be. I’m not exactly good at lying.“ She replied. I smiled and nodded absently as if now realizing she could be right.

”You may be right.“ I said.

”What happened after?“ Luna asked.

”It didn’t get better once I started college. I asked if I could take online classes. The college board agreed because my situation was a bit delicate as they put it. But it became too much so I transferred to Stanford. Just to get out of Maui. My grades were good enough that I could justify a transfer. And they had an open spot, so I packed my stuff, and left. Keiki went to live with Mom in Maui, while I went away to Stanford. Keiki was only six and in elementary school when I left. I left everything behind and didn’t look back.“

I sighed as I was saying that.

”Do you feel guilty that you left? I mean you and Keiki made up. Do you think she still harbors hard feelings because you left?“ Luna nailed my emotional roller coaster inside of me on the head.

”I do feel a little guilty. But I hope she forgave me. I regret not being here for her. But then I wouldn’t have met such awesome friends and later on you, Lunes.“

”The love of your life. Just give this a bit of time and you’ll see things will turn around.“ She grinned and I kissed her. Simply because it made me happy.

I broke off the kiss and said into her hair.

”The love of my life has a good point.“

She grinned and I smiled against her temple and instead of talking about the past, we made memories for the future.

A week later…

I was nervous as all get out. I was never good at talking to other people about my feelings.

I knocked on a red door and when the door opened a tall man with blond hair, put in a bun, answered the door.

Adam smiled at me as I stood there like a weirdo. I smiled nervously. Waving at him. Why am I waving at him? Get a grip, Bryce! I let out a nervous breath I’d been holding in and smiled at Adam.

”Bryce. It’s good to see you man. What brings you by? Oh god, my mom would whoop my ass. Seriously, where are my manners? Come on in.“ He opened the door wider and his golden retriever Knox came closer.

”Knox. Sit. Remember, no jumping people.“ Adam said to his dog who just smiled. I didn’t know dogs could smile. Huh. You learn something new every day. I petted Knox, which earned me a lick on my hand.

I followed Adam into the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs.

”Want something to drink? My cousin made some beer. It’s made from some native ingredients found only in Hawaii. He listed tons of those ingredients. To me, it just tastes like beer. You want some?“ His head was buried inside the fridge.

”Sounds good.“ I replied.

He resurfaced from the fridge and held out a bottle of beer. It shone like liquid gold. We both opened our bottles took a sip and whistled.

”Damn. This is some good shit.“ I said and took another sip. Tasting, honey, amber, citrus notes, and something unique. Like hibiscus? How did they incorporate that into beer?

Adam smiled.

”I’ll be sure to tell him.“ He smiled and put his beer on a nearby table.

”So what brings you by? I don’t assume this is a social call?“

”What, I can’t come visit you?“ I asked, trying to mask why I was there.

Because I feel embarrassed and ashamed for something I had no control of. But like Dr. Leslie said, letting go of the past doesn’t mean it won’t be able to hurt you anymore, it means you’re giving it less power over you.

”Look I’ll be honest. I came here to ask you for a favor. And you can say no.“ I said.

”What kind of favor?“ He regarded me carefully.

”I recently had some memories from the past come back and I realized I might need an outlet for my emotions to avoid having a panic attack during surgery.“ I told him.

”I’m sorry you’re going through a tough time. I am. I know how difficult it was when my mom died. I was angry at myself, at the world, at everyone.“ He admitted and I looked up.

”I‘m so sorry for your loss. I bet your mom was an incredible person.“ I said and peeled off the label of the beer bottle. Feeling the soft fur of Knox graze my calves. I reached and patted him and he lay down by my feet. Anchoring me in a way.

”She sure was. It took me some time to figure out how to handle my grief. And everyone handles grief and losing a loved one differently. So if there’s something I can do to help I’d be happy to.“ He said and smiled, his blue eyes sparkling.

”Can I ask what happened?“ He took another sip of his beer, turned his attention to me and asked me what I feared he might.

”My parents cheated a lot of people out of their money. And the kids at school got back at me and Keiki for it. My dad is still in prison and my mom testified against my dad so she didn’t go to jail. At that time my sister and I didn’t know what my parents did. I recently visited my dad and I don’t know. I guess I’m just not sure how to feel about this whole situation.“ That’s when I realized I'd been babbling and when I looked up I just wanted to run away. Or hide.

”First of all, I would never judge you, Bryce. I’ve got to know you over the last couple of months. You're a kind, supportive guy. Who’s hard-working and loves his family. You’re a good person. Don’t let past mistakes by other people define who you are at your core.“ He said and I breathed out. Before I could say anything he continued.

”And don’t worry whatever you tell me stays between us. You don’t have to worry that I’d spill the beans to anyone. I’m really sorry this happened to you. I never thought you’d gone through something like that. So what is it exactly I could help you with? I’m not exactly good with therapy sessions.“ He smiled gently.

”I worked something out for therapy. But…I…uh…I‘d love it if maybe I could work on some projects here with you. If you need any help. I know I’m not exactly qualified or anything. But maybe I could use your workshop in the beginning. I promise I won’t make a mess. Years of doing surgeries have made me a very organized person. At least in the OR room.“

Adam grinned.

”You got it. Use the space however you like. It’s yours. If I do need some help I’ll let you know. As a matter of fact, I could use your help. I found this dresser at an antique store and I’d love to restore it to its former glory. The wood carving is beautiful, I think it’s made out of Koa wood. It would be perfect for Maxine actually.“

He blushed and I smirked.

”So essentially two birds one stone?“ I asked and he nodded. That’s when I noticed how different he looked when Maxine’s name was mentioned. I wondered what I look like when I talk about Luna. Probably like a sappy fool. But probably a really happy one.

”You really love her do you?“ I asked and it dawned on me, how much his eyes conveyed his genuine love and respect for Maxine.

”Yes I do. Maxine is a special woman. Hopefully, I’ll be able to make her happy for the rest of my life.“

”I’ll drink to that. To love and good friendships.“ I said and we clinked our glasses together and just enjoyed a nice view of a Hawaiian sunset.

Life is hard but you make the best out of it every single day.

#Losing Game (4/4)#Bryce Lahela (M!MC)#Luna Auclair (F!OC)#Adam Sinclair (M!OC)#cfwc #open heart

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babypanda1235 · 6 months

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I'm just throwing ideas out, but what about cowboy Remus (who is also a thief) and rich old money Sirius going to stay at his family's estate for the fall (maybe for his studies?)? And Remus' next job is, you'll never guess, the Black Estate. He's to steal a Black family heirloom- a large deep mauve/wine-colored pendant. But there's a catch (because of course there is)! Sirius always has said pendant on. Even when he goes to sleep. Okay, and from here, there are two directions.

Remus goes and "befriends" Sirius to get closer to him and the pendant- this could lead to more opportunities for conflict, as well as opportunities for a "slow burn" type of romance, where Remus is eventually like, "but.. I don't want to steal the pretty man's pendant :C"

Remus sneaks into Sirius' house at night to steal the pendant while he's sleeping because he thinks that has a better chance of success, but while he's carefully unclasping the necklace from Sirius' delicate, pale neck- Sirius' eyes snap open and there's a REALLY tension-filled moment and maybe Sirius is like "I've noticed you watching me in town. If you wanted to see the pendant up close, you could have just asked. I consider myself a pretty reasonable person," or something like that. Either lots of banter or Remus is kinda bashful about being caught in the act. And they form an odd friendship??? ORR Sirius challenges Remus to steal his pendant before the end of his stay in (whatever small country town). so lots of tension wooo!! OH AND PERFECT OPPORTUNITY FOR CHEESY DIALOGUE

"I... I failed," Remus stutters out, eyes wide with shock.

"You failed at what?" Sirius asks.

"Your pendant. I didn't manage to steal it in time,"

"That's true. However, things aren't completely hopeless for you, Remus,"

"How so?"

"You've stolen something else very dear to me,"

"I don't think I have. You must have me mistaken for the wrong thief,"

"No, I'm certain it was you,"

"Well, then what was it? What have I stolen?"

"Christ, how can you be so dense? My heart, you've stolen my heart, Remus,"

"Oh, I-"

"Don't trouble yourself with the words, not everyone can be as eloquently spoken as me. Here's the address to my home in the city. Write to me, Remus. Okay?"

"Yeah, I-" Remus exhales deeply before running his hands through his sandy hair- "I will, Sirius. I promise,"

"Good."

anywayssss i may or may not expand on this we'll see if I lose steam or not

#marauders era #wolfstar #drabble #harry potter #dead gay wizards #remus lupin #remus john lupin #remus x sirius #sirius black #cowboy #western #sirius being sirius #hes so posh

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vosh-rakh · 3 months

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3e634 chapter 2

--chapter 1--

Master Kassur sat cross-legged at the peak of a hill in the Reach, hunched over a well-worn copy of The Four Suitors of Benitah, smiling. The wind whipped up the frayed corners of the pages, but he paid it no mind, enthralled as he was by the words. His husband sat a ways behind him on an elaborate conjured chair, fiddling with the runes carefully inscribed on a pair of spectacles. They sat in silence, kept busy by their respective businesses.

The spectacles suddenly appeared held within the grasp of a well-manicured hand over Kassur’s shoulder. Without turning his gaze from the book, Kassur asked, “Have you finally finished with them?”

“I believe so,” Master Aryon answered. “Give them a whirl.”

Kassur shifted his book to one hand and took the glasses with the spare. With a quick movement of his wrist he flicked open the arms and laid them over his ears, his eyes now covered with lenses of carefully polished glass. At first the world was awash with mauve smoke, but it quickly dissipated to reveal perfectly normal vision. “Is there nothing you can do about that startup period?” he asked, turning to face his husband. Aryon was not overlaid with magical smoke, which was a good first sign.

“I’ve tried,” Aryon said with a sigh. “Something about this particular enchantment, it would seem.” He laughed and adjusted the crooked glasses on Kassur’s nose. “There could be some sort of metaphysical implications, if I could be bothered to interrogate them. But I’m no philosopher or Psijic.”

“How shall we test them, then?” Kassur wrinkled his nose, and the glasses fell askew again.

“Well,” Aryon began, indicating one of his famous monologues was to follow, “All I’ve just done is fine-tune it for the drier climate this far west. During our audience with the master of the Greybeards, I discreetly tested it on him. He glowed very brightly.”

“And does it verify me?” Kassur asked. He removed the glasses and handed them to Aryon.

Aryon carefully took the spectacles and placed them straight on his nose with both hands. He squinted for a moment as his vision adjusted, and then nodded. “You glow as brilliantly as Magnus himself.”

“I appreciate the compliment, my dear,” said Kassur with a crooked smile, “but do the glasses work?”

Aryon rolled his eyes behind the glasses and gave him a light shove on the shoulder. “Yes, you dolt. Don’t sweet-talk yourself too much, or Azura will get jealous.” Neither of them cared much for Azura, but it was a common phrase that even venerable Master Aryon had picked up. Aryon handed back the spectacles, and Kassur returned them to his face.

Aryon scratched his chin for a moment. “I suppose the next test would be on the latest Septim, but I doubt we could obtain an audience with him, even with the Hortator’s diplomatic assistance.”

“Are we even sure the Septims after Martin are still Dragonborn?” Kassur asked, scanning the horizon, as if Skyrim were somehow filled with dragon souls lurking around every corner, hiding in every nook and cranny of the cliffs and hills.

“The official Imperial line is that they are,” Aryon said. “Seeing as our device here is the first to accurately detect them, even our best spies couldn’t be sure.” He pondered for a moment. “The Dragonfires apparently remain lit, so we have to assume.”

“Mhm,” Kassur said.

“Are you reading again instead of listening to me?” Aryon snatched the book from Kassur’s hands. Kassur tried to snatch it back, but Aryon retreated. Kassur couldn’t be bothered to stand so gave up. “You’ve read this a thousand times. Why bother reading it again? You could recite it word-for-word from memory.”

“I like reading more than reciting,” Kassur pouted.

Aryon flipped through a few pages. “What drivel. How can you stand this stuff?”

“It reminds me of where I’ve come from.”

“Why this, then?” Aryon waved the book about, not caring if Kassur kept his page. “Why not some, I don’t know, Ashlander tales or hymns?”

“You know why. I couldn’t go back to them if I wanted to, so why bother even thinking about it?”

“Hm. Fair enough, I suppose.” Aryon tucked the book back in Kassur’s bag.

Kassur planted his chin in his hands and his elbows on his knees, looking westward where the road meets the limited horizon of this rough place. Something vaguely purple seemed to rise over the edge and walk slowly down the trail. Kassur paid it no mind at first, but it grew closer and closer, and brighter and brighter, until it separated, as if by mitosis, into two distinct shapes of lavender light.

He blinked once, then twice. He removed the glasses, and saw the two traveling figures in true light. One shining-armored with a black cloak, the other in yellow robes behind. Kassur put the glasses back on and waited for the purple glare to recede. It finally resolved into just the overlay of the two travelers.

“Arrie.”

“Yes?”

“I think you still have some fine-tuning to do. They’re too sensitive.”

“I’ve done about all the fine-tuning I can,” Aryon said, coming back behind Kassur. “Let me see.”

Kassur handed Aryon the spectacles. He put them on, squinted until they calibrated, and looked to see what Kassur was making a fuss about. His eyes widened. “By Mephala’s…”

That was all Kassur needed. He jumped to his feet and started clambering, nearly rolling, down the side of the hill. He faintly heard Aryon shout “Kass!” behind him, but blood was roaring in his ears, drowning out even his awkward tumbling down the earth.

- - - - -

“N’chow,” whispered Dagoth Valer as she watched the wizard tumblr down the hill towards the road. She stopped in her tracks, considering her options. She almost reached for a weapon, but reasoned such a clumsy wizard couldn’t be much of a threat. Just play it -

Before she could finish her thought, the sleeper walked right into her back. Valer had forgotten to will her body to stop when she did. This kind of control was taxing - she wondered how the other ash vampires had managed it, and across so many sleepers, for so long.

Valer reined the sleeper back in and had her step back. Fortunately, the wizard didn’t seem to notice the collision. Unfortunately, he was soon accompanied by another wizard, this one gracefully levitating down from the hill behind the first.

The first wizard - blessedly a Dunmer - dusted off his robes and extended a hand. “Good afternoon!”

Valer did not take his hand, and in fact considered for a moment cutting it off. “Sera,” she began icily, “I trust you might understand how a traveling woman might feel, when suddenly accosted by two strange mer on the road.”

The first wizard’s face fell, and he lowered his hand. The second came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Apologies for my partner’s overeager behavior,” the second said. “We’re simply very excited to meet such an esteemed personage out here.”

N’chow. How could they know? She didn’t think she was that conspicuous. Without thinking, she tightened the hood around her face. She could feel her confidence waning, and so followed her grip on the sleeper. “I’m just a traveler.”

“Modest, I see,” said the first wizard, apparently recovered from his embarrassment. “And you, f’lah,” he said, addressing the sleeper, “are you also just…why are your eyes closed?”

“She’s deafblind,” lied Valer. “I’m delivering her to a friend of hers in Windhelm.”

“A deafblind dra-...” muttered the first wizard before interrupting himself. Under his breath, he wondered, “Could she even…hm…”

Valer began to quietly panic, her domination of the sleeper fading still further. What did these strangers know? Slowly, so as to not alarm the wizards, she began to reach for her nearest concealed sheath.

“Well, traveler,” the first wizard said, smiling as he took a dangerous step closer to Valer, “I think you’ll find that your modesty is misplaced, and that we shall soon become fast friends.”

Enough of this. In a heartbeat she withdrew her hidden blade of heartblight and stabbed the first wizard with it, leaving it embedded in his chest. Before either wizard could react, she also slipped her sacred hammer from its holster and swung at the second wizard. She felt her hold on the sleeper finally fail completely, but she paid it no mind; there was a much more present danger.

With a quick ward, the second wizard deflected her hammer strike. But the dagger had struck true, and the first wizard wobbled backwards before collapsing.

The second wizard watched as his partner fell to the ground, and then turned his baleful gaze to Valer.

N’chow.

A moment after those eyes hit Valer, so did something else. Something cold. Something sharp. Something wide.

She glanced down at her chest. There she saw a massive shard of ice lodged in her breast plate. From the additional pain in her back, she knew it pierced her completely.

N’chow n’chow n’chow -

Instinct. Careful not to drop the sacred hammer, with her spare hand she conjured flame, both to melt the magical ice and cauterize her massive wound.

And she fled. The sleeper was lost. Her master would be displeased. But his displeasure she could weather. Death, not so much.

- - - - -

Malekaiah opened her eyes, and found she was already on her feet. First she saw a man fall, dagger in his chest. Then she saw the man beside him launch a great icicle into a woman’s chest, a woman Malekaiah vaguely recognized, but couldn’t remember why.

A terrible shriek filled the air, issuing from the woman’s throat, who then ran away into the hills.

The mage who attacked the woman did not pursue her. Instead he fell to his knees by the fallen man and held him close.

Instinct. Even without knowing any context, Malekaiah leapt into action, sliding down next to the wounded mer. The mage holding him held up a hand crackling with electricity, but Malekaiah held up her open hands. “I’m a healer,” she said.

“You’re not deafblind?” the mage asked, the lightning dissipating.

“No?” Malekaiah said as she looked over the wound. “Why would I be?”

“Nevermind,” the mage said, his spell completely fizzling. “We didn’t bring any potions, and I don’t know much Restoration.”

“Good thing I do, then,” Malekaiah said with a reassuring smile. Her hands glowed faintly pink as she probed around the wound with her Healer’s Sight.

The mage tried to mirror the expression, but failed. “Can you save him?”

She probed deeper, then nodded. “We can. Do as I say and he’ll survive.” The mage nodded, so Malekaiah continued. “He’s lucky. It seems the blade missed everything important. We need to keep it that way.”

She rubbed her hands together to warm them and get the magicka flowing. “Do you have steady hands?” she asked.

“Steady enough,” said the mage. “I’m an enchanter, after all.”

Malekaiah wasn’t sure how that was relevant, but nodded anyway. “Good. You’re going to - as straight as possible - pull out the blade while I try to stop the bleeding and close the wound.” She prepared by hovering her hands near the injury, already faintly glowing golden. “Be very careful. If you pull it out crooked you’ll risk damaging adjacent organs.”

“Okay,” the mage said, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Before we start,” she said, eyes lifting to catch the mage’s, “Introductions are in order. What’s your name?”

“What does it matter?” snapped the mage. “Can’t this wait?”

Patiently, Malekaiah answered: “Healing works best with a personal connection. No time for chit-chat, so a name will have to do.”

“...I’m Aryon. His name is Kassur.”

“And I’m Malekaiah,” she said, smiling. “Extract the blade whenever you’re ready.”

Aryon wiped sweat-plastered black hair from his brow and slowly wrapped his fingers around the dagger’s handle, careful not to tilt it from its original angle of attack. But he hesitated. Blood slowly pooled around the wound, sticking Kassur’s robes to his skin.

“It’s okay,” Malekaiah said. “You can do this. But do it. Straight and swift, like peeling a plaster.”

After another breathless second, Aryon pulled the dagger free.

Immediately Malekaiah went about flowing magicka and Dibella’s grace into the wound, bidding it close behind the dagger’s tip, and staunching the stream of blood that erupted from the removal. Once she was satisfied, she probed the area again with her Healer’s Sight.

“Good work, Aryon!” she exclaimed. “No organ damage. He’ll live, but he needs rest.

She noticed Aryon examining the bloodied blade in his hand. It looked exotic, sure, but she couldn’t tell if it was any special otherwise.

Suddenly, Kassur’s eyes fluttered open, and he grabbed Aryon by the arm. Aryon’s attention jolted from the dagger to his partner’s face.

“Arrie, Arrie,” Kassur slurred. “Did you see…that hammer…”

“Yes, dear,” Aryon whispered, just barely loud enough for Malekaiah to still hear. “Sunder. The last Dagoth yet lives, and she’s in Skyrim.”

“And,” Kassur coughed, “she’s Dragonborn.” With this final phrase, he lost consciousness again.

- - - - -

As night neared, they set up camp on the nearby hilltop. Malekaiah gathered scraps of wood for the fire, only for Aryon to light a magical flame upon the pile that could sustain itself all night without fuel.

Huffing and puffing from carrying the wood, Malekaiah asked, “Why’d you let me do all this, when you could’ve just cast the spell at any time?”

Aryon shrugged. “I thought you knew who I was.”

Malekaiah asked, “Is your name supposed to ring a bell?”

“I’m a Telvanni magelord, Master of Tel Vos, as well as a frequent confidant of the Hortator.”

Aside from vaguely knowing what a “hortator” was, Malekaiah didn’t understand any of those qualifications. “I’m from Cyrodiil,” she said. “I don’t know much about Morrowind politics.”

“Well,” Aryon said, crossing his arms indignantly, “my husband and I are what you youths might call ‘a pretty big deal.’”

Malekaiah glanced at Kassur, who was lying asleep near the fire. She had helped Aryon change him out of his torn and bloody silk robes into a spare set of clean ones. Both sets were so intricate and obviously delicately crafted - “Finest Daedra spider silk,” Aryon had said - that Malekaiah was certain she’d never laid eyes on a piece of clothing so expensive.

She took a look at Kassur’s face. Whereas Aryon had the signs of age clear upon him, looking rather middle-aged, Kassur looked as young as Malekaiah. She knew the aging of elves was slow and different, but the apparent age difference between these two made their apparent married status strike Malekaiah as odd.

She remembered a question she wanted to ask, and worked up the courage to pose it. “What was that about, what he said when he woke up?”

Aryon sighed. “I shouldn’t tell you. It’s technically a state secret.”

“I don’t know anyone from the Ebonheart Pact,” Malekaiah said. “Who would I tell?”

“That’s not a very good reason,” Aryon said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but I will tell you anyway. Long ago, Morrowind was plagued by a corrupt House called Dagoth. The Hortator destroyed them two hundred years ago. But somehow, one escaped. She was your captor. Valer.”

Malekaiah remembered the razor-sharp yellow teeth lining the witch’s mouth, and the glowing crimson eye tattooed on her forehead, and shivered. “And the hammer? Kassur said it was special.”

“It’s really not important. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Aryon shook his head. “I’ll leave it at this: it’s a historical artifact of great significance. It was once in the possession of the Hortator. A few years ago, it was stolen, but we didn’t know by whom.” He tilted his head. “Although I suppose now we do.”

Aryon was right: Malekaiah didn’t really understand. But she nodded her head like she did. “And he said something else,” she said. “Something about dragons, I think. So did Valer, when she captured me. What does that -”

Kassur began coughing again. Malekaiah reached over to keep an eye on him. She was alarmed to notice blood around his mouth, so she rolled him over on his side so he wouldn’t choke. She placed her hand on his forehead - still feverish. To check his pulse, she placed two fingers on his neck. Slow. But more concerning was the lump there. It didn’t seem to be a swollen lymph node, but something else.

“Aryon,” she called. He came over, the Dagoth’s strange dagger still in his hand. “I know you’re not a physician or healer, but feel this.” She pointed at the growth on Kassur’s neck.

Aryon placed a few delicate fingers on his husband’s neck. “This feels like…” His eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“Do you recognize this?” Malekaiah asked, turning towards him.

He looked at the dagger in his hand again. “Could it be this…?”

“Was it poisoned?” Malekaiah asked.

Aryon shook his head. “I studied under Divayth Fyr, in his Corprusarium,” Aryon said, looking away. “This feels like that. Like Corprus.”

Corprus. The word terrified Malekaiah. An intense fear of the disease had been instilled in her by her Restoration tutors, an ailment as devastating as the Knahaten Flu, or the Thrassian Plague - but completely incurable.

“I’m so sorry,” Malekaiah said, placing a consoling hand on Aryon’s shoulder. But to her surprise, he seemed much less crestfallen than she expected. “You know what that means, right?”

“Of course,” Aryon said. “Fatal unless cured quickly.”

“Aryon,” Malekaiah said, her voice stern. “There is no cure for Corprus.”

Aryon laughed, but it was an empty, dry laugh. “Allow me to let you in on another secret, Malekaiah. Another state secret, one carefully guarded by the Temple in Morrowind.” Conspiratorially, he leaned in close. “There is a cure. Our Hortator was cured of Corprus, over two hundred years ago. After Divayth’s…unfortunate demise, I worked with his daughter Uupse Fyr on further developing the cure.” He looked back at the dagger in his hand. “There’s little need for a cure, since Dagoth Ur’s defeat by the Hortator, but I believe I can recall the formula we concocted.”

Malekaiah’s jaw dropped. “So it’s actually possible?”

“Yes,” Aryon said. “But the specific ingredients we used were mostly local to Vvardenfell, and are therefore out of our reach. But I believe there may be suitable substitutes to be found here in Skyrim.”

Aryon stood, dusting off his robes, and stepped away for a moment. With a click of his finger, a worktable appeared, faintly luminous and violet. He reached into his bag nearby and pulled out a couple parcels.

Malekaiah stood also, and marveled at the conjured worktable. It was kitted out with what seemed like delicate alchemical apparatuses, retorts and calcinators and alembics, and little tubes and pipes to feed them, and flames to heat them. She didn’t understand their purposes, but could imagine that a better alchemist than her could work wonders with them.

“On our way to Skyrim,” said Aryon, “we stopped in Solstheim.” He opened one of the parcels, a small jar. “We discovered strange beasts, reminiscent of ash creatures created by Dagoth Ur’s blight long ago. Upon their death they released a similar substance to the ash salts found in Vvardenfell.” Malekaiah peeked inside the jar; it seemed to contain a fine gray powder looking very much like ash, but somehow more crystalline. Aryon continued: “Uupse’s original recipe called for ash salts. This should serve as a substitute.”

“Okay,” Malekaiah said. “What else do we need?”

“A shoot of Nirnroot, and two hearts.”

Hearts? Malekaiah shivered. Hopefully he was being metaphorical. She decided to focus on the less scary part of that answer. “What’s Nirnroot?”

“It is a glowing, singing plant that grows by the water all across Tamriel. I don’t have any samples here, but it shouldn’t be difficult to find some. There’s a river on the other side of this hill, beyond a small copse of trees. You should be able to find some there. Go on ahead while I procure the Daedra heart.”

Malekaiah nodded. She checked on Kassur one last time before she began to slowly climb down the hill. It was still dark, but the cloud cover was bright, illuminated by the full moons behind, and her Orc eyes acclimated quickly. The copse Aryon mentioned was small but dense enough to obstruct the river she could hear on the other side. She had to move carefully through the trees, as their shadows kept the light of the heavens from reaching her. Finally, she reached the small river, and looked around.

Malekaiah could guess “glowing,” but what had Aryon meant by “singing?” She looked up and down the stream, trying to see any light along its course. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Frustrated, she picked a direction and started following the banks westwards.

The white noise of the flowing river was making her ears ring, and it seemed to get worse the longer she was by it. She was just about to give up when she remembered what Aryon said. She backed up, retreating eastwards. The ringing seemed to get quieter. Eyes peeled, she kept heading west.

Finally, she saw a strange light peeking from behind a boulder. She wrapped around it and saw the plant, a spiky-leaved thing, luminous green, and chiming a sharp note.

Using her hands (she didn’t want to get her dagger dirty), she gradually dug up the roots and pulled the entire plant from the earth. Once its roots were free, its noise died down to a whisper.

Something caught her attention in her peripheral vision. A small thing, alighting on the slow-moving surface of the river. It didn’t sink, but left a small impression on the water. Then she noticed another, and another. Then she felt something cold fall on her nose, and she looked up.

It was snowing. She had heard of snow before, but never seen it herself. She held out her empty hand and caught a falling flake, and quickly tried to inspect it before it melted from her body’s warmth. It was a beautiful, geometric crystal. It reminded her of the tattoos priests of Zenithar often wore, denoting their faith to the mathematical god of industry. Perhaps, Malekaiah wondered, during creation, Zenithar collaborated with Kynareth, the goddess of the rains, to create such beautiful frozen artifacts.

The falling snowflakes began to increase in volume, until so many landed on Malekaiah’s head it sent a shiver down her spine. She pulled her hood over her bare scalp, and began to head back east to the copse at the base of Aryon’s hill.

When she finished climbing the hill - a bit more difficult now, as the precipitation was making it icy and slick - Malekaiah greeted Aryon. Kassur didn’t seem to have moved from his position when she left, which she tentatively took as a good sign.

“Do we have all the ingredients now?” she asked, holding up the Nirnroot plant.

Aryon, now hooded himself, glanced over from his work at his enchanted table. He seemed to be boiling down a dark red, almost black, organ she couldn’t identify. A Daedra heart? she wondered. “Ah, thank you,” Aryon said. “Although I didn’t require the entire plant. Just a sprig would do.” Malekaiah frowned. “But it never hurts to have extra,” Aryon added upon seeing her expression.

Malekaiah brought forth the Nirnroot. With magical shears Aryon cut a leaf from the plant and had her set the rest aside for now. Then he cut the leaf into small strips and added them to the boiling heart’s juices.

“But do we have all the ingredients now?” Malekaiah repeated.

“Oh, not yet,” Aryon said. “We still require a Briarheart. Specifically, one taken from a living subject’s chest.”

“Okay,” Malekaiah said. Her conscience couldn’t help but butt in. “So, does that require murder?”

“That depends,” Aryon said, “on if you consider the destruction of a necromantic beast murder. Frankly, Briarheart warriors are not human anymore. They make pacts with hagravens and the Daedra Lord Hircine to become what they are.”

Malekaiah considered it. If it’s necromancy, it can’t be murder, right? She nodded. “Okay. So how are we going to get one?”

“It will take some time to find and obtain one,” Aryon began. “And one of us must stay with Kassur. Seeing as I am not a healer, that must fall to you. I will go, by stealth, to tear the heart from a sleeping warrior. I believe the Forsworn have a camp not far from here. If I’m not back in three hours -” Aryon started to say, but he looked at Kassur and reconsidered. “No. I’ll be back in about three hours.”

“Okay,” Malekaiah said. She took a seat next to Kassur and waved Aryon off as he swiftly departed.

- - - - -

With great effort, the Emperor sloughed off his regal fur-lined coat before his attendant had a chance to offer his assistance. Unburdened, he spun around to see Merculus frowning.

“You know, Your Highness, that I’m here to assist you,” Merculus, an old white-haired geezer of a Cyrod, said.

“Oh, brighten up, will you?” the Emperor said with a bright grin. “It’s a beautiful day in…er…”

“Helgen, Sire.”

“Of course,” said the Emperor with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I was only feigning ignorance.”

It was, of course, not a beautiful day. The young Emperor was known for embellishment. The sky in southern Skyrim was a dreary gray, and the ground here in the fort sucked at your boots like it wanted you to stand there forever. His two Blades in his entourage, both Nords, had told him this was fairly usual.

“You’re lucky if you see the sun once a year in this shithole of a province,” the tall, shaggy blonde Fjulgur had said.

Thargun, the shorter, ruddy-complexioned one, sighed. “Your tongue, Fjully.”

“Sorry,” said Fjulgur, covering his mouth. But the Emperor could tell he was smiling underneath his hands.

Now, Merculus asked, “Is there anything you’ll allow me to do for you, Your Highness?”

The Emperor rubbed his throat. “You know, Merculus, I could go for a drink before bed. What do the locals have here?”

“I believe Helgen is known for its juniper berry mead, Your Highness. I could procure for you a bottle.”

“No, just a glass will do. Or a mug. Do they drink it hot up here? Surely they do.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I will return as swiftly as possible.” With this, Merculus, in his usual way, glided out the door, which closed behind him with a soft click.

The Emperor turned to inspect the room. For a “shithole province,” they certainly knew how to furnish a chamber for royalty. The bed had four tall posts, supporting a frame from which hung a black curtain, sporting on all sides the Imperial insignia, a diamond with a dragon at its center, in red. In the corner by the window sat a similarly red-upholstered armchair, the cushions of which looked like they could swallow even a Nord or an Orc in their depths. The crimson curtains on the far-side window, which stood a few stories high over the fort’s courtyard, were pulled open for the Emperor to look out upon his subjects. The two nightstands on either side of the bed were of dark spruce, as were the massive dresser and desk across from the bed’s foot.

The Emperor hesitated; he felt his neck warming up. He glanced down at the Amulet of Kings, and felt a voice ring out in his head: BEWARE.

He glanced around, letting his peripheral vision do the heavy-lifting for him. But he saw nothing.

“Come out, assassin,” the Emperor commanded, just quietly enough that no one outside could hear.

“How did you know?” whispered a voice that seemed to come from every corner of the room at once.

The Emperor flashed his teeth, part smile, part threat-display. “Magic has an odor. Especially Illusion magic.”

There was a long pause. Then: “You just made that up. It was a lucky guess.”

“It was a lucky guess,” the Emperor admitted, keeping his volume even. “But I had you going, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t,” said the voice, who suddenly revealed herself, the figure in the plush corner chair appearing piece-by-piece of vanishing invisibility. “Uriel Septim.” She tilted her head. “Are you the seventh, or the eighth?”

“The ninth, Hla-eix,” he said. The Hortator of the Ebonheart Pact’s daughter was unmistakable: a Dunmer by almost all features, save for side-slitted lizard eyes and patches of pale, ephemeral scales on her skin.

“Ah,” she hissed, wrapping her thin fingers around the delicate point of her chin. “You humans take so many lifetimes to accomplish so little.”

Uriel ignored her and asked, “How did you get in here? The window?” Even as he asked, he doubted it; the dust on the windowsill looked completely undisturbed.

“Who’s to say I haven’t been here the whole time?”

Uriel smiled. Fair enough. He decided not to think about the worrying implications for his security. “We’re not meant to meet until tomorrow. What are you doing here now?”

“I wanted to appraise you,” Hla-eix said simply.

“Like a piece of jewelry? A ring to wrap around your finger?”

She smiled, her lips barely parting to reveal razor-sharp teeth. “You have a sharp tongue. Expected for a Cyrod, an Emperor no less.” She planted her hands on the arms of the chair and pushed herself out of the deep seat, landing on her toes. “But is it as sharp as the blade at your throat?”

Reflexively Uriel swallowed deeply, but hoped it was mostly imperceptible; he never let down his smile. “And here I thought this was just a friendly visit. Are you sure you’re not an assassin?”

“I’m not one anymore,” she said, stepping even closer. “The Shadowscales and the Morag Tong both answer to me. But they’re not the ones you should worry about.”

“And who, praytell, should I worry about?” He resisted the urge to step back.

“There are snakes in the lion’s den.” She was now so close Uriel could feel her breath on his cheek. “And venom is indiscriminate.”

“And how, praytell, would you know such a thing?”

“Simple. Assassins make good spies.” She shot a glance at the door behind him. “And Blades make weak ones.”

“I don’t understand your motive, Hla-eix. Our peoples’ are on the precipice of war. Why should you concern yourself with the strength of my Empire?”

“That’s not for you to know.” She leaned in close to his ear, and he couldn’t help but flinch this time. “Keep your wits about you…Emperor.”

There was a loud crack, and she was gone. The air left behind seemed to pull at the folds of Uriel’s robes for a moment before it settled again.

The door behind him burst open. He turned to see Fjulgur and Thargun pushing through the threshold, katanas in hand. “Sire!” Thargun shouted. “Are you alright? What was that noise?”

“Stubbed my toe on the bed, dammit,” lied Uriel. “Everything’s alright. Calm down.”

Thargun tilted his head, but said, “As you wish, Sire.” The Nords scanned the room through the eye slits of their helmets before sheathing their swords and leaving, the door closing softly behind them. Uriel sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his forehead. Nine-damned dark elves, he thought. Oblivion take them and their schemes.

#tes #tesblr #oc: malekaiah #oc: kassur #oc: dagoth valer #oc: uriel ix #master aryon #skyrim #orc #orsimer #dunmer #imperial #cyrod #cyrodiil #nord #my writing #oc: hla-eix

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shadowqueen402 · 3 days

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Hi! How about a fanfiction where Leo, Emma and inhabitants Do they turn into animals at some point in the theater?

Leo - hedgehog

Emma - rabbit

Jose - wolf

Fiona - axolotl (Because there is nothing to walk with)

Yuri - butterfly

Haoyu - Bat

Sana - parrot

Cass - cat

Cal - horse

Iben - deer

Attilio - Turtle

Lucy - octopus

Eis - dalmatian

Bruce - chameleon

But there is one thing. When Balan meets them, he does not recognize them and hears only the words of the animals.

My apologies for the wait. But here you go.

"Leo, what are you doing in here?" Emma asked. "Balan told us not to touch anything in this room." She stood at the entrance of Balan's office with a confused look.

"Since Balan is busy at the moment, I'd figured I do something nice for him," Leo replied. "In this case, I'm organizing his books."

"But Leo, what about Balan's warning?" Emma frowned. "If Balan finds out you're here, he's not going to be happy. Also, you should be mindful of what you touch in here. Don't forget; all of these objects are magic."

"So far, nothing has happened…" Leo said, lifting up a book. Suddenly, the book immediately flew open and a ball of white energy emerged from it. Before Leo and Emma could say anything, everything went white.

In the Isle of Tims, the white light spread all the way over to the stages, including all twelve Inhabitants. Not one of them could utter a word in confusion as the light engulfed them. Then, the light disappeared in a flash.

The book inside Balan's office snapped shut before falling onto the ground. Leo and Emma both opened their eyes to find that the room had gotten bigger.

"Why is the room bigger?" Leo asked, but hisses came out rather than actual words. Emma tried to reply, but squeaks came out. However, things took a turn as soon as they heard Balan's footsteps approaching the office. Leo and Emma panicked, but couldn't bring themselves to find a place to hide.

The door opened to reveal Balan. He looked down and saw a golden yellow hedgehog with blue eyes and a cream-colored rabbit with green eyes. Balan's eyes lit up with joy as he carefully scooped the two animals up. "How did you two cuties get in here?" Balan softly asked. "You oddly remind of two friends that I hold dear. Come, let me take you to a special place. One that has lots of extra space."

When Balan arrived at the Isle of Tims, he was NOT expecting the scene in front of him. Standing around were twelve different animals; a red wolf with blue eyes, a blue axolotl with brown eyes, a butterfly with indigo and magenta wings, an orange and green bat with brown eyes, a parrot with blue eyes and feathers of light green, yellow, orange, and blue, a small kitten with fuschia fur and green eyes, an indigo horse with teal eyes, a light blue doe with turquoise eyes, a light green turtle with blue eyes, a magenta colored octopus that was somehow alive depite not being in water, a Dalmatian puppy with a red collar around its neck, and a mauve colored chameleon.

"Well, this is really new," Balan said. "What am I going to with all of you?" All the animals could do was make animal noises in return.

If only he realized that those animals were actually his frends…

(Doe — A female deer)

#balan wonderworld #fanfic #balan #leo craig #emma cole #jose gallard #fiona demetria #yuri brand #haoyu chang #sana hudson #cass milligan #cal suresh #iben bia #attilio caccini #lucy wong #eis glover #bruce stone

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thekoopalingsandstuffs · 1 month

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idk if were aloud to ask parents stuff but

what do yall think of your kids partners?

You're not supposed to, but I'll make an exception this once!! (... I should prolly start working on Parent Ask Day)

Beef: "... Kaley... Did I ever talk to you about... What Stewart told me at our gender reveal party...? What Dee did to him while they were together...?"

Kaley: "No, why?" :3

Karry, Holly, Kooper, the Koopa Bros, & everyone else in Koops' extended family: "We approve, too!" :D

Popple: "Her mama would be so proud... Taking things into her own hands!!! What a problem-solver!"

Rex: "Plessie doesn't seem to bring that kid around a lot... If I didn't know any better, I'd think she didn't want him to see us! I wonder why! I thought we made such a good first impression! But eh, maybe the little bunny was frightened by us dragons." *Chuckles*

Hooktail: "... Yes... How curious..."

Persephone: "My dear, have you looked more into my little job offer yet...?"

Mauve: "... No... I've been too busy to THINK."

Madame Broode: "I don't see my babies a lot! I got casino biz to tend to. And you think I ask 'em about that shit??"

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reznuak2703 · 3 months

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The Starlight Mauve (Short Story)

There it was, The Starlight Mauve, the place where the passions of love came to die. Formerly a prestigious retreat from society’s ever righteous morals, the mighty niterie now stood barren atop that once virident hill, projecting its melancholic memories upon the lands below. Run down in desolation, that famed house’s fluorescence could no longer mystify the minds, nor could its thick air of lust and betrayal charm the lowly denizens of the night. It was a pathetic sight to see, how the marvelous nightclub had resolved to nothing more than a shelter from Boreas’ cold fury, but it was a fate well deserved. Now, the only beings who called this pitiful den home were the vermin and dregs birthed from its sinful sludge many moons prior.

It had been three years since I'd last been there, but its maroon walls and musk of intoxicated love never ceased to plague my mind. Haunting my dreams and eating away at my soul, the memories of the fateful night spent in that degenerative hell had conjured before my eyes all that I had lost. For months on end I was convinced this was the fate I was damned with, convinced these nightmares would never cease and neither would my suffering, but then I read of The Starlight Mauve’s condemnation. It was then I knew that to find the closure I so desperately needed I’d have to return there once more.

Now, having proceeded through a litany of snow-clad forests and once traveled roads, I found myself at the foot of The Starlight Mauve’s great entrance once more. There I stood before the precipice, glaring at the soft glow emanating from the purple-tinted star which bore the nightclub’s name above me. Even in its desolation, The Starlight Mauve taunted me, illuminating the frost below me with neon lights and reflections of lovers blowing kisses that no one would catch. Seeing these illusions, I felt a heat begin to rise from my chest. Feeding off of my sorrows and regrets, this heat manifested itself as a melancholic haze that brought painful memories of my night three years prior. Enveloped by the past, I no longer felt the slow descending snow peck my cheeks with its chilling barrage. Instead, I now felt the jealousy that consumed my heart the night I lost my dear Elizabeth.

We were two wildfires caught within a storm. Tangled by our lust, we’d spend every night dancing atop every aspiration and commitment we ever had, burning them down just for one more sunrise together. For months I believed that our bond was unbreakable, that our destinies would be forever intertwined, but I soon found out how wrong I was. Elizabeth was my everything, my angelic rose, and I lost her before I could truly love her.

I tried to pull myself from my mind, but It took me a moment to find my composure. Tears streamed down my face, escaping my sorrowful eyes and descending down upon the snow. Each droplet burned a hole as it sank, producing ascending mists before me. In the steam I could’ve sworn I saw Elizabeth dancing like she used to, but before I could grasp her beauty, the vapors would vanish. Sighing, I put out my lantern and made my way into the dark recesses awaiting me, knowing that regardless of if I was ready or not, closure would be coming soon.

Upon entering, I immediately felt overwhelmed by a wave of crashing heartache. Regardless of its emptiness, The Starlight Mauve still carried with it the pains of its past. Every soul that had been taken, every love that had been murdered, every virgin turned wanton, all of it was there, forsaken by the burlesque’s lustful ignorance. Solemnly, I traversed deeper into the nightclub, desperate to pass these piteous pockets of loathing.

Soon I found myself standing where the dance floor had once been with my sight obscured by a heavy haze of stink and despair. I was lost beneath this veil, blind to all that surrounded me except for the lavender carpet whose pile sung with each step. Despite this, my spirit’s rising panic began to fade and I felt assuaged by the ambiance before me. The wool called to me, and as I allowed the voracious fabric below to pull me to my knees, I began to retrieve three sacred items which haunted the hollows of my heart.

First, from my lapel I pulled the brooch Elizabeth pinned to my chest the first night we met. Once shining with a striking silver gleam, the metal which warded the black rose that centered the ornament had now decayed with spots of red and orange. The rose contained within it was all but dead, except for a single petal which refused to fall from its sepal. Giving it one last longing glance, I placed the brooch to my left and continued my ritual.

Next, I pulled from my breast a locket which contained a faded picture of Elizabeth and I. Its oxidized corners had turned yellow over time and the paper smelt of buttered popcorn, sparking my memories of the circus where we met. My mind was overcome by the sound of her beautiful laughter and the image of her soft smile that carried infinite joys and sorrows. Now, seeing my eyes reflected in the rhinestone crest which adorned the inner recess, I reflected on how her irises would sparkle under the moonlight. It took all I had in me to separate myself from that image, and it took more strength than I believed I had to place her locket down upon the ground before me.

Finally, from my pocket I pulled the ring I had planned on giving her that fateful night. Staring at the purple hue which painted its golden band, I recalled how excited I was when I had bought it. I had spent weeks going from town to town, looking for the perfect jeweler to bedazzle my love, and when I finally found the right ring my giddiness had overwhelmed me. Unfortunately, that giddiness has faded, but my love for her has not. For three years it had been burning a hole in my pocket, never seeing the light of day or feeling the wind bend to its diamond crest, but now it was finally time to separate myself from it.

Contained within a triangle of my past, I sat solemnly, whispering both nothing and everything to the world around me. I hadn’t seen Elizabeth in 3 years, but I hoped that somewhere, somehow, she’d hear my message.

“I don’t know what occurred that night. I don’t know what happened to cause you to leave, but I am sorry. I hope that wherever you went, wherever you are now, you’re safe and happy. Goodbye Elizabeth”

Before a sea of sorrows could escape my eyes, a small shower did instead. Three solitary tears sank through the cracks in the floorboards, binding themselves forever to the foundations of this woeful wretch. This was it, this was the end. I had to let Elizabeth go, here, now, and forever.

With a deep sigh, I rose to my feet and turned towards the door. For the first time in nearly an hour I felt the brisk wind chill my bones, invading every depression within The Starlight Mauve and I. Turning towards the door, I prepared myself to leave and never return when suddenly my essence was compelled by the sting of an old chord.

Across the room I saw the old stain-ridden piano alive and well, its ivory keys playing a somber scale that quickly transitioned into a melodious swing. The wind picked up, now tunneling through the corridors before slamming those velvet doors shut, enveloping me in darkness. Surrounded by shadow and painful nostalgia, I prepared myself for hell to come once more. Instead, I found heaven.

The room exploded with a barrage of lights and sounds. Music blasted from every direction and within moments I was caught between a mob of dancing spirits locked within an eternal tango. Ghostly quartets played the masquerade on as phantoms brought the ballroom to life, rebranding The Starlight Mauve as a house of romance and passion. Darting my eyes back and forth, I almost couldn’t believe what I saw. The crowd before me was neither alive nor dead, but rather a beautiful union of transcendent love across the ages. Old widows reunited with their husbands, lovers embraced in death without the judgment of society, and couples conjoined with a bond so strong that even death could not part. Each soul had been joined by their equal, locked hand in hand, swaying to the hypnotic thump of the bass and the flourishing strings. Young or old, flesh or bone, the shades of the hall oscillated rhythmically and smiled as they fell into the arms of their lover.

It was impossible not to find joy in the pure ecstasy occurring around me, but part of me felt a stinging loneliness begin to rise. I searched among the crowd for someone to take my hand, for anyone to acknowledge my presence, but it was useless. Invisible amongst these amorous couplets, the pain in my heart returned, and it returned with fury as its partner.

“Why is this happening?” I thought to myself as I angrily pushed through the ghostly crowds. Just moments before this eruption occurred I had been mourning the loss of my love, casting aside my history and pain for a better tomorrow, but nobody seemed to notice nor care. I was caught within a rushing river of compassion, yet my skin ran dry and my throat contracted from thirst.

Scorn riddled my heart as I looked for an escape from this mirage. I had spent three years searching for the right moment to let go of my painful attachment and I wouldn’t let these spirits ruin this chance. I couldn’t hear my thoughts over the mesmerizing harmony emerging from the brass around me but I knew that I had to leave. Compelled towards the large velvet set of doors before me, I found myself below its imposing frame grasping the copper handle before I suddenly heard her voice.

“Leaving so soon? I was hoping we’d at least have a dance together”

Overcome with fear, confusion, and fervor, I found my eyes bound to the floor below me. I couldn’t turn my body to face this voice and I couldn’t dare meet its gaze, afraid that what I’d see would either disappoint or revive the fires in my heart I had just put out. My shoulders tensed and my hands shook with a freezing burn that chilled my veins. I wanted to run away from all of this, but I couldn’t.

“It's ok Henry, It’s me. I promise it's me.”

Taking a deep breath, I drew from what willpower I had left the desire to face this voice. Back towards the center of the hall stood Elizabeth, looking just as beautiful as the day I lost her.

Everything about her was a dream. Beneath the dim lights that guided loving dancers’ souls around the picturesque ballroom her eyes shone brighter than ever before. In her hair I found a heart of chestnut and lavender that could burn you with its fiery touch. Her ballgown ran black with streaks of gold and on her breast sat a pinned nightingale whose metallic wings reflected my deepest desires back at me.

For three years I had prayed for a night like this, a night where I would finally see my love once more. Now that it was here I had no idea what to do. I had neither the preparation nor the rationale to truly navigate the situation before me, so instead I followed my heart and glided across the hall to her.

Within moments we were in each other’s arms, picking our love up right where we left off. With her hands behind my neck and mine around her waist, I felt safe for the first time in years. The music was soft and smooth, slow enough to match a heartbeat, but fast enough to keep our feet moving below us. Elizabeth danced just like she used to, dragging me across the ballroom floor with a hasty flourish. Each dip, spin, jump, and lunge that we performed worked only to further join our hearts. Our fire was alive once more, but the pains of the past were persistent in their beckoning.

“How is this possible?” My eyes glazed past her, landing on the undead procession behind her. “Is any of this real?”

“Don’t focus on that Henry, focus on me.”

“But how can I not focus on that? Are they really dead? Are you dead? What happened?”

I waited for a response from Elizabeth but before she could answer the tempo picked up and we were swept into the crowding cadaverous sea. My body felt foreign as my feet took initiative, swaying in 2/4 time to keep up with Elizabeth’s fiery tango. Had it not been for the waltz which had previously united us I believe our souls would have lost one another once more. However, the crescendoing accelerando that possessed the guitarists sharp chords and percussions swift rhythm gave our bodies no rest. In an attempt to ground myself, I returned to the questions that I had been asking Elizabeth.

“Where have you been for the past three years? What happened to you?”

“You’ll learn in due time my Starshine, until then let us enjoy this.”

From that moment I wanted to continue my questioning but her calm words and loving smile eased all of my queries. I felt as if I could fall into her arms and spend an eternity wrapped in her warm embrace, swaying on the dance floor between a mob of lovers and memories. Everything was perfect, and I wished that these ever fleeting seconds would drag their feet in their quest to progress time’s agenda.

For hours we danced, forgetting about the worlds beyond and their woes. Every sonata, ballad, and flamenco that the revenant quartet performed filled my heart with promises of a forever that I believed were right there for the taking. I was happy and my love was stronger than ever, revived by the searing affection found within Elizabeth’s affectionate visage.

With every strut and step that we took I felt more energy flow through my body. Exhaustion was a mortal worry and as I spent this night among my love and the dead I was granted the gifts that come with immortality.

Life was a dream, a pleasant serenade of love and devotion that made me feel alive once again, but unfortunately all dreams must come to an end. As Elizabeth and I glided about the ballroom I began to see the faux illusion that had occupied my eyes fail. The polished floorboards began to splinter and the music adopted a minor key that distorted the fantasy before me. I turned to Elizabeth for an answer, but she instead met my gaze with a longing look that told me all I needed to know.

“No…stop looking at me like that! Don’t tell me this has to end!” I uttered in a shaky voice.

“I’m sorry Henry, but it’s time. I wanted this to last as long as it could but our night must end for you to be able to grow.”

Before I could bring myself to interrogate Elizabeth further I was stopped by the deconstruction of the world around me. I watched as the spirits that once shared the dance floor with Elizabeth and I began to dissipate and how the many instrumentalists that provided us all with beautiful melodies began to fade into oblivion. The vast variety of colors and joys were draining from my surroundings, leaving behind the desolate interior that I had found within The Starlight Mauve hours earlier.

Panic rose throughout my body as I veered back towards Elizabeth, hoping that even if this all went away that I'd still be able to keep her. Reaching out, I grabbed at her hand and prepared myself to run away with her but as I held out to hold her my hand passed through hers.

“Elizabeth please! Please don’t tell me this is the end! I just got you back, I can't lose you again!” I yelled as I looked into her eyes longing for her sympathy but all I found was a distant smile.

“Henry, this night was amazing but it was not meant to last. I know this is hard but remember this, you’ll never lose me. You can learn to let go, but you can always remember our time together.”

“But I don’t want to let go! I thought I did but I don’t”

“Yes you do Henry, and you will. You are stronger than the desires your longing heart feeds you. Soon you will learn the reason behind tonight but until then I want you to know that it’s ok to move on.”

Elizabeth smiled at me and for a moment caressed my face, looking into my eyes lovingly. I tried to return that affection, that touch, but her form turned to mist in my hands.

“Goodbye Henry, please take care of yourself.”

With those final words I watched as she began to fade away along with the final remnants of the fabrication conjured before me. Within moments she disappeared and all that was left before me were the broken down vestigial veins of The Starlight Mauve.

It was over. The vivacious promenade of rhythmic footsteps had been overcome by a deafening silence that shook my very essence. The dozens of lively souls marching to love’s tempo had been replaced by an empty ballroom and a note that sat forlorn upon the wooden floorboards. I rushed over as fast as I could to this parchment, hoping that written on it would be some explanation of what had happened or some trace of my love. As I picked it up my eyes began to hastily read the ink-blotten contents.

“Henry, I’m sorry I had to leave you again. I know how hard this must be for you to read and I’m sorry for any more heartbreak it causes you, I just wanted you to finally know the truth. That night, our first night at The Starlight Mauve, I was dying. I hadn’t much time left to live and I knew that if you had to see me suffer it would break your heart. I ran away that night because I thought it would protect you, save you from the agony I know you would have felt, but perhaps I did it for myself as well. I wanted in my final days to have control, to be able to decide the terms in which I left my affairs, and in my desire to do so I felt I had to leave you. I shouldn’t have robbed you of the ability to care for me, nor should I have robbed you of your goodbye, but I did anyway and I am truly sorry for that. Tonight, I did what I could to be able to see you again. No matter the consequence, no matter the struggle, I wanted to make sure you got that goodbye that you deserved. I wanted to make sure you knew that I truly did love you.”

My throat closed up as my eyes began to water, leaving me heaving for air as I tried to resist the tears. The more and more my sight glossed over the words written, the further Into my own despair I sunk. I had thought for a moment that perhaps I could have gotten Elizabeth back, that despite how rough this night had started it would get better, but The Starlight Mauve had once again taken my love from me. Choking on my own exacerbated breath, I fell to the floor and finally let the tears take their toll. My face burned, scorned once again by love’s scalding flame, and my body ached with the pains of a thousand fresh wounds.

The pain and shock of it all was too much to bear. In my head I recounted the events of the past few hours, wishing that at some point I decided to turn around and leave this ridiculous quest for closure behind. I resented the merry spirits that surrounded Elizabeth and I, and I felt the grasping vines of envy bind my ever hurting heart. I believed that I must be cursed, that this night of hope and disappointment must’ve been some predetermined punishment chosen by the fates for my hubris.

However, as I laid there groveling in my own melancholic self-pity I began to think of Elizabeth herself. I thought about how vibrant she seemed, how I could feel her heart beat with love and see her eyes dilated with the light of an ethereal soul. Though she was as beautiful as I remembered her in life, when I saw her today she radiated a sense of joy that sunk down to your core, assuring you that everything would be alright. These reflections brought with them a new sense of understanding, one that helped me accept that perhaps this night wasn’t one to be remembered for its pain and disappointment but instead for the additional moments it gave me with the love of my life. Her life seemed better now and maybe that meant I could finally improve my own.

Having lost Elizabeth once more but now having seen how happy she was in the worlds beyond, I brought myself to accept that this was truly the end of my journey. As I rose to my feet I took a final look around the interior of this wretch, taking in its isolation once more. There was nothing left for me here, I knew this more than I had ever known anything in my life. Solemnly, I began to make my way out of the Mauve, feeling the great effervescent ballroom revert back into the sullen dereliction that I had found hours before. Each step towards the exit felt like a mile, but each breath felt freer as I approached the Mauve’s snow-clad threshold. Shades of purple and red called my spirit forth, promising me freedom from this hell. As I took my last step out of The Starlight Mauve, I felt the chains of its presence fall from my heavy limbs.

Standing below the sign bearing its name, I saw The Starlight Mauve take its final breath. With neither dignity nor grace, the lights bearing the burlesque’s name flickered with a pitiful infrequency before going out entirely. It was dead, Elizabeth was dead, and even though I knew I’d never forget her, it was time to move on. Pulling the lantern from my pack, I struck a match and lit the gaslight. I could feel the flame’s burn passing through the glass, and as I stared into the fire I saw an image of The Starlight Mauve ablaze. I saw every soul that danced within its halls consumed by the eternal fire raging on, and I saw the very foundations of the club come crashing down forever.

As morbid as it was, this vision brought me comfort, but as I readied my hand to toss the lantern, I found myself pulling back and instead dropping the torchlight to the ground. Despite how much pain it brought me, The Starlight Mauve had given me one last moment with Elizabeth. It allowed me to finally move on, and perhaps that meant it could still help others find their peace. Feeling a newfound sense of appreciation, it dawned on me that even though I could no longer burden my heart with the longing for a miracle, I could still immortalize my love for Elizabeth.

Raising my foot, I slammed my boot through the glass casing and smothered the flame beneath snow and leather. As I reached down to observe the mess I created I grasped at the largest shard I could find and began to study it. The snow sent shivers through my nerves, ending in my fingertips and dancing through my knuckles, while the burning glass painted its history upon my palm. Closing my fist, I walked to the nearest tree and went to work.

The pain I felt was overwhelming, but still I carved at the bark with precision and care. Every slash produced a crunch of wood and glass dragging against one another, creating tectonic movements in my bones with its rugged pull. Once I was satisfied with my work, I took a step back and dropped the shard to the ground below me. The sun began its rise into the sky, gleaming down onto the snow around me and illuminating my opus. A bitter smile crossed my face as I saw the heart with Elizabeth’s name written across it and I sighed, looking out towards the horizon feeling as if I had finally achieved what I came here to do.

“Goodbye Elizabeth, and thank you.”

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whitegoldtower · 2 months

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Tam'lin x Kar'niss Fic???

Maybe, just maybe I'm being really hot and sexy and actually writing up the beginning of my fic 'Arachnophilia'.

MLM, if you like power-bottom pleasure-dom x submissive top, this might be the fic for you :D

Nothing spicy in the first chapter (except for a brief mention of something happening at Sharess' Caress), so you'll have to bear with me. First bit's below the break.

His name was Tam’lin, though it had seemed of little importance before meeting those he now called ‘friends’. Before, he had been simply ‘the Szarkai’; a pale drow raised only to be planted upon the surface amongst darthiir, to blend in with the faeries and ultimately bring subterfuge and death to their ranks in the name of House Baenre. He had been a spy, an assassin, a pawn.

He’d had virtually no will of his own, until he had. And when he discovered what he was capable of, he’d legged it at the first opportunity, House Baenre and Menzoberranzan be damned. He’d not been too pleased to see his dear cousin, Minthara, at the side of the Absolute.

Yet it would have displeased him greatly to see her suffer any more than she already had. Horrid as she could be, he knew that most of her wickedness was merely a sharpness of the mind; much like himself, back before he had discovered his vulnerability, he, too, had tended to think first, feel later, rather than experience both at the same time.

It was a difficult habit to break, especially when hardwired into one’s very nature. He couldn’t fault Minthara for it any more than he could fault Astarion for being the way he was. And that vampire had many flaws, when it came to vulnerability. The man’s self-preservation instincts, had they been given physicality, would have been sturdy enough to keep Ketheric, Orin and Gortash away, singlehandedly. Would have been, had Tam’lin not been so curious, had he not craved the vampire spawn’s companionship.

They had slept together multiple times, until one quiet night at camp, somewhere near the Last Light Inn. Astarion had thanked him for what he’d said, the way he’d defended him from that deplorable drow woman. Honestly, Tam’lin hadn’t wanted to be thanked for it; he didn’t need the thanks, what he needed was for his friend (a word which, until recently felt too funny in his mouth) to recognise that despite Cazador’s hold on him, he had autonomy.

If Tam’lin could sever himself from House Baenre, and Shadowheart from Shar, Lae’zel from Vlaakith, and Minthara from the Absolute, then by all the hells, Astarion could free himself from Cazador. Even when Tam’lin’s words came out a little too harshly, when his face did not present itself in the soft manner he intended it to, the szarkai was hell-bent on shoving Astarion in the right direction. He just needed encouragement, and a bit of support. Perhaps a bit of discipline, every now and then.

Although, some of the words that came from Astarion’s lips shocked him. He knew the man’s cruelty was but a front, but even so, some things he’d said had made Tam’lin’s palms itch, made his skin crawl, made his teeth squirm for a scrap. Many times, he’d come close to fist-fighting the one he called his closest friend.

This night had been one of those times.

The szarkai sat alone, in his deep purple tent, on top of his nest of rich jewel-tone cushions and blankets, watching his summoned spiders, Janet One and Janet Two, patrolling back and forth under the canopy just outside of the threshold, which was illuminated by the soft pink, green, and orange glow of a bioluminescent hanging basket.

Gods, he felt miserable, as he looked at the spoils of the day. Ketheric’s netherese stone. Balthazar’s quietly twinkling moon-lantern.

And Kar’niss’ sword, cruel-sting.

The night was quiet. Too quiet. Tam’lin’s dusky, pale mauve eyes narrowed as he analysed his emotions, picking them apart as he chewed at his blackened lips. What was this feeling? It seemed to be an amalgamation, of sorts. Anger, at Astarion’s reaction to his choice to knock the drider unconscious, instead of killing him. Sadness, that Kar’niss had been taken advantage of in such a way in the first place. Regret, possibly? Or something that felt like envy, that he should have been the drider? That he should have been taken in by the Absolute, for he was sure his crimes against Lolth were far greater than whatever Kar’niss had done. He’d deserved that fate. Possibly worse.

He remembered where he had been before being abducted by the illithids. He’d been in the city, hungover and still possibly drunk from the night before, that night in Sharess’ Caress with the male drow twin whose name he couldn’t recall. What he had remembered of that night were but fragments; the honeyed words about the milky pallor of his skin and hair, the mood-ruining questions about his scars and his alleged intimidating aura, the purr of ‘come, szarkai,’ and the beckoning of a slender finger that would later snuff out the lights. Mundane and mildly irritating things, mostly, but a few diamonds in the rough, such as the mysterious click of a box’s lid followed by a thousand little running pinpricks over his chest as the young lad had expertly stroked his insides. A guilty pleasure. One he hadn’t ever even considered, but one he had yet to stop thinking about. He still remembered the tickle of gossamer sliding over and sticking to his ribs as the tiny beasts had scattered, tickling him enough to steal a chuckle.

Sad, however, that he’d stooped to spending nights in brothels and drinking the towns dry.

He’d let himself go, for a while, content to play the part of the dark, vigilante folk-hero for the less fortunate, but after that while, it had started to get boring. Stories were being spun about him, rumours went flying, and Tam’lin did not welcome the prospect that people were making observations about him and speculating over what he did behind closed doors. He valued his privacy. He valued his autonomy. He valued people not trying to put him in a box.

Gloomstalker, the darthiir called him. The shadow ranger, with footsteps as silent and fleeting as the mist, tracking down his prey, setting traps, and then waiting in ambush, like the patient trapdoor spider that sizes up an arrogant snake. Possibly the only metaphor he’d heard about himself that he could be somewhat proud of. The spider that takes down snakes.

He frowned deeply as he looked at cruel-sting, propped up against his backpack in one of the tent’s corners. Kar’niss wasn’t a snake. He didn’t deserve to be hunted. Certainly didn’t deserve to be attacked by more than just himself. His throat was raw from shouting at the others to get back, to take down the wraiths, the shadows, anything but the indignity of attacking the poor drider like a pack of hyenas. Jaheira hadn’t wanted to trust him to take down Kar’niss alone. He’d had to force her to retreat, himself, and that was something that hadn’t gone down well when they had all returned to camp.

He was still bitter about it. She was still bitter about it.

Tam’lin ground his teeth together, furiously, stewing in his emotions. It would take a while for him to calm down.

So engrossed, was he, that he almost did not see Janet One beginning to jitter around. Almost missed the clicking chirrup of Janet Two as she assumed a more defensive position.

Shadows. It must be the Shadows.

It was pitch black, outside the tent, with only the campfire’s distant glow illuminating the other tents, all closed up for the night. All of his friends were asleep.

That thought might have been somewhat comforting, had he not seen a particularly fast shadow darting in reflection across the fabric of Astarion’s tent, directly adjacent to his own, or heard quiet, frantic whispering in the dark.

Tam’lin tucked a snowy strand of hair behind a pale, pointed ear and silently loaded an arrow into his longbow, readying it, ever vigilant. He watched his spiders like a hawk, before realising something about the positions they had assumed. Female spiders, recognising a male.

They know their own kind.

Tam’lin put the bow down, and picked up cruel-sting, instead. He waited. And waited.

Come to me, first, and I'll see if you are friend or foe. I'll give you the chance that the other's won't.

#bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 male tav #male tav x Kar'niss #kar'niss #drider #drow #bg3 karniss #bg3 kar'niss #karniss

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