#man this thing REALLY needs a glossary

[mysterylilycheeta]

ONYX STORM REVIEW:

After 2 days of catching up on all the work I had postponed for the sake of reading OS, and organising my thoughts, I'm here with my spoiler free review of Onyx Storm. Please remember that these are my personal thoughts and opinions and you're free to agree or disagree based on your views

Rating: 3.25 stars

The Good:

The absolute lack of miscommunication between Xaden and Violet: This book is a gift for all those people who were annoyed to their wit's end by the repetitive stupid fights between Xaden and Violet in Iron Flame. They trust each other, communicate with each other and don't get mad about secrets. I was so pleasantly surprised

Ridoc: Ridoc went through such amazing character development, he easily became one of my favourite characters in the story. We saw him as only the comic relief friend till now but man, he shows such badassery in this book while still being his clown self. And, let's not forget his favourite dick jokes!

The Dragons: Anyone who knows me knows my favourite part about the series is Tairn and the other dragons. Love seeing my grumpy dad dragon, he's such a mood. We also have our sassy teenager Andarna to give him grief. I love all the moments Tairn started boasting about his lineage and his feat: he's such a dork!

Dain and Cat: I never truly hated Dain because I knew from Fourth Wing itself he never intentionally wanted to harm Violet. My only gripe with him was about breaking her trust and looking through her memories without her consent. But man, does he redeem himself. Needless to say, Dain is on my "need to protect" list. I really hated Cat in Iron Flame because she was such a stereotypical cringey evil ex and the way she attacked Violet was so crass and below the belt. She still has some shitty moments in the beginning of the book but she gets a lot better so much so that I want good things to happen to her in the next books. RY did a great job writing these two

Jealous Xaden: My o my was it a treat to see Xaden so jealous. RY fed us with those entertaining af moments. Read the book and you'll find out what I mean

Aaric: I was intrigued by Aaric in book 2 but he stepped up the game so much in this book. He is an amazing character and I'll throw hands if RY even tries to harm him in any way, istg.

The Bad:

Very mediocre worldbuilding: This might be just a timing issue, but the last fantasy book I read was the Mistborn series by Brandon Sanderson, and every fantasy fan knows the kind of world-building Sanderson does. Onyx Storm tries to introduce us to new places beside the continent, but it is not well done. We spend half the book in the Isle Kingdoms, yet they're not even mentioned on the map. They talk about routes to get to the kingdoms, but how am I supposed to follow them if you won't even mention them on the maps? Every Island has a god it worships and things go according to that but I think we could've had a little more information about them beforehand instead of being presented basic info right before we arrive at the next island. "We're going to said island, this is the god they believe in, here's a five point bullet lost of their customs"- NO, THAT'S NOT HOW YOU DO IT! Like I said, it might be because my last book was by Sanderson so my expectations were higher but the world felt so lacking.

Lack of Glossary: A glossary should be a must in every fantasy book, especially if you're branching out and diving deeper into worldbuilding. We are introduced to gods, islands, uprisings and groups of people we haven't even heard of before and we get hardly one or two lines about them in a chapter and then they are mentioned again 2 chapters later and we're supposed to follow. There were so many new names in OS, it was difficult to keep track of them after a while. I still don't completely understand who the Krovlan people were and what was their deal.

Lack of Basgiath: My favourite book in the series till now has been Fourth Wing and one of the biggest reasons for that was Basgiath. I loved that place and the way it felt an actual character in the story. That Basgiath charm is missing in this book. Basgiath is the biggest strength of this series, it's the reason why FW was so successful, the war college and it's deadly atmosphere, the challenges, the interpersonal relations, it was entertaining af. However as the series is progressing, it's turning into another typical romantasy involving young adults leading revolutions, making alliances, fighting wars etc. I started reading Fourth Wing because of it's setting and yet with each new book, we spend less and less time in Basgiath and it's just dampening my mood.

No real surprises: Let me be brutally honest- this book felt like a filler. Of course there are a few shocking moments with new information but it hardly hit the mark like the previous two books. There were no moments that essentially packed a punch. It's just a bunch of random sidequests to gain alliances which didn't up feeling all that meaningful because of worldbuilding problems. It also seemed like fanservice because of a lot of reasons but I won't mention them as they can be accounted as minor spoilers. Some characters died but it didn't feel impactful at all. It seemed more like Ry was just filling up the death quota because we can't have a book where no one dies

Violet and Xaden: Okay so here's the thing, I like both of them as characters and I think they make a good pair. However, I didn't ever truly feel the romance and this has been a problem since Fourth Wing. They have a shit ton of lusty moments but hardly any soft romantic domestic moments that make the relationship feel organic. I have always been disappointed by the lack of proper romantic development between these two. The problem in this book however is the dialogue- they felt so cheesy and downright cringe at times. Maybe show more and say less?? The way they keep saying nothing else matters as much and I know people are feral for how Xaden and Violet are ready to throw off the entire rebellion for each other but it irks me so much. Xaden, you are leading these people and you have accepted that responsibility. Stop endangering the lives of people you swore to protect because Violet might be in danger. She has other people to support her. Violet, don't get mad when people tell you your needs and wants will come second to Xaden's duty towards the people. He is their leader, he has to make those sacrifices, If you think that's unfair then find someone else to fill his position. You can't have the leadership position yet be each other's top priority. It might seem unfair but that is the right thing to do. I really don't feel like the two of them are fit to lead people. Agree with @thequietesthing's review about Violet's god level power feeling over dramatic and out of character at times.

The Ending: If any of you have talked to me about the book in the last few days, you'll know I'm frustrated af with the ending. It doesn't exactly feel like a well done cliffhanger, it's just plain messy. A bunch of unanswered questions to keep the reader confused and hooked for the next book but it just ruined the whole book for me. I have no issues with cliffhangers but the book should feel complete. The way Onyx Storm ended, it feels there were at least two more chapters that got deleted. It's just all over the place.

That was the review guys. I'll still wait for the next book to get published but my excitement has gone down quite a lot. I was expecting more of a Harry Potter style story where the main still occurs in the school/college itself but it seems like that isn't gonna be the case. I honestly believe this series should've been just 3 books instead of 5 but oh well, what can we say. Really agree with @justallihere and @justascrollingghost. We have almost the same complaints with the books lol P.S: The best surprise in this book: Broccoli, the kitten

[tavyliasin]

Raphael - Archduke of Asexuals

Welcome to another essay from Tavylia! We need some words about the handsome devil himself now, darlings, do we not? Because there's something very Ace about him - and I don't just mean "what a nifty guy", strap in (but not on) because we're going on a deep dive on...

Why Is Raphael the King of Asexuals and What Is It About Him That Draws So Many Of Us To Him Like He Is Made Of Garlic Bread: Another "Short" Essay by TavyliaSin (Who Frankly Rebels Against The Idea Of A Concise Title) ((Because This Is More Fun)) (((I Might Have Some Volo In My Family Tree)))

((Side Note - Ended up discussing more of Asexuality in fandom in general, but that's cool, right?...Right, well, the sections are marked, read as you so wish~)) Alright, this time we're not going to go too heavy into any darker topics, but there will be a deep examination of character, lore, asexuality, and a large heap of headcanons. There will also be a lot of microlabels, so I'll pop a short glossary at the end and some resources.

Also, please remember that no headcanon of mine is ever intended to override canon, or anyone else's HC - each HC is true and valid to the head it lives within~ that's the beauty of them, they are ours, and even when shared they remain our own to enjoy too.

What in the Hells is Asexuality Anyway? Aka, is Lia really trying to say the man she writes so much smut for is not sexual at all? (A brief overview of Asexuality)

Asexuality, in the most basic definition, means quite simply: "Experiencing limited or no sexual attraction." Now, look very closely. Some Asexuals, or Aces as we are sometimes called (and will be in this essay) experience absolute 0 sexual attraction. Some experience a very limited amount, or only under specific circumstances. It's also about Sexual Attraction and does not necessarily include feelings towards Action. I find this is best explained by the Split Attraction Model: Sexual Attraction - Attraction with a sexual component. Romantic Attraction - Attraction with a romantic component. Libido - Arousal, physical desire to act on arousal whether alone or partnered. Sex Drive - The desire to engage in partnered sexual activity, with or without arousal. A lot of people might look at those criteria and think "but those are the same thing", and for many that would be a fair assumption if they tend to be experienced simultaneously. But many among us only experience some parts, or they're not connected. The key is that whilst some Asexuals may experience little or none of any of those four, the only one relevant is the first, and an asexual with high libido or sex drive is no less asexual than any other, there's just no person attached to that libido or drive. So there are asexuals who enjoy sex, who have sexual relationships, and there are also asexuals who have no interest in any of that - the best part is, we're all valid!

Alright, But What Does This Have To Do With Raphael? The Devil Who Seduces In Every Other Sentence?

Right, see, here's the thing. He does flirt, but it never goes further. Seduction is just another tool that he uses, the same way he uses intimidation, promises, and bargains. It would be foolish of him to ignore the potential to bend someone to his schemes when he notices the colour rise to their cheeks when he talks, his goals need a lot of pieces to fall into place. None of it feels genuine. Raphael simply needs people to agree to his terms, and if the promise of sex secures a signature then so be it - besides, he has a hungry incubus at home who can fulfil that side of the deal without him ever having to lift a finger~ It isn't uncommon either for asexual people to make innuendo, lewd jokes, or to flirt without intention - some may even find that it's very easy to do this when there's no attraction or expectation. So for that... He reads as very Ace to me, it's all a part of the manipulation and the grand scheme. There's no actual attraction there. Interest? Certainly, the player character can be a very useful tool in his needs.

What About Haarlep? How Do They Fit In If Raphael Is Asexual?

Haarlep is an extremely sexual being, by their very nature they feed on sex and sexual energy, and we know by what they say that Raphael does indeed sleep with them. The canon would lead one to a logical microlabel when looking at Raphael and Haarlep together: Autosexual - This means experiencing more sexual attraction to yourself than to anyone else. This is a rarer microlabel, but still under the Ace umbrella as "limited sexual attraction" which can mean "attraction is very infrequent" and/or "attraction is only experienced under specific circumstances". And, of course, the HC territory can veer into Haarlep feeling like a safe enough option to deal with Libido and Sex Drive without having to find another partner or worry about attraction. You can also, if you really want to, bring in the canon that so many Anti-Raphael people love to scream about, "Haarlep says Raphael is bad in bed". Perhaps he is, perhaps he's just not into it beyond the simple release of tension and need. I'm not judging him for that, even if my HC is wildly different.

Why Is It Asexuals Like Him So Much? Is It Just Because He's Ace Too?

Well here come the deeper theories, based more on my own personal angle than anyone else's, so please do not assume this is the "only correct interpretation" nor the only way an ace may adore him. Plenty of aces don't feel any sexual or romantic attraction to Raphael, they're simply very fond of him as a character. He's interesting, oddly non-threatening because that flirtation is never pushed too far, never acted on, it's just there, a part of his clear interest in the player character (and he is obsessed, in his way, those diaries read like self-insert fan-fiction Raphael, my love, I see you). There's depth, intrigue, and the same things I've talked about before with villain fandom. So we can look deeper. Flirtation can be nice for anyone to feel, and oddly enough as an Ace I have often preferred characters who are open and overt in their attempts to seduce. This isn't necessarily true in life, real people and fiction are very different (hello, fellow FictoSexuals, good to have you here darlings~) but there is something appealing in the casual manner and clear tone. We also might have more of a draw to villains in general, but I've covered some of that in my last little ramble~ Reciprosexuals may also feel more for Raphael as he's initiating the flirtation, expressing potential attraction. Demisexuals are also likely to find that getting to know him is what draws them in. There's an element of "Forbidden Fruit" at play here too, in the way there isn't a romance for him (Haarlep does not count, they are their own being, a different personality). Then, of course we have kink.

Aces In Kinky Spaces

Here's the controversial one, loves, but I do ask that you approach this with understanding and compassion~ Not all aces are kinky. But there are a good portion who are. Kink is not always sexual, although it very much can be there are some people who enjoy, for example, "subspace" in BDSM - this is where a submissive reaches a kind of blissful inner peace as a result of being made to submit, their senses brought to focus on bondage, pain, or following orders. It varies from person to person, but it often described as a floaty feeling, freeing, relaxing, deeply satisfying without necessarily including anything sexual at all. Of course, kink can be sexual too, which you will find in a whole lot of my writing, don't think about it too hard darling let me have this one~ This can be helpful for someone not experiencing sexual attraction, but instead finding sex drive and libido from kink instead, allowing them to engage in sexual relationships and activity in a manner they are comfortable with and enjoy. There is also the safety of trust and rules with kink play. So the obvious reminder goes here: Consent is key Safe words and signals are binding and must be instantly respected when used Nobody should be shamed for safe word/signal use Aftercare is important and not optional Negotiation needs to happen before a scenario, not during/after When I write with Raphael, there's almost always the kink angle because he so naturally falls into D/s and Power Play tropes. On the surface you have a very Dominant personality, so it's easy to see him continuing that role in the bedroom. But then there's the other side, Raphael as a sub, not only because of what Haarlep says (and do remember "sub" and "bottom" are not the same thing), but because people who are often in control and making decisions in their daily life find freedom and enjoyment in giving over that control to someone else, not having to worry about anything but enjoying the situation while another takes on all those decisions. So he fits very well with plenty of kinky ace themes, and I quite like that feeling of "he's not just going to get into bed with someone who is pretty, there's going to be a genuine interest and desire there that's beyond the surface, a deeper need and longing for who they are". That's rather nice, honestly.

Aces and Spicy FanWorks

Alright going to draw this in to a close now loves we are running long with this one! FictoSexuals will be more aware of this than most, but fictional characters and works often have more draw because there's a layer of disconnection to it. There's no actual partner with expectations or needs, you can step away from fiction at any moment. You can close the app/browser, scroll past the art, stop reading, save and exit the game - there is complete control in how and when you engage with the content, whether consuming it or making it. So there are a fair few of us, playing around with those fantasies in art and writing, things that are fun and comfortable in our own ways, and I'm grateful that we have this space to do so~ I've met more than one fellow ace in the creative side of fandom and I'm simply never surprised by it. We aren't defined by our attractions, and we are collectively rather talented at this little hobby of ours~ The fun theory there is that when we don't experience much (or any) sexual attraction, we are looking that much closer when writing about it. We don't tend to skip it, we analyse what is attractive, where it comes from, how it might feel, why it feels that way, and that can present itself as deeper and more detailed fictional works. Whether that's in the posing and expressions of visual arts, or in the narration and dialogue of writing, we are paying attention to trying to get it right, whether it's an experience we can ever relate to personally or not.

Alright, Is This Thing Ever Ending?

It really should, you're so right~ Raphael Fandom, and other more niche characters, do have a fair amount of Asexuals for all the reasons above and likely a whole lot more too. I love that for us, and I love talking about it because there is so little Asexual visibility sometimes that people take many many years to even know they're ace because it's simply not an option they're aware of. So hello to all of you who slid down the OverCompensating Bisexual/Pansexual -> Asexual pipeline because you thought "feeling the same way towards any gender" was all that meant and didn't realise "feeling nothing towards any gender" is actually different and its own thing, oops. We're here now, and that's just fine~ Take care, beloved Aces, regardless where you are under the Asexual Umbrella, or what microlabels you wear.

You are valid, seen, heard, and loved.

^ Raphael realising he's not Bi/Pan, he's Ace and owning it, like the king he is. Or perhaps not king... Archduke of Asexuality~

---------------------------------- ---------------------------------- ASEXUAL RESOURCES AND MICROLABEL DEFINITIONS ---------------------------------- ----------------------------------

Asexual - Experiences little to no sexual attraction Greysexual/Grey Asexual - Experiences limited sexual attraction Demisexual - Only experiences attraction after an emotional bond has formed or knowing the individual well on a personal level Fraysexual - Sexual attraction is brief and does not last once an emotional bond is formed Fictosexual - Experiences sexual attraction towards fictional characters (art, writing, film, games, other media, but not real people) Autosexual - Attraction is towards the self more than to other people Reciprosexual - Only experiences attraction after attraction towards them has been clearly expressed --- This is not a full or comprehensive list of microlabels! Nor should people feel a need to use them. They are there to help us understand ourselves and to relate to others in the community. None have to be strict, and it is perfectly valid for your sexuality to shift during your lifetime for any reason. --- For more information and resources on Asexuality, I strongly recommend seeking out Ace communities, even on places like Reddit, and this website:

Asexual Visibility and Education Network (AVEN) Website

[silvysartfulness]

Chapter 54 - Banish These Inner Demons of Heaven Has A Road But No One Walks It is up! :D

“It's not a ghost,” Xue Yang said, sounding bored.

The old villager who had implored them to help was cut off so abruptly in the middle of his litany, Xiao Xingchen thought he could almost hear him stand there gaping.

“You were saying that this shrine has been haunted lately, laobo?” Zichen said pointedly to encourage the old man, ignoring Xue Yang's frustrated huff.

“Yes!” the man exclaimed, clearly offended at having been so rudely interrupted. “There was an old woman from out of town who was ridden down and killed by some young lord here many years ago, when I was just a little boy - they buried her and built the shrine here to keep her spirit at rest. But the last few years the ghost has started haunting the road again! Accidents keep happening around here, with carts losing a wheel or sudden noises scaring horses and oxen! That's why I hoped you could help, worthy daoshi. Find out why the ghost is angry and maybe help lay it to rest again.”

“Not a ghost,” Xue Yang repeated, boredom audibly giving way to annoyance.

‐-----------------------

Good things come to those who wait! (And especially those who cheer struggling authors on with encouraging tags, comments and asks! 🥲)

I fucked up a nerve bundle in my neck/arm a while back and spent more than a month immobile in excruciating pain - on top of the usual seasonal depression - so writing's been slow. But new chapter, at last!

I also created a handy little Heaven Has A Road Companion, with chapter-by-chapter summary of the story so far, a world map with itinerary, a character list and a glossary. If you need to freshen up your memory, go check it out!

(And really, please comment. We're slowly closing in on the final arc and I desperately need the support to be able to bring this beast across the finish line!)

[docholligay]

The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch

Nonspoilery: This is a super fun read that is very much in keeping with how I like my fantasy. I wish it were slightly more on the con man side, but I recognize that those are very difficult to write because one needs to actually be clever enough to come up with the insanely clever plan that unfolds, and, you know what, I'm not there either. But it absolutely is a fun crimey fantasy novel, well written that expects you can actually follow a line of description and maybe even look up a big word, that tries very hard not to bore you with needing to refer to a glossary or map.

I will say, and I'll talk about this more below: There are basically no women in this novel. it's a little disappointing. I still overall think it's worth it if you like this sort of thing though.

SPOILERS BELOW:

THIS is the kind of thing pitchless draw was made for. You could not have talked me into reading this book. Unless you possess an incredible skill--I'm not sure *I* could have talked me into reading this book, and supposedly no one knows me better.

But I did really enjoy myself. This is a flat out FUN novel, that doesn't mind being long but never feels long. I LOVED the long bits of description in this book, I BEG for flavor in some many modern novels that strip away anything that isn't an immediate moving of the ball. Actually, one of the things I would say that's not a criticism so much as a preference, is that I feel like this book, and probably this writer, remembering his short story from Rogues, is more plot-driven than character driven. I am a girl who loves a really interior novel, and this isn't that, but it did not stop me from having a GREAT time. It's a romp.

I like Locke, and his whole backstory. I wish he were a woman. Specifically, I would love to see a femme con artist, second coming of Minako Aino, Becky Sharp ass bitch. THAT would be my dream for Locke Lamora. And I know my friends who have read this book all want butch Locke and I love that for you, and I know y'all have known me long enough to know I love a butch, but I deserve a treat as well, and I LOVE con artists, and goddamnit, if I could change one thing about this novel, Locke Lamora would be a femme lesbian and I would change NOTHING else. You wouldn't even have to. One fo the great things about Lynch not being a real interior writer is literally any of the mains could be a woman and it would change nothing.

This does segue into the big problem here--there's no women in this novel. It's a 700 page book and I could condense the lines said by women into like two or three pages. I actually DO get it. I think we're reaping a little bit of what we've sown, as a community, with the requirement for perfection in our representation that leads to very boring and safe choices. Everyone is a man. We're only swarthy at best. Can't be criticized for bad identity writing if you don't write them at all! ANd this isn't me being salty, I get how that happens, I have also sometimes fallen into making any character of identity boring as fuck or not writing them at all to avoid any criticism. And no one cares about ME, I'm not a best seller. I do think, maybe, people will get better about this. Pendulums and all. I miss the awkward, good faith 90s where you had the United Colors of Benetton and one character who randomly celebrated Hanukkah. We'll see.

ANYHOW NOT RELEVANT. But I do find it irritating that because of this, we don't see women in this huge story at all. None of the gang, even though it would have been easy as fuck to make, say, Bug a girl. Even doing something like making Nazca Barsavi the actual heir apparent, and to have her marrying Locke because she knows he won't try to be Capa, and she'll let him do whatever the fuck he wants, can play the henpecked husband while being the Thorn of Camorr, could be really fun and would do more for Nazca and also play up their friendship. It could make her death mean a lot more, if they were running their own little Barsavi con.

Anyhow, the really fantastic behind the scenes worldbuilding was how I wish more fantasy novels did it. It didn't often try to explain things to me, it spoke as if I mostly understood them, or had cahracters say them in ways that made sense to the story (In this capacity, Lukas Fehrwright is fucking BRILLIANT as Someone That Must Have Camorr Explained). So I didn't feel like I was being sat down and told the history of a place I barely know, while having stupid fucking vocabulary words thrown at me. We never define any physik or magic beyond what needs be done because fuck you that's why. I love it. Thank you for not telling me what alchemical botany can or can't do. Thank you for dropping literally only what I need to kjnow about wraithstone into the plot. You have a crown in heaven.

Or I know I said I wish it would have been more con-ny and less "kill the new mob boss" at the end there, but oh my fuck, how much did I love the whole job at the counting house. I SCREAMED. It was so good, I had no clue where it was going the whole time and I would never have gotten there, but I LOVED it. What a great time.

One...weakness, for me, I guess I'll say, is that lack of interiority makes it hard to really feel the weight of some things. We don't get enough about Galdo, Calo, or Bug to feel anything for them, and I knew Bug was dead from the time he showed up. Actually, I thought we were going to kill jean Tannen, because that was the only relationship REALLY laden with emotional weight in the book. Didn't bother me enough to not recommend the book, as I'm mostly recommending it on fun, but I did notice.

ANYWAY, uh...any specific questions I'm happy to take!

Unfortunately, this means that @verbforverb nabbed me again. So, I had a great time reading the book but at what cost

[eolewyn1010]

My 11th book of the year, Have Pride, is also my second non-fiction book, but at least it's something other than cooking. It's LGBT history and people!

So, first all the good stuff: I learned some really new things from this, it's giving young queer people from all around the world a chance to give their personal point of view and tell a little of their story, and it's really inclusive with global LGBT history over the past one and a half centuries. For this being a really brief read, there were a lot of new names and a lot of ongoing fights for rights in the world I didn't know of. So yeah, I enjoyed that very much.

What I didn't enjoy were the small omissions. The book differs between BRD and DDR queer rights history, but fails to point out that the German Reunion threw back the rights of queer former DDR citizens. It makes Oscar Wilde a figure of interest, but doesn't mention that he picked his partners more than once among teenage boys - like, come on; I don't think we need to put in an extra effort to problematize queer historical characters, but we also don't need to sugarcoat them. James Barry, my man? He was said to be kind of a prickly asshole. This book doesn't even mention him. Bummer. They didn't have to make such a big point of Wilde in the first place if they didn't try to go the "Oscar Wilde invented queer rights history" route in the first place, but yes, they are starting with the late 19th century, and that is something I resent a little. How about ancient Rome and Greece, Problematic(TM) as they were, Ishtar's priestesses in male bodies, the increased oppression during the middle ages, the various scandals in European and Eastern Asian noble houses, Oceanic and South-Eastern Asian takes on gender? I resent even more that, among the sexualities spoken about in this book, asexuality is the one that gets mentioned once [1] and does NOT get defined in the glossary. Thanks for the erasure. Also, Elliot Page weirdly gets misgendered and deadnamed. Granted, the book was originally published in 2020, but my German edition here is from 2022; this could have been edited during the translation process, nah?

I'm giving this three out of five rainbows: 🌈🌈🌈

Let me be clear: I don't regret investing money in this book, and I'm glad my mom is reading it now because she could stand to do some catching-up around the subject. But I am nit-picky and this book could have had a little more polishing. And maybe a longer intro.

[iviarellereads]

Wheel of Time full series spoiler thoughts on TFOH 42-End

A probably semi-regular weekly bonus to my reread blog, since sometimes you realize things on reread that just make you need to yell in a full spoiler space.

Oh Mat, it's so cute that you keep thinking you'll be allowed to escape. (In case the sarcasm doesn't come through, I don't actually find it charming.)

Talmanes! The second-most-popular man to ship with Mat in the books. (First, of course, being Rand.) He's sort of a nothing character to me beyond turning me into the Leo pointing meme when I see him mentioned.

I love the misstep of Rand holding the thrones in waiting for Elayne. Sure, what else could he really do, but it also implies she's not good enough to take her own thrones. I wish it paid off a little better later.

The gentle reminder of Nynaeve's love for Lan right before… well. I just hope I'm right about how the show is setting up to do Lan's post-Moiraine time differently.

Rand's seeming immediate trust of Alviarin is hilarious and sad at the same time.

I've never been quite entirely clear on why Lan gets the full force of the loss of the bond. Moiraine doesn't DIE. There's no reason that going through that doorway should act like killing her, when the first doorway didn't. And Lan gets the full suicidal depression as if she had died, even, not just a soft landing as if she released it or passed it on at a distance. But, I suppose we'll never know now. (Please, Rafe Judkins, you're our only hope for a better answer to this question now. God knows I don't trust Brandon Sanderson with ANYTHING in this franchise anymore.)

Die and live again. Interesting that Mat gets that treatment twice, just in case we weren't sure the first one would sever his connection to the Horn.

And the quick fakeout on Asmo. Ohh, the feelings I have about this one. Like, sure, given much longer he would probably have found a way to betray Rand anyway, that's not my problem. But, the way RJ swore the clues were all there and anyone could guess but this became one of the BIGGEST mysteries in the fandom, with so many theories. And then the answer had to be dropped in the book 13 glossary for us to get it. And THEN, Ali from Wheel Takes cold reads this chapter and says, oh, so it's Graendal? Proving that the clues WERE there all along and we all overthought it. Goddamn. I love parts of this fandom as much as I hate other parts.

We don't talk about Tallanvor no no no, not until we have to.

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

Gideon the Ninth: Appendices

Glossary

(Necromancer) A very common side effect is physical weakness and an inability to keep and form muscle mass, though this has its genetic exceptions.

Interesting - so this is why all the necromancers are more petite? Is this because they use some of their own energy for their necromancy?

Also very interesting to note that necromancy doesn't work the same way in space. (Except for Lyctors, but they're a whole different beast.)

(Thalergy) is produced by cellular growth and reproduction. Most planets, even one without biological mass of life, are thalergenic.

Oh, but how can that be true for planets without biological life, if thalergy is produced by cell growth and reproduction?

That's all I really have to say on the glossary; moving on:

A sermon on cavaliers and necromancers

Was Be My Cavalier VII six too many sequels for that worthy first novel? Yes;

Oh hahaha I love that even in-universe the cavalier-necromancer relationship is subject to many a (presumably) tacky romance novel.

"Symbiotic relationship", huh? I mean, it makes sense; the necromantic ability comes with weakness of the body, so if you're using necromancers in the military - that is, in war and conquest - you'll need stronger bodies to defend the weak point that the necromancers' frail bodies represent.

Already the necromancers and cavaliers present a (weaker?, separate) version of Lyctorhood, where the cavalier exists to protect the necromancer's body.

I'm finding it interesting how Thanergy is used in this essay; as something supplied by the (living) cavaliers - something the cavalier's necromancer has to be intimately acquainted with. Biologically, humans are full of tiny deaths, all the time - cells die and shed and are remade; micro-organisms inside our bodies die all the time; healing injury and fighting disease requires cells to die beyond the normal, regular dying that takes place. Is this perhaps the reason why necromancers are frail - their rates of cellular death are accellerated, to give them the energy they need to manipulate thanergy?

Our necromantic characteristics make us more like the Emperor. As he was once man, and became God, and was God and became man, so were we dead and became alive; so were we alive and became dead.

Could the Resurrection have something to do with thanergy in living people, perhaps more than would be expected? I mean, the Resurrection is the entire reason why necromancy exists in the first place; it would make sense that all of human biology was affected in some way.

They must each take the other as their ideal. The necromancer must be a pure expression of their art to the cavalier. The cavalier must strive for perfection in theirs, to gain the necromancer’s admiration and trust. They do not have to enjoy each other’s society; they must simply take their togetherness as assumed.

Sounds very gay, tbh. Also sounds like Harrow and Gideon were absolutely perfect for each other, in that sense.

But:

The love of the cavalier for the necromancer, and the necromancer for the cavalier, is not the love of a spouse. It cannot be libidinous.

It's taboo for a cavalier and their adept to be romantically involved, or even married; it's likewise not usually done for them to be close family. Magnus and Abigail were married before becoming adept and cavalier - and apparently,

There is still a precedent in the Fifth for spouses to become a cavalier at particular times, but this is regarded as a stubborn holdover that is characteristically Fifth to not remove from their practise.

the Fifth do things differently.

Atrial marriages, of necromancer to necromancer, and of their cavalier to cavalier, worked only inside House lines; ventricular marriages, of necromancer to the other necromancer’s cavalier, and vice versa, worked best with outsiders. “Swap” or “bruise” marriages are still common in this way—non-adepts sent in to marry necromancers on both sides—but are hardly done to “pattern.”

Sounds positively homestuck-esque in its complicatedness. Quadrants but not. Weird social etiquettes unique to this very weird society. Incredible.

valancy says one flesh one end sounds like instructions for a sex toy. can’t stop thinking about that so can someone stop cris and alfred before the sex toy phrase catches on, thanks

Lol, lmao. That's funny. I mean, it kinda does. No one tell Gideon.

That's it for the sermon - next are Intelligence Files, which I'll make my way through as well, but in a separate post!

[colourful-void]

ALRIGHT CLOSING UP FOR THE NIGHT: UPDATE (its long)

oh mizuki my darling my sweetie gravy i missed you so much hi mizuki hi mizuki missed youuuu

nothin on ryuki but man she's so fun to play as. it's alos just. nice that she and aiba act a lot friendlier to each other. dont get me wrong tama and ryuki's dyanmic is fun, and i know they really care about each other, but like. doing the crime scene investigation and aiba cheering mizuki on with her acting was really sweet. i loved it.

the mizuki boss daughter mother thing ramble starts here.: so i read all the profiles and glossary stuff pretty religiously, and i know that in Boss's glossary for her current profile, it says she adopted Mizuki. and if not for that it would be impossible to tell. come on gangggg that's so insanely interesting as a concept can anyone mention it like even vaguely in passing im BEGGING. i also nEED to know more on bosses First daughter, who i suspect is missing now? maybe she's related in some way to kizzy's first Big Sis?

but srsly its bugging me so bad, like that tracks w/ how casual mizuki is to her but !! it drives me insane there's a literal interaction in which boss says 'dont act like my daughter' and the take away is that mizuki SOMEHOW didnt know about bosses FIRST daughter bcs it NEVER came up?? im assuming boss just lied there and the daughter thing slipped out, (more points for boss daughter and kizzy sister same girl, both remind them of mizuki), so despite the fact that, i dont know, adopting a girl after already adopting one kind of feels like the sort of thing that would end up being mentioned somewhere in there, paticulartly considering that boss's daughter was still living with her as of one day before date died, like. she didnt come home that night and im assumin gshe never did, ran away or something??

i can't tell if the game is just setting breadcrumbs in a weird way or if they just decided boss should be a mom now and then never actually do anythin w/ it. AND SECONDLY, how is THAT the wtake away when 'dont act like my daughter' is a legitimately insane thing to say to the GIRL YOU ADOPTED. SHE LITERALLY IS YOUR DAUGHTER THAT IS HOW ADOPTION WORKS AM I LOSING MY MIND.

the mizuki boss mother daughter rant is now over. you are safe.

so putting that aside: hilarious they didn't model lien any differently. i like to think this is a repersentation of his inabilty to move on. im just. im choosing to believe that. i'm not a wheelchair user, so I can't speak to much on the whole arc kizuna's got going on here, i'm just kind of... carefully watching it. it could be... alright? but it could also drift into some territory i feel is kind of. stereotype-y?

haven't found shoma yet, on a note semi related to the mizuki boss thing. his house is identical to how it was 6 years ago down to whats been left on the floor and you're telling me he still lives there. does aitsf suddenly take place in a world where children over the age of 11 can just chill out on their own-- I SWEAR THIS MANS WIFE LEFT HIM. WHO IS WATCHING THIS CHILD. HELLO?? CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?? being buddies with lien is not a legal guardian!!!!!

NOW. COMPLAINTS ASIDE> ima ctually having a lot of fun. inverted controls is a . im mixed on it on one hand it's a litttttle cheap making it physically harder instead of making more complex puzzles. on the other hand it fits so so well and its just the right level of challenge for me so i kinda love it.

but i love mizuki and aiba hanging out they're really really fun. i love what we're building with what im calling 'kanji madness ryuki'. lots of questions w/ the masked woman and the iron mask man. why does everyone hate date personally who knows.

current predictions/observations/questions: i suspect time travel. i really think time travel is involved or morphogentic fields or something i really do. this could be good or bad. idk. i could be totally wrong here, but. there's a lot more. explict stuff in teh other timelines i shouldn't know that i do. PATICULARLY WITH DAHLIA BOAT AND ALL. stupid name i love it. i wonder if its an anagram but im shit at those. its a little suspect how much mizuki route stuff i've seen actually, if we cant pull in timelines seperately.... w/ the first aitsf it wasnt rlly timelines as much as it was like 'getting date's memories back' i played zero escape im down for timeline hopping bull. lets do it!!. pelase i need mizuki roue continuation. very curious about what aiba was doing.

hopes for the future: the videos are really cool i want to do a somnium like that. pleaseee please let me do a somnium like that. i know im totally mizuki biased but. plelpelaspleaspleaseeee plEASE let me do her somnium proper you cannNOTT tease me with that mizuki route somnium with the stew and everything and the bird cage and horse GODDDD its so cool pLEASE let me play it im BEGGING. i. i want more mizuki date interactions. i want them to have another good emtional moment. like mizuki route. i dont know if u can tell i really like mizuki route. i dont know HOW we do that if we even can but. please. im begging. can we get a proper aiba and date interaction b4 the end as well. liek i know he's not the pov character anymore but after the way the last game ended you cannot just have them come back and only fight on screen thats absurd.

but yeah feelign good enjoying the game rn! im. a little worried about some stuff but in general... i hold hope.

[dykepuffs]

I come from a culture that is absolutely not a literate one, historically, and the more that I see those smug posts of "If you want to be an effective leftist/ally/queer/Good Person you have to READ!!!!! WHOLE!!!!!! BOOKS!!!!" the more that I want to give up on any kind of movement-building and live in a tent in the woods like my ancestors before me.

Long thoughts under the cut

When someone says that learning your theory by listening to what the people around you say is lesser and bad, and that only by reading the words written by far-away or dead Authors and Scholars will you ever become Useful, I wonder how much they can really believe that oral history is a real and valuable thing, or do they secretly sniff that cultures with a long tradition of centralised paper recordkeeping are better than ones which just trusted in storytellers?

I know that I use a lot of words that are very regional and concepts that are often dramatically different to Proper Theory - But they are the words that I learnt from the communities that I really live in, which were really used for decades and which all really developed from needing to name real people and real phenomena that we encountered. You could say "Oh but those words aren't universally understood so why use them" but there is nothing that stops anyone on earth from understanding them: they just have to ask "What does that mean?" And then to really listen to the answer, not to cut it off and say "Oh so ACTUALLY those are just the equivalent of (some other similar phenomena from somewhere else)"

But hey, that requires having a relationship with a person - To actually pay attention to the culture of the person who is telling you something, rather than just trying to absorb the information without the human.

Which is why I keep coming back to storytelling I think - Because the spoken story of a people contains so much more than a written version - Because the nature of HOW the story is told to you-the-audience is as much a part of the message as the words are.

Taking a totally apolitical (ha!) example: here's the story of Dog Bites Man.

If I tell the story to my friend who lives across the road from where it happened, it might be:

"Old Mr Fowler's dog got off the lead and ran down the back of Chucky's nightclub, where it bit one of the tradies"

If I tell it to someone who doesn't live nearby:

"A loose dog ran down a blind alley, and bit a guy who couldn't get away because all the fire doors were locked"

If I tell it to someone who I know really understands their dog breeds:

"This border collie was stressed and bored, so slipped the lead and tried to herd pedestrians, it ended up biting a guy who was digging up a road in the town centre because he couldn't move fast enough."

So if I was writing the story down I'd probably omit some of the information- Some of it is only important if you know about dogs (It's a sheepdog), some only matters if you live locally (Whose dog it was, the name of the club), some only needs to be told if you aren't already aware of the local area (everyone knows where Chuckys Club is, so I don't need to describe the alley) - And for that matter, I might add even more details (Maybe Mr Fowler is a bad dog owner, and I want to emphasise that to push for muzzle and leash laws. Maybe I want to have the building which closes the alley knocked down, so I'm emphasising that it was unsafe. Maybe I want to say that tradies need better training to deal with stray animals on the roadworks, or maybe I'm emphasising that they have a hard job so should be paid more). But, I'd need to be selective, and even if I didn't realise that I was being selective, I'd miss things out based on who I expected the audience to be.

(There is much discussion of this when talking about writing as a minoritised writer - why do I have to put a glossary note or italics when I say chavvi or chingering or ladged up, but not cafe or pasta or tycoon? Who is assumed to be the audience, and who is the afterthought?)

But if I'm telling the story, I will tailor it naturally to the immediate person that I'm speaking to - Which requires a relationship, even if that relationship is as superficial as "I know you know that in England there aren't many feral dogs, so I don't have to explain that this isn't a wild animal, it's a pet or a recent stray".

And why is that a worse way to learn about your culture or your politics, than reading a book about it? Why is it better to learn from someone that you usually don't have a relationship with, than someone that you do?

[thenewdeadseascrolls]

Judges 11: 12-13. "The Brim of the Glass."

We have established the Judged named Jephthah has learned how to be happy and also good. This he did by becoming quite learned. These sorts of persons represent deep threats to persons who are happy but also wicked. For reasons we are going to explore humanity has a difficult time discerning the difference. For this reason we must look at the practical evidence for the law and its reality.

Humankind has always equated sins of the flesh with what are called Cardinal Sins, sins of violence, tyranny, and oppression. This is probably due to gross misunderstandings of what happened within the myth of Sodom and Gomorrah which mean "violence and oppression" in Hebrew.

The people of Sodom and Gomorrah could not respond to the inquiries of the Two Angels, the Messengers Gabriel and Michael and submit to the Laws of Noach, called Beersheba, and turn away from their wicked ways and this made God lose His Temper.

All of this took place before God gave Moses the Decrees, so in terms of the Course, we look at human nature before and after Sinai. There is a time in life when young men and women need to be told certain behaviors are not good for them or society and must be refrained from. Each has different causes and effects and reasons.

We learn first, for example, that sex before one comes of age is forbidden. Vanity, as in the case of Cain and Abel is forbidden. The list of forbidden thoughts and behaviors builds in number and complexity as the Torah goes on, and finally when one reads the Book of Joshua, God explains how to act like a sexually active young man or a woman who has learned how to self-restrain.

The Shoftim is a glossary of desired behaviors curated from the Torah and the other volumes in the Tanakh for for the purposes of further refinement of the Jewish Self. The Jewish Identity has been a troublesome topic for thousands of years. Fortunately, our ancestors detected we would one day really want to know who we are and how to marry the visible signs of Jewishness with the correct inner posture and the Shoftim was finalized in the 11th Century CE.

How this identity is leveraged within politics and statecraft is discussed in the Septuagint and within the Jewish Imperium by the two Books of the Melachim. Scary as it sounds God does not want the world ruled by anyone who is not Jewish.

In order to rule the world one must first rule oneself and fortunately once again, God is deeply opposed to the life of the ascetic. Without too much eyestrain one should be able to discover the God of Israel and His Angels are not prude, frigid, or too virginal so long as one avoids dirty cox and sloppy cunts.

Promiscuity is not discouraged so long as duty is not neglected, loyalty, honesty, and devotion are expected in all sexual encounters weather one is married or not. As stated in the previous frame, one can do what one wants so long as one maintains an excellent reputation. Once lost, very little can make it resume. The following verses explain how to obtain an excellent reputation and hold onto it.

Ammonites are "neighborhoodies." Neighborhoodies have their own way of doing things. Jephthah, "words of wisdom" denotes an individual who has found his way within an accurate study of the Torah.

A king is self-sovereign. So an Ammonite King is a royal asshole who will attempt to tyrannize others with false morality in order to maintain his power. He is not self-restrained or self-refined, he does not know how to have fun and still stay out of trouble.

The verses below say one runs into Ammon after Egypt. One has to learn how to get into trouble in order to learn how to get out. This is a fact well known by those who study Judaism:

12 Then Jephthah sent messengers to the Ammonite king with the question: “What do you have against me that you have attacked my country?”

13 The king of the Ammonites answered Jephthah’s messengers, “When Israel came up out of Egypt, they took away my land from the Arnon to the Jabbok, all the way to the Jordan. Now give it back peaceably.”

Arnon to Jabbock means "stirred up to happiness, stimulated but aimless like a gnat." Gnats do not live very long, and cannot fly too far. Desires that are aimless like gnats are common in adolescence but are not cute in a young adult or a man. The King of Ammon gets peeved after he hears this.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 12: Then Jephthah sent messengers to the Ammonite king. Messengers, Malach, are the tenets of the Torah one's behavior needs correction. No one wants to hear from the Malach but they are necessary. When they appear in one's country, ie. one's value system and attitudes must change.

The Value in Gematria is 9718, טזאח‎‎‎ ‎, tzach, "fresh, clear, pure."

v. 13: The king of the Ammonites answered. On the way to Jericho, via the Red Sea, Sinai, and the Zin, the Israelites gave up on a large number of careless senseless behaviors and if they relapsed God killed them. The King of Ammon will try to relapse. He must not be permitted to do this.

At no point after Sinai did God say do not dress in leather underpants or help your buddies out, how many boyfriends or girlfriends you can have. He does, however say in Kedoshim not to date someone who does not understand the way back to Eden, to the homestead.

23 “‘When you enter the land and plant any kind of fruit tree, regard its fruit as forbidden.[b] For three years you are to consider it forbidden[c]; it must not be eaten.  24 In the fourth year all its fruit will be holy, an offering of praise to the Lord. 25 But in the fifth year you may eat its fruit. In this way your harvest will be increased. I am the Lord your God.

All the rules about dirty dix and filthy cunts pertain to how to find and maintain one's place in the household. All the forbidden fruits are no longer forbidden to one who comprehends what God said in Kedoshim.

The Value in Gematria is 14349, יד‎גדט‎ ‎yad gadt, "the hand on the brim of the glass," "the one who understands how to live faithfully in the moment."

[jariyala-string]

♢CALLITRI - THE FIRST GOD OF DOCHKE☆

Let me introduce you to Callitri, the God that started it all. The Almighty God, The Creator, The All-Knowing. Callitri.

Glossary at the end.

A star. One bright, luminous star by itself in the desolate expanse of space. The only light, the only sign of life by herself.

She waited for years, decades, millennias to finally be released from the confines of the cage she seemed to be in. Although she appeared to shine bright, all she truly wanted was to escape. So, she waited for something. Anything. But, she was rewarded with nothing.

What had she done in, maybe, a past life to deserve this torture? There was a wide canvas in front of her, waiting to be painted with her creations of planets and stars.

She couldn’t take it anymore, she needed out. With all her might, she exploded the star with a great flash of light. All the debris and left matter from the star created more. Pieces of shining rock scattered throughout the once pitch black space. And even though it was better than what she had, she still felt alone.

It went on like that for years; she’d have to find comfort in what she had — nothing. She’d find herself looking around at the lifeless, glowing stars, wishing they were more. Until she finally understood, if she wanted something more then she’d have to do that herself. She was the only living thing there, she was the only one capable of making more life. More things to keep her company, other than the lifeless stars.

Callitri selected one star that really stood out to her, it was bright, shining, almost as if it was calling her. As she moved closer, the star shined brighter and brighter; slowly blinding her. With a snap of her fingers, it exploded, just as her star did. The impact of the explosion shot her back, knocking the wind out of her lungs. This intrigued her even more, she knew she had picked the right star to be her first and new friend. The star named Nyrienti.

They got along very well, conversation flowed easily. She was curious as to how he understood her and spoke the language she would mumble to herself in the darkness. He simply stated that he liked listening to her. Listening to her rambles, her singing, it was all very endearing.

The two of them had similar minds, and they mutually agreed that it was time to paint the canvas in front of them. Callitri formed a planet, Nyrienti formed a planet.

Callitri took much care with her ‘child’, whom she named Crenat. She treated it as a living being, as she did with all the other life on the terrain. The *Kornitye trees, the **chrymontenya’s, the water lakes and rivers that weaved and winded through the plains and mountainous area. She looked after it all, keeping it in good condition, making sure everything stayed alive.

It had been a few years since Crenat was created, and Callitri wanted others to experience it; it was too beautiful to keep to herself. It’d be selfish to not share her creation with others, and so she did.

Using the flowers and ground around her, she formed people. Instantly, they started exploring, making villages, buildings and relishing in the fact that they had a place to call home. Everyday, they thanked Callitri, their ***Dochke, for giving them the opportunity to live and experience life on Crenat. They showered her with gifts and praises, talking about how amazing she was. She took it all with a smile and a warm heart.

There was one person who stuck out to her, though. His name is not known among the people or other Gods, apart from Nyrienti.

Callitri was infatuated with him, his hair, his freckles, his long eyelashes that fluttered against his cheeks as he felt the wind pass by him. It was safe to say, she was falling in love with this man. And Nyrienti hated it.

In his eyes, Nyrienti was there before him. He was there FAR before this ‘commoner’ was. How could Callitri be so blind to the truth? The truth that Nyrienti was better than this man.

Callitri simply carried on with her doe eyes when near him and fell in love with him deeper.

Good things must always come to an end. Callitri was finally in a relationship with the man, he kept her happy, he kept her going.

Every morning, Callitri would visit him at his humble abode. She would bring homemade food, art she had made for him. It was routine for them.

She arrived at his house to find the door ajar. She thought it was strange, but quickly brushed it off. As she stepped foot inside his house, a gasp escaped her lips as the fresh ****halkin and artistry fell to the floor.

Her lover. Oh, her dear lover, lifeless on the floor. Unmoving. And, who else was there? Nyrienti. Towering over his still form, heaving and panting as he kept his head cast down.

The scene was gruesome, Callitri couldn’t help but cry as waterfalls erupted from her delicate eyes. The eyes that once looked at Nyrienti with so much adoration and warmth were now filled with agony and hate.

How could she miss the signs? Looking back on it, ‘twas obvious Nyrienti had something against her love, how could she be so foolish?

Curses and hate exited her mouth as she banished the man to his planet to stay, Treniyir.

She was the almighty God. Which technically meant she should give everyone a second chance, that’s how she thought anyway.

After decades of radio silence from Nyrienti, she finally visited him.

She had never set foot on Treniyir, and to say she was shocked would be an understatement. It was dark, almost pitch black; the only light coming from the star dust that lay across the vast expanse of the planet. It was mostly flat, not many bumps or mountains on the terrain.

She spotted Nyrienti almost immediately, crumpled on the floor, looking down.

He looked defeated, crushed.

He asked her why she was there, to which she responded with the now famous quote throughout Jariyala:

“Hate is not in my nature, it should not be in anyones. Although I am hurt by what you did to my love, everyone deserves a second chance. But, might I warn you, if you disobey my trust once more, you shall never see my face again„

And with that, she gave him one last chance. She blessed him with the role of ‘gatekeeper’ as the two of them agreed, Treniyir would be a place where *****lost souls shall go.

Although she was hurt greatly by Nyrienti’s actions, she gave him a chance to redeem himself — to which he did.

The people of Jariyala have never seen Callitri’s face, yet, she is believed to be beautiful like her planets.

Like mother, like child.

GLOSSARY

*Kornitye — The first trees to be on any planet in Jariyala. The name means ‘beginning’ or ‘new’.

**Chrymontenya’s — Means ‘beauty’, the first flowers to be on any planet in Jariyala.

***Dochke — Means ‘creator’ or ‘creation’. Hence why the Gods are called ‘The Gods of Dochke’.

****Halkin — A traditional food in Crenat, sort of like Japanese gyoza.

*****Lost souls — They are people that have disobeyed the word of Callitri. If they have done bad in their life, then — once they die — they get sent to the desolate land of Treniyir. Or, if they’ve been so bad, they will be sent there in the middle of their life and spend the rest of eternity there.

DIVIDERS BY @cafekitsune AND @saradika !!!!

[momo-writings]

Any suggestions or lose guidelines on how to pronnounce the names of your characters for us punny mortals? I've been trying, came up with 5 different possibilities, bet they're all wrong (Saorla being pronnounced as Sheer-lah - I think it was?- fucked me right up)

A GUIDE, for the ones I’ve mentioned so far (lemme see if I can recall them all)

Some are trickier than others, but this is irish. Expect to find fifteen letters that go completely silent lmfao. For example, I haven’t posted anything here with that character but there’s a dude named Suibhne: SHWEE-vne. The ‘bh’ sound reads as V in some cases (between slender vowels, I think)

Saorla - SHEER-la

Seoirse is pretty much like Saoirse Ronan (SEER-she or SHEER-she, it depends on the pronunciation adopted; it’s the same name, and it can be a boy’s or a girl’s, I’m just using a slightly different spelling to distinguish it)

Caoileann - KWEE-lawn

Bréainann - BRAY-nan (the accented vowel tends to ‘swallow’ the following vowel, and actually accented vowels tend to be rather similar to portuguese!)

��ine - AW-nye (you put the i sound on the second syllable due to something called the Y glide)

Naoise – NEE-sah

Etain - EY-deen (Ts are read as D in most cases)

Sédanta - SHAY-dan-tah

Seán is exactly like everyone complains about Sean Bean not rhyming. Seán is actually the phonetic version of John in any case. As I said above, the accented vowel swallows the other vowel – hence WHY Sean Bean doesn’t rhyme

Gráinne - GRAW-nye (Y glide again)

Caitríona - Cah-THREE-nah (please make the TH sound in the middle, I’ve seen so many Caitríonas complaining that nobody gets that sound right lmao)

Cailín - cah-LEEN

Aoife - EE-feh

Sláine - SLAW-nye (you see the pattern with the Y glide)

Séamus - SHAY-mus (exactly as you expect, sometimes the accent actually does help understanding the word!)

Ríchael - REE-chael (the CH is similar to the scots CH sound, like in loch ness)

One of the coolest names for me (I have it as only a girl who kind shows up and leaves but) is Bláithne. Pronounced blaw-HEE-ne. It’s super poetic

After this, I swear you start seeing a pattern. Laoise, for example, is LEE-seh, much like Naoise. Réamonn is RAY-mon. Padraig is PATRICK (PAW-dreeg)

I think the clan names are trickier huehue. The most complicated one is Ó Maolomhnaigh so I’ll stick with the anglicanization: it’s O’Molony. It’s easier to stick to that reading. 

Ó Conchobhair is O’Conor, but it’s slightly different and there are several ways of spelling it. I prefer COON-oh-wer. 

Ó Conghaile - Kun-WEE-leh

Mac Gealaigh would be either GAW-lee or GYA-lee (I’ve seen both)

Mac Craith - Cray, that’s it lmao

I think those are all (and more) I’ve mentioned so far??

[theteasetwrites]

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 3: The Wound Is Quick and Keen

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, scary situation, violence and gore, references to death and traumatic situations (including child abuse) ❧ Word Count: 6.6k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: Sir Daryl escorts you outside the walls of Alexandria for the first time, and though the excursion is mostly pleasant, it is rife with danger. A close call leads the two of you to a secluded cottage that only Daryl knows of, where a bond begins to grow.

❧ A/N: The princess is free! Well, kind of. She is so cute I love her. And Daryl... UGH. Literally the best. I don't have much to say about this part, but I wanna give a quick shoutout to all my friends who have been beta-reading this series! @weretheones @finalgirlrick @darylspissslit @devnmon @purple-witch-23 @littlelovingideas @spncupcake thanks so much friends!! I appreciate you<3 Also pls check out their work because they also write TWD stuff and it's amazing

The long, dark, sepulchral tunnel seemed at once cavernous and claustrophobic, with the light of the knight’s torch only illuminating a few feet ahead, but the feeling of a much wider expanse of darkness, in which shadows that may or may not have really been there lurked within the blackest corners. It was no small wonder they had been not-so-lovingly dubbed The Tombs. 

Though you were sure nothing was behind you, it felt as though an unseen entity stalked you, stepping on your heels despite no real physical weight overcoming you. There were always rumors around court about these tunnels, how they were haunted by the souls of those who perished in the first struggle against the Dead, but you tried not to pay mind to those rumors. After all, that would mean your own mother haunted these dank, miserable passages, and that was a fate worse than death, you thought.

But Daryl knew this tunnel now, having made sure the path was clear and snuck his horse out to meet you at the end of the underpass just an hour before. Still, you found yourself not straying more than a foot from him, his broad, cloaked back becoming a strange source of comfort to you in this abyss of darkness. 

“You’re sure there are no dead ones in here?” you whispered. “It smells of… death.”

“I went through here twice… No walkers.”

“Walkers?”

“Dead ones.”

Oh. A colloquial term. 

Silence settled in again, with only the echoes of globs of water dripping onto the rough cobbled stone to fill the eerie space where words had provided some relief. In that silence, your anxiousness caught up with you―what if Elizabeth’s lie fell through? She’d informed the guards not to disturb you in your chambers, that you had fallen ill and needed rest. She left strict instructions not to check on you, for fear of contagion. And with your father out of town, there shouldn’t have been any chance for disturbances. Even so, the only thing more terrifying than this tunnel was the idea of having less freedom than you already did. Being confined to your bedchamber for the rest of your life, surely, would’ve been the punishment if the king discovered your escape. He wasn’t a cruel man, but his overbearing nature could inadvertently lead to such a cruel decision. 

When a horse’s neigh startled you from your thoughts, you stumbled forward to cling to the knight’s upper arm, which flexed and stiffened in response to your sudden movement. Your chest pressed firmly against his back, he felt you briefly shiver in fear, though as your senses came back to you, you chided yourself for your jumpiness. 

“S-sorry, Sir Daryl.”

If he wasn’t caught in a rather serious situation, he might’ve let his internal amusement at your persistent formality manifest itself in the form of a chuckle, but he only huffed instead. “Just Daryl.”

Blinking hard, you loosened your grip on his arm, reluctantly pulling yourself away. He seemed to radiate warmth, and this tunnel was so cold and frightening. “Sorry. Daryl.”

He peered over his shoulder to speak again. “Stop sayin’ sorry.”

With a sniffle, you nodded your head. “Sor―” You stopped yourself. “All right.”

The further you traveled, the louder the sounds of Daryl’s horse, which provided some comfort now. It meant you were getting closer to getting out of here, and closer to fresh air.

At the end of the tunnel, Daryl placed his torch in the iron sconce hanging on the wall of a modest wooden door, with a thick bar placed across to prevent the Dead (or alive) from getting in. There stood the knight’s horse, too, hardly visible in the blackness that matched his sleek, shiny coat. From what you could see, though, the horse was beautiful, with a long crimped mane of ebony and a long forelock draping messily, yet gracefully, over his eyes. Upon each leg was a slight feathering, just above his hooves, nearly cloaking them. 

“What a beautiful horse.” As he lifted the bar with a huff, he looked your way to see your hands caressing the animal’s neck, and his black nose buried in the loose tendrils of your hair. “Oh!” you laughed. “Friendly, too. What’s his name?”

Daryl wiped the sweat from his brow as he spoke bluntly. “Phantom.”

“Oh.” You sounded a little disappointed. “Well, that’s not a very friendly name for such a friendly horse.”

The knight scoffed as he took the horse’s reigns. “He ain’t friendly. He’s a warhorse.”

He didn’t expect such a look of excited curiosity to form upon your face. “Oh, a destrier? How grand.”

With one hand guiding the horse towards the door, the other unlatching the final lock, Daryl looked back at you. You could see a sliver of bright light pouring in through the thin line where the door was beginning to open. Of course, you’d seen light before, but not like this, not from this direction. Somehow, it was different. 

“You wanna stand around talkin’ about horses all day or you wanna go outside?”

The last thing you wanted to do was spend more time inside this rotten intestine of a tunnel. “Lead the way, Sir―I mean, Daryl.”

Trying to avoid the inevitable smirk that formed on his face, he pushed the door open further, slowly guiding Phantom into the light of day, which allowed the horse’s coat to shine an almost reddish chestnut tone. 

But the horse’s beauty was momentarily eclipsed by the magnificent glade of silver birch trees before you, a simple dirt path diverging through the forest. You’d seen these trees from high above, and from a great distance, outside your window, but never had you seen them so close, so almost within reach. Many times you’d reached your hand out, imagining you could touch the trees, but now, there was nothing standing between you and that forest. 

As you stepped forward, you relished in the feeling of dirt and leaves underfoot. You’d felt the ground before, in the garden and the courtyard, but this was something different, something new. In fact, you wanted to feel it on your bare skin, the closeness of the earth. 

While Daryl busied himself with readying the horse’s saddle, you were stripping yourself of your brown leather shoes, letting one bare foot take your first step as you worked on removing the other shoe. 

The knight looked wide-eyed at you, your feet now sinking into the dirt beneath you. “What the hell are you doin’?”

To his surprise, you let out a sing-song laugh as you took several more steps towards the forest. With your head down, your hair draping all around the sides of your face, you were focused on the movements of your feet, as if you could feel the sensation through your eyes. 

“I used to run around barefoot as a child,” you said, lifting your face to his. He was greeted by a wide, toothy grin, the likes of which he hadn’t seen upon your face. He’d seen the joyful expression upon your face when he offered to escort you outside the walls, but this was something else entirely, accompanied by bright, carefree eyes that captured the glow of the sunlight streaming down to consume the last of the early morning mist. “It’s just not the same in the courtyard at the castle.”

Your attention peeled away from the knight as you took in the trees all around you, tall and magnificent, surely hundreds of years old. The stories these trees could tell, the things they’d seen—you’d hoped that their knowledge would make up for your lack of it for the past ten years. If you couldn’t have seen such things, at least they had.

Absentmindedly, you meandered towards the trees, your arms outstretching the closer you got as you prepared to touch them. Daryl could only look on in slightly amused confusion at your wonderment for such mundane objects of nature, but he had to remember, it’d been a long time since you’d seen these things out in the wilds, outside of the manicured gardens and meticulously trimmed botanicals found within the walls of the castle to which you were confined. Still, the little laughs and sweet giggles that bubbled up from within you were undeniably delightful. 

But Daryl couldn’t let you spend all day admiring a silver birch tree. He hopped upon Phantom and instructed the beast forward, until a blackness swallowed your peripheral vision. As you blinked your attention towards the knight, his hand now outstretched to you, you noticed your shoes had been stuffed carefully inside the saddlebag near his thigh. 

“C’mon,” he said with a nod of his head. “There’s more than this.”

Your bare feet skipped delicately through waves upon waves of tall white beardtongue, the petals of which occasionally tickled your bare thighs when they got caught inside your gown. You had to admit the feeling gave you a rush so strong that you skipped faster through the meadow, careful not to trample over any of the wildflowers.

Daryl’s presence was a comfort to you, him standing at the edge of the meadow with Phantom’s reins in his hand, and your velvet teal cloak draped over the crook of his elbow as he watched dutifully. Though no walkers had come across your path yet, he worried most about the poor, soft soles of your feet being marred by the elements. These thoughts were always immediately dismissed, though, as his job wasn’t to fret over your cleanliness, but your life.

“Oh, Daryl!” you called out, alerting him a bit too well as he instinctively grasped for the hilt of the greatsword strapped to his belt. He huffed when he raised his eyes to see you entranced by the pale blue spotted butterfly resting upon your hand. “Look!”

Again, you let out a sweet laughter, the cadence of which tickled the knight’s spine like a feather being dragged languidly over each vertebra. With the tiny, delicate creature flapping its wings upon your hand, he admired your gentleness, how sweet your eyes turned when gazing upon the beautiful butterfly. It was strange—he’d been out here with you for almost two hours, and yet no walkers or bandits had crossed your path. It was almost as if your purity somehow deterred those things, those horrible things that plagued this land. Indeed, he’d never seen the world like this before, so much happier and sweeter than it had once been. Perhaps you didn’t need this world, but this world needed you. No, of course not. That was silly, he told himself, shaking his head to rid himself of his own thoughts. No one woman could change the world just by existing in it.

“Oh,” you sighed in a bittersweet tone. The butterfly flew away, your eyes following it for as long as it could before it disappeared beyond the hill. 

Don’t be sad, princess, he found himself thinking, his own heart seeming to sink a little when your eyes turned just a little soft with sorrow. Please don’t be sad. 

“Well,” you sighed again, your voice getting louder as you approached him, your hands lifting your gown just enough to allow you to step high over the tall flowers. As if by instinct, his eyes trailed to your bare ankles, then your calves, your knees, and just a sliver of your soft thighs… 

Stop looking, that rational voice in his head commanded. But the improper, unabashed voice replied, But, oh, milady… What fine legs you have.

“This meadow is beautiful, but there must be more to see.” You took your cloak from him to swing it around your shoulders and clasp it around your neck, then circled around the horse to retrieve your shoes from its saddle. “Where are we going next?”

Daryl thought for a moment, but his immediate attention was directed towards the gracefulness of your movements, the way your fingers curled through Phantom’s forelock and tickled underneath his chin, and the way you nuzzled your nose against his… How gentle the warhorse was, as if you had some soothing effect upon him. 

If Daryl was a superstitious man, he’d say you worked some kind of womanly magic upon your surroundings, wooing him and his horse and even the Dead. If he was a cruel man, he’d accuse you of being a witch, demanding to see if you bore the Devil’s mark or if you sank in water. Of course, he didn’t believe in sorcery or witches or Satan, but he did believe you had worked some kind of spell on him, one of a more corporeal nature. 

“Daryl?”

He cleared his throat as his senses came back to him. “Yes, I, um… I know of a lake nearby. Would that, um, suit you, your highness?” He tried to speak in his best chivalric tone, though he knew not why. He never cared much for that before, until right this moment, and it seemed almost against his will. Maybe witches were real, afterall. Still, he wasn’t about to rid himself of this warm, ticklish feeling in the pit of his stomach, even if it was the work of the Devil. 

A sweet, beautiful, kind agent of the Devil.

“A lake would be lovely,” you replied. 

At length, you walked alongside Daryl, who let you guide Phantom this time. You’d insisted upon walking to the lake, giving the poor horse a break from carrying the weight of the two of you. It was no disappointment to the knight, who found that he quite liked spending more time with you, prolonging his time outside the walls to hold your cloak as you frolicked or to kneel and let you hold onto his strong shoulder as you brushed the dirt off your feet. It almost sickened him how much he relished in being of service to you. 

And it was such a beautiful day, the perfect day for you to see the outside world. In your fascination, you were rendered quiet, turning in every direction to catch with your eyes every bird or deer or squirrel or insect that crossed your path. The woods were serene, too, much brighter and free of any pestilence that your father had so ominously warned you of. 

Indeed, you wondered where the Dead were. It seemed too good to be true, considering the horrible memories you had of that night your mother died, of seeing her getting pulled into a swarm of walkers as she reached her hand out to you, calling for you. You still remembered how you struggled to reach for her, your fingers just grazing her trembling hand before you were yanked away by a guard. 

Of course, you knew there was no way you could’ve saved her. Her neck and arms were already being feasted upon, spurts of blood shooting out and sprinkling in crimson globs upon your tear-stained cheeks, while her screams were increasingly drowned by the sound of her flesh tearing from her bones. When her body was taken in completely by the hoard, you heard one last scream—No, please, no!

As this memory inflicted itself upon you, the feeling akin to a knife in the chest, you stopped in your tracks, staring blankly at the vision before you that seemed to have crawled out of your head. Between the trees ahead of you, five or six of the dead lumbered clumsily over sticks and stones towards you. 

When the knight pushed you behind him, drawing his sword, you studied the appearances of the dead men with shock. They wore clothes just like any commoner, one even wearing a blacksmith’s apron, another wearing a simple white linen coif upon her head, not unlike the ones you owned, except yours weren’t caked in dried blood, but the similarity was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Dar-Daryl…” Your voice faltered as you backed away, your hands clinging tight to the reins on the horse. “What do we do?”

It hadn’t occurred to him that you didn’t know the first thing about walkers, how to kill them, how to avoid them. He should’ve told you. He planned on telling you, but he got… distracted. So distracted he’d forgotten of the Dead’s existence altogether.

“Just stay behind me,” he said. “If one comes at you, you run.”

Run? Run where? I do not know these woods… 

“All right.”

He held his sword with both hands, and you wondered how on Earth he could hold such a large thing, no doubt made of fine, heavy steel. He must’ve had a great deal of strength, not to mention the heavy armor he would carry in battle. Indeed, he was broad and seemed hearty enough to withstand almost anything. 

A sparkle of sunlight reflected off the silver blade as it sliced through a walker’s neck, severing the head in one fluid motion that caused you to gasp in horror at the sight. 

But Daryl moved so fluidly, with such ease and intensity. Every stroke was purposeful, and every kick and turn and step was made with confidence. As you watched in combined terror and amazement, you realized that he really was a great knight. His chivalry left much to be desired, but you could tell why he achieved his status as knight. Soon, the walkers were all headless, and he got to work plunging the blade of his sword directly into the creature’s severed heads, which appeared to still be alive. 

You leaned forward in awe, curious about how the heads could still be alive when severed from the body. 

But your thoughts ceased when a cold hand wrapped around your ankle, pulling you with great strength down to the forest floor. You came down with a yelp, both from the startling action and the feeling of your ankle twisting in an unnatural manner, creating an awful pain that traveled all the way up to the top of your head to send you nearly passing out.

But the lone, legless walker kept you awake, yanking at your leg with its teeth gnashing horribly, creating a terrible clicking sound with each attempt to take a bite of you.

You pulled away, kicking at the thing’s forehead to get it away from you, but it was relentless, and soon set its sights on your neck as its disgusting, rotting body began to climb up your torso, its mouth dripping foul blood over your surcote as you gasped and panted and screamed in fear.

In the distance, you heard the loud whinnying of Phantom, then the sound of his hooves against the dirt, getting further and further away. 

All this happened in a matter of milliseconds, with the knight moving quickly to tear the dead man away from you, throwing its growling body several feet away from you. With a grunt, he swung his greatsword overhead, bringing it down to slice the creature’s head vertically with a horrid squelch. 

The thing fell back in its final state of death, allowing Daryl to sheath his bloodied sword and hurry over to you, his gloved hands feeling all over your arms and legs and torso. Your eyes widened at the touches, how brazenly he handled you with his strong, filthy hands. 

“You bit?” he asked.

Oh. 

He kept feeling you, lifting your dress to examine your calves with a stoicism and seriousness you wouldn’t have expected from a man with his hands all over you. But then, this was a serious situation. Get your mind out of the gutter, you chided yourself. 

“N-no, I’m fine…” Dizzied from the sudden fall, you raised your hand to your forehead, then stroked it through your now wild hair. As you became aware of your body once again, you realized the dull ache surrounding your right ankle. “Oh, my… my ankle. It hurts.”

He lifted your gown again to examine your ankle, the skin around it inflamed and swollen, and it was angled rather sharply inwards. A grimace contorted the knight’s face. “Sprained,” he said. He knew that well, having seen the very minor injury many times in battle. Of course, if the worst injury one received was a sprained ankle, that was a blessing. 

As his hands cradled you underneath the underarms to lift you, he peered behind his shoulder with a deep huff. “Damn horse,” he cursed. 

Struggling to help lift yourself with your good leg, you realized, too, that the horse had run off in the midst of the chaos. “Oh, no! How are we going to—Oh!”

You felt caught in a whirlwind as the knight somehow slung you over his shoulder, his arm wrapped around the backs of your legs to hold you in place as he began to walk, not wasting any time to catch up to the horse. 

“What are you doing?!” you cried out in confusion. Your sight was momentarily shrouded in darkness as your face was buried in the wool of his cloak, but you lifted your head to see the ground moving beneath dizzyingly as you bounced against his back. “Are you… carrying me?”

“Gotta catch up to Phantom… Ain’t gettin’ anywhere very fast with you limpin’.” He punctuated his sentence with a strained grunt, then stopped briefly to bounce you until you were more securely draped over his broad shoulder. 

“How do you know where he went?”

“There’s a cottage not far from here. He knows to go there.” That, and he could track the horse’s trail quite easily. 

You remained quiet for a while, until he hitched you up again. “You know,” you remarked, “this is not how you carry a princess. A rather large sack of potatoes, yes, but not a princess.”

He tried to hinder his laughter. It was difficult. 

“How did you find this place?” you asked, sat upon a dusty old floor pillow beside the warm, burning hearth.

The cottage was small, just one room. You’d never seen such a modest home, with straw blanketing the dirt floor and a small hole in the roof to allow the smoke from the hearth to escape, with only one small window to let in a tiny stream of afternoon light. 

You watched Daryl crush some mix of pungent herbs, water, and oil with a mortar and pestle, his hair hanging like chocolate colored silken drapes over his concentrated face. 

He looked up for a moment, his hooded eyes peeking out between those brunette strands of hair. He chewed his lip, eying your swollen ankle. The guilt hadn’t stopped washing over him since it happened. How could he be so negligent to let you get hurt? 

“I, uh… Found it a long time ago, when the plague broke out.” With the herbs crushed into an oily paste, he carried the stone mortar over to you, kneeling down to lift your ankle onto his thigh. You watched curiously as his fingers scooped up a glob of the slightly purple-toned concoction, then spread the paste over your swollen ankle. “Was fighting the Dead,” he continued as he rubbed more of the coarse cream over your skin. “A swarm cornered me here. Wasn’t much safer, though… An old man and his wife, but the old man had turned, was just about to take a bite of the woman, but I put him down.”

He noticed your shiver, then crossed the room to quickly procure a thick woolen blanket from the small straw bed. 

“Here.” He draped the warm fabric over your shoulders. “Sorry it’s not much.”

“It’s quite all right… What happened to the old lady?” 

He shook his head as he returned to his treatment of your wound. “She was already bit. I was too late… Cared for ‘er as long as I could, but no one knew back then that even just one bite means you’re dead. The fever killed ‘er… And then, I didn’t know she’d turn, too. Found out real quick that’s how it spreads, and that you gotta kill the brain.” He gestured accordingly to his own head. “And now this place is mine, I guess.”

“I thought you lived on your lord’s fief?” you asked. “You live here?”

He used his teeth to rip a piece of cotton gauze from its roll, then lifted your ankle from its place on his leg to wrap it and conceal the herbal remedy. “I travel between,” he said simply. “Stayin’ in one place never suited me.”

To an extent, you understood that. Though you always valued your home, you’d been stuck in one place for so long that it became less of a home and more of a hostage situation. “You must value your freedom,” you remarked. “Tell me, what did you put on my ankle?”

He scoffed through an ever-so-slight, crooked smirk. “You ask many questions, princess.”

A rosy pink blush bloomed upon your cheeks, accompanied by a gentle heat that wasn’t just radiating from the nearby flame of the hearth. “Well,” you said, straightening your back as his words reminded you of your status, “I think I’m entitled to know what kind of remedy you’ve applied to my wound, knight.”

He gently replaced your skirt over your ankles as he spoke, listing the ingredients. “Arnica, witch hazel, lavender… All good for pain and swelling.”

“Oh? You’re skilled in herbalism?”

“Another question…”

You tilted your head in faux offense at the observation. “I’m entitled to ask whatever questions I wish, knight.”

With a huff, he leaned back to scoot himself onto his own pillow, then kicked off his heavy leather boots. “I wouldn’t say ‘skilled’,” he replied at length. “Just… somethin’ I had to learn.”

Curiosity made you raise an eyebrow at that, and your prying was certainly nowhere near its end. “Why?”

Any other person had asked him this many questions about himself, he might’ve lost his nerve and said some rather vulgar things, but you were a lady. More than that, you were a princess. More than that, you were… something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He knew you were beautiful, of course. He had eyes. There was more that drew him to you, that made him care what you thought of him and made him care about you. 

Despite his usual tendency to become frustrated at this kind of questioning, he couldn’t bring himself to feel agitated at all. In fact, he felt at ease, like he wanted to tell you about himself. Somehow, that look in your eyes told him you weren’t just asking because it seemed the proper thing to do—you were asking him these things because you cared to know about him. No one had cared in that way before. Maybe the duke came close, but he didn’t have this effect on the knight. It was unique to you, this wave of earnestness and openness. For such a closed-off man, he found it very hard to keep his guard up much longer. 

Still, he wondered, if he let his guard down too far, could he stop himself from scaring you away? You were a sensitive thing, he’d realized. You were innocent, too. The things he’d seen and done would surely frighten you, chase you away from him when he’d only just begun to grow fond of you in some strange way. The more you knew about him, the more you’d find him repulsive, he thought. And yet, it was still so tempting. 

“Left home when I was sixteen,” he said. “Had to learn how to take care of myself. Well, learned most of that when I was...” He had to stop himself, his lips hanging open slightly in midair. If he kept going, he might’ve revealed too much, how “pathetic” his life had been. Surely you wouldn’t understand. You’d think he was trying to earn your pity, but all he wanted, as he looked into your eyes and melted into them like they were two pools of warm liquid honey, was to know that you cared about the words that struggled to will themselves into existence. Those soft, warm eyes would prove successful in swallowing him whole, into an abyss of unabashed honesty. Why was he bearing his soul? What good would it do? He didn’t know. In fact, he was sure it would only cause you to look down upon him, but he was wise enough to know that no one before had ever really asked about these things. No one before had ever cared like this. That was why he was hesitant—it was simply uncharted territory. But, then again, everything about you was uncharted territory, and if you asked, it must’ve meant you cared.

“When I was a child, my mother died,” he said. “My father couldn’t handle it… Turned to the bottle, became a lousy sot.” He swallowed hard as a bit of bile came to rise in his throat. He wasn’t sure what came over him—except, well, he’d never spoken these words out loud before. Certainly not in front of a princess. You didn’t stop him, though. In fact, you held a soft gaze, encouraging him with your pleading eyes for him to continue, not with pity, but with sympathy. How strange, you opened him up with just your kind, understanding face. “He, uh, would hurt me… Enough to break skin.” He gestured loosely towards the leftover salve. “This stuff would help with the bruises. Needed other things for the cuts, but I know all of it. Helps in war, too.”

Understanding his hesitancy to speak more about his childhood, you inquired about that—war. Perhaps it wasn’t a much more cheerful subject, but there was something you’d been wondering about since you first met the mysterious knight. 

“War… Is that how you got your scar?”

It took him a moment to register your question, as he had so many scars now, it was hard to keep track of them all, but you gestured your finger to point towards his face, and he cursed himself for not thinking of the long red stripe running down over his left eye, At times, you yourself had forgotten it was there, its pigment blending in with the tone of his tanned skin in certain lights, but it had intrigued you since you first saw him. 

“It’s a battle scar,” he answered. “Yeah…” 

“I read that battle scars are honorable to knights.”

“They are,” he responded quickly, as if defending himself, despite a lack of anything to really defend. But his tone soon shifted as he processed your words. “You… read about knights?”

Swallowing hard, you averted your gaze to try to find some respite from the embarrassment of admitting that you found his kind to be fascinating. To say you read about knights would be an understatement. Your father housed an impressive collection of literature in his cabinet, many of which you’d secretly take to the solar and read by candlelight in the wee hours of the morning when a particularly restless sleep became too much to bear. Among those books were the most popular chivalric romances—The Knight’s Tale, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Le Morte d’Arthur, Erec and Enide, Sir Eglamour of Artois… Daryl wasn’t like any of those knights, though. He was… better, you decided. He was real.

“I do,” you spoke shakily. “I—I… know a bit.” You never stuttered. Why were you stuttering? Eugene had all but trained you out of the habit in your public speaking lessons. He hadn’t prepared you for the intensity of Sir Daryl’s gaze, how it reduced your poise to a shiver. And yet still, you were the most poised woman he ever met. 

In fact, he didn’t notice your stuttering at all. It was hard to let anything distract him from every word you said, every open and close of your plush lips that were made glossy and smooth from suet and marjoram, with just a touch of red wine to paint a delicious tint across the plump skin. The musky amber scent of civet oil mingled with the floral marjoram to tickle his nose so heavenly, even from this distance. Each movement of your lips only carried the scent further, like it was floating on angel’s wings to him, and only him. For a brief, anxious moment, he pondered upon the taste, and the texture… How his lips would feel against yours. 

Lust is a sin, he told himself, despite having not paid a visit to a chapel since his knighthood. Still, a knight should respect the laws of God. Like all the knights in the stories you read, he was beginning to face temptation. 

With a quiet huff, he yanked himself from his intrusive thoughts to face you with a slight smirk. “I guess you’re fond of Sir Lancelot?” he asked. 

Not at all, you thought. I am more fond of Sir Daryl. 

It was twilight when you arrived back at the castle, slipping through the Tombs and coming out into the gloomy dungeons in the dark underbelly of the keep. To distract the guards that stood near your chambers, Daryl alerted them to a “walker that must’ve slipped through the walls,” but used the opportunity to sneak you into your room. 

The knight ushered you in the room with a frantically waving hand. With a slight limp from your injury, you stumbled in laughing. Giddy, that was the only way to describe it. You were giddy from adrenaline, and felt a surge of fiery energy flow through you like a match being struck. Indeed, the whole day had been exhilarating, though terrifying at points. Ultimately, it was everything you’d dreamed it would be, and more. 

And you couldn’t help but admit that it felt wonderful to break the rules, to do something reckless for once. You were a little afraid it would become an addictive habit, but it was worth it. To see the things you saw, to behold new landscapes and to feel unburdened by the oppressive walls of that old gray castle… Oh, it was a wonderful feeling.

You couldn’t contain your excitement much longer—when the heavy wooden doors closed with a quiet clack of the latch, you opened your arms to rush towards the knight with an exuberant, but hushed, “We did it!”

His eyes widened as he felt your warm, soft arms around his torso, his chest pressed against yours so close that he could feel your swift heartbeat pounding against your ribcage. Whatever overcame you, it must’ve been born of your excitement, and he couldn’t hide the fact that he was excited, too. For what, he did not know. The day was over, his task was complete. He’d taken you outside the kingdom, allowed you to do as you please as he kept a watchful eye, keeping you safe from harm… Well, there were some slip-ups, but he was successful in his mission. 

Perhaps he was excited because he, too, felt the adrenaline rush, the excursion having been the most treacherous crime he’d ever committed, and he’d committed a few. Petty theft and a few drunken brawls, to be specific, but you’d never know that. Not as long as he could help it. 

Despite his hands and arms floating awkwardly around the curves of your waist, he didn’t dare touch you. There was an innate desire to, of course, but it wouldn’t be right. None of this was right, in truth, but there was no going back now, and he didn’t want to go back. He didn’t regret a thing, and that scared him a little bit. How on Earth could that scare him? Nothing scared him. His own feelings baffled him, especially when that musky amber scent came back with a succulent vengeance to assault his senses with the most indulgent perfume he’d ever had the pleasure of falling victim to. For a moment, he closed his eyes, taking in a quiet, deep inhale. That was the closest he could let himself get to doing anything he might’ve been wanting to do.

When you realized he wasn’t holding you back, you pulled away from the stoic man. Clarity returned to replace the intoxication of the adrenaline, and you cleared your throat to change the atmosphere back to that of knight and princess, not acquaintances of equal standing.

“Thank you, Sir Daryl,” you said. He winced for a moment at the title, having gotten a little accustomed to the simple name upon your lilted voice. Now, it was formal again, direct yet gentle. It still sounded beautiful, the way you spoke, but it was different. Only now, he noticed that it softened even more, as if your words were resting on downy pillows that filled with increasingly plush goose feathers each time you spoke to him. “Today was the best day of my life.”

Quite frankly, he found that very hard to believe. So hard to believe, in fact, that he let out a puff of air between lips that formed a wry smile. “What’re you talkin’ about, woman?”

“Woman?”

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes… What I mean to say is, what you’ve done for me today was what I’ve wanted for so long, and now I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Thank you.”

A pregnant silence hung in the air between you before you turned to cross the room over to your vanity, where your jewelry casket sat. You rummaged through to once again procure his payment. 

“No, your highness,” spoke the knight, his steps getting heavy as he approached you from behind. “I told you, I can’t accept that.”

You turned to face him with a smile, and a glimmering ruby brooch encrusted in silver filigree, characterized by delicate, swirling arabesques. “Nonsense,” you replied. “Please, knight. It would please me so for you to take this… And, there’s always more… For next time.”

Raising his eyes from the gem in your hand, he searched your gaze for earnestness. Indeed, you looked not unlike you had that night you begged him. You had that desperation in your eyes, that lust for freedom and exploration. The difference was, there was now a smile upon your face. That was even more tempting for him. A smile like that was dangerous, as he was sure you could just about convince him of anything. 

“Next time?”

“Yes, next time my father is gone. Of course, if you’re agreeable to it.”

Agreeable to it? Your beauty was intoxicating, and exposure to it was like radiation—surely no good for him in the long run. That all being said, there was something tempting about the danger of it all, the wrongness. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, not since before he was bound by the laws of chivalry. It was wrong of him to do this with you, but it had an effect like theriac; it was both an antidote and an addiction. 

With a hefty huff, he took the jewel from your hand, stuffing it into the simple embroidered chaneries hanging from his belt. 

That night, he agreed to another excursion, whenever that might be. Now, he seemed to be officially at your every beck and call, waiting for the signal to come and rescue you from your entrapment. In a way, he himself had become trapped, a chaperon condemned to serve you until your whims ebbed and flowed away from him and his outside world that he knew so well. It wasn’t this in itself that frightened him, though—it was the fact that when he thought of the next time he’d have to be your escort, subject to your will, he smiled. This realization of his devotion to you made the subconscious depths of his mind aware of one important thing: you weren’t just any princess, you were his princess.

~

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Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — ZHONGLI X FEM READER

At what point had Zhongli, the man, begun to matter to you as much as Rex Lapis, the god?

wc — 3.2k

tags — reader is best friends with Ganyu and Keqing, Zhongli pretending to be playfully jealous of your respect for Ningguang, still dealing with the aftermath of Rex Lapis’ death, nongraphic violence, Zhongli being actually jealous when you meet an old friend, fatui being fatui

glossary | chapter 4 of This Is How We Mourn The Living

Before the sun rises the next day, Ganyu is already dealing with your regrets of the previous day. She’s a wonderful friend - even though she has no idea what has happened, she holds you through your incredulous self flagellation. “Ganyu,” you groan. “What have I done?” 

“Care to fill me in?” Keqing asks, leaning against the doorframe. 

“You’ll laugh at me,” you accuse. 

“There’s no denying that, but,” she says, “you’ll feel better. Come on, let it all out.” 

“Last night, Zhongli and I got tipsy at Third-Round Knockout-“ 

“Scandalous,” Ganyu interjects, her cheeks colored a light pink.

“And I accidentally got carried away and gave him one of my lectures.” 

Keqing can’t help herself - she bursts out laughing.

“I knew it! I’m never telling you anything again. My only friend is Ganyu,” you wail, nuzzling further against your self-proclaimed only companion. 

“Stop,” Keqing chokes out. “Oh, I can’t breathe. I need a minute. Okay, okay, I’ll be serious now. Does it really matter?”

Just like that, you turn on her. “Are you kidding me? Of course it matters! I lectured a god - our god! The oldest of the Seven and the wisest! He’s probably spent my entire lifetime studying some esoteric craft I couldn’t even hope to know about, and my puny mortal self thought I could educate him. Please, Keqing, end my misery.” 

“Hm,” Ningguang says, and your spine straightens so quickly you hear it crack. No. Not Ningguang, your boss, and the person you look up to the most. You could deal with anyone but her overhearing your embarrassment. She waves off your frantic apologies as you scramble to your feet. 

“In my limited experience with Mr. Zhongli, I think the two of you are quite similar.” There’s a twinkle in her eye you’re familiar with as the look she gets when she’s about to execute a particularly stunning political decision or business partnership, but you have no idea what it means in this particular situation. 

“I’m sure he didn’t mind,” she says. “After all, he goes on similar tangents. I see by the look on your face that you’re familiar with what I mean. In that case, there’s no need to be so sulky about it,” she smiles, but still, you hide your face, thoroughly humiliated.

“No need to be shy about it, either. It’s quite cute. I’m sure someone else thinks so, as well,” she says, as her parting message. The Tianquan is always busy - it’s one of the things you admire about her the most. 

“Why are you so dedicated to Rex Lapis?” Ganyu asks curiously. 

“Aren’t we the same?” You reply, even more confused than she is. “Don’t you also feel it? Just being in his presence feels like some sort of weird compulsion has come over me.” 

“No,” says Keqing. “I don’t feel it.” 

Ganyu, as always, tries for a more diplomatic approach. “No, you’re-“ she winces, clearly trying to find a tactful way to word whatever bomb she’s about to drop on you. “You’re, ah, shall we say different? We’re all devoted to him but you seem to want to…” 

“Die for him,” Keqing supplies. “Or live for him. Whichever one would make his life easier. It’s all very dramatic, and very like you, so I told Ganyu not to worry.” She laughs. “You’ve always been obsessive - first it was Ningguang, now it’s Zhongli. I wonder who it will be next?” 

“Who will be what, next?” Says Zhongli behind you. Ganyu bows, much to his exasperation. Centuries of fighting alongside him have not managed to dim her undying respect. Keqing does not, but you see the tips of her ears turn a pretty pink. 

You yourself are frozen in shock, the gears in your brain turning extra slowly as you connect his presence and the Yuhai Pavilion. They are two worlds you never saw colliding, even if logically, it was just a matter of time, now that he worked for the Qixing. 

Zhongli’s face, as calm as ever, doesn’t match his words as he continues. “So I’m not special? I’m a little displeased, to be honest.” 

Ganyu’s eyes are so wide there’s a strong chance they might pop out of her head. She’s half adepti, you reason. She could probably survive that. You couldn’t, however, so you needed to stop gaping and respond, but you can’t. You’re hoping that if you stay still enough, the ground will open underneath you and swallow you whole so you no longer have to deal with this entire situation.  

Zhongli beats you to it. “No matter. I know you’re busy with other Qixing work, so I’ve prepared our visits for today in your stead. There are several merchants who are causing trouble for the Yuheng.” 

Keqing sniffs. “It can hardly be called trouble. Annoyance is more like it.” 

“Nevertheless, as you are far too busy to handle it, we will go.” 

When you see the first name on the list, you groan out loud. Bolai is a suspicious merchant who, though he sells high quality products, you have always suspected of being a front for the black market. That’s not what has condemned him in your eyes though. After all, Liyue plays fast and loose with morals, as expected of the city of commerce. 

As long as he avoided direct and irreversible harm to the rest of Liyue, and brought in trade, then you looked the other way. If not, well - there were plenty of merchants who had learned the hard way that the Qixing did not look kindly upon those who harmed their fellow citizens. 

No, what irritated you about Bolai was his groveling. You hadn’t always been a member of the Qixing, and so he had ignored you the first few times you had encountered him. Only those of appropriate status, whether socially or intellectually, could approach him, and at the time, he had no way of knowing you would become either. 

When you had met him as a member of the Qixing however, his tune had changed. Gone was the infuriating condescension, the sneers and constant questioning of whether you had to mora to purchase his wares (to be fair, you hadn’t). Instead, he was overly ingratiating. 

He didn’t even remember who you were before, and that, more than anything, had earned him your ire. Yet here you were, standing before him with a bored look in your eyes as he prattled on about Rex Lapis. Such was the duty of a government servant, though Zhongli was thankfully more than willing to take the lead on this one. 

Zhongli, it seemed, had earned Bolai’s respect long ago for his knowledge on esoteric arts. Now they were drawn into deep conversation, heads bowed over a sheet of paper, as they discussed porcelain glazes and the appropriate firing temperatures. Bolai even trusted him enough to show him his prized possession - a teapot stored behind his desk, only taken out for certain meetings. 

“Zhongli-xiansheng,” he preened, “you absolutely must keep this a secret. Every citizen in Liyue would be after my head if they knew about the value of this simple earthen tea pot. You see,” his voice dropped into a whisper. “It was given to my family by Rex Lapis. I only take it out for special meetings that must go well - and every time, it works like a charm. He must have blessed us with luck. Just for you, I’ll let you have a taste.” 

It seemed that every citizen in Liyue had a connection to Rex Lapis somehow. Many foreigners believed that the city was exaggerating it’s claims of divine intervention, but Liyue knew better. From the simple family businesses sequestered into hole in the wall establishments to the lords of commerce that worked out of lavish golden mansions, Rex Lapis governed them all with a gentle but stern hand. 

Everyone with suitable ambition and dedication could find themselves the recipient of his benevolence. Indeed, some families passed down his blessings as heirlooms: pressed glaze lilies delivered from the claws of a dragon, the last mora left of a stash foretold in a dream, the shed scale of a great beast who had saved them from danger. Rex Lapis’ presence permeated all of Liyue. 

It would not be soon forgotten. 

As Bolai poured the tea, he sighed and turned his head away. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I am just remembering that Rex Lapis no longer walks with us. This is all I will have left of him.” 

He soon found another reason for his tears as an armed Millelith soldier burst into the store. One look at the man, splattered with blood, sent his customers scattering. “Just what is the meaning of this?" He snapped, but was completely ignored as the soldier, panting, turned to you. 

“My lady, Captain Cheng requests reinforcements! There are treasure hoarders at the Guizhong Ballista and he fears it’s an organized attack. There’s too many of them - we thought it was just going to be a normal patrol. I don’t think we can hold them off for much longer!” 

Bolai gasped and pressed his teacup to his forehead, hands clasped in prayer. “Rex Lapis deliver us. This would have never happened if he was still watching over us.” 

You had no more time to wait around and listen to his babbling. “Zhongli-“ 

“I’m coming with you.” 

“There’s no need-”

“I can still fight,” he insists. “And this is my city. I owe it.” 

This is no time for arguing. 

One soldier is propped up against the battlements, being guarded by another man, but the rest of the eighteen soldiers are making you proud. This particular regiment, including Captain Cheng, had been trained by you back when you had been in charge of new recruits. 

It’s a light hazing ritual the Qixing do. They’re not the kind to force any kind of real harm on their newest members, but it’s one of the least desirable jobs. New soldiers are whiney and weak-willed. The hardest part of raising an army is always how difficult it is to discipline novices into a real fighting force. When an opportunity comes to push it onto some hapless initiate, they’re more than willing to do so, so it had been pushed on to you.

It had been annoying at first, but Captain Cheng's regiment had earned your respect. They had been some of your first trainees, so in a way, you feel like you've gone through the military together with them. Seeing their resilience in holding off a force that far outnumbered them makes you proud, but you’re still glad you got there when you did. 

You find that Zhongli had sorely understated his abilities in saying, ‘I can still fight.’ Even with his skills restricted in his mortal form and holding back to avoid alerting the Millelith of his true identity, his first blow takes out an entire line of treasure hoarders, shaking them so badly that you can continue punching through the rest of their formation. 

Standing behind him like this, you wonder what it would have been like 2,000 years ago, watching him fight the Archon War. You’re almost a little jealous of Ganyu, having been able to see him in his prime. The view of his broad back is comforting.

It’s a reminder that he will always be able to protect you. The defender of Liyue will never abandon his city. He is eternal. It makes you want to stand at his side all the more. 

“Hold the line,” one treasure hoarder squeaks out, but he doesn’t sound very convincing, especially as Zhongli unleashes a wave of geo energy that petrifies the rest of his foot soldiers. Watching him fight, you realize that he can’t detach himself from Liyue, no matter the fact that he insists he’s no longer a god. When Liyue had need of him, he came running, as if he couldn’t help it. 

There’s a rush of shame in you, too, all at once. Rex Lapis is retired, you remember, as much as you hate to admit it.

There’s a selfish part of you that’s holding onto Zhongli as the last living remnant of your god, but he’s not. It’s unfair to him to treat him like he is. You can’t ask him to fight your battles for you, as he always has. 

Both of you, you realize, are still trapped in the old ways.

In front of you, Zhongli's spear arm falls. Then, he slumps to the side, falling. You barely get there in time to catch him.

Had he overdone it? Frantically, you grasp him around the waist, desperately trying to keep him up as you continue to bulldoze through your enemies, your own vision flickering in it’s little glass encasement on your hip. He’s working with you as best as he can, feet stumbling, but it still takes a little longer than you would like to dispatch the rest of their ranks. 

“Zhongli,” you hiss, as soon as you have done enough for the Millelith to be able to take over. One treasure hoarder stares up at you in terror, a whisper of monster escaping his lips as he looks at you, but you shove his shoulder down with your foot. And stay down, is the unspoken message. You have more important things to take care of. “Are you alright?” 

When he looks up, his gaze is completely clear. Of course - the Millelith were whispering already, about this unknown soldier with shocking capabilities. Zhongli is in retirement. This was the opposite of the low profile he had hoped to keep.

And, says the unwelcome voice in your head, this is your personal failing. If you were better at keeping Liyue safe, Zhongli would be able to live his life in peace. 

But as guilty as you feel, there’s no time to indulge yourself, not when the soldiers are looking at you with curious eyes. 

“Thank goodness you took that Unmoving Essential Oil I gave you before we got here,” you bluff, “though I’m sure it took a toll on you. I will personally reward you for your sacrifice. There will always be honor for those who love Liyue well. Millelith!” 

They snap to attention for you. “I will be taking Mr. Zhongli back to the Yuhai Pavilion. Please, continue as you were. Rest assured that the Qixing will thoroughly investigate this matter.” 

They don’t look reassured. What would Ningguang do? She’s always been the role model for you ever since you joined the Qixing. Then, another voice chimes in your head, with a thought you’ve never had before. 

What would Zhongli do?  

“Fear not,” you add, unsure if this is the right thing to say. “I am with you. No harm will come to you in the service of Liyue as long as I still live.”

At that, a tension goes out of the soldiers, stiff as trees in their armor and unyielding shoulders. They salute you. Captain Cheng comes up to grasp your hand.

“Thank you for coming, my lady,” he says, smiling so wide you can see his dimples. “You’re as good as I remember. Please, allow me to apologize for my gross incompetence. Can I make it up to you with a dinner at-”

Zhongli lets out a soft groan against your neck, breath coming in warm puffs that make you shiver. 

“I’m so sorry Captain, I have to go. Feel free to send me a messenger with whatever you need to say,” you tell him, even as he narrows his eyes. He’s clearly not buying Zhongli’s act, and you wouldn’t either. Zhongli's overdoing it. You need to get him out of here. 

You let go of him in a quiet section of the Qixing’s personal gardens, far away from prying eyes.

“Are you alright?” It comes out drier than you mean it too, but you’re not angry, just confused. 

“They were looking at me suspiciously,” he says. “I thought it wise to get out of there as soon as possible, though I am sorry for cutting your conversation with the captain short. Do you know him?” 

“A little,” you say. “Are you sure it’s not anything else? I need to investigate this further. If you’re not feeling up to it, I can ask someone to bring you back to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.” 

“I’d rather stay with you,” he says, and that’s that. 

There’s something you’ve been meaning to deal with for a long time, but haven’t been able to. In the light of recent events, that has changed.

Storming into Northland Bank, you demand an audience with the Fatui. They try to put you off, as they have before, but there’s a look in your eye that signals to them how different this is from every other time you’ve approached them before. You’re sick of their meddling in your city, and diplomatic immunity only goes so far. 

Even so, they still do their best to work their way around your demands. All of their high ranking officials, the ones you usually deal with, are conveniently ‘out’. You’re stuck speaking to a random Fatui footsoldier whose insolence is starting to get on your nerves. When you’re finally granted a private room, you’re beyond ready to take these fools apart.

“We had nothing to do with it,” the masked man insists, spreading his hands. “You are being rather rude, my lady-”

That’s the final straw. You have been more than tolerant of the Fatui’s presence in your city, even after they had nearly flooded it, even after all of their missteps. You aren’t even accusing them of being behind the attack, which you had more than ample reason to, considering their long history of working with treasure hoarders and other unsavory individuals, as well as their previous crimes against your cities. 

You were just asking for information that they weren’t giving it to you. On top of that, they had dropped some rather unsubtle hints of how this was Liyue’s fault for being incompetent, not their's, which infuriated you. 

“Enough,” you had snapped at him venomously. “It is in your best interest to be mindful of yourself and your men in the future. I will have order in Liyue, and you are overstaying their welcome. Neither Lady Ningguang nor I will tolerate such uncivilized behavior for much longer.”

ou turn to leave but the man calls after you. 

“Zhongli-xiansheng,” he says. You hadn’t realized he knew the man at your side, as he had given no sign of recognizing him until now. “He’s back in town.”

Zhongli shoots him a cold look, and the man falls silent. Strange. 

As soon as you’re out of the Northland Bank, Zhongli says, casually, “I will have order?” 

Your entire body seizes up, remembering who you’re with. You had thought you were safe - after all, you were with Zhongli, and the two of you had grown close enough to think that he might not mention it. 

Only, you had forgotten that Zhongli was also Rex Lapis, the original speaker of the line you had delivered back there.

You’re trying to think of a way to excuse yourself - how humiliating - when he smiles. “I liked it. It was cute. Do you quote me often?” 

It takes all of your mental strength to answer him and not run away, but finally, he relents and walks you back to your home. For a moment, the two of you just stand at the threshold, him unwilling to leave and you unwilling to go in. 

The arch of the entrance is hung with wisteria flowers Keqing brought back for you on a trip to Inazuma, back when the country had still allowed visitors. It usually attracts geo crystalflies to your door, so it shines with a dim light even at night. One attaches itself to Zhongli, perching on his nose. He goes almost cross eyed trying to look at it. 

Your laughter breaks the silence. A cool breeze stirs his hair, and he smiles at you fondly. The two of you part ways there, though when you turn back to close the door, you almost call out to him. You wanted to ask him if he’d like to stay. But it’s late, and instead, you turn the key. 

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Rockets of Love - Chapter Six

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader (Gaming AU)

Chapter Summary:   After your friend's betrayal, you struggle to accept Bucky's words of reassurance. You flirt. You play. There's a line crossed somewhere. Where? Over there. I can't see it. Oh well, never mind...

Words:  ~3.9k

Note: I hope you're ready for more terribly written and shameless flirting because here it comes lol more game descriptions too.

As always I thank you for reading and humbly request your feedback and thoughts.  I love hearing from you guys ❤

Acronyms/terms glossary for this chapter: PUG - Pick-up Game AFK - Away from Keyboard DP - Double Penetration/Double Damage Frag - kill

Warnings:   Self-esteem issues, shameless flirting, some saucy talk, innuendo, language, gaming-typical violence, alcohol consumption/drunkenness, a bit of angst/slight argument

***18+ content - this content is written for adults.  Minors do not interact***

Rockets of Love Masterlist  |  Bucky Barnes Masterlist  |  Main Masterlist

Betrayal.  What a terrible feeling.  How could she?  And Denise?  She helped.  Your eyes watered as you looked at the pictures of yourself.  Becca always told you that you were beautiful, inside and out, but the rest of the world rarely agreed.

You didn’t really feel like reading Bucky’s replies but you might as well see all of the damage.

Babe!  You know you didn’t have to send me this.  Which one is you?

XXX

His next email.

Never mind, I got the second one.

Honey, I have to say, you’re cute as hell.  Your perfect little doll face, that smile, and those stunning eyes 😍

You look great!  Jeez, those curves!  Damn!  I can see I’m going to have to work harder to keep you away from those speed dating douchebags lol

Mr Hottie X

Was he crazy?  Or was he trying to be nice?  His last and final email really made your heart jolt.

God you’re even gorgeous when you’re giving stink-eye lol that’s impressive.

Oh and you look so sexy when you’re laughing.  Now that’s the only thing I’m going to see when I hear you laugh.

You can send me pictures any time you want, sweetheart.  Shit, hurry up and come play with me… I need to hear that voice of yours before I die of loneliness lol

Yours X

You were baffled.  He seemed to be genuine about his compliments and he didn’t seem to want to push you away.  Hell, it felt like the opposite.  Maybe things would be ok after all.  It didn’t stop your scepticism or even your outright denial of the things he was saying about you.  You knew who and what you were, and enough people had insulted you before for you to know what most people thought of you.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, buzz fading into tiredness now.  You checked the last message on your phone.  It was from Becca.

[BECCA]  Home safe.  Den too.  Had fun.  Text me in the AM.  Love you x.

You didn’t reply.

Picking up your headset, you heard Bucky talking.

“I dunno man, she seemed upset.”  There was a pause.  “I can’t call her, I don’t have her number.”

There was no one else in the chat; he must be talking on the phone.

“Steve, I’m begging.  If you have it, you don’t need to give it to me, I know she wouldn’t want anyone to give her number out, but please, just call her.”  He sighed.  “Right, what about Nat?”

You heard him pacing.  He’d taken his headset off and left the mic open.

“Yeah, she probably is fine.  She’s at home but she’s been drinking tonight, something happened and she went AFK about half an hour ago.”  He groaned.  “Yeah, you’re right.  I’m drunk and stressing the fuck out.  Yeah, I probably did upset her, which is what I’m worried about.”

Half an hour?  Had you really been away that long?  You unmuted your mic and cleared your throat in the hopes that he’d hear you, but he didn’t.

“Hey.”  You said loudly.  “I’m back.”

“Hang on Steve, I think that’s her.”

His mic rustled as he fumbled with it.

“You there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”  You said, feeling bad that he’d worried.  “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”  He said softly.  He held his hand over his mic before he addressed Steve again, but it did nothing to muffle the sound.  “She’s alright.  Sorry, and thanks, bro.”  He chuckled, relieved.  “Yeah, I know.  See you in game in a few.”

Bucky settled himself before he spoke again.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes and no.”  You said with a sniff.

“What happened?”  He sounded strained.

“My friend Becca happened.”  You huffed.  “I didn’t send you those pictures, Bucky.  She did.”

“Oh.”  Now he sounded confused.

“In the taxi home she snatched my phone.”  You let your irritation come through.  “She saw your picture, had a few things to say about it and decided to send a few of her own.”

“She sent me pictures of herself?”  You could almost hear the frown in his voice.

“Oh, um, no.”  You said cautiously.  “They were of me, but she sent them thinking she was being cute.”

“I can tell you’re pissed off.”  He sighed.  “I’m sorry me sending you a picture started the whole thing off.”

You sighed.

“No, actually, I’m not sorry.”  He sounded almost defiant.  “Well, I mean, I am.  I’m sorry you’re upset at your friend but I’m not sorry that she did what she did.  I finally got to see you!”  He sounded like he was smiling again.

“Look, can we just not talk about picturegate? I just wanna play.  I’ve had enough focus on my appearance for one night.  I don’t need it here where no one can actually see me.”

“Picturegate?”  He snorted.  “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Bucky was silent for a moment before a message flashed up on your screen.  It was from him.

FROM: [AVG] The Winter Soldier – Re:  I adore the way you look ❤ …

You guys mainly used the subject lines of the console messaging service which meant that you didn’t have to open the message to read when you were playing.  The three dots at the end of the subject meant that there was text in the body of the message.  You opened it up, rolling your eyes.

From: [AVG] The Winter Soldier – Re:  I adore the way you look ❤ … MSG:  Please don’t kill me!

You laughed.  He was such a joker.

“You’re an asshat.”  You threw out a good-natured insult.

“I’ll take it.  Definitely been called worse in my time.”

“I bet.”

“C’mon.  We’ve got a bit of time before these guys start showing up for this PUG and Mr Hottie wants some alone time with you and your sugar lips before we get spectators.”  He chuckled, knowing fine well what he was doing.

“Sugar lips?”  You smirked and blushed, glad that he could see neither.

“Oh, yeah.”  He teased.  “Those perfectly plump lips look sweet enough to kiss.”

Ohmygod!  Your tummy did a flip but your brain said play it cool.

“Do you want a side order of crackers with that cheese, sir?”

Bucky laughed so hard he started coughing.

“Sooo mean.”  He teased again.  “Are you giving me that super sultry stink-eye right now?”

You joined Bucky’s private game lobby and it asked for a password.  You’d played privately with him before but the regular password of ‘AsswordP’ didn’t work.

“I might be giving you that look, yeah.”  You teased back.  “Especially since your assword pee doesn’t work.”

Bucky chuckled.  “You can give me that look until the cows come home, babe, and I’ll still adore you.”

“Oh shut up!”  You grumbled playfully.  “Just tell me the damn password.”

“What’s my name?”

“Bucky?  Buck?  Winter?  James?”  You said.

“Nope, nope, nope and nope!”  He popped the p on the last nope.  “C’mon sugar lips, you can do better than that.”

You typed in ‘Mr Hottie’ and the game started loading.

“There you go!”  He laughed into what sounded like a glass and you heard the tinkle of ice.  He was still drinking.

“How pissed off are you gonna be if I start calling you Mr Hottie around the rest of the team.”  You teased.

“Do it.”  He challenged.  “Then you’re going to have to explain why I have that name, and admit to them all that you think I’m a sexy bastard.”  He sounded pretty pleased with himself.

“I don’t care.  I’ll tell them I drooled a little bit.  I’m not ashamed.”  Of course you cared.  And there was no way you’d ever tell them that, but this was Bucky and you could say almost anything to this man and not be judged or laughed at.

“Don’t go telling me I made you wet, babe.  I can barely contain myself as it is.”

“I didn’t say you made me wet, though technically some moisture passed some lips, so I guess, by definition, I can give you that one.”  You clicked your tongue in your cheek as if you’d given him a wink.

He groaned playfully.

The game had already started and you’d been running the map.  It was one you weren’t all that familiar with, from a new map pack that you’d only just started playing through.  Wherever Bucky was in the labyrinth of underground tunnels and the crushed remains of an old star ship, he wasn’t nearby unless he was stationary.

“Where are you hiding?”  You taunted him.  “Are you hiding in the corner touching yourself.”

“Maybe I am?”  He toyed back.  “You can’t just say moist lips to me and expect me not to get distracted slightly.”

“Slightly?”  You feigned incredulity.  “If you heavy-breathe any louder I’ll have to file a restraining order.”

You both laughed, and it felt great.  You felt free and happy.  He sounded amazing with his spontaneous and genuine chuckle.

“Oh you’re soooo gonna get it now.”  He threatened flirtatiously.

“Yeah?”  You teased, listening for his movements around the map.  “Promises, promises.”  You said as you heard the tell-tale clink of him picking up a piece of consumable body armour, probably the helmet.

“Oh, babe, you have no idea.”

“Why don’t you show me then, Mr Hottie!”

He didn’t reply but you saw his grenade out of the corner of your view.  There were two, in fact, both thrown in such a way that there was nowhere you could go without one of them catching you.  You dodged towards the second one, shooting it with your scatter gun.  It exploded before the first grenade, giving you a split second to jump further from that first one.  As you jumped towards the explosion you’d created, the first grenade popped.  You took damage from the one you shot down but it was minimal.  You ran for more health.

“That was nice.”  He said, moving to intercept you.

“Thanks.  I really thought you had me.”

“I fully planned to have you.”  He teased.

“So sure I’m going to lay down and take it, are you?”  When had you both graduated to such unabashed flirting?

“Well, I was hopeful.”  He chuckled.  “Is that something you’d be open to?”

“Wha-!  What are we actually talking about?”  Your laugh was nervous and ever so slightly excited.

“Honestly, I thought I knew, but after your reaction I’m not so sure.”

Bucky was behind you.  You could hear him jumping across a lava pit just around the corner.  You bounced a scatter shot against the wall.  It rebounded off two walls to make it around the corner where the loud groan of his character told you, you’d hit him good.

“How the hell?”  He backtracked.

“Physics.”  You said with a smirk.  “And a good pair of ears.”

“You can hear me?”

“Yeah.”  You threw another couple of rebound shots to make sure he’d got the message and wouldn’t follow you.  “Even your character is heavy breathing for me.”

“Why you little…”  He came running, through the doorway to the side.  He was laughing but his character was throwing rockets your way like there was no tomorrow.

You dodged through a revolving warp gate and found yourself in a temporal hub where all the power-ups spawned.  Depending on the phase of the gate when you passed through you could access a different power-up.  The double damage consumable was glowing purple right there in front of you.

“Ohhh, you’re gonna hate me so much if I pick this up.”

“What is it?”

“The double penetration.”  You smirked.

“Normally in singles competitions, power ups like that are banned.”  He said.  “If I’m playing against randoms and they want to pick it up, I say that’s up to them.  All that’s gonna happen is I’m gonna frag them anyway and take the perk myself.”

“It’s not illegal if you kill someone for it?”

“Hell yeah it is!” he snorted, “but there’s no championship rules here.  If you want it, pick it up, just don’t be mad if I frag you for it.”

“Bring it, Mr Hottie!”  You picked up the perk, causing your vision to discolour slightly; everything had a blue tinge to it.

The woosh of the warp gate being used again made you dodge to the side.  Bucky was there but he was kind of hollow.  You could see him there, looking at you from a different temporal realm.  The power-up he had access to was a nuclear warhead.

“You’re gonna wish you hadn’t said that when I shove my mega-torpedo up your ass.”  He snickered.

“What’s the damage on that thing?”  The mini-nuke warhead was a new insertion into the game with this new expansion and map pack.  You could fire it off at a target or guide it around looking for your target, which was fun but left you vulnerable.

“No idea.”  He ducked out through the warp gate with his new toy.  “The blast radius is massive in an open area though.”

“What about tunnels?”

“You gonna hide until I get bored of lugging this thing around?”

“I might.”  You picked up your favourite toy; rocket boots.  “It looks like it’s too big for me to handle.”

Bucky laughed involuntarily.  “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“Nope.”  You shut him down.  “You’re gonna buy me dinner first before I’ll even consider it.”

“Seems reasonable.  What’s your favourite?”

“Cantonese.”  You said, concentrating on the sounds around the map.

“I can get behind that.”

You saw him, running out in the open.  You could take his head off but there was a chance he’d survive if he’d picked up the right armour.  Or you could let him shoot the nuke and try to shoot it out of the air, hoping you could get behind cover before it could kill you.  Or you could just let him kill you.

Nope.  Not an option.

“I can see you, running around with your giant robocock out, ready to shoot your load.”  You chuckled and he guffawed.  “Like you said… restraining order.”  You both started howling with laughter, Bucky gasping to get control of himself.

“Fuck me!”  Bucky groaned when he finally stopped.  He’d actually stopped running too, and his character just stood still where he was.

“Is that an offer, or a demand?”  You used the words he’d used in one of his emails, letting your voice drop low in what you hoped was the audio version of ‘bedroom eyes’.

He made a small, choked noise but didn’t reply.  When his character started moving again he saw you in the entry of one of the tunnels.  Shooting off the nuke, he started to run for cover.

You scoped your sniper and plugged a round into the warhead but it kept on coming - a slow moving harbinger of death – your death – and it would give Bucky First Blood.

You shot again.  Nothing.  Again.  Nothing.  The warhead was dangerously close and on a path that would take it right into the tunnel with you.  There would be nowhere to run.  Another shot and the thing finally exploded, sending its shockwave of certain death out in all directions.

You used your rocket boots to propel yourself further into the tunnel, throwing yourself around as many corners ad you could, which was just two.

The boom of the nuke going off was loud.  Your controller vibrated furiously in your hands as the shockwave rolled through the map.

“FIRST BLOOD!”  The announcer called and Bucky cursed.

“Motherfucker!”  Bucky’s death went to you.

The wave of the explosion powered through the tunnel, reaching you just enough to ebb your health away down to a sliver.

“How the hell did you not die?”  He wasn’t pissed but he was surprised.

“I’ve only got like five hit points left.”  You chuckled.

Bucky respawned and came for you immediately.  The pinging sound of scattergun pellets preceded him.  It would only take 1 single pellet to take you down unless you could get some more health.  You saw him first and plugged him in the head with a sniper shot.  You still had the DP so there was no chance he’d survive.

“NO WAY!”  He called out, exasperated.

As he expired, the last of the scatter shot pellets rebounded near you, catching you and taking you out.

Bucky’s TV called out:  “REVENGE KILL!”

“Sorry that was a cheap kill.”

“A frag is a frag.”  You said sweetly.  “At least we learned something.”

“What’s that?”

“Two things, actually.”

“Hmm?”  Bucky said to the sound of clinking ice.

“The nuke takes the equivalent of eight sniper rounds to bring down.”

“How eight?”

“I had the DP.”

“Ahhh.”  He said slurping another mouthful of his drink.  “What’s the other?”

“Well,” you started coyly.  “I can definitely handle your giant robocock, and its pay-load.”

He snorted, spurting his drink all over the place.

“Godddamnit woman!  That’s the second time you made me spew good whiskey all over myself.”

“You still love me though.”  You teased sweetly.

“Yeah.”  He grumbled.  “I probably do.”

You tried not to read too much into that.  It wouldn’t be the first time you’d misinterpreted something someone said.

You carried on playing, falling back into your routine of warming up for a clan match-up.  Pick-up games weren’t exactly clan match-ups but players played hard like they were.

Your first game with Bucky had been more cat and mouse as you’d worked your way around a map that you scarcely knew, but the following games were fast-paced and brutal.  Out of five games played, Bucky won three and you won two.

He played better than you did when you were both talking but he also played harder because he knew you were so good.  He had told you that once before.

‘You drive me to play better because you ARE better.  I’ve been stuck in a rut with my skill level until you came along.  Now I’m seeing you make impossible shots and using the weapons in combinations I never thought to try before, and I’m thinking differently about it, more outside the box.  You’ve really changed things up for me.  Even because I know you play at a location disadvantage, AND that you play with a damned controller where I play with a keyboard and mouse.   I’m lucky to have you. WE ARE, I mean.  The team is lucky to have you.’

Of course you had blushed and preened and told him not to be so soppy, but inside you were dancing because Bucky had said the words and you didn’t quite realise it then, but you had the biggest crush on him.

You knew it now though.  Like you knew the rhythm of your own heartbeat.  Looking at the photo he sent you; his big blue eyes, soft lips with a perfect cupid’s bow, his rich dark hair that was long but well cut, and that adorable little chin dimple.  Fuck!  It was like you were melting.

“MD?”

He was so handsome.  How could you even hope that he’d like you back?  He should be dating models and other beautiful people, but he’d done nothing but compliment you and let you know that he found you attractive.  It was only the first few hours after picturegate, so maybe he was just being nice and he’d gradually lessen his contact with you until it dwindled to clan business only.

“Oh, sugar lips?”  Bucky sing-songed playfully.

“Yeah, sorry.”  You shook yourself out of your mental musings.

“You fallin’ asleep?”  Bucky asked softly.

“Not exactly.”  You chuckled.  “Just thinking.”

“You were looking at that picture of Mr Hottie again, weren’t ya?”

“You caught me.”  You said deadpan, hoping he wouldn’t hear the truth in your cover-up.

“I can’t stop looking at yours either.”  He said seriously.  “I can’t decide which is my favourite.”

“Oh?”  You knew you shouldn’t open this up for discussion but you just had to poke the bear.

“The two with you in the blue romper, that was tonight, right?”

“Romper?”  You scoffed.  “Yes, that was tonight.  AKA speed-dating-hell night.”

Bucky chuckled at your description.

“And your friend Becca, the one you’re pissed at for sending me your pictures?”

“The tall one in the purple dress.”  You said, curling your lip.  It was only a matter of time before guys started asking about your friends.  You hoped Bucky was different.

“If I ever get to meet her, I’m gonna buy her a drink!”  He said with a half laugh.  “She has my eternal gratitude.”

“Oh, lord!”  You rolled your eyes.  “Bucky, please…”

“What?”  He feigned innocence.  “Can’t I tell a girl how thankful I am that she threw her best friend to the wolves.”

“Is that what you are?  Wolves?”  You said with a smirk.

“Something like that.”  He said, a little more fuzzily than before.  “I wouldn’t mind getting a bite of you.”

“I think someone has had too much to drink.”  You teased.

“Or not enough.”  The clink of ice against glass.  “If I’d known what it would take for me to tell you what’s been on my mind then I’d have drunk a whole bottle of scotch before now.”

There was a rasping sound like he was rubbing his hands across his stubble.

“You’ve had what?”  No wonder he was loose-lipped tonight.

“Bottle of scotch.”  He mumbled, pausing for a long while before he continued more clearly.  “God!  Those eyes.  That smile.  You’re beautiful, babe.”

“I’m not.”

“You really have no idea, do you?”  He sighed, exasperated.  “You’re not even wearing anything showy and the way your cleavage looks so plush and inviting-”

“Bucky…”  You warned him.  “Please stop.”

“The perfect curve of your hips, babe, oh god!”

“Please Bucky…”

“Those gorgeously thick thighs…”  He trailed off into a heavy sigh.  “Christ, I’m so hard right now.”

You gasped at his reveal, an angry blush filling your cheeks with a burning itch.

“Bucky stop!”  You said more firmly.  If this was a joke it wasn’t funny, at all.

“I can almost feel them wrapped around my hips, babe, squeezing me tight while I-“

“James Buchannan Barnes!”  You almost screeched at him.  “You’re being a world-class asshole and this is your goddamn line in the sand, okay?  Shut your mouth, right now!”

Fury and hurt coursed through you.  The things he was saying to you, they couldn’t be right.  It was the booze talking, or it was a joke.  No one ever found you that attractive, not even your past boyfriends, all three of them.

“I’m sorry.”  He mumbled.  “I’m shut.  My lips.  Sealed.”  You had an idea he had just made a gesture for locking his mouth shut and throwing away the key.

“Jesus, Bucky!”  You sighed, frustrated and annoyed.  Of all the things he could do.  Starting off some epic clusterfuck where he pointed out all the parts of you that you felt shitty about was one of the worst.  “Don’t fucking drink anymore, will you?”

“None left anyway.”  He huffed.

“Good.”  You felt bad for shouting at him.  He didn’t know the extent of your insecurities.  How could he?  You worked hard to hide them behind false bravado and sarcastic humour.  “Go get a coffee or something, or you’ll be useless in the PUG.”

Thanks again for reading.  I hope you enjoyed the story so far.  Please consider dropping me a comment or a reblog to let me know what you think. ❤

Rockets of Love Masterlist  |  Bucky Barnes Masterlist  |  Main Masterlist

[bibblelevi]

levi ackerman

TAGS GLOSSARY: # Levi thirsts (nsfw) | # Levi thoughts (sfw) | # Househusband Levi | # Kitty Levi | # demon bf Levi

series.

Silver Soul (11/15) + 130.5k -> HIATUS

Crossposted to AO3

Levi Ackerman x fem! Reader

Levi and his Second learn to live in a world without a war as they pine for each other in silence and manage his tea shop.

Post-canon, friends to lovers, fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, explicit smut, canon-typical violence, depictions of grief and depression

Afterglow (7/15) + 38.4 -> HIATUS

Posted exclusively on AO3

Lawyer! Submissive! Levi Ackerman x Dominant! fem! Reader

Hange creates Levi a profile for a fetish-dating app, and it goes in a direction he doesn’t quite expect. / He’s a family lawyer in desperate need of letting go, and you’re a paralegal in desperate need of taking control. The two of you are a perfect match.

Modern AU, strangers to lovers, eventual romance, heavy BDSM themes, dom/sub relationship, fem-dom, porn-without-plot

Hey, Hemingway (11k) INDEFINITE HIATUS

Crossposted to AO3

Soccer team captain! college student! Levi Ackerman x college student! fem! Reader

Levi Ackerman becomes the youngest Captain of Trost University’s Division I soccer team. You’re studying to be a sports journalist. He knows you as the girl he’s been in English with all four years of high school. Then he knows you as the only girl to ever break his heart.

Brief high school AU, University AU, Sports AU, slow burn, mutual pining, childhood friends, second chances, descriptions of grief and depression, loss of a family member, drugs and alcohol, eventual romance

one shots.

Ballerina Pink - You come home late on christmas day, where Levi’s been waiting to give you a present. only he doesn’t know, you have a few presents of your own to give--and some making up to do. (AO3)

In the Land of Gods and Monsters - He’ll give you salvation for free reign over your body. You accept. (AO3)

INSPIRED DRABBLES:

Demon! Levi Ackerman x fem! Reader

Prompt: “don’t pretend to be so innocent”

Prompt: “come here. sit on my lap and tell me what you want, ____.”

The “demon bf Levi” tag for more…

KINKTOBER (AO3 Collection):

these little games we play - Levi gets tired of short, short skirts around the house.

levi loves his stupid girlfriend - You put on a costume hoping to make your mean boyfriend smile and don’t anticipate the consequences of your actions.

missed you - You’ve been away for a couple days, and Levi has missed you.

PREVIOUSLY ON OI-LEVI:

The Lion and the Gazelle - He’s a fucking instigator. an antagonistic minx. But there’s one thing that Levi doesn’t know: You’re the lion, he’s the gazelle, and you’re going to eat him alive. (AO3)

Take What I Give - Your friends are just downstairs, but you have made extra precautions to ensure Levi’s silence as you pick him to pieces. (AO3)

Kiss it Better - After accidentally mixing up painkillers with Viagra, your boyfriend comes home early from work in complete disarray. He needs you to take care of him. Desperately. (AO3)

Pretty - You give Levi his first blowjob, and the man practically loses his fucking mind.

drabbles.

Lawyer! sub! Levi Ackerman x fem! Reader

Vigilante! Levi Ackerman x best friend! fem! Reader:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three 

Professor! Levi Ackerman x grad-student! fem! Reader:

Drabble #1

Drabble #2

WIP preview

Prompts:

“tell me what you want”

“don’t worry, I’ll make you feel really good”

‘receiver has had to wear a gag or muzzle as punishment for disobedience, sender finally decides to let them out of it and test their submission’

“you can cry, but you’re not allowed to make a sound. Understood?”

Emperor! Levi drabble w/ gender-neutral Knight! Reader

Levi daddy kink drabble w/ fem-implied Reader

Aftercare w/ Levi headcanons

Pegging Levi (loosely inspired by Afterglow)

Househusband! Levi drabble

Levi & make-up brush drabbles:

Dominant Levi version

Submissive Levi version

Submissive! Guardian Angel! Levi drabble

Rockstar! Lead Singer! Levi Ackerman x f! Reader

@BIBBLELEVI 2022. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.