#perhaps i should stop that and thus get back a hobby that i used to be love in the extreme

[girlscience]

me for the past several years: I think something is wrong with me, I just don't like books the way I used to. I have maybe finished 3 books in 4 years and the last one I finished took me making an intentional effort to do nothing but read it one day to finish it :/

this book,

bursting into my life: NO IT IS THE BOOKS WHO ARE WRONG

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi, this is the INFJ who wrote about the situation with the ENTJ boss. Thanks for your immensely insightful advice as always. Regarding your last question, regarding what sort of relationship I want with him: there’s another question I’d like to ask you, to figure out my own answer to this.

I certainly have no interest in a romantic relationship with him, as you may have wondered. Low F people like him don’t interest me in a romantic sense (though not an obstacle to friendship, as long as F is not nonexistent). There’s someone else, who I suspect is INFP, who I think is the only one for me - although I admittedly haven’t spoken to him for awhile and have made many mistakes in my interactions with him (some of which were based on the possibly faulty assumption that he is INTP due to his intellectual brilliance), which may or may not be possible to ever come back from. In my mind, I’ll either be single for life, focusing on friendship, intellectual pursuits, and various hobbies (honestly doesn’t sound bad at all), or reconnect with this INFP at some point. Perhaps this is just poor Ni/Se balance though.

So a suspicion I’ve had for awhile is that this ENTJ boss may be a corporate psychopath (I know an outdated term). I’ve seen no evidence of genuine integrity or empathy from him. I’ve seen evidence that he doesn’t actually care about the cause that this company is founded upon. He’s obviously grandiose, narcissistic, and paranoid. I’ve seen him lie without remorse. I have strongly felt at times that he was attempting to manipulate me based on knowledge of my vulnerabilities. I have felt a visceral fear of him and feel uncomfortable around him. At the same time, I don’t have any definitive evidence of serious wrongdoing on his part (though I have two hypotheses about illegal actions he has engaged in - defrauding investors and invasions of employee privacy), and he has treated me fairly for the most part, so in my last question to you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

So my question is thus: how can I tell the difference between an immature ENTJ and an irredeemable, dangerous corporate psychopath who needs to be stopped? I saw your previous post on not wanting to stigmatize low empathy individuals. His low empathy is obvious, but if he doesn’t even have good intentions (which I guess would step from Fi), then he’s dangerous in my opinion. I interacted extensively with another immature ENTJ, but never once doubted his Fi. This other ENTJ was obvious in wanting to nurture my potential, whereas the ENTJ boss has never once explicitly sought to nurture my potential. That was yet another factor driving me in sending these messages and seriously considering quitting: because the standard advice is that with a corporate psychopath, you should just get out as soon as possible. I think your answer to this question will help lay the foundation for my strategy regarding what to do next.

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

Yes, "psychopath" is an old term, though it is still used in research discussions and personality studies. In everyday contexts, people tend to throw the word around rather lightly to describe any and every jerk, which IMO waters down and obscures the true meaning of the word. In my mind, it is quite a serious accusation to call someone a psychopath because of the dire implications of being "irredeemable" and/or posing a significant danger to others. Psychopathy is a neurological disorder, it might have several varieties or subtypes, and there is controversy about how to diagnose it. I mention this as a warning about relying on stereotypes that only serve to stigmatize rather than understand. Because the term is so loaded, I personally avoid using it and prefer to focus on concrete behaviors that serve as evidence of dark personality traits.

Dark personality traits aren't either/or but a matter of degree, and they are normally distributed in the population. Manipulative behavior, lack of empathy, lack of moral integrity, and narcissistic self-interest are all important signs of dark personality traits. We all possess dark personality traits to some degree, so it is part and parcel of human relationship to encounter some undesirable and even unsavory behavior from each other. Some people are more aware of their dark traits than others. Some are better at handling their own dark traits than others. Some are more accepting of dark traits than others.

For what it's worth, I believe your feelings. This means I trust that your feelings about him are accurately alerting you to a real threat. There is troubling evidence of dark personality traits and it should cause one to doubt whether he's capable of a healthy professional relationship. (A romance between you never actually crossed my mind, but I'm very glad to hear none exists.)

While I trust your feelings completely, I have a bit of doubt about the way you characterize him. This is not a statement about you personally (though you should take into account your INFJ related social skills issues). Humans are generally prone to the fundamental attribution error, which means they often make mistakes when trying to ascribe a "cause", "intention", or "motivation" behind people's behavior. And they often mistake correlation for causation.

For instance: It could be the case that he's a psychopath. It could be the case that, being in leadership, he's under incredible situational stress that you're not aware of and thereby acting out in ways that aren't entirely reflective of his true character (similar to the way your dark traits come out and you get inexplicably aggressive when your PTSD is triggered). It could be the case that you see more of his dark traits because he doesn't like you or the level of intimacy isn't enough for him to reveal his whole self to you...

It seems you've observed him for awhile. Are you claiming that he has no positive or redeeming qualities whatsoever? Are you in a good position to observe him objectively? I'm not asking these questions to doubt you but, rather, to ensure that you consider all the possibilities and don't fall prey to the fundamental attribution error. (The more prone you are to Ti loop, the more likely you are to suffer this cognitive bias.)

At what point does a dark personality trait become extreme enough to venture into "disorder" territory? This is a controversial question, so I prefer to sidestep theory in favor of practicality and focus mainly on the behaviors and consequences. Consider the following:

- What kind of behavior is considered harmful and thus "unethical"? Neglect? Control? Aggression? Manipulation? Verbal insults? Personal attacks? Lying? Cheating? Stealing? Threats? Extortion? Criminality? Violence? Harm can be measured in terms of the degree of hurt or distress caused to the victim(s): mild, moderate, or severe.

- What is the appropriate response to the kind of harm being done? Is it necessary for you to get entangled with this person? Do you walk away from mild harm? Do you try to change or educate the perpetrator? Are you obligated to stop severe predatory behavior? (Was your response to him appropriate and proportionate to the situation? What were the consequences of your response and what did it achieve exactly?)

- To what extent can you have a relationship with someone exhibiting dark personality traits? What exactly is it you want from the relationship? How do their dark traits interact with yours? What is your subjective experience of their dark traits: do they cross a moral line or violate a personal boundary for you? How much harm are you capable of witnessing/experiencing before it has a deleterious effect on your well-being? What is your personal rule for handling harmful violations of your boundaries?

I can't answer these kinds of moral questions for people. It's up to each person to get in touch with their own conscience for answers. Reflect on the best course of action in terms of the impact on your well-being (requires healthy Ni+Fe).

[ginagailn]

Slowly reading No Love Lost, a buffet of novellas by Ingalls. I came to this book having read Mrs. Caliban and Binstead's Safari, both of which I love, so I'm backing up before I get to the first two novellas in No Love Lost. One trick of talking about Ingalls' work is not ruining the thrill that makes her work so satisfying, that sensation of discovery alongside her characters.

Mrs. Caliban: a short novel about a housewife, Dorothy, and her affair with a sea monster, Larry. I always refer to Larry as a fish-man or frog-man and in my mind he's always different, but always an aquatic lover, emerged and escaped from the waves of a scientific research institute tank, the threat of him gracing radio airwaves, his physical form manifesting in Dorothy's kitchen. They talk. They fuck. They eat avocados. The daily and mundane meets the extraordinary and stays mundane with something wild. It's not an obliteration of Dorothy's whole daily life, but something weird infusing her days and casting her life in a new light. It's beautiful, bittersweet, and its bite-sized length is a marvel in and of itself for the emotional landscape this book presents.

Binstead's Safari: a woman, Millie, joins her self-important academic husband on a journey, first to London—where she gets a life-changing makeover—and then on a safari, where she thrives. So another story of a transformer woman, this time outside home and homeland. (Part of Ingalls' appeal for me is that seismic change happens to her characters whose setting remains unchanged and those who travel far distances. You can wake up a new person in a Rachel Ingalls story, no matter whether you're at home or further than you've ever traveled.) But Binstead! Lion folklore. Quaint landscape paintings. Hot air balloon sexscapades. A lion god. I'll stop there; the thrill should be yours. But coming to this one a year-ish after first reading Mrs. Caliban, I was delighted to spend longer with Ingalls' mind and witness her work across a longer novel.

The novellas (thus far!):

Blessed Art Thou: a monk makes it with the angel Gabriel. The result is a pregnancy that jostles the monastery. Gender swapping. Medical tension, specifically related to pregnancy. Reckonings with faith. This one called to mind the short fiction of George Saunders, some Wells Tower. Short, swift, yet expansive.

In the Act: people vs. people; people vs. machines. No relationship feels sacred in this one. A woman discovers the product of her husband's secret hobby and holds it for a rebellious ransom. Desire, engineered lust, human relationships—to each other, to themselves, to technology. More Caliban than Binstead, which is to say this story has us home instead of wandering (geographically).

There's a note in my planner reading: Ingalls’ writing is sex and death and life and work. Something I jotted down fast on a lunch break. Not a comprehensive assessment of what inhabits her books. And maybe it’s something you could say for many writers—perhaps all writers whose work endures—but the journeys she takes us on were totally her own, peerless, beautifully weird.

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

a discussion of jabberwock with team interaction hcs + deeper nash analysis

for anon who asked "Can we get some headcanons for jabberwock members or like headcanons when they're together? (its okay if it was jason or nash only)" and made me realise it's about time i get these guys' personalities down

note before we start: cause i didn't know their names until i wrote this

zack is the bald one, allen is the one with a headband, nick is the other white guy apart from nash.

team hcs

nick gets bullied for being under 6ft, but not by jason

nah good old jason teases all of them for being short fucks, emphasising that they’re all 5ft tall in comparison to him

he 100% lifts things out of the others' reach and then laughs for ages after when they try get them

unfortunately though, they’re all used to this and now just ignore him. either that or nash stares at him so intensely jason actually repents and hands it back

zack’s another one with a very good glare, but he’s used it too often on jason and it’s since stopped working.

also jason gives me ‘straightens his back as much as possible when getting measured so he’ll measure in as 7ft’ vibes

oh and he thinks he could wrestle a gator and win. i’ve got no explanation for that except for the fact you can't tell me it's ooc.

allen’s very protective over his white headband - it’s his lucky item - but he’d never let anyone know that

he’s confident in his abilities like the rest of them, but there’s nothing wrong with wearing a headband just in case

(nash knows anyway)

they watch nba matches together and do not shut up once throughout the entire match - lots of jeering, booing each other if someone criticises a player they like, lots of “i could do that”, lots of “get your fucking hand out of my popcorn do you want me to punch you in the face” etc

they used to all live together, but nash has since moved out. he was sick and tired of trying to make people do chores, as the only one who kept their room clean.

yeah the others’ house looks like a heap of trash but also very much “where’s my toothbrush?” “it’s in the third coke can by the orange peel behind the sink” *silence* “yeah thanks” *a minute later* “who the fuck has been using my toothbrush”

they’re all “bro your dribbling sucks why are you on this team loser” to one another, but also very protective (aka arrogant for one another) if anyone else Dared to criticise one of their teammates

then again, what kind of person would criticise jabberwock

half of the time he spends with jabberwock, nash is a Single Mother TM trying to get a bunch of man children to behave; the other half of the time, he's just as bad as the rest of them

i talk about this a lot but i get the feeling nash is an exceptionally hard worker, but at least he gets to let his hair down around his teammates sometimes

nash is also the only person jason thought was truly ‘strong’ at first sight

and nash is also the only person who can beat jason in a fight, and also the only person who can get nash to train, and also the only person who can.. [etc. you see my point].

(n.b jason calls himself the ‘almighty me’, nash says that ‘even god can’t beat me’. point made.)

you know how jason silver’s motto is “I have never thought”

imagine him proudly stating that, before zack adds with a straight face, “yeah cause nash does it for you.”

in short, the team would fall apart without nash.

although the team’s communication and coordination is very fine tuned, nash is the guy who keeps everything in order off the court to prevent what is essentially a team of aces ('main characters', if you will) from falling apart

they hang out together a lot, but do all have other friend groups that do not overlap

team bbqs

unofficial rule not to criticise anchovies on pizza because the one time nick did, nash snapped

however pineapple on pizza is fair game, even though zack quite likes it

more than once, jason has brought a girl home and nick has stolen her attention away with effortless trick shots, funky ball manoeuvring etc

more than once nick has had to trek to nash’s place (with a black eye) at midnight to have somewhere to sleep

do you see a correlation?

oh and everyone in the team has been walked in on by nash when they were naked with some girl

nash has absolutely no shame

he apologises to the girl with a charming albeit insincere tone, and then remains standing in front of the bed/couch until his teammate does what he expected of them

usually it involves not having come to practice

allen learnt a few (emphasis on ‘few’) words of japanese before they travelled to japan and was disappointed that he never got to use them

that said, one of those words was hentai

and now a quick analysis of some panels

a) so there's at least one player who wasn't underestimating vorpal swords. if i were to overanalyse, i'd add that nick's wearing a hoodie (possibly athletic wear) whilst nash has a 'fancy' shirt on; perhaps nick wasn't expecting them to be going to host clubs instead of chilling/training?

b) i know what you're thinking: "how can you say nash is a hard worker when he didn't want to practice for the match". i reckon he was still pretty high on the complete and utter success of their previous match, that plus being around girls, encouraged him to have a more 'jason-y' personality. (either that or fujimaki didn't want to add too much depth/realism into nash's character bc he's unequivocally the villain, right? and obviously this helps with the plot and the jabberwock bad geniuses gom good geniuses rhetoric.)

earlier, i mentioned how nash is the only one that could keep the team together, and is thus the undeniable head of the team; here's a clear example. you can see both jason and zack have no interest in continuing - if anything, there's disgust in their faces, kinda just saying "we spat on all of japan, now we can go home". whereas nash won't allow for the slightest of possibilities that there might exist a team stronger than them, and hence agrees to the match. the key thing here is that the others do as he says without too much fuss.

another thing to note is nash's reference to harakiri. now what can we make of that, alongside his proficiency in japanese, in relation to his character? the way i see it, he's either a weeb or possibly has some japanese lineage. (you could spin that even further and say his mother was japanese, taught him the language, then abandoned him, and hence his almost excessive hatred/mockery of the japanese people.) (is that why he wanted to do another match in japan..?)

just a quick point. "thanks to him" - jason isn't so superior as to think that he could win this match effortlessly without nash's support. links pretty nicely with my earlier idea about how nash is the only person jason has always considered 100% strong.

yet another point about how nash is the strongest of the team in pretty much every way you can think of. you know how scary/powerful you have to be to shut jason up (after he's getting real pissed from being prevented from scoring?)

i personally think this is a pretty important panel, though i've never seen anyone mention it before. did nash grow up training in a professional basketball training situation, as opposed to growing up playing streetball like i suspect the others did? well, to answer that question, imma bring in another panel.

here we see visible rage on nick, zack and jason's faces - they can't accept their loss, which is fair enough. but i'd argue that nash's face seems to depict sadness more than it does anger like to rest of them, look at how downturned his mouth is - and he's looking away from the 'camera', as if hiding his shame.

when you combine that with what he says here, i have no doubt that this is someone who has experienced some proper lows in basketball - as would be expected from someone who's played 'properly'. he's possibly not even a prodigy like the rest of them - compare jason's motto with his. "i have never thought" versus "do not suppose opportunity will knock twice at your door".

there's various lines of thinking you could design with this - he might have been trained by alex (hence, himuro having heard of jabberwock, though he should have known of a team as popular of jabberwock regardless), he might have grown up with professional basketballer parents etc. but here's my own little theory:

nash received serious basketball training from early on - maybe because his parents were living vicariously through him, or maybe he always loved the sport and wanted to be no1. so there he was training away, but, as he grew older, it started getting all a bit too much.

he didn't want to dedicate his entire life to basketball. after all, his hobby is water sports and his speciality is boxing; that's a lot of different things to be keeping up with, whereas the pipeline for promising athletes demands people focus solely on basketball. as a result, nash become bitter: stopped attending practice regularly, got in trouble for trash talk of increasing severity, etc.

result was he was kicked out of the program.

only when he was no longer playing basketball again, did he realise how much he missed it. and hence he got into streetball, where he was tremendously successful as someone with so much training, 'elite skills', and the overly confident attitude to boot.

then, one fateful day, he met jason and the rest is history.

[lovee-infected]

Husband!Leona x Housewife!Reader: Birthday surprise

As you have your birthday today, Leona has a plan to prepare a party for his one and only beloved wife; however, uncle Ruggie and your babies almost burn the house down to ashes when you're out...

Happy birthday @jessamine-rose !♡ Now suffer-

Warning(s): None, just a review on Leona's chaotic father experiment trying to babysit his neko babies.

Note: This work is the continuation of a personal au I wrote for @jessamine-rose s/o and Leona have 3 adorable kittens (babies) in this au; The elder two are twins , a girl named Kaede and a son named Haruki while the baby gremlin is a sweet but chaotic cinnamon roll girl named Lucy (Lulu).

At last, it's here: The big day. Not only Leona seems have been expecting this day to arrive for months, or perhaps, he's been waiting ever since you had your previous birthday last year.

Not that you thought previous birthday celebrations with them lacked anything specific or was incomplete in a recognizable way; but it didn't change the fact that you didn't seem to have enjoyed them either.

Leona is the prince of the afterglow Savannah, after all. As her wife your birthday was nothing less than a national holdiday and he always tented to prepare royal celebrations ever since you married him.

But for some reason, that formal and majestic aura seemed to bother you in a way; perhaps because you preferred to be actually spending time with Leona and your family instead of having to stay in the same spot for hours with your back straightened as you greet thousands of strangers and the rest of the royal family.

Not that you ever spoke of how uncomfortabe and annoying all of those birthday ceremonies were, but you almost let out a relived sigh when Leona tells he isn't going to put out another of those extravagant celebrations.

The night before your birthday, Leona comes to you and mentions hoe it's been a while since the last time you had some time for your own, and he's right: From the day you gave birth to lulu you've been awfully busy with housework and caressing your babies; not that your life could be any sweeter than it is now but you had to admit- You somehow missed the old days when you had more time to spend on your own...

Leona recommends you take a day off, as a birthday treat! You're free to go shopping, take a short vacation to the beach or simply go to your favorite cafe and enjoy your favorite drinks and beverages in peace, meanwhile Leona would take care of the house and kittens so you can have today for your own and all~

Of course you accept his offer, you give him a small kiss on cheek and thank him, the two of you head to your bedroom and you are given the opportunity to sleep on Leona's warm chest for the rest of the night.

Thus you leave the house the next morning after, and now it's time for Leona's secret plan. He's already prepared anything, your favorite flowers, your favorite desserts and food, a very expensive perfume you had liked before, color-matching costumes for both him and the kittens, tiny cute accessories to decorate the house with and at last, tens of gifts from different things he sure knows that you'll love.

Ruggie is charge of cooking, so he gets to preparing muffins and cupcakes while Leona takes care of decorations: Designing the entire house with flower petals, baloons and colorful ribbons would've taken him hours if he were to do that by hand, but using his extraordinary magic skills, the whole house is perfectly decorated and prepared in a second *Chef's kiss.*

Just as Leona is about to let out a proud smirk and return to kitchen to see how Ruggie is doing with he cooking, he hears a sound. He turns his head to find no one but baby Lulu, chewing the decorations.

He runs to her and takes the ribbons out of her mouth, opening her mouth a second time and carefully look through it to see if she's eaten any of them or not. Oh God, he promised that he'd take care of everything when you're out, he just can't let you return home and find out that your baby has swallowed paper, what will you even think of him? Irresponsible partner? Unworthy father? No, he must make sure that baby lulu would be all same and sound until you return home.

He hugs Lulu and puts her on a corner with several baloons to play with, far from anything dangerous she could chew but then baby Lulu discovers a new hobby: popping balloons.

Her tiny fangs have just popped out and her gums often hurt, so she just wants to get her fangies on anything she could chew or bite and wow, this baby is not only totally unaffected by the loud sound of balloons popping right into her face but also finds it quite amusing. Baby begins to laugh loudly and chase after more balloons to chew as she has discovered a new hobby, and before Leona could've stopped her, she pops 5 more balloons with just one bite-

Leona picks her up immediately because if Lulu continued to chew balloons like this nothing of them would be left until you get home-

- But all of a sudden, he smells something rotten, followed by a trail of smoke coming from kitchen. He immediately puts Lulu down and runs back to the kitchen to see what in the great seven's name is happening there-

Leona jumps into the kitchen- just to find Kaede and Haruki screaming and crying as Ruggie's trying to take the black-rotten cupcakes out of the oven. Leona asks what the hell has happened and Ruggie explains he was too busy separating the twins because they couldn't stop arguing whether their mama would like caramel syrup as the topping or sprinkles, so Ruggie totally forgets about the overcooked muffins and cupcakes in the middle of their arguments.

Leona tells him to pull himself and start over- But Ruggie aruges that he won't be able to concentrate on both babysitting and cooking if that's how it's going to be. Leona growls and tell Ruggie to stop being such a wacky hyena and just get back to work without messing up again- And Ruggie explodes.

He starts shouting, Ruggie legit starts shouting in a rare, angry tune which terrified everyone even Leona. He roars that he won't be doing shit until Leona actually pays him for once, and the two start arguing. Just as the chaos is burning the kitchen down, Lulu decides uncle Ruggie's leg looks quite delicious to bite, and in a matter of second Ruggie is screaming as the baby lion's fangs literally pierced into his flesh.

The whole house is filled with smoke, Lulu has taken the entire decorations down and Leona's trying to seprate baby Lulu's fangs from Ruggie's leg. Twins are terrified, so the silently sneak out of the kitchen to call the right person to come for help...

It's past 10 pm when you're done with your day off. You've been giggling over how a day off was just what you needed after a long time, you had told Leona to call if anything went wrong, and thankfully, you didn't receive any calls from him while you were out. Leona really seems to have toughed it out as a father, huh?

You knock at the door, waiting for someone to open it. After a 3 minute delay you take a small look through the house and realize the lights are off. You just get in using your keys and suddenly, a loud "SURPRISE!" makes you jump back and the lights are back on, revealing Farena, Cheka, your kittens and very, very very tired-looking Leona and Ruggie standing in front of you. Leona gives you a weak smile as your confused gaze meets him, at last, they managed to clean the mess up before you got home.

Twins welcome you with a warm hug as they lock their tiny arms around your waist, digging their faces into soft fabrics of your clothes as if they hadn't met you in days, and of course, 12 hours of chaos without mama at home is enough to make them want to never be left alone in the house with uncle Ruggie and dad again-

Ruggie is trying his best not to be rude but he quickly approaches you, wishes you a very happy birthday and excuses himself saying he really needs to be home by this hour. You question the bandages wrapped around his leg, asking if he's alright? Ruggie just- Gulps nervously before turning his head back and stare at Leona who is holding Lulu... Ruggie nods quickly and leaves your house asap, poor boy... maybe you should call him sometime later and asking if he's doing fine?

Back to the party, Farena chuckles as he tells you how his younger brother has been DESPERATELY making plans for his beloved wife's birthday for nearly two months-! Farena explains that Leona even refused to accept Farena's help when he was firstly coming up with the plans, but Leona insisted that he wanted to manage everything on his own.

Aaaaaw Leona's face is a must-see now, his ears dropped down in mild embarrassment and frustration, feeling like a silly child in front of you. Damn- If it was on him he wouldn't have asked for Farena's help once in a thousand years even if if Ruggie and him had ended up burning the entire house; but he must admit, he's glad that twins asked for his help because- It would've been impossible to manange to do all the work on time without his help.

Aaah at least your birthday party didn't turn out to be a horrible mess, but at what cost? Great seven, he was supposed to be your one and only man tonight but right now he's nothing but a fuzzy cat wanting to pass put on his bed.

Yet he still manages to keep his eyes open, at least until you're done with the birthday party and Farena and Cheka are finally out; leaving him alone with you. Gosh, he looks so- you can't even find tje right adjective to describe this but all you can say for now is that you've never seen him this tired before.

You gently take Lulu, who has already fallen asleep in his arms and take her to her bed, asking Leona if babysitting her was difficult by any means. Leona tiredly shakes his head in a no, saying how much of a wonderful girl she was when you were away, and you can tell how much of an awful liar he is.

When the kids are asleep, you come to sit next to a lifeless Leona on couch, damn, just what happened to this household when you weren't around?

Leona's too tired to explain, he just sighs and apologizes for your birthday not being even *close to the best it could be, just to meet your laughter.

Oh lord, he is being quite desperate at the moment ha? Leona was always the dominative and demanding one, to have him serve ypu on your birthday... Oh dear, isn't that already the best birthday gift possible?

You excitedly start to tell him how this birthday was just the best you could've ever asked for: Freedom, A golden time to be spent for your own desires and not anyone else, and aside all of these, you return home just to face a secret party waiting for you!

But most importantly: He had gone through all of these... for you, to make you happy.

You tightly hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing his face closer to yours. Aaaa he looks so cute like this, just like a tired pouty can wanting you to spoil him and to be honest, he's going to need you spoil him for a week at least for him to recovers from that 12 hours of chaos.

It's been a long day, for both you and him. So he just kisses your forehead and bridal carries you to your bedroom afterwards; wrapping his strong arms and thighs around you and jailing you in his embrace. You gasp at the warmth, truth be told having your face burried in Leona's firm chest like this was something you never got used to even after being married to him for years. Damn lion knew how to leave a flushed mess out of you, huh? You chuckle as you struggle to release yourself but hell, the jerk simply pretends that he's already fallen asleep.

Just as Leona's arms are jailing you into his embrace he wonders, today probably didn't turn out to be as good as he'd planmed but well... at least you're happy. That's what he wanted when he whet out of his way planning for today, after all. But he can tell the experiment made him come to appreciate you even more, thinking that you've been caressing all three of your babies for years all on your own while Leona wouldn't have even made it for half a day if Farena hadn't saved him...

[ibijau]

Lapse in memory pt 3 / on AO3

aka the fic where nhs is cursed into amnesia a few years post canon, and came to lxc for help

The worst part of Nie Huaisang’s amnesia, Lan Xichen soon decided, was the realisation that he should have seen long ago that there was something wrong with Nie Mingjue’s little brother.

Although the other man had apparently always possessed frightening self control which made it difficult to know how much his current loss of memory impacted him, he used that control in a manner very different from what he had done after the death of his brother. Instead of displaying eternal sorrow and helplessness, Nie Huaisang was acting exactly the same as he had done before his life took a turn for the worst. He smiled, and chatted with people as if things were perfectly fine, only to break down once alone with Lan Xichen, asking when this person had died, whether that remark had been a joke or a reference to a true event. 

If he hadn't known better, if he hadn't been shown the other side Lan Xichen might have fallen for that new comedy as he had fallen for the old one. Nie Huaisang was good at this.

In fact, as Lan Xichen started remembering over the following days, he was good at many things. 

For example Nie Huaisang was smart, it turned out. After a decade of lies, Lan Xichen had forgotten that, too used to a man who barely managed to pick his own outfits without needing three different opinions, and would make four mistakes in a two digit addition. And indeed, when it came to cultivation, or when Wei Wuxian tried to discuss his ideas about what curse might have hit him, Nie Huaisang was clearly lost. But when the topic interested him, when someone mentioned art or literature, he spoke expertly and always made excellent points. 

Because he had his own duties to attend, and he aimed at being a better sect leader than he had been in the past, Lan Xichen spent little time with Nie Huaisang at first, and thus rarely enjoyed his conversation. Since the other man couldn’t be allowed to wander freely when there was still the possibility that all this was only a deception, Lan Xichen assigned one of his young disciples he trusted the most to stay with Nie Huaisang and make sure he didn’t misbehave. Almost immediately, he started hearing about the heated debates that Lan Jingyi and Nie Huaisang got into over classics, over art, over just anything that could be debated, and quite a few that shouldn’t. Lan Xichen had offered to find another person to keep Nie Huaisang company, only for Nie Huaisang to protest he was having great fun with Lan Jingyi.

It surprised Lan Xichen at first. Nie Huaisang wasn’t a man who enjoyed confrontation.

But he had once been a boy who did. Nie Mingjue used to complain at length about that, as did Lan Qiren when he’d had the dubious pleasure of teaching him. Nie Huaisang once had opinions on just about everything, especially if it could get him out of doing something he didn’t enjoy. Lan Xichen had found it amusing for a long time, and even he had been tricked into the odd argument here and there. But then there had been the war, there had been the constant worsening of Nie Mingjue’s temper, and Nie Huaisang’s tendency to argue over everything hadn’t felt so cute anymore.

After those difficult final few months, it had been a relief, in a way, when Nie Huaisang’s grief had made him so mild and pliable. He had never objected to any advice given to him, agreeing to everything and anything that Nie Mingjue’s sworn brothers suggested. If Lan Xichen hadn’t been so devastated by the loss they had both suffered, perhaps he would have noticed something was wrong.

Perhaps it was guilt, then, that soon pushed Lan Xichen to rearrange his schedule so he could spend a little more time with Nie Huaisang every day. He refused to let him down again. Or perhaps it was selfishness, the joy of having an old friend back in his life, someone who didn't know about his failings, and didn't judge him for being imperfect. 

"Imperfection is more fun," Nie Huaisang claimed one evening, as they sat together inside the Hanshi's courtyard, watching a pair of swallows build a nest under the rafters. "I like you better when you're not trying to be Zewu-jun. Zewu-Jun is a very boring person, while Lan Xichen is delightful company. Do you remember how we used to laugh sometimes when I came here to study? You did such a good imitation of your uncle. And you'd help me with my homeworks, and I'd let you have candies… wasn't that more fun than being perfect?"

"I miss those days," Lan Xichen admitted, something he had never told anyone except Jin Guangyao, once. He'd instantly regretted it back then, realising that Jin Guangyao had never had a chance to enjoy a carefree youth. He didn't regret telling Nie Huaisang who laughed so hard he startled the swallows, making them fly away for a moment. 

"Of course you miss that! Well, I'm back now, and until I'm better I can give you a taste of how it used to be. If I make you laugh enough, you'll stop being angry at me, right?"

“I’m not angry at you,” Lan Xichen said, which to his surprise wasn’t even a lie. This young and innocent Nie Huaisang, whose biggest crime was cheating during exams, who hadn’t yet discovered his own viciousness through fighting with Nie Mingjue and then for him, who could be irritating but always remained endearing… how could Lan Xichen have been angry at him?

“But you’re angry at the man I’ve become,” Nie Huaisang said.

Lan Xichen looked at him, that handsome young man sitting just a little too close, leaning somewhat toward Lan Xichen and yet tense enough that at the first sign of anger he’d probably leap away and disappear, the way he used to do with Nie Mingjue.

Lan Xichen wondered again how he had forgotten how observant Nie Huaisang could be. He should have known. The moment Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji told him that something terrible had been done to Nie Mingjue’s body, Lan Xichen should have guessed that Nie Huaisang knew as well, and that he’d be doing anything to avenge his brother.

“I think I’m more angry at myself than at you,” Lan Xichen said. “What happened, what you’ve done, it was… Maybe you really had no choice, or you thought you had no choice anyway, and I’m not sure I have a right to judge you. You… you still don’t remember, do you?”

“No. I don’t think I want to,” Nie Huaisang said. He started playing nervously with his sleeve, having forgotten his fan somewhere, and hesitantly spoke again. “I don’t think he wanted to remember either,” he whispered. “Him. Me. I… I don’t think it was an accident, Er-ge. I think I forgot on purpose.”

Startled by the confession, Lan Xichen stared again at Nie Huaisang who avoided his eyes. He looked pale, and started shaking slightly, as if again expecting a burst of anger that didn’t come. Lan Xichen was too stunned for that.

“When did you start suspecting this?”

“Right away,” Nie Huaisang confessed, nervously playing with his sleeve, pulling and tugging at the fabric. “It was just too odd that there was nothing at all about those lost years. I found some recent correspondence which let me know I wasn’t on very good terms with you, Jiang Cheng and Jin zongzhu, but that was it. And I know myself, Er-ge. I’ve kept a journal of everything I do since I was seven. Everything important, I write it down so I remember, I should have had a trace of those missing years.”

Lan Xichen nodded. Nie Huaisang had mentioned that habit of his, back when he was studying in the Cloud Recesses. Back then he’d complained that too little happened and he had nothing to write down, but also that homework and studying took so long he almost didn’t have time for his diary. Lan Xichen hadn’t realised that the habit was such a serious one, and he’d never heard Nie Huaisang mention it again as an adult, so he hadn’t thought to ask about that.

“Could it be that you simply stopped doing this?” Lan Xichen asked.

Nie Huaisang shook his head and frowned.

“It’s not just a hobby. My memory isn’t great, I really forget things if I don’t write them down. Everything important… in code if it's too important, of course, I’m only a little stupid. And I hid the journal, and kept all of them, from the very first. I’m the only one who knew where they’re all kept, but when I went to check, many of them had been destroyed, or at least moved somewhere else. Everything after the Sunshot Campaign is gone. Maybe he hoped to forget the war too.”

Not so much the war as what had happened just before it, Lan Xichen thought. He’d heard about the way hostage juniors had been treated by the Wens, and the horror of the Xuanwu of Slaughter killing people in that cave. Nie Huaisang had never wanted to talk about that, Lan Xichen recalled. He usually loved to complain, but on that particular topic he’d always close off or change the subject.

Aside from the death of Nie Mingjue, the terror of the evil Xuanwu had to have been the worst moment of Nie Huaisang’s life.

Without thinking Lan Xichen took Nie Huaisang’s hand, hoping to comfort him. Nie Huaisang startled and trembled, but didn’t try to remove his hand.

“I think it’s like you said,” Nie Huaisang explained, looking pleadingly at Lan Xichen. “That he did certain things because he thought he had no choice. He… I… if someone harmed da-ge, then I’d want to harm them back," he hissed with such rage that Lan Xichen shivered, reminded of the man Nie Huaisang had indeed become. "Even if it was san-ge! I can’t believe he’d do something like that, he’s always so nice, but it doesn’t matter. If I had been sure he’d hurt da-ge, then I… I would…”

“I know,” Lan Xichen said, squeezing Nie Huaisang’s hand.

“I think I had regrets of a sort though,” Nie Huaisang said. “The way it seems to me… I didn’t regret that these things had been done, I didn’t regret that people had died or been hurt, but I didn’t want to live with the weight of that either. I think… I’m a little bit of a coward, Er-ge. I’m fine with knowing I did horrible things, I just don’t want to know what they are, because that way it’s not really me who did them. So I can see why I chose to forget, and I also don’t want to remember.”

Had it been anyone else, Lan Xichen would have found that person cowardly indeed. Just as he bore the guilt of his failures and strove to do better, he would expect others to face their own faults, take their punishment, and try to improve in the future. But Nie Huaisang wasn’t just anyone, and Lan Xichen pitied him too much to wish for his suffering. Nie Huaisang had already been punished enough for what he’d done, having lost his brother, having lost all his friends, having lost the respect of his sect.

Having lost himself, too.

“It’s fine if you don’t remember,” Lan Xichen said. “You can stay here with us. Wei Wuxian seems happy enough to have you around, Lan Jingyi loves having someone to argue with… even uncle said the other day that it’s been a while since he’s had a decent opponent at weiqi.”

“And what about you?” Nie Huaisang asked, his cheeks a little pinker than they ought to be. “Are you also happy to have me here?”

“I am,” Lan Xichen replied, surprised to find that this, too, was the truth.

Partly because he’d always been a little too fond of Nie Huaisang, back before the Sunshot Campaign changed everything and forced him to set aside most of his personal attachments to better serve his sect. Partly, also, because he liked this current Nie Huaisang, who wasn’t quite as naïve and self-absorbed as he’d been as a boy, but lacked the cruelty years of solitude and resentment had taught him.

This was Nie Huaisang as he would have been, had the world been a little kinder. A clever young master who watched the world around him and understood people a little too well, but loved fun too much to ever do anything with what he learned, as long as his loved ones were safe.

“I’m glad to be here as well,” Nie Huaisang said.

He shuffled a little closer until he could rest his head against Lan Xichen’s shoulder. It had been years since anyone dared to be so carelessly intimate with Lan Xichen, who found he didn’t mind. Not if it was Nie Huaisang.

“You know, I’ve talked with Wei-xiong today, about this,” Nie Huaisang continued. “About what happened to me, and why, and how. He thinks it’s a curse, and there’s probably a condition that would allow it to be lifted. There usually is, after all. But I think if I really did this to myself, I'd have picked an impossible condition, because I wouldn't want to be saved from it. So I might stay like this for the rest of my life.”

“And you’ll be welcome to stay here that entire time,” Lan Xichen promised without thinking, squeezing Nie Huaisang’s hand again.

“That sounds really nice. I think I’ll take you on your offer, Er-ge,” Nie Huaisang said with a smile that Lan Xichen would have kissed if he’d dared. Later, while lying in his bed, he would wonder if he should have tried, only to eventually decide it would have ruined the moment.

Perhaps someday, in the future, thing would take that direction. For now they both had too much to deal with, too much to learn again about each other. It was fine. Lan Xichen was content to remain like this, sitting close together, holding hands, and watching those swallows finish their nest.

Just this was already more than he’d ever imagined he would get.

[dreaming-twist]

2. WEB

Some random oneshot for TwstOBer ~ Enjoy please xD

“Sebek, you need to find some other hobby. Do you want to try playing with my PC?”

“Human inventions that have nothing to do with magic? Hmpf! Sounds disappointing.”

“Well, well, at least give it a try, okay? It maybe surprises you.”

“... If you say so, Lilia-sama...”

That was how it all began. A simple proposal from Lilia had been his first and until now last contact with that world. And he still didn't know how he had gotten to the point where he was right now.

That day, in Lilia's PC, he found a program on the web that caught his attention. "Pass on your thoughts or knowledge!" It said. Sebek arched an eyebrow, and ended up creating an account outnof curiosuty with the first nickname that came to mind (Best Bolt) until he came across a recording function. Then he realized what this must be.

“I understand. It should be something like a journal, but instead of writing it by hand, you speak directly to it. Interesting invention, not bad for humans...”

And then, after clearing his throat and hitting the 'Record' button, he began to speak.

“... Hello? ... I don't know how this works, but I will try to adapt. This is my first time using one of these... inventions. It's interesting, but... Hm? Wait, why is there a light that is blinking on the side? Okay... I'll try to fix it. I don't know how the recording is turned off...”

Sebek began to investigate what happened to the computer, and in that time he wasn't seeing suddenly the counter of 0 that appeared on the side of the recording screen went up to 1, then to 2, and thus it began to rise. increasingly.

Once he finally fixed it, he returned to his starting position.

“Done. It was not a problem for me. What could I talk about today... Huh?”

As he was thinking, he suddenly saw an alert glow red on the screen, next to a speech bubble. Sebek brought the mouse to it and opened it, finding the words: "You can talk about anything you want."

“I understand. It even gives you suggestions... What a useful program... I'll talk a bit about myself in that case.” Despite this, Sebek decided not to speak the names of anyone he named... for his own sake. He didn't want to be embarrassed later if he listened to his own diary... “Right now I don't live with my family, so to speak. It's not that I get on badly with them at all; I went away to study and to fulfill my duties and my work. So now I'm living somewhere else, surrounded by... ahem, people. However, the ones I am closest to are... the family of a person I have known since childhood.”

He leaned back in the chair.

“One of them treats me almost as if I were his son, and sometimes I think he cares too much about me and pampers me too much. He has taught me so many things, and I feel that every day I learn a little more from him. I respect him a lot... although he sometimes takes advantage of me and plays practical jokes on me. I don't know if he wants me to feel comfortable and enjoy all of this despite being away from my family... or he just wants to play with me. He left me all this... equipment to test it and 'have fun'. Hum. I think once again he was right. His advice is always helpful.”

He made a mental note that he should thank Lilia.

“And then there is... the one who is the only person my age who has always been by my side. He is a very decisive... person, and too calm, I'll say. That is what makes him fail so much in many things. However... he is the person I have been with the most since children, and despite his failures and the fact that we argue so many times... he is very important to me. We do not consider ourselves nor have we called ourselves 'friends' before, rather it is that in addition to being one of the same rank as me, he is my rival and someone I like to continually surpass. I think he may feel the same way.”

For some reason he was saying things that surprised even him. He had never spoken so openly about Silver. How was this happening? Was he so comfortable talking to himself...?

“And there is someone else, who is who I am doing all this for and for whom I strive every day. He is the most incredible being I have ever met. Always correct, with the greatest power I have ever seen, diligent, perfect... It is directly my reason for being, I am SURE of it. I want to become stronger for him and be by his side to serve him whenever he needs me. I'm lucky that someone like him recognized my worth. He is my role model... Although...”

He bit his lip.

“... I think I'm not good enough to help him, protect him, and still be worthy. But I will be. Not because I started showing results later than others am I going to give up. That is something I am not going to do. I want to make the world see that I can become the best in my course... No; the best ever. And prove that he was not wrong with me. It doesn't matter where you come from, whose son you are, or if your power came to light sooner or later... WHAT REALLY MATTERS IS YOUR PASSION, AND STRIVE EVERY DAY TO KEEP WALKING!”

After blurting that out with a big smile and clenched fists, he soon realized that he had lost his composure a bit. He returned to his starting position, clearing his throat.

“... Ahem. For now I feel like I'm on the right track to achieve that goal. The first step is to be the best in my course. Or so I think. The people I... hang out with, from the same course as me are... peculiar. There is one who seems to be pursuing the same goal as me. But he still has a lot left. I notice conviction in his words but I don't see any improvement in his studies. However, he is stronger than I expected at first, and he excels at P.E. There's another... thing who wants to become the best too, but... I'm not even going to talk about him. That one is a lost case. There are two more who instead appear to be quite normal, but one only seems to have an interest in one thing, and the other... honestly, I don't know what to think of him, but he's very strong. And besides the four of them there is a... person who does not seem to want to improve on anything at all. Or rather, he doesn't seem to have an interest in it. But he is not an idiot, rather he seems like one, and I have learned from other sources that when he proposes it to him, he is capable of being the best student in his class. Perhaps he is the most suitable to call him a 'rival' among them. Although as long as he continues to seem so bored of everything that comes his way, there should be no problem... He also shouldn't like me too much. Although he keeps talking to me. He is an interesting guy.”

Sebek then took a breath to talk about the last person he was missing, after talking about Deuce, Grim, Epel, Jack and Ace.

“And lastly there is this… ahem, person, that came along all of a sudden. They doesn't have the capacity to be here, but they somehow got in and we're on the same course. When I learned of their existence, I felt that I had tried very hard to get here, while they had a special ability, although not the one that everyone else possesses, was able to enter without problems. It was unfair. I have ever thought that they were making fun of everyone.” He paused. For some reason, even though he had blurted it out, he didn't feel good about himself... Was that the whole truth...? It was then that he recalled certain moments that he spent with them from then on. “... But they are very clumsy. I feel like I have to be there to hold them if they falls. Studying with them is not unpleasant, they are capable to follow my advice and understand things quickly. I do not dislike those who strive to achieve their goals...”

Another notification appeared on the side of the screen. Sebek stopped speaking, a half smile adorning his face, and looked at the message, taking advantage of the stop in his monologue. Would it be another suggestion from the program...?

“How beautiful is love.”

The boy jumped.

“WHAT?! NO!!” He yelled at the screen, totally flushed. “H-How can a program say these things?! This is a joke?!”

The notifications came out again and Sebek managed to read some.

“Program? What are you talking about man?”

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with you liking someone, I support you!!!”

“Is Story Time over? I was really enjoying listening to you, Best Bolt”

“I have become a fan of yours! Will you talk about more things another day?”

“Your words are very inspiring!♡”

“Best Bolt u r the BEST!”

Sebek began to check the screen, and saw that next to a symbol that represented an eye appeared the number "5000".

5000... eyes?

WERE THERE 5000 PEOPLE LISTENING TO HIM AT THAT TIME ?!

“Hey. Did you listen to Best Bolt the other day on this popular app with podcasts that premier live?” Ace asked, as he ate his burger.

Sebek stopped eating when he heard that.

“No, but I have heard people talk about him to class people. He seemed interesting” Said Epel.

“I had listened to podcasts, but few that talked about personal life... And he spoke so calmly and in such a sincere and focused way... I wish I could do something like that” Deuce commented. Epel smiled at him, he felt the same way.

“I don't know who you're talking about” said Jack confused. (Y/n) and Grim were just like him.

“He cut the recording suddenly the other day, something may have happened to his PC... But hey, if he comes back I'll let you know for sure.”

Sebek ate without saying anything, next to them, who were talking so happily about Best Bolt, until...

“Sebek, youuuu... well, I don't even know why I ask, in Diasomnia you all are very old-fashioned, right? You don't use technology much... except Lilia-senpai.” Ace started to say, looking at him.

Sebek tried to avoid him as best he could.

“HUH?! A-Ah... No, n-no, I don't have interest in that kind of human-made things...”

“Heee... Well, I'll let you know when Best Bolt comes back anyway. Maybe it surprises you.”

“Y-Yes, okay, thank you” He replied, looking away... where he met the watchful gaze of (Y/n), quite close to his face.

“Sebek, are you okay?”

That was the last straw. Sebek quickly rose from his chair.

“PERFECTLY! AND NOW IF YOU ALL EXCUSE ME, I HAVE TO GO SEE HOW THE YOUNG MASTER IS!”

And with that said, the boy ran towards the exit, while everyone else looked at him.

“... Hey now that I think about it, doesn't Best Bolt look a bit like Sebek? That way of speaking, and everything he said...”

“Ha, ha. Good one, Deuce.”

[eve6262]

viego has a thought

There is no silence in the Black Mist.

The rush of the spirits, their cries echoing in your ears as you stay atop it all, violently swimming to the surface and breaching and staying there, unwilling to let the river of vague black haze consume you again. It’s why Viego is the only one that goes back into it; the others have lost their mind so far they’d be gone in a moment.

On his throne, it is deathly quiet. All he can hear is the rushing wind and a faint piano coming from nowhere. It sounds like sorrow and serenity, an eternity in a moment; it asks him to stop and think and knows his pain and anguish.

Viego does not sit idly on this throne very much. When he does, it quells his anger, and he does not need that. He needs to feel this heartbreak; he needs every moment to be filled with wrenching sorrow that cuts deep enough to shatter his spine and then some. If he doesn’t, Isolde will never be brought back to him.

He can’t do that to her. He can’t do that to himself. Who is this for again?

No matter. He is the king, and he does as he pleases. It doesn’t matter that, much like during his lifetime, sitting upon the throne scared him to his core; he knew he wasn’t ready to rule, wanted to live with a young seamstress alone in a manor a thousand miles away so they could be happy and unworried. The throne is a reminder of all his responsibilities; now it is a symbol of power, within those that have no meaning in life and no tasks to complete save for returning his wife to him.

It is still terrifying.

But he needs to, sometimes. Needs to calm down, sit upon it and think upon what strategies he should employ; more recently, how to deal with that Hallowed Mist. He’s talked it over with Vex, and she pointed out there’s nothing else possible. But there shouldn’t be any more Hallowed Mist; he corrupted it all.

Vex said she would go investigate, took a small bow, and wandered off. He hopes she comes back.

He hopes, violently, that she doesn’t think him incompetent.

When she rolls her eyes or points out something she thinks is obvious, it reminds him. Of advisors that thought they knew better- knew they were better, knew this small child was not fit to be king and thus had to lead him by hand to the answer they wanted. He remembers the chaos that erupted whenever the advisors were evenly split, and wanting to cower in fear at their raised voices and insistence that the opposition was going to get people needlessly killed, and how can you throw lives away so easily? while asking proselatizing about suicide missions and sacrifices.

The piano is ever so slightly louder now. Or maybe it’s much louder.

Despite her similarity to them, though, he feels no malice. Annoyance, maybe, but that’s understandable; he reasons, he would be too, if he knew anything. It can be frustrating to speak to children, so clearly it must be to speak to him, a child who was never given a chance to grow up before the crown was hoisted upon his head. But never malice.

Vex is a very stoic yordle. He feels the malice would be evident, because he has never known them to guard away their emotions like Isolde used to, a very, very long time ago. He has never known tthem to be facetious and duplicitous like Thresh, always waiting around the corner for the moment he’s weakened to strike. He has never known them to be too feeling, too disposed to classify ignorance as willful.

Perhaps that is why this goes so well. Thresh knows nothing, pretends to know everything; Vex knows all, pretends they still need data.

What is Vex doing right now, he wonders? Scouting about the sentinels, probably, trying to figure out what is causing that Blessed Mist. Or perhaps she got distracted, or maybe she has hobbies he doesn’t know about. It seems strange and natural at the same time, because she-

She reminds him of someone-

Not the advisors, maybe not someone he even knew, but there’s some distant memory-

Inaccessable to him at the moment.

Whatever it is, it drew him to Vex, and perhaps Vex to him. It’s likely equal parts the influence of the Mist and Thresh’s presence as his right-hand operative for so long, but he’s grown both weary and wary of turncoats and traitors; someone with motives bright as day is refreshing, and so very enjoyable.

It almost makes him happy.

The piano is so very loud, and yet he finds he can’t mind it at all. It encompasses his heart, plays whatever it feels. There’s still the harsh, sharp notes of his heartbreak, but somehow it finds an undercurrent of something lighter. It’s as if he’s found a kindred spirt among the wasteland that seems to be filled with nothing but souls that have no memory and people that have no values, or nothing but; no real people.

No one with strange reasoning, or motives that make sense in one lense but not another, or that even make mistakes like a human. Thresh misses with his chain because his target darts behind a rock, not because his arm gave way or his aim was off. Kalista leaves a target alive because the mist couldn’t sustain the hunt for long enough, and she needs to retreat lest she be killed. Hecarim doesn’t stumble on rocks or traps, but his soldiers are fleeting and leave him so soon that he has to retreat lest he be pelted with attacks ‘till second death.

Vex has stumbled up the stairs, forgotten her words, gotten confused and done strange things. She walked into the throne room (room? this place doesn’t even have walls anymore) eating chocolate she found in a ruined Ionian shop and reasoned that “it’s good, it’d be a shame to waste it.”

Later, when some smaller plan of hers went so perfectly, his first thought was I should get her some chocolate as a thank you.

Didn’t he do that, once?

He sighs, and gets off the throne. At once, the call of the mist and its rush fill his ears again, and the piano abruptly stops. His wife is waiting.

--

vex being friend and viego forgetting what that means??? it's more likely than you think

~Eve6262

[flowesona]

The Emperor - Yandere! Jungkook x reader

The Tarot Series

(Y/N) was freezing, and the thin material she wrapped around herself did little to help. If anything, it made her feel more pathetic. How the mighty had fallen.

It was insane to think a mere week ago she’d been reading books and eating feasts in the palace with a loving husband at her side, yet now she was stuck in an underground prison being fed barely enough to survive. All thanks to the Emperor himself.

It had started when she’d received a marriage proposal from the Emperor’s brother. Her parents, excited by the prospect of such a high status, had immediately accepted, and within a few weeks (Y/N) was married. There were many aspects to her new life that were overwhelming at first, from the copious amount of wealth and the constant need for guards, but none were quite as terrifying as the attention she received from Jungkook himself. 

The Emperor was on a whole other level of entitlement than anyone she’d ever met. For the first week of living in the palace she didn’t see him once. Supposedly he’d had an argument with his brother over the marriage, as Jungkook had yet to be married himself and thus the matrimony was severely humiliating for him. But (Y/N) had heard of how he’d scared all previous candidates away, and it was clear he didn’t believe anyone would be his equal.

However, one afternoon, he’d requested to have a meeting with her in the gardens. When she’d arrived with her husband, Jungkook had immediately asked him to leave, saying that this was private business his brother had no right in knowing. And once they were alone the questions began.

It was like Jungkook wanted to know every single thing about her life, from her childhood to her family to her hobbies. All the while his eyes scrutinised her, piercing into her soul.

“Do you love my brother?” (Y/N) had felt her heart stop at the question. She couldn’t lie to the Emperor, but she couldn’t say no. 

“I am uncertain, your imperial majesty. But I am sure that my affection for my husband will grow as our marriage perseveres.” 

“I see.” Jungkook looked slightly torn, something clearly bothering him as he dismissed her, but (Y/N) pushed the matter to the back of her mind.

That night, she woke up to the sound of a thump outside her chamber. Cautiously, she reached out for the knife that she kept hidden next to the bed in case of emergencies and climbed out of bed, being careful not to wake her husband sleeping peacefully.

When she left her chamber, she saw the cause of the sound. The Emperor was leaning against the wall, the flush across his face being evidence enough that he was heavily intoxicated.

“Are you lost, Your Imperial Majesty?” (Y/N) asked, hiding the knife away in her sleeve.

“No… I came here to see *hic* you, (Y/N)...” Jungkook mumbled, stumbling forward and looping his hands around (Y/N)’s waist, nuzzling his face into her neck. She glanced towards the guards, seeing them watching the scene passively.

“Can you please accompany His Imperial Majesty back to his bedchamber? He is clearly intoxicated and needs some rest.” (Y/N) called out to them, but Jungkook shook his head furiously.

“No! I’m not going… not without you…” She felt like she was going to be sick as the emperor started to tug at her bed clothes, hands searching for the strings to undo her nightdress. It only got worse as Jungkook started to nip at her neck, leaving behind small marks and muttering something that (Y/N) could only distinguish as “I want you.”

It was when he finally started to go further, a hand lifting up her skirt that she acted, finding the knife she’d hidden up her sleeve and brandishing it.

Then, in a hotheaded moment of pure panic and fear, she slashed at one of his invasive hands. The sight of him withdrawing, clutching the bloody hand to his chest, was at first satisfying, but then terrifying, as his eyes were filled with unfathomable fury.

“Why are you just standing there? She attacked me!” The guards jumped into action at his words, capturing (Y/N)’s arms in seconds.

“What would you like us to do with her, Your Imperial Majesty?” One of the guards asked.

“Put her in one of the cells, we can negotiate a sentence later.” Jungkook ordered, unable to hide to grin on his face. “And where is someone to attend to my hand? Quickly, before I bleed out!” 

Hearing the shouts, more people arrived at the scene, eventually causing such a ruckus that (Y/N)’s husband emerged from his room, just in time to see his wife being dragged away.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

(Y/N) had found her first night in the cell to be less than pleasant, to say the least. Thoughts of her fate kept her awake, dreading what was to come. She lost track of the hours, eventually managing to shut her eyes and sleep.

When she awoke, there was a visitor. Stood triumphantly in front of the bars, with a bandaged hand and a victorious smirk, was Jeon Jungkook.

“You look so beautiful when you sleep.” He purred. Noting the shocked expression on her face, he edged closer, slipping a hand through the bars to reach out for her touch, only for her to shrink away.

“Ah, you should not be so afraid, (Y/N). In fact, I am the one who should be afraid of you, after all.” (Y/N) shook her head, back pressed against the wall.

“You harassed me, but I am the one who is treated like a criminal. This is ridiculous.” She snapped, immediately cursing herself and her sharp witted defense. But rather than get angry, Jungkook just chuckled.

“That’s right. No matter what, I win. But, you don’t have to suffer.” He withdrew a key hanging around his neck to unlock the door, stepping inside.

“I’m sure you can tell from my… actions… last night that I need to be with you. I propose that you may become my concubine.” Jungkook seated himself on the creaky metal bed next to her, the warmth from his body being very much welcome in the cold atmosphere of the cell. He removed the long coat he was wearing and draped it around her shoulders, instantly providing relief. “I am sure that my brother does not care to see you after you attacked me last night, so you would live in my quarters, sleep with me. Rather like a marriage, except obviously we cannot-”

“No.” (Y/N) said shortly. “I’m sorry Your Imperial Majesty, but I will have to decline.”

“Why?” Instantly the Emperor was angered, standing up and shouting. “I could easily have you executed for attacking me, yet I make such a gracious offer and you decline.”

His lip curled into a snarl as he stormed away shutting the cell door with a loud bang and locking it, pulling the key around his neck once more. 

“Enjoy rotting here then. Maybe you’ll appreciate my offer when you’ve seen what your alternative is.”

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

She was barely alive, she knew that much. With only Jungkook’s coat to keep her warm and a few candles on the wall outside to give her light, her days were numbered in these conditions. Of course, he made sure she was nourished, always being the one to bring her a cup of water and a measly portion of food with a taunting smirk and a reminder of his offer.

However, clearly he’d been too busy, or perhaps he was holding out on her just to make her a bit more desperate, as her stomach growled loudly in protest of her conditions.

She could only guess it was daytime when she heard someone enter the room. She barely had the energy to open her eyes, although she didn’t need to to know who her visitor was.

“I’m getting tired of this charade, (Y/N).” She finally peeled open her exhausted eyes to look at him, standing there. There was nothing in his hands at all, offering no hope to (Y/N). “I’ve been so generous to you. So this is your ultimatum. You can choose me, or death.”

She didn’t reply, feeling a sob rise up in her chest at the despair of her situation.

“It’s your choice, (Y/N). Reject me and continue to suffer, or marry me and return to the life of bliss I know that you crave so much.” Jungkook growled. “You cannot continue to disrespect me like this and face no consequences. I am your Emperor, your leader and you will love me.”

When she still stayed silent, he banged a fist against the bars.

“Do you want to die? (Y/N), you are driving me insane!” 

“Please… just stop this…” She whimpered.

“Stop this? Let you out? Gladly! So you’re finally agreeing?” Jungkook looked elated.

(Y/N) just weakly nodded as he unlocked the door, striding over to scoop up her weak form into his arms.

“I’m so glad, (Y/N). I don’t know what I could do without you in my life.”

Yet, as he barked out orders for a bath to be drawn and a hot meal prepared, all (Y/N) could think about was how blessed she would be to have never entered his life in the first place.

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - Queen-of-deans-booty

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Jordan

Age: 23

Location: Arizona, USA

URL: @queen-of-deans-booty 

Why did you choose your URL: Honestly, Dean is the first person I liked on SPN and his ass is so tight and I believe all women are queens so that’s why.

What inspired you to become a writer: I remember reading a book in middle school about vampires, and it’s the first book I remember reading that made me feel all sorts of emotions that books never used to do for me before then. It amazed me to feel these things from a book, and I realized that I wanted to do that for other people someday, thus, is why I became a writer.

How long have you been writing: Gosh, since 8th grade. Might have been a little bit before that, but I remember in 8th grade writing a full book at 20k words, which if I might say, is impressive for a thirteen-year-old.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? I actually am a security guard at a chemical plant. There is some down time to this job, and I try to spend it writing. I even gush to my boss about the stories I write and where I post, and he is all for supporting me about it. When I am not working or writing, then I am either watching Criminal Minds, Manifest, and movies while in my room. With this COVID thing going on right now, I barely leave my house as it is xD

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? Since season 11 was on TV. It was actually after season 11 had ended and before season 12 had started, so in that four-month span, I managed to watch 11 seasons.

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? Yes! I am in the Marvel and Criminal Minds fandom! I used to be in The Vampire Diaries fandom, but I lost my passion for it so I knew my writing was suffering, so I stopped it. I am doing series rewrites for all three of my fandoms along with one-shots and drabbles!

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it?  Yes, I try to. I took a NaNoWriMo class in college that made me write my first real book, so that is exciting. I also took fiction classes that made me write poems and short stories. I do want to get into writing more original fiction, but right now, I am focusing more on fanfiction.

Favorite published author: I love Riley Sager, B.A. Paris, James Patterson, Ruth Ware, and there are specific books I adore, but they aren’t from the authors I mentioned. I tend to like books rather than authors.

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: Vampire Kisses by Ellen Schreiber. That's the book that I mentioned about inspiring me to write, and I dedicate my love for writing to her.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc):  I really enjoy reading fluff, but I enjoy writing angst because I feel I can have a lot more emotions and feels when I write angst.

Favorite piece of your own writing:  My SPN series rewrite. I am currently planning season 7, and I am in the process of releasing season 6. I have gotten so many good reviews of it, and that fuels my passion for it.

Most underrated fic you have written: I can’t think of any at the top of my head. I tend not to look back on my own writing too much. I’ll have an overwhelming need to rewrite it and fix it up, and I don’t need that right now xD

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Is it bad to say my series rewrite? It’s already a show, but I’d like to see my version of the show. If I can’t pick that, then my original fiction novel that I wrote that has over 70k words. That would be pretty cool.

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): @impala-dreamer, @torn-and-frayed, @crispychrissy, @kittenofdoomage, @acreativelydifferentlove, @saxxxology, and there are others, but those are some of the people that come to mind.

Favorite fic from another writer: Can I mention a few? Rock, Paper, Scissors by @impala-dreamer, The Curious Incident of Episode 14x09 by @luci-in-trenchcoats, On the Road by @notnaturalanahi, Cherry Surprise by @crispychrissy, A Change of Scenery by @cass-trash, and On the Case Files (Criminal Minds fandom) by @hotchnerfuckmeup​.

Favorite character to write: For Supernatural, it’ll have to be Dean Winchester. For Marvel, it’ll have to be either Loki or Bucky. For Criminal Minds, it’ll have to be Spencer Reid

Favorite Pairing to write: I only write reader-inserts so the characters don’t really matter as long as it’s x reader.

Least favorite character to write (and why): For Supernatural, it’s Crowley. I don’t know why, but I can never seem to get him right. He’s more sadistic and hardcore sometimes and I just can’t get that right.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor?  I don’t really have anyone right now. It used to be my teachers/professors, but I graduated and I don’t see them anymore.

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? I want to be a published author. That’s all I want. I want to see my books on the shelves, and I’d also love to be a fiction editor! I can’t do anything right now because of COVID, but hopefully one day!  

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: More than I can count right now. Like seriously, I probably have over 100. I have a bunch of bingo cards that I have ideas for, but I have so many that they all just pile on. There will come a time when I get through all of them, but I don’t know when.

What are you currently working on?  Right now? Some requests and my spn series rewrite.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? Like I mentioned above, it’s Ellen Schreiber. She is the one person that made me want to become a writer. Also, all my followers on all of my blogs. They are the truest influencers because they are what gives me passion for my writing.

Best writing advice you've been given: Write as if you’re the only audience. I’ve learned that if you don’t like what you’re writing about, then your audience will certainly see it. You can’t please everyone, so please yourself. There will always be someone who loves your writing for what it is, so don’t go changing it to please others.

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Trying to pace myself. I’ve heard of people spending two or three days (or even longer) on a fic. It’s either all or nothing with me. I either spend two or three hours on a fic and complete it right there and then, or I don’t write it at all. Pacing is an issue for me, and I am always trying to spend longer on a fic. I guess I just type really fast, I don’t know.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? I find that trying to keep the character as canon as possible is most difficult. While it’s not always super hard, it does have its moments. All fanfiction are AUs, so it’s okay to change the characters to make them your own. While I don’t think one should make them the complete opposite if they are wanting to stay within canon, I do believe it’s okay to change a few things around.

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): I want to write ships. Now that I think about it, I’m not quite sure why I don’t write them. Maybe it’s time that I start.

What inspires/motivates you to write: Feedback!!! Reader’s don’t always see it, but every piece of feedback I get makes me want to write. I do better knowing there are actual people out there that are looking forward to what I write. I do better knowing that real people are reading them and judging it. I do my best knowing that there is an audience. If I don’t get feedback, then that motivation just goes away.

How do you deal with self doubt: I’m not so sure I always do. There is always a voice in the back of my mind telling me that my stories are complete and utter shit, and I shouldn’t bother writing anything. It’s why I take a step back from writing so often. When I first started my blog, I came out with fics every single day. I was always writing new stories. Now, I may get a story out per week. Maybe two per week. I know when it’s time to take a break for a few days because it gives that voice time to calm down. My best advice for someone dealing with self doubt is to just take a break. Separate yourself from the thing that your mind is telling you that you suck at. Take care of you before jumping back into it. Trust me, it helps.

How do you deal with writer's block: Kind of the same thing as I mentioned above. I have suffered from writer’s block a lot more than in my earlier years. Sometimes, I just don’t have the motivation or the passion to write, and I just get so mad at myself for not doing it. One of the things that help me is writing down my ideas. Yeah, I get ideas that float in my head about stories I’d like to write, but actually writing them down makes them concrete. Then, I am able to make notes and side notes and notes of my notes about what I’d like to happen, and before I know it, I’m writing it.

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: ALWAYS! Always, always, always plan your writing, especially if you’re doing a series. It’s good to know what is going on in your story. You don’t always have to follow it to the exact detail (you’re allowed to make changes as you go), but having a plan makes it easier to get through your story. You’re able to look back at it and remind yourself why you're writing that exact scene or if something needs to be added or taken away from it. If you have a plan, then you’re less likely to lose that passion since you know what’s going to happen. You’re able to see the finish line well before you start.

Do you have any weird writing habits: This may be weird, but I like to listen to Got U On by Darci feat. Nessly, Highest in the Room by Travis Scott, some music by Juice WRLD, and other loud rap songs. Don’t ask me why, but I find the music soothing when I write. Those rap songs sound the same to me, and their voices just drown out so I’m just listening to the music. There are other kinds of music I listen to like piano instrumentals and rain/thunder sounds, but it’s really any song I can tune out.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? I don’t want to sound arrogant or snobby, but I can honestly say I’ve never received one hateful comment on anything I’ve written (knock on wood xD). I’ve only received good things about my stories, and I think it has something to do with how much good energy I am putting into the world. I believe in karma, and I tend to be nice to everyone regardless of who they are, and I think it comes back to the kind of comments I receive. However, I always think about what I’d do or say if I’ve ever gotten a hate comment. I wouldn’t encourage them to send more hate, but I wouldn’t apologize either. I write the stories I write because it makes me happy. If they don’t like it, they can go somewhere else. Though, I know those hate comments can get to some people, and here is what I have to say about that: remind yourself of when you actually wrote the fic. If you were truly happy about it, then it shouldn’t matter what that person says. You love it, and that’s all that matters.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic?  I have to pick a favorite? XD I have an album in my phone of screenshots I took of my favorite comments left by my followers. I’ve been compared to John Green, there have been comments that thank me for giving them an escape from their realities, people have told me they want to write just like me someday, people have told me that my work has made them smile and get chills, that my stories are the highlight of their week, and a bunch of other stuff. I am just shocked that there are people out there who think this. It means so much to me, and I get tears when I read them because this is literally my dream. I can’t thank my followers enough for the comments they leave, and this is exactly why it’s so important to leave feedback.  

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be? Write for you. I can’t stress this enough. I’ve mentioned it before, and I’m going to mention it again. If you’re not happy, it will show through your writing. Your audience will see it based on how you word things and your flow of ideas. On another note, please brush up on your grammar. I can’t tell you how many times I read such an interesting summary, and noticed the story was full of grammatical mistakes. It made me not want to read it anymore. I’m sure it was a great story, but I didn’t want to put myself through that just to read it.

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Wavelength

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 1 | Part 2 Wavelength | Part 3 >

Disclaimer: none, perhaps some beach wear? If that tickles your fancy.

Author’s note: It’s romcom weekend, okay? 😘

Word count: 1.949

(Link to my Masterlist)

[ Alice.in.writing.land ]

Dear readers.

Sometimes I wonder. Do I know you as you know me? This morning an anonymous caller called in on the radio morning show to let people know that this Durrell paparazzi craze was hurting the island. Trash everywhere. The dogs barking all throughout the night. All and all, lots of grievances.

Now I know, and I think many people with me, who called. Pitchy voice, concerned about dogs and annoyed with island guests? I’m not going to ring up any names, but.. we know her. And not wholly unimportant: we love her for her concerns, albeit that they sometimes are a bit over exaggerated.

Anonymity only goes so far. And I am rather bad at keeping it, aren’t I? You know my name, my hobbies, my frustrations and how much I love my Jersey. An island that is home to a great many colourful people, wonderful souls. I wonder if any of you readers call Jersey your home too.

And if so.

Have I ever met you?

Just a thought, a blurb, a swindle of the mind. I love you all and wish you, as usual, a splendid Saturday.

Ali

Home is where the hearth is, and in my case, where the waves hit the white sanded beach near my parents place. I remember growing up here so well and I praise myself lucky for having lived here for so long, my family and friends always eager to come over and visit. 

Many a day and night have been spent here, the beach our witness as great memories were made and lifelong friendships forged.

It was, simply put, a very good beach.

I smiled into the early morning sun, a soft breezing caressing through my brown hair as I brushed past the long dune grasses, making my way to my favourite hide-out near the rocks on the far right end. A truly perfect spot for sun bathing without being sand blasted and the water just right for a swim, the sea quickly reaching swim-worthy depths.  

And the best of it was: you had to be a local to know of this place.

It wasn’t particularly easy to reach and thus it was, despite the Durrell craze, desirably quiet in here.  

Reaching my destination I slipped out of my simple summer dress, my sticky skin requiring a quick rinse before I would indulge myself in my two favourite hobbies; sun bathing and writing. Which in all honesty would make up most of my Saturday, as my friends were too occupied with their kids’ soccer practise, grocery shopping or any of the other very adult things to do.

I let the cold water wash away any of those concerning thoughts - how much of a non-adult I was for having reached none of that - and swam out further into the bay.

This was me, at 37. Swimming. Alone.

‘HEY! Ali!’

Okay, not quite alone. BegrudginglyI turned around, my eyes squinting in the reflections of the water. I saw a man wave at me. A dog by his side. An akita..a…hold on..

I felt my heart flutter for the splittest of seconds.

Henry? What the hell was he doing here?

With quick and sure strikes I swam back to the shoreline, the clear definition of Henry wearing a blue shirt and some airy linen pants appearing right next to the spot where I had left my clothes. Panting ever so slightly I waded out of the water, not quite sure what to say or do as I walked up to Henry.

Henry gave me a quick look up and down, then swallowed semi-awkwardly, a boyish smile turning up on his lips.

Well, that hadn’t changed.

‘Hi Henners.’ I said, filling in the silence.

‘Hi Ali.’ He smiled, still a bit unsure of what to say or what kind of face to pull. Meanwhile Kal wasn’t half so hesitant, the large akita pulling on his leash to get closer to me.

I chuckled and ruffled the dog behind his ears, then pointed at my clothes that lay behind Henry. ‘Just gonna..fetch a towel if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh yea sure. Sorry.’ Henry stepped aside and Kal looked up at him, almost as if asking his owner why he was being such an awkward dork.

‘So…long time no see.’ I grinned, wiping myself dry with the towel, Henry’s eyes now averted to the sea - perhaps to watch the waves, perhaps to offer me the slightest of privacy. ‘Yes. A whole 23 hours.’ He smiled, blue eyes gazing at the aquamarine water.

‘And now you are in dire need of some down time.’ I stated, stepping in beside him, the towel now wrapped around my body.

‘Kind of..yea.’ He looked to his side, his eyes far more relaxed and at peace than they were yesterday. Yesterday I met Henry the actor. Today it was..just Henry. I smiled and nodded at a picnic rug I had brought along. ‘You can join me if you want. I even brought cake.’

‘Thanks. I’d like that. Though no cake…unfortunately..no cake.’ He folded his lips in disappointment, then quickly turned them back up into a smile.

‘Alright then. I guess you Hollywood stars survive on salads and champagne alone then, huh?’ We both chuckled. ‘Don’t let my team hear that, or I won’t be allowed to drink champagne either.’ He raised an eyebrow in amusement, sitting down on the rug after I folded it out, moving some of my things to the side.

It was weird to say, but it didn’t feel weird at all to sit here with Henry. Sure, he looked different - older, broader and slightly more sorrowful, but the twinkle in his eyes had remained. Henry was still Henry. My bubbly, slightly chunky neighbour Henry with whom I always loved to play and make homework with, was still somewhere deep inside this man.

‘I heard you lived at your parents now, so I decided to pay you a visit. Yesterday was a bit…eh..’ ‘-Weird.’ I interjected, grinning at him. ‘Yea. I honestly didn’t know you still lived here on the islands. I always thought you’d be one of those mainlanders - living the London dream.’

I shook my head, licking my lips and moving my hand through Kal’s thick fur - the dog now also stretched out, right in between me and Henry. ‘Nope. And perhaps I should have. So far my life’s been a bit..’ ‘Weird?’

We both laughed. ‘I was going to say: different than I expected. But weird would do. At least I feel weird. Living with my parents again at 37. I mean..what’s wrong with me?!’

‘May I ask..why? I mean..I hope nobody’s ill or..’

‘Oh no. This is just me failing at finding a life partner that actually wants the same things from..’ I hesitated again, looking up into Henry’s face and seeing bitter recognition. ‘Never mind I shouldn’t unload all that bullshit on you. Hmm…’ I shook my head and looked back at the sea, my voice quiet, but my mind once more racing.

Just a few weeks ago I had broken up with my boyfriend of seven years. Chris. Whom I had thought to be perfect for me. Relaxed, fun, caring. But unfortunately also; not on the same wavelength. And that is, apparently, especially when you really want to have a family, damn important.  

‘Perhaps I can lift your spirits with the knowledge that I am not doing much better. On the relationship department, that is.’ Henry sighed into the fresh morning air, the scent of hot sand starting to rise up into our nostrils.

It was going to be hot today.

‘Surely you could lift a finger and the women come swarming.’ I grinned, eyes finally meeting his again. Almond browns looking into deep blues. And once more I saw that slither of shyness cross his features. Or was it uncertainty? Sorrow?

It was clear that Henry wasn’t jumping at the fact that women would come swarming at him.

‘Too bad I don’t like swarming women.’ He smiled.

There, you had seen that right, girl.

‘Well then you do know what you want. That’s quite unique for a man.’ I said, realising a tad too late that such a thing was a bit mean to say. Henry furrowed his brow, then tilted his head. ‘I feel there’s something underlying that statement. Something happened?’ His question was honest and open, no feelings hurt. I sighed. ‘Ugh. Sorry about that. Chris, my ex, just left a bit of a sting that’s all. He didn’t want the things I wanted, after years of hesitating on his end. And you know..”the clock’s ticking”.’

‘Well. Same I guess.’ Henry shrugged, making me snort. ‘You’re a man Henry, you can children way into your 60s!’

‘No! No..Not really. I mean..I don’t think I could have children that late. I want to actually be there for them. Be there when they’ve grown up.’

‘Always so considerate.’ I smiled, then sighed again, seeing him return my smile, his eyes holding a pensive glint. That was, until he shook his head, laughing at his own thoughts.

‘What?’ I asked, chewing the inside of my lip.

‘Nothing.’

‘Mmmm..You’re an awful liar Cavill. The lot of you actually. Only your mother could ever keep a straight face.’ We both laughed. ‘Might have to take up some acting classes then.’ He winked.

I rolled my eyes, then continued: ‘Remember when you and Charlie had baked that terribly dry cake? UGH. And then you put so much icing on top it was like the titanic all over.’

‘ALI!’ He exclaimed, embarrassed at the memory of presenting this cake for a local baking contest - which of course went miserably.

I chuckled. ‘What?!’ I smiled with playful innocence.

‘Well I practised in the mean time, just so you know.’

‘Good for you.’ I laughed, earning myself another one of his discerning looks, which made me laugh even harder, louder, snorting as his face melted into one of full-on exasperation.

‘You!’ Henry growled, his long arm reaching out for me and pulling me effortlessly into his chest, making Kal quickly get up and move out of the way - the dog could feel this was not a good place to be right now.

I squirmed, wiggling in his arm, trying to get away from him before he could launch some tickles in my sides. Like the old days. Though now it was so very different. We were grown ups now. Grown ups didn’t do this, right? 

‘Hen Hen! Hen! What if people see us? What if..’ My breath was short, chuckles still escaping my lips as he stopped his assault, his arm remaining locked around me, refraining me from going anywhere else. ‘Like I care.’ He laughed. ‘We’re old friends. Heavens. We were toddlers together. Besides, we still have that pact, remember?’

I looked at him incredulously, then blinked, a blush creeping over my cheeks. ‘The.. pact.’ I mumbled, licking my terse lips, quickly looking back out over the water, not wishing to look into his eyes now he suddenly was so very close. Now his musky scent reached my eager nose.

He smelled so good.

‘And we’re way past 35 Ali.’

‘I know. We’re getting old Henners.’ I sighed, the last of my chuckles melting on my lips, my head quite naturally leaning into his shoulder.

And he felt nice too.

Ugh, it was nice to touch a man again. To be around Henry again. The sweet, chubby boy had turned into a gentle hearted hottie. It left me wondering how it came to be that a man like him hadn’t found a good woman yet.

‘You’re thinking very loudly Ali.’

‘Mmm..then indulge me. What am I thinking about?’

Henry chuckled. ‘Me.’

--

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @mary-ann84​

Fluff lovers squad: @star017​ @perhaps2remember​ @pterodactylterrace​ @witchersqueen​ @desperate-and-broken​​ @toomanyfandomsshreya​​ @deliciouslysassyarcade​​ @pamacs-macs​​ @cavilladdict​​ @scorpionchild81​​ @lebguardians​​ @sofiebstar​​ @amberbabem​​ @mis-lil-red @aestheticqueenb​​

Want to be added or removed to the tag list? Shoot me a message!

[trashassassin]

Two Halves of a Whole | 6: Impressions and Honesty (Vergil x Reader)

LORDT. The original prompt that inspired this one was “hairbrush spankings” and the idea got completely away from me, but in a good way, I’d reckon. I swear to god I didn’t mean to make it this long, and yet, here we all are.

In this installment, you and Vergil finally begin to reconcile after the mysterious happenings that have yet to be named that I’m sure everyone has already figured out by now, with the help of everyone’s favorite beverage: red wine. Or my favorite, anyway.

Extremely heavy on the fluff. Like, this is on par with some of my Leon stuff, if I’m being honest.

Word Count: 4780 (jfc)

Warnings: Mild Language, Suggestive Themes, Sweet and Fluffy as Cotton Candy

At last, the day had come that Vergil would return to your apartment, only this time, not in a dream, as he had the previous time. You'd finally gotten him to sit down with you and have an honest conversation about what happened, in no small part due to Dante's incessant urgings.

You were aware that they had been selfishly motivated. The fact of the matter was, he simply couldn't take the two of you constantly hovering around each other any longer, waiting for the other to speak first. 

You had also found yourself growing fed up with the whole thing, but Dante had you beat in the confrontation department by far, so he had been the first to speak up. And a part of you was glad that he did. But another part was terrified of where it would take you.

You were well aware of the fact that your coffee table had gotten suitably clean quite some time ago, and yet, you continued to rub the cloth over it as though a prize would pop out from its surface, stopping to glance up at the clock every so often.

How surprised you were to find that only another single minute had passed each time.

You'd been attempting to occupy your mind with meaningless tasks to stop it from racing. This would be the first time you would be properly alone with Vergil and this thought scared you, even if you weren't entirely sure why.

Your fear of confrontation definitely had a lot to do with it. Raw, honest conversation was no more a strong suit of yours than it was of his and you were worried that the two of you would spend the entire evening silently staring at the wall.

So, that was it. You were pacing around your apartment in terror, your heart beating out of your chest, because you were afraid of a bit of awkwardness.

Once you'd finally accepted the cleanliness of your furniture, you made a quick run upstairs to deposit the cleaning cloth into the laundry hamper before you forgot, because nothing would make him get fed up with you and go home like a single, out of place washcloth cluttering up your living space.

You rolled your eyes at your thought process, but if you left the cloth out, you knew that it would be the only thing you'd be able to focus on for the entire evening.

As you reached your bedroom, your mind was bombarded with another slew of issues.

Was it inviting enough? It had been a long time since you'd had anyone up there, so making it presentable wasn't at the forefront of your mind anymore. But it was a bit presumptuous of you to act as though he was going to see it, wasn't it? Was it even advisable for the two of you to sleep together at this point?

You suddenly had a great many questions, none of which anyone, least of all yourself, could give you an answer to.

You would have to play this entire thing by ear. There was no guide you could follow, and there was certainly no way you could predict his reactions to anything given the way he'd been behaving thus far.

Still, you decided it couldn't hurt to tidy up your room a bit just in case. You even brought out the scented candles again for the first time in quite a while and lit one before heading back downstairs.

You were reasonably satisfied that everything was in order, though you were sure that you would find something that was out of place after he'd arrived.

You had to stop and consider what your end goal was here. It wasn't as though it were necessary to impress him. If anything, he should be the one scrambling to make a good impression on you.

And yet, even after everything that had happened, all of your worries boiled down to the simple fear that he wouldn't like you anymore. You found him a bit intimidating now, even if it was irrational. For all intents and purposes, he was the same person he had been, but you found yourself questioning more often than you would have liked if you were still worthy of him. He was so powerful and you were so, well, ordinary, and that was a fact about you that would never change.

You did want to impress him; you wanted that very much. But you were also afraid of overdoing it. You didn't want to appear desperate.

You were even considering whether or not preparing a meal would be seen as excessive. Surely, that was the polite thing to do whenever one was expecting guests, so you put your insecurities aside in favor of common sense.

You'd hardly eaten anything all day, given the fact that your nerves had your stomach tied in knots, so this would benefit you as well as him. There wasn't a whole lot that sounded palatable right now, so you would have to decide on a dish that you had the ingredients for and would also be able to force down once it was finished.

You opened the fridge and sighed. How long had it been since you'd gone grocery shopping? Much too long, clearly. Such mundane tasks had fallen by the wayside as of late.

But, you did have a few things left. As you examined the ingredients before you, you came up with a plan. Spaghetti would be good. It was inoffensive, mindless, and not too showy.

You took out everything you would need—a package of ground beef, which you made sure to sniff in case it had gone off, a couple of onions, and some bell peppers—then brought them over to the counter so that you could begin to prepare them.

As you went to close the fridge, you noticed something else that may be of use to you: a bottle of red wine that you'd purchased quite some time ago sitting atop its surface. You'd never been much of a drinker, but you figured that there had never been a more appropriate time than now to break it open.

Perhaps this was a bit shameful, but at this point, you would have done just about anything to take the edge off while you waited. 

You opened the bottle and poured yourself a glass, then got to work. 

Cooking was typically a relaxing activity for you, one of several hobbies that whisked you away from the outside world, if only temporarily, but on this particular evening, it had no such effect. You took a large gulp of your wine and considered your options. 

Perhaps some music would help. You lifted your phone and scrolled through it a bit to find a playlist that would set you more at ease. 

You went with something instrumental before returning your attention back to your chopping.

You took a sideways glance at the clock on the stove once you'd finished with the onion. You still had a good thirty minutes left, and you weren't sure if this should make you feel relieved or concerned. What you did feel, however, was a healthy mix of both. 

At least you wouldn't have to rush through your cooking. 

You were already beginning to feel the effects of the wine once you'd finished chopping all of the vegetables. Your heart had stopped racing, at least, but you were beginning to worry about embarrassing yourself by the time you'd finished the entire glass. 

But, as you thought about it more, you supposed the time for embarrassment was over. The two of you had already been brutally honest with each other and you figured that there wasn't much either of you could say at this point that would drive the other away.

You tried to convince yourself of this as you continued with your cooking.

Is spaghetti too boring? What if he doesn't like it? Does he even need to eat? I've never seen him eat before. Dante definitely seems to like eating. But what if he only does it because he wants to appear more human?

You slammed your utensils down on the counter and took a deep breath, willing yourself to relax. You were going to survive even in the event that he didn't enjoy your spaghetti.

But it wasn't about the spaghetti, and you knew that. You recognized that your choice of what to serve for dinner was much less consequential than, well, everything else, so it was much easier to give that all of your focus as it was something you could easily control. 

You set the ground beef on the stove to brown, then finished off your glass of wine and contemplated getting another. No, you would save that for when he arrived, if he wanted one as well. You didn't want to be the only one drinking, and you certainly didn't want to be the only one drunk.

What would that be like? You had a lot of difficulty imagining a scenario in which Vergil would have the time, let alone the desire, to get drunk and you were very curious as to how such a thing would affect him.

You almost wished you'd asked Dante for advice before going through with this, but realized that you never would have, even when you had the opportunity to do so. You had too much pride for that, which you accepted as one of your weaker points. So much of your current dilemma would be easily solved by speaking up and asking the right questions.

You promised yourself that you would finally start doing this when you saw Vergil tonight.

The dinner preparations were going exactly according to plan and you were relieved that you'd managed to finish everything up with a little over five minutes to spare. You were even more relieved that you'd managed to make it all the way through without going for a second glass of wine.

You'd mixed together a salad while the sauce was cooking and were in the process of setting everything up on the coffee table when you heard a knock at the door.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

"Just a second," you called out.

He'd arrived exactly at your agreed upon time and not a single second before or after, so you were glad that you'd given yourself so much leeway in getting everything prepared.

You finished up the last of these preparations, then took a deep breath and went to answer the door.

You weren't exactly sure what you had been expecting to see on the other side, apart from the obvious, but you were immediately struck by just how ordinary he looked standing there. He was wearing much more average clothes now, his outfit consisting of a black turtleneck sweater and a pair of dark jeans.

So, he hadn't lost his propensity for all black clothing. This amused you, but you tried not to show it.

"Hi," you said, and he simply nodded in response. "Uh, come in."

You motioned him inside and he stepped across the threshold, still not saying a single word, or even taking a moment to acknowledge you.

Yes, the wine had been a good idea after all, it would seem.

"I made dinner, if you're hungry." You stood beside the coffee table and stared down at it. "To be honest, I didn't know if you guys eat, but I didn't want to be rude by not making anything."

You looked up at him and the expression on his face suggested that you'd offended him.

"I didn't mean-" This was going poorly already. "Not that there would be anything wrong with that. I just didn't want to make it weird."

Clearly, you were failing on that front.

He took a seat on the end of the couch and simply said, "Yes, we do eat."

You took the seat beside him and continued to stare at the coffee table as though it would be able to offer you a way out of this.

"I have wine too, if you'd like some," you said.

"Yes, thank you," he replied.

His response relieved you somewhat as it gave you an excuse to finally pour yourself a second glass.

You poured one for each of you and held yours in your hand, while his remained untouched along with his food.

"Look, I'm sorry," you said.

Was he still offended about the food thing? Surely there was some way you could get him to open up.

He finally glanced your way.

"Why are you the one apologizing?" he asked.

"I don't know," you said. "Maybe because you're acting like you don't wanna be here?"

He shook his head.

"I was actually a bit surprised when you agreed to meet me on these terms," he said.

"Well, I didn't even think you wanted to see me again, so that makes two of us."

"No, I wanted that very much."

He lifted the fork from the plate in front of him and began to poke at the noodles upon it. Was he nervous? You found the idea somewhat laughable.

"You could've fooled me," you said, and you regretted it as soon as it left your mouth. "I mean, you have to understand why I feel that way."

"Yes," he said. He continued to stab at his noodles without lifting any of them from their place. "I am aware that I can be a bit difficult."

A bit?

You managed to hold your tongue this time. It would not behoove you to make fun of him; he was trying, and you had to give him credit for that.

"Well, thank you for making it out here," you said. 

"Thank you for having me." 

He set down his fork at last and inched just a bit closer to you, looking as though he wanted to say something else. 

Instead, he returned his attention back to the plate and finally took a bite of the food you'd prepared. You held your breath as you awaited his assessment of it. 

"Did you make this?" he asked. 

"Yeah," you replied. 

"It's good." 

"Thank you." 

You could've cut the tension hanging over your living room with a knife.

"Are you going to eat?" he asked. 

You shook your head. 

"Maybe later," you said. "I'm not that hungry."

His lips curled into a nearly imperceptible smile. 

"So, you made all this food for me?" he asked. 

This was your moment to make good on the promise of honesty you'd made to yourself earlier. 

"Honestly?" you said, and your stomach flipped. "I've been really nervous about this whole thing." 

"About seeing me?" he asked. The smile was still there. "How foolish." 

"I know that. I don't know, I just get so worried that I'm gonna mess this up somehow." 

He turned to look at you with an expression of disbelief. 

"I know," you repeated. "It's not rational. I just… Well, I like having you around and I don't wanna lose you again." 

Even under your pledge of honesty, you weren't quite ready to express the extent of your romantic feelings for him. After a few more glasses of wine, perhaps, but not as things stood at the present moment. 

"That's certainly not something I hear very often," he said. 

"Well, I mean it," you said. 

You just couldn't take this distance anymore. You hadn't allowed him to come here so that the two of you could have a polite chat. The evening was turning out exactly as you'd feared and you had to do something. 

And so, without another word, you leaned toward him and rested your head against his shoulder. 

Part of you expected him to push you away or to ask what the hell you were doing, but instead, he simply allowed it. 

It was as though a huge weight had been lifted from your chest and suddenly, you weren't feeling quite so anxious anymore. And you felt that he had relaxed somewhat as well, his shoulder noticeably loosening the moment you touched it. 

This was all that you truly wanted. In that moment, you realized that all of the anxiety you'd felt while getting your apartment ready had been an illusion created by your mind to distract you from the truth: you simply wanted to see him and to spend time with him, no matter what form that took. But, deep down, you feared that none of the things you could come up with would be enough for him.

You leaned a little closer and nuzzled his neck. 

"I'm glad Dante didn't kill you," you said. 

"I'm pretty pleased with that fact myself," he said. 

You breathed a sigh of relief.

That simple, lighthearted exchange had dissolved so much of the tension in the room that you felt your anxiety starting to melt away, and your appetite began to return at last. 

                                                       *      *      *

Once the two of you had finished eating, you found yourself faced with the entirely new, albeit much less significant, question of whether or not you were going to invite him to spend the night. 

Things had been going well thus far. You'd managed to keep them from becoming awkward again, so it wouldn't be an inappropriate question. And he didn't seem to be making a rush to leave at the moment. 

You came up with a few different ways to ask, all of which condensed down into, "I'm starting to feel pretty tired." 

"I see," he said. "Then, I suppose I should be going now." 

You reached out your hand toward his arm in an attempt to stop him from heading out the door. 

"Wait!" you called. "I mean, I'm sure you're tired too, and you've been drinking, so it's probably not a good idea for you to drive home right now." 

"I metabolize alcohol more quickly than a human would." 

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he making excuses to leave or was he truly that dense?

You sighed and tried again. 

"What I'm trying to say is," you said. "Would you like to spend the night at my place?"

It was as though a light bulb had flicked on behind his eyes as soon as he'd processed what you'd said. 

"Oh," he said. "Yes, I would like that, if you're sure." 

"Yes, I'm sure. I asked you three times." 

"Did you?" 

You rolled your eyes. So he was that dense after all. You made a mental note to be more upfront with your propositions in the future. 

"Yes, I did," you said. "I'm gonna get ready for bed now, so feel free to join me whenever." 

You started up the stairs and weren't at all surprised when he didn't follow you. If he continued down his current trajectory, you feared he would try to sleep on the couch to be polite. 

Still, you'd managed to get your message through to him in the end. At least your efforts to straighten up your bedroom hadn't proven themselves to be a waste.

You began your usual nightly routine and had almost made it all the way through by the time Vergil had joined you upstairs. If it weren't for his reflection in the mirror in front of you, you never would have noticed him, as his footsteps were completely silent. He walked into the room and stopped just in front of your closet, then stared at it as though it confounded him in some way. You finished up brushing your teeth, then went to see if there was anything you could assist him with. 

"Looking for something?" you asked as you poked your head out of the bathroom. 

"I wasn't expecting this, so I didn't pack anything with me," he replied. "Would it be out of line to ask to borrow some of your clothes? I'd rather not sleep in this."

"Sure, that's fine. If you can find something that fits, that is."

You went to join him in front of the closet in order to help him look. You did have a number of oversized shirts that you liked to wear to bed, so perhaps he would be able to find something suitable among them.

He was taking his time in making a selection, so you decided to choose one for him. 

"How's this one?" you asked. 

You took a navy blue t-shirt from its hanger and held it out toward him. He took it from your hand and draped it over the front of his body. 

"It may be a bit tight," he said. 

"Well, I didn't exactly have your body in mind when I bought them, now did I?" 

He shot you a sideways look, but tucked the shirt under his arm anyway. You then made another selection, a pair of plain sweatpants that had always been slightly too big for you. 

"Thank you," he said.

With that handled, you returned to the bathroom to continue getting ready for bed and he began to change into the clothes that you had given him. 

You were on the very last stage of your routine, which involved finally letting down and brushing out your hair. You'd put it up in a simple bun as part of your attempt to impress him, so you got to work removing all of the bobby pins you'd stuck in it, accepting the fact that you would likely continue to find them after you'd woken up the next day. 

As you leaned closer to the mirror, it became apparent that you had a very clear view of Vergil in the reflection within it. You made a half-hearted attempt not to stare, but in between extracting bobby pins, you could stop yourself from glancing back.

His clothes may have been perfectly ordinary, but his body underneath them was anything but, which hadn't been apparent to you when it was mostly hidden beneath the thick fabric of the sweater. He was still facing toward the closet as he changed and you found yourself transfixed as you watched the muscles of his back flex with every movement. 

Even when you had long since run out of bobby pins, you found that you couldn't tear your eyes away. He had been right; your shirt was way too tight for him, particularly in the shoulder region, and it only served to emphasize his shape all the more. 

He put on the sweatpants and abruptly turned, prompting you to scramble in order to make it look as though you had been doing something other than shamelessly ogling him.

You made a grab for the hairbrush beside the sink and began to brush out your hair, perhaps a bit too aggressively to be convincing. 

He walked back toward the bathroom and hovered behind you as he examined the outfit you'd given him.

"You're right, that shirt is way too tight for you," you said. You turned around to get a better look at him. "Not that that's a bad thing." 

Perhaps it was the two glasses of wine in your system, or perhaps you were feeling emboldened by the positive turn the evening had taken, but regardless, you found that you were unable to resist the urge that came over you. 

"My clothes look pretty good on you," you said. "Dare I say, you wear those pants even better than I do." 

You walked around behind him and, without a word, smacked his ass with the hairbrush you still held in your hand.

His body tensed and he froze in place.

Oh no. 

Had you actually upset him? His eyes shot toward you and you weren't exactly sure what to make of his expression. 

He stared you down for a moment, then said, "give me that," as he made a grab for the brush. 

You somehow managed to move it out of his reach just in time. His second attempt was equally unsuccessful and you ducked beneath his hand, then took off running back out into your room.

"Give it to me!" he said. 

It came out as an order, but his tone was noticeably playful, removing the lingering concern that you'd caused any actual offense. 

He took off after you and paused just before you, freezing you beneath the door frame, blocking your path further out into the room.

"Make me," you returned, and you ducked beneath his arm before running back toward the bed. 

You were forced to stop again in order to avoid tripping on his clothes, which were now in a pile on the floor, and he took the opportunity to tackle you. 

"You're gonna regret that," he said, his breath tickling your ear as he pinned you down against the mattress and began grabbing at your wrist. 

In spite of all of your flailing, he finally got a good grip and brought it to a stop, then wrenched the brush free from your grasp with the other hand. As your body stilled and you turned to look up at him, you realized that he was laughing. 

For the first time since you'd known him, he appeared to be genuinely happy. 

You smiled as well, and giggled at the sight of him holding the hairbrush triumphantly over your head.

"You're ridiculous," you said. 

"I'm ridiculous?" 

He sat upright and placed the hairbrush onto your nightstand.

"Just can't let me win anything, can you?" you asked. 

You sat up as well and placed your head on his shoulder. 

"I have my dignity," he said. He sat quietly for a moment, then continued, "I can't thank you enough for having me over tonight."

"I'm glad you came back," you said. "I really did miss you, you know." 

He took hold of your right hand and held it to his chest.

"I was beginning to think that you would never find it in your heart to forgive me," he said. "Not that I really deserve it." 

"Oh, hush," you kissed his cheek. "What's done is done. You can't erase what you did. All you can do is keep moving forward, and that's what you're doing, isn't it?" 

"I suppose you're right." 

You brought your left hand up to match the right and gave him a gentle squeeze. 

"There will be more than enough time to talk about this tomorrow," you said. "For now, let's try to get some sleep, okay?" 

He nodded and you stood to turn off the light, then extinguished the candle before settling back into the bed. 

"Water under the bridge," you said. "I promise I'm not gonna lord this over you, or anything like that." 

"I wouldn't hold it against you if you did," he said. 

"Well, I'm not going to." 

You crawled under the blanket and laid down on your side. 

As soon as you closed your eyes, you realized just how exhausted you'd become. The adrenaline rush of the chase had masked it for a bit and it was all coming crashing down on you now.

You had just about drifted off to sleep when you felt him move a bit closer and work his arms beneath yours, wrapping them around you.

"I know you're probably asleep," he whispered. "But." He sighed. "You've been so good to me, from the very beginning. I don't think I could ever offer you a suitable repayment for everything you've done for me." There was a rather lengthy pause, and then, "you've shown me that, perhaps, humans can be kind after all." 

You had to smile at this. Even now, he was too ashamed to share his true feelings with you. You considered allowing him to believe that you truly were asleep, but instead, you turned over toward him and took his face in your hands. 

"That's really sweet," you said. 

Even in the darkness, you could see him turning red. 

"I didn't know you were still awake," he said. 

"Clearly." You smiled. "It's okay. You can be honest with me. I promise I won't judge you."

You gave a large yawn and snuggled up to his chest. 

"I'll try to keep that in mind," he said. 

And so, all of your fears had proven themselves to be unfounded. Perhaps you could find a way to make this work after all.

It was with this thought in mind that you finally began to drift off to sleep, soothed by it and by the feel of his arms around you. It just felt right, like this was the way things were supposed to be all along, even if it took a while for them to get there.

You could rest assured that, tonight, he was still going to be there by the time you awoke the next morning.

[ryqoshay]

Tri-Arame: A Train’s Delay

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~1.6k Rating: G Time Frame: During their 2nd year in high school Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: Writing the last scene made me want to give Ayu’s perspective on the early development of things among the three.

“I’m telling you, the pose will be really cute.” Yuu insisted as she and Ayumu stepped off the train. “The fans will love it, so we should definitely work it into your choreography for the next Live.”

“I’ll think about it.” Ayumu conceded.

Yuu’s obsession with school idols had led her to performing a ton of research, so there was little doubt as to the extent of her knowledge. However, Ayumu knew she had to temper the advice with the fact that Yuu called pretty much everything about her cute. Though as embarrassing as it often was, Ayumu couldn’t say she disliked it. And she was in no hurry to tell Yuu stop anytime soon. It just meant she had to gauge things carefully and occasionally seek a second opinion. A critique from someone like…

“Setsuna-chan!” Yuu called suddenly.

Yes, Setsuna was another excellent source of school idol information. And in the newly reformed club she was learning how to be more accepting of other views on the genre. Thus… Wait, she was here?

Sure enough, Ayumu looked in the direction Yuu was already running to find their fellow second year. Having just disembarked her train, she now stood facing them, her dark hair in twin braids and her glasses donned.

A flash of excitement crossed Setsuna’s face as she saw her friends before she visibly quashed it and forcibly reigned herself in. “Please, I’m Nana right now.” She said, giving a quick and nervous glance to either side, as if expecting her parents to get off the next train and catch her in a brief moment of not being the studious and somber girl they expected her to be.

Ayumu felt something wrench at her heart. She didn’t like seeing her friend having to repress her passions, especially since it was Setsuna who had ignited passions within herself and Yuu. She enjoyed watching Yuu be open about her obsessions with school idols, not only because she was incredibly cute when excited, but also because it helped keep her inspired to continue working on becoming more open herself. It was for these reasons that she and Yuu had invited Setsuna to the mall with them the other day, to give her a few hours to be truly open and honest with her interests.

“Ne, Nana-chan,” Yuu effortlessly switched gears “wanna walk to school with us?”

“I’d like that.” Nana replied. “Good morning, Ayumu-san.” She greeted the redhead with a polite bow.

“Good morning, Nana-san.”

Though genuine, the smile Nana offered was far more reserved than those she typically displayed as Setsuna.

“You know,” Yuu continued “Ayumu and I have taken this same train every day since we started high school and we’ve never crossed paths with you. Did you take a different one today or something?”

“No, that was my normal train.” Nana shook her head. “They just had a delay at the station before me.” To prove the point, she held up the delay certificate. “Though I suppose if you two usually arrive at this time and do not suffer punctuality issues at school, I don’t really need this.” She slipped it back in her bag anyway instead of discarding it in a nearby recycling bin.

“So I guess today was just an accident.” Yuu surmised.

“It would seem so.”

Yuu shrugged. “But at happy accident at least, ‘cause we get to walk together now.”

Another reserved smile.

“Anyway, I was just telling Ayumu that she should consider using this pose at the end of her new song at the next Live.” Yuu paused to demonstrate.

Nana stopped as well to examine Yuu thoughtfully. “Ayumu-san.” She said suddenly.

“Eh?” Ayumu wasn’t expecting to be addressed.

“Would you mind taking this position? I believe I might better judge it by observing the correct subject.”

“S-sure…” Ayumu battled the rising sense of unease at the concept of making idol poses in the middle of the walkway while dressed in her school uniform, as opposed to on stage in an idol outfit.

“Hrm… Perhaps if you moved your forearm up a bit more…” Nana reached out to make the adjustment. “And your other arm like this… Turn your wrist… Maybe shift your hips… And your torso…”

Ayumu almost bit her tongue as Nana’s hands slid up her waist to the sides of her ribcage before gently guiding her to the new position.

“How about this, Yuu-san?” Nana took a step back to admire her handiwork.

“That’s amazing, Nana-chan!” Yuu marveled. “Ayumu’s pose is even cuter like that!”

Cuter? Ayumu tried, likely unsuccessfully, to swallow down a blush.

“Indeed.” Nana agreed. “Although, I cannot take all the credit. The pose is only accentuating the existing high level of cuteness.”

Oh no… It was one thing when Yuu constantly called her cute, but now Setsu… Nana was joining in as well? Ayumu felt the heat overflowing from her face, up to her ears and down her neck. Geez… if she was going to survive as an idol, she would have to get better at handling these kinds of things.

“And Yuu-san set up the base work well.” Nana continued. “It is obvious you know much about your subject.”

“Subject? Ayumu? Of course I know her and her cuteness well.” Yuu puffed out her chest as though she believed the accomplishment was worthy of great pride. “But Nana-chan, you really know your stuff when it comes to idols. I may know Ayumu's cuteness, but you were able to help me truly refine the pose to ensure it shined at its brightest. And I'm still trying to learn the other girls in the club. I may have to have you teach me your ways so I can better observe you guys during practice and give better advice after.”

Though clearly enjoying the praise, Nana continued to keep herself reserved. Ayumu felt a bittersweet emotion start to fill her, displacing the embarrassment from earlier as the conversation shifted away from her. She wanted to see her friend like she was when the three of them went to the mall together. Back when the anime-obsessed girl was practically vibrating with excitement like a puppy, so much so that Ayumu had wanted to pat her on the head and scratch under her chin. The girl walking with her now was behaving instead like a puppy being cautious in its excitement after being scolded for doing something wrong.

Except Nana hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not as far as Ayumu could tell. She was merely guilty of having hobbies unapproved by her parents. It was for this reason that Ayumu and Yuu had reached a mostly unspoken agreement to provide an outlet for Nana to be Setsuna and freely celebrate her passions. The idol club certainly helped, but idols were by no means Setsuna’s only interests.

It wasn’t the easiest of tasks. On entering high school, Ayumu had tried to mature and move on from many things of her childhood. Yuu had an easier time picking back up former interests, but it had taken the burning passion of someone like Setsuna to remind Ayumu that it was alright to hold on to some things. In that regard, Ayumu felt somewhat indebted to Setsuna, so she was repaying it by helping her indulge in her interests.

Then there was Ayumu’s jealousy. As club activities continued, she was becoming increasingly aware of such emotions as Yuu lavished her attentions on the other idols. And when Yuu and Setsuna lost themselves in something, it was difficult for Ayumu to avoid feeling left out.

However, the rewards for the task were plentiful. When Setsuna truly let loose, her smile was nothing short of contagious. And Ayumu couldn’t help wanting to see it more.

The trio continued to talk idols and make plans for practice later that afternoon as they completed their walk toward school. Nana was adamant about helping perfect Ayumu’s performance and maximize her cuteness. Yuu suggested bringing in Kasumi, their local specialist on the topic of cuteness, to which Nana agreed. All the while, Ayumu’s thoughts continued to focus on how much Nana was holding back.

“Thank you for allowing me to accompany you this morning.” Nana bowed as the three paused in the front entryway of the school.

“It was our pleasure.” Ayumu assured her.

“Yeah, that was fun.” Yuu agreed. “Maybe your train will be delayed again tomorrow?”

There it was. That was the smile Ayumu had wanted to see. Perhaps Nana felt safer within the school walls? Or perhaps it was a result of spending time with trusted friends? Or both. Ayumu quietly hoped it was at least in part due to the latter.

“See you at practice.” Nana flashed one more smile before turning away and heading toward her homeroom.

“I sent you the link so you can view them later.” Yuu said as she and Ayumu stepped off the train. “Their choreography is amazing! I think we can learn a lot from…” Something caught her attention. “Nana-chan!” She called before taking off.

Ayumu glanced ahead along Yuu’s path. Sure enough, leaning against a nearby pillar was their fellow second year.

Nana looked up from whatever study material she was reading. “Good morning Yuu-san, Ayumu-san.” She smiled and bowed politely.

“Good morning, Nana-san” Ayumu replied as she caught up to her childhood friend.

“Don’t tell me I jinxed you with your train?” a concerned expression crossed Yuu’s face.

“Oh no,” Nana assured “my train arrived on time just fine. I just…” she glanced down and hunched her shoulders a bit “I had so much fun yesterday morning I thought perhaps we might walk together again today? If… that’s alright?” She looked back up with a hopeful expression.

Yuu laughed. “Of course, it's alright, Nana-chan!”

“Yes, it’s definitely alright.” Ayumu agreed. “Let’s walk together again.”

Even in its reserved form, Nana’s smile still managed enough of its contagious nature that Ayumu was compelled to reciprocate. And with that, a new morning tradition began.

Author's Note Continued in Followup Post

[astrodances]

Scroldie Weekend 2020: Day 3 - Klondike

Happy Klondike Day!

Woohoo Woo-oo!

I’m so, so happy to finally get to share this - my take on the Blackjack Ballroom, Goldie’s dancing saloon in Dawson, made using The Sims 4 (on PS4)! (Featuring Sims versions of Scrooge and Goldie)

This has been a year in the making and has been quite the journey - I started making this during last year’s Scroldie Week (as a reference for one of the chapters of my story, Always the Lady In My Life - I was just picturing it so perfectly in my mind, I had to make it). Besides my story, its design + layout was mainly influenced by Rosa’s Klondike-based comics, some of Barks’ paintings (namely, “The Goose Egg Nugget” - see the 2nd pic in the photoset above - and “Nobody’s Spending Fool”), DT87′s “Back to the Klondike” episode, and some scenes from @iamthehousethatfloats​ Fortune Favors the Gold (and I was super honored when she and @koizumi-marichan​ used my Sims Blackjack design for inspiration in a chapter after I had shared some preliminary photos 💜).

I finished the building last July, but I may or may not have gotten sidetracked with learning how to legit play poker and blackjack in another PS4 game before sharing this. 😅 (Though that game also has a ballroom with a stage that definitely gives me Scroldie feels.) At some point, I also found out that PS4 Sims players would be able to upload to the gallery soon to share their creations, and then this year, just recently, they came out with The Sims 4 Eco Lifestyle, which includes auroras as a feature, so I had to wait to include that in these photos, too. (They’re so pretty aaaah!)

Photo descriptions for above, split into “rows”:

Exterior of the Blackjack on a snowy winter’s night (totally from Scrooge’s perspective)

a) Recreation of Barks’ “The Goose Egg Nugget” (minus everyone else but Scroldie XD) b) Recreation of that infamous scene from Rosa’s “The Prisoner of White Agony Creek” (+ House’s retelling of it ;))

Scrooge and Goldie dancing together in Sims versions of their formal outfits in DT17′s “The Golden Lagoon of White Agony Plains!” (and them dancing in those outfits is based more on that episode’s museum scene, but I’m just having it here at the Klondike shh)

a) Goldie looking out from her dressing room window towards... b) ...the trail to White Agony Creek, hoping that her letter reaches its destination (this row inspired by the end of Rosa’s “Hearts of the Yukon”)

Goldie giving Scrooge a big ol’ kiss by the fire, just because ;)

a) A beautiful aurora over the Blackjack b) Goldie swinging along onstage, singing about gold nuggets (based on DT87′s “Back to the Klondike”)

The beginnings of a gorgeous sunrise over the Blackjack, leading the way to White Agony Valley... 😌

Up next, I plan to make a certain little cabin... 😏

I’ll include the Gallery link to this lot in a reblog of this post, for any Simmers out there who want to download it!

In the meantime, enjoy a bunch of layout + other screenshots and descriptions under the cut! :D

** A quick note about my take on the layout: I know that in the comics, the stairs to the second floor are usually (at least) on the left side of the ballroom (looking towards the stage), and that they tend to head seemingly backstage, but particularly for my own story that I built this for, I have the stairs just on the right side, and they lead up to the dancers’ rooms and have a little balcony looking out towards the stage.

** Second note that you’ll have to use your imagination with the stage a bit. Since foundations (and thus stages) are tricky when used indoors in TS4, the stage is the same level as the rest of the first floor. I just made it a different flooring and put a threshold-type fence along the edge of it. But it works! :D

First things first, some overviews (please forgive any snow flurries getting in these shots XD):

^ Overview of the exterior

^ Overview of 1st floor (entrance is on the right) - we have the bar in the top-right, restrooms bottom-right (mainly needed to serve as a community lot in the game), poker and eating tables in the central area, staircase leading up to the second floor in top center, and the stage far left!

^ Overview of 2nd floor - it’s just on the right half of the picture (the railing should serve as the cutoff). These are the dancer girls’ rooms - starting from the top-right corner and going down in a backwards “L” shape: first two rooms are generic dancer girls’ rooms, then their bathroom, then Snake Hips’ room in the bottom-right corner, and Goldie’s room next to hers!

Now for a walkthrough (littered with so many comics references aha)!

^ About to head in after walking all the way from your claim, and you look over your shoulder to see her face on the moon this stunning view? Sign me up.

^ Coming inside, this is what you see first thing (*love of your life standing against a backdrop of flames onstage not included)

^ Here’s the bar, off to the right of the last photo!

^ Don’t forget to hang up your hat and coat by the door! (But don’t just stand right there like a big dope. The owner hates that...)

^ Some overview shots of the place looking from the stage. The first one in particular is as close as I can get to the image I had in my head of this scene for my story, where Goldie and Scrooge are sitting on the edge of the stage looking out over the place. Note than you can see Goldie’s room up there on the far right of the second story...

^ Close-up of the little fireplace nook I added in! Note the little steamboat model on the mantel of the fireplace. Sure would be a shame if it...caught on fire...

^ Shots of the stage! Of note, the last one is from the balcony area in front of Goldie’s room (can see into backstage-left from here). I like to think that Goldie liked to spend some of her time here overlooking her establishment, looking for her next victim to swindle or perhaps a certain sourdough in particular...

(Also, kudos to anyone who can spot the very subtle not-duck-related decor choice I accidentally made regarding the stage. 😉)

^ One of my particular favorite parts - the dancers’ dressing “room” backstage-right! This is where Goldie was in photo 4a for the original photoset of this post, where she’s looking out of the window towards the mountains.

^ Heading upstairs now, here are some rooms! First, the two generic dancer girl rooms, and second, Snake Hips’ room! (I like the camera I gave her on her nightstand - perhaps she would take up photography of the town as a hobby! :D)

^ And finally the last stop on our tour before you drink some suspicious coffee and wake up in the snow hours later is Goldie’s room! That glyph above the fireplace totally isn’t a “poison glyph,” what ever gave you that idea? 😅

And so ends the tour! Now time for a couple last fun bonus shots:

^ House and Mari, this one’s for you! ;D

^ This one’s really for anyone who just wants the setting of the coffee scene!

^ Idk, perhaps there were some nights Goldie couldn’t seep and would wander to a window to see a view like this.

^ It really is beautiful, isn’t it?

If you made it this far, thank you, and I hope you enjoyed the tour!

Again, I’ll be reblogging this post with a link to download this lot from TS4 Gallery!

[jenovahh]

Comm 08 - Grand - NSFW

Rating: NC-17/Explicit Tags: Fem!WoL x Elidibus, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Penis in Vagina Sex, Fingering Commission from twitter from a user who wanted to remain anonymous! ===========================================================

“It’s a bit late to be coming one’s room this late, is it not?”

Your eyes have yet to open as you hear the telltale sound of the rift yawning wide. Unbothered, you lie relaxed on your bed in the Pendants, dressed in a silk nightgown that seemed incredibly luxurious for someone as hardy as the Warrior of Light. And usually you would wear more practical sleep wear…

But he didn’t have to know that.

“Would you prefer I whisk you away before your companions in broad daylight?” The voice is masculine, the baritone of his voice rich like brandy and soothing like menthol. “If you have grown so bold…”

You hold up a hand to stop his speech, finally turning to face him on your side, not bothering to retain your modesty as the silk glides on your skin, riding up your legs. The nightgown usually reaches your calves (and it wasn’t like you didn’t have shorter ones), but even you can hear the slight hitch of your intruder’s breath.

Would that you could see the expression to go along with his gasp. Unfortunately, that insufferable, red mask is in place. Robes of white trimmed with gold shimmer in the low light of your room, clawed hands resting casually at their sides. Your eyes focus on rosy lips, watching how a pink tongue swipes over them quickly before a clawed hand reaches up to cover it as he clears his throat.

“Elidibus.” You acknowledge, choosing to not answer his question. You never liked thinking hard on what your friends would do should they find out you flirted (which, at this point was putting it lightly) with the enemy. They could never understand, you had convinced yourself in your deepest nightmares, plagued by visions of a past you could not fathom. Visions you were not sure if they were your own, or perhaps--

“I admit, I was expecting you to arrive earlier.” You sigh, moving to sit up. You can feel his eyes on you beneath that mask; feel how his gaze trails across the bared skin on your shoulders, the hair thin straps of your gown the only thing protecting your modesty. “Had you not come when you did, I would’ve closed my eyes to rest for tonight.”

“Then pray forgive my tardiness,” Elidibus breathes, extending a clawed hand. “I would make it up to you, should you still give me the chance.”

You stare at the offered hand warily, feeling an abrupt surge of hesitation roll through you. All at once does the weight of all the teasing, the sly looks and wayward glances feel like they’ve caught up with you. He could easily spirit you away, never to return, having played the long con to earn your trust and have you play right into his hands. The Warrior of Light disappearing in the middle of the night in what was supposed to be the relative safety of her room…

“Having second thoughts?”

His voice is teasing, taunting. Bait, and a knock at your pride. Your thoughts must be written on your face, your inner turmoil an open book. He knows as well as you do that he is powerful; an ancient. Magic that mortal eyes have not seen in millenia, powers that your mind could not possibly comprehend.

But he is taking the same risk, is he not?

You have struck down two of the three, unsundered Ascians, leaving only the one in white, The Emissary as the sole survivor. You've rolled it around in your mind how he could possibly bear to be here given that fact, knowing full well you have slain his brethren and could do the same to him.

"Do you think me afraid?" You huff, standing to your bare feet and closing the distance between you. Placing your hand in his, the cool metal of his claws nearly stings against your warmth. You do not flinch, giving nothing away.

"Warrior of Light? Eikon Slayer?" He scoffs, somehow knowing the adverse effect your titles have on you. "I do not offer fear. Merely...understanding."

You nod, running your fingers along his leathery gloves, tracing nonsensical patterns. You gaze at him from beneath your lashes, feeling how he tenses. "What shall we be understanding tonight then?"

Even beneath his cowl you can see his throat bob as he swallows. Being able to have him on edge in this way is far more of a power trip than dangling white auracite in his face could ever be. "You and yours seem to think us some unfeeling harbingers of doom," he starts, finally encircling your hand with his own. His claws bite into your skin just enough to be painful, but not enough to draw blood. "I thought I might follow in Emet-Selch's example, and show you what you fight against."

Before you can ask any further the void opens wide, and so do your eyes as your stare back into its inky depths. He gives you no warning and pulls you forward, your instinct making you dig your feet into the tile of your room, but his grip is too strong and you are pulled inside. Strangely, the darkness feels like a caress, its magic whispering across your skin like how the smoke of burning incense crawls along the floor. It feels like an eternity until you are pulled through to the city of Amaurot, still as pristine as Emet-Selch had left it. A chill washes over you, your body releasing a light shudder that does not escape your...companion's notice.

"Would you like a cloak, perhaps?" He offers, his hands already weaving dark fabric into existence. You stare at it warily, pouting as you do.

"Had I known where you would take me for our outing, I would've dressed more appropriately," you snark, taking the cloak from him. The material is softer than silk, so thin that it almost feels like water in your hands. With a smirk, you give him a sly look. "Would you assist me in putting it on?"

"Are you shards so incapable of the simplest of tasks?" He questions, and you swear you can hear an upraised eyebrow. Clearly you needed to be a little more...forward.

"Hardly." You snort, moving to put it on yourself but just as you move it lifts from your hand and drapes itself around you. Despite how sheer it is the warmth it provides feels akin to the pelt of a mammoth. "Thank you." You murmur shyly, pulling it closer to yourself.

Tucking his hands behind his back, Elidibus begins to walk. "This way, Warrior of Light." It is only due to your many encounters with him that you can hear the resentment which taints your title. "I doubt Emet-Selch spared the time to explain the structure of the true world."

"He did not explain much at all," You murmur softly, giving him a weak glare. Despite yourself, you follow behind him, gazing up at the tall towers that somehow reach further below past your sight.

As the two of you walk, he explains multiple functions of buildings, drawing you further into his world. Even though the recreation was of Emet-Selch's making, leaving it subject to misremembrance, it was so accurate that even Elidibus could traverse it easily. Listening unlocked a deep sorrow within you, a hole you could not quite place.

"Where did you frequent," you ask, cutting him off mid-explanation, "in your spare time?"

He pauses to look at you, studying you from behind the safety of his mask. "What makes you think I had such time available?"

"From our encounters I have gleaned you are a man devoted to duty," Almost bordering on obsession, you add mentally, "But I would be a fool to think that in a world where you were nigh immortal, that you didn't have something as mundane as a hobby."

He allows himself a brief chuckle at that, his hand raising slowly. "You are more perceptive than most," he compliments, dark magic swirling around you, transporting you once more. As it fades you find yourself in a grandiose auditorium, curtains made of the finest velvet lining its walls, seats trimmed with gold. You spin in small circles as you take in its splendor, in how elegant it looks. It is a wonder how it manages to flaunt such wealth yet does not look gaudy or tacky in any way.

"Before I had assumed the mantle of Emissary," Elidibus begins, causing you to face him. His voice carries through the space easily, his dulcet tones practically surrounding you. "I would oft hold concerts."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. "You were a musician?"

"Am, Warrior." he tuts, waggling a finger. Just as he finishes the motion with a wave of his hand does he create a grand piano from thin air. Its glossy wood shines in the stage lighting, the black lacquer so polished you'd think you were looking in some twisted mirror. "Are you familiar with the arts?"

Biting your lip, you circle the piano, wishing to touch it but afraid of getting even one smudge on its surface. "I do not have time for such things," you admit, well aware of the irony.

He's aware of it too, an infuriating smirk gracing his pouty lips. "Then allow me this lesson," he makes a grand sweeping gesture with his arm as a piano bench weaves itself into existence, taking a seat with all the poise of a professional. "Let us see what untapped talent lies within you."

Feeling too much like you've lost the high ground, as you move to sit you take care to allow the robe to part, reminding him of what lies beneath. You cross one leg over the other, the silk riding up your thigh and you can hear a claw scrape against an ivory key. "By all means," you purr, daring to even scoot closer to him, leaving barely an ilm from his shoulder to yours.

"There seven notes, and therefore one key for each note, and they are the white ones," he explains. "They repeat themselves, from A, to G."

You lose yourself in his lesson, watching with mild fascination at his careful instruction. If he had other plans by bringing you here, he has surely lost them for he is so caught up in teaching you properly. You find yourself wishing you could see the skin of his hands beneath those gloves, and you catch your eyes drifting to the movement of his lips more often than they should. Unfortunately, it seems that your advances thus far have gone undetected, so you decide to turn on the charm.

Closing that small gap between you, you gaze at him from beneath your lashes, lips parted in a pout. "Would you play something for me?"

If your question is not enough to stop his lecture, the warmth of your body against his own is. His hood casts just enough of a shadow that you cannot see his eyes still, but you can feel the deep intake of breath. "I have nothing to play that you could possibly recall." He defends, tongue darting out to swipe at his lips.

"Does one attend a concert solely to hear things they have heard before?" you counter easily, going as far as to lay your hand atop his own that still rests on the keys. "Show me this skill you claimed to have."

However, Elidibus is not as prideful as Emet-Selch or even Lahabrea, and your barb bounces off. "I have nothing to prove to you, Warrior." His voice is firm, but non-threatening.

"Then why did you bring me here?" you question, pressing even closer to him. Your cloak has slipped from your shoulders, revealing your supple skin to glow under the stage lights. "We are enemies before we are companions. What brought you to the Warrior of Light's rooms to steal her away,"

Before you can finish the sentence he's pressed his lips to yours as best he can with his damned mask in the way. It takes you by surprise, but his sudden confidence gives way to hesitation, and you easily take control of the kiss. "Zodiark help me," he breathes, even though between the two of you, you're the only one who needs the air.

You reach to try and peel back his hood but his hands are like stone as they catch your wrists in their grip, the points of his claws pricking your skin. "That is an intimacy you've not yet earned." Despite the underlying threat in his voice, you can hear the hunger, the unabashed desire suffusing his words.

"How does one go about it then?" You rasp, pressing your chest against him. "How might I see the man beneath the mask?"

"I am no man," he rumbles, guiding your arms to link around his shoulders. "But I am not immune to...worldly pleasures. Even if it has been some time."

"It sounds like you've devoted yourself to duty too much," You comment, instead choosing to place kisses along his jawline, feeling how smooth his skin is. "Perhaps I may provide a distraction?"

"A distraction," he echoes, his hands trailing down your sides, feeling the curvature your nightgown refused to hide. "Very well."

Hands at your hips, he urges you to leave your spot on the piano bench to straddle his lap, the skirt of your gown riding even higher. His hands are gentle, but greedy, a shuddering sigh passing his lips as he gives the meat of your thighs a testing squeeze. "Has it been long for you?" you ask out of curiosity.

He huffs a bitter laugh. "Even in days of eld have I ever focused on my duty." Through with words, he brings your lips down to his own, slightly hesitant until past experience catches up with him, as if relearning how to nock a bow. He tastes divine, all dark, forbidden magic, cool under the heat of the lamps in the rafters. He wrenches control of the kiss suddenly, nipping at your lip, coaxing your tongue to twine with his as his hands push your gown up higher.

While most would fear his claws, the feel of them dragging up your skin only serves to make you quiver under his touch. Your hips roll against him, both from your own need driving your actions and to regain the upper hand. You succeed in pulling a gasp from his throat as his hands grip painfully tight, hard enough to elicit a whimper of pain that has the claws vanishing before you can speak against it.

“I liked those,” you comment, allowing him to tilt your head back to taste the skin on your neck, his tongue a mix of ice and fire as he licks a slow line along your collarbones. Unsure what to do with your hands, you give a desperate tug to his robes. “This is rather one-sided, don’t you think?” You give another roll of your hips, feeling the imprint of his length between your thighs.

“The privilege,”

“Is not yet earned, yes, I too, have ears,” you sass, grinding down harder, moaning as you feel just how rigid he is, feel how hot and hard he is beneath his robes. “I have bared my soul to you, Elidibus. There are a precious few who have known me this way.” With cautious fingers, your play with the hem of his hood. “Just for tonight.” You whisper, slowly pushing it back.

He lets you, lets the hood rest against his back to reveal long hair that you aren’t quite sure if it purple or silver or perhaps even both. You waste no time taking the strands between your fingers, feeling their softness, their silkyness, this move somehow igniting your passion even more as you press into him for a deep kiss. He groans deeply into your mouth, his hands in a rush to divest you of your robe. You won’t move your hands from his hair in favor of him pulling the gown off, so he simply turns it to mist, baring your nude body to his hungry eyes.

As his mouth trails lower, so do your hands, surprised to see his robes melt away with each thread you touch. Ilm by ilm, milky, unmarred skin is bared to your curious eyes, finding him lean and fit beneath his clothing. His skin is smooth, inhumanly perfect, silken to the touch as you run your hands across his torso as if you had never felt up a man in your life. Just as his mouth reaches a breast, your fingers graze across his pants, the threads evaporating and revealing his length, your hands immediately seeking out the prize you sought.

He seems to be painfully hard in your hand, a small glance between the two of you shows that the head of him is red to the point of nearly being purple, and you tut to yourself. “This won’t do,” lowering your hips, you slick him with your wetness, his arms clutching you to him as he gives a full body shudder.

“By Zodiark,” he rasps, totally breathless. You hum, pleased, glad he doesn’t notice how much your own sex quivers with how much you need him.

“Your piano playing is very well its own brand of foreplay,” you admit, gliding yourself along his length. There’s no way he wouldn’t slip on in, but still you raise yourself just enough to slip a finger inside, pausing your grinding.

“Have you always talked so much,” He growls, pressing a finger of his own inside you, making it your turn to gasp. His finger is longer, thicker, just the right amount to spread you for him in what must be his haste to get inside you.

“You don’t talk enough,” You laugh, arching your back as your walls flutter around his finger. You give him control, allowing him to slip a second finger inside. “Twelve above,”

“Silence,” he grunts, curling his fingers just so inside you. He give you little time to catch your breath as your toes curl from the sheer pleasure, leaning you back against the ivory keys, uncaring of the dissonance that rings throughout the auditorium. With hurried, yet careful movements, he lifts you high enough to sit atop them, placing himself between your thighs. There are no words as he guides himself into your wet heat, the groan torn from his throat nearly enough to send you over the edge.

“Elidibus,” you gasp, back arching off the glossy wood. Your arms clutch him by the shoulders, looping around to bring him down for a needy kiss as he slowly begins to stroke, pumping harder and harder until he loses himself in chasing his end. Your lewd sounds echo in the auditorium, your gasps and sighs making a lovely duet next to his grunts and groans. You take in everything; the way his lips are parted, how fiercely he grips your hips to bring you down on his cock.

His mask.

Reaching up, your finger tips brush his mask just barely before a hand grabs your wrist in a death grip, his lips pulled into a frown. “Don’t,” There is almost a desperation to his voice, a plea.

“Elidibus,” you whimper, reaching up with your other hand, lifting the mask ever so slowly. “Let me see you.”

He doesn’t stop you, the mask scattering into the air like petals, revealing the sharp features that most Ascians seemed to share. His eyes are similar to his hair, silvery and purple and so godsdamned beautiful that an inner part of you weeps. “Elidibus,” you choke out, pressing close to press your lips to his, moaning into his mouth at his renewed vigor. “Oh gods,”

He presses you down against the piano, eyes focused on your face as you come apart. He doesn’t stop his assault, his eyebrows furrowing as he comes near his end. He begins to lean forward, but you stop him, cradling his face in your hands so that you may watch him fall apart. Rapture overtakes him, your title a broken cry on his perfect lips, the feel of him coming deep inside paling in comparison to seeing his face as he is dragged under by the waves of ecstasy.

It is quiet in the afterglow, your hands caressing his face, allowing him to finally rest his head on your shoulder. Your fingers, light as a feather trail up and down his back, your lips press soft kisses to his skin. “Well?”

He is silent still, almost uncharacteristically so. You wait however, giving him all the time he needs. “It has...been some time.” He admits, caressing your hips just as tenderly.

“A good distraction then?” You ask, nuzzling your head into his neck.

He nods, choosing not to speak still. You do not mind it, deciding to not let words cloud this moment, especially when you know that when it is all said and done, only one of you may live.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 9: In the Vernacular, Please be my Friend?

Lance and Keith exasperate themselves and each other, but they’re still trying to find common ground to stand on.

First  Previous  Next

Keith didn’t leave their quarters hardly at all for a movement after they were married. With the exceptions of the incident with Iverson and a minor confrontation with the still-angry seamsmaster (they still hadn’t gotten over the gloves debacle), Keith sequestered himself to their rooms. It seemed the alienating dining room and relatively unfriendly, unhelpful guards and courtiers made him feel unwelcome. Who could have guessed?

Despite the pointed comments from his parents, Lance did not press the issue. Adam brought him food, or Lance, when he wasn’t busy. Keith had seemed faintly surprised that Lance had bothered to do it himself. Like the idea of Lance doing something for him just because was an alien concept.

Over time, giving in to the pressure from the kings, he began to acquaint himself with the dining hall, where the royal family immediately began to invite some gaggle of courtiers or another, the library, which stored the entire civilization’s collected knowledge, and the grounds, where he occasionally absconded with some small plant he thought no one would miss.

Lance was alerted to this habit after one of the gardeners caught Keith stealing a golden regent orchid from a greenhouse. Unfortunately for the distressed gardener, the extremely rare and delicate flower was quite happy in their little garden, and thus Lance declared it would stay.

He’d watched Keith spend several vargas lying on the moss, gazing at the shimmering golden petals. He’d fallen asleep with his tail curled around the stem. Lance had made a note about the Galra kit’s curiosity, speaking to Pidge about ways to keep him busy while he eased his way into royal responsibilities.

At any rate, Keith grew somewhat accustomed to living at the Castle of Lions. By the end of the movement, Keith was starting to venture out for more than meals and stealing from the gardens. He’d even attended court with Lance, sitting on his right, holding his hand on the joined arms of their thrones. At one point, Lord Lanval had come forward to publicly apologize for his slight against the princes at their wedding banquet. Keith had graciously accepted, despite knowing the apology was a show.

In spite of all of this, Lance knows Keith wasn’t happy, and he isn’t exactly happy either. Unfortunately, there isn’t anything he can do.

Lance throws himself into his increasing duties, burying himself in the multitude of smaller concerns that his parents don’t have the time or energy for in the current political climate. Rumors ripple through the royal court and eventually the commonwealth about Crown Prince Lancel and the new practices he’s implementing, including adjusting how taxes are set.

Now, thanks to him, taxes are decided based on income against estimated needed expense. Said expense is not being estimated by courtiers, but by newly hired tax collectors, and based on specific criteria set by Lance, Adam, and Pidge. Keith had suggested that the tax collectors be required to wear pocketless uniforms while collecting, to which Lance had agreed.

“Lancel, everyone is charged the same amount on their taxes. It’s equality.”

“Yes, and farmers scrape by poaching the wilds while Lord Lanval hands us the top off his spare change at the end of the decaphob. This is better than equality, Father. This is equity .”

The appraising look he’d received from Alfor and the collection of small gifts from the agrarian population have been worth the hours-long-winded explanation he’d owed his fathers. The detail he’d had to go into had been excruciating. Coran had done his very best to speed things up, but had hindered more than helped. Lance loves him for his efforts.

Needless to say, he’s tired when he returns to their room much later with Keith’s dinner, finding him and Shiro sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. They’re talking softly in Galran. Lance pretends not to understand as he sets Keith’s food on the end table.

“No, he didn’t,” Keith whispers, moving a piece on the board game he’d found in his upstairs loft. Lance has taken to leaving games and puzzles in places where Keith could find them. And any pretty trinkets he thinks the Galra might like. Keith doesn’t seem sure what to make of it, and frankly Lance isn’t sure he knows where the objects are even coming from. Perhaps they're more interesting to Keith as a mystery.

“Truly? That is how Alteans consummate their unions. He should have.” Keith shakes his head, and Shiro’s eyes slide to Lance. “Interesting.”

“He is interesting. I don’t hate him, I think.” Well that’s... marginally gratifying. “You don’t hate the attendant. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like him.”

“You- You shut up!”

“I bet you just wanna eat him up, don’t you? All little and cute like he is.” Lance smiles at Adam as he prances in with the usual sigh and a swing of his hips. Shiro blusters.

“So. Are your fathers, Ancients bless them, stupid?”

“No, they’re just old. The tax system hasn’t been changed since my great-grandfather Mahi was king and it's always been enough to fund the Crown so if it’s not visibly broken, why fix it?” Lance explains. “I think Dad was on board from the beginning. And Father just wants to give me a hard time every now and then. Payback, I guess.”

Adam sighs, datapad clutched in one hand. He pushes his glasses up his nose with the other. “No, he doesn’t. He just…”

“Thinks I’m an idiot?” Lance offers. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith keeps playing with Shiro’s visibly perked ears. They bend back with Keith’s manhandling, only to bounce right back into place. Keith seems to find it very funny, snickering each time they spring forward.

“Lance, you’ve done your best to convince them both that you’re an idiot. Where does this tablet go?”

“It was swiped from the library. Just put it on the nightstand. No, no. The other nightstand. On Keith’s side.” Lance lifts yesterday’s vest from the floor. “I find it interesting that Father buys it, and Dad does not.”

“But not surprising?” Keith asks, briefly glancing at Lance, tugging on Shiro’s ear. The adult Galra seems content with the manhandling. Lance wonders if it's normal to let kits maul you.

“Oh Ancients, no. Dad’s a terrible judge of character, but he knows me too well to be fooled.”

“So King Alfor is a terrible father who doesn’t know his own son?” Shiro asks, swatting playfully at his brother’s hand.

“No, he was just on his own for a long time. After Melinor died, he had Altea, Daibazaal, me and Allura, Coran, and, well. You can guess what happened-”

Keith laughs from where he’s still seated on the floor with his brother.

Lance frowns, turning to watch them. He notices Shiro’s still-perked ears and attentive eyes, fixed on Adam as the attendant begins picking up the trail of misplaced items Lance constantly leaves in his wake. There aren’t that many.

Shiro’s ears are so expressive, their movements as important as his smile.

But Keith... Keith’s ears are mostly stationary, no matter what. They rotate when he hears a noise and they wilt or twitch sometimes, but mostly when he is unsure of himself. Otherwise, they’re just kind of there, like he’s not entirely sure how to move them. That, combined with his generally reserved demeanor, suggests to Lance that Keith doesn’t know how to express himself.

The longer Lance spends with Keith, which admittedly isn’t much, the more he suspects that Keith spent most of his life alone.

It breaks his heart, really. Keith’s actually kind of sweet. He strikes Lance as a gentle soul, and a warm one, when he’s allowed to be. His fond teasing of Shiro regarding his apparent infatuation with Adam stands as a testament to that.

“You should just talk to him.”

“Shut up.”

“He’s stopped looking like he’ll run away if you try.”

“Wait, what? He’s scared of me?”

Keith falters, tries his best to backtrack. “Oh, no, Shiro. Of course not. I’m sure he was just stressed. He’s not scared of you.”

Adam’s absolutely intimidated by the enormous Galra soldier, but Lance isn’t. The man’s adorable.

“Hey Shiro, got any hobbies?” Lance asks. Keith leans over and whispers something that set his brother’s ears aflurry.

“Oh. Um. Well, actually, I like gardening.” Out of the corner of his eye, Lance sees Adam pause before going back to fiddling with the bed canopy.

“When he retires, he wants to open an apothecary,” Keith supplies.

“Really? Well that’s very interesting,” Lance says. “Adam here has quite the interest in botany himself, don’t you? Quite the physik, actually.”

Adam smooths over a pillowcase unnecessarily. “Yes.”

“Perhaps you can exchange comunique codes and compare notes. You leave tomorrow night, don’t you Shiro?”

“Huh? Oh! Yes I do, I’m afraid. Royal Advisor Krolia has been doing both her job and mine, so I really can’t stay longer.”

“I see.” Lance notices how Keith’s mood drops drastically with the turn of conversation. “Well please come back and visit when you can. You are family now, and always welcome. Just let us know before you arrive so I can make sure you won’t starve.”

Shiro smiles with gratitude. “Thank you, Lance.” The man rises to his towering height. “I’d best begin packing my things. Keith, you stay here and at least try to be friends with your husband.”

“Shiro-”

“No, Keith.” Shiro lays a hand on Keith’s head. “It will get easier. I promise. But you need to try, too. He is.”

Keith nods, studying the half-finished board game in front of him, now devoid of an opponent. Lance turns to Adam, addressing him in Altean. “Can you give us a minute? It’s tricky to get him to talk, and he won’t if you’re here.”

Adam abandons his fiddling. “I’d best go speak to Pidge if I’m to get that comms code set up. It’ll be valuable to have another source inside the Galra fold. Perhaps the captain will be useful.”

Lance heaves a sigh, sitting down where Shiro had been before. “Hey-”

“Did you know I can speak Altean?” Keith murmurs, studying the game board. Quiznak.

“Did you know I speak Galran?” The two stare at each other for a moment. Then sigh, shoulders drooping. “We have to stop doing this. We have to stop trying to get one over on each other,” Lance says. “We’re the only people we know we can trust-”

“I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Lance bites his lip. “I trust you. I don’t think you would hurt me. Not at all.”

“Lance, I’ve been trained specially to kill you.”

“And?” Lance shrugs. “I’ve been trained how to kill you . That’s how it is... You know, we could have met in battle. We could have fought each other. One of us could have killed the other. Been celebrated for it. Rewarded.” Keith’s ears wilt. He doesn’t seem to like that idea any more than Lance does.

“What do you want, Lance?” Lance moves one of Shiro’s pieces and hands Keith the twenty-sided die. Keith tosses the die, moves a piece, and on it goes.

“Shiro leaves tomorrow,” Lance observes. The ears droop further, tail limp against the floor. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. See if there’s anything I can do.”

Keith’s quiet for a long time, amethyst eyes dull and downcast. Lance sighs, assumes he’s not going to make any progress today.

“Okay, Keith. That’s alright-”

“My brother is leaving, and I will be alone here. I miss my mother.” Of course. Of course he does. “It- It hurts.” Of course it hurts. Keith’s still a kit. He still has that powerful kit’s bond with his mother, with his pack. “There’s not a whole lot to be done.” Keith pulls out his datapad and dims the lights to nothing. It’s just the fire, no moon to shine through the domed glass roof of the tower above. “It’ll get better, the longer we’re separated.”

“I can get you a comms code-”

“No. Thank you, but that will make it worse. In a few movements, maybe a phoeb, I’d like that, but for now, this is best.”

It’s only later, when they’re in bed, that Lance realizes exactly what’s happening to Keith. Parent-child bonds are powerful things for Galra. Keith’s have remained even as his mother served in battles during the second war. Normally, such a bond fades during a Galra’s final growth.

Now, that bond is being forced apart before its time. Again.

Lance can only imagine what all of Keith’s loss and moving around and such has done to him. He notices the Galra trying to massage his own ears, self-soothing, hears a tiny, smothered chirp. Distressed. He scoots closer, reaches out, replaces Keith’s fingers with his own.

"It's alright, Keith. I've got you."

The Galra tenses for a moment, relaxes. Lance can hear him purring as he settles. He is this kit’s primary pack-member now. He’ll take good care of him. He trusts Keith to return the favor if he gets a chance.

“Keith?” A hum of acknowledgement. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry that you’re still a kit and I’m sorry about your family and I’m sorry that you’re here.”

“If you’re sorry, then help me do better. Make sure it doesn’t have to happen to our children.”

“I swear it. On my life.”