#wanted to post it unobscured

[copia]

endless ghifs 36/? ⛧ source — "And the truth of the matter is..."

[loveletterworm]

I thought Miku and Teto's designs in this song were cute, so I wanted to draw them. I got a little carried away though...so much more time was spent on this than could ever be justified...

The background has a lot of things in it so I'll put an unobscured version under the cut.

I colored them all individually for some reason even though they were made monochrome in the final picture... They may not look evenly aligned because I tried to arrange them to be at least marginally visible through the main art. (This was a fool's errand.) I was also going to give Miku another variation (where she'd be wearing the glasses in the third pose), but then I realized that one of those drawings' face would be entirely obscured by the foreground, so the difference would literally be impossible to see...At that point I finally came to my senses.

Oddly there seem to be very few posts about this song that I could find, even though the MV seems to be doing quite well on Youtube. It doesn't even have its own page on the non-lyrics Vocaloid wiki other than being on a notable songs list... I know the video is imitating the art style of the Mesmerizer video, but the song doesn't sound anything like it at all, so I don't think it's fair to discard the entire thing as a "Mesmerizer clone". (I do think it's funny that the video just outright asks for 10 million views though. But I get the impression that the video in general is kind of trying to be silly so who cares. Flowey is in this song for some reason.)

[eveningspirit]

Frank Langdon and Back Pain, Part Five [screencaps from episode 1x09, first batch]

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Episode 9 was, imo, the prime example that there's something off with the way Frank Langdon stands, walks and does gymnasitsc*. Let's take look at all half of the evidence.

Starting with the... what was it? Spinks and Ali, lol.

In the first picture, his posture is one of the clearest examples that demonstrate Langdon's-- not just discomfort, but perhaps even some level of difficulty with strictly physical aspects of the job. It's also, I think, the first and only(?) time we see him in an unobscured, whole-body shot, while he's tending to a patient.

His feet are wide, for balance, and still he seems to be unstable (or is it just me?), his knees are bent, hinges at the hips and his back straight like he has a ramrod up his ass (ekhm, sorrs). This is a position that a person assumes to relieve their lower back. Clear as day.

I don't have anything specific to say about the second picture. I mostly added it for composition. If you have anything to say about it, though, please, do. :)

Looking at Frank from the front, though, I notice--again--tension in his shoulders and the awkward way he holds his left arm close to his chest. That's a sign of discomfort that comes from upper back/ribcage.

In the scenes around the ice-bath of the MDMA overdose patient, he's seeking support while moving around the tub.

And, leaning. He's not the only one leaning, here, but the way he does it is somehow more pronounced.

Now, this. It's the second time he's making that face--first one was with Jake after doing the chair-spinning thing.

Worth noting that a moment later, in this shot from behind we can see his palm is in a fist (gripping his shirt?), which could be a way to supress a more visible manifestation of pain?

Next, just a note about Langdon lashing out at Santos

General consensus is that Langdon got mad at Santos, because he was scared she was onto him reagarding stealing medications. And I agree, it's most likely what happened, however. I kind of think that's not all?

I mean, pain can wreak havoc on a person's nervous system. What if it's both--fear and physical pain--that make his patience extra thin? I'm not making an excuse here, if anyone has any doubts. His behavior was unprofessional, and unnecessarily cruel, nevermind his reasons.

To finish off this part of episode 1x09 analysis, a quick look at Langdon's body language in his argument with Robby. Again, I see tension in his shoulders. I'm not sure whether there's anything to it (or have I mentioned if before?), but it seems like there's some block here, like he has a problem lifting his arms. Like, his palms don't go much higher than his chin. Just something I noticed.

I like that last picture so much, because Langdon looks so resigned toward the end of that talk. Like, okay, okay, you're right, I'll do anything you want.

People are wondering how he could be so aggressive toward Santos and then so nice with Mel a moment later. But between those two moments, we have the one when Robby tears Frank a new one and... I know this exact feeling intimately okay? This resignation after an outburst. It's like all adrenaline is instantly washed out of your system. I have no idea what's the exact mechanism of this reaction, but. Idek. Fight/Flight/Freeze/Fawn, you know? Fight turns into Fawn at, like, a snap of your fingers. And you go, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" and you want to please everyone around you, so they don't reject you maybe?

Maybe that's the ADHD, actually? The Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria?

Maybe.

And here, I turned a talk about physical symptoms into a talk about ADHD, huh. But yeah. Frank Langdon is just that complicated.

_____ )* gymnastics coming up with the second batch of scenes and screencaps. To be posted soon. Seriously, it's half ready already. ;)

ETA: Gymnastics posted.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Invidia

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Plot? I don't know her. Jealousy, dom/sub dynamics, slightly toxic relationship, alcohol consumption, light choking, spit kink, light bondage, P in V action, use of sex toys, overstimulation, degrading language, slight praise kink, implied oral (m receiving) Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: Aemond dishes out a punishment that won't soon be forgotten when his partner attempts to make him jealous. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Her grip tightens around her martini glass, eyes narrowing, as jealousy bubbles acrid and bitter within her chest.

She watches as the dark haired woman grazes her perfectly manicured nails over Aemond’s bicep, red stained lips pulling back into a saccharine smile, revealing pearly white teeth. She knows the woman is drop dead gorgeous, but in her envious state she sees only a predatory threat to her relationship, her thoughts darkened and unkind with internalised misogyny.

Worse still is that Aemond appears to be doing nothing to stop her, he is allowing this woman to flirt shamelessly with him. While his mannerisms are impassive, not returning the woman’s touches or suggestive grins, she believes he should be making it explicitly clear he is unavailable.

She hadn’t even wanted to come this evening, she had been desperate for a quiet night in front of the TV, just her and Aemond. He’d insisted they go though; the opening night of Aegon’s new cocktail bar and he simply had to support his family. So she’d dolled herself up, allowed herself to be dragged along and how here he was making a mockery of her.

Two can play at that game.

She wants to make him feel every bit as jealous as she does, to remind him he isn’t the only desirable person in their relationship, and she knows just the person who will strike that blow hardest.

Scanning the crowd, she spots the man of the hour propping up the bar, tipping back tequila shots. 

Swallowing the remnants of her drink in a single gulp, she winces slightly as the combination of vodka and vermouth burns lightly in her throat, then heads over to where Aegon is standing.

“Hey, you,” She greets him in a sing-song voice, reaching out to brush her fingers against his forearm. “Love what you’ve done with the place!”

“Thanks,” He says with a smirk, his eyes traveling over her appreciatively, before nodding towards her glass. “Looks like you’re empty, shall I get you another?”

She knows that the music isn’t so loud that she can’t be heard by simply raising her voice a little, but she also knows that doing that won’t grant her the attention she so desperately seeks from Aemond. So, she leans in, her lips brushing against the shell of Aegon’s ear as she whispers to him.

“Oh, I would love one, thank you!”

Drawing back, she watches the bob of his throat with a satisfied smile, as he swallows thickly. She was having the desired effect on one brother, at least.

“You got it,” He tells her, his hand brushing hers as he relieves her of the empty glass and turns back towards the bar, holding up two fingers towards the bartender.

It’s then that she feels a firm but gentle grasp on her upper arm and turns to look up into the steely gaze of Aemond. The taut bun that his long, silver hair is pulled back into leaves his face unobscured, so the hardened lines of anger are unmistakable. While his left eye remains milky and lifeless, the fury that burns bright within the blue of his right more than makes up for its absence.

A shiver runs through her. Perhaps she has pushed this too far.

“We’re leaving,” He tells her flatly.

Her eyes widen as she tries to protest. “But Aegon’s just getting me a dri–”

“I wasn’t asking,” He shoots back, grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowded bar.

He is silent on the drive home. The hand that would usually rest against her thigh keeps a firm grasp of the steering wheel as he stares straight ahead. 

The tension inside the car is unbearable. She knows she’s in trouble. Her stomach flutters nervously, wondering what she can say to calm him down, but can come up with nothing that she doesn’t think will enrage him further, so she stays silent.

The moment they arrive home, he spins her around to face him, pressing her against the wall, causing her to gasp. His hand grasps lightly against her throat as he stares her down. Arousal pools warm between her thighs.

“Just what the fuck was that tonight?” He hisses lowly.

“I-I was just chatting to Aegon…” She stammers, gazing up at Aemond, doe-eyed.

“Oh, it looked like it was more than chatting, much more.”

“It wasn’t, I swear!” She whines, regretting ever having approached Aegon in the first place, but unable to shake the effect that Aemond’s display of dominance is having on her.

“Hm,” He raises his free hand towards her face, tugging at her bottom lip with his thumb. “Open.”

She opens her mouth, steeling herself for what’s to come, but still shivers when she feels him spit harshly onto her tongue. She swallows without having to be asked, inwardly delighted at the hum of approval that Aemond emits.

“Thought you could use something to accompany the filthy lies that are coming out of your mouth,” He mutters darkly, his grip on her throat tightening.

She whimpers as her resolve crumbles. “That woman was flirting with you!”

“Ah, there it is,” He smirks. “You behaved like a stupid, little slut with my brother because you were jealous? Pathetic.”

“She was all over you, you did nothing to stop her!” She snaps back, feeling herself grow angry.

“But I didn’t do anything, did I?” He snarls, eye narrowing. “If you saw the number of women I turn down when you aren’t around you’d fucking cry, yet I can’t trust you not to throw yourself at my brother. Would you rather be with him instead?”

“No, Aemond, I only want you!” She clings desperately to the front of his black button up shirt.

“Is that so?” He cocks his head slightly, his hand still around her throat.

“Yes, I was just trying to make you jealous. I’m sorry,” She pleads.

“Hm. You’re about to be. Bedroom. Now.”

He releases her throat and she walks on unsteady feet towards their shared bedroom, nervous excitement making her heart race.

She lays back on the bed, biting her lip in anticipation, as Aemond stands at the foot of it, the metal clink of his belt being unfastened the only sound in the room. The audible slide of the leather against the cotton of his suit trousers as he removes it from the loops causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh.

“Wrists together. Above your head,” He orders.

She does as she’s told, her throat running dry when she feels the mattress dip either side of her as Aemond straddles her, winding his belt around her wrists and using it to bind them to the headboard.

“Colour?” He asks simply, making eye contact.

“Green,” She whispers.

“Good girl,”

The praise shoots straight to her core, making her clench around nothing. He leaves her with no time to ponder on what his next move might be, as his hands disappear beneath her skirt to tug down her underwear.

She arches off of the mattress slightly as his deft fingers swipe through her folds, coming away glistening with her slick.

“Little slut,” He whispers, before freeing his cock, showing he’s every bit as turned on as she is.

He takes a firm hold of her hip with one hand, grasping the base of his erection with the other and forces himself all the way in to the hilt in one fluid motion.

She is wet enough that any preparation isn’t required, but the sudden stretch still steals her breath away.

Aemond’s thrusts are quick and sure, his hips snapping against hers harshly as he brings his thumb between their bodies to rub at her clit in rapid, tight circles.

Her nails bite into the leather of the belt around her wrists, struggling to ground herself as pleasure builds steadily within her gut, each slap of his skin against hers nudging her closer to the edge.

His breathy pants combined with the look of determination on his face give her the final shove she needs, and she falls apart with blinding white warmth that washes over her from head to toe.

She’d believe her punishment was over were it not for the fact that Aemond has yet to cum. His low chuckle as he stills inside of her is all the indication she needs that he’s just getting started. He leans over, never slipping out of her, and pulls her Hitachi magic wand from a drawer of the bedside table. 

Fuck.

“Colour?” Aemond demands again, his voice husky.

“G-green,” She breathes shakily.

He purses his lips. “We’ll see about that.”

The jolt that rockets through her body when he presses the toy against her, at maximum speed, causes her to squeal. He keeps it there, resuming his thrusts inside of her and the combination of the two is too much. She trembles all over, her mind feeling foggy.

“What are you going to do the next time you feel jealous?” Aemond asks.

“N-fuck-nothing!”

“Good girl. And that’s because you can trust me.”

A sob of pleasure is ripped from her as another orgasm has her tightening and spasming around Aemond uncontrollably. He shows her no mercy, keeping the wand firmly on her, the momentum of his hips never slowing.

Aemond’s breathing is ragged, sweat visible upon his brow from exertion. “Do you trust that yours is the only cunt I want to bury myself inside of?”

“Aemond…please…” She mewls piteously, overstimulation making her shake.

“I need you to say it,” He grits out.

She tugs involuntarily at her restraints, tipping her head back. “Yes, I trust you!”

He brings her to peak three more times, before he finally relents. “Colour?”

“Yellow,” She says weakly, voice hoarse and eyes teary.

Aemond switches the toy off, tossing it to the side and slowly pulls out of her. She hisses at the sensation, noticing that he is still rock hard, not having peaked himself yet.

He rubs gently at her wrists as he unfastens the belt, helping to get the blood circulating once more. Brushing his lips against her temple, damp with perspiration, he whispers softly to her. “I’m not done with you yet, just giving that sweet little pussy of yours a rest. For now–” He leans back on his haunches and taps the head of his cock against her lips. “You can put that pretty mouth of yours to work, you’ve got quite the mess to clean up.”

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More Aemond fics

[lemongogo]

does anyone have a front & unobscured panel of this suit q.mark

ok edit sry i found it but i want 2 keep this post up 4 ref. THANKIESS

[rockinlibrarian]

The Lyric Game Redux Redux

So if you've been paying attention to my tags lately, or are @uniasus with whom I've actually discussed this outright (or @sunnymarbles with whom I've actually discussed this in person, but they ignore my posts entirely if I don't tag them), you might know that I've been working on an archiving project side-blog where I'm storing all my original tumblr posts (or, most of the time, reblogs where I added something significant-- although the definition of "significant" is very loose), having gone through my tumblr from the beginning (And either I didn't reblog much in the early years, let alone post anything original, or many posts have disappeared over the years. There are whole months with only four posts total!). Anyway, I'm up to Pandemic Lockdown time which curiously did not display much of a jump in posting, but I did just find the post where I attempted to resurrect my favorite LiveJournal game: The Lyric Game!

The rules are thus: I put my music library on shuffle and post the opening lines of the first ten songs that come up (instrumentals excluded). YOU reply with whichever ones you recognize (one point for title, one point for artist).

Now I had enough trouble getting people to play Back in the Day, and I feel like even less people follow me now, and I've added a bunch of really obscure music to my collection in the past five years, not to mention a lot more instrumentals to skip over (I noted when I reblog-archived the last one that yesterday my computer had decided to play at least three different Brandenberg Concertos in their entirety in the course of like five hours), so I was like, what would doing this again even LOOK like?

WELL LET'S FIND OUT.

Here are the first ten (relatively) songs from my music collection (on my computer) on shuffle. Do you recognize any of these songs? Reply with your answers! Don't cheat and steal anyone else's answers and/or look them up! Last time I gave 24 hours but that was during lockdown so I'll give you a week this time (starting from 8:30 AM EDT on May 12, 2025)! Every couple of days I'll add clues (genre, date, gender of singer, etc) to help jog your memory, so you'll have many chances! The genres in my collection span, like EVERYTHING (although there is very little country or rap, yeah I'm one of THOSE kinds of music snobs). Shall we begin?

Edit: The Answers are up!

THE LYRIC GAME REDUX REDUX

1: "Listen as your day unfolds; challenge what the future holds"

2: oh fer gosh sakes it's a piano sonata. trying again.

2 bonus. "Just ask the folks who knew me when, they'll say, "Nice boy, but he's always been..." That's awfully obscure, I'll give it to you as a bonus one and do another number 2.

2 for real. l Okay no, that's "The Maple Leaf Rag," sorry.

2. for really real: : "[title of song] before my eyes just teach me to despise" That may be a little obscure too but I'm pretty sure I got it off a "Hits of the [decade]" CD so it's unobscure ENOUGH and I give up.

3: "[Title of song and keyword repeated] I know I'll find you somehow, and somehow I'll return again to you"

4: "I found my love in [Title] beside the bay"

5: "Your eyes are burning holes through me, I'm gasoline, I'm burning clean" to be fair I saw the title and couldn't even remember the song at all myself, but NOW I remember it, and it's off a greatest hits CD so I'm leaving it.

6: "Friday night I crashed your party; Saturday I said I'm sorry"

7: "It sure was a [title of song] as far as my eyes could see"

8: "That's all I wanted, something special, something sacred in your eyes"

9: "And the [title] is on its way, I can hear the merry [word now considered a slur. But associated with the title!] play"

10. "I linger in the doorway, of alarm clock screaming, monsters calling my name."

Okay, that's a good mix. A couple well-known radio hits (not recent, but there are definitely two songs I'm pretty sure Everyone has heard), a couple lesser-known radio hits, a couple album tracks from famous/popular albums, a decent mix of genre and era though could be weirder (mostly pop in the end, nothing more recent than early 2000s)! Edit to add: also, somehow there are NO BEATLES or former Beatles on this particular list. So sorry, you can't use that as a throwaway guess.

So, play along!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

How about Rollo meeting Ortho in the interaction?

ROLLO ONII-SAMA ERA??????? ????? ????? ??? ?? ? ????????? ???? 👀 (Gotta love how even the most uptight characters have sort of a soft spot for Ortho…) I shared some of the ideas expressed in this interaction in this previous post, if you want to check that out!

This very long interaction is “just strangers meeting for the very first time” since the request was non-specific. I do plan on releasing more in-depth Ignihyde and Rollo interaction headcanons later, so please look forward to that!

***WARNING: there are massive spoilers for Glorious Masquerade in this interaction.***

***CONTENT WARNING: depiction of a panic attack.***

Like Fire, Hellfire.

Late.

He was running late.

One thing had led into another, and that after-class chat with Professor Trein had spiraled into a longer-than-intended discussion on magically binding contracts. The older man was, Rollo found, poised and intellectual—a wise choice for an instructor. More than that, there was a warmness behind his austere presentation, something grandfatherly, kind, and comforting.

Rollo had been enchanted, and the time had slipped by so easily. Only when the sky was painted in hues of rose, tangerine, and gold did he realize the afternoon had bled into sunset.

He cleared his throat. "Pardon me, Mozus-sensei. It has been a very enlightening conversation, but I have other matters I must tend to."

"Of course. It was wonderful getting to speak with you one-on-one." Trein stroked the fur of a plump black and white cat nestled in his lap as he spoke. A familiar, Rollo ventured, careful to not let the disgust seep into his expression.

"Then I will see you tomorrow." He bowed, turning on his heel to exit. Just as Rollo was to cross the threshold, Trein called out to him.

"Flamme."

He stopped, looking over his shoulder. "Yes?"

Trein rested his hand. The setting sun poured in from an unobscured window, coloring the room in the shades of a dying day. He released what was on his mind.

"I want you to know that you are able to come to me whenever you wish. If you are lost or need guidance, academic or otherwise, I would be more than happy to assist. Your circumstances being as they are…" Trein shook his head. "I worry about you, the same as I do for each and every one of my students."

Rollo found himself frowning. He let the lie upon his lips go.

"Thank you, sir. However, your concern won't be necessary. I have taken the time to properly reflect on my actions since the masquerade.”

"... Very well, I won't push further. Have a good evening."

"Yes, you as well."

Rollo stepped out into the hallway. His past still clung to him like a shroud, trailing behind him like a wedding veil. It would follow him to his very grave.

He was not lost—he was certain of where his destiny would end, and it was wreathed with the flames of vengeance.

At this time of the day, hellish red washed over corridors devoid of students. With everything empty and painted the same shade, the campus appeared monotonous—each hall the same as the last. Hadn’t he already passed this classroom a few minutes ago? Was he seeing things, or was Night Raven College turning into a glorified maze?

It was strange—first, he had been late. Now he here he was, lost. It was unlike him to be in such circumstances. Had he stepped into a wonderland where everything was the opposite and logic was topsy-turvy?

Should I turn back and return from the way I came? He wondered whether it would save him time or waste even more.

Something flickered in the corner of his field of vision. His eyes instinctively darted to it. Whatever it was, it was blue in color, emitting a soft halo of light. It was at the end of the hall, too far away to make out any concrete details.

What is that…?

Rollo’s feet moved on their own, compelled to follow the mysterious blue glow. At first, they were set in a comfortable walk—but his pace grew brisker and brisker as he approached. Walk to jog to sprint.

He didn't know why, but he was desperate to catch up to it. Rollo was a man possessed, a moth drawn to a flame. Every bone, every muscle, every drop of blood screamed at him: you must.

The blue sharpened, coming into focus. Taking form, assuming a body. From behind, Rollo could tell it was a young boy, his feet low to the ground but not quite touching it.

An otherworldly apparition, floating.

His heart caught in his throat. His breath hitched, then stilled. Fear had seized his throat, preventing the air from escaping him.

No. No, it can't be. Impossible.

Rollo's hand shot out, expecting to meet the air, to faze though the boy in blue. But his skin met something solid, and a bolt of ice raced down his spin upon contact.

Liquid welled in his eyes. Searing.

Don’t leave me. Don’t disappear right before me. Not again.

His pulse quickened, his stomach twisting.

The breath he had been holding was released, shakily expelled like a horrible secret.

"Brother...!"

Then Rollo saw him in full. The composition of it was all wrong. He had the same wide, curious eyes—but his hair was set aflame, and the ghostly pallor of his face was framed in an odd mask. His mouth was obscured from view, and where there should have been a heart was an eerie blue fire.

His body, too, was not natural. Metal, with strange segmentations in the limbs. A low hum of electricity. Decidedly unhuman.

Rollo’s heart sank, his fragile hope shattering.

It's not him.

“Uwah!” the boy in blue cried, startled.

Of course, Rollo realized. Why wouldn’t he be caught off-guard? He had just charged at the boy and suddenly grabbed him. Rollo let his arm drop and bowed deeply.

“I apologize for the fright. I… mistook you for someone else.”

“Oh, that’s why!” The boy in blue seemed to smile reassuringly from behind his mouth visor. “Don’t worry. It’s common for humans to make optical identification errors.”

“Erm, yes.” Rollo wove his hands together. It did nothing to relax his hammering heart, his creased brows. “Do excuse me for the disruption. I’ll be on my way now.”

The boy tilted his head. Rollo shivered—it was as though the child was peering straight into his soul. Big doe eyes full of life. Warm like a little candle. It was uncanny how familiar this boy was.

Candid, pure.

It’s almost like he has returned to me.

His chest twinged, and he faltered with his departure.

“… Mister, your vital signs all read abnormal. Body temperature, pulse, respiration rate, blood pressure, even the level of perspiration.” His tone turned concerned. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“I am fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. Rollo wasn’t sure if he believed his own lie either.

“You’re not wearing a Night Raven College uniform,” the boy noted. “You must be a visitor then! Let me escort you to the nurse’s office. You will receive the care you need there.”

“I assure you, I’m not in need of their services.”

He blinked. “… Feedback acknowledged. If you refuse to go, then I can’t exactly force you to.”

The boy hovered in a circle around Rollo, extending his arms out toward him. “I can still help you get to your destination though—wherever that may be! Just let me know and I’ll calculate the most efficient route for you.”

“What…”

Rollo reeled at the sight of him flying—on his feet, and without a broom! The boy spoke so strangely for his age as well as well, talking of biometrics and mathematics as easily as a child might discuss their favorite toy. But the way he stared back at him…

The eager expression, hands outstretched.

“Onii-sama!”

The hurt in his chest intensified, a new bloom of pain taking root in his head. An ash-covered memory was lit ablaze again.

Smoke in his lungs, singed flesh in his nose, and tears stinging his eyes. The scream of a burning child ringing in his ears.

Pain, a searing knife against his skin.

“H-Help me… HELP ME…!!”

Rollo took a trembling step back. He didn’t realize it, but he had started to shake all over, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. His eyes were alert, paranoid.

The air too thin to sate his screeching lungs. The world closing in, blanketed in curtains of smoke. Coals at his feet, fire rising.

“N-No, I… I…!!”

His hands flew to his head, clawing at his skin, his hair. Everything suddenly felt too uncomfortable, too hot—

“Mister!!”

Rollo felt arms being thrown around him. An encircling, kind embrace. He looked down to find the strange child hugging him tightly. Smiling softly, angelically.

“… It’ll be okay," the boy said, his voice as tender as the touch of a feather. "There, there. Everything will be okay."

The flames froze, as did the fuel that fed them. Rollo stiffened, reality seeping through to him. His body, unsure of how to react.

He slowly lowered his hands from his face, properly looked the child in the eyes. They seemed to pulsate hypnotically, projecting soothing shades: gold, amber, honey.

"I'm here for you," the boy continued. "See? I'm here.”

He was. Rollo knew his gaze, his touch. The warmth he had long since renounced, been deprived of.

“Focus on me. That’s right, just like that. Breathe slowly. Let’s do it together, okay? In, out. In, out…”

Huff, huff, huff.

Rollo was not so much as breathing as he was gulping and spitting up pockets of air. He was a dehydrated man tasting sweet water on the verge of death, then vomiting on the luxury of it.

The boy nodded understandingly in spite of his shaky efforts. “Just like that! You’re doing great.”

Huff, huff.

His body moved more on instinct than on command. Taking in air and returning it, a process set on autopilot. Each breath increasingly more stable than the last.

A warm hand rubbing the area between is shoulder blades. Wordlessly easing him through it.

“… How are you feeling now?”

Those few simple words dispelled the last of the suffocating heat. His emotions tempered, cooling, and finding ground once more. What was left was fizzling frustration and knotted confusion.

Huff…

Rollo released the last of his breath.

He struggled to speak. “I... I don’t understand. Why are you…”

He pulled away, but kept his hands on Rollo's shoulders. “I detected heart palpitations and other abnormal biological fluctuations. Altogether, they indicated that you were experiencing something akin to a trauma response. You looked so sad and scared. I initiated the only protocol in my memory bank that suited the scenario."

“You…” Rollo hesitated. “You did that for a complete stranger?”

“Hehe. Did my comfort protocol work?” He gave a happy twirl midair. "I'm glad that you're feeling better, even if just a little!"

Rollo watched him in silence, guilt stirring in the pit of his stomach. When he touched his cheek, he found it slightly damp. Renegade tears that had slipped free and dribbled down.

Pathetic—after all these years, he hadn’t become any stronger at all, still crumbled when he reminiscenced. Old, aching memories forever branded into him. Memories that continued to hurt him, even to this very day.

He clutched a hand over his heart.

And yet this boy…

Protectiveness swelled up.

“You,” Rollo spoke up at last, “why are you wandering on campus grounds unsupervised? Are you not aware that this is a dangerous location for youths like yourself?”

“I’m here to pick up my big brother!” he replied, beaming proudly. “Nii-san had a big exam today, plus a club meeting. It should be over by now, so we’re going to meet up and then have a family fun night!”

“How… thrilling for you.” Rollo offered a tight-lipped smile. “My word, this elder brother of yours sounds highly irresponsible if he’s leaving a child of your age unchaperoned. It should be the older sibling’s responsibility to look out for the younger, not the other way around.”

“Huh? That’s usually how it is for us, though. Nii-san forgets to take care of himself when he’s not reminded!” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Nii-san stays up late gaming, snacks instead of having real meals, and rarely leaves his room.”

“That’s absolutely abhorrent,” Rollo seethed, his rage returning to him. “What sort of example is he setting for you?”

Red prickled the edges of his vision. How dare that so-called brother burden this poor, sweet boy and allow him to wander around a mage-infested school? For that, Rollo would put him to the stake.

“That’s it, it’s settled! I will accompany you and ensure that you find your way home safely. Furthermore, when you reunite with your brother, I will be sure to give this man a piece of my mind.”

“Eeeeeeeh?!” Shock lit up the boy’s face. “This is the first time anyone’s ever wanted to meet nii-san so passionately!”

For all the wrong reasons, he recognized—still, there was a fragment of hope in the circumstances. Potential friendship to be found in the confrontation. He clung to that possibility.

"Well... okay, if you really want to. Nii-san might be a little more than surprised to see you, but it's a good chance to him to meet new people."

"Fufufu, that's correct. It would do him some good to become acquainted with—" A thought dawned on him. "Ah, forgive me. I forgot to ask for your name earlier. Please, may I know it?”

“Me? I’m Ortho! Ortho Shroud.”

Shroud.

The surname (unfortunately) conjured up a familiar face. Pale completion, cobalt lips, irises in piercing yellow, blazing blue fire for hair. A man that retreated from the light, spitting words as sharp as his jagged teeth.

Rollo grimaced. How had he not seen the resemblance sooner? Blinded by emotions, he ventured with a subtle scoff.

“What’s your name, mister?” Ortho asked, peering up at him.

"I am..." Rollo stopped himself. A swarm of unanswered questions fought for his attention, each wanting to be the first to be let out.

Shroud’s brother is no longer with us. How is it possible that he is standing here before me? What has happened to his body? Why is it metal? Surely they’re beyond normal prosthetics. He’s floating like some unorthodox apparition…

One inquiry won out in the end.

Has he told Ortho about me?

What would happen to the boy’s faith, his joy, once the introduction was uttered? The idea summoned a great deal of discomfort, twisting painfully like a knife plunged into Rollo’s guts. Guilt pooling.

He fell silent.

“… Never mind that. My identity is unimportant, for I am a mere visitor to this prestigious school. You may continue calling me ‘mister’ as you were.”

“Roger that! Let’s get going then. Nii-san’s waiting!”

Ortho flew ahead, the guiding light in a world dyed a hellish hue of red. Rollo followed at a safe distance, but never let the boy out of his sight—but he never drew too close either.

Why did you do that? Rollo rebuked himself. You've done no wrong. You have nothing to be ashamed of, no reason to feel any guilt. You are in the right. Why mask the truth?

He squeezed his eyes shut.

That night, atop the bell tower...

"Do you think your brother would have wanted this?! Idia had demanded. “Would he be happy... seeing you do this to the city—to the world—in his name...?"

I am without sin. I am righteous, Rollo told himself. A prayer, a staunch affirmation. Of my virtue, I am justly proud.

“Hurry up, mister!” Ortho called to him. The boy’s voice snapped him back, and Rollo smiled in spite of himself.

“… Of course. I am coming.”

This happiness, he knew, would not last forever. Spells always broke before the strike of midnight.

He had to relish these fleeting yet magical moments while they lasted.

[waterlilyspad]

Breaking our Solitude (Chapter 6)

your honor they snuggle your honor they cuddle.

Summary: After a miracle Jayce returns to life in a dead world, it's now up to Viktor and Jayce to start over, hopefully for the better.

(Fluff, longing, eepy, jayvik au, hurt/ comfort, post season 2)

Jayce felt himself grow heavy and soon he slipped back into that darkness, he just remembered Viktor’s hands bringing him closer to his chest, and the words “Let's go home.” Echoing in his head as he drifted to sleep. Soon Jayce’s heavy eyes peered open, he glanced around his surroundings seeing a wooden ceiling above him and an orange glow illuminate the room. He then moved his head and knew that Viktor was in contact with him somehow. As he tilted his head to the right, he saw that he was on the floor resting under a couple of large blankets and a quilt. Underneath him was a kind of futon. His eyes looked around the dark room, it was a small cottage with assortments of things hanging from the ceiling, and things cluttering the room. Slowly he turned his head to his left where he was met with the sight of Viktor lying beside him. Jayce felt his heart jump to his throat, he was so close, Viktor was lying on his left side facing Jayce, his chest gently rising and falling with every sleeping breath. Jayce’s other hand twitched, Viktor had tied their hands together. Jayce slowly moved the covers to look the hand that was interlaced with Viktor’s. Their fingers interlocked together. Jayce settled back in moving to lie on his left side before guiding both of their hands up to the pillow. He gently sighed before closing his eyes. This was nice he supposed, he missed lying in a bed. Plus, he was no longer cold, this was a good feeling.

The morning sun peeked through old curtains as Jayce woke from his deep sleep. He yawned silently beforeppening his eyes expecting to see Viktor fast asleep beside him, but blinking a few times as he gaze at his thigh instead. His left hand with Viktor's right were still tied together as Viktor sat up in the bed reading a book. Jayce looked up his eyes following Viktor’s form to see his face obscured by the book he was reading. The sunlight creating a kind of aura over Viktor's form. Jayce watched before shifting a little, Viktor jumped slightly, “Oh Jayce, good morning.” He said moving the book from his sight and looking down. Upon seeing Viktor's face unobscured Jayce caught himself staring for a little too long without answering back. Something about the way the warm sunlight lit his face as he looked down at Jayce reminded him of those fairytales about guardian angels and other worldly beings. As he stared, he unconsciously pulled the covers up and over his shoulder, his fingers were pinching and smoothing over the fabric of the quilt soaking in the feeling of fabric. “I didn’t want to wake you but do tell me if you want me to in the future” Viktor said smiling slightly as Jayce’s eyes moved to meet Viktor’s. Like an angel hmm...Well, this angel did bring the world to an end and turned him into a statue for a good few centuries. Jayce’s eyelids lowered as his eyebrows furrowed as he swiftly pulled the blanket up and over his head, Viktor watched nervously.

Viktor sighed, placing the book down and lying back in bed facing Jayce. “Be mad, you have every right to.” He said softly as Jayce remained under the covers staring at his left hand those fingers twisted and linked with Viktor’s old ones. “I want you to be Jayce again, and nothing else, even if that means you hate me.” He explained as Jayce’s expression softened, “In the meantime this is what I have to do to give you your agency, I know it’s invasive and I’ll do my best to fix it.” Viktor explained as Jayce pulled the cover down from his face, with his head now visible to Viktor. Viktor's eyes began to inch across Jayce's new form, the ridged broken peaks of his head separated and made way for his hair to fall like it used to, it acted like a crown that crested his head. His eyes were a deep golden yellow and brown, those pupils dilated and stared into Viktor’s soul. God, oh how he missed those eyes. All the while his dark hair mixed with those strands of leaves and roots fell gently around his face like a veil. Viktor wanted to kick himself for even thinking about how beautiful Jayce was, lying next to him looking the way he did, no get that idea out of your head now. “Viktor.” Jayce said as Viktor re focused, he nodded in response. “I don’t even know what I am anymore, and I don't think I can be Jayce ever again.” He said, his eyes dimming as his expression dulled. Viktor sighed, “That’s just it, we have to find out who Jayce is now, and I hope whoever that is, he can live again, even if it’s without me.” Viktor said with a smile, Jayce felt something inside crack, and that still face began to feel tears run down in streams, was he crying? Jayce’s free hand moved up to touch his cheek. Pressing against his tears and pulling away his fingertips were damp with an iridescent shimmer. Fuck even his tears weren’t human anymore. But the crying was, that somehow made him feel both better and worse. “Here.” Viktor said as he reached behind him and handed Jayce an old towel, Jayce wiped his face with it, his nostrils breathing in that bark-like scent Viktor seemed to carry with him now. “I’m ready to try.” Jayce mouthed as Viktor smiled, “Me too.” He replied before patting Jayce on the shoulder a few times. “Let's get up now okay?” Viktor asked as He slowly sat up. Jayce slowly followed him, the two sitting up in the futon, Jayce took a few seconds before blinking and looking at Viktor “I have to stand up.” He said as Viktor agreed, “Yes you do.” He said before realizing, “Oh... you have to stand up.” He said nervously.

[imogenkol]

— SHE’D DO ANYTHING FOR ME

pairing: Imogen Kol (oc) x Bix Caleen rating: Mature words: 3.3k warnings: possessive behavior, codependency, fight and make up summary: tfw when your ex finds your taste in women extremely questionable

notes: this is another older-ish one that I feel compelled to post on its own.

Everything felt so... calm and peaceful. In the same way the sky looks before a storm. Imogen should be fleeing for her life or at the very least preparing herself for the inevitable destruction. But she didn't — she couldn't. 

All she managed was to lie in bed beside the woman she fought so hard not to love. The warmth of her body half draped over Imogen's after a night of passion. It was such a simple thing, to have her beloved's head rest against her chest and feel their breaths as one, yet she could not recall ever feeling so content.

Destruction might just be worth it.

Bix trailed her fingertips along her bare collarbone which caused Imogen to smile. Her own caress lightly traveled up and down the mechanic's spine in aimless patterns. It even felt extraordinary to touch her just for the sake of it.

"I'm starting to believe you actually like waking up next to me," Bix said in a lighthearted tone.

"I have always desired this," Imogen admitted softly, tilting her head enough to nuzzle against hers.

"Meaning you've always been afraid of this."

Imogen tensed. The hard-wired urge to pull away and fiercely deny such an accusation threatened to overcome her, but there was no sense in refuting the truth any longer. Not from Bix. Gradually, the bounty hunter willed her muscles to ease. She wondered how long it would take to train these instincts out of her. "If we... truly commit to one another –"

Bix's fingers suddenly twitched into a fist against Imogen's skin. "If?"

"No," Imogen quickly corrected herself. "No more ifs. What I mean to say is... Well, I have a lot to learn."

"So do I. So does everyone," Bix stated matter-of-factly. She leaned up on her elbow and met the other woman's apprehensive expression. "You're here. You're trying. That's all that really matters to me."

A strand of dark hair dangled over the mechanic's cheek. Imogen reached out and delicately tucked it behind her ear. She took in the unobscured beauty of her beloved for a few prolonged beats, her thumb tracing some of those features that left her in awe.

"I am quite certain there is one thing in this galaxy that I would not be able to bear," Imogen muttered under her breath – almost to herself.

Bix moistened her lips as she inched closer. "And what's that?"

A rhythmic knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Along with a gruff voice that called out "Bix? It's me."

Imogen hoped her glare would burn right through the durasteel to strike Cassian down.

"Hang on!" Bix called back. With an exasperated sigh, she slumped down and hid her face in the crook of Imogen's neck for a beat before she forced herself up. At the sight of the bounty hunter's less than pleased expression, Bix said "Don't start anything. I’m not in the mood to deal with either of your shit today."

"He still draws breath, does he not? That is the extent of my manners," Imogen replied curtly as Bix hastily dressed herself. She, too, summoned a great effort to follow her out of bed and do the same. "Unless he wishes to apologize for aiming a blaster at my heart."

"You held your lightsaber at his throat."

"He drew on me first."

Bix rolled her eyes, though Imogen caught the upturn at the corner of her mouth before she turned towards the door. "Come in."

The both of them hadn't quite finished dressing. Cassian entered as Bix fastened the waistband of her pants at the same moment Imogen pulled a shirt over her head. He halted mid-step, his gaze shifting between the two women as if a complicated equation did not add up. Though, the scene before him must have been fairly obvious.

"What is it, Cass?" Bix impatiently urged.

"I just... wanted to talk to you." Cassian's answer came out distracted. His eyes lingered on the bounty hunter.

Imogen looked to Bix expectantly and received a nod. A part of her had hoped that she would have been allowed to remain in the room, but she understood why Bix dismissed her. Without another word, Imogen collected her coat in one hand and intended to make her exit when an impulse emerged. She would not have Cassian misinterpret anything here, not if she had any say in it.

In a few strides, Imogen went to Bix and pulled her in by the back of her neck. While their lips met with intention, it was no less soft or passionate than the kisses they shared in private. Imogen indulged in a few strokes and had to fight not to get lost in the sensations, nearly forgetting the witness she intended to show for.

Once Imogen pulled away, she gave Bix a parting caress and said "I will come find you later."

The mechanic had a knowing glint in her eye, but she nodded again. "Alright."

Cassian had not moved and the nature of his continued gaze turned from dumbfounded to outright suspicion. Imogen glared right back at him as she made her way towards the door. He stood far enough into the room that she could have easily maneuvered around him, but she instead shoved her shoulder into his as she walked past. Just to make sure her point came across clearly.

Cassian let it happen and she exited the room with an air of confidence. 

Despite having been dismissed, Imogen’s curiosity compelled her to linger just outside the door. Cassian could be there to simply check up on his friend, or he could be there to stir up tension. Either way, Imogen didn’t trust his judgment or his motives and prepared to intervene if she must. 

She leaned against the wall next to the door and shut her eyes to focus her hearing as best as she could past the thick durasteel wall. Through the Force, she could pinpoint each of their positions and the vibration of their voices became clear in her ears. 

“I didn’t realize you two were back to your original arrangement,” Cassian said. 

“We’re not,” Bix replied curtly. 

“No? Then what was all that about?”

“We’re trying something different.” 

Cassian scoffed. “Different. With her?” 

“Yeah. With her,” Bix asserted and Imogen sensed that she placed her hands on her hips as irritation began to swell in the mechanic’s chest. 

“Alright then.” 

“Look, did you just come in here to rag on my personal life choices or was there actually a point to this conversation?” 

“I’m not ragging,” he insisted, shrugging his shoulders defensively. “I just – I don’t get it.” 

“Well, you sound pretty judgmental. Which is rich coming from you, Cass.” 

“At least I haven’t slept with an Imperial Inquisitor.” 

“She’d do anything for me.”

Cassian did not try to hide his disdain. “Where have I heard that before?”

“Imogen is not Timm,” Bix snapped.

Under normal circumstances, Imogen would never allow anyone to come to her defense. All that mattered was that she had enough power to stand up for herself. And yet… she realized that no one ever has spoken up for her in any capacity. The utter conviction in Bix’s statement filled her with an unexpected swell of pride. 

“No,” Cassian agreed patronizingly. “Timm never waved a red laser sword in anyone’s face.”

The jab only seemed to antagonize the mechanic more. “What is your problem?”

The two of them struggled to keep their tones leveled, but as tensions grew, so did their volume. Even in an enclosed space, their disagreement would certainly be heard by anyone that walked by. Imogen didn’t even have to hold her focus through the Force to hear them clearly any longer. Cassian must not have cared because he knew many others held the same prejudices against Imogen that he did. Bix clearly had no issue voicing her opposite opinion. 

Imogen loved her for it. 

“I don’t know, I just,” he stammered over his argument once again and sighed. “I think there are better options out there –”

“What, like you?”

“Come on, you know that isn’t what I’m trying to say.”

“Then what are you trying to say? Explain it to me.”

Imogen’s patience for eavesdropping wore thin and the discomfort she sensed in Bix only made her own anger rise. The bounty hunter pushed away from the wall and took an assertive step towards the room, fully intending to assure Cassian of her permanence at Bix’s side, but his next words made her hesitate. 

“I’m worried for you, being with someone like that,” he said earnestly

There was a pause. Bix did not abandon her stern tone, but Imogen heard it soften ever so slightly as she responded. “She won’t do anything that I don’t ask her to do.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m worried about.”

“Oh, so you’re afraid of me now, too?”

“I’m afraid of how she’ll change you.”

Another tense beat of silence passed between the two of them. Imogen absorbed Cassian’s words and they left a bitter taste on her mouth. He sounded like Cal, making it seem as if darkness only corrupted. Darkness could bring strength. Darkness could bring power. Imogen would not change Bix, Bix would change herself into whatever she needed to be. That is what Cassian truly feared, whether he realized it or not.

“I’ve already changed. And Imogen had nothing to do with it. So do us both a favor and mind your fucking business from now on,” Bix said firmly.

The mechanical door suddenly slid open and Bix came into view as she stormed away from the conversation, coming up short once she spotted Imogen. Her eyes widened slightly and she quickly glanced behind her, but Cassian hadn’t made his retreat from the room yet. 

“Are you alright?” Imogen asked. The urge to confront Cassian herself remained, though she doubted any of her intentions towards him would improve his reservations about her.

Bix continued to briskly walk away, reaching out for Imogen’s waist to usher them along — or more likely move her as far away from Cassian as they could get in order to avoid a possible blood feud. “How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it,” Imogen casually admitted. 

“Don’t let it get to you, alright?” Bix rubbed her hand up and down Imogen’s back. Whether her intentions were to pacify herself or the dangerous woman next to her, it was difficult to say. Imogen still accepted her touch. 

“While he made a fool of himself… some of his concerns are not entirely unfounded,” she said slowly.  

Bix shot her a deeply confused look. “Are you saying you care what Cassian thinks?”

“No,” Imogen replied with a scoff. “I simply mean that he harbors the same judgments everyone else holds against me. I have accepted them long ago and so should you, lest that scowl overstays its welcome.” 

The mechanic shook her head bitterly, ignoring Imogen’s attempt to lighten her mood. “They just don’t know you.”

“And they never will. Not like you do.” 

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Bix pointed out as she came to a stop in a secluded corner of the hallway. “All he sees is the Inquisitor.”

Imogen tried not to roll her eyes. “I have nothing to prove to him or anyone else. Why should I waste my time with such an endeavor? Especially when they are not wrong.”

“They are wrong.”

“No, they aren’t. Not about me. Not about us.” Imogen placed her hands on Bix’s arms. Her caress had a sort of melancholy that lingered in the small smile across her lips. “I do not believe I am the best option for you, but I will be yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bix asked incredulously and shook off her touch. 

Imogen felt a tightness at the back of her throat. She moistened her lips and swallowed with difficulty, her voice hollow. “Have you considered that your feelings for me might be influenced by gratitude? By the simple fact that I got to you first on Ferrix? Would it not be Cassian’s embrace you’d wish to fall into every night had it been him?” 

It deeply pained Imogen to voice an insecurity that she had failed to bury. The way Bix had looked at her differently since Ferrix filled Imogen with a warmth that she had never experienced before, but she could not shake the whisper at the back of her mind that gradually became another scream in the cacophony. A part of her did not care if it was true, she would be grateful to have Bix in any capacity. But the much larger part that truly loved her felt she needed to hear those words.

An intense and furious expression twisted Bix’s features as her body stiffened. She fixed Imogen with such a hard look that the bounty hunter nearly took a step back. 

“Fuck you,” Bix said with a shocking amount of venom. Imogen realized her grave mistake, then, and it felt like a harsh slap to the face. “And fuck what you’re insinuating.” 

“Bix–”

“And I’ll tell you why you’re wrong,” she continued fiercely and took an assertive step towards Imogen, entering her space. It wasn’t until that moment that Imogen noticed she had, in fact, backed away. “What I feel for you was there before all of this. So, despite what you might think of me, I won’t just fall for the first fucking person who comes to my rescue!”

Imogen’s gaze became downcast in shame before she responded softly “Forgive me. I misspoke.”

“You sure did,” Bix snarled bitterly. She turned to walk away and Imogen felt conflicted on whether or not she should follow. 

She refrained from pursuit, but she couldn’t help calling out after her. “You know I don’t truly think that.” 

Bix hesitated. Some of the tension dispersed from her shoulders as she released a weary sigh and glanced back. “You still don’t believe that I can love you for you. I thought we were past this, Imogen.” 

“I do not doubt you.”

“Some part of you does.”

“Maybe… But I swear not to give voice to those thoughts ever again.” She dared a step towards the mechanic.

Bix held up a hand to stop her. “Look, first it was Cassian and now it’s you, just… give me some time, okay?”

Imogen hated Cassian. And she wasn’t particularly fond of herself at the moment, either. She conceded. “Of course.”

As she watched Bix walk away, Imogen felt the invisible tether between them tighten. Disbelief filled the pit of embarrassment in her gut as she tried to make sense of what just happened. She knew better. Imogen knew better and still she plucked out the most absurd thought from the back of her mind and spoke it out loud like a witless scoundrel. If her utter foolishness is what finally made the tether snap, she would never forgive herself.

Hours passed and Imogen kept herself scarce until evening approached and she could sequester herself to the comfort of her own ship. Though, The Huntress felt far colder and emptier than it ever has before.

Imogen ate a quick supper and prepared for bed early. As she settled into the cot, silence sounded more unbearable than a cacophony of tangled voices. The longer she stewed in the memory of her own foolish words, the more Imogen felt like she could hear the shouting of those imaginary voices at the back of her mind. Some sounded like her own voice. Others sounded like her Master. They sounded like Vader. They sounded like Cal. 

They sounded like Bix. 

After a while — or an eternity — Imogen groaned and sat up in the cot, swinging her legs over the side and contemplating numerous methods to get her brain to shut off. All felt fruitless. 

Then she sensed a familiar presence approach, making her spine perk up like an alert animal. 

The entrance to The Huntress whooshed open and Bix trudged in, looking as exhausted and dejected as Imogen felt. The bounty hunter couldn’t deny the immediate feeling of serenity at the sight of her lover, but she still gripped the edge of the cot and half expected another round of disciplining. 

The mechanic came to a stop before her and crossed her arms, appearing less stern than earlier, but Imogen still noted the twitch of her jaw. They simply breathed in the tense air for a few long beats until she finally spoke. 

“You didn’t come to bed.” Bix tried to hide it, but she sounded hurt.

“You asked for time,” Imogen replied pointedly. 

The mechanic sighed as she stared down at the floor and shook her head. “I didn’t mean the whole night, I’m sorry.”

“You should not apologize.” 

“I want to,” Bix insisted as she stepped closer to the cot. Her fingers twitched in a subtle fidget at her sides. “What you said earlier –” 

“Was careless.” 

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Yeah, it was. But I know you didn’t mean it that way. I’ve been thinking about it and you’re not entirely wrong. Well, you are when it comes to Cassian, but about gratitude...” Bix’s shoulders lifted as she took in a deep breath, her gaze shifting over the interior of the ship that she knew as well as her own home back on Ferrix. “I’ve always wanted to be near you, but after everything you’ve done for me, it feels less like a want and more like a need. I don’t know, but I start to lose my mind a little bit when you’re gone. Even with how upset I was earlier, a part of me still hoped you’d come after me.”

Imogen took a quiet moment to contemplate the confession. She understood Bix’s words because she had seen the evidence. All that she missed was the true extent of her suspicion. But before Imogen allowed her emotions to settle, she offered one single question. 

“Does that bother you?”

“No,” Bix answered confidently and closed the distance between them. She reached out and took a strand of Imogen’s hair between her fingers. “Does it bother you?”

It should, her thoughts responded immediately without voicing it. Imogen recognized this attachment had grown to an intensity Bix did not have full control over. She recognized it because it was the same attachment she had within herself. As if Bix were a vital organ her body would not survive without.

Could Imogen’s devotion still be pure in that case? Did it matter? It certainly did not feel like it did when her beloved gazed down at her with a mixture of adoration and concern. 

“No,” Imogen said and accepted that for all it could possibly mean.

A small smile of relief brightened the mechanic’s features. “Good,” she said. Bix placed her hands on Imogen’s shoulders and pulled herself down onto the bounty hunter’s lap. “Because I’m done arguing with people about loving you.”

Imogen’s arms automatically wrapped around Bix’s waist to keep her close. She grew weary of the discourse as well, but she did not wish to see Bix angry with those she held dear – no matter how much Imogen detested them. “They argue because they care.”

“I know.” Bix leaned in until their foreheads touched, her hands coming up to rest against Imogen’s cheeks. “But they should see how you make me feel.”

Imogen felt her face flush with a warm grin at that. “You were right earlier.” 

“About what?”

Their lips brushed together. Chaste at first. More of an innocent expression of her fondness. Then Imogen tightened her grip around the woman in her embrace as she deepened the kiss. Many emotions were conveyed in the cadence she led. Her kiss was possessive as she lightly nipped at Bix’s lower lip. It was passionate as the tip of her tongue greeted hers. It was desperate as short breaths escaped their lungs and tickled their skin. It was everything. 

Imogen finally pulled back, but only the smallest amount to utter her answer. “I would do anything for you.”

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[sweetestofchaos]

Blackthorn Ch 17 | M.YG

Pairing: Crown Prince Dragon!Yoongi x Crown Princess Impundulu!Keena  Genre: Soulmate AU | Arranged Marriage AU | Fantasy AU | Fluff | Angst  Word Count: 6.1K  Warnings: Crying | Kissing | Mentions of Injury and Blood | Mentions of Punishment | Depictions of Greif | Magic | Semi-Shifting Rating: NC-18

Come What May - an investigation takes place within the palace and everyone is under suspicion.

a/n: Hello everyone. I know it has been a while…I want to take this time to thank you for reading Blackthorn and showing such support even with the breaks in between. I've been all over the place while trying to get back into writing. It is my first love and has helped me a lot in the past. I hope you enjoy this chapter and look forward to more. The next chapter is in the works and I'm excited to get back into the world of Blackthorn. It's a magical world that just makes me want to do better, ya know?

Huge shout out to @theharrowing and @sailoryooons for being my betas throughout this whole series. They are such wonderful people and push me to make this story the best it can be. I love them both dearly!

a/n 2: Minors do NOT interact with my work, please and thank you. Also, this is cross posted on ao3, under the same username sweetestofchaos. As always, Namjoon edit by the wonderful @colormepurplex2

taglist: @thickemadame @loisje123

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“Forgive me. I-It was foolish of me to take you outside of the walls. I-I…”

The Prince didn’t know what to say as his own eyes burned with tears. Everyone would be hurt because of him and here he was holding the one person he never meant to hurt the most. Prince Yoongi vaguely recalled a conversation he had with Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin about the possibility of a spy within the walls but it was one he dismissed. Now as he held the Princess, he wondered if he should have taken the conversation more seriously. His ignorance and pride had cost him the Princess’ happiness and the blood of those closest to them both. The Prince would spend the rest of his life making up for his wrongdoings, to the ancient dragons who came before and watched over them, he swore it.

The Prince woke to a shift on his bed. The warmth and weight of the Princess was no longer on his chest. He opened his eyes and saw that the Princess’ back now faced him. He rolled to his side, turned her around and pulled the Princess into his arm, tucking her face into his chest as she cried. The Prince’s heart ached with each tear that struck his skin; he caused this pain. 

The sound of birds chirping floated from outside the window. Specks of dust fluttered in the rays of the morning light with heavy and cold dread pressed into the Prince’s soul. A loud hiss followed by a small growl caught the Princess’ attention, and when she heard shouting from outside the window, she pushed away from the Prince, scrambling out of bed. She rushed to the window, nearly tripping over her own two feet and threw her upper body out the opening to get a better look at where the sound had come from. In the distance, unfamiliar guards were chasing after a small tiger cub.

“Cookie!” 

The Princess’ voice was shrill, sharp with a protective warning that made the guards freeze in place. The small green and yellow tiger cub yowled loudly before it started to sprint in the Princess’ direction. Cookie’s nails dug into the rough stone work as he scaled the side of the wall and Princess Keena grunted as she pulled him up into her arms. Cookie licked at her cheek and she frowned as the cub’s body shook in her arms. 

Prince Yoongi rose from his bed and walked over to the window, standing behind the Princess. His hand found the small of her back without a second thought, second nature now as he offered silent comfort to his heart personified. The guards outside stood before the window and waited for the young royals commands. The Prince narrowed his unobscured eye and curled his upper lip, his fangs gleamed in the early light.

“You have caused great distress to her Highness, explain yourselves.” 

The Prince’s words were to the point, his voice weighed down by sleep but sharp nonetheless. The white gauze around his right eye added a severe reminder of the Prince’s deeds the night before. The guards trembled before the Prince and bowed low, their torsos bent into a ninety degree angle. 

“Speak!” 

The guards jumped at the Prince’s sudden command, while the Princess leaned into the Prince’s chest. The warmth that radiated from her body was soothing and as the Prince inhaled, zesty tangerine stung his tongue and fizzled at the back of his throat while sun-sweet honey dripped over his mind. Easy, relax, one step at a time. Prince Yoongi’s thumb stroked over the fabric of the Princess’ robes as he reined in his rage. The guards were the wrong people to direct his anger to.

One of the guards straightened to his full height but refused to look any higher than the window’s ledge and as he spoke, his voice wobbled.

“A-Apologies, Your Majesty. We were in the middle of a changing of the guard when Her H-Highness’...pet escaped from its pen.”

“Who authorized your entry to Her Highness’ chambers? It was made clear the night prior that she was to stay by my side.”

The guard’s shoulders tensed and Yoongi licked over his fangs as his nails started to sharpen. Thin gold rings circled the Prince’s iris and the Princess shifted against the Prince. Now, Princess Keena stood beside him, tucked into his side with Cookie secured in one arm while the other rested against his chest.

“Easy, my Prince. It was a misunderstanding-” Princess Keena turned her attention to the guards before them and raised an eyebrow, “surely you learned your lesson? There is no reason to enter my chambers whether I am present or not. Understand?” 

“Yes, Your Highness!”

The Prince’s face twisted into a deep set scowl. A verbal warning would not be enough but before he could speak up, Princess Keena dismissed the guards and pushed him away from the window. Prince Yoongi allowed for the Princess to guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sat down and pulled the Princess in between his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist as he held her in his tight embrace. Princess Keena released Cookie and the cub crawled about on the bed, before the tiny creature made itself at home on one of the Prince’s pillows. 

“You must control yourself, my Prince. Tension is high and it will only increase as the news of His Royal Majesty's sickness spreads.”

Prince Yoongi lifted his face upwards to the Princess and stared at her silently for a moment. The golden ring around his eye was gone and his nails were once again blunt as they dug into the fabric of the Princess’ robes. He clung to her and sighed, unsure of where his mind was. His father was dying and there was nothing the Prince could do to stop it. He and Agust had all the power in the world but neither one could cure the emperor and extend his life.

Princess Keena watched as the Prince’s brow furrowed and his lips turned downward, whatever smile there could be hidden under the weight of current events. The earthy sage and spicy ginger was rotten, left out to spoil in the scorching chill of despair. Slowly, the Princess raised her hands, her fingertips grazed the Prince’s jaw, his cheeks, the apple of his eyes and his temples as she traced a map of his face, careful of the bandages. The Prince’s eye fluttered closed and his head fell forward, pressing into the soft fabric that covered the Princess’ stomach.

“My Father will take his sickness to the grave. He will pass on without any others knowing the truth.” Princess Keena’s fingers carefully worked their way through the small tangles in the Prince’s messy hair as he spoke and he melted into the tender touch. “A peaceful and sudden death, something only he knew of and prepared for ahead of time.”

Prince Yoongi tilted his face upward once more, his chin now rested against the Princess stomach and he blinked slowly, his blurred vision grew sharper with each movement. The Princess’ eyes were a little puffy from her crying earlier.

“I should be comforting you, my gem.”

“And you are.”

“Am I?” 

Princess Keena nodded her head and used her nails to lightly scratch against the Prince’s scalp.

"Plis pase ou konnen, Prince mwen.” 

Her words were comforting in their own right and Prince Yoongi felt his heart lighten from her reassurance.

"Ou fè byen."

Princess Keena laughed at the Prince’s words and nodded her head.

“As do you, my Prince.”

A sudden purr caught the young royal’s attention and when they looked to their right, Cookie was sound asleep, on his back and curled into a half moon while his tail hung off the pillow. The Princess giggled while the Prince cracked a smile and clicked his tongue.

“I do not recall ever sleeping that well in my own bed.”

“Cookie can sleep anywhere but his love for pillows is a weakness.”

On the other side of the palace, a wooden structure stood alone on an isolated island covered in green leafy vines. A pale grey path made from different sized stones led from the rear of the palace to the rarely used structure connected by a single wooden bridge. The building was in the shape of a crescent moon, open in the center for all to see. The island housed criminals from petty theft to murder and even treason. Currently, the cells held members of the Princess’ guard and handmaids. Hoseok and Aga were celled together and sat in silence while they waited for judgment to be passed. 

Aga worried for the Princess; he did not know who stood in place of the guards that were locked away with him nor of the maids that were looking after her. Hoseok had known Agust in the past a lifetime ago. He remembered how fierce and loyal the dragon was. Both the Prince and the Princess were safe with him lurking in the depths of the Prince’s soul but he couldn’t stop the bobbing of his leg as he waited. The attack and attempted abduction of the young royals was planned. It was no mere coincidence and Hoseok silently vowed to himself to kill whomever targeted his friends. 

The maids were locked away together, their faces puffy and tear-stained. The rest of the guards were thrown into individual cells; all were silent and tense. The cells weren’t luxurious, made of wood and stone, unforgiving and cold. Hay was thrown onto the ground and did little to offer comfort. In the center of the prison a beautiful stone mosaic in shades of greys, tans, and blues added some color to the gloomy atmosphere. Four wooden posts, spaced out evenly in a straight line, sat in the center of the prison, and stood eight feet tall. The wood was marred, stained with blood, and indented from being struck many times over. 

The sound of pebbles crunching underneath heavy footfalls caught everyone’s attention. Daehyun, the general of the royal guard, was flanked by four guards on either side. They filled the center of the prison and stood tall. Daehyun’s dark eyes were emotionless as he looked around at the full cells. A guard on his right pulled a scroll from his waist and handed it to Daehyun without a word. Hoseok took notice of the hanboks worn by the guards outside of the cells. The colors were a silent and bold warning. The hanbok that Daehyun wore was simple, a plain black robe with white gladiolus flowers stitched along the cuffs and collar with a red changui on top, and the same white gladiolus stitched on the collar, down the center and the hem. A wide black belt with matching gladiolus was tied around his waist and a jumeoni sat at his right hip, opposite his sword. The other guards were dressed in the same manner with the red and black colors switched.

Daehyun held the scroll in his hands and opened it slowly before he held it up to read out loud. Hoseok held his breath as Daehyun started to read what would be their punishment if any of them were found guilty of treason or otherwise. Last night, as everyone was arrested, Hoseok had known that everyone needed to be interrogated and that it would take time, at least two days before the final punishment was ordered. The charges that were read out loud were attempted assassination of the royal family, attempted kidnapping, attempted sexual assault, and espionage. The charges were severe and if found guilty, those involved would be executed by beheading. 

Daehyun explained how the investigation would be carried out and he offered a small word of reassurance that those who were not found guilty would maintain their respective positions once the investigation was wrapped up. The guards left all together and Hoseok’s lungs wouldn’t expand. His chest was tight and his mouth dry as he processed the charges, leaning back against his cell wall. Aga folded his arms over his chest and clicked his tongue as he fingers squeezed into tightly wound fists. He vowed to kill everyone who chose to target the Princess with his bare hands. He understood the need to interrogate everyone, but holding him in a cell put the Princess at risk.

Aga’s gaze fixated on a small ant that struggled to carry what looked to be a crumb across the cell. He thought about everyone locked in the cells and glowered. Everyone was close to the Princess, they laughed with her and made her feel safe. Could any of them truly be traders? Aga cursed and threw his head back against the cell wall with a heavy thunk.

Daehyun was on a mission of justice. He had watched the Crown Prince grow from a hatchling to a young fledgling. He had taught the Prince how to notch an arrow, how to ride a horse, and swing his first sword. The attack on the Prince was an attack on the palace and all of those who swore loyalty to the crown. Daehyun would find out who harmed the Crown Prince and when he did he swore to the great dragon above, there would be nowhere in the greatest depths of Hell that would keep them safe. 

Daehyun walked the halls with his hands fisted at his sides, his eyes were narrowed and he glared at everyone that dared to make eye contact. As a human, Daehyun was known for his fierce swordsmanship and his overthinking mind. He connected the farthest of dots and had sent many lives to the Hells below. Daehyun was a force to be reckoned with, and as he stood outside of the Prince’s chambers, the guards before him bowed low. He stood proud, his back ramrod straight as he stared down the length of his nose at the men before him.

“I have come to speak with His Royal Highness.”

“Hyungwon is seeing to His-”

“He will see me.”

The guards looked at each other and Daehyun crossed his arms over his chest. He stood in silence as the guards debated the outcome of turning him away but before they were able to speak their peace, a loud and boisterous voice called out to Daehyun from farther down the hall.

“General Daehyun! What brings you to His Highness’ chambers?” 

Daehyun knew the owner of the voice before he turned his head and offered a polite smile. 

“Strategist Kim, it would do you good to-”

Daehyun bit off his words as he turned. Seokjin was dressed in a handsome hanfu of all white with bamboo leaves of monochrome green embroidered on the collar and hem of the robes. A green outer robe was worn over top and left open, with wide butterfly sleeves that hung low to the ground. Beside him, Namjoon, the royal gardener, dressed in a dark green hanbok with even darker green leaves embossed on the sleeves of the jeogori. A white joggi with green and black clematis was worn over top to break up the colors. 

In Namjoon’s arms, he carried a large basket full of different flowers and plants that Daehyun couldn’t recall the names of. Namjoon looked powerful, more self-assured as he kept in step with Seokjin and looked Daehyun right in his eyes. Daehyun looked from Namjoon to Seokjin and noticed a stack of books neatly tied together in his right arm. 

“I see you brought offerings for His Highness.”

“Nothing of the sort,” Seokjin laughed and pointed to the basket in Namjoon’s hand, “Hyungwon requested medical herbs and Her Highness is at his bedside. I thought a few written words from worlds away could help pass the time.”

Daehyun frowned. He heard of the Prince’s injury but had yet to see it. A few brave souls whispered but none out right spoke of what (if anything) they saw.

“You are requesting an audience with His Highness?” Namjoon finally spoke up when he noticed the way Daehyun eyed the basket in his hand. When the older man nodded, Namjoon extended his arm and the guards before them opened the doors.

“After you, General.” 

The three men entered the Prince’s chambers together. The sitting room was empty with only a handful of maids scattered around cleaning. The shortest of the group hurried up to the trio and bowed, “I will inform His Highness that you have arrived.”

“Give this to Hyungwon. There is no need for him to wait while the General speaks to His Highness. We will wait out here, out of the way.”

Namjoon handed over the basket and Seokjin rolled his eyes but said nothing more as Daehyun followed behind the small maid.

“You are far too kind to that man, Namjoon.”

Namjoon shrugged his shoulders and lowered himself onto the settee before him. He leaned back and crossed his ankles before he looked up to Seokjin, who refused to sit.

“Elders, no matter their disposition, are shown respect.”

Seokjin shot Namjoon a deeply unimpressed look at his choice of words. “Elders? You disrespect me with every breath you take,” Seokjin gripped and Namjoon raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“He put Hoseok behind bars!” Seokjin squawked, indigent; his face was red as he glared at Namjoon and the stack of books shook in his hold.

Namjoon shrugged his shoulders, unbothered by Seokjin’s misplaced rage. He understood the others' emotions and reasoning behind said emotions, but he couldn’t agree. Hoseok was next in line to defend the Empire. He was to put his life on the line for Yoongi and yet, under his very watch, the Prince as well as the Princess were taken and harmed. Hoseok would be the biggest suspect, right next to Aga, in the investigation. 

“He followed his orders.”

Shouting, though distorted and muffled, creeped from a crack in the door of the Prince’s bedroom and Seokjin swallowed thickly. The walls were shaken by a threatening growl, the door thrown open in haste and shortly after, and General Daehyun rushed out. His face was ashen, all color gone, and Namjoon rose to his feet in concern while Seokjin stepped back in alarm. Daehyun fled from the room without a single glance in their direction and the same short maid from before appeared with a gentle twist to her lips that reassured Namjoon the Prince’s anger was of no consequence to them.

Namjoon led the way to the Prince’s inner chamber and he bowed deeply to Hyungwon who stood behind a wooden work bench that hadn’t been in the Prince’s chambers before. The coiling scent of feverfew, ginger, white willow and chamomile sunk into the fabric of Namjoon’s robes as he stepped farther into the room. The heavy smoke of charred danbannite stung Namjoon’s nose and his vision honed in on a wooden rack of white cloth that was placed at the Prince’s bedside. The lavender and yarrow that the bandages were steeped in made Namjoon’s throat itch.

The Princess was perched on the edge of the bed, her knees bent and tucked underneath the skirt of her iro. The pale ice blue that she wore was soothing to the eye and stood out against the Prince’s crisp bedding. The buba was creamy grey brocade fabric, smooth and cool to the touch. Namjoon noticed that the Princess’ hair was twisted into a simple updo with a matching blue brocaded head scarf wrapped loosely enough that two single braids hung down on either side of her face. 

A silver hairstick peeked out from the side, three blue aster flowers, their petals made of blue grey spinel jewels that twinkled in the light. A silver phoenix clutched the aster flowers in its claws and from its beak a golden lantern rested with thin gold tassels hanging from the bottom as small dumortierite beads glittered and clinked together. A little to the right of the Princess, Cookie rested with his large wet eyes locked on Seokjin and Namjoon.

In the center of the bed, Prince Yoongi was nude down to his waist, his hips and below covered by thick bedding. He sat upright with his back supported by a stack of pillows. Right away Seokjin rushed to the empty side of the bed and stared wide-eyed at the Prince. 

“Your hair!!”

The Prince sighed and ran a hand through the short blonde strands that rested unevenly against his jaw in some places, “It’s short. I know.”

“B-But-”

“It will grow back in time, do not worry. Hyungwon has sent for the groomer, he will fix it.” 

Seokjin opened his mouth to protest and closed it after a short moment. His dark eyes darted over the rest of the Prince’s face and a frown appeared on his lips as he took in the white bandage that covered the Prince’s right eye.

“Did you need anything of me?” Prince Yoongi questioned, his tone slightly fatigued. 

Seokjin sighed and shook his head, “We came as soon as we could. You may be the Prince but you are still our friend.”

Prince Yoongi nodded his head and sighed when Hyungwon walked over to the bed with a bowl of ointment in his hands. The Prince looked between the bowl and his friends who watched him in concern. Princess Keena cleared her throat and all attention shifted to her as she smiled softly.

“Thank you for the herbs and books. As you can see, His Highness is in need of rest.”

Seokjin rose to his feet, his ears flushed as he stumbled over his words.

“O-Of course! We’ve overstayed, forgive us. Namjoon, let’s go!” 

Seokjin bowed to the young royals and Namjoon shook his head, “Before we go…Yoongi, I must ask. Do you recall our time in the forest?”

The Prince stared at Namjoon and thought back to when they had found the gardener surrounded by the blood of the men who killed Jungkook.

“I do.”

The two men regarded each other with a knowing look and the Prince licked his lips quickly before he cleared his throat.

“I grant you permission to do your own investigation-”

“What-”

The Prince held his hand up, silencing Seokjin’s protest and continued on, not once taking his eye off Namjoon. 

“There is a traitor amongst us. Stay vigilant and return unharmed with your findings at the day’s end.”

Namjoon’s eyes, a deep brown, had a bright green ring around the irises and he bowed low. 

“As you command, Your Highness.”

Seokjin stood beside Namjoon confused as to what he had witnessed. He had questions and he knew they would not be answered in the current environment. Clearing his throat, Seokjin bowed once more.

“Do not hesitate to call on me if you require more books. Rest well, Your Highness.”

Namjoon and Seokjin left the room with their heads held high and the Prince’s whole body sunk into the pillows as the door clicked shut behind them. Princess Keena took hold of the Prince’s hand and laced their fingers together, a silent comfort while Hyungwon started to unwrap the gauze from around the Prince’s eye. The eye itself was intact, from the way the blade sliced the Prince’s face, but the eyelid and surface of the eye was damaged. Hyungwon created a concreted medicine that needed to be dripped into the Prince’s eye twice a day to heal the surface.

Hyungwon flipped through many books and read over scroll after scroll from sunrise to sunset in order to find a cure for the Prince’s vision but he found none. The Prince was now blind in his right eye and Hyungwon intended to speak with the Empress about how best to accommodate the Prince after he was done with today’s visit. The skin around the eye was tender and inflamed, an angry reddish pink where thin black threads of stitching held the skin together to help heal the wound on the highest part of the Prince’s cheek, which refused to heal on its own. 

The herbal mixture in Hyungwon’s hand would sting a little and burn the inside of the Prince’s nose, but with the Princess by his side, he could ignore the harsh smells and focus on the soothing scent of honey-dipped tangerines. The Prince’s face pinched into a deep-set frown as Hyungwon carefully spread the ointment onto the damaged skin and the Princess started to hum a song from her childhood.

“The wound is healing quickly. In two days, I can remove the stitches.”

“And my sight?” 

There was a pregnant pause at the Prince’s question and Hyungwon struggled to meet his eyes. Princess Keena rested her cheek on the Prince’s shoulder and pressed the tip of her nose into his neck, nuzzling against the warm skin. Bitter ginger softened slightly and Prince Yoongi licked his lips with a wince as the corner split.

“Finish with this and leave.”

“As you command.”

In the conference room, Empress Eunkyung sat at the head of the table among the many counselors and tutors in attendance with the young otter hybrid, Youngjae, at her side as a scribe. Empress Eunkyung knew of the Prince’s upcoming coronation and with that would come the royal wedding to Princess Keena. Today, those in attendance were to discuss the Princess’ merits and where they felt she needed to improve before the wedding.

Emperor Chyungho was working closely with Seokjin’s mentor and current advisor, Lee Dongwook, a highly respected kitsune, to create a guide of sorts for Prince Yoongi to reference when he felt unsure of himself while still learning his new role. The Emperor had great faith in his son and those that he surrounded himself with, however, words from the previous ruler wouldn’t hinder the future. 

Dongwook was an intelligent scholar, filled with great wisdom and ever greater wit. Some would say that he passed on his humor to Seokjin, as well. He was a tall man with auburn hair that hung just above his shoulders in loose natural curls. His brown eyes were tinged with red and glowered in the firelight, a trait that all kitsune’s shared as great foxes. Dongwook often let three of his tails be seen at all times and it was only during war that all nine white puffs were fanned out behind him. Unlike the Princess’ guard, San, who only had four tails and never showed them to anyone outside of his sleeping chambers. 

As the Emperor and Empress worked separately to create a brighter future for the young royals, Namjoon sat with Seokjin in the fifth garden. The area was secluded, encased by thick bushes that acted as walls. In the center a decent-sized pavilion rested against the soft backdrop of winter hazel trees, the yellow petals scattered on the plush green grass. Forsythia bushes with their bright yellow flowers sat in clusters around the entrance of the garden with red and orange marigolds planted along the stone walkway that leads to the pavilion. 

 It was here in the garden that Namjoon decided to share his secret with his lifelong friend and explain how he intended to help find the traitor amongst their ranks. Seokjin sat beside Namjoon and listened, keeping silent as Namjoon recounted the grief of losing their favorite tree Moni and how he had come into the powers of Esrym the hamadryad.

“What have I told you about experimenting with Jimsonweed?”

Seokjin's face was pinched into a doubtful scowl and Namjoon shook his head. He looked around the garden and inhaled deeply before he turned his attention back to Seokjin. Namjoon closed his eyes and when he opened them again, the familiar brown was now a stunning green that gleamed like the grass after a light misting of rain. Seokjin inhaled sharply; he knew better than to question what he was looking at. Namjoon had no time to play any tricks and Seokjin noticed a faint glow that came from the younger man’s skin.

“What does this make you? You are no longer human?” 

Namjoon blinked. His eyes were no longer green and the soft light that came from inside his body faded. He crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed at his chin in thought. He never really considered himself anything other than human. To Namjoon, he was still the same person he used to be, only now he could do more for the land that he cared for.

“I am still myself. I bleed just like you.”

Seokjin hummed at Namjoon’s words, “Are you mortal?” 

Namjoon’s arms fell from his chest and he looked at his friend. The silence between the two lasted for only a moment before Seokjin shook his head.

“What do I care? Your newfound status doesn’t change a thing between us. You are still you and I am still me, correct?”

Namjoon nodded his head in agreement and Seokjin gave a single nod in acceptance. 

“Can you converse with the wildlife?”

“Not all of them. Insects are the only ones that I can fully understand, the others just give me a…feeling?” 

“A feeling?”

“I find myself having trouble explaining it well. Take Cookie, for example. I cannot understand him at all but I know when he is feeling happy or if he is upset by something.”

“Joon…I can look at the cub and tell if something is off.”

Namjoon shot Seokjin an unimpressed glare to which Seokjin waved him off.

“How do you plan on helping Yoongi figure out who has betrayed us?”

Namjoon rose to his feet and Seokjin followed after him a few steps behind. They exited the pavilion and followed the path to where Namjoon knew a colony of ants lived. He squatted down upon seeing a few, and Seokjin watched as Namjoon pressed the point of his index finger into the grass. Two ants crawled up and stood on Namjoon’s knuckle as he brought his finger to eye level. 

Two sets of antennae wiggled in front of Namjoon as he spoke softly, “May I ask a question? I would like some help if you have the time?”

Seokjin watched as the same dim green light from before seeped from Namjoon’s exposed skin and he pretended to admire the flowers in order to trick anyone that might come by.

“Friends of mine could be hurt for something they had no involvement in. By chance have you seen anyone strange come into this garden? Have you heard any guards or anyone at all talk about hurting the Empire?” 

The ants on Namjoon’s finger crawled around, their antennae moved wildly, and Seokjin kept an ear out for any footsteps while Namjoon conducted his integration. After a few moments, Namjoon lowered his finger to the ground and the ants crawled off him. Seokjin shivered in disgust but kept his mouth closed as Namjoon rose to his full height. 

“We need to find the beehive.” 

“What did they tell you?” 

“Two people come here to exchange letters in the early hours of the morning. The notes are left between false bark on the tree. The bees should know more.”

Seokjin seemed skeptical but followed after Namjoon to find a beehive. If he could save Hoseok and stop other innocent people from being hurt, Seokjin would do what was asked of him, logic be damned. Together the two men searched the garden for the beehive and Seokjin found it within the branches of one of the winter hazel trees. Namjoon called to the bees and four came out of the hive. They flew around Seokjin and greeted Namjoon with a happy dance around his head. The dimples on Namjoon’s face sunk deeply into his cheeks as he bowed his head at his flying friends, and Seokjin couldn’t believe his eyes. Namjoon had not fabricated his story; the young man before Seokjin was indeed blessed with the magic from a hamadryad.

“Thank you for giving me your time. I am in need of your help.”

The bees sat in Namjoon’s upturned palm, their tiny bodies swirling as they answered his questions. 

“There were two people, I believe them to be men, that come into the garden often. Have you seen them? Do you recall their appearance?”

“Ask them if they can remember anything strange that might have been said,” Seokjin chimed in and Namjoon smiled. It was a good inquiry. At Seokjin’s question the bees had an answer and it made Namjoon frown.

“They say that there are three men and a woman that visit frequently at night. Two of the men speak another language that they have not heard before.”

“A different language?” 

Seokjin’s mind jumped to Aga and the Princess but he quickly dismissed the thought. He saw just how much the Prince cared for the Princess and vice versa, there was no way that she would betray him. Seokjin didn’t know much about Aga but he doubted the guard would ever put the Princess at risk. Seokjin mentally smacked himself for a hidden bias that he didn’t know he harbored within. 

If Namjoon had the same thought, Seokjin was none the wiser. The two were confused and tried to understand what the bees’ words meant. The palace grounds were filled with many races, most still spoke in their mother tongue when alone or with their families and friends. Hearing another language outside of Laibic wasn’t uncommon. Sirens, Oni, Elves, Unicorns, and even humans from other lands all had their own mother tongue. If the traitors spoke another language, it wasn’t a fact that would bring them closer to being found out.

“Can they remember any of the words?” 

As the next royal advisor, Seokjin was well-versed in many languages, and he was still learning. Maybe the traitors spoke a language that was uncommon within the palace. While the grounds were diverse, the ratios weren’t even, and often only a handful or two of one race lived within the palace walls. The bees jumped around in Namjoon’s hand and Namjoon nodded his head in understanding.

“There is one word that they men kept saying vaxikauxa. Does that mean anything to you?” 

Seokjin spoke the word slowly in his mind. He let the sound and syllables roll around on his tongue before he spoke it out loud three times. It was a language he wasn't as familiar with but he had heard of it before; at least he thought he had. The sound was smooth with a roughness that sat heavy in the vowels. Vaxikauxa? Seokjin repeated the word once more and shook his head.

“I will scour the records for any mention of this word. I will come to you myself with my findings.”

“Do you have any clue? Any at all?” 

Seokjin dissected the word in his mind, pulling apart the sound and breaking down the basic lettering in the Laibic language. After a few moments of silence and being unable to translate the word, he knew most of the letters were pronounced differently in another language. That made things harder to understand. If the word was in Eippiliya, the Oni’s mother tongue, the vowels would have a completely different pronunciation than if it was a Lazin word in the Elven language. There were too many factors at play and Seokjin wasn’t sure, so he shook his head.

“I am unsure of the spelling and depending on which land this language comes from, the meaning could be any number of things.”

“I understand. Forgive me for not walking you back. I must continue on with my own investigation.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes and waved off Namjoon’s words, “I don’t need you to accompany me, Namjoon. I will find the answer and come to you. Hoseok’s life is on the line, I will not fail.”

The sun was sinking below the horizon. The blue and white sky, warmed in soft tones that resembled a fresh peach before the temperature cooled and night slowly teased along the outer edge. Daehyun collected his intel and conducted his investigation swiftly, all members of the guard were questioned and their statements were cross-checked. There were still a few loose ends that Daehyun had to wrap up but that would be finished within a day’s time. 

Locked away in his office, Daehyun wrote up a report for the day's finding. He planned to report back to His Majesty and His Highness tomorrow after he continued with the end of the investigation. Having their blessing to punish those who wished to harm the Min Empire and failed at their sworn duties was all Daehyun needed. 

A knock at Daehyun’s door caught the commander’s attention and he called out for whomever to enter his chambers. A messenger from the prison stepped into the room and bowed before he offered Daehyun a letter. The commander took the paper and read over it silently. It was a request for his presence by Minho. It seemed that the guard had something to confess. 

[nautiscarader]

Holiday Heat - chapter 1

Another potentially sexy Summer adventure with goofs. What kind of adventure? YOU DECIDE

(Ao3)

Max opened his eyes, breaking the kiss and marvelling at the sight of his stunning girlfriend, whose face he was gently cupping. Roxanne's auburn hair and face looked even more radiant in the blazing Summer sun, and her white dress made her even more ethereal and angelic than in real life.

After all, this was still a dream…

"You should wake up, Maxie", she cupped his face and kissed him, "You don't want to be late to the date with me, do you?"

"Mhm", he replied, "I wouldn't mind staying here, with you, forever…", he continued, sneaking a kiss to her neck, drinking the soft giggles that filled the clearing in the middle of the golden wheat field.

"I think you'll find the reality far more interesting…", she cooed mysteriously, meeting his eyes, hers now sparkling with a frisky gleam. And as he looked down, she twisted her torso slightly, allowing her dress to succumb to gravity and slowly slide down, revealing more of her naked body, unobscured by any other article of under-clothing.

But just before Max could lay his eyes on her scrumptious curves, she gently held his mouth, closed his jaw he realised has been open and addressed him again.

"Wake up, Maxie. And who knows, maybe you'll see more today…"

She blew the dandelion seeds into his face, obscuring the sight of her now-naked breasts, and with a mighty "Achoo!" the scene crashed down at the same time he sat upright in his bed.

The sight of Roxanne was still fresh in his mind as his eyes got adjusted to the light in his room. He felt a pang of disappointment, which was quickly superseded by the excitement and giddyness of the date marked on his calendar. In a few hours he will be seeing her again, and kissing her, a feat he'd once considered a truly dreamlike.

But he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, they've been dating for…

[skunkes]

i wanted to post pics of my incisions/scars since its already been 1 month (and the glue has been fully off for abt a week!) but i just keep continuously feeling stupid for not having 1 solid photo of the first week of healing bc I took mirror pics instead of remembering i could just. Turn the camera and take an actual foto of my stomach unobscured by toothpaste streaks

[noneorother]

Are there also two versions of the columns in front of the bookshop?

@embracing-the-ineffable has a great post about clue hunting and inconsistencies. The latest one they found, the coffee shop board appearing in the middle of a scene, was great. I'll also humbly propose a new one : that there are two versions of the columns in front of A.Z.Fell & co. Please bear with a stupid amount of screenshots with time codes to better show the context. Here is every appearance of the front door of the bookshop in episodic order. Episode 1

When we first see the bookshop in S2 and then when Jimbriel arrives for the first time (?) we get really clear shots of the pillars. There are two big marks on the right hand column in the second scene, but not in the first.

Episode 2

All clear for all of episode 2, no markings. Episode 3

At the opening in episode 3 we get a clean pillar, and from 39mins onwards when Crowley comes out to talk to Shax, it's dirty. Seems to be pretty consistent within scenes. Episode 4

Episode 4 is tricky because we're in the 1941 minisode for almost the whole episode. But inside of the minisode, the pillar is clean, and when Crowley is handing the boxes back, it's seems *maybe dirty*. Episode 5

Episode 5 is where we see the most of the pillars, and they are clean all the way up to the attack on the bookshop, including when all the traders enter the shop. Then a funny thing happens. We get a shot of Mrs.Cheng touching the right-hand pillar, and looking worried. She's the only person to touch the pillar all season besides the next bit.

During the evacuation, a demon leans on that pillar in the exact spot where it's dirty when we see the dirt in other episodes.

Episode 6

Episode 6 is also difficult because we barely see unobscured pillars even though people are coming in and out. However, you can catch that in the evacuation of Nina and Maggie by Crowley they are clean, and when they leave after advising Crowley I'm going to put that solidly in the *I see dirt* category, but it's unclear. So it seems that just like the clock shenanigans, the pillars are wacky mostly in episode 1 and episode 6. But it always goes from clean to dirty in every episode when it happens. I mean, there is every possibility that the actor fucked up the pillar in the attack scene and then they had to film scenes out of order for the rest of the series and just... didn't clean it? I dunno. Am I going a little Banana Shoelace Gorilla here? You can read my meta post "The end?" if you want to know where I think this all leads.

[hawkpartys]

I have a quick question about iNaturalist if you have time to answer it. I know that it is important to hide nest sites of most raptors as they are often heavily persecuted; if I am posting a raptor on iNat, should I try to obscure the location? This is for European raptors, so it might be a different situation if you live elsewhere but I am worried that I could accidentally help people who don’t have the bird’s best interests in mind if I make the location publicly available

Some species will automatically have their locations obscured if it's believed they might be in danger-- all threatened species, and species vulnerable to poaching. So they may be automatically obscured anyway if you post them.

If they aren't, there is no harm in obscuring them for your own peace of mind! You can choose to reveal coordinates to any trusted individuals at a later date if you want to, or even unobscure them.

(I'm talking about the actual "obscured" setting in these, if you set a wide confidence interval from the outset you wont be able to recover a more specific location later)

But this is what the obscure functionality is basically for, so if you think its for the best, then use it

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Ten Years Gone

Author: Labgeek2002

Artist: Kazi

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester; past Castiel/Michael

Length: 78000

Warnings: Graphic torture

Tags: Detective!Cas; Criminal!Dean; internalized homophobia; group home; mafia

Posting Date: November 3, 2023

Summary: While closing the biggest case of Detective Castiel Novak’s life--bringing down Chicago’s notorious Luguino crime family—everything gets put on hold when he catches Dean Winchester, his childhood crush, breaking the law. Soon after he snaps the cuffs on Dean, Can’ world is turned upside down as he’s left down the dark path of organized crime and police corruption. With no one he can trust, will Can learn to rely on the man who once brought comfort and protection, or will he find betrayal around every corner.

Excerpt: “Watch, watch here.  Follow the ace.” Two quick, sharp snaps of fingers directed the crowd’s attention to a singular direction. “See it? Nothing up my sleeves.  Watch the card.” Cas walked to the outer margins of the small crowd that congregated around the street magician, keeping his profile low and as inconspicuous as possible. His eyes flicked to the ace which was raised high in the air and hesitantly lowered his gaze; his heart stopped upon seeing the distinctive tattoo of a leafless tree crawling up the other man’s forearm.  He closed in a bit, his breath catching tightly in his chest as he approached and took in the dark blond wave of hair that was visible embedded within the crowd. Cas knew exactly what would follow as his mind raced back to its 16-year-old self.  A collective gasp rose from the audience followed by applause and an impressed whistle.  As the person who stood before him bent down to pick up her shopping bag, Castiel was given an unobscured view of the street performer.  The man hadn’t yet seen Cas as he grinned shyly at the appreciation, bowing his head slightly in a modest gesture of acknowledgement.  Every ounce of Cas’ being wanted to duck away before he was noticed, blending in seamlessly with the evaporating crowd.  The badge that burned in his pocket stopped him. He pushed through, putting on the bravado he learned long ago. “And for the grand finale, let’s give the gentleman back his wallet.” His words stopped the dispersion immediately and caused the street performer’s eyes to lock forward, his face a mix of recognition followed quickly by shame. “Cas…” The tone was lifeless despite the full bass of his voice which resounded through Castiel and washed him in echoes of memory.  “Dean, give it to him,” he gestured to the middle-aged man to Dean’s right with a subtle tilt of his chin. Dean reached into his own back pocket and retrieved a worn brown leather wallet, handing it back to its owner without glancing in his direction. “Call the police!” The man yelled as his face flushed red with anger.  Half the crowd, likely natives from Chicago, flicked a hand and went about their business. The remaining few, surely outraged tourists, reached for their phones to beckon an officer while chastising Dean for his scam. “You can put your phones away.” Cas drew his badge from his jacket’s side pocket and flipped it open displaying it quickly to the gentleman and surrounding crowd. “Sir, do you wish to press charges?” “What the hell kind of a question is that? You watched this man rob me!” The older man screamed. Cas could see Dean standing to the man’s left, his arms wound across his chest and his head shaking dismissively back and forth.  “Sir, I did not witness the alleged crime, I am…familiar with the act.  Do you wish to press charges?” Castiel schooled his face into the most neutral portrait of professional control he thought possible.

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

[sl33py-g4m3r]

noob questions~~

since I just restarted again~~~ rip rosewood~~~ you will be missed~~~

what island layout should I go for at the start? something specific or just what I want? or both, lol. but that could take hours~~~

I transferred my user profile to a switch lite and that's why I had to restart~~ no second user to use the transfer tool with

:(

hope I stick with the switch lite for a while~~~ It's so cute and portable~~~

what should i go for? fruit? airport colour? where the northern beach is? whether the airport is lined up with resident services or not? certain villgers? all of the above?

or what is objectively the best starter layout?

kind of sad about restarting but at least I wasn't that far yet~~~ like 3 days, lol.

will once again post layout when I get a good one~~~

also how do you name your island without it being boring or overused or something? I'm not good at naming things~~~

edit: new island~~~ and the stuff I want~~ back beach isn’t unobscured tho… but the airport and the resident services are perfectly aligned I think~~~!!!! And I got peaches ~~~ hence the name~~

I am unoriginal, lol