#||thoughts of the wise feline; musings||

[panthera-nigrum]

Page 24:

A long silence dragged on, as no wolf there wanted to fight Akela to the death.

"Bah!" Roared Shere Khan. "Who here cares to kill this weak, toothless old wolf? He'll die soon anyway! The mancub is the one whose life has been allowed to continue for too long!"

[...]

Page 25:

"He's a man! A man!" the pack howled, and most of the wolves surrounded Khan, who'd already begun to sway his tail, once more.

"Now this is all in your hands," said Bagheera to Mowgli. "We can't do anything but fight."

Mowgli stood with the fire recipient in his hands. He yawned before the Council, extended his arms. He was furious and upset, because the wolves hadn't ever told him how much they hated him. Surely, they'd behaved like wolves and hid the truth from him.

"Listen to me!" he yelled. "All this dog-talk isn't necessary. Tonight you have repeatedly told me that I am a man, which is true, though I would have rather kept being a wolf my whole life. So, from now on you are no longer my brothers, and I shall call you sad [dogs], which is what the men call you. From now on, you will lose all right to decide and you won't have a voice or a say in anything. I will be the one who gives the orders and to make that clear I, the man, have brought you some of the red flower you fear so much, dogs."

He threw the recipient to the ground and some fragments of hot coal lit the dry grass, which burned immediately. The whole Council took a step back, terrified by the flames.

Mowgli held the dry branch over the fire. Once it caught on, he wielded it over his head, terrifying the cowardly wolves.

"You've become the master," Bagheera spoke through gritted teeth. "Now, save Akela from certain death. He's always been your friend."

I love how Shere Khan manipulates the wolves against Mowgli and Bagheera —even if for the sake of his safety— manipulates Mowgli against the wolves. She makes him be angry at the pack and sends him off to find the red flower before Akela even fails his solo hunt, and tells him what to do through the confrontation with Khan and the council, yet tells him "now you've become the master" EVEN WHILE SHE'S THE ONE TELLING HIM WHAT TO DO EVERY STEP OF THE WAY AND HE'S JUST DOING EXACTLY AS SHE SAYS BECAUSE SHE TOLD HIM THE PACK HATES HIM INSTEAD OF TELLING HIM WHAT SHE KNOWS, THAT KHAN WAS MANIPULATING THEM. She even tells him "Now, save Akela from CERTAIN DEATH" even though Khan just told the wolves that Akela isn't worth killing and that keeping him alive poses no threat because he's old, and none of the wolves wanted to kill him.

[roobylavender]

I was thinking about this and like it’s not Kory’s culture or language that makes her an alien since other cultures and languages always exist. It’s not even really her powers except for the flying since she was experimented on. So like for me the alien bit really comes from her eyes and her orange golden(?) skin but even that except for the eyes is alien. I never liked when they give her fire hair and I much prefer her long red regular hair BUT I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think it’s mainly how her body responds that for me really is what I would focus on. Like mating practices and pregnancy and eating habits and how hot her skin can get and idk I kinda wish she was given like a tail. Like imagine if Kory had a long tail the color of her skin with like a little red tuff at the end. And like what if it reacted to her emotions. Like image her having children (if it was with Dick is would be even wilder) because then his children would also have tails and I think there would be like idk the idea that once circuses were for outcast who had different features. Idk I feel like there would be a story there. Like imagine them having 4 kids and maybe one can fly and the others can hang from their tail…

Idk it was just a thought I was thinking of. Like her husband had red skin and I even think he had horns. Like another character that is really cool is Eddie Bloomberg and like for x-men you have Nightcrawler. Idk it’s just thoughts.

oh yeah for sure like if tamaraneans are descended from a feline race then it would be more interesting for them to actually look like it or for certain behaviors to be passed down. like yeah obv it's easier for kory to look human bc there's less to muse about logistics wise but aliens are aliens for a reason! they're supposed to be different and then i think there's also something interesting you could do when you juxtapose a more distinct tamaranean appearance with the fact that kory is a model. like she's tall and beautiful but also how does her truly alien appearance impact her work and esp depending on the time period and circumstances in a given political moment. those are great questions and social situations to meander into if writers try to be a little more creative with her assimilation onto earth and i really love the circus example you bring up too. for haly's circus to be a place where people belong regardless of their backstory or appearance or behavior.. it would be a nice idea to explore and a nice way to flesh out that part of dick's life too (not to say we should use kory to always prop up dick but you and i both know we have good intentions here lolol)

[primalvessel]

Delivery, kupo! You have an ask, kupo! Is there a mutual's muse who's inspired you? -kupanon

Unprompted asks: Always accepting!

Hello kupanon!

This is really difficult to answer because there isn't any one mutual or any one muse to really pin the answer to when everyone Maru's interacted with over the years has helped to shape him into the affectionate fuzzy feline that he is.

Maru is my complete opposite so really I've had to take inspiration from anyone who would show traits and behaviours that might be the sorts of things that Maru might do, without plagiarising their ideas or mannerisms and even now I'll scroll through my dash, see people's interactions and think 'aw, I wish I'd thought of that for Maru to do'.

That's a bit of a cop-out answer though so I'll try to break it down a bit and promote a few of my fantabulous moots.

@the-littlest-kojin definitely inspired me to explore in more detail how Maru's affected by his connection to Griever and given me opportunity to do so. Given how integral it is to Maru's story and potentially his future, I'm glad to have been given reason to look more closely at them. On top of that, their ability to see the finer details and things lore-wise has made me look closer at the world and its lore too (when I remember to try to lol).

@ethereal-jule has inspired me to think about Maru's softer side and the sorts of things he'd do for someone if he did let them in and developed a strong relationship with them. The kinds of gifts he'd give, the affections he'd bestow and how he'd make sure that the relationship was as equal as it could be, despite his being the WoL.

The fun I have with @azure-steel inspired me to keep reaching out to other fandoms when I was too nervous and narrow-focused on playing Maru in his XIV verse. Even if we're not rping at the moment because life gets in the way.

And there absolutely has to be a shoutout to @serafim who brought me over to tumblr in the very beginning, god only knows how many years ago now, even if I'm not active on the blog I started out on.

Bonus mention for @thedemonelucia for inspiring me to let loose a little more and be the horny little gremlin that I am from time to time. :3c

[windupnamazu]

and you will never be lonely

ffxivwrite2021 #22: fluster

⮞ lunya/g'raha & feo ul. 1263 words. ⮞ howl's moving castle au ⮞ when you've been cursed by a witch, there aren't many places to find home in stranger than a moving castle, but lunya's dealing with it. g'raha, not so much.

fluster: to make someone feel confused, embarrassed, or nervous.

With her back turned to the other two assembled members of their strange little family, Lunya frowned at the vase in the sink. G'raha had scrounged up the thing from some dark corner of the castle she clearly hadn't gotten her broom into yet, and what was the point of her being the cleaning lady here if she wasn't getting every single corner he'd neglected? Dust coated it so thickly that she was worried for Lyna's lungs if the girl happened to wander back into the kitchen before she'd cleaned it up.

She ran her wrinkled fingers through the steady stream of cold water that ran from the tap. The castle really was a marvel, all thanks to Feo Ul's magic keeping the whole thing together. It was a damn shame it had this… fluff-brained excuse of a wizard for an owner. Speaking of said wizard, she thought she was going to have to listen to him and Feo Ul bickering about her insistently using the fire demon to cook breakfast against G'raha's will, but it was weirdly quiet behind her, which wasn't right at all.

"Oh, this is a lovely vase," she realized as she scrubbed the dust away. It was a vivid blue that reminded her of the ocean, spiraling upward until it blossomed out like the petals of a flower. "I can't believe you were hiding this away in some closet for who knows how long."

"Ah, well," G'raha said with a sheepish wince, the first thing he'd actually said since he handed her the vase. He really wasn't anything like the seductive wizard who'd eat your heart all the girls in town had gossiped about, honestly. In fact, beneath the confidence that he radiated when he walked her in the sky or boasted about his magical abilities, he was actually kind of an awkward, eager sort of man with a surprising streak of timidness, and came off as endearingly cute rather than devilishly handsome. There were also times when he could be a little brat, causing mischief and trouble for the other residents of the castle, and occasions where he was melancholic and wise, sitting in silence in a room that was decorated so flamboyantly as if to drown out his own thoughts.

Since she'd essentially broken in to his home and made it her own, she'd found out a lot more than what she'd gleaned from her first night in—he was actually quite patient with his young apprentice, quick to forgive Lunya for the hair dye fiasco, and clearly willing to shelve his days of slothfully letting the castle gather rust and dust around them for the sake of its growing set of residents. Getting to know him beyond what the silly rumors claimed and that image of the perfect gentleman he'd shown her that day in the sky was honestly becoming one of her favourite pastimes. As the days rolled on, it felt more like they were actually friends than an all-powerful wizard and the cleaning lady his fire demon familiar had never actually hired, and it'd been such a long time since she had one of those.

Today, G'raha held a bouquet of lilies and roses, which was the very reason she was cleaning up the vase right now. He hadn't mentioned any special occasions, or brought up any beaus he might've been courting to necessitate the purchase of such a fancy array of flowers, so she figured maybe he just felt like adding some colour to the main room instead of hoarding all of it away in his bedroom.

"I suppose the best place for the flowers would be on the dining table," Lunya mused as she turned the tap off, wiping the last droplets of water from the vase with a washcloth before turning to him. "What do you say?"

Feline ears pointed straight up, G'raha blinked at her with wide eyes, clearly having expected for her to say something different. "Ah, actually, they're for you," he admitted. "I thought you'd put them in your room. Do you… not like them?"

Hm?

Well, it sort of made sense. She wasn't exactly being paid in coin, after all, because the shelter and food and simply getting to see the towns behind the castle's door was more than enough for her. Beyond sweeping up and dusting every single cranny of the building, she also cooked three square meals a day, made snacks, did the laundry, and helped Lyna with the store in Limsa Lominsa and failed to teach her mathematics after hours. That was effort worthy of some kind of reward in her eyes, even if they were all things she did willingly to feel useful and so she'd never have to stop and think about how she was literally only nineteen like, what, a half year ago? Maybe more? Flowers were the least she could get as thanks.

Still, to receive flowers for the first time in her life, and from such a wonderful man—?

"G'raha, you're only supposed to steal the hearts of pretty girls," she laughed, heart fluttery and featherlight with a kind of joy she hadn't felt in some time, not since before she resolved to tie herself down to the hat shop.

"I'd hope they'd be given willingly," G'raha said almost absently, like he didn't fully understand what she meant. He didn't look away from her for even a heartbeat. "But do you like them? The flowers?"

"Why, of course." Tenderly, she reached out and ran a thumb along the soft petal of one of the lilies, taking the bouquet from his hands to carefully place in the vase. "I've always been fond of them. For the longest time I only ever saw fake ones, with my old line of work."

"I'd give you a whole garden if you wished for one," he said so earnestly, so wholeheartedly that for a second she might have thought he was serious. She stared at him with her mouth slightly parted and a strange warmth in her cheeks, almost feeling like she really was nineteen rather than ninety. Feo Ul seemed to crackle louder as their eyes darted between them both.

G'raha must have realized what he was doing because his whole face turned a very peculiar shade of red that rivaled his own eyes. He made a motion to hand her the flowers but he already had, so he grasped at air for a moment, then at his tail before it anxiously swished right out of his grasp, and then he began to stammer. "I—I need to. Go. I need to go water the castle."

And then he stumbled out the front door into the Mor Dhonan wastes and tripped right over a basket of laundry she'd forgotten to take in the night before.

"Wow," Feo Ul said as the door automatically slammed shut behind him.

"It's about time he got around to washing up this bucket of rust," Lunya huffed with a bemused smile, completely missing the sheer exasperation on Feo Ul's face as she admired the bouquet once more. "I didn't think the Exarch of all people could be so embarrassed—surely this couldn't have been his first time accidentally flirting with an ugly old hag."

"Oh, snae ling," Feo Ul sighed, experimentally reaching a little fiery hand out to grab a corner of leftover bacon that she'd left next to them, watching Lunya's youth fade from her face to be replaced with the tired visage of an old woman once again. "I do not believe that was the issue at all."

[prettylilhalforc]

For your post about asks!

How about Loki and Tyche TP-ing Thor's house? :) For shits and giggles.

@yespolkadotkitty dearest, thank you for such a brilliant ask!

This was an absolute joy to write, once I started, I found it near impossible to stop!!!

Have tweaked the scenario ever so slightly to fit with in Pre Thor cannon.

I do hope you like it lovely!!!!!!!

Fortune Favours the Bold

Warnings: Fluffy mischievous goodness with a dash of pining. F!OC (though am totally down to make a Hermes/Loki fic because you KNOW those two would be trouble with a captial T). Allusion to sexy times.

Rating: M at best, please no under 18s.

Summary: Two gods of mirth and mischief meet once again during diplomatic talks. No one is safe. Chaos ensues.

Tension in the air was positively electric. The glorious feast hall brimming with dignitaries and diplomats alike. Raucous laughter drowns out the jaunt of lyres and lutes. Ambrosia flows like water. Satyrs and Valkyries entwine in celebration, sailing across the marble floor.

A commemoration of months of negotiations culminating to a head.

Finally.

The Olympian delegation had sent their finest emissaries to engage in age-old diplomatic negotiations.

Wise Athena, clever Hermes, and blessed Tyche.

Counsel between the two empires had dragged on for what felt like aeons. The solidification of military alliances had given way tedious litigation. Delving into infuriatingly pithy details of trade agreements and petty squabbles. Either party proved to be as formidable within counsel chambers as they were in the heat of battle.

Steadfast, stubborn, and cunning. No stone left unturned. No treaty left untouched.

Honestly, it was a sheer miracle that either of them managed to contain themselves as long as they had.

Fortune and Mischief.

Antics almost as legendary as the diplomatic talks themselves.

For the past several hundred years the duo had become notorious for their pranks. Each year outdoing the last. Not a single soul, Asgardian nor Olympian, was safe from their machinations.

Across the banquet hall, two pairs of eyes meet. One emerald, one amber; both brimming with diabolical glee. The raven-haired god offers a silent toast to his compatriot. The feminine figure shoots him a roguish smirk before mirroring the gesture. In almost perfect synchronicity, both drink deep from their cups.

Save for the watchful gaze of Freyja, none would be wiser to the fact that neither party were actually present at the feast.

It was time for the real festivities to begin.

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

A slow, soft clap echoes across the dimly lit corridor. Flames of nearby torches casting a deceptively long shadow of the smaller, robed figure.

Pulling down the hood of her woven cloak, Tyche winks, “Bravo, you scamp. Never thought I’d see the day that the great Orator himself would be caught tongue tied. ”

Emerging from the shadows, the Trickster god gives a flourishing bow, wry smirk writ on his face. “One would be remiss to pass such an opportunity to point out such a glaring oversight in litigation to the God of all Merchants.

Rising gracefully, Loki flicks his raven locks from his face, full of mirth. "Merely doing my duty to ensure the prosperity of either kingdom. As any good consul would.”

Pure laughter bubbles forth from her lips as she leans against the cool marble, “Indeed, rightfully so, Prince of Asgard! Remind me never to cross you on the battlefield. If your blade is as sharp as your tongue, I would surely meet my end. Now, philon, how long would you wager before brother dearest finds himself neck deep in nymph?”

Ebony eyebrow cocked, Loki folds his arms over his leather bound chest. “What fiendish scheme has the vixen of Olympus concocted this time?”

A faint flash of gold illuminates the darkness; a large, sealed amphora appears seemingly from thin air in her delicate hands. Tyche’s warm eyes light up with delight as she leans toward the Asgardian, gently tapping the prince’s nose.

“If you’re keen to find out, we best make haste.”

Turning on her heel, she dashes forth through the corridors laughing with childish glee. The lavender linen of the chiton billowing behind her. Loki gives chase, winding the well-worn paths from their youth.

Breathless the pair find themselves in front of large oaken doors of Thor’s chambers.

Glancing about fervidly, Tyche man’s watch, clutching the earthen vase to her chest with one hand whilst cloaking the duo with the other. Loki’s nimble fingers lace his verdant Seidr through the enchanted lock. Thor had grown wise to his brother’s mischief and sought additional measures from to secure his chambers since the last delegation.

Though, this had proven to be naught but a challenge. An opportunity to hone his skills.

Footsteps resound through the stone hall. The pair share a look of pure terror, eyes widening as the steps approach. Neither deigned to breathe, hearts thundering in their chests. Each second stretching for an eternity.

“Hurry! Before they round the corner!” Tyche hisses.

Sweat beading at his brow, Loki manages to secure the last tumble with a desperate flick. Not a moment later, those same nimble hands grip her frame, all but flinging the small goddess into his brother’s quarters.

Upon regaining her composure, Tyche twirls around in girlish excitement, laughing wildly before falling into the luxurious bed. Her companion chuckles deep within his chest, shaking his head at her antics.

A tiny voice emerging from the depths of his psyche, noting that it was a sight one could become very accustomed to.

Snapping the God of Mischief from his musing, Tyche exclaims, “A gift from sweet Athena herself!”

She holds the amphora aloft like a prized laurel in both hands. Bolting upright, Tyche hefts the earthen vessel towards him with an impish grin.

Catching it with feline grace, lithe fingers pry open the ruddy wax seal revealing length after length of translucent strands of near viscous spider’s silk.

Loki’s vibrant greeneyes widen in disbelief as he steps nearer to the bed, handsome mouth opening and closing several times, “How did she let- Why- Is that what I think it is?! ”.

“Arachne’s thread? Indeed, it is, my Prince.” Tyche states, before spitting out, “After the audacity of that blond oaf to insult our honour after yesterday’s proceedings, my dear cousin was easily persuaded to turn a blind eye.”

Lok’s handsome face splits in to sheer, unadulterated joy. Rubbing his hands together he exclaims, “Never have I been more eager to see my brother eat his words. To work, shall we?”

A broad, pale hand extends forth towards the Goddess of Fortune. With it, an offer to dance.

And what a beautifully chaotic dance it is. The pair dip and weave from post to pillar, as the near invisible strands are strewn across the crimson expanse of the room. Flashes of green and golden light bounce off the gleaming marble, followed by peels of laughter.

Norns how he had missed this.

Soon the chambers transformed into a hidden web, ready to ensnare Thor and his amorous companion.

And not a moment too soon.

A voice resounds beyond the door, booming like thunder followed by saccharine giggles.

In a flurry, Tyche grabs the Trickster god by his leathers, dashing through the heavy velvet curtain onto the nearby balcony.

Another deep chuckle threatens to rumble forth from Loki’s chest, cut short by the gentle press of a warm to his lips. Tyche cocks her head, motioning for her counterpart to listen, worrying her bottom lip.

Loki’s gaze drifts to the plump lip caught between her teeth. How had he not noticed the plushness of her sweet mouth before now?

The resounding slam of the heavy chamber doors hurls him back to the present.

Within the chamber, giggles give way to soft gasps and groans.

The chill night air suddenly a welcome relief as the amorous activity causes a flush to rise the column of his neck. In it hangs something foreign yet all too familiar. Neither mischief maker dares to make eye contact, shifting awkwardly as the amorous sounds grow in volume.

Thankfully a shrill shriek cuts through tension, followed shortly a resounding bellow,

“LOKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! TYCHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Two pairs of eye meet, one emerald, one amber. Both brimming with diabolical glee. In almost perfect synchronicity, the pair cackling wildly as they descend to the gardens below.

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 23//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

Sorry this chapter is late today, it’s just been a crazy hectic week, but I’ve been determined to still post on Monday’s dammit! Even at 8PM 😅 Enjoy! 

XXX

A week into our newfound peace, Rhys and I were glad to be rid of Keir and the ongoing threat he posed, but now faced the aftermath of the Illyrians and the rebellion they had raised on their side of the coup. While Keir and his Darkbringer generals had been easily taken care of by Mor, we were now faced with the task of dispensing the repercussions to the Illyrian camp lords that sided with Kallon.

"I want all the camp lords dead," Rhys said—darkly and very matter-of-factly to our inner circle; all of us having gathered in the small cabin at Windhaven.

Following the battle, it only took a couple of days to round up the rogue Illyrians into the prison camps that had been established. Cassian had also separated the camp lords from their legions and imprisoned them separately. He, Azriel, Rhys and I decided early on that their sentences would differ from their soldiers as a warning that another attempt like this wouldn't be taken lightly—if our powerful friends throughout the other courts weren't foreboding enough. As the days passed, most of our court allies had returned back to their respective territories; Tamlin being the first, followed by Tarquin with the promise to send any other additional aide we might need; as well as good wishes for my mate and I and our baby. Eris left shortly after without any additional fanfare, but gave us a less-than subtle reminder of his father who continued to rot in their dungeons, though any thoughts of possibly dealing with the elder male left me weary. Rhys assured me that Eris would be more than pleased to manage with his father. Only a few days after that, Helion and Thesan agreed to stay behind with their general commanders and a small intel of higher-ranking soldiers in order to help keep an eye on our newly stationed prisons. They decided to leave the rest of this issue in our hands by wisely sitting out of the meetings Rhys and I had with our family.

Cassian visibly stiffened at my mate's words, but before he had a chance to protest, I held up a hand and turned to him. "That is almost half of the camp lords in Illyria, some that have been in their position for centuries, Rhys," I shared a quick exchange with Cassian, who looked on with approval.

"You, Cassian, and Azriel came to the conclusion long ago that this had to be dealt with more delicately, right?" I posed.

The tension in Rhys's shoulders remained, but his face shifted from dark to moderate as his eyes trailed over my rounded stomach; more pronounced than ever at this stage, and more so while I sat in the chair at the table we gathered around. With only a little less than two months to go, I was growing increasingly uncomfortable as the days dragged on. With the dust settled, the adrenaline I had gathered in the past weeks began to dissipate—leaving me with the aches and pains I had grown accustomed to, along with my more sluggish movement.

Rhys's gaze lingered on my stomach. "That was a decade ago, when we were speculating. Things played out a lot differently than we originally anticipated."

"But we had a hunch on this outcome, Rhys. Feyre is right, we were right back then. We can't kill our way out of this one," Cassian explained.

From the corner of my eye I noticed Azriel silently watching their exchange, arms crossed, and it didn't take much to assume what his opinion on the matter was.

"Well how else do we send a message to them? Apparently executing the camps who sided with Amarantha didn't send it clear enough, because they pulled this," Mor challenged.

I turned a withered gaze in her direction. She did have a point, but I still couldn't help feeling that simply sentencing high-ranking Illyrians to death wasn't the answer we needed.

"That, and the losses they suffered from the war with Hybern only added to their list of grievances against us. Adding more to their dead would only strengthen that point for them," Cassian argued.

"These people are ruthless," Nesta pointed out, staring Cassian down hard as his head turned at her words. "The only way to match that and make sure our point is received is by being equally merciless."

"The girl has a point, Cassian." Amren drawled from her spot next to me, her petite legs draped casually on the table. "Violence begets violence."

"We don't need any more violence," Elain suddenly said, surprisingly assertive—even as everyone directed their astonished stares at her.

"Feyre is about to have a baby. That baby is going to take over as High Lord one day, and we don't want him inheriting the difficulties you all have been dealing with for centuries," she explained. "The whole reason we sought to end this coup was to herald in a new era of peace. So, we have to establish that now. Somehow."

I smiled gratefully in return and noticed that while Nesta and Cassian stared at my otherwise timid sister, Azriel fought a grin on his composed face. Amren, however, allowed a long feline grin to grow on her lips.

"Wise words, girl," she said casually.

Mor's grin was friendly, but worried. "That would be ideal, but these are the Illyrians we're talking about."

"There must be something we can do," Elain insisted.

"There is," Rhys finally spoke up. "But will be hard pressed to find."

I drummed my fingertips along the apex of my belly, Sebastian mercifully sleeping after a night of constant kicking, and I debated aloud. "What if we took something of value to them? Something that would cost them they're rank and force them into different occupations in the camps? Like say...an ability?"

Azriel was the first to understand what I meant, eyes growing wide with an astonished blink, Rhys and Cassian following and looking equally shocked.

"That practice was banned centuries ago," Rhys said, though he didn't sound too bothered.

"In regard to females," Cassian interjected as he crossed his arms again with a smug smirk.

"It would certainly make them wish they were dead," Azriel added, also unbothered.

"And makes for a rather profound impact," I concluded with a small grin. "Any other sympathizers for their cause will think twice before trying to oppose our rule again."

Mor and Amren seemed to catch onto what we were implying, as did Nesta—who bent down to mutter in our sister's ear to inform her. Elain's eyes went wide but didn't protest.

"Well girl, it appears pregnancy hasn't affected that mischievous mind of yours," Amren mused, grey eyes almost seeming to shimmer as she spoke.

"It looks like we have our solution then," Mor said with a satisfied sigh. "Can we get the hell out of this frozen tundra now and go back to Velaris?"

Rhys nodded, placing a hand on the back of my chair. "We will, just as soon as Feyre darling delivers the sentences to the camp lords."

I blinked and turned my head to face him. "Me?" I asked.

"Well, it was your idea, my love," Rhys replied with a wicked grin.

"And since you weren't at the battle, it'd be good for them to hear and see their High Lady. Give them another reminder of your position and the power you hold as well," Cassian said.

I sighed tiredly, running both hands along the expanse of my belly. I wanted nothing more than to return to Velaris—return home and finally enjoy this newly-granted peace, before a new chaos ensued in the form of a newborn high fae infant.

I promise, the first thing I'll do when we return to Velaris is draw you a warm bath

And bring me as many chocolate covered strawberries as I want? I asked in return.

His responding chuckle was aloud as he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. I'll bring you whatever you're craving and more, my love

I smiled at him in return before facing the others. "All right, I'll address the camp lords and hand out their sentences, but I don't think I can stomach watching it all be carried out."

"Az and I will see to that, and we'll have the other prisoners and camp lords bear witness. That will guarantee that none of them ever try anything like this again," Cassian promised, though for a second I saw a glimmer of that long-held pain reflected in his eyes.

After the week it took to gather the last of our prisoners and the last efforts it took to clean up this mess, I still didn't get that moment alone to speak with Cassian. The night following the battle, Rhys had let down his black adamant shields, allowing me to see the fighting that took place after Keir's death. While the Illyrians and Darkbringers managed to hold their own for a time, they were certainly no match against our numbers with the other High Lord's forces combined. Even through his memories I could feel the ache my mate felt when facing his own people; the people and traditions he had been primarily raised in thanks to his mother. That ache and betrayal was just as present in Cassian, who would let out frustrated shouts of anger as he fought his fellow Illyrian warriors. Through Rhys's memory, I saw flashes of Cassian in battle and the inner turmoil he endured as he took down Illyrian after Illyrian. Both he and Rhys did their best to only knock them unconscious rather than kill them outright, but there were instances when it was their only option.

I stared at Cassian a little longer than I meant to, having realized it when he frowned with concern. "Feyre?" he asked.

I looked down at my lap, half covered by my belly, and squeezed Rhys's hand, still on my shoulder. "I need a moment with Cassian, please," I said to no one in particular.

Rhys pressed a kiss to the crown of my head as confirmation, and I didn't look up as I heard the scrapping of chairs as the others filed out of the cabin one-by-one. I waited until I heard the soft click of the door closing before I lifted my head to face the general—my general and commander.

My eyes stung as I sighed. "Cassian, I...I never got to apologize to you, for all of this," I started softly. "For your own people turning on you, and Rhys, and Az. For you having to fight them at all. I-I can't imagine how hard it must've been for you during that battle."

He crossed over to my side, pulling out a chair and turning it to face mine as he sat across from me. "Feyre, you're not the one who should be apologizing, there is no need," he said before taking my hands in his. "I have dealt with the Illyrians' resentment for centuries and learned a long time ago that I would never be more than some bastard-born nobody to them. I've accepted that."

"Still, to have to take down your own, to face them across the field and know of their intentions…" I said and shook my head with a sigh.

"It might've stung a little, but my loyalties lie elsewhere," he said with a small squeeze of my hands.

I offered him a sad smile in return, but he grinned. "I may command these legions, and consider myself a proud Illyrian male, but that is separate from you, Rhys, and the others. The Illyrians may be the foundation on which I was raised and trained, but Velaris—the rest of you, are my people."

Tears sprang to my eyes before I had the chance to control them and Cassian laughed, standing so he could kneel at my side and wrap an arm around my shoulders. He rubbed my back lightly as I cried.

"I'm beginning to wonder if you'll ever return back to the old Feyre once the little one is born. She was able to control her tears better," he contemplated.

I shoved his shoulder and he laughed again. "You have no idea how hard it is to control my emotions right now," I motioned to my stomach. "He has complete control over me."

"Oh, I don't envy that at all," he said before standing upright and offering me a hand up.

I sniffed as I took his hand, standing with a grunt of effort and resting a hand on the small of my back. "Thank you, Cassian," I said. "For helping make his world safer."

Cassian grinned in return, bowing with a hand over his heart—as he had when he swore his first oath to me. "Anything in service and protection for my High Lady," he said with a wink.

I laughed and after clearing away any lingering tears, he escorted me outside of the cabin; where I would address the imprisoned Illyrian camp lords and perform as High Lady for the last time before giving birth to their future High Lord.

XXX

Rhys's speech had been short and to the point. We agreed he would address the camp lords first before turning the verdict of their punishment to me. The minute the word clipped left my mouth, audible shocked gasps could be heard from the other camp residents and prisoners. Devlon's face was steeled over, despite having agreed with us on this course of action, I imagined the thought of losing one's ability to fly made every male here recoil—though Devlon's face remained as hard as ever.

Half of the camp lords looked disbelieving, thinking we wouldn't actually follow through on such a promise; until Kallon himself foolishly stepped forward and expressed as much, followed by spitting on the ground in front of where Rhys and I stood. Azriel had been quick in his response, a cobalt siphon flickering before a blue light shot out and flattened Kallon on his back—bright blue netting holding him down as he thrashed to get free. Azriel slowly walked over and forced one of the male's wings open, Truth-Teller in hand, before swiftly and brutally making the cut.

I tried not to look away even as my stomach churned at the male's screams. I continued to watch in abject horror until Rhys placed a hand on my back and led me away without another word, Cassian stepping into our place as we left.

The screams followed me all the way back to Velaris, Rhys carrying me in his arms as we flew through the skies as carefully as possible. Even now as I stood on the front balcony of the estate, overlooking the Sidra and city beyond, the anguished screams echoed through my mind for much longer than I wanted. It wasn't remorse that twisted in my gut—no, Kallon and every camp lord that decided to follow him deserved to be clipped as their punishment.

"It's the centuries and centuries you know that practice was performed on females," Rhys suddenly said from behind me, and I realized my shields were down as I twisted to find him leaning against the doorframe leading back into the estate. "And you're worried how they might retaliate."

I frowned, running both hands over the front of my stomach, holding it. "Do you think they will?" I asked softly.

Rhys sauntered over to me, pressing a lingering kiss to my brow. "It's certainly a possibility, but we'll be keeping a much closer eye on those camps, and the females residing there," he reassured me.

I sighed shakily with a nod, placing my hands on his shoulders. "I just...don't want them to use it as an excuse to clip any more females, even the ones that sympathized with their cause," I admitted.

"If they do, they'll pay the consequences. And for any other bullshit they try to pull," he pressed another kiss to my brow, both hands coming to hold my stomach. "But I have a feeling this will bring them down a couple notches, so we may not have anything to worry about for a while."

"I hope you're right about that," I said, closing my eyes with relief as he massaged the sides of my stomach, the muscles beneath my skin sore.

"Am I ever wrong, Feyre darling?" He asked with a wicked grin.

"You don't want me to answer that," I teased.

He gasped in mock hurt. "You wound me, my love," he said as his hands moved to my hips, eliciting a groan from my lips as he massaged the tender spots where the muscles of my stomach met my hips. "Come get some rest, it's been a hectic week."

I nodded and followed him back into our home, placing both of my hands on the small of my back as I began walking ahead of him. "Your son is starting to get heavier and heavier these days," I complained.

I glanced over my shoulder, seeing the wide grin on his face and raised a brow as he watched me walk. "What is it?" I asked.

"Your gait has changed, Feyre darling, that's all," he said as he caught up to my side, resting a hand in place of mine on my back.

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You're starting to waddle," he answered, his grin widening.

I balked and took a few more steps, noticing that I certainly was shifting my weight in a slight swaying motion as I walked. "Well, you can't blame me, I am carrying around a splendid burden in my gut."

"You certainly are, my love," he laughed as he guided me to the living area

I held onto both of his arms as I lowered myself onto the sofa, glad I had chosen such luxuriously soft furnishings for each room of the manor. "It's only going to get bigger...much bigger," I said as I stared at my stomach.

Rhys sat beside me, draping an arm over the back of the seat behind me. "That's a good thing. Madja says we want a healthy, cherub-cheeked babe," he said.

His violet eyes sparkled as he began stroking my stomach gently, his grin transforming into a warm smile. I smiled at him in return. "It's all just...becoming so real now. We've spent so much time worrying about the coup, and even though we had those periods of respite, it always lingered over us," I explained. "Now the only thing we have to look forward to is...becoming parents."

"Are you nervous?" Rhys asked, keeping a hand on my stomach.

I shook my head. "I'm excited to meet him, and hold him...to see you hold him," my eyes stung at just the mention of it and laughed at myself—exasperated at how quickly I continued to be reduced to tears.

Rhys pulled me closer, placing a kiss at my temple before moving to my ear. "I can't wait to see him in your arms, to see you nurse him and rock him to sleep," he purred.

I sniffed and nuzzled into his embrace, resting my face into the nape of his neck, breathing in his salt and citrus scent. "It's going to be wonderful isn't it?" I asked softly.

"That, and more," he replied, his chin resting atop the crown of my head as he inhaled my scent as well, both of us basking in each other as he caressed my belly—gratitude didn't even begin to explain what we were both experiencing in this moment.

Gratitude, and hope, and so much more.

[thecasperanfamily]

Ficlet with Archie getting into a fight with the neighbour's dog to protect Bebe Lin?

The gratingly cheerful ringing of the doorbell slammed into Douxie’s ears and bounced around in his skull like a hyperactive gnome. He snorted as his head jerked up off of his pillow, crusty eyes blinking owlishly against the morning light. He pawed at his nightstand for his phone. 9:14 am. He groaned as he dropped the device back onto the nightstand.

“No civilized human being should be going around banging down doors at this ungodly hour...” he grumbled, pulling himself out of bed and heading for the front door with all the grace and energy of a zombie emerging from its tomb. He quickly changed his mind on the matter when he discovered that the person banging down his door was Claire Nuñez, and that she was holding a casserole dish.

“Hi, Teach!” she beamed. “Sorry, it’s a little early. Jim and I were going to have brunch in the park, and since your place is kind of on my way, I thought I’d drop off these enchiladas. Mama and I made them for you. Figured you probably don’t have much time to cook with a baby around.” It was at this point that she finally noticed his disheveled appearance. “...Did I wake you up?”

“No, no, I’ve been up for hours!” Douxie lied. “Come on in.” He stepped aside to let her in, and took the dish from her. The brightly-patterned kitchen towel wrapped around it did very little to conceal the heavenly smell of its contents. “...You’re an angel, Ms. Nuñez,” he sighed. “And your mum, too. I’ve just recently discovered a man can only subsist on frozen lasagna alone for so long before he starts losing his sense of taste.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long,” Claire replied, settling down on the sofa while Douxie took the enchiladas to the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything?” he called. “I was just going to brew myself a cuppa.”

“Tea would be great, thank you. I won’t stay too long. I just wanted to check on you.”

“Probably wise,” Douxie admitted. There were a few minutes of comfortable silence as the wizard bustled about, bringing the water to a boil and setting up the tea tray. He brought it out to the living room and, after shoving a plush toy off of the coffee table with his foot, set the tray down with a flourish. He then immediately collapsed into the nearest armchair, thoroughly exhausted.

“It’s been a week now,” Claire began, politely ignoring the way Douxie was gulping his tea like his life depended on it. “How’s everything going with Samuel?”

“So far so good,” he answered, emerging from his cup with a sigh of relief. “We’ve taken to calling him Little Merlin--Zoe made us shorten it to Lin. He was uneasy the first few days, but he seems happy now.”

“What about his powers?”

“Highly unusual, to be sure,” Douxie mused, staring into his teacup thoughtfully. “But nothing dangerous so far. I can understand why his fosters were scared, though. It’s unsettling even for me. I’ve never heard of magic surfacing at such a young age, and when he’s upset, it’s like the whole room goes cold all of a sudden.”

“Where is he now?”

Douxie choked on his tea and bolted out of his chair. “Oh gods I don’t even know--!”

“He is with Archie in my garden,” a soft voice interrupted. Nari had evidently crept inside while they were conversing, and was now helping herself to one of the biscuits on the tray. She gave Claire a polite nod while Douxie fell back into his chair with a groan. “He awoke quite early this morning. Archie and I thought it would be best if we looked after him, since you were up so late last night.”

“Archie knows how to babysit?” Claire put in.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Douxie answered. “I mean, he did practically raise me, but I wasn’t expecting him to take to a baby this much. I can hardly tear him away from Lin’s side.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet, though!” Claire gushed. “I mean, I never would have guessed--” She stopped short, distracted by a movement outside the front window. Douxie looked up from the biscuit he was dunking and followed her line of sight. A cloud of golden-brown fluff was shuffling around the front yard, nose to the ground and tail swishing happily from side to side.

“Oh, that’s Cooper, the neighbor’s dog. He keeps getting out of his yard, but nobody really minds because he’s the sweetest thing on four legs. No offense to Archie.”

“He has a gentle soul,” Nari agreed, brushing biscuit crumbs off of her shirt. “I have spoken to him a few times. He reminds me quite a bit of Douxie. They have similar values.” She smiled coyly at the sound of Douxie’s indignant sputter.

“Yeah, I can see the resemblance,” Claire snickered. Cooper went out of sight around the side of the house, and the conversation resumed. “Do you have any potential guardians for Lin in mind, or are you still looking?”

“I have one or two old wizarding friends I can try,” Douxie said. “But getting their current contact information is a bit of a hassle. And anyways, right now I think the most important thing is figuring out exactly what Lin is and why his magic is manifesting like this. I was thinking about calling Blinky, ask him if he’s read anything about--” The discussion was once again stopped short, this time by ruckus coming from the back yard--a cacophony of plaintive yelps and draconic snarls. Douxie, Nari, and Claire all bolted out of their seats and raced for the back door. Douxie wrenched it open and dove outside, magic already gathering in his palms, only to find Lin sitting perfectly safe in a patch of clover, looking very confused but otherwise unharmed.

Archie, on the other hand, was about as far from calm as Douxie had ever seen him. His back was arched, spines standing up straight and sharp, the fur on his tail puffed out like a bottlebrush. He was glaring daggers at Cooper, who was curled against the back of the house, quivering and whimpering and rubbing at his snout with one of his paws.

“Archie, what the hell?!” Douxie burst out, trying to scoop his Familiar up before he caused any more damage.

“Unhand me at once!” the cat-dragon yowled. “If it wasn’t for me, your human kitten would have been swallowed by this brute!”

“He's a golden retriever, Arch! The only things he wants to swallow are dog treats and tennis balls!” Douxie shouted, struggling to hold the writhing mass of black fur and scales in his arms. Lin, obviously upset by the commotion, started to cry. Claire inhaled sharply. Douxie hadn't been exaggerating. She could feel the weight of Lin’s unease pressing down on her. Nari slipped around Douxie and approached Cooper, taking his face between her hands and whispering words of healing and reassurance. Archie finally stopped flailing and settled for simply glaring at the dog while hanging upside-down in Douxie’s grasp. Lin, becoming more upset the longer he was ignored, wailed all the louder.

“Claire, could you--?” Douxie grunted, unwilling to risk setting Archie down.

“Yeah, I got him.” The young witch scooped Lin up in her arms and bounced him gently. He settled down almost at once, staring up at Claire with large, curious eyes. “Hi there, Lin,” she cooed. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“As far as first meetings go, I feel like that could’ve been a bit smoother,” Douxie grumbled. Archie kicked him in the chin with his back paw.

“Cooper did not suffer any grave injuries, but he does wish to go home now,” Nari reported.

“Good. And don’t come back,” Archie snarled.

“Your instincts are admirable, Archie, but they are misplaced,” Nari replied as she coaxed Cooper away from the wall and ushered him on his way. He eyed Archie for a moment, then bolted away, tail tucked between his legs.

“Better to be safe than sorry,” the Familiar spat. “You can’t trust dogs.”

“Arch, we haven’t been chased by any dogs since the 1910s,” Douxie groaned. “You need to lighten up.”

“...Fine. Now put me down.” Douxie dropped him unceremoniously, and he landed on the grass with a draconic snort. He shifted back into his feline form and curled around Claire’s legs, beaming up at the baby in her arms proudly. A very long and awkward silence followed.

“Uh...” Claire glanced nervously between Archie, Lin, and Douxie, before finally landing on Nari, who gave her an encouraging nod. “...A-anybody want some enchiladas?”

Thanks so much for reading! ✨

[blacksunscorpio]

How to Survive Mercury Retrograde in Pisces

Welcome to retrograde season, team. in 2 days, Mercury goes retrograde at 12°53' in Pisces to be exact. Now, retrogrades usually breed a certain amount of panic and understandably so., but this retrograde falls into the sentimental and some could even argue the overly sentimental sign of Pisces. 

So let's break this down, shall we?

Pisces, the fishes (Think Tui and La from Avatar) are ruled by Neptune, the Latin name for Poseidon, god of the sea, dreams, illusions, etc. Mercury rules Virgo and Gemini, hence Mercury does not feel at home in such an emotional and watery sign. Mercury is in its fall. It prefers the critical and airy signs that it’s used to and at 29 degrees (the last decan of the constellation before it moves on to the next) it’s in a hurry to finish things up. In layman’s terms? There’ll be a sense of intense urgency for the next two weeks.

So what else can we expect during this celestial backspin?

Welp, with Mercury Retrograde in Pisces, this creates mental and emotional confusion, with strange erratic dreams and maybe even some psychic experiences. Mercury rules the [rational] mind and thoughts while Neptune ruler of Pisces lords over the unconscious. The subconscious. Addled states of being (so careful with your alcohol intake around this time or overindulging with drugs in general.)

Your mental processes will have a tendency to become merged with emotions and you might find it hard to separate ideas and opinions from your idealism. You feel as if things are unfolding behind-the-scenes but are not yet clear what they are.

So here’s what to look out for in general:

Sleeping patterns (as we mentioned), communication, and travel plans may be thrown off during this time.

People from the past may be reappearing sooner than expected and bringing with them Emmy winning displays of emotion and drama thanks to the Piscean influence. Don’t trip off this one too much, sometimes this means you could receive that ever-elusive closure you never got.

With upcoming Mercury retrograding in Aries (ruled by Mars, god of war), periods of combative attitudes are heightened as well as impulsive decision-making.

I cannot stress this enough: THINK before you speak.

Deceptive people will swarm like roaches ESPECIALLY with Neptune in Pisces. People show you their true colors so you know who needs to be removed from your life.

Arguments are more prone at this time..

Pretty cut and dry, right? If not, here’s what each of the signs should be aware of specifically during this watery transit.

Aries – Hello my fiery brothers and sisters. Take this time to relax, think things through and watch your tongue. I know it’s hard with our ruling planet being Mars and all but you would not want anything you say now to follow you through the remainder of your birthday season. Mercury retrograde is aiding you in redefining your emotional boundaries and making concise decisions on what to take into the next year of your life—just in time, too, because Aries SZN starts on the 20th, just a week before the retrograde ends. But do take a break from people who have been exhausting you, you don’t have to apologize for taking care of you. Chill.

Taurus – You might suffer from miscommunicating with friends and family members or just everyone in your radius. Or maybe it's just that no one gets how awesome your thoughts are. Either way, be as clear as possible with those around you so that you don’t get annoyed with the world. Mercury retrograde is testing your emotional capacity to open up. Testing your ability to refrain from being judgmental. Try being a little more accepting.

Gemini – You might be frustrated since no one seems to get your ideas but this will prove to be a fruitful period of time for you. Mercury in daydreamy Pisces fills your head with ideas of what could be and where you want to go in life, but you struggle to fit these dreams into reality. The good thing is, you’re trying. And A-for-effort, you little genius. Accept your status as the wise one amongst friends, school or even work. Mercury gives you some much-needed insight while everyone seems to be out-of-whack.

Cancer – Yeah, this bad boy’s gonna hit you guys pretty hard. There’s no sense in cloaking it. You, my clawed cousins, are probably the most emotional sign so not only are your feelings heightened, you may feel like you just want to get away from it all. Considering taking a nice trip? Stahp. Plan it now and go for it in the next few months. While Mercury is in Retrograde, you definitely do not want to take some crazy excursions. If you need to take a break, visit a museum, take up some yoga or work on that project you gave up on a while ago. These alternatives will help you cope in a healthy way instead of running from what you don’t want to face.

Leo – Tax season is coming up, so contemplate how you want those funds allocated. Yes, my preening feline. With Chiron (planet of wounds and healing) and Mercury in such close proximity, you might feel a bit wounded this time around. Self-help books could become useful this time as you try to decipher dreams or just memories from the past. Pay attention to things you normally wouldn’t. That includes friends and family you’ve been neglecting. This Piscean influence is sending you signals and forcing you to readjust the way you exchange emotional resources as well as your financial ones. The devil’s in them details.

Virgo – Oh Virgo’s my OCD loves: Try to loosen up this month. Not everything has to be perfect and you don’t need to go ghost in order to obtain it. With this Piscean influence affecting your relationships, people might be put off by your disappearing act and might consider whether you value their friendships. Reach out, be that person that randomly appears during retrograde. Heal those old wounds and reassure the ones you love with your presence. Chances are if someone’s crossing your mind it’s because you’re on theirs as well.

Libra – Mercury will add some irritation to your routines but you’re good at this, so it will not be such a big deal. Here you learn how to perfect things and redo them so that you will get the value months from now. You’ll do things you’ll thank yourself for later. Work hard even if you don’t feel motivated that way you can play hard later.

Scorpio – Good news arachnid fam, this is the time to relax and break free. I don’t think any of us can forget (or forgive) the things that happened during the last Retrograde. But now that we’ve healed, expect a lot of muses to inspire you. Your artistry is alive. Your creative juices are flowing and people flock to you this March. Social connections are highly likely as you make time to reconnect and steal the spotlight. Yes you’ll be affected by the watery influence but you’re ruled by water too so it’s nothing you can’t flex on.

Sagittarius – Miscommunications at home (which might be part of this issue since you guys are a ruled by the planet of expansion) can prove frustrating but no worries! This is temporary. This will help clear out the air and it will allow you to work on any family drama you have been ignoring. Relax, take notes. You guys are a sign that’s notorious for your blatant and cavalier honesty. Some appreciate it. Some just think you’re harsh. Listen to others and take a page from Libra’s book on this and practice being more diplomatic in your approach.

Capricorn – It’s highly unlikely that you will be on time for anything this month which is highly unlike you since you guys are ruled by Saturn, father of time. Sorry fam, the world seems to be against you, or maybe it’s just time being complicated. You as an earth sign just don’t rock with this watery retrograde. It may seem hard but attempt to go with the flow, don’t lose your cool. Mercury here will teach you some much-needed patience. Be clear, be concise and be patient.

Aquarius –Shmonnaayyyyy! Listen, this could prove to be a beneficial time for you as you see a surge of income from unexpected forces. Has your right had been itching? While others might be losing their mind, you might actually benefit from this period since mercury is making you remove the emotional baggage and clutter as you get your finances in order and learn from previous spending habits and mistakes.

Pisces – It’s about you, baby. Happy birthday. You are on Cloud 9. Yes, this year may have started with upsets and disappointments, but you’ve noticed that things have stabilized and you feel extra Zen with the universe. Mercury’s taught you acceptance, self-care and most importantly self-love (who couldn’t use more of that?) This unconditional joy you may experience throughout the month will allow you to bloom and heal for Aries Season.

So what have we learned today?

Number one: don’t resort to excesses but remain balanced and focused on building the right sort of relationships. Be it work relationships, old ties we thought were forgotten or family binds that will never break. Yes yes, nervousness and stress, fears paranoia may be stimulated, especially if you’ve been working or living in an environment hostile to your deeper needs. But let's all remember to keep our dignity and wits about us. Especially with such a murky and hazy fog that Neptune always blesses us with (note sarcasm) around this time.

Now, will second-guessing and trying to read between every line be hard to avoid? Absolutely. However, the best course of action around this time is to make as few assumptions as possible. Be open to your own intuitive hunches and be ready to take a new direction when it suddenly materializes. It may be closer than you think.  And when the mist clears, you’ll have the opportunity to really make yourself seen and heard. Until then, I’ll be here to keep you updated on the latest celestial happenings. Good luck.

[justawanderer]

Happy Holidays @lovegeek1215  I’m your Secret Santa! I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope you enjoy it! @mlsecretsanta

AO3

The blare of the Akuma alarm had Nino jumping out of his skin. The new alarms are posted in every hallway and are awkwardly angled down toward the students. Nino makes a mental note to talk to a teacher or Mr. Damocles about the hallway acoustics and maybe dampening the tone so as to not harm the ears of the student body. He lets his eyes dart all over the seemingly empty hallway he was walking in, and then ducks into the first empty classroom he sees. For good measure, he closes himself in an supply cubby at the back of the room with a grate at eye level. The grate allows for him to keep a visual on the door incase the akuma comes around, and he is proud of himself for thinking in such a safety first LadyDude manner. Not seeing or hearing anything other than the slightly muted Akuma Alarm, Nino busies himself with silencing his phone and music and shooting Alya, Adrien, his mom, and the school alert system a text that he is safe in a classroom.

  The creak of the door opening sends him jumping again and it takes everything in him and all his Carapace training to not make a racket in his hiding spot. He takes deep breaths to try and steady his racing heart and looks through the thin slats to examine his neighbor. The familiar blonde hair and white shirt have him pushing open the cubby door and opening his mouth to call out to his friend when he sees what can only be a kwami fly out of the model’s shirt pocket and then get sucked into the ring his friend wears every single day.

  It takes approximately 1 minute for the image before him to sync with his brain and the reality of his best friend being Chat Noir draws an involuntary swear out of him before he can control himself.

  “What the Fuck?!” Senses returning to him, Nino slams a palm over his mouth and slams the cubby door shut in one fluid motion. A black cat ear flicks and Nino struggles to breathe as Chat Noir’s eerie green eyes focus on the cabinet.

  “Who’s there?” Hearing Chat’s voice again sends Nino reeling. The disconnect of having Adrien’s voice come from the hero is arresting and Nino finds himself frozen in place. His mind racing to connect all of the clues that were in front of him the whole time. That Adrien has never been akumatized, that the boy has an uncanny ability to completely disappear during an attack, that he has feline like grace when fencing, or really any sport he attempts, and that the dude is always exhausted. As the shock dwindles away, Nino keeps as still as humanly possible and his eyes locked on the ears he can see through the slats on the door.

  Nino muses that Chat is infinitely more terrifying than any akuma or villain around as he has all the hunting instincts of a cat, the lethal skills of a superhero swordsman, and the ability to hyper fixate. Nino is not sure what would happen if the hero found him in the cubby but he doesn’t particularly care to find out. While at worst it would probably be a dressing down from LadyBug, he really wasn’t ready to talk to the model/super hero yet. He watches as Adri-no Chat!- opens his mouth to say something and takes a vague step forward when an explosion sounds from outside of the classroom. Chat’s head whips towards the sound, then back to the cubby and Nino sees the the hesitation on his friends perfect features.

  One last look toward the cubby and Chat calls out, “If there is anyone in here, you would be wise to wait a minute after I leave the room and do your best to find your way out of the school. I’ll go first and try to draw the akuma away.” The teen hero leaps away out of the door not looking back and Nino waits until he can’t hear the sounds of battle before emerging from his hiding spot.

  His phone vibrates in his pocket and he checks to see a message from Alya telling him to be safe and stay inside as the akuma causes people to grow roots in sunlight. Not needing to be told twice, Nino hunkers down in the cubby to wait out the attack to think through the scene he just lived through. His mind was almost blank with shock but with concentration he was able to focus on the things he knew to be true.

  His best friend, model and heart throb, was also Chat Noir, hero and heart throb of Paris, and Nino knows somewhere deep inside himself, that he is probably one of 2 people to know. He knew, based on LadyBug’s lectures, that knowing put both him AND Adrien at risk of manipulation from Hawkmoth and Nino vowed in his tiny cubby to start joining his mom in her morning meditations.  

  Nino zones out lost deep in thought about secret identities and akumas and emotional control when he is woken by the all clear alarm. Fishing his phone from his pocket, he logs a note about the alarm volume in his phone and is interrupted by a text from Alya. He opens the attachment to see a low res picture of Adrien with his arm around Marinette seeming to prop her up. Alya has captioned it with hearts and stars and Nino finds himself conflicted as he makes his way towards the lunch room, which was where he had been heading before the attack.

  He thinks about it, and he knows that he really wants Adrien to get a girlfriend. He knows that a relationship would be good for his friend in terms of socialization, but he’s never really been super invested in Adrien’s love life. He likes Marinette and thinks that she would help teach Adrien about unconditional love and family, but he also thinks that Kagami is super cool and super talented and Nino always figured that when the model made his choice, that would be that.

  Now though? Now Nino knows that Adrien is in love with LadyBug (whoever she is) and that convincing Chat Noir to give up LadyBug has been an uphill battle for the red spotted heroine. Although Nino secretly thinks that LB may have feelings for his friend as she always seemed more affectionate with the cat hero when carapace was around to see them interact. And now Nino cannot just recommend his buddy give up on the coolest girl any of them knew.

  On the other hand, LB has zero interest in Chat and how would a relationship between a super hero and a teen model work were he to woo her as Adrien? Nino can’t really see any of it working until they know each other’s identities. But Marinette and Kagami? Those girls were real and they were right in front of Adrien every day.

  Arriving at the cafeteria, Nino watches the way Marinette flushes head to toe at Adrien’s attention to her well being and knows that the most important thing is maintaining Adrien’s happiness, and protecting his secret at all cost.

  Lunch passes with little incident, and the class makes their way to Ms. Bustier’s room, Nino cannot keep his attention off of Adrien. Its shocking to know his secret and see him just hanging out with the class as if he didn’t place himself in danger every day. He enjoyed Adrien’s enthusiasm for his new mixes and how Adrien always wants to know everything a person has to say when they speak to him. He also looks closer as sees a teenager, a guy his age, with more muscle than body fat. Kim may be more athletic and stronger, but Adrien was solid muscle and it wouldn’t have seemed weird to Nino until he heard a disturbing gurgling. At the second instance he trained his eyes on the sources and watched as Adrien flushed in embarrassment.

  The blond wrapped an arm around his stomach and apologized for the sound. The truth hit Nino like a ton of bricks, Adrien was kept on a super strict diet. Every bite of his food was calculated and all of the calories accounted for, or at least they would be, if Adrien was NOT a teenage superhero running parkour all over Paris all week burning god only knows how many more calories.

  Nino reached into his bag and slid Adrien the almonds he never got around to eating at lunch when a sound behind him drew his attention. Marinette was sitting focused on her sketch pad and softly humming. Nino looked between the bluenette and his friend and devised a plan, a small smirk painting his face.

  While not necessarily caring which of the girls Adrien could go for, Nino could at least help his buddy out and possibly Mari too if his plan worked. Waiting for the class to end, Nino packed up slower than Adrien and watched him run out of the door to go to a photoshoot. Nino waited until he was sure the model was gone before turning to Marinette, still absorbed in her sketch.

  “Sup dudette! How’s it going?” Nino tried for his best charming smile.

  Startled from her work, Marinette looked up at her friend and narrowed her eyes. “I’m good Nino, how are you?”

  “Ahh I’m good dudette, I’m good,” He said while awkwardly rubbing his neck and fiddling with his hat brim. “I, uh, actually wanted to ask you a favor. If you don’t mind.”

  Marinette’s eye widened with concern, “I would love to watch Chris this week Nino, but I am afraid that I have over booked myself this week with watching Manon, finishing commissions and class rep stuff.”

  Nino waved his hands as if to clear the air between them, “No Marinette, no, I don’t need that kind of favor. Actually its about Adrien.”

  Marinette turned a shade of red Nino had only ever seen on LB’s suit and  wildly flailed her arms about. “Wha-T Adrien about? About Adrien what?” She took a deep breath and centered herself, “What about Adrien, Nino?” The love and concern on her face was enough for Nino. He told her everything. Well, he told her everything he had been observing about Adrien, and today in class, was proven right, that the boy was not eating right. He watched Marinette’s eyes go from glassy embarrassment to filled with concern. He left her with a plan to help Adrien in place and the hopes that they would be able to accomplish their mission without interference from the adults.

  Sure enough the following morning, Nino smiled to himself as he watched Marinette present the blond with the assorted box of pastry Nino suggested the day before. He watched as Adrien was filled with joy over the gift, and how quickly he wolfed down the treats. Watching Adrien laud praises on Marinette filled Nino with a certain joy as he hoped he was doing enough for his friends.

[faecrowned]

Layers: About the Muse

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE.

name: Bede Valentine

eye color:  Royal Violet

height:  5′9″

clothing style: Magenta remains his favorite and signature color, though he’s also very fond of pastels--blues, whites and pinks especially. Rarely he’ll wear some black as well. He’s quite stylish, and if not in his gym uniform you’ll find him in some variation of a turtleneck and trousers. He’ll also also accessorize with scarves and different earrings depending on the outfit. 

best physical feature: Just one? His curly, soft platinum blond hair. His striking violet eyes. His overall lithe figure. Those rare occasions that he DOES smile, it’s a sight to see. 

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

your fears: Failure, not being good enough and abandonment 

your guilty pleasure: He’ll take it to the grave, but he has a soft spot for fairy-tales, there’s something so inspiring about the happy endings. He also has a major sweet tooth, but yet again, good luck getting that out. 

your ambitions for the future: To become the strongest gym leader within the Galar region, to reach the pinnacle of what fairy and psychic types are capable of, to become a high profile actor just as his adoptive grandmother, to someday best Gloria/Victor in a battle. 

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

your first thoughts waking up: “I suppose I should start brewing the tea for Miss Opal.” 

what you think about most: “I’ve not reached my full potential yet...but I will. ”

what you think about before bed: “I’m in a much better place than I ever was...”

you think your best quality is: Ambition and Intelligence. 

WHAT’S BETTER?

single or group dates: Single

to be loved or respected: Respected.

beauty or brains: Ideally both for him, but he couldn’t deal with someone without a brain. 

dogs or cats: Cats--clever, beautiful creatures that they are. Much like himself. 

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU…

lie: “When the situation calls for it. I also enjoy avoiding answering directly to keep certain things a mystery.”

believe in yourself: More than anyone else. 

believe in love: It’s an entertaining thought. 

want someone: Not particularly. 

LAYER SIX: EVER BEEN…

been on stage: “Been on stage? You could call it my other home.” 

done drugs: No. 

changed who you were to fit in: “No, I am who I am. And I know not everyone can handle that.” 

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

favorite color: Magenta, pastel blues, pinks and whites. Also enjoys purple and a hint of black every now and again. 

favorite animal: Felines and Foxes. The tricky creatures. Pokemon wise, he adores all of his, but the Hattrem line has his heart. 

favorite movie: None particularly, but he appreciates many films. 

favorite game: N/A

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

day your next birthday will be: August 17th 

how old will you be: 18 main verse 

age you lost your virginity: N/A 

does age matter: Depending on the situation. 

LAYER NINE: IN A PERSON

best personality: Quiet. Calm, Independent. Witty. 

best eye color: Likes brighter colors, but no particular preference. 

best hair color: No preference. 

best thing to do with a partner: Calmer moments, like reading by a fireplace

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

i love: “having a home.” 

i feel: “content for the first time in a while.”

i hide: “my weaknesses, although I am learning to come to terms with them.”

i miss: “....”  There is nothing he wants to go back to in his life, only to walk in the present and look to the future. 

i wish: “to keep making myself proud, to make my team, Miss Opal and Ballonlea proud.”

[sunfirekid]

Muse Traits Meme

Rules:

italics; apply sometimes

bold; applies always or most of the time

FLAWS

moody | short-tempered | emotionally unstable | whiny | controlling | conceited | possessive | paranoid | lies | impatient | cowardly | bitter | selfish | power-hungry | greedy | lazy | judgmental | forgetful | impulsive | spiteful | stubborn | sadistic | masochistic | petty | unlucky | absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | childish | callous | clingy | delusional | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cynical | cruel | depressed | deranged | egotistical | envious | insecure | insensitive | lustful | delinquent | guilt complex | reclusive | reckless | nervous | oversensitive | rebellious | manipulative

STRENGTHS

honest | trustworthy | thoughtful | caring | brave | patient | selfless | ambitious | tolerant | lucky | intelligent | confident | focused | humble | generous | merciful | observant | wise | clever | charming | cheerful | optimistic | decisive | adaptive | calm | protective | proud | diligent | considerate | compassionate | good sportsmanship | friendly | empathetic | passionate | reliable | resourceful | sensible | sincere | witty | funny

SKILLS & HOBBIES

art | acting | astronomy | animals | archery | sports | baking | beachcombing | belly dancing | bird watching | blacksmithing | boating | calligraphy | camping | candle making | casino gambling | ceramics | racing | chess | music | cooking | crochet | weaving | exercise | swordplay | fishing | gardening | ghost hunting  | ice skating | magic | engineering | building | inventing | leather-working | martial arts | meditation | origami | parkour | people watching | swimming | puppetry | pyrotechnics | quilting | reading | collecting | shopping | socializing | storytelling | traveling | exotic dancing | minor potion brewing | tricks & trinkets

Tagged by: @feline-puppeteer (many thanks :D) Tagging: anyone else who wants to do it go for it!

[panthera-nigrum]

And all those rules had to be learned by Mowgli and all of them, he had to repeat over and over more than a hundred times. Just as Baloo told Bagheera the day he had to strike him and the boy went away in a rage: "He is a human cub. He must learn the law of the jungle."

"But keep in mind that he's still small," warned the panther, who —if it were her responsibility alone to educate the boy— would have spoiled him rotten. "How do you expect his little head to store all that you teach him?"

"Is there anything in this jungle small enough to not be killed? There isn't, right? That's precisely what I'm trying to teach him and that is why, when he gets distracted, I hit him from time to time, though I always do it gently."

"What do you know about gentleness? Your paws are as heavy as steel," Bagheera growled. "Today, his face is purple because of your... gentleness, aargh!"

"I'd rather leave his head full of bruises myself, since I love him, than see him suffer for his ignorance," Baloo responded bluntly. "Right now I am teaching him the secret phrases of the jungle, those that will protect him from birds and snakes, and against any four legged hunter, except those from his own pack. If he remembers these words, he can ask for protection anywhere in the jungle. Isn't that worth some smacking around?"

"Well, but be careful and don't kill the mancub with one of your gentle smacks. Do not sharpen your claws on him like you would on a trunk. And what secret phrases are those you speak of? I am more often the one granting help, not the one who requests it. But, still, I would like to know them" Bagheera said, stretching a single paw to admire her own sharp claws, which shined a shade of silver blue.

"Let Mowgli himself tell you... If he can. Come here, brother!"

"My head buzzes as if filled with bees," came a moody little voice from above their heads. It was Mowgli, who slid down from his perch on the tree, offended and angry. "And I come down only for Bagheera! Not for you, sack of fat."

The Jungle Book (Terramar Edition) - Kaa's Hunt.

[executare]

tagged by !! @voiivode CHEERS M8 tagging !! lmao whoever wants it YEET

&&. real name: Ayin

&&. single or taken: single &&. abilities or powers: regeneration, teleportation, shape-shifting, blood magic, the ability to mutate/alter other vampires and their powers, the ability to choose what powers he bestows unto other vampires, erasing minds, controlling alternate dimensions, entering and manipulating dreams, and his signature power of Absolute Decree which allows him total control over other living entities of any kind. &&. eye colour: deep wine red &&. hair colour: black &&. family members: he killed his adoptive father Conrad so. &&. pets: he has various familiars, which is close enough. &&. something they don’t like: stupidity &&. hobbies/activities: reading, invading dreams, drinking wine, night time strolls &&. ever hurt anyone before: unthinkable amounts &&. ever killed anyone before: again, unthinkable amounts &&. animal that represents them: a black panther, given his generally feline appearance with his slit pupils and dark colour scheme &&. worst habits: basically his whole personality. but the fact that he is an excellent manipulator and does so quite freely is easily the worst part about him. &&. role models: himself. he grew to resent his adoptive father very quickly as he became absorbed in his own ridiculous amounts of power and control over others &&. sexual orientation: pansexual &&. thoughts on marriage/kids: he has absolutely no interest in having biological children--he sires new vampires as he requires them for his army, but thats about it. marriage? well, he has certain loyalties to some vampires in various verses that borders on it, with just how loyal he is to them but lmao does he even know what love is &&. fears: nothing. he is basically God in his universe at this point &&. style preferences: in the past he was often seen wearing opulent armour and more traditional dress of the time. In the present, he wears dark figure-hugging clothing and his splendid cloak adorned with several decorative chains and charms. suits and the like are also a common sight in his wardrobe when he doesn’t feel like looking #extra &&. someone they love: he doesn’t love per se, but as stated above, he has some loyalties to other muses that are about as close as he will get to the feeling &&. approach to friendships: respect and power. ayin will only take notice of people that command themselves with grace, power, wisdom and of course, a healthy demonstration of violence works wonders to draw his eye. he makes true companions very rarely, but the companions he does take in are always creatures of wit and power. &&. favourite drink: blood, and a good glass of sauvignon when that’s not doable &&. favourite place to spend time at: hiding out in his castle being waited on by his adorants &&. swim in the lake or in the ocean: either or. but he’d rather bathe at home in blood. &&. their type: tall dark and handsome for one thing; he admires other people very little, being the vain and self-obsessed man that he is, but he has shown a very real inclination to this sort of person in particular as far as aesthetics go. power and wit is another must as mentioned beforehand; while he is infinitely powerful himself, he can still muster a very real respect for other individuals that are massively powerful in their own right, but also individuals that have been made wise with experience--blind, stupid arrogance is unsightly to him. he appreciates people that are eloquent, well-spoken, and intelligent--people that can play his game are a rare delight, and he appreciates a challenge as much as he enjoys the submission that often follows when he has strung someone out long enough. a reward that feels earned is the sweetest of all. but tl;dr, to win ayin’s affections (lmao), strength and cunning are the most important factors to bring to the table. &&. camping or indoors: outdoors. he doesn’t like being cooped up inside for too long. he is easily made bored without stimulating company.

[cruelzy]

cliche

ao3 cross

pairing: connor rk800/reader

It’s not night yet. Not quite. Nevertheless, the gray clouds above have long since blocked out any resemblance of the fading twilight. 

Rain glows almost neon in the downtown lights - a quickening drizzle that will most certainly return to its previous steady pour if you don’t hurry up. You huff, tie the string of your raincoat tight about your face. Like it matters. You are already soaked straight through.

You groan.

“Why did we have to park so far away?” The sentence miraculously makes its way past your gritted teeth. Narrowing your eyes, you once more try to spot your car through the curtain of water. 

Connor is suspiciously silent. He has been for the last hour or so. This coupled with the frustrating fact that his movements are premeditated, near soundless, causes you to constantly glance to your side to make sure he’s actually still there. 

“You’ll be alright in the rain, yeah?” You ask. The answer is obvious. You know this. He knows this. It doesn’t matter - you’re desperate to maintain some kind of conversation. The quiet is unsettling. It prickles at your skin, fills your mind with the white noise of insecurities. Was it something you’d done earlier? Said? 

Wiggling your toes in your drenched shoes, you bite your lip and chance another look at the android.

There is no response. Your smile strains. 

“Guess we’ll have to run for it.”

You’ve barely taken four steps out from under the safety of the scaffolding when he speaks your name. You come to a stop with a sudden jerk, nearly tripping right over your own two feet as he grips the back of your coat. Of all the nerve-

You struggle fervently in his hold but you might as well be fighting against a rock, because he is not letting go. He doesn’t even look bothered by the effort of holding you there. 

You hiss. 

“Connor!”

Your head jolts back to glare up at him, but it backfires majestically when you only manage to get blindsided by a rather well-aimed droplet of rain. You bristle like a feline, stumble back, wrench a hand upwards to rub rapidly at your left eye. 

He says your name a second time, entirely too calm, and you wonder just how bad your fist would break if you punched him right in that infuriatingly handsome face. 

“This better be good.” You wipe water from your forehead. The pouring rain seems to disagree. “This really better be good.”

Connor shifts. It takes you a second, but you eventually realize that the sensation of tiny fists atop your head has gone non-existent. You slowly look up. Connor has an umbrella. 

You can’t decide between ‘that’s surprisingly big’, and ‘what the actual hell’.

“What the actual hell.” 

He moves closer, careful to properly adjust the umbrella. You stare. When did he get that? Nevermind when, where in the world did he manage to pull it from? If he’d had it the whole time you would have definitely seen it at some point.

“Alright, Mary Poppins,” you say in disbelief. “We’ve been skirting around, but something’s wrong with you. It’s time to spill. And while you’re at it, please try not to make me go insane.”

He inhales. You cautiously inch forward, displacing a muddy puddle with a squelch. Exhales. In a rush he mutters something under his breath, low and swarmy. It’s too quick for you to catch; the possibilities scatter almost infinitely. Your eyes meet. And then it doesn’t really matter what he said anyways, because he’s kissing you.

Well. That’s a little bit of an exaggeration.

His lips are hovering, only barely brushing yours. The intention, however, is crystal clear. Through the muddled haze of indecipherable fog that is now your mind, you detect his breath rolling over your skin, the slight give of his nose as it touches your cheek. He’s shaking. You can feel it. Not intimately, no, you aren’t touching, still too far apart, but you can sense the way it trembles the air, makes you itch to claim the space between you and render it nonexistent.

Somewhere, distantly, a light-bulb rears its dusty head. The strange tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon that has been tugging at the end of your subconscious dances into the dark. You chase after it, reach out. Suddenly, with a force you are not prepared for, it crashes over you, knocks you flat on your feet. Your heart stutters. Oh.

Oh.

You laugh.

A snort gets caught somewhere in your throat. It’s an odd, wet strangle of a noise - something trying and failing not to progress to a giggle. Your eyes slip shut for a moment, fluttering incessantly like broken shutters while you attempt to calm yourself.  

Just when you get a leash on your misplaced humour, Connor, oh beautiful, beautiful Connor, hums. The sound is one he’s made several occasions before, a familiar mixture of curiousity and intrigue. Without even looking, you just know his brows are slightly furrowed, eyes wide and blown a bright warm chestnut.

His chest rumbles, and then promptly, hesitantly, after an hour of absolutely nothing at all, “Is that a normal response to this display of affection?” 

Your control absolutely snaps. You shake, collapse against his jacket for fear of doubling over as you laugh. And boy, do you laugh. Unrestrained, without so much of a care in the world. Connor patiently waits for you to regain your senses.

“Connor,” you say, and god you can barely speak, “is this - did you - “ You wheeze. “Is this a cliche?”

Connor has the decency to look embarrassed. He clears his throat. 

“I knew it. I freaking knew it.” You grin. “When?”

His eyes shift with a sigh. “Precisely twenty minutes and thirty-three seconds into the last case. Though the Lieutenant insists I’ve been, ah, how did he put it, ‘head over heels’ since you were first introduced on the homicide team.” 

“Really?” You are absolutely beaming. “I’ve got you beaten.” Connor’s head tilts, and you answer his unasked question. “Been harboring a good ol’ crush from before you even knew I existed.”

“That is…unexpected. You hid it rather well.”

“Oh shut it. Don’t lie to me.”

“I am not-” A glare. “I may have perhaps speculated a few suspicions.”

You feel faint embarrassment but get over it quickly. It’s not unexpected. You are already easy to read human wise; it would be incredibly naive to assume that the perceptive android had been blissfully unaware of your feelings towards him. 

“But even so,” you continue, gleefully dragging out the topic. “A kiss. In the rain. At night. Tell me you bought the umbrella specifically for this too.”

“You are experiencing quite a large amount of pleasure from this.”

“Oh you so did. Is that why you’ve been silent this whole time?”

Connor frowns. “The probability of receiving reciprocation from you, or of any inclination of a positive outcome whatsoever was not certain to be 100 percent. Despite that, I fully intended to carry out my actions. This lack of logic clashed with everything my internal programming dictated, and so I was left in a strange discord of troubling anticipation.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So you were nervous.”

 “…Yes.” 

“Still doesn’t explain why you resorted to this though.”

Connor slowly rubs his hands together. You’ve been around him long enough to know the motion is absentminded, perhaps a habit of comfort while he thinks. His LED flickers yellow, circles twice.

“I did not have many references of choice, so I consulted the vast expanse of the world wide web for relative advice. I had thought resorting to one of these ‘cliches’ that are seemingly so highly regarded would aid.” 

“Yeah?” You smile. “Well it didn’t work.”

Connor visibly deflates, and you nearly melt right into your shoes at the oblivious puppy dog expression forming. 

“And it will never work,” you say softly. You rest a palm on his chest, your gaze filled with warmth. “I just want you to be yourself. That will always be enough. You will always be enough.” 

Connor doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels like he cannot breathe, though his oxygen regulators are in perfect working order. He doesn’t understand why the palm you’ve rested right above his primary thirium pump seems to sear heat through his clothes, though that is clearly illogical. He doesn’t understand why he is suddenly hyper focused on the way your left eyebrow arches at a 0.1022222repeating degree difference from your right, the faded blemish on your cheek, the wrinkles cresting underneath your eyes in your smile. 

The exact moment when your relationship slots into the lover category registers just outside his field of vision, and an unexplainable thrum of something runs straight through him.  

His own hand reaches up to curl around yours. 

“I am not well experienced in the roles of romance.” Words are escaping him, but he’s not really paying attention. His focus is on the thumb he is using to caress over the cold knuckles of your fingers. Back and forth.

You snort. 

“And you think I am? Not a fat chance. I’m stringing this up as we go along. Besides-”

Connor sees your eyes narrow, catches the way your voice off-tilts. Usually he is clueless towards human inflection, but not this time. It’s an expression he recognizes, one Hank frequently employs whenever he teases him. The next thing you say is bound to be-

“-I already knew you sucked at romance. After all, you called that poor excuse of whatever you did earlier a kiss.” 

You’re baiting him. You are baiting him and Connor thoroughly allows himself to be pulled along.

“Oh?” His eyes widen, ever so innocent. His thumb is stroking the inside of your palm now, and when you shiver, it definitely isn’t of the cold. “Are you saying you didn’t like it?” 

“I didn’t say that,” you muse. “But it wasn’t a kiss.”

“I apologize,” He murmurs. “Then,” his hand separates from yours to trail the line of your jaw, “may I kiss you?”

You swallow. His usual hoarse voice is even raspier, like cut pieces of silk over gravel. He looks at you from under his lashes, and the game you two play shimmers as you see the genuine uncertainty in his eyes, the lack of confidence.

You tug him down. “Yes.”

Now, you’re no Connor, but you have some analytical skills of your own, if you do say so yourself. Comes with the job description after all. (Though men like Gavin Reed sometimes make you lose faith in the qualities of a detective, and really on a whole the human race.)

But Connor. Well. 

Connor kisses like he fights.

You cannot think of a better comparison. Every move is executed to the finest detail: the hand cupping the back of your neck, the slow insistence of his mouth form fitting yours. Calculated. Demanding. Your knees buckle as you lose your grip on reality, but he’s already there, already knowing, already predicting, drawing you up against him.

The umbrella hits the ground, long forgotten.

The rain is frigid, but he is so warm, and why are you surprised, why should he be cold, he is working, functioning, existing. He is a living–

-fingers press at the base of where your hairline ends and your neck begins, applying a pressure gentle but firm enough to make you tilt your head back, upup, at a perfect angle for him to change the slant, to drown you deeper, and for a beautiful second your thoughts completely blank out-  

–being and nothing less and everything more. He kisses you again. And again. Unhurried. Deliberate. You keen. 

It’s not fair that he technically doesn’t need to breathe, and for the first in the history of ever it seems the two of you are on the same wavelength because he lets you go. He’s pulling back and placing you on your toes and-

and-

And you’re laughing. Again. 

Connor blinks. “Please don’t make this an occurrence every time we kiss, Detective.”

The laugh is a bit too breathless to really be a laugh, but you make it work. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Your raincoat is horrendously big, and your eyes must be pink from the water, and he is ridiculously composed, and you are a mess and also-

“I can’t believe you were worried about this.” You punch him in the arm. You’re entirely sure it hurt you more than it hurt him. “Let’s go. I know you’re waterproof and all but we really shouldn’t test fate.” 

His lips twitch. “So I’m assuming the task was performed to your satisfaction?”

“Ha ha, very funny. Now come on, if you show even one sign of shorting out I’m sticking you in rice.”

You lead the way, dragging him by the hand. He watches as you interlock his fingers with yours.

He smiles.

“I always accomplish my mission.”

“Well you better accomplish some chicken soup pretty soon because I’m pretty sure I’m going to get a cold from this.” 

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

Love Potion no. 2 (1)

For @purrincess-chat ‘s #miraculous spooktober, Day 1: Magic

Summary: When Chat Noir obtains a vial of love potion, there’s only one person he wants to give it to. But Adrien decides to check if it really works first, using his classmates as unsuspecting guinea pigs. As his bad luck catches up with him, he accidentally discovers that indeed the mixture seems to be effective. Only now wrong girl is in love with him.

AO3 / fanfiction

Chapters: 1 | 2 | (to be continued)

~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 1. Take a sip of my secret potion

It was raining cats and akuma that evening and Chat Noir had had enough. He was making his way home in the the darkness of the rooftops, not really thinking where he was going, when the cry for help reached his ears. Without hesitation the black clad hero adjusted his direction and headed for the source of the noise.

Soon he found it. An old woman was backed against a wall, while two muggers were going through the contents of her enormous bag.

Chat signaled the woman to be quiet and tiptoed to the two thugs.

‘Well, well. What do we have here,’ he drawled in a guttural growl.

‘AH!’ They both exclaimed and dropped the bag.

‘Jeeeez, it’s just Chat Noir,’ the taller of them said, keeping his hand on his chest and breathing heavily. ‘You scared the shit out of us, man. We’re no Akuma, you know.’

‘Pardonne moi,’ the hero bowed. ‘It’s just boring old me. I wouldn’t forgive myself if you’d come to any harm. Any. Harm. At. All.’

‘Yeah, man, it wouldn’t be good,’ the shorter one replied.

‘Indeed,’ Chat faced him, deadpanned. His eyes flickered to the old woman hunched against the wall and then returned in a stone glare to the thugs. ‘In that case may I suggest the two of you take off really, really quickly?’

‘What for?’  

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you said you didn’t want to come to any harm?’ Chat quirked a brow, but the gesture was wasted because of his mask. He settled on cracking his knuckles and narrowing his eyes.

The muggers seemed to get the message instantly.

‘Right, right. It’s getting late,’ the taller one said conversationally.

‘We should get going,’ the shorter one supplied, nervously looking for a way out.

‘Now would be a very good moment to do that,’ Chat agreed. ‘Booo!’ he whispered and they fled.

The feline hero picked up the bag from the ground and handed it to the rightful owner. It was surprisingly heavy, even for such an oversized sack.

‘Here, Madame, let me help you with that,’ he offered, but the old lady shook her head and when she did, a cascade of jingles filled his ears. She was wearing a lot of loud jewelry.

The woman adjusted the shawls covering her neck and back and brushed of the dust from her ample skirt. Every piece of her attire screamed exotic.

‘Thank you, young man,’ she replied in faultless French. ‘That was really brave of you.’

Chat frowned. ‘I am a superhero, Ma’am. I eat akuma for breakfast. Those two wouldn’t have stood a chance.’

‘Really?’ the woman looked him up and down thoughtfully. ‘You’re barely a teenager. Fifteen? Ah, almost sixteen, I see.’

‘I’ll be sixteen in a few days actually,’ he mumbled, a bit confused. He wasn’t used to this sort of treatment. ‘How do you know?’

‘A sibyl needs one look and she knows your soul,’ she replied. ‘And I have been a fortune-teller for many years. Just one look and I know not only your soul, but your past and future too.’

Oh great, Chat thought. Another weirdo. Just what he needed at this time of night.

The woman scowled at him as if she could hear him thinking. ‘Never underestimate an old woman, my boy. There’s more to us than meets the eye,’ she scolded him, but there was a hint of warmth in her voice, as if she was scolding her own grandchild.

‘Now let’s see,’ she murmured under her breath reaching out for Chat’s gloved hand. He tried to pull it back, but the fortuneteller only grabbed it tighter. ‘Easy there, young man. This is the only way I can thank you for saving me and all my belongings from those two thugs’ greedy paws.’

She inspected his palm closely, running her calloused fingers over the magic material. What did she see in the darkness and with the blackness of the suit itself was beyond him, but she must have seen something because she was muttering to herself in a language Chat didn’t recognize. At last she nodded with satisfaction and returned her eyes to his.

‘You’ve been through a lot, I can see. Sudden loss, absence of something important in your life. But I see happiness too. And recent attachment,’ she patted his hand gently smirking at the sight of surprise written all over his masked face.

‘But… you do not feel complete,’ the woman mused out loud. ‘There’s something missing, something you want but can’t get.’ She closely watched him squirm under her scrutinous gaze. ‘But don’t worry, my dear. Soon you’ll earn that thing and the person you want will finally be yours. You just need to put a liiiiittle more effort, because what you want is closer than you think,’ she concluded jabbing him in the chest with a crooked finger.

‘Yeah, right,’ the sarcastic remark rolled off his tongue before he could bite it back and the woman whipped her head at him in an instant.

‘You don’t believe me, I see,’ she glared at him until he dropped his gaze to his feet and shuffled them nervously.

‘It seems you need a little help with your quest,’ the woman said after a while. ‘And I’ve got just the thing for you.’ After a quick search of her bag she fished out two tiny vials in a silver lacy bag. Chat wondered if he just imagined the edges glowing faintly in the darkness. Maybe he was tired.

‘This,’ she pointed to the red vial, ‘is Love Potion no 2, the most powerful love potion in my possession.’ She shook the container and he saw drops of pinkish-red sirup sloshing inside. ‘There’s not much of it left, but it will be more than enough for your young lady. The correct dose is one drop and the first person she sees after having that she’ll fall in love with.’

The hero could only gape at her, rendered speechless and not quite following the current turn of events.

‘This,’ she took the second vial with the transparent liquid, ‘is the antidote should you change your mind or want somebody to unlove you.’ The woman deposited the bag with the vials in Chat’s unresisting hand, and wrapped his fingers around it. ‘Keep it safe and use it wise. And always remember that love is a gift.’

The boy finally regained his voice and enough of coherent thought to know it was time to leave.

‘Thank you, Madame,’ he bowed respectfully, carefully sliding the little bag into his pocket. ‘I promise to treasure this gift.’

‘Good night, Chat Noir,’ the fortuneteller nodded with satisfaction as Chat vaulted himself back to the rooftops and headed for home. Soon he was too far to hear her mutter under her breath. ‘It would be much easier if you just looked around, you oblivious fool.’

 *************

 Adrien knew he should already be sleeping or he’ll be in trouble in the morning, but he couldn’t help it. He was sitting on his sofa and staring at the two vials on the coffee table. While they had looked enthrallingly magical in the scarce light of the evening, now he couldn't notice any trace of that strange glow. Just two ordinary petite bottles, the kind you put homemade perfume in.

Adrien felt the cool of the ring on his right hand. Just an inconspicuous silver band, serving as a disguise for a powerful magical artifact. He tapped his lower lip with his fingers and frowned for a hundred time.

‘Do you think these are for real?’

‘How would I know?’ Plagg’s voice came from somewhere between the wraps of camembert.

‘What do I do with them?’

‘Nothing, if you’re smart,’ the kwami grumbled, flying out of the most recently opened camembert box. ‘Listen kid, you’re old enough to know there’s no such thing as Santa Claus and magical potions, right?’

‘Says a black flying creature that inhabits my ring from time to time and lets me cataclysm things with my clawed hands,’ Adrien rebuffed not taking his eyes of the vials.

‘Ooooh, I know what you’re thinking,’ Plagg growled and waved a paw at his Chosen. ‘And you’d better stop right now before you come up with something stupid.’

‘And what am I thinking about, pray?’

The black cat shot him with an unimpressed look. ‘Kid, you can’t seriously think that drugging Ladybug into loving you is a good idea.’

‘You said yourself this isn’t a magic potion!’

‘Because it’s not,’ Plagg shouted back. ‘And what if it’s a hate potion and it’ll make Ladybug hate you for the rest of your lives? You got that from a total stranger, a “sibyl” nonetheless,’ he mocked. ‘And you’re really considering giving it to Ladybug?’

‘Oh,’ Adrien hadn’t thought about it like that. But when he closed his eyes in frustration his mind instantly filled with visions of his beloved heroine looking at him with oceans of affection in her bluebell eyes. Of her gaze flickering to his lips. Of her hands tugging at his wild mane. Of the warmth of her body as she wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled coyly at him, batting her treacherously long lashes. You know, his standard Ladybug-is-about-to-kiss-you dream no. 2.

And now it seemed like he finally had the means to make it happen, if months of his flirtatious efforts and heroic deeds apparently weren’t enough to get him there. But Plagg was right, that giving it to Ladybug straight away was risky. He needed to check, if it even worked.

‘Okay, I think I’m up to a little experiment before I consider giving the potion to Ladybug,’ Adrien said thoughtfully. ‘Something that could prove if it works.’

‘See, it didn’t take long to come up with something stupid,’ Plagg muttered. ‘Kid, seriously, don’t do that. You’ll only regret it.’

‘Even if my guinea pig is going to be Chloe?’ the boy let that question hang in the air and watched the black cat’s face, where his previous scowl was fighting with mischievous grin.

But soon the scowl won. ‘Tempting,’ Plagg admitted. ‘But why would you make Miss Screech more in love with you? She’s already unbearable as she is now.’

‘I was rather thinking of throwing her of my tail and hooking her up with someone else.’

The kwami perked up at that. ‘Like who?’

‘Maybe Nath? If it works on those two it’ll work on everyone,’ Adrien suggested with a sly grin that soon turned into frown of disappointment when Plagg didn’t back him up.

‘As much as I’d love to see that,’ the black cat mused, ‘I’m gonna remind you of your famous luck, or lack of thereof. Knowing you, we’ll probably end up with Chloe pursuing Alya and Nath proclaiming his undying love to Marinette again.’

Adrien suddenly felt uneasy at the thought of Nathaniel, or anyone for that matter proclaiming their love to Marinette, and the sensation surprised him. He shook that thought off. It was probably just an akuma thing. Yes. Definitely, akuma thing. Evillustrator had been rather rough on him, is all, plus he had been really worried for Marinette going out with a villain. Though he had to admit she did splendidly, for a civilian of course.

‘I still think it’s worth a try,’ he decided. ‘I already have a foolproof plan.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ Plagg rolled his eyes, feigning defeat. He immediately recognized there was no way of reasoning with Adrien in his current set of mind. Something would have to be done about it later, and the kwami reluctantly acknowledged that it would have to be done by him, if he wanted to avoid any catastrophes, or at least those more spectacular ones.

‘Great. That’s settled then,’ the boy rubbed his hands together. ‘Tomorrow we’re going to test the potion, and if everything works - as I’m sure it will - Ladynoir will set sail next patrol night!’ he announced with a dreamy smile.

Not even fifteen minutes passed and the boy was already snoring quietly, sprawled on his large bed. Judging by his mewls and whispers he was dreaming his standard Ladybug-said-she-loved-mew dream no. 4. Plagg listened for a while and when it became apparent that Adrien wasn’t likely to wake up any time soon, the kwami sneaked his way to the top desk drawer.

‘I’m getting too old for this shit,’ he complained dragging the bag with the vials with him and phasing through the front of the drawer. Soon soft clanks of glass filled the large wooden desk, while Adrien dreamt of ladybugs and kisses under full moon.

~*~*~*~*~

If you enjoy what I do, consider buying me a hot chocolate? 

 ~*~*~*~*~

Author’s Note: Hey there! I have a ton of other stories in progress so one more won't make much difference, right? This has been sitting in my WIP folder for about a year and I decided that the beginning of #miraculous spooktober is a good time to start posting it. 

I don't have a schedule right now, I write when I find time and inspiration, but know that feedback plays a very important role in that. So if you're curious and want more, let me know! Like or reblog or comment or if you’re shy just scream at me on anon in my askbox! 

[pandemoniumandfervor-blog]

.:One-Shot:.  A moment of peace

How long had it been since she last had a moment of peace? Too long, if you ask her. Not since Malthael had been found, not since... Sabirah gripped the handle of her scythe tightly, eliminating the thoughts of her demise. Well, trying her best to. Her mind hadn't been clear since she's found Wisdom- or, his physical body. That was no longer Wisdom, he was Death now. She had to remember that. No longer could she find comfort in him; he would turn her away, tell her to go make him stronger. And she did. Every time he would shoo her away, she would leave for Sanctuary and do as she was told, comfort but a distant memory. She had taken so many lives already; doubting in the back of her head. Maybe they were innocent, she would think. Maybe they had no part in this war, she would reason. But then, as if Death could read her thoughts, they would consume her again, remind her of what they are, what they have done through all of their existence. Mortals were monsters, oddities of nature. Murderers. After all, had it not been them who took Ramma's life so mercilessly? Sometimes a soft breath would escape her; a pitiful attempt at a miserable laugh. She would laugh at her outcome, wonder if her vow had been the one to lead her here. Unable to speak despite it being the only option, having to accept her master's every word in fear of his ire. His words that once promised safety now brought tyranny. But oh was he charismatic. The others would deem him as the Wise One, their master who their loyalty would lead them to their deaths. All but her. Sabirah, the skeptic. She, who's wings still shone brightly, the one who begun to doubt Wisdom's words. Wise as she may be, Sabirah knew Malthael could do whatever he wished to do with her. She could not tattle, she would have to take her own life if she did. Such is the vow. With wisdom, comes eternal silence. If a death is needed, then so be it. The maiden once more shook her head free from those thoughts, illumining the ground underneath her as she landed. There she stood, scythe in hand, wings messily folding back, paranoia seeping her every thought. So many lives she had taken, so many begged to be spared. None of them had been spared. Her gaze fell upon the clearing. Grass who was once a dull green now a dark blue, tips painted white by the light of the moon. The trees, eerie as they were, brought her a feeling of safety, if only just a little bit. Though she may be here to find a victim to claim, she always wandered back in this spot, where she had perfect view of the sky. Slowly, the angel took a seat on the ground, gently setting her satchel down next to her. Disturbed by the sudden pressure, the feline poked its head out from the flap and chirped. Sabirah's wings fluttered, the air around them warming up. Sanctuary could be harsh at night and a feline as frail as her companion was needed all the warmth it could get. Even though she was sure its messy fur did that job just right. She pulled back the flap of the satchel and slid her hands inside, hooking them under the cat's belly. Though it lacked much fur there, she was sure it would grow back one day. The feline chirped, its ears perked up as they were settled onto the death maiden's cold lap, her arms holding it close to her abdomen. The tendrils of her wings parted, snaking by her sides to form a sort of cocoon around herself and the cat. Though she couldn't feel it, the cat seemed plenty happy with the heat it was receiving and; as one would expect it to do, it yawned and continued on with its nap. Once again, Sabirah was left alone with her darkening thoughts. tiredly, she lifted her gaze up to the night sky. Was home still an option at this point? She wondered how a dear friend of hers was holding on. Azabel. A follower of Hope who she seemed to interest. He used to pester her until she would finally take a break from the scrolls she would write, the wisdom she would lay in words. No matter how many times she had kicked him out of her office, he would always find a way inside. The times she had deemed him an annoyance were too many to count. Yet despite her harsh feelings for him, she'd grown to appreciate his thoughtfulness. ________________________________________ "Sabirah." The stern voice of the healer resonated within the walls of her residence. The mute still kept her focus on the words she wrote, merely lifting her head up to watch the ink drop from the quill as she dipped it in the bottle. An armored hand waved in front of her field of view, of which she ignored and returned to her task. Again, the hand returned, this time snapping its fingers to distract her. Her wings flared up and she slammed both hands on the desk in frustration. She turned to look at the angel besides her. "Don't give me that look, Sab." She kept glaring. Azabel simply chuckled and fluttered his wings. They were of a pink-ish hue, the tendrils never truly staying still. If anything, she could associate them to the leaves of one of the Weeping Willows in the gardens of Hope. His armor a warm bronze, white cloth decorated with various patterns of flowers hid most of it though. He always seemed calm and upbeat, even after a tragic loss; he would always be the first to try and lift the mood of his brothers and sisters. The maiden of Wisdom let out a silent sneer, reaching over to the quill- only for it to be taken from her at the last second. "You know Wisdom won't be too happy if he finds out you've been cooped up here since the last Lightsong." He mused, holding her at bay with an arm while his other arm held the quill out of her reach. No matter how much she would struggle, she wasn't getting anywhere. Flying didn't help either, he was as flexible as he was annoying. Azabel very well knew that, as wise as Sabirah was, he was almost twice her size and very well could snatch the quill right back out of her hands. She really wasn't hat strong. Or tall. Of course, he would use that to his advantage. Sabirah gave in after a few moments, landing back on the floor with her fists clenched at her sides and a foot tapping on the darkened marble of her already dark office. Her wings flared and stiff, her aura accusing. He was the cause of her oh so dramatic misery. Azabel set his hands on her hips and leaned down towards her. "Just a few minutes outside and I'll be out of your wings, got it?" He hummed, waving the quill in front of her. Sure, he wouldn't be out of her wings forever, but every moment without him pestering her to 'be healthier' was a moment of peace. The maiden glared at him for a moment longer before her shoulders slumped and her head tilted down, wings going limp. Fine. She gave in. White flag. She yielded. Azabel clasped his hands together and pulled her close to him, an arm draping around her shoulders as they left the office and, in turn, the Pools of Wisdom. "Come on, you'll love the new flora that popped up near the Willows." ________________________________________ She didn't know how he did it, but every time he would get her out of her office, it always ended up with him braiding her hair. Well, hair, it was more like a mass of light resembling hair. All maidens had them, so they set apart from their fellow angels. Odd, but she had grown used to it. Sabirah lifted the cat up and nuzzled the side of her head against its fur, earning a confused meow. She didn't answer, her mind going back to her dear friend. He was probably worried sick about her.  Or maybe, her hope would argue, just maybe he was busy with tending to the flora that grew in the gardens. Maybe even getting stuck in a tree too. Like that time Sabirah had to untangle his wings from a branch. Tsk. The idiot.