#OR because of the sewn-up bird

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

Anyway rewatching the angels of death anime and I just noticed both of Danny's eyes dilate even though he has one glass eye

[violentalbino-real]

it’s not a vagina it;s not a vagina it;s not its not it’s a mouth please i’m sorry it;s not a vagina i swear

[ghouljams]

Friend.

Viking!Ghost with a huge wolf-dog.

Or, even better : shepherd!reader with a huge wolf-dog, or two ; big, ferocious babies who absolutely love the guy, smothering him in kisses and floof every time he visits his darling. Huge balls of fluff who are absolutely delighted when he picks both of them up as if they were still puppies. Reader falling a little bit more in love with him every time she catches him interact with them, gently talking to them as their tails wag and wag and wag. And Ghost who has to suck in a breath when he finds her asleep in the barn after she spent the night helping one of her sheep give birth, the two dogs acting as really big and warm blankets, along with all the other sheep ; just a huge pile of snuggles that won’t let any kind of cold wind through. Just utter cuteness, and the huge, powerful viking is smitten.

My period has been acting up since yesterday, and last night was a nightmare. I’m a little bit better, but I can’t eat otherwise it’s gonna start all over again. I am not hurt, I AM the hurt. I really wish I had a big doggo or one of my cats to snuggle with, or a partner to help with the panic attacks this shoot always comes with (or all of those, I need warmth and cuddles and love).

I wanna write, by I can’t, because brain not braining properly. So I’m imagining fluffy scenarios while listening to the rain outside.

The birds are singing in harmony with the rain. It’s a cozy melody.

Lots of love, Friend.

Mii, out (like a light, soon, probably).

You're getting used to the visits. The giant of a viking that hovers just at the edge of your fence, watching like he's got something to say only to turn away when you ask him to say it. The dogs like him, galloping over to the man every time his shadow crosses your fence. They wiggle and jump like puppies, pushing their big paws against his chest and stretching long with their heads back, the only man that hasn't been bowled over by them yet. You can't blame them for their affections.

Your guest scoops up one of them and cradles the overgrown mutt against his chest. Your dog, for all its ferocity, licks at his mask like the tamest pup in a litter. You get your flock settled before making your way over. It's a fair assumption the viking won't walk away with your dog, so you're guessing he's worked up the nerve for a conversation. You manage to get all the way to the fence, though he takes a step back when you lean against it. You switch your attention to the dog still on the ground and scratch under her chin. Her big eyes stare sadly up at you, as if you could pick her up like the viking.

"Ghost," he says, and you're struck by how rich his voice is, deep and smokey as a dwarves cavern, "you can call me Ghost," he explains, apparently having realized his attempted start at a conversation wasn't going to go anywhere.

"There another viking hidin' his face like you?" You ask him, the introduction is lovely (if a little awkward) but everyone in the village knows Ghost. Or, they know of him. Nobody really knows him. You figure that's what the mask is for.

"Suppose not," he replies, and there's a touch of humor in his voice you hadn't expected. It makes you think he's smiling. Somehow that makes your cheeks feel hot. Strange.

"What do you need Ghost?" You ask, leaning against the fence. He leans to put your dog down, and the other one goes to nose his hand. He scratches her head lightly before straightening up.

"Just came to pet the dogs," he tells you. You smile. "No show this time?" He asks.

"No wolves," you nod towards the pasture, your flock safe and sound as they graze. Your eyes land on the wolf fang sewn to his leather. It's familiar enough to make your heart squeeze. You wish he'd come for you.

-

You're not out in the pasture, or answering the door when he knocks. It's early but Ghost didn't think you'd be that sound a sleeper. Fucking hell it's early, he shouldn't even be here but he wanted to see you before he left and- and he couldn't stop himself. He was delaying leave for his own selfish desired, but he couldn't stop himself from coming out to your little pasture. He had no excuse for it, nothing he could tell you, but he didn't want to talk to you he wanted to see you.

These are two different things.

He wanders around the fence you've put up, sturdy, well maintained. He wonders if you fix it up yourself or ask someone else to do it. You could ask him, he'd fix it for you. He'd fix anything for you. As long as it was you asking, he could do anything.

He stops outside a little covered barn, the hay leading into it is fresh, the doors slightly ajar. It's a good bet if he's ever seen one. The hinges don't stick when he inches the door open to look inside.

One of your dogs lifts its head from your lap, and stares at him, it's fluffy tail wagging softly against the hay. You're asleep, of course you're asleep. Sprawled over the hay, your dogs cuddled around you, the rest of the sheep settled to huddle close to their shepherd as well. You're surrounded by thick wool and wirey dogs, hardly bothered by the animals and straw as you sleep through the wee hours of the morning. You don't even look cold.

Ghost unhooks his cloak, the black leather and wolf's fur feeling ominous in such a pastoral scene, and drapes it over you like a blanket. Your dogs sniff it inquisitively, nosing it until he pushes their heads away with gentle pats. He tucks the fur against your neck and strokes his knuckles against your cheek. You're so beautiful, soft and vulnerable even under your fangs. He would have taken you to bed last night if you'd let him. Stayed up to watch the ewe and her new lamb while you curled up under the pelt blankets to sleep. How safe must you feel? How safe would he feel?

His thumb strokes against the fur and he stands. You'll still be here when he gets back, maybe not in the barn but here. In the village, in your pasture, right where he knows he can find you.

And hopefully, you'll be wearing his cloak when he does.

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ making a run for it ]❜

ft. mysta rias, ike eveland, vox akuma, shu yamino, luca kaneshiro (separate) x gn! reader  — luxiem, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ how difficult is it to escape from them?┊3k words

contains: yandere!! obsessive & possessive behavior, kidnapping & isolation, chains, mention of death, delusions, forced physical affection, overuse of the word “love”, overprotectiveness, probably inaccurate vox lore, possibly ooc, not proofread or beta-read, this is a train wreak of sewn together thoughts

➤ author's note: the image quality is so bad ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ i don’t watch luxiem that much and don’t really write for them as a result, but that should change because they are cuties

you lost track long ago of how many days it’s been since you’ve been captured, morning and night blurring together since your enclosure had no windows— it must have been nearly a year since you remember him saying something about your first anniversary coming up. the cold metal cuff around your ankle was just as heavy as when it was first fastened, the chain just long enough for you to reach the corners of the room and the bathroom while being fastened to the leg of his bed. you had every inch of it memorized and explored: the books were worn from being read so many times, the area was spotless without a speck of dust because you kept cleaning the place up, and the most excitement you ever got was from another movie getting added to the streaming service on the television since he didn’t let you have any access to the internet.

just like a bird in a cage, you’ve been locked away and isolated for only your captor’s eyes at night when he comes home from his daily activities. you no longer had any other purpose in the world than to be his to adore and admire, to spoil with material gifts that couldn’t fill the empty hole in your heart, and to be the object of his delusions that you feel the same. the thought of remaining here for the rest of your life as his ‘lover” made you shudder and feel sick to your stomach, a thought that you simply couldn’t get used to even though all hope seemed to be lost. you missed your family and friends dearly, already beginning to forget their faces and the sound of their laughter to your horror. you had to escape somehow no matter what the cost may be, preferably alive and fully intact, but you had no idea if their love for you would be greater than their rage when they found you missing.

━━━ .°˖✧ mysta rias ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ once you had a general idea of what you do, you were a bit hesitant to put it in motion since you didn’t have the specifics in mind and terrified that it would all go wrong with how flimsy it was, but you would never be able to leave if you didn’t take courage. however, if you knew that it would have been so easy and that everything went exactly as you planned, you would have done it ages ago. you couldn’t describe the euphoria you felt when the warm rays of the sun kissed your skin and the gentle breeze welcomed you to the outdoors, practically skipping off to make your long-awaited escape. truly, you were a fool to think it would have been so simple when you were up against a genius detective.

╰₊✧ maybe mysta let you run away on purpose just so that he could drag you back for the fun of it, would you believe it? running away was the easy bit, the real challenge is staying away. despite his laid-back and careless attitude, he’s quite the sadist who loves the image of happiness draining from your eyes and being re-filled with sheer terror when he finds you in the next country over. you’ll be completely helpless against him as he drags to back to his home, tearing you apart from new loved ones just as he did before. it’s so easy for him to destroy all the optimism of being free and sinking back into the despair of being his. it doesn’t matter how much you try to cover your tracks, how far you run, how much you alter your appearance with an identity change, he’ll track you down because the red string of fate always brings him back to you.

you can’t help but feel cold when he holds you, useless as the feeling of desolation rendered you unable to fight against you. you just let yourself be limp and wallow in how pathetic you are, trying to muffle your cries against his shoulder even though you soaked the orange fabric. he didn’t even bother saying any words of comfort and just patted your head your head with his gloved hands, but you both knew that it was an empty gesture that wouldn’t console you in the slightest. there was nothing he could due to make you feel better when he’s the source of all of your woes, so he doesn’t really bother with it.

for any normal person, the tears of their partner would shatter their heart to pieces, especially if they were the reason for it. they would apologize, buy gifts, and do anything they could to show their remorse because they love them. mysta loves you too, he loves you so much, but he loved your misery even more. there’s nothing that he enjoys more than your teary eyes like little crystals brimming over and the cute little sobs you would let out while trying to hide how much he influenced your emotions. he’s sick, so sick, but there’s nothing that could cure him, not even attempts to snap him out of his cruel ways and make him love you in a healthy manner.

━━━ .°˖✧ ike eveland ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ a man with intelligence, but no remarkable prowess to stop you from leaving. he doesn’t have extraordinary deduction skills like mysta, magic like shu, an influence like luca, or inhuman powers like vox, but he has his own charms that work in his favor and keep you by his side. he’s just so… sweet and gentle. you can feel his love radiating in his actions and his words, almost making you forget about the fact you were being held captive entirely. his kindness is the main hurdle, making guilt pool in your stomach because you feel like you were betraying his kindness when he took care of you and treated you like a queen.

╰₊✧ you thoroughly believe that you would have fallen in love with him properly if given the time to do so, but unfortunately, he turned out to be batshit crazy and no amount of bonding is enough to make you completely forget that. once your resolve is solidified that it wasn’t love he felt for you but was instead pure unaltered obsession, putting your plot into action feels more possible. it’s more difficult than escaping from the detective who purposely let you go, but if you manage to outsmart the novelist, you’ll finally find yourself free.

he whistles as he walks down the corridor, holding a silver tray in his hands that has a glass of strawberry lemonade and two decadent slices of cake in your favorite flavor. there’s nothing like spending time with the one he loves the most and a sweet treat in the mid-afternoon, a little pep in his step to show just how excited he is for this routine that occurs about twice a week. in his satchel, he holds a few novels that he thinks you would enjoy and will be asking for your thoughts about the previous books he gave you as he always does. everything was perfect from the weather to his mood to your love life, he doesn’t think anything would be able to ruin it.

at least he thought there wasn’t anything that could ruin it, unable to explain how far his heart dropped when he couldn’t find you anywhere. he ran about the manor in a frenzy, thoroughly searching through every room and crevice while calling out your name. rushing back to your shared bedchamber to properly examine the scene of the crime where he last saw you, he realized that the chain had been broken somehow. he felt dizzy and ill, falling into an armchair and throwing his head back to try and make the world stop spinning.

he couldn’t believe this was happening after everything was going so well! did he do something wrong? did he upset you or offend you in some way? he racks his brain for anything he might have said or done for you to leave him, so deep in his delusions of true love that he doesn’t even consider the fact that kidnapping you and holding you against your will for about a year would have anyone running for the hills. maybe you would come back on your own, finding it in your heart to forgive him and return to be his again? who is he kidding, you’ll never come back unless he looks for you himself! he’ll go and give you flowers and chocolates, and if you still reject him, he’ll simply persist until you remember how much you love him! he’ll follow you to the ends of the earth to remind you of your relationship with him because the two of you were always meant to be together!

━━━ .°˖✧ shu yamino ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ similar to ike, shu is a very smart and clever person, but unlike the novelist, he has quite a few tricks up his sleeve. for instance, his home is laced with so many traps that are installed by his magic, like a temple straight out of indiana jones to protect his treasure. of course, he is the only one who can enter and exit as he pleases— the protection spell isn’t just there to keep you in, it’s also there to keep anyone who may be looking for you out. once he detects that someone is in his property, a simple snap of his fingers teleports you somewhere else until they leave. sometimes you find yourself in an abandoned city or the middle of a grassy field without warning, terrified but unable to find help no matter how far you try to run. wherever you are, he always knows the exact location and can summon you back just as easily as he banished you.

╰₊✧ he acts as though nothing happened, chatting just like he did before you found out his true colors. you can hardly even tell that he has such a manic love for you, remaining awkward as ever while referencing memes that you’ll never understand since you don’t have any interaction with the outside world. he isn’t half as delusional as the other boys, knowing that his affection for you is completely unrequited and will never be reciprocated, yet he still did it anyway because he just couldn’t help himself. you don’t understand this enigma of a man in the least bit, shrugging his shoulders like he didn’t completely alter the course of your life and give you lasting trauma, but at least he doesn’t force affection on you… which is the bare minimum and you are still set on leaving.

the creaking of the door was enough to make you panic a bit, filling the disturbingly quiet house. you weren’t quite sure where shu was, but if he wasn’t with you, then he wasn’t here at all. this was the first time you had left the room and the first time you were exploring the house since you were unconscious when he brought you in. it looked standard, like your average, run-of-the-mill home that you would see in television shows, and impossible to guess that there was a prisoner inside. as a result, it was pretty easy to navigate the place and you found what you thought was the exit within minutes. you found a set of keys hidden in a living room drawer and decided to test them out in the front door, not knowing of the traps and naively thinking it would be simple.

unable to contain your excitement, you prepared to inset the first one into the knob, but before it even touched it, the sound of alarms like a thousand cymbals blaring through your ears and making you drop everything from the surprise. you had no idea where the noise was coming from nor did you know how to stop it, quickly dawning on you that you fucked up. running towards a nearby window, you attempted to push it up to climb out of it, but it only seemed to make the sound louder. when you saw a neighbor walking by with a dog, you tried banging on the glass to grab their attention, but it was like you were a ghost and they continued on with their day not knowing they were being begged for help. clearly, his magic was surrounding and you were too stupid to remember that, seeing flames of purple beginning to form near you and signifying that he was home to see what the commotion was about. you can only hope that he won’t be too upset with you.

━━━ .°˖✧ vox akuma ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ how unlucky are you to be the object of the great voice demon’s affections! he rarely ever lets you out of his sight as being a demon in the modern era means that he too must stay hidden from the public eye. it’s suffocating being under his observant eye, something as much as blinking doesn’t go under his radar. since he isn’t human, his senses are heightened with him being to hear so much as a floorboard creaking or smell the blood of you getting a paper-cut from a different room, leading him to be able to just sense your presence no matter where you are since you’re never far from him anyways. you don’t quite understand it, but what you do understand is that it makes escape much more difficult.

╰₊✧ he’s just so overprotective of you and you get it, having heard the story of his clan and how he lost them when they were all so dear to him, but it’s no excuse for his extremely possessive behavior. you can’t even remember the last time you’ve been outside and touched grass that wasn’t in his garden. he’s always by your side and never leaves unless you need to use the restroom or something, like a guard dog that doesn’t understand boundaries, yet even dogs could be forgiven for not knowing any better. the only time you don’t feel watched is when he’s asleep, with an arm thrown around you, but unconscious nonetheless.

you were more aware of every shift of his body and every breath he took than you would be if he was really your lover, unable to get a second of rest when being coddled like this. you feared that if you squirmed at all, he would automatically tighten his grip around you, but was pleasantly surprised when you were able to wiggle free. hearing him grunt made your heart stop, but he stayed asleep until you tried to get off the bed and stepped on the ground. hearing him ask where you were going made you sweat bullets, but you just said you were off to get a glass of water.

unfortunately, he decided to get up himself to go get it for you, leaving you sitting on the Alaskan king-sized mattress thinking about your fate. you doubt that you’ll ever get away from him, he’ll just track you down and bring you back. the world is massive, but so is he and you won’t make it very far. you can’t hide from a demon, not for long enough to sigh in relief anyway. if walking on wood with bare feet was enough to wake him from his slumber, hearing you open a door or window would be enough to have him running.

━━━ .°˖✧ luca kaneshiro ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ your prison is a palace dusted with gold, you’re served the finest food on silver platters, you’re decorated with jewels that are worth millions, but the splendor isn’t enough to distract you from the fact that you’re a prisoner. normally, you could only dream of living in a place like this where you’re doted on by a lover and spoiled rotten with whatever you want, yet you would do anything to trade this life for the people he had his men wipe off the face of the earth to have you to himself. it can’t be a paradise when you know it’s stained with the blood drawn by a mafia family.

╰₊✧ escape is next to impossible, as expected of the kaneshiro family. hidden cameras watch your every step and guards are lined up in every hallway to make sure that no one aside from their masters gets in or out, armed with weapons that they wouldn’t hesitate to use if necessary. even if they have strict orders not to use them against you for any reason, they are still allowed to use physical force to bring you back and any injuries will be regarded as collateral damage.

your legs dragged across the polished marble floors of the hall since you refused to walk back to your room, carried by two burly men in suits who caught you trying to run away for the -nth time. just like all previous attempts, you were caught within five minutes, which is an improvement to last time yet still not even close to enough to reach the pearly gates of freedom. knowing that you’ll need more then double of that to get out is disheartening, but everyone knows that you’re going to try again. you’ve learned that it really doesn’t cost anything to make a run for it, they don’t even punish you for it since luca loves you too much for that so they just throw you back on the bed before leaving.

there are a few bruises from their rough handling, but nothing too serious. you’d be willing to walk out of there with a broken arm if needed, you just wanted to go home and see the remaining few who weren’t picked off by the mafia again. later that day, you’ll be gifted with new dresses and shoes that shimmer in the light of the grand chandelier of your room to try and convince you to stay, however, there isn’t any use for such items if others couldn’t see it as well. if you keep trying, you’ll make it a little further as you learn from your mistakes, maybe even one of his men will feel pity for you or get sick of your antics and just let you go. you’ll only know if you keep trying.

[theflowerrooms]

dad spencer headcannons PLEASE

THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVED DOING THIS SO MUCH

Lowkey wanna write more dad!spencer

Spencer was always loving and caring, always doting on you. But since you’d gotten pregnant, he’s done nothing but take excellent care of you, doing everything in his power to make sure you’re not overexerting yourself, and making sure you’re comfortable and healthy.

Spencer started off having pre-parental panic for the first three months of your pregnancy. He read countless amounts of books on parenting and pregnancy, he knew everything from what you should eat to what what you should watch on tv in order to have the happiest, healthiest pregnancy.

Picking the name was a hassle, you would constantly blank, not thinking of a single name you liked, and Spencer would suggest names like Mildred, Earl, or something from a different language that, while it would have a beautiful meaning, you struggled to pronounce.

When you found out you were having a boy, you both eventually decided to name the baby after people you cared about, and when he was born, he was given the name Jason David Reid. It was beyond important to Spencer that you’d named him after Gideon.

Your birth wasn’t nearly as hard as your pregnancy, and all of it was worth it when your baby was cleaned up and in your arms.

It felt even more worth it when they placed him in Spencer’s, seeing a father hold his son for the first time. You’d seen Spencer cry, a few times. But you’d never seen him cry like this, tears of love and enchantment, tears for you, tears for your baby, and tears for your family.

Spencer was the only one in the room during your birth, at your request. It wasn’t until afterward that they let people in, and of course, the team who’d been waiting at the hospital for six hours crowded into the room, washing their hands at Spencer’s request.

You both cried again, watching your baby be passed around between these people that you loved like family. Penelope had been crying since a nurse informed her that your baby boy had been born healthy and happy. Jj cried the first time she saw him, Emily cried the second he was in her arms. Rossi sobbed when he heard his name for the first time.

Your first night home from the hospital was hard. The baby slept so good, he hardly cried, he was such a happy baby. But you and Spencer were so nervous. He’d read every book and website he could get his hands on, spoken to so many seasoned parents and paediatricians. But still you both were nervous.

That quickly faded, and you got used to having a new baby. You’d gotten used to waking up to change or feed him, gotten used to the weight of a baby in your arms.

He wasn’t a big baby, still very healthy and happy, just a little guy. And he already looked like Spencer, button nose and a full head of hair, just a shade darker than his father’s.

The baby went through a series of nicknames. Because Jason’s a lovely name, just not a baby name, and David felt worse. You went from calling him Jay, to JJ, which was confusing, to JD, which is what stuck. Baby JD, JD Reid.

JD was happy and content almost all the time, but what calmed him down fastest was the sound of Spencer’s voice. So Spencer would spend hours talking to JD, explaining the history of Hallows Eve, or telling him about different types of plants.

When JD was around 10 months, he said his first word which was bird. He loved birds, his mobile had handmade birds sewn by Penelope, his wallpaper had little blue birds just below the trim, He saw them a lot outside in the yard. Spencer cried the first time he said it, from how cute it was, from the fact that Gideon loved birds before he passed.

As JD grew, he proved himself to be very intelligent, which Spencer took great pride in. He was speaking full sentences before he turned two, he could identify many different types of dinosaurs, which became his new obsession after birds.

Spencer would read to him often, the first book being ‘Goodnight Moon’, the second being ‘The Narrative of John Smith.” JD was able to remember nearly all of the words to the books that Spencer would read to him, but he struggled to read and he was diagnosed with Dyslexia when he was almost 5.

Being a dad and husband is the most important thing to Spencer. He happily spends less time working and more time with JD and you.

Neither you nor Spencer had cried so much until you became parents, he’d cry over how cute you looked holding JD in your arms as he slept, he’d cry over how sweet JD’s voice was as he told him he loved him, He’d cry watching JD and Hank play pirates together. And he broke down in tears of love when JD ran to hug him when he got home, wearing a shirt that read “big brother”

[rhaenyslay]

A New Prince

Part One: 'A Rose Between Thorns'

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Aemond Targaryen x OC!Niece!Reader

Summary: Rhaenyra gives birth to her fourth child, a son - much to Aelora's annoyance.

Warnings: Descriptions of childbirth (non-graphic), swearing.

Word Count: 2.7 K

A/N: There's no direct Aemond/Aelora interaction in this one, but don't worry, the next one will be full of it - I'll make up for it I #promise.

༻❁༺ 117 AC, AELORA’S CHAMBERS

The morning birds chirp happily as the sun rises warmly over the Keep’s turrets and gardens, hills and courtyards, and a robin perches itself happily on the young princess’s open windowsill. She smiles at the small creature fondly, gently making her way over to the window as she arises from the edge of her bed, stepping down from the dais it sits on, giggling to herself for a moment at the tickly feeling of the cold and slightly rough stone floors of her chambers against her bare feet. She sits herself on the stool just beside the windowsill.

“Hello, little bird.” She whispers with another airy giggle, causing the robin to cock its head to the side and ‘teek’, hopping closer to her hand that has since outstretched very tentatively.

There are a few seeds that remain on the windowsill from where she had fed some of the morning birds only a few days before - she nudges them towards the robin, who eagerly takes them with another ‘teek’. The robin hops forward once more, closer still to her outstretched hand, but is interrupted when the door to her chambers all but swing open.

“Mother and Father want us in the gardens for breakfast.”

The little robin quickly disembarks with a final ‘teek’, leaving Aelora to sigh softly, “Jace, what is it about knocking you find so impossible?”

Her younger brother shrugs, “What is it about not being annoying you find so impossible?” The young boy retorts with a teasing shake of his head, resulting in an eyeroll from the princess.

She stands from the stool, straightening out her chemise, “I suppose they’ll want us dressed and ready?”

Jacaerys nods, “Yes.” He seems to hesitate a moment, a coy smile on his face as he lingers in the doorway.

Suspicious, Aelora narrows her eyes slightly, “What?”

“Can I play with Moonfyre today?” Jacaerys asks.

Aelora pouts, lifting her chin up and looking away slightly, “No, you wouldn’t let me see Vermax last sennight.”

Jacaerys frowns, “Because you were mean to me!”

“Well, you can’t see Moonfyre today.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so!”

“Children, children…” Septa Marcia says as she strolls into Aelora’s chambers, a couple of handmaidens following behind her. The Septa - assigned to Aelora at the recommendation of Queen Alicent due to her reverence within the Faith and notable students past - was a warm woman in her early-mid 50s, her face round and youthful despite her age, with sage green eyes and what was once fiery red hair now greying and partially concealed by her hood. The daughter of a Tully and a Dornish man, Septa Marcia holds a warmth to both her appearance and her demeanour that Aelora has found most comforting on many occasions of emotional distress yet also inviting enough to weave giggles and smiles among it all, “Bickering still? You have another brother on the way soon, what example are you setting, hm?”

“Or a sister.” Aelora adds as one of the handmaidens begins to unlace her chemise, the other unplating her hair.

“Or a sister.” Septa Marcia nods and adds with a playful eye roll to Jacaerys, who giggles. She gently taps the prince’s shoulder, “Run along, my prince,” she says to him softly, “your sister shall join you shortly.”

Jacaerys nods and promptly leaves.

“Septa Marcia?”

“Yes, princess?”

“What’s your favourite colour?” Asks the seven-year-old girl, stepping out of her chemise.

The Septa laughs softly, “My favourite colour?”

Aelora nods.

“Well,” she thinks, “Blue, I would say,” the Septa muses, “a nice sapphire blue. Why do you ask?”

“Mother is having some more dresses sewn for me but I can’t decide on any colours.” Aelora sighs, this predicament being the main concern of her sweet little world, “There’s too many!”

Septa Marcia laughs once more, sitting on the stool Aelora had risen from just prior to her entry, “Oh, what an annoyance indeed.”

The handmaidens slip on a new chemise and follow it with a comfortable but equally beautiful purple gown - the sleeves puffed ever so slightly and the skirts loose, both of which provide a reprieve from the warmth of the summer sun. The laces are tied as the little princess continues to speak, “I like to have lots of different colours.” She says, looking at the fabrics of her dress, at the golden embellishments, “It makes me feel like a rainbow!”

“And a very pretty rainbow at that.” One of the handmaidens, Jana, comments with a smile.

Aelora smiles at the praise and compliment while they finish dressing her, now moving onto her hair, “Can I only have a little bit braided?” She asks, looking over her shoulder at the other handmaiden, Malia, as she feels her hair being brushed, “Like Princess Helaena, I would like to match with her.” Malia nods and continues to brush the princess’s hair.

“Helaena and I are getting matching dresses.” Aelora happily tells Septa Marcia, her legs swinging back and forth from where she sits at the vanity, “Hers is going to be pink and mine is going to be blue, but they will look the same.”

“You will both look very pretty, I’m sure.” The Septa says with a smile, beginning to arrange the embroidery for when Aelora returns from breaking her fast.

“I hope so, the Queen said that we c-”

For the second time that morning, Aelora’s chambers are interrupted by a brief knock, only for it to open all the same, revealing Ser Criston Cole, “The Princess Rhaenyra has entered her labours.” He announces, slightly out of breath, clearly having rushed, “I have been asked to escort the princess to be with her brothers.”

Aelora’s head whips towards Ser Criston, “She has? The baby is coming? Little sister, little sister!” She beams excitedly, doing a little happy dance before Septa Marcia tuts and promptly places a hand on her shoulder to stop her. 

The handmaidens and Ser Criston, however, smile. “Come, little one.” Ser Criston says to the young princess, “We can get something to eat on the way - some lemon cakes, perhaps?”

She instantly lights up and nods her head, making her way over to him, “Can we get one for mother too?”

“I’m sure she would appreciate that, princess.”

༻❁༺ 117 AC, ALICENT’S CHAMBERS

Rhaenyra, weakened and burning with a tired fury, holds the newborn babe close to her chest as Laenor holds her arm, aiding her bloodied and weary steps towards the Queen’s apartments. She can still feel the oppressive heat at her core and head as she recoils at the way her silver tresses cling to the exposed and hot skin of her neck and forehead, the burn in her legs, the roughness of her dress against her skin - yet she perseveres, repressing a growl with the tensing of her jaw as she sees Alicent - stood upon her dais as a handmaiden checks her gown, chin up and poised - turn to look at her as if she wasn’t the reason for her being here.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent begins, voice conveying a tone of shock and concern, yet her eyes convey differently, “you should be resting after your labours.”

“I have no doubt that you would prefer that, your Grace.” Rhaenyra responds, forcing a tense smile as she subtly masks the shaking in her arms as rocking the babe in her arms.

“You must sit.” Alicent graciously suggests, “Talia, fetch a cushion for the princess.”

“There’s no need.”

“Nonsense.”

Talia, a handmaiden, promptly grabs a pillow and places it down on the nearby seat. Alicent takes the opportunity to run her eyes over Rhaenyra and the babe, her brown eyes flittering over the babe as if in search of something, hands fidgeting a little nervously. The tension continues to thicken as Laenor helps Rhaenyra sit, only broken when the King enters with a wide smile.

“What happy news this morning.” He sighs and beams at his daughter happily.

“Indeed, your Grace.” Laenor replies, returning the smile.

“Where is he? Where is my grandson?”

Laenor gently takes the baby boy from Rhaenyra’s arms and hands him over to Viserys. Alicent smiles at her husband, but her eyes continue to search.

The King cradles the small babe proudly, ‘What a fine prince - sturdy, you will make a fierce knight… yes you will…”

The babe makes a few little noises, seemingly content in his Grandsire’s arms.

Alicent redirects her gaze back to Rhaenyra and Laenor, “Does the babe have a name yet?”

“Well, we haven’t sp-”

“Joffrey.”

Rhaenyra meets Laenor’s eyes with furrowed brows, looking up at him from where she sits. A pause follows. 

“He will be called Joffrey.” Laenor reasserts.

Alicent’s eyes narrow momentarily, almost fleetingly, “That’s an unusual name for a Valyrian.” She shifts her eyes to Rhaenyra.

The princess, still aching from her labours and now enduring the tension within the Queen’s chambers, manages a smile, casting her eyes down.

“I do believe he has his father’s nose.” Viserys, oblivious to the tension - as always - says, turning to look at Leanor, who promptly smiles and laughs softly, over his shoulder.

Alicent looks once more to Rhaenyra as Viserys turns away once more, a knowing look in her eyes. The princess diverts her gaze, as does Laenor. He clears his throat.

“If you don’t mind, your Grace, your daughter has exerted herself heroically and should rest.”

Viserys nods with a warm smile, “Of course.”

He hands Joffrey to Alicent - Rhaenyra watches with a tensed jaw and tightness in her chest as Alicent’s svelte hand brushes back the blanket that swaddles the babe, hearing Laenor’s muttering of “the hair…” as she does so. Alicent coos to the babe with a smile as she cradles him, rocking him in her arms and pacing the chambers. Rhaenyra’s eyes fix upon them, hardly noticing her father take her hand in his own.

“Well done, my girl.” He whispers fondly, “I do hope the labour was easy. Easier than it had been with Aelora, at least.”

She looks at him a moment before her head turns to Alicent and Joffrey once more, “I think I called the midwife a cunt…”

“Oh.”

They share a smile before embracing each other with a kiss to their cheeks - a genuine warmth spreading through her at the feeling of her father’s arms around her, momentarily easing the pain of her labours and the tensions ensnaring her.

A few paces away, Alicent has since handed Joffrey back to Laenor, “Do keep trying, Ser Laenor, sooner or later you may get one that looks like you.”

Laenor feels the burn in his chest, the tingle in his fingers as he turns to the side to suppress his anger, instead cradling Joffrey closer to him.

༻❁༺ 117 AC, RHAENYRA’S CHAMBERS

“...a big, scary dragon!”

“No! Not a dragon, I don’t want it to be a dragon.”

“Aelora, it has to be a dragon-”

“But they aren’t all scary - Moonfyre is nice.” “Moonfyre tried to eat Aegon the other day!”

“Well, then he shouldn’t have tried to touch her while she was eating!”

The siblings’ dispute is quickly silenced by the sight of their mother and father entering the room.

“Mother!” Jacaerys promptly jumps up from his seat on the stone floor, “Look!” He rushes over to the ornate, black pot among the cluttered table beside the princess, lifting the lid to reveal black dragon egg sat among hot orange embers.

“We chose an egg for the baby.” Lucerys announces proudly.

“You chose an egg for the baby.” Aelora mumbles with a pout, only just now standing from being sat on the floor, “You both went without telling me.”

Laenor gives her a sympathetic smile while Ser Harwin helps Rhaenyra sit down as she smiles at her sons, “That looks like the perfect one.” 

“Not everyday an egg leaves the dragonpit, princess, I thought it best to escort the lads.” Ser Harwin says, his deep, warm voice the perfect antidote for the tensions that were slowly leaving the princess’s body.

“Without me…” Aelora mumbles once more, making her way over to Laenor, silently hugging his waist and looking at the baby in his arms. Laenor kisses the top of her head gently and bends down a little to show her Joffrey better.

“Laenor and I thank you, Commander.” Rhaenyra sighs breathily as she smiles up at Ser Harwin.

“Another boy, I heard.” He adds, to which Rhaenyra smiles once more.

“Unfortunately.” Aelora sighs, her cheek against Laenor’s blue doublet.

Ser Harwin smirks at her, “You wished for a sister?”

Aelora nods, “I’m sick of boys… they’re stupid.”

“But you’re always with Aemond, and he’s a boy.” Jacaerys says teasingly, putting the lid back on the pot, “And you always go to the dragonpit with Aegon.”

“Aemond is a nice boy.” Aelora retorts, “He doesn’t steal my plums.”

“I did that once!”

“And Aegon teaches me cool tricks to do with Moonfyre.” She continues, “And he steals - I mean - gets us cakes.”

Rhaenyra, too tired to delve deeper into that, laughs loosely, as do Harwin and Laenor, “Well, a boy it is - little we can do about that.”

Aelora sighs dramatically before looking at the baby once more, smiling softly, “But he is very cute.”

“Indeed,” Laenor agrees with her and looks down at Joffrey, “What a fine knight you’re going to make, eh?”

Harwin’s eyes linger on Joffrey longingly, “Might I?”

Rhaenyra looks up at him and seems to relax further in her seat, “Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey.”

Aelora’s nose scrunches up, “Joffrey? That’s not a very Valyrian name.”

Laenor sends her a look before nodding to his wife, “Of course.” He hands the baby to Harwin - he doesn’t miss the small glare Rhaenyra directs towards Aelora momentarily, clearly triggered deeper than the surface level of the words alone.

“Joffrey, is it?” Harwin hums, taking Joffrey into his arms - Laenor nodding in confirmation.

“Father, may I please hold Joffrey?” Lucerys asks Laenor, Jacaerys’s hand on his shoulder and his own hand reaching up to the baby, Jacaerys’s following.

Aelora nuzzles closer into her father’s waist, “Can I? I really want to - and mother said I could hold him first yesterday…”

“No, no, no…” Laenor, with a small smile, removes Aelora from his waist and gently pushes the boys’ arms away from Ser Harwin and the baby. “The dragonpit for you two, before they send out a search party.” He says to Luce and Jace, guiding them to the door, “And… somewhere with you.” He says to Aelora with a playful face. 

She giggles and allows him to push her towards the door, “But, father, I don’t want to go to my embroidery lesson… Helaena isn’t joining us today and the other girls are so boring!”

“I’m sure you will find something to do, sweetling.” Laenor kisses her head before turning to close the large double doors with a parting, respectful nod to Ser Harwin.

A moment of content and comfortable silence warms the chambers as Rhaenyra relaxes for the first time that morning, watching as Ser Harwin rocks Joffrey with an awe-filled gaze.

“Asleep in front of the Commander of the City Watch… terrible lack of respect.”

Rhaenyra laughs softly, “A certain insolence runs in the family, I’m afraid.”

‘Oh, I can tell…” He laughs too, gentle so as to not wake the baby, “Particularly with that little firecracker.” 

“Aelora? Oh, yes…” Rhaenyra’s smile falters momentarily, “Yes… all the beauty to attract a suitor when she comes of age, I’m sure, but none of the patience to keep one.”

Harwin scoffs in amusement, “Indeed, although the courtiers adore her; she’s been raised well - her comeliness can’t be denied.”

“Hm.” Rhaenyra hums in response, hands on her stomach as she feels the pain ease.

“A true princess, just like her mother.”

Rhaenyra smiles at the Commander, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest at his words. ༻❁

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 2) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), trigun!au, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[acommonanomaly]

Curufin for @feanorianweek.

Inspired by a scene from my fic, What Fades Away.

Excerpt:

Maitimo shook his head, smiling softly as he approached Tyelkormo’s room. He himself was dressed and ready to depart, though he knew it would be some time before his younger brothers were wrangled into their best robes and made presentable.

Maitimo paused with his hand on the door handle, glancing up briefly at the colorful spider hovering above him on the carefully wrought filaments of its web. He was not overly fond of spiders himself, so he understood Makalaurë’s aversion, though he had to admit that it was a magnificent specimen.

Atar had described to Tyelkormo all he knew of the species, remarking on the artistry with which it wove its web, his voice carrying some of the same admiration he expressed when describing the creations of some of the Noldor’s most renowned craftsmen. His appreciation had infected Tyelkormo, who had loudly let it be known that he would not have anyone disturb his guest.

Maitimo pushed the door open and entered the room, and he was immediately struck by the difference in the quality of the air here.

Tyelkormo’s windows were always open, and smells both earthy and airy drifted in along with the singing of birds and the trilling of the insects outside.

His room was what Amil affectionately called an ‘organized mess.’ Tyelkormo seemed determined to bring the outdoors in, having scattered about neatly presented collections of minerals, gemstones, and other natural things that caught his fancy. Charts of pressed flowers and leaves adorned the walls, and scattered around a plant that had long since began to overflow its pot were life-like marble sculptures of forest creatures that Amil had made for him.

Maitimo ducked beneath a wooden bird that hung from the ceiling, its wings slowly flapping so that it bobbed up and down, and he moved deeper into the room. He stopped when a live bird let out a shrill twitter from the window sill and flapped its glossy black wings.

“Good morning,” Maitimo said politely to the bird. Let his brother not accuse him of being rude to his guests.

The bird cocked its head to the side as it watched him, a beady pale yellow eye unblinking.

“Nelyo?” Tyelkormo called out.

Maitimo walked to the bed and pulled back the gauzy netting that surrounded it. The little bells sewn into fabric chimed delicately, and Curufinwë sat back on his heels, his grey eyes going wide as though he had been caught misbehaving. 

In each hand he clutched the carved wooden figure of an animal, and there were several more scattered around him on the bed. Though he had reached the age where he proudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen that he was no longer a baby, he did not mind at all when Tyelkormo coddled him and made him toys. Tyelkormo sat cross-legged next to him, whittling away at a chunk of wood that was beginning to take on the likeness of a bear. Wood shavings littered his lap and the bed, and Maitimo shook his head before tying back the netting and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Amil won’t like you doing that on the bed.”

“Then don’t tell her,” Tyelkormo said curtly, though his gaze darted to the open door.

“Amil wants Curvo to have a bath, and you should be getting ready, too.”

“Turko doesn’t want to go to the celebration. Why must he go?” Curufinwë asked, giving Maitimo a guileless look that might very well have worked on Amil, or even Atar.

Maitimo turned to Tyelkormo. “Tyelkormo, what have you been telling him?”

“I was just talking.” Tyelkormo kept his eyes lowered, continuing to whittle at the chunk of wood. “And anyway, I don’t see why I should have to go.”

“Because we’re all going.”

“It’s a minor celebration. No one will miss me.”

Maitimo sighed. Tyelkormo had been invited to the house of Oromë and was eager to join the Vala for a hunt. Though the invitation did not stipulate that he should arrive by any certain time, his excitement over the prospect of spending time with the great hunter made him impatient. The celebration they were to attend seemed to be even more of a chore to him than it normally would be.

When Tyelkormo had expressed his desire to be left behind, though, their father had said that if the rest of them had to suffer through such a tedious gathering then so would Tyelkormo.

[marygih]

Old theories I had

(most of them received a correct explanation from Ransom live, but I still want to share)

Why is Miss P limping? My theory (and probably that of the majority of the fandom) was that Caul broke one of her legs. And I was based on the fact that Bentham also had a limp, Was it just a coincidence that Caul's two brothers had leg problems? It sounded a lot like Caul's modus operandi to me. Your favorite torture. He broke the legs of the brother who, in theory, he liked the most,So it's not hard to imagine that he would break the legs of the sister he's hated since he was a child. (Ransom explained live that she limps because she has arthritis 🤡)

Victor was brain dead. In the book, Victor was so well preserved that Jacob thinks he is sleeping. He was killed by a hollow, so his body shouldn't be in such a good state. I was based 100% on a fact from the library of souls, where a peculiar who had regeneration tried to fight a hollow The hollow couldn't really hurt him, so it hit its head against one of the bars and knocked the man out. This is what I imagined would have happened to Victor, He had enough strength to defend himself from a hollow, but his head was unprotected from a full-force attack, and so he was killed. ( On live, Ransom explained that in fact Victor is not preserved, he was completely sewn up, so his body is not in such a bad state. His body was damaged by the hollow)

Caul and Bentham were only born with the gift of turning into birds because they defended themselves from a powerful ymbryne. As we well know, Miss P is descendant one of the twelve great ymbrynes who closed the library of souls. This explains the high power that Miss P has. She is heir to the gifts of the ancient Peregrine, the one who sealed the abaton rift. The powers of this original ymbrynes would be so strong, Which ended up causing a phenomenon never seen before, men being born with the powers of ymbryne, at least the part of transforming into birds. The power of the first peregrine was so great that it was divided a little and went to the brothers of its true heir, Miss Alma Peregrine. (In live, Ransom doesn't talk about this specifically because at the time I left it to ask this in the live of the last book that he hasn't done yet 🤡, but he talks about an ancestor of this family, Jeremy Bentham, he appears in the Peregrine museum, but doesn't say his peculiarity, and says that they probably inherited their gifts from him.)

Ok, it was getting huge, I'll post a part two later with more theories.

[layla4567]

Until the birds stop singing 🐦

Young!Coriolanus!Snow x OC!Fem!reader

Summary: Soleil come from district 8, the textile district and she have been chosen for the hunger games. When she hear her name she hesitates whether to approach or not but since she have no other option she go up to the podium. What the girl don't know is that from the screen sapphire eyes are observing her carefully, wondering if she will be his tribute or not. Warnings: Everything is probably too inaccurate with the Hunger Games universe because I have no fucking idea what the movies are about, I've never seen them, sorry!-- I have a lifeguard complex so Coriolanus may not be such an asshole in this fic-- the typical "i can fix him" (no you can't)-- first time using an OC and not Y/N-- basically Soleil replaces Lucy--not proofread--english isn't my first language--injuries and blood--spoilers I think Wc: 4.6k

divider not mine, credits to whom it may apply (I don't remember the user, sorry)

Coriolanus was with his body upright and tense in his seat, staring at the screen and trying to maintain a calm breathing. Next to him, Sejanus looked at him askance, but his classmate didn't return his gaze. It was an open secret that everyone was tense about the hunger games and knowing what tribute they would get, everyone wanted the prize and others needed it more than others. But Coriolanus would never admit it, he preferred to starve before saying that he needed money, he didn't want to compare himself with the poor of the district.

The screen showed people from different districts, all of them standing in rows according to their number. Some mentors had already been assigned his tribute except for Snow, he felt nervous and lightly rubbed his fingers on his thigh to calm the anxiety and stress. Suddenly the presenter put the microphone to his lips and uttered words that someone wished they didn't hear.

"From District 8, Soleil Allen!"

The young girl's blood turned cold as ice and she felt her breath hitch for a second. On the other hand, Coriolanus leaned in his chair, approaching the screen without being able to believe what he saw and heard. Soleil was behind a tall woman so the camera couldn't capture her.

"Come on Miss Allen, don't be shy and come closer"

She sighed deeply and with hesitant and trembling steps she moved away from the rows and slowly approached with almost ceremonial steps towards where the presenter was. People watched her pass as they watch a bull pass to the slaughterhouse. The closer she got, the slower her steps and the more distraught her face became. Her clothes drew attention wherever she went, you could clearly see that they were sewn by hand, for some reason she came from District 8. The camera focused on her worried face and on the screens Snow looked at her for a long time, she had soft and sweet features as a fairy, but her upward frown gave her the look of a scared puppy

When Soleil gently climbed the stairs her gaze went straight to the floor, scared and ashamed. She definitely didn't want to be there, she didn't want to be chosen, she was just unlucky.

"aww is the girl scared?"

A girl who was close to Coryo mocked Soleil, pretending to be compassionate, but her laugh sounded poisonous. Coriolanus looked at her frowning for a second and then turned his face to the screen swallowing nervously, if that girl was his tribute he would be doomed.

"Alright Soleil Allen do you have anything to say to the civilians or the camera? We are recording you right now!"

Soleil kept looking at the floor and wringing her hands like a little girl, some citizens laughed at her and others looked at her with pity. Suddenly she slowly raised her head and looked at the people and then at the camera. Coriolanus on the other side didn't know why but he felt that those eyes were looking only at him. Soleil's eyes showed regret and pain like those of a sheep in danger. Suddenly she approached the presenter and looking at him begged him.

"Please take care of my mother, she is alone…please"

The girl's request and the urgency in her voice caused the presenter's charming and bright smile to fall for a few seconds. Coryo through the screen frowned in confusion while he kept looking at her. Why would she ask for something like that? Doesn't she know that's not possible? Seriously, would she be so delusional to think that someone from here would care about someone from a district? Even Coryo knew that deep down he considered the people of the districts inferior, like animals. Around the room where young Snow was sitting there was also confusion.

"Uhmm well Miss Allen I'm afraid that won't be possible, but thank you for your suggestion!"

The look of sadness that the girl's eyes expressed caused something in Coryo, a certain discomfort that he couldn't identify but the situation bothered him and he didn't know if it was because of the girl's request or because of her reaction when it was rejected. The presenter smiled again as usual and some men took Soleil by both arms, dragging her like a sack of potatoes, she moaned fearfully and looked at the camera again as if she were looking for help, and again Coriolanus felt that she was asking him for help even though she didn't know him.

Young Snow remained still in his seat watching as the girl was taken away until she was just a blurry dot on the screen. The tributes continued to be announced but Coriolanus was not paying attention, his head was somewhere else, very far away. He couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened to his tribute, he didn't even seem to notice when they announced the tribute of his friend Sejanus. For the first time Coryo felt that the situation was slipping out of his hands. He who always felt prepared for any adversity now felt like he was losing control and the games hadn't even started yet. The room began to empty little by little and only Snow was left standing in the middle of the room with his gaze fixed on the already turned off screen, even so he could continue seeing Soleil as if it were on. Sighing, he slowly walked away with languid steps and went outside.

Coriolanus Snow in his scarlet red uniform was standing in the middle of the train station alone. He had decided to receive the girl with a welcome and a white rose, a rose that he now held in his hand, turning it over thoughtfully and anxiously. After thinking about it for a while and analyzing what he had seen on the screen, he said that Soleil needed to trust someone and that someone was none other than his mentor. If he did not achieve this he risked losing the opportunity to win the Plinth Prize. Snow had to achieve a favorable and calm environment to calm the waters, she is probably scared and confused now so he will be her anchor, her lighthouse in the storm.

Meanwhile, Soleil was sitting on the floor of the train car with her knees bent up to chest height and her hands clasped in front of her legs. She had her chin buried in her knees and her gaze was empty and lost. She made great efforts not to cry, but she told herself that she was not weak or cowardly and that no matter how ugly things looked, she would always know how to find the light. Precious and sweet memories of just a few days ago came to her mind, she and her mother sewing dresses together singing happy songs of yesteryear. Or years ago when she was a girl of only 10 and her father was still alive and taught her to dance, but since she was very short she always ended up resting her feet on his while her father made her spin around until she burst into laughter. These memories were like a balm for her heart and she allowed herself to smile shyly. She looked around at the people next to her in the car, poor, dirty-looking men and women who were in almost the same situation. Their faces did not reflect any comfort or joy in all this that was happening. You couldn't even make friends because in the end in the arena it will be a pitched battle of all against all. And to be honest, even if it had been possible to establish some kind of friendly relationship with those people, she would not have been able to due to her introversion.

Suddenly a little girl looked at Soleil, at first shyly but then she smiled warmly and Soleil couldn't help but smile too. The girl approached her walking slowly due to the constant rattling of the train. When he was close enough he greeted Soleil.

"Hi!"

"Hey.."-She smiled, speaking softly.

"You're Soleil Allen right?"

"Yeah I am"

"My name is Wovey."

Now the little girl smiled with all her teeth, causing her eyes to narrow in a tender way. Soleil smiled more calmly, at least of all those people there was someone kind enough to introduce themselves.

"What a cute name"

Wovey seemed delighted and thanked him while bowing slightly.

"Why did you say about your mother?"

Soleil's smile faded little by little as she remembered her little "speech" and she became sad when she remembered her mother. The girl had a huge heart and great compassion and she couldn't think about anything other than that her mother was okay. Since her father left, the two of them had learned to be alone and take care of each other and Soleil couldn't imagine how empty her mother must feel now without her by her side.

"I- well...uhm.."

Soleil's eyes felt wet again and she looked away so they wouldn't see her crying, she hated crying in front of everyone. Wovey's face turned serious, fearing that he had made a mistake by asking that question.

"Come Wovey, leave her alone"

A man in a beret took the girl's hand and led her away from Soleil until he returned to her side and sat with the boy. As the train shook faster and faster, announcing that it was about to reach its destination

Young Snow grew impatient as he waited for the carriage and turned the rose faster and faster between his fingers. Suddenly a familiar beep woke him up from his daydreams and he saw the train loaded with passengers stopping right in front of his eyes. The young blonde tensed and adjusted the folds of his suit. A peacekeeper grabbed his hand on the car door and roughly slid it open. A few people got out, men and women of different ages. Coriolanus looked frantically around the train car hoping to find you. When I was beginning to lose hope, a somewhat short and thin girl with short brown hair down to her collarbones emerged from the car cautiously. She walked with slow but elegant steps, looking at everything around her in surprise as if she were on another planet. The peacekeeper snorted irritably and impatiently.

"Are you getting off the train or not? I don't have all day."

Soleil blushed embarrassed by the reprimand and nodded timidly. First he sat on the wagon and then jumped down, bending his legs and shaking his clothes. Coryo, who was a few meters away from her, noticed that she was even prettier in person than what the cameras showed. Her clothes seemed timeless, a shirt with long, puffy sleeves that left her shoulders exposed, a tight corset tied towards the front adorned her chest and highlighted her waist and hips, the flowered pattern looked like a rustic fabric. At the bottom she wore a long soft pink skirt that reached just above her knees and on her feet she wore simple brown boots. Yes, you could definitely tell that girl was pretty. Young Snow saw that the girl was looking everywhere lost trying to look for someone, when she was about to walk away he walked in her direction calling her.

"Soleil Allen, wait!"

The tribute turned around abruptly upon hearing her name and among the crowd of people she saw a mop of platinum blonde hair and beneath that hair the bluest eyes she had ever seen in her life. A tall boy dressed in red approached her confidently, pushing his way through the crowd. Who was that handsome and distinguished boy who had called his name? What did hers want? Despite being a girl who does not think badly of people, at first a small distrust settled deep inside her being.

Now the rose that Coriolanus was holding began to tremble slightly in his hand at the side of his body, he had made a little speeches about what he would say to his tribute but now when he had it in front of him and looked into her eyes he fell silent and his mind remained silent. in white. If he had the bluest and most crystalline eyes, she had the brownest eyes I had ever seen, almost the color of honey, or the golden sun when reflected in the water. And her thick, long eyelashes seemed to simply complete her look. He suddenly felt his palms sweat, and he wished she didn't notice.

"I'm Coriolanus Snow, welcome to the Capitol"

The boy raised his arm and brought the flower to her face. Soleil's face transformed completely, first she frowned in confusion and then her face relaxed until her lips formed a big smile. She inhaled the perfume of the rose with her eyes closed, even though it was not open, the smell was still sweet. Coriolanus seemed relieved that he liked the white rose and smiled softly as well. Soleil opened her eyes by gently batting her eyelashes and looked at the blonde boy.

"Thank you very much, it's beautiful"

Soleil tilted her head, still smiling, and lovingly massaged the petals of the fragile rose. Snow couldn't stop watching her movements, always delicate like those of a princess and smiled even more, something inside him tingled and for a moment he forgot what he really thought about the people of the districts. But he decided to suppress those thoughts and emotions that he didn't know where they came from and he didn't want to find out, the people of the districts were still inferior to him, this was just a gesture to gain the trust of his tribute… right?

"Umh maybe you don't know it but I'm your mentor, I'll help you win the hunger games"

"To win? and how exactly?"

"Well with strategies I guess, we'll see about that later"-He tried to look confident but quickly scratched his neck.

Soleil nodded when suddenly two uniformed men grabbed her by both arms, lifted her off the ground and took her away, leaving Coryo surprised and confused. She kicked and screamed while in the air without her feet touching the ground. In the midst of all the commotion she dropped the rose into her hands. Young Snow rushed to grab it and chased after the men.

"Stop! Don't take her, I'm her mentor!"

Other peacekeepers quickly did the same with the other tributes. They were dragged as if they were light as feathers and were pushed onto a garbage truck-like transport. Screams and commotion echoed in the air and deafened Coryo's ears but he followed your trail closely. He couldn't lose his last ticket to win the prize. At a time when the men dispersed to catch more tributes Coriolanus quickly climbed onto the truck and entered without hesitation. The doors closed and before he realized it he was already fully in the lion's den. Soleil was scared to see his mentor there, his bright clothes made him see a red ant in the middle of warm and dark colors. Soon the other tributes rose from their seats or the floor and looked at him with frowns. Soleil was afraid that they would do something to the blonde boy so before anyone else could move she approached him.

"Why did you get on the transport? You shouldn't be here!"-She said with a thin voice

"Well, I'm your mentor, I can't leave you alone…"

Coryo's gaze moved nervously around the place and became more uncomfortable when he saw that a robust guy was approaching dangerously towards him.

"And who is this clown?"

Young Snow was going to say something but Soleil quickly did it for him.

"He's my mentor, he's supposed to help me win the games."

After saying that, the girl quickly realized that she made a serious mistake. Now others will think she was cheating or something like that. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, wishing the earth would swallow her. The other tributes looked at her offended and murmurs of disapproval arose. The sturdy guy behind her moved even closer to Coriolanus and pushed Soleil away with his arm, which displeased the mentor.

"So the rich kid is going to help the 8 win huh? And what the fuck is going on with the rest of us?"

The man had Coryo cornered against the wall, yet he cleared his throat and did his best to maintain a calm attitude.

"I promise you that everyone will have a mentor who will help you"

The guy laughed sarcastically, looking at the others who also started laughing as if Coryo had made a great joke. Suddenly the robust man turned around to look at him, this time completely serious, and grabbed him by the lapels. Soleil, scared, put a hand on the boy's arm, trying to calm him down to no avail.

"Well, I think the pretty boy is lying."

Before anyone could say anything Coriolanus received a strong punch in the face, leaving his lip split and bloody. As if a spring had been activated in her system, Soleil shouted No! and with one jump he climbed onto the back of the man who had hit his mentor. She clung to him like a circus monkey and placed her hands on his head and eyes, preventing him from seeing or moving.

"Leave him alone!!"

The man turned and made great efforts to get the girl off of him but it was useless, she held on tightly as if her life depended on it. Coryo, recovering from the shock of the blow, looked at his tribute with amazement and some admiration. He began to think that maybe you weren't so weak and useless. Soon the other tributes approached helping their companion and trying to remove Soleil and without thinking it all turned into a small fight because Coriolanus separated the others as best he could so that they would not hurt his tribute.

Out of nowhere a strong shock like an earthquake caused everyone to fall to the ground with a thud. The transport was moving from left to right as if it were going to overturn and the people inside were pushed like potatoes towards the walls, causing several bruises. When everything seemed to get worse the door opened and everyone was thrown like garbage into a zoo. Soleil tried to grab onto something and reached for his mentor's hand, who was still clinging to the door, refusing to fall, but another jolt caused the tribute and mentor to fall silent, hitting rocks and scraping their hands as they passed. The fall was hard and the girl felt her palms burning and when she looked at them they were red and she had some cuts with blood.

Soleil felt the veins in her temples throbbing strongly and her face felt hot from the shock. Gasping and squeezing his eyes shut, she stood up slowly and unsteadily, trying to maintain her balance and figure out where she was. She shook the dust off her clothes and to her horror saw that they were locked in a kind of zoo with thick iron bars. Did they really see them as animals?

The girl with light brown, almost hazel eyes looked around at the other people who were with her. Some were still injured on the ground and were getting up as best they could or with the help of someone, but there was one thing in common, and that was that no one knew or understood why they were in that place. The young tribute looked everywhere for her mentor but gave up on that idea when she saw the girl from the train who had greeted her sitting on the floor crying with her injured knee. Soleil felt her heart sink and she didn't hesitate for a second and trotted towards where the little girl was.

"Hey, are you okay? I'm here."

Soleil carefully wiped away the tears that were rolling down Wovey's cheeks and tried to smile so that the girl would understand that everything was going to be okay…or so she hoped.

"That's it, that's better. Now, would you like to tell me where it hurts?"

Wovey with a pout pointed a little finger at her knee. Soleil moved the fabric of her skirt and saw the bruised skin. It was scratched and red and bleeding a little. She quickly tore a piece of the hem of her skirt and gently cleaned Wovey's wounds. She then improvised a bandage by wrapping the cloth around the knee. At all this Coriolanus found her tribute first after looking and searching everywhere, he saw her crouching helping the girl on the train and tried with all his might to suppress a smile but he couldn't. He decided not to get closer but watched her from afar.

"There, this should be enough."

Wovey looked at her bandaged knee and could smile, Soleil saw her finished work with satisfaction and pride. It wasn't the best bandage but at least it would help prevent the wound from opening further. The girl smiled warmly at Wovey and stroked her chin.

"I wanted to see that smile, you are very brave, you know that?"

The little girl giggled in response, which infected Soleil. Suddenly a clearing of the throat behind her surprised her and she turned around to see blue eyes looking down at her in amusement. She stood up quickly happy to see her mentor but then her smile faded when she saw Coryo's busted lip, she remembered the brute man who had hit him and frowned. Coriolanus noticed that she was looking too closely at his lips and became nervous.

"What's wrong?"

Soleil did not respond and instead placed her hands on the sides of Coryo's face and moved closer to get a better look at the wound. His first instinct was to back away but he suppressed it.

"Your lip is bleeding"-she said running her thumb slowly over the cut to which he grimaced-"I'll see if I can heal it…"

The tribute grabbed her skirt again and was about to tear the fabric when Coriolanus's firm hand stopped her.

"No! You don't need to ruin your clothes for me, besides it doesn't hurt that much"-he lied

She was going to protest but a grimace of pain prevented her. Suddenly a burning sensation in her hands reminded her that she was hurt. She looked at her palms that were red and full of dirt. Frowning in concern, Snow pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered to clean her hands. Coryo's eyes were on her hands but Soleil only saw his eyes. When he finished he looked up smiling satisfied and she looked down embarrassed not wanting to be caught looking at him.

"Thanks…"-she mumbled

"No problem"

Suddenly he remembered something and raised his index finger in a sign of waiting and took out of his jacket pocket the rose that had fallen earlier at the station. It was a little crushed but still just as beautiful. He looked at Soleil and gently placed it behind her ear. Her honey eyes pierced his ocean blue ones. She thought he was just being nice and wanted to gain her trust because he was her mentor and she was supposed to help him win the prize and in turn he was supposed to help her win the games. But still she couldn't help but feel a flutter in her stomach.

The sound of a microphone startled them both. A man was talking to a camera held by another man. The one holding the microphone seemed excited to broadcast live what was happening on the other side of the bars, as if the tributes were aliens who had just landed on earth. Soleil didn't like all this at all, she felt helpless and vulnerable and instinctively sought the protection of her mentor as if it were her father. She wrapped herself in his arm and clung to him like a little girl. Coriolanus Snow frowned in surprise and confusion but then he saw her scared face and placed a hand on the back of her.

The presenter was still talking to the camera when he turned around and saw Coryo. It was so easy to spot him, his clothes bright red not only because of the color but because he dressed more elegantly than the other people there.

"Excuse me, little boy, yes, yes, the blonde in red. What are you doing here young man and what is your name?"

The camera got dangerously close to Coryo who began to sweat and stutter slightly. He looked for help in his tribute's eyes but she was as mute as he was. Coryo cleared his throat and simply said

"I'm Coriolanus Snow but why don't I introduce you to my tribute, instead?"

The blonde boy pointed at Soleil with one hand and invited her to come closer to the camera. She looked at him scared but he winked at her. He knew this was the best way to start winning over the public.

"Excellent, excellent!"-exclaimed the man enthusiastically

And quickly he brought the microphone as close as the bars would allow to the girl's face.

"Tell me, you're Soleil Allen, right? The one from District 8."

Soleil swallowed and, trying not to look at the camera, answered.

"Y-yeah, it's me"

Coriolanus squeezed her arm to give her courage and to make a good impression and she thanked him with a smile.

"Oh, but what do I see here! Is that a rose you're wearing behind your ear?"

The girl blushed and quickly took off the flower and squeezed it in her hand. The man with the microphone seemed happy with the nervous gesture of the tribute.

"Oh ho ho and may I know who gave you that rose? Was it your mentor?"-he winked mischievously

Mentor and tribute were getting nervous when some children of 5 to 6 years old approached the bars to say hello, they were like angels sent from heaven to save them from the embarrassing situation. The girl approached and placed her hands on the bars.

"You're pretty"-she said to Soleil in a childish voice

Soleil Allen crouched down to the little girl's height and smiled with all her teeth.

"Thank you sweetie, so you are"

Coryo looked proudly at his tribute, with her natural charm and genuine kindness she was winning over the crowd even before the games began. The girl ran her fingers through the tribute's blouse.

"I like your clothes"

"Oh really? I made it"

The presenter looked at the camera again, smiling like never before.

"What do you think of that? Soleil Allen, the girl from 8, is tenderly earning the trust of two little children!"

Soleil looked at the boy who had his hands in his pockets.

"What's your name?"

He hesitated before answering. "I'm Pontius"

"And I'm Venus, his sister!"

"What beautiful names"-she smiled

Pontius looked at Coryo for a long time and then said innocently

"Your girlfriend is pretty"

Soleil opened her eyes and blushed as she looked at the boy. Coriolanus just smiled

"Thank you"

Soleil looked at him confused and he smiled calmly again. The presenter kept talking to the camera.

"Very well we will continue to report on the other tributes later, don't miss the 10th annual Hunger Games!"

With this the man said goodbye and left the zoo. While a peacekeeper led Coriolanus by the arm. Soleil, worried about being alone, clung to her mentor's hand. It was becoming a tug-of-war when another peacekeeper abruptly removed Soleil's hand and pushed the girl aside. Snow wanted to protest but they mercilessly dragged him out of the zoo. Soleil quickly approached the bars and gripped her hands on them as she stuck her head out through a gap.

"Will you come back? Promise!"

"I promise you"

Coriolanus's cry echoed as they took him away and Soleil felt emptier than ever, even more than when she had to leave her mother alone at home.

[duncanor]

WAIT PLEASE CONTINUE TALKING ABOUT THE LEGATO BDSM AESTHETIC FROM THOSE TAGS IM SO DEEPLY INTERESTED (I care legato so much)

First off, I’m truly sorry for how long I took to answer ya. I often forget I even got an Ask-box ahah!

As to my opinion on why “The Leather/BDSM-like aesthetic is important to Legato’s character”...

I know my original post was a bit vague but it’s truly less about how “cool” he looks, and more about the symbolism of it. Legato outfit is outwardly menacing. It's a silent threat. Similar to those birds who evolve to have brighter colors to warn off predators.

And sure the metal skull looks sick, but it isn't as bone chilling (ah-ah). When he's first introduced, everything just Stop so you can take it in the Danger reeking from him. He’s bound by leather straps, got giant metal spikes coming out of his shoulder like some sort of fucked up pauldron, as well as bits of a real human skull directly sewn into the hard leather of his coat.

(Adding to that my UNPROVEN suspicions that the skull belongs to Legato’s abuser..)

And that’s just his outfit. He’s surrounded by similar things. His weapon is truly the less subtle example of this.

A mix of different truly lethal weapons in the form of an Iron-maiden/sex-toy/stress-Toy. The face of the weapon bound in leather with only one of her eyes being visible. (similar to how Legato usually only got one eye visible because of his hair).

It’s blatant and disturbing. It’s depraved Flesh and deadly Metal.

Then, he gets his spine broken by Knives. And where does that put him?

In a metal sarcophagus pretty similar to (once again) an Iron-maiden. He stays there for the most of the story. Bound to it, stuck, mangled. Yet he’s still as terrifying as ever if not more. Sometimes portrayed similarly to a butterfly cocoon, waiting to hatch and release something more powerful..

And finally, his resident-evil goons.

They aren’t really interesting nor are they developed as anything more than Legato’s barely human servants. They got no dialog, no personality, no free will.. Nothing but an imposing mass of flesh in hard leather binding them, blinding them. They look like they come straight from an Hellraiser movie.

Even Legato’s powers themselves are a manifestation of his trauma. They’re metal wire used to fully control bodies against the will of their owner. Making them slaves and most often than not leaving them as a mass of mangled flesh.

Even Legato’s name itself meaning “bound” in Italian. (Thanks to @jackalandhare for this information btw)

In conclusion,

Legato's whole aesthetic reeks of his trauma. It's suffocating, eerie, menacing and binding in seemingly debilitating ways at times, as well as kinda sexual in undertones. It’s Legato abuse and pain on display. And I think all of these details, this aesthetic is a big insight on Legato Bluesummers as a person and what he went and is going through.

HOWEVER, that is not to say Stampede approach will be uninteresting! The symbolism is still strong with Orange. They tend to channel it through a more solid World Building.

We know they planned to add lore on colored hair in link with sexual slavery. And the design of the metal skull as well as his arm, probably implies some sort of body modification more similar to the other Eye of Michael experiments.

I just think it’s a bit unlucky that the change in aesthetic made us lose this much symbolism wise..

[whotfletamothhyperfx]

for your wixard of oz au, how did tails meet the three other characters / his new pals?

Tails met knuckles a day after he started walking down the yellow brick road, in my au it takes a very long while to get to emerald city and tails thought he would have had to do the trip all alone. He had been walking down the yellow brick road until he came across a long and giant corn fields it was nice but the crows and birds had eaten most of it by the time he had gotten there. That’s when he had spotted knuckles, tied to a wooden pole with his head drooped. Knuckles mouth was sewn shut because he didn’t like his job and he didn’t have much energy at the start so tails couldn’t even tell for a bit if knuckles was actually alive or if he was dreaming it. He helped knuckles down and asked him if he was going the right direction. Knuckles recognised him wanted to help him so knuckles decided that he would tag along he wanted to protect him like he should have protected him then

A few days later the two came across a small woods which had most of its wood already chopped down and taken away to help expand the emerald city. That’s when tails and knuckles stumbled across Amy. Knuckles had tried to warn tails to stay away but he’s a stubborn kid and flat out refused. He managed too oil her down and make it so that she could love again. She and knuckles didn’t trust each other at first but it then ended up with them being really close. Amy never used to be a robot she just kind of woke up like that one day and had to deal with it. Anyway Amy gets super attached and agrees to join tails since she missed the kid so much because he’s such a nice kid!

A few days after that the three reached a dark forest that none of them even wanted to really be in. Amy ended up carrying tails while knuckles stood in front so incase if any of them were attacked knuckles could fight them off while the other two ran. That’s when rouge emerged from the trees, her wings don’t work anymore so she pounced down and landed on knuckles, she had knuckles and Amy pinned when she spotted Tails and stopped she didn’t think he was still alive she couldn’t hurt a kid. After a long while of her being too scared to leave the darkness of the forest and denying that she wanted to go Tails eventually convinced her to come along. She had to make up for what shadow did she wanted to gain some courage

Tails is happy to be with his new friends! They’re so nice! But he doesn’t get why they’re so familiar…

It’s probably nothing

[shieldofiron]

Meals on Wheels

(Harringrove, just a flirty little drabble for @disabledbillyandsteveweek day 2 prompt-Family)

Steve thought it was maybe the stupidest thing he’d ever thought of. He and Robin had been having a sleepover and somehow the subject got around to tattoos.

“I would get a pin up girl but that might be tacky,” Robin sighed.

“As far as I’m concerned, the tackier the better,” Steve rolled up to his countertop and poured another glass of wine.

“Oh yeah, what are you getting? A nail bat?”

“Only if it says ‘who wants to get nailed,’” Steve snarled.

“What about a tramp stamp?” Robin took the glass of wine and sipped it. “Eat me.”

Steve thew a saucy look over his shoulder, dripping with king Steve charm, “Please. Look at me. It would say meals on wheels.”

Robin giggled, “Yeah, as long as we’re getting tattoos of wishful thinking I should get one on my hand that says, ‘Pussy destroyer.’”

“‘M just in a dry spell.”

“Yeah, okay,” Robin rolled her eyes, “Would you actually get ‘Meals on Wheels?’”

“Eat fast, eat fresh,” Steve quipped. “I’ll do it if you do, Madam Pussy Destroyer.”

Robin giggled loopily, “You know I did see an article about a tattoo parlor that specializes in sensory safe tattoos.”

“What’cha mean?” Steve wasn’t drunk, but he was a little tipsy on their good fortune in securing a wheelchair accessible apartment this close to the city center. Sure, a lot of rent had to come from their was Starcourt hush money, after Steve been paralyzed and a flayed Jonathan Byers has saved the world, but they he still found it and so Steve was happy to fork over the cash. The location was ideal, even if the city noise sometimes wrecked havoc on Robin’s sensory issues so they’d installed some extra sound proofing. But he wasn’t sure how a tattoo parlor was a part of that.

“It’s super cool, the owner has OCD so he made it so each room is private and soundproofed. They don’t play loud music, and offer headphones if the buzzing is too much, though you can bring your own movies. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but some of those places are just too loud and busy,” Robin sighed.

“So you’ve always wanted to be a pussy destroyer?”

“No, shut up,” she blushed. “A Lilly, for my grandma.”

“Well maybe tomorrow we can go check it out.

“I wouldn’t want to do it alone.” She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Steve shrugged, “ok, you convinced me. It’s tramp stamp time.”

“No, you’re not serious,” Robin giggled.

“You’re my family. If you bleed, I bleed. You tramp stamp, I tramp stamp,” Steve said, only laughing when Robin did.

But then the next morning, his head pounding, he didn’t have too many defenses when Robin had looked at him with those puppy dog eyes and said she’d called and made them an appointment. She’d even brought in his motorized wheelchair and said that she’d buy bagels on the way.

But he was regretting it when they were finally there, and Steve was contemplating actually getting something permanently inked into his skin.

He wasn't sure if he was cool enough for this. He definitely wasn't cool enough for the artist that came in and introduced themselves to Robin. Their name was Eddie and they were practically covered in tattoos, wearing some cool unpronounceable band name t-shirt that they'd sewn to a mini tutu skirt to make a dress. They took Robin back to her room after they went over her sketch, a lilly painted with pale watercolor shades.

Robin squeezed his hand, "You're not gonna chicken out on me, right? I booked the only two person room they have so if you don't show up, I will know."

"I'm not chickening out," Steve laughed, "Though I hope your grandma isn't watching from heaven, because she'll probably see my ass."

Robin snorts, "She definitely saw your ass this morning when I helped you out of the shower. She was a tough old bird, a little of your pale ass won't scare her."

Steve snorted, "I'll see you in a moment."

Steve was starting to feel a little nervous. Honestly after Starcourt, he hadn't been interested in hiding his sexuality at all. Life seemed too short, he might as well unapologetically be himself, bi and disabled and ADHD and slutty and everything that was himself. But maybe the double entendre tramp stamp was a little too out there.

And then... he'd come in.

"Hi, Steve, right?" The guy was stunning, with long blonde curls streaked with blue piled up into a big bun on the top of his head. He offered a large, warm hand and Steve almost melted when they shook.

"Yeah, hi."

"I'm Billy, I'm the owner," Billy smiled, and Steve swore that he could see a cartoon smile, like Billy was an anime prince. An anime prince that had a giant seratonin tattoo that was splattered with that looked like watercolor. "I hope you don't mind that I use some hand sanitizer. I'm working on my handshake thing, but..."

"It's fine, ah... do you mind if I have some too?" Steve held out his hand.

Billy squirted Steve out a little of their fancy hand sanitizer.

"So I have to be honest, I wasn't sure what to expect when we got the call for a wheelchair themed tramp stamp that said meals on wheels," Billy licked along his lower lip, "But now that I'm seeing you it makes more sense."

Steve could feel himself turning red, "It was kind of a joke-"

"I mean," Billy leaned in, "You do look good enough to eat."

Steve shivered, blush spreading up to his hairline.

Billy straightened, "God, sorry. Sorry, that was so inappropriate-"

"It's fine."

"No, really, I can see if Heather is free to take over the appointment, except that-" Billy bit his lip, "I think I'll still have to be the one to help you onto the table. Maybe if Eddie and Heather work together... God, not that you're like... too big or... shit... I'm sorry."

Steve laughed, "Really, it's fine."

"You're not too big, you're like... perfect," Billy ran a hand down his face, "Sorry. I'm sorry. Chrissy should know she can't give me the pretty guys, I clearly can't handle it."

Steve glanced up, giving him that King Steve sparkle right back, and seeing the way it made Billy's eyes go wide and nervous.

Steve pressed on the joystick to his chair with one finger, running a hand along the tip flirtatiously.

Billy's eyes darted to his hand, and then back to his face.

"I think you can handle me," Steve said smugly, "Don't you wanna try?”

Steve left that day with a bit of a sore ass, though the sensation was soothed a lot by the business card that had Billy's personal number scrawled on the back.

"I can't believe the meals on wheels tattoo got you a date," Robin rolled her eyes as she attached Steve's chair to the floor of his van, tightening the straps down with a shake of her head.

"What can I say," Steve shrugged, "Billy looks like a hungry boy to me."

Robin gagged, "You are my family. But never, ever, say that again."

@intothedysphoria thanks for answering my question on this one.

[bobamilkk]

Tf2 Headcanons but I get Carried Away easily

Scout

Scarily Flexible and will casually do contortionist stretches in his room when he’s bored

He subconsciously chews on his dog tags when he thinks

Talks with his hands

Eats random shit that he should not eat-Soldier encourages him too-Medic has found a car battery in him before

Lactose intolerant

Surprising good driver-races his motorbike around the base when bored

Street racing nerd /pos

Undiagnosed adhd and will very loudly complain when his energy spikes but he’s not able to go on a run-no I’m not self projecting what are you talking about /s

Has a visible scar on his hip from the comic, wears crop tops with every intent to show it and his tattoo off

Soldier

The opposite of scout-He gets stuck doing a handstand. Tries to mimic scout anyways

He gives a war pep talk before every single meal and demands they do the pledge of allegiance before eating-even on days they don’t have missions

Partially deaf and has hearing aids from the extended exposure to his rocket launcher-his screaming doesn’t help

Him and Scout are each others lack of impulse control-Scout goes “what if” and Soldier very loudly tells him to do it and cheers him on while he does said dumb thing

Pyro

He/They :)

Easily cold and steals everyone’s blankets

Medic gave him anatomy coloring books-They only color them with pink crayons for some reason

He,,,doesn’t eat?? At all?? And he only drinks by sticking a straw through their mask

Gives people plushies when their sad-alternatively offers themself as a plush to hug if that doesn’t work

Demo

Accent gets stronger the more he drinks-after a certain point no one can understand a single word he’s saying

Cries during sad movies even when sober

Jokingly doesn’t share his alcohol with Scout while teasing him that he’s “too young”

The only one with a braincell when paired with the offense trio-he gets the main blame for whatever bullshit they pull off as a result

Heavy

One of the most common people to be on cooking duty, alongside Engie

Gentle giant around the team-will even sing Pyro lullabies when they ask for it

Will gladly go on hour long infodumps around Sasha

Often falls asleep on the couch and wakes up with all 8 of the others using him as a pillow-every single time he wakes up confused af

Engie

Never swears but can and will call you every southern insult in existence-if he DOES swear you know your FUCKED

Somehow the only one able to scare Scout into doing chores-no one knows how

Kisses his plush of whatever respective ship partner when he thinks no ones looking-Spy has a blackmail photo of guise

Calls people to the dinner table by threatening to throw their food out to the coyotes

He’s dubbed the dad friend when in reality he’s unhinged af

Medic

Birds flock to him constantly-not even just doves either-He’ll step outside once in the city and for some reason every pigeon within miles is coming to him for affection

He names every single bird he meets and can recognize them at the briefest sight mo matter how similar they all look-Archimedes is his favorite

Has a plush of every single teammate with,,,oddly disturbing stitching and pins stuck into them

Either doesn’t sleep period or sleeps on the infirmary medical tables

Rather than healing or being sewn up-the bullet wounds medic received in the comic are just-straight up 2 holes in his torso

Kept the baby baboon he forced Cheavy to birth and is raising it-It’s name is Tobias and it has a little wooden crib in the infirmary

His room/office is the most unorganized mess youve ever seen and yet he claims to reorganize it every single day because he can’t find the THING and he’s got to rearrange it so he won’t loose the THING again-looses the thing the next day

Sniper

Only sleeps in the base during holidays or events and half the time he ends up sleeping in someone else’s room after an impromptu sleepover-it’s normally Scout or Pyro-God forbid the man sleep in his own bed /j

Has a pinboard on his wall with pictures of the team as well as less wholesome pictures and notes about new mission strategies-it’s a confusing mess and no one else can understand it

His skin is more sickly grey and unhealthy after the events of the comic

Sleeps bare ass naked and spends a good hour just laying in bed debating of if he cares enough to actually get up

The worst fucking hygiene-He fucking stinks and Spy won’t let him in the base without drowning him in cologne first

Collects random trinkets and gives them to people he likes-Your nice to him? Have a random pretty rock he found. He thinks your cute? Here’s a fucking tooth he collected from a guy he killed

Spy

Absolutely disgusted by Scout’s stretchiness

He’s actually married to Scout’s mom (if you ship them) and literally everyone but Scout knows-it’s a genuine surprise Soldier or Pyro hasn’t let it slip to Scout yet

Will lecture people about chores around the base and then proceeds to vanish anytime someone tells him it’s his turn to do the most basic of tasks

Shows his affection and love to the team by flexing on them and buying expensive dinners anytime they all go out-no one appreciates it

Names his cars in French

Dies inside every time he hears Scout proudly announce that his dad is Tom Jones

If you want more of my hcs give me a character or ship or scenario and I will GLADLY go off yelling about them for ages-hell expect a part 2 to this post later either way cuz I guarantee you it’ll happen

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt III the wedding dress: crowley's shirt's ruffles (the brainrot is in terminal stages only palliative care is possible now)

OKAY. I'M SORRY FOR NOT POSTING FOR A WHILE BUT I AM HERE MAGGOTS (WHILE YOU'RE ALL BEING SO FUCKING LOVELY AND AMAZING ON THE COLLEGE POST WHICH TERRIFIES ME).

The last update was the shirt (everything related to aziracrow wedding brainrot is on my blog with the tag weirdly the nightingales wed) and I talked so long about the shirt and the Regency influences and the Jane Austen part that I realised I'd need a separate post for the ruffles. So. Here we are.

THE RUFFLES OVERVIEW: I spent too much time on this, but let's go. The ruffles were taken from that 1805-10 Regency evening gown that inspired the entire neckline, and they're the same material, muslin. They're overlaid with Alencon lace, the reason for which shall be stated below. I stopped the ruffles at the edge of the square neckline rather than going around the neck because given how the coat will be buttoned, it's not necessary and would just add bulk. For the same reason the ruffles would be sewn down at the edge with a French seam (it won't add lines to the silhouette or bulk, a maggot recommended that stitch) to prevent it from getting displaced.

THE LACE OVERVIEW: Oh, the fucking lace. Okay. So, this part of the dress was supposed to represent Shakespeare's time, the Edwardian era, from the Shakespeare/Hamlet scene in the season 1 episode 3 cold open. So I wanted to choose a lace that was popular in England at that time. I looked up the types of laces and their history, and found that Alencon lace best suited my purposes. It is the most popular lace for wedding dresses now. The lace would have motifs of birds (nightingales), leaves (Crowley's plants), angel wings (self-explanatory) and flowers (traditional for this lace).

THE NICE AND ACCURATE HISTORY: Ah, textile trade in the Edwardian era, exactly how I thought I'd be using my brainpower in the year of our Lord and Saviour Bildaddy 2024. Okay, the reason I chose Alencon lace was that during the end of the 16th century (which was around the time when Hamlet was written, 1599-1601, a direct reference to the episode), French lace was most popular in England. There were other popular lace imports, from Belgium, italy etc, as well as lace made in Devon (which wasn't as popular), but Queen Elizabeth had maintained ties with the French court and used lace on her gowns and that's how lace became fashionable. So I picked French lace.

Now the other types of French lace, Chantily lace and Argentan lace, weren't invented at the time Hamlet was written, so I was left with Alencon. The wedding thing was a bonus, honestly. Alencon lace originated in France in the 16th century, was called "Queen of Lace" and was a luxury. I do believe Aziraphale of the infamous I have standards would approve.

Soooooo. There you have it. The detailed real history behind the real lace on the ruffles of a fictional character's fictional dress for their fictional wedding that's not canon.

*contemplates life choices* Well, this isn't the very worst choice I've made, at least.

...that honour would belong to the cufflinks. Next update.

[unexpectedstormy]

It's time to fantasize about having my own Skyloft-themed store of sewn things to sell. I'm thinking of naming it Skychild Sewing since I want it to have the word 'sky' in it and I tend to sew stuff for babies or kids because they're quick and don't use much fabric. Some items I could sell:

Buntings made of white fabric strips braided into a rope with brightly colored triangular flags

Flags or banners with birds on them

Bird or flower-themed mobiles

Baby/toddler clothes and bibs, especially capes and cloaks

Braided rag rugs

Quilts, especially ones with geometric patterns

Baskets and pots with geometric or bright color patterns on them

Children's dress up clothes like crown, fairy wings, animal mask, fairy wand

Children's toys like the memory game, fish purse, juggling chickens, maybe I could attempt to make a doll or stuffed animal

Quilted pillowcases

Watercolor paintings done of Skyloft-adjacent scenery