#a new miracle bonus 1

[novaursa]

The Last Dragonslayer (2/2)

- Summary: The conclusion of a journey, for you, one of the many.

- Paring: female!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 7 000+

- Previous part: 1

- Bonus part: 3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The council chamber is cold, the stone walls adorned with banners of House Targaryen, their crimson and black fabric swaying lightly in the draft. The weight of history presses down upon you, the ancient stones whispering secrets of kings and conquerors. You stand at the edge of the chamber, watching Rhaenyra from beneath the hood of your cloak. The lords seated around the table glance at you uneasily, their gazes lingering too long, discomfort plain in their eyes. You are a foreigner, an anomaly, a reminder of tales and nightmares they would rather forget.

Rhaenyra, the Queen, sits at the head of the table, her presence commanding even as shadows darken the skin beneath her eyes. She’s been restless since Daemon left for Harrenhal, pacing the halls of Dragonstone like a caged beast. Now, she listens as her advisors bicker, her expression tight, her gaze distant. They speak of the war, of the blood that’s already been spilled, and the blood that will flow if they do not act.

Alfred Broome, his voice tinged with frustration, slams his fist on the table. “We cannot continue to sit idle, Your Grace. The Greens gain more ground with each passing day! Aemond’s attack on Storm’s End—”

“—was an act of war,” interrupts Lord Celtigar, his tone measured but firm. “They have already crossed the line.”

“And yet we remain here, waiting!” Broome snaps, glaring at the others. “Waiting for what? A miracle? A sign from the gods? Aemond tried to kill Prince Lucerys, and still, we do nothing.”

You watch as Rhaenyra’s knuckles whiten, her fingers digging into the arms of her chair. Her grief is palpable, a dark cloud that has yet to lift since news of Lucerys’ narrow escape reached her. But she remains silent, her eyes flickering with a storm of emotions she refuses to let loose before these men.

It’s then that you decide to speak, your voice low, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Action without strategy is a fool’s errand, Lord Broome. Perhaps you are eager to throw away lives in a show of haste, but the Queen’s duty is to her people, not to your impatience.”

The lords turn to you, their eyes narrowing, some in suspicion, others in outright disdain. You meet their stares unflinchingly, the cold fire of your homeland reflected in your gaze. Your hand rests on the hilt of your sword—a sword older than any of them, a relic of a time when the world was shaped by fire and blood, but not by dragons alone.

Broome sneers, his lip curling. “And what would a foreigner know of our wars? Of our dragons?”

More than you could ever understand, you think, but do not say aloud. Instead, you take a step forward, the shadow of your Banshee—your mount, your companion, and your weapon—seeming to loom behind you, though it remains far from these walls. The lords shift uncomfortably as if sensing its presence. They fear it, as they should.

“I know,” you say, your voice steady, “that Aemond did more than just attack Storm’s End. He was driven away. Chased off by something he did not expect, and that something was me. You may not trust my motives, but understand this: I have chosen to stand with the Queen, to see balance preserved in Westeros. You would do well to heed her wisdom and not let your fear cloud your judgment.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes meet yours across the table, and for a moment, the storm within her clears. There is gratitude there, and something else—something that has lingered between you since the night you arrived at Dragonstone, the night you saved her son. The pull between you is undeniable, a silent promise that neither of you has yet dared to speak aloud. But in her gaze, you see it as clearly as the flames of a dragon’s breath.

Lord Celtigar clears his throat, cutting through the tension. “The Lady Y/N speaks true. We cannot act rashly. The Greens expect us to strike without thought. We must outmaneuver them, not merely meet them on the field of battle.”

The room falls silent, the lords exchanging glances. Broome’s scowl deepens, but he holds his tongue, his eyes flickering to Rhaenyra, who now seems more resolute.

Rhaenyra straightens in her seat, the weight of the crown evident on her shoulders but her voice strong. “We will act, but we will act wisely. The Greens will not find us easy prey. We will not fall into their traps, nor will we be goaded into hasty decisions. Lord Celtigar, begin preparations for the fleet. We’ll strike where they least expect it. And Lord Broome,” she adds, her gaze hardening, “you will ensure that our forces are ready when the time comes.”

Broome stiffens but nods, his anger barely concealed. “As you command, Your Grace.”

The council continues, the lords discussing strategy, but your attention drifts to Rhaenyra. The tension in her shoulders has eased slightly, but the burden she carries is still heavy. You find yourself stepping closer, a silent offering of support that she acknowledges with a slight nod, a flicker of something warm in her eyes as she turns back to the map spread out before her.

Later, when the council disperses, and the lords retreat to their chambers, you linger. The chamber is quiet now, the echo of the lords' voices fading into the stone. Rhaenyra stands by the hearth, staring into the flames, her thoughts far away. You approach her, the weight of your sword still at your side, a constant reminder of who you are and what you represent.

“You were right to keep a level head,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence. “They do not understand the full scope of what we face.”

She turns to you, the firelight casting her features in a warm glow. For a moment, she looks younger, almost fragile, but then her eyes meet yours, and the steel within her is evident once more. “It is difficult,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “To know when to strike, and when to hold back. But with Daemon gone, I must be even more cautious. I cannot afford to lose another child… or more allies.”

“You won’t,” you reply, your voice firm. “Not while I’m here.”

A small, wry smile tugs at her lips. “I am grateful for that, Y/N. More than you know.”

The air between you shifts, charged with the unspoken words that neither of you dare to voice, not here, not now. But the promise remains, woven into the fabric of your alliance, and something deeper, something personal.

You reach out, your hand brushing against hers—a fleeting touch that sends a jolt through you both. Rhaenyra doesn’t pull away, her fingers curling slightly, as if to hold onto the warmth you offer. For a brief moment, the weight of the crown, the war, the bloodshed all fades, leaving just the two of you standing by the fire, bound by something stronger than duty.

“Stay with me,” she murmurs, her voice soft, vulnerable in a way you’ve never heard before. “Just a little longer.”

You nod, your hand gently clasping hers, the two of you standing side by side as the fire crackles softly in the hearth, the flames a quiet witness to the bond growing between you.

The wind howls through the trees, rustling the leaves and sending a shiver down your spine. The forest is dense, the shadows long as dusk begins to settle over the land. You stand alone in a clearing, your cloak billowing around you like a dark shadow, the hilt of your ancient sword gleaming faintly in the dim light. The ground beneath your feet is soft, the earth freshly disturbed by the recent passage of men and horses—Ser Criston Cole’s forces, on their way to seize Duskendale for the Greens.

The quiet of the forest is broken by the distant sound of hooves, growing louder with each passing moment. You remain still, your gaze fixed on the treeline as they emerge—riders clad in armor, their banners snapping in the wind. At their head rides Ser Criston Cole himself, his face set in a stern mask, followed closely by Ser Gwayne Hightower and several dozen men-at-arms. They slow as they approach, their horses snorting and stamping as they take in your solitary figure.

The men spread out in a semicircle, surrounding you, their weapons at the ready. Ser Criston rides closer, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your appearance. The tales of your deeds have reached his ears, no doubt—whispers of a foreigner with an ancient sword, a beast that haunts the skies, and the power to make even dragons flee. But it’s clear he does not yet understand the full measure of what stands before him.

“Who are you to stand in our path?” Criston’s voice is hard, commanding, as if the answer to his question will determine whether you live or die.

You don’t flinch under his scrutiny, your voice calm as you reply, “I am Y/N. I have come to give you a chance, Ser Criston. Turn back now, and you may yet live to see another day.”

A murmur ripples through the men, some of them exchanging uneasy glances. They’ve heard the tales too, and the sight of you standing alone, unafraid, seems to unsettle them. But Criston is unmoved, his expression hardening as he spurs his horse closer, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

“You expect me to turn tail at the sight of a woman?” He sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. “You may have frightened Aemond, but I am no craven boy. I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, sworn to protect the true king. Step aside, or I will cut you down where you stand.”

His men shift in their saddles, emboldened by their commander’s bravado. Ser Gwayne smirks, drawing his sword, the blade catching the dying light of the sun. “It would be wise to heed the Commander’s words, foreigner. You are far from home and outnumbered.”

You remain still, your expression unreadable, the forest around you eerily silent. The air grows colder, the breeze carrying the scent of earth and leaves. You speak again, your voice carrying an edge of steel. “This is your final warning, Ser Criston. I am not here to play games, nor am I here to waste lives. Turn back, or face the consequences.”

Criston’s eyes narrow, his patience clearly worn thin. He raises his sword, the motion sharp and decisive. “Enough of this. Men, bring me her head.”

The order is given, and the men begin to close in around you, their horses snorting, the sound of metal clinking as they draw their weapons. You don’t move, your hand resting lightly on the hilt of your sword, the weight of it familiar and comforting.

As the first rider approaches, sword raised high, you draw your blade with a fluid motion, the ancient steel singing as it cuts through the air. The rider barely has time to react before your sword meets his, the force of the blow sending a shockwave up his arm. His eyes widen in surprise, and in that moment of hesitation, you twist your blade, disarming him with a swift, practiced movement.

He falls from his horse with a cry, his weapon clattering to the ground. The other men hesitate, clearly not expecting such a swift and effortless display. But Criston’s voice rings out, cold and commanding. “Press the attack! She’s but one woman!”

But you are not just one woman. You are Y/N, the last of the Dragonslayers. And this is not your first battle.They charge at you, swords flashing in the dim light, but you are ready. Your movements are a blur, each strike precise, each parry executed with lethal grace. One by one, the riders fall, unhorsed by the skill of your blade or the sheer power behind your strikes. The clearing becomes a battlefield, the air filled with the clash of steel and the cries of men.

In the chaos, you catch sight of Ser Gwayne, his face twisted in anger as he drives his horse towards you. You meet his charge head-on, your swords clashing with a force that reverberates through your arms. He grits his teeth, pushing against you with all his strength, but you hold firm, the ancient power of your blade surging through you.

“You should have listened,” you say, your voice low, as you twist your sword, breaking his stance and sending him reeling. He barely manages to stay in the saddle, his eyes wide with shock as he realizes just how outmatched he is.

“You’re a demon!” he spits, his voice trembling as he regains his balance, but the fear is evident in his eyes.

“No,” you reply, your voice cold, “I am justice.”

With a final, powerful strike, you knock him from his horse, sending him crashing to the ground. He groans, trying to rise, but you place the tip of your sword against his throat, pinning him in place. The other men halt, unsure whether to continue their attack or flee.

Ser Criston watches the scene unfold, his face a mask of fury and disbelief. He dismounts, striding towards you, his sword at the ready. “You think you can best me?” he snarls, raising his weapon.

You turn to face him, your blade still poised at Gwayne’s throat. “I don’t think, Ser Criston. I know.”

Criston lunges at you, his strikes fast and furious, but you are faster. Your swords clash, the sound ringing through the clearing like a bell. He fights with the ferocity of a man with everything to lose, but you match him blow for blow, your movements fluid, almost effortless. He’s strong, but strength alone is not enough.

The battle drags on, but with each passing moment, Criston’s strikes become more desperate, more reckless. He overextends on a particularly vicious swing, and you seize the opportunity. You parry his strike, stepping inside his guard and slashing across his chest. He stumbles back, blood blooming across his white cloak, staining it red.

He grits his teeth, refusing to fall, but the wound has taken its toll. You don’t give him a chance to recover, pressing the attack with a series of swift, precise strikes. He barely manages to parry, each blow pushing him further back until he’s on the defensive, his movements slowing.

Finally, with a powerful upward swing, you knock his sword from his hand, sending it flying across the clearing. He falls to his knees, clutching his bleeding chest, his face pale, eyes wide with disbelief.

You stand over him, your sword raised, its tip pointed at his throat. “I warned you,” you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of inevitability.

Criston glares up at you, defiance still burning in his eyes, but there is also fear—fear of the unknown, of the force that now stands over him. “Kill me, then,” he spits. “But know this: you will never defeat one true king, Aegon.”

You lower your sword slightly, considering him for a moment. “I do not need to defeat your king, Ser Criston. I only need to preserve the balance.”

With that, you withdraw your sword, stepping back. Criston’s eyes widen in surprise, but you give him no time to react. You whistle sharply, and from the shadows of the forest, your Banshee emerges, its massive form blotting out the last of the daylight. The men around you recoil in terror as the creature lets out a bone-chilling shriek, the sound reverberating through the clearing like the cry of a thousand tortured souls.

Criston stares up at the creature, his face drained of all color, and for the first time, you see true fear in his eyes.

“Tell your king,” you say, your voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “that Duskendale is under my protection. And the next time we meet, I will not be so merciful.”

With that, you turn and mount your Banshee, the creature’s wings unfurling as it prepares to take flight. The men watch in stunned silence as you ascend into the sky, the wind whipping around you as your mount carries you away from the clearing and into the night.

Below, the soldiers of the Greens stand frozen, their leader humbled, their will to fight shattered. The tale of what happened in that clearing will spread, carried on the winds of fear, and it will be known that the last of the Dragonslayers walks the earth once more.

The great hall of Dragonstone is quiet as you enter, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the walls. The air is thick with the scent of salt and smoke, the sea and the dragon forges mingling to create an atmosphere that is both heavy and foreboding. Rhaenyra and her council are gathered around the massive oak table at the center of the chamber, the map of Westeros spread out before them. Their faces are drawn, tense with the weight of decisions yet to be made.

You stride forward, the sound of your boots on the stone floor echoing through the chamber. The lords and advisors turn to you, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. You are a mystery to most of them, a shadow in the midst of their struggles, but your presence commands attention.

Rhaenyra looks up from the map, her violet eyes locking onto yours. There is a quiet strength in her gaze, tempered by the grief and burdens she carries. She nods to you, her silent signal for you to speak.

“The Greens will no longer trouble themselves with coastal points, Your Grace,” you begin, your voice steady and clear. “I intercepted Ser Criston Cole’s forces before they could reach Duskendale. They were forced to retreat, and word will spread of their defeat. They will not dare to strike at our shores again, not while I stand with you.”

Murmurs ripple through the council, some lords exchanging glances of relief, others still wary of the enigmatic figure before them. But Rhaenyra’s expression is one of satisfaction, a glimmer of approval in her eyes.

“Well done, Lady Y/N,” she says, her voice carrying the authority of a queen. “You have once again proven your value to our cause.”

You incline your head slightly, acknowledging her words. “It is my duty, Your Grace.”

The council continues for a while longer, discussions of strategy and the next moves in the war filling the chamber. But you notice that Rhaenyra’s attention drifts back to you frequently, her gaze lingering as if she has something more on her mind. Finally, as the meeting draws to a close, she dismisses her advisors with a wave of her hand.

“Lady Y/N,” she calls, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “A word, if you will.”

You nod, following her as she leads you from the great hall. The corridors of Dragonstone are dimly lit, the stone walls cold and unyielding. Rhaenyra’s pace is slow, measured, as if she is gathering her thoughts. You walk beside her in silence, the only sound the faint echoes of your footsteps.

She leads you to her chambers, a grand room that still manages to feel intimate despite its size. The air is warm here, a stark contrast to the chill of the hallways. A bath is drawn, the steam rising gently from the water, scented with herbs and oils. It’s clear that Rhaenyra sought this moment of respite, a small comfort amidst the storm of war.

She gestures for you to sit by the fire, where a table is set with a decanter of wine and two goblets. “Please, join me,” she says, her voice soft but carrying a hint of something more—curiosity, perhaps, or even a touch of longing.

You take a seat, watching as she pours the wine, the deep red liquid catching the light of the flames. She hands you a goblet, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments. The touch is fleeting, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken.

“I wanted to speak with you, Y/N,” she begins, taking a sip of her wine as she settles into a chair opposite you. “I realize I know so little about you, despite all you’ve done for me. You’ve proven yourself a loyal ally, but there is much I would like to understand. Who are you, truly?”

You swirl the wine in your goblet, considering her question. There is so much to tell, more than could be shared in one evening, or even in a lifetime. But you see the sincerity in her eyes, the genuine desire to know you, not just as a warrior, but as a person.

“I have seen much, Your Grace,” you say slowly, your voice carrying the weight of centuries. “More than most could ever dream or fear. I have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the death of loved ones, the shifting tides of history. From the brilliant Yo Ti Empire to the shadowed lands of Asshai, to the great wonders beyond the western seas… I have wandered this world longer than I care to remember.”

Rhaenyra listens intently, her eyes wide, a shiver running down her spine at your words. But it is not fear that grips her—it is something else, something that makes her heart quicken, her breath catch.

“How old are you?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she is almost afraid to hear the answer.

You smile faintly, the lines of your face softening as you look into the flames. “Too old, Your Grace. Old enough to have seen the world change many times over. To be bound to a Banshee is a terrible purpose.”

Rhaenyra sits back in her chair, the goblet forgotten in her hand as she takes in the enormity of your words. For a moment, the weight of your age and experience presses down upon her, making her feel small and fleeting in comparison. But then, she realizes something—despite all you have seen, all you have endured, you are here, by her side, choosing to stand with her in this tumultuous time.

She reaches out, her hand resting lightly on yours, her touch warm, grounding. “And yet you have chosen to fight for me, for Westeros. Why?”

You look at her, truly look at her, and see not just a queen burdened by war, but a woman who has suffered, who has loved and lost, and who is determined to protect what remains. “Because, Your Grace, you fight for balance. For the hope that the world might find peace, that the fire of the dragons might warm rather than burn. That is something worth fighting for.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes soften, her heart touched by your words. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, her gaze never leaving yours. “Thank you, Y/N. For your honesty, and for your loyalty. It means more to me than I can express.”

The room seems warmer now, the tension of the day melting away as the two of you continue to talk. You share stories of your past, tales of lands and people she can only imagine, and she in turn shares her own hopes and fears, her dreams for her children, for her realm.

As the night deepens, the conversation grows more intimate, the barriers between you falling away. The flickering fire casts a soft glow on Rhaenyra’s face, highlighting the beauty and strength that have drawn you to her from the beginning. And though the specter of war still looms over you both, for this moment, in this room, there is only warmth, only connection.

The wine flows, the stories continue, and as the night wears on, the bond between you and the Black Queen deepens, becoming something more than mere alliance, more than duty.

The night deepens as you and Rhaenyra continue to talk, the warmth between you growing with each passing moment. The wine in your goblets has long since dwindled, but neither of you seems to notice, too absorbed in the quiet intimacy of your conversation. The fire crackles softly, casting flickering shadows across the room, but it is the light in Rhaenyra’s eyes that holds your attention.

As the conversation naturally lulls, a silence falls between you—not an awkward one, but rather filled with unspoken words and lingering glances. You notice how Rhaenyra’s gaze occasionally drifts to your lips, how her breath catches slightly when your hands brush. It is a delicate tension, a quiet yearning that neither of you has fully acknowledged until now.

Finally, Rhaenyra breaks the silence, her voice hushed, almost tentative. “Y/N… there is something I have been wanting to do for some time now.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in her tone. “And what might that be, Your Grace?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, instead leaning in closer, her eyes locked onto yours. The distance between you shrinks until you can feel the warmth of her breath against your skin, your hearts beating in tandem. Then, without another word, she closes the remaining distance, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that is soft yet filled with a deep, unspoken desire.

The kiss is tentative at first, testing, but as you respond, it deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. Rhaenyra’s hand finds its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while your own hand rests on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric of her dress. The world outside the room fades away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in this moment.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s as you take in the reality of what just happened. Rhaenyra’s eyes are dark with desire, her voice a mere whisper as she speaks. “Join me… in the bath.”

There is no hesitation in your response, only a quiet nod of agreement. You both rise from your seats, the space between you charged with anticipation. Rhaenyra’s hand slips into yours, leading you toward the bath that still steams softly in the corner of the room. The heat from the water fills the space, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy.

Standing beside the bath, you turn to face each other, the moment heavy with significance. Slowly, reverently, you begin to undress one another, your hands moving with a gentle purpose. Rhaenyra’s fingers trace the edges of your cloak, slipping it from your shoulders, while your own hands find the laces of her dress, loosening them with deliberate care. Each piece of clothing falls to the floor with a whisper, leaving you both bared to each other, not just in body, but in soul.

Rhaenyra’s gaze sweeps over you, appreciation and desire evident in her eyes. She reaches out, her hand trembling slightly as she brushes a lock of hair from your face, her touch tender, almost reverent. “You are… beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.

You smile softly, your own hand coming up to cup her cheek, your thumb brushing against her skin. “As are you, Rhaenyra. You are radiant.”

There is no more need for words as you step into the bath together, the water embracing you both in its warmth. You sink into the water, Rhaenyra following, her body pressing against yours as you both settle into the comfort of the bath. The heat of the water contrasts with the cool air of the room, heightening every sensation.

You share another kiss, this one slower, more languid, as if savoring each moment. Your hands begin to explore one another’s bodies, tracing the curves and lines with a tenderness that belies the passion simmering beneath the surface. You feel the strength in her arms, the softness of her skin, and the way her body trembles under your touch.

Rhaenyra’s breath hitches as your hand moves lower, finding the heat of her womanhood. She mirrors your movement, her fingers slipping between your thighs with a surety that makes you shudder. The contact is electric, sending ripples of pleasure through both of you. The world narrows to the sensation of her touch, the way her breath mingles with yours, the warmth of the water lapping at your bodies.

There is a rhythm to your movements, a dance of desire and affection that grows more intense with each passing second. Rhaenyra’s moans mix with your own, her voice breathy and desperate as she clings to you, her hips moving in time with your hand. The water sloshes gently around you, the only witness to this intimate exchange.

As the pressure builds within you both, the touches grow more urgent, the kisses more fervent. Rhaenyra’s hand tightens on your shoulder, her eyes squeezing shut as she reaches the edge. You follow her soon after, your bodies trembling together as the waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you both breathless, your hearts pounding in the aftermath.

For a moment, there is only the sound of your breathing, the gentle lap of the water, and the warmth of Rhaenyra’s body pressed against yours. Slowly, the intensity of the moment ebbs away, leaving behind a deep, abiding connection.

Rhaenyra leans her head against your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck. “That was… incredible,” she whispers, her voice still tinged with the aftershocks of pleasure.

You smile, your hand gently stroking her back as you hold her close. “It was,” you agree softly, feeling a profound sense of contentment.

The two of you remain like that for some time, simply holding each other, basking in the warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies. There is a gentle, unspoken understanding between you now, a bond forged not just by passion but by mutual respect and deepening affection.

As the water begins to cool, Rhaenyra lifts her head, looking into your eyes with a soft smile. “Let’s dry off and rest,” she suggests, her voice gentle. “There is much we still need to talk about… but for now, I just want to be close to you.”

You nod, helping her out of the bath and wrapping yourselves in the towels that were left nearby. As you dry each other off, the touches are more tender, more affectionate, than before. There is no rush, no urgency—only the simple pleasure of being together.

Once dry, you both slip into the bed, the sheets cool against your heated skin. Rhaenyra curls up beside you, her head resting on your chest, her hand lightly tracing patterns on your skin. You hold her close, your own hand gently stroking her hair, the intimacy of the moment filling you both with a deep sense of peace.

“Tell me more about your journeys,” Rhaenyra murmurs, her voice drowsy as sleep begins to tug at her.

“Of course,” you reply softly, your voice soothing as you begin to share more tales of distant lands and ancient times. Rhaenyra listens, her breathing slowing as she drifts off, content in your embrace.

As she falls asleep, you continue to hold her, your own eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. But before you succumb to sleep, you take a moment to appreciate the warmth of her body against yours, the comfort of her presence. 

Together, in the quiet of the night, you both find rest, the bond between you stronger than ever before.

The dawn is just breaking over Dragonstone, casting a pale golden light across the harbor. The sea is calm, the waters reflecting the first light of day like molten glass. The ships are ready, their sails furled and waiting for the wind to carry them across the Narrow Sea. Rhaenyra stands on the dock, her expression stern, though her heart is heavy. The decision to send her children away, to safety in Pentos, has not come easily. Aegon and Viserys cling to her skirts, their young faces filled with confusion and fear, while Lucerys stands beside her, trying to put on a brave face for his younger brothers.

Jacaerys, their eldest, stands a short distance away, his jaw set in determination, though there is a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He is prepared to escort his brothers, to protect them as best he can, but the weight of responsibility is a heavy burden on such young shoulders.

Rhaenyra kneels to embrace her children, whispering words of comfort and love, even as her heart aches with the knowledge that she may not see them again for a long time—if ever. As she stands and turns to Jace, a shadow passes over the group. She looks up, expecting to see a cloud or a bird, but instead, it is you, descending from the sky on your Banshee, the creature’s leathery wings creating a powerful downdraft as it lands gracefully on the docks.

You dismount with practiced ease, your cloak billowing around you as you stride toward the group. The lords and soldiers present step back instinctively, the stories of your deeds still fresh in their minds. Jacaerys stiffens as you approach, sensing that something is about to change.

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra greets you, her voice laced with surprise but also a trace of relief. “You’ve come to see them off?”

You nod, but your gaze is focused on Jacaerys, who meets your eyes with a mixture of respect and defiance. “No, Your Grace,” you say calmly, “I’ve come to take Prince's place.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrows in confusion, and Jace steps forward, his voice firm but uncertain. “But Mother has tasked me with escorting my brothers. I can’t leave them to face this journey alone.”

“You won’t be leaving them alone, Jace,” you reply, your tone gentle but unyielding. “But your place is here, by your mother’s side. She needs you now more than ever.”

Jace opens his mouth to protest, but you raise a hand, silencing him. “You won’t make it past the Gullet,” you continue, your eyes narrowing slightly as you speak. “On my last flight, I saw ships from the Free Cities approaching fast, likely in league with the Greens. They will be waiting for you, and you will not have the strength to fight them off. But I can.”

The gravity of your words sinks in, and Rhaenyra’s hand instinctively tightens on Jace’s arm. The boy hesitates, torn between his duty to his brothers and the growing realization that you speak the truth.

Rhaenyra’s gaze shifts from her son to you, her eyes searching yours. There is a deep understanding between you, born of the time you have spent together, the shared battles, and the nights spent in quiet conversation. She knows you too well, and she can sense what you are not saying.

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra begins, her voice low and laden with concern. “You intend to go alone, don’t you?”

You nod slowly, the sadness in your eyes betraying what you cannot bring yourself to say outright. “This is something I must do, Rhaenyra. It is time for me to fulfill my calling, to see this through to the end.”

“No,” Rhaenyra says firmly, shaking her head as she steps closer to you. “You are not just an ally, Y/N. You are more than that. You have become… indispensable to me, to us. I cannot let you go, not like this.”

You offer her a sad smile, one that speaks of centuries of experience, of knowing when a path must be walked alone. “I have only ever obeyed one master, Rhaenyra,” you say softly, reaching out to gently cup her cheek. “And that is my calling. This is something I must do, for myself, and for those who have gone before me. My time here is coming to an end, and it is time for me to go home.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she blinks them away, her voice breaking as she speaks. “Will I ever see you again?”

You take a deep breath, your gaze lifting to the sky, where the first stars of evening are beginning to twinkle faintly, though the sun has barely risen. “I will be watching over you every night, Rhaenyra,” you reply, your voice tender and filled with an unspoken promise. “Whenever you look up at the stars, know that I am there, looking at you.”

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the weight of the world hanging in the air. Rhaenyra reaches up, placing her hand over yours where it rests against her cheek, holding on to the warmth of your touch as if she could somehow keep you with her.

“Then promise me,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “I promise I will do everything in my power to return,” you say, your voice filled with the sincerity of your oath. But there is something unspoken in your words, a truth that both of you know but do not want to acknowledge—that sometimes, not all promises can be kept.

Rhaenyra steps back reluctantly, releasing your hand, her eyes never leaving yours. She nods, accepting your words even as her heart rebels against them. “Go, then,” she says, her voice filled with the strength of a queen but the sorrow of a woman who knows she may be losing someone dear. “But remember that you have a place here, with us, with me. And if you can… come back to it.”

You bow your head slightly in acknowledgment, your expression one of quiet resolve. “Take care of your family, Rhaenyra,” you say, turning to the children, your eyes lingering on Jacaerys for a moment. “And remember what I’ve taught you.”

With that, you mount your Banshee, the creature’s wings stretching out in preparation for flight. You glance back at Rhaenyra one last time, committing her face to memory—the strength in her eyes, the sadness in her smile—before turning your gaze forward, to the horizon where your destiny awaits.

The Banshee’s powerful wings beat the air as you take off, soaring into the sky above Dragonstone. Below, you see Rhaenyra and her children watching, growing smaller and smaller as you climb higher into the sky. The wind rushes past you, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the distant promise of what is to come.

As the island fades into the distance, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. You have made your choice, and it is the right one. 

And somewhere below, on the shores of Dragonstone, a queen stands alone, her gaze lifted to the heavens, searching the skies for a glimpse of the one she has come to care for more than she ever thought possible. As the stars begin to emerge, she knows that, wherever you are, you are looking at them too, and perhaps, just perhaps, you will find your way back to her, to the home you have both made together.

But for now, all she can do is wait, and hope, and hold on to the memory of your final kiss, a promise that will echo in her heart for as long as she lives.

Years have passed, and the Red Keep stands tall against the night sky, its ancient stones bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The castle, once a symbol of unyielding strength, now bears the weight of countless battles, of loss and victory, of the bloodshed that shaped the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, despite the passage of time, one constant remains: the stars, ever-present, watching over the realm with a silent, timeless gaze.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, now older and wearier, stands alone on the balcony of her chambers. The years have etched lines of sorrow and wisdom onto her face, and her once fiery spirit has been tempered by the trials she has endured. Her long silver hair, once a brilliant cascade, now carries strands of white, a testament to the time that has passed and the burdens she has carried. She wraps her cloak tightly around her shoulders, shielding herself from the cool night breeze that whispers through the Red Keep.

Her gaze is fixed on the sky, on the stars that glitter like diamonds against the velvety darkness. The constellations are familiar to her, their patterns etched into her memory from countless nights spent searching them for solace, for answers, for a glimpse of the past. The night is clear, the sky vast and endless, and yet Rhaenyra feels a deep, aching loneliness that even the stars cannot fill.

She lifts her chin slightly, her eyes tracing the paths of the stars as they twinkle serenely above. It has become a ritual of sorts, this nightly vigil, a way to connect with something greater than herself, to find comfort in the constancy of the heavens when everything else has changed.

But tonight, the stars seem more distant than ever.

She remembers those who have been lost to the ravages of time and war—her children, her loved ones, and the countless souls who once stood beside her. She remembers the faces of those who are no longer here, their voices now echoes in her memory. And among those memories, one stands out more vividly than the rest.

It has been years since you left her, years since you took flight from Dragonstone, vowing to protect her children, to do what needed to be done. You had promised to look after them, to see them safely to the other side of the Narrow Sea. And you had promised, in your own way, to return—to find your way back to her, to the place you both shared.

But you never did.

Rhaenyra’s heart tightens at the thought, a pang of sorrow so deep it threatens to overwhelm her. She has long since stopped searching the skies for your return, knowing deep down that you had fulfilled your destiny, whatever it may have been, and that she would never see you again. And yet, on nights like this, when the stars are particularly bright, she can’t help but wonder if somewhere, in some distant part of the world, you are still watching over her, as you had promised.

She leans against the cold stone of the balcony, her hands resting on the worn edges, her gaze unfaltering. The years have taken so much from her, but the memory of you remains, as vivid as the night you shared on Dragonstone, as real as the last kiss you gave her before you took to the skies. It is a memory she holds close, a fragment of warmth in a world that has grown increasingly colder.

The wind picks up slightly, rustling the leaves of the trees far below, carrying with it the faintest scent of the sea. It is a reminder of a time long past, of a love that was as fleeting as it was profound. Rhaenyra closes her eyes for a moment, letting the wind brush against her face, imagining it is your touch, soft and comforting, as it once was.

But when she opens her eyes, the night remains as it was, unchanged, the stars twinkling impassively above. She takes a deep breath, the weight of the years pressing down on her, and yet, there is a certain peace that comes with it. She knows that you are out there, somewhere beyond the reach of mortal hands, and that perhaps, in your own way, you are still watching over her.

Rhaenyra lifts her hand, as if to touch the stars, her fingers stretching out toward the endless sky. It is a futile gesture, and she knows it, but it brings her a small measure of comfort nonetheless. She lets her hand fall back to her side, her gaze lingering on the stars for a moment longer before she turns away, retreating into the warmth of her chambers.

As she closes the balcony doors behind her, shutting out the chill of the night, Rhaenyra takes one last look at the sky. The stars continue to shine, distant and unwavering, and she knows that they will be there long after she is gone, just as they were before she was born. They are a reminder of the constancy of the universe, of the passage of time, and of the fleeting nature of life.

And as she steps back into the familiar confines of her room, she carries with her the memory of you—of the love that once was, of the promises made beneath the stars, and of the bittersweet knowledge that some things are not meant to last forever.

But even in that knowledge, there is a certain beauty, a quiet acceptance. For Rhaenyra knows that, in the end, it is not the length of time that matters, but the depth of the moments shared. And though you are gone, the memory of those moments remains, a light in the darkness, a star in the sky, guiding her even now.

And so, she closes her eyes, allowing herself to rest, knowing that, wherever you are, a part of you is still with her, in the stars above, in the memories you left behind, and in the love that will never fade, no matter how many years pass.

[noneorother]

The secret timeline inside of Good Omens season 2 revealed, *part1*

Part 1 l Part 2

If you’ve ever watched a ballet or an opera, you know how the rhythm in the music is used throughout to determine not only the movements of the dancers, but also when lines are sung or spoken. This is almost unheard of in television, but what if I told you it was hidden in season 2 of Good Omens? If one were to, say, meticulously cut together only the scenes set in the present day into one big timeline, you would get one long video that is exactly 2 hours 22 minutes 00 seconds and 00 frames long. An ineffable cut that is so perfect it defies all logic. (I’ve burnt a timecode into this ineffable edit to help pick up the rhythm.)

Even though there are large swathes of the second season with no music, there is a constant tempo weaving its way through the show: What if the seconds ticking by in the runtime itself was the music? Here’s an example of what I found. Behold a supercut of every single time Shax shows up, or Hell is mentioned in series 2 in the ineffable edit. They always arrive on a 6 in the time stamp (ex: 00:XX:X6).

(SOUND ON is an absolute must here, otherwise you won't hear any of the triggers)

Shax rings Crowley on a XX:X6. Shax miracles herself into the car on a XX:X6. Shax knocks on windows on a XX:X6. Shax’s big scary moment at the bookshop happens at 66 minutes exactly (lol). Crowley calls out for Shax on a XX:X6. Beelzebub starts spewing flies on a 6. People mention hell and it’s always on XX:X6 etc. etc…(Bonus: I also left in Maggie flipping the damned the double-bird on a XX:X6) I’ve also left in the only appearance of Shax or hell at all in the whole series that isn’t tied to a six: the park bench scene with Crowley. Shax seems to be off by one line, showing up on a XX:10, then back to XX:X6 on her second reply: “Bills, mostly”. I can only theorise that this scene, while technically in season 2, is not supposed to *be* in season 2 (even just judging by the trees, sun and the overcoats, it’s not summer like in the rest of the season). And it’s not only sixes! Every time I go through I find more and more little beats that line up exactly with ineffable timings. I can only do one video per post, so I’ll have to cut it up into sections, but Gabriel, doors, car horns, bird calls, Aziraphale, food, drinks, Angels, dialogue, Maggie, Nina, jokes, clocks, bells… The list goes on and on. 

Neil called this season “The bridge”

Because we all know how much Neil loves double meanings and wordplay, I just have to ponder the idea that when Neil said this season was “the bridge” between seasons 1 and 3, he meant it double-literally. First, as in the bridge Aziraphale and Crowley have to cross in order to get them into position for the second coming. We even see the physical manifestation of this bridge leading everyone in the background of the opening credits. But this season is also a bridge in the sense that it’s a musical section that introduces new ideas or material in the middle of a song. This whole season is the music that deviates from the familiar, and re-contextualizes the chorus and the verses so we can appreciate them in a new way. 

Let’s not forget that 2:22 is also exactly the same timing as this (and only this) track from the good omens s2 album (read all about the soundtrack here):

Why is this so bonkers? I think GOS2 might be the first ever “Total” series of television.

Having everything in the series timed and choreographed would actually make it a very faithful adaptation of the Powell & Pressburger film The Tales of Hoffmann (read about the movie and it’s effect on all of s2 here). If you watch the tales of Hoffman, you will realize that the entire film is actually done more like animation, with the music and vocals all performed in a studio, mixed and edited first, and then the actors came back to act out their choreographed and lip-synched parts for the cameras afterwards. The result is "Total film": a movie that feels more like a ballet, with every movement, action, and line happening in time with the music. As far as I can tell, very few films have ever attempted this, with The Tales of Hoffmann and Playtime being the only two “complete” films I could find in this style. (The Red shoes has one section, and An American In Paris has a few)

“Why would ambitious filmmakers simply film an opera? Many admirers of the work of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger have assumed that their decision to make The Tales of Hoffmann (…) was in some way an admission(…) that they couldn’t go on making their edgy, over-the-top melodramas after the rejection and interference they’d suffered, (but) there’s a case for considering The Tales of Hoffmann as one of the finest and boldest works that Powell and Pressburger produced, so far ahead of its time as a wholly “composed” film... Late in his life, Powell himself said that he thought it was one of the best films that he and Pressburger had made.” - Criterion review, Tales of Hoffmann

Here’s a simple example from An American in Paris

If season 2 *is* scripted and choreographed to line up with specific timings, I’m pretty sure that would make this the first ever “total” or “composed” season of television ever attempted. Not only does this take an ASTOUNDING amount of planning, scripting and editing finesse, not to mention a completely controlled set, it takes a real understanding of how to perform as an actor using rhythm and metre, which would go a long way to explain why all of the main actors coming back for season 2, with the exception of John Hamm, are well regarded theatre performers, (especially of Shakespeare).

I’ll leave you with one last surprise I found in the discovery of the ineffable edit: remember Aziraphale’s smile at the very end if the credits? It happens on 02:23:03, as the first step off the bridge, and into season 3.

I will have much more in the next ineffable timeline post. Stay tuned…

__________________________________________

Thanks for reading all the way to the end. It’s taken me a solid month to get this perfect. There are so many hidden cuts and jumps to take into account, and I had a frame rate issue that kept exporting to 29fps instead of 25fps, but I’ve finally nailed the ineffable timeline enough that I am confident sharing in it.

Credits to @thebluestgreen and @embracing-the-ineffable for all the support and help with editing and just general good vibes. 

[kara-zor-els]

I need Cassandra Cain fans who enjoy the current BoP run/Barda's and Cass's dynamic to read Big Barda comics if they haven't already. She's an amazing character on her own right too. Some recs:

Mister Miracle (1971) by Jack Kirby. Issues #1-#18 are the original run by Kirby. It's where Barda was introduced and developed as a character.

Barda by Ngozi Ukazu. Graphic Novel that came out this year about Barda's backstory in Apokolips. Not technically canon (since it's a graphic novel) but follows the canon events. Highly recommended, especially if you want something more recent.

Bonus:

Birds of Prey (1999) #100-#109. Barda's original time with the BoP. Putting it here since I have yet to read it, but it seems like it would be interesting for context purposes.

Mister Miracle (1989). I have also not read this yet but I've seen people recommend it before so I thought I'd mention it.

Mister Miracle (2019). This is the Tom King run. Upfront you have to know that it's essentially an elseworlds and that it butchers the character of Orion and Lightray, which is why most New Gods fans hate this run (even though I personally enjoyed it given the context of it not being canon). That being said I do think that it's an enjoyable book from a Scott and Barda prespective, and since that list is about her I thought I might as well include it. Also the art is great. Please look at the triggers thought.

[subbypeterparker]

Hi!, I was wondering if you could do NSFW headcannons for Ethan Landry 🤭

Ugh you guys know just what to ask me 😫

warnings: NSFW below the cut!!

first things first, this man is 100% a complete and total sub

let’s be honest, with me we knew this was coming ;)

big on being pinned down ;) doesn’t matter if it’s through actual restraints, or your hands, he’ll be a blushing mess

such a sleeper after sex. as much as you’d love to do proper aftercare, he just instantly falls asleep (don’t worry, you take care of him as soon as he wakes up)

Ethan might be the biggest crier known to man (i’m biased, and think all puppy dog eyes give off that energy)

omfg there is nothing prettier than his eyes when the poor thing tears up

whiner (VERY vocal)

it’s a goddamn miracle chad hasn’t complained about the noise when you two fuck, as Ethan is the loudest person ever

moans, groans, whines, pleas and begs; he does it all, and does it very well

huge on getting choked. breath play is possibly his biggest turn on, and the simple feeling of your gentle hands wrapping around his neck just gets him going

into knife play…but only slightly! he doesn’t want his skin to actually be pierced by a blade, but the uncertainty of what you’ll do to him has him arching into the blade

he thrusts his hips a lot by accident, and usually while he’s inside you somehow (might end up being too rough, and you have to pin him down)

i’d like to think he’s very very sensitive (nipples, his pretty little tip, everything 🤭)

mommy and ma’am kinks. i will take no further arguments, he’s so so into things like that

“yes mommy” is his voice omg 😵‍💫

not big on fluids like spit, but oh my lord is he into cum play

however, he’s not 100% against the idea of you spitting in his mouth

big stutterer when he’s so into it. can’t form sentences, much less actual words

fully convinced he’s an everything man. boobs and butts, never just one

this just means he’s handys with everything he can reach, and you can fully expect him to have his mouth all over you, leaving hickies as he moves

honestly is into role play. as a nerd, his biggest thing is having his partner dress up as a character he fantasizes about

bonus points if it a dominant woman

very into humiliation. sitting with all your friends, while your hand secretly strokes his cock, and all the poor thing can do is sit there and take it

he’s the world’s #1 praise fan!! you heard it here first: whether it’s praising you (“god you feel so good”) between moans, or when you praise him (“baby you’re doing such a good job”), his brain goes numb, and he just becomes your toy to play with

he is however very into degradation, especially if you tie it in with hitting him 😋

pain. kink.

leave bruises and bite marks all over him, and this man will cum on the spot

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

he is possibly my new favourite person i will write for (dw though, peter is here to stay 😋) but jack champion is just the sweetest guy i’ve ever seen, and i’m considering writing for him too (but it would just be fluff and angst)

[turttastic]

Was just struck by the overwhelming urge to rate Stormlight characters on their driving ability. I have no evidence I'm going off of vibes alone. Here they are in no particular order:

Dalinar- I think he's generally a fine driver now, though still prone to bouts of road rage when someone won't let him merge. Very bad driver in his youth. 5/10

Jasnah- I think she would be a shockingly bad driver. She seems like the kind of person that believes the rules of the road apply to everyone other than her. The type to run a red light because the meeting she's going to is important. Never uses her turn signals because if shes in the left lane it should be obvious shes making a left turn. Despite her lack of care she always arrives safely and without a ticket, somehow. Would fit right in in Northern Virginia. Also the worst backseat driver ever. 3/10

Sadeas- Good driver but employs bad practices. When traffic is heavy he uses the shoulder of the road as his own personal lane. Only person capable of surviving New York traffic. 6/10

Kaladin- Fantastic driver but kind of slow. Won't make a left turn unless there is literally no other car on the road. Always follows the speed limit and uses his turn indicators. Also the type to yell at everyone to shut the fuck up and let him drive when he's in heavy traffic. 8/10

Syl- Cannot be allowed to drive under any circumstances. Bridge 4 let her drive once and she backed the car into a mailbox. 0/10

Shallan- Shes a bad driver but better than Jasnah. Her following distance is atrocious and she frequently rear ends people, but she does at least try to follow the rules of the road. 4/10

Veil- Worse than Shallan but says she's better. Will take a turn at 60 to try and make the car drift. 2/10

Radiant- Fantastic driver who follows the ruled perfectly. Not great at responding to unexpected situations though. 8/10

Venli- Drives like a psychopath. Weaves in and out of lanes to get there 30 seconds faster. If traffic is bad she will dead ass make a U turn in the middle of the road over a double yellow to leave. 1/10

Rock- Great driver, but hates driving. Not much more to say. 8/10

Sigzil- Best driver in bridge 4, only slightly held back by the fact that he knows every obscure rule and expects everyone else driving does also. 9/10

Moash- Believes the rules of the road are stupid and there to hold him back. The kind of guy who will not let you merge in front of him like his life depends on it. Would go 100 in a school zone for fun. 2/10

The Lopen- The guy that tells you he's a great driver but starts playing pokemon go while behind the wheel because he can absolutely do both. 4/10

Szeth- Mediocre driver prone to shocking episodes of road rage. The kind of guy who would slam the brakes to make the car behind him rear end him out of spite if they were following too close. 5/10

Navani- Fantastic driver. Always has the newest lane correcting tech and such installed on her vehicle. 10/10

Adolin- Cannot stay focused on the road. Type of guy who will look over his shoulder for like 15 seconds to carry on a conversation until Shallan yells at him to look at the road. Horrible speeder. Usually manages to avoid crashing though. 3/10

Wit- Shockingly competent driver. I mean he had all that experience with Wax, so... 10/10

Gavilar- The kind of douche who lifts his truck and has his mufflers removed so he can rev his obnoxious engine whole going through neighborhoods. 1/10

Renarin- He's a good driver in small towns and on winding, narrow country roads, but cannot handle big city traffic. Luckily he knows and readily admits this. 7/10

BONUS:

Rlain- I feel like he's just a typical good driver. Follows the rules as best he can, goes a few miles over the speed limit on the freeway, but nothing crazy. 8/10

Kelsier- It's a miracle he's survived this long with the way he drives. He would make a left on red without hesitation. Vin screamed the first time she rode with him. 1/10

[lisharchivez]

Hi! its me Fay

Personal archive for Chats or post replies or dialogue responses from our beloved Zayne/Li shen / Rei / Lee Seoeon from love and deep Space

and occasionally from Others as well

Its hard to keep on track since i do all these by myself

Feel free to help me out! I would be grateful!

guide

❄️Zayne ⭐Xavier 🐦‍⬛Sylus 🐚Rafayel

same cube coded ones are part of same occasions.

Archived chats so far

❄️Doctor's order

❄️Dry humor

❄️Key case

❄️Special dessert pt 1 pt 2

❄️Sophora

❄️Emoji trick

❄️Kitty Cards Bet

❄️waiting room

❄️new habit

❄️Magic and Miracle

❄️no sequel

❄️bouquet of ballpoint & pen(unfin)

❄️Masquerade ball

❄️Notes

❄️Tail tales

❄️Minty (mint meow badge)

❄️Examination report

❄️Aromatherapy

❄️Feed the Squirrel

❄️snowman's trip(plushie)

❄️A Vote

⚠️bonus

❄️Who keeps the mug[Event]

❄️Left on read

🐦‍⬛ Countdown reminder

🐦‍⬛ special reminders

❄️Wind Field Impact[GLINT PHOTOBOOTH]

🐦‍⬛Extreme Sports[GLINT PHOTOBOOTH]

🐦‍⬛Just a little Joke 2.0

🐦‍⬛Electronic pet

❄️Romance Advisor

❄️saying goodnight 💞66

Emoji edition

Snowman laying down shaking head "NO" caption pt 1 pt 2

not listening

time for meds

Tea

....

Archived posts so far

Moments -

❄️the snow stopped

❄️Traffic jam

❄️Dusk or Dawn

❄️Cat's blessing

❄️Rabbit escaped

❄️it's fun and easy (first plushie)

❄️let's go home (3 plushie)

❄️angry mc obtained (No plushie)

❄️goodluck (1st SSR meow badge)

❄️has anyone seen my socks

❄️haggle through Language barrier

❄️Queueing [aff 62]

❄️Trial and error

❄️Diseased Mind

❄️Drink Plenty of water

❄️Stroll on the road

❄️surprise

❄️someone said we were only taking picture-

❄️Earbuds are broken[snapshot same pose]

❄️Reminders

❄️Philosophers[snapshot specific duo pose]

❄️I'm now accustomed to [snapshot follow up]

❄️Squirrel brought a friend[related to feed the squirrel chat]

❄️Power suddenly went out

❄️Medium rare

❄️Three notification for light meal

❄️Captchas aren't scientific

1️⃣Jenna,Tara,Greyson,Thomas pt1 pt2

❄️between the results of medical exam and theoretical exam-

🟪 🐦‍⬛tweak smile

🟪❄️learned a lot of weird trivia

🟪⭐the book from beginner to expert

🟪🐚time to graduate

🐦‍⬛just woke up

🐦‍⬛ sunset

🐦‍⬛ Ammo Box Grill

🐦‍⬛ Not a Tiger[aff 23]

❄️ Fun thing [aff 77]

🐦‍⬛Goblet [aff 31]

❄️ paper penguin [aff 58]

⭐holding hands can shock U

🐦‍⬛Auction[aff 27]

🐦‍⬛mechanical crow likes shiny things

❄️waiting at the concert

🐦‍⬛ MC's birthday - Sylus

🐦‍⬛ heatwave

❄️Mild myopia

🐦‍⬛lil S pet store

🐦‍⬛most fun part of kitty card

🐦‍⬛Crows aren't actually black

EVENT edition -

[ Twinkle.Co HeartworkRoutine]

Ready to row [Event chat]

After you get your first plushie at soul catcher [post]

🟠After you finish chapter 2 [posts]

After the rain

Parterre day trip[Rafayel]

Great for a relaxing run[Xavier]

Yunshan's Charm

Trip invitation [event chat]

Limited edition pack design

Partner Go Go

Adventure Above Clouds

Moonlit Orchid Day

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

02/27/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast&Crew; SambaSchutte;VicoOrtiz;RhysDarby; Fan Spotlight; More Polls; Repo News; Rotton Tomatos; Watch Party Reminders; Articles; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika;

= Cast & Crew Sightings =

= Samba Schutte =

Samba posted so much BTS I couldn't fit it on one recap! I I posted some highlights, and you can see all the pictures + merstede video over here.

Obviously if you have instagram please visit Samba's IG Post/Stories

= Vico ortiz =

Vico decided to bless us with "Soft Boi" vibes today.

"💙💚✨Soft Boi✨💚💙 📸: @transnormativity"

Also, Vico is a member of the Public Assembly free theatre in South Pasadena California and "wrote something" for the next assembly! If you're in the area, consider checking it out, it's free!

= Rhys Darby =

Cameo - Reconnecting with Art / Writing!

The cameo today is about Reconnecting with Art / Writing! Thank you to the anonymous sharer who allowed us to partake in this lovely and inspiring cameo!

Cameo Src

== Fan Spotlight ==

Last couple days of February Love Collage Fest! @wndrngnomad even gave us a bonus for #TaikaTuesday! And that catches us up! Just two more days! Want to see the collages anytime, check them out in our Fan Spotlight Section on the repo!

Day 27: Season 1 Costumes

#TaikaTuesday

Day 13: Matthew Maher!

Day 14: February Love!

Day 15: Taika Waititi

PS: Lots more fan spotlights to come, today got away from me and I had a couple more people to check with.

== More Polls to Participate In =

Looks like Ranker is doing a pole on the best HBO Max shows! You can click the up arrow for OFMD, and the down arrow for other shows if you'd like as well to move the rankings around. Thanks @JackieNoses on twitter for recommending it!

== WATCH PARTY REMINDERS! ==

= People of Earth S2 =

People of Earth S2 continues tomorrow Feb 27 at 9 pm GMT / 4pm EST / 3pm CST / 1pm PST. Need access? Reach out to @iamadequate1!

#PiratesOfEarth

= Uncle Season 2 Watch Party! =

Wed 28th + Thurs 29th GMT - 8pm / ET - 3pm / PST - 12 pm Streaming on I-player! Outside the UK? Follow this VPN tutorial to learn more. 

#ForTheNewUncle

== Rotten Tomatoes! ==

Just wanted to give a huge shout out to everyone out there doing ratings! We finally made it to 1000+ ratings on Season 2 for Rotten Tomatoes! What an excellent job everyone!!!

== Repo News ==

I am putting this in the recap so that in case someone missed it on my blog I can still try to fix any damage that was done. This is the first para, but please read the whole thing here. "It has come to my attention that a google drive that was linked in my Repo contained art, gifs, images, videos etc that had not been shared with permission of the original artists. I want to sincerely apologize to anyone who this affected." The situation has been rectified, but please, if you were one of the folks affected, please reach out to me and I will see what I can do to help.

== Articles ==

10 Streaming Shows That Were Cancelled Too Soon

== Love Notes ==

Today I would like to take a moment to thank the folks who checked in on me or sent kind words today while I was having a rough time (whether you knew it or not). You all really amaze and humble me with all your kindness and caring. I wanna give a few shoutouts to some folks who kept me sane today @spirker @ofmd-ann @scorpiostarseed @xoxoemynn @catbells-and-summerlinens @brainfugk @hoshiforever @roximonoxide @aliragsandmuffins @melvisik if I missed anyone I promise it's not on purpose but because I am about 3 minutes away from passing out on this couch or I thought you wanted to remain anonymous.

Love Note: From DoodleGems--

You really do deserve to take up space. When you do, you work miracles and you move mountains and you give this tired lady hope. So remember you are worth taking up space and fill it with all your goofy unique wonderful soul <3 Love you lovelies, get some rest tonight.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Okay so I can't stop looking at this post by @ofmd-ann so yes these two are tonight's, even though I'm sure I've posted them individually before (but they go so well together so here we are)

[moodymelanist]

dumb love (i love being stupid)

happy day 2 of @nessianweek everyone! I've had so much fun writing wlw!nessian that i just HAD to flip it around and do mlm!nessian too. hope you all enjoy <3 title from casual by chappell roan!

Summary: Five times Cassian didn’t realize he had a boyfriend, plus one time he finally got it. 

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: Smut at the end!

Read on AO3 here!

✵✵✵✵✵✵ Cassian 

1.

Cassian knew he’d put off doing his basic science requirement until the last minute, but it didn’t quite hit him just how long he’d put it off until he was standing in a biology lab surrounded by baby-faced freshmen. 

“Welcome to bio lab,” their TA greeted them at the top of the hour, taking the time to send everyone reassuring smiles. “Today we’re going to go over the syllabus, some really important safety rules, and, most importantly, how to succeed in this class. But first: assigned seating!”

Most of the assorted freshmen looked relieved at not having to figure out where to sit, but Cassian held back a groan. He was usually pretty good about finding partners or groups who were willing to do a little more of the work around his hectic club soccer schedule, but having assigned seats — and likely partners — meant he’d probably have to suck it up and put in a little more work than usual. That would be fine, though; he just needed to pass this class to graduate, and then next semester he could really let the senioritis kick in. 

There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason behind how their seats and resulting lab partners were assigned, but Cassian had a sneaking suspicion their TA had paired him up with the only other senior in the room. Cassian had seen the eldest Archeron here or there over the years, mostly because he was pretty tight with the Vanserra brothers and Azriel was dating one of them, but he’d never been this up close and personal with the guy. 

Until now, anyway. The eldest Archeron was tall, only a few inches shorter than Cassian himself; his golden brown hair was parted to the side and pushed back from his face to reveal a pair of gray-blue eyes framed with pretty, bronze lashes. He was dressed comfortably in a white shirt and jeans, though Cassian had a sneaking suspicion those two items alone cost more than his rent, let alone the backpack that just screamed quiet luxury.

“Hey, man,” Cassian said once they were seated, doing his best not to look like he was staring. Which he absolutely wasn’t, but who could blame him? The guy had a jawline sharp enough to cut something, and those eyes were even icier up close. “I’m Cassian.”

“Earnest Nathaniel,” came the other man’s reply. He smelled really good, and it was a miracle Cassian managed to catch his full name with the way he was fighting leaning in closer to take a whiff.

“That’s kind of a mouthful,” Cassian replied jokingly. “Your parents must’ve had it out for you, huh?”

Earnest Nathaniel stared at Cassian for several long seconds, clearly unimpressed with Cassian’s joke. “Whatever nickname you’re about to come up with, I’m not interested in hearing it.”

“Whatever you say, Nes,” Cassian fired back, the nickname rolling off his tongue like it belonged there. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“EN?”

“Jesus Christ, no.”

“Nessie?”

“Do I look like the Loch Ness monster to you?”

“Didn’t peg you for a Twilight fan.”

“Didn’t peg you as such an idiot.”

“Okay, Nesbit.”

“How are these getting worse?”

“Nesseroni? Yes? No?”

“Definite no.”

“Mhmm… think I’ll stick with my first choice, then,” Cassian said with a victorious grin. “Nes.”

Whatever Nes was about to say back was cut short by their TA calling their class back to order, and Cassian sent the other man a pleased little smirk before trying his best to pay attention. He’d gone through enough sylly weeks to know the drill, but if it had the added bonus of getting under his new lab partner’s skin, then he was going to be the most model student possible.  

Still, Cassian must not have fucked up as badly as he thought he did, because Earnest Nathaniel — Nes, in Cassian’s mind — stiffly asked Cassian to grab coffee with him after class. It turned into a bit of a standing thing on Tuesdays and Thursdays, mostly to work through the bulk of their weekly lab reports, but they talked about plenty of other things too. Cassian was on the receiving end of a lot of witty one-liners, but he also learned about Nes’ sisters, about the books he liked to read, and even about the other man’s law school applications. 

Those were Cassian’s favorite coffee days, but he couldn’t exactly put his finger on why. Maybe he just liked making a new friend, or maybe it was just Nes himself. 

✵✵✵✵✵✵

2.

A week or two into October, Cassian caught a nasty cold one weekend and couldn’t shake it off by the time Tuesday's lab rolled around. He’d at least been able to email his professors and TAs to let them know he probably wouldn’t be in class this week, but he’d completely forgotten to give Nes a heads up before lab started. 

They’d exchanged numbers after that first day, and they texted here and there about anything from class to memes Cassian thought Nes would like to random soccer facts that Nes thought Cassian would care about. Still, Cassian wasn’t expecting Nes to be texting him from class when the guy was normally such a stickler for following the rules, so when his phone buzzed, he couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised at the name on his screen when he finally discovered his phone half-buried beneath his comforter. 

Nes Archeron, 11:12 AM

????

Where are you?

Cassian didn’t have the energy to say much, and he was a little woozy from the strength of the medicine he’d taken about twenty minutes ago. He somehow managed to take a picture of him surrounded by tissues and Tylenol and typed out a short reply that he thought conveyed his predicament well enough.  

Cassian Hernández, 11:15 AM

[Attachment: 1 Image]

send help im dying

Cassian didn’t stay awake long enough to see if Nes had replied, letting the cold medicine pull him into an easy nap instead. He woke up about an hour and a half later to the sound of someone knocking on his bedroom door, and he was still too sleepy to come up with a proper sentence. “Huh?”

Azriel opened the door and poked his head around the corner, his nose wrinkling at the unpleasant sight of a sick roommate. “Your boyfriend’s here with some soup and more medicine.”

“Ha, ha,” Cassian said, sniffling very attractively. Not that it mattered; it was just Azriel, and they’d been friends for far too long for Cassian to care about what he thought. “You’re hilarious.”

“I wasn’t joking,” Azriel said back with a roll of his eyes. He opened the door fully to reveal Nes standing there with a steaming thermos in one hand and a grocery bag filled with cold medicine in the other. Once Cassian had fully processed that this was happening and Nes was very much standing outside his bedroom, Azriel turned back to Nes and said, “Good luck with him. He’s even dumber than usual right now.”

“Trust me, I’m aware,” Nes replied dryly. They exchanged a knowing glance before Azriel huffed a laugh and left them to it, disappearing down the hallway back to his own room. “You doing okay, Cassian?”

Cassian suddenly and intensely regretted not cleaning up the massive pile of tissues surrounding him. He probably didn’t smell great, either, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d brushed his teeth. So much for it not mattering. “I feel like shit.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Nes responded, though his tone seemed a little more sympathetic than usual. “I didn’t know what you had on hand, so I brought you some stuff. Hope that’s cool.”

“Very cool,” Cassian agreed. It was a really thoughtful thing to do, and something went a little soft and gooey and a little sad inside Cassian at the realization that he probably hadn’t been taken care of like this since he was in high school. Mostly soft and gooey, though, so he’d take it for the kind gesture that it was and leave the rest to examine probably… never. “Thanks, Nes.”

“You’re welcome,” Nes answered simply, the barest hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks. 

Instead of trying to clear Cassian’s bed, Nes had the much smarter idea of pulling over the chair from Cassian’s desk and sitting there. He put down the thermos — which smelled like chicken noodle soup, now that it was close enough for Cassian’s nose to pick up on it — and spread out his cold medicine haul across one of Cassian’s end tables. 

“What have you taken today?” Nes asked expectantly. 

Cassian wasn’t totally sure what time he’d taken his meds this morning, and he told the other man as much. “Uh…”

“Idiot,” Nes muttered, though it sounded fond. “Just try to eat a little something, and you can take some more meds when you wake up.”

Nes helped Cassian sit up so he could get a little something in his stomach, his touch firm against Cassian’s back as he shifted up on the bed. Cassian didn’t totally understand why he could still feel Nes’ hands on him long after the other man had let go, but he wasn’t going to question it. It had felt nice, and the soup was even nicer, warm and seasoned surprisingly well despite its source. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” Nes said haughtily, though he couldn’t keep up the act for very long. “I, uh… one of my sisters helped. Lucky for you, Elain actually knows what she’s doing.”

“Knew it,” Cassian said back. He managed a smirk before his nose started running again, and then Nes was taking the thermos out of his hands, offering him a clean tissue, and helping him lie back down. He didn’t even blink before holding up the trash can so Cassian could weakly toss the used tissue inside it.

“You need some more rest,” Nes informed him matter-of-factly. He put down the trash can and left it close enough to Cassian’s bed that he could throw more tissues inside it as needed. “I’ll text you when you should take some more medicine.”

“Okay,” Cassian agreed, his eyes half-closed already. He hated being sick and how much it took out of him, but it didn’t seem so bad with Nes here taking care of him for a little while. “Stay until I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, okay,” Nes promised. His voice had gone strangely soft but Cassian decided not to question it, much more focused on how good his pillow felt against his cheek. 

Before Cassian drifted off to sleep, he swore he felt Nes’ cool fingers gently pushing his hair back from his face. What a dedicated friend, Cassian thought before he was tugged completely under. 

✵✵✵✵✵✵

3.

Cassian made a full recovery by the end of that week, just in time to start prepping for fall midterms. However, the week after they’d taken their bio lecture exam, everything went to shit for several days, and Cassian had no reason why. 

He and Nes had gone for their usual post-lab coffee, and the two of them had been standing outside the library when a certain blonde friend decided to make an appearance. 

“Cassian!” 

Cassian turned from where he was talking with Nes to see Mor barreling up the walkway towards him, his arms automatically coming up to catch her as she leapt into his arms. “Hey, Mor.”

“Hey yourself,” Mor said back, a little out of breath from her short sprint. She squeezed Cassian tight before jumping out of his hold. “Where’ve you been, stranger?”

“Semester’s been kicking my ass, you know how it is,” Cassian replied apologetically. Mor had been trying to corner him for a catch-up lunch for weeks now, and while he hadn’t been intentionally avoiding her, things had just been much busier than he’d expected in his final year of college. “You know I wouldn’t ignore you on purpose.”

“Of course not, silly,” Mor told him with a little laugh. She put her hand on Cassian’s arm before adding, “You know there’d be hell to pay. I have you too well-trained.”

“Cassian,” Nes suddenly interjected before Cassian could respond, his voice as icy as his eyes. Cassian turned to see a muscle in the other man’s jaw working overtime as he stared Mor down. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your… friend?”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Cassian said sheepishly. Jesus fuck, where were his manners? “Nes, this is my friend Mor. Mor, this is Nes. We’re lab partners this semester.”

“It’s Earnest Nathaniel, actually,” Nes corrected coldly. His eyes zeroed in on where Mor’s hand was still on Cassian’s arm, and Cassian jumped out of her grip like he’d been burned. “I don’t do nicknames.”

“I’m Morrigan, then, if we’re being formal,” Mor replied with a roll of her eyes. Cassian didn’t know why things were suddenly so tense, but he’d do anything to get that blank look off of Nes’ face. “Aren’t you friends with Eris?”

“Since middle school,” Nes answered shortly. Cassian had to blink back his surprise; normally Nes was always ready to talk about how he and Eris had gone from bonding over being the two oldest sons in their respective families to being roommates all four years. He didn’t know what had changed now, but it left him feeling uneasy all the same. 

“Then we’ve definitely met before,” Mor responded. Cassian remembered that she and Eris had had a brief fling their sophomore year before Eris abruptly realized he was gay and had started dating Azriel not too long after. “We’ve probably seen each other around, at least.”

“I don’t recall,” Nes told her stiffly. He made a big show of checking his phone before sliding it back into his pocket and shouldering his backpack. “I have to go, I’m running late for something. Have fun with your friend.”

“See you… around,” Cassian finished lamley, watching helplessly as Nes’ long legs carried him halfway across the quad in record time. He turned back to Mor with a sigh. “I don’t know why he’s being like that.”

Mor stared at Cassian like he was the biggest idiot in the world for several long moments, eventually throwing her hands up with a loud scoff. “Az was right. You’re actually such a dumbass.”

“What?” Cassian said, totally thrown by Mor’s response. She just shook her head at him before she took off too, leaving him standing by himself wondering what, exactly, he’d done to piss off not one, but two people in such record time. “Thanks for the help! Not!”

Cassian still didn’t understand just what he’d done to make Nes so upset, but by the time Tuesday’s lab rolled around, he was determined to make things right. Nes hadn’t answered his texts all weekend, but after Cassian had reposted one of Mor’s Instagram stories from Friday night happy hour with her and her girlfriend, Nes was suddenly much happier to see him. 

Weird.  

✵✵✵✵✵✵

4.

October eventually turned into November, and Cassian found himself suddenly getting ready to play his last home club soccer game. It wasn’t nearly as intense as playing varsity, but he’d enjoyed having an outlet for all his restless energy over the years, and even more so getting to know the rest of the guys on the team. 

Cassian had mentioned his final home game in passing to Nes during one of their post-class coffee hangouts, but he certainly hadn’t expected to find him sitting in the bleachers on a rainy, miserable Saturday in early November. Usually the only other people at their games were close friends and family members, so it was a nice surprise to see Nes up there; none of Cassian’s other friends had been able to make it for various reasons, so he’d fully been expecting to be celebrated later. Even more surprising was that Nes wasn’t alone – Cassian could spot two other women up there with him, and judging by that familiar golden-brown hair, it could only be Elain and Feyre. 

Cassian waved happily from the field, grinning when Feyre and Elain immediately and eagerlty returned his wave while Nes’ just held up his hand in greeting. He knew how much Nes hated getting up early, especially on a weekend, and the fact that he’d dragged himself out of bed for a 10 AM game made something go warm and fuzzy in Cassian’s chest just like that day where Nes had come over to check on him. 

He didn’t have time to investigate that right now, though. He had a game to win, especially with an audience as important as this one, so he channeled all that sudden nervous energy into being the best left back he could. 

After the game — which they’d won 2-0, much to Cassian’s glee — he walked over to where Nes and his two sisters were waiting for him, having walked down from the bleachers in the time it had taken Cassian to finish up with his teammates. He couldn’t stop smiling at the fact that Nes had dragged himself down here just to watch Cassian kick a ball around. 

“What are you doing here?” Cassian asked once they were all standing together, still pleasantly surprised ninety minutes later. “I thought you didn’t believe in waking up during single digit hours.”

Nes flushed, much to his sisters’ clear amusement. “It was your last home game. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you wake up that early since high school, Earnie,” one of Nes’ sisters teased. She looked the most like Nes, with her gray-blue eyes and high cheekbones, and she was bundled up in an oversized cream sweater and leggings. 

“How many times have I told you not to call me that, Feyre,” Nes grumbled, much to Cassian’s delight. 

“Not enough to make it stick,” Feyre retorted with a laugh. She turned back to Cassian and stuck her hand out expectantly, so he shook it and hoped she didn’t mind the grass and sweat on his hands. “It’s nice to meet you, Cassian. We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Don’t scare him off, Feyre,” Elain, Nes’ other sister, responded. She was the shortest of the three Archerons, and had warm brown eyes that crinkled around the edges when she smiled up at Cassian. “It’s nice to finally meet you, though. I promise we’ve only heard good things!”

“That doesn’t sound like Nes at all,” Cassian replied, teasing Nes just a little bit. He liked that Nes only showed his softer side to the people he cared about, and he counted himself very lucky to have somehow made it into that small group. “Lord knows I’ve given him plenty of things to complain about.”

Feyre’s eyes lit up like Christmas had come early, and even Elain couldn’t stop her smile. Cassian wondered what had been so significant about his words, though his question was quickly answered.

“Shut up, Feyre,” Nes said before Feyre could get a chance to comment.

“If you buy me lunch, I won’t say anything,” Feyre said back, “even though it’s extremely tempting to comment on this new nickname.”

Nes sighed heavily, clearly unable to resist Feyre for too long. “Fine, but nothing too crazy. I’m not made of money.”

“We literally get the same allowance, so objectively—”

“Well then, objectively, you should be able to pay for your own food for once—”

“I’m sure you’re hungry, Cassian,” Elain turned to him with a smile, clearly used to tuning out her siblings’ bickering. “You should join us!”

“Oh,” Cassian answered, touched that they’d want to invite him to their family bonding time. “Sure, I could eat.”

“Great!” Elain clapped her hands together before reaching out and yanking Feyre to her side, her grip appearing surprisingly strong for someone so small. She nudged Nes in Cassian’s direction as she said, “You two, stop your bickering so we can go get some food. Lead the way, Earn.”

Once Cassian got his gear together and changed out of his cleats, the four of them made their way to one of the fast casual places right outside of campus. Feyre and Elain were fun to hang out with, even if they asked a lot of strangely personal questions, but it was more than worth it for all the nuggets of information they gave him about Nes. It was more than a nice way to spend the rest of his afternoon, even more so when Nes paid for everyone’s food, but Cassian knew he’d pay the other man back in coffee and pastries after lab next week. 

Cassian eventually got up to use the bathroom, and as he made his way back to their table, he overheard the Archerons talking amongst themselves. 

“I really like this one, Earn,” Cassian heard Elain say. He slowed his steps to give them time for a sibling moment if they needed it, but he was strangely curious what else they’d say about him. Assuming they were talking about him, anyway. “He seems like a really good guy.”

“Yeah,” Nes replied, his voice strangely soft again. “Me too.”

Cassian wasn’t sure why hearing that put a smile on his face for the rest of the day, but he’d take it. He hadn’t known he was facing some kind of sibling friend test, but he was glad all the same that he’d passed.

✵✵✵✵✵✵

5.

The weekend before everyone went home for Thanksgiving break, Cassian got invited to an end of the semester party that one of the guys on the football team was throwing. Most of his other friends were going, so it was bound to be at least a fun enough time between that and the ridiculous amounts of alcohol that tended to be at these kinds of things. 

Cassian of course invited Nes, pleasantly surprised when the other man said he’d be there. Nes didn’t exactly strike Cassian as the party type, but maybe he wanted to let loose after a long semester just like everybody else. 

“Whose party is it, anyway?” Nes asked as they waited for their Uber. Nes had a car, but they both knew the odds of them both staying sober were slim to none, so he’d parked in the garage across from Cassian’s building so they could ride to the party together. Azriel and Eris were also going to this party, so Cassian figured Nes would maybe catch a ride back with Eris when everything was said and done and would come grab his car another time.

Cassian laughed, his breath fogging up in front of him in the brisk November air. “Now you’re asking?”

“Feyre and Elain said they might come,” Nes replied, rolling his eyes. He looked really good in a pair of dark jeans and the fur-lined leather jacket he’d stolen from Cassian’s closet, and Cassian had a hard time taking his eyes off him. “I can’t just send them in without any information.”

“Aww,” Cassian cooed. “What a good older brother.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Nes shot back without much venom. “Someone has to keep an eye on them.”

Cassian had learned just how shitty the Archeron parents were over the course of getting to know Nes, so he didn’t dare make another joke, not about that. Instead, he double-checked his group text with Rhys and Azriel for the information Nes had asked for in the first place. “Jurian’s throwing it. I think he’s one of Lucien’s friends?”

“Jurian’s alright,” Nes responded. He pulled out his phone and typed out a few quick texts before putting his hands back in his pockets, and Cassian had to stifle the insane urge to slide his hands into those pockets, too. “Besides, even if he weren’t, Lucien will help me keep an eye on them.”

“Don’t forget to have some fun for yourself, too,” Cassian told him. Nes always took himself so seriously that Cassian was almost hoping to see him let a little loose tonight, for once. 

“Don’t worry,” Nes said just as their Uber arrived. He held Cassian’s gaze for a few charged moments in which Cassian nearly forgot how to breathe. “I plan to.”

—

About an hour and a half into the party, Cassian could safely say they were both having a good time. Feyre and Elain had spent most of their time chatting with Rhys and Lucien respectively, so Nes felt comfortable enough leaving his sisters with them that he was actually drinking and laughing and generally letting loose the exact way Cassian had hoped he would. 

Cassian had a nice buzz going himself, even more so after he’d done the rounds and said hey to a lot of his own friends. He was playing some beer pong with Tarquin, one of his friends on the swim team, against Tarquin’s cousins Varian and Cresseida, and even though they were losing spectacularly he didn’t mind not one bit. Nes was still close by enough that Cassian could keep an eye on him, unable to look away as Nes laughed at something Eris had said. 

“It’s your turn, Cassian,” Tarquin pulled him back to the game, yelling to be heard properly over the music. Cassian took the ball and missed his first throw but sank his second easily, and he high-fived Tarquin as Cresseida jokingly flipped them off from across the table. “Nice!”

Their luck didn’t hold for long, however. Varian and Cresseida got their heads in the game and absolutely destroyed Cassian and Tarquin, who split the cups in half before downing one cup after the other. 

Whoever had decided to use tequila instead of beer deserved to have a perpetually warm pillow or something, Cassian thought as he finished his half of the cups. Even as big as he was, he knew drinking that much tequila in such a short time frame was only asking for trouble, so he just hoped the rest of the night would be worth it if he ended up throwing up tonight. 

Cassian really hoped he didn’t throw up tonight. He didn’t want Nes to see him like that, even though he’d definitely already seen Cassian all gross and sick earlier in the semester. Something about Nes just made Cassian want to be on his best behavior, and he was once again hoping that whatever he did would be enough to impress Nes’ high standards. 

Speaking of Nes, where had he even gone? Cassian looked around the room for almost a minute until he spotted the right head of golden-brown hair, and then he was making his way through the crowd to where Nes was still talking to Eris. He and Azriel had shown up to the party at some point during beer pong, both of them covered in hickies and Azriel’s hair way too mussed to be natural bedhead.

At the moment, though, Azriel wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and even though they were all friends, something about watching Nes laugh yet again at something Eris said made Cassian want to haul Nes away and keep him all to himself. 

Nes was still chuckling once Cassian came close enough to interrupt whatever conversation was happening, and Cassian was willing to do whatever it took to get that attention directed at him instead of Eris. 

“Heeeeey, guys,” Cassian said, casually throwing his arm around Nes’ shoulders like it was a thing they did all the time. It should be a thing they did all the time; Nes was the perfect height for Cassian to do that and a whole lot of other things that Cassian hadn’t considered until just now. “What’s going on?”

Eris looked like he wanted to laugh, but he swallowed it down. “Hey, Cassian. You having fun?”

“Yup,” Cassian answered, popping the p. “Soooo much fun.”

“You okay, Cassian?” Nes asked. He shifted his drink to his right hand so the left one could snake around Cassian’s waist, and wow was that a nice feeling. Almost as nice as hearing his name come out of Nes’ perfect mouth. “How much have you had to drink?”

“I lost beer pong,” Cassian replied, fighting the urge to turn and press his face into Nes’ hair. It was always shiny and perfectly styled and just long enough that Cassian would be able to run his fingers through it if he could, but he knew Nes spent way too much on his haircuts for that to be a reality. “Well, really it was tequila pong. They should rename it.”

“Or maybe you should be better at the game,” Nes told him, though Cassian could tell there wasn’t any real venom behind it. 

“Maybe you can be my teammate next time,” Cassian responded with a pleased little grin. What an excellent suggestion his brain had come up with. 

Nes just snorted. “Not really my thing.”

“We’ll just find something that is, then,” Cassian promised. Whatever it took to spend more time in Nes’ arms, he’d do it. “Pinky promise.”

“What are you, five?” Nes retorted, though he finished the rest of his drink and put the cup down somewhere just so he could brush his fingers against the hand Cassian had slung across his shoulders. Cassian seized the opportunity and grabbed hold of Nes’ hand before he could move too far away, interlacing their fingers and giving them a fond little squeeze. 

“Oh, thank God,” Eris said suddenly. Cassian looked away from Nes and his pretty, flushed cheeks to see that Azriel had returned to his boyfriend’s side. “They’re being disgusting.”

“Don’t be homophobic,” Nes said back with a roll of his eyes. 

“It’s PEMDAS, it cancels out,” Azriel replied with a sly little grin. That grin disappeared as he took a good, long look at Cassian, who tried not to squirm under the intense scrutiny. “Cassian, how drunk are you?”

“How drunk are you, Az?” Cassian fired back. 

Azriel rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Nes. “You should probably take him home soon. If he drinks any more he’s going to start throwing up, and nobody wants to see that.”

“Nobody’s going to throw up,” Cassian responded, frowning. He was not going to do that, especially in front of Nes. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, Cassian,” Azriel placated him. He turned back to Nes and added, “I’m going back with Eris after this, so… knock yourselves out, I guess.”

“Thanks,” Nes answered dryly. He squeezed Cassian’s hand one last time before letting go, ignoring Cassian’s pout as he pulled his phone out and started to call an Uber. “It’s time to take you home, Cassian.”

“But I don’t wanna go home yet,” Cassian said, still pouting. “Nessssss.”

“Too bad,” Nes said back. Cassian didn’t need to be looking at him to know the other man was rolling his eyes, though he liked watching Nes do it anyway. “Let’s start saying bye to your friends.”

Nes made quick work of guiding Cassian to the door while still managing to exchange goodbyes with everyone who mattered. Their driver was already waiting when they finally made it outside, and Cassian didn’t even mind sitting in the middle seat if it meant staying close to Nes. Cassian spent most of the Uber home leaning on Nes’ shoulder, thoroughly enjoying the way their thighs were pressed together in the backseat. When they got out of the car, Cassian also enjoyed the very firm grip that Nes kept on him as they walked.

Tonight had really been amazing.

“Where are your keys?” Nes asked as he corralled Cassian toward his building. Cassian mumbled out something unintelligent in response, more than ready to crash in his bed, and Nes sighed heavily. “Cassian, come on, it’s fucking freezing and you’re heavy as hell.”

“Left pocket,” Cassian eventually told him. He giggled as Nes shoved his hand in said left pocket and came up empty-handed. “No. My other left.”

“You’re even dumber when you’re drunk,” Nes grumbled, sticking his hand in Cassian’s right pocket and finally coming up with the keys. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Nes used Cassian’s key fob to get into the building and onto the elevator, apparently remembering the way well enough that he didn’t bother to ask Cassian for his floor. Cassian was far too busy trying to remain upright, finally throwing caution to the wind and slumping fully against Nes. “Mhmm. You’re warm.”

“You’re heavy,” Nes said, though he didn’t sound mad about it. He actually released a huff of laughter that tickled the side of Cassian’s ear before poking at Cassian a few times to get him moving. “Come on, let’s get you ready for bed.”

They eventually made their way down the hallway, Nes using Cassian’s keys to open the door to his and Azriel’s apartment. They managed to make it to Cassian’s room without bumping into anything despite not turning on any of the lights, though Nes turned on the lamp on Cassian’s desk so they had a little bit of light in the bedroom. While Nes busied himself with taking off his borrowed jacket, Cassian sat on the edge of the bed and fell backwards so he was comfortable.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” Nes said sharply once he noticed Cassian was laying on the bed. “You’re not going to sleep in all that. You’ll overheat in the middle of the night.”

“Says you,” Cassian said back, closing his eyes. Nes loudly snapped his fingers right in front of Cassian’s face, and Cassian forced his eyes back open just so he could roll them, hard. “Ugh. Whatever, Dad.”

Despite Cassian’s grumbling, he didn’t put up too much of a fight at Nes making him kick off his shoes and take off his jacket. He didn’t even mind taking off his shirt, since that’s usually how he slept anyway, but when it came time for Nes to coax him out of his pants, suddenly all bets were off. 

“Come on, Cassian,” Nes said, exasperated. He’d gotten Cassian to sit up while his other clothes had come off, and he was being really patient as he tried to unfasten Cassian’s jeans and take them off. “You can’t go to sleep in jeans.”

“No jeans for everyone,” Cassian said back with a loud laugh. He knew he was drunk and being more than a little annoying, but Nes certainly didn’t seem to mind as Cassian fumbled with the buttons on the other man’s jeans. “It’s only fair.”

“It’s not about fair, it’s about— hey!” Nes yelped as Cassian got the bright idea of suddenly yanking him forward. They overbalanced and Nes landed awkwardly on top of Cassian, who had developed a serious case of the giggles at the shocked expression on the other man’s face. “Really, Cassian?”

“Oh man,” Cassian replied, still giggling, “the look on your face.”

“Ha, ha,” Nes deadpanned. “Very funny.”

Cassian’s giggles abruptly stopped as he realized just how close he and Nes suddenly were. Cassian didn’t think they’d ever been so close before, and he found himself liking it, probably more than he should considering Nes was just trying to be a good friend and help him get ready for bed. It didn’t stop him from finally giving into the urge he’d been shoving down all night to bury his face into the side of Nes’ neck.

“Mhmmm,” Cassian said, breathing in the smell of Nes’ cologne and whatever fancy pomade he liked to use on his hair. Even underneath the smell of weed and alcohol and sweat from the party, he still smelled so goddamn good. “You smell good.”

“Thank you,” Nes said back, his voice a little strained. “Can I get up now?”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Cassian said.

Cassian shifted underneath Nes, ready to sit them both up so they could stop fucking around and go to sleep, but it seemed the universe had other plans. As Cassian tried to sit up, he was completely unprepared for the hot stab of arousal that hit him as he realized their dicks were pressed together, and that it felt good. 

Really good.

“Fuck,” Cassian said, his dick already half-hard. He was torn between apologizing for making things weird and shifting under Nes again, but he didn’t know what to say to make either thing happen. He just laid there, his heart pounding out of his chest as he waited to see what Nes would do.  

Nes had frozen too, his full, pink lips parted in surprise. He stared down at Cassian for a few moments without saying a word, and Cassian braced himself for the worst. 

But then Nes rolled his hips against Cassian’s, thrusting against him with intention, and any and all worries Cassian had abruptly disappeared with the feeling of Nes’ very hard dick grinding against his. “Oh, fuck, you feel good.”

“Yeah?” Cassian breathed. Now that he wasn’t worried about Nes’ reaction, all that nervous energy had been replaced with pure hunger. He’d never been with another guy before, but that didn’t change the way he wanted to know what Nes looked like when he came.

“I’ve been thinking about this all fucking semester,” Nes continued, pausing briefly to yank off his shirt and kick his jeans off. Cassian could only gape at the sheer amount of skin suddenly on display, interrupted only by the dark blue boxers Nes was still wearing. “You have any lube?”

Cassian flushed as he realized why they might need that. “Um. I. No?”

“That’s fine,” Nes answered, yanking off Cassian’s jeans before climbing back on top of Cassian. “Take out your dick.”

Cassian had never moved faster in his life. He scrambled to pull his dick out through the hole in the front of his boxers, hissing a little as he touched himself. He was so hard it almost hurt, and he nearly stopped breathing as Nes reached down and wrapped his hand around Cassian’s dick.

“Oh my God,” Cassian breathed, though he was pretty sure it had come out more like a whimper. He’d earned plenty of notches on his bedpost over the years, but somehow this was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. 

And that was before Nes started to actually move his hand. Cassian groaned when Nes began to slowly stroke him, his cock leaking like a faucet the entire time, and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting upwards into Nes’ firm grip. “Nes, come on, please.”

Nes smirked down at Cassian for a few moments before deciding to take pity on him. He sped up a little bit, just enough to reach a nice, steady pace, and Cassian couldn’t help making helpless little noises every time Nes flicked his wrist upwards. After a few minutes of that, Nes finally pulled out his own cock and worked himself over a few times, his eyes fluttering shut at how good it must have felt, and then he was reaching for Cassian’s hand and placing it on his cock.

Cassian had thought things were intense before, but this was an entirely new level. 

“Jesus,” Cassian muttered, all of this going straight to his own dick. He’d never touched another cock before, but it wasn’t so different from touching his own. The angle and the way Nes’ cock felt in his hand were different, yeah, but that was a very welcome change. Nes wasn’t as thick as Cassian, but he certainly made up for it with the inch or two he had extra.

Once Nes had decided Cassian had done enough staring, he closed his hand around Cassian’s and started to show Cassian what he liked. Cassian was mesmerized by the slow, slick slide of their hands moving together over Nes’ admittedly very nice cock; he hadn’t stared openly at very many dicks in his life, but Cassian was more than happy to look at this one. He was even happier to look at the man it was attached to, doing his best to commit the look on Nes’ face to memory for reasons he wasn’t entirely sure of just yet.

“Yeah, just like that,” Nes groaned, his voice low. He let go of Cassian’s hand, apparently trusting him to keep the rhythm they’d set together, and reached for Cassian’s dick again. “Yeah, fuck, Cassian, that’s it.”

Cassian moaned as Nes started stroking Cassian’s dick a little faster than he’d done before, the praise and the perfect friction against Cassian’s dick absolutely doing it for him. They were both hot and slick under the other’s hand, and Cassian swore as Nes turned his focus to the very tip of Cassian’s dick. “Shit, don’t stop.”

Of course, Nes picked that exact moment to let go. “Relax, Cassian. I have a better idea.”

“It better be— oh,” Cassian cut himself off with a shocked gasp as Nes knocked Cassian’s hand out of the way so he could hold both of their cocks together in one hand. “Oh, God.”

“That’s what I thought,” Nes replied smugly. He shifted so their cocks were better lined up, and Cassian saw stars as Nes started to stroke both of their cocks together. Everything was slippery and hot and perfect, especially once they fell into rhythm that guaranteed the most friction between them, Cassian surging upward while Nes’ hips moved back, over and over and over again. Eventually Nes moved his hand out of the way so they were just grinding against each other, their cocks trapped between their bodies as Nes leaned down and completely covered Cassian’s body with his own, leaner frame. 

“Oh, fuck, don’t stop,” Cassian panted, reaching down to grab a handful of Nes’ ass so they could press together that much better. “So good, Jesus, you feel so good…”

Feeling Nes move against him was giving Cassian all sorts of ideas, mostly about what it would be like if he was fucking Cassian for real. Cassian’s rhythm turned frantic as he thought about Nes holding him down, fucking him hard, making him take it—

Cassian came with a choked off moan of Nes’ name, his come spilling across both of their cocks and setting Nes off. Nes drew it out for both of them until Cassian was squirming underneath him, not stopping the movement of his hips until Cassian was near tears and the pleasure-pain of it, and then the only sound in the room was both of their heavy breathing. 

Nes gracefully rolled off of Cassian and reached for a nearby towel, using it to wipe up their shared come as best he could before tossing it toward Cassian’s hamper. “Move over.”

Cassian didn’t even think to object, his head spinning between the tequila still in his system and the enormity of what had just happened between them. But Nes didn’t seem to be as affected; he just kicked off his wet underwear before delving under the covers. “Night, Cassian.”

Cassian guessed they would just talk about whatever that was in the morning, so he kicked off his own underwear, got under the covers, threw his arm around Nes’ waist, and let sleep take him. Nes’ feet were freezing where they were pressed between Cassian’s calves, but he didn’t mind that one bit. 

✵✵✵✵✵✵

+1

When Cassian woke up the next morning, he didn’t have the faintest clue how things were going to go. Last night had been beyond even his wildest fantasies, but the reality of Nes warming his bed was starting to creep in. 

Not that he had a lot of time to really ponder that, considering Nes was already awake and staring at him expectantly. They’d fallen asleep spooning, but they must have rolled apart during the night given Nes was now facing Cassian. 

Their legs were still tangled together, though. Maybe that counted for something.  

“Hey,” Cassian said hesitantly. He had a solid headache from last night, but he knew even that couldn’t stop this conversation from happening. “Um. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Nes replied, his voice a little raspier and deeper than usual. It went straight to Cassian’s dick, which was not helping his creeping panic at the discussion they were about to have, though it was certainly another thing to add to his mental list of things Nes did that were incredibly attractive. 

He wasn’t even freaked out at his newfound bisexuality — he’d always thought of himself as open to experimenting, so it was nice to know that hadn’t just been a passing fantasy — it was more that he didn’t want to risk his relationship with Nes. Cassian didn’t know what he’d do without their coffee hangouts, or their text threads, or the way Nes looked at him like he was the biggest idiot on campus. 

“What are we doing?” Cassian asked hesitantly, knowing the only way forward was through. He just had to rip the band-aid off, and if that meant their friendship was done, he’d be okay. Eventually. “Are we… together now?”

“We’ve been together,” Nes said, an adorable frown appearing on his pretty face. Cassian wanted to smooth it out with his fingers. “What do you mean, what are we doing?”

“We’ve been together?” Cassian repeated. He was so, so confused, but also a not-insignificant part of him was incredibly relieved that Nes wasn’t going anywhere. “Since… when?”

“You can’t be serious,” Nes replied. When he realized Cassian wasn’t kidding, his frown morphed into a deep scowl. No smoothing that one out with his fingers. “Oh my God. You are being serious.”

“What are you talking about right now?” Cassian asked, realizing just how out of his depth he was. Had he missed something from before they’d hooked up last night? “I’m not fucking around, Nes. What’s happening?”

“I asked you out after our first lab,” Nes answered slowly, like he was talking to a little kid. “I brought you soup when you were sick, I came to your soccer game — you met my sisters, for fuck’s sake. We’ve been dating all semester, Cassian.”

“Oh,” Cassian said, unable to come up with something more eloquent as a lot of pieces suddenly fell into place. He’d chalked all of that — and the way it made him feel — up to Nes just going above and beyond in their friendship, but clearly there was so much more than that going on here. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Nes said back, irritated. 

“Is that why you were so mad at Mor that day?” Cassian asked, a light bulb suddenly switching on in his mind. No wonder Mor had said he was being such a dumbass; he owed her a massive apology. “Holy shit, were you jealous?”

“She was touching you,” Nes hissed, that muscle in his jaw working overtime as he thought back to that fateful afternoon. “Of course I was fucking jealous, you idiot.”

“You don’t have to be jealous, Nes,” Cassian replied. He couldn’t stop smiling, and the more worked up Nes got, the wider his grin became. “Mor doesn’t even like men romantically!”

“How was I supposed to know that at the time, Cass,” Nes retorted. 

“This is such a ridiculous argument, sweetheart. Besides, you know how much I like you,” Cass said, immediately gratified at the look on Nes’ face. “Oh, wait, you like that nickname.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nes immediately denied. Cassian knew it was bullshit from the adorable pink flush spreading across the other man’s cheeks. “Shut up.”

“Nes. Nesseroni. Earn,” Cassian said, running through all of Nes’ other names just because he could. He could do a lot of things now, apparently. “Earnest Nathaniel.”

“Just Nes is fine,” Nes grumbled. “All those other names suck.”

“Sure they do. Hey, do you want to be my boyfriend?” Cassian asked before he could lose his nerve.  

Nes sighed, but Cassian saw right through that from the pleased tilt of his mouth. “Yes. Fine. Whatever.”

“Just whatever?” Cassian repeated with a grin. He shuffled forward until their chests were pressed together and rolled them so he was on top of Nes, very much enjoying this new development. 

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Nes replied. Cassian was more than happy to follow orders, leaning in and closing the distance between their lips. Both of them had morning breath and Nes had a little bit of stubble tickling Cassian’s upper lip, but it was easily one of the best kisses he’d ever experienced. Nes’ lips were softer than Cassian had been expecting, and they parted easily so Cassian could explore with his tongue. The slick slide of their tongues immediately reminded Cassian of the way their cocks slid together the night before, but he forced himself to stay focused. They’d have plenty of time for mind-blowing sex later, if Cassian had anything to say about it. 

“Was that… okay?” Nes asked quietly after a few more minutes of kissing, his gray-blue eyes furiously searching Cassian’s hazel ones for the slightest hint of any discomfort. 

“So much better than okay,” Cassian answered. He didn’t want Nes to have even a single doubt, so he leaned in and kissed Nes again, though they were both smiling a little too much for it to count as a real kiss. “You make me so fucking crazy.”

Nes hmmed and they lazily made out for a while, though it wasn’t with any intent beyond just exploring each other’s mouths. When they eventually broke apart, Cassian just had to laugh at how much of a dumbass he’d really been all these weeks. At Nes’ confused look, Cassian said, “Don’t get mad, but… this whole time I thought you were just really invested in being my friend.”

“You’re actually one of the most ridiculous people I’ve ever met,” Nes said, though the effect was lessened given how pink his lips were from all the kissing. He pushed at Cassian, who rolled over so they were on their sides facing each other again. “Jesus Christ, how were you so oblivious?”

“I just thought you really, really liked me,” Cassian said back, still laughing at himself. God, he was such an idiot. “Platonically, though.”

Nes stared at him incredulously for several long seconds. “Should I be concerned that you thought all the things we did were totally platonic?”

“I figured it out in the end!” Cassian protested. Sure, maybe it had taken a ridiculously long time to come to what felt like a very obvious conclusion, but Cassian wouldn’t change it. Not when he got to be the one waking up next to Nes exchanging good morning kisses. 

“Yeah, after I told you to take your dick out,” Nes responded. He released a long-suffering sigh that absolutely delighted Cassian to hear. “Like I said… you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Nah,” Cassian said, grinning. “I’m lucky you like me so much.”

His boyfriend — and wasn’t that a thought — didn’t deny it. Instead, Nes graced Cassian with a rare smile and said, “Yeah. Something like that.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @fieldofdaisiies | @goddess-aelin | @c-e-d-dreamer | @talkfantasytome | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @sv0430 | @talibunny30 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @champanheandluxxury | @lilah-asteria | @burningsnowleopard | @sayosdreams | @readskk | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @bellaful08 | @readergalaxy | @podemechamardek | @pearlfortears | @nerdperson524 | @jmoonjones | @kale-theteaqueen | @autumnbabylon | @hiimheresworld | @illyrianshadowhunter | @dustjacketmusings | @live-the-fangirl-life | @that-little-red-head | @sweet-pea1 | @brieq | @queercontrarian | @jsmelodies | @afflicted-with-wanderlust

[greetingfromthedead]

1. Death's Door

Series: Apple Blossoms

Series Plot: Knives is finally crushed, his plans in ashes, his body at Death's door, but Vash decides to spare his life. With the last power he has left, he carries his brother to a person who has nursed him back to life, now begging for you to save his twin too. A tattered Knives finds himself in the care of a human and as time goes on, he has to come to terms with uncomfortable truths about his skewed world view and the strange feelings he discovers blooming in his chest for you. // Contains some Trimax spoilers. // A slight mix of all the Trigun iterations, but mostly Trimax

Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader

Series Rating: PG-13 + pwp BONUS chapters

Series Tags: No use of "Y/N", Redemption, Love, Romance, Sickfic, Medical Inaccuracies, Knives is injured, Caretaking, Falling In Love, Adventuring, Cowboy vibes, Knives is introverted, Knives has a crush and is very lost, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon, No use of y/n, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Forced Proximity, Trauma, Knives pouts a lot

Word count: 3.3k

Author's Note: It is not yet a fully fleshed out story, I have the first few chapters planned out, but keeping it going will depend partially of the interest shown for it and how things will work out. All in all, I would be grateful to hear your thoughts. What is something you would love to see in such a story, scenarios and dynamics you would like to explore. Perhaps I will adopt some of them.

Yapping | Next Chapter →

It has been many long months since the communications were cut off as the satellites fell from the sky as comets. Since then, the only source of information have been the criers, who travel from village to village, sharing news and stories. Sometimes you hear different stories from different mouths and really can never be sure what the truth is. Apparently, at least most of the Seven Cities have been decimated, and a giant ark is destroying everything in its path. The criers are warning people to seek shelter and prepare for the worst, but you still hold on to a sliver of hope. You've heard that Vash the Stampede is somehow involved in this whole mess. The man with a giant bounty on his head is rumored to be the Devil himself, the Humanoid Typhoon. Some sources say he is behind all of this; he is the one who is raining down destruction as he always does; others say he has stepped up as the protector of humanity on this desolate planet. And the truth remains a mystery, hidden behind the game of telephone and conflicting accounts. Deep down, you believe that he is on your side, fighting to keep humanity safe from the impending destruction.

You have met that strange man before. He arrived in your care with multiple gunshot wounds in the dead of night, or rather, you stumbled over his dying body in the dark desert. It had been nothing short of a miracle that he had evidently walked from the next town over towards your lonely house before collapsing. And it was even more of a coincidence that you found him at all. Vash the Stampede truly has the luck of a demon, or perhaps it was fate. Who's to say? But you did dragged him home, patched him up, and took care of him until he awoke from his week long slumber. He remained under your watchful eye for a bit longer, and as the closest thing to a doctor this area has, you felt it was your duty to make sure he fully recovered before letting him leave. You got to know him quite well during the time he spent at your house. You quickly realized who he was, but let him introduce himself. It became clear to you that the vicious rumors held little truth. He might be clumsy, but not evil. He was nothing but kind and grateful to you, helping you however he could and paying you for the time and medicine spent on him even as you tried to refuse. All that happened a few years ago, but his generosity and kindness still stick with you to this day. You still remember his smiling face as he turned to leave into the empty desert where you found him in the first place.

Nowadays, you live quietly in your lonely house. The closest village is half a day's ride away, and you rarely see anyone besides the occasional messenger passing through. The closest city is Octovern, but to reach that via tomas, it would take nearly half a week. You occasionally take your first aid kit and go through the nearby towns to help anyone in need, but you have been blessed to not be dragged into the larger war decimating the planet. You have been able to maintain a sense of peace and purpose amidst the chaos, but you can only hope things will return to a sense of normality soon, as much as that can be found in this place.

Little did you suspect of the evening where a loud and insistent banging on your door would shift your life entirely. A rap like that always means trouble, and instinctively, you hurried to open the old creaking door into the cooling evening air. The golden light of the setting suns tries to flood into your hallway, only to be obscured by a giant figure. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to see more than just the silhouette, but still, the sight leaves you dumbfounded. Before you are two people, but they aren't entirely human as wings spread from their backs, not quite covered in feathers like an angel, partially reminding you of roots and stone, partially of shattering metal. Two wings, one on each of the bloody men. One holds the unconscious body of the other. He struggles to stay upright, one knee on the ground, the other supporting the limp form of the other as his singular arm wraps around the other's waist. The stump of his left arm has wires tangling from it, and it must have been what he used to knock on your door. It takes you too long to realize who that man is—Vash. His blonde hair is now entirely black, and his features are obscured by dirt and blood.

"Please. Help." He pleads with desperation in his eyes. "Can you save him?"

Your eyes shift to the man in his grasp. He is looking even rougher than Vash; his clothes seem burned and torn, and his skin is covered in blood and open wounds. His face is bruised and swollen. He hangs limply in Vash's embrace, his arms dangling lifelessly at his sides in an uncanny fashion. He's barely breathing, and it's clear that time is running out.

"Right!" You stir from your shock. "Let's get him inside!"

You push aside the weirdness and the unnatural aspects of the situation you find yourself in and slip back into the familiar feeling of urgency. You rush forward to put a shoulder under the unconscious man and lift him up with the help of Vash. You drag him not to the cot that's reserved for your patients, but instead you haul him onto the long dinner table that doubles as an examination table in a pinch. Your hands move on their own as they grab what you need: shears and cloths, first aid kits, bandages, medicine, water, and alcohol. You firmly tell Vash to sit down on the stool in the corner and not get in your way. You feel bad for being so stern with him, especially since he is injured too, but the man on the table is already playing dice with death.

You get to work quickly, knowing that every second counts. You remove the tattered clothing and assess the extent of his injuries. You're surprised he still has life left in him with the amount of blood he must have lost, chunks of his body apparently missing, gashes, and cracks covering his skin. You do as much as you can, focusing on the larger wounds first, knowing that time is of the essence in saving him. To your surprise, he doesn't bleed nearly as much as you think he should, given the severity of his situation. You roughly stitch him up and pull a few bullets from his flesh. His internal organs seem in good enough condition, and you're glad you don't have to operate on them further. As you work away, the wing on his back crumbles; the chunks feel strange, and you can't begin to guess the material, but you don't have a chance to analyze it either. By the time you are done, the wing is gone, leaving a chunky heap on the ground, almost like sand. You clean his body with water and alcohol before checking his skeleton and joints. There are no broken bones, but the right shoulder is dislocated. You take care to pull it back into place with a snap, and you continue to examine him. Much of his skin is cracked; it looks strange, and you can't begin to guess what caused it.

After hours of grueling work, you administer him medicine to hopefully avoid infection, another dose of strong painkillers, and some saline to help with his recovery. You lift his head carefully as you smear the gooey concoction on his gums for a longer lasting effect. To be doubly safe, you inject more drugs directly into his bloodstream and lather the wounds with ointment to help them heal. Wrapping him in bandages takes a lot from you too, especially since you can't accept Vash's offer to help since he is still dirty. By the end, your patient is almost entirely covered in bandages but still breathing. You throw a clean blanket over him and a pillow under his head, too worried to move him off the table onto the bed. It will have to wait, perhaps if he survives until dawn. But the chances of him making it through the night seem slim.

"Right." You let out a deep sigh. You can finally shift your attention from the dying man to Vash. You are deep into the night, pushing the morning hours, with dark circles forming under your eyes, but there is no rest for you yet. You turn towards the man in the chair; he looks like hell. You have never seen him look this bad before, and last time, he was the one whose life was dripping from his body on this table. Tears have carved deep lines into his dust, ash, and blood covered cheeks. There is an unusual mix of emotions on his face, but worry burns the brightest.

"It's your turn now," you say to Vash, catching his attention. His gaze lifts from the floor, and for a moment, it seems like he didn't hear you at all. You just continue, getting a washbasin, cloth and a jug of water ready. "You can use these to clean up; I'll help you with any spots you can't reach in a bit; I'll clean this mess up first."

"Will he survive? Will he be alright?" he asks instead, ignoring your comment completely.

"I do not know. I tried my best. The rest is up to him and fate itself. Whether he makes it or not is out of my hands." You look at him sympathetically. "Hopefully dawn will bring good news," you say softly.

As you pick up your bloody tools and cloths, you hear Vash stand up, but instead of walking towards the counter where the washing supplies are, his steps lead away, towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" you ask resolutely, a nip in your voice. He pauses in silence for a moment.

"I must go. I have some things to take care of still," he answers, a note of guilt present in his tone.

"You will clean up, have me patch you up, and take a nap before you can think about leaving. Doctor's orders!" Your words are commanding, leaving no room for argument. You're both tired; he looks awful, and you almost sway on your feet. But your work is not yet done.

Vash stands quietly for a moment longer before turning back and stripping a few layers of his tattered clothing. Exposing the bruises and wounds covering his body. He struggles a little with the setup at hand, using the reflection of your window to try and see where he has to reach. At the same time, you clean up the mess you made while working on your patient. You wipe the surfaces and wash the tools, and finally, you can discard the bloody robe, mask, and gloves.

You help Vash wash away the dirt from any spots he can't reach and have him sit on the chair in his underwear. You stick a cup of warm tea in his hand and down a strong coffee yourself before washing your face with cold water to wake up again. After that, you set everything up to stitch him back together and get to work. You examine him thoroughly and give him pain medication before getting the needle out. His body is tense and his pulse is still high; he has yet to calm down.

"Is he your brother? Even under all that bruising and swelling, I can tell the similarities." You speak softly to him to get his mind off the things that are hurting him at the moment.

"Yes, my twin," Vash replies, his voice hoarse and filled with pain.

"I didn't even know you had a twin. What's his name?" You continue as you tie together another suture.

"Knives."

"That's an interesting name," you say with little emotion in your tone, most of your attention going into taking care of his wounds. A stray thought of the wings crosses your mind; Vash has lost his too in the time your focus was on his brother. There is clearly something weird going on, but for now you are too tired to ask the relevant questions, and you need Vash to relax.

"I guess…" His voice trails off, and you can see him staring at the unconscious body on the table.

You keep talking as you work on him, stitching, disinfecting, and bandaging the larger cuts one by one. You give him a checkup and pain medication, and as you take his pulse, it is normal again. You are relieved; he seems to be stable and doing alright despite the way he looks. You provide him with some loose clothing you have laying around just in case and make him get in the bed you have in the other room to rest and recover for the night. He is hesitant, but the tiredness in his eyes tells you that he needs the rest.

"I will stay up with your brother; I will check on him, and I promise I will wake you up if there are any issues. Sleep. You need it." You assure him as you throw a cooling blanket on him before turning off the light and leaving the room. "Rest easy; everything will be alright now."

You return to the patient on the table and check his vitals again. You take his pulse and check his light blue eyes. His breathing has returned to normal, and he looks to be doing better, but as you press your hand on his forehead, you feel the developing fever. You know that this could be a sign of infection, and it makes you slightly nervous. His jet black hair feels damp as your hand glides over it, and you notice that his skin is sticky to the touch. However, you try to remain calm and decide to check again soon and keep a close eye on him.

To keep yourself from falling asleep, you keep yourself busy with whatever tasks you find. You clean up your kitchen from everything, organize your cabinets, and even clean Vash's clothes and hang them to dry outside. Dawn comes, but nothing changes; the slight fever still lingers, and Vash is asleep. You mix up some sugar water and carefully drip a few drops into Knives's mouth. He swallows painfully, and you continue administering him the water for a few hours. You're losing the battle with your exhaustion, so you make yourself a cup of coffee again, letting it steep while checking on the wounds. They look good, and it almost appears like they've started to heal a little. You write it off as your own delusion. The rising suns cast their hot light on the desert, and Vash's clothes dry in no time. You pick them up and get to sewing the dark shirt and his pants; the red coat is mostly gone, burned, and torn.

You realize that it has been a while since your last meal, as you even missed yesterday's dinner. You get to cooking up some porridge after leaving Vash's clothes in the other room and making sure from afar that he is still breathing. Every quarter hour, you return to the man on the table, check on him, and give him some water and medicine if necessary. Nothing has changed, neither for the better nor for the worse, and you are grateful for that, counting your blessings as you remind yourself of the condition he arrived in.

Another hour passes as Vash appears in the door-frame, his eyes first falling on his brother before moving to you. He looks better; he is still covered in bandages and bruises, but the wary tiredness is gone from his eyes. He wears the clothes you mended for him, and his expression softens as he takes in the sight of you checking the pulse of your patient.

"Good morning," you tell him with a slight smile. "I made some food, but it's probably cold by now. Feel free to take as much as you want. Your brother is doing alright; he has a slight fever, but it hasn't gotten worse. The wounds look good, and I've given him water and medicine. For now, it's okay; he is not out of the woods, but he's getting there."

"Morning," Vash says as he walks closer to you. He doesn't say much; there is an unexplainable expression on his face as he pulls you into a one armed yet crushing bear hug. You feel his breathing get more ragged as he holds you; he repeats seemingly endless "thank you"s until you feel tears soaking your shirt. He finally lets you go, holding your shoulder and looking you in the eyes, tears and snot running down his face.

"You're welcome, but don't get too carried away, okay? I cannot promise you anything other than that I will try to get him back to full health; it doesn't mean it will happen." You try to calm him down again, reaching for a tissue to hand him. "Now eat; I will check your wounds again after that."

And so it goes. Vash eats his fill, dragging his chair a bit closer to the table but not quite next to it, as you gave him a stern look, worried for any contamination. He finishes his meal quickly, eager to have his wounds checked, as if he is in a hurry. Luckily, they look fine, and you lather him in ointment and cover everything with fresh bandages, relieved that he is okay.

"You said you had some business to attend to. Is that why you are vibrating on this chair?" You ask calmly, checking the strange cracks in his skin on his cheek.

"Well, I have to go. I promise I will be back as soon as I can—just a few days at most. I am sorry to just dump him on you, but I beg you. I only go to keep both of you safe." His sky blue eyes try to track your movement the best they can as you put a bandage on him.

"It's alright; I'll take care of him. I doubt he will regain consciousness anytime soon. I can only hope he won't get worse." You take a step back, happy with your handiwork, as nothing is bleeding. It's the best you can do for Vash right now.

"I will forever be in your debt. Thank you for everything. I will pay you once I get back, I swear." His eyes look pleadingly at you as he gets up from the chair.

"I believe you; don't worry about that." You smile, recognizing the honor in his face.

Vash gives you a nod and goes closer to his brother. He says something quietly to him, and you don't quite pick up any of the words. With that, Vash turns and walks to the front door, and you follow.

"Thank you again," he says to you tenderly, and then more loudly over the whole house: "Get better soon, brother!"

You watch as Vash steps outside, heading into the desert. Only a little while later, you figure out he has nothing with him but the clothes on his back and the gun on his leg. No water, no food, no shelter—nothing. You turn and see what's left of the red coat on the chair, now realizing you must really be out of it to not notice it sooner. But it's too late to go after him now; all you can do is hope that he has a plan.

Yapping | Next Chapter →

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[esoteriamaya]

WHAT MAKES YOU ROYALTY? AN INTUITIVE READING FOR THE LIGHT BRINGERS.

STAR READINGS WITH DEJA!

PICK A PILE. These are for all my girlies who know that their royalty ! No matter what. So From left to right is 1-2, 3-4. Lets go!

PILE 1 - 'The Royal Who Loves The World'

This Princess is all about being one with the earth. Shes connected to the universe and she is a giver & receiver of the divine. Her gorgeous energy is big, bold and beautiful. She has a creative energy that caters to the heart. Her vibe is priceless, no one can ever take it from her. She knows what she wants and she knows who she is. The undefeated. Her knowledge and expertise can train a million warriors to go for the goal. A master at the arts and just knowing of everything that is around her.

Bonus reading : LOVE ABOUNDS

Be thankful for who you are and where you come from. The opening of the heart is soaring & the world is coming to your favor. Trust it. It will all make sense in the future. But for now, be patient. You have a gift in bringing people together. So move closer to the divine and watch the destiny unfold. Never forget it, you we're always closer to divine.

PILE 2 - 'The Girl Who Always Knew She Was A Star'

There is a big, emotional energy coming from this group. Expressive auras and have bright joyous energy. There may have been a lot of lower energy that hovered over you as a child and over-exhausted your aura. But be thankful, because the story unfolds for you to become the Empress you always knew you'd be. Enjoying the fruits of all the past labors in your life have brought you to a point in reality where the unknown feels more fruitful than the linear one. You're wished reality is coming through the divine, spirit guides and answering to the codes they've let out for you. Try uncovering the number sequences you've been seeing. Go to an altar (you can make one yourself) and start prayer and meditation near that area. Focus on the number sequence and let go. The answer will come shortly after. Your heighten awareness of the divine comes from the true knowing of appreciating the seen and unseen roads. You are a beautiful gift to the clouds, my darling. So why let others tell you otherwise? You're a star. So be one.

Bonus Reading : LOVE ABOUNDS + MANIFEST

Okay, Cinderellas ;) You have to let go and make a wish in the clouds. You have to feel it in your soul and breathe life into it. Otherwise, it wouldn't work in your favor. The 'fairy god mother' you've dreamed of as a kid is the women in your life that look after you when no one else does. It could be an ancestor, a spirit guide or someone who is alive and cares for you in the best way that they can. All is well, do your part by making sure that you BELIEVE in the idea of what you desire and you will acquire it through surprised experiences. God Bless.

PILE 3 - 'The Moment You Have Been Waiting For'

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thats the message that I'm hearing. Its like you looked up to the sky and thanked the universe for answering all of your prayers. You looked to the divine for the path and you found your kin. You found your new path and aligned with the greater forces of heaven to do the thing you've always wanted to do. At first you're awareness wasn't out there, you were 'asleep'. But wait. This was destiny coming in to perform a miracle for you, because you had no idea who was under the curtains trying to stop the show. You've guys have been waiting to receive a gift from the ethers on how to move & to proceed, but they didnt show up. Or did they? They listened, they watched, and they saw you working towards something. Working hard. Even if you felt like it wasn't enough, or you felt guilt about your situation. Shame, fear, etc.. All of this added to your rewards in the season to come. Just wait on it. Be yourself, the bright light that the world adores and enjoys even when you think nobody is listening or watching. You are the star of this finale! Congratulate yourself and be the royalty that you know you are.

Bonus Reading : 'A COSMIC FORCE'

So let me be real for a second, for this group the focus was more about what makes you stand out more than royal energy. You have gifts that take dedicated effort. So the energy I got for yall was that you have to let go and focus on what your heart wants. Then doors will open for you easier and in ways you had not seen coming. THATS your royalty. Your's come in through hard work and having drive.

PILE 4 - 'The Veil Is Thinning, And I Am The Surpreme'

Surprise. You've been gifted with a lifetime of golden energy shifting from the inside of your body. Your gift is in the reflection of your experience. Very interesting. So let me explain, You guys are wondrous beings who came here to help the new earth come into fruition. You have gifts that go unnoticed but are deeply felt, penetrating the people around you. The world is turning, and you are in motion with it. The world needs to feel as deeply as possible because this is Mama Earths dream. You are a reflection of what is truly magical about the creator and its beautiful creations. You carry an infinite watch that stops time from being an issue. You're the genius behind a lot of universal thinking, and we'll be the first to come to you and watch the show. You're honest, deep thinker and a vocalist. You carry the tunes and vibrations of the world and the energy you carry makes us like you even more. Dont hate. She's got the magic. This pile has a lot of work they must fulfill before they leave into the horizons. There's a special source in this group that is unmatched and hard to silence, hard to ignore. And thats what makes you a royal gem. My queens :)

Bonus Reading : 'Magic Meets The Eyes'

Because you have this gift of unseen worlds deep in your imagination, try creating outlets for this world to be seen or heard. Creative energy flows through your body and the inner child deserves to be healed, acknowledged and explored. Your mind is incredible and you should use every drop of creativity to make a canvas that can have the world stop and listen to what you have to say. Congrats, this is such a beautiful place to be in.

[keeb0y]

New Playlist!

Bits and Bobs; a playlist of Oddities

1. Touch-Tone Telephone -Lemon Demon

2. Cabinet Man -Lemon Demon

3. Turn the Lights Off -Tally Hall

4. 2econd 2ight 2eer (that was fun, goodbye.) -Will Wood

5. A Mask of My Own Face -Lemon Demon

6. Stuff Is Way -They Might Be Giants

7. Catabolic Seed -The Scary Jokes

8. There's Something Happening -Jack Stauber's Micropop

9. Fighter -Jack Stauber's Micropop

10. Small World -Jack Stauber

11. Action Movie Hero Boy -Lemon Demon

12. Icicles -The Scary Jokes

13. Knife Fight -Lemon Demon

14. Love, Me Normally -Will Wood

15. & -Tally Hall

16. Ruler of Everything -Tally Hall

17. Eighth Wonder -Lemon Demon

18. Redesign Your Logo (Bonus Track) -Lemon Demon

19. Soft Fuzzy Man -Lemon Demon

20. The Mind Electric -Miracle Musical

21. I / Me / Myself -Will Wood

22. Brave as a Noun -AJJ

23. Baby Hotline -Jack Stauber's Micropop

24. Labyrinth -Miracle Musical

25. Dream Sweet in Sea Major -Miracle Musical

26. Hidden In the Sand -Tally Hall

27. Oh Klahoma -Jack Stauber

28. Two Time -Jack Stauber's Micropop

29. Dead Weight -Jack Stauber

30. Murders -Miracle Musical

31. Under My Skin -Jukebox The Ghost

32. Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally -Will Wood

Notes: This playlist is exactly 2 hours long lol.

Requested by: AnonyJerboa

Next Playlist: None

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!

[neetily]

꣑୧ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── MATCHUP EVENT: Date #1

♡ cupid's victim number one !! ♡ (psst, wanna take part? click here!)

thank you soooo much for taking part in the event my love! i super appreciate all of the information you sent my way, as it made matching you that much easier! i think i have a good idea of who might be most suited for you... i hope you agree ♡ !! or at the very least, that you enjoy my reasonings hehe...!

─ you have one new message from...

Sebastian . . .

y'know, i really enjoyed our date last night... keep thinking back to how pretty you looked from my angle. hope thats not weird to say lol... anyway, how about the same come friday? promise to make you feel even better x

Why? the fact that you both have similar personalities types was the first thing i noticed! in that you both appear to favour being alone and more introverted than others, and that you both offer straight forward, honest discussion. i think you and sebastian would get along great in a platonic sense, but especially romantically, able to understand each other almost instantly because you share a similar personality! and it only gets more in tune the longer you spend time together! the fact that you both have a rather direct way of communicating is only a bonus, i think... leaving no room for error or miscommunication, easing both of your anxieties. i can imagine you both having the kind of discussions with each other that you might struggle to have with anyone else, simply because he's the only one who gets it, y'know? also, i think you two would do so well at bringing out what the other feels like they're lacking, if that makes sense? seeing the best in each other, offering support and helping each other become the best versions of yourselves! where he might struggle to initially accept physical affection, you'd help him grow more accustomed to it in time <3 and where you might struggle with low self esteem, sebastian would do his best to openly and honestly build you back up! you can rest assured that he'd never lie to you. oh!! i almost forgot, the fact that you're also big big NERDS (affectionate) together means that you'll never run out of things to say to each other/do together, because he'd love to indulge you every chance he gets! also hello?? matching gamer skins in game B-)...

i can imagine you both getting all snuggly during the colder months together, given that you both enjoy autumn/winter months! spending late nights just existing together, enjoying the peace and quiet that comes from each others company. you are his safe space, just as much as he is yours. introvert x introvert, he appreciates just how easily you'd understand him, and how he needn't have to put on a faux show for you ever! content enough in each others company, i feel like your whimsical nature would bounce so well off his more logical outlook on life.

though i do believe that you two are more similar than different, opposites do attract! and i think where your differences lie together only help strengthen the bond!

Night (A)f(t)er the museum. . .

in truth, it's a miracle that he's been able to last as long as he has with you today. seething the second you started rattling off facts, one after the other in rapid succession, that pretty twinkle in your eye when passing by the larger than life exhibits at the museum catching his attention far more often than he cares to admit. and your voice, all rushed and excited, tripping over itself just like your feet did when you tugged on him to hurry up, we're gonna miss the special showing! that he didn't even know existed; but that he quickly learned he, too, was excited for. especially if it meant getting to stare at you instead, nursing a half chub the entirety of the day thanks to your incessant babbling, god. you've got no idea just how hot you look when indulging, how painful it's been for him not to jump you the moment he was left alone with you in grand halls and hidden corners of the museum.

"c'mon—" he finally heaves against you, cheeks squished against your soft, sticky thighs, only taking a brief break to goad you, because he's got far more important things to focus on at the moment. "tell me again," another pause soon cut short, tongue flat against your sopping slit to suckle on some more of that sweet taste, a heady groan escaping him as he takes a brief huff of your scent, fuck— he can't stand it, how all it takes for him to get going is to simply listen to you talk. and it'd be wholly pathetic if he didn't feel the way your hole twitches around his tongue every time he slips it inside of you, you know how down bad he is, and you like it, don't you?

"Tell me what your favourite thing at the museum was today, again, please." he manages to rasp out, begrudgingly so. he doesn't wanna stop.

but honestly, he's not even fully listening to your reply. catching mumbles of dinosaurs and something about guessing which was which; he's already heard it in depth before. on the ride to the museum, at the museum, on the way home, at home— he could probably recite exactly what you're saying, and what you've been saying, back to you word for word by now. but fuck if his cock isn't rock hard just from hearing you talk about what you love, bobbing between his legs as his nails dig into your thighs, pulling them apart, spreading you wide open for his tongue to lap and suck at your puffy little clit as you at least try to answer his mundane question properly, but he makes it difficult for you.

the relatively boring and routine conversation has his tummy filling up with butterflies, flipping at the way you so desperately try and try and try to keep up with him, but your voice ends up all pitchy and crackled with choked out moans, and he honestly feels a little dizzy with just how much blood rushes to his cock to leaving his tip a drooling, throbbing mess for you. you could say anything at this point and he's sure that just from the way his cock jerks and twitches from between his legs every time he swallows another gulp around your clit, fucks his tongue deep into your cunt, that he'd cum on the spot.

it only makes matters worse for him that you're talking about something you love, because there's something so incredibly attractive to hear you struggle with his flicks, making out with your cunt with sloppy sucks and messy kisses; he's sure that his chin is stained all tacky with your slick by now, and yet he doesn't stop. because you're still talking, and he's so fucking thankful that you picked todays date spot.

if only because he gets to make you feel good while you talk about what makes you happy, making sure to thumb at your clit with imprecise circles as he tongues the slick from your hole directly, moaning openly at the taste and sending vibrations up your pretty little pussy with furrowed brows. your voice is but mere background noise at this point, and yet he still loves it. can still feel the way his cock pulses with need, humming out mumbled words of praise and affection and fuck he's so close— and you haven't even touched him yet! in fact, all he's really done is eat you out a little, hitting that sweet spot rhythm he knows you enjoy with wet kisses against your hole and it's no surprise that he's cumming with you, still focusing mostly on helping you ride out your orgasm as opposed to milking his untouched cock.

but what can he say.

he just loves seeing you happy and confident, loves to hear you be so self indulgent, without worry or fear over being weird or annoying. he loves it, and every part of you too.

— you like to... listen to music when alone! here is a personalised playlist that i think fits your matchup! ♫ Fitz And The Tantrums - Out Of My League ♫ Stephen Sanchez - Until I Found You ♫ Matt Maltese - As the World Caves In

Alex . . .

ya better get your ass back to the farm soon as, babe. especially after your display last night, fuck meee... hurry on home, will ya? xxx

Why? because alex is just so so sweet, isn't he? big, strong, and reliable Alex who owns plenty of farmland for you to spend your days on... what's not to love? honestly, i think alex would be really good for you mostly because he's so opposite of how you are, but above all else, he's kind, yknow? so the differences don't seem so huge when you think about it, because it's second nature for him to soften the blow and to coddle you when he sees fit, versus pushing you. though he does push you when he needs to which is key! he's not afraid to give you that little extra boost when you need it, even if you find it difficult to swallow in the moment. he also matches your high energy bursts very well i think! he'd be so silly and goofy with you without even questioning it, able to make a fool of himself to maybe compensate for your down periods. he's also a big yapper which i think would compliment your more introverted personality well! doesn't matter if you're more naturally quieter than him, he'd babble on an on about anything and everything, but especially about just how much he loves you, how you're worth more than you think, how he loves you more than anything in the whole wide world, all in an attempt to help build up your self confidence and esteem as much as possible </3 he'd do so literally any chance he gets! not only through his silly words, but especially through his touch! big bear hugs, lots of fluttering nose kisses, grabbing you with such ease in his big strong arms to spin you around just because. in turn, i think you would help ground alex a lot. be that grip on reality he so sorely lacks sometimes; because while i understand that he might grasp the gravity of his situation on the surface, i believe he prefers to avoid his problems first and foremost. you'd do so well at helping him grown and learn how to deal with things without it becoming too overwhelming with how honest and direct your communication style is! i just think he'd find it so easy to adapt to whatever you need, y'know?

i'd imagine living on a farm, far away from society and its judgements, would be a blessing to you, right? better yet with your wonderful amazing himbo husband right by your side <3 you'd benefit from living off the land so much i think, and with alex's consistent help, you'd blossom. he'd be so proud of you, and remind you of that fact every day to try and encourage you some more <3! and he would appreciate your ability to help him calm down, relax him, and give him that stern talking to he so often needs!

plus, imagine all of the yummy treats you could bake during autumn together given his farm land! he'd plant you whatever you wanted, so long as it made you happy!

Work of art. . .

despite how much work and effort he puts into maintaining his trained muscles, exercising his strong physique whether he wants to or not thanks to his line of work, his legs still ache to stay open for you. not because it's too much effort for him, but rather, because you're too cute, and he has to fight with himself not to ruin the moment. that, and he likes to pride himself on being a strong man, especially for you... and yet, he feels weak in the knees upon the sight that greets him when his fluttering lashes finally open, a sheepish smirk making its way to his lips at the way your cheeks appear to be so full.

A soft, barely audible pretty slips past his tongue, drawled out with a moan when you swallow around his tip that's pressed right against the back of your throat— oh, but it's so true. you look so pretty like this, the idle late afternoon sun dancing across your cheeks so lazily, lulling him into a sense of comfort that only you could provide him on his little break from work.

well, he had only intended for this to be a short break anyway. a quick little hang out, teasing you with tight hugs and brisk ass pinches; nothing too risqué, but enough to have you swatting his hand away with a giggle. there it is, that pretty smile he oh so adores! and he was content with this. spending time with you is precious, and he never excepts anything from you.

but alas, when you pout up at him for a little more attention, reminding him that you aren't able to stay at the farm tonight and that soon you'll have to head home, well... he can't quite decline you, can he? not when your idea of ending the perfectly tranquil at home date includes having his legs spread for you to drool at, a light thud ringing in his ears as the old wooden floorboards from under you soak up your dripping saliva.

"slut," he sneers down at you, tone light-hearted at best, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes roll back just a little at the demeaning name. "strugglin'?" he's quick to follow up, but it's obviously not a question, not when you sputter and choke on the end of his cock when he lifts his hips up the smallest amount, inadvertently shoving his cock further down your stuffed full throat as a knowing hum rumbles in his chest. "y'like that anyway, dont'cha? c'mon, y'can take it— y'wanted this, right?"

still, his expression is one of adoration, in spite of his otherwise harsh words. a hidden reprimand behind the easy smile he wears, doting down at you from above with hearts in his eyes when you tentatively start to bob up and down— slowly, that's it, fuuuuck.

no matter what he ends up doing with you on date night, he always has the time of his life. buuuut, he can't deny that getting to degrade you from his holier than thou position on his favourite armchair as you slobber all over his fat cock is perhaps, no, is his favourite way to end things. made all the better because of how much he loves you, how he wants for nothing more than to make you feel loved; and yet here you are getting off to his tutting tone and forceful juts of his hips. pretty princess likes it when big strong men are mean to her? baby, he thinks you're too cute for your own good!

which is to say that he understands it now. might not have in the beginning, fearful of hurting you— physically and emotionally, but he finally gets it. mimicking your pretty pout back at you only to bark down laughter at the way you try to cough around his size, the feeling of your tongue squirming around his cock as if trying to find space as opposed to sucking him off sends a shiver down his spine, only causing his hips to stutter a little more for you. like you meant for that to happen, right baby?

"Good girl—" He moans for you, all breathy and exhausted from the hard days work so far, his tired muscles melting into your sucks and licks so nicely, he can't help but to grasp at the back of your head in return. fuckin' slut probably enjoys it anyway, right? you like it when he's a little rough with you, giving in to his more primal instincts as he holds your head in one place for a second or two.

he, too, pauses for a moment. admiring the way your eyes widen at his touch, how your body trembles with anticipation. fuck yeah, this is by far his favourite date yet. and he can't stop a genuine compliment from spilling out at the realisation.

"prettiest picture ever, like a work of art..."

and he means it, even as he starts face fucking you without warning and your vision gets all glassy and drool foams at the corners of your mouth for him to fish hook at, turning you into a genuine fuck toy from how unfairly he treats you; just like what you've asked of him. and he'd do anything to make you feel good about yourself, even if that's something like this. because he can see the way you squirm with pleasure and he can hear the way you gag on sobs, tugging desperately at your hair to help get you off faster— cause he's close. you and that fucking tongue, god, he'd kill for you, y'know?

it's only a couple seconds after catching you fingering yourself—because he doesn't have the mind to tend to you himself right now, jaw slack with whines and muscles taut with broken restraint—that he can feel your body seize up. taking advantage of the opportunity you so kindly offer him to hunch over you now, cock right down your throat for him to pump against once, twice... he's never actually made it to three strokes with you.

"drink up," he sighs as he shoots ropes down your tight throat, deep and heavy gulps of air as he attempts to catch his breath for you. "it's what pretty sluts get for being so good."

— you like to... listen to music when alone! here is a personalised playlist that i think fits your matchup! ♫ Arctic Monkeys - I Wanna Be Yours ♫ Paramore - Still Into You ♫ WILLOW - Wait A Minute! 

[waitineedaname]

masterpost for my aro4aro chengqing fake marriage fix-it

Part 1: find a place between fact and fiction

Jiang Cheng was embarrassed to admit that this particular solution had occurred to him frequently after their last parting, when he was kept awake wondering about her safety. It wasn’t the most elegant solution, and definitely not his preferred solution, and it would easily create more problems than it solved, but… “What if we were engaged?” “Jiang Cheng, have you gone insane?” Wei Wuxian said, which was really rich coming from him of all people. Wen Qing looked like she agreed with him and this pained her.

Part 2: the less we say about it, the better

“Jiang-zongzhu, I appreciate everything you are doing for me and my family,” Wen Qing folded her hands on her lap and stared him down imperiously, “But I have no intention of having sex with you.” Jiang Cheng wondered if the stress of the last week had finally pushed him over the edge and this was a hallucination caused by qi deviation. “I didn’t expect you to!”

Part 3: the magpie will have his way

Jiang Cheng had a lot on his plate. Political shitshow, balancing the needs of his sect with the needs of newcomers, navigating a new fake-but-also-kind-of-real relationship. He had those problems handled, more or less. The problem he was avoiding, then, was that of Wei Wuxian.

Part 4: the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one

She would’ve expected the softness to have been beaten out of him by everything that had happened. She knew it would have been beaten out of her, if she were in his shoes. In some ways, he had hardened up. He was harsher, colder, more pragmatic. It fit him, made him seem more mature as a sect leader. And yet, by some strange miracle, she was allowed to see beyond the facade of Jiang Wanyin, sect leader. Hidden beneath those hard layers was a boy that still cared with such an intensity it would someday tear him apart.  For reasons she could not fathom, he shed that shell around her, and trusted her with the soft interior. She did not feel like she should be trusted with this vulnerable core of his person, but to explain why would be to change everything, so she took the vulnerability he handed her and did her best not to shake.

Bonus: it's gonna be a long climb out

He realized too late that Jiang Cheng wasn’t going for the wine. His reflexes were off; another thing to blame on his weakened tolerance. Just as he realized Jiang Cheng’s real intent, a hand snatched his wrist with a bruising grip. He attempted to yank his arm away, but Jiang Cheng held firm, fingers pressed to his pulse point. “Jiang Cheng, dammit, let go!” Wei Wuxian snapped. But the damage was already done. He felt the buzz of Jiang Cheng’s qi as it probed through his meridians – and found them empty.

Bonus: Jiang Cheng is still Jin Ling's favorite uncle

“I’m just saying, if anyone is going to be the fun uncle, it’s obviously me,” Wei Wuxian said, shaking a rattle over Jin Ling’s head. “He’s two,” Jiang Cheng snapped, bouncing Jin Ling on his knee. “Anything that moves and makes noise is fun to him.” “Well, I move and make the most noise, so.” Wei Wuxian leaned in and started making faces at his nephew. “Right, A-Ling? Right?” Jin Ling gurgled happily and clapped his hands.

[unclewaynemunson]

FRUITY FOUR ADVENT CALENDAR

It’s december!!! TIME TO GET FESTIVE ☃️

I’m super excited to announce that you can all join my advent’s art / writing challenge: every day from 1 December till Christmas Eve will have a specific theme for which you can make any kind of art - think drawings, fics, comics, headcanons, literally anything is good!

How does it work? Basically you can pick whichever theme(s) you feel like participating in and post your art / writing on the right day so we’ll have amazingly festive dashes throughout all of December. You can be as creative with the themes as you want, there are no rules except for vaguely sticking to the theme of the day and keeping your stuff fruity four centric 😄

Please post your content under the tag #StrangerThingsFestiveFun which I share with @thefreakandthehair​ -> make sure to check out her winter fic challenge here bc it’s really cool! I’ll be keeping an eye on the tag and reblogging like crazy throughout december!

You can find the themes below the cut. Even though it’s an advent thing, I wanted to make it as inclusive as possible, so there’ll be plenty of non-Christmas centric themes to make sure as many people as possible feel welcome to participate.

(And lastly, feel free to reblog this post as signal boost!)

1-12: Christmas lights

2-12: Snow

3-12: ~ 3 weeks to go special theme ~ create whatever you want, Ronance edition

4-12: Hallmark movie

5-12: In the future: the holidays of ‘22

6-12: Party crashing

7-12: Coffee shop AU but make it festive

8-12: Rituals

9-12: Secret Santa

10-12: ~ 2 weeks to go special theme ~ create whatever you want, Steddie edition

11-12: ~ @thefreakandthehair​‘s prompt challenge kick-off ~ “free” day to write / start publishing for those who partake in the challenge (or to start reading the wonderful fics that get published)

12-12: ~ Halfway there special theme ~ holiday songs (share a holiday-themed song that reminds you of the fruity four, or draw / write something about it)

13-12: Going home for the holidays

14-12: Decorating

15-12: A Christmas Carol

16-12: Winter wishes

17-12: ~ 1 week to go special theme ~  create whatever you want, the whole party edition

18-12: Happy Hanukkah

19-12: A miracle

20-12: Royals AU but make it festive

21-12: Midwinter night

22-12: Hawkins Middle School Snow Ball

23-12: Gifts

24-12: Nativity

31-12: ~ Bonus day! ~ New Year's Eve

[two-braincells-in-total]

Materlist

A little guide to my posts (the ones that don't have a link are things that I'm still working on and will be posted eventually)

Shatter me

Fanfics

A Coffee Tale (coffee shop AU; mainly warnette with side ships; not finished yet, but updated every once in a while)

Never forget that there's a 'he' in 'cheat' (ACT's backstory; featuring the drama with Leila, Kate and Anderson; will be out when I finish ACT)

Promise for forever (happens during ACT, but it's one-shots of Emmaline x Haider; will be out after I finish ACT, similar to Bonus Chapter 2 from ACT)

ACT Bloopers (not really a fanfic, but the notes I'm using to write ACT, because I'm convinced I'm funny I'm not, but I like attention)

Christmas miracles (warnette Christmas office au, will be a start of a seasonal warnette collection, will be out some time in December)

Character/plot point analysis

Juliette Ferrars (kinda sucks, might rewrite eventually)

Adam Kent (will be out at some point, not sure when)

Emmaline and Ella's names

Kenji and Juliette's friendship and it's contribution to their character developments

Adam and Juliette's relationship and it's contribution to their character developments

Nazeera Ibrahim

Emmaline Sommers (still not sure if I'll ever write it, but putting it here as a reminder for myself)

Headcanons

Nazeera, Kenji, Warner and Juliette as a friend group post-war (will be out eventually)

See me

If you don't know what I'm talking about, it's a wattpad next-gen Shatter me fanfic by jackssfox, I really recommend checking it out

Character/plot point analysis

Kai Kishimoto (coming soon)

Emmaline Leila Warner (coming soon)

Theories about what happens next (tho they might be VERY far from what's actually gonna happen lol) (hopefully coming soon?)

Incorrect quotes

Day 1

Day 2 #1 #2

Day 3 #1 #2 #3 #4 #5

Apparently I missed day 4, but I was spamming day 3, so it's okay

Day 5

Day 6 #1 #2

Day 7 #1 #2 #3 #4 #5

Day 8

Day 9 #1 #2

Day 10 #1 #2

Day 11 #1 #2 #3

Day 12 #1 #2 #3

Day 13 #1 #2 #3

Day 14 #1 #2 #3

The Inheritance Games

Fanfics

Wedding plans with Jameson Hawthorne (Avery and Jameson planning their wedding; idea from @xo-zozo; coming soon)

Meant to be (next-gen fanfic; idk if I'll write it 'cause I got the idea before TBH came out, so idk if it's even possible for this to happen, considering the series isn't finished yet, and it was supposed to be AveryJameson's daughter with Eve's son, but idk if it's kinda like incest because of Toby? Please comment if you want to see it)

New memories (Nash and Libby Valentaine's day)

Behind the speaker (Avery, Jameson, Nash and Xander watching the players in tgg; coming soon)

The one to hold him (Jameson is sick and Avery is taking care of him; requested)

On the sand (Avery x Jameson beach date)

Character/plot point analysis

TGG review

Brady Daniels (hardly analysis, more like a rant lol)

The kiss scenes (with one reblog from me to add some stuff)

Gigi Grayson (currently working on it)

Savannah Grayson

Avery Grambs (idc that she's not a mc anymore, she's still my favourite and CRIMINALLY UNDERRATED)

Jameson Hawthorne

Headcanons

Rohavannah headcanons

The Reappearance of Rachel Price

Fanfics

As if you never left (Bell and Ash reunion)

What it should've been (Reachel, Bell and Carter just chilling)

A Good Girl's Guide to Murder

Character/plot point analysis

Andie and Pip paralles

The stuff at the end of Part 1 of AGAD and how it affected Pip

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is it for now, things from potential requests will be added. The fandoms that I'm in are listed in my intro post.

As you can see, there's a lot of stuff that I have in plan that I haven't written yet, but all of this takes time, I need at least a day for each of these things. Some of those things will take quite a while to post, so I'm asking for your patience <3

If anything here caught your attention, follow me so that you can see the progress of it. If you want to be tagged in my posts about a fandom or a specific thing, reply here and I'll tag you when the time comes.

I have random posts about some of these fandoms that are not included here and I'm kinda random (and I think I'm funny), so you can check them out, too.

I'm kinda unserious, so don't expect the character analysises (is that a word?) or fanfics to be profesional

Bye for now <3

[firstagent]

What It's Like To Get Elected

Has it been another month since my last story update again? Uh… it’s still going.

Anyway, switching to another subject since I promised to talk more politics. As I mentioned before, I’ve been active with my local Democratic party. As far as getting into the room, getting access to important people, and giving them reality checks (and boy, do they need reality checks sometimes), I can’t recommend joining enough. Assuming you’ve got the spoons for it, and your local party don’t turn out to be assholes. That’s another conversation.

I also mentioned I was running for local school board. And guess what? I won!

In a small miracle for this town, we only had three candidates for three positions. Well, a small miracle and some excellent coordination from the local lefties. Because we were essentially unopposed, a lot of the steps of normal campaigning didn’t apply this time. Which is a shame, because I had a design for yard signs all set to go.

I did, however, interview for unions! That looks like a big Zoom call with a bunch of local reps where they ask you questions to make sure you support unions. The teachers union asked me about supporting LGBTQ+ students. Anyway, if you stalk me and find my Ballotpedia page (I only discovered a couple weeks ago that I had a Ballotpedia page) you’ll find two union endorsements. So that’s fun.

So is defending those endorsements and my Dems activity on community Facebook groups when people were under the impression they don’t get involved in local races. Maybe they should ask the county board candidate who swore up and down he didn’t take outside money, while taking $700 from the county Republicans. We have receipts.

Because of that nonsense I was more focused on his race than mine on Election Day. Hearing results when you’re running sometimes works a little differently, as you probably know someone working the polls that will share the results before the internet and news networks find them. So I heard about the local results well before they were published. And yes, I won! And that Republican guy lost. Bonus.

What happens next? For starters, training sessions. The state’s school board association emailed me the next morning with a login for their site. Three meetings in the next month will help get me up to speed: an orientation with the actual board, a gathering for new members in the region, and then an all-day affair about the specific governing model we have. It’s a lot, but it shows how much they prepare you going in, if you’re committed to actually doing the job right.

The biggest reality check came when I went to the next school board meeting, the lame duck session, if you will. For one, when I got there I got handed payroll paperwork. It hadn’t really sunk in that I was getting paid for this. Another is a discussion that frequently mentioned waiting on a vote until the new members could chime in. Or even the kudos from the other board members for crossing the finish line.

Yesterday I took my oath of office. Reading the email I was expecting a small private thing where I do an LBJ-style swearing in in a secretary’s office, maybe a picture. I just had to sign a thing, in the office because it had to be notarized. I was in and out in five minutes.

We’re going from roughly a 6-1 progressive majority to 7-0. That’s great news for our school, even if my first meeting I get to vote on whether elementary school registration fees are tripled, or doubled with the district subsidizing the balance. Thanks state legislature!

If you go in intending to do the job right, it’s a lot of work. That’s why it’s so important to elect people who intend to do the job right. Because so much of this is optional. It’s entirely possible to skip most of the trainings, to take your seat and either do nothing productive with it, or try to push policy whether or not it’s relevant, appropriate, or even legal. That’s how we get bad leadership, and why participation in this process is the only way anything’s going to get better.

(Feel free to use my Ask box for any political questions, including what the hell Democrats actually do at the local level and why I encourage joining them even with all the baggage attached.)