#also i want 'just dance' and that one ring fitness game in the hopes that i'll actually. exercise a little

[tkaulitzlvr]

heyyyyy!! just wanted to start by saying i legit love ur writing so much ur one of my fav TH authors and i legit love seeing and reading ur stories. THEY R SO DAMN GOOD :)

anyways here the request if ur comfy lol IVE HAD THIS IDEA FOR SO LONG AND I NEED SOMEONE TO DO IT PLS QUEEN

soooo basically like 2017 soft dom tom and like we r in a car driving and like reader is rlly horny and hes teasing her LIKE CRAZYYYYY and resting his hand on her thigh and stuff and whispering dirty stuff to her giving her small neck kisses and pecks and like other teasing stuff (LOL IDK WHATEVER U WANT JUST SHIT TONE OF TEASING) and then when they get home he completely ignores reader and acts like it never happened and just acts normal and goes to watch tv on couch but then reader gets RLLY CLINGY and comes over and THEN STARTS TEASING TOM ON COUCH and like reader whispers stuff to him and neck kisses and the tom gets rlly nervous and then he gives up and like eats her out till shes BEGGING HIM TO STOP (so like some overstim) and then they fuck and yeah just smut smut smut. and tom and reader with praise kink and lots of dirty talk pretty pls. <3

HAH SORRY THAT WAS KINDA LONG AND DETAILED BUT YEAH ITS LEGIT MY DREAM STORY. pls only write if ur comfortable but yeah u can add whatever u want that would fit with the story and YEAH PLS MAKE IT GOOD!!! (u will ur amazing) yeah thankyouuuuuuuuu <3 :)

DESPERATE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you can’t contain yourself, basically throwing yourself at tom. he knows it, but wants to make you wait as long as he can, and it drives you crazy. but, he makes you realise that you should be careful what you wish for.

content: smut

a/n: thank u so much anon i’m glad u love my work, and i hope this lives up to ur expectations. also never written for older tom before so thanks for being my first req to write him🙏

he saw the glances i sent his way, the way my legs squeezed together, palms becoming a little sweaty. he noticed my breathing becoming a little erratic, teeth sinking into my bottom lip, feet tapping impatiently against the floor. he knew exactly what i wanted. but, even when i leaned over, running my hands across his inner thighs, closer and closer to his clothed dick, he kept his eyes on the road, knowing that he was driving me crazy, and he liked it.

“thinking of ordering pizza for dinner. you down?” he asks, completely ignoring my hands which are now directly over his crotch, and my eyes on him, filled with desire. he knows exactly what is doing, the slight smirk tugging on his lips telling me that, and i know that he won’t give up his little game yet. i am in for a long night, my eyes set on feeling him inside of me, willing to do literally anything to get that satisfaction, completely aware that he isn’t going to make it easy for me.

but, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tease me either.

“mmm, i’d rather have you instead.” i mutter, knowing that he heard me.

we stop at a red light and he turns to me, his eyes dark, a familiar look of lust present within them. that same smirk is still on his face as he slowly leans over, planting a slow kiss just below my ear, his breath tickling the skin as he whispers into it. “who says you can’t have both?”

my eyes widen, the heat between my thighs only increasing, his words quickly causing me to become flustered, my cheeks flushing a light shade of crimson. he sees this, a small laugh escaping his lips as he plants soft kisses at my neck, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the harsh metal of his lip ring as it dances around the skin of my neck, my head tilting to the side to give him better access. his actions are abruptly cut off by the sound of a horn behind us, tom’s head shooting upwards, the traffic lights already having turned green.

he quickly adjusts himself, flashing me a quick wink before pulling his head out of my neck and beginning to drive away. my eyes focus on his hand on the gearstick, the way his veins flex, fingers tightly holding onto it, wanting nothing more for them to be moving inside of me. as if he had read my mind, he removes his hand, placing it onto my thigh, letting it travel further upwards, moving closer and closer to the place i need him most, his head still facing the road as he looks blankly at it as if he isn’t teasing me to the point that i could scream.

he moves his hand flat against me, and my body jerks in shock, his fingers slowly rubbing my clothed clit, he sees the reaction he gets out of me by doing this, smiling to himself before abruptly moving his hand away, returning it to its previous position on the gearstick as i whine in frustration.

“baby why’d you stop?” i sigh, placing my hand over his and trying to move it back over my heat, but he refuses, keeping it set on the gearstick.

“stop acting so impatient, liebe, or you know you won’t get anything. be good for me and maybe i’ll give you what you want, you just gotta wait till we get home, mhm?” he taunts, watching the way i quickly nod my head, smiling at my obedience, placing his hand back on my thigh, torturing me as his thumb begins slow movements over it.

so i stayed put, trying to distract myself literally however i could, the drive home seeming like hours as each second wasted time, time that could be spent with him inside of me. the teasing never stopped, tom kissing my ear, neck, collarbone, cheek, anywhere his lips could access whenever we stopped at a red light, promising that he’d give me what i so desperately needed once we got home. so i held on, restricting myself, his words keeping me going, acting as motivation as the reward of holding back was completely worth it.

a sigh of relief escapes my parted lips once he turns onto our driveway, my hands scrambling to undo the seatbelt, literally unable to contain myself at this point. tom however, takes his time, not stepping out of the car until i have reached the front door, unable to get in as he pulls the key from his pocket, slowly unlocking the door. i expect him to move onto me the second we walk in, pushing me against the wall, attacking me with kisses, showing me that he meant his promise, but he does the opposite.

he slowly kicks his shoes off, walking into the kitchen as i stand there, pissed off and feeling completely let down. i join him in the kitchen as he stands on his phone, leaning against the counter, a smile forming on his lips once he sees me walk in.

“what pizza do you want babe? i’m feeling like pepperoni.” he utters those words so nonchalantly, as if the things he had said to me, the way he had touched me in the car were all figments of my imagination. i mumble a small ‘get me anything, i don’t care’, before trudging to the living room, sexually frustrated, completely done with his teasing.

he joins me soon after, patting my thigh gently as he sits beside me, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the channels as if i wasn’t sat next to him, bored and desperate. i had reached my breaking point.

“tom…” i trail off, leaning towards him, my lips pressing open-mouthed kisses against his neck, taking note of the way his breathing begins to quicken, knowing that i am slowly getting to him. but he doesn’t show it yet, his expression still blank, eyes still set on the tv in front of him.

“baby…” i mutter against his skin, my hand reaching for his crotch, palming him as a low groan emits from his now parted lips. he shuffles in his seat a little, adjusting himself and clearing his throat. still nothing. i reach underneath his t-shirt, my fingers tracing his abs, feeling every muscle, lips still attached to his neck. he doesn’t give in, keeping me waiting, which only frustrates him even more, but i can feel him slowly giving in, only motivating me more.

“please, i promise i’ll be good…” i slowly say, looking upwards at him before climbing onto his lap, straddling him as he has no choice but to look into my eyes. “i’ll be so good…”

i repeat my words, dipping my head so that it is underneath his chin, kissing his neck once again, sucking gently on the skin as i try to leave marks. but i am not finished yet. i slowly begin to grind against his clothed dick, moving back and forth at a teasingly slow pace. it doesn’t take long for his hands to grip at my hips, completely stopping my movements. bingo.

“so fucking impatient.” he mumbles, switching us around in one swift motion as he lays me on the couch, moving on top of me and messily colliding his lips with mine. “couldn’t wait at all could you, hm?”

i say nothing, too busy focusing on the way his lips move against mine. he clearly isn’t wasting anytime as i feel his hands move to my leggings, hooking his fingers around the hem, tugging them and my panties down, raking them down my legs and throwing them carelessly onto the floor. my own hands scramble for his t-shirt, taking it off of him and letting it find the pile of clothes on the floor, my own t-shirt and his pants following, only his boxers between us.

he reconnects our lips as a quiet ‘please’ escapes from my mouth, wanting more than just a kiss, having waited all night for this.

“please what? you know you have to use your words schatz.” he teases, his forehead against mine, waiting for me to speak.

“need you to touch me.” i whine, my hands finding his neck as i play with the loose strands of hair, watching the way he nods his head, seeming satisfied with my answer.

he crawls downwards, kissing each part of my body as he does so, nipping gently at the skin, enjoying the way my breathing is fast and heavy, low whines escaping my mouth. he reaches my inner thighs, still planting small kisses, one hand on each leg as he forces them both apart, letting his head rest in-between them, stopping his motions and looking upwards at me, his eyes meeting mine.

“you sure?” he asks, knowing full well what my answer is, using his breath to ask such a pointless question, knowing that it will only get me more riled up.

“yes tom just- fuck! touch me, ple-.” i sigh out, my pleading soon cut off when i feel his tongue delve into me, my mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as i my hands find their way into his hair, pushing him further into me.

“oh my god!” i cry, feeling his tongue hit all the right spots inside of me, knowing that it won’t take long for the familiar knot to form in my stomach, his teasing meaning that the smallest of touches had the biggest effect on me. he groans against me, the bass in his throat sending a vibration through me, yet another moan spilling from my lips, his name never being said this many times before.

his pointer finger finds its way to my clit, rubbing slow circles whilst his tongue continues to drill inside of me, my release building up inside of me.

“getting close. don’t stop, oh my god please don’t stop!” i beg, my hands lost within the thick strands of brunette hair, the previous tidy bun messy thanks to me, but he didn’t seem to mind, only focused on feeling me get to my end.

his tongue touches my g-spot, a high pitch moan unlike no other i had uttered coming from the back of my throat. he picks up on this, directly hitting that spot over and over, my vision clouding, eyes rolling to the back of my head, way too lost in pleasure to process the fact that the knot in my stomach had released, tom swallowing all of my juices. i expect him to stop, my chest heaving up and down, coming down from my high, every part of me sensitive, but he keeps going at a fast pace - if not quicker than before.

“too much! can’t take it.” i breathe out, my thighs squeezing against his head, careful not to apply too much pressure, but he only smiles against me, completely ignoring my pleas.

“you wanted me to touch you.” he mutters into me, replacing his mouth with his fingers so he can speak more clearly. “so that’s what i’m gonna do schatz.”

and he sticks to his words, his tongue moving back inside me, the overstimulation quickly taking over, my entire body jolting when he hits the sensitive spots inside of me, unable to take the pleasure.

“please…i can’t…too much…”

my words are incoherent, not able to form full sentences as i feel another release building up.

“not stopping until you say the word baby.” he mumbles against me, referring to our safe word that i have only had to use once. he knows that i won’t say it, secretly enjoying the pleasure despite the pain that comes with it, taking all of it in. “you can give me one more, doing so well.”

i take in every single word of praise he gives me, using it to work through the pain, focusing on the pleasure, using it to guide me to my release, my eyes squeezing shut, head falling backwards as it takes over, my back arching off of the couch, this one much more powerful than the last. he swallows everything, planting a few kisses on my lips as i wince, completely spent. my body lays limp on the couch, his moving upwards so that he is hovering above me. he kisses me softly, his thumb reaching upwards and wiping a few tears that i hadn’t even realised had fallen.

he sits up, taking his boxers off, stopping them at his knees, not even bothering to fully remove him. he lifts my body, sitting me on top of him so i am straddling him.

“you did so well baby. you think you can handle just one more, for me?” he asks, running his hands up and down my hips, watching as i tiredly nod my head, a small smile spreading across his face.

i position myself onto him, slowly sliding downwards as he fills me up.

“fuckkkk.” he drags out, his head falling backwards and resting on the top of the couch, his hands tightly holding my hips, fingers digging into the flesh.

i stop about halfway, feeling completely full, not sure how i will be able to take all of him. he sees that i am struggling, kissing my cheeks gently , moving down to my collarbone.

“you feel so good baby, keep going, you’re almost there. shit- so fucking good.”

low groans escape his mouth as i nod my head, continuing to sink onto him until i am fully sat on him, my mouth dropping open, wincing a little at the pain, his fingers nothing compared to the size of him. i place my hands on his chest, trying to steady myself as i begin bouncing up and down, tom moaning loudly, his hands never leaving my hips, watching me move on him.

“so fucking tight, oh my god…” he sighs out, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut as i speed up my movements, whining as he hits a totally new angle, never feeling so good, so full before.

his forehead glistens with sweat, muscles flexing every time he squeezes my hips, his fingers leaving marks into my skin, but i don’t complain, the feeling only increasing my stamina. my walls clench around him unconsciously, tom groaning whenever i do it, the feeling only bringing him closer to the edge.

“just like that.” he groans, his voice deep. “yeah, shit baby- feels so good.”

after my two orgasms, it doesn’t take me long to become tired, my movements slow and sloppy. my body collapses onto his chest, frustrated as i am getting close, unable to get there myself. he notices this quickly, beginning to thrust upwards into me, loud moans echoing throughout the room as i try my best to meet his movements, rotating my hips a little, feeling him deeper inside me than i ever have before.

“i’m close. don’t stop.” i manage to say, messily colliding his lips with mine, his tongue exploring my mouth whilst his strokes remain strong and deep, hitting all the right spots.

“me too baby.” he mutters between kisses. “almost there, you’re doing so so well.”

his dick twitches inside of me as he thrusts in and out a few more times, before his cum shoots into me. his head quickly falls backwards, eyebrows furrowing, mouth falling open as a long groan falls from it, his release triggering my own as i clench around him for the last time. he thrusts a few more times, riding out our highs, our heavy breathing and skin slapping together the only thing sounding throughout the quiet room.

he kisses my lips once more, pulling apart as his forehead leans against mine, arms holding me within his embrace, skin pressed together.

“you did so good meine liebe. took me so well.” he whispers, still trying to catch his breath as i am unable to respond, totally worn out, my body weak as it rests in his for support.

his lips gently kiss my forehead, one hand running through my hair whilst the other gently strokes my back, his breathing calming down as he utters sweet nothings in my ear until i fall asleep within his embrace, completely exhausted.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[therealcocoshady]

Request:

Marshall having to miss Lilly’s birthday because he’s on tour

Happy birthday

Author’s Note : Thank you for your request ❤️. I had a blast writing this ! I hope you enjoy it 🙈.

Tags : Fluff

2019

Before leaving for his tour, Marshall had apologized to you about three hundred times. You had just gotten engaged and he had to leave you to plan the wedding on your own, while he was touring Europe for a month and a half. The two of you didn’t want to wait to get married and agreed to do it as soon as he came back. The day before he left for his tour, the two of you almost went to city hall to get married in a haste. You couldn’t wait to finally be married and officially be a family. In truth, neither of you really cared about having a lengthy ceremony, a reception or proper wedding attire. You just wanted to be married. But as you were ready to get in the car and get to city hall before closing time, you were met with doubts, especially Marshall. 

Should we do it ?  Are you sure ? He asked. 

I’m game if you are, you said with a smile. I can’t wait to be your wife. 

I can’t wait to be your husband. Won’t you regret having a proper ceremony, though ? He asked. 

I don’t care, you said. But if you’d rather wait, we can do it too… 

I don’t want to wait, he said. But maybe… Maybe we can call my daughters ? They wouldn’t want to miss it. 

Of course, you said. Maybe we could have one of them FaceTime my parents so that they don’t miss it either ? 

Great. And we should celebrate a little, maybe go to dinner ? He suggested.

Should I dress up, then ? You asked. If we’re going out after, I should at least wear a nice dress. 

I should at least put on a nice shirt, then, he agreed. 

Ok, we get dressed, book dinner, call the girls and my parents and off we go, you said. 

Should we call Paul, Denaun and Tracy ? He asked. They were here when we met, they’re our closest friends, they should be celebrating with us. 

Ok, but then perhaps Royce too ? You asked. And do they bring their significant others ? 

You stopped and stared at each other before bursting out in a fit of laughter. He kissed you lovingly. 

Who are we kidding ? He chuckled. 

Do you… Do we want an actual party ? You asked. 

I think I do, he admitted. I love you, I can’t wait for you to be my wife, but I think I’d regret not celebrating properly. You deserve actual vows, a nice place to get married, a first dance… I want us to do this the right way. And I don’t think your mom would forgive us if she wasn’t there to attend, and possibly have a little figurine of herself on top of the cake. 

You’re right, you giggled. But I don’t want to wait too long, though. Let’s do it when you get back, ok ? 

Ok, he agreed. Right after I get back, I’m marrying the shit out of you and you’re mine forever. 

I’m already yours forever, you said cheekily as you showed him your engagement ring. 

It had been a couple of months since he got on one knee at dinner and proposed with the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. You should have gotten used to the rock sitting on your engagement finger by now, but you were still giddy every time you looked at it. Knowing that he took your daughter with him when he went to pick the ring also made it that much more meaningful. That very night, he also stated his intention of adopting Lily and caring for her. Ever since you’d met, he had always been incredible to her and, even though the adoption wasn’t official yet, he was very much a father figure to her. You knew leaving her for six weeks was just as hard for him as leaving you. By his own admission, he loved your little routine as a family and was going to miss it while on tour. Sadly, he was also going to miss her second birthday. Unfortunately, the tour had been planned before the two of you started dating, so there was no way he could have known. He was gutted, though, and he kept on apologizing to the both of you. 

It’s fine, you said. We’ll celebrate with you when you get back. 

It’s not the same, he shrugged. But I’d like that. 

If anything, you’ll miss the party with all the kids from daycare, so you’re pretty lucky, you giggled. I sort of want to skip it… 

Why did you plan it in the first place, then ? He mused. 

Because apparently, it shows that your kid and family are socially adjusted, you explained. And if I- if we want her to get into the right preschool… 

You’re still set on that fancy preschool, aren’t you ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

You still think that’s stupid ? You asked. 

I think preschool is preschool, he chuckled. My kids didn’t go to any fancy preschool or kindergarten. In fact, they went to all public schools and did great. But if you think it’s what’s best for Lily, sure. 

Yeah but now that you’re adopting her, you should have a say- you began. 

Doesn’t matter, he said. I’m not against it. In fact, if you want me to foot the bill, I will, happily. But, just in case she doesn’t get in : you should remember it’s preschool, not Harvard, and that her life won’t be ruined if she goes to a public preschool. I’m pretty sure they use the same crayons anyway. 

True, you giggled. I know it’s stupid, you know ? But Lily is my first and only child. I only want the best. I know you have more experience with your girls. I should probably chill… You know better.

I don’t know if I know better, he chuckled. You’re the best Mom she would ask for. Plus, you know… When I had my daughters, I wasn’t in the same position as now. I wasn’t able to be as present, physically and mentally, too. But Lily… was Lily’s going to get the best version of me. 

We’re pretty lucky to have you, you said lovingly. 

I’m pretty lucky too, he said. I’m really going to miss you. I’m not even gone and I can’t wait to be back, already.

Hopefully, we don’t burn the house down with that wild Project X party for her birthday, you joked. Are you sure you’re ok with me hosting it here ? 

You live here, now, don’t you ? He said with a smile. Besides, the house survived Nathan and the parties he threw when I was on tour and he lived here, so it should be fine with the kids from daycare. 

You were still navigating your new life as Marshall’s fiancée. Before your engagement, you didn’t live together but after he asked for your hand, you ended up moving in with him in his house. You still weren’t too used to the place. Before, you spent most of your time in your house, since all of Lily’s stuff was there. But given his celebrity status, Marshall needed his security nearby and it made more sense for you to move into his house, which was in a gated community, than for him to move into yours. You liked the place and he had made the cutest bedroom and playroom for Lily, who absolutely loved it, but you had yet to claim the place as yours. Though now that you would be left here alone for six weeks, you’d have no choice. 

On the morning he left for his tour, the goodbye was bittersweet. As a collaborator who worked for Shady Records and his biggest supporter, you were excited for him because you knew he loved performing, but as his fiancée, it was hard to let him go. He was standing by the door, bags in his hand, ready to cross the threshold. You were holding Lily, ready to say goodbye. Six weeks would be too long. He let go of his bags to hug you one last time. 

I’m going to miss you, he said. I’ll FaceTime everyday, alright ? Or at least, as much as I can. 

Sure, you said. Say bye to Dad, Lily ? 

Bye, she said in her little voice. 

Bye baby, he said softly. Take care of your Mom, alright ? And don’t become a giant while I’m gone. 

He kissed her little head and she giggled. You tried to get her to say « Bye Dad » but referring to Marshall as her father wasn’t natural for her yet. He wasn’t bothered by it, though, and said that she’d use the word in due time. 

Bye, my love, he said before kissing you tenderly. I love you. 

I love you too, you said. Have a safe flight. And say hi to everyone for me. 

Will do, he said. See you in six weeks. 

You nodded and watched him leave, tears in your eyes. As soon as she saw the car leave the property and the tears in your eyes, Lily understood that Marshall might be gone for longer than usual and started to cry. You knew it was going to be a long few weeks. However, Marshall kept true to his words. He FaceTimed you every night and even read a couple of stories to Lily, who was always happy to see him on the screen. The tour was going great and he was having fun, though he missed you a lot. As for you, you kept working and planning the wedding. At least, this kept you busy. 

Two days before Lily’s birthday, you were looking at your phone and showing her pictures and videos of Marshall on stage and she finally pronounced the magic word. 

Daddy ! She shrieked. 

That’s right my love ! You said happily. That’s Daddy. Oh he’s going to be so happy ! 

You couldn’t wait to tell Marshall Lily had finally referred to him as Daddy. Though you wished he’d been able to hear it for himself. You had two weeks left before finally seeing him and you couldn’t wait for your little family to be reunited. That’s when you decided that enough was enough and, without second-thought, you decided to book plane tickets to join him in Europe. You never thought your daughter would have a father but now she had one and your little ray of sunshine deserved to have her favorite person by her side for her second birthday. And since he couldn’t make it home, home would make it to him. You immediately started packing and called Tracy. 

What’s up beautiful ? She asked. Marshall’s on stage right now. Want me to get him to call you back when the show’s over ? 

Hey ! No need, you giggled. I thought I should give you a heads up… I’m flying to Europe with Lily. We’re packing right now. 

Seriously ?! She asked. It’s going to be great to see you girls. He’s going to be so excited when I tell him ! 

Can you not ? You asked. I thought I’d surprise him ! 

Oooh that’s a good idea, she said with excitement. Do you need me to book your flights ? 

I’m good, thanks, you said. I just wanted to let you know. We’ll be in Sweden tomorrow afternoon. 

I’ll send the details of the hotel so that you can drop off the bags, and tell security to let you in the arena, Tracy offered. And if you need me, I’m one phone call away ! 

You were incredibly thankful for Tracy. She was the first person you befriended when you started working for Shady Records and she had been instrumental in your relationship with Marshall. In fact, she was the very person who told you to go for it, and who opened your eyes to the fact that he was into you. 

As soon as your bags were packed, you got in the car with Lily, heading for the airport and ready to catch the first flight for Sweden. You couldn’t wait to see Marshall. 

It was Lily’s first long flight, going out of the country, and it turned out to be an absolute nightmare. You had only managed to book economy tickets and you had to sit through an entire flight with your daughter in your lap while she was all fussy. You tried playing with her, reading to her, letting her play with her phone (even though you were absolutely against the idea of kids playing with technology) but nothing would do. Your back hurt and you knew you’d have to face the music and deal with jet lag, all while trying to work remotely for the duration of your stay. But regardless, it was worth it : you were determined to spend Lily’s second birthday with Marshall. Before the flight, you also took care of canceling the party, making up excuses and saying that Lily was sick. When you touched down in Stockholm, you were excited, despite the lack of sleep. Lily was starting to be sleepy as well, which made her less  energic. Travelling with a toddler wasn’t too easy and, since you couldn’t pack the stroller with you, you had to carry her, as well as your bag, hers and the diaper back. So much for packing light. You only planned on being gone from home a few days but, even with the bare necessities, it was a lot. Thankfully, you got the help of a very nice taxi driver who took you to the arena. It was 2:00 and you knew that, around that time, Marshall was probably starting soundcheck. You grabbed your phone and let Tracy know you were on your way. It had been on airplane mode for hours and you just realized you had missed calls from Marshall, as well as texts asking if you were alright and if you were mad at him. As soon as you got out of the cab, you found Tracy waiting for you in front of the arena. She hugged both you and Lily and helped you with your bags. 

I made arrangements with the hotel this morning, they’ll have a crib set up in Marshall’s suite for Lily, she said. 

You’re a godsend ! She’s been fussy the whole flight, hasn’t slept one bit… I can’t wait to put her down for a nap, hopefully get some rest, you confessed. 

Someone else’s been fussy, she pointed out. He was gutted that you wouldn’t pick up the phone right before Lily’s birthday… 

I didn’t even think of that, you said earnestly. 

Don’t worry, all will be forgiven as soon as he sees both of you, she said reassuringly. 

You entered the arena and she led you backstage, where you greeted by the whole team. Paul was surprised to see you and you had to say that you had come on impulse and moved your schedule around. He was still your boss and it hadn’t really occurred to you that you should keep him informed. However, as always, he was understanding and you suspected it had something to do with Lily hugging him and cooing « Unc Paul ». Your baby had Marshall’s whole team wrapped around her finger. Seeing all these familiar faces gave her a surge of energy and she was all giddy. You were led to the side of the stage, where you could see Marshall and Denaun doing sound check. They were absorbed and didn’t see either you or Lily. However, your daughter immediately spotted her Dad and favorite Uncle and she started shrieking. 

Daddy ! She said. 

You want to go and see him, baby ? You asked. 

Yes ! Daddy !!! M’ere ! She called. 

However, with the music being so loud, no one could hear her. You put her down and she immediately started running towards Marshall, who had his back turn and had no idea Lily was coming his way. You immediately took out your phone to capture the sweet moment. At some point, Porter spotted her and smiled as he stopped everything. 

Look who’s-

DADDY !!! Your daughter shrieked. 

Marshall turned and, as soon as he spotted Lily, you could see his face light up. He put the mic down and lowered himself for Lily to run in his arms. He engulfed her in a big hug and held her tightly. 

What’s my name ? How did you call me ? He asked with the biggest smile. 

Daddy ! She repeated with pride. 

That’s right, baby ! Daddy missed you so much, he added as he kissed the top of her head. 

He looked around and finally spotted you. You stopped recording and ran to hug him as well. You held each other for a long minute, savoring each other’s presence. 

God I missed you, he said as he buried his face in your neck. 

I missed you too, you said. We missed you. 

I’m so glad you’re here, he said. I was worried when you didn’t pick up the phone last night. 

Sorry, you said. I was on the plane when you called. I wanted Lily to have her favorite person by her side for her second birthday. 

You’re amazing, he praised before kissing you. I’m so happy to see the two of you. Wait, I lost track of time… it’s today, right ? 

It is, you giggled. 

Happy birthday, baby, he told Lily before kissing her. 

I can’t believe our baby is two, you said emotionally. 

I can’t believe you flew all the way here, he replied. I’m so happy. You’re amazing. 

I wouldn’t have been able to sit through this party and celebrate when Lily doesn’t have you by her side, you said. It doesn’t feel right. Birthdays are a family thing. 

How about preschool ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. I know one of the moms at daycare is the director… 

Don’t care, you chuckled. My baby has her Daddy by her side and that’s all that matters. 

You stayed by Marshall’s side during soundcheck and attended his performance. Lily was wearing noise-reducing headphones and she was excited to see her Dad performing, jumping around and interacting with fans. It was a shame she was too young to remember it later, but she seemed to be having a blast. At some point, though, she fell asleep I your arms, absolutely exhausted by the time difference and the whole flight spent without closing her eyes. She had slept a bit during the day but it wasn’t enough. You were rocking her, holding her close to you when Marshall walked off the stage after the show. You could see him melt as he saw her asleep. 

She’s so cute, he commented. 

She was a handful, you replied. I’m glad she’s asleep. 

I can’t wait for her to wake up, though, he chuckled. We haven’t even celebrated her birthday yet ! 

We can just have cake and make her blow on a candle tomorrow, you giggled. She won’t mind that it’s a day late. She won’t remember anyway. But at least, we’re together. That’s all that matters.

I’m so happy to have my girls with me, he said lovingly. Now, how about we hand Lily to Tracy for a second and you help me shower ? 

You giggled and agreed. Tracy had always been a doting aunt figure for Lily and she had absolutely no problem watching her - not that it was too much trouble when Lily was sleeping peacefully. As soon as you were alone in his dressing room, Marshall locked the door and kissed you passionately before pining you against the wall. 

God, I missed you, he said in between kisses. 

Missed you too, you whispered. Missed this. 

He chuckled and removed his tee-shirt. After almost two hours on stage, he was a sweaty mess but you didn’t care one bit. If anything, you liked his scent and were even more attracted to him - which you could probably blame on your compatible pheromones. You playfully ran your hands on his chest, in his back, happy to finally be able to touch him. He reciprocated by helping you out of your clothes and, soon enough, you were in the shower, kissing sloppily while lathering each other in body wash. You enjoyed the warm water pouring over you, relaxing your muscles after a long trip, as well as Marshall’s hands all over your body, teasing your breasts, grabbing your butt… The two of you couldn’t get enough of each other. While you were apart, you sent a great deal of nudes and sexy texts to each other but nothing compared to the real deal. You weren’t sure if you had to blame it on your exhaustion (his from the show, yours from the trip) or simply the euphoria of being reunited, but you swore the both of you never came this quickly before. You simply laughed it off and cuddled for a while on the couch. You were taken out of your little bubble when you heard Tracy knock on the door. 

Hey lovebirds, she giggled. Time to drive to the hotel. 

You quickly got dressed and went to get Lily. You expected her to be sleeping but, instead, you found her wide awake, playing with Denaun. Obviously, the little one was too happy and didn’t care too much about rest and sleep, much to your dismay. Toddlers were a handful and, even though Lily was a rather easy child, you definitely liked it more when she had proper rest. Otherwise, she could get a bit difficult, like any other child her age. Denaun was teaching her how to answer the question : « Who’s the GOAT ? » (apparently, « Nauny » was the only acceptable answer). 

Finally, you two, Denaun grinned. Finally got it out of your system ? 

Shut up, Marshall chuckled. 

Not before the wedding, you said innocently. 

Check it out, guys… Lily, who’s the GOAT ? He asked. 

Naun- DADDY ! She giggled as soon as she saw Marshall pointing at himself. 

Fuck you, man, Denaun sighed. Took me twenty minutes to get her to say it ! 

Language, Marshall scolded as he took Lily in his arms. That’s right babygirl. Daddy’s the GOAT. 

Marshall was still beaming over the fact that he had finally earned the « Daddy » title and proudly carried Lily on his shoulder on the way to the car. Once you were at the hotel, everyone gathered in Marshall’s suite for dinner, which mainly consisted of snacks. You tried to get your daughter away from the sugary snacks and scolded Denaun for sneaking her some, but it was a lost cause. Even Marshall indulged her. 

If she has sugar this late, she won’t sleep as well, you pointed out. 

But she’s so happy, your fiancé pointed out. And it’s her birthday… 

Speaking of which, Tracy said, it’s time to blow candles, don’t you think ? 

You hugged your friend, who had taken the time to order a small cake with candles from room service as soon as she learned you were coming. Everyone sang your baby happy birthday and she was elated to have some of her people with her. When it was time to go to bed, you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth while Marshall put your daughter in her PJs. You walked in on him holding her and gently rocking her as she was yawning. He was so absorbed that he didn’t see you. 

Happy birthday again, my princess, he said with a smile. I’m so happy Mommy brought you here. I missed you so much. I swear to God, and I swear to you, I’ll never be away on your birthday again. 

[mysticstarlightduck]

New Tag Game! Character Aesthetic Deep-Dive! <3

Making a new tag game because I'm inspired and want to show the world my aesthetics from Scrapyard Boys, so here we go!

Rules: Make a moodboard with your character's aesthetic, a playlist that fits their vibe, "badly summarize them" (like, talk about their personality, but funnily), etc. It absolutely does not need to be super detailed!!!!!

✦ Character Aesthetic: Adrien Rosetrom, WIP -Scrapyard Boys

♡ Moodboard ♡

♡ Playlist ♡

Fur Elise - Faouzia

I'll dance, I'll dance like a puppet on your string I'll sing when you order me to sing I'll ring like a desperate violin [...] So play me like my name is Fur Elise Lie to me and say you'll never leave Drown me in your twisted melodies I'll pretend you wrote 'em all for me

For Your Entertainment - Adam Lambert

Let's go, it's my show Baby, do what I say Don't trip off the glitz That I'm gonna display I told ya I'ma hold ya down until you're amazed Give it to ya 'til you're screaming my name [...] Oh, I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet You thought an angel swept you off your feet Well, I'm about to turn up the heat I'm here for your entertainment

Ashes - Stellar

Ring around the rosie Pocket full of posie I'ma fucking blow all the ashes down Ring around the rosie Pocket full of posie I'ma fucking go crazy for you now

Break Stuff - Limp Bizkit

It's just one of those days when you don't wanna wake up Everything is fucked, everybody sucks You don't really know why, but you wanna justify Rippin' someone's head off No human contact, and if you interact Your life is on contract Your best bet is to stay away, motherfucker It's just one of those days It's all about the he-says-she-says bullshit I think you better quit lettin' shit slip Or you'll be leavin' with a fat lip

Shut Up! - Simple Plan

There you go, you're always so right It's all a big show, it's all about you You think you know what everyone needs You always take time to criticize me It seems like everyday I make mistakes I just can't get it right It's like I'm the one you love to hate But not today So shut up, shut up, shut up, don't wanna hear it Get out, get out, get out, get out of my way Step up, step up, step up, you'll never stop me Nothing you say today is gonna bring me down

♡ Badly Summarized OC ♡

Angsty young adult makes bad life decisions he knows he will regret later but enjoys the Vibes tm

Troublemaker who can barely take care of his own mental health ends up the unwilling guardian of two traumatized teenagers

Drama queen incarnate who loves some good Tea, but also cries while watching romantic comedies

Rockstar wannabe kicked out by bigoted grandmother still makes it alright in the end

Somehow the best and worst older sibling in the world at the same time

"I HAVE THE POWER OF ENERGY DRINKS AND ANIME ON MY SIDE OOOOO"

Irresponsible 25-year-old too angry to give a damn

BREAKING NEWS: Local stripper makes mob boss regret his very existence, while having The Time of His Life

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@the-golden-comet, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @ominous-feychild, @finickyfelix

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @the-letterbox-archives @differentnighttale,

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Moon-chosen, Moon-guided - Part I

I wanted to feel accomplished and finish up the Isobel-centric counterpart to my previous BG3 fic here, but the length got away from me. So here is the first half, just in time to end the year. Hope you enjoy!

Be warned that this fic is once again pretty much made up entirely of spoilers for Act 2 of the game.

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3 Characters: Dame Aylin/Isobel Thorm, Ketheric Thorm, Jaheira, and a bit of Shadowheart Length: ~9400 words Rating: M, for canon-typical violence and sexual content

Features classics such as hurt/comfort, dealing with trauma, a complicated father/daughter relationship, flirty sparring, and coming back from the dead, in no particular order. The idea of Isobel's magical photography is something that has chosen to live in my brain ever since I read about it (here, for instance), so I simply had to include it.

Summary:

There is a part of Aylin still in that cage. There is a part of you still in that grave. From that night of your coming-of-age ritual when you astounded all of Reithwin with the uncanny speed of your return from the woods, to your desperate flight away from your own grave, one thing has remained true. The guidance was granted, no matter the harshness or difficulty of the path. But it has always, always been up to you to walk it.

The brilliant, defiant Beacon of Last Light many revere from afar. Isobel Thorm they do not know at all.

Also on AO3.

—

Part I - Last Light - The Inn  

It happens so very quickly, for something that would rewrite the fate of your home and all you ever loved for the next century. Like a carelessly tossed pebble turning into a rockslide. 

An ominous chill that barely has the time to register fully; a bark-whine from Squire, cut short; a searing pain in-- through-- your side and your chest, fading into numbness within moments, so fast that you barely choke out a desperate blood-drowned breath as blackness swarms the edges of your vision; a frantic cry of Isobel! ringing out from somewhere above or below; and then-- 

nothing 

and nothing, and nothing, and nothing. 

---

"...bel. Isobel." 

You know that voice, impossibly distant though it sounds. Your father's voice. Soft, barely rising above the dull droning noise in your ears. And then feeling trickles in, slowly but steadily. One cold hand on your cheek, one cradling your head as if to help you lift it, sending ice down your neck, down your spine, laid against cool, damp marble. 

Your eyelids are heavy, so very heavy, and a weight is settled on your chest. You struggle to draw a first, raspy breath, then just barely manage another, but the third turns into a weak cough as the musty reek of a mausoleum overwhelms you. Smoky incense chokes lungs that already feel flooded. Your chest feels fit to burst with a heart straining to pump stale blood once more. 

Your father hovers over you, exclaiming when you finally force your eyes open. It is hard to see him, in the shadows, with sight that doesn't work quite right just yet. He is older, so much older, and so much more worn and weathered than you've ever known him to be. But this apparition is also hideously not him, and it is beyond you to even try to understand the look nestled deep in the dark sockets of the dulled eyes, the miasmic air of rot and decay he exudes. 

You double over and vomit black death-reeking ichor. And the twisted shade of your father rubs your back ever so gently, tries to steady you. Dabs at your face with a cloth that smells of alchemical herbs. Pats down your hair and shushes you, murmurs nonsense sounds of comfort, and holds you to him. 

There are bones everywhere you look. Opened caskets, upturned marble sarcophagi, and an endless, endless sea of bone. Some arranged in patterns, circles, spirals - shapes so deliberate and familiar and deeply, deeply foul, you do not need conscious thought and acolyte training to recognise. An entire macabre skeletal dance makes up the armour you are pressed against, cutting into you like shards of ice. 

You can barely manage breath. Speech feels right out of the question. You try, anyway, a feeble: "What--," until you are reduced to tearing, wet coughing again. 

Cold hands to cold arms, you are moved to sit up fully. "Hush, don't strain yourself, Isobel. I'm here. I'm here." And then, reverently, "you're here." 

He looks at you and smiles. "My Isobel," the once-beloved, grave-distorted voice is in awe. "My darling daughter, returned to me. We can be together again. A family once more." The mouth of the sickly grey shadow-laced corpse-face looming above you stretches into a perverse mockery of affection once lavished upon you by your dear father. 

It is not him. It is not him. It is the broad, rough outline of Ketheric Thorm, filled in with something else, something wrong. This… warped creature of horror clad in bone and darkness cannot be him. But it is. 

If I am back, where did I go? You want to ask. Where have I been?  

Cold, dark, damp. Nothing but blackness. Shadows, grasping, from all around you, reaching within you, from within you. The feeble flicker of a few candles does nothing to subdue them. No light, no light can withstand… except… 

You had warmth and light unconquerable, once. You remember little, can make sense of even less, but you do remember her. 

"Aylin," you rasp out, "where is Aylin?" 

- 

It is hard to run in a funeral robe, on shaking, unsteady legs. But the fine cloth burns white and silver on you and the all-encompassing shadows do not touch you, recoiling when they try to reach and claw and grip. 

And all the while something guides your steps; something so achingly familiar, a gentle yet unshakeable foundation upon which you had built up so much of your life, your self. Even though you feel like a stranger to your own bones, as if the rest of you might just slough off and leave you but a pile of dust, you travel safely and surely down an unseen path, laid before you as if it were a bright, moonlit, well-trod road, your pursuers nowhere to be seen. 

The path She sets before us, your addled mind recites as it grasps around for something reassuring, but always it is us who must walk it.  

You stop, gasping for air and doubling over in a fit of coughs, as a giant of wood and brick emerges from the shadows. 

You knew this place, once. You celebrated here, attended festivals and feasts and casual drinks alike. Helped out at the bar on account of losing a bet - it amused them to see you fill ale mugs still in your initiate garb, and you cheered and jokingly bickered and laughed and laughed and laughed. Lived, alongside your friends and cousins and aunties and uncles, down every street and around every corner of what this town once was.

It is less an inn and more a dilapidated husk, now. And it echoes with the same feeling you bear of being hollowed out violently, then just as violently filled to the brim with something foul, wrong. But it is quiet, and it still stands despite the ruin of everything you have trudged through so far, as if it has been waiting for you to find it. The creak of the stairs as you climb up to the top floor is the only sound for miles. 

Your feet take you around the landing, to a large room that must have been homey once. Then your eyes catch on the faded designs on the thick, ragged carpets on the floor, the luxurious chair by the now-cold fireplace right next to surprisingly well-stocked bookshelves, the large double bed with finely carved posts. And you remember scenes from what feels like someone else's life.  

A slow trickle of memory, disjointed, of a time you stayed here for a good tenday after an argument with your father, attempting to prove a point, and of the poor innkeeper trying to play peacekeeper between you despite the steady stream of income your feud provided her in an off season for trade. More pleasantly, there was also a memorable birthday you spent here with Aylin, both of you away from formalities and duties, huddled together in your own little world for a precious few days. 

Aylin, who treated you with such unimaginable tenderness, in the face of all her sheer divine strength. Aylin, who looked just as resplendent in dark blue brocade, offering you her arm at a function, as she did armoured and grime-covered, stepping off the battlefield to sweep you off your feet. Aylin, who gazed up at you with wide, bright, honest, adoring eyes as if you'd hung the very Moon in the sky, despite her being the daughter of the Moonmaiden herself.  

Aylin, who was dead. 

You peel off the grave-chilled garb, but still feel so deeply wrong you want to retch. Your lungs don't work right, again, and the darkness and dust covering the lounge in a thick carpet do nothing to help. In your struggle for air, you open up a large double door that exits onto a balcony, and are greeted with a wondrous sight. 

Light. Weak, shimmery, so faint you might think it an illusion, a trick of your own addled mind. But it is there in all its diaphanous silver, and you know, somehow, it is for you. 

You tear off the last remnants of the white silk funeral gloves and extend a hand towards it, into it. "Selûne, please," you rasp the hallowed, oft-spoken name out softly, barely above a despair-laden breath. "Please." 

The moment the moonbeam - for it can be nothing else - touches your skin, you feel burning. But it is not a judgement, or a rejection, and you do not have it in you to fear such a thing, not now. 

It singes you but doesn't - it sears something away, and you step into it, arms spread wide, welcoming it, or giving yourself up, you aren't sure which. Aren't sure there is much of a distinction to be made, anyway. 

As you stay there, bathed, ignoring the sting of it - a miracle. It coalesces into something stronger, then stronger yet. A pillar of light forms around you and when you understand it is yours to do so, you step out of it. 

It remains. 

The shadows recede. 

The inn has a closet full of dusty grey-silver Selûnite robes. You dress. 

You dust off a cobwebbed mirror and gaze into the long-dead eyes of a corpse, the Moonmaiden's holy symbol rendered in detailed black ink upon its face. Then you take the entire frame out to the balcony, and arrange it so it catches and directs the precious light. 

You kneel down in front of it, curled in on yourself to preserve what feeble warmth you are granted. You pray that whatever your father has become will not find you here. That the shadows will not reach you here. 

In return, you receive a purpose. 

- 

You were very young when your mother died. The searing, half-understood pain of her departure had time to dull into an ache, then into a sense of absence you have grown up with, that will always be yet another part of you. You keep her final letter, and reread it less and less as the years and then decades go by. You can hear and feel her words just as well in the soft, warm moonlight that blankets Reithwin on blessed nights. It makes you feel like you can firmly grasp and hold and understand all that she tried to leave you with. 

There is a distinct sense that she is proud of you. That she will see you again one day and tell you so herself. So you smile up at the Moon, the ever-changing treasured constant in your life, and bask in the pale, gentle love you receive in return.  

When you lost a mother, Reithwin lost its head cleric. In the years since, it has had only interim duty-bearers. And you understood, years ago, even as you settled into a promising role in the House of Healing, that you were being looked to as the replacement. 

And true - this has ever been your calling. You feel you were born for this service, sometimes, so easily does it come to you - the deeply felt devotion, the lightness of moonlight always ready at your fingertips, the sheer awareness of Her presence, of all She gives and provides and strives for. A cause so good and just and right you would barely deign to call it a choice - though a choice it is, always, freely made by you, again and again and again. 

So when you reject the notion of taking up office at Reithwin - at least for the foreseeable future - and announce your plan for undertaking several pilgrimages of increasing length and complexity, it causes a stir among the clergy and a dark thundercloud to settle upon your father's brow. 

The further away the locations you list as you stand before him in his study, oddly formal, the deeper his frown becomes. By the time you mention leaving Waterdeep and the House of the Moon and the settlements on the way to Neverwinter, he raises a hand to cut you off. 

"I do not think this is wise, Isobel. There is need of you here. The roads are perilous--" 

"I can take care of myself. You know I can, papa - you've seen to that. I have trained and prepared for this all my life." Then you smile, hopeful, and make your biggest misstep. "Besides, Aylin will be there to protect me, should the need arise--" 

"Of course she will," you catch the mutter under his breath and your mouth slams shut. 

You take a deep, steadying breath, and reach across the desk to lay a gentle, reassuring hand on your father's, meeting and holding his heavy gaze. "Reithwin is my home. No matter where the road takes me, no matter how far, I'll always come back. And to you as well, papa." 

Reithwin, ancestral seat of your family, safe and idyllic, surely does not need you as much as the wide world; the vast, colourful, challenging variety of the realms. There is so much you can do, and offer. What good are gifts if you are not going to use them? Hoarding them, hiding away, sheltered - no, you refuse to be a waste. 

"I need you here, Isobel." 

There is an edge of desperation to your father's voice that makes your breath catch and your eyes burn. A pain that calls to mind, oddly, the sting of the black ink being slowly applied around your lids, a needle shaping the curl of the holy symbol down towards your cheekbones.  

And there it is, perhaps - the real root of the struggle at hand. 

"I can't be your little girl forever," you exhale, frustration mounting, somewhat undercut when you see the naked hurt on his face. "I can't be just that," you amend. "I have an entire life to live. My own life." 

"With Aylin," he suggests darkly. Disapprovingly. "And when she carelessly discards you, a mayfly in her eyes--" 

"Is that what this is truly about, again? Father," not quite papa at the moment, no, as you try so very hard to keep your calm in the face of your own rising irritation, "must we?" 

"How can I not, Isobel? When she has clearly been feeding you this - this drivel." 

"It has nothing to do with her!" 

The doubt is writ plainly all over his face, and you bristle. Fine. If he is not ready to relinquish his chokehold over Isobel Thorm, cherished daughter, then he will have to reckon with Isobel, accomplished cleric of Selûne, and prospective Silver Lady initiate. You let go of his hand and step back, square your shoulders demonstratively, stand up ramrod straight. 

"Our Lady champions and rewards self-sufficiency, agency, travel, and discovery - of ourselves, the world around us, and all in it who might need guidance or help in any way. It is mine to freely give, and I intend to do so, wherever I am needed. In Her name." 

You turn and leave without waiting for your father to scrounge up a response. 

It is the last conversation you have with him for a century. 

- 

You've snuck enough glances at the dates on the Harper reports and missives by now. It sends your head into a spin and you try so very desperately not to think of the sheer implications, but-- 

A hundred years. 

It feels impossible to wrap your mind around it. That you've been gone for so long, an entire lifetime spent in the grave. That you are here, now, after all this time, and so much has changed. The world at large you know next to nothing about, but the place and the people that once made up your own are… gone, or worse. 

It feels like a cruel jab of fate, then, to find it, stuck between the wall and a half-disintegrated cabinet's hardwood back: a picture, one of your own, somehow preserved after all this time, left here for you to rediscover after losing it so unthinkably long ago. 

It seems like an odd yet exceedingly bittersweet passtime now, your efforts to capture moments, memories, and people, and immortalise them. You remember some poking fun at you even then, when the first sheets of silver coating on resin-treated paper came out a blurry mess. When later you wandered around town, hunting for the perfect angle of the perfect view you wished to capture. But are not light and mirrors and silver all tools favoured by Your Lady? 

Time-consuming, each one, to get just right, to get the colours to set properly, to get the sharpness - but each and every one became a precious little capsule of Reithwin and its people. (Oh, if you'd known!)  

It felt good to give families the small comfort of a picture of their lost loved one, when they were beyond the help of even the famed House of Healing. When they had neither the time nor means for more traditional portraiture. 

You took so many of Aylin. She humoured you, of course, as she did all your whims and oddities, with an earnest fascination and yearning that made your heart swell, sometimes painfully so. She laughed, too, at the idea of immortalising her, the unchanging immortal, of capturing her in a moment. When she would live in it. Forever. 

Worry not - I am not leaving your side, sweet Isobel. Spoken always with the slightest tinge of sadness, if either of you stopped to think about it. That always it would be you leaving her. 

By virtue of the process and of the artisan, there are no such pictures of you. You think you might prefer it this way. 

All told, you took dozens, hundreds, even, once you perfected the method. But to your knowledge only one picture survives. A picture, now a hundred years old - and you would feel thrilled at the quality of your handiwork if the situation were less grim - of the two people you cared for most, who you naturally wanted to care for each other most. Who humoured you that day: two stubborn, mighty paladins posed together, awkward truce radiating off of them both, but radiating also endless, endless love - for you.  

You will never stop wondering what truly became of them, after they lost both the thing that bound them together and that kept tearing them apart - you. 

Did they ever grieve together? Or did they just lose themselves in throwing around curses and accusations? Instead of tragedy helping them to bridge the gap that had always existed between them, did it instead turn it into this chasm that has swallowed whole everything you ever knew and loved? 

What happened? 

What went wrong? 

How could Aylin, immortal, be-- 

A knock at the door, followed by Jaheira's voice, pulls you out of the reverie that was threatening to become an abyss. "Isobel?" 

You tuck the picture out of sight, stand and straighten out your robes, and take a few deep breaths that do nothing to calm you and only threaten to turn into coughs. Then you open the door of your room, and Jaheira almost knocks you over stepping in without any further greeting or preamble. 

"Here," she turns to you, unceremoniously shoving a variety of items into your hands, and you barely manage to keep up without dropping anything. Another small mirror; a tarnished but visibly real silver bowl; a tin pot that smells only slightly sour. 

"We have been doing… inventory. I don't know the finer details of your rituals but I know some of what you need - you will have to tell me the rest. To you, Isobel, belongs the honour of receiving the final scrounged-up dregs of this inn's uncurdled milk." With a wry smile, she nods towards the door to the landing, "and there's two more reasonably uncracked mirrors downstairs." 

The mood whiplash is making you dizzy. "Thank you, I… I'll be sure to get them. You're right - they will help with focusing the moonlight that makes it through the shadow shroud. All of this will." 

You manage a smile, even. The one Jaheira graces you with in return is slightly less keen-edged than what you've come to think of as her usual. 

"You and your Lady of Silver snatched us from the claws of a very unpleasant shadow-cursed doom. And now you act as our main bastion - at some cost to yourself, I'd wager, though I know you won't tell me. I'd be a fool not to do everything in my power to help bolster your efforts." She inclines her head in a simple, grateful nod, and you almost, almost want to break down and tell her everything. Let spill all the unpleasant truths you leave buried the way you sometimes think you yourself should have been. "Thank you, Isobel." 

You choke down another treacherous cough and the gnawing guilt. If she knew who you truly were, she'd never look at you like that. She'd never talk to you like that. 

Something about this sharp, weathered, experienced, stubbornly uncowed version of a famed hero you'd only started to collect tales and songs about, before-- well. It would have doubtlessly been an honour and a thrill to meet her then. But now? How much has she seen, what has she done, what impossibilities has she survived, in the hundred years you've been gone? A storied hero, the High Harper, and who knows what else besides. 

But here, in the strange, desperate whirlwind you have become caught up in, she feels like the stalwart support beam without which you would be utterly lost, and all of Last Light with you. Perhaps most irrationally of all, she makes you feel something resembling safe , even though to call your situation a nightmare would be putting it mildly.  

"You're very welcome, Jaheira. If you have a moment, I…"  

You trail off, thinking of asking her, like a child, to spare a few minutes to sit with you and tell you a story of one of her adventures. Something with an eclectic cast of loyal, brave Harpers and a happy ending. Something that took place far away from here, to take you both far away from here. There has to be at least one in her repertoire, surely? 

She looks at you expectantly, an expressive eyebrow raised. Instead, you motion towards the balcony doors, the items for your would-be altar held precariously in your arms. "It's nothing, never mind. I'll get the ritual ready. Thank you, again, for… all of this. I'll come downstairs for the mirrors shortly." 

Jaheira doesn't argue this time, and though her gaze on you is uncomfortably piercing and follows you all the way outside, she says nothing at all.  

- 

There is no real day and no real night in the inn of Last Light. Only endless twilight, glimmering remnants of shadows seared away by moonlight. Utterly ruinous to the very idea of regular sleep - even if such a luxury were afforded you. 

Tired, tired, tired. The exhaustion has sunk so deep into your bones you cannot fathom the idea of it ever leaving. 

You trudge down the stairs, numbly relieved there are no Harpers or Fists for you to greet with a plastered-on smile, and retrieve your bowlful of milk for the day. 

There is a cat, somehow. A sleek, furless, vain thing. It slunk in with one of the patrols, and nobody has ever questioned its presence. You gave it a brief once-over with some simple divination, found nothing to threaten your haven, and so it stayed. 

You attempt a scratch between its ears in passing, and it mewls at you almost angrily, a bit of claw catching on the worn leather of the gloves that continue to fail to warm your hands at all. 

Unbidden, your mind dredges up memories of Squire, the fiercest of warhounds and most gentle and loyal of girls. The precious litter of her puppies you welcomed, raised around Reithwin.  

Nothing, nothing, nothing. Nothing is left untouched. Death and decay and shadows of a life. Of lives . Exchanged for what - your own dullened half-existence? A horrid bargain if there ever was one. The endless reports of horrors, of deliberate atrocities that the monster that was once your father wrought throughout the land crowd the edges of your mind and you pause, working very hard to push them out and regain your calm. 

"Hello there, Isobel. Everything alright?" 

Marcus. One of the Flaming Fists who's been in your little haven the longest, whose presence you've almost gotten used to. 

You swallow and smudge away the blackened tears before turning to face him. Your vigil - for what else could you call it? - is endless. The commitment and focus required is endless as well. You don't have the time or capacity for this now. Still, the man has never been anything but perfectly polite and friendly, and you had manners and decorum thoroughly instilled in you, a long time ago. 

"Just getting everything ready for the prayer. Thank you for the concern," you reply almost airily, sloshing the milk around in your little bowl, not quite meeting his eyes. "Duty calls, and all that. Good night." 

He mutters something non-committal in return, and you get a vague, uneasy sense he is not convinced by your casual façade, feel his eyes bore through your back as you leave. Still, you push the encounter from your mind, quietly make your way back upstairs, and avoid any further disturbance. 

You adjust the angle of a mirror and try to grasp at the threads of moonlight that have made it to you today. After a few failed attempts as they slip through your fingers, you shake away your misery-laden distraction, gather up the light and reinforce, strengthen, bolster. 

The shield is enough for yet another night. 

- 

There is no warmth. There will never be warmth in your world again.  

Jaheira's sharp, knowing gaze has caught you shivering miserably one too many times, witnessed your futile efforts to rub life and feeling back into your gloved hands, and so there is a well-tended roaring fire in your room's fireplace, even when you forget to stoke it. 

But it doesn't help. 

The chill of the mausoleum, the dark damp of the stone and the coffin. It will not out. It is in you so deep you might as well claw your own heart out to remove it. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch it just in time - a crack in the moonlight dome, the one thing between you all and oblivion. So you rush out to your altar-balcony, arms raised. 

"No," you breathe to yourself, to the stale shadow-night air, to no one in particular, "no, I will not allow it. I won't let you win." 

Your spells are stronger than ever. You channel moonlight that beats back shadow and burns brighter than ever before, rotten conduit notwithstanding. 

Your shield holds. 

It holds even when you fight off the attack of an insidious traitor, as you cling to consciousness despite blood loss and bruising and struggle to shake off the burning, paralytic claws of the monstrosities that have surrounded you. That have dared to invade your precious, hard-won safe haven. 

You allow the rage boiling in you to bubble over, to fuel your wild spear-strikes. You gasp for breaths that refuse to come right and cough and spit out blood and incantations both. The ghouls fall or flee from you, scorched, terrified, sad remnants finished off by Jaheira's faithful scimitars, and then the only foe before you is the one who was once a man.  

It is something you've had all the miserable time in the world to ponder. Something you made up your mind on what feels like an age ago, now. Given the chance, you would strike at Ketheric Thorm with neither hesitation nor mercy. But he hides, coward, in his tower - your long-lost childhood home - and sends out pawns and playthings to drag you back to him. Keeping himself safely out of reach, for all his fabled claims of invulnerability. 

But Marcus, Marcus is here, a pair of hideous, rotten wings on his back, and he gloats, spreads them so arrogantly, so boastfully-- 

You sear them with white-hot moonfire, and you feel more alive as he screams and collapses than you have in all the time since your supposed resurrection.  

- 

For such a long while you have had neither time nor space for grief. You are too tired, tired of waiting, of holding out against shadows, of making yourself into nothing but the perfect conduit, of pouring all of yourself into holding out for this one far-fetched hope and the final stand you were never going to be present for.  

If the Harpers fail, storming the towers, what will become of you? Alone, in the inn, waiting, waiting, waiting, until your mind or your spirit or your body finally give out, buckle from the strain of holding up the moonlit shield for someone who will never return.  

Eating, sleeping, breathing, all of it kept to a bare minimum. What little camaraderie can be found amongst the Harpers, the Fists, the refugees - none of it extends to you, their precious saviour, their lodestar and bastion. 

The Beacon of Last Light they revere from afar. Isobel Thorm they do not know at all - purposefully, by your doing, and for very good reason. 

You have never felt so alone among so many. 

And then, a miracle. 

Streaking across the sky, a bright comet from the hands of Selûne herself. Driving away thorn and vine and shadow - beating back something within you, as well. For a moment, hands clenched around the railing on the dilapidated balcony that was your temple and your altar, for the first time since your awakening, you feel as if you can breathe. The metallic scent of moonlight and silver and the incense burning around the fresh milk in your ritual bowl penetrate through the miasma coating your lungs. 

It cannot possibly be... and yet you feel stubborn, foolish hope settle in your chest like an ember, burning a hole right through you. 

"She is dead." Ketheric had said it with all the finality of the tomb, the deep scowl carved in the jagged shadows of his face. Only later did you grasp what it must have done to him, for Aylin's name to be the first one on your lips upon awakening.  

(Later still, once more of the awful truth becomes yours to mull over and live with, you will shudder to think what he would have done to her in turn, had she been within reach. An odd thing, to have even the smallest of thanks for Shar and her treacherous, labyrinthine plots.) 

You've told so many not to trust Ketheric Thorm, traitor, oathbreaker, false and fallen. Monster. 

And yet you unquestioningly believed him in this. Perhaps because it seemed only natural, in this horrid void that the Lady of Loss had made your home, your life into, that your angel, immortal and indomitable, would be taken from you against all odds, as well. 

You stand and gaze over the ancient battlefields and the darkness Jaheira and the Harpers marched off into from where you climbed to pray for their safe return. And above all you yearn for the miracle of it being her. With every stolen breath you feel unworthy of such a blessing even more. 

- 

It is her, unmistakable beneath the blood and grime. It is her, but changed, just like everything else you'd count in the remnants of your life - not even she, divine, could escape this unscathed. 

Pale-grey as marble, with dark shadows around her oddly haunted but blazing eyes, every inch of her that you can see laced with shining golden scars beyond counting.  

And you've seen this before - been shown this before: your darling bled silver and scarred gold as an odd manifestation of her heritage. But this is so far beyond even the worst of the battlefield trophies you ever sat her down to heal. 

What happened to her? 

You recall the words that had sparked such hope in you, now in a brief flash of horror - an immortal Ketheric had imprisoned in the Shadowfell.

How? How could he not see that you've always treasured her as much as yourself? That by raising a hand against her, so unthinkably far beyond breaking any rules of hospitality or kinship, he could have only swatted you away from him utterly. 

She falls to her knees, gasping out your name in hallowed shock, disbelief laced with painful hope, as all of her divine radiance seems to melt away, leaving behind only Aylin, your dearest, most beloved. 

You reach out with a gentle touch to her chin, just enough to tip her face up to look at you. It is all you dare do, for now - what if she dissipates into so much moonwhisp-smoke, nothing but a dream? Her wide, teary eyes are filled to the brim with matching wonder when they meet yours.  

And you realise: you forgot, for the first time in days, perhaps months - as soon as you were caught up within her silver glow - that you were supposed to be dead. 

- 

Jaheira shoots glances at you and Aylin with the most inscrutable yet oddly soft look in her eyes all evening. A part of you itches to ask for clarification, to finally know more about the woman behind the hero who's done her very best to share what she could of your burden. But you are loath to prod at what must be old, old wounds - not when there are still so many fresh ones to patch up. 

You muster up the courage to approach her almost in passing, on your way out of the central hall. 

"I am happy for you two," she lays a hand on your shoulder, stiff, as if dusting the cobwebs off of the whole idea of camaraderie. You stop to fully face her, releasing Aylin's hand for what seems like the first time since your reunion and letting her hesitantly step outside without you. Jaheira shakes her head. 

"Go," she urges, a knowing smirk on her face. "Don't waste time you could be spending with her, in this short breath we have been afforded. The briefings and strategising and endless planning will wait." 

A nod towards the corner Aylin turned not moments ago, a gentle shove, and that look of long-held sadness that years have turned into a dull ache, bearable but ever-present. Something you might have seen on your own father's face, before… before. "Don't squander your miracle." 

For once, you don't stifle your urge to embrace her. And to your surprise she returns it, firm, warm, and only slightly awkward, making vague tutting sounds of disapproval throughout. 

Then you hasten outside into the receding gloom to catch up with Aylin, and you do not look back. 

- 

It is an unusually warm and bright summer day for Reithwin, the relentless sun urging you to rush your errands around town and make your way home to the merciful shade. And it is upon your return there that you find the glorious Dame Aylin laying waste to an army of training dummies in the otherwise empty practice field beneath Moonrise Towers.  

You steal a moment to watch and appreciate the spectacle that is her entire being in perfectly orchestrated motion, uncharacteristically free of her ever-polished armour, sleeves rolled up - a vision of ferocity, even if it is against such laughably unworthy foes. 

It calls to your mind, amusingly, the poor announcer in your father's audience chamber a little over a month ago, so very unusually formal and far too visibly nervous, struggling to rattle off one too many titles. 

The Valiant Dame Aylin Silverblood, Undefeated Sword of the Moonmaiden, Paladin and Daughter of Selûne. Arriving as formal Emissary of Our Lady of Silver, speaking in Her name.  

She turns when she hears you clearing your throat to announce your presence, an indulgent while after your arrival. Ever so slightly out of breath, with a subtle sheen of sweat on her radiant brow, she inclines her head with respect. "Ah! Lady Isobel. I was just thinking of sending to fetch you. A request, if you please." 

"Of course, Dame Aylin." Anything for the resplendent emissary, you want to add, only half-teasingly. It is frustratingly difficult not to act a smitten fool around her, and sarcasm has proved a feeble defence from her charms. 

Her request, however, is nowhere near anything you might have anticipated. 

"I would have you meet me in the sparring ring, if you are willing." 

You blink. "I-- pardon?" 

"You are no mere lord's daughter, nor are you simply the demure local healer. I can tell by your bearing you have training. Not the typical mace of the clergy, no," she hums, as if in thought, looking you up and down quite brazenly, appraisingly. "The rapier, perhaps, along with a dagger for the offhand? No, rather, the quarterstaff--" 

"The spear," you cut her off. And the lofty, approving tilt of her chin is so fetching as to be insufferable. "I can protect myself, you're right. My father is an accomplished general, after all," and stiflingly overprotective to boot, but that part you bite back and keep to yourself. "It is only fitting. Besides, any devotee of Our Lady knows how important it is to be able to fend for oneself." 

"Show me, then, general's daughter," she gestures to the packed-dirt training ring with a grin. "I grow quite bored of this straw-filled wicker regiment I have been pitted against." 

She's got a good head and a half of height on you. Her reach outclasses yours quite overwhelmingly. She is visibly broad and strong and unshakeable as a mighty fortress. And though you do indeed have training, the martial arts were hardly your main focus - very much unlike her. 

A challenge, truly, but one you cannot help but suddenly crave. 

"Fine, then, I accept." A giddiness washes over you as you speak, and your head feels oddly light. The heat and humidity of the day, surely. Treading dangerous ground, Isobel.  

Aylin immediately goes over to the training weapon racks to put away the blunt sword she has been using, and you follow her. 

"I have trained in arms of all sorts, but I find I most favour the greatsword," she muses as she rummages, retrieving two wooden staves with padded ends, testing their weight. "The spear I must confess I have neglected somewhat, in recent times." 

You smirk as she hands you a staff that has evidently passed inspection. "There is no need for excuses, Dame Aylin. When I trounce you, I assure you it will have been fair and square and well deserved." 

You expect the hearty bellow of her laugh, some lively banter in return, an exclamation, Ho! Instead, she inclines her head in a respectful gesture, and does so with a surprisingly soft smile and oddly inscrutable gaze in your direction. "I would expect no less of you, my lady."  

You look away hastily, wipe the sweat from your hands and put on the leather gloves from your belt. The day has been far too hot for them and the afternoon sun is still beating down fiercely, but you are not about to embarrass yourself and risk losing on the technicality of a splinter.  

Then, you face each other. 

Her stance and the way she holds the wooden training weapon speak of years, decades… centuries of experience, perhaps. It is hard to truly imagine, and you find you do not really know. Immortal, yes, but… well, since when? Does she have a universe of deeds and escapades on you, a hundred lives lived to the fullest, or merely the knowledge that they lie ahead of her? 

When could it possibly be polite to ask such a thing? 

You shake away the distraction of your thoughts, just in time to block a quick, testing blow aimed at your own weapon. A tease, really, hoping for a reaction you know well enough not to provide. 

She continues with the probing attacks, none of them with any real force behind them, and you think how under normal circumstances it might be a good strategy to let your opponent waste her strength and tire herself out like this - but you know better. You have discreetly observed enough of her training sessions to know that if she is anything at all she is tireless. 

But she is leaving it up to you to attempt anything other than these light provocations. So you do - you would hate to disappoint, after all. 

You strike out high at her head, once, twice, then at her front leg, swift as a viper, and when she moves her weapon down to parry, you jab at her shoulder and step back in time to avoid the afterblow.  

"Oh-ho! An excellent feint, perfectly executed!" The joy that lights her face even as she rolls the struck shoulder is so infectious, you can't help but laugh breathlessly, warmed by this small triumph. "I was indeed correct in my assumption - the most noble Lady Isobel is not to be underestimated. Her skills and merit extend far beyond even the lofty requirements of her duties - be they of the court or of the faith." 

The next strike you attempt, flushed with both the heat of the day and the effusive praise, is met with far more resistance, and soon you are exchanging blows with vigour. She repays your shoulder blow with a tap to your hip, then tries to strike the staff from your hands in a disarm you just barely avoid with a well-timed tilt. 

Your next attempt at a feint is parried at the very last moment, but you do not retreat, and so you end in a bind. She is much stronger than you, yes, but your angle is superior, and you can see her straining to stay in position, close to that ever-important centreline, and keep her balance. A bead of sweat trails down her neck to her collarbone, and it takes you a moment to realise you are following it, rapt. It takes you another moment to register she is staring at you just as raptly, even as you feel your hair sticking to your temples and realise the paint around your eyes is likely a smudged mess. 

Distraction. An opening if you've ever seen one. 

"Do you know, when I heard an emissary of Selûne was coming to our town, I did not expect her to have a bard's silver tongue on her." Instead of moving to disengage and putting distance between you, you draw even closer to her, until your mouth is almost at her ear. "In more ways than one, perhaps?" 

Her eyes are wide and her cheeks are flushed silver, shining. It is the oddest and most captivating blush you have ever seen, made only more so by the closeness of your study. 

And of course, the moment of distraction proves sufficient for that slight shift you needed. The great oak topples with so little effort - leverage, always, the key. Her reaction is faster than you anticipated, however, and so with the force of her riposte you go down right after her. Foolish of you, really - the thought has time to rush through your mind as your sense of balance disappears - to underestimate an accomplished paladin so. 

In any case, within moments, Aylin is on the ground, and you land atop her. You have enough presence of mind, somehow, despite the proximity and the warmth and the, well-- to reach for where your weapon started to roll away and press the end of it lightly against her neck. "Yield?" 

She raises her hands, palms up in surrender, and nods, struck speechless for once. 

You scramble rather gracelessly to your feet in all your triumph, and offer her a hand up. She accepts, then somewhat disappointingly lets go to dust herself off before you've had a chance to fully appreciate the feel of her hand in yours. 

"Well!" Aylin turns the bright glint of her full attention on you, charmingly tousled still. "I see no point in struggling to prolong a losing battle. A challenge, skillfully won." She steps closer to you and inclines her head in a slight bow. "Besides, I can tell my yielding on the field of battle pleases you, and I am not one to deny a lady her pleasure." 

All of it spoken with a smile, and a shockingly honest, unmasked, open, and entirely unabashed look in her eyes. Damn her. 

You do your best, feebly, to catch your breath and return to something resembling calm propriety. And you fail to squash a niggling doubt. "Thank you for the bout, Dame Aylin. But… honestly now, were you holding back?" 

"Only as much as is appropriate for the training ring, of course. One is never to exert one's full might in these circumstances, as you well know." She shakes her head, a small frown furrowing her brow, and you can't help but feel this is a recitation she has been made to repeat until it stuck, something she had to deliberately become aware of after getting carried away one too many times. A thought to file away for later, perhaps. "But not in the sense you doubtlessly meant, no. I would not pretend and deceive after asking a fair duel of you. Such things are beneath Dame Aylin." 

The heat floods your cheeks again. Damn her phrasing.  

"Ah," she clears her throat. "The day has grown too hot for martial pursuits, I fear - let us retire." 

She offers you her arm, ever gallant. You allow yourself the bold indiscretion of taking it only after you have peeled off your gloves and tucked them back in your belt. You've not known Dame Aylin for a very long time, but you are well aware she is possibly the least subtle creature in all of Faerûn. The ill-concealed catch in her breath and stiffening in her shoulders as your skin meets hers is a treasured token you stow away for further contemplation. 

It is a regrettably short walk to the pleasantly shaded entrance hall of Moonrise. 

- 

Aylin pauses after closing the door behind the both of you, palm pressed flat against it, as if gathering herself. Hesitant as you haven't seen her be since those earliest days of your courtship, a clear tension running through her, to the very tips of her wings. A flutter to them, to her, you'd even dare to call nervous. One you yourself feel nestle somewhere in your belly, with a surge of fear - what if she can tell, with her refined and otherworldly senses, what if she can recognise everything that is wrong within you? What if she, of all people, recoils from you in disgust, confirming all your darkest, deepest doubts? 

"Aylin?" 

She finally turns as you softly call to her, the broad, armoured shoulders sagging somewhat, and stops again to gaze at you like a wondrous revelation. 

Then she surges forward, rushes to kiss you again, more deeply and thoroughly than that brief, breathless reunion in front of all your allies. You in turn rush to peel off your gloves to run your hands through her hair, to touch her beautiful, cherished face so very tenderly with no bothersome barrier between you.  

The ache to reacquaint her with gentleness and care and all the immense affection you feel wanting to burst out of you is overwhelming. Your hands are icy still, but Aylin does not seem to mind, and takes them in her own, then draws them to her lips to kiss the digits one by one.  

She buries her face in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around you, and you cling to her just as tightly. Allow yourself to focus on nothing but the feel of her warm breath on your skin and of her strong, if regrettably steel-clad, frame in your arms. 

"Isobel," she murmurs, intoning it like a prayer, over and over again. "Isobel. My Isobel, returned to me." 

You insist on slowly and utterly inefficiently removing her armour yourself, once her disbelief has simmered down and allowed a brief, temporary end to the crushing embrace. The lengthy, involved process is made even longer by her impractical refusal to ever fully break contact between you.  

She in turn insists on setting you down on the barely-used bed and spending considerable time on her knees before you, enraptured in her favourite form of worship. And you - you find you have no complaints to give. Not when something resembling warmth has finally returned to your world. Not when there is light that you are not painstakingly wringing out of your own self. Not when it drives away all thought of the deep-set wrongness within you. 

And it never fails to rob you of breath, to astound, since the very first time you saw her thus: the Moonmaiden's daughter, a blessed, angelic being, knelt before you in such utter devotion. It was almost too much to bear then, and still is now. Her eyes, her mouth, her fingers. Divine all. 

And then, the way she happily, even eagerly bows to your touch, led by your hand, your will, your every word. Magnificent and mighty, glorious and oathbound, immense strength restrained and controlled, all for you.  

You, so undeserving, and if she but stopped for a moment, if she were to look--   

When the unwelcome darkness crowds again in a moment of distraction and another shudder climbs up your spine, chill chasing chill, strong, familiar arms draw you in, holding you from behind. Aylin presses against you as closely as she can manage, as if seeking to obliterate the very thought of you ever being apart. Kisses, still with an undertone of desperation, rain against your neck, down to your shoulder, with the slightest scrape of teeth. Pale wings, downy and sleek in turns and as fine-wrought as the softest starglow, move to envelop you both. Protecting but also hiding, almost - uncharacteristically, for someone wont to proclaim her love for the whole world to admire and envy.  

You feel welcome, precious warmth sinking into you anew along with the murmurs of exaltations against the sensitive tip of your ear. You breathe out Aylin's name and feel her shudder behind you, running all the way to the tip-feathers of her wings. 

"Let me hear you, my love. Please." Her fingers trail up your throat as if she is trying to draw sound out of you. "Do not deny me your sweet voice, a balm for my heart," she continues her plea before you have a chance to respond at all. "One I feared I would never be graced with again. Lost to me forever, now… now… found. Here, with me. Precious, darling Isobel." 

Her own voice falters - a melodious trumpet proclaiming victory on the battlefield, but capable of becoming such a soft, gentle caress when with you - and a tear drips onto your shoulder. 

You turn in her arms to kiss her in hopes of providing comfort and instead you taste reminders you cannot escape, as your tongue meets the golden crack splitting her lower lip. The sudden need to shower her in tenderness is so strong it takes you aback, and you stop, catching your breath. 

Then you push so very lightly against her, one hand on her sternum, to get her to lie amid the mismatched, piled-up pillows - and she is once again so delightfully eager to follow your lead. You continue with feather-light touches on her strong, treasured, beautifully open face, down her neck and arms and chest. Nothing but gentleness for her tonight.  

You hold her gaze as you hover above her, perched on her somewhat precariously. Bright eyes so overflowing with trust and love, utterly incapable of masking it, and unable to even comprehend why one would ever try. That great, fierce, ever-beating heart. You lay a hand over it, over the interlocked scars forming a golden centrepiece on her chest. And you want to weep for the sheer divine beauty of her and the unfathomable cruelty wrought by your own blood. 

"Let me take care of you, my love," you lean down to murmur against her ear and she nods a wide-eyed hitched-breath acquiescence. 

- 

The first time that night that you fail to stifle it and your cough wakes Aylin from hard-won rest, you wince at the nakedly concerned look in her eyes. And then the cold fear floods you at the questions she is doubtlessly preparing to ask.  

But instead, she sits up and moves to hold you to her chest, and pulls at the covers on the bed until they envelop you both. The two of you stay that way, wordless, until the hitch in your breath passes, and you sink back down into sleep. 

- 

Well after the towers have been stormed and ransacked, when most of Last Light has prepared to move out and join the Harpers at Moonrise for the final stretch of road to Baldur's Gate, Shadowheart approaches you with a crumpled, yellowed paper note. 

It is not exactly a surprise to see her, truth be told. You've been expecting her to come to you with questions, after she has had some time to mull over the upheaval of her own life and the revelations Aylin paid for her freedom with. Once she's wrested out of it all some understanding of what it even is she wants or needs to ask. Whenever it was to come, you swore to yourself you'd do your very best to be gentle and generous with her. 

You hardly started off on the right foot with Shadowheart - quite understandably, of course, considering. 

Now you look upon her and feel the strangest tumbling mix of feelings: pity, that she was a victim of a Sharran plot; anger, that they would kidnap and torment a child and rob her of her future just to spite Your Lady; gratefulness, that her lapse, her knife-edge decision spared your Aylin's life and returned her to you so miraculously; and a roiling bitterness that she could have ended her, endless, on that wicked spear-tip just as easily. 

But oddly enough, questions are not what she has for you at all. 

"Here," she starts, unceremoniously, proffering the bit of paper. "We found this on-- nevermind." Terrible Sharran material, really, this Shadowheart, and you almost, almost want to laugh. As if you haven't seen her cleaning Ketheric's skeletal armour herself. "I thought... if you wanted... to remember him by." 

She doesn't remember much of herself, of her parents - you know this from what Aylin has told both you and her in brief, quiet confidences, a part of the grand tale of her long-awaited unshackling. Much of it (and very obviously) sanitised for your sake still. So this must be a painfully honest effort at an olive branch. You stare at her for far too long and wonder if you see misplaced envy in her gaze. Wonder if you envy her, a little. 

What a pair you make. 

You take the bit of paper from her and look over it quickly - you don't remember writing it. You drew and wrote and scribbled hundreds of little scraps much like this. Why this particular one received the honour of preservation and how is beyond you. 

You would have perhaps been inclined to accuse her of a typical Sharran plot to pour salt into wounds and rejoice in another's loss with a sickening eagerness, once. But she is so very obvious and straightforward about it all - entirely unbecoming of her former supposed ilk. You wonder, idly, if her travelling companions saw something of this in her as well, behind all of the dark trappings and posturing. 

"Thank you," you mutter, ultimately. Shadowheart means well, and you know you should encourage this. "Kind of you, to think of me." 

A nod, a brief moment of awkward, slightly tense silence, and then she leaves. Any questions she might have you suppose she will keep for some other time. 

You sit by yourself in the emptied-out room and clutch the note in silence for a long while. Eventually, you let yourself weep for the man who died when his daughter did, and for the little girl he refused to let go. 

[howlingdemon13]

I'd like to ask some questions from the Character Ask Game! ✨

Specifically numbers 1, 2, and 12 for Beetlejuice!

I hope these answers aren't too in depth, but I have ✨ thoughts ✨! I'm gonna try to keep this Musicaljuice specific because he's my favorite. 1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

There are a bajillion factors at play as to why I adore this weird little goober man. I always really end up loving the monster/supernatural entity/villain in most media I consume, so Beetlejuice perfectly fits that niche in my brain (occult brain go brrr). Like, yes, I love the demon by default. Of all of his iterations, Musical!Beetlejuice is my favorite. He's kind of a shithead, but he's entertaining. I want to see him succeed as much as I want to see him fail if that makes sense (also depends on if I'm watching the movie vs the cartoon vs the musical). Full disclosure, I never watched Beetlejuice 1988 until October of last year. The only reason I did was because I thought I should watch it/get context before watching the Brightman bootleg of the mucial I found. And uhhhhhhh I didn't really like it, which is weird for me (but I do enjoy it more now). All that's to say that the musical version of the character was more sympathetic and more fleshed out in a way that makes me both feel so so bad for him (mommy issues solidarity) while also wanting to punt him across a room (that might also be the cute-aggression though). My pathetic little meow meow. He does also give me the tiniest bit of Genie vibes? Love me the magical comic relief trope. Stellar. 10/10. No notes. Did I mention that he makes me laugh? It's the immature humor for me. It's the kind of low-brow goofiness that I grew up with (thanks, dad, ow I'm immature). This applies to all iterations, but mostly Musicaljuice and Toonjuice (the puns! I live and breathe puns!)

2. Favorite canon thing about this character? Mood ring hair. Even though he's not human, Beetlejuice just feels feelings so intensly as a demon that his emotions can literally change a part of his physical appearance. Whoever thought of this is a genius. I love this trope across media because there's something that's really appealing to me about a character giving in to their emotions in that way. Like, as much as Beetlejuice is a manipulative jerk, he can't really hide how he's feeling and that's a fun juxtaposition that has a lot of potential (forever crying that the mood ring hair is not utilized in the tour version). That, and I do love what people have done with this concept in fanfics/fan art.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

I have so many! But one that doesn't leave my brain is that Beej is a big fan of swing music (and by extension swing dancing). I was going to make a mega post about this (and maybe I will eventually), but there are a few instances in the musical that contribute to this. Honestly though, it's really the energy and melodies associated with the genre that I naturally associate with Beetlejuice. As much as Beej has a rock-inspired motif going on with a lot of his songs in the musical, I like to think that a demon that old would have a hard time moving on from a genre like jazz and thus swing.

[boltermasterbon]

So ummmmm this is my first post hope y’all enjoy I’m mainly going to do gender neutral stuff with arcane, Star Wars and Frozen characters cause I’m a simp this first post is going to be for my fellow elsa simps so…..ENJOY!

Warnings Angst, death, and loss of loved one.

Title: Loving the snow queen is a losing game… Part1 ;)

You were not a person who was rich nor a noble you were just a person that lived in a small house near the outskirts of the kingdom though somehow you blessed to have a friendship with the king and queen’s daughters. Elsa and Anna somehow you were their best friend you played and laughed and cried with them the three of you were a trio of fun but unfortunately when Elsa accidentally hit Anna with her powers things somewhat Changed Elsa became a bit distant then the day their parents died things changed completely. Your friends were no longer there for you and you weren’t there for them the two sisters grew apart while you lost your father, your grandfather, and your uncle you were alone luckily you had a few dogs with you so that’s a plus but one day a day that you thought was going to be the same as any other was about to change. A man on a bourse gave you a letter it was from Anna she had personally invited you to come to the ball and the opening of the gates you were glad she at least remembered you. You decided to go you didn’t have the best clothes luckily you managed to find some decent clothes that would fit the occasion and so you walked to the castle there you were at the gates when they opened nostalgia came in you remember the the times you got to the hang out with the sisters in the castle. You were happy and eager to see them after all this time you couldn’t wait to see Anna and Elsa and how they grew then after wondering the castle you found yourself sat down on a bench for Elsa to become queen when you saw her god the whole world stopped for a moment as you saw her beautiful blue eyes and her gorgeous blonde hair your love for her was reignited like a wild fire. Then when you saw her nervousness when she held the two golden objects (that idk what are called) you noticed a small bit of ice growing on where her hands were you always knew she had powers and when she became distant you noticed she stopped but didn’t asked cause you assumed she didn’t want to or something. Then at the ball you found Anna and Elsa at last and they both saw you Anna eyes lit up in happiness and relief “oh thank god you came” Anna said to you giving you a big hug while Elsa she looked at you with happiness and surprised eyes some people could notice she blushed a little even Anna noticed but said nothing “how have you been y/n?” Anna said “Good…though things have been lonely” you said “…….I missed you guys” “missed you too!” Anna said you looked at Elsa and then said “ my queen” in taunting voice as you bowed she rolled her eyes “Good to see you too y/n” elsa said as she chuckled a little then you guys talked and catches up then came the Duke of weaselton (Idk how to actually spell it lol) he took Anna and danced while you and Elsa laughed then you too had a moment. “ I’ve missed this” you said “me too…” said Elsa as her eyes Changed a bit from fun to longing and emptiness “You okay?” You asked ”oh I’m okay” she said though deep down you knew something was off then Anna returned from her crazy dance then Hans (who I hate but also kinda like cause he was a good betrayal villain) appeared you when Anna said her and Hans were wanting to be married you had……..mixed feelings about a the common sense part of was like “ok hold wait a minute this is just to fasts y’all at least need to date and put a ring on it first” while the friend side of you was like “yes! Finally she finds someone to love” then when elsa said no you were shocked a bit but agreed with her a bit on the “you can’t marry someone you just met part” but when things started to get heated you tried to help Anna and elsa then when elsa used her powers and created those spikes of ice you got to closed and the spikes hit your shoulder and your face leaving two small cuts which Elsa. Her eyes showed concern, fear and pain while she could feel her heart ache then she ran yet you still tried to follow her when she crossed the lake you chased after her but then you slipped too hard and ended up knocking yourself out the last thing you saw was elsa running into the unknown

[between-thepages]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @gabetheunknown, thank you <3

how many works do you have on ao3?

Currently 88, I am determined to make it to 100 before the end of the year.

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

29,604

3. what fandoms do you write for?

The Witcher Books/Games, Silmarillion, Lord of the Rings and sometimes Endeavour/Inspector Morse when the fancy strikes.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

In the Morning (Glorestor)

Dance to the Firelight (Rorveth)

Eating Love (Rorveth)

Mirror Image (Rorveth)

Body and Soul (Yenralt)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

I respond to them, I love comments, but I'm slow. Also, there are only so many variations of "Thank you" one can type in a day before it starts feeling ridiculous. I promise I'll get to your comments before Christmas!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

my Iorveth/Cedric drabble from last spring. I had to cope with the Ending of Lady of the Lake.

7. what is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Beautiful like Starlight, but even that isn't really all that happy... I am writing a followup to it at the moment though.

8. do you get hate on any fics?

So far, only from a certain someone for shipping the wrong characters, but i usually have my comments restricted to logged-in users, so leaving Anon hate isn't really possible.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

I will write everything once and then decide if I'll do it again xD Expect it to be at least somewhat kinky.

Also, it has to fit into a drabble or two, I can't really write long-form smut.

10.do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

I haven't yet, I will write a Witcher/Silm crossover one day, just so I can get some of the ladies to meet

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't know, but I doubt my drabbles are interesting enough to steal.

12.have you ever had a fic translated?

Not officially, but I am trying to translate some of my fics myself. No idea when I'll be done there, though.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

No

14.what's your all time favorite ship?

As a multi-shipper, all time favourites are hard, because all i need are three compelling arguments and I start shipping another pairing xD

I guess Fingon/Maedhros is one of the pairings where I am least likely to read a fic if they are partnered with someone else.

15.what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'll burn with a light of my own, because I started it for a flashfic challenge right before my silm hyperfixation hit full force, so Witcher is a bit on the back burner at the moment. It also needs some serious plot outline to develop further, so the continuation really depends on my interest the next few months.

16.what are your writing strengths?

I have been told I am good at writing short stories, which is great because I love writing drabbles.

17.what are your writing weaknesses?

long plots, probably. I always struggle with reaching wordcounts and making my stories interesting.

18.thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Depends on the language and usage. I love things like terms of endearment in another language (I made up a nickname for Isengrim to use for Iorevth, after all), but I do sometimes get annoyed with the random elvish words in Tolkien fics.

The best use of other languages is if it is used to confuse the POV character, but then it has to be somewhat consistent.

19.first fandom you wrote for?

Sunrise Avenue xD But I never published any of it. The first fanfic I published was for Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion.

20. favorite fic you've written?

She came in through the window because it got me into a new kind of rarepair hell <3

Tagging @she-who-drank-vodka-with-cats, @aretuzagradschooldropout and @gleamingsilence, I'm late to this so I really hope I haven't accidentally tagged someone who already did this <3

[un-local]

Predictibly, Rogier: 3,6

3) Design/Aesthetic Thoughts

First, a photo for reference, taken from his fextralife page.

I have a lot of thoughts on his design, but precious few of them are anything substantial. Regardless, I am including them all. Lol.

[1] Love the Landsknecht vibe. (Wikipedia link)

[2] I hate drawing that hat though, I really do. It's the bane of my wretched existence. I hope that swingy glintstone piece whacks him in the face ♡

[3] The jester boots. Lol. What is he thinking. 

[4] So many layers. How does he not overheat and die immediately. 

[5] What the hell is that stupid little cape necklace. I love him

(gif from this post!)

[6] The fact that that blue and yellow are his main colors has some fitting connotations under Hankshaw's Video on Color Theory in Elden Ring. Here's my thoughts, copypasted from an older post:

He's a mix, an entity in the Lands between unlike any other. Calm, logical, rebellious. Creative. Lonely. An agent of change, as much a scholar of the Order's history as he is a heretic. As a sorcerer who to seeks to repair the Order by altering it, Rogier is a striking clash of ideologies.

[7] His concept art (?) on fextralife is interesting. He seems to be older, and he's possibly using the staff as a cane.

I wonder how his story and injury changed and adapted throughout development. Was he originally meant to play a bigger (or smaller) part in the game's world? He seems to be at the heart of something big, but he also seems so inconsequential in the grand scope of things. Was a more involved story cut, or was it always intended to be this way?

Also, why’d they get rid of the laugh lines? :( I guess ill just have to bring them back in my art.

[8] I love how his outfit incorporates glintstone:

It's even in his boots, and the sleeves of his doublet... overshirt... thing.

I love how the blue/yellow/white of his design contrasts the red/yellow/black of Alberich's. Note how Alberich's is decorated with red glintstones, made from blood sacrifices:

Also of note, their respective hats describe them as “heretical.”

(I went deeper into looking at Alberich as Rogier's foil, but honestly, that post went... a lot off the rails.)

6) Psychological Headcanons 

(tastes, fears, talents, regrets, how they deal with anger, just anything that comes to mind on the topic)

[1] He wields customer service voice and scripts like no other. He’ll spill soup on you and give such a good apology that it'll make you want to make it up to him.

(Whether or not this is intentional... It probably depends on the situation.)

[2] Talents: according to this, his dex is actually higher than his int.

Given that, it seems he’s more practiced with sword than spell. Or at least, he picked up sword-fighting before sorcery. Which brings me to this YouTube short by a fencer, where he says that fencing and dancing are "intricately linked," and "one really informs the other."

So here's my silly little headcanon: Back in the day, in his life before, Rogier killed it on the ballroom floor. (Or whatever they had back then.)

...I wonder how many situations he talked himself out of (and into) while dancing with a partner. It seems like the perfect time to turn his "easy air" up to 11, as D calls it.

Idk, I think his life among nobility shaped the way he wields his manners. I'd love to think he learned how to turn his skills from that life into a weapon, one just as effective as his sword. That before his time in The Lands Between, it was really the only weapon he could use against the agendas of others.

[3] His fear: his untimely demise. I think the onset of this only really began after his injury. That's when he began to really understand the risks associated with his research.

Look at it this way: there’s knowing something is dangerous and acting accordingly, and then there’s understanding what the consequences are. (Ex: wearing PPE because you know you should, vs actually seeing what exposure to a chemical does to you.)

Before Stormveil, desperation and denial probably helped keep that understanding at bay. He’s chasing this thing, and he knows it’s dangerous—he’s done all the reading and research he possibly can. But I wonder how much he actually let himself stop and think about the danger before he jumped into his search for the next artifact. 

But now that he does truly grasp what’s in store for him, there’s no way to change course. I think that his fate (and it's inevitability) scares him to no end. I think it kills him that he won't be able to finish what he started. That he doesn't have time anymore—in the land where no one's supposed to die, no less.

The only thing he can do is work on his research a little more before he succumbs to the deathless dream. That’s where you, as the player, come in. 

(Side note: as for how long he’s in denial about the fatality of his condition—I can’t say. He could realize it's over as soon as he wakes up in the Hold, or he could be clinging onto some far-fetched hope all the way until he warns the player he’s falling asleep. Readers preference, I suppose.) 

[4] Regrets: the better question is what doesn’t he regret, lol.

Jokes aside, I think most of his regrets center around how things came to pass, rather than what came to pass. I don't think he regrets that he and D parted ways, but I think he regrets how it came to happen. That kind of thing.

[5] One last random headcanon: He's not a morning person. That first hour or so after waking—oof. That’s when his demeanor isn’t at full power yet. I have a small little bit for this in Still Waters planned, far off in the future. Because I want to hear him honestly complain for once, without all that dignity. I think it'd be fun to watch.

Thanks for the ask!!

[ Ask Game Link! ] Send me a character and a number!

[mysteryloversbookshelf]

The Afterparty: Vivían & Zoë

How are you fellow sleuths doing now that the mystery has been solved? I’ll miss the weekly theories and fun but I can’t wait to see how they’ll up the theatrics and clues in season three. Now that the mystery is solved here are my takeaways from the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD! DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHO KILLED EDGAR MINNOWS

This episode was full of laughs, drama, and new beginnings and I enjoyed all 31 minutes of it. They surprisingly fit a lot into this episode so I'm going to break it down into parts:

Lights, Cameras, Action!

Someone on Reddit said they wanted to see S3 be an afterparty for a film adaptation of Xavier's murder and it looks like we're getting just that! Seeing Keke Palmer show up had me screaming internally! She's going to be a perfect Danner and I need season 3 now so I can see her mind movie. Also Elijah Wood and Daniel Radcliffe too?! Like they better give this show all the budget money because they're about to sweep award season. I hope they do get Alia Shawkat to play Chelsea like someone suggested since it's been joked about already that she and Ilana Glazer look alike (I personally don't see it though).

"Fetch that, bitch!"

Zoë fighting Colonel and throwing him out the window took me out! The way she was spinning him around and etc and that whole encounter being a horror story was brilliant. And the fact that he survived by landing on Isabel's trampoline?! He really is a hellhound! I love how someone just had that theory earlier that Edgar mentioning a devil was a response to looking out the window and seeing Colonel bouncing lmao.

Travis Becoming the House

Travis beating Sebastian at his own game was so rewarding to watch. The big theories floating around were that he either recorded the confession and sent it to the police or that he was secretly an investigator, but I really like this ending. Now he got back the money lost and in my mind, he took a trip to meet Weronika in person and they hit it off.

Love is in the Air

Happily Ever Aster, indeed! Aniq and Zoë both proposing to each other was so cute and I love how she was the one who proposed first. I don't know if the rings were meant to show the engagement was still on or if they've already married, but I personally don't care to see a wedding between the two. I'd rather hear they had a great ceremony that was drama free and keep it moving. Hannah and Grace living happily ever after is so sweet because we all know how tv writers love to kill their gays or find some other way of ruining their ending. I need them to show up in a future season happy with a quirky little Wednesday Addams type of baby please! And last but not least, Vivian and Feng. You can tell that they both really love each other and I love that not once in the season did we see Feng holding the affair over her head. Like they're really ride or die for each other and I love that for them. And now that Feng's fees are cleared, they can travel and see the world together since they weren't able to before when Vivian danced with Ulysses. Speaking of Ulysses:

Ulysses Killed Edgar

I didn't want to believe it was him because it really did seem too obvious, but that's the same thing that happened with fans last season right? Although last season I did guess Yasper and that was me watching without knowing of any clues or that the subreddit existed (and I watched it like a week before season 2 so there's that). So everything was exactly as a majority of redditors theorized:

-He brewed the tea during the extremely long shower in Aniq's mind movie

-The whiskey glass was poisoned and accidentally swapped when Feng had Edgar taste the baobing; So Feng being high on adderall in the found footage video was correct

-It did all come down to Ulysses wanting Feng out of the way so he could be with Vivian

-He is delusional as all get out which does mirror Yasper's delusional story in S1

-When he ran to Feng and Vivian's room he expected to find Feng dead hence the shocked expression

-He had a knowledge of the devil's trumpet from his work as a shaman

What was missed was that Grace said she hated whiskey in episode 2 and he was swabbing a whiskey glass in his mind movie so that went right over our heads

Danner said he knew Grace wasn't his daughter so I applaud the writers on fooling me bc I spent the whole season thinking there was a paternity thing going on and nope, just Ulysses being a delusional buncle who is now headed for prison!

I find it so funny though that even though I changed my mind on who the killer was, I still figured out that he was sus because of the koumiss. But I'm a bit confused now bc he gave Travis the koumiss infused dutch babies but he used his horn to brew the tea so where did he store the rest of the koumiss? Did he have two horns? Because he tried to stop Vivian from drinking from it but this was after the days' events played out Does anyone know?

The End

All in all, this was an amazing season and I had so much fun sharing theories with you all and getting to talk about the show weekly. Season 3 is about to be off the chain so when the time comes we've got to More Horse it up! See you all then!

[xxmyhomexx]

SONG OF THE CRIMSON NILE: Stop Home

Another Amen one because I am in an unhealthy CHOKEHOLD for this man. That is all. This is a modern AU and has no connection to the game! IT IS ALSO NSFW, intended for older readers.

~~~

Amen runs his own company, and Eva works under him as his PA. He is quite intimidating, and everyone who works under him respects him. Eva gets along well with all the employees, and Amen finds himself drawn to her.

One night, the business throws Agnia a birthday party there. There is music, dancing, and plenty of food. Eva, Isman, Ramesses, and Dia are invited, and they have a great time. Amen stays, but after an hour or so, he retreats home. Eva looks around for him, noticing he has disappeared. Agnia stops next to her, lightly elbowing her.

"Looking for the boss?" She smiles.

Eva's face crimsons. "No! I was, uh...j-just..."

"He doesn't like being around a lot of people after awhile. He likes his peace and quiet."

Those words pull at her heartstrings. He may be scary and a perfectionist, but she hoped he was all right. She looked down at the birthday cake she made personally for Agnia: marble, a perfect blend of vanilla and chocolate. She plucked a slice out, gathered a small box and plate, and tucked it in her hands. If Amen was hungry, she couldn't let him starve.

"Excuse me, I'm going to call it a night myself. I'm quite tired."

Agnia knows it isn't true. "Planning on taking him a slice of cake?"

Eva glared at her, but her face crimsoned and she smirked. Agnia laughs and tells her the shortest way to his house, even though Eva already knew a way.

During the drive, she came upon the prairie house. It was big, too big for just one person, but her co-workers always mentioned he liked a lot of space for himself. She saw his Mercedes outside the three-car garage, pulling her Beetle next to it. She gathered the box in her hands, and took the three steps up to the big, black door, ringing the bell.

She stood there patiently, her blue dress flowing in the breeze. Her dark curls fanned her face, causing her to run one hand through her hair. She was nervous, and her heart sank into her stomach.

"What am I doing?" She thought. "You can do this. Just give him the cake, and be on your way."

More waiting caused her fear to heighten. "Yeah, fuck this, I'm out."

She turned on her heels and headed back to her car, when the porchlights blinded her vision and the front door opened. Her heartrate skyrocketed, and she turned around to see the man before her, and instead of fear, another kind of heat burned in her lower core.

Amen was almost taller than the door, staring back at Eva wearing the same fitted shirts he always wore to work: hugging his muscles so that she could see the outline of EVERYTHING that was beautiful. He quirked a brow.

"Evthys?" His deep voice rumbled in her ears. "What are you doing here?"

Eva tugged the collar of her dress. "Uh...I was just on my way home, and I wanted to stop by and see if you...wanted some cake."

She walked back up the steps and handed him the box. She gulped, hoping that he wouldn't notice how red her face was. He looked down at the box in amusement, and accepted it. He opened it and noticed a pink and white coated cake slice. He scoffed and closed the box.

"For me? You shouldn't have," he smirked.

"It's no big deal," Eva sucked in a breath. "Well, if that's all, I'll say goodnight."

She turned on her feet and was about to hightail it on home until Amen cleared his throat.

"Why so soon?" He leaned against the doorframe. "It's still early tonight."

Eva turned around to face him once more. She saw his firm expression, waiting patiently for her answer. Wordlessly she nodded and entered the house.

~~~

In the living room, Amen swirled a piece of cake on a fork and plopped it in his mouth. The vanilla and chocolate mixed well together, melting on his tongue. It was pleasant, his brows pulling together in that pointed stare that made her blush.

"Hard to believe you made this yourself," he plucked another piece on his fork. "It's suprising."

"I love baking sweets," Eva grins proudly. "Isman and I always used his mom's kitchen."

"You must've knocked out her tastebuds," Amen noted.

"Well, according to my friends, I can knock out anyone's tastebuds," she giggled.

"Really?" Amen pointed the fork at her. "Try it yourself."

Eva tried to take it from his hand, but he started to draw it back toward him. She tried again, but he did the same move, smirking.

At first she didn't understand, until she did and her cheeks flames ten times their color. When Amen saw she caught on, he offered her the fork again.

She hissed in a breath and inched closer, slowly but surely getting almost into forbidden territory. Was it forbidden, though? Amen held it out in front of him, Eva rising to his level stretching her neck. Their faces were mere inches apart, separated by a piece of marbled cake. He twirled it in his fingers, enticing her to take a bite.

Eva parted her lips, and Amen dipped it in her mouth. The chocolate and vanilla melted together like butter, sliding down her throat. He plucked another piece off, fed it to her, and she chewed slowly. Indeed, her own baking surprised her, sweet and lush frosting mixed with cake.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She locked her knees together, her eyes half-lidded as she sat there silent. Amen lowered the fork and brushed a strand of hair away.

"Delicious?"

"Yes." Eva whispered.

"Good."

He observed her fully. She had pretty lips, full ready to be kissed and bitten. Her eyes were expressive, her chest heaving and her hair fanning in waves. She had no makeup on, not that she needed it anyway because she was a stunning, natural beauty, a woman Amen preferred to those with obvious plastic surgery.

"I'm..." Eva snapped back to reality, backing away a bit. "I'm sorry, I...I was unprofessional."

"Why?" Amen tilted his head.

"I'm your PA," her gaze turned to the fireplace.

"Sweetheart," Amen shook his head. "You could never do wrong."

Eva stayed silent as he leaned in closer to her, causing her to lean back on the couch. She watched again at a loss for words.

"If you were unprofessional," Amen twirled a lock of hair around his fingers. "I would've fired you on the spot. But you...you're different."

He inhaled her scent. Pomegranate, his favorite fruit, the sweet scent of her shampoo. He turned back to the table, picked up the fork with the last remaining slice of cake, and slid it in his mouth. Eva watched in awe at the flexing of his jaw when he chewed, and the way he swallowed.

He sat back down, pulling her on top of him. She was like jelly, kicking off her clogs to steady herself. He was hard in muscle and height than her, but on his lap, they met at eye level. She was a snug fit, like two puzzle pieces that were an unexpected match. Her hands rested on his biceps.

Amen needed her, he wanted to touch her. He took his chance, he couldn't get enough of her, and by having this woman he yearned for on his lap, she was his. She didn't protest, he saw it in her eyes. She wanted him just as he did her, and he wasn't going to waste time anymore.

He brought her head down closer, his breath hot on her mouth. Eva shook as she gripped his sleeves tighter. No one had ever turned her on this bad, especially her own boss. Lines were blurred, remembering his company didn't forbid employees from romantic relationships.

Amen tipped her chin down, running his thumb across her parted lips.

"Oh..." she whimpered.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered. He inhaled her scent once more, exhaling in a long sigh. Their noses touched, Amen brushing his cheek against hers. Her face burned in color, and she moved her hands from his arms to his shoulders.

"Evthys," Amen cupped her head with one hand on the back. "Kiss me."

And she did, pressing her lips against his softly. He threaded his fingers through her hair, deepening the kiss. His tongue slipped in her mouth, exploring timelessly. He tasted her, every inch of her palette and tongue dancing against his. When they broke apart, his lips found the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Oh, God..." she moaned.

His lips continued, across her bare chest and collarblades. His touch was feathery, hitting all the right places. She leaned back to gift him with further access, clutching his knees for support.

"Do you like this, sweetheart?" Amen asked.

"Yes," Eva gasped.

"Tell me..." Amen continued his torture, pecking at her most sensitive places. "If you want this."

"More than anything."

He stopped and looked at her.

"Then allow me."

He lifted her off the floor, standing behind her, still kissing the crook of her neck.

"Your room. Take me...please," Eva begged.

He lead her across the hall, upstairs to his master bedroom. When he slammed the door, he pinned her to the wall. Eva fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, undoing each one. He never stopped kissing her as he threw it to the floor, breaking away and shoving her around. Her stomach hit the marble wall as he unzipped her dress, pulling it down over her until she kicked it aside. He kissed a trail up her back, unclasping her bralette and sliding the rest of her garments to the floor. She moaned at the way his hands worked their magic, and the hot feeling of his lips, tongue and teeth nipping and sucking.

"Agh!" she gasped. She heard the sound of his pants hitting the floor before one meaty palm gripped her left breast, kneading while the other slipped between her legs, his fingers working wonders, diving into endless fantasies.

"Your body is devine," Amen praised her. "My beautiful, beautiful neferut."

"Keep going," Eva pleaded. "Yes, like that. Oh, Amen!"

"Those moans," he gently bit down on her earlobe. "Good girl."

She turned around and slipped her tongue between his teeth, trying to dominate his mouth. He tasted wonderful as he bit and sucked on her lips, leaving them swollen and tingling. He licked his lips, smirking as she whimpered and groaned. He dragged her from the wall toward his bed, earning him a yelp when her back hit the mattress. It creaked under the weight when he climbed on top of her, burying his face inside her.

"Mmmm..." Eva moaned. He leaned in toward her, kissing his way up her navel. His tongue snaked over every inch, across her ribs and the sensitive area of her ridgeline. She arched her back as his lips and teeth stopped at the base of her throat.

"Please," she begged. "I want you, Amen."

"Tell me..." he spoke between kisses. "Tell me how much."

"I need you."

At those words, he pinned her wrists above her head and lined himself up. When she nodded, he kissed her and slipped between her walls. Eva yelped, burying her head in his shoulder. He was big, but not too huge. His muscles were hard against her, and she used this moment to slide her arms around his back. The grooves and muscles, he was built like a bodybuilder, or a military tank. They moved from his back to his front, across his abs, pectorals, before wrapping around his neck.

"Ugnh!" She winced, clutching the pillows as they moved in unison. "So fast..."

"Fast?" Amen quirked a brow. When he slowed down, Eva flipped herself on her stomach, arching her back for more of him. She wanted it to last as long as it could, flinging herself up.

Amen wrapped one arm around her breasts, the other down her stomach. His thrusts were deep, to the point where she could feel him all the way. Her back against his stomach, she moaned with each slick of pleasure in her core.

"Oh, God!" She groaned. "I'm..."

"Me, too. Don't hold back, sweet girl," he commanded. With that final jerk, Eva cried out, collapsing in a pillow. Amen hissed as he finished, balancing himself so he didn't crush her.

Eva's body rippled with pleasant shivers. Amen gathered her in his arms and pulled her close. "You ok?"

"Yes," Eva sighed. "Better than ok."

Smiling, he watched as she lay her head on his chest. She trailed her nails across it, watching in awe as it heaved up and down.

"Are you sore?"

She shook her head. "No, just shaky."

Amen chuckled. "Couldn't handle my thanks for the cake?"

Eva eyerolled. "I could! But you could've just told me instead."

Amen just smiled and pressed his lips against hers, both drifting into a sleep that took them deep into the night.

[furrylibrarian]

Alright so here's the team I'm taking into endgame for my Fire Emblem Engage Hard Mode run. I don't think any of my class picks are too weird, but I barely did any reclassing on my first run, so it feels significant to me. Units are listed in order of recruitment. I'm putting down a "read more" in case people are worried about getting late-game recruits spoiled, any also just so this big long post doesn't clog up people's feeds too much.

I hope you like Canter, because I sure do

Alear (I named her Syldra)

Sword Griffin Knight; S-Rank Xander; Sword Power 4, Canter

Since Alear gets her Emblem form, I was comfortable switching her off an Emblem Ring. I consider this a pretty straightforward build; Flyer mobility and Canter enable her personal skill very well, and then Sword Power and Chivalry ensure that she'll do solid damage. My only complaint is that I didn't think of reclassing to Griffin (and necessarily unlocking staff proficiency) or of using Sword Power until after losing the first batch of rings, so I didn't get to use Alear in her final form until the lategame.

Clanne

Lance Hero; Sigurd; Dual Assist+, Reposition

I like this setup a lot. Brave Assist, Dual Assist, and the movement boost from Sigurd make Clanne effectively a damage boost for the rest of my army.

Framme

Martial Master; Lucina; Canter, Staff Mastery 5

First and foremost a utility setup. Debilitate with staffs, protect allies with Chain Guard/Bonded Shield, and occasionally bash some kneecaps with Flashing Fist Art.

Anna

Sword Mage Knight; Byleth; Canter+, Momentum

I like Byleth on a mounted character because more movement is good for Goddess Dance. Plus, the big Luck boost helps trigger Make a Killing, which is helpful for me specifically because I am not good at making financial decisions in video games nor in real life.

Yunaka

Thief; Corrin; Canter, Gentility/Bravery+

Daggers+Draconic Hex can cripple most targets, and Fog Dragon Vein+Trained to Kill with a crit-boosting engraving on her weapon means she is occasionally really good at securing kills. Bravery ensures that she can always deal some damage, therefore ensuring that her daggers properly debuff things.

Diamant

Successor; Roy; Canter, Speed +5

Honestly kind of a filler pick when I realized that I had 14 deployment slots for the last few maps and not 12 like I thought. I went with Diamant because he can use S-rank swords and I wanted to start using my legendary weapons.

Ivy

Lindwurm; Celica; Canter, Speed +4

The other character I added to my lineup to fill a newly-acquired vacancy, but unlike Diamant she fills a genuine niche, since I didn't have a good fit for the Celica ring on my lineup that didn't have a different Emblem I really wanted on them.

Kagetsu

Sword/Axe Wyvern Knight; Lyn; Canter, Gentility/Bravery+

Very much a meta pick. I took who seems to be considered the best physical combatant and put him into what seems to be considered the best physical combat class. Lyn ensures that he can double enemy speedsters like Swordmasters and Wolf Knights.

Fogado

Cupido; S-Rank Leo; Canter+, Bow Focus 5

Fogado exists for one purpose and that is to annihilate flyers with the Radiant Bow. Ideally I would have a Claude bond ring for Wind God, but the RNG just didn't pan out.

Panette

Warrior; Ike; Vantage+, Pair Up

Blood Fury+Wrath+upgraded Killer Axe=consistent 100% critical rates. Vantage and Pair Up help to prevent my hubris from killing her.

Hortensia

Sleipnir Rider; Micaiah; Canter+, Staff Mastery 5

Here pretty much exclusively for wacky staff shenanigans, using Micaiah to warp and debilitate en masse. My only regret is that I used up most of my Freeze staffs, and the shop never got them in unlimited supply like I thought it would.

Seadall

Dancer; Leif; Canter+, Quality Time+

Just straight grooving. He gets Leif because I struggle to find another unit that really wants his skillset more than another Emblem's, and Arms Shield protects Seadall from bows and tomes, which are most of the weapons directed at him whenever I fail to move him out of the danger zone.

Mauvier

Royal Knight; Eirika; Canter, Lance Power 4

I gave him a Brave Lance to take advantage of Lunar Brace. I've moved him and Alear to healing duty so that Framme and Hortensia can devote more of their inventories to wackier status staffs.

Veyle

Sword Wolf Knight; Marth; Canter, Gentility/Bravery+

Levin Sword Lodestar Rush goes brrrrrrrrrrr. She can't debilitate as well as Yunaka, but she still can add to poison stacks, which is neat. I also made her Alear's S-Support, and the two of them have tag-teamed a healthy amount of chapter bosses so far.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Oh shit, Mae? Honestly kinda loving it.

Sometimes murder is okay, especially when the killer is🥰🥰

Idk if Woo is just acting or suddenly a tolerable non-douchebag…. Prolly the former

Hiii!!! How are you? You eating and/ or feeling good? Hope you’re drinking water! Sending love and support 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Bestieeeeeeee!!!! So a few things

1.) the dance is Friday, i’m freaking outt

2.) we’ve been holding hands a lot(!) and recently i’ve been chilling on his lap, but today i took a lil nap while on his lap and after waking me up for class he said “I couldn’t feel my arm but it was worth it, i’d let it happen again, many times actually” and i just🥰🥹 cause i was scared that i’d add too much weight of sumn and without me even bringing it up i was reassured 😭.

2.5) this one isn’t big just felt like mentioning it. During the last class of the day we sit next to each other and we were holding hands under the table right? Then when i had to write j moved my hand, now i expected him to start writing too but no! he moved his hand onto my thigh and kept it there until i stopped writing (cause then i could hold hus hand again). Its amazing bc im a stage 5 clinger & he reciprocates the clinginess😊

3.) so I have this ring that is soo cute but doesn’t fit any of my fingers, so i put if on a chain. We now share the necklace.. like deadass if i feel like wearing it ill just go take it off of him then give it back later. And its not just the fact that he’s wearing something of mine but also that he likes it, and he looks good in it.

4.)im in marching band yea? So tonight was a v important game (it was against the rival school, we won 47-0) and he came!! Like ik he was coming but still☺️. So once halftime is over meaning band is done with the halftime show i see messages from my dad & aunt….. why were they sitting right behind him 😭 they got along but i was so scared the entire time, not to mention the nerves that were already there from performing in a bigger stadium than im used to

Like im convinced he’s trying to kill me. Cause literally why else would he be this great? Like wdym you like clinginess, you get along with my dad, and you’re keeping your hand on my thigh??? This man must be stopped. Anywho just wanted to do a lil catching up (and ranting abt him bc im sure my other friends are sick n tired of hearing abt him

Is it actually Mae though 🧐 she could kill me and I would thank her regardless 🥵

PLS YOU'RE SO FUNNY 😂

Hi bestie 🥰 I'm doing well ! Drinking water and eating well. I hope you are too. Sending so much love and support your way. It's coming. You can't stop it 💕💕💕

Omg bestie all of this. All of this is so cute. I am obsessed. Like I feel like I was there and watching my best friend find someone good for them and I'm just smiling 🥹 this is so cute and soft and I am so very happy for you !!!

Such a green flag that he gets along with your dad honestly. And that he supports you. Like yes. So much yes. I am seeing a neon sign that says yes !!!

And you can always come here and tell me about everything because I love hearing about this ! I want to know everything. Please tell me everything 😭

But omg bestie my boyfriend has been too cute to me lately. He keeps calling me his princess and his wife and I 🥺 he even did matching profile pictures with me because I asked. He will literally just randomly text me out of the blue "wife I love you" and I swoon every time. This man is the whole ass love of my life I swear.

[odysseywritings]

15 Questions

Tagged by @aquadestinyswriting thank you so much!

(Game here is to interview your OCs with these questions and how they might answer. Let's begin!)

Haven: Hey, how's it going?

Interviewer: Hello, Haven. It's a pleasure getting to sit down and talk to you.

Haven: Thanks.

Interviewer: No need to be shy or anxious, just be honest with these questions, and I hope others will get a clearer picture of you.

Haven: Vuhh, huh, yeah.

_-_-_

1. Are you named after anyone?

My birth parents had a friend who died before I was born. He was a rough, surly guy ready to fight anyone, but he was loyal to his loved ones and had a secret soft side. His name was an older thing called "Hvienzda," or Star. I'm glad they made mine more modern. He died saving my mom from a violent mob instigated by the local leader.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I'm not saying that in public.

3. Do you have kids?

I'd like to someday. I want to bring a legacy in this world, show them love, fun, and learning, and have them discover themselves and the universe.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Not as much as Reina, especially since I come off meaner and more literal than I think. Usually it's for guys too delusional to know it.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

How they treat vulnerable people and animals.

6. What's your eye color?

Blue.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings. If it's a very cheesy B movie, it's fine, but I can't handle the gory ones anymore. I want to see the underdogs get their reward!

8. Any special talents?

The powers, being a monster, that stuff. But I REALLY want to show off my art and creations!

9. Where were you born?

In the mountains of Lucinikov. Lonely town, and I felt self conscious when I wasn't normal or tough enough to fit in, but it felt like a nice barrier from warriors coming in.

10. What are your hobbies?

Creating, petting animals, touching soft things, discovering, anything musical, games, puzzles, getting... loose in the healing waters.

11. Have you any pets?

No, I feel I'm bad luck... I'd rather care for animals when I see 'em.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

Hmm, not a lot of conventional ones. My favorites are using our powers for games, like blasts in moving hoops, or fencing to get the other out the ring. Reina wants to keep wrestling with me for some reason... Oh, I also like Chessball.

13. How tall are you?

4 Glumgloons tall.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Arts or science. Anything to get my mind going and doing something.

15. Dream job?

Hmm... A, uh... A freelance scientist / artist / protector of the unprotected / dancing sensation / scavenger hunt master / first real life puppet!

-_-_-

Tagging: @avrablake @ayzrules @blind-the-winds @bloodlessheirbyjacques @howdywrites @perringwrites @pluttskutt

[dalkyeom]

TRICK OR TREAT!!

I don't do anything for Halloween, but my friend had a pokemon trainer cosplay bday party this year and I went as a Lady trainer class! the one with the white dress and hat. this friend really likes costume parties...she's hosted a Disney themed one before and I went as Prince Eric from the Little Mermaid. then for another one of her small costume parties (I forget the occasion — all the days blur together), I had just cut my hair, so I went as Sailor Saturn! but akjdjsksk ignore me 😭 I'm just spilling in your inbox

I love all of svt, but I've been particularly soft with Vernon, DK, Wonwoo, and Junhui these days!!

Aeris happy halloween! SAILOR SATURN BELOVED amg reminds me of my very last halloween party (in 5th grade bc no one did halloween parties at every neighborhood I lived in so like, I never got to experience the halloween parties they show in tv) I went as Sailor Moon bc she’s my fave. I hope I can cosplay her again, complete with the wig and 2 costumes since her princess serenity and super sailor moon fits are my two absolute favorite outfits but also dreaming of cosplaying chibiusa one of these days too. also amg— a fellow sailor scout 🥺 am holding you.

Also your friend’s costume parties sound so fun! The pokemon npcs have very interesting designs sometimes, I always remember lady trainer with the young girl ones tho (like Lass npc) I’d often avoid them like the plague bc i just want to catch pokemon.

Thank you for ringing the doorbell! You receive… a small blurb!

Seventeen as different types of Pokemon trainers; a headcanon blurb!

Personally, I can see Vernon working at a pkmn daycare with Seungkwan and the newly recruited intern, Chan. You’ll find him working outside or at the back tending to the newly hatched and toddler pokemon. He prefers the peace and quiet, and the laidback-ness of it all allows him to stay in tune in his own little world. Occasionally, he’ll be behind the counter while Seungkwan is away or is busy running 5 different errands all at once.

You’ll always find him with his bulbasaur, one of the hatchlings that imprinted on him. Fortunately, this was from the brood of a wild bulbasaur they were rehabilitating and not an egg from trainers who drop their pokemon off for boarding.

Seokmin was born for the stage. The glitz and glamour; the creativity and theatrics— it’s what gravitated him to becoming a contest coordinator. When he was younger, he dreamt of being a stage actor but after he watched a contest performance with his parents while on vacation, he took a huge interest and his parents, ever supporting, took his newfound interest into consideration when they moved to Sinnoh. He adopts the stage name, Dokyeom, and slowly rises in the ranks amongst his contemporaries.

He’s well known for fusing his love for theatre with showmanship and it shows in how graceful and entertaining his performances are. His pokemon are all trained to perform at their prime and you can swear you see sparkles the moment they start their routine; and you can swear you witnessed the audience melt when he opens his mouth and sings; his twin clefairies dancing along. (Who can blame them though, that man sings like rent is due an angel)

The quality of his performances is backed by rigorous training. Seokmin may be sunshine and rainbows, he’s definitely playful and always down for a good game of hongsam but I’m a believer of lowkey perfectionist Seokmin. He’s consistent in his preparation, especially 2 weeks before the contest date. He believes in delivering only the best because the standing ovation and happy smiles on the audience’s faces are worth it.

Bzzt…bzzt…! G-g-g-game boi! I can see Wonwoo as an heir to either a pokemon gym that specializes in dark/electric types or someone who will run those mystery houses. He can be both? You know what, he can be both. Gym leader by day and mystery house host every mwf. He needs to keep a strict schedule, only bc he’s always booked for rematches. His gym puzzles can be quite difficult and there’s no convincing him otherwise to lower the difficulty setting. Something about playing on classic mode in a fantasy rpg game. According to him, ‘it’s either you die or you pick a god and pray.’)

His gym is pretty interesting. The key to beating it is actually getting to know how his mystery-mystery shack works. They use the same mechanics but with a bit of tweaks here and there. It’s more like an escape room at most, and he thought of ways that you would need to use either a dark-type or electric-type to be able to advance through the maze and reach him.

You’ll find him hanging out with Mingyu outside of gym leader and mystery master duties. What they do? That, I don’t even know. I just know they hang out together— maybe, buying groceries or playing co-op games together, or probably fishing together.

If you ever get lost while visiting the safari, Ranger Junhui will come save the day! He’s honestly one of the sweetest rangers on the team, and probably a park favorite. Especially by the campers, bc you know… he saves their butts most of the time. He always keeps an extra bar of chocolate on him… and maybe a small bag of snacks.

Jun takes up the night shift 5 out of 7 days a week, together with Soonyoung and Minghao. He probably sleeps on the job. It’s not his fault the meadow by the lake looks so inviting, especially when it’s 10 am or mid-day and the sun is shining just right and the breeze swings by. The sweet scent of the rosalia’s blooms serenading him to close his eyes for 5 minutes… yeah, 5 minutes sounds like a good time… he’ll just close his eyes for 5 minutes…

By the time he wakes up, it’s been 30 minutes and Joshua is standing above him. His bike broke down in the middle of passing by the lake and found Jun laying by the field. He thought he was attacked and his dragonair was ready to whisk the both of them back to the ranger’s station had Jun not open his eyes in 5 seconds.

Trick o’ Treat 2022 mini event

[erigold13261]

Hi Eri! Here is another song ask! Pls take your time and ignore this one if it’s upsetting. Nothing's Working Out (English Cover)【Will Stetson】for the FRAU.

How everyone is slowing breaking down post revolution fits the vibe of this song.

Tw for suicide idealization

Although this song has the lyrics “Wanna die,” the OG song does not have this.

It definitely gives off “I am so done with everything” energy for sure.

(Welp I definitely took my time with getting to this lol, it's been months with this sitting in my inbox which is a shame because that song is really good!)

Though I usually like listening to Vocaloid English covers, I actually prefer the OG version, at least the lyric video made by Kei Takahashi. I think that one fits the FRAU characters even more than the English cover you recommended (at least overall, if you select a few characters from FRAU the cover fits more).

Like, for both Neon J's, OG and FRAU, the line "It's a war in my head, though I stand tall" and "Trembling with fear, though I act tough" are both things that they do, just in absolutely different ways. OG acts tough in a way that he is strong FOR those around him while FRAU acts tough AGAINST those around him.

Both of them have their own wars in their head and their own fears. Some more active than others, and are trying to work through it. The main difference is that FRAU Neon's way of working through it is not working out.

The lines "Love me. Love me" and "'This is a mess lol' 'We've heard this before"" are definitely more close to Yinu and Eve. At least when you put those two lines together (which this song does).

It just makes me think of how Eve and Zuke, and Mama and Yinu keep playing a ring-around-the-rosie game. Eve and Yinu can see there is a fucking mess here but they just want to be loved.

Eve has probably tried to reach out to Zuke after Blue hurt him, but she got the same answer (Zuke running away from her). She has played this song and dance before with him and it's just a huge mess.

Yinu on the other hand sees her own family problems and tries to voice them at times but keeps getting dismissed by Mama thinking everything is okay and Yinu is worrying about nothing. Yinu wants to be loved and heard, but all she is hearing is the same thing from her mother over and over (though this is because Yinu isn't communicating as well as she needs for her mother to understand, but that is not Yinu's fault as she is still the child in this situation).

I also like the lines "In a field of inspiration and homages, // Am I supposed to search for originality or something?" It makes me think of Kul Fyra/Tatiana. Possibly also putting in the partial line "We've heard this before" into the mix to show that Tatiana is trying to look for a new way of thinking, but I can see her need for order being the same thing that broke up the Goolings years ago (in this AU it wasn't because she was too lax, but too strict, at least that's what I feel now, don't know if I had said otherwise before)

She isn't doing something new. She's doing the same thing she did before and hoping for a different outcome to happen. When it "did" have a different outcome, she was happy. However, the same thing is going to happen (an implosion), it's just taking it's sweet time to happen at NSR compared to the Goolings quick end.

If we go to the lines "This kid that's younger than me is getting popular. Ridiculous, right?" I can see that being for EVERY member of the Megastars (not counting necropolis or ex-Megastar DJSS).

Neon J is a bit bitter he was never able to make it himself when he tried earlier in life. He's probably the least bitter because he also just loves kids and is happy to see them becoming stars at such a young age (but also like, he is not happy how young they are because kids should still be kids).

Eve is absolutely not okay with seeing her younger half brother and someone like Yinu so high up in a field she had to claw her way into. I can see her believing Yinu is just born lucky and the Sayu Crew are just piggybacking off of her success and relationship to Remi (that might also be why she is so mean to Remi. She doesn't realize why she is so nasty to him so she picks apart something that will absolutely hurt him, which is his transness).

The Crew themselves are basically bullies in their own way (hurt people hurt people, am I right?) and choose Yinu as a target because she is so young and talented. Eve's belief that Yinu is just born lucky is something the Crew probably picked up on and let her know of it in a less than subtle way.

Yinu is just trying to play music (music she doesn't want to play anymore) while being an object of envy and hate by the older people in her life thanks to their jealousy. Thankfully though, it isn't as bad as it could be because Mama is there most of the time (meaning Yinu either has to deal with an over protective mother or backhanded compliments and insults).

The only solace really is 1010 for Yinu, who don't care about her age because they were literally BUILT with musical skill and a cop-out way to easily sync up dances. If anyone were "born" lucky, it was 1010 who barely have to actually practice compared to Yinu.

Like all of this is here and I haven't even gone deep into 1010 themselves yet! Each one having their own damn problems with "solutions" that aren't working out for them.

Specifically the "Love me. Love me" and 'This is a mess lol' 'We've heard this before"" lines are also something that can fit 1010. As they all literally just want to be loved by Neon J (a feeling he is actively withholding from them because he doesn't want to see them as his kids even though he subconsciously already does).

None of 1010 even give a shit about the "love" from fans anymore because it barely charges them up due to the constant hate and negative emotions that they live with. Each one just becoming an isolated mess directing their hate at each other (and specifically Blue) all because they are stuck in a situation they can't legally leave.

Another line that I like is "I won't go back even if I hate it, over time I realized I'd assimilated" which makes me think of Tatiana and Neon J a lot. Like they tried to get away from shitty situations, but instead of actually leaving they became what they were running from (abusive assholes hell bent on controlling the people around them).

Like Tatiana is basically becoming her dad in this AU (or maybe she already is), while Neon J (though his family turned out better in this AU) is basically becoming/became what he feared his parents would be like to him before he came out.

The two assimilated into a culture of hate and hurt, and because of that they brought it into everyone else's lives around them. Thankfully Neon is actively trying to get out of it (but still doing a LOT of damage in the process). Tatiana on the other hand just dug her heels even deeper into the dirt to stand her ground, because to her there's nothing worse than being proven wrong.

There's also the kinda slower middle part of the song that I like a lot. Specifically the lines "Compromise just like that, frustration at full blast" and "Break up the party and act innocent, lol."

Those two lines are really good to me. The compromise one makes me think mainly of Yinu and how she is doing everything for her mother out of love. To her it's a compromise and not self destruction. Similar thing with Neon, he is compromising on his beliefs to try and get enough leeway to get 1010 out of NSR.

Like these two are not ACTUALLY compromising because they are giving things up without getting anything in return (but they think they are compromising), which is where all of the built up frustration is coming from.

The break up the party line (and even the "Dance, dance, dance, dance" part that goes along with it), just makes me think of NSR as a whole. They are putting up a show for the public, but behind the scenes they are fighting and hating each other. If at anytime a "party" breaks loose and fans start to see through the cracks, the artists have to back down and pretend to play innocent. Pretend nothing is wrong. Show that the failed revolution didn't actually affect them at all (when it absolutely has).

And finally, the part repeated so often. "Nothing's working out" goes to everyone as well. Each person in NSR (and outside of it) are literally just trying to move on with life in some way or fashion (even if it's a self destructive or hateful move) but nothing is actually working out because there is just too much toxicity.

Even for those who want to leave (or have left in B2J and DJSS' cases), nothing is really working out for them because of the long lasting effects that toxicity has done to them. Nothing in life is really working out at all. It sucks. Sometimes even starting totally fresh is not enough if you can't somehow mend the damages that happened.

Very few of the characters actually want to die, so that's why I prefer the sub version of the OG song than the cover. For those who do want to die, like truly die, I think it would just be Green. Like even Tila and Yinu have some kind of hope for the future, but Green is the only one who is truly ready to just give up (he probably doesn't even know why he is still trying at this point, just routine I guess).

Though is things continue to spiral down like they are, without something breaking the cycle (either another revolution, 1010 getting out, or something like that) then Tila and Yinu, possibly others, are going to want to truly die as well.

[yuuana]

Music Monday #230: xikers - Tricky House release: March 2023 genre: Kpop cw: a lot of bright flashing lights, magic and mayhem

Are there more recent releases I could be featuring? Of course, but it's Halloween Eve and who doesn't love a good themed release! XD Between the Western tradition of Halloween being a night for mischief and the Korean tradition of dokaebbi as mischievous spirits, how could I resist?

What are dokaebbi, you ask? Despite a convention of translating the word into English as "goblins," it would be more accurate to call them trickster spirits similar to the Japanese class of youkai known as tsukumogami, or objects which have grown into spiritual entities through age and use, something we don't really have an easy analog for here in the English-speaking West. Between the inaccuracy of the comparison and the tendency for "goblin" to come pre-loaded with antisemitic baggage, this is one of those instances where trying to translate a term is counterproductive, so dokaebbi it is.

Musically, "Tricky House" is an up-tempo dance track with several playful rap breaks and a range meant to really show off the members' abilities. It starts off high energy and never backs down, having both familiar Edenary fingerprints and a sound that's uniquely xikers. For those with a musical ear, you can hear the way this is a cousin to their pirate seniors ATEEZ while still being distinct. It may be a little jarring on first listen, but on the other hand that slightly unsettling reedy instrument in the background feels like an ideal fit for a song about dokkaebi playing games.

The video is full of bright flashing light effects and shot through with the xikers' lore of, if that ending shot is to be believed, the antics of ten brooms that have come alive as dokkaebi. The majority of the runtime involves the ten of them playing games with a hapless solo traveling businessman, casting enchantments and talking him into doing things he probably wouldn't have if left alone. How much is real and how much is just dokkaebi illusion? It's hard to say; the line translated into English as "if the bat hits, what will it become" is actually talking about the dokkaebi's bangmangi, which might be better translated as magic wand or focus (despite sometimes being depicted as a type of warrior's club) and the tool through which dokkaebbi do their magic. Certainly our hapless businessman gets from the subway to an empty parking lot somehow, but whether he really knocked over an ATM or had a joyride in a Ferrari is debatable. Maybe he did, but for his sake, let's hope he didn't.

Stage versions of Tricky House (such as this dance practice for KCON 2023 Thailand) further prove this is a dance number for the young - even at just a little over three minutes, the energy needed to keep moving the way they do is no small amount. Still moving even when ostensibly standing still, the rolling inversion move that is the signature move for this song is tricky enough with just a couple dancers, never mind a full team of ten. One suspects there were several accidents during the learning phase.

Both their debut EP, House of Tricky: Doorbell Ringing, and their recent comeback, House of Tricky: How to Play, are out now for purchase or streaming, wherever you prefer to do these things. They are also currently in LA to wrap up their US tour with shows in Los Angeles on Wednesday and San Francisco on Saturday!

Want to see Music Monday deep dives more often? Sponsor a song selection! For the low, low price of one (1) KoFi, I'll write up the song of your choice. ANY song of your choice. Yes, even that one that's been played to death. Yes, your obscure faves too. With sponsors, I can stop skipping weeks and falling further and further behind in the releases! Sponsor a current CB for the next open Music Monday slot or sponsor a throwback for a Thursday feature! But seriously, if you've been enjoying my selections and analyses, we (me and the foster kittens) would love a KoFi in thanks. DW | Twitter | Mastodon | Bluesky | Ko-fi | Patreon | Discord | Twitch