#who owns little river band name

[petpenname]

Heartache

pairing: Ellie Williams [brother's best friend] x fem reader c.w. : smoking summary: you have had your eyes on your brother's best friend and band member forever, but you'd never think she would actually talk to you? a/n: this was a submission + I'll make more parts if it gets a good response!

The air in your room hangs heavy with humidity. A slight breeze from your open window blows through, fluttering your various posters and decor hanging on your walls. And over you, sprawled across your bed, flipping through social media, you were honestly bored out of your mind. Three weeks into summer and your closest friend was away for vacation, leaving you alone… and bored.

Cycling through your socials again you get fed up with the lack of entertainment and toss your phone on the floor with an exacerbated sigh. You lay on your bed, wondering what you should do to fill the void of dopamine when the sound of music begins to fill the house. A mixture of rock, indie, and midwest emo songs rang out from your garage, conveniently positioned directly under your room. 

Your brother's band got around to practicing, you assumed. You didn’t even realize your brother was home, he had gone out earlier this morning after your parents left for work. The music got louder and you suddenly had an idea of what you wanted to do, and it wasn't staying here and listening to your brother's shitty garage band. You gather your sketchbook, some pens, headphones, and a few other things into a bag, throw on a hoodie and a pair of shoes and head downstairs. You were headed to a river spot in the woods near your house. It was a commonly frequented spot by you, and your friends but not known to many. Perfect for a little seclusion and wading in cool water. 

You walk down stairs and almost instantly are hit with the strong earthy smell of smoke. You linger for a second and decide that your trip would be improved with a joint, hoping your brother would front you something, you enter the loud garage. 

Your brother and his band mates, all two of them, were unaware of your entrance. They were playing as loud as possible (maybe not as well as possible) but they were producing sound! Your brother slamming away on the drums while the guitarist, and bassist/singer were in their own worlds. 

“Hey!” you yell over the trio.

“HEY KAI!” You shout once more at your brother. Who, without skipping a beat or stopping, yells back.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” 

This got the attention of the other two band members who did stop upon seeing you standing there, amps silencing to white noise feedback. 

“Can I get a joint?” you ask.

“You got money for a joint?” Kai laughs.

“Can you just front me one?” you reply back flatly

“Why should I?” 

“If you give me one I wont tell mom you were smoking in the house again.” You counter. 

“It’s the garage so technically not the house and whatever you know they wont do anything”

“She can have one of mine?” a voice sparks up behind Kai, drawing your attention to the guitarist. A girl named Ellie. She and Kai had been longtime friends and bandmates. You barely knew anything about her other than she was in Kai’s grade, one above yours, but you knew her. You knew her eye color, her favorite flannel she wore a little too often. You knew she got a new guitar last year, and a fresh tattoo this year that shined under the garage light as she held up a joint in your direction.  

You also knew that this was one of the only times she had ever spoken to you. Not like you were around each other often but you almost felt like she would try to avoid you when she was over. Shocked, but with adrenaline pumping you took your chance, walking over to Ellie. She still had her guitar hanging around her, flannel sleeves rolled up, her hair was a bit disheveled from playing, strands falling out of her half up hair do.

She hands you the joint with a sideways smile, and her eyes glint a bit.

“Thanks, you’re so much nicer than my brother” you scoff, giving her a smile back. You turn to leave, flipping off Kai as you bound out the door, leaving the band members commotion in the garage. Not seeing Kai chuck a drumstick at Ellie who dodges it with a laugh. 

The success of getting a joint over shined the butterflies fluttering in your stomach from that look she gave you. The sun hit your face as you got outside and you were only looking forward to your solo date in the forest.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting slowly, but from where you were in the woods shade had taken over your spot. You had smoked, worked on your art, and walked along the water looking for rocks. Hanging out in the forest for a few hours always rejuvenated you in a way you couldn’t explain. But you started to get cold and decided now was a good time to head home. While packing up you realized you had pretty bad cotton mouth from the joint, so you planned to stop by the corner store. 

It wasn’t a long walk but by the time you got to the corner store it was dusk. Street lights started sparking up like stars in the night sky. You opened the glass door and walked in, perusing the aisles for any snack or drink that could satiate your munchies. You were contemplating between an iced tea or a soda when the doorbell rang as someone walked in the store. You barely noticed the bell, or the girl walking up behind you until she spoke.

“Did you enjoy your smoke?” 

You jump, previously lost in your thoughts, you turn around to see Ellie standing there. She was wearing a hoodie now, her guitar in its case strapped to her back.

“Oh my god you scared me!” you say, almost dropping the bottles in your hands.

“Sorry! Didn't mean to!” Ellie laughs, moving around you to open the fridge door next to you and grab a coke. “Funny running into you here” she says, a little awkward you note.

“I mean my house is only a few blocks away,” you laugh. 

“Mm ya i guess so, you getting both of those?” Ellie looks down at the bottles in your hand.

“Oh um, I'm getting this one.” you hold up the iced tea & go to put back the soda. Before you could think Ellie takes the iced tea from your hand and starts walking towards the front of the store.

“Hey wait!” you look at her confused.

“Oh do you want something else princess?” Ellie turns back to look at you with a smirk.

Sparks ignite in your stomach, confused but now flustered, your mind swirling. You finally get a word out, “no, just that” and Ellie turns back to walk towards the cash register. 

You follow her, not really knowing what to do or how to act. Ellie and you had barely spoken to each other before this. And now she's acting so casually around you, and what did she call you? Everything happened so fast you barely caught it but reflecting back now, did she call you princess?

Ellie pays for the two drinks and you walk out together, taking your ice tea from her once outside. 

“Thank you, you didn't have to do that” you say, unscrewing the top and taking a refreshing sip.

“Don't mention it” Ellie says, “So are you going back home now?”

“Mhm yeah, what about you?”

“Yeah I was, but it's getting dark now, i’ll walk you back home first” Ellie says with a smile. 

“Who said chivalry was dead” you joke, it was a nice gesture, as much as you were confused by Ellie’s sudden intentions you couldn’t help but feel a type of way when she looked at you. Her green eyes danced over your face like she was memorizing your features. You wondered if she always looked at you this way?

She had. Ellie for the past few years had been keeping such a distance from you because when you were around she felt her whole body tense up. She felt like she was on fire if you looked in her direction. And god help her if she tried to speak around you, she ended up tripping over her words and losing her train of thought. Truthfully, she didn't know what magical queer fairy blessed her with the confidence to talk to you today. But she had taken in a chance earlier in the garage, and when she saw you in the store she knew it wasn't a coincidence. 

The walk back to your house was short, only a few blocks. You and Ellie joke together and talk about summer plans in the meantime. Both of you slightly high still, making your balance shifty, occasionally you would brush shoulders, sending sparks down each other's spines. 

When you get to your house you stop at the walk way, a little awkwardly since you knew Ellie had been in your house before. 

“Thanks for walking me home! And buying me this, um and the joint '' you say, taking in all of Ellie’s courtesy today, a little unsure what to do with yourself.

“Any time!” Ellie says with a smile, she fidgets where she stands for a second before reaching her hand up to your face. She tucks a small strand of hair behind your ear, without breaking eye contact.

“Have a good night y/n” and with that she turns around and walks away, putting up her hood. 

She left you solidified on the sidewalk, body unmoving but nerves on fire with a simple touch. You float for the next hour or so, barely registering going into your house and up to your room. Trying to make sense of what had just happened, and why now? And why so suddenly?

Later that night you receive a notification on Instagram

* @www.ellie followed you *

[goosita]

attending a gala with young!politician!snow is both more and less terrifying than you’d imagined

he’d picked you up at 7pm on the dot, waiting outside of his car for you. coriolanus was dressed in all black, a departure from his usual red color palette. the moment you’d stepped outside to meet him in the dress and shoes (as well as necklace) he bought you, he’d smiled charmingly at you and offered his hand.

“you look absolutely enchanting, miss y/n,” he breathed, tone full of sincerity. you could feel your cheeks blaze at his compliment, giving a timid grin.

“thank you, coryo.”

coriolanus brightened even more, opening the back door of the car with his free hand and keeping you steady with the other as you slid in. he followed just after you, settling in beside you on the seat. now here you were, on the way to a big fancy party full of people who made more money in an hour than you did in a whole year.

“are you nervous?” he asks, glancing at you.

“absolutely terrified,” you admit with a soft laugh. “i’ve never been to anything like this. i don’t want to do or say the wrong thing.”

“you’ll be fine, i promise. just follow my lead, and it’ll be over before you know it.”

you nod, but still can’t force down all of your nerves. aside from this whole event being unfamiliar to you, you’re still jittery and unsure with coriolanus. he’s been so hard to read lately. you’re not sure if he’s just toying with you, but it feels too bold to think that perhaps he has a real interest in you either. too indulgent of your daydreams, your fantasies. you can’t seem to stop the fluttery drumming of your fingers against your thigh, until coriolanus is taking your hand and sliding his fingers between yours to stop their incessant tapping. your gaze snaps up to look at him, surprised by the touch.

“everything’s going to be okay. trust me,” he says gently, giving your hand a soft squeeze. for someone who’s last name is snow, his hands are so warm. his thumb brushes over your knuckles soothingly, looking down at you with a calm expression, and you nod. you do trust him. he adds, “i’ll be right beside you all evening.”

his promise makes you feel better, some of the tension leaving your body at both his words and his soothing touch. you glance down at your interlocked hands, his so much bigger than your own. his fingers are so long, pale and beautiful as if they were carved from marble. the veins along the top stand out, raised little rivers of blue that crawl up into his sleeve. his silver watch band rests against the delicate skin of both of your inner wrists.

once you arrive, it feels like a whirlwind of colors and lights and sounds. you find yourself dissociating from most of it, from the moment coriolanus leads you inside with a hand at the small of your back. you try to focus on the way his cologne catches your nose when he turns or moves, the familiar scent helping to ground you. the event passes in a flurry of coriolanus’s voice chatting pleasantly with Very Important Men, fond introductions of you at his side by your name and never your job title, being handed flutes of posca that you only sip on here and there. your date, however, seems to have no trouble at all socializing and sharing drinks with these people.

he’s a natural people-person. coriolanus charms and wins over just about every person he speaks to. the men respect him and listen to what he has to say, while the women giggle and let their eyes wander his face and body. you don’t like that the latter bothers you enough to sling back an entire flute of posca at one point while some district 8 office holder’s wife practically undresses coriolanus with her eyes. if he notices the female attention at all, he doesn’t show it. coriolanus simply keeps one hand planted firmly along your spine, occasionally stroking the exposed skin there softly.

finally, finally, the night comes to an end. coriolanus is loose from the bubbly drinks he’s had, making him a bit more smiley than you’re really used to. his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink that spreads over the bridge of his nose and makes him glow.

“did you have fun, darling?” he asks as he gets into the car with you. while he waits for an answer, he fumbles until he finds the button that raises the privacy screen between you two and the driver.

“fun is…certainly a word,” you offer, unable to stop your grin. coriolanus seems younger like this, spine less rigid and jaw less tense. he looks his age right now, you realize.

“hm. yes, well, i don’t have much real fun these days,” he laments, undoing his tie and shrugging off his suit jacket. “especially not with a beautiful lady on my arm.”

he glances sideways at you as he says it, sly smirk making his smile line in his cheek stand out. you resist the urge to reach out and touch it, instead looking down at your hands in your lap. you never know what exactly to say when coriolanus says things like that. you’re not sure if he’s being sincere, or if it’s just meaningless flirting to him.

he says your name softly when you avert your eyes, gingerly lifting your chin. “look at me, darling,” he whispers. he’s turned his body to face you fully now. his eyes search your face for a long moment before they trail down, landing on the snowflake pendant resting between your collarbones. his finger trails a path down your throat before tracing around the charm.

“it suits you,” he murmurs. the air in the car is suddenly so very warm, electric with the energy between the two of you. he’s so close to you, you wonder if he can hear your heart racing right now. if he knows its because of him.

“coryo,” you exhale, breath trembling slightly. you feel his touch again against your cheek, cradling it softly in his palm. his eyes seem to almost glow in the low light, the streetlights you pass making them appear almost translucent when they reflect off his irises. you both lean in simultaneously, eyes fluttering closed.

the first brush of coriolanus’s lips is soft, curious even. as if he’s giving you the chance to push him away. instead, you sigh and melt into him. his free hand comes to rest on your waist, squeezing softly as he kisses you more firmly when you don’t pull away. his mouth is plush and slick against your own, tasting like the sugary posca he’d drank.

you lose yourself to his kisses, slow and languid and indulgent, making you dizzy with how good it feels. coriolanus slides his hand down from your waist to your hip, then further down to tease at the slit in your dress that splits over your thigh. his teeth nip at your lip playfully, and he smiles against your mouth when you gasp at the way his fingers curl behind your knee to hitch your leg up over his own.

he encourages you to move so you can straddle him, sitting pretty in your silky dress on his lap. your hands land on his broad shoulders while his lips parts from yours, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along your neck. his tongue drags along the side of your throat, making you shiver and moan softly.

“there’s a good girl,” he mutters, hands smoothing up and down your thighs that splay over his. “you make such pretty sounds for me.”

coriolanus’s words make you feel lightheaded, paired with his wandering touch and exploratory kisses. you shift in his lap just slightly, gasping softly when you feel how hard he is beneath you. his cock presses into the apex of your thighs, his hips pushing up subtly. he lets out a quiet groan, the hottest sound you’ve ever heard. the uncontrolled noise spurs you on, gives you the nerve to cup his jaw and bring his mouth back to yours and demand more of his heated kisses.

“stay with me tonight, my darling,” he pleads, panting against your mouth.

“yes.”

[danikamariewrites]

can i please request one where it’s azriel x reader. Feyre sees azriel wearing a ring on his left finger and asks,

” i’ve seen you wear that ring forever azriel, what does it mean? ”

” it’s my wedding ring ”

and her jaw drops bc she didn’t know he even had a lover.

” who is she? do i know her? what is she like? ”

he smiles faintly and says:

” her name is y/n and she isn’t a warrior like us, she works at a library downtown. you don’t know her, only rhys and cassian do. we have a house in the outskirts in velaris. she is very sweet and i love her more than anything, our daughter is- ”

” YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER ????? ”

he nods and tells them all about her, he asks if feyre wants to meet reader snd their daughter and feyre smiles and nods. He asks you in the mating bond if it’s okay to bring her, rhys and cassian to dinner. reader says yes and azriel tells her he’ll pick them all up tonight. You meet feyre and become friends instantly, nyx and their daughter become friends aswell.

” how did i not know this, i feel bamboozled ” feyre asks rhysand

” don’t worry i didn’t know for s long time either, Az is a very private person, he’s still a mystery sometimes, and i’ve known him for over 500 years” rhys says and laughs knowing your perfect for his brother 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️😭🥹😍

I’m Married

Azriel x reader

A/n: Az would casually drop “I’m married”

Warnings: none

Azriel rips his leather gloves off, dropping them on the kitchen island. The leather making a smacking sound against the marble. He laid his palms flat on the cool surface. Looking down, he smiled at the simple silver band on his ring finger with your name and the date of your wedding engraved on the inside.

His smile widened knowing that you were waiting for him to come home. All he had to do was fill out one more report for Rhys and then he could hold you in his arms.

Feyre walked into the kitchen humming a light tune, breaking Azriel away from his daydream of you. “Hi Azriel,” she said in that sweet caring tone. She walked passed him, lightly patting his shoulder. Azriel covered her hand with his ring clad one.

She grabbed Azriel’s hand to inspect his ring. “I’ve never really seen you wear jewelry but you always wear this. What is it?” A curious smile pulling at her lips. “Oh, it’s my wedding ring.” Feyre’s face falls into shock.

“What?” Azriel looks at her unsure what to say. “Erm,” “What!? You’re married! Since when? Who is she? Do I know her? Can I meet her?”

Azriel smiles at his over excited friend. Holding Feyre’s shoulders Azriel let’s out a small laugh. “I will tell you all about her if you want.” She nods rapidly and takes a seat at the island. Resting her chin in her hand Feyre looks up at Azriel excitedly.

“Her name is y/n. She isn’t like us, she’s more calm and…well I don’t know exactly how to describe it. She’s just perfect. We live just outside the city. I built the house but it was her vision. Our five year old daughter-“

“You have daughter! Azriel how are you keeping this from us?” The Shadowsinger shrugs, “I’m not keeping this from all of you. Only Cass and Rhys know.”

“Ok,” she says exasperated, “I want to meet them. Please stay for dinner tonight and bring y/n and your daughter. If that’s ok with her.” She quickly adds. Not wanting Azriel to feel bullied into sharing you. “I will ask.” Feyre squeals with excitement jumping from her seat to embrace Azriel.

Closing his office door he let out a nervous sigh. Azriel knew you’d say yes. But he was just so used to keeping you to himself, he was t ready to share you with his friends. Yes you have your own friends but this is completely different.

He knew this day would come though. After a hundred years it was inevitable. Plus it would be wrong to keep his little Malin from her cousin.

You could sense Azriel’s indecisiveness down the bond. Sending love down the bond made him feel lighter and better about asking you to the River House for dinner. “I can’t wait to see you my love.” Your soothing tone sounded through the bond.

Relaxing into his leather chair Azriel smiled to himself again. “I miss you. So much baby.” Azriel pauses before asking you. “How would you feel about coming to the River House for a small dinner tonight? And brining Malin too.” “I would love to! Do I finally get to meet Feyre?”

Your excitement calmed his nerves. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Rhys watched with amusement as Feyre rushed around the dinning room straightening out the napkins and plates. “Everything has to be perfect!” She said. “Darling, y/n is going to love you. It’s ok if one napkin corner is slightly crooked she won’t think less of you.”

She stopped, dropping her head as she gripped the back of one of the chairs at the table. Probably trying to get it as straight as possible too. “I know, I know. I just want her to be comfortable here.” Rhys walked over to her and pulled his mate into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “You’re so sweet darling.”

A knock and the front door opening had the pair breaking apart as Feyre rushed to foyer. Azriel had his back turned. Feyre cleared her throat and Azriel faced her and Rhys. Revealing a beautiful female holding a child on her waist.

You smiled at Feyre as you placed Malin on the ground. “It’s so nice to finally meet you Feyre. Everything you’ve done…thank you.” The two of you quickly walked to meet in the middle and embrace. “I’m so happy to finally meet you too y/n.”

Letting go Feyre crouches down to Malin’s height. “And you must be Malin. It’s so nice to meet you.” Malin curtsies. “It’s lovely to meet you High Lady Feyre.” She giggled and lightly pinched Malin’s cheek.

Azriel crouched down next to his daughter. “Mal, Feyre is your aunt. She’s married to uncle Rhys remember?” She nods her little head.

Nyx came running into the room followed by Cassian. “Nyx I want you to meet someone.” Rhys held out his hand to his son. Nyx took it as he looked around curiously as he stops in front of Malin. “Hi. We’re cousins.” She says excitedly.

The little boys eyes go wide and his eyes find her wings. “You have wings too! Wanna see my toys?” She nods and the pair run off. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your hand coming to rest on your barley there bump. You were four months along now with your and Az’s second child.

“Let’s go to the sitting room. Can I get you a drink?” Feyre links her arm with yours. “Water would be wonderful.” Sitting on a love seat next to Azriel Cassian comes over planting a kiss on your head and ruffling your hair. “It’s good to see you kid.” “You too Cass.”

“And how’s little Cassian?” You roll your eyes at him. “Cassian. We talked about this I’m not naming my child after you.”

As you banter back and forth with Cassian and Azriel, Feyre taps on Rhys’s mental shields. “Why did Az keep y/n a secret? Why don’t all of you know about her?” Rhys gave her a sympathetic frown from his seat across the room. She sounded dejected by the lack of trust between her and the Shadowsinger.

“Azriel keeps them secret to keep them safe. He has the most dangerous job out of all of us and Mother forbid an enemy found them. He would be distraught. He has many secrets my darling. Not even I know them all and it’s been over 500 years.”

Feyre sighs, holding your glass of water. She was happy for Azriel though. You clearly made him very happy. And the way he looks at Malin…gods that how her and Rhys look at Nyx. Azriel leans over to kiss your cheek and Feyre swears she had never seen him so relaxed and boyish.

[14carrotghoul]

and you can tell everybody (unplugged)

Hi friends! Do not proceed if you don't want spoilers for my fic, and you can tell everybody! Album notes and extras are below the cut :)

ACD's early career is releasing covers and original songs with June on YouTube and later TikTok. Career takes off his first year of university and the rest of the band joins, agreeing to play for a few years to see what happens.

[unnamed] (2020) [very little info on this besides being very pointedly Mexican-American, but the genre is rock influenced by Mexican music, like Cafe Tacvba? Molotov? but more modern]

tex mex - Lyrical inspiration: "Somos Mas Americanos" by Los Tigres Del Norte

decisions (November 2023) [highly influenced by Omar Apollo, I promise the other albums are very different! I'm shoving him down your throats here and I know it lol]

1 new message - mellow r&b. Have suspected something is wrong, ignored it, and now the impact is hitting full force. Wrongly interpreted as Alex leaving a voicemail for an ex but it is a song written for his past self about missing his ADHD and bisexuality. Sound: "3AM" by Haim

reckless abandon - daddy issues song cowritten with Liam. Bilingual. Sound & lyrically: "Voice Inside My Head" by The Chicks

am I? - 'You raised me to disappoint you bc I could never live up to your expectations'/'It took me too long to find myself bc I've been trying to be who you imagined'. Sound: "Go Away" by Omar Apollo

new year new me - fuck expectations, I'm going to do what I want Sound: "Invincible" by Omar Apollo

very bad things - upbeat hookup song. breaking all his own rules and it feels good. "Mercury" by Steve Lacy

split household - child of divorce anthem. Sound: "Kamikaze" by Omar Apollo

seria una mentira - don't make me choose a side. I love you both and it tears me apart. Pointedly about parents. Sound: "Two of Us" by Omar Apollo

too much - Cumbia version of "Too Much" by Carly Rae Jepsen

never enough - never enough to convince people to stay. Sound: "Pram" by Omar Apollo. Also feel this song's outro is very fitting for this!

a light left on - Platonic June appreciation song about how safe Alex has always felt with her. Sound & lyrically: "Caminar Bonito" by Natalia Lafourcade

Good - First time he is told and BELIEVES he is good. "While U Can" by Omar Apollo

yrs - Dramatic love song. First time Alex uses rain motif. Sound: "Petrified" by Omar Apollo

seria una mentira pt. 2 - it would be a lie to choose something simple over choosing you. Sound: "Two of Us" by Omar Apollo but slowed down and more hopeful

spine/die climbing - vulnerable pillow talk. Sound: "Plane Trees" by Omar Apollo, Mustafa

miel - sacrilege bj song. Catches on with queer Latine audience and is memed similarly to Call me by your name by Lil Nas X. Grows the band's audience. Sound: "Te Mata" by Kali Uchis.

on purpose - I choose to be all the things that I am and am not picking a side. End album on a positive note. Sound:"Done With You" by Omar Apollo

vows (June 2024) [very American sound, dreamier, more optimistic]

no booty calls - voicemail w instrumental. Sound: "All Around Me Now" by Perfume Genius

apricot tarts - honeymoon period of a new relationship. Sound: "Someone to Spend Time With" by Los Retros

in dreams - extended version of Henry's in dreams email set to music. In this universe, they met and kissed on New Years at Pez's party and still did long distance and exchanged emails :) Sound: "In A River (Acoustic)" by Rostam

supersonic - secret, fun ode to karaoke night and letting loose on a night out. Sound: "Runaways" by The Killers

tapestry - thank god I'm bi anthem. Sound: "The Steps" by Haim

lipstick on her neck - sung by June. Essentially the lyrics of lipstick lover by janelle monae but in "ALLIIGATOR TEARS" by Beyonce Americana style.

then have me - tender I'm putting it all out there, all you have to do is take it. Sound: "Solar Pilgrim" by Twain

pride (and prejudice) - purposefully anthemic chorus. about being proud despite prejudice in a red state. Sound: "Delta Dawn" by Tanya Tucker

he is my choice - eloping in the rain. comedic/romantic song about how everything went wrong at a wedding. Sound: "Howling at Nothing" by Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

roasting Alex - jam session - the band lovingly roasts Alex. Sound: "Ballad of Hank Williams" by Hank Williams Jr., Don Helms

Not Just Friends - Liam to Spencer. Song about how they're frequently mistaken for just best friends and how happy it makes him to correct that they're more than that. Song chosen so piano and drums play the beats together. Sound: "A Little Honey" by Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

Be Cool - Spencer to Liam. Quirky/self-deprecating song about his butterflies about being with someone he's in awe of. Sound: "Heart's Content" by Brandi Carlile

a romantic - June to Nora. Confirms that Nora is aromantic to public. June saying she would never need more from Nora bc she gets to wake up next to her best friend every day. Sound: "Tu" by maye.

bluebonnet - This place (Texas) was never a home to me until you showed me how it was a part of you and now I see you everywhere. Sound & lyrically: "I Think of You" by Rodriguez.

red-blooded (August 2029)

cover: Navy suit w white shirt and American Flag pin on lapel, cropped so only torso is showing

Americana sound again - about 50/50 rock and Americana. Features from Dolly Parton, Orville Peck, and Brandon Flowers

blue blood (August 2029)

cover: red British army dress, cropped so only torso is showing

British glam rock sounds. Features from Elton John, Brian May, and samples David Bowie.

co-written with Henry

-

AND as for where they go from the end of the fic:

Alex becomes a civil rights lawyer in Austin.

Henry's writing career grows but he remains relatively private.

June becomes a music journalist. Eventually ventures into exposes on the industry's shady practices and successfully pivots into investigative journalism

Nora does her own thing.

Liam stays in music industry as a band manager under Zahra's tutelage.

Spencer majored in music production/mixing(?) and gets taken under Pez's wing. Has a smaller solo career and produces for a few indie bands before he settles down and works as a sound mixer in the film industry.

Bea continues to play guitar and flit between collaboration projects.

Zahra is the band's manager and Shaan is Henry's publicist/mentor and they meet while officially strategizing Alex's coming out.

[emeritus-fuckers]

HI I LOVE Y'ALL'S BLOG SO MUCH!!! AAAA

Okay, I'll calm down now. I was wondering if you'd be interested by the idea of a newly summoned ghoul reader struggling to get to grips with their instrument and panicking about not being good enough for tour yet and being comforted by one of the ghouls?

I'm currently struggling to learn bass to get good enough for a band I have a chance to be in and it's really wreaking havoc on my mental health being so confused and getting it wrong over and over and y'all's writing in comfort scenarios always makes me feel better... So I thought I'd shoot my shot!

I hope you're having an amazing day, this blog brightens up my day every time! <3

Water ghouls helping a newly summoned ghoul learn their instrument

Chain (it/ghoul)

Chain is a fucking goofball.

Don't let its big, intimidating form fool you, Chain is a goofy dumbass who can barely keep up a "mysterious" act.

So when you come to ghoul and ask to learn how to play bass, it's delighted to help, all giggly and shit.

Ghoul's not the best teacher, he gets too excited and ahead of ghoulself, teaching you the "cool" riffs becore the easy ones.

It does get bonus points for being patient and hyping you up, though.

And the reward kisses. The reward kisses are nice.

Lake (he/him)

He comes accross very serious and when you ask him and you are pretty nervous.

He nods and gestures for you to follow him. He finds a cozy practice room well out of the way.

Despite his scary front he takes teaching you very seriously and is very supportive.

He's actually a really good teacher and takes time to show you good technique and teach you the songs you need to learn.

He rarely gives out compliments but when he does you know he completely means it.

Also when you get him to smile, either by a joke or playing well or just by being yourself.

You end up getting very close.

River (they/them)

They are a slut about it. A complete whore.

Every single dirty joke they can make while teaching you is made. Everything from fingering it correctly to thrusting with their own bass.

Shockingly, they are still a very good teacher. Only making the dirty jokes as you get closer to mastering each skill.

River definitely sits behind you to guide your hands on new notes and skills, hands on teacher when it’s needed. Only with consent of course.

Will absolutely bring you out for food after practice. They’re a slut but a classy slut. They buy you dinner before trying to get in your pants.

Cowbell (they/it)

It's a bit surprised to be your choice for bass lessons. After all, their only real performance was what landed them a name. And it was just trying to prank Papa.

But, the name stuck and it just couldn't go out of its way to change it, especially when you started to use "Cowie" as a cute little nickname that they just needed to hear every single day of its life.

But, fortunately for you, they just so happen to play bass as well, just like most water ghouls. They were just beginner level, but still.

You two practice together, figuring the instrument out.

It's a lot of fun, both you and Cowbell enjoy it a lot, even if it's a bit frustrating sometimes. At least you get frustrated together, right?

You end up better than it. Somehow, you end up tutoring them, instead of the other way around.

Mist (he/she)

He's thrilled to help out with that. Mist really likes alone time together, especially if you two just chill, enjoying a common hobby.

So she's happy to teach you guitar. Might offer playing Guitar Hero first so you can train your fingers a bit.

The first song you learn how to play is Gorillaz's Feel Good Inc., which is her favorite non-Ghost song. And the bass is very pleasant in the song.

He casually rests against your back, just listening to you play and giving small comments on what you can do better whenever you mess up.

There's this weird feeling of comfort during your practice sessions.

She starts a tickle fight the moment you put the guitar down.

Never let them know your next move type of shit.

Rain (he/she/ve)

He's a bit surprised when you ask, but doesn't see a reason to refuse.

But hey, ve's a good teacher! Really good, actually.

Rain sometimes even organizes classes for ghouls and Siblings who want to play bass.

She first gets you your own bass and lets you customize it with stickers. Not many people know this, but Sodo got the "YouSuck" sticker from her.

He's very patient with you, starting with basic notes and riffs before slowly moving to more complicated stuff.

Somehow, no matter who ve's teaching, her work is always excellent when it comes to teaching.

And he's very sweet with his rewards, if you catch my drift.

Storm (they/he)

They're chill with the idea. I mean, if you wanna learn, then who is he to deny you the fun that is playing bass?

Also, he doesn't say bass like the instrument, he says it like the fish, which is sorta funny during the lessons.

No, they will not be corrected on how to say it.

He's gonna sit you in his lap and show you everything, step by step.

They also let you experiment and play around, offering tips whenever you ask.

A decent teacher, not too great but not too bad, either.

~

Chain, Cowbell, Mist, Rain and Storm written by Nosferatu.

Lake written by Nyx.

River written by Death.

[whencyclopedia]

Sioux Warrior Rain-in-the-Face (Eastman's Biography)

Rain-in-the-Face (Ite Omagazu, l. c. 1835-1905) was a Lakota Sioux warrior and war chief during Red Cloud's War (1866-1868) and at the Battle of the Little Bighorn (1876), after which he became famous as the man who killed Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer, his brother Capt. Thomas Custer, or both of them.

How Rain-in-the-Face first became identified as Custer's killer is unclear, but the claim was popularized by the poem The Revenge of Rain-in-the-Face by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow – the bestselling American poet of his age – published in Keramos and Other Poems (1878). Although modern-day writers cite the poem as claiming Rain-in-the-Face killed Thomas Custer, it seems clear "White Chief with yellow hair" (line 9 of the poem) alludes to George Custer, and it is George's heart, not Thomas's, that Rain-in-the-Face rides off with at the end of the piece.

Rain-in-the-Face is best known today from two accounts of his life and the part he played at the Battle of the Little Bighorn – the 1894 report given by American journalist W. Kent Thomas based on an "interview" given at Coney Island, and the 1905 biography by the Sioux author and physician Charles A. Eastman (also known as Ohiyesa, l. 1858-1939) – which contradict each other.

In the Thomas interview, Rain-in-the-Face claims he killed Thomas Custer, cut out his heart, and spat part of it in his face at Little Bighorn as revenge for being unjustly arrested by Capt. Custer in 1874. In Eastman's account, he denies killing either of the brothers and, further, describes the Battle of Little Bighorn as so chaotic no one could have known who they had killed for certain.

As the W. Kent Thomas interview was given after the journalist got Rain-in-the-Face drunk, for the express purpose of getting the "real story" on Custer's death, while Eastman's account is a respectful transcript of the old warrior's life story, the latter is usually understood as more historically accurate.

Text

The following is taken from Eastman's Indian Heroes and Great Chieftains (1916), the 1939 edition, republished in 2016. It has been edited in the interests of space, but the full account will be found below in the External Links section.

The noted Sioux warrior, Rain-in-the-Face, whose name once carried terror to every part of the frontier, died at his home on the Standing Rock reserve in North Dakota on September 14, 1905. About two months before his death, I went to see him for the last time, where he lay upon the bed of sickness from which he never rose again, and drew from him his life-history.

It had been my experience that you cannot induce an Indian to tell a story, or even his own name, by asking him directly.

"Friend," I said, "even if a man is on a hot trail, he stops for a smoke! In the good old days, before the charge there was a smoke. At home, by the fireside, when the old men were asked to tell their brave deeds, again the pipe was passed. So come, let us smoke now to the memory of the old days!"

He took of my tobacco and filled his long pipe, and we smoked. Then I told an old mirthful story to get him in the humor of relating his own history.

The old man lay upon an iron bedstead, covered by a red blanket, in a corner of the little log cabin. He was all alone that day; only an old dog lay silent and watchful at his master's feet.

Finally, he looked up and said with a pleasant smile:

"True, friend; it is the old custom to retrace one's trail before leaving it forever! I know that I am at the door of the spirit home.

"I was born near the forks of the Cheyenne River, about seventy years ago…When I was a boy, I loved to fight," he continued. "In all our boyish games I had the name of being hard to handle, and I took much pride in the fact.

"I was about ten years old when we encountered a band of Cheyenne. They were on friendly terms with us, but we boys always indulged in sham fights on such occasions, and this time I got in an honest fight with a Cheyenne boy older than I. I got the best of the boy, but he hit me hard in the face several times, and my face was all spattered with blood and streaked where the paint had been washed away. The Sioux boys whooped and yelled:

"‘His enemy is down, and his face is spattered as if with rain! Rain-in-the-Face! His name shall be Rain-in-the-Face!'

"Afterwards, when I was a young man, we went on a warpath against the Gros Ventres. We stole some of their horses but were overtaken and had to abandon the horses and fight for our lives. I had wished my face to represent the sun when partly covered with darkness, so I painted it half black, half red. We fought all day in the rain, and my face was partly washed and streaked with red and black: so again, I was christened Rain-in-the-Face. We considered it an honorable name.

"I had been on many warpaths, but was not especially successful until about the time the Sioux began to fight with the white man…

"Some , Crow King, and others.

"This was the plan decided upon after many councils. The main war party lay in ambush, and a few of the bravest young men were appointed to attack the woodchoppers who were cutting logs to complete the building of the fort. We were told not to kill these men, but to chase them into the fort and retreat slowly, defying the white men; and if the soldiers should follow, we were to lead them into the ambush. They took our bait exactly as we had hoped! It was a matter of a very few minutes, for every soldier lay dead in a shorter time than it takes to annihilate a small herd of buffalo.

"This attack was hastened because most of the Sioux on the Missouri River and eastward had begun to talk of suing for peace. But even this did not stop the peace movement. The very next year a treaty was signed at Fort Rice, Dakota Territory, by nearly all the Sioux chiefs, in which it was agreed on the part of the Great Father in Washington that all the country north of the Republican River in Nebraska, including the Black Hills and the Big Horn Mountains, was to be always Sioux country, and no white man should intrude upon it without our permission. Even with this agreement Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse were not satisfied, and they would not sign…

"It was when the white men found the yellow metal in our country, and came in great numbers, driving away our game, that we took up arms against them for the last time. I must say here that the chiefs who were loudest for war were among the first to submit and accept reservation life. Spotted Tail was a great warrior, yet he was one of the first to yield, because he was promised by the Chief Soldiers that they would make him chief of all the Sioux. Ugh! He would have stayed with Sitting Bull to the last had it not been for his ambition.

"About this time, we young warriors began to watch the trails of the white men into the Black Hills, and when we saw a wagon coming, we would hide at the crossing and kill them all without much trouble. We did this to discourage the whites from coming into our country without our permission…

"There were a few Indians who were liars, and never on the warpath, playing ‘good Indian' with the Indian agents and the war chiefs at the forts. Some of this faithless set betrayed me and told more than I ever did. I was seized and taken to the fort near Bismarck, North Dakota of the Long-Haired War Chief and imprisoned there. These same lying Indians, who were selling their services as scouts to the white man, told me that I was to be shot to death, or else hanged upon a tree. I answered that I was not afraid to die.

"However, there was an old soldier who used to bring my food and stand guard over me—he was a white man, it is true, but he had an Indian heart! He came to me one day and unfastened the iron chain and ball with which they had locked my leg, saying by signs and what little Sioux he could muster:

"‘Go, friend! Take the chain and ball with you. I shall shoot, but the voice of the gun will lie.'

"When he had made me understand, you may guess that I ran my best! I was almost over the bank when he fired his piece at me several times, but I had already gained cover and was safe. I have never told this before, and would not, lest it should do him an injury, but he was an old man then, and I am sure he must be dead long since. That old soldier taught me that some of the white people have hearts," he added, quite seriously.

"I went back to Standing Rock in the night, and I had to hide for several days in the woods, where food was brought to me by my relatives…

"In the spring the hostile Sioux got together again upon the Tongue River. It was one of the greatest camps of the Sioux that I ever saw…We had decided to fight the white soldiers until no warrior should be left."

At this point Rain-in-the-Face took up his tobacco pouch and began again to fill his pipe…

"There was excitement among the people, and a great council was held. Many spoke. I was asked the condition of those Indians who had gone upon the reservation, and I told them truly that they were nothing more than prisoners. It was decided to go out and meet Three Stars at a safe distance from our camp.

"We met him on the Little Rosebud. I believe that if we had waited and allowed him to make the attack, he would have fared no better than Custer. He was too strongly fortified where he was, and I think, too, that he was saved partly by his Indian allies, for the scouts discovered us first and fought us first, thus giving him time to make his preparations. I think he was more wise than brave! After we had left that neighborhood, he might have pushed on and connected with the Long-Haired Chief. That would have saved Custer and perhaps won the day.

"When we crossed from Tongue River to the Little Big Horn, on account of the scarcity of game, we did not anticipate any more trouble. Our runners had discovered that Crook had retraced his trail to Goose Creek, and we did not suppose that the white men would care to follow us farther into the rough country.

"Suddenly the Long-Haired Chief appeared with his men! It was a surprise."

"What part of the camp were you in when the soldiers attacked the lower end?" I asked.

"I had been invited to a feast at one of the young men's lodges . There was a certain warrior who was making preparations to go against the Crows, and I had decided to go also," he said.

"While I was eating my meat, we heard the war cry! We all rushed out and saw a warrior riding at top speed from the lower camp, giving the warning as he came. Then we heard the reports of the soldiers' guns, which sounded differently from the guns fired by our people in battle.

"I ran to my teepee and seized my gun, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows. I already had my stone war club, for you know we usually carry those by way of ornament. Just as I was about to set out to meet Reno, a body of soldiers appeared nearly opposite us, at the edge of a long line of cliffs across the river.

"All of us who were mounted and ready immediately started down the stream toward the ford. There were Ogallala, Miniconjou, Cheyenne, and some Hunkpapa, and those around me seemed to be nearly all very young men.

"‘Behold, there is among us a young woman!' I shouted. ‘Let no young man hide behind her garment!' I knew that would make those young men brave.

"The woman was Tashenamani, or Moving Robe, whose brother had just been killed in the fight with Three Stars. Holding her brother's war staff over her head, and leaning forward upon her charger, she looked as pretty as a bird. Always when there is a woman in the charge, it causes the warriors to vie with one another in displaying their valor," he added.

"The foremost warriors had almost surrounded the white men, and more were continually crossing the stream. The soldiers had dismounted and were firing into the camp from the top of the cliff."

"My friend, was Sitting Bull in this fight?" I inquired.

"I did not see him there, but I learned afterward that he was among those who met Reno, and that was three or four of the white man's miles from Custer's position. Later he joined the attack upon Custer but was not among the foremost.

"When the troops were surrounded on two sides, with the river on the third, the order came to charge! There were many very young men, some of whom had only a war staff or a stone war club in hand, who plunged into the column, knocking the men over and stampeding their horses.

"The soldiers had mounted and started back, but when the onset came, they dismounted again and separated into several divisions, facing different ways. They fired as fast as they could load their guns, while we used chiefly arrows and war clubs. There seemed to be two distinct movements among the Indians. One body moved continually in a circle, while the other rode directly into and through the troops.

"Presently some of the soldiers remounted and fled along the ridge toward Reno's position; but they were followed by our warriors, like hundreds of blackbirds after a hawk. A larger body remained together at the upper end of a little ravine and fought bravely until they were cut to pieces. I had always thought that white men were cowards, but I had a great respect for them after this day.

"It is generally said that a young man with nothing but a war staff in his hand broke through the column and knocked down the leader very early in the fight. We supposed him to be the leader, because he stood up in full view, swinging his big knife .

"After the first rush was over, coups were counted as usual on the bodies of the slain. You know, four coups is entitled to the ‘first feather.'

"There was an Indian here called Appearing Elk, who died a short time ago. He was slightly wounded in the charge. He had some of the weapons of the Long-Haired Chief, and the Indians used to say jokingly after we came upon the reservation that Appearing Elk must have killed the Chief, because he had his sword! However, the scramble for plunder did not begin until all were dead. I do not think he killed Custer, and if he had, the time to claim the honor was immediately after the fight.

"Many lies have been told of me. Some say that I killed the Chief, and others that I cut out the heart of his brother , because he had caused me to be imprisoned. Why, in that fight the excitement was so great that we scarcely recognized our nearest friends! Everything was done like lightning. After the battle, we young men were chasing horses all over the prairie, while the old men and women plundered the bodies; and if any mutilating was done, it was by the old men.

"I have lived peaceably ever since we came upon the reservation. No one can say that Rain-in-the-Face has broken the rules of the Great Father. I fought for my people and my country. When we were conquered, I remained silent, as a warrior should. Rain-in-the-Face was killed when he put down his weapons before the Great Father. His spirit was gone then; only his poor body lived on, but now it is almost ready to lie down for the last time. Ho, hechetu! "

Continue reading...

[association-of-ideas]

I watched Trolls Band Together and my immediate reaction was to start writing fanfiction. I have created a swap AU Viva and Brozone switch roles.

Essentially, Viva is the one that leaves and the bros get lost during their escape from the troll tree. It's heavily inspired by @year2000electronics fic, Brozone: World Tour. I absolutely love this fic so much; I recommend reading it.

Anyways, I've some stuff figured out, but it's not set in stone.

Swap AU (official name pending)

Before the Great Escape, it was highly encouraged for smaller groups and families to escape on their own, enough so that Pop Village had already been established before King Peppy and the rest of the Pop trolls escaped

After the death of her daughter (Cecily) and daughter-in-law (Juniper), Rosiepuff becomes the sole guardian of her five grandchildren: John Dory (15), Spruce (13), Clay (11), Floyd (8), and Branch (egg)

With King Peppy’s blessing and best wishes, Rosiepuff packs up her family and leaves with another escaping family

They’re discovered during their escape and the brothers are separated and scattered across the genres

With ⅘ of her grandkids lost to the sewers, Rosiepuff is crushed, but she pushes through for Branch and acts as the de facto leader of the Pop trolls

During that time, she becomes a guide for trolls seeking to escape and works with Peppy to devise the Great Escape plan

It's during the Great Escape that Rosiepuff is eaten leading the Burgens away from the others and Branch (5) still sees her get eaten, causing him to gray

At the same time, Viva (14) has seen more than any child ever should and the closer she gets to turning 18, the more pressure is put on her to be a good queen

Between the Burgens, escape plans, and her ever-growing stack of responsibilities, Viva cracks under the pressure

During the Great Escape, she splits off from the group after saying goodbye to Poppy (2) and runs away to find a place for herself

Their rushed parting leaves Poppy w/ bittersweet (mostly bitter) feelings about her sister and siblings in general

As an old friend of Rosiepuff’s, Peppy does his best to look after Branch until he's old enough to be on his own, at which point, he leaves to build his bunker

Growing up together gives Poppy more of a reason to want to be around Branch

Branch is also aware of Viva’s existence, but because of how everything went down, he assumes she was eaten and doesn't bring it up

As mentioned earlier, the brothers were separated and scattered across the genres

John Dory ends up in Volcano Rock City

He's found by King Thrash and raised alongside Barb as her older brother

The separation left him with severe trauma that shows itself on a daily basis as over-protectiveness, an unwillingness to venture beyond the kingdom, and a need to fortify it

Bruce find finds himself lost at sea before meeting the Techno trolls who help him to Vacay Island

He spends a week or so drifting across the sea by himself

Eventually, he's found by a pod of Techno trolls and they help find shore

He washes up on Vacay Island and gets a job as a busboy at the restaurant run by Brandy's dad

They meet, fall in love, and the rest is history

Bruce has a tendency to do head counts whenever he's anxious or overwhelmed

Clay ends up in Symphonyville

Clay is found half-conscious by an elderly conductor named Calliope

She takes him and while officially, he is her 'ward', everyone knows him as her grandson

The trauma of the separation leaves Clay w/ selective mutism, preventing him from speaking or singing

Instead, he learns to play the cello and focuses his energy on that as he slowly regains the ability to speak

While he eventually learns how to talk again, he can't sing nor does he want to

Floyd ends up in Lonesome Flats

After getting washed away in the sewers, Sheriff Brooks drags him out of the river and takes him back to town

From there, he’s adopted by the Sheriff and raised as Delta Dawn’s little brother

Being the youngest when he was separated and given the traumatic event itself as well as the physical damage inflicted during the escape, Floyd remembers the least about his family before coming to Lonesome Flats

I might make a separate post going further in depth on Viva's side of things if anyone's interested. I've also come up with character designs for the boys' moms.

[plzfeedmebread]

The Lie of Providence - Chapter 2 - Memories Glazed in Sunlight

word count: 1906

Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: family bonding Author's Note: Slightly longer chapter! Posts still not showing up in tags TwT Oh well, I'll still keep posting in the hopes it fixes itself! Just a reminder this is in fact a slow burn, so I would like to do a bit of world building. Help establish your place amongst the family and clan.

"blue text" is spoken Na'vi. 'Italics' are inner thoughts.

<previous chapter> | 2 | <next chapter>

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

It is when you reach the age of 12 that you decide these dreams are Eywa’s doing. They visit you in an unpredictable frequency. Whether he is a memory of a man long since passed, or a figment of your imagination given life through dreamscape; you are unsure, but don’t think too much of it. After all they are merely dreams, they cannot hurt you, right?

The man doesn’t say much. More often than not you two didn’t interact at all. If he sees you, he simply huffs in annoyance and ignores you. As such you simply observed him from a distance, hidden behind something or rather, as he performed whatever bizarre Human ritual he felt necessary.

Sometimes you go months without seeing him. But it’s happened often enough now you find your mind drifts to him.

You’re at the Tree of Souls with your grandmother, Mo’at, repeating after her as she leads you through a prayer to Eywa, when a thought suddenly hits you; ‘what if he was a human soul, and the Great Mother claimed him as her own?’ You stop in wonder at the thought. Would such a thing even be possible? Even after everything that they’ve done to your clan, would she still find place for them in Her Embrace? Maybe. There were plenty of Sky People who were good. They respected the All-Mother and all her children.

Spider was one of them – the strange boy that he is. You don’t know of any other human children on Pandora, and you think he must be the first to be born here. He’s only 7, the same age as your younger brother Lo’ak and sister Kiri, but by Eywa is he just as rambunctious. You love seeing him play with them and Neteyam too. Tuk is a bit too young, still a baby that one. But you have no doubt in your mind she’ll enjoy his company just as much.

Out of all your siblings though, you’re sure he’s closest to you. As the eldest, you naturally fell into the role of protector. And as far as you’re concerned, he’s just another part of the family, another little brother to watch over and love.

“[Y/N]?”

Your thoughts are interrupted by your grandmother calling your name. You realise you had stopped praying as your mind started to wonder.

“Yes, grandmother?”

“Tell me child, what is on your mind? You are distracted.” She asks you as she brushes some hair from your face. You smile at the gesture.

“Nothing is the matter, sorry grandmother. I was just thinking of my brothers and sisters.” She hums thoughtfully and pulls her hand back.

“You may go to them then. There will be plenty of time to give thanks to the All-Mother. But your brothers and sister won’t always be so young. Go and enjoy them.” You grin at the declaration and hug her quickly before immediately sprinting to find your little band of siblings. She smiles at the sight of you running carefree through the forest.

You have a pretty good idea where you might find them. There are a few rivers nearby that you all love splashing in. Sometimes Father will join, chasing all of you through the shallows and splashing all of you wildly. You love that game.

You make your way to the first river but do not see your siblings. You do find a few adults fishing though. You recognise one of them as Saeyla, a great warrior and friend to both your parents.

“Ah! Young [Y/N]! What brings you here? Here to help us fish, are you?” She beams a wild smile at you. You see a young initiate beside her. She must be showing him the best places to fish, and when to appropriately use a bow or spear.

“Hello Saeyla! No not right now. I’m looking for my brothers and sisters, have you seen them?” She nods and points to her left. You thank her and run off in that direction, bidding goodbye to everyone.

Once you’re out of earshot the young man chuffs to himself and mumbles,

“She still looks like a freak even after all this time.” Saeyla flicks him right in the forehead.

“Watch your tongue! In case you have forgotten, that is Toruk Makto’s daughter. Our Olo'eyktan’s daughter. Show some respect. It is by Eywa’s will that she is here. Or are you going to question the wisdom of our Great Mother?” She fixes him with a stare, challenging him. He stiffens at her look.

“Sorry Saeyla. I—I didn’t mean—” He stumbles to find the right words but she waves him off with a click of her tongue.

“Let us continue and pretend you said nothing.” He nods at her words.

---

Your siblings are exactly where Saeyla said they’d be. All happily splashing in the water; not a care in the world. You smile and sit on a nearby tree root, a bit out of their line of sight. Content to simply watch them. You’re happy to see little Spider here too. You giggle to yourself as you watch him playfully dive atop the pile of Kiri and Lo’ak, Neteyam off to the side pulling on someone’s tail.

As you watch them, you admire the gold of Spider’s locks, not too dissimilar to your own. The play with the threaded gold of your hair idly between fingers, reminiscing on the firs time you had met the boy.

You had begged and pleaded with Father to teach you the language of the Sky People. Reluctant at first, he figured it would probably be in your best interest to learn it in the end, considering there were plenty of Humans and Avatars left behind on Pandora. And to be fair not everyone had learnt the Na’vi language. He figures you being at the young age of 8, it’s probably easier for their language to make a lasting impression than adults learning Na’vi.

He relents and takes you to see Norm, though bi-lingual now himself, he’s not entirely sure how to go about actually teaching you the language. Figured Norm, the science-head that he is, would have an easier time. You like Uncle Norm anyway. He tells you lost of fascinating stories about Sky People and the planet they came from. Especially when Father is reluctant to share. You also find it very funny when he switches to his Sky People body; he’s so short compared to when he’s a Dreamwalker.

So there you are, at Hell’s Gate with your Father. Mother stayed behind in the forest, content to watch over Neteyam, Lo’ak and Kiri.

Father and Uncle Norm are discussing something, you’re not paying attention to their words. Instead you busy yourself looking at the pretty pictures in a book on a desk nearby. You pay no mind to the idle sounds of the other scientists nearby as the work.

However, your attention is suddenly pulled by the pitter patter sound of hastily running feet and someone yelling “Spider get back here!”

Before you can turn around, something solid collides with your legs, causing you to drop the book as you fall to the floor, the solid thing landing on your legs.

“[Y/N]!” Your father is immediately by your side, gently picking you up as he puts you back on your feet carefully.

“I’m okay Dad,” you assure him. Didn’t even hurt. You look over and find Uncle Norm similarly lifting up someone. The someone that collided with you. It’s a child. A Human child.

“Spider you gotta be careful, you can’t just run into people like that. Now say sorry to [Y/N].” Uncle Norm chastises the child, Spider.

“Sowwy, I ram into yoo.” He says, his pronunciation a little off, but you understood him.

“Oh, I guess this is the first time the two of you have ever seen each other. [Y/N], this is Spider. Spider, this is [Y/N]. She’s my daughter. Say hello, [Y/N].” It is your Father that does the introductions.

“Hello! My name is [Y/N]! It’s nice to meet you Spider!” You beam at him. You didn’t expect him to speak Na’vi. Uncle Norm must be teaching him. You think hard and remember the Sky People greeting Uncle Norm showed you. Ah, right! A handshake! You stick out your hand confidently.

Spider looks at your hand as if unsure what to do. He looks back up to your face with a slight tilt to his head, a questioning look adorns his cute little face.

You giggle at his expression. Instead, you gesture with the traditional Oel ngati kameie hand motion. Spider smiles and copies you, even if the way he swings his arm is a bit off. You admire his hair. It is wild and golden like yours, though yours is a tad lighter.

“I like your hair.”

“Fanks. I like yor eyes. They pretty like strawberries.” You’re not sure what that last thing is. But that sounded like a nice thing so you say thank you.

It is from this tiny interaction that Spider becomes enraptured by you and your family. He’s seen Norm’s avatar, and the ones that walk around Hell’s Gate. But you? You and your father are different. You live in the Forest. And Spider LOVES the forest. He wishes Norm would let him run around outside and explore. “Maybe when you’re older,” he kept telling him.

And so begins months of learning the Sky People language from Uncle Norm and Father, while Spider is taught Na’vi by the two older males in tandem. Every chance you get, the two of you practice with each other. You speak English to him, and he Na’vi to you. It is a fun game.

It’s been about 4 years since then, now you’re both reasonably fluent in either language. Spider though seems much more content to speak Na’vi and that’s fine by you. Your siblings were eventually also taught the Sky People’s language to make communication between Humans, Dreamwalkers and Clan easier.

You continue to quietly watch your siblings play. And yes, you definitely consider Spider a younger brother. You don’t care that he is Human. Why should that matter? After all, your Dad used to be human. And even now, you understand that his body is that of a Dreamwalker.

A gentle breeze carries the laughter of your siblings to you. Their song dances around you, and you close your eyes and smile at the feeling. You could almost feel the Great Mother in the shades of the trees; sheltering you from the harshness of direct sunlight. Though you enjoy the kiss of sunlight as it seeps through the gaps between leaves, leaving warm and soft patterns across your skin.

Deciding you’ve had enough of watching and want to play in the water too, you sit up from your tree spot and make your way over to everyone else.

Spider is the first to notice your approach; thought it surely isn’t hard to miss your alabaster form against the greens of the forest.

“[Y/N]!!!” He yells excitedly and rushes to meet you part way into the water. Everyone else yells your name in greeting and follow him.

“Hello everyone!” You greet back and are soon tackled to the ground by a horde of toddlers. You giggle at their antics. Soon you all resume what ever game it is they were playing, lots of splashes and lots of laughter.

You couldn’t be happier.

---

<previous chapter> | 2 | <next chapter>

[tsaritza-mika]

Heart of Glass

Summary: It's been a long, trying day in the Shadowlands, and though everyone came back just fine, some scars are only on the inside Warnings: None Named Tav: Mika (Elven Bard) Suggested Listening: Nothing Else Matters - Metallica (acapella) Voiceplay feat. J.NONE

“Has anyone seen Mika?” Astarion’s brow furrowed as he raised his voice across camp. The area usually kept warmer from everyone’s favorite bard as she either played her violin or sang softly by the fire after a long day of adventuring, somehow felt so much colder without her in the haunting silence of the surrounding Shadowlands. Sure there were still sounds, but none that sounded even half as welcoming as a typical forest, and Astarion had grown rather fond of the leader of their merry little band of weirdos. Delicious blood aside of course, though he’d never admit it.

Catching sight of Shadowheart peeking out of her tent, her long, dark hair flowing behind her as she brushed it out, it seemed as though she felt the same now that she was aware of their missing companion. “Ugh, she must have wandered off again. I do enjoy her free spirit, but honestly... Of all the places to do it!”

“I don’t suppose we’d be open to putting a bell on her, Shadowheart?”

“Astarion, it’s bad enough that I’m always keenly aware of when the two of you just so happen to disappear for a while in the middle of the night, but adding a bell to all of that would take it from mildly annoying to insufferable...!”

“Oh, but now that makes the thought even more appealing!”

“What’s going on? Mika’s missing?” Rolling his eyes, Astarion turned to find Gale approaching with some bowls of stew he’d prepared for the evening. Handing one off to Shadowheart, he glanced between the two of them curiously.

“Well I mean, not missing, so much as we’re just not sure where she may have wandered off to...” 

“Oh, well that is still a bit concerning-”

“Chk! You all speak as if you’ve never craved some space with which to clear your heads!” Gale jumped slightly at the sudden arrival of Lae’zel, though thankfully the stew remained in its bowl and not on his robes. “Honestly, if her mood had been a predator, all of you would have been dead ten times over by now. It’s a miracle any of you made it this far...”

“An unwelcome observation as usual Lae’zel, but if you know something, it would be more helpful to just come out with it.”

Just as annoyed as ever whenever she had to interact with Shadowheart for very long, Lae’zel rolled her eyes at the cleric in a way that made them wonder if she managed a glimpse of her own tadpole in the process. “It’s pathetic to think that she considers you all her dear companions, when you fail to notice when the very air around her is heavy with melancholy. Whatever it was that happened after you lot left with her this morning, something must have occurred that would weigh on her soul.”

“Hm, a lot happened today though... We managed to locate the Harpers, and though their base was also attacked and many were lost, we managed to keep Isobel from being taken....”

“Most of the rest of the day had been spent dealing with those, well what was left of what I’m assuming was once people in town. We did finally manage to infiltrate Moonrise before needing to head back, but-”

“I think I know.”

“Are you so confident in that, Astarion?” Frowning deeper at Lae’zel’s questioning, Astarion crossed his arms with a huff.

“I am. Did you see what direction she was headed Lae’zel?” Watching as she scrutinized him for a few moments longer, he smirked when it seemed she finally relented, reaching over to roughly take the stew from Gale and enjoying seeing the man openly flinch.

“Down the hill toward the river’s edge. She took her violin with her, so finding her shouldn’t be too difficult, even for one such as you, Astarion.” Deciding to not stick around long enough for the others to either join in with Lae’zel’s jabs or argue on who should go find her, Astarion quickly exited, heading toward the thin trail near the edge of camp that led down toward the foggy riverbed below. 

Once down by the water’s edge, Astarion glanced about, not finding much to indicate where exactly Mika had gone to past that. Seemed she truly had wanted to disappear for a bit, as not even some of the nearby wet sand or reeds looked to have been disturbed in a way that would give away someone had been there. Almost about to simply pick a direction, his ears caught the soft, sad wail he’d become familiar with whenever she played her violin. Keeping as quiet as possible, he followed the sad tune, hoping that it wasn’t some sort of trick by yet more harpies like back at the grove’s ocean edge. The longer he walked, the more suffocating the shadows seemed, even with Isobel’s protective spell, and as much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it, the feeling had him a twinge worried about Mika deciding to get out here all on her own.

Finally coming across the isolated little strip of riverbed she’d wandered to, he kept to the shadows for a moment, watching as a tear slipped out from under thick, dark lashes and drifted slowly down her cheek. Like every song she played, this tune also seemed to hold strong emotions behind it, though it was more than a tad upsetting with how sad it felt. If he still had a beating heart, it would likely feel heavy in his chest at hearing her play. When it seemed she had finished, she knelt down in the soft dirt, placing what appeared to be a small candle on a thick piece of driftwood. Using a spell to light the wick, he watched as she set the candle adrift in the calm waters, more tears streaming down her cheeks.

Well, if he was going to say something, now was as good a time as any. Slowly coming out from his hiding spot, he didn’t make any efforts to hide as he approached, not wanting to scare her off. “Darling?”

Jumping a little, Mika wiped at the wetness on her cheeks as she stood, the still present flush of pink on her cheeks and inability to keep a steady smile on her face betraying the reassurance she was hoping for. “Oh, ah, Astarion! Eh, sorry. Was I gone very long? Or were you hungry at all?”

“Well, no... I mean, you weren’t gone long, but it was quite obvious you weren’t at camp. Is something wrong?”

“O-oh...I, sorry about that. I just...I guess I just needed a minute.”

“Am I allowed to ask what for?” It was unsettling when she wasn’t smiling. At least it was whenever she wasn’t in front of their enemies; she was a fantastic actor then. That silver tongue of hers had managed to get them places others would have either died trying or would have had to fight tooth and nail to get through. It was also a bit concerning since his whole plan hinged on being able to deceive her into caring enough to guarantee his safety, but so far so good. If she had been taken by Cazador instead of him, she likely would have usurped Leon as his tormentor’s favorite a million times over with how easily people seemed to gravitate to her. Watching carefully as she hesitated, he frowned and came up behind her, setting his hands on her shoulders as she sniffled and wiped at her eyes again.

“It’s, it’s not something you need to worry about, Astarion. I’ll be fine in a bit-”

“But you’re not fine now; and I might not be free in a bit.”

“...”

“Darling, what in the realms is so terrible that it’s stolen your smile from me?”

“...I am...”

“Hm? You’re what, love?”

“I am... I’m that terrible thing...” Her shoulders trembled, head falling as her hands came up to cover her face and fresh tears escaped down her cheeks. Whatever it was that had broken her that day he couldn’t fathom. Comfort wasn’t exactly something he was particularly good at, but with everything she did for him and everyone else they traveled with, he would try at least. Slowly sliding his arms around her, he glanced out toward the river, the candle she had set adrift beginning to disappear in the thick, shadowy gloom was almost gone. Only a small, pale glow was left, and even that too would be gone soon enough.

“What do you mean, my sweet? How are you terrible? Who would ever tell you such a thing?”

“...I...I murdered them...”

“Murdered? Who? When?”

“...Fezzerk, and his friends...” ...Well that was something he didn’t see coming. Caught off guard by the confession, Astarion pulled back in confusion, turning her in his hold to try looking her in the eye.

“The Goblins? I...darling, are you feeling alright? I mean... they’re just Goblins! Not even a tenday ago all of us slaughtered the lot of them in that abandoned temple and took out their leaders! Why the hells would you be upset about killing three more?”

“No, no Astarion, that was different!”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain it to me, Mika. Because as far as I can see, Goblins are Goblins.”

Letting her go, he gave her a moment to collect herself, managing to clear the fallen tears from her face, though her cheeks were still a bit damp. “It was different at the temple, Astarion. At the temple, and at the village. They were hostile, they had weapons and numbers. It was battle, no matter what, it was eventually going to come down to them or us. Everyone knew that, on both sides. But today...”

“Today...?”

“There’s no other way to look at it. It was, just murder! Either way there was no fighting chance for them! Fezzerk and the others... Astarion, they were begging for their lives, and I just...”

Watching her carefully as more tears came, and she sunk slowly to kneel in the dirt once more, curling over herself and wrapping her arms around her trembling frame... Even despite being able to see why she was upset, if he was honest with himself he still didn’t really care all that much. Goblins were still Goblins, after all. But to Mika, who seemed to value each soul, without regard to who it came from until the moment they were deemed a threat, having killed these Goblins when it was clear they had no fighting chance and were begging to just be let go... Apparently part of her had broken with the act, almost as if made of glass.

Sighing quietly, he frowned as he glanced out toward the water’s smooth surface, the candle and its glow now gone, taken over by the all consuming shadows. “...It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

“Yes it is! Because of me, they’re dead! All they wanted was to live, and I-”

“You wanted the same thing. Yet, we had an objective to complete: infiltrate Moonrise and discover what we could about the cult and Ketheric Thorm. All of us, especially you, we had to maintain that we were followers of the Absolute. We were surrounded by enemies who would just as soon as cleave us in two as they would welcome us into the fold.”

“But Ketheric ordered them to leave Fezzerk and his friends’ fate to me! I was ordered to decide to either kill them or let them go!”

“And what do you think would have happened if you’d have released them? Everyone who was there in that room would have witnessed you showing mercy when only seconds earlier, Ketheric had decreed that there was no more room for that under his leadership.” A frown came to his face as it seemed to sink in for her that she really had chosen the best option, even if it left her feeling painfully hollow inside. 

“...I’m sorry...”

“What for now?”

“I don’t know...everything? I know I’m not cut out for this...”

“I mean, if we’re being fair here, darling, nobody else in our little group of freaks is really qualified either...”

“No...no, I know Wyll or Karlach or Halsin could do better than me. Even Shadow or Lae’zel wouldn’t have this many doubts or weaknesses...”

“Should I be offended that you neglected to mention myself?”

“You said you weren’t a details person, Star, and those are kind of in the job description as leader.”

“Okay that’s fair, but I still feel like I should be maybe a little offended...” A smirk came to his face as he managed to pull a semi-strangled chuckle from her. Tear tracks still on her face as she sat up, Mika ran a hand through the thick layers of her pale, ashen hair, the strands catching the barest light and shining like silver. “Why don't you join me in my tent tonight?”

Managing something of a weak smile, she looked up at him from behind silvery-blonde locks, the deep blue-green in her eyes shining like the ocean under starlight. “If you’re okay with it, then... I think I’d like that...”

“Well it would certainly make things easier for me. You did already invite me for a bite, and it would be far simpler to just fall asleep after anything else we may get up to...” It was hard to not at least smirk when her weak smile widened with more life. Though he’d rather be staked than admit it out loud, seeing her smile felt almost as good as standing in the warm sunlight. Waiting a moment for her to relax, Astarion stood and offered his hand to help Mika back to her feet. “Come, let’s get back before everyone else starts setting the entire Shadowlands on fire in an asinine attempt to find us. Gods only know how much chaos will happen in camp if we aren’t there to reel everyone in.”

“Says the man who was so excited to have a demented swamp hag know about our tadpoles, and interrupting a bugbear having sex with an ogre...?”

“Ugh, honestly Mika, where’s your sense of adventure? Just admit it, without me you’d have already been bored to tears with so many responsible companions around...”

Finally managing to laugh for the first time since that morning, she smiled as he wrapped an arm around her waist, gently urging her back toward the direction of camp. “Oh, you’re so right! How could I ever have questioned the great Astarion Ancunin? How positively scandalous of me!”

“Careful darling, or I might get used to hearing all of that...”

“Oh fuck me...” “Maybe later if you’re lucky-”

“Hush!”

[punderdome]

Infernal Jurisprudence: Chapter 2

Summary: Raphael keeps a watchful eye on his investments.

Rating: 18+

[AO3]

Chapter 2: The Mirror

Raphael had tasked Korrilla with following the Little Mouse and learning as much about her as possible.  Each day she reported back small pieces of information she learned from following the infected companions.

The Little Mouse's full name was Tavara Aureum, and she originally hailed from Baldur’s Gate.  She worked as a researcher of some kind at the university.   Now that he had better direction on her origins, it would be much simpler to find information about her and her history.  He tasked other warlocks with investigating her by both legal and illegal means.

Raphael paid close attention to how his prized adventurers were doing.  There was some kind of confrontation at the river’s edge with a flock of harpies trying to eat a foolish child.  The cambion preferred to keep informed of the plight of the refugees.  The odds were favorable that many of the adults would be willing to sign contracts to save their children, despite having just been freed from Avernus.  One of the older Tiefling children was a young girl who was thieving from the druids and scheming to run a crime ring.  She seemed of the reasonable type to take the unsavory path into his service, being the very being that sent the foolish child to the harpy nest.

Raphael picked up his scrying mirror and viewed the camp of his band of infected adventurers and observed quietly, looking for information he could use to his benefit.  

The Gith, Lae’zel of creche Kliir, was frustrated by their lack of any progress towards finding a useless Githyanki creche that would certainly only reduce the number of competent members of the little group.  The naive warrior had never known the actual fate of any who had experienced a zaith’isk.

There was the sanctimonious Warlock, son of Duke Ravengard, who wore hypocrisy on his horned head after sparing the Tiefling and then demanding some kind of sympathy for it.  He knew which agreement he signed and the consequences for default.  The least he could do was to stop pouting over his own foolishness.

There was a poorly-concealed Sharran cleric brooding in the camp.  She carried the Astral Prism on her person and smugly demanded complete privacy while also wearing Shar’s sigils on her armor. Shar’s worshippers were supposed to be more subtle than that.  That lesson was something that the cleric apparently had also forgotten.

The vampire spawn was pretending to be a magistrate while also displaying an aptitude for larceny.  The courts in Baldur’s Gate were not quite so corrupt as to demand both of those skill sets.  

The burning Tiefling was generally unproblematic, despite her lack of trust in Infernal beings.  

The former chosen of Mystra, Gale of Waterdeep.   He was much diminished in power but not knowledge, and could be a powerful vessel if tamed for an Infernal purpose.  Should he prove malleable, he could present a stronger Warlock than whatever pitiful pact the ‘Blade of Frontiers’ was offered.

Tavara Aureum.  Draconic ancestry.  Researcher.  Speaks Infernal.

Raphael took out his scrying mirror to check on his investments.  Tavara and the Warlock had managed to talk down a decrepit village full of goblins.  The pathetic little wretches fled from the broken buildings without much fuss after inviting some wrathful threats.  A second group of goblins was keeping their camp up by the windmill, gleefully torturing a Deep Gnome by affixing him to the windmill blades.  The Gnome's screams and calls were sweet and delicious.  Raphael pondered this version of torture for his own dungeons.  Spinning screaming debtors around and around, faster and faster.  He would make sure to save that particular punishment for the debtors with acrophobia.

How many revolutions of the mill would it take before his debtors screams would cause their vocal cords to hemorrhage?  Blood flicking from their lips with each turn of the grindstone.

The ridiculous little band of fools and the sorceress found the dark below the village and the arachnids lurking down in the dark.  Raphael wondered which of them feared spiders and how many of their limbs would appear black from poison.  Those unlucky fools would have fouled and melting flesh while they screamed trapped within the sticky silk of a spider's web.

The matriarch was a fearsome creature, turned by Lloth.  Many of the Archdevils of the Hells had sought out their own spiders for their dungeons.  Giant arachnids made for extremely efficient torture devices and allowed for exquisite punishment of debtors en masse.  Fearful debtors would crush and tear each other to pieces, provided it meant they escaped their own encasement in web and slow desiccation into husks.

It was amusing to watch the mortal band as they battled the giant spider, sticking to the webbing below them as other smaller spiders clicked and danced around them.  Sprays of poison had infected the wizard and Tiefling, leaving them coughing and gasping for breath.  The band of adventurers had so much promise, but Raphael could and would not do all of their work for them.  They would have to regain their powers on their own.

The matriarch bit deeply into the Little Mouse’s shoulder, and the Little Mouse squeaked in agony as the poison spread through her veins.  Raphael found those noises to be less agreeable than he expected.  The spider recoiled in pain as shards of ice shredded her exoskeleton in decisive retribution.

Before long, the little band of fools had slain the matriarch and each of her spiderlings.  The sight of gore, charred web, and splattered hemolymph were all that remained of the beasts in the dark beneath the well.  The dark, dank cavern had fallen silent once more.

The Little Mouse was hunched over in agony from the force of the bite and the poison spreading through her weak mortal form.  One of the other fools thrust a potion of antidote into her hands as the ridiculous Sharran cleric assisted in mending the bite from the spider’s fangs on her shoulder.  Many of the others had also looked weary and in pathetic shape, bearing wounds and scratches of their own or reeling from the aftereffects of spider venom.  Raphael cared little for their wounds but as long as the Little Mouse was healed first, the Sharran could waste her energies on the others as much as she wanted.

Seeing that order had been restored to the cavern, Raphael went back to work.

****

Raphael paced through his study, with several contracts unfinished.  His gaze occasionally went back to the scrying mirror, wanting to see how his investments had fared.  Not well, for some of them but presumably better after forcing healing concoctions down their fragile mortal throats.

The Little Mouse had been bitten by a spider instead of a cat.   Raphael snapped to summon Korrilla.

“I have updated instructions for you,” Raphael informed the trusted Dwarf.  “Continue to surveil Tavara Aureum, but if the sorceress appears in mortal peril, intervene by either eliminating the threats or bringing her back here to the restoration pool as a last resort.”

Korrilla’s face was blank.  “Of course, Master Raphael.”  She snapped and disappeared to resume her duties.  Raphael sat back at his desk to resume his work.  Korrilla was ever the diligent employ, unlike her contemptuous sister.

Raphael continued to work on his schemes but found the sorceress constantly coming into the forefront of his mind.  He occasionally took quick breaks from his contract work to see the Mouse in his scrying mirror, hoping she had cleaned up properly following the spider’s bite.  It would be such a pity for the puncture of fangs to have permanently marred her form.  Even if the bite had left scarring, Raphael could easily fix it for her for a simple price of a peek at the bare flesh.  Tavara had just stepped out of a bath in the river that evening and was barely covered up, rivulets of water still trickling down her arms that glittered like the scales on her cheeks in the setting sun.  He watched the gooseflesh appear on her arms and legs as she shuddered.

The odd little creature appeared so different with her hair disheveled and weighed down with the damp.  She seemed much smaller to him than when she had stood in front of him in the House of Hope and so very soft.  It was a much appreciated change from her defiance and Infernal challenges that she had presented to him at their feast.  How much discipline would it take to tame a Little Mouse?

Tavara was pulling a wooden comb through her curls, the ragged cloth serving as her towel slipped slightly to expose another small area of flesh around her breasts and a patch of scales between them.  Her nimble hands worked diligently over her long hair.  Her nipples were hard from the chill, barely covered by the cloth she had covered herself with.

Raphael watched her for some time.  He pondered where else on her body she had scales.

One Little Mouse in evening light

The sun shines brightly upon each scale

Readies herself for a peaceful night

Sleeping bare under a moonlit pale

Raphael set the mirror down and paced around his study.  He was half-hard and slightly straining in his trousers.  He walked swiftly, trying to burn off the energy and arousal.  He needed to get back to work, but the image of Tavara barely covered was seared into his mind.

The contracts could wait.

Raphael snapped and arrived in the Boudoir in a swirl of embers.  Haarlep was laying on the bed, writhing like a cat atop the red silk sheets.  Their fingers traced seductively over the black leather harness and slipping beneath the straps to stroke their warm skin, trying to lure in their master.

“Master, have you come to play?” Haarlep purred, stretching and arching their back.  They wore the Archduke’s form, but Raphael had no interest in that today.

“Change into the Archduchess,” Raphael ordered, and the incubus complied without complaint.  Haarlep perched neatly on the bed awaiting naughty instruction.  Raphael snapped and his clothing disappeared.  He laid down on his back next to the waiting incubus, his wings splaying over the sheets.

Raphael said nothing else and merely motioned to his cock.  Haarlep took the invitation greedily and lowered their mouth, eagerly taking the Master and licking their forked tongue up and down Raphael’s entire shaft, flicking cheekily at the head and making him groan.

The cambion closed his eyes.  He pictured a soft, wet mortal tongue pleasuring him.  He wanted to fuck into the sorceress’s wanton mouth.  He imagined fucking himself deep into her throat until she was gagging on him as punishment for her disobedience in his dining hall.  Raphael pulled Haarlep’s head further down by their hair until they took him into their throat.  Haarlep let out a frisky, excited moan, nothing like the Little Mouse would have sounded like.  Haarlep seemed to be enjoying the roughness, but Raphael wanted the sorceress to be taking his punishment obediently, so he could reward her with his pleasure.  He pulled Haarlep’s hair harder and thrust quickly into their mouth, trying to get the incubus to elicit the gagging noises of punishment that he expected from the Little Mouse.  Every tug only seemed to make Haarlep more excited.  Raphael twitched slightly, wanting to hear lewd little sounds from the Little Mouse.

The Little Mouse would want mercy, begging for it with her big green eyes.  Raphael was nothing if not humane.  When the Mouse was gagging on him, he would stop and let her please him more gently.  Her gentle mortal mouth would need to be given a gentler punishment or else he would accidentally break her.

Raphael felt Haarlep’s feminine hand wrap around his shaft and give firm, pleasurable pumps.  He opened his eyes and the spell was broken.  Clawed incubus hands.   Haarlep looked up at his gaze, their look filthy and lusting.  Raphael moaned in pleasure again as his incubus took him deeply into their throat.  If he wasn’t being so rough and pulling on her, the Little Mouse would eventually adjust to the depth he found most appealing.  Such an obedient little creature.

Raphael closed his eyes and savored the Little Mouse’s warm, sweet lips around him.  He gripped the sheets in his clawed hand as he felt his orgasm approaching.  Her green eyes were looking up at him, eagerly awaiting his pleasure.  Haarlep hummed gently with his cock deep down their throat, and Raphael felt himself starting to lose control.  She would enjoy it as much as he did.   Haarlep kept a firm, consistent rhythm.  Her desire for him was wound into every thrust of him deep into her mouth.

“Little Mouse,” Raphael grunted as he spilled himself down Haarlep’s throat, drunk on the intense pleasure that her tongue was continuing to coax out of him.   The Little Mouse obediently swallowed all of his seed and cleaned up any excess left on his cock.  Her sweet little tongue licked him gently and rapidly, igniting every nerve near the tip of his cock, and made Raphael’s eyes roll back in his head.

Raphael opened his eyes and saw the incubus grinning up at him.  “Master, you really enjoyed yourself,” they purred.  “Would you like some venom, so we can continue to play?”

Raphael rose from the bed in the Boudoir and snapped again, redressing quickly.  He ignored Haarlep’s pathetic pouting and returned to his study without another word.

He grabbed the scrying mirror and summoned the image of his Little Mouse.  She was sitting by a campfire, completely dressed in a comfortable set of loose pants and a white, linen shirt.  They were both too large for her and hid her form far more than he liked.  Raphael imagined her in an elegant nightdress made of white silk.

Silk.  Soft.  Just like her tongue.

A/N: This fic is definitely going to be significantly smuttier than the sister fic. I'm pretty sure no one thinks that's a problem. Raphael, our favorite Archdevil Supreme, has a Tav surrogate, and he is definitely not going to be constantly using their Archduchess form. I also think it could be fun to explore the other little details from Fine Print like Raphael's reaction to Astarion stealing Tav's panties from her laundry basket, his absolute disdain for Gale, how fucking tired Korrilla is of Tav, and lots of other machinations and schemes that you'll learn about from Tav's perspective later.

[eternal--returned]

IGGY POP: Once I heard the Paul Butterfield Blues Band and John Lee Hooker and Muddy Waters, and even Chuck Berry playing his own tune, I couldn't go back and listen to the British Invasion, you know, a band like the Kinks. I'm sorry, the Kinks are great, but when you're a young guy and you're trying to find out where your balls are, you go, "Those guys sound like pussies!" I had tried to go to college, but I couldn't do it. I had met Paul Butterfield's guitarist, Mike Bloomfield, who said, "If you really want to play, you've got to go to Chicago." So I went to Chicago with nineteen cents. I got a ride with some girls that worked at Discount Records. They dumped me off at a guy named Bob Koester's house. Bob was white and ran the Jazz Record Mart there. I crashed with him and then I went out to Sam's neighborhood. I really was the only white guy there. It was scary, but it was also a travel adventure—all these little record stores, and Mojos hanging, and people wearing colorful clothes. I went to Sam's place and his wife was very surprised that I was looking for him. She said, "Well, he's not here, but would you like some fried chicken?" So I hooked up with Sam Lay. He was playing with Jimmy Cotton and I'd go see them play and learned what I could. And very occasionally, I would get to sit in, I'd get a cheap gig for five or ten bucks. I played for Johnny Young once—he was hired to play for a white church group, and I could play cheap, so he let me play. It was a thrill, you know? It was a thrill to be really close to some of those guys—they all had an attitude, like jive motherfuckers, you know? What I noticed about these black guys was that their music was like honey off their fingers. Real childlike and charming in its simplicity. It was just a very natural mode of expression and lifestyle. They were drunk all the time and it was all sexy-sexy and dudey-dudey, and it was just a bunch of guys that didn't want to work and who played good. I realized that these guys were way over my head, and that what they were doing was so natural to them that it was ridiculous for me to make a studious copy of it, which is what most white blues bands did. Then one night, I smoked a joint. I'd always wanted to take drugs, but I'd never been able to because the only drug I knew about was marijuana and I was a really bad asthmatic. Before that, I wasn't interested in drugs, or getting drunk, either. just wanted to play and get something going, that was all I cared about. But this girl, Vivian, who had given me the ride to Chicago, left me with a little grass. So one night I went down by the sewage treatment plant by the Loop, where the river is entirely industrialized. It's all concrete banks and effluvia by the Marina Towers. So I smoked this joint and then it hit me. I thought, What you gotta do is play your own simple blues. I could describe my experience based on the way those guys are describing theirs . . . So that's what I did. I appropriated a lot of their vocal forms, and also their turns of phrase—either heard or misheard or twisted from blues songs. So "I Wanna Be Your Dog" is probably my mishearing of "Baby Please Don't Go."

Legs McNeil & Gillian McCain ֍ Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk (1996)

The Stooges ֍ I Wanna Be Your Dog (1969)

Muddy Waters ֍ Baby Please Don't Go (1953)

[goat-guy-tm]

Out of all characters in mcd, I'd say the one that changed the most for my rewrote would have to be garroth. Name change that I gave him aside, there is a lot I did to him.

>hey so, writting this after I finished this post, idk how many words is in this but I think it's over 3k maybe, I spent three days writing this, it's so much longer than I expected, but um if you want a sudden deep dive and entire life story of my rewrite Garroth, HERE IT FUCKING IS!!

I will also let you know, because some ppl will probably be confused about it; Claire was a character in Jess's FNAF roleplay series, she was Aphmau's sister and I am SO UPSET that she was not carried into mys, albeit her and Aphmau had a strained yet still close relationship, she should have been there. So, I include her in ever rewrite I do, including my mys one. But yeah, when you see her mentioned that's why and who she is ♡

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Garroth was never happy in Ok'hasis. He never would have been. His whole life he stood there, staring at that damn statue.

A man, standing tall, clad in armor that made him seem so much bigger than he was. Sword, shethed into the stone beneath him, helmet in one hand, other rested on the hilt of the sword.

Esmund Ro'Meave.

Eveyone, Irene-damn everyone told him day in and day out that Garroth was his spitting image. His passion, his looks, his strength. When rumors of Divine Reincarnations murmured through Ru'aun, Garroth was put at the center of it. He was related to one by blood, he looked like him perfectly, so why wouldn't he be?

Garroth wanted nothing to do with that man. A self proclaimed hero, no matter the horrid things he did, the pain he left behind him to carve a path for the Divine in a world they weren't welcome. Were HE wasn't welcome.

Every day his father would drag him around the castle, day in day out, history lessons, fighting lessons, etiquette lessons, never a break.

That statue made him sick. Esmund, stood proud and tall in the court yard, one replica sitting in Ok'hasis's center. No where he went he was haunted by him. It was mocking him. HE was mocking him.

It took weeks of convincing, but eventually Jeffory had agreeded to help him do it, help him fake his death. The guard gained nothing from it. If anything he was putting his own life in more danger than he would ever know.

The first thing he did when he escaped was cut his hair. He couldn't stand it anymore. The bullshit Ok'hasian tradition of 'perfect' hair. His father's had been to the floor, his mother's close. The cute had been uneven, he had nicked himself a little, but the freedom he felt, the weight he felt lift from his chest when he gazed in the river, he nearly cried.

He ran. He knew the guard academy was always open to 'run aways'. Just give them a name and they'd let you in.

Garroth Ro'Meave didn't exist anymore.

Lucian Ciro was the newest trainee in the Ru'aunian Guard Academy.

The years passed like nothing. Finally he felt more than he had in so long. When he graduated, Lucian joined a band of travlers, acting as a guard for them for a while until they had been approached by an old woman one day. She had silver hair, and wore a purple headcovering.

She spoke with a wisdom Lucian only wished to ever know. She asked him for his services. To help her travel across Ru'aun as she was carrying a very important relic of sorts on her person and needed a personal guard.

It would have been dumb to say no, so of course Lucian joined her. The woman, Hyria quickly made her intentions known. She told him she knew who he was. The Lucian Ciro was never a Ru'aunian man, that Garroth Ro'Meave never died that day. Lucian had asked her what she intended to do with that information. She told him nothing, she had no reason to share it with anyone, but he deserved to know that someone understood, that someone knew his story.

After days on fhe road, Hyria told him she was a witch, a witch heavy beyond his years. That she had lived amongst the divine themselves. Lucian didn't believe her at first. She told him she had asked for him specifically to protect her through Ru'aun, that she knew he was meant to be someone important to Ru'aun history. That like her, his soul was closely tied to the Divine, yet not in the way he thought it was.

The Sacred Woods had scared him at first. Now a days Lucian could find his way through them blindfolded. Hyria had shown him the relic. That of Esmund the Divine King. She told him it was about that time. That the new reincarnation of Esmund come about.

A wave of relief had washed over Lucian in that moment. He wasn't that man, he wasn't what everyone egged him to be.

It was a clearing, Lucian would come to know this clearing well.

There were already some people there, gathered in some kind of semi circle.

A mountian of a man, long hair, body and face covered by a long cloak, wolf ears poking through the opening of it. A werewolf no doubt, Lucian had hear folk stories of them, but had never met on in the flesh, or, well, fur.

The man had two women with him, at least the first time Lucian had met them it was two, at some point it became three, he couldn't recall when it changed.

One was shorter, she had black hair and was dressed well. How he recalled many wives of lords dressed, but almost, more humble? There was something about her that was warm, and simple in the best ways.

Then there was the mifwa, with lavander hair and olive green eyes. She scared Lucian a little. She held herself quite strong, claws at the ready almost the whole time.

The third woman was a werewolf as well. She didn't seem too out of place, save for her starkingly contrasting clothing, all in blacks and reds.

He would learn this was Aaron Lucaine, decendent of Drae'lic (Shad), the Divine Destroyer, and the woman accompanying him were his wives.

There was a woman around Lucian's age. Her hair was like fire, billowing behind her even when it seemed there was no wind around them. Red eyes that stab right through him, but she smiled at him so nicely. Lucinda, Hyria's daughter, and a reincarnation of Menphina the Divine Protector.

An erie man who's hair and skin were white as snow, unnaturally so. Eyes a piercing green with large, purple and black horns sprouting from his head. His fingers were tipped with claws, his hands having a balck gradient to them, while his face was noteably covered by ever changing blobs of purple hued black staining. Travis Valkrum, decendent of Enki the Divine Keeper, and son to a demon. Apparently the man wanted little to do with the other's and the divine, but he had a ancestor to please.

And finally, a man who seemed, while not the tallest amongst all of them, something was off about how tall he was. Like he wasn't properly proportioned, his arms seemed to be too long, or maybe his torso. Half his body was covered in this large scaring that was completely black. Like a void. His eye on that side was burned shut, but it seemed like something below the eyelid was glowing. He was leaned against a tree, seemingly asleep somehow. Modzilla. A very, strange name for a man Lucian would think, but Hyria would simple joke that Modzilla was from very far away, a realm not of their own.

He would come to learn this ritual of sorts needed all the divine relics present, thus why those who possesed one had to be there.

Because of this, there became small treaties of peace between the people of Travis' group, Falcon Claw, the Witches of Ru'aun and what Modzilla refered to as 'Realm Hoppers'. Later, this treaty would extend to Phoenix Drop.

That night would change Lucian's life forever, in the best of ways. While Hyria infirmed him a divine could come from a relic at any age, for some reason Esmund's emerged as a baby, shocking almost all of those around the circle. Lucian was, astonished to say the least. Hyria told them she had assumptions as why the relic would chose to start from scratch, and to that Modzilla had simply scoffed out a laugh, Travis stating that Enki would find great amusment in this.

Lucian though, was stuck in amazment at the small child Hyria held. He had know of children born from magic, that it was something only very skilled witches were capable of, and those who wanted a magic born child had to pay a heafty amount for one. It was nearly a taboo, so of course this little one amazed him.

Hyria held him out, almost in offering, asking who wanted to take up the job of raising this one. Everyone was silent, looking down at the child nervously.

Aaron said they already had a child, but didn't want to be overwhelmed with a relic baby while trying to already raise a toddler.

Modzilla said he was busy with his research and own son, which Lucian would later learn was just a carbon clone of Modzilla.

Lucinda just laughed at her mother when Hyria, albeit jokingly, held the baby out to her.

Travis said it wouldn't be a great idea the raise another divine right in front of Enki himself. Unbeknownst to Lucian at the time, Enki in a way was still alive. Set in some kind of permenant stasis sleep on he Enki Warrior Tribe island, somewhere deep in the island and away from the usual common folk.

When Hyria sighed and was about to accept the idea of having to raise another little divine, Lucian spoke up, fumbling through his words but saying he could do it, or well, help. Hyria smiled at him, gebtly holding out the baby and handing it to him.

Lucian took him, unexperienced as he was, and looked down at the little one. He had a mop of these dull yet deep red curls, they already looked unruly.

He looked at Hyria, nervous but almost giddy in a way. He asked what the kid would be named and Hyria said he could name him whatever he wanted. Lucian asked if he wouldn't just be named Esmund, and Hyria laughed, asking if anyone in this circle was just named after their divine ancestor, and everyone seemed to take a humor to that.

Lucian thought for a moment, before nodding and looking down at the baby.

"Zenix. It was the name of a late friend of mine from the guard academy."

"Zenix, a nice name." Hyria said, taking a extra head covering from the bag Lucian wore, and wrapping the bab in it before handing him back to Lucian.

After that night, Lucian stuck with Hyria and Lucinda while they returned to the two's home just outside of Pikoro Village. He stayed there for a few years, slowly raising Zenix as he grew and acting as a guard for the two witches. In return, Hyria started teaching him magics. It started when Zenix, the rambunctious two year old he was, running around the cabin when he learned how to walk, had fallen over a table and got a good gnash on his leg from it. It started with simple healing magics, Hyria showing him how to on Zenix when the toddler got small injuries.

When Zenix was 7, Lucian decided it was time for them to leave. Lord Luke of Pikoro, on one of his many visits into the Sacred Forest, had informed them of a new town being established just across the coast of Bright Port that was looking for more prople, especially guards. Of course Hyria got defensive, asking her husband if he was trying to steal her guard from her, and Lord Luke joked that he would never, but he couldn't imagine Lucian was simply happy staying cooped in this cabin with a young child.

While he was upset to leave, Lucian promised both Zenix and Hyria that they would be back, they would visit when possible and Hyria would be more than welcome to visit them. Hyria told he'd have to come back at some point, since there was still one more relic to wake, and he would need to bring Zenix.

After their goodbyes, Lucian and Zenix set out for this little town. If he thought raising a 7 year old was tough, travling with one was worse. Lucian had done his fair share of travling, but Zenix made it more interesting, and stressful to say the least. Lucian had lost count of how many wild critters the child had picked up and begged his father to take with them.

Phoenix Drop was, small to say the least. Lord Malik welcomed them with open arms, and was even estatic when Lucian inquired about guard positions.

Years went by easy and calm for the most part. Lord Malik had announced his wife Matilda was pregnant and it was a whole celebration amongst the village.

The joy in the village was cut short only days later, as the village was attacked by a band of Shadow Knights. Lord Malik was slaughtered in the town center, Lady Matilda running away with the help of a few villagers by Lucian's orders.

While trying to calm and distribute the panicking villagers, a band of Shadow Knights had kidnapped Zenix, holding as some kind of ransome while demanding they be given Lady Matilda. When Lucian refused, the shadows killed Zenix, without a second thought. Lucian isn't proud of that night, but anyone who was there and saw what happened don't blame him.

All he had seen was red, and made a near massacre of the small army of Shadow Knights himself.

Lucian sat there, holding his son's body and he wept. He apologized, he prayed, he BEGGED, he did everything he could to plead with the powers abobe to bring his boy back. He was only 10, he was dreaming of joing the junior guard courses Dale had started. He told everyone in the village how he wanted to be jist like his dad.

The first time Lucian had ever been to the Nether was not a fun one. He had gone through a broken man, slaughtering and Shadow Knight that had stood in his path. He had heard some of them brag of how proud their lord was that they managed to snag a divine as a new sacrifices.

He searched that whole palace, leaving not a room unturned for his son. When he eventually found Zenix and a few other unlucky souls of those from Phoenix Drop who he couldn't have saved, he let them all out. He held Zenix the whole time, the young boy not letting his father go for a second.

Getting used to being Shadow Knights was, tough for Zenix and the others. Phoenix Drop became one of the only towns openly letting refugee Shadow Knights seek peace from the Nether.

When the time came to demolish Malik's house, it was a somber day. Lucian had Brendon and Dale assisting him, as Zenix was still recovering from his Nether-caused wounds. Breaking into the basement was not difficult, he had found a key burried by the roots of a young tree. What he found down there though astonished him.

Mailk's desk held a few journls and books, but next to it rested a perch of sorts, similar to the ones the falconry in Ok'hasis had, but atop the perch was not a falcon or owl, or any bird kept by anyone, but instead it was an elegant phoenix. Firey feathers emiting their own light, weakly chirping at Lucian as he approached it. He held his hand out nervously, and the bird rubbed against it. It was warm, but it didn't burn like Lucian thought it might. It was weak, no doubt from being stuck in a basement for weeks if not months at this point.

While it made little to no noise, it seemed to be talking to Lucian directly, a voice he couldn't describe speaking in his mind. It told him of it's agreement with Malik, asking where he was, which Lucian somberly informed the creature that he had been executed by a band of Shadow Knights. The bird said it made sense now why it was becoming weak. When one who made a pact with a phoenic, traversing to another realm breaks the pact, thus Malik's death and quick sacrifices into the Nether broke the tie the two had. The phoenix than began to basically beg Lucian to make one with it. Statong that without on the phoenix would not be able to stay in this realm, that it needed the anchor of a mortal to stay. Lucian asked what he would have to do in return for the phoenix, and the creatue told him that he simply needed to be a good man, to care for it and those around him and give it this tie to the realm.

The few years after the raid on Pjoenix Drop, Lucian stepped up from head guard to lord, quickly overachieving in his position and promise to the people of Phoenix Drop. Going to those anual lord councils was something else. Having to face his father for the first time in nearly 20 years almost made him sick. One the bright side, the man never seemed to recongnize him.

Meeting Laurence for the first time felt like a magical moment for him. His second year as lord, he met the man at the year's annual council. Being the Lord of Meteli's son, Laurence was invited to attend. When Lucian asked why he hadn't met him the year prior, Laurence said he simply hadn't wanted to come, but he was glad he did this year if he got to meet Lucian. Their relationship got pretty intense from there. While they only got to meet during lord meetings, they quickly took a liking to each other, sneaking away at times to be together. Not that it was forbidden or anything, but Laurence always said he'd be embarassed if his sister caught him messing around with the lord of another village. Plus it would start some rumors if others learned a lord's son was getting into it with another lord.

The summons from Hyria came just a few years later, Garroth was 31, Zenix was 15, and they were headed into the Sacred Forest with the special announcment that Irene's relic was finally ready. This was special to everyone. Irene was THE deal.

Everyone gave the same pleasantries, many of them fawning and cooing over the now teen Zenix as many had only seen him as a baby. Lily in particular, Aaron's first wife, took quite an adoration to him, giving him a long hug. Lucian cringed, knowing she had taken it quite rough when her own son had died.

The procedure happened just like Zenix's, yet, there was something strange about Irene's relic. The last time Lucian had seen it, it was albeit smaller than he had expected, but now it was fractured into three pieces. Hyria stated that that morning it had seemingly split on it's own, and she had no clue why.

When the relic formed into what they all assumed would be someone, it instead took three different forms, which shocked them all, more than a baby Zenix had.

All three of them were adults, yet one seemed older than the other two.

A woman with brown hair that looked almost greying with how dull it was, a shorter woman with jet black hair, and a man slightly taller than the second but shorter than the first with black hair as well but sporting a pair of wolf ears atop his head. All three wore these flowy white clothing, which Hyria would say was similar to what Irene would usually wear.

For a moment they all seemed unconscious, until they slowly woke up, dazed and confused by their sorroundings. Hyria walked up to the shorter woman, gently placing a headcovering around her hair and gingerly tieing it, muttering how Irene always seems to surprise her.

The shorter woman touched the cloth around her hair, seeming to accept it pretty easily. Hyria grimiced at the taller woman, saying sorry to her, that she didn't think there would be three of them and thus she didn't have another covering. The taller woman didn't seem to mind, but did nervously mess with her hair a little.

Hyria turned to the werewolf one, smiling at him, stating how he surprised her the most though.

The three nervously introduced themselves, already seeming to have names unlike Zenix. Hyria would later tell Lucian that it made sense since Zenix was a newborn, vs these three who were already fully grown adults.

The taller one was Claire, the werewolf was Ein and the shortest one was Aphmau, which Lucinda pointed out was a very strange name, which got her a jab in the side from her mother.

While Hyria thought of simply releasing them wherever they may please, the three instead decided on another divine to go with, at least for a small amount of time. Hyria told everyone the three would most likely not remember this, as none of the other divine did.

Claire opted with going with Travis, stating she didn't inted to stay with him long, she just felt in her heart that going to Gal'Ruk would help her get somewhere else she was meant to be.

Ein asked Aaron if he could tag along until they come across a dock, also saying he felt he needed to be somewhere else as well. Aaron and his wives reluctantly agreeded. Maybe Ein going with the only other werewolves was a good idea.

Aphmau though, seemed lost, looking at the other divine nervously. Her eyes lingered on Modzilla for a moment, but the man shook his head, glaring at her. So instead, Lucian cleared his throat and smiled at her. He offered for her to stay in Phoenix Drop for the time being, until she figured out what she wanted, or more so, needed to do.

Aphmau agreeded, and they all dispersed. Zenix took to talking her ear off almost immediately, saying it was nice to have another divine around, and saying how coold hid dad was and how much she would love Phoenix Drop.

In his bones, Lucian felt the phoenix flutter about. The voice in his head taking a happy tone to it, twlling him it was good to have Irene back. Under his breath, he whispered that Aphmau is not Irene, only part of what the goddess used to be in her mortal days. The phoenix didn't seem to care, just happy to have it's first mortal somewhat back.

Lucian felt that the next stage of his life would be interesting, and by hell would he be correct.

[puer-aurea]

been thinking abt a fully fleshed out mercenary au since i posted that oneshot for sixth day of christmas so.... heres a drabble

jimmy and martyn are, ofc, human mercenaries who call themselves the big dogs so they can seem scarier than they really are. theyre mostly homeless theres a rumour abt a witch who lives in the woods and everyone thinks its lizzie but when they show up shes like "oh no thats scar!" and points to her very eccentric and flamboyant neighbor who lives across the river. scar looks NOTHING like a witch but when you go in, you come back out with exactly the potion you wanted, several others you didnt actually need, significanctly less money than what you went in with, and absolutely no memory of actually being inside and making the purchase. hes incredibly suspicious but godDAMN do his potions and crystals work well skizz owns a building plaza named the heart foundation where he rents out sections to people for their stores (yk like those buildings that are connected stores?? i really hope this makes sense). tango is his assistant as well as bigb but bigb is super weird and disappears a lot. tango was the one to suggest the coffee shop idea that martyn overheard. skizz is an angel and tango is an imp lizzie and scar own one of the spaces where they sell very normal things like farm produce and things that would usually be hard for the other members of the community to get like amethyst and food enchanted with elven magic. as well as very specific bones lizzie has found (no, she will NOT tell you where she got them, yes they are organic, she declines to answer if they are ethically sourced). scar is an elf which is why he's able to sell elven enchanted food. the roomies own one of the store spaces and mostly sell wool products but theyve started farming cotton in hopes of expanding their market. they live together on a farm with a fence covered in vines surrounding it so the animals can wander about sometimes. since they sell wool products, they have a lot of sheep, so when they need the sheep back in their pen they hire mercenaries to do it for them. cleo is the only zombie in the community and, while grian was mentioned as an avian in the oneshot, hes actually going to be a fae. everyone thinks etho is a human but he barely leaves home so cleo and grian are the only ones who know for sure whether or not he is gem is the girl who just moved in with the dream of starting a band. she ends up with an imp and an angel both named scott and they call themselves gem and the scotts. they rent one of skizz's spaces for a studio and gem lives in the apartment above it. impulse, scott the imp, lives in a cave, and scott the angel lives in a cottage on the edge of the woods (so not as far in as lizzie and scar) the mounders live in 4 big old creepy houses that look completely different on the inside than they do outside. its also a 'gated' community but they dont care enough to enforce it. mumbo and pearl are both vampires, bdubs is a fae, and joel is an elf. ren is also around to add more people to their little community even tho this uses the alliances made in secret life. he lives in a smaller house a little ways away from scott's cottage. he seems human enough but theres a rumor that he's a werewolf. no one really knows what bigb and lizzie are, scott even introduces them to gem as the 'suspicious weirdos' and cleo and grian joke that not even they know what they are.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 26 (Cassandra Goth Joins the Family!)

Heather's new son was perfect. Ash loved attention right from the start, and to ensure she was ready for single parenthood, Heather’s family came to stay with her in the weeks after delivery. Little Ash had plenty of loved ones to dote on him.

It was a tight squeeze in Heather's one-bedroom home, but she was grateful to have them as she adjusted.

Besides, the family needed to be together in Brindleton Bay. River and Cassandra were finally getting married, and the Goths had planned an elaborate celebration for their only daughter.

River Nesbitt and Cassandra Goth exchanged vows on Family Day, at a wooden arch under a canopy of lavender blossoms on the waterfront. A reception followed at Calico Lounge in downtown Brindleton Bay, where the Goths had rented out the entire yacht club for the wedding.

"You're beautiful," River said as they shared a moment alone before the ceremony. He'd grown a beard for the wedding, and Cass smiled at her soon-to-be husband.

"My handsome love," she said. Cassandra was so happy to be marrying her soulmate, she felt as though she floated on air.

She wore her long hair up and decorated her black-and-white wedding dress with an opal-and-gold armband. The heirloom piece was once owned by her Selvadoradian maternal great-grandmother, Enriqueta, who was said to descend from ancient Omiscan healers. The band shined as bright as the smiles on the newlyweds’ faces.

They exchanged traditional vows under the wedding arch at the pier, bringing tears to the eyes of their loved ones when the lovebirds said "I do."

Several guests were uncomfortable in their formal wear because of the heat, but once mother-of-the-bride, Bella, was in her swimsuit, the reception moved to the pool. After a refreshing dip without wetting her hair, Bella sashayed up to the pool bar for a drink.

"What'll it be, gorgeous?"

The silver-haired bartender made her blush. Or maybe that was just the heat. "I'll take anything on the rocks," she said as she sat down.

"You look way too young to be the mother of the bride." He passed her a freshly-made wrench. Most of the guests were in the pool, so he stepped out from the bar to chat on the stool next to hers.

"Her father and I married young." She laughed at the faded memories of youth. A time before the disappearance that changed her. The bartender glanced at her ring finger. "We're not married now. Well, he is. To Karl. I still wear this because it's too expensive to keep in a box." She pointed out Mortimer's husband swimming laps in the pool.

"Whoever you're seeing now is a fortunate man."

Bella hid a grin behind her glass. "Perhaps you'd like to be that man."

He raised his brow suggestively and mixed her another drink. "My name's Diego. Diego Vazquez."

Father of the groom Neal finally washed out his last attempt to dye his hair, embracing his grays to see his son walk down the aisle. His wife, Daisy, was still a PlantSim, and since she didn't need human food she spent most of the reception in the pool to stay hydrated.

This lifestate was only supposed to last a few months, but now it had been a year! Embarrassed the experiment went sideways, she neglected to pose for pictures in her photosynthesized form. She feared she'd be stuck with green skin and leaves for hair forever, subsisting on nothing but water and sunlight for survival.

Would the Watcher figure out how to cheat-code Daisy's way out of her PlantSim form? Probably, she does love cheat codes in a jam. But anyway, let's find out! ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I know they're posing in front of the pool. But I am not an incredible simmer by any means and getting the poses to work is a struggle, so really I'm just happy to have gotten them to pose properly. I don't care where.

[an-abyss-of-stars]

☮ Rhaemond 70s Era Fic ☮

The year is 1978, 22yr old Rhaena Targaryen, is a singer/songwriter on tour in the States with her band Black Star. A folksy/bluesy rock band with music that rushes waves of ecstasy and ethereal beauty over whatever size crowd they play for. Rhaena graces the stage with all the grace and majesty of a fairy Princess or a glorious Goddess-like enchantress. Silver tresses and colourful flowing cape-like gowns that twirl and spiral with her every move, her sleeves hang like wings and flow as such as she spins and glides across the stage. She's known for losing herself in her music, as if she leaves her body on the stage and ascends to a higher place, her voice hypnotizing and mesmerizing her audience.

She's a marvel.

She's unreal.

A must see live.

With songs that spoke of mythical tales, dragons and burning lands, magic and royalty. And yet the song that was topping the charts recently was about a tortured lover, a dark figure who could not be shaken no matter how hard she tried. It was a song that left her screaming soaring notes out into the air, with so much anguish and internal rot, her rasping notes playing on par with the ripping final guitar solo.

And yet, the effervescent Rhaena Targaryen was not romantically tied to anyone, as far as the public knew.

They couldn't place the man she spoke of, but her emotional tale still ripped at the audience just right, connecting the feeling and the emotion...an unrequited love gone wrong.

An aggressively beautiful voice paired with the perfect music backing her. With a band that consisted with her as their lead vocalist, her twin sister Baela as both vocals and their lead guitarist, their half-sister Aemma as the keyboardist as well providing backing vocals with her other half-sister Aerea their bassist. Rounding out the band were Rhaena's two cousins, Aegon as their drummer and Daeron as their 2nd guitarist.

Black Star as a band and their music, was a growing sensation. So much so that Rolling Stones magazine had sent their very best writer to cover them, someone who reluctantly knew the genre well...knew the band even better...and after analyzing the lyrics, was quite certain he knew who that popular song was really about...

In 1978, 24yr old Aemond Targaryen, had worked his way up the writers ranks at Rolling Stones magazine. He'd always been an avid lover of music and culture, and while he could hold his own decently enough on guitar, it was more of a private activity as opposed to a career path. No, his talents lay on the written page, with his added photography skills. In his time at Rolling Stones he'd had the opportunity to interview some of the best the 70s had to offer. From Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham from Fleetwood Mac, Ozzy Osbourne and Tony Iommi of Black Sabbath, Dio, Buck Dharma of Blue Öyster Cult and even Donna Summer.

He'd worked his way from covering lower up and coming musicians and bands to meeting some of the greats. So it was to his surprise and slight disappointment when his chief editor slapped down a newspaper on his desk that read in bold letters "Black Star Shooting All The Way To The Top" and asked him to immediately jump on the task.

Maybe it was because he hadn't heard that band name in years...ignored it purposely for 4 years to be exact. Maybe it was because the moment his brothers had told him they were moving to Germany to "solidify their sound-" he stopped listening all together. Burning at the fact that his pretty little cousin...the one woman he wanted to stay within his orbit...was moving across the world to a whole nother continent, let alone country, just to get away from him.

Possibly it was because Aemond had been the one who fucked all it up to begin with. He'd been an idiot then, told her he loved in a letter...only for her to drive up just to see him making up with his on again off again girlfriend, Alys Rivers.

Rhaena had never let him explain, she wouldn't hear a word of the truth, the fact that Alys had practically lunged onto him, kissed like it would be forever. Only to turn around and dump him the week afterwards, Alys had said it was because "his heart wasn't in it", and truthfully it never was...

Only, Rhaena was back. And now there was a song playing on the radio, one that seared through him as it practically detailed the whole of their backforth relationship. There were technically three songs about him to be exact, although the other two seemed far more covert in their delivery. And now he was being forced to follow her...and the band…on their tour for their final 3 shows. Rolling Stones wanted it all, close and personal candid shots, interviews with the whole band, but most importantly he was meant to shine a light on their mysterious enchanting lead singer. To have her decode the songs and lyrics on their latest record.

If Aemond could look past the bitter sting of regret and the annoyance of how fate seemed to be weaving his life around. Then maybe he could see this for what it was, an opportunity to win her back...just maybe…

[sicknessbysalem]

tw for emeto, fever, talk of not sleeping/implied insomnia

meet river, meadow’s nonbinary best friend partner who is somehow the same and the exact opposite of meadow.

river is in a grunge/alternative style band and then theres meadow, our fave cottagecore pansexual.

if you guys have any questions, comments or concerns, feel free to send them my way.

Meadow approached River's house, her steps crunching on the gravel path leading to the small, secluded building. She rummaged through her bag, realizing with a sinking feeling that she had once again misplaced the key to River's house.

Well, it wasn’t really a house. It was a shed. A once run down side building tucked pretty well behind and beside River’s parents home. Through a bunch of trees. Hidden from the main home, the family home.

Meadow liked a lot of people. She really did. But, the Tran family—except River, of course—were one of the few exceptions to that rule.

Meadow didn’t talk to her own family. But she didn’t need to. They had nothing to offer her and no time anyway, not for her. But, somehow, Meadow still questioned why River’s parents didn’t like them.

Sighing, Meadow glanced up at the window to River's room, debating her options. With a determined shrug, she decided to climb through the window, a feat she had mastered through many similar incidents.

Meadow hoisted herself up and squeezed through the partially open window, landing inside River's cozy abode. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep out the midday sun.

Meadow's eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness as she scanned the room, spotting River's sleeping form on a beanbag chair in the corner.

That wasn’t entirely unusual. River always played late gigs, would come home adamant that they weren’t tired, but they never failed to fall asleep within an hour. Meadow figured the same happened last night. A notebook, a tarot card deck, and River's phone were all in various places around them, evidently having been set aside or fallen off when River fell asleep.

"River," Meadow called softly, not wanting to startle them. When River didn't stir, she tried again, a bit louder this time. "Hey, River, wake up."

River mumbled something unintelligible and shifted slightly, but they remained deep in slumber. Meadow sighed, realizing that her usual methods of waking River up weren't going to work today. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she walked over to River's bed and picked up a nearby pillow.

She raised the pillow and lightly smacked River on the top of their head, hoping to rouse them gently. But, of course, with a little more force.

River's brows furrowed in response, but they still didn't wake up. Meadow tried again, this time with a bit more force, but River merely swatted at the pillow in their sleep, unaware of Meadow's attempts to wake them.

Growing more determined, Meadow continued to lightly smack River with the pillow, each hit accompanied by a soft chuckle. "Come on, River, time to rise and shine."

Finally, after several more pillow smacks, Meadow leaned in closer to River's ear and whispered, "Hei-lin, wake up."

At the mention of their legal name, River stirred, their eyes fluttering open. Confusion clouded their gaze for a moment before recognition dawned on their face. Nobody ever called them by their legal name, their name was as good as dead.

Well, except for River's family. They all refused to call them anything but their legal name.

"Don't do that again." River said, slowly waking up, "You know better."

"I do," Meadow said, "But I also know that you overslept. Did you forget you're supposed to play at the spring festival with Nox and the others?"

"What..?" River questioned, confused in their half asleep state.

"The gig, downtown," Meadow said, "for the spring festival. You've been telling me about it all week. We were going to go check it out, check the vendors, and then you and the band were going to get ready and perform a set for the late night thing they're doing?"

"Shit," River said, "I overslept."

"I know," Meadow said, "I called you like four times."

River got up, going to their dresser and starting to grab clothes to wear for the night.

They stood in front of their mirror, their medium-length black hair with streaks of vibrant blue and purple framing their face. River's fingers deftly adjusted the collar of their leather jacket adorned with pins and patches from various bands.

"Have you seen my boots?" River asked, "The ones with-"

"The colorful laces?" Meadow asked, starting to look around the room.

River nodded, "Yeah, those."

"Why are you wearing those?" Meadow questioned innocently.

"Because," River said, "Spite. You probably wouldn;t understand but, I live to spite people. And if getting up on stage with Nox and the crew at a spring festival where the uptight suburban church ladies attend with laces that represent me pisses them off, well, then I succeeded."

Meadow rolled her eyes, finding the boots by the door, "You're a special flavor of special."

"Considering you refer to me as a flavor, so are you," River said, grabbing their phone off the floor and taking their boots from Meadow, pulling them on.

Meadow watched from across the room, noticing the subtle shift in River's demeanor. "You okay, River?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

River nodded, "Yeah, just a bit tired, I guess. Nothing major."

Meadow studied River's face, her intuition telling her that something was off. "Are you sure? You seem more run down than usual."

River shrugged, attempting to brush off Meadow's observation. "It's probably just a late night. I'll be fine once we start playing."

Meadow didn't push further, knowing that River had a tendency to downplay their own feelings. Instead, she handed River a cup of coffee, hoping it would provide a much-needed boost of energy.

As River took a sip of the steaming brew, their eyes met Meadow's in the mirror. "Thanks," they murmured, a hint of gratitude in their voice.

"You're welcome," Meadow replied, her gaze lingering on River with a mix of affection and worry. She knew that despite River's tough exterior, they were susceptible to exhaustion, especially with their hectic schedule of gigs and rehearsals.

"Now, come on," River said, "I'm late enough."

As they headed out the door, Meadow couldn't shake the feeling that River was carrying more weight than they let on. She made a mental note to check in on them after the gig, determined to be there for her best friend, both on and off the stage.

-

The backstage area buzzed with energy as River and their bandmates, Nox, Declan, and Haven, prepared for their upcoming performance.

Instruments were tuned, amps were checked, and excitement filled the air. River, normally the epitome of confidence before a show, felt a nagging sense of unease settling in their stomach.

Nox, the drummer with a playful spirit, noticed River's subtle discomfort and couldn't resist teasing. "Nervous, River? Feeling a bit queasy from the pre-show jitters?"

River forced a grin, waving off Nox's teasing. "Nah, just need to shake off some nerves. I'll be good to go."

Declan, the guitarist, glanced over, concern creasing her brow. "You sure you're okay, mate? You look a bit pale."

River nodded, trying to convince both themselves and their bandmates. "I'm fine, really. Let's focus on the set."

Haven glanced between River and the others, before she spoke up. "We've got your back, River. Just let us know if you need a breather during the show."

As the minutes ticked by and the start time approached, River's nausea intensified, a persistent knot in their stomach refusing to dissipate. They tried to push through, channeling their adrenaline into the music they loved.

Nox threw a supportive arm around River's shoulders. "You got this, River. We'll rock this show together."

It was all so sudden. River heard Nox, yes. But, they didn’t process what Nox said.

Without warning, they lurched forward, heaving as nausea overwhelmed them. Nox's teasing expression melted into concern as she brushed back River’s hair as they vomited into a nearby bucket.

The backstage atmosphere shifted from anticipation to worry as Declan and Haven joined Nox in assisting River.

"Maybe we should cancel," Nox suggested, her voice tinged with concern.

River shook their head, determination shining through despite their discomfort. "No, I can do this. Just give me a moment."

With a deep breath and sheer willpower, River steadied themselves. They wiped their mouth, eyes blazing with determination.

"Let's do this," they declared, their voice strong despite the lingering sickness.

As the band continued their performance, River's determination remained palpable, their energy fueling the music despite the lingering nausea. If River was thankful for anything, it was how muscle memory the set was.

Despite the nausea, despite the puking, despite the pain, their fingers moved effortlessly over the bass strings. They didn’t make up, and all the years so far of faking it, convincing themself they would be fine, ended up paying off. At least, for a bit.

Midway through a song, River suddenly disappeared from the stage, leaving their bandmates momentarily bewildered. Nox exchanged a concerned glance with Declan and Haven, but they continued playing, trusting River to return.

Offstage, River tried fighting the waves of nausea threatening to overcome them, to no avail truthfully. They threw up, again, but ss soon as they felt more stable, they went back out.

No way in hell was this going to fuck everything up.

River returned to the stage just in time for the chorus, seamlessly joining back in as if nothing had happened. Nox shot them a supportive smile, understanding the silent struggle River was enduring.

As the final notes echoed, the audience erupted into thunderous applause, chanting for an encore. River smiled, acknowledging the cheers, but as they stepped offstage, the facade crumbled.

Declan noticed the strain in River's expression, her worry deepening. "Mate, you don't look so good. Maybe we should--"

Before Declan could finish his sentence, River doubled over, clutching their stomach as another wave of nausea hit them. Nox rushed to their side, concern etched on her face.

"Okay, easy there Riv,” Nox said, “Declan, sweetheart, can you go get River’s girlfriend?”

“The hippie girl with the corsets?” Declan asked.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” River said through gritted teeth, trying not to be sick again. They had no clue where this was coming from or why their stomach felt so upset or why any of this was happening.

“Right, because every queer person is friends with another queer person and together they act like a couple,” Nox commented.

“I feel like thats a staple of friendships between queer people,” Declan said, “But whatever she is, I’ll go get her.”

Nox nodded in agreement, supporting River as they struggled to stand upright.

Meanwhile, Meadow, who had been watching the show with excitement, felt a pang of concern as she noticed River's absence during parts of the performance. When Declan approached her urgently, Meadow's heart skipped a beat.

"What's wrong?" Meadow asked, her voice tinged with worry.

"It's River," Declan explained quickly. "They're not doing well. They've been getting sick. Like, throwing up kind of sick. They left the stage and aren’t doing so hot now."

Meadow's concern deepened, “Yeah, they overslept and seemed like they weren’t feeling good… but River said they felt fine so…”

“It’s River,” Declan chuckled, “River could be bleeding out and still insist they had a simple flesh wound.”

Backstage, River was struggling to keep their composure, the adrenaline wearing off and the reality of their condition setting in.

When Meadow arrived, her expression a mix of worry and determination, River felt a surge of relief.

"Meadow," River murmured weakly, their strength fading.

Meadow rushed to River's side, her voice filled with concern.

“Oh, Riv…” Meadow said softly, placing her hand on River’s face and forehead, “You feel kind of warm… Let's get you home, yeah?"

-

“Oh, yeah,” Meadow said, grabbing River’s hair as River leaned over the side of their bed, once again getting sick, “That’s it…”

River spit and rolled their eyes, “This shit is so stupid… the fuck is going on?”

“Maybe you caught something?” Meadow offered, letting go of River’s hair as her best friend leaned back.

“Maybe,” River mumbled, moving to open the window behind their bed, “It’s hot in here.”

“Not really,” Meadow said, “But… you feel your fevers, don’t you?”

River nodded, humming in agreement as they leaned closer to the window, breathing in the cool night air.

Meadow felt bad for River. It had been a few hours since they got home. It was well into the night, or extremely early in the morning. Meadow didn’t know how to identify it.

River came home and had barely enough energy to change into something more comfortable before they crashed. At least, for about an hour and a half. Then they were up, getting sick again. Meadow knew River always struggled with throwing up a lot when they got sick.

Meadow sighed softly, her heart aching for her friend as she watched River lean against the window, seeking solace in the cool night breeze.

“I hate seeing you like this, River," Meadow murmured.

River nodded, "Yeah, it sucks. I just want it to stop.”

Meadow moved closer, placing a hand on River's back in a soothing gesture. "Maybe we should try to get you some rest. Your body needs to recover."

River leaned into Meadow's touch, grateful for her presence. "It isn’t so bad, I guess. I mean… you’re here."

Meadow gave River a reassuring smile. "You're not alone, Riv. I'm here for you, no matter what."

“Your accent is cute,” River said, “You know that?”

Meadow giggled softly, “I know. You tell me all the time.”

“Well, it’s true,” River said, moving to lay down, pulling Meadow down with her, “Stay here?”

Meadow chuckled at River's comment, the sound light and warm in the quiet room.

"You're just saying that to distract me from worrying about you," she teased gently.

River grinned, their eyes softening as they gazed at Meadow. "Maybe a little. But also because I mean it. But seriously, can you stay here?”

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping?” Meadow questioned. River nodded. “Maybe that’s why you’re sick?”

“Maybe.” River said, “So, this happens a lot. And every time, I’m fine. So, I’ll be fine. I just feel shitty for now. Can you just stay for now? Please?”

Meadow shifted slightly, adjusting herself to be more comfortable beside River. She pulled them closer, offering affection and her presence. Mindlessly, Meadow ran her fingers through River’s hair.

"I'll stay as long as you need me, Riv."