#wild variety of sounds from one small beast

[tcfactory]

Okay, but seriously, I have a mighty need for a Yue Qingyuan who came out of the cave something less than human. CW for body horror of the "bit like OG form Zhuzhi Lang, but dragon instead of snake and at least one third sword and very, very painful" variety.

They broke his body and the failed bond shattered his meridians and when he was nothing but broken broken broken, locked in the dark with only his terror and Xuan Su for company

he forgot, for a while, that he was meant to be human.

He was pain and regret and more pain and it's not like he could see himself in the pitch black of the cave. Something bled all over the walls, the floor and even the ceiling, and it could very well have been that neither sword nor boy knew how much blood there was supposed to be in the human body and that was all. It would have been strange, but not the strangest thing to ever happen. If some of the marks on the stone looked too much like clawmarks, that was only a coincidence. Some luckily spaced sword slashes, his Shizun insisted when Mu shidi pointed them out the day they came to fetch him.

He eventually put himself back together, after all. Xiao Jiu was expecting his Qi-ge, not whatever the thing thrashing against the walls of the cave was. He sheathed Xuan Su - he didn't remember the heavy scabbard, carved bone and eerily warm to the touch, but the metal inlay matched the sword so surely it was already there. He just forgot about it. His Shizun stared at the bleached bone, his face going pale as a sheet, and ordered everyone not to touch it, as if it would bite anyone who was not Yue Qi.

Xiao Jiu was his reason, the center of his world, so he put himself together to be the best and warmest big brother his Xiao Jiu cold ever want - and he would never talk about the thing in the cave. When he let himself think too long on it he was certain that Yue Qi died in the dark and he's whatever beast of pain and guilt that hatched from his corpse.

He couldn't bear to tell Xiao Jiu that Qi-ge wasn't strong enough to survive, not even for his sake, so he said nothing. Continues to say nothing. Whatever betrayal Xiao Jiu imagines, it couldn't possibly measure up to the enormity of Qi-ge's failure.

It takes a small thing to unmake him, in the grand scheme of things. He is walking with Shen Qingqiu from the latest Peak Lord meeting when something strange tickles the back of his throat. The tiniest bit of suspicious pollen that escaped the Medicine Peak's greenhouse, maybe a whiff of some rare beast Liu Qingge dragged back to show off to his disciples.

It's the strangest sneeze he ever experienced, one that seems to upend the very world, and when he focuses his eyes again Shen Qingqiu is staring at him with a wild mixture of fascination, anger and terror. Only when he opens his maws to ask what startled the other when he realizes that the shell of Sect Leader Yue has unraveled to show the beast he became in the dark.

Xiao Jiu was never meant to see him like this, never meant to discover the beast under the shell, so he never bothered to fix this part of himself. As far as he can tell from a cursory glance (Xiao Jiu makes a noise of distress when the beast tries to turn his head to take stock of himself, so he immediately turns back in alarm) he looks mostly like a dragon, albeit one that someone tried to put through a round or three of lingchi, skin and scales and flesh peeling from where he rubbed it raw against the walls of the cave. Makes sense, he thinks. He hasn't seen it in years, but there is a dragon etched into Xuan Su's blade.

Remembering his sword, he looks around in alarm to locate it.

"It's right there." Xiao Jiu sounds unusually queasy as he gestures towards the beast's chest. He twists his long neck until he can see and oh, there it is, safe and snug, sheathed between his ribs. He breathes deep to feel his lungs expand against it, twists around to see if any movement would dislodge it or not, but it's safe there. It doesn't hurt one bit. It belongs there.

"Thank you, Xiao Jiu." It comes out a little garbled, but he brightens up to discover that he can still speak, right until the moment Xiao Jiu makes a hysterical hiccuping sound. He made that noise before, when a horse kicked his Qi-ge and he thought the hoof had caved his skull in.

"Don't speak. Please." After a moment of silence he rallies anew and swiftly strips off his outmost robe so he can throw it over the beast's head. "And don't you dare take that off!"

It smells like Xiao Jiu, so the beast that was once Qi-ge is content to stay where he is while Shen Jiu turns into a hurricane of action - he drags Mu shidi and his medics over, yells at the disciples until they clear out one of the isolated stone gardens for him, sends runners to Wan Jian and to every peak's library pavilions to see if they can dig up anything useful - and all the while he is bombarding Mu Qingfang with questions, having soon sussed out that their shidi knows something about this situation.

While Xiao Jiu rakes poor Mu shidi over the coals the beast sits placidly among the many senior medics, listening to the Qian Cao head disciple mumble under her breath while she notes down all their findings. So, he's not quite a dragon, after all. Some parts of him are still clearly Yue Qi. That thought makes him smile a little as he looks down at one of his hands, rubbing the dried blood off his shattered claws. He broke all of them, trying to get out of the cave, as well as most of his bones. He is absently aware that he is in agony, but he can't fully comprehend what that means right now, so it's fine. No reason to make the medics worry over it.

The head disciple makes a very interesting noise of disbelief when someone reports that some of his bones are actually swords, apparently. They are not sure what his guts are made of, but based on the sudden, alarmed sounding whispers it's probably nothing pleasant.

They let him take the robe off his head, but they have hastily covered all the surfaces where he might see his own reflection and some of them look decidedly green whenever they look at him directly, so he buries his face back in the soft fabric and lets his world narrow down to the scent of his Xiao Jiu.

He must have dozed off, because when he wakes up all the medics have left. It's only him in the garden and a tired looking Xiao Jiu. He sits up to show the other that he's aware and listening.

"Qi-ge, what have you done to yourself?" Xiao Jiu looks angry and hurt and all the things Yue Qi doesn't want him to be. "All these years. If only you had told me! Didn't I deserve to know?!"

Yue Qi hangs his head in shame. Opens his mouth, but swallows the well-worn 'sorry' down before it could escape from between his cracked teeth.

At long last Xiao Jiu sighs. Then slowly, bashfully, spreads his arms. "Aren't you going to comfort me? I'm giving you permission, just this once. Come down here and hug me, Qi-ge."

Joy surges through Yue Qi and he collapses into Xiao Jiu's arms before he can think twice about it and he's back, he's as human again as he will ever be, two arms, two legs and two eyes brimming with tears as he clutches his Xiao Jiu.

Xuan Su clatters to the ground and Xiao Jiu clutches him right back, long nails hooking into his back like they never want to let him go. "Don't you dare scare me like that ever again! Stupid Qi-ge."

Yue Qi can't promise the impossible, can't bear to lie to his Xiao Jiu. But he murmurs the promise that he will try his best into the silk of Xiao Jiu's robes and that has to be good enough for now.

"We will work on it, together," Xiao Jiu orders indulgently and Yue Qi doesn't remember the last time he was this happy.

For the first time since the caves he feels that maybe the boy and the beast are the same thing after all. They have to be, to hold the same love.

[dwollsadventures]

AD&D Game Idea

A video game idea based on the map crawling, dungeon exploring, treasure hunting aspects of old D&D. The best comparison I can make is probably pikmin, as odd as that sounds. In it, you play as a party of adventurers, playing one at a time and switching at base camp, searching for treasure. You explore a variety of locations and must fight monsters, discover treasure, and bring it back to the home base to sell it off. Unlike pikmin, the focus is on real time combat and movement options that each playable character offers. They'll have different ways of interacting with the environment. Exploring said environment is another gameplay aspect, including climbing trees, crawling in holes, sliding down inclines, wading through shallow water, diving with waterbreathe, and scaling surfaces. Enemies are another focus; rather than acting like typical video game enemies, they'll have movement options similar to the PCs, and attack in patterns consistent with real life animal behavior, and monster behavior extrapolated from that.

Playable Characters

Human Barbarian - tallest, widest, strongest. Has a huge ax capable of cutting enemies in half. Best for melee, but is not as maneuverable.

Human Acrobat - third lightest, third strongest. Able to run the fastest and jump the farthest. She can use a pole to leap and cross gaps or climb with ease up a tree or down a cliff. In combat she uses a dagger and her pole as a staff. Best used as a scout, since she can explore areas efficiently and run away from dangerous encounters.

Dwarf Spelunker - the heaviest and second strongest. Uses tools to secure and manipulate the environment, usually stone. Pickaxe, dynamite, shovel. As a dwarf he can see in the dark and notice marks in stone readily. He also can't swim, just sink.

Gnome Illusionist - shortest and lightest of all the player characters. Uses magic, specifically illusions. While he can't shoot a fireball out of his hand, he can employ tricks and true arcane powers to make it seem like he can. This is especially useful against beasts, who flee quickly at such sights. It takes much less energy and time to learn/do, but casting spells still drains stamina. Four spells can be prepared at one time, though the player can pause to change which spells are prepared.

Wood Elf Ranger - the best at traversing the wild. Uses a bow and spear. Can see better than any other, both in the dark and highlighting animal tracks on the ground. Can climb trees and jump in holes faster than the acrobat but isn't as agile, nor as strong. Is an all-around character for exploration and fighting.

Human Healer - non-playable. She is simply paid to sit at camp and heal injuries that the others incur. If you’re able to shamble your way to camp she’ll heal you back to full health. If petrified, another playable character can bring the statue back so she can revive them.

Treasure

All that is found in the field must be carried back to the home base. Sometimes items are small enough to be put into a character's backpack, which has a Resident Evil-like space limitation. If it won't fit in the bag, characters can carry it in their hands. This means they can only use one-handed weapons if the treasure is small enough, or nothing at all if it's so large that it requires both hands. Some treasures are so heavy that carrying them significantly slows the player down, prevents them from jumping, and causes them to sink in water. And finally, some treasures are simply impossible to carry by hand. In this case, the dwarf is able to pull out a cart from a magic pocket (realized as a bag of holding??) which can be pulled by players wheelbarrow-style. If the wood elf has tamed a horse or wild ass, they can be hitched up to the cart to drag it for the player, who has to direct them back to base camp. These creatures have weight limits, however. Asses can carry more than horses but they have a limit as well. Kelpies have no such limit and can carry back any weight with no slowdown. Taming one is risky business though. Some NPCs will trade for treasures.

Enemies and Creatures 

(A sample of some to get a good idea of what I’m getting at)

Goblins - Small humanoids that live in the wilderness, kicked out of their homelands by hobgoblins and dwarfs. Have low health and defense, enough for a single hit from the barbarian to take them out. Make up for this deficit by using a combination of bows, smokescreen, and poisoning their arrows and daggers. Use guerilla warfare tactics by climbing trees and using camouflaged armor. Most the party will encounter are small bands (3-8) of hunters and scouts looking for game or potential settlement locations. Rarely the aggressors of a conflict. They will engage the party in combat in one of two scenarios: they see a party member carrying a goblin treasure, and thus assume it was stolen or looted, or they see the dwarf. History has made dwarfs enemies of goblins, and they will attack a single dwarf on sight. Goblin settlements are underneath hills and resemble rabbit warrens. They are willing to trade a number of small treasures for food and things they deem valuable, like amber or monster eggs.

Toad, Giant - Found in dry habitats away from sources of water. These bear-sized amphibians are round but have well developed legs to carry themselves after prey. Natural camouflage keeps them hidden among rock piles. Their main attack method is a great leap towards prey, trying to swallow it whole. They will chase slow prey for a while, plodding along until they reach the limits of their territory. During the night they like to wallow in mud and are completely docile. 

Kelpie - A horse-like creature that lures people into deep waters. Specifically this is a trap for the wood elf, who can tame wild horses for a day and allow other characters to ride. The kelpie is always at least 500 feet next to a deep body of water, and always has a white or gray coat. Up close, one can also see the rushes within its mane and the crocodile-like gape of the mouth. If ridden, the player is stuck. Getting dragged under the water is an instant kill. Cold steel can render them harmless. In this case, it will make them as docile as a normal horse, with the added benefit of limitless stamina and being able to run across water. Once dismounted though, it will disappear.

Tekeli Tekeli Bird - Man-sized penguins living in the deep caves of the ice wastes. Almost completely blind, relying on sound to navigate. Heavy footsteps and treasure clanking around in a bag can give a player character away. They communicate to each other with horrible screeches. They do this to coordinate attacks against the player and prey. Will swarm their target and slap with their flippers while biting. Bite delivers a freezing effect that slows the player character's movements and stacks with subsequent bites. Deep within an alien dungeon is a flute that can confuse them and send the birds into a panic.

Chimera - One of the most feared monsters. These creatures are a mix of lion, goat, and serpent, though they are nearly the size of a buffalo. Vigorous hunters that pursue prey even across rough, rocky terrain with their goat hindlegs. The lion front is capable of grappling with its claws and delivering a mortal blow to the skull with its great jaws. It can also spit fire at a short range. The snake tail acts like a scorpion stinger, lashing out and poisoning the player. Chimeras will follow the player across the map, except to basecamp and underground. They can be lured away by the corpse of a large beast, which it will consume for a little while before resuming the hunt. Chimeras are cruel predators that will go out of their way to track players even after losing them underground or across water. Fortunately there is only one per map.

[rottenbrainstuff]

Haha I just saw an Instagram post complaining about how we went from beautiful masterful renaissance paintings to Jackson pollock paint splatters.

You know what guys, I don’t even LIKE a lot of contemporary art that much ok? I don’t, yet I still find myself defending it all the time and that makes me mad, don’t make me have to defend this stuff I don’t even like.

To boil it down extremely, extremely, extremely simply:

1) once cameras were invented and became widely accessible, art was no longer stuck having to be strictly representational, and artists began to get more and more experimental with how art could be used to express feelings and ideas, instead of just a strict representation of reality. Artists like to explore boundaries and limitations. Every new movement was shocking when it was first a thing. Those impressionist water lilies that are so popular everyone knows them nowadays: people hated that when it was new. Van Gogh? The art movement he was a part of was literally called “the wild beasts” (fauvism) because people thought it was so ugly and crude.

2) the old masters you are probably thinking about learned painting as a trade, like a guy going to a technical school to become a mechanic, and most of them started learning it as children. Most of those paintings you admire so much were never created to be the artist’s personal expression, they were mostly hired by wealthy people to paint something that showed off the wealthy person’s wealth, either “look, I can afford to hire someone to paint this giant ass painting” or literally “look, I hired someone to paint this giant ass painting of myself standing in front of my massive land and wearing all my expensive accessories”. Those were the first vanity selfies! Back in the day you had to pay someone and wait three years for it. Lol. As that one popular post going around tumblr says: if we had people quitting highschool and going to painting school as teenagers, then having every one of their expenses paid by rich people so they can just sit and work on a painting for three years, you’d have beautiful stuff like that.

3) there ARE still beautiful representational paintings being made, actually! You just aren’t seeing them because you’re not going out to a variety of shows, you’re only seeing the famous controversial works that everyone likes to complain about. For instance JUST off the very top of my head, every year my city has a big western uh festival I guess and there is a showing of western artists and sculptors making art with western Canadian themes. I have never seen so many beautiful paintings of landscapes or horses. Tons of them. Probably at least 50 artists. Just in my small area of Canada. They’re still there. Why aren’t you trying to go out and see it? Why are you just looking for the weird avant-garde stuff to complain about?

4) perhaps most importantly: it’s not being made for you. That sounds rude maybe or overly simplistic but like that’s the best I can explain it and do try to wrap your head around it: the weird-ass art that’s a banana duct-taped to the wall: that’s not being made for you, you’re not the audience. You know, those old portraits, they were meant to be looked at and admired by a large audience of people, but this new stuff, it’s really not going for the same thing at all, it’s not made to be appealing to the general public as a pretty object of decoration. It’s got a WHOLE different thing it’s trying to do. I’m not defending the weird stuff and saying it’s all awesome and you’re just too stupid to understand it, trust me I went to college with some of the most insufferable artistes you can imagine and I know exactly the process and the intent behind all of this and guys I don’t necessarily like it either! I don’t. I’m just trying to explain. It’s different, it’s a whole different animal, it’s like complaining that you don’t like action movies when you went to see an action movie: you’re just not the audience. I know action movies are dumb and loud, they’re supposed to be like that, that’s how people like them, and it’s not a tragedy that we don’t have people making black and white silent movies anymore… it’s just different.

Whether you think this stuff is worthy of being displayed in large museums and having tax dollars spent on it, my friends that’s a totally different conversation that I’m not having here, and I don’t necessarily disagree with you there: I just, look, I spend four years and a lot of money learning art history and I took an honest to god class about how to look at contemporary art, and it just makes me feel tired when people make these dumb “kids these days” posts about why we don’t have renaissance paintings these days, implying it’s some sort of fault of degenerate or lazy artists who just don’t want to paint good anymore. That’s all I’m saying.

Ok?

[sizzlingpenguincollector]

The Incredible Hulk: Fan Trailer

"We've got a problem…" A tired voice spoke, filled with layers of fear and unsuredness.

Outside of a normal unassuming house it had started to rain hard. A young ten year old Gwen Tennyson was inside talking to an adult man.

"You're probably gonna think I'm a total wingnut when I tell you." Gwen sighed while clutching her knees, hoping the adult would take her problem seriously. She had trouble believing there were many adults that would given her past experiences after all.

"I won't. I promise. Trust me, I've heard it all before, nothing can phase me anymore." The man assured her with a friendly smile.

"I'm not too sure… This one's a little bit different." She took a deep breath as she started to prepare herself for the explanation that may get her thrown out. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inside an old warehouse a small group had begun to assemble. A variety of men who seemed completely armed to the teeth with military grade equipment were gathered with an unlikely pair of youths.

Gwen and her cousin Ben Tennyson were next to each other. The entire group stood and watched as their eyes grew wide as they gasped and shuddered with complete terror. The sight before them was something even they had trouble parsing. They'd fought plenty of aliens before, but the sight in front of them was something totally different. A huge shadow overtook theirs, being completely outclassed by the monstrous size.

"Well, for the past few days, me, my cousin, and our new friends were trying to help this man…" Gwen's voice echoed as she tried to explain what she had seen before.

The half ghost superhero, Danny Phantom was standing with his girlfriend Sam Manson, and his half ghost cousin Dani Phantom. They took several steps back as they too were taken with awe. Terrified at what they were seeing. An entirely new beast, something horrible.

"He has certain aspects of his personality he can't control. And when they do become too much for him…"

Gwen shudders and whimpers as she and Ben hide behind a crate and Ben tries to get his Omnitrix to recharge, and a loud thumping was heard.

"He becomes something else…" She shuddered, rubbing her arms to try to comfort herself from the memory before continuing. "A monster." Gwen finished, but the man simply chuckled good naturedly, thinking Gwen was just imagining things. She was just a kid after all, kids' imaginations tended to run wild, especially when they're around adults.

"Gwen, it's okay to be scared when you're just a kid." the man explained. "Trust me, I've dealt with kids who had fears and seen it all."

Gwen just gulped. "Not this one…" she whispered. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A distressed man laid on the floor, his head shooting up as his eyes turned a sickly green color. And almost immediately the group gathered in the warehouse heard the sounds of glass shattering as a body was sent flying across the room, slamming hard into the wall behind them.

The gathering of kids, teens, and adults all stood in shock, wondering what it was that could do something so effortlessly. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MARVEL STUDIOS FANFICTION ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "We've never seen anything even close to your level of exposure." A man explained in an office to another man and a woman in the same room, looking on with worry on their faces. "That you survived an event like that?"

A man sits in a chair, straining against restraints covering his arms and legs, struggling to break out of them in an angry motion.

"It's beyond my comprehension!" The man finished. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The man was alone in a room, sitting down with his legs crossed in a meditative position, trying very clearly to keep his calm. He raised his arms and let out a deep breath as he clenched his fists, breathing out.

"I don't want to control it…" He explained to the woman in the car, a sad look on his face as the rain poured outside, falling hard against the metal of the vehicle. "I want to get rid of it." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A group of military men shuffle out of a helicopter, armed heavily as they begin their search for their target. Meanwhile a general sits in an office, an uncomfortably calm demeanor considering the dire position that he's sending his men into.

The collection of youths inside of the office looked uneasy at the man. Not too long ago they were going to help this man, but now given their status as heroes, they were going to be forced to try and stop him. Ben and Gwen specifically were not keen on the idea of fighting something like what they'd seen.

"As far as I'm concerned?" He spoke cooly to his men, making sure to take total control of the situation, an ego as big as his had to be defended. "That man's whole body is property of the US army." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The man is forced into hiding, throwing a hood up to try to escape suspicion, but always finding his way into trouble. He's forced to run from the military over and over again, leading him to increasingly desperate situations, running through the alleyways simply to escape so that he wouldn't be captured, the chase leading to several car crashes and innocents in panic, while Danny tries his best to help civilians calm down during the chase, using his fame to hopefully comfort them during the situation, while still trying to keep an eye on where his target was running to. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"They want it as a weapon!" One man spoke impassionedly. "If we let it go, we may never get it back!"

"But if we kill him, he's gone forever…" Ben's voice was shaken. He didn't want to hurt the man that they were trying to help, but he knew that he was dangerous.

"But we can't just let him rampage and hurt even more innocents!" Danny had seen what he was capable of, but couldn't help but find himself agreeing with Ben. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In Fall 2022 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cars are flipped through the city street as fires rage and chaos ensues. A monster rampages throughout the streets completely different from the one that was seen before. This one was someone… something else.

"There's only one thing that can fight that, and it's in me…" The man on the run explained to the military. Gwen looked afraid, but she'd seen it before, and she knew that was true. Whatever was running rampant on the streets, they needed something equally as scary to take it out.

"Maybe… Maybe if I can control it."

The man leaned in to kiss the woman one final time as they stood on the exit ramp of the helicopter. After their lips parted he let out a sigh and looked behind him, spreading his arms and falling backwards out of the flying vehicle without hesitation. The woman looked on, scared of what might happen.

"I can use it."

As the man's body falls to the ground quickly, the scene flashes and there's a brief pause as black takes over.

A pile of rubble is seen on the ground and a massive green hand punches through it, open and grasping at something, moving aside the heavy rubble with ease.

An equally massive body begins to rise from it, pushing himself up as he stares out into the city street, a low growl coming from his giant frame.

People look on in terror. Ben in his Four Arms form and Danny stop for a brief moment from fighting the other monster, hearing the massive collision as the large body falls from the sky, as they see it, and the monster sees it too.

A hulking green figure steps forwards heavily as it looks at his opponent, growling in response. Ben and Danny are unsure of what to do when they see him, getting ready to deal with a second threat that still might not be on their side.

With a final step, the green figure stops and reels back his arms, letting out a deafening roar, terrifying anyone that surrounds him. But the green man only has eyes for one target, Ben and Danny let out a sigh of relief as they realize that thing is finally on their side, even though Ben was still uneasy about the alliance.

Danny and Ben look as the two gigantic figures begin to walk and soon after run towards each other with increasing speed. With each step, the ground quakes from their weight until they finally take a mighty leap as both of their bodies collide towards each other.

Danny and Ben look in awe as their fists extend, the true fight begins now. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE INCREDIBLE HULK

[officialhexrpg]

Magical Arts: April's Writing Challenge Winner!

For April, the task involves writing a new chapter for the 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' book. The chapter, however, needs to include either a new mythological creature that you have created yourself or an existing mythological creature that doesn't appear in Newt Scamander's beloved book.

2nd Place: Greta12

The Hippalectryon and What It Is

Similar to many creatures of the wizarding world, such as the Hippogriff and the Hippocampus, the Hippalectryon is a hybrid mix of two pre existing Muggle animals – in this case, the front half being the head, upper torso, and front legs of a horse, and the back half being the tail end, wings, and back legs of a rooster. In summary, it has two wings, four legs, one head, and one tail. Hippalectryon are slightly larger than the average horse, and have been reported as “intimidating.”

Small details vary between the creatures, such as longer or shorter rooster feathers and horse manes, as well as differing amounts of rooster claws. Hippalectryon come in a wide variety of colors, though the most common combination seems to be that of red, gold, and warm brown – the horse portion of the creature being brown, and the rooster feathers red and gold. Their sex is not differentiated through coloring. The only noticeable difference is in their verbal calls. Females sound similar to a horse whinnying, while males sound similar to that of a rooster crow.

Fewer details are known about the Hippalectryon than is ideal, as it seems to be a rare and elusive creature. Unlike the rooster, it is extremely fast, able to reach speeds well over 85 miles per hour in a matter of seconds. It is strongly suspected, but not 100% confirmed, that Hippalectryon have either camouflage or invisibility abilities. Magizoologist sources report glimpsing several Hippalectryon in the wild, only for them to vanish a moment later without logical explanation. Feathers retrieved have proved to possess no obvious magical properties.

The Hippalectryon’s native and preferred habitat is the forest, where thick underbrush and knitted canopies provide protection from outer threats. They are solitary creatures, sticking to themselves in herds of five to ten. They have mainly been spotted in Western and Southern Europe (France, Portugal), though there have been two sightings of single Hippalectryon in South Asia, specifically India. Due to their fast flight, perhaps those Hippalectryon strayed from their herd?

The creatures seem to have unusually long lifetimes and slow aging. When born, sources report that they look like a cross between a cockerel and a foal, and grow up similar to the way those species do. They often remain for many decades as a “foakerel” (a portmanteau created to indicate a baby Hippalectryon) before maturing into a young adult, and then a full grown Hippalectryon. They are capable of living for over a century if left unharmed and healthy. Both females and males stay roughly equal in size throughout life.

I first stumbled upon the Hippalectryon during a visit to Landes, France. While wandering through the Landes de Gascogne Regional Natural Park on a day when it was mostly unoccupied due to the rain early that morning, I came across an unusually large herd of eleven. I managed to hide myself behind a large tree before they spotted me, and thus was able to observe them in secret. The herd was comprised of four full grown males, five full grown females, and two foakerel (genders unknown, likely ages three and five in wizarding years).

From my watchings, I learned that females are the dominant sex in Hippalectryon herds. Hunting parties are generally a mix of both males and females, while the other half of the herd remains back to protect the foakerel, if there are any. Hippalectryon are nomadic creatures, building temporary nests made of branches and leaves, and then tearing them down before vacating the area. They rarely roost in the same place twice. Their diets mainly consist of vegetation found in the forests they inhabit, though they do eat meat.

Eventually the herd sensed my presence, I don’t know how – it had started to rain once more, and perhaps they caught my scent on the wind. One male and one female advanced on me, while the rest of the Hippalectryon took down their nest and flocked to protect the foakerel. I was not able to remain longer to witness whether or not they are truly capable of magical disappearance, as the advancing Hippalectryon seemed to be angry at my intrusion and I was forced to take my leave to avoid any bodily harm. They were quite magnificent.

Hippalectryon are remarkably low maintenance for such complex creatures. Granted, one has not yet been bred in captivity nor brought into a Ministry facility for examination. However, it is believed among Magizoologists that they would require little care. They would need to be provided with food plausibly found in their natural habitat of the forest, as well as water. Hippalectryon also require time to exercise outdoors – this includes flying in open skies and walking on the ground. Without this, there is the possibility of descending into melancholy. It should be noted that it is not recommended to capture Hippalectryon or to raise one as a pet. Due to the rarity of the creatures, they are better off in the wild.

The Hippalectryon is not particularly aggressive in nature. As far as it is known, the creatures only act violently in self defense. However, it is difficult to approach, and more so to interact safely with. Therefore, the Ministry of Magic has classified the Hippalectryon as XXXX. If encountered, it would be wise to treat the creature(s) with great caution and respect, similar to a Hippogriff.

[bokettochild]

Apples the Pink Bunny

Did someone ask for this? 

No.

Did I have an anxiety/emotionally overloaded evening?

Yes.

For this reason I am awake at 2:44 am on a school night to write myself a 13 page comfort fic. So, enjoy or don’t enjoy, but here’s Legend being a soft bunny with the chain for 6,268 words.

(Inspired by this and this.)

 There is a bunny on the edge of camp.

 It crouches in the shadows, eyes glinting gold and red in the firelight, nose twitching as it watches them.

 Wind watches it back.

 He doesn’t think that the others have seen t, no one’s said anything, and they all know how Warriors hates rabbits. So, he doesn’t say anything, not to them, he only wanders around the camp casually before settling down close-ish to where the bunny hides.  

 There aren’t many wild animals in his Hyrule, aren’t many animals at all, but Four’s taught him how to convey that he’s friendly to the minish and some of the forest life, so he tries to employ that knowledge now. He doesn’t look the rabbit directly in the eye, but he does force his ears forwards towards it, letting them flick away here and again, fingers rubbing softly as he glances casually as velvety pink paws.

 He waits until he can see the rabbit watching him before he begins to whisper soft and quiet. “Hello, hello there lil’ guy.”

 There’s a huff from the bunny, but it takes a single agonizingly slow step forwards, body stretched out and nose twitching as it watches him, ears pricked up curiously. When Wind doesn’t do anything different, just keeps speaking low and soft, the bunny lops its way over, ears up and attentive as it stops beside him, eyes turned up to stare into his own with a surprising amount of boldness for a creature close enough for him to smash in one blow.

 “Hello.” Wind murmurs softly, moving slowly as he raises his hand over the rabbit, only to find himself starting as the bunny simply stares at him with the most unimpressed expression on it’s fuzzy face. Even Wolfie, who is strangely intelligent even for a dog, or so he’s heard has never looked so unimpressed with something, and the sailor finds himself lowering his hand sheepishly as if scolded, meeting the rabbit’s eyes and starting when it doesn’t flinch away, instead watching him intently with shivering nose and twitching ears.

 “Hey Wind, watcha got there?” The rancher calls over, drawing the attention of the rest of the camp and making the sailor’s heart race.  

The bunny’s going to be startled! It’s going to run away! All that work to get it to come over and he won’t even get to touch it!

 But the rabbit doesn’t move, or rather, it doesn’t bolt away. Soft lavender eyes stare across the camp, unusual in their shade but lovely to gaze into as Wind finds himself transfixed with watching the silky sheen of the petal-pink fur and the glimmer of stars in lavender and golden eyes.

 “Wind?” The rancher’s voice rings with concern, and the sailor snaps bac to attention, a warm smile easily falling over his face as he turns to the camp. “It’s a rabbit.” He says quietly, careful not to startle the beast. “Twi, do you think it’ll let me pet it?”

 The rancher’s brows furrow as he looks over, markings shifting with the rest of his face as he stares at the rabbit warily.

 To their surprise, and apparently the rabbit’s too, the tiny animal freezes in place for all of a second only to have the slight tilt of Twilight’s head sending it diving into Wind’s lap, startling the sailor enough for his to blink in surprise, but not so badly that his hands don’t instantly bury themselves in the pink fur.

 And oh! It’s softer than he thought it would be! It’s nothing like Wolfie’s rough pelt or the feathers on Wild’s winter gear. The bunny’s fur is like fine down, or maybe silk, or- He runs his hands through it again, eyes widening with every stroke as the rodent shivers in his lap, eyes fixed on Twilight and ears pressed low as he huddles in the space left between the sailor’s legs as he sits criss-cross on the ground.

 “I guess that’s a yes.” Twilight chuckles, low and deep. It’s a sound that makes warmth flow through Wind’s chest, but the rabbit only shivers, huddling lower the longer Twilight’s gaze rests on it.

 “I think you’re scaring him.” The sailor hums softly, gently pulling the rabbit into his arms with an ease that comes from years of cradling his baby sister when she was small. The rabbit nestles close, eyes still on Twilight as it seems to shake itself, bt its doesn’t struggle against him, and Wind takes that as his cue to pull himself gently to his feet and cross the camp towards where Time and Wild sit playing a card game.  

 The champion is explaining the rules for the nth time as Time chuckles low and soft, purposefully asking questions that Wild’s already answered and earning pointed stares in return. The sailor’s approach lands just as Wild looks instants from pulling out his hair, and instantly cornflower blues are locking onto him with a strained smile, the champion apparently desperate to escape the game he’d asked for in the first place. “Hey, Wind, watcha have there.”

 “A rabbit.” He replies, moving one arm to let lavender eyes peek out and stare at the champion, who’s eyes fall open in awe as his cards spill from his hands.

 “It’s...you’re...” Wild’s eyes sparkle with awe as he looks from Wind to the rabbit in his arms. “How did you catch it?”

 The rabbit shuffles closer to Wind’s chest as the words are spoken, and the sailor has to settle a hand on it’s back to calm it again as it edges away from the cook’s glimemring eyes.

 “It was on the edge of camp.” Caution leaks into the pirate-hero's voice as he scrunches up his nose. “You better not ask if you can cook it.”

 Blue eyes shoot wide as Wild shakes his head violently, earning a soft laugh from Time as his apparent orrer at the idea. “No! It’s-” Wild’s fingers twitch. “I couldn’t- Can I hold it?” The second-youngest's eyes travel up to stare up into Time’s leadingly, wide and innocent and so terribly like Aryll’s face when she’s asking Granny for another bowl of soup or piece of bread that Wind can’t help but giggle as he gently scritches the rabbit’s ears.

 “That’s up to Wind.” Time answers gently. “But I don’t see why not.”

 Softly glowing blue turns to meet his own as Wild stare up, pleading, at him. “May I?”

 “Sure” He giggles, crouching low in front of the champion. “Have you ever held a baby?” Wild’s brow furrows, considering for a moment before shaking his head. “Okay, how about a kitten? A pup?”

 The champion only shakes his head, and Wind finds himself frowning as he looks first at the bunny in his arms and then up at Wild, who’s face is quickly falling to one of disappointment.

 “Here,” Time offers, gently arranging Wild’s arms properly. “It’s like this.”

 Between the two of them, they get the bunny situated in Wild’s thin arms, and within seconds the champion’s free hand is dragging through plush fur as awe shines across his face, Time and Wind both laughing fondly as they watch and occasionally reaching out themselves to scritch the rabbit’s long ears.

 Between them, there are eight heroes, and as of late, a rabbit has joined the mix, slung easily in Sky’s sailcloth as they travel.

 The creature didn’t seem keen on leaving, and while it’s in no way fond of Twilight, the others find that they can’t resist sneaking to the back of the group to gently scritch it’s ears, or laugh as it hops about exploring the land around them when they stop for a break.

 The Hyrule they’re in isn’t one that anyone recognizes, the forests strangely rich and the land both better kept than Wild’s while still more wild than the others. Fights in this world are intense, and only their two wanderers seem to be able to battle the insane variety and numbers of monsters with anything resembling ease.

 It’s strange too, having to hide the rabbit whenever battle comes, but the creature is smart, darting away when battles come, a scowl in its fuzzy face as it burrows beneath tree roots or into the brush, waiting until the battle is over to re-emerge, hopping slowly across the blood soaked ground without trepidation, not once blinking at the blood and grit that gets in its fur as it hops from one hero to the other, eyes flickering between violet and lavender as it analyzes them, chirring angrily at any of them when they try to hide wounds, and nestling in the laps of the younger hero’s with a put upon look when Warrior’s has to stitch something up.

...

 “He needs a name.” Wind declares after the second battle, his good hand petting the rabbit’s long ears while Sky helps to wrap the sprain in his wrist.

 “Isn’t bunny enough?” Warriors eyes the rabbit disdainfully. “You didn’t give the wolf anything fancy.”

 “He’s not just a bunny though!” Wind protests with a well-placed pout. “He’s our bunny-friend!”

 “And the wolf isn’t your wolf-friend?” Twilight cocks a brow, something like hurt flashing through his eyes before he actually winces, hissing softly as Warriors continues to stitch him up.

 “The wolf comes and goes. Besides, he’s a wild thing, so it’d be wrong to name him like a common dog.” Wind explains, shrugging lightly but stopping when Sky pushes his shoulder back down with a whispered reprimand for moving. “The bunny stays with us though,” Wind continues, holding still this time save for the hand that continues along the bunny’s pelt. “He needs a real name.”

 “Agreed.” Wild sounds, shuffling over with a leafy vegetable in his hands that their rabbit friend takes with a pleased chirr, glancing up at the champion appreciatively before setting his sharp teeth to the plant, earning a smile from the champion.

 “Any ideas?” Time starts, glancing around camp and earning a flick on the ear from Hyrule, who’s still trying to clean a wound on the man’s face.

 “Seriously Time?” Warriors protests, but it’s too late, the others are already musing quietly and beginning to consider ideas.  

 “Petal?” Sky tries, glancing down at the rabbit in Wind’s arms. “Like, cherry blossom petals?”

 “Cherry!” Wild gasps, eyes glimmering hopefully.

 “Pinky.” Warriors snorts distastefully, earning an angry chitter from the rabbit, but the captain only glares back at the animal, as if it had just insulted him, mimicking the chitter pathetically and drawing laughs from the others.  

 “It’s a boy, right?” Twilight questions, cocking a brow, and the others exchange looks. “I think so? I’m not sure I want to check....”

 “Nothing too feminine then.” Sky nods slowly.

 “Floor.” Four suggests solemnly. “Floof the Poof.”

 Eight sets of eyes, including the rabbits, turn to stare at the smithy disbelievingly. Red glimmers in his eyes for all of a second before he starts and flushes. “Sorry,” The smith rubs at his neck nervously, red blooming over his face and down his neck. “I was thinking aloud, Intrusive thoughts, you know?”

 “What about Apple, for apple-blossom?” Time speaks slowly, eyes still on the smithy as he speaks, concern but fondness in his eyes.  

 The rabbit in Wind’s lap looks up, staring at Time and munching in a way that almost looks considering, violet eyes fixed on the eldest hero’s single one, the two locking gazes, neither blinking until Warriors sighs and snaps his fingers, startling them both.

 “Aaaand, that’s a yes for Apples.” Warriors rolls his eyes. “No angry chitter, no arguments against.” The captain’s gaze levels them all. “Unless anyone has any objections?”

 “Nope!”

 “I think it sound’s cute?” Sky chuckles, patting Wind’s arm to signal that he’s finished and scratching the newly named Apples behind the ears. The rabbit huffs in his rabbit way, but they've all grown too used to the grouchiness of the animal to do anything other than laugh at it.

...

 Apples is a wonder, and they are so very happy to have him.

 There is nothing so convincing to make Sky finally relax than to have a pink mess of fur barrel into his lap and force heavy eyes to close under the soothing feeling of fur on his fingers and a small warm body pressed against his own.

 Sky’s restless sleep and eternal exhaustion ease with every night and Wind giggles as each evening after dinner the bunny climbs resolutely into Sky’s lap, glaring pointedly up at the Skyloftian until long fingers are dragging through his fur and crystal blue eyes are falling shut contently.

 When Sky shoots awake at night, there's a rabbit there that presses tiny paws to his chest, dark eyes staring up into his face in the darkness as ears flick and a tiny nose twitch, worry in the rabbit's expression as Sky sighs, a light smile on his face as he raises a hand to run through long fur. “I’m good, Apples, it was just a dream.”

 The rabbit always snorts, scowling lightly and buffeting Sky’s chest with its head, but the Skyloftian only chuckles lightly, wrapping the bunny in his arms and shifting to lie on his side, the rabbit held close as he fades back into sleep.

...

 When Time broods, brows low and frown lines pulling at his features and aging him by decades, most of the others know not to disturb him. They let each other have their space and they never press. Wolfie will, at time, curl up at the old man’s feet or sit at his side, allowing callused fingers to run through his thick fur as Time sits and stares at the ground, mind a world away where none of them ever wish to see, if the pain and sorrow in his gaze is to be read properly.

 Perhaps a rabbit cannot be expected to understand this law of privacy though, even if he is unusually intelligent.

 Time’s hair falls into his face as he perches on a stone on the edge of camp, gaze fixed on Lake Hylia below them as his elbows rest on his knees, face downcast and frowning as pain glimmers in his single blue eye.

 Apples, who had been stretching his legs after being carried in Sky’s arms during their traveling that day, pauses, ears flicking up and towards the old man, paws freezing just off the ground as he watches, nose twitching.

 The heroes watch, Wind darting up worriedly as the bunny lops closer to Time, but he freezes when the pink ball of fur pulls himself up next to Time with surprising agility, head butting carefully against their leader’s armored thigh as a soft squeak break through the air. Time doesn’t stir, not at first, but then the rabbit settles next to him, one paw on the old man’s leg, eyes following Time’s down to Lake Hylia.

 Scarred hands twitch before finally landing in silky pink, pulling through the long fur as tension bleeds from Time’s shoulders, a breathy sigh escaping their leader before a soft tune begins to drift through the air.  

 The rabbit gently settles down, head resting beside his paws as Apple allows Time to pet him slowly.

 The others are to far to understand the words, but Time’s soft murmurs break the silence, Apple’s ears twitching while an intelligent bunny face stares up at the tear-streaked face of the hero of Time.

 When Time rejoins the rest of them for dinner, it’s with Apples nestled in his arms, a sad sort of peace in the hero’s gaze as he settles down to join in the meal, never once releasing Apples while they eat and joke, and by the time the meal is finished, the pink bunny is soundly asleep in Time’s arms.

...

 It’s Four that seems the most curious about their little friend, and while the rabbit doesn’t seem particularly playful, the smith will occasionally catch up the animal, laughing s Apples sighs in an almost reluctant manner, and carry him off into the woods near where they are.

 The Minish love Apples, and Four himself delights in diving amidst the pink fur or the first time while the bunny looks at him in utter shock.

 Air enough, it was unlikely that Apples had ever seen a Hylian shift into a Minish before. But at this size, Four can enjoy Apples’ fur far better than as a Hylian, and it’s delightful to lead the rabbit around, chattering lightly as Apples lops along behind him, ears pricked and nose shivering as they move through Minish towns and groves, exploring the tiniest nooks and crannies they can find and having all sors of adventures.

 Of course, there are dangers to being smaller than a rabbit, and the first time a spider attacks them, freakishly big and easily big enough to rip off Four’s head, it’s Apples that darts to his rescue, chirping and scolding in his rabbit way as he thumps his feet and pins back his ears in a strange imitation of Wolfie’s growl.

 The spider is in no ways eager to give up her prey, and Four finds that, despite killing monsters on the daily, he has to turn away in disgust as Apples tears the spider apart, eyes flashing with gold as the seemingly harmless pink rabbit unleashes mass destruction on not only the one spider, but also her sisters that emerge from the burrow beside them. Long legs and venomous maws stretch over the top of him, reaching out to grab the Minish Hero, only to have a rabbit dart over, teeth flashing and harsh chatters sounding as legs and bodies are torn asunder.

 When the spiders stop emerging, the small patch of grass is full of the remains of spiders, and Apples is rubbing at his nose and sneezing softly, absolutely covered in the remains of the monstrous insects.

 “Thank you...” Is all the smithy can breathe out as Apples’ eyes meet his own.

 He’s replied to with a sneeze.

 Four shifts back as soon as possible, carrying his bunny savior back to camp and carefully helping to clean the rabbits long fur, murmuring softly and thankfully all the while. And if he shares a but about his previous adventures, and Ezlo, who while being a hat shared some things in common with the grouchy rabbit, well, it’s not like Apples will be able to tell anyone!

...

 It’s Wild that seems the most enraptured with their new little companion. Always asking the older hero’s questions as he sorts through his inventory, offering all sorts of foods and treats to the rabbit and cooing in delight each time something is accepted. No one knows what it is exactly what it is about watching Apples eat has Wild so happy, but there’s no denying that the easy grin that steals over his face is better than the solemn frown and sad thoughtfulness that takes over on occasion.

 The first time they see Wild go into a memory, it’s Apples that catches their attention, the rabbit shrieking worriedly as he bumps against the champion’s still hand, concern filling his violet eyes as he stares up at the champion, paws raised to press against the hero’s stomach while ears and nose twitch and shiver worriedly.  

 Apples doesn’t even panic when Twilight steps over, although he does shrink back, wary as the rancher gently shakes Wild’s shoulder before sighing and sitting next to him. The rabbit mimics the motion, but on the other side, eyes flicking from Twilight to Wild with nervous concern and wariness, but when neither move he contents himself with gently rubbing against the champion’s limp hand.

 When Wild blinks awake again, eyes darting too and fro to take in his surrounds and breathing harsh, Apples jumps up, paws settling on the kid’s thigh and catching his attention, making the young hero still and stare. Tears well in cornflower blue eyes, and the rabbit doesn’t even sigh when Wild scoops him up, burying his face in Apples’ fur and sobbing quietly.

 Were their hearts not aching for their brother, soft chuckles would have sounded around camp when Apples had freed a paw to gently pat the champion’s cheek.

...

After the first few weeks and a few more switches, Sky will come to find Apples every time that bedtime draws near, scooping the bunny out of the lap of another hero with a chipper “My turn now!” as he almost skips over to his bedroll, bundling both himself and his emotional support bunny into his sailcloth with a smile as Apples rolls his rabbit eyes and presses his paws to Sky’s own blue eyes, pushing them closed before settling against the Skyloftian’s chest. The Chosen Hero is always asleep within minutes, sleepily singing Zelda’s lullaby between snores as Apples’ violet eyes watch the rest of the camp.

 When Time need space, the rabbit will follow, gently resting a paw on his leg and sitting with him, eyes filled with an understanding that is ridiculous in a rabbit, but somehow believable as Time’s callused fingers work through pink fur, songs and stories drifting from tired lips as long ears twitch ever so slightly to catch the words.

 When Wind is playful, he’ll dart up and after the rabbit, who will always sigh in his rabbit way and either dart away or give chase, running the youngest hero ragged until Wind collapses, giggling and breathless, with Apples hopping up on his chest to bat at his face, as if to say “I win, I beat you, you lost so give me pets” and Wind does, eventually hauling himself up, and inevitably knocking Apples over before administering thankful ear scratches and pets until Apples springs free and continues going about his rabbit business.

 Hyrule, though quiet, will often be found with the rabbit beside him, sometimes with Apple’s pushing his nose against the traveler’s hands and guiding them to better hold a knife while he’s carving, or a needle while he sews. It’s strange to see a bunny of all things unroll a bandage and offer it to the healor, but be it Hyrule or someone else that’s injured (provided it’s not Twilight) the rabbit will be springing over with his bunny brows furrowed as he scolds and fusses, nudging things over to Hyrule before the traveler can even ask someone for them, and climbing into bags and pulling out potions when the Hyrule’s healing glow begins to fade.

 Sleeves are tugged at when the Traveler is exhausted, unreleased until Hyrule agrees to rest, and when they eat the bunny will chitter and fuss and kick up a riot until Hyrule will humbly ask for seconds or Wild will offer them, stern indigo eyes following the travel’s movements until his bowl or plate is empty.

 When Wild is cooking, the rabbit will sit at his side, watching the process and chittering or nipping when the champion goes to add something dubious to the food, or begins to spice it too much for the younger ones to handle. Wild only ever laughs, offering bits and bobs of food as he works, and chuckling with delight when the bunny accepts them, Apple’s sharp teeth working away at leafy greens as stern violet eyes watch the young hero work.

 And when memories strike, harsh and horrid and often sad, the bunny climbs his way into Wild’s lap and sits until the hero stirs again. Apples’ fur is drenched time and again with tears, and every time, without fail, tiny paws gently pat the Wild’s head, lavender in normally violet eyes as a tiny nose nuzzles against a reddened and drooping ear.

 Four delights in exploring with Apples, and whether it be carrying the bunny off with him and chattering, or shrinking down and riding on Apples’ back, the two never fail to find something interesting to do.

 Through all of it, Twilight will gaze sadly at the rabbit who avoids him like death, and Warriors will scoff and roll his eyes, although fondly, as the younger heroes all fuss over their new friend.

 It’s only so much time before the captain breaks.

 It’s a nightmare, blood and blades and shrieks of two little boys and many trusted friends echoing in the captain’s mind, making him start awake with tears in his eyes. Warriors shivers in the night air, drawing his scarf around his neck and wrapping himself in his arms as he moves towards the fire.

 To his surprise, Apples sits before the flames as well, ears flicking towards the captain’s movements but gaze fixed on the flames with an almost sad air.

 The captain merely snorts and dismissed the rabbit in his mind, but with ever second the world around him presses closer and Warriors becomes more and more agitated. And still, the rabbit doesn't move, doesn’t look at him, Apples only sighs deeply as he stares into the fire, and when Warriors shoots the rabbit a confused look he starts when he sees what looks to be tears in lavender eyes.

 “You too huh?” Exhaustion loosens his tongue as he hunches before the fire, watching the flames dance. “Bad hunt? Lost mate?” The rabbit chitters something unintelligible, tiny body stiffening almost like Twilight’s does when he gets defensive. It draws a laugh from the captain’s throat, barking and bitter as his gaze rests on the burning remains of a log. “I feel you there, didn’t expect a rabbit to have trauma though.”

 An unimpressed glare is leveled his way, this time drawing a genuine but startled laugh from the captain. “So it’s like that huh? Too tough to talk about it?” 

 One ear twitches Apples wrinkling his tiny nose before stomping one of his feet agitatedly and huffing a short and sharp little breath at the flames.

 “I hear you.” Warriors laughs, a little broken and a little teary, eyes returning to the coals, shimmering with the ghosts of memories as screams echo in ears too used to their calls.

 Apples twitches, hesitant, ears flickering and feet stomping grouchily for a moment, before Warriors finds himself with a lap full of rabbit as the pink bunny pushes his head into Warriors’ hand, nearly demanding to be pet.

 “Oh,” Warriors scoffs, voice wet and harsh. “That’s how it is, huh? All your other Hylian’s are asleep, so because I’m awake from nightmares and goddess darned trauma, you figured I was available to pet you?”

 Another insistent nudge, and Warriors is rolling his eyes, pushing his hands through long fur with a sigh.

 It’s like silk, he muses to himself, blinking in surprise and running his hands through again. Like the finest of fabrics in the castle, like Artemis’ dresses that she wore when the war was over and they celebrated with dances and feasting and speeches of honor to the dead. Apples’ fur is like glinting red hair, oiled and brushed every night before bed. It’s like baby’s hair, impossibly soft and delicate.

 There’s a small body curled in his lap, and Warriors’ hands run over it curiously, stroking impossibly soft fur as he becomes lost in the wonder of the color, in the texture. Screams and blood fly from his mind as the captain’s fingers trail through the fluff, and warmth floods trough his chest when he takes Apples’ face in his hands and rubs at the rabbits' cheeks, laughter bubbling in his chest, warm and bright as the bunny scowls up at him.

 The next morning, when the heroes awake, its to find Sky shaking his head as he looks down at his usual sleeping companion held tight in Warriors’ arms, a blissful smile on the captain’s tearstained face. Apples scowls up at them, but he’s curled close to the man’s chest, with ample room to escape, and no one believes for a minute that he’s there against his will.

 The jabs and eye rolls continue from both parties, but on long nights, when the others are asleep and rabbit and soldier both find themselves awake, Warriors will scoop the bunny into his lap, losing himself in Apples’ fur before drifting off again.

 Wild has the pictures to prove it.

...

 Twilight sulks the entire time, the sadness in his eyes turning into a full-blown pout as he tries time and again to win Apples’ affection, earning teasing from all parties, but especially Wars.

 “I didn’t even want the thing, and he insists on climbing all over me!” The captain jests. “Yet you court him with more care than a knight with a lady he favors and he still rejects you!”

 The rancher’s scowl and accompanying growl always sends Apples closer to whatever other hero is nearest, the rancher’s eyes narrowing as he huffs out retorts that go from being teasing to being genuinely hurt. The captain stops after a time, apologizing, but Twilight blows him off, excusing it as teasing while clearly looking hurt.

 No matter what he tries though, food, cuddles, gentle words and careful movements, nothing will win the rabbit over, and when they again land in a world that none of them recognize, it’s too late to keep trying.

...

 Ravio blinks down in surprise as the rabbit that sits in his living room. It’s raining wildly outside, and the animal is positively soaked, so he can hardly deny it access, but even so, it’s not every day that woodland creatures are entering the house.

 …..Alright, not anymore. Not with Mr. Hero having gone missing.

 Only Sheerow flies about the house, chirping and singing as he helps Ravio with the housework and keeps the merchant comfortable, and while he doesn’t ind in the least being with only his bird friend, he does rather miss the constant presence of birds outside the windows and deer wandering in from the forest to graze in the front yard. Mr. Hero never minded them, claiming that the beasts kept the grass short, but Ravio knows his friend, and he’s seen Mr. Hero dozing while surrounded by woodland creature enough times to know that the affection the animals feel for his friend is mutual.

 Even so, Mr. Hero isn’t here, so there really shouldn’t be any forest creatures flocking into his house, especially not one that’s going through his things.

 “Hey! Stop!” The merchant protests, darting forwards and scooping up the creature in his arms, only to be met with familiar violet and golden eyes staring back at him. “Mr....Hero?”

 The bunny squeaks something that sounds like it might be in the affirmative, and Ravio stares.

 “How did you...” He’s leveled with an unimpressed stare that is all he needs to see to know for sure it’s his friend. “Were you cursed?”

 There’s a firm nod in return, and concern bubbles in his heart as the merchant holds his friend a bit tighter. “Can you reverse it?”

 Violet eyes roll, but Mr. Hero isn’t panicking, and he even points towards the chest in the corner where he keeps most of his adventuring things, which itself is enough reassurance that one of his many items (some of which are Ravio’s own handiwork) will do the trick to turn him back.

 “Oh good.” Ravio sighs, sagging in place and taking In his friend properly. Again, Mr. Rabbit Hero points at the chest, and he’s getting the idea that his friend wants him to let him go so he can change back but...

 Soft fur rubs at his fingers and the feeling of a small body held in his hands is just so pleasant!

 “One minute, please? Just one?” He pleads, turning on all the power he can as he aims a sorrowful look at his friend. “Your fur is so soft and I- can't I pet you for just a little bit, before you change back?”

 Mr. Bunny Hero sighs, but the huff and nod are easy to read and Ravio clutches his friend to his chest with a cheer. “Thank you Mr. Hero!”

...

 “Apples? Apples?” Wind’s voice is breaking by now as he calls out into the underbrush. The last switch had them all separated, and while the heroes have successfully regrouped, they’ve failed to be able to locate their fuzzy ninth member.

 “He’s got to be here somewhere!” Wild whispers, scratching at his scars worriedly and prompting his mentor to gently push his hands back down again, it does no good, the habit that died with fur to play with reappears in its absence, and Twilight’s pelt is too cumbersome and heavy to be carried and stroked while they walk.

 “Apples?” Sky chokes out, staring at the path before them, but nothing can be seen except a lone traveler who stalks along stiffly towards them.

 “We’ll ask this traveler.” Time sighs, eyes heavy with worry as he pushes to the front of the group, raising a hand in greeting. “Ho there.”

 “Ho.” The traveler returns, sharp violet eyes staring at them all from under pink and rose-gold bangs that peek out from beneath a blue cap. “What brings fighters like you into these parts?”

 “we’re looking for a rabbit.” The captain says, taking no consideration for how ridiculous he sounds. “Normal size, but as pink as a cherry tree, you can’t miss him.”

 Hopeful gazes turn to the stranger, who’s gaze darts away for a brief moment. “Sounds like my boarder’s pet.” There’s a strain to the man’s- or is he a boy?- voice as he speaks. “He disagreed a few months back and only came back yesterday. His-His owner was delighted.” The stranger speaks slowly, flushing slightly as he meets their eyes with an awkward attempt at a smile.

 “He...he already had a family?” Wind and Wild both droop, and the other’s all sigh in collective disappointment as the stranger shifts before them, the light catching in the hilt of the sword on his back.

 “Yeah... Sorry if you got attached.” The stranger winces, incredibly awkward as his eyes dart over them all, as if desperate to find anything else to talk about. “Why so heavily armed, just to look for a bunny?”

 “Monsters.” Sky answers softly, eyes downturned as he twists his cloth in his fingers.  

 “Aren’t those for heroes and soldiers to bother with? Not common folk?”

 “We aren’t exactly common.” Time explains. “Monster fighting is sort of our job.”

 “Uh huh.” The stranger shifts back on his heels. “Last I checked, the only person the royal family was hiring to get rid of monsters was me, and I don’t recall hearing any changes about that recently.”

 “Why you?” Wild tilts his head to one side, curiosity mingling with his sadness as he takes in the stranger.

 “Hero’s duty.” The other drawls,, scowling slightly as his nose scrunches up, wiggling the tiniest bit in distaste.

 “You’re a hero?” Warriors deadpanned, disbelief tainting his voice as he looked from pegasus boot clad feet up to red and green tunics, fluffy golden hair and sharp violet eyes. Said eyes stared back with an intensity that was strangely familiar, irritation glinting in their depths.

 “Unfortunately, yes.”

 And just like that, the Hero of Legend joined their group.

...

BONUS

 Twilight blinked down at the pink rabbit in front of him in shock. “Apples?”

 Apples- Legend? -The pink bunny- shuffled his feet, ears twitching as violet eyes flickered from the rancher's blue eyes and back down to the ground. “Um...chances that this is kept a secret?”

 Disbelief pained the Ordonian’s face. “Do you know how much they’ve missed you?”

 “I was right there.”

 “And you never told them?”

 “Well, you never owned up to being Wolfie, not last time I checked!” The bunny hero shot back, nose shivering in frustration.

 “They don’t need to know about that,” The rancher dismissed. “That sort of power isn’t something I feel comfortable sharing.”

 “Well newsflash,” Legend scowled. “I didn’t either. And it’s not like I could change back to prove myself or something, I was cursed! Anyways, can you imagine how absolutely off the hook crazy I’d sound if I just waltzed up to you and said ‘hey I’m the Hero of Legend and I’m also the bunny that’s been with you for the last two months.  was cursed but now I’m not, want me to join?’”

 Twilight scowled. “Fine. Valid. One question first.”

 “Deal.” Legend groaned.

  “Why did you never let me pet you?”

 “I’m sorry, what?” Violet blinked up at the rancher in confusion.

 “Why did you never let me pet you.” Twilight repeated simply.

 The veteran bunny stared up at him, blinking slowly. “You are a freaking wolf. Did you not notice? I may not have known it at the time, but do you think a rabbit can look at a wolf and go ‘hey look! New friend’?” At the wolf shifter’s silence, Legend scoffed. “Yeah. That’s why.”

 “Okay, valid.” Twilight nodded. “But one last thing, why didn’t you never talk?”

 “Cursed.” legend rolled his eyes. “The nature of this one is different, I’m just my soul's reflection, not an actual animal, there’s a difference, and it’s one I’d like to not have to worry about for much longer. Now, how do I change back?”

 “Well,” The rancher offered a weak smile. “We’re gonna have to ask Sky for help.”

 That night, rather than sitting by the fire until he drifted off, Sky settled down next to Legend, pulling the hero into his arms happily as the vet had put up token protests before snuggling against him. Sky hadn’t slept as well in months, and Twilight took no small amount of joy in being able to play with the vet’s silky hair all through his watch.

[gaijinhunter]

Monster Hunter Rise: 2nd Trailer and news blowout

Hey guys this is Gaijinhunter. I am uploading this as a text post since I caught a cold and have been unable to edit a video.

There was a huge second wave of news for Monster Hunter Rise with the reveal of the 2nd trailer the other day during the Game Awards 2020 show. Keep in mind the actual full length trailer is much longer and better than the shorter edit they showed during the show so makes sure you watch it. It showcased a second map, 2 new monsters, several returning monsters, and more. They also updated their official website with a ton of information so instead of doing a trailer reaction or breakdown, I am going to give you all the info they shared but split up by category, trying to focus only on the new stuff.

New Map

Director Ichinose hinted in an interview that one of the new maps would be nostalgic and boy he wasn't kidding. The Flooded Forest from Third Generation has been massively remade and is back in MH rise. Of course given this game’s focus is verticality, there is no underwater combat sections but they really nailed it from what I can see. One of the most iconic parts of the forest was the ruins in the backgrounds, and now you can scale up it using the wirebug. How cool is that. 

With the new map we also got the reveal of 2 new monsters.

First up is the mermaid wyvern, the Somnacanth. This marks the much hyped return of the leviathan class of monsters which were missing in world and iceborne. This Monster looks so wild. It has a special breath that will put you to sleep, is super aggressive, and has this crazy taiko drum like chest in which it will grab oysters and other things and bust them against it to break them open and buff itself. The Japanese name is quite a mouthful and is called Isonemikuni. This is the monster that Ichinose teased with his cute drawing on twitter.

Next up is the tengu beast, Bishaten. This monster is really unique, it looks like a mix of a monkey, bat, and bird. It has a huge and powerful tail it uses for massive mobility and it will chuck various fruits at you as well. One of the most iconic fruits it throws are persimmons, which are very Japanese and if you haven’t had them before, they are kind of an acquired taste. It’s Japanese name is Bishutendo. 

For returning monsters we have a few. First is our favorite sponge, the Royal Ludroth. This is a fan favorite and a great early to mid game monster. It has one of the best move sets in my opinion, very telegraphed but it can still catch you off guard even if you are super used to it. Strategically figuring gout where to stand in order to cut off its tail or break the sponge has always been really fun and intersting so I’m delighted to see this monster return, also look at that texture of the sponge!

Then we got the return of the Great Wroggi, the anti-poison skill tutorial monster. This thing really messed me up back in MH3G until I spent the time to get the materials to craft anti-posion decorations and even then, like the Great Izuchi, it fights really well with its sidekick small wroggis and I cant wait to see the improved cooperative AI that they are making for the Great Izuchi applied to this monster as well. It’s armor also spots a really cool Crocodile Dundee hat and look in the trailer and you can see the palico armor as well. So cool.

Finally, we got a small scene that appears to show a snow map and a group of baggi getting hit by a Khezu lightening shot. Does this mean the Great Baggi will return? Not sure. But that scream 100% is a Khezu, and I cannot wait to see how it looks with higher resolution texturing, I bet it will be creepy as heck. So while not technically confirmed, I’d say it’s safe to say Khezu is returning in some form. The balance of all these monsters is so great, I love the selection so far.

As far as other returning monsters that might return, I think we all expect nargacuga and zinogre. These are flagship monsters from games directed by Ichinose and he even tweeted his palamute and palico both named after these two monsters. Especially given the Japanese aesthetic, I think it’s pretty much guaranteed they are returning. Then I think mizutsune is also highly likely given its Japanese design, the fox theme, the kimono armor. Plus the model for it doesn't look that far off from the new Somnacanth. Anyway I have super hyped.

Interaction with animals and endemic life

One of the huge features of Monster Hunter Rise is the focus on wild life and animals to buff your hunter or be used as tools during a hunt.

There are 4 major types of Endemic Life: Temp Buffer, Permabuffer, Hunting Helper, and environmental.

For Permabuffer, we got a new render of the Spiribirds, which will buff your hunter if you move near one, and the effects depend on the color of the pollen it is carrying. Green increases your max Health, Orange increases your defense, red increases your attack power, and yellow increases your max stamina. There is even a special rainbow colored one, which I assume will buff all 4.

Via their website, Capcom announced a new item called the Petalace, a bracelet made of a plant called a Sending Sprig that each hunter has equipped. This is what collects the pollen from the birds and buffs your hunter. There is a variety of Petalaces in the game and some may increase the amount in which an attack boost is applied from a single Spiribird, raise the max value that health can be boosted, and more. Here in the screen shot we can see the caps for each and the amount gained for each buff. Just a quick note but this is not going to be replacing charms as we know that they are giving away a talisman for pre-order.

For Temp Buffer creatures, they revealed the name of the Clothfly, a butterfly that will temporarily increase your defense once you interact with it and cause it to generate a cloud of dust. In previous videos we have seen Peepers that reduce stamina usage, birds that raise your base stats, and a dragonfly that boosts your affinity and I had calculated it out to being applied for 90 seconds but we’ll have to wait for hte final game to see if that depends on the effect or if they change it, but it sounds about right.

For Hunting Helper creatures, we got an adorable new render of the Stinkmink. You can carry up to 5 Hunting Helpers and use them like items. The Stinkmink can be used to cover yourself in a special pheromone that will attract large monsters to you, even allowing you to lure one monster toward another to cause a turf war. I personally can think of other applications like luring a monster toward a trap and stuff like that.

And for environmental endemic life, they didn't show it in the trailer but there are also wildlife that can be used like environmental traps. For example, use raw meat and the giganha fish will go crazy, damaging anything nearby be it a hunter or monster. I can’t wait to see someone hunt a Great Wroggi using only raw meat. I love that we finally will have more use for this item.

NPCs

In the new trailer we got to hear several of the NPC villagers talking and on the website they go into a lot more details. They have quite the star-studded cast in Japanese and the English voice actors are also very interesting picks. This really marks the first time in Monster Hunter that the main cast of villagers will all be called by name and speak, which I think adds a lot of personality to the game.

First we have Fugen the village elder of Kamura and skilled long sword user. 

Then we have Hinoa the Quest Maiden, a cheerful and optimistic girl who serves as the quest giver in the village while her twin sister runs the gathering hub. While not announced in any other language, the French and Italian language sites for the game list her sister’s name as Minoto. Hinoa’s name is Hinoe in Japnaese and for the rest of the cast their names are identical between the two languages.

One thing I am excited for is that they said that one of the ways they will help communicate the uniqueness of Kamura is through songs and they shared a sample of one of them in the full trailer. This one is sung by Izumi Kato. If you remember back in Monster Hunter 4 Ultimate they featured songs by the wyverian Diva, and I am so happy they decided to do songs again, they add so much richness to the world and are just lovely to listen to.

Next up is Yomogi, our village chef. In this game you will eat meals at her Tea Shop, where her speciality is the Bunny Dango she makes along with the help of some palicoes. I love that we’ve seen her in past videos with a heavy bowgun, so the idea that all the villagers are active participants in the story is great. 

Then we have Hamon the blacksmith. He used to hunt alongside Fugen back in the day but now creates weapons for the hunters of the village. His grandson also appears in the game and is a kind-hearted youth that loves your hunting companions.

Next is Kagero the merchant. Despite his mysterious appearance he is actually very warm and kind. If there is a sale going on, not only can you buy most items for half off, but you can also participate in a lottery where you spin a wheel and it dispenses a colored ball. Get a rare color ball to win a rare prize. You can do it once per sale, but you can also scan an amiibo to spin two more times, but only once per day per amiibo you own.

Finally we have Komitsu the sweet-tooth, she sells candy apples in town. What these do is still not yet revealed.

Companions

We got an adorable render for the Cohoot, the pet owl that shows the positions of monsters on your map. You can interact with it in the town and even dress them up in fancy outfits.

Kamura Village

We got gameplay showing that the entire village is open to the 4 person multiplayer session and you can even ride around on your palamute and use your wirebug while in the village to zip around and have fun. There is still a gathering hall but the ability to see each other in the village as well as jump around and really explore it is a lovely change they are making.

Story wise we got more info about the Rampage, both a story mechanic and new quest type. For some reason the monsters will sometimes gang up and attack the village all at once and no one knows why. They call this a Rampage. There was a really bad rampage 50 years ago that nearly destroyed the village and in response the town has created a Stronghold to stop further invasions. This looks like a new quest type with multiple monsters all at once, and a slew of different artillery options at your disposal. I could see this as being a really fun type of quest to do online with other players. 

And of course the most exciting news was that there will be a demo in January with more details to come later. That is far earlier than I expected and I now have to finish up my back catalogue of games in like the next month.

And that about wraps it up. Cpacom said that they will be sharing weapon preview videos for all 14 types very soon and if they do the way they used to do it, we’ll get one new video a day for 2 weeks. I hope you enjoyed this recap of the news and please let me know down in comments what you thought about the second trailer. And until next time, happy hunting.

[nikethestatue]

Just Breathe

Of Fawns and Shadows

Chapter 7 I know it’s been 3 weeks, but this is almost 60 pages and 23,000 words!

Summary:

The twins teach Elain something about the brothers, and Illyrian males

Elain flexes her magical muscle

We learn much more about Azrie’s background and his mother

Some Prythian history is explained 

Elain pleasures Azriel in a variety of ways that he enjoys

Heavy NSFW elements 

This is a long chapter, but also is a set up for many things that will happen in the future, hints are dropping like bombs!

Tell me what you think. I love reading comments and reactions.

Just Breathe

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”

Pabo Neruda

 Elain woke up groggy and tired. ‘Woke up’ was probably the wrong term, because she barely slept at all last night. 

Yesterday, after the four of them woke up after their impromptu nap, Azriel took her back to the orphanage and stupidly, she almost cried. They stood at the gates, swathed in his shadows to keep the two of them from prying eyes. 

He stroked her hair, then her face, brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones, as he murmured endearments to her. 

“Do you want me to come to the River House for dinner tonight?” he asked, hoping to placate her before she unraveled in front of him. But she shook her head stubbornly and pressed her lips to the inside of his palm. 

“They are leaving tomorrow,” he reminded her, and then leaned in and gently kissed her neck. “And you should wear a scarf,” he chuckled.

“I think that I left it at the House,” she looked around, suddenly feeling lost. 

She was returning to the real world, at least for tonight, and it’s not where she wanted to be. She didn’t want to live her regular boring life. She wasn’t interested in going back home after her time with the children, then possibly meeting with city planners, while Feyre and Rhys smiled at her politely, their expressions telling--they were indulging the strange sister who had her singular interests. In exchange for their tolerance, she cooked and baked, and looked after their estate, now that Feyre was busy with their boy. How did she, Elain, become the odd, spinster sister? She didn’t know. 

Up until two days ago, she was utterly miserable. Every day, she’d wake up hating her life, the monotony of it all, while cursing herself for being so selfish and ungrateful. She was living a comfortable, well-tended life where she lacked nothing, where she had people who cared for her, where she could make herself useful, and where she wasn’t burdened by societal expectations. Despite all that, inside, she was hollow. Only her children brought a spark of joy into her life, her children, and the shy, pointless glimpses at Azriel, whenever she managed to lay her eyes on him. Her damn bond pushed and pressured, though over the past few years she’s become accustomed to it, to its tug, its phantom presence which floated inside of her. 

She held Azriel’s hand in hers, unwilling to let go. He kept stroking her face, his thumb on her lips, under her eyes, over her chin and nose.

“Don’t be sad, emani,” he begged. “I hate leaving you like this.”

She wasn’t going to lie to him and say that she was just fine. She wasn’t. 

She wanted her life with him, where it was the two of them and happiness. Was she envious of Cassian and Nesta? Of their wild, passionate, maddening devotion to each other? Perhaps. But she didn’t want what they had. She wanted her own.

“Ahh, I want to come in,” muttered Azriel, looking longingly at the crazily-painted building.

She chuckled sadly, “If you do, they won’t let you go.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be let go.”

He looked down at her, into her sad eyes the colour of amber and then leaned to kiss her hair.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised.

She kissed his hand and then he watched her walk inside the gates.

Something empty and cold settled inside his stomach.

It was late when Elain was walking home. She opted to eat dinner with the children, and then they all had story time and finally, she helped with nighttime rituals of bathing, dressing, tucking and hugging. 

Lex floated next to her, its presence suddenly a comfort to her. She never thought about, never considered that she was unsafe here, in Velaris, but when she turned around, she noticed a trail of shadows. To an untrained eye, they were just that--shadows that spread over walls of the buildings, the cobblestones beneath, stretching and moving the way all shadows did. But now, they were her friends. Her protectors. They were not just an empty, thoughtless, natural entity, but a mysterious sentient thing that cared for her, because its master cared for her. 

“Lex, what do you like?” she asked, surprising herself. She wasn’t intent on having a conversation with a shadow.

“I like stars,” said Lex simply. 

“Stars? That’s beautiful, Lex. But why?”

“Because that’s where I am from. Stardust. The song of the wind and stars created us. Here, we were born at dusk. There were so many of us once before, free to roam and live at dusk, amidst the oncoming darkness and the fading light. Now, there are very few left,”

“Where did the shadows go?” 

“Dusk left and the shadows left with it. Only a few remain now. The master and those who serve him.”

“Are you talking about Azriel?” she was confused. Lex was prone to wax lyrical and talk too much, or too little. 

“Yes, lord Azriel. My master. The last master of all shadows.”

“Hmm,”

“So I am here, with you and my master. Until maybe we return to the dusk with my master. Maybe with you too.”

Elain had no idea what Lex was rambling about, so she let it drop.

With the shadows slithering behind her, she felt safe, protected even, so she walked slower than usual, taking in the evening sights and sounds. Envious again. Envious of all this life around her. Life that bubbled and spilled on the sidewalks; laughing Fae stumbling from bars and public houses, distinguished couples out on their evening walk, lovers holding each other’s gazes and bodies, not seeing and not caring about anyone else. But she...she was invisible. Not because of the shadows, but because that’s what she’d become. Elain the Beautiful. Kingslayer. She now trudged quietly and lonesomely down the streets, wondering when in the world she became a shadow herself? A shadow of her former self, an invisible entity that no one paid attention to? 

The human Elain did not want this sort of life--she enjoyed the balls and the outings, she enjoyed attention and beautiful things, lovely gowns, male company and compliments. And the Fae Elain wasn’t sure if that changed very much--he still liked parties and balls, and nice dresses and dancing. She didn’t want to be quiet and lonesome and obscure. She wanted to glow and sparkle and love and live with adventures and travels.

She felt a beast of wonder prowling under her skin. A beast that wanted to unleash and see the world turned, and reforged. She felt the beast, but feared it--it was her new Fae self, this untamed wild thing that the Cauldron gifted her. She didn’t know what it was, and why it was there, but it beckoned and seduced her with its presence and the thoughts that she had. 

By the time she got home, Feyre and Rhys already retired for the night and she walked to her suite. She sat down on her bed, looking around. 

“Go to sleep, Lex,” she said.

“I am not tired.”

“Then do whatever you want,” she plopped down on the bed, and looked up at the ceiling.

“Why are you sad?” inquired Lex.

“You are the shadow, you tell me,” she muttered, annoyed.

“You are in love with the master.”

“Very astute observation,” she said tartly. 

“Master is not rude like you,” noted Lex. 

She threatened, “I am going to ask the master for a different shadow.”

“No you won’t. I am going to sleep.”

For something that shouldn’t have had emotions, Lex sure seemed like he was angry. 

There was a knock on the door just as soon as Elain changed and put on her robe. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to talk to Feyre, but she hid her grimace and said ‘come in”.

To her great relief, it wasn’t her sister who stood at the door, but the grinning wraiths. What’s more, Cerridwen held a bottle of brandy and a glass, while Nuala held two glasses, which she raised as a peace offering and an invitation.

Elain burst out laughing.

“You seemed in a right mood tonight,” grumbled Cerridwen, as she pushed past Elain and made her way to the small sitting room. 

“So we came to cheer you up!” Nuala followed her sister.

...Thirty minutes later, the three of them were deep into the bottle, buzzed and laughing.

“Aww,” Elain rubbed her temples. “I am not used to drinking every night! I got drunk yesterday,”

They snickered and Nuala winked, “we know!”

Elain blushed, remembering that one of them had been to Azriel’s house to deliver her clothes and toiletries. They knew where she spent the night.

“So,” Cerridwen, stretched out on the sofa, was sipping her drink slowly. Among the three of them, she was an expert at holding her liquor. “Did all that pining between the two of you amount to anything?” she inquired bluntly.

Elain blushed and mumbled about being given a shadow.

Cerridwen rolled her dark eyes and shook her head, “Honey, that’s not what I wanted to hear. Is he any good? As good as they say he is?”

Confused, Elain nodded, “he is good. He is very nice.”

Cerridwen bubbled her lips, shaking her head. Nuala smiled into her glass and said, “Elain, what my sister is so rudely trying to ascertain is whether you’ve made love. I am going to go with a ‘no’, but,”

“No!” exclaimed Elain, blushing profusely.

The three of them had discussed males, and bedding them, without going into explicit details, but this was different. While Cerridwen preferred women, but also enjoyed discussing males and their ‘shortcomings’, Nuala was, used to be, Azriel’s lover. 

“Elain, I don’t care,” assured her Nuala, seeing the panicked discomfort on Elain’s face. She waved her hand, “it’s in the past. Whatever happened,”

“So you can go and jump his bones!” encouraged Cerridwen, raising her glass in a salute.

Still hot, from embarrassment and alcohol, Elain murmured, “it’s not like that...We haven’t,”

“Well, why not?” shrugged Cerridwen. “With those wings of his, he ought to know what he is doing,”

Elain’s brow furrowed. “His wings? what do the wings have to do with anything?”

The twins exchanged meaningful glances, and Nuala laid her head on Elain’s lap, saying, “El, there is still much that you don’t know…”

Elain recalled all the offhand comments that her sisters, Mor, and even Amren had made about wings over the years. The knowing glances and the smirks.

“Is it something sexual?” she sighed at last.

“Of course it’s something sexual!” cried Cerridwen with a laugh. “Have you touched his wings?”

“Why would I touch his wings?”

“Just try it,” encouraged Cerridwen, “see how he reacts!”

“Don’t,” Nuala shook her head, and then pointed an admonishing finger to her sister, “you stop that!”

“Why?!” laughed Cerridwen.

“Elain,” Nuala stroked Elain’s hand, “don’t listen to her. And don’t touch an Illyrian’s wings without permission. They are...sensitive,”

“I thought because it hurts them,” started Elain.

“Oh no. It certainly doesn’t hurt them.”

Elain shrugged. “So, that’s the big deal? Their wings are sensitive to touch?”

“Nu, tell her!” pleaded Cerridwen.

Elain looked down at the sprawled Nuala with expectation.

“It’s the size, honey,” finally blurted Cerridwen, choking on her laughter, “the bigger the wings, the bigger,”

“The cock,” concluded Nuala.

“What?” Elain snapped, blushing deeply. Feyre’s comment from earlier today came back to haunt her. “You two are just teasing me,” she folded her arms on her chest, “it’s not true! You are just saying this because you know that I haven’t been with a Fae male,”

“And what a fine Fae male you’ll get to be with,” Cerridwen whistled and Nuala smiled.

“Well, I am sure that Cassian is,” she began, but Nuala interrupted, shaking her head,

“Oh no. Cassian wants to be the biggest,”

“But our shadowsinger got him beat by a margin,” said Cerridwen meaningfully. “A measurable margin.”

“And Rhysand?” Elain blurted, immediately regretting her outburst. Oh gods. Now she was going to be walking around and eyeing the males’ wings! 

“The High Lord,” said Nuala, “possesses a High Fae endowment.”

Elain waited, knowing that they weren’t done. So Nuala added, “The Illyrians are naturally,”

“Better equipped,” supplied Cerridwen. “Why do you think that the High Fae hate them so much?”

“And some Illyrians exceed even Illyrian expectations, like a certain shad-,”

Elain buried her face in her hands, yelling ‘stop it, stop it, stop it!”

The sisters were laughing at her. “Don't tell me this!” she exclaimed. “I have to face him! What am I supposed to think about now?”

“Probably his cock,” offered Cerridwen unhelpfully.

“Ugh, I hate you both!” she moaned.

Nuala slid her arm around her and butted her shoulder, “Well, take consolation in that he knows what he is doing!”

“Well, I would hope that at 500 years old, he’d know what he is doing,” groaned Elain.

Cerridwen gave her a look. “Hmmm. Don’t bet on it. Males don’t always learn...”

“539,” said Nuala casually.

Elain glanced at her. “What?”

“He is 539 years old. He will be turning 540 soon.”

“When is soon?

“Imbolc,” said Cerridwen. “He and Cassian celebrate it together.”

Elain sat up, asking, “They were born on the same day?”

“Azriel was born on Imbolc.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Elain admitted.

“A holiday to celebrate the Mother. It’s halfway between Solstice and Spring Equinox. It’s a lovely little holiday, without much fanfare...Anyway, he will be 540. Cassian will be 539.”

“But they were born on the same day??”

Cerridwen, despite the alcohol, became serious, almost wistful.

“Well...No one knows when Cassian was born. He was taken from his mother so young and the records were lost, if there was ever even a record of his birth. So, from what we’ve gathered, when they were boys, they’d celebrate together, since Cassian was also born in the winter. After they survived and won the Blood Rite, Azriel offered Cassian his birth day--so they’d always share it together. So ever since they were boys, they’ve celebrated their birth day on Imbolc.”

So, Elain woke up groggy and tired. ‘Woke up’ was probably the wrong term, because she barely slept at all last night. Her head was heavy with the aftermath of the drinking, though she paced herself last night, and wasn’t suffering, unlike yesterday. She knew there wouldn’t be a tonic prepared thoughtfully for her and waiting on the sink counter, so she exercised self-control and let the twins drink. She even promised to make breakfast today, for Cerridwen begged her, knowing that there would be a price to pay for their late night shenanigans. 

Sleeping alone, without Azriel, even after only two nights together, was strange. At least three times during the night, she caught herself reaching for him, for the feel of his hard, warm body in bed with her, only to find cool sheets. It unsettled her. Was she being needy and so dependent on him too quickly? Or was it something else? Was it the Mother, or the Cauldron telling her that she was correct to seek him out--to search for him in her sleep, and when she was awake, and that it was right to need him and want him? 

The house was still quiet, the servants moving silently about the wide corridors, dusting and wiping and watering pants, and curtsying in front of Elain, which was not something she wanted them to do, but they insisted. She snuck into the nursery.

“Good morning, my baby boy,” she cooed at Nyx, who was sitting in his crib, playing with Brute, waiting to be picked up. He knew his aunt was the first one who usually got him roused in the morning, and the moment she entered, he was up, holding onto the slats of the crib, his little wings fluttering excitedly. 

It took Elain a bit of time to learn how to hold him properly, and the wings, their delicate soft bones, their thin, silky membrane scared her and made her terribly nervous. 

By the time Nyx was about to be born, Azriel ‘allowed’ himself back in the house. The relationship between him and Rhys was still strained and oftentimes tense, aggression simmering beneath their skin, that Fae male call for dominance still very much present when they were together. But Azriel, for the sake of other relationships, for the love of the Inner Circle, kept his rage in check, as he always tended to do. But there was happiness, there was a new and beautiful life that came about after so much strife and sorrow and danger that it would be petty and dishonest not to celebrate it. So Nyx was responsible for patching things up between the adults, at least on the surface. 

That day, after the brutal birth and Nesta’s sacrifice, Feyre finally fell asleep, with Rhys by her side. Nesta was recovering, and Cassian was freaking out, worrying about everybody. He and Mor were running around, arranging for things and taking care of formalities, but Elain was left to oversee Nyx. That’s how they bonded, Nyx and his aunt, who loved him from the moment he emerged into the world. But she was scared to pick him up, unsure of what to do with the wings, and how to position him in the crook of her arm.

“Like that,” said Azriel softly, emerging from the shadows, watching her try to pick the baby up. His scarred hands gingerly cradled Nyx, and then he laid him into Elain’s waiting arms. “Make sure that the wings drape over your arm, like this,” and he showed her. Nyx settled at once, quiet and content. “Perfect,” Azriel almost smiled. “You are a natural with an Illyrian babe.”

Those words haunted Elain to this day.

“Lana!” Nyx yelled, lifting his arms in the air. She picked him up, and he threw his short arms around her in their morning greeting. She changed him, dressed him and then, following his command ‘Boot!’ grabbed Brute and went downstairs.

But she soon became aware that she wasn’t the only one awake. 

Passing by Rhysand’s office, she heard familiar voices--the three males. Colour flooded her cheeks as she quickly scurried by the door, hoping that they wouldn't hear her and she could avoid them. After last night’s conversation about the wings and the wingspans and all those other things, she really had no desire to face them. Had no desire to stand before them and sneak peeks at their wings and compare.

However, as soon as she put Nyx down in the kitchen, a dark shadow tapped on the reeses of her mind and she allowed him in. ‘Elain, please join us in the study,’ said Rhysand. Before she could even respond, he added, ‘His nanny is coming.” Unsurprisingly, Nyx’s nanny appeared in the kitchen the next moment. Elain greeted her with a forced smile and then walked to the office. She smoothed her skirt before entering, without knocking. 

The three males were standing around the desk, all had their arms folded on their chests. What in the seven hells did she walk into? Cassian looked at her, his eyebrow arched and then smiled his spectacular smile and somehow, immediately, eased her worries.

“‘Morning baby girl!” He greeted her, and then went to hug and kiss her cheek, when Rhys cleared his throat. A formal conversation then. No room for informalities. Elain therefore, reached on her tiptoes and kissed Cassian’s cheek. “Good morning, Cass!” she said cheerfully, and then with great pretend indifference she inclined her head towards Azriel. “Az.” He was in full uniform, which jolted her somehow, for she was used to seeing him in normal, civilian clothes lately. Him in uniform always made her a little uneasy.

“What are you doing here, petal?” asked Cassian.

“I asked Elain to join us,” explained Rhys. Perhaps for her sake, he went behind the desk and sat down. Crowded by three enormous Illyrians, she looked like a tiny flower in a dark forest. Azriel and Cassian were the same height and she only reached under Azriel’s armpit with the top of her head. Rhys was only just a tad shorter than the two. Or maybe he sat down to assert dominance and remind everyone who was the High Lord. Either way, Elain did not care. She and Rhys played these little power games all the time. She, for example, wore blue exclusively since Solstice. Every shade, every hue, but always blue. Just so he’d be reminded whom she loved. Gone were the pink and pale gowns of her human life, now replaced by her Fae wardrobe, which spoke volumes about where her allegiance lay. 

Cassian and Azriel exchanged somewhat confused glances, but did not say anything, waiting for Rhys to explain.

“You are aware that Feyre and I are leaving for Winter Court later today.”

She nodded.

“Mor is coming along.”

He tapped his fingers on the shiny mahogany surface and then stated,

“You are the only remaining person with...power,” 

Both males whipped their heads at him, then at her.

“What do you mean ‘power’?” asked Cassian.

Shadows wafted around Azriel, his face inscrutable, but his posture tense. 

“Elain is the only one who still possesses Cauldron-given powers. Nesta’s have been considerably diminished, and Amren doesn’t have anything of significance left. Unless one of you wishes to escort us to Winter, and leave Mor here, Elain is the only remaining Fae with extraordinary powers. Hence, I’d like to ask you,” he looked at Elain, “to consider protecting Velaris should the need arise.”

“Rhys,” began Azriel, but Elain interrupted him and nodded, “Of course. I’ll do whatever needs to be done, though I hope we have no need for it.”

Cassian glared at her, “What kind of powers you got, El?”

“And how do you know that she has powers?” challenged Azriel, his face darkening, hazel eyes boring into Rhys.

“We had a conversation,” said Rhys calmly, “and Elain chose to...showcase her powers.”

“Showcase them?” repeated Azriel. “Wonder what sort of conversation the two of you were having?”

“That’s between my sister-in-law and myself,” began Rhysand, but Cassian stepped in and said, “cut the horseshit, everyone. What is going on? How do you know that she has powers? She never demonstrated them,”

“He pressured her,” Azriel gritted out. His siphons came to life, flickering and filling with their cobalt life, and in response, Rhys’s power woke up, slithering around him and then extending into the rest of the office like a dark beast. Azriel took a step towards Elain. She, in turn, remained unfazed by the display, her icy Archeron flame blazing in her brown eyes.

“I did not pressure her,” corrected Rhysand, “I simply made a request as her High Lord and she did not take kindly to it,”

“I reminded Rhysand that he is not my High Lord,” Elain chimed in coolly.

“It seems that I am,”

Azriel raised his hand and ordered, “Back off, Rhys.”

“You shouldn’t force her to reveal her power, Rhys,” Cassian said, all amusement and humour gone from his voice. “Especially alone--it’s unchecked. Do you recall what happened with Nesta?”

Rhysand shrugged, “I wasn’t asking Elain to scry.”

“Rhysand,” Azriel’s voice was grave and so cold, it sent an actual chill down Elain’s spine. “You want to ask something of me, go ahead. Hells, if you want to order me and pull rank,”

“I don’t pull rank,”

“You pull rank all the fucking time,” growled Azriel. “But I swore an oath to you and I will serve you to the best of my abilities. She,” he jerked his chin in Elain’s direction, “is off limits.”

“Not when it concerns the stability and safety of my court,” parried Rhysand.

Elain glanced at him with disdain and almost wrung her fingers, before stopping and simply dropping her arms at her sides. Somehow, the movement centered her. 

“I have never jeopardized the stability of your court,” she almost snarled, but stood still and tall. “If I may be so bold, but I remind you that without me, you wouldn’t have won the war. I was the one who found the Suriel for Feyre, which resulted in turning the tide of the war. I stabbed the King of Hybern. Because of my vision, my mate located Vassa and forged alliances with the humans,”

At the word ‘mate’ Azriel flinched. It did not escape Cassian’s attention.

“And,” she stopped abruptly, pursing her lips. “I’ve said enough,”

“What else did you do?” asked Cassian, turning fully to her, his eyes narrowing.

Elain felt herself bursting with strange, tingling energy. The males’ wings twitched, almost flaring, as they all glared at each other and it felt stifling in the room, despite its vast size.

“Nothing, Cassian,” she snapped at him. “Think!”

Power rumbled. The air filled the scent of jasmine. Siphons flared, just as shadows swarmed. Elain barely felt Lex’s cool touch against her hand, as it tried to calm her and bring her back. Lex did not lunge to protect her, only fluttered about, serving as a diffuser. Azriel’s shadows went wild, concealing him almost entirely. He remained steady, but she noticed his thumb stroking the hilt of Truth-Teller.

“Aright!” Cassian stepped forth, arms raised, “alright. That’s enough. From you, Cauldron Princess,”

At that, Azriel snarled and Elain rolled her eyes. 

“And you, Your Darkness,” Cassian glared at Rhys. “Settle the fuck down everybody. You want to take it outside and have a go at it,”

“No,” snarled Azriel. “You wait with Elain outside. And I will have a talk with my High Lord.”

Cassian chewed his lip, but made to take Elain’s hand, following Azriel’s order. Yet, she did not budge.

“I am not a girl to be ordered around,” she shrugged Cassian’s hand off her shoulder. “I am a woman, and you’ll all treat me with the same deference that you afford your mates. As I promised,” she looked at Rhys, “I will protect and defend Velaris and its people to the best of my abilities, if I am called upon to do so. You,” she turned to Azriel, her gaze unflinching, “are not asked to fight my battles for me. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions and standing by them. And yes, I know that my power is untapped and largely undiscovered, but I don’t need to be provoked into displaying it. I am not a wild beast to be poked and prodded in order for me to unleash. Now,” she glanced at the clock, “I am late for my children. Have a nice trip.”

“I’ll fly you,” offered Cassian softly, gently stroking her shoulder.

“Thank you, but no need. I’d rather walk.”

Without a second look at both Rhys and Azriel, she turned around and left the room.

Azriel’s face remained impassive and he made no move to follow her, but Cassian saw it--Elain’s cold indifference would torment his brother for the rest of the day. Elain’s rejection, however small, her denial of Azriel’s protection, her calling Lucien her ‘mate’ would grate on Azriel’s psyche with relentless self-flagellation. They all had their demons to fight, but Azriel, perhaps, had the most. 

Elain grabbed her jacket, so riled up that she couldn’t get her arms into the sleeves. A sleepy Feyre appeared at the top of the stairs, but before she could ask, Elain walked out the door and into the cold. She shivered. Her body felt hot, still brimming with that energy, the anger and whatever else floated inside of her. Unlike Nesta, she didn’t hate her power, for it gave her a measure of self-control, or protection, even if she wasn’t entirely sure how to use it just yet. Sooner or later, she’d have to learn.

“You’ve upset the master,” announced Lex. It trailed her faithfully, sort of latched onto her shoulder.

“I am not discussing this with you,” she snarled.

“The General is also upset,”

“Alright, wonderful, everyone is upset with me. Great. You happy?”

“Not particularly.”

“Mind your own business.”

But Elain was upset. She didn’t mean to lash out at Azriel. She didn’t mean to call Lucien her ‘mate’. But, like all Fae males, Azriel was over-protective and became aggressive when she was challenged, instinctively standing up for her, as she was his female. But she did have powers and she could handle Rhys herself, and didn’t need Azriel’s involvement. Especially if it created bad blood between him and Rhys--Mother above there was already plenty of it.

She walked quickly, cooling off with every step, her emotions running high, and 

feeling both sad and cold, as she huddled in her jacket. She forgot her scarf. She’d upset Azriel. She sort of fought with Rhys. She was hungry. She didn’t feed Nyx, leaving him behind with the nanny. So far, this was a fantastic morning!

The children greeted her happily, hugs and kisses, and for a moment, she forgot everything, lost in the sense of familiarity and joy, the loud tales of their petty squabbles, the who did what, what they had for breakfast, and much more. She forgot everything, until Temal bounded and wrapped her around the legs in his usual fashion.

“Good morning, love,” she smiled at him, trying to smooth his thick, black hair. He looked at her with his perpetually eager enthusiasm and quickly asked, “Lain! Where is Az? You know, Lain, I read so much myself and I have to show him, because I have to read with him. And then we go fly. Where is Az?” he kept looking around, holding her hand, chewing his lip, his eyes darting about the hallway. He was used to having Elain come with Az every morning now, and Azriel’s absence perplexed him.

He tugged on her hand and demanded impatiently, “Where is Az, Lain?”

“Good morning to you too,” she said softly. “Let’s all go outside for our morning,”

“Where is Az?” he asked again, concern-lacing his voice now, his eyes dimming.

He kept looking around.

“Is he coming?” he asked impatiently, still hopeful.

But Elain’s slight hesitation was all that Temal needed to murmur sorrowfully,

 “He don’t want to come no more?”

“No, he does,” Elain began, but he interrupted her, angrily, throwing her hand off his shoulder,

“No he doesn't! He doesn’t want to fly no more. He doesn’t like us,” his eyes were instantly brimming with tears.

Now other children were overhearing them and their faces were showing the same disappointment as Temal’s, though there was something like devastation written on his.

“Go get your jacket,” she told him, and he let go of her entirely, head hanging low, shuffling to the coat racks. 

Other children came over to her, asking the same question, looking concerned and upset. Elain felt terrible, hating how this made them feel, being abandoned and feeling unimportant, again. She didn’t know what to say to them. How to explain.

“Azriel will come back,” she assured them, but he wasn’t here, and her assurances fell on deaf ears.

Slowly, the children shuffled outside, the mood subdued. It was quiet, as they meandered along the courtyard, some of them climbing and others getting on the swings, swinging halfheartedly.

Temal went all the way to the back of the yard, towards the wall, and absently dragged a stick in the dirt, drawing something in the mud. Elain left him be for the time being, as she sat with the younger children around the table for their lesson. But attention wasn't on her. Every time a shadow passed by the door, all heads turned that way, necks craning, and then--a wave of disappointment. While Elain helped the little ones with their tasks, Lex informed her “your boy is very upset.”

“I know, Lex,” she sighed.

“He thinks that the master’s abandoned him.”

Elain did not respond.

Lex offered, “do you want me to go and play with him?”

“No, I’ll go and talk to him,” she got up and walked over to Temal.

“Temal,” she called out to him, but he wouldn’t face her and just mumbled, “I don’t wanna talk, Lain.”

“Why not?” she asked gently. 

“I don’t want to,” he shrugged, digging deeper into the mud with his stick.

“Is it about Azriel?”

Silence.

“Tem-,”

He turned to her, his face stained with tears.

“Why he don’t come, Lain? Why?”

Temal, like all Illyrians, was not much of a crier. Whether hurt, in a fight, or upset, he never cried, and simply walked away and dusted himself off. This much emotion was completely foreign to him, yet tears ran down his sharp cheekbones. 

“I don’t know why he leave me, Lain,” he sniffled. “Everybody leave me…” he added. “My ma--I don't know her. Maybe she was good, but she leave me,”

“Your mother did not leave you, Temal,” 

“She did,” he argued. “But you know, I am happy with my mali. We have a good life, and then my mali go away and he...He go to Vallahalla, and I never see him again. He leave me too,”

She paled, not knowing what to say. 

“Your mama and mali loved you though,” she said softly, “so much,”

He wiped his tears with his palm and said, “why they leave then? They don’t love me,”

“My mama and mali also left me,” she told him, “but I know that they loved me,”

“I like Az and I think he like me too, but now he doesn’t even come,” Temal shrugged. “And I think that Sunni is sad too, because she likes him, and she don’t even talk.”

“Temal,” Elain said firmly, “Azriel never goes back on his world. If he said he will come, then he will,”

She sounded so confident that Temal looked up at her, at last. 

And then, his face broke into a thousand smiles or pure joy and awe. Sprinting past Elain, he rushed to the other side of the yard. She was smiling, even without looking, sensing the commotion. 

“Well, hello Illyrians!” bellowed Cassian, “and the rest of you, future warriors! Are you ready to train?”

A deafening scream of ‘yes!’ was the response.

Elain turned around. The two gigantic Illyrians swaggered through the doors, and stood, arms folded, observing the mass of children before them.

The children stared. Stared in awe. Stared at the Commander General. In front of them, in the flesh. Even these orphans knew who he was, recognised him immediately, and now gawked, unable to tear their eyes from him, from his colossal, towering presence. 

“Elain here said that some of you want to learn how to fight?” he asked breezily.

Eyes lit up and waves of eager nods rippled across the gathered children.

“Well then,” he decided, “I guess you got yourself a teacher. Az and I are going to be teaching you how to fly and how to fight. Is that good?”

Oh, it was good.

And then Elain snorted a laugh, when Sanaai came upfront, ignoring Cassian completely, as she raised her arms in silent command before Azriel. He picked her up and she immediately found her place against his chest. 

Cassian began commandeering at once, while Azriel quietly made his way to Elain.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” she looked at him and then there was an uncomfortable pause. Then he reached into his jacket and withdrew her scarf that she’d left behind in the house, when she was so eager to escape. Wordlessly, he draped it over her neck and then wrapped it around carefully, watching her the entire time. She shuddered from the warmth. From his thumb brushing against her jaw.

“Az!” Temal wrapped around Azriel’s legs, “you came!”

“Of course I came,” said Azriel, surveying the boy’s face. “Were you crying?”

“No!” Temal flushed. “I don’t cry. But I happy. You came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” assured him Azriel. “Now run and get in the formation.”

Once Temal was gone, Azriel looked at Elain and asked her seriously. “Why was he crying?”

She brushed her fingers against his own and said, “He thought that you would not be coming.”

Sanaai shifted in his arm and looked up at him, indicating that she, perhaps, thought the same.

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ve never doubted you. In anything.”

Elain stopped at the Palace of Bone and Salt after she’d left the orphanage.

Feyre informed her that everyone was in Winter, that it was beautiful and there were ice castles and sleds and ice rinks everywhere, and that Nyx took well to his first winnowing and was now ogling polar bears and eating a cinnamon and cranberry scone. 

It all sounded very nice, but Elain secretly winced--she hated winter. She didn’t like the cold, and no amount of mulled wine, snowmen, pine decorations or spice cakes could ever change her mind. Winter always harkened back to the days of their poverty, the freezing cold in the hovel, the dark, dreary evening, endless, endless nights spent in silence or bickering. 

No, Elain loved the light, the sun, the warmth of spring and summer. She loved the scent of flowers, the regeneration of earth, the waking of all life. She dreamt of visiting a beach one day, especially after Feyre had described Adriata to her. So polar bears and roasted chestnuts could stay forever in Winter Court for all she cared.

“What are you going to buy?” asked Lex, flitting and gliding nosily the produce stands.

“Ingredients for dinner obviously.”

“What are you going to make?”

“Shouldn’t you know? Isn’t it your job?”

“No, I don’t know. But once you select something, then I will know.”

Dealing with Lex was often akin to talking to Temal, yet Elain enjoyed it. She came to depend on her gossipy, opinionated shadow in the past few days and somehow, having it near her brought her a sense of camaraderie, almost a friendship. She began understanding how Azriel felt with his shadows, how they took him out of his unbearable loneliness once he learned their language, and how something similar was happening to her right now. Because she’s been lonely, so lonely and hopeless, and solitary, and if it weren’t for the twins, she didn't know what she’d do. Perhaps, the male who’s been just as lonely most of his life knew how to recognise the signs, knew how to read her and her emotions and saw inside. He was always the only one who saw. When nothing made sense in her life, he was able to offer a semblance of peace, or normalcy. Even something as simple as treating her respectfully and kindly, without looking at her with confused concern was sometimes enough to bring her out of her emotional stupor.

Elain’s made her decision as soon as Feyre told her about the trip to Winter Court.

So, as she loaded her basket with chicken, rosemary, lemons, bread, apples and pears, her resolve only grew. Once she paid, she told Lex ‘take me home’. 

“You don’t know where your home is?”

She sighed and clarified, “Your master’s home’.

“Oh good, let’s go,” Lex perked up at once. “Master will be happy if you are there. He always wants you to be there, you know.”

She didn’t know. She didn’t know if Azriel, in fact, wanted her there. Yes, he gave her the key, but was it appropriate for her to just barge in and make herself comfortable? She didn’t know. Elain was a polite and proper person, with good manners, who always behaved appropriately in all situations. She wasn’t the snarling Nesta, or, at times, incomprehensible Feyre. She was Elain, who’d let the three Fae males into her house, who cleared it for them to conduct their business and who convinced Nesta to host the queens. She even managed to charm the Cauldron--whatever that meant. She could do many things, but this step was something entirely different. She was taking it for herself. 

She vaguely recalled where the building was located, but Lex led her along the streets with confidence, yakking away the way only it could, while she barely paid attention, growing more and more nervous the closer they came. And then, at last, behind a little square, she eyed the building decorated with etched jasmine and moonflowers. She stopped and looked up. It was a long way up to the….she counted...twelfth floor. This must have been one of the tallest buildings in Velaris. 

“Let’s go,” urged her Lex.

Elain swallowed and then crossed the little square and opened the door into the building’s foyer. There was a wide, winding marble staircase. She sighed, bracing herself for the climb. With her basket it was going to be a trek. 

When she climbed to the fourth floor, Elain stopped, panting. Was she out of shape? Probably. Perhaps Cassian was right, and she needed to come to her senses and do some exercises, but she was never going to tell that to him. Admitting any kind of defeat to Cassian meant a lifetime of taunts.

“Are you going to go all the way up on your own two feet?” asked Lex casually. 

She was huffing, and waved him off, muttering, “whose feet am I going to be going on?”

“I can just take you there,” Lex suggested.

She looked at its dark form, floating playfully around her. When it was just the two of them, Lex did whatever it wanted and didn’t stay true to the laws of physics, so it bobbed and bounced however it wished.

“You can?”

“Yeah,”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier and made me,”

“You didn’t ask,” it reminded her.

“I really hate you sometimes,” she groaned, while it enveloped her in its dark mist and the next moment, they were upstairs, standing by the door.

“Thanks,” she said. “Why didn’t you just take me inside the apartment?”

“I can’t,” Lex admitted. “Only you and the master can enter. No one else, without your permission. Even us.”

“Oh,” Elain didn’t know if she was surprised, flattered or proud, or maybe all of the above, as she opened the door and entered.

Azriel and she only exchanged a few words today, after the children’s training, when they were all moaning and groaning from their aches and pains. Elain pulled Cassian and Az aside and warned them to be gentler and more careful, and that this wasn’t an actual Illyrian training camp. Cassian tried to argue, but she gave him a brief ‘Archeron stare’ and that was the end of the conversation. Luckily, the two did bring two bags full of balms and salves with them, for all the scratches and tender muscles. They had stopped at the apothecary and that is why they were late coming in the morning. 

Azriel only said that he’d see her ‘later’, and that he was going to work. No indication of when and where he’d see her, and considering that he was in uniform, with at least four siphons, ‘work’ didn’t sound like a relaxing endeavour. But she didn’t ask, and only smiled and hid her worry inside. 

So she hung her jacket, removed her boots and her scarf that Azriel always insisted on, because she ‘could get a cold’ without it, according to him. She wasn’t even sure if Fae got colds, but his obsessive protectiveness was still adorably endearing. 

“Lex, can Nuala or Cerridwen understand you?” she asked as she walked to the back of the spacious apartment and stopped in the bedroom. 

“Yes. Why?”

“Can you go and ask them to bring me my clothes?”

“No.”

She whipped her head and stared at the dark stain in the corner of the room. “Why not?” she demanded. 

“Because I am not permitted to leave you,” Lex explained. 

“Even if I order you?”

“You can order me to do other things, but I can’t leave you.”

She gave an exasperated snort, but Lex announced in his usual, non-chalant way “If you need clothes, they are already here.” It flew to the closet and Elain followed, and when she opened the door to the impressively enormous wardrobe, there they were--a rack hung with some of her dresses and skirts, and inside a glass lined cabinet, there were personal items, stockings and hose and tights and underthings. Everything was arranged simply and precisely, in a way that implied that she was expected, wanted and belonged here. It somehow made her belly soft and warm, like a cluster of butterflies skidded over her skin, though she ordered herself to think rationally. This was hardly different from when Nesta moved into the House of Wind and began living with Cassian and Azriel. It was probably just as,

Oh, gods, who was she kidding?

Of course it was different!

Nesta didn’t move into Cassian’s room. 

Cauldron, was she really about to live with a man? well, a male? Just...live with him? Sleep with him in the same bed? She had no idea what she was doing! She’d never lived with a man...and, and, surely he had expectations. What were her own expectations? She certainly, well, she certainly desired him. Wanted him. But beyond her mild fantasies, she didn’t even know what she wanted precisely. A part of her yearned to live that wild, unbridled passion that she saw with her sisters, but her sisters were more experienced by the time they’d met their mates and then there was the damn mate bond. Theirs, surely, worked very differently from hers. Yet all that screaming, and panting, and moaning -- she truly had no idea where it came from with them. Whatever she felt with Greyson was reasonably pleasant, especially the second time around, but it certainly didn’t inspire any groaning or panting from her. She’d seen Cassian’s lacerated back, raked over with Nesta’s nails. What could inspire such passionate violence? Besides, she didn’t even have nails--hers were trimmed rather short, though she at least put varnish on them. 

And now she was here. Awkwardly taking off her skirt and cardigan, to change into something...well, he liked her in his shirt, so she searched to locate a stack of plain, informal shirts, which were all kind of the same and took one. Paired with leggings, to which she grew rather accustomed lately, taking after Feyre’s penchant for them, she figured that she looked decent. She’d never worn trousers or pants outside, or when she knew that there would be visitors, but alone with Nyx, or when it was just Feyre and Rhys and her, she didn’t care. Rhys cared even less. Three nights ago, she noticed Azriel’s utter shock, mixed with such obvious desire when he saw her in her tights, for the first time. She didn’t think that he even tried to hide it. So if that is what made him happy, then she was going to wear it.

She didn’t dwell in the bedroom for much longer, lest it made her too nervous and bombard her with unwanted thoughts.

Without Azriel’s perfectly distracting perfection to scramble her brain as it always happened when he was around, she took the time to look around, though she still didn’t allow herself to touch anything. Back in the kitchen--her domain--she began unloading her purchases on the sleek marble counter, and then spotted a familiar item on one of the side tables--a Symphonia. She turned it on and as she began preparing dinner, the music selection came as a surprise to her, an interesting insight into Azriel’s mind. 

The Symphonia wasn’t filled with waltzes and minuets of Nesta’s preference, but with lots of dance music--not something she’d expect from the quiet, solemn Azriel. There was folk music, and fast, melodious songs, as well as music from what Elain assumed were other courts. Curiously, she definitely heard songs and dances of Human Lands, some of which she used to sing as a girl, as well as Illyrian melodies--haunting and glorious. Lex, as it turned out, liked music as well, as it informed her ‘I like stars and music and flowers!’ Lex, apparently, was a romantic and a dancer to boot, because the faster the musical numbers, the more Lex bounced around the kitchen. “You dance well!” Elain complimented it, as Lex swooshed and bobbed and floated, wrapping itself around Elain’s hips, as she ground and writhed against the counter, waving her knife and her tasting spoons in the air. It was probably a good thing that Lex was a shadow.

‘Master doesn’t dance like you!’ Lex half-complained, half-praised.

“We’ll get him to dance with us,” promised Elain.

Behind them, a male cleared his throat and Elain and Lex halted their dancing abruptly.

Azriel was standing, propped against the wall, arms folded on his chest, a smile on his lips.

Elain flushed. Happy.

“Glad to hear that the two of you are conspiring against me,” he chuckled.

“You are home,” she whispered.

“You are home as well,” he said, peeling away from the wall. He extended his hand and she came over to him and took it, and he pulled her to him. Elain slipped into his embrace and he murmured into her hair ‘dance with me?” His jacket was still cold from the flight and she shivered when she wrapped her arms around his torso. He pushed her head into his chest and they swayed to the music, he leading her into a slow, languid spin across the room. The melody switched to something slower and more sensual just in time, and he smiled against her head that smelled so delicately of jasmine. Perhaps the gods were smiling upon him today, after all.

“Are you tired?” she asked, her voice muffled by the press of her face into his chest.

She held him so tightly, so desperately, it was as if he’d just returned from war, and not a day of work. Granted, he had to make a quick trip to the human lands and back, but she didn't even know that. 

“No, love,” he said, “not tired at all. Especially not when you are here.”

It did not escape him that Elain had called this place ‘home’.

“I am just glad to see you here,” he admitted, and then finally pulled her face away from his chest and gently grasped her chin in his scarred fingers, making her look up.

“Is it alright?” she asked, unsure. “That I am here?”

“Is there any other place you’d rather be?” he challenged, his eyes twinkling with a teasing delight. “Is this not the place where you belong?”

“With you,” she gasped, reaching up and stroking his cheek in her warm hand that smelled of apples. “Only with you.”

He kissed the inside of her palm and concurred, “only with me.”

“I only want to be with you,” she nodded. Whatever happened between them in the morning seemed to have been forgotten. Azriel didn’t forget, but he was going to bring it up later.

He slung his arm around her shoulders, knowing that she would not be happy if he released her. 

Gods, he was leashed! This golden pink girl with her chocolate-brown eyes wrapped him and wrung him and remade him into something utterly new. With her, he was a man reforged. A sharp, brutal edge that  always lived inside of him, that cut deep and unflinching, was somehow dulled by her, as if she managed to tame the cruelest parts of him, at least when they were together.

“So, what smells so fantastically?” 

Her soft small hand was stroking his back continuously, and Azriel wondered if it was to remind him that she was with him, and that she was his. Or, perhaps, to reassure herself that he was with her. 

“Chicken!” she announced, burying her face in his arm, smelling the delectable scent of him, mixed with cold air and wind. He began unbuttoning his jacket, as they made their way into the kitchen but she swept his fingers aside and took over the task. She wouldn’t release him, and Azriel...well, he never wanted to be released. She was soft and warm under his arm, fitting into him with some inexplicable, magical precision, as if she was wrestled out of his body once and now they were put together again. He, who detested human touch with such vicious dislike, he, who did not enjoy the feel of anyone’s hands on him, often not even in the bedroom, he couldn’t get enough. 

She pulled his jacket off at last, while he stroked her petal-tender cheek with the backs of his fingers, “Chicken?”

She nodded, and then kissed his cheek. “It’s the best chicken you’ll eat!” she promised.

“I bet,”

“No, it’s so good, you’ll want to marry me!”

He laughed, amused by her excitement and this self-praise that was unlike her, “Well, I’ll still marry you, regardless of the merits of this chicken,”

Elain’s eyes shot up and she looked at him, biting her lower lip. 

It was the second time in just as many days that he said that he’d marry her. The words fell from his lips with ease and confidence. As if he really wanted to do just that. As it was inevitable. He looked down at her, reading her question, the hopeful expectation in her eyes. 

He gently pressed his thumb to her lower lip and pulled it down from under her teeth.

“Just say the words,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

She snorted and said, “I am not marrying a man who hasn’t even kissed me yet!”

Azriel laughed and nodded his agreement. “I wouldn’t either,” he said, taking her hand and leading them to the bedroom. 

She plopped on the bed, tucking her legs under and watched him chuck off his layers. The shadows swarmed and picked everything up, with each item disappearing in the dark smoke. 

“They are useful,” she noted, somewhat amazed at what she was observing.

“They are indeed,” he nodded, and then asked, “how’s Lex? Is it,”

“I am good!” interjected Lex.

“Really. And was I asking you or Elain?” 

“I am good,” repeated Lex, with even more conviction. “You can ask her, but I am very good and nice too.”

“Nice and good,” hummed Azriel, while Elain was trying to stifle her laugh.

“So, is Lex nice and good?” Azriel asked at last.

She could almost sense the shadow’s nervousness and therefore, said, 

“Lex has its moments.”

Hiding his smirk, Azriel proposed, “You want another one?” 

“No!” Lex whirled right in front of them, jumping back and forth between the two. “Elain likes me!” it insisted. “Elain, tell the master that you want only me.”

She sighed and nodded, “Yes, Lex, I only want you. We are good friends.”

Placated and smug, Lex calmed down and rested on Elain’s lap.

Azriel was laughing softly.

“So how did this wearing of my shirts come about?” he inquired, watching her watch him. He undressed slower than usual, for her benefit. But secretly, he couldn’t get enough of those huge innocent eyes looking him up and down, glaring at every bit of revealed skin, raking him with a hungry gaze. Her lower lip was clamped between her teeth again, and it drove him insane...to be watched like this, with those brown eyes so filled with desire and that plump, pink lip. Perhaps he should just pull that lip with his teeth, kiss it, lick it, bite it...marry that plump lip and its owner, everything be damned.

Elain shrugged, “It wasn’t anything romantic, if that’s what you are hoping for,”

“Oh, you wound me,” he clutched at his chest dramatically. “And here I thought that you were so starved for my scent that you hunted down my shirt,”

“Pfff,” she rolled her eyes, “dream on, batboy!”

Azriel couldn’t remember when he laughed so hard. Her pure, absolutely delectable dismissal of him was just precious. And ‘batboy’?

Once he finally stopped hollering, and she snickering, Elain said, “Nyx puked on my dress one time, so as I was carrying him, while he was screaming, and we were both covered in vomit,”

“Yes, that is not a romantic story,” he agreed.

“I saw your shirt on the chair, and grabbed it, and since it’s long enough to basically be a dress, I just changed into it and that’s how it came about. Also,” she ran her fingers over the sleeve, “you have very nice shirts,”

“Yeah?”

“Soft and well-made. Such fine material, even for this simple shirt.”

“Small pleasures,” he shrugged, now completely undressed, save for his black undershorts. His wings fluttered loosely behind his back, relaxed. 

Elain cocked her head, watching him.

“I’ll go wash up,” he said, though didn’t move, enjoying her unblinking, intense scrutiny. “Care to join?” It didn’t hurt to offer. One day, she might just surprise him.

“I would,” she whispered, her throat bobbing at the sight of him, “but my chicken says otherwise.”

“Ahh, well, the chicken,” he nodded. “It needs more tending to than Nyx.”

Once Elain returned to the kitchen, she let out a long, ragged breath. Watching Azriel--an almost naked Azriel--was the best, and the worst experience. He was almost criminally handsome, and when he extended his casual invitations to her to join him she fought the urge with every fibre of her being. She had to still her breathing, recalling every detail of his bronze body; the dangerous cut of all his muscles, that powerful chest, arms so thick with muscle and sinew that back in the human lands someone would call them ‘tree trunks’. The tapered waist, and that vee that slid smoothly away from his narrow hips...gods...And that gorgeous nonchalance of his entire bearing--who ever thought that Azriel was bashful and demure? But perhaps, it was just for her. All of it was just for her. His relaxed easy confidence was reserved only for the person that he felt utterly comfortable with, which was her. He never hid from her, never pulled his hands away, never shied away from his scars in front of her. 

She really needed to pull herself together, yet a dull, but pleasant ache blossomed inside of her and she shifted and pressed her legs together, as she attempted to busy herself at the stove. But when Azriel was around, all rational thought left her and all she wanted to do was sit and stare at him like a fool. How could she have thought that Greyson was the epitome of manliness? She chuckled to herself, slightly shaking her head at the preposterous thought. Greyson. A boy. A boy full of hot air and exaggerated self-importance. What a fool she’s been. What a fool.

She gasped with surprise when strong, warm hands squeezed her hips. Azriel’s walk was so soft, he was almost entirely soundless. Even her new, acute Fae hearing couldn’t pick up his movement. He turned her around slowly and she found him on his knees in front of her, his face pressed into her stomach. 

“I am sorry,” he whispered, kissing her belly through the fabric of the shirt. His hair was damp, and he was wearing his usual black and gray, a short-sleeved shirt that revealed all of his musculature, as well as the black ink of his tattoos, and soft slacks that he usually favoured at home. 

His hands stroked her sides, her ribs and then landed back on her hips, stroking and squeezing, until he looked up at her and cupped her bottom, not in any sort of playful manner, but intimately, tightly. 

“Sorry for what?” she gulped, as she caressed his face with her thin, calloused fingers.

“For earlier today,” he explained, kissing her stomach again, his lips finding skin beneath the shirt and brushing over her navel. Those large, brazen hands kneaded her behind, unrestrained, cupping and massaging, and Elain’s breath hitched in her throat, as she felt her breasts grow heavy and aching. “It’s very difficult for me to stay calm when I feel like you are being placed in an uncomfortable situation and Rhys,”

She pressed her finger to his lips and said, “I can deal with Rhys,”

“He has no right to force you to reveal your powers or use them,” Azriel insisted, looking her over with a serious, displeased expression. “And you should’ve told me that he,”

“When we initially had that conversation,” she recalled, “I was angry with you anyway,”

“Which I hate,” he interrupted, his look stern.

“That’s in the past.” She shrugged. “It didn’t last long, I’ll have you know. I don't think that I am capable of staying angry with you for a long time,”

“That’s a relief at least,”

 “But he forbade me from seeing you,”

His handsome face darkened even further at her words, but she added, 

“And that made me very...let’s just say that I was much angrier with him than I was with you. I understood then what had happened. That you didn't stop seeing me on your own volition and that the order came from him. I couldn’t control my temper,”

He smiled softly at her and teased, “you have a temper?”

She chuckled and nodded, “I do have a temper. But when I lost it, I revealed my hand,”

He kissed her knuckles. 

“Not that I was hiding it, but the power, it rumbled. It resurfaced and it faced his power. And both--fought.”

“Who won?” he inquired, genuinely curious. His arms were banded around her, hands still on her behind, still stroking and squeezing, and she grew hotter and more heavy-lidded by the minute. 

“We didn’t challenge each other to a fight,” she snorted. “But my power felt strong. Like it could respond to him. It didn’t like the challenge, if I am being honest.”

“Hmmm,”

“What?” she took his face between her hands and made him look at her. “And why are you still kneeling?”

He grinned and kissed the inside of her palm, “I like it here. You feel nice in my arms.”

He pulled down the waistband of her tights, just until it reached her hip bone and kissed her there. Then he pulled the other side, and kissed her other hip bone. She swayed on her feet and he held her up, those strong hands holding her bottom, supporting her. 

“Feels good?” he teased, winking at her and she let out a soft moan, as he trailed kisses down her bare belly, burrowing under the shirt.

“No!” she moaned at last. “It feels terrible...because I want more,”

“I can give more,” he offered with a twinkle in his eyes.

This was nothing but light kisses. Not sensual, open mouthed kisses. No. Just soft little pecks and nips on her skin. Both of them were completely dressed. Yet Elain felt as if she was melting in his arms, as if his lips were branding her skin and his closeness slithered over her flesh in a silken caress and an invitation.

“Az,” she gasped.

“Yes, love?” he sounded innocent. As if he wasn't driving her veritably insane with his every touch, as if she wasn’t yearning to have him spread her right here, on this cold tiled floor and plunge into her, quickly and roughly.

He tsked and shook his head, flicking her nose playfully, “what are you thinking about?”

“How I am annoyed with you right now,” she gritted her teeth and he laughed in response. 

“I rather like keeping you a little on edge,” he confessed and then finally rose to his feet. He leaned over her, his hand gently squeezing her throat. His warm breath caressed her ear and he whispered, “I should love to hear some of your naughty thoughts,”

Elain flushed, shifting against him, breath uneven and heavy. 

“Will I?” he pressed, his thumb stroking her neck slowly, his face at her ear.

“Will you what?” she managed.

“Hear them?”

She swallowed. 

He did not release. His thumb swept against her tender skin, and he remained stooped over her, waiting. 

Gods...he expected an answer.

“I…” she babbled, not knowing what to tell him. Yet she wanted to tell him everything. Every, undoubtedly, juvenile, uninteresting fantasy that she had. 

He kissed her ear and waited, patiently. 

“Yes,” she breathed at last. “Yes.”

“Good,” he said simply and then kissed her ear again, the new, elongated tip, to which she was still unaccustomed. 

“Will you?” she asked suddenly. She didn’t expect to ask this, but here it was. He watched her intently, and she clarified, “Will you tell me? of your...needs?”

He gave her his usual amused look and then, “Yes”.

Simple. No arguments.

“You will?” she stuttered.

“Do you not want me to?” He sat at the table, and crossed his long legs in front of him, feet bare.

She flushed a deep, lovely pink--Cauldron damn him, but he loved making her blush--and then murmured, 

“I do. But,” she swallowed, “I am very nervous. Is that alright for me to admit?”

In one long, graceful swoop, he tugged her to him, and made her stand between his legs.

“You know you should never worry, right?” he asked, squeezing her hips in his hand. “Never. I will never,”

“I am not worried about that,” she waved him off. “Never you.”

“Then what?” his brow furrowed.

She licked her lip and her blush deepened, “I don’t know anything,”

He waited for her to speak her mind, without interrupting.

Centuries of conducting interrogations taught him patience, taught him when to push, and when to pull back. Eventually, everyone broke. And it didn’t always involve pain. In fact, using Truth-teller or any other methods of ‘enhanced interrogation’ was the last resort, typically utilized in most stubborn, or desperate cases. Azriel did not resort to torturing anyone unless he absolutely saw no other option. Not due to any sort of kindness or mercy--it was not his job to be merciful or emotional--but because allowing someone to simply speak and unburden yielded better, more truthful results. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” she murmured, her voice hoarse.

His thumbs only brushed against her hips, soothing and encouraging, his hands still holding her tightly.

“Do what, baby?” he asked at last.

“You,” she sighed. “This...I want this,” her voice fell even lower, “more than anything. I want us--you and me and everything that comes with it. But,” she shook her head in frustration.

“But you are inexperienced,” he offered.

“Utterly,” she confirmed. A deep blush flooded her cheeks, “It’s embarrassing, but I’ve never even seen a naked man,”

His brow lifted just a tad in surprise.

“But…” he stumbled, “aren’t you...are you a maid?”

“No,” she muttered, “I am not. But I didn’t see it. We...we weren’t naked.”

Azriel whooshed a breath and swore softly. “You mean to tell me that that fool had you to himself and didn’t even manage to get you naked?”

She smiled shyly.

“I know that I am awkward and probably too proper, and you are gloriously beautiful and desired by everyone. So, I would understand,” and her voice broke at this, “if you don’t want to take this further. I would...I don’t want to burden you with my inexperience. My complexes, which I am sure that I have,”

“Shhhh,” he bubbled his lips and shook his head in admonishment, “shhh. No. No. You,” he looked her up and down, slowly, measured, “are everything I’d ever wanted. Beautiful beyond words, yes, but so much more than that. If it was only your beauty that enticed me so, that would be one thing, but all of you makes me...crave. I want you like I’ve never wanted anything before. Elain, you are magnificent and exquisite in every possible way. Loving you is no burden,”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, as she stroked and stroked his face nervously,

“I worry...that I won’t be enough,”

She almost-

Almost.

Almost wrung her fingers, but he tracked the movement and she just dropped her hands onto his shoulders.

Azriel was absolutely fine with the idea of doing whatever Elain was partial to. He was perfectly aware that she was an innocent, not that he’d compare her to his own experiences, which would be laughable, but even in human terms, she was barely touched. It didn’t stop him from imagining how he’d love to teach her in the ways of love and pleasure, slowly, patiently, but thoroughly. Until she came into her own. And he understood her hesitation, the undercurrent of fear and uncertainty that he tasted in her scent. Which would simply not do. But the gods knew--Azriel was a patient male.

He pressed his cheek to her hand and gently stroked the sides of her torso.

“Will you trust me?” 

She nodded.

“You will always be more than enough. Just remember--take whatever you want from me, take away bread and water, take my peace, just never take yourself away from me. And,” he paused for a moment, as if hesitating, but she stroked the back of his neck and he whispered, “don’t...please, don’t call him your mate. Even if he is.”

She made a move, to step back, but he held her tightly, his hands almost spanning the width of her hips, and looked at her. 

“I can handle your anger,” he assured her. “And I can attempt to be less,”

“Territorial?”

“Hmmm.”

“Domineering?”

“Hmmm.”

“Over-protective?”

“Hmmm.”

He chewed his lip and then said, “No. None of those things will happen, I was just joking.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle, for he was completely serious, and deep down, she knew that he wasn't going to change. If this was the path she was taking, she needed to accept him the way that he was, and that she was always going to be his primary concern.

“I don’t know why it slipped out,” she admitted, and bowed to kiss his head, laying her cheek on top of his skull, in his soft, thick hair. “I am sorry,” she begged.

He was quiet.

She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his solid, thick shoulders, pushing his face into her chest. 

“I never think of him that way,” she continued. “I think I wanted to snap at Rhys. Stand my ground to him, but it came out so wrong,”

“But it’s true,” Azriel sighed.

“I don’t think so,” she argued. 

“It is. I’ve come to accept it. That you will never be fully mine,”

“That’s not true,” she interrupted him and then tipped his chin up, looking down at him with her luminous amber eyes. “I will  never be his. Yours, it's a different story. I will always be yours. In every way.”

She cupped his face and added, her voice urgent, “The thing is that, I’ve always wanted to be yours. I think from the time I ever laid my eyes on you. It seemed like an impossibility back then, but you were breathtaking… Nesta was smitten with Cassian. And I was smitten with you, and now I am free to declare it.”

She kissed his forehead and added, “And I am sorry. I know I hurt you, unintentionally, but I know it was the wrong thing to say. You are right, I don't ever want us to fight.”

He smiled, relieved. This morning’s tension sat in the pit of his stomach, even after he’d seen her again, during training. Even after they were done, he was still thinking about it, about her calling Lucien her ‘mate’, and about her ignoring him. When he and the too-excited Cassian left the orphanage and Cassian was in the throes of planning entire training sessions for the children, Azriel still couldn't concentrate, turning the morning’s events over and over in his head. Only when Cassian interrupted his brooding contemplation with a ridiculous question, did he manage to snap out of it. 

“So, is he yours?” asked Cassian. 

“Is what mine?” 

Cassian sized him up and then jerked his chin, “The boy. Temal. Is he yours?”

Azriel couldn't help, but roll his eyes. “Are you insane? What are you even talking about?” Cassian shrugged. 

“You can’t deny that the resemblance is uncanny.” 

“He is an Illyrian,” Azriel snapped. “I am an Illyrian. He had parents.”

“Alright. If you say so. Elain sure is doting on him like he is yours.”

“She just likes him,”

“She doesn’t like anyone else like that,” observed Cassian. And then, added, “It’s alright. I get it. But it would be funny if he was yours.”

“I don’t fuck Illyrian females,” reminded him Azriel. “We, don’t fuck Illyrian females.”

“True,” Cassian  nodded and smiled. “But I’ll be damned! Does she love you or what….She even got a youngling who looks like you.”

“Fuck off.”

Azriel got up and kissed her head, while he began setting the table, and she busied herself with her famed chicken. It was the first time ever he was having dinner with someone here, in his house, and for some reason, it made him both uneasy and so excited, it felt like when he was a youngin, with his first kiss. 

The chicken, Elain’s presence in the kitchen, his shadows resting, except for the ever-present Lex--this was home. Never before, ever, did he feel at home. Even here, in this house of his, which he loved, he always felt a visitor. Now, there was something grounding him, making him stop and savour the moment, live in the now, enjoy every scent, and touch and sound. Even the clinking of dishes. 

“Can you please sit down,” she ordered him. 

“But I want to help,”

“You are here to relax and...adore me,” she shrugged and he grinned. 

“I do adore you,” Azriel sat down compliantly and propped his chin, watching her intently, his one siphon slumbering on his wrist. His lovely, darling girl. He truly was a fool for her, but he didn’t care. He smiled to himself, thinking what an obedient, good hound he was now. 

She finally arranged the dishes on platters and delivered them to the table. 

“Oh,” he inhaled the delicious blend of spices, of lemon and herbs and Elain watched his eyes close with delight. A whiff of something familiar and dear washed over him. Home. Childhood. But not his childhood and not his home. This--this is how he imagined home, with these smells and with this female. 

“So,” she sat down and began to serve him, “I know you don’t like Illyria,”

“But this is Illyrian food,” he said quickly, recognising the dishes. 

“Butuzuli,” she said, her accent pretty and precise when she pronounced the Illyrian word. A glorious concoction of crispy, golden rice studded with pistachios, Illyrian spices and dried apricots. 

“How did you know?” he wondered, amazed. The look of the dish was exactly the same as if it came from the cook in his father’s keep. 

“Shashlama,” she gave him a heaping pile of roasted eggplant that was smothered in parsley sauce. Then, he began carving the gorgeous, brown-skinned chicken and the smell of lemon and rosemary was intoxicating. 

“I’ve been learning,” she said, pleased by his reaction to the food. 

“From who? How?”

He tucked into the rice and the vegetables and barely stifled a moan. This was divine.

“Alright, I am going for the chicken!” he warned and Elain giggled, watching him.

The meat was perfumed with garlic, the woodsy scent of rosemary, the fruity, tangy addition of lemon and it truly was the best chicken Azriel’s ever tasted. He was normally a polite, elegant eater, with good manners, who was able to pace himself, but tonight, he wanted to gobble everything down like Cassian.

“Baby, this is…” he could barely string coherent words together. “May I curse?”

She burst out laughing, almost choking on the wine that he’d poured, but nodded.

“This is fucking delicious!” he groaned. 

“Good chicken?” she was laughing merrily.

“Magnificent chicken!” he looked at her and then winked, “I might very well have to marry you after all,”

“Told you!”

As they settled comfortably over their plates, the Symphonia still playing something softly in the background, Azriel asked,

“So you’ve been learning to cook?”

“I know how to cook,” she tore a piece of flatbread, and popped it in her mouth, 

“Well, I know,”

“but I’ve been reading up and learning about Illyrian cuisine. The cook in the orphanage is Illyrian, so she’s been offering me recipes and showing techniques,”

“But this is not just Illyrian,” he noted, “this is,”

“Bagratian?” 

“Yes.”

She smiled at him.

“Well, here is what I figured--I have a brother, and a brother-in-law, who are Illyrian, and my child and the man who is my whole world are both Illyrians from Bagratia, and my children will be Illyrians with Bagratian blood, so how could I not learn of their culture? Their food? The language? Histories?”

He put his utensils down and stared at her, “You know that I am from Bagarat?”

She shrugged, “I guess I do. Does that surprise you?”

“You surprise me every day,” he bit his lip, awed. “But...Did Cassian tell you?”

She placed more rice on his plate, since it was something that disappeared almost immediately, and said, “No. But Temal looks like you,”

So she knew. And noticed.

“I read up on the Iron Eagle camp,” she continued her explanation, “where he is from, and then learned that it was in the province of Bagratia, and then Rhys confirmed that you are indeed from there. Are you impressed with my investigative initiatives?”

Very few people knew of Azriel’s background, of where he came from, which House, what province, and it struck a different note in him that Elain was interested, and that she took the time and effort to learn about his roots. Illyrian history and traditions, even its geography were not easy to come by. Illyria was a world of its own, with little written lore or documents, therefore, it couldn't have been just a simple book that she picked up to read up on Illyria. She must have gone to the Library for additional research. 

“I truly am,” he nodded, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. 

“The cook’s husband is from Bagratia, so she learned about the foods once she married him. She explained that Bagratia is different from the rest of Illyria--more open, with more trade, hence the varied and spiced cuisine, and different customs as well.”

“Culturally, it’s much more diverse than the rest of Illyria,” he suppressed something dark inside of him at the memories, willing himself to separate his own history from the actual place. 

Elain paused for a long time, watching his darkening expression, the recollection of whatever was plaguing him. 

“Will you tell me?” she finally braved the question.

He didn’t require an explanation of what she was asking.

“Tell me the good things,” she offered.

He scowled and shrugged, “very few good things to tell, if I am being honest.”

She waited, allowing him to make the final decision.

“Bagratia,” he said at last, his voice even lower and more gravelly than usual, “is the one province in Illyria that could be considered ‘wealthy’. There is even a capital city--Bagarat. Most of the Illyrian Lords come from there and the breeding of Illyrians for Killing Power originated there,”

“Why?”

“Well, a smart and cunning Illyrian lord, millennia ago, spun a crafty tale,”

He chuckled and helped himself to more eggplant. 

“Honestly, this is so good,” he muttered, as if the food was a welcome distraction from the tale he was telling. 

Elain smiled and then, to his utter delight, she stretched her legs out and placed them on his lap, as per his previous request. She said nothing, as she relaxed against the back of the Illyrian chair, which was probably less than comfortable for her, and played with her food.

“I am glad you are enjoying it,” she said sincerely. 

He gently stroked her calves and perhaps it gave him some internal stability, but he continued,

“That lord, he spun a wild, but believable tale of Enalius being from Bagratia. You know who Enalius was?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve read about him...Cassian gave me a book,”

“Cassian gave you a book?”

“It surprises you?” she chuckled.

“A little. What book?”

“The Histories of Illyria. He said that if I learn Illyrian, he’ll give me the original, written in Illyrian.”

“That’s Cassian,” Azriel sighed. “Always trying to drum up support for his favourite cause.”

Now fully satiated, Azriel allowed his wings to droop around him, as he stretched his legs out and absently played with Elain’s bare feet. 

“So naturally, an entire profitable industry was created out of the lore of Enalius, and suddenly there were all these markers, conveniently found around Bagratia.” He snorted, waving his hand and announcing, “This is the cave where Enalius spent the night before the battle! This is the stone upon which Enalius sharpened his sword! This embankment was where Enalius and his followers feasted on roasted goats!”

Elain laughed at his performative demonstration. 

“But, eventually, it led to the honing of power that Illyrians became famous for. Unsurprisingly, Bagratian lords tried to usurp most of it, and breed it into their lines. That’s how the siphons came about--the breeding pool was too limited, too narrow and the power couldn't be controlled anymore. The siphons managed to direct the power output through magic, though it took a while to perfect the system and the usage. When an Illyrian male comes of age, fully comes into his power, there is a period of trial and error with the siphons--too few, and you can destroy everything around you, break the siphons, unleash the power incorrectly and sloppily. Too many siphons, and they put a damper on your strength and might, essentially tying your hands.”

“And you have seven…” it wasn’t a question, but Elain stared at his brown, scarred arm with its leather band around the wrist and the dully glimmering cobalt stone. 

“Yeah,” he glanced at the siphon. “Seven.”

He smiled, recalling, “I kept breaking them, because they couldn’t contain the power. I received two right away, because the Commanders saw that one would never be enough, but I broke them. They added another, and another, and I broke all four. Finally, landed on five. It lasted for a bit, but the five broke during a battle in the first War, which really wasn't ideal,” he said mildly. Elain couldn’t even imagine. No siphons meant no shields, no protection, no ability to heal, and no actual power, beyond the physical prowess. 

“So you fought?”

“Hand to hand combat…” he nodded, “for over four hours. Took me ten days to recover the use of my arms afterwards.”

He stretched his arms in front of him, flexing his fingers. Elain was probably the only person in the world, except for Cassian, in front of whom Azriel felt secure enough to do that.

“So, you were born in Bagratia,” Elain began, but he interrupted, shaking his head, 

“Not only born. I am half Bagratian,”

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“You are an Illyrian,”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “For all intents and purposes, I am. I winged, dark-skinned Illyrian. But to Illyrians themselves, I am not only a bastard-born, but also a half-breed. Cassian, for example, is fully Illyrian. Devlon, whom you've met, too. Emerie. Me--I am a little different.”

“So what does it mean?”

Azriel drew his scarred thumb over the rim of his wine glass and then said, his gaze flitting absently about the open space of the apartment,

“My mother, she is unusually beautiful,”

Elain looked at him, as if a mystery was solved—the mystery of his own unbelievable handsomeness. Because Azriel was just that beautiful. Rhysand might have preened and claimed the title of the ‘Most Handsome High Lord’, but Azriel was indisputably the more classically, elegantly handsome one.

“In Bagratia, besides its claim to Enalius and a high concentration of power and Illyrian wealth, there are a number of other people that have settled there over the centuries. Some just comprise small settlements, but others have entire subcultures, because their numbers are quite large. My mother—she came from such a people—they call themselves Hiberions—who claim to have escaped a great cataclysm, back millennia ago. No one really knows where they came from, as they had no written record, but whatever did happen, it caused this nation to disperse around what is now the Night Court. Some settled in and around the coast, but many ended up in Illyria. 

There are speculations that Hiberions were invited by an ancient High Lord to the Night Court, and offered sanctuary. Hiberions themselves claim a different story, and say that they were the original founders of the Night Court, and that they allowed others to settle on the land, but over time, they were weakened due to internal struggles and were pushed out of the seat of power. Kier, Mor’s father, claims that he is a descendant of the Hiberions, and that Hewn City was their original capital,”

Elain’s eyes flew wide open, but Azriel shrugged with his usual nonchalance.

“What?” she murmured. “Is it true?”

He scratched his chin and said, “Hard to say. I haven’t investigated it very closely. But rumour has it that the ability to wield shadows and that shadowsingers as a phenomenon originated from the Hiberions. Because they might have been the inhabitants of the Dusk Court,”

“What is Dusk Court?”

“A Court that perished, they say. A great Court, but….it doesn’t exist anymore. Don’t you find it strange that there is a Night, Day and Dawn, but no Dusk?”

“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted truthfully. “But I wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

He drew his palm over her foot, and she squirmed a little, giggling.

“So, your mother?” she reminded him, wanting to hear the rest of the story.

“My mother is a Hiberion. Well, mixed—Illyrian and Hiberion,” he tugged on his lip for a moment and then said, “if you think that Illyrians are horrible and treat their own like shit, then you should only see how they treat those who aren’t pureblooded Illyrians. Less than nothing. Therefore, Hiberions who live in Illyria usually keep the most menial jobs, and live in great poverty, with almost no rights at all.”

Elain bit her lips, but did not say anything, wanting him to continue.

“The one thing that Hiberions have is that they can breed with Illyrians, and that they are, generally speaking, very good looking. Hence the women are prized and valued, and typically can obtain employment in a Lord’s keep. Unfortunately, their beauty is usually their downfall as well—they attract unwanted attention.”

Elain swallowed, understanding perfectly well what he was implying.

“Is that what happened to your mother?”

He nodded.

“My father was a Bagratian Lord, wealthy, with a training camp located on his lands. That always brought him steady income. He was married to a female—an arranged marriage—and they had two sons.

“My mother was engaged to be married to a hunter, also a Bagratian, who traded in pelts. She worked in the training camp, and that’s where she’d met Rhys’s mother. Because my mother was a half-breed, she had wings, but they were lame, and did not develop as quickly as normal wings do. Therefore, flying was always very difficult for her, and that’s how she avoided being clipped. They didn’t bother with her, seeing that she couldn’t fly away anyway. 

The hunter, he was wounded the winter before they were set to get married, and couldn’t support himself or her, while also needing a healer, at least for a period of time. So they decided that she would seek employment at the Keep…my father’s Keep, just for that winter, until the hunter recovered. She was hired as a maid, and all was well for a while, but that was until my father saw her and became smitten at once.”

Azriel cleared his throat and considered for a moment, before continuing,

“I don’t know if ‘smitten’ is the right word. Infatuated? Obsessed? Enthralled? I don’t know…But whatever it was, he pursued her relentlessly, spurned even further by the fact that she had no interest in him and was in love with the hunter. 

“But my father was a Lord and she was a poor half-breed in his employ, with nothing to her name and no protection. The hunter tried to come and take her away, but my father hid her and wouldn’t release her.”

“He forced her?” Elain sounded broken, her face paling. 

He nodded.

“Surely. Perhaps he wasn’t violent, but it was not her intention or desire to be with him. The wife might not have cared, for it was common enough occurrence for a lord to keep women available for sexual pleasure, but then my mother became pregnant.”

“With you?”

“No.”

Elain sensed that he was about to tell her something horrible, and she didn’t want to hear it, yet she knew that she had to. That this was something that he probably didn’t share with anyone. He was trusting her with his family lore, broken and terrible as it was, filled with pain and suffering, but she felt a sense of kinship, as it was an honour to hear his story. 

“The wife beat that babe out of my mother.”

Elain sucked in her breath as her hand instinctively went to her stomach. He tracked the movement, but didn’t comment.

“Hiberions aren’t like the Fae,” he explained. “They are Fae, but like Illyrians, they are a separate race. So certain common traits of the Fae don’t apply to them—females get pregnant easily, or at least at the same rate as humans.

“So, within months, my mother was pregnant again—this time with me. The wife threatened my mother again, but the Lord overheard and broke the wife’s arm in a fit of rage. So, she, more or less, left my mother alone after that.”

He stopped speaking and looked out the floor-length window in front of which they were sitting.

“And then?” Elain asked softly.

“And then it became a different story…mine.”

Which meant that he didn’t feel like discussing himself or his childhood. She understood and did not push.

But she did ask,

“What happened to the hunter?”

“I found him,” Azriel said, still looking out the window, his jowls working hard.

“And?”

“And he was still alone, waiting for my mother. He knew that somehow, he’d get her back, and one day, she’d return to him and they’d be together. It was after the War and I had my seven siphons by then. Rhys, who was very gravely injured, and almost lost his wings in the war, had recovered, and so we went together, back to my father’s Keep. Cassian and Rhys and myself, and the hunter.”

“Your mother was alive?”

“She was. We let the hunter take her away…”

Elain didn’t need details about what had happened afterwards. 

Nesta had mentioned what the three brothers did to Cassian’s village and the males who had destroyed his mother’s life. How they laid waste to the entire settlement, barely sparing the females and children. She imagined that something very similar took place at Azriel’s father’s Keep. 

So, she bypassed the question and the details.

“And your mother?” she asked instead.

“She and her husband, the hunter, live together to this day.”

Elain’s face sparkled with genuine happiness, and somehow, that made all the difference. 

Azriel wasn’t sure if he should share his background, and even as they started to discuss Bagratia, he didn’t think that he’d veer off so deeply and completely into his family history. Now, he felt like some weight had been lifted off his shoulders. There was lightness, even despite the topic of the conversation and all the memories that it brought up. Perhaps, it was Elain’s gentle, contemplative acceptance, or the sorrow written on her soft, flower-like face, or this happiness that she was displaying right now that made his tale tolerable and worthwhile. She reached and grabbed his hand and asked, “Your mother lives?”

“She does. And it pleases me that she is happy. She deserves it.”

Elain threaded her fingers with his and then, quietly, inquired, “Will I be able to meet her? Not now, of course, but,”

“I think she’d love to meet you as well. I think she’d love to meet you anytime. You have similar qualities, even similar interests,”

“Like what?”

“She is an accomplished baker—actually, that’s what she does. She has a pastry shop in the town where they live. It’s very popular,”

“Is that where you got your sweet tooth?” she joked.

“Probably. Even if I’d never eat anything sweet until I was an adult.”

“Why?”

“My childhood did not allow for sweets,” he answered blandly, not wanting to return to that place in his head.

Instead, Elain asked, “what else?”

“She likes flowers, like you. They have a lovely garden.”

He smirked then, and made a wide gesture with his hand,

“And speaking of flowers...I see we have all these weeds now in the house,”

“Weeds?” she shrieked indignantly, while he nodded and laughed. 

“Weeds?”

“Yeah, weeds...I’ve never had flowers in this house,”

“That’s weird but also untrue,” she cut him off.

“Is it?” he was laughing.

“I saw two jasmine plants--in the bedroom and in your study. Are they weeds that you allow?”

He got up so swiftly, she barely registered it with her own eyes. And then he was on his knees in front of her, cupping her face between his rough palms. She slid towards him, wrapping her legs loosely around his torso, just under the wings. She smiled at him, and nudged her face to kiss the inside of his palm.

“What?”

He looked at her long and hard, as if trying to drink in her loveliness, memorise every line of her face.

“I must have jasmine,” he said at last, leaning in and kissing her cheek. Then the other cheek. Then her temple. And then tenderly, slowly, each eye. 

“Az,” she breathed, wrapping her hands over his thick, strong wrists. His thumbs brushed along her face, and he said, “you are my jasmine, my beautiful flower. The scent is you. The day I returned from the human lands, from your estate, after meeting you for the first time, I had to go to Hewn City and perform some unpleasant tasks.”

Elain guessed, but did not question what those tasks might have been.

“And then I went and bought a jasmine plant, because all I wanted to do was think about you.”

Her breath halted and she stared at him.

He sighed apologetically, “I didn’t have anything of you, so I figured that maybe I could have your scent,”

“I smell of jasmine?”

“You don’t know?” he seemed surprised.

She shook her head.

“Jasmine and honey. You are a cross between a flower and a pastry,” he smiled and kissed her face again. “My favourite scent. So whenever I slept here, I’d always wake up to your scent and it made for a good day…”

He reached behind her and then scooped her in his arms.

“I am proud of myself, because I managed to keep these plants alive this whole time!”

She chuckled and wrapped her arms around his neck, while he rose to his feet.

“What about dessert? And the dishes?” she protested unconvincingly.

He nuzzled at her neck and growled, “You are my dessert.”

She shivered with pleasure, and he added, “and dishes...that’s what I have the shadows for. They’ll take care of it. Lex,” he barked. “Make yourself useful and clear the table.”

“I don’t know how,” Lex immediately protested. 

“Then learn,” Azriel suggested, as Elain laughed into his neck.

“I don’t want to. Don’t you have others to do the dishes?” Lex argued.

“How about doing what I tell you?” Azriel proposed.

Lex floated to the table, apparently surveyed it and then declared,

“I am tired.”

“That’s the shadow you gave me?” Elain whispered into his ear. “A shadow that is lazy and that gets tired?”

“I can hear you, Elain,” Lex pointed out.

“If you are so tired, go to sleep,” she told it.

“I don’t want to. I am not so tired.”

“Lex is only so tired when it comes to clearing the dishes,” Azriel huffed and released a cloud of his own, less problematic and temperamental, shadows. “You can do whatever you want, but don’t bother us until the morning.”

Elain stroked and scratched the back of his neck, laying her head on his shoulder, as he carried her slowly to the bedroom, his face buried in her hair.

“Did you like dinner?” she asked, sighing softly and happily.

“It was perfect. Perfect. But, one request, if I may?”

She looked up and smiled, “you may?”

“Raisins in the rice...lots of raisins,” he requested.

“A little side of rice with a mountain of raisins?” she laughed and nodded. “Raisins it is.”

He kissed her cheek and she pouted, “But I really wanted you to have my dessert!”

“Breakfast? Dessert pastry for breakfast?” he offered, giving her a conciliatory kiss.

“I suppose.”

They finally made it to the bedroom, and Azriel closed the door behind them with his foot.

There was a sleek, comfortable leather chair in the bedroom that stood by the wall of windows, and Azriel headed straight for it, sprawling easily, his wings splaying against the wide back. He did not release her, but sat her on top of him, so she straddled his hips. His large, warm hands immediately migrated to her lush bottom, perhaps his favourite feature of hers, at least so far. He was hoping that he could explore many, many more parts of her, slowly and thoroughly, and soon.

She looked at him, her face soft and rosy, that delicious blush of her spreading slowly over her cheeks. Gods, he thought that he’d never get enough of that blush, would never want to stop making her blush like that, because of how his proximity made her feel.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and he tugged on the silk ribbon that tied her long, thick braid. 

“You haven’t called me ‘baby’ today,” she reminded him, her voice warm and husky, and the sound of it made him shift beneath her. 

“No?” 

She shook her head, his tongue slowly brushing her lower lip, before she clamped it in her teeth, watching him from under her lashes. Slowly he released the thick golden strands of her hair from the plait and it fell like a silky curtain around her shoulders and her face.

His finger lightly pulled at the collar of his shirt that she was wearing and he leaned and kissed her collarbone.

“Well, that’s my fault then,” he breathed against her neck, and kissed the other collarbone, before he unbuttoned the top button. “Will my baby forgive me?” he then kissed between the collarbones and proceeded to unbutton another button.

“I don’t know,” she gasped, “what will you do?”

“As penance?” he smiled, watching her pulse quicken, and the vein under her pale skin fill with blood.

“Let’s hear it,” she welcomed coyly.

He smiled, amused and secretly entertained. It was adorable when she took a little bit of charge, and decided to be in control. He liked it. She was quiet and unobtrusive, but she knew when to stand up and be heard and when to step back. She wasn’t as shy and retiring as everyone assumed she was, but that was probably because very few actually paid attention and learned about who she was. She did. He paid attention to everything.

“I undress you?” he proposed simply.

She squirmed just a bit, but then gave a single nod.

He found the buttons for the back slats of the shirt and then asked casually, as he worked them with his fingers,

“Tell me what you want, my darling girl.”

His voice was soft, but there was something imperative in his tone, which left little room for debate. 

“I-I...what do you mean?” she stammered.

He was cool and steady, as he pulled the shirt off her shoulders and repeated, “Just tell me what you want?”

“You?”

He smiled,

“Are you unsure?”

“No! I am very sure. I just don't know what you are asking,”

“I think that you do,” he said evenly. 

“What do you want?” she then asked in turn.

He sighed and placed a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. She gasped, but he pulled away before she could even react.

“You, emani,” he said simply. “I want you, just as well. But I also think that I want more…I think that I want everything. Everything you can give me, anything you are willing to share with me. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I think that I want to be greedy this time around. For the first time in my life, I want a woman, a female,”

“A woman,” she murmured.

“A woman,” he agreed easily, “to give me all of her.” He cupped her cheek, his eyes bright and almost entirely green in the dim light of the bedroom. “Body--yes,” he looked down at her, and almost groaned, “gods yes, I want this body. But so much more. I don't want to sound like a feral Fae male,”

At that, Elain smiled softly, wordlessly giving him permission to be just that.

His hands grabbed her hips, grounding her on his thighs and he said, “But I don’t care. I want you to be mine. I want to know every day, every moment that you are mine and that you feel something for me. Because I want to be yours. I don’t give a fuck about your bond, the lack of our own,”

“We don’t need a bond,”

“We don’t,” he nodded, “because you are mine and I'm yours.”

“And that’s more than enough for me. Also, you are already quite feral, so I don’t think I need any more ferocity.”

At that, Azriel laughed openly and she giggled, liking when her jokes made him laugh. Then, more seriously, he added, “I think that after 500 years, I am ready for something new. This nomadic existence is nice, but honestly, I think that I am tired of wanting...of hoping. I have you--if you’d have me--and I am ready to,”

“Oh, no, am I making my shadowsinger settle?” she mused.

“I think the shadowsinger doesn’t mind settling at all. When I built this apartment,” and he jerked his chin, “it was the first thing that was my own. I’d always shack up in the House of Wind, or at Rhys’s, and it was fine. I felt busy, and I didn’t feel like….” he stumbled. “Like I deserved good things. Any things, really. But then Rhys was Under the Mountain, and we protected the city, kept everything running, and I started thinking that there had to be a reason for all of this sadness and when I looked at the people who lived, who had families and some semblance of happiness, who found joy in the very day, I thought that maybe I should try to strive for the same. It took me another half a century to meet you,” he chuckled tensely, and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “But here we are. And honestly,” he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, “coming home tonight, and finding you here,”

For the first time, perhaps ever, Elain watched him being emotional about something. Or at least as emotional as he ever got. 

“It was the best feeling,” he concluded at last. This was also probably the most Azriel’s said in his entire life--tonight, when he told her of his mother, when he was making this confession to her right now, was the most verbose that Azriel’s ever allowed himself to be. 

“I like being here. With you,” she said simply and sweetly. And then she leaned in and kissed his eyes softly. “Cooking for us. Being in this house…”

Azriel knew that Elain’s nature was domestic, nurturing, and she was happiest when she had control over her life, over her domicile, over her surroundings. He wasn't the only one who needed control in his life--in their desire for planning and order, they matched very well. The upheavals of the past decade certainly pushed her to crave a sense of stability and ownership, and he accepted that. Liked it, since that’s what he was lacking in his own past.

For her, he’d wrestle and wrangle the peace and tranquility that they both craved. 

“Now...will you undress me already?” she ordered impatiently and he grinned. 

“It’s your turn,” he reminded her, “I’ve said more words in the last fifteen minutes than I’ve in the past century.”

As he slipped his shirt down her torso, baring her pale skin, so in contrast with the dark bronze of his own, she said quietly, barely looking at him, 

“I like it when you tell me what to do.”

He did not press, waiting for her to speak. His heart lurched with secret satisfaction at her words, but he tried to keep his excitement muted.

“Not in everything,” she continued, her head inclined towards her chest, watching her breasts, covered with a lacy wrap.

The Fae, as she quickly learned, did not wear corsets. And thank the Mother for that. Their clothes were practical. No petticoats, no unnecessary shifts, no hooped skirts, no scarfs or flounces to cover the bodice. No issues with females wearing trousers or pants either. The Night Court fashions were on a more scandalous side, so much so that Elain and Nesta often bucked at some of the dresses that were presented to them. Feyre and Mor favoured scraps of translucent fabric and some strategically placed belts and straps and that’s about all. Elain still wore dresses, but none required half an hour of cinching and tying to get into them. Undergarments were simple as well, elegant and well-made, for the Fae took pride and care in their immortal bodies and their underthings. She grew to love the uncomplicated breast wraps, that supported everything quite well, but allowed for easy movement and only needed a satin tie or a few pearl buttons to stay put. 

“But I don’t want to even pretend like I know anything,” she lay her hands on her lap, to prevent herself from squeezing her fingers. “And I…” she licked her luscious lip, “I think that you would enjoy telling me what to do.”

Her gaze fell on his mouth, the sensuous line of it.

“I would.”

His throat bobbed just a bit, excitement coursing through his veins. 

“So you’ll have to tell me,” she decided. “And I will listen.”

“You’ve been listening to me already,” Azriel noted, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, as he stroked the nape lightly. “I’ve noticed you are not wringing your fingers anymore.”

“I don’t,” she nodded. “Thank you for that. I didn’t think much of it when you told me, but now I understand. Surprisingly, it centers me. My mind doesn’t race when I do it.”

“A concentration technique,” he smiled. 

“But also a test, I think. To see if I would listen?” she cocked her head at him.

He didn’t want to lie, so he nodded.

Softly, she wondered, “Is that what you like?”

“Control? Yes.”

“Pain?” she blinked nervously.

“No. Not pain. I certainly prefer pleasure to pain, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t indulged in both. With you,” he ran his thumb over her mouth, “I think pleasure is the way to go.”

She kissed the pad of this thumb, its rough skin and decided, “I trust you. I think that I would like to listen to you and do what you tell me.”

“Thank you, my sweet,” he unbuttoned the rest of the buttons with his available hand and tossed the shirt on the floor. Without breaking eye contact, he said, “open up” and Elain, a little unsure, parted her lips. “Lick.”

She made to reach for his wrist, but he only moved his head and guided her, “Mouth only.”

She acquiesced, and slowly pulled the thumb inside her mouth, swirling her tongue over it, watching him watch her with a content, pleased expression on his granite-hewn, perfect face. 

“Lick,” he said again, without any further prompting. She licked. She dragged her tongue up and down his thumb, secretly marveling at the fact that his hand was the first thing that he allowed her to touch so intimately. Despite the intricate network of thick, mottled scars that covered his hands, snaked up all the way to his forearm on his left arm and reached his bicep on his right, his hands were beautiful, like the rest of him. The fingers were long and strong, with well-cared for nails, and the palm itself wide and large and powerful, his fist frighteningly enormous. 

Elain licked, as thoroughly as she could, finding that it made her pant a little, squirm atop of him, and she didn’t understand why. She hoped that he was enjoying it, because she certainly was. 

“My good girl,” he stroked her hair, dragging his other hand over her head, and at the name, she felt her nipples strain against the silk and lace of her wrap, “suck now…”

Barely giving her time to pause, he fed two fingers in her mouth, index and middle, and she gulped on air, sucking them inside. “Nice and slow,” he coached softly, rubbing them against her soft, wet tongue, “show me, how much you like it.”

She liked it. Even if the fingers took up most of her mouth, there was something sensual and primal, having his hand in her mouth. It was daringly intimate, and while she dreamed of kisses and caresses, somehow, with this one gesture, he brought her into a different realm. It was a place where she yearned to step into, and explore the possibilities that she hadn’t even imagined yet. 

She sucked, slowly, as instructed, acquainting herself with the feel and the taste, watching him prod her mouth rhythmically, in and out, while she met the shallow thrusts with her tongue and lips.

“Good,” he approved, and she loved the praise on his lips, and how he watched her, her face, the workings of her tongue, and the even, languorous bobbing of her breasts within the confines of the wrap. She propped herself on his shoulders, as his arm wrapped around her waist and he squeezed her behind. He increased the speed ever so slightly, reaching almost all the way to her throat, and she dripped on her chin, but as she attempted to wipe the saliva, he shook his head and she stopped. 

“Messy is good,” he whispered into her ear, leaning closer, so that her breasts slid and bounced against his chest, and the brush of her nipples over the silk became almost painful. A wave of heat rolled over her entire body, and for the first time in her life, she felt an ache. An ache deep inside of her, a ravenous hunger, which remained unsatisfied.

“Keep sucking,” he muttered into her cheek, his lips pressed to it tightly, as he lightly bit the hollowed spot, the teeth scraping over her skin. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, probably more strongly than she anticipated, perhaps even hurting him, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to stop, but gods, the ache inside of her was horrible.

Azriel felt the powerful drip of her arousal against his thigh, as she writhed against him, warm and wet and panting in his arms. He loved watching her become this excited, offering him her mouth, giving him pleasure, her swift little tongue working tirelessly and hurriedly over his fingers. His sweet, beautiful girl. It wasn’t particularly difficult to keep himself in check right now, though he definitely considered taking this a bit further...perhaps undressing her more. But then he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to remain so composed if she was naked. Perhaps tomorrow. 

He allowed her to suck for a bit longer, until, without warning, pulled his fingers out of her mouth.

She was taken aback at the loss, and stared at him, looking alarmed.

“Baby, was that good?” he smiled at her, and seeing that he wasn’t upset, she nodded eagerly.

“I can suck more, if you’d like,” she offered.

He wiped her wet chin and then brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them. The gesture caused her to bloom with a delectable blush that he loved so much. 

“Did you...did you like it?” she almost whispered, and he teased her,

“Why are you whispering?”

She chuckled, wiping her chin.

“But yes, I absolutely loved it,” he said, relaxing back in the chair. “You did so well.”

She smoothed her hair and then straightened out, a small smile on her full lips, and watched him easily, but assuredly slide his palm between her legs.

She was warm and damp, and he brushed a knuckle along the seam of her sex, soliciting a little yelp of surprise and enjoyment from her. 

“I am wet,” she blurted, and then stopped, eyes wide.

“You are,” he said simply, approval lacing his voice. “Have you not been wet before?”

He cupped her, holding his palm against her leaking core, but did not press further. He wanted her to open up to him, and somewhat surprisingly, she did,

“I don’t think I have. Not like this.”

It pleased him to hear that he’d made her this wet, but a question gnawed on him nevertheless,

“But when you gave him your maidenhead, you must have,”

“Not like this,” she said shyly, shaking her head. 

“It hurt then?”

She nodded.

Annoyance rippled over his face, and he bit the inside of his cheek. Usually, he was not this expressive of his feelings, whatever they were, but with her, it was different. He cupped her cheek and then pulled her to him, so she sprawled on his chest, her head tucked under his chin.

“It’s a shame that he didn’t make the experience better…”

“They say it always hurts,”

“It doesn’t have to,” he argued. “It has to be pleasurable.”

“I guess I was expecting it,” she shrugged. “It was...alright.”

“Alright should never be the experience, especially not the first one,” he sniped, but didn’t push.

She ran her fingers over his chest, feeling the thick, hard mass of his pectorals beneath the thin knit fabric of his shirt. Azriel stroked her bare back, walking his fingers along the spine.

Suddenly, she murmured, “I want to shout.” 

He waited, wondering when she meant. 

She didn’t move, didn’t look at him, but remained tucked into his chest.

“I want to shout,” she repeated at last. “From pleasure. I’ve heard them...Nesta and Feyre. They scream.”

“And you haven't?” even though he posed it as a question, it was more of a statement. It did not particularly surprise him that she hadn’t had a climax, but internally, he felt a twinge of sadness. Yet, there was also a hopeful feeling of anticipation fluttering in his chest--for he’d be the one to provide her with her pleasure. He’d be the one who’d make her ‘shout’. 

A plan was already forming in his head. Even when it came to sexual matters, Azriel preferred to plan ahead, have a path to follow, but then again, most of his encounters were pre-arranged in some way, so it was easier to accomplish. With Elain though--his Elain was special. She was his heart’s desire, and for her he felt many things, including passion. Passion was not something he dabbled in frequently, since he was not one to be quickly overcome by it, and never did he lose himself or his senses in a female. Sure, there was an occasional tumble against the wall with a panting, willing, nameless female, but it was an itch to be scratched, and nothing more. 

“No,” she ground briefly against his hand, pushing into him. “But I want to. I think it would be nice to let go...to feel that free. So unburdened.”

She fell quiet and then, after a lengthy silence added, “With you. I want it to be with you only.”

“I should hope so,” he smiled. “Now, I would like to take you to bed and sleep in your arms. The entire night. Because I am fucking tired!”

Elain laughed and sat up, before jumping off him and tugging him off the chair.

“I want you to sleep in my arms as well!”

Elain loved getting ready for bed alongside him. 

Needless to say that she’d never done that before. Even back in their hovel, she tried to carve a few minutes to herself, in privacy, even with her sisters banging on the privy door. But she never felt uncomfortable with Azriel, and even now as she washed her face, combed through her tangled hair, brushed her teeth, she watched him do the same next to her, and it felt inexplicably normal. 

“I’ll finish undressing you,” he warned, before she headed into the closet. She paused, and sensing her hesitation, he added lightly, “You know, I can undress a female without baring her.”

“Is that a shadowsinging ability?” she joked, picking out a nightgown from the stack that one of the twins had delivered.

“No,” he called out from the bathing room. “It’s a male’s ability.”

When she emerged, he was standing by the bed, reading some document which he somehow fished out of somewhere. He was naked, save for his black undershorts, which contoured everything with egregious explicitness. Elain glanced down his torso. Those well-defined hip muscles, as well as the ridged abdomen were nothing but a mouthwatering temptation. But then she snagged another look,

And he caught it.

A smirk appeared on his lips and he said,

“You can look, you know.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she declared primly, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“You are right, not at all,” he jerked his head to have her come to him. He sat down on the bed and she approached, stopping in front of him.

“This will be my job, from now on,” his voice was heavy with promise, “to undress you. Every night.”

“Alright,” she agreed. “What if I want to undress you?”

“Then you should.”

He easily rolled her tights down her thighs and legs, until she stepped out of them and stood in front of him, almost nude, in only her silk underwear. 

Elain was more supple, more voluptuous than her sisters. Nesta was rail thin, with surprisingly large breasts, a ramrod straight back and long, skinny legs. Feyre was both feminine and boyish at once, pretty, lithe, but unremarkable, at least to Azriel. 

Elain, his Elain, was a delicious pastry incarnate. She was correct, he did have a sweet tooth. And she satisfied all his aesthetic cravings, and possessed all the qualities that he enjoyed. Contrary to what others thought, Elain was not small or petite--she was as tall as Feyre, and both were just a tad shorter than Nesta. But compared to an Illyian, these girls were small and delicate. 

He couldn’t stop himself, and placed his hands on her hips, drawing a scrutinising gaze over her luscious body. Then, he placed a soft kiss on her belly, before rubbing his cheek over her soft, full breast. She stroked the back of his neck, down his spine and sighed with enjoyment.

“I have a proposal,” he looked up at her, and then drew a naughty finger along the cleft of her cleavage. She rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed at the reaction. “Don’t trust me?”

She did. And she was always intrigued by his ‘proposals’.

“Every night this week,” he began, punctuating his words with mellow, light kisses up and down her chest and the valley between her breasts, “you’ll show me a new piece of yourself...What do you think?”

“Naked?” she breathed.

“Yes, baby, naked.”

He pressed his lips to her nipple, suddenly biting it through the silk of her wrap. Her nipples were thick and plump and he easily caught one between his teeth, considering how overstimulated she already was. She hissed softly, when he bit. He bit. Not particularly painfully, but he bit and tugged the nipple with his teeth, watching her the entire time.

She gasped a mewling ‘oy’, and he released, but only slightly.

“A little bit every night, until nothing is left. Until you are bared to me in all your loveliness.”

“Yes,” she groaned, as he nibbled and tugged on her nipple. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

“Is this what you want to wear,” he went to take the nightgown from her hands, but she dropped it on the floor and said, “I don’t want to wear anything. Just this.”

He scooted back and pulled the covers and the blankets for her.

“I won’t argue. Come here.”

She slid in bed beside him and he moved on his stomach, which was his preferred sleeping position. His wings draped over the two of them, and he pulled her closer.

She kissed his shoulder, and settled under his arm. 

His breath evened out, and she thought that he fell asleep, until

“No one’s made dinner for me before,” he murmured. 

She stroked his forearm and then kissed his shoulder again.

He was warm and solid next to her, a veritable wall of muscle and she never felt more comfortable and content in her life. He slipped his heavy, large leg between hers, and her thighs wrapped around him instinctively.

“No one?”

He tucked his face atop of her head and kissed her face.

“No.”

“I will cook for you,” she offered, “and we’ll cook together. And you’ll cook for me. Because no one’s cooked for me either.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.”

Elain smiled and then asked,

“What’s your mother’s name?”

“Gulchatai.”

“Now I feel like I know something about you...something personal. It’s nice.”

“Elain, wake up!”

A cool whiff of air bounced up and down her face, and Elain swiped Lex away, only to have it come back momentarily. “Wake up!”

“Leave her alone,” she heard Azriel’s hiss. “Right now.”

“Why can’t she wake up?” complained Lex. “I am bored!”

“She doesn’t exist to entertain you.”

“I am awake, I am awake,” she moaned. “Stop sitting on my face.”

Eyes still half closed, she made her way to the bathing room, took care of her needs and appearance, and splashed her face with cold water. 

She glanced at herself in the large mirror. She couldn't say what it was, but she looked different. Confident? Perhaps. But more like ripe. Ripe for the taking.

As always, Azriel was propped against the headboard, swarmed with shadows, wearing his glasses and reading pages of reports.

“Come here, baby,” he called, “morning kisses.”

She smiled and bounded towards the bed, immediately giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“My gorgeous girl,” his hand swiped over her bare stomach, then her naked thigh. “Did you sleep well?”

“I always sleep well with you,” she kissed him again. He wrapped his arm around her and pushed her head into his chest. 

“Morning news?” she smiled, watching the swirling mass of dark shadows around him. He nodded.

“Lex, do you have any news for me?” she then inquired.

“I don’t know anything!” 

“How come everyone else knows something and you don’t know anything?”

A pause, and then Lex sat on her chest and asked, “what do you want to know?”

“Tell me about the children,” she proposed.

Azriel was listening to them absently, smiling.

Shadows, just like horses or puppies, had to be trained and cultivated. Elain was learning that lesson right now. 

“Temal’s got into a fight,” reported Lex. Elain rolled her eyes. “Is he hurt?”

“No. But he was put on time-out.”

“What about the other boy?”

“He has two back eyes. Temal has one. And then Kira ate a big slice of cake before dinner.”

Then Lex rattled off her schedule for today, and asked, “You like this news?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Aziel was stuck dealing with some issue, already sending his shadows on some investigative mission when Elain threw on his shirt from yesterday--the first thing she found--and padded to the kitchen. Lex, as alway, was now yapping nonstop, giving her unnecessary gossip about the Fae that she barely even heard of. But as it was the case everywhere, there were famous Fae, scandalous Fae, notorious Fae. There was Anselma, a very popular singer, who was married, but her husband has been seen with another singer, Gunda, who was also sporting a pregnant belly. Whose babe do you think it is? pressed Lex busily. 

“Well, I don’t know!” Elain shrugged, as she began preparing coffee. She didn’t bother with tea, because she actually grew to like coffee quite a lot. Azriel had the best, finest variety, all the way from Day Court, where the soil produced the best coffee crops.

“How can you not care?” exclaimed Lex, “everyone is talking about it! It’s news.”

“I think the babe is Coast’s,” she humoured the shadow, even if she didn’t care.

“I think so too!” Lex agreed immediately.

Elain set the table, when Azriel entered quickly, shaking his head, looking at the clock.

He, nevertheless, slowed down, and came behind her, sliding his hand under her shirt and pulling her to him.

“I am sorry I am not helping,” he murmured, kissing her neck tenderly. 

“It’s fine,” she smiled.

“I’ll cook dinner tonight?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

“Or would you like to go out?”

She pointed to the table and said, “How could I forget--you are supposed to be courting me.”

“I am courting you,” he reminded her and poured them both coffee.

“Human courting is all about balls and being seen in society, and picnics and Tea,”

“Do you want to go on a picnic?” he teased. “It’s late autumn? But, if you insist,”

She laughed and took a sip of her drink. “I like this courting more.”

“Oh thank the gods.”

He dug into the pear tart that she’d baked yesterday, and groaned with delight and pleasure, as he polished off the first slice and then moved on to the second right away.

“This is glorious,” he grumbled and Elain smiled a soft, secret smile, watching him enjoy himself.

“Why didn’t we eat this last night?”

“You took me to bed!” she exclaimed, indignant.

“You should’ve insisted.”

“Oh, so it's my fault?”

“I feel like it kind of is,”

She threatened, “I will take it away!”

“Fine, try,” he challenged. “But don’t think that I won’t fight you for it! Just because you are a girl and I like you. And I’ll win.”

She bubbled her lips and parried, incredulous, “I have Cauldron powers! You are just some little Illyrian soldier…”

He burst out laughing and then grabbed her hand and kissed it. “We’ll have to have a discussion about your powers later. But, baby, there is nothing little in this Illyrian soldier.”

She immediately glanced at his wings that were peaking behind him. 

“Now he is Cassian,” she muttered.

He laughed, but then tipped her chin and tsked, “no, no, no. You won't weasel out of this that easily. You’ve been eyeing my wings since last night. Don’t think I didn’t notice. You’ve never paid them that much attention before.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Hmmm.”

“You are the one saying that you are huge!” she threw.

“I never said any such thing,” he took a slow sip and raised his brow at her. “But tell me...you and the twins have been gossiping about the wings?”

“No,” she lied.

“Hmmm.”

“Stop humming!”

“What did Cerridwen say?” he inquired. Cauldron damn him. Was there something he didn’t know?

“She said absolutely nothing. Other than that you are...well-endowed.”

Elain blushed at his amused smirk.

He looked her over, lazily, seemingly forgetting that he was in a hurry.

“The tart was delectable,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Then, he tugged on his lower lip and mused, almost to himself.

“But I am still hungry.”

“I can make you eggs,” she proposed.”Toast,”

He ran his finger along her arm and murmured, “I have something else in mind. A Bagratian breakfast.”

But if Elain expected him to move and prepare this breakfast, he didn’t shift from his chair.

He thought and then moved his plate and patted the spot that the plate vacated.

“Come here, baby. My beautiful sweetheart,” he urged her off her chair, until she sat, a little stiffly on the table in front of him. “Let’s spread your legs a little, so we are both comfortable,” and he parted her thighs, while pushing himself closer to her, settling between her legs. 

“May I have my breakfast?” he asked her, kissing her cheek softly, watching her sink and melt against him. 

“Yes,” she gasped.

“This breakfast,” he whispered against her skin, placing slow, open-mouthed kisses on her neck, as he undid the few buttons in the back of the knit shirt, “is very, very popular…”

Elain could barely breathe, let alone pay attention to his explanation. Not when he tugged the shirt down her body, not when his scent washed over her, and not...oh, gods…

Azriel didn’t take his intense gaze off her when he pulled on the silk string of her breast wrap and it parted easily for him. Elain stopped breathing, pink and gorgeously hot in front of him, her hair a halo of dark gold around her, her knuckles white, as she gripped the edge of the table. He smiled and kissed her neck again. 

“Why are you so tense?”

“I...I don’t know,” she panted softly, her breasts rising and falling, just barely covered by the silk. “I, Az...oh...I just want you so badly,” she admitted nervously. 

“Good.”

And then he flipped the flaps of the wrap off her breasts, baring her completely for himself.

“Why are you so beautiful?” he muttered wholeheartedly, looking at the lovely pink nipples that swell before his eyes, at the soft, generous roundness of her breasts. 

Her back arched just a bit, as she displayed herself fully for him, no longer shy, once he laid his eyes on her and took her in with such unabashed hunger in his eyes.

“Taste,” she breathed and at once, he was a male unleashed. He brought her breast to his lips and bit her fat pink nipple, like he did last night. But there was no silk barrier between them today, and she felt his hot breath and the sharp clamp of his teeth over the nipple, as he pulled it deep in his mouth.

She almost tumbled on top of him, but he held her still, threading his fingers with hers, pressing her hands into the table. 

“Oh gods,” she moaned, “Az...gods…”

“You are so delicious,” he vowed, working his tongue over the nipple, wrapping it over the little knob, licking and licking with relentless determination. Elain squirmed and panted next to him, but he kept her hands firmly in his grasp, not allowing her to touch him. Her arousal hit him like a wave of pure ambrosia, the scent indescribable, her whole body melding into him. He wished he could adjust himself within his pants, but that would mean releasing her hands and he didn’t want to do that. So he bit the soft flesh of her breast again, sucking on the tender skin and watching tiny purple marks bloom along the trail of his teeth, until he returned to the nipple and sucked it deep into his mouth. She buckled and cried out, babbling something, and grasping his fingers painfully, while he sucked harshly, feeling the nipple grow and firm up in his mouth, lapping on it with ravenous determination.

“Fuck, Elain, baby,” he grunted, licking the underside of her breast, before covering the whole globe with kisses.The kisses were not soft or gentle, but candidly lustful, his mouth possessive, claiming, marking her. “Feels good, my sweet?”

“Az, my love, I need to…” she whined, almost in tears of frustration, especially as he pulled on her nipple with his teeth again, offering her the sweet, lacerating pain that she was craving so much. “Let me touch you,” she begged.

“Right now, it’s for me,” he declined. “If you're touching me, I can’t concentrate on you. Or what I want from you. And your tits are magnificent!”

“Suck more,” she begged, “please…”

“Good fucking girl,” he groaned, and then ordered, “don’t touch,” when he released the grip of one of her hands. Obediently, she pushed her hand under her thigh, so as not to be tempted. He cupped her other breast, squeezing it tightly, quickly learning that gentleness was not something Elain needed. In all his previous fantasies, his assumption was that she’d like a sweet, tender approach. And truth be told, he didn’t expect to unleash on her quite so ferociously right now, surprising even himself. But she took it all, and she wanted more. So when he dug his scarred, strong fingers into her supple flesh, and when he brought the two glorious globes together, to suck her swollen tight nipples at once, he knew that she wanted him to do just that. 

He loved breasts. He especially loved Elain’s breasts. But as he worked his mouth on her, sucking both of her lovely nipples, he also loved her response. She almost fell back on the table, and he caught her just in time, before her head landed on the hard surface. He cupped the back of her head, and stretched over her, kissing each swelling breast, and dragging his tongue thoroughly over each nipple, while she leaked and trembled under him.

“Good?”

“Oh good,” she admitted breathlessly. “Why didn’t you do this to me before?”

A smile touched his lips and he tongued her nipples leisurely, watching her, as he reminded her, “This is a forbidden romance, my love.”

“Oh yeah...I forgot,”

“I think that our High Lord doesn’t want me to do anything to you.”

He winked at her and she grimaced. She was ridiculously wet between her legs, but she no longer cared. Actually, she lost all inhibitions and all sense of propriety. She didn’t care about anything, other than his beautiful, demanding mouth on her breasts, his tongue working magic on her nipples. 

Before she could do anything, he pulled her up, so she sat back up in front of him.

“I haven't forgotten my breakfast,” he winked at her again, and then, unexpectedly, dipped his fingers in the butter jar, and smeared a generous layer of fatty, creamy sludge over her breast, his thumb teasing her aching nipple inexorably. 

“Oh,” she gushed, as he settled on the chair, between her legs, and held the breast in one palm, while concocting something enticing.

“The Bagarat Breakfast Bun,” he explained casually, as if he wasn’t sprinkling her buttered tit with a dash of cinnamon, and then a pinch of sugar. “Who needs pastries, right?” he pondered, and then gobbled her whole breast up, swallowing a good part of it, licking off the sugary spiced butter with his tongue, scraping his teeth over the skin, the nipple.

Elain almost fainted. Her vision darkened and were it not for the support of his massive arm, she surely would have fallen over.

“Sit still, baby, and let me enjoy,” he commanded with pretend sternness, as he treated her other breast with the same care and also added a dash of cream, which leaked obscenely into his mouth off her nipple.

“Oh, I think I like this version more,” he concluded, dribbling more cream over her breast and sucking it off her nipple, along with the butter.

“It’s a lot of fat, this early in the morning,” she protested, “you will have a heart attack!”

“I am immortal,” he reminded her. Then, he ordered, “hold your titties for me, please. So I can enjoy them in peace.”

She smirked, but cupped both of her breasts and presented them to him, as he dipped her nipples in even more cream and sucked hungrily. 

“My love,” she cooed to him, after she dipped her nipple into the cream herself and sprinkled it with sugar, “I think that I like your Bagarat pastry.”

“Bun,” he pinched her behind, “Bagarat Bun.”

He sucked a little more.

The little jar of cream was empty.

“Tomorrow, we’ll share it,” he promised, but did not elaborate.

She nodded. She’d agree to anything right now. 

“By the end of the week, you’ll be feeding me yourself,” he added and then softly kissed her lips, securing his promise with his mouth. 

He straightened and got up, brushing his thumb over her lips and popping it inside, for her to suck. She sucked, willingly, eagerly, watching him.

“And you will be naked,” he concluded, running his hand over her head. 

She nodded. 

“Would you like that, my good girl?”

She nodded again. 

She looked ravaged and he loved it. Swollen tits, dripping with sugar and cream, and coated in the remnants of butter, her hair a mess, her mouth wrapped around his thumb, sucking noisily. 

The idea of his cock in that glorious mouth, sucking just as noisily made his unbearably hard. He was already hard as granite, his cock aching and demanding, but when she sucked his fingers, it released a beast within him.

Reluctantly, he pulled out and bent to kiss her.

“Thank you, my love,” she murmured, her brown eyes looking at him with complete adoration.

“It was a perfect breakfast, Lainey,” Azriel smiled. “Thank you. I’ve got to go, but I will see you later?”

“Of course. But I have a request for you to mull over,” she jumped off the table, not bothering to cover up.

“I am listening.”

“I’d like for you to teach me how to handle a dagger.”

[peach-the-owl]

Rescued

Part 2 of Taken

Child of the Nein (Mighty Nein & Child!Reader)

I really hope this turned out as well as I imagined it to

Jester

You were honestly surprised to see your old caretaker again after so long, ever since that scuffle near Nicodranas you never did know what happened to them when they disappeared, forgetting about those worries when you met Jester not too long after. Yet here they were, after accidentally wandering away from Jester they come out of nowhere and whisk you off to who knows where, and they seemed to be in a hurry about it too. Throughout their little road trip you hoped that every turn or small stop would reveal Jester waiting to rescue you along with the rest of the Nein, sadly this wasn’t the case. Had you bothered to pay proper attention you’d know which city you were approaching but being dragged off the cart and through a variety of underground tunnels didn’t really help pinpoint things for you. You finally stop but at this point you'd decided to just keeping your eyes to the ground trying not to let fear take control over you.

"Alright! Here they are, just like I’d promised." Your caretaker, though now you scoff at the idea of this person ever caring for you, roughly pulls you forward into view, you keep your eyes on the ground. "Sooo… everything should be settled now, right? My debts payed and I’m free to go?" There’s a silence that feels like it lasts an eternity before a new voice, one you recognized speaks.

"The 'special cargo' you mentioned was… this child?" You peek up from your position and are shocked to see that the person your caretaker was negotiating with was none other then the Gentleman. He didn’t look surprised to see you but you hoped that was just so he could keep up with his appearance, you look to him with pleading eyes hoping that he could help you and you think you see a slight change in his expression as he leans over to whisper to one of his associates. When he’s done they hurry off somewhere and he turns his attention back to you. "And you speak the truth when you say they don’t have other connections or family?"

"Goodness no, this little thing has never been with anyone else but myself the whole time." They reply with a laugh, making you scowl at them. The Gentleman narrows his eyes and their laughter dies down quickly, getting a more nervous look.

"I don’t take kindly to those who think they can get away with lying to me." He says in a threatening tone, then snaps his fingers and two large henchmen grab the caretaker firmly by both arms.

"No, wait wait! Please! I-I'm not lying, the kid hasn’t been with anyone else but me!" They stammer, trying to sound convincing.

"Then I’m sure you have a reasonable explanation as to how this child in your possession looks exactly like my… one of my subordinates kids, or should I let (y/n) explain themselves." At the mention of your name the caretakers face completely drains of colour as realization creeps in. The Gentleman, completely unfazed waves his hand and his bodyguard, Sorah, walks over and frees you of your bindings while the others who still had the caretaker in their grip drag them off with them kicking and screaming that they were cheated and begging for another chance.

"Thank you." You say in a hushed voice, rubbing at your wrists.

"I’ve got someone to inform Jester of your whereabouts. You’re free to wait here until you’re retrieved, just don’t make a mess." You nod and go sit at one of the tables, pulling out a little notebook Jester gave you and begin writing and drawing in it to help pass time…

"(Y/n)!" You look up from your drawing to see Jester bounding up to you, easily picking you up and twirls you around in a big hug that you are more then happy to return. "I was so worried about you. We tried to follow but you were already so far away I didn’t know if I’d find you again." She wipes a few tears away and places a kiss to your forehead, you just snuggle into her more. "Thank you for helping them dad. See you do care!" She turns her attention to the Gentleman who in return gives an exaggerated sigh and rubs at his temples.

"We’ve been over this already… but you’re welcome." The second part came out more as a mutter. The two of you happily wave, and you quickly pick up your notebook before Jester makes her way out of the bar with you securely in her arms.

Nott

You’re thrown into a pit very much against your will, the pit itself was 40 feet wide with you on one side and on the other side of it a snarling owlbear chained to a wall, though the chains didn't look like they’d hold for much longer. Oh why did you have to let the allure of sparkly things get the better of you?

"Ladies, gentlemen! Place your bets!" One of the hosts called to the crowd. "Our fierce killer Dezmo or the half pint!"

"What kinda dumb name is Dezmo?" You mutter to yourself. You don’t have a lot of time to think about it as a high pitched whistle rings in your ears, irritating them. By the looks of it the sound was irritating the owlbear too, as it thrashes and roars in aggravation, the chains give way and the owlbear instantly starts charging for you. Thinking fast you dart under the beast, which compared to your tiny size towers over you, and start looking for any sort of escape route or places to hide. The beast spins around and swats at you, you managing to just barely duck out of the way and the crowd goes crazy for it.

"Come on folks, if you’re really confident place your final bets now and let’s see if the half pint can keep up." They blow that stupid whistle again, further aggravating the owlbear as it try’s charging you again, the audience hoots and hollers over it. These people were awful cheering for a large monster to attack child, then again they probably saw you as a monster too which disheartened you to know you were nothing but entertainment for them. You’re struck by a heavy blow from the beast, crashing into a wall and left teetering on the verge of losing consciousness, the beast stalks forward, rears up for a final strike but it ends up screeching in pain instead. A familiar goblin mom steps in front of you as a barrier between the monster and yourself, hissing menacingly at the it. The owlbear try's rearing up again, this time more focused on Nott who shoots another bolt from her crossbow nailing the beast in the eye. Your picked up and handed to Jester by Yasha as she and Beau also enter the pit, the audience were surprisingly enthused by this, cheering for a good fight, the only people unamused by this were the hosts to the whole ordeal.

"Oi! What'd ya think you’re doin'! That was our money maker you just shot!" One calls down, they’re answered with a bolt lodging itself into their collarbone and they cry out in pain.

"That’s what you get for using a child to get your sick kicks!" Nott yells ferociously. With Yasha and Beau having made swift work to the owlbear, Nott climbs her way out of the pit, going over to Jester as she finishes using Cure Wounds on you. "Are you alright? Do you need me to carry you?" She asks, already taking you into her arms and placing kisses all over your face. You just wrap your arms around her neck and hide your face in her shoulder, she takes this as her sign to leave and with the others following not far behind walks through the crowd towards the exit.

"Oh yeah, we also called the local guard, they should be here any minute!" You hear Jester shout before you all hurry away.

Caleb

This strange woman had come out of nowhere, took you by the hand and walked off from where Caleb told you to wait without a word, you tried to pull away but her grip was firm as she tugged you along. She lead your unwilling self through alleys, stopping every now and again, waiting for areas to be less populated before heading off again.

"Where are we going? Where'd you even come from?" You been asking these questions several times but the woman would just ignore them.

"Hush now dear, if I let go you’ll try to run from mommy again. If you did that mommy would have a hard time finding you like the first time. Now be a good kid and stay close, we're going home." You knew for a fact this woman wasn’t your mother and this "home" she spoke of was not where you wanted to go. Using your head you tried to think if there was any spell you could use to free yourself of the woman’s iron grip, you try to reach for your little bag but the woman snatches it and slings it over her own shoulder. "No need for that, you can play when we make it to the boat." Wait… boat? Was she trying to get you off Wildemount?

"No I don’t want to leave! You’re not my mom, let me go I don’t want to go with you!" You try shouting to get someone’s attention.

"Oh you and your wild imagination, enough games, let’s go." She had a weirdly sweet voice but it only furthered your unease around her. You try thrashing, pulling and reaching for your bag multiple times but still the woman’s grip held firm as you were dragged to the docks. Fear started creeping in, you couldn’t free yourself from her steely grip and who knows where she’s trying to take you. Worst of all if you couldn’t get away you might never see Caleb or anyone ever again, that thought alone made you start to cry. "Oh, don’t cry dear, see we're almost home free." Up ahead was what you’d have to assume to be the boat she was talking about, you tried one more time to wriggle free of her grasp to no avail.

The woman’s steps come to a halt making you pause and also look up to see a wall of fire blaze across the docks, blocking entry to the boat. Your fears dying down when you see a rather angry Caleb march his way towards you, the rest of the Nein not far behind.

"You," Caleb raises an arm pointing at this woman, his voice coming out almost as a hiss. "Get your filthy hands off of my child."

"They’re not yours they’re mine! I will not let you take them from me!" Those who were on the ship must’ve worked or had some relation to this woman as they join her and get into an offensive stance. Before long a fight breaks out between the Nein and the ships crew and once again the woman tries to drag you along with her. "It’s alright dear, they won’t get you." Her sweet demeanour was breaking, getting more and more crazy every time she talked. You butt you head against her as a response making her loosen her grip, you try to bolt as far away from her as you could, calling out for Caleb as you do. There’s a sudden grip on the collar of your shirt and you're yanked back into the woman’s arms, her face full of fury.

"If I can’t have a child of my own… Then they won’t either!" The woman screeches like a psychopath and throws the both of you into the ocean, you shrieking in fear. There's the hard impact from the surface of the water followed by a feeling of figurative and literal sinking into the dark depths, you try and wriggle yourself free but this crazy woman refused to let go and with smaller lungs you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep this up before running out of air. As a last resort you take your chance and bite the woman’s arm as hard as you can, ending up drawing blood, her screams of pain muffled in the water but you’re able to break free of her grip, manage to grab your bag and kick her down farther as you try to swim for the surface. Flailing your legs and arms to propel yourself forward was harder then you thought, your cloths weighing you down quite a bit, but before you completely lose hope and air there’s a dulled splash and soon something grabs you, hauling you out of the water. You gasp for air again and cough up a bit of sea water noticing you’re soaring high in the sky, looking up over your shoulder at the giant, orange eagle and instantly know who it is, a smile placing itself on your face.

Having safely made it back to land you’re carefully placed down and shiver from the chilly ocean air that blew in, trying your best to squeeze out as much water from your cloths as possible. There’s a ruffling of feathers before you find yourself wrapped up by two large wings, the head of the giant bird nuzzling itself into you and helping warm you up again. You always like when Caleb polymorphed into animals, he was always more willing for cuddles that way, with that said, you wrap your arms around his neck as best you can and nuzzle him back with no arguments.

Caduceus

These people were heartless, taking "exotic specimens" to be sold or traded for their own selfish needs, you used to not be the only one occupying your little cell but the others didn’t stay long and you feared you’d be next. Of course being a druid meant you could use something like Wildshape to escape, and of course you would’ve loved to use it too had it not been for some sort of magic nullifying enchantment on the restraints you were shackled in. With no means of using magic to your disposal and no way to call for help with the gag in your mouth you resorted to try thrashing around, attempting to tug free of the shackles that chained you to a wall. All this lead to was having your wrists rubbed raw, still you fought through the pain praying they’d eventually give, the stinging feeling only getting worse and harder to ignore until you felt something warm and wet running down your arms. You're hesitant to look, but see that your insistent tugging caused the shackles to cut into your wrists making them start bleed, badly. You take in deep and slow breaths through your nose to keep yourself calm, seeing as you had no way to cast any healing spell in your situation you try not to panic and slow the blood flow as best as possible. Tears stream down your face, the pain wasn’t helping with your wrist this sensitive it only amplified the feeling of the shackles digging into them, and you were starting to feel lightheaded.

A commotion and the sounds of people fighting catch your ears whipping your head in the direction it was coming from, then instantly regret that choice at the dizziness it caused. You try to make a sound, only muffled noises getting passed the fabric covering your mouth but you persist hoping someone hears you. The fighting dies down as silence takes over, making you worry whoever was here had lost the battle or left, until the cell door opens and two familiar people step in, hurrying over to you. Caduceus helps to remove the rag over your mouth while Nott makes quick work of the shackles seeing the bloody mess on your wrists. The second your wrists are free you feel a gentle, soothing sensation spread over them looking down to watch the lichen cover up the cuts before crumpling away, leaving behind hairline scars. You gently rub at your wrists to help regain circulation in them before leaning your full weight into Caduceus with a soft sobs.

"Shhh, it’s going to be okay, I’m here." Caduceus hushes you, wrapping his arms around your smaller form in a secure embrace.

"They-they were gonna try and sell me away." You hiccup through your tears.

"It’s alright now, we took care of them, they won’t be taking anyone anymore." He calmly reassures, you give a small nod and cuddle yourself into his chest more. Finally feeling safe and secure you let yourself pass out from the exhaustion you’ve felt.

Fjord

You kicked and flailed in hopes of wiggling free from this thugs grasp on you, all this while screaming at the top of your lungs in the hopes that your cry’s of distress would be loud enough to alert the rest of your sleeping group. Sure your voice would be ruined for a while but that was a small sacrifice you were willing to make if it meant freedom.

"Oh would you shut up! Why haven’t you gagged them yet!?" This groups leader calls over his shoulder getting very agitated with you, good that means your plan was working.

"They won’t stop squirming."

"Then hold them still idiots!" The one that had you thrown over their shoulder try’s using his free hand to hold you down, you swing your head over and bite them without hesitation, they retract their hand and slightly loosen their grip just enough for you to move your arms, perfect. The other two goons come closer to try and restrain you better, you focus and when they’re close enough in range…

"Thunderwave!" You shout, using the newly gained mobility in your arms to flick your hands out and cast the spell. The two goons are knocked back and the one that was holding you is knocked to the ground releasing their grip in the process, a loud thunderous boom shakes through the trees, if that didn’t alert anyone you don’t know what would. Knowing you weren’t a match against 4 men at once you sprint in the direction you came as fast as possible, trying to stay close to the path while using the trees for extra cover. You take a second to catch your breath, all the screaming and shouting did a real number to your throat, it felt dry and it hurt to even attempt making a noise now.

"Keep searching, the brat couldn’t have gotten far!" You could hear the bandits approaching and go to make another run for it, but are caught and thrown harshly to the dirt path. In an attempt to push yourself off the ground you feel a foot press heavily against your back, pushing you into the jagged gravel. "Didn’t ya hear my warning?" They mockingly ask, pressing the cold steel of their blade against your neck. "I’m not against killing you kid." They slowly start to press the blade deeper into your neck, feeling it pierce the skin and draw blood. The feeling of the blade suddenly leaves you, but your left still bleeding and having a hard time controlling your breath from the panic of almost having your throat slit.

A calming sensation eases in and your breathing starts improving again, even the dryness in your throat feels a little better but you’re still not well enough to talk. You look up at Caduceus, being the one who healed you and give him a smile and a thumbs up, he returns the smile and ruffles your hair before helping you back on your feet properly. Fjord soon comes up to you and kneels down to your height, placing his hands on your shoulders, a heavy look of guilt on his face.

"Are you alright?" His voice wavered a little. You rub your neck a little as a ways to show it was sore but give a small nod. "Thank the Wildemother, I was so worried. I’m sorry I let this happen to you, I should’ve…" He trails off a bit, tightening his grip on your shoulders. You just lean forward and give him a hug, locking your arms around his neck as your body shakes a little from the whole encounter, he lets out a breath before returning the hug, securing his arms around you and lifting you up in the process. He then starts making his way back to camp, the rest of Nein in tow.

Beau

These ninjas, if you could even call them that, must’ve really underestimated their opponent, sure they were able to capture you but that was because they had numbers on their side while you were just one kid, that didn’t stop you from breaking free and taking them on. What did they even want with you anyways, you saw one drop a note by accident, did someone hire them? Either way you had to be careful the longer you took them on the more exhausted you were starting to feel. You go to land another hit on one of them when a sound you knew well hits your ears and makes you freeze on the spot, and suddenly feel helpless. That sound was the chime of a silver bell, not bronze or gold no particularly silver, you knew that chime all too well and you hated it and the effects it had on you. How did they even- you cut off your own thoughts at a terrifying realization… did your parents send them? Having lost focus you get socked in the jaw and lay limply on the ground, trying to process what was happening. You then hear pained grunts and look over to see Beau fighting off the enemies with some backup from Caleb and Caduceus. You push yourself off the ground but can’t make yourself do more them that, just watching the fight come to an end.

"No one messes with my kid." Beau growls angrily before making her way over to you. "You doing alright (y/n)? If you need any healing I can get Caduceus to check on you." You shake your head, a few stray tears escaping you which Beau defiantly didn’t miss. "Whoa! Hey, you sure you’re alright?" She asks with more concern now.

"I know who sent them." You speak just above a whisper, voice quivering as you do. An arm wraps around your shoulder as Beau joins in sitting next to you, finding yourself leaning into her side as she rubs your arm in a comforting way.

"Tell me who." She spoke with a serious tone, clearly ready to take down whoever caused you this type of grief.

"My parents." You look away from her and shrink a little into yourself.

"What? How can you tell?" She asks, surprised by this. You point over at the discarded bell left laying on the ground.

"Before they sent me away that was how they 'trained' me, they’d ring a bell whenever I’d misbehave… It was always a silver bell." You shift uncomfortably at the memories and feel Beau tighten her grip on you.

"Well, if they want you back so badly, they’re gonna have to pry you from my cold dead hands themselves." You look up at her in shock, she gives you a side smile. "You’re my student and technically my kid now too. Don’t think I’m gonna let 'The Man' take you that easily without a fight." You smile at this and she ruffles up your hair earning a small laugh from you too.

Yasha

It was terrifying to be without Yasha for this long with these dangerous brutes, what did they even want with you? It’s not like you could offer anything valuable to them or were they just doing this for their own sick kicks. You didn’t want to think too much on it, instead looking for any sort of opening to escape but finding nothing that wouldn’t lead to a confrontation. You could try and test your luck and just snap free of your binding, but it’s never faired well in the past and you didn’t want to end up on the end of a stake, that thought alone makes you shudder.

"Intruders are here!" You hear one shout as the others leave the room, this was your chance, now that they were distracted you easily snap out of the rope they’d tied you in and go to grab your weapon they left discarded on the floor, how rude of them. Being a sneaky as possible your make your way towards the exit and see the brutes fighting against the Mighty Nein. Yasha was facing off with the largest of the brutes well in a rage, screaming at them to tell her where you were. You weren’t sure how battle ready you were at the current time, but you wanted to help so gripping your sword in hand you charge at the brute from behind and take a large swing, slicing into the back of his knee. The brute roars in pain and does a wide sweep with his battle axe, you try to jump back but your earlier forward momentum makes you stagger and get hit by the blade, knocking you backwards by the sheer force.

You skid across the ground gripping tightly to your gut, slowly being surrounded by a puddle of your own blood, it was excruciating as you pitifully try to stop the heavy blood flow by holding your stomach tighter. You try to focus on staying conscious as an angry roar like thunder tears through the cave, you could only guess it to be Yasha having seen what just happened. It feels like an eternity before the pain slowly starts to disappear, the soft light of Jester's healing magic makes you blink open your eyes and look up at her, she gives you a smile and helps you to your feet. You wobble a little but catch yourself and walk back over to the group where you see them finish off the last of the brutes, Yasha taking a big swing bisecting them from the shoulder to their waist. When she looks over and sees you standing there she drops her weapon and runs to you, scooping you into her arms and lets out a few sobs.

"You had me so scared. I thought I lost you too." You grip tightly to her and just share in this sweet reunion.

"I’m sorry I scared you." You apologize, but she shakes her head.

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for, and you’re safe now that’s what matters." She breaths out, with a sigh of relief. She then carries you out of the cave and finally back together again you go to join up with the Mighty Nein.

Molly

Numb, that’s all you could feel right now was just numb, these Iron Shepherds had no mercy no matter the age and it showed from the various scars and bruises you received. You lay in the dingy cell they’d placed you in, if you could you would’ve taken this time to think back on your decisions that lead to this moment but you were just too mentally and physically drained to care anymore. As numb as you were everything still hurt, and you felt so exhausted, you just wanted this to end or for something to happen. So stuck in your own head the rest of the world was drowned out to you making you miss the sounds of footsteps and shouts ring throughout the hideout.

There’s a screeching sound of a cell door being opened, you curl in on yourself in a hopeless attempt to prepare for whatever beating may be coming your way. There’s no pain just a hand placing itself on your shoulder, you instinctually flinch away from the touch, they were playing cruel mind games with you now, they had to be, there was just no other explanation for someone trying to be so careful with you. Whoever it was they were persistent, gently taking you into their arms and lifting you up, feeling a strangely comforting warmth wash over you compared to the cold stone floor you were just laying on. They were whispering something you couldn’t quite catch but you try your best to focus and listen.

"Everything’s gonna be alright now love, I promise. They’re not going to hurt you anymore." There voice came out softly as you’re held in their protective grip. Slowly you regain more and more focus and finally notice the familiar colours of a very elaborate coat, feeling tears well up in your eyes at the relief that this wasn’t some cruel trick by your captors and was in fact reality. With the small amount of strength you still had you carefully raise your arms to return the embrace and start weeping uncontrollably, letting out all the tears you’d been holding back. Molly's grip on you tightens slightly, being careful to not hurt you as though you were fragile and could break at a moments notice. "We had ourselves a long day, haven’t we? Let’s get you out of this hellhole." With that he exits the dingy cell and carries you out of the Sour Nest.

[voltagesmutter]

Zen x MC - BodyWorship.

Pairing: Zen x MC (F).

Fandom: Mystic Messenger.

Prompt:  Body Worship || Masks || Formal wear. 

Warning: Mirrors, Body-worship, loving-fluff smut, oral (Female and male), vaginal sex.

Day 1 of @alloveroliver​ amazing Kinktober event/prompt list.

Amazing thank you to @crystal13unny for being my beta 💛

“To you my love,” She toasted, raising the flute of champagne, colours of gold filled with bubbles swirling in the glass. 

“Jagiya, you spoil me,” Zen meeting her movements, the ringing sound of glasses meeting filling the hotel room. The paleness of his skin was tinted a slight red, bashfulness taking over him as she gushed over his latest performance. A rarity to see the phenomenon flustered, but when it came to her, Zen was an array of emotions.

“You were truly wonderful Zen, I think that was by far my favourite performance ever ,” A pause followed as she brought her glass to her lips, a redded lip mark now staining it with a perfect print. Zen’s eyes fixed on her movement, she’d purposefully worn his favourite colour just for tonight. “You were beyond captivating,”.

Zen had a leading role in a local production, shining brighter on stage than he ever had done before. Partly due to new talent scouts were sat in the audience, but mainly because the love of his life was sat front and center with their friends. Admiring and savouring every line he spoke. While she attended dress rehearsals before, this was the first production of his she’d ever been too. Her eyes unable to be torn from his ruby ones as he delivered his lines of proclaiming love to the audience. And whilst he was saying them aloud in the play, he spoke everyone to her, pouring all of his emotions into them as if he was speaking to her directly. While the others were incredibly moved by his speech, she felt her eyes swell up with tears to watch him. He delivered it with such rawness of emotions, making it believable that he was pouring out his heart to a lover rather than reciting dialogue or reciting lines. So elegant and poised, charming and loveable, the brightest light on the stage. 

After the excitement of it, there was a flooding round of applause from the audience crying out for more. Then came the meet and greets with different cast members and producers, Zen keeping an arm tightly wrapped around her and close himself to the whole evening. Refusing to be apart from her for even a second longer. The scouting talents gushed over him, promising to be in touch concerning signing and as they said ‘Putting him on the map’. They smiled, chatted, laughed and conversed with others, swiftly moving from group to group until finally they taking their leave.

She’d booked a room at a swanky hotel nearby as a surprise for all his hard-work, toll of the sheer effort he’d provided to his work was evidently clear, but only to her; Zen kept up a mask of his perfect appearance, only letting it fade away in the comfort of their home. Exhausted, fatigued with muscle aches, yet always wearing that loveable grin that could make anyone swoon. She wanted to use tonight to help him relax, to focus a night of pure attention on him. Seeing him performing on stage like he was born to do lit a fire within her, to see her man living and breathing his passion. She wanted to show him, love him, make him feel just as vibrant off stage as he did on stage. Tonight she would do just that.

“Jagiya,” He took their drinks, placing them upon the glass table to cup her cheek, pulling her face up close to his. He kissed with a passion, one that knocked the very wind out of her lungs as their tongues sought comfort in each other’s mouths. Red nails seeking purchase amongst his white ponytail, angling his face down to deepen the kiss. The picturesque background of the city fading into the background as they held each other. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you on stage,” He whispered between kisses, moving them down to her jaw and neck. His hands restlessly rubbing her sides, fingers itching to pull the hem of her skirt up.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, you looked so gorgeous up there Zenny,” Gently tugging his hair with a slight gasp as he playfully nibbled the sensitive patch of her neck.

“I hope not, I couldn’t bear for your eyes to wander,” His face coming up to nestle against hers, noses gliding each other as their lips met once more. Expert fingers quickly found the zip at the back of her dress, unzipping it, letting it fall to the floor in a puddle. 

The growl that fell from him, the expression on his face was like a child’s at Christmas seeing a wide variety of presents beneath the tree, causing a faint blush on her cheeks. The crimson underwear she wore, matching the colour of his eyes, sat beautifully as lace rested upon her skin.  His pupils blew wide, like they always did when he saw her undress. His look wasn’t just lustful, it was praising, loving and admiring. 

“Jagiya I need you,” His voice a low baritone hum against her neck once more, hands skirting across her body to rest upon the top of her underwear, thumbs rubbing in circles upon her hip bones. The hardness in his jeans pressing against her to prove to her how she affected him.

Zen always made the effort to indulge in her first, burying his head between her thighs for what could feel like hours but tonight was her turn to repay him, to give him the divine pleasure he always gave her.

“Do you want to know why I picked this hotel?” She teased, pulling away from his hold but he kept his arms encircled around her, rutted his hips against her causing a small whine to fall from her lips.

“The bed?” Eye’s glancing over to the almost double king-size, much bigger than theirs at home.

“Nope,” She shook her head, it was a right answer but not the one she was looking for. “Come with me,”. She stretched out her hand and intertwined it with his, leading him into the bathroom where a claw foot bath rested in the middle of the room, big enough the two of them to comfortably fit it. Lavish mirrors from ceiling to floor stood behind it. Leaning over the tub she turned on the hot tap. As water began to fill it the feel of her lover grinding against her again caused another sigh, her eyes catching his in the reflection.

“You're teasing me, dressed so deliciously, bending over like this,” His teeth gently bit the shell of her ear, “Are you trying to lure out the beast?” turning in his arms whilst pushing gently to create some distance to see a confused look upon his face. Whilst she loved when Zen let go and just mercilessly fucked into a mess on the spot, that was not the aim of this evening. 

“Actually tonight,” She gently pushed him backwards, taking a step forward as her fingers messed with the bottom of his t-shirt, “We’re going to do something different,”.

“Oh?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow. He couldn’t deny his first thought went straight to anal, a conversation they had had many of times.

“Tonight my love is all about you,”. Her fingers tickling his lower abdomen as she lifted his shirt off of him, licking her lips to the beautiful sight beneath. Pale skin with ripped muscles, broad shoulders that narrowed down his waist where a defined six pack lay. She wasn’t in love with Zen for his looks, she loved him for his personality but the body, and sex drive, were much appreciated bonuses. 

“Have I told you recently how lucky I am to have you?” Her lips pressing softly to his as she ghosted her fingers down his chest, teasingly running over his belt.

“Jagiya I-“ He swallowed the bob of his adam's apple clearly visible as she undid his belt, slowly pulling it through the loops. 

“Shh baby, let me take care of you tonight,” Her words were met with no protest, Zen almost crumbling on the spot as she kissed down his body, “I want to make you feel so good,” dark red marks standing strong against his pale skin as she slowly made her way down. A few loitering kisses upon his racing heart, one pressed over his hardening nipples before a trail moving downwards over the taunt of his abs.

“My beautiful Zen…” Her lips pressed to his belly button as she popped the button on his jeans.

“My handsome, incredibly talented sexy man,” Tugging at his jeans until they fell to his ankles, his erection straining against his boxers as she dropped to her knees. All Zen could do was stare in awe, biting his lip in bated anticipation.

“My real life Adonis,” A red stain pressed just above his boxers as she tugged them down, his cock springing free. Fully erect and pulsing with need, a pearl of precum visibly leaking from the slit of his head, “My wild beast,”.

“Fuck…” They both cursed, her at the sight, him at the feeling of her hand wrapping around him pumping him slowly.

“You have no idea what you do to me Hyuan,” Her breath ghosting over him caused a heavy groan from him, his cock twitching at teasing warmth.

“Jagiya… you drive me crazy,” Head rolled back slightly as she pressed wet kisses to his delicate skin, his balls coated in red marks, a stunning contrast of red on white upon his skin. She circled around his base, more prints left upon him before pulling back. Just as Zen went to speak she wrapped her lips around his head, giving him a harsher stroker. 

Zen feared he may just snap in the moment, to melt into a puddle on the floor as she ran her tongue up and down his length, whispering words of admiration for his body, for his cock, for his soul. Leaning back he pressed one hand to the wall for support whilst the other threaded through her hair. Low groans echoed off the bathroom walls, reflecting off the tiles and flooding their ears. Catching a glimpse whilst his eyes fluttered open and shut in the mirror, his body decorated with her mark, it was a sight that would forever be burned into both of their minds.

“Agh.. Jagiya,” He panted when she parted, a strand of saliva visible connecting her smudged lips to his throbbing head. 

“The bath,” She whispered, standing up and turning around, switching off the tap as hot water filled it up just over half way. He couldn’t help but wrap a hand around himself as she slowly peeled off her bra followed by her panties, damp and stuck to her folds with the sheer arousal. He almost came from the sight, the smell of her flooding his senses from when she stood as she spread her legs to get into the water, beckoning him over with a finger. He sat opposite her, the water rising slightly with them both in, gentle waves crashing half way up her abdomen. Leaning forward she crawled to straddle his hip, kissing him as she wrapped a hand around him again, continuing her movement from moments ago. His cock stood solid, up out of the water. The light tuff of his white pubic hair and balls lying just beneath the watery surface. 

Using her thumb she spread the new bead of pre-cum over his length, thighs tensing over him from the moans that fell from his mouth. His eyes twinkled from the reflection of the water and light, illuminating them as they glossed over. He wasn't used to being teased, relishing in the way she leaned down to take him into her mouth once more, nothing but pleasure taking over his body. 

Admittedly, performing such an act in the bath wasn’t the greatest of ideas. Water caressed her lips each time she worked lower down his shaft, small waves rising each time he bucked into her touch. One hand wrapped around the base of him, the other cupping his balls in the palm of her hand, a gentle squeeze every now and then that made him twitch in her mouth. The moans that fell from his mouth were heavenly, peeking up beneath her thick lashes to savour him falling apart in-front of her. Chest rising and falling as his head rolled back over the edge of the tub, shoulders broad and expanded as he rested them on the sides, fists gripping over the edge to keep himself grounded as she continued to work over him. Red lipstick stains trailed from lips, across his jaw and neck, down the toned planes of his abdomen. Where the water had risen over his body she was unable to see the following red marks. Red stained over his albino skin, pressed to the base of his cock and up over it, perfection of art upon skin. He was a vision of sheer beauty, a man being brought to the highest points of pleasure from his lovers mouth. And he was all hers.

“____…” Almost so quiet she didn’t hear it, one hand now moved to intertwined in her hair with a gentle grasp. The way she felt him begin to throb against her tongue, the higher pitched whimpers that fell faster and faster was a sign he was close. Hollowing her cheeks, applying more pressured suction as she pushed down further, exhaling from her nose as she moved her hand, rouge lips firmly pressing to the bottom of his cock to take him fully into her mouth. Her free hand pressed to his hip to stop him from bucking into her mouth, waves splashing across her cheek from the movement. He cursed heavily to feel the smooth velvet of her tongue running against the throbbing vein of the underside of his cock, the action proving to be his undoing as he pulsed against the back of her throat. Her head moving up slowly to push down whilst his release filled her mouth, ensuring to ride his orgasm out the best she could before his pleasured moans fell into softening whimpers.

She felt herself clench over nothing at his moans, craving for him to fill her but it needed to wait, Zen was her priority tonight not her own needs. One final brush of her lips to his softening cock before she pulled off him, swallowing his plentiful release as she sat up, pressing her hands to rest on his chest. Zen lying in a blissful glow, skin glowing with sweat as he took a few moments to regain his breath. Both of them counting their blessings to be so lucky to belong to each other. 

“I love you so much ____,” Finally breathing at a normal rate, sitting up to hold her to his chest. One hand cupping her cheek and using his thumb to wipe away the saliva that pooled in the corner of her mouth. “Let me show you how much,”.

Whilst his sweet words were tempting and she would love nothing more for him to pin her to the bed and pound her into the mattress, tonight was all about him. 

“Later Zenny, but let’s shower first, the water's getting cold,” She whispered, pressing a delicate kiss to his lips before rising out of water. Not bothering to wrap a towel around she walked straight into the shower, letting the warmth of the water envelop over her. It took a mere few seconds for Zen to be running in behind her, his hands holding her waist from behind as his lips found her neck. They showered together, every attempt Zen made she shot him down with “After, I promise, let me take care of you,”. As much as she throbbed and ached between her thighs, she needed to wait, knowing the release she would have later would be worth it all.

She washed his hair, sinking her fingertips into his scalp and letting the water massage the bubbles out of it. Zen relaxing against her in a tranquil state, love, love and love pulsing from one body to another as they washed each other. The red paint on his skin now fading away down the drain, sweet nimble kisses shared as she washed away the soap on his skin. Sighing softly to feel the flex of his muscles as she ran her fingertips over them, enjoying his tender vulnerable side, that was only for her.

Zen had spent his life trying to prove he was good enough, that he was the best he could be and yet when it came to her he felt he would never be good enough. In his eyes she was a goddess, a laugh and smile that poured light into his life, someone so pure and caring. The words of his monologue were a reflection of how he felt about her, practically giving her his heart on the stage.

It was a trial to make it to the bed, lips locked together as they pawed at each other’s body’s. Stopping every few feet until finally he couldn’t take it anymore and held her in his arms, carrying her to the bed. He lay her down on the mattress, following suit without breaking the kiss. He parted her thighs to settle in between them, lips peppering down her body until she stopped him with a tug of his hair. She knew exactly what he was about to and where them lips were heading, turning her night of passion for him into one for her as well. Rolling them over, she straddled him, keeping her hands tightly on his chest to stop him flipping the positions again.

She sank down onto his cock with delicate mewls, no need for foreplay, much to his protests, from how wet she already was from seeing Zen so undone for her earlier. He was always the gentleman and ensured she came atleast once before sex, either with his tongue or hand, normally both. 

He found himself thanking the heavens over and over again in a silent prayer as she rocked in his lap moments later, slow grinding movements with sweet proclamations of love to each other. Only once she’d climaxed twice did he search for his own, thrusting up whilst pulling her down, her body slightly spent and overly sensitive. ‘Oh… Hyun,’ she repeated over and over, thighs tensing with her fingers running down his chest, leaving red wakes in their way. The pulse of her sensitive walls over his, the way she moaned, the bounce of her breasts in front of his face was enough to bring him to the edge of climax faster. They came together, with each other's names on their lips. Her thighs trembling as she descended from her highs, collapsing onto his chest.Two strong arms encircled around her, a pair of lips pressing to her sweating forehead as he whispered to her how much he loved her, how lucky he was to have her, how much he worshipped her.

Once her thighs stopped quaking, he rolled them over so she was lying on her back. Mimicking her actions from earlier, pressing kisses down her body and repeating the words of praise she has used, to let her know he was just as crazy about her as she was him. He parted her thighs and settled between them, eyes glistening as he looked up with a smile.

“My love, earlier you compared me to Adonis,” He placed her legs to place on his shoulders, tilting his head to press kisses from her knee down her thighs, “But whilst I might be him, I hold nothing compared to you, my real life Aphrodite,”. He didn’t give her time to answer back, his mouth already pressed against her lower lips and using his tongue to part her folds. Zen believed at one point that he was the most beautiful creature to walk this planet but he came to realise he was wrong the first day he set eyes upon her. Her face sculpted by the hands of the gods, a living breathing masterpiece that he got to indulge in and praise everyday.

Their actions speaking for their words of love as they continued to cherish each other’s body’s, melting in pleasure and passion into each other’s arms as the sun rose outside. Two lovers expressing their adoration for each other with entwined limbs amongst the tangled satin sheets.

Kinktober masterlist here.

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

Worries

Kili comforts an anxious Elle.

I really hope this helps you in some way, @elles-writing​!  I personally have never experienced anxiety, so I feel like I don’t know what to say or anything, as awkward as that sounds, but I guess this is my way of trying to give you a virtual hug.​

MASTERLIST

OC Used:  N/A

Word Count:  626

Warning(s):  Anxiety, negative thoughts towards body image

Translation(s):  None

~~~~

Darkness covered the room, obscuring and distorting even the most familiar of objects so as to turn the furnishings into terrifying monsters.  Only a single small candle flickered against the shadows; fighting to scare off the gloom.

Hidden farther back in the shadows, a young woman burrowed farther into the blankets she had piled up on the bed.  She trembled under the weight of a variety of emotions; each tormenting her exhausted mind.  

If only she could sleep, rest, recharge.  But the nagging questions kept circling back, refusing to let her go just yet.  

The soft click of the door opening had her head snapping up.  Anxiously, she watched as a flickering beam of light appeared in the doorway; barely illuminated the stubbled face of the person she most wanted to see.

The Dwarrow paused, seemingly looking around the room.  "Elle?"  He called out, his voice carrying just the slight hint of an accent.  "Amrâlimê?"  

The woman slowly sat up, fisting the covers tightly in her hands.  "Kili."  She breathed out, and the Dwarrow made his way through the room, still carrying his candle.

"Love, what are you doing in the dark?"  He asked in confusion as he knelt before the fireplace, quickly coaxing a fire to life within the hearth.  Light was restored to the room, chasing away the gloom that had threatened from all sides.

Elle hesitated, fidgeting as she avoided eye-contact.  Kili watched her silently before setting aside the candle; approaching the bed like one approached a wild beast.

Slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed, studying Elle's face in the light of the roaring fire that crackled happily.  His brown eyes took in the way she shook slightly, hands curled into fists.  

Swinging his legs up onto the bed, Kili maneuvered himself next to Elle, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder.  "What's wrong, Elle?"  He asked softly, gazing at her face.  "You can tell me, love."

Silence hung in the air like a heavy weight as Elle wrestled with her thoughts.  Then it all came spilling out in a rush.  "I'm scared because of the dark, and I can't stop shaking and I just don't think I'm pretty like the other girls.  I know its wrong to think of myself that way, but I just don't like myself very much right now."  

Kili listened quietly, tightening his arm around Elle.  "Amrâlimê, it's alright to not feel pretty all the time."  He soothed, but Elle shook her head.

"Kili, I just get fed up with all the other girls judging me because I'm not as thin as them."  She sniffled, making Kili frown.

"So what?  Just tell them to bugger off or something.  Don't pay attention to them."  

"It's not as simple as that, Kee.  As much as I don't want to pay attention to them or just not care about other people judging me, I can't help it."

Kili thought for a moment before responding.  "Then let's not worry about them.  Snuggle w'me?"  He asked, and Elle nodded silently, allowing Kili to pull her closer and wrap both his arms around her in a tight hug.

Rocking slightly, Kili nuzzled Elle's hair as she curled up against his broad chest.  She let out a contented sigh, making a smile pull at the corner of Kili's mouth.

"Y'know, I always did like your shoulders...  So..."  She trailed off, searching for words.  "I don't know, thick, broad, huggable, something like that."  

Kili gazed wide-eyed down at her, wondering if this was really a conversation he was having with Elle.  "What?"

"Your shoulders.  I like them."  Elle muttered sleepily, burrowing her face into the crook of Kili's neck.

Kili began to chuckle, shaking his head.  "Whatever makes you happy, love."

[rhabakoli]

Virgin No More

unbetaed, bc late. smut, beware.

this is the missing smut from Beautiful & Damned’s latest chapter. 

@dreamwritesimagines​ @riviawitch3r​

He was determined, focused, but so, so gentle. His hands were wandering over your body, his lips never left yours. He was completely covering you, your legs wrapped around his waist, your night shift bunched at your hips, and it was everything you ever wanted, It was safe; HE was safe. He shielded you from the outside world, from anyone seeing you like this. He kept you to himself, was the only one to see you this open, this beautiful; the only one to make you feel safe while being at the most vulnerable you ever were.

His teeth caught your lips, one of his hands reached back and smoothed down your thigh to grab your ass and squeeze. You couldn’t hold back a silent gasp, but Geralt just smiled and a growl rumbling through his chest. He felt your body under his, curves and scars and blemishes and he wanted to explore all of you. He needed to. He needed to make you feel like you lost your mind; needed to make you writhe underneath him, this vulnerable, to see your skin tinted with a gorgeous rosy dust, to hear your heart beat faster and harder, hear it beckon him to match his hips to the rhythm of it. He needed to be the only one. Your only one. You could tell he was lost in his emotions, lost in his head. His hips were circling against yours, core against core; it was like he wasn’t aware, too animalistic, too wild, too driven by his desire. His whole body was thrumming with it, growls and grunts from deep inside him, making you shiver all over, press closer to him, feel him, let yourself be taken. He was licking along your jaw, painted your skin wet with just the tip of his tongue, before he latched onto your neck. You screwed your eyes shut, tried to keep your wits about – but holy ass, was it hard. “Geralt, please.” He was clothed still, separated from you by straining leather and linen, but you needed him naked, bare, inside you. “Geralt, take it off, take it all off.” Your voice was low, gentle, a little shaky. But he still heard, of course. He stilled above you, a couple deep, hot breaths against your throat, then he was gone. The sudden loss of body heat had you shivering, had your nipples harden even more. His golden eyes were sharp, intense, and didn’t leave your figure, not one second. He knelt between your legs, his hands on your knees at his sides, his eyes going from your face to your chest, to your stomach and lower. His view was obscured by your nightshift, and he snarled at it. He went to rip it off you, probably destroying it in the process, but you reacted in time and pulled it up, up, up, over your head and let it drop to the floor next to the bed. You were rewarded with a shaky intake of breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at your knees. “Come on, Geralt.”, you lured him, breathless yourself. “Please, don’t make me wait.” Finally, he reacted. You watched as his fingers opened the laces of his breeches, quick and deftly, and your brain immediately thought of other used for those skilled appendages. Piece after piece fell to the floor, bared him to you more and more. Your mouth watered, and you had to get your mouth on his body. Where your confidence came from? You didn’t know, maybe some weird sex demon possessed you. But maybe it was all in the way Geralt, this beast of a man, so kind, so gentle, looked at you. How he reacted to you, how he wanted you, and didn’t even think to hide it. Therefore, you didn’t either. You just did what you thought felt good. You sat up, curled your hand around his hip and pressed a kiss to his chest, right above his heart. His fingers curled in your hair, cupped the back of your head. He huffed, your name on his lips like a prayer, like he couldn’t believe he got to touch you, like he couldn’t believe you were here with him. You let your hands explore, feel his skin under your hands, the warmth radiating off him, the tenseness of his muscles, the coarse hair sprinkled all over his chest and trailing down. It was like a path to paradise, like a promise of what’s to come. “Oh, fuck.” You grinned, your lips still pressing kisses to his skin, little scrapes of your teeth for variety. You let your fingertips drift along the waistline of his breeches, ever so softly, touch barely there. He was still kneeling, your legs now around his thighs. It brought his crotch to a comfortable height. In a sudden onset of boldness, you curled your fingers into the waistband and tugged. His cock, hard, heavy, hot, was definitely happier once you’d gotten rid of its prison. Your nails scraped along Geralt’s thighs, lured a deep, rough groan from him. He was focused on your face, the fire in his eyes spurring you on. The gold of his irises was nothing more than a thin line, the rest was swallowed by the deep black of his pupils. It sent shivers down your back. You pressed a kiss just underneath his bellybutton, then one to the jut of his hipbone. “Shit.” He was… proportional. His dick twitched every time you moved; Geralt barely holding back now. It made you feel invincible. To have him wrapped around your finger, to be able to do this to him? It was a rush of power and trust you didn’t expect. And it made you want to protect him, so that no one else ever would get the chance to abuse that sense of intimacy. His hands wrapped around your wrists, brought them together to hold them with one of his, while the other came to tilt up your chin. “Princess, that’s enough.” He’d explode if your mouth got any closer to his dick than it already was. And you looked so curious and bold tonight, he wouldn’t be surprised if you actually tried. Instead, he raised your crossed wrists over your head and back, effectively bringing you down on you back once more. He wasn’t far behind, needed to feel your chest pressed against his. “You’re beautiful. Precious.” You were slick already, but with his voice on your ear, his breath against your skin, his cock rubbing against you – you could scarcely breathe. The leather of his pants dug into his thighs, restricted his movement, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to eat you up, eat you out, breathe you in until your scent and taste were burned into his brain, soaked into his skin. He wanted to bathe in your very essence until he would be able to remember all of you to his dying day. “Hold onto something.”, he commanded. You couldn’t not, your hips raised into his on their own accord, made you gasp. He smirked at that. “You will have to be very good for me. Very quiet.” Geralt kissed your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. His hands next to you caused the mattress to dip, made you feel caged in, but content. In any way, he was teasing, and you hated him a little bit. One hand stroked down your side, your stomach, before coming to rest with its thumb on your clit. The touch was soft and short, but you were so worked up, it sent shocks through you anyway. You jolted, gasped, and then his hand was on your mouth, silencing you. “Princess, as much as I want to make everyone listen to you scream my name, it wouldn’t do you any good. Your mother will be in here before I can even get my mouth on you, and neither of us wants that.” His thumb has taken to circling your clit, flicking left to right from time to time. It had you keening, but you tried to keep quiet. He released you and crawled lower instead, his mouth now latching onto your right nipple. “Ah, don’t-“ His tongue came out, a broad lick across the sensitive bud, and the ending of what you were going to say came out in a breathless sigh. “-stop.” He chuckled, shifted his hand and dipped low, his index finger now teasing your entrance. He pushed inside, just his fingertip, then he stopped. His while body tensed up, his cock jumped, grew ever harder. You were so wet, so ready for him, he was close to completely loosing it. Your fingers were clutching at his shoulders, then slid up to his neck and head. The way you said his name, not yet a moan but close enough, had him thrust shallowly into the air. “Fuck, what did I ever do to deserve this.” You laughed at that, unbelieving as well. “You love me.” He hummed, pulled his hands from you and pushed himself even lower. He was hungry, and diner was served. His mouth on your cunt made you sit up, a loud curse on your lips. What in the world? “Lay back princess.” He wasn’t going to stop. He’d not stop until you’ve come on his tongue, until you were dripping. Your heart was beating so hard, it was deafening; you were sure it was going to explode any second. And then Geralt did something with his tongue that had you seeing stars; suddenly you had to concentrate really hard on being quiet. The room was filled with the sounds of your wetness, of Geralt’s growls and happy hums, your moans, your stifled curses when you were aware enough to clap a hand over your mouth. It was dirty, heady, delightfully so. Your hips jolted when he pushed a finger in, carefully, and you gasped so loudly, he was concerned for a moment. “Are you okay?” Your right hand came up to pinch your nipple, your left buried itself in Geralts hair and held on. “YES.” He didn’t hesitate long and dove right back in with new energy, more tongue and with more pressure. He licked you, he ate you like a man starving. His finger dragged out, then pushed back in, producing such a delicious teasing friction, you had to wriggle your hips. He didn’t like that. His free arm came to wrap around you, hold your hip down and still.   You didn’t realize your small movements weren’t the actual reason, not before pulled out, spread your cunt with middle and index finger and licked up your slit in one broad swipe. “Oh fuck, Geralt, ple-“ He hummed, the vibrations shooting through you like little shooting stars. You started to lose feeling in your toes, and still they were tingly; it spread up your legs, warmth pooled in your belly. You knew you’d not be able to hold on much longer, but Geralt didn’t want you to. “You taste amazing, my princess. I want to never taste anything else again. Never. “ He started fucking you with his tongue, swirled it around, pushed in, pulled out, licked up and down and made you writhe and see stars. You grew hotter and hotter, muscles coiled tight and ready to let go, when Geralt hummed once again, then let off just enough to talk. “I will make this my dinner every night from now on. You’ll learn what it means to be satisfied, my beloved.” He leaned up onto his elbow, looked down at your drenched, wrecked cunt. “You’ll crave me.” One finger slipped into you. “You will beg for me to come visit you at night.” Back out. “I won’t be able to sleep before I had a taste of you, Princess.” Back in. His leisurely pace had you keening and fisting the fabric under you. “Never will I be satisfied with anything less than the taste of your arousal on my lips.” He smiled at you, softly, adoring. “Never again do I want to miss your presence, my Princess.” Geralt gathered up your juices, pushed them back in and then he was right back where he loved to be. Head buried between your legs, lapping up your wetness and not wasting a single drop. Barely half a minute later, you were going tense, your legs closing around Geralt’s head, trapping him there, and then you came. You bit the palm of your hand as not to scream his name, but you surely did thrash in place, your body shaking from head to toe. Never had you had such an intense orgasm, and you’d never thought it would even be possible to feel like this. Your blood was rushing in your ears, your lungs refused to work, and you were sure Geralt was talking to you. Were you passing out? No, you didn’t think you were. A giggle spilled over your lips then, and suddenly you couldn’t stop it anymore. Geralt had finally gotten rid of his pants and now he was crawling back over you and brushed your hair from your face. “You alright?” You nodded, still giggling.   “Good.” He cupped your face with one hand, kissed you and then nuzzled underneath your jaw, like a small puppy. Which, he wasn’t. Not at all. You still felt very sensitive and twitchy, so you were grateful that he wasn’t touching you anywhere below your hip. In a sexual way, at least. Instead he was stretched out at your side, his leg thrown over yours, and his arms pulling you close. You calmed down after a while, Geralts steady breath at your side reassuring. The two of you laid like that for a while, just breathing, Geralt’s hands wandering in soothing patterns, his nose pressed into your skin. You took way long to realize he was still hard, poking into your hip. Before, you would have been mightily embarrassed, maybe would even cover your eyes and roll away. But, he’d just had his head between your legs, had eaten you out like it was his first meal in a while. He had shown you more than once actually, how much he loved and desired you, and how nothing whatsoever could change it. Instead, you rolled over, wrapped your arms around him. “Do you need help with that?” Geralt laughed, pressed a kiss to your temple. “Do you offer?” With the cheekiest smile you could procure, you pinched his ass. “I might.” Sadly, he didn’t really react, but you guessed his Witcher abilities might have influenced his pain perception. You stretched, your bones groaning and aching, before snapping back to where they belonged. He straddled your thighs, his hands spread and covering most of your ribcage; he was ginormous. A mountain. Nonetheless, you’ve never felt safer and more content than right now. You smiled up at him, wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss his lips, then nip at his jaw. “How do you want me then?” Geralt licked his lips, made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “I want you naked, wet, and all the time.” You let your arms fall back into the cushions, knew the stretch would make your breasts rise and taunt him. “What are you waiting for?” He loved how relaxed and open you were, how you teased him, how you didn’t shy away from him or his nakedness. He loved you, body and soul. “I love you too, Geralt.” You’d seen it in his face, Over time, you’d become quite adept in reading the witcher and his moods, and this face was definitely not one he should show in public. He nuzzled your cheek, bit teasingly at your nose and kissed your lips, just to mumble: “So much, my beloved.” And then he got off you, made you spread your legs once more and sank down between them. You wrapped them around his waist, dug your heels into his butt when he teased you with the head of his cock and accidentally scratched his bicep when he positioned himself. “Shh, it’s okay, we don’t have to.” “No, I want to.” You looked up at him, how his hair fell down around his face, like a curtain shielding you from reality; he was divine. He was an actual angel and you should thank your parents for calling him. He followed the lines of your face with his fingertips, tapped the tip of your nose. “You should try to relax then, Princess.” You tried, you really did. But he was huge. How was he supposed to fit in you without accidentally hurting you? He’d never forgive himself if he did. He knew, of course he did.  Stupid enhanced senses. Geralt cupped your jaw, lips pressed against yours and then the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your chin. You had to giggle at his antics, not used to such playfulness; it was nice. He breached you, and you gasped, sucked in as much air as possible and tensed up. “No, no, breathe. You have to breathe.” You willed your muscles to unclench, your lungs to expand and closed your eyes. “That’s it, yes.” You continued to just breathe, your nails digging into his skin where you were clutching his arms, but he didn’t even acknowledge it. He was busy scanning your face for major discomfort and any sign to stop, while he slowly pushed it.   But there wasn’t. You soldiered on, and once he was buried inside, you took a deep breath, released it and opened your eyes. Geralt started to pepper your face with kisses once more, praising you, showering you in compliments. Your heart swelled, then burst and you melted into a puddle of goo. Which, ultimately, was Geralt’s goal. “This okay?”, he asked, as he started moving. It was agonizingly slow, but he couldn’t risk hurting you. A nod, then you pressed your head back into the pillows and focused on the sensations. The ladies in court had one way of talking about this kind of experience, and it was usually a very negative one. You should have known that it wouldn’t be like that at all, not with your witcher. He’d rather cut off his own arm, than hurt you. “You’re doing so good, so good, princess. “ You hummed, smiled. The stretch started to dissipate, made place for pleasure and heat. It wasn’t long, and you had to urge him on, roll your hips, meet his thrusts. It wasn’t perfect, your inexperience made it sloppy and he just tried to roll with it, but – fuck. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The familiar heat built in your belly, your toes tingled, and you keened when Geralt suddenly hit a spot that made your whole body jolt.   He just chuckled darkly, wrapped his hands around your hips to keep you in place and started assaulting that same spot. Only seconds, and then you saw stars, felt sensations you were a stranger to, and then you exploded. A hand came to keep your mouth shut, Geralt still thrusting inside you, faster and faster, his forehead pressed against your temple. His left hand kept your knee up and in place, so he could thrive in at a better angle. You couldn’t anymore, you couldn’t. You were shaking, your whole body out of control. There were tears racing each other into your hairline, and then warmth. Warmth pooling inside you, where you weren’t sure it was supposed to be. And then you realized. Geralt just came. Inside you. You were a bit sad you had missed it, but you concluded there’d be more occasions where you’d be less distracted by your own orgasm. When you came down, your felt light, boneless; deeply satisfied. Geralt had sat back onto his haunches and gathered your legs, your feet planted onto his thighs. His hands were wrapped around your ankles and his chin was placed on your knees. “You’re well?” You glanced down at him, sleepy and exhausted and nodded. “Just a lot to process.” Then you raised your arms, gestured him to come hug you. He seemed relieved, kissed the inside of your right knee and let your legs drop to the side, then came to gather you into his arms. You let yourself be manhandled and positioned, you didn’t have the mind to protest. You came to rest with your head on his chest, his arm around you and his nose pressed into your hair. He wiped away the tears and hugged you even closer. “You came in me.”, you mumbled, barely awake anymore. Geralt hummed, played with your hair. “Witchers can’t procreate.” “Oh, okay.” The low tone of his voice was the last thing you were consciously aware of, before you drifted off into sleep.

[hunters-of-the-wastes]

From heavyweight birds to nimble predators – to graceful prey and who were once deemed ecologically controversial landscapers, ever since the bombs dropped all those years ago, animals large and small felt the brunt end of the nuclear war. For decades or even centuries, many of the creatures who once roamed the pre-war USA are now lost to time. But some animals are defying the odds, recovering to healthy population levels long after being deemed lost causes. 200 years after the war, many creatures have bounced back, some surprisingly suffering little from the horrors of nuclear devastation. Others, descendants of the once proud wildlife who once roamed the world, now make their mark where their relatives once stood.

Fauna in the world of New America come in a variety of shapes and sizes and occupy wild areas throughout the world. After 200 years, many animals have started to once again return to their old habitats. Some animals have been domesticated by the inhabitants of the New America, and serve as pets, transportation or livestock. Other animals cluster together in the wild in packs, herds, and flocks and try and make a living in the new world. Like with most things, cycles never end. After humans, Deer and Elk populations in many parts of the states both exploded and diminished. While Radstag took the place of many of the larger elk and Deer species in the main Boston territories, many other deer species virtually remained unchanged. As a result, the wilds of Commonwealth are often teeming with deer. Docile creatures, they serve as food for much of the land’s more savage beasts. In addition to the common whitetail, which virtually remained unchanged in much of the US, other smaller deer species came into fruition following a long tedious evolutionary set path, each one designed to thrive within the new world.

Towards more northern territories in New America, Large species of Cervidae still roam the lands. Alces alces, or the Moose still holds title of the largest and heaviest original species in the deer family. However, unlike before in the older days where this animal would never have to fight for the title of largest Deer roaming the planet, the Moose now has competition from other Large Cervidae.

One such species is Megaloceros Ingentiaegidi

ingenti - large, remarkable (Latin) aegidi - shield (Latin)

An absolute icon of prehistory come to life, this giant deer takes on the role of its name sake as one of the most impressive and largest species of Deer. Although comparable in size to moose (6 feet tall, 1,100 lbs), this animal is closer in relation, surprisingly to the Eurasian red deer, who were thought to be brought in to the America’s to fill in exotic game ranches, places where Hunters wouldn’t have to travel half-way across the world just to hunt certain species, or meat farms, as in modern times, western countries such as New Zealand and the United States had taken to importing and farming European red deer for venison.

The term Megaloceros was given to this deer species in regards to the highly noticeable and recognizable “Shield”, that Megaloceros, especially the more famous Megaloceros giganteus, aka the Irish Elk was known for sporting. Impressive antlers that instead of branching out and developing tines, have developed into large shovel-like (palmated) antlers with thick tines growing out from them. It is because of these antlers that this species were originally incorrectly thought to be derived from Moose, as Red Deer and other Elk species like Roosevelt and Rocky Mountain do not have Palmated shovel antlers, but large branching antlers which develop many tines during their life time.

Despite not being related, they are still a large animal when compared to other species of deer that now populate much of the New America landscape, being slightly dwarfed by Moose, (Alces alces) in terms of weight and height, while the moose is dwarfed by Altorell.

Huge deer, bigger than a domestic cow but with a graceful and elegant form perfect for bounding about the open environs where they are commonly found, the American Giant Elk, like most deer exhibit countershading, the belly being a much lighter color than the darkened back.

A shoulder hump stores fat reserves and also supports the animal’s huge antlers. With a span of up to twelve feet, these antlers are the largest of any deer by far; while females do not sport them, males use them to plow snow and expose edible plants, fend off predators, scratch the occasional back itch, and as weapons during the annual rut.

Enormous rutting stags crash their antlers together and shove to determine dominance, a sound that can be heard more than half a mile away. Most of the year these animals can be found in same-sex herds, grazing and browsing under the watchful eye of an appointed sentry. In the northern parts of their range they are often known too commingle with large herds of caribou.

Despite its keen senses, sharp hooves, and the males’ formidable antlers, they still have many natural predators, including wolves, big cats, bears, and wargs; humans too now hunt these creatures with regularity, some for subsistence and most for the trophy of a lifetime. Some humans also consider them sacred, representing bravery, fertility, endurance, and power. Living with so many dangerous predators has made them skittish and unpredictable, making them singularly unqualified for riding despite the many attempts.

Another Species of Cervidae one can stumble across is the Altorell

Described by many as a tangled mess of hair and muscle, with twisted antlers jutting out at seemingly random places on its upper body, it is a mutated member of the Cervine Family that branched off from their original pre-war counterparts, who, unsurprisingly given their tremendous size, happened to be moose!!

The result of a small isolated population of moose being tainted by the radioactive fallout from the onslaught of atomic warfare, it towers over even the most largest of the commonwealths largest fauna, with them being able to fend off large Deathclaw with ease. However, they are also horribly misunderstood creatures. Tales of their temper run rampant through the northern territories, but as it turns out, Altorell are not as aggressive as tall-tales dictate, with attacks against humans being the result of human’s harassing or otherwise giving the animal reasons to attack.

It is also thought that these hyped tales of aggression are also what gave rise to the idea that they are also bloodthirsty to their own kind. While it is true that males will often fight ferociously during breeding seasons with intruding males and deaths can occur during them, males do not actively go out of their way to kill members of their own kind as previously believed. And they are not as solitary as first believed either. Males are known to do what is described as “territory guarding” meaning that while it seems like they leave an area to roam somewhere else, they actually don’t.

And even in defense of their territory range, they are not all that aggressive towards other members of their kind. Rather than retaining a territory simply by fighting, which can cost the animal valuable energy or even result in serious injury or death, Altorell have a 3-stage process to territory guarding. Males often create "sign-posts" to advertise their territory. Sometimes these sign-posts are on the boundary thereby demarcating the territory, or, may be scattered throughout the territory. These communicate to other animals that the territory is occupied and may also communicate additional information such as the sex, reproductive status or dominance status of the territory-holder.

Sign-posts may communicate information by olfactory, auditory, or visual means, or a combination of these. If an intruder progresses further into the territory beyond the sign-posts and encounters the territory-holder, both animals may begin ritualized aggression toward each other. This is a series of stylized postures, vocalizations, displays, etc. which function to solve the territory dispute without actual fighting as this could injure either or both animals. Ritualized aggression often ends by one of the animals fleeing (generally the intruder). If this does not happen, the territory may be defended by actual fighting, although this is generally a last resort.

Because Altorell have what is known as Type-A territory- An 'all-purpose territory' in which all activities occur, e.g. courtship, mating, nesting and foraging-reports of territory size can be confused by a lack of distinction between home range and the defended territory. The size and shape of a territory can vary according to its purpose, season, the amount and quality of resources it contains, or the geography. The size is usually a compromise of resource needs, defense costs, predation pressure and reproductive needs. Younger animals do not need such large territories and as a result their range is smaller. Larger males have highly variable territory sizes, ranging from less than 4,000 hectares (9,900 acres) to almost to over 100,000 hectares (250,000 acres)

To put that range into perspective, The state of Rhode Island is 776,960 acres, or 1,214 square miles.

Females are also not that aggressive as well. Female Altorell without calves are mostly peaceful towards humans. However during their Breeding and Birthing Season, Altorell can become so aggressive and dangerous that many settlements will cordon off areas where they are known to roam, blocking roads and effectively banning entry on all lands for months at a time, until breeding season is done and calves are old enough to leave their mother.

Males have also been discovered staying close to birthing females, as their range can home at least about 3-5 females at a time, and Unlike Moose who only interact with their kind during breeding season and are normally solitary the rest of the year, Females and Male Altorell stay in close vicinity of each other for protection of the young, who when small can fall prey to larger creatures unlike the adults. If a female is in danger and requires aid she can call upon the neighboring females or call for her male, who will come to her rescue.

The only domesticated Altorell known to exist, goes by the name of Kheglen, and like most of his kind is protective against what he owns. But because he moves around a lot, his territory is not a set place. Instead it is the Caravan trailer which he associates with and what's in it, meaning the people living in it, and he'll protect it against anything he deems a threat. So he often roams freely around his "territory" getting rid of threats whenever they park the Caravan. And as it turns out that protection is even against things like passing BoS convoys, who he has learned can pose a danger to those he is protecting-because of this Kheglen has made it a habit of stalking the vicinity around the Caravans and even walking the roads attacking BoS convoys should they wander too close.

Knight Elk, also named "Moon-Stone Elk" or the Inakata Elk, are the fourth largest Elk species, crowned by an impressive pair of antlers that grow so large it is thought they never shed. Herbivores that live in cold climates, they are generally docile, though they have been known to attack when threatened. The distinguishable white hair and shaggy mane make this elk different to other elks in the region, and it is often said they possess a staggering majestic beauty that cannot be rivaled. With a herbivore diet includes grasses, leaves, bark and plants, their high-quality pelts have many uses, and their antlers are highly prized due to their unique branching similar to that of a European Red Deer. Shining and graceful with snowy coat, they are often a symbol of Strength, vitality, wisdom and cunning. As such it is often commonplace in some settlements in the north to give a Greystone charm carved in the animals likeness, to travelers in hopes of a swift journey. In other settlements, because of the stags symbol of fertility, Statues depicting the elk in various poses, are often given to expectant mothers in hopes that their children develop strong able and healthy. Many families also keep one in their home or on their doorstep for luck.

[serifsans]

I recently visited a museum and walked through an exhibit about the evolution of life on this planet. Contrary to popular belief, I do have some intellectual pursuits beyond the latest couture designs at fashion week but rest assured, I’m still enormously shallow and vain. As I understand, the theory of evolution still remains controversial among certain religious groups; however, my theistic leanings (and I do have them to a certain extent, which tends to shock everyone who has known me for any length of time) coexist quite happily alongside this.

Allow me to summarize.

This is a poor summary. If you’d like a better one, then I suppose you oughtn’t get your scientific information from Fumblr. Visit a museum. If you’re lucky, they might have a planetarium and you can either learn about the stars or you could have a nice nap. Either way, I’d get the astronaut ice cream afterward at the gift shop. Is it overpriced? Yes. Couldn’t you simply buy normal ice cream instead for half the price? Yes. However, it’s ice cream you can bring anywhere and you never have to worry about it melting. if it’s good enough for astronauts, it’s good enough for me.

In the beginning, everything was soup. One day, some of that soup got ahead of itself and developed dreams of grandeur. Some of that soup learned how to produce oxygen, which was good of it. Some of that soup invented sexual reproduction, which was even better of it. Some of that soup even became multicellular organisms. The earliest organisms were very small and very squishy, so they became larger and larger to make themselves seen. Some of them decided to become plants and fungi, though it took a long time for them to become decent ones. Eventually, some of the organisms decided to become things like sponges and jellyfish and others decided to become shelled and others took it upon themselves to grow backbones.

Everything after that happened very quickly. The first animals were quite stupid because they didn’t understand aesthetics yet. If you saw one today, you would make fun of its ridiculous little body and even if that hurt its feelings, it’d be perfectly justified. There were many weird, scuttling things that probably didn’t even taste good and many, many kinds of fish, all of them stupid. It look them awhile to grow jaws because fish hardly have brains at all and even after they grew them, they were still pitiable creatures. Ashamed of being so awful and ugly, some of those fish decided that the only thing to do was leave the ocean in shame, so they started growing proper limbs and eventually flopped their way onto land. Along the way, little bugs crawled out of the water and became much bigger bugs before eventually becoming smaller again, but I sadly cannot tell you when because a child with sticky little hands was touching everything in that area of that exhibit. I think I know enough about insects, anyway.

The pathetic early land fish became less pathetic frogs and salamanders and other things I might’ve liked to eat. Many things died along the way. Eventually, they turned into proto-dinosaurs and then actual dinosaurs. This was not like Jurassic Park. It wasn’t like Jurassic Park at all. The Jurassic was the second period of the Mesozoic, so actually, it was a sequel all along. In the Triassic, dinosaurs appeared and then flying beasts which weren’t dinosaurs at all or even birds yet came onto the scene. Some things died. In the Jurassic, things were more fashionable. You even had little mammals but they weren’t very interesting yet, though I’m sure the dinosaurs liked to eat them. You had many interesting plants here and I’m sure the salads were top tier. In the Cretaceous, flowers finally bloomed and I think that’s such an important development. My day would be ruined without flowers. We owe so much to them! They bring beauty to our lives and pleasing scents. Imagine being one of the dinosaurs hatched before flowers. How dull! The Cretaceous ones had a much better, floral existence until a rock fell and ruined the party.

Disappointed by the turn of events, some dogs slipped back into the ocean and became whales. The other dogs became things like elk and moose and monkeys and dogs. Eventually, primates existed. Some became monkeys and some became lemurs and some became apes. A few apes decided it might be a nice thing to one day invent tax law, so those apes decided to become humans. It took them awhile to figure things out but what else can you expect out of primates? You really wouldn’t believe what I’ve seen the chimps at the zoo get up to. There were many interesting varieties that I might’ve liked having tea with but eventually Homo sapiens won out. Maybe someone put the humans here on purpose or maybe they didn’t. The debate on the matter is quite heated.

Somewhere along the way, there was an ice age. The megafauna of this era are so interesting and it’s such a shame they’re mostly extinct now. We should do everything in our power to increase the amount of elephants. If there’s another ice age, I’d like to see more elephants around. You can’t have an ice age without elephants. It just isn’t done.

Modern humans have only existed for such a short while but they’ve already figured out so many things like the Internet and causing catastrophic environmental collapse and several good breakfast cereals. Isn’t that wild? Don’t you find that absolutely fascinating? I’m enthralled by the fact that everything here began as ugly little fish with big dreams on an ever-spinning planet. I wonder what we’ll see next? What will everything become? I really hope humanity has the chance to become very strange. I’ve heard that there are some wolves that have been venturing out to the ocean to catch fish or whatever it is that wolves do, so wouldn’t it be so fun if they became the sequel to whales?

I might’ve left out some important details here. I could add them back in, I suppose, I suppose, but that sounds like too much typing. I have astronaut ice cream and a beverage to enjoy.

Unchangingly yours,

Me

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 2) John Deacon x Reader Series

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, duh. Feelings of anxiety.

Chapter Notes: A wild Deacy appears! Reader was supposed to meet him in this chapter but it got a bit long. I may have awkwardly stuffed in some backstory as well, but I wanted to get through it before we start having more interactions with the members of Queen. I’m a hoe for Hot Space and Cool Cat is such a vibe so I had to throw it in here. If you haven’t heard the original demo with Bowie you should take a listen. The music video concept was sparked loosely by Mitski’s “Happy” video (it’s gory af, be forewarned). I’m aware that the MTV of the 80s definitely would’ve banned anything like that, but it’ll come back around in the plot later on.

Songs Mentioned:

Heart of the Night - Juice Newton

More Than A Feeling - Boston

My Best Friend’s Girl - The Cars

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​

- - - - - - -

February 1982 - Orpheum Theater, Boston

It’s noisy in the cramped green room backstage at the Orpheum Theater in Boston. Gone were the days of grand arenas while tagging along with Hall and Oates. Now only around 2,000 bodies lined the seats out in the house, but you still feel that familiar bubble of nerves as Dawn busies herself around your hair. 

Dawn, your best friend from your two short years at NYU, had agreed to tag along for the short tour to help with your “look.” Not that you ever really had a problem with your usual jeans and t-shirts, but this rock type of glam proved to be a different beast, and Dawn certainly had an eye for style. Her voluminous hair always streaked blonde and crimped to perfection. She’d tried to convince you many times to do something chemical with yours but you held firm to your virgin hair, causing your pre-show routine to run well into an hour and a half to get the desired popular style. You smile up at her as she curls part of your bangs away from your face, truly grateful to have another woman around.

“Babes, please stop moving your head. I’ve had to do the same piece 3 times already.” She tuts at you. “And Eds, I’ve asked you how many times to watch your elbows, jesus christ.”

Eddie tries to cram in even tighter against the wall, keeping to the five tiny spots you’d all wrangled against the mirror. “Ay, I’m trying over here. It takes some effort to get all this together.” He smirks, running his fingers through his already perfectly coiffed hair. A shame really, that it would be utterly destroyed within 15 minutes of being on stage.

“Have we picked a city song for tonight yet? I want to go over it in my head a few times before we go on.” Lawrence calls out, trying to tug on a pair of pants that look a size or two too small for him.

The Limbs had taken to playing one song per show by a famous local artist from the city they were in. Since they only had the one album out, it was a chance to get the audience singing and moving together; to change up the pace. A modified tip from a certain mustached rock legend that the band had started to implement.

“I thought we decided on More Than A Feeling?” Eddie says as he tears his eyes away from his own reflection.

“That’ll be what they expect. I think Bun sounds better on My Best Friend’s Girl,” Rich says simply. He’s attempting some form of stretching routine in the back corner of the room, his extremities bumping up against the walls.

“So Y/N’s taking this one?” Steve asks, lounging across a small loveseat against the wall, his legs dangling off of it delicately. He looks up from whatever song he’s been working on.

“You heard what the label said. They want Y/N more center stage, so to speak, for marketing reasons.” Rich tries folding his body into some sort of pretzel shape. A light “oof,” escapes his lips as he falls backward slightly.

“Ah yes, we need to give the public what they want,” you huff, wanting to roll your eyes if not for Dawn covering your head in a cloud of Aqua Net.

Eddie starts pacing, or at least tries to, “I just don’t get why they’re trying to make her into some Debbie Harry.” He scoffs, “Like that’s ever gonna happen.” 

Dawn glares at him. It was a bit of a low blow, but Eddie was still getting used to sharing the spotlight with you, with him singing lead on almost every other song. 

You were still struggling to find your presence on stage and were more than happy to take a back seat to the boys for the most part. And while some of the band’s other singles were gaining traction, none were close to catching up to Heart of the Night, which was now getting steady airplay and record sales thanks to the absurd music video that hit TV screens everywhere a few weeks back.

“That’s true, Y/N’s much more of a Linda Ronstadt type if we’re throwing out names,” Lawrence grunts out. Finally able to close the button on his skin-tight pants.

A cold laugh erupts from Eddie. “Exactly. It’s the Eighties now if you haven’t noticed. It’s all about edgy sex appeal, and let’s be honest, even Steve has a better chance of-”

“Enough!” Dawn’s voice sliced through the air, the daggers thrown from her eyes flying towards him. She leans down to your level to examine her masterpiece. “You look as sexy as a goddamn playboy bunny, hun. No pun intended.” Her voice softens as she pinches your cheeks.

The room goes mostly quiet for the next few minutes as the local opening band starts to close out their set with their last two songs. Only Rich’s deep breathing, fitting in time to the beat. 

You chew your cherry painted lips, mulling over Eddie’s words. You knew full well that you weren’t exactly the frontwoman the label or the public dreamed of. Hell, you weren’t even supposed to be a frontwoman at all. When you’d finally given in to Rich’s insistent pestering to come have some fun with the boys, you’d been at NYU for two years. You loved your film classes but felt the hole that was left from the absence of playing any type of music. In high school, you’d all show up to a party with a variety of instruments in your grasps. It almost always resulted in a crowd gathering around to listen, joining in with your voices, clicking their beer bottles in time with the beat. It was when you had felt most carefree, and you had ached for that feeling again.

But playing locally turned into recording an album, for which you wrote a song for some dream of a man that only existed in your thoughts. Next thing you knew you were scooped up by Columbia Records, missing classes to attend photoshoots or album release parties. People were listening to your voice, your song, and wanting more. You dropped out of college to the dismay of your parents but were immediately enveloped in your friends' glee, finally reaching the precipice of something they’d only dreamed of. You hated the thought of letting them down in any way but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all a fluke, that you had nothing else to give. Destined to fade out as a one-hit-wonder and a disappointment to your best friends in the world. The weight hit your shoulders as you slumped in your seat. 

None of this was supposed to happen, you tell yourself. It never happens like this.

You’re broken out of your daze when there’s a rap at the door and a muffled “5 minutes” from the stage manager behind it. You all stand, waiting for Rich to spread his wings and engulf you in your usual pre-show pow wow. You slide Dawn in next to you in the now group of 6, needing someone steady as an anchor.

“If you’d please, Reverend.” Steve probes, cheekily.

“We’re gathered here today” Rich begins and Dawn giggles. “To bring immense joy to those 2,000 idiots out there, who so willingly sold out our show for us. They deserve a performance played to 200,000, so that’s what we’re going to give them. In the name of our fathers, John, George, Paul, and Ringo. Let’s go give em’ hell.”

“Amen!” you all shout and disband.

As you follow the boys into the dingy hallway leading to the stage, Eddie catches your wrist. He looks at you through his long lashes with an uncharacteristically shy smile that almost never sees the light of day.

“I’m sorry for being a prick, Bun. I shouldn’t have said all that,” he mutters as you continue to walk, not wanting to miss your cue.

“No worries, Eds. You were right though. I’m definitely no Debbie,” you force a chuckle at yourself while a roadie slips your guitar strap onto your shoulders.

“It’s not alright. And no, you’re not,” he says catching your downturned eyes. “You’re Y/N fucking L/N, and you’re just gettin’ started, baby. All you gotta do is take a little bit of the love we all have for you and give some to yourself once in a while, alright?” A grin forms, showing his adorably asymmetrical teeth as he reaches out a hand to ruffle your painstakingly perfected hair. “That’s better. Now let's get out there so you can show the world exactly what kind of frontwoman you are. And don’t be scared to show them a hint of Bunny while you’re at it.” You move your guitar out of the way to pull him in for a close hug. You hear Steve start banging his snare and pull Eddie on to the stage with you, feeling a bit lighter than you had been minutes ago.

You approach your mic and take a look out at the packed, hazy theater.

“Well hello, Bawston!’ Your accent rings out to the faceless figures before you. “Aren’t you all looking fuckin’ fabulous tonight!”

- - - - - - -

March 1982 - Musicland Studios, Munich

“No, I didn’t say it’s bad, just that it sounds tinny,” Brian argues, crossing his spidery arms over his chest as he leans against the doorframe. 

“And it’s as if you’ve shoehorned Bowie in there just to mumble in the background incoherently. A waste, really.” Roger tacks on from beside him.

John sighs and leans his head against the back of the couch in the studio. “Just because it’s not your precious red special or your own magic fingers at work, doesn’t mean it’s tinny,” he counters calmly. Trying his best to keep the annoyance from seeping into his voice, knowing that Brian already had anger stemming from John’s earlier composition for the album.

It was the first time this week that all four men were in the studio together. Finishing up Hot Space was proving to be a strain on all of them and the growing rift had caused the men to nearly finish their songs separately instead of in their usual group dynamic. John’s experimentation into different styles, such as funk and disco, had not been willingly received thus far.

“Well, I sound rather fabulous, if I do say so myself. I’m very proud of us, Deacy.” Freddie states, getting up from his own place on the couch and stretching.

“It’s not that, Fred. It just doesn’t sound like us.” Brian sighs, already sensing the escalation of a row coming along.

“Oh please. Not this again...” Freddie huffs.

“That’s because it’s not us. It’s me and Freddie.” John cuts in with a roll of his eyes, landing them on Mack, their producer, who just shrugs and trains his gaze back to the board. 

“That’s for sure.” Roger murmurs out. Now it’s John’s turn to cross his arms as he levels their pointed gazes. He’d worked with Fred for days putting together “Cool Cat,” hoping that the additional vocals from David Bowie would be a selling point for the other two.

With a clap of his hands, Freddie moves about the room. “Why don’t we take a quick break and then give it another listen?” Roger groans. Freddie pats his shoulder as he makes his way over to a radio beside Mack.

John rubs his tired eyes before pushing himself off the couch, eager for a break from the energy in the stale room. “I’m grabbing a coffee,” not offering one to the others as he brushes past Brian on his way out, quickly retreating down the hallway as fast as his legs will carry him.

The remaining three startle a bit as Freddie flips on the radio, Lo & The Limbs hit single pours from it, louder than expected.

“Oh! Oh, yes! Simply marvelous,” he exclaims, jumping up and down lightly. Roger and Brian raise their eyebrows in silent questioning. “This is the band of rascals I was telling you about the other week. They must’ve just broken out here.”

“The yanks you met while in the States?” Roger questions, turning his attention to the song, eager to judge any brimming competition.

“Yes, yes, the wild young lady who swears like the devil and her band of merry giant trees.”

“We have one of those!” Rog nods in Brian’s direction, voice muffled by a cigarette now dangling from his lips.

“Hm, Brain’s more of a willowy spruce, if you will. These ones are giant redwoods. You know American’s. And they have these thick New York accents. I could barely understand a word they were saying at first. What a riot they were.” he remembers fondly.

“I feel as if I’ve heard this before, but I can’t place it.” Brian ponders, almost to himself.

John appears in the doorway, blowing lightly on a steaming mug.

“Probably from that shocking video of theirs, darling,” Freddie waves his hands about. “Oh, you must’ve seen it. They’re all dressed up like they're in Grease or something, and this square of a girl is pinning after the bad boy. But he’s with this slutty little thing. And oh, I can’t recall the details, but in the end, she ends up murdering the slut!” He slaps the table for effect. “But for some odd reason the boy is okay with it all and they run off into the night together, covered in blood.”

“Sounds… spooky?” Roger shrugs. John stifles a chuckle.

“It’s dramatic! And sexy. And obviously working for them.” The wheels already turning in his head.

John tunes out their chatter and trains his ears to said song, which is about halfway through. The instrumentals seem a bit basic for his taste. The soft strum of an acoustic guitar, a slightly heavier electric over it, with a simple bass line. A female voice flits in.

Cool city moon lays its touch on the room,

Your eyes reach to me

It has a rasp to it. Akin to Stevie Nicks, he thinks.

Two shadows fall saying nothing at all,

We know what we need

No, not quite. It’s entirely it's own if he’s being honest. He can feel the soul pulsating through words and the power that’s beneath it. One that could probably fit with any genre it should choose. His interest peaked.

In the release, two prisoners are free from the darkness

One more escape surviving the heartache and madness

The raw emotion erupting from the speakers and the lyrics start to paint a picture in his mind, scrambling to fill in the faceless voice.

In the heart of the night

The chorus starts and picks up steam quickly. Male voices begin to fill in on background vocals, blending together seamlessly.

We run like bandits

Two hungry hearts under the gun

Her voice cracks a bit, in a charming way. It must be radiant when heard live.

In the heart of the night 

When we find each other

Were stealing love on the run

In the heart of the night,

Heart of the night 

A small smile plays on John’s lips as the song fades out. They’re good, he muses to himself, a bit intrigued by the song and Fred’s colorful description of the accompanying video.

“A great voice indeed. They’ve got a strong sound going.” Brian chirps up.

“That’s her first swing at writing, too. Wish it had been that bloody easy for us.”

“Is she a looker, Fred?” Roger wags his brows.

“Oh please, they’re practically babies! Although that drummer of theirs is certainly something to write home about… Even with the head of hair he has. A bit like a mushroom. A cute one.” Freddie ponders, stroking his full mustache.

John reaches up and pats the tight curls atop his own head, wondering how it would look if he ceased from trimming his current short perm.

“I do hope they catch on here. What fun that would be.” John readily nods along without realizing it.

Freddie switches off the radio and turns back to the other three men. “Alright back to it then. Queue it up, Mac,” placing a hand on the man’s shoulder and raising his eyebrows. “Shall we?”

- - - - - - -

March 1982 - Columbia Records, New York City

“Why are the undersides of my knees sweaty? I’m not a back of the knee sweat kind of guy, alright?” Lawrence fidgets, adjusting his collar for the fourth time in two minutes.

You casually gulp down your third glass of water while staring at the wood-paneled walls of the office. Attempting to avoid the gazes of a number of gold discs lining the walls, the echoes of your musical idols. They seem to be laughing at you.

Steve partakes in his trademark bouncing routine, the chair underneath him squeaking in a violent rhythm. “Do you think it’s the video? It has to be the video or we wouldn’t be in this office. I knew we shouldn’t have taken that big of a risk right out of the gate.”

“You gotta be kidding me. You basically doused yourself in the blood when Eddie pitched it!” Rich cuts in, his usual calm demeanor nowhere to be found.

“What! It was your idea for the--”

The door behind where the group is gathered swings open and in strides a stocky man with a full beard and tinted aviator sunglasses still covering his eyes.

“What are we all standing around for? Sit, sit, sit, c’mon.” His gruff Brooklyn accent ringing out as he moves to sit behind a large mahogany desk.

The Limbs scramble to fit on the couch across from him, with you ending up perched on the armrest, gripping Rich’s bicep for support.

The man, Walter Yetnikoff, CEO and Chairman of Columbia Records, grunts as he eases into a leather chair, finally removing his glasses, revealing surprisingly kind eyes, “Jeez louise, look at you kids. You look as if a nun just caught you all playing with each other’s junk. What’s with the faces?”

“Mr. Yetnikoff, we’d like to sincerely apologize for the backlash that has come from our video. We should’ve known better than that. We could’ve toned it down… a lot.” Eddie rushes out. He wipes his hand over his too-snug tailored pants, probably leftover from days of youth choir.

Walter barks out a laugh. “I’ll admit I was a little shocked to find out that’s what you needed a high school gym for, but relax a little, will ya? You’re not here to be scolded. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have fought so hard to get it airtime.”

The Limbs visibly relax- a tad, but their eyes all stay wide.

“Well aren’t ya gonna ask why you’re all here then?”

“W-why are we here?” Rich asks quietly. “Sir.” He adds.

“It seems that the slight PR crisis of a video you made has made its way across the pond,” Walter smirks.

“You mean…” Steve trails off in a voice two octaves higher than usual.

“You kids better like air travel because there’s gonna be a lot of it in your near future. The hit has broken into the London airwaves and they’re not as god fearing as viewers here seem to be. We’re sending you over there next week now that you’ve wrapped up the tour.”

“Holy shit!” Lawrence yells. You feel yourself falling back off your perch as your large friends all jump to their feet. Rich’s gangly arm luckily catches you and pulls you immediately into a suffocating hug. “You did this, Bunny!” He screams in your ear. “You did this!”

“Alright, alright, you can all go celebrate and drink your faces off in a second,” Walter calls out over the group who immediately shut their mouths. “We have a few details to iron out but I’m hoping to send you over there for a full press tour. Photoshoots, interviews, talk show appearances. The works, you got it.”

Steve lets out a squeal of delight, his voice not yet returning to its usual bass.

“You.” He points a stubby finger in your direction. “I’m waiting to hear back about a last-minute cancelation on some game show out there. We’re gonna try to get you in. You know your shit?”

“W-what kind of shit, sir?” You ask from the bear hug that Rich still holds you in.

He holds up his hands, gesturing to the gold discs that surround him. “Music, my dear.”

All you can do is nod, not wanting to think about what that even entails.

“That’s what I like to see. Now get outta here so you can all combust somewhere outside of my office. We’ll call you in a few days. Get those bags ready, you hear me?” He waves you all off.

Before you have a chance to say anything, the boys are sweeping you out of the room. And off to the start of whatever comes next, you guess.

[aetherarf]

Yay, requests are back! :D

Can I please requests Aobai, Michi, and Tamsin(your ocs) with a cinnamon roll s/o getting kidnapped?

Full prompt: the S/O is one of the few, if the only, people in Teyvat who love the character. They are supposed to meet up with them for a picnic but are kidnapped by some bandits trying to make ransom/get revenge/just be horrible people and send a letter to the character.

Preferably with some comfort where the S/O gets rescued, but if you really wanna make it angst that's your choice.

Little surprised, ngl, that anyone cares but I might as well put them here.

Here is Aobai's about page, here is Michi's, and here is Tamsin's.

wow it took me awhile but i got the about pages done too!! sorry for. the delay lol. twas a lot of work.

[ didnt have as much comfort as wanted but WHATEVER i wanna go to bed ]

[[ WARNING: VIOLENCE ]]

[[ Summary: Just avoiding problems doesn't always seem to warrant people causing problems with you... Oh, but that doesn't mean that they won't raise hell in their own way to keep you safe.

Total Word Count: 2'450

Aobai Word Count: 670

Michi Word Count: 819

Tamsin Word Count: 961 ]]

Aobai

They didn't even have time to leave when Aobai appeared.

He looked over the group of people, unamused as there was chatter,

"Excuse me," he said, voice oddly soft, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Well-"

Then there was silence as the group of people all looked at the massive man-beast, who was glaring down at them with no small amount of rage in his eyes, even if he just had his arms folded over his chest, ears folded back.

"Look," He said, "You have two options here. You leave," he glanced over at you, who was staring at him with wide eyes full of tears, tightly bound... likely injured.

"And you leave them with me... Or I kill you. Simple."

One man walked towards Aobai, "You're all talk, big--"

"Love," he spoke over the man, "Just keep your eyes closed until it's all over, okay?" He asked, and you closed your eyes tight, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

"You can't just ignore-"

Aobai unfolded his arms, and swung his fist effortlessly, teeth clattering in the man's head, jaw broken in an instant, and he collapsed to the ground...

Dead, with a single hit.

Humans were far more delicate than they'd like to admit. A single blow could cripple them eternally, or kill them.

Several of those who attempted on kidnapping you had already ran off--a wise decision, to flee than to fight a man the size of a bear, but one had held you close, hand tightly holding your hair as a blade was stuck to your neck--

"Don't," The man said, eyes wide and wild, "Don't move, or I'll kill them."

He just stopped moving, "Fine. Am I moving?" He asked, "No. What do you want, you pathetic little cretin?"

That insult lead to the man tightening his grip on your hair, trembling, letting the blade lightly scrape your skin--too dull to inflict actual damage thus far, but...

You gasped for air, terrified.

"Buddy," Aobai said, softly, "You know, you don't have to do this... Let me guess, you've been forced into this spot from something you can't control... Money, debt, family, wanting to keep yourself safe..."

The man slightly loosened his grip on your hair,

"... What? What about it?" He tightened again.

"I can make all that go away--Just set the knife--"

In an instant, his catalyst hovered above his hand, and he held it like an object, throwing it forward, the disgusting noise of crunching bone right next to your ear as you were dropped to the ground, the hot--then suddenly oh so cold sensation of blood hitting the side of your face.

He walked over, and you heard him kick something--likely the man who was just threatening to kill you, and with one deft movement, he picked you up like you weighed nothing--to him, honestly, you probably didn't.

A claw protruding from his fingertip swiftly cut all ropes binding you, all without having to set you down, and finally, he removed your gag, "You can look now." He said, softly, and hesitantly, you looked up at him...

Splattering of blood on his face, and his pupils were... small. Probably still running on the adrenaline rush.

"Did they..." he hesitated, "Did they do anything to you?" He asked, softly, and you shook your head.

"No, just... roughed me up." You laughed weakly, just to cough, "I... I'm tired. I just want to go home."

Aobai pressed a kiss to your cheek, "Of course, we're going right home... Let me take care of you, little cub, alright?"

You nodded, sniffling and wiping the tears from your eyes, and he just shifted you gently in his arms, holding you a little closer to himself... No matter what happened before, you were safe now, in his arms was probably the safest place in Teyvat.

"... Hey, love, what do you think about getting a bodyguard? I can't be with you all the time, but I can keep you safe through another, if you wish... what's that look for?"

Michi

"A picnic," Michi said, barely looking at you, "If you bring the food, then maybe."

You agreed, and they just chuckled... Even still, they found themselves putting no small amount of effort into cooking your favourite dish, packaging it up and tying a cute little bow on top...

They already knew what was going to happen, a surprised gasp and a thanks, and Michi would lie right to your pretty face and say they just got this and had someone ask to deliver it to you, and pretend they didn't spend the past two hours making it perfect.

Michi found themselves to the pre-determined meeting spot, looking down at the food spread out over a blanket, they setting it down amongst the rest as they looked around curiously...

You weren't in sight.

Suddenly, they noticed a paper distinctly placed right in an empty spot, where you, or maybe they, were meant to sit. Did you bail? Not that they'd be mad, but they'd be very disappointed.

Michi.

We have them.

Come alone, and we can promise their safety. We just want information.

And then a long spiel of information about the location--about how to go through the process of ascertaining your safety.

They sighed, as though this wasn't a ransom note for the information they had locked away in their mind, more valuable than any amount of mora they could demand.

"I thought I told you," they said, to nothing in particular, "Never to talk to anyone who knows my name."

And then they started walking, hands in their pockets, without a care in the world...

...

When they found themselves to the building, it was in the middle of the city... odd. Maybe they thought that it was better, since this was a run-down area where even the local law enforcement didn't want to tamper with, leaving it mostly forgotten.

But they knew this warehouse--Enough that they avoided the 'guard', in stolen, falsified attire that was standing by the entrance, and instead walked around the wall...

And found where it slightly indented inwards.

With a brief kick, the false wall came down like it was made of little shards of glass, hitting the ground in a pile that flattened under their boot like a pile of half rotten leaves.

Walking between the walls, in the, admittedly quite uncomfortable, crawlspace, they kept their eyes closed, listening intently...

And eventually, they heard it.

"So," it was a man's voice, one they've heard before, but didn't care enough to put a name to the voice, "Where's Michi?"

"I don't know," you said, honestly, "They... they don't tell me."

Tsk tsk tsk, they thought, You know better. Just say 'I don't know'...

"Well, you best hope that they come soon," there was the sound of a blade unsheathing, scraping against its metal scabbard, "Or else."

You whimpered, they could almost imagine your nodding, just trying to pacify them...

Nimble hands found the long-since-sealed hidden doors, doing their best to silently undo whatever paste had been forced into the cracks to shut it wholly, until it was open enough for them to slide through the crack, standing in complete shadow as there were a few people talking, and you were sitting in a chair, staring down at the ground, motionless as they ignored you.

Michi stalked over, and gently covered your mouth with their hand, whispering softly into your ear--

"Let's get out of here before they notice."

You turn to look at them, seeing their piecing gaze staring right at you...

You nodded, and they grabbed your hand, leading you through the cramped, uncomfortable, and... possibly filthy crawlspace, until you found your way outside, hearing distant shouting from inside as Michi, as gracefully as possible, helped you stand on solid ground where there wouldn't be something to trip over--alive or otherwise.

"Don't worry," Michi said, sweetly, "Just keep walking. They're idiots."

You nodded, as Michi guided you along, until you got out of the darker part of town, to the place Michi had been renting--specifically to have a place for you to visit them, Michi fussing about for a few minutes, the sound of rushing water,

"Hey," Michi looked up at you, "You're dirty. I started a bath for you."

And that meant, I know you're upset, I've run a bath for you so you can feel a little better.

You nodded and smiled, "... Thank you, Michi." You said, softly, and Michi looked at you, baring their emotion freely for a moment...

".. I don't deserve any thanks, shoo, before I decide to leave and not come back."

Once again, they didn't meant that. They would be right there, waiting for you with a freshly made bed with still-warm blankets, and a meal made for you to eat when bundled up all cozy and safe, then only leaving once they were certain you were dead asleep...

They never wanted to abandon you, after all.

Tamsin

Hours of preparation, making sure every little thing would taste good--even if it was a little hard to figure out if they themselves could enjoy it, on half of their tongue it tastes foul, on the other half, pleasant.

... Just another oddity. They hoped it would be good, and maybe it was a bit too much food, heavy and hard to carry, but if there was variety, surely there'd be... something you liked! They hoped...

They protected the basket, holding it close to their chest, just trying to keep their head down as they found their way past town ( it was easier just to skip the questions, after all ) and left back to nature--where they found peace, and enjoyment, with everything... and themselves.

How perfect it would be--Just a quiet day, where they loved, with the person they adored...

...

Until finally, they got there.

You weren't there. You had promised, promised, that you'd be there early, to set up a few things, just to make it a little cozier, even if clean grass was the most cozy thing in their opinion.

Setting down the basket, they opted to look around the grand old tree--maybe you climbed it? They liked climbing...

... Did they?

No, no, they did. Most of the time, at least.

But you weren't in the tree, or anywhere near, and instead, they found a note.

Get the experiment from the Sumeru Academia. There's a hefty reward for whoever can bring it to the boss, and to the buyer.

They stared at in horror, looking around desperately, half hoping this was some cruel joke, but... It wasn't. They knew it wasn't.

Reaching down to the grass, a little seed of elemental energy appeared in their palm, and from it a vine grew, reaching to the grass...

That way.

They closed their fist, and the vine disappeared into little shards of dendro energy, as they continued to where the surrounding life told them to go.

Humans could be cruel, but plants never lied.

...

Eventually, they found themselves to an old building, overtaken by nature, and with that little vine again, it told them that many people had invaded their new home. With a silent promise, they swore to return it to the plants that had overtaken it, and, ever so gently, found their way in through a window, minding the mushrooms that ate at the surrounding wooden frame. They were just minding their business, they needn't be squashed.

Hiding behind a rotting crate, they stared at you sitting there, bound with ropes--definitely not from this place, they were free of decay--and countless people talking, yelling.

"That's not the one we're looking for! What kind of stupid intel did you get? Now we have a random bitch to deal with."

"Look, I didn't get any information on how they looked! Maybe if you told me literally anything I could've avoided this!"

As they yelled-a sound that was brutal and painful, they stalked over to you, hiding in the poorly lit light, and noticed the gag over your mouth...

How they wanted to hug you and to apologize a thousand times over...

But instead, with a small blade, they cut the ropes around your wrists, abandoning them to the ground--you made a soft noise of alarm, and they didn't listen--just moved faster, as they heard the terrifying sound of approaching footsteps.

Finally, the one around your mouth was cut off, and they stood up, seeing the group-- "Wait--that's the one we're looking for!"

"See! It worked! Not how it was supposed to, but--"

"Shut up and get them!"

Tamsin wrapped an arm around you, holding you close, and reached towards the roof as though they could grab it, but the sound of old wood creaking had broke out, and they clutched a fist, pulling it down quickly--

As though it was connected with invisible thread, the ceiling crashed down on them, only just scarcely missing the both of you, crushing those who had caught you before.

"Tamsin, what-"

Instead of saying anything--of course they wouldn't, they never said anything, they just grabbed your hand and ran out of the building, just far enough to be out of sight, out of the reach of them...

But they never left the building.

... More for the plants to eat, they thought, morosely, before looking back at you, your dazed expression... and moved a hand to cup at your cheek, looking at you in fear, desperately looking over your expression.

"... Thank you," you whispered, softly, both exhausted and exasperated. They pressed a kiss to your lips, then wrapped their arms around you in a tight hug, hiding their face in your torso for several long moments... Until, finally, you pried them off.

They patted around their form for a moment, until they found a small notepad, scribbling down a single word--Home?

"Yes, I'd be happy to go home."

As you walked, both of you stopped at a hill--one with a massive, ancient tree atop it, and Tamsin hesitated... It was well past sunset, so that little picnic wasn't really a good idea at this point, but they quickly rushed up the hill, waving to the tree, and came back down with a basket,

"... Do you think it's still good."

Tamsin just shrugged with a smile.

When you both got home, Tamsin unpacked everything--and, well, it wasn't bad. What was supposed to be hot was lukewarm, what was supposed to be cold was melty, what was meant to be crisp was a little soggy...

But in the end, it was very enjoyable, even if Tamsin seldom ate a single bite, and preferred to just cling to you the entire time, pressing small kisses of apology to your neck, even if it truly wasn't their fault in the slightest.