#fog cassius

[swingstep]

when youre trying so hard to be the edgy anime rival but your friends wont stop goofing around >:/

#forgotten indigo #fog cassius #fog tear #fog leticia #cringetober 2023 #cringetober2023 #your honor i MISS THEM........... tinyfandom posting for me and me ONLY #(prompt: neko/animal features (so i made them wolfboys [genderneutral] <33))

[katartna]

Cassius Slaying 🌟🧵 Fanart for the Forgotten Indigo anniversary + Roma bday stream yesterday!

#forgotten indigo #forgotten indigo ttrpg #stabbyness #cassius #forgotten indigo cassius #fog cassius #fog ttrpg

[aste-ri-sm]

#Forgotten Indigo #Stabbyness #Forgotten Indigo Cassius #FOG Cassius #Love the funky fella #I need to continue watching FOG sometime I really enjoyed it up to the point where I left off

[romaheroic]

🎭

#forgotten indigo #cassius #julius tear #my art #romas art #roma's art #my ocs #roma's ocs #friends oc #friends ocs #phantom of the opera #this is just a little doodle of my favorite men being fruity :> #stabbyness #TTRPG #Sentiment TTRPG #Sentiment #fog

[nicsalazar]

Through the fog || Cassius & Nicole

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Nightfall Grove PARTIES: @singdreamchild  & @nicsalazar SUMMARY: Cassius and Nicole end up lost in the fog, but something worse lurks near. CONTENT WARNING: None

Nicole had never been too good at keeping her promises. For example, after she had seen a man die —the jury was still out on that one, but...yeah— she vowed to never touch Nightfall grove again. Yet here she was, taking on another stroll in this very strange neighborhood. It was going a lot better, however. So much so, that she was starting to see some of its charm. Sort of. It made sense it was such a hotspot for tourists. Especially those who were interested in the horror or mystery genre.

She had even learned her lesson, as soon as Nicole felt a shift in the atmosphere, she knew it was time to head back to her car, avoid looking at anything that might put her in a trance. Keep her eyes forward and move fast. She didn’t move too fast though, because a fog began setting around her. She remained cool, despite how fast it was falling on her. At least it wasn’t red, which lowered the risk of dealing with her own blood being drained again. But again, she had learned her lesson and she wasn’t staying to find out what this particular fog did. If she was lucky it was just the regular kind, just altered by… gasses around the area? Yeah, she liked the sound of that.

Her pace quickened, spotting her car in the distance. But like a veil, the fog began closing in, draping around her. Nicole considered sprinting the final span, but something crashed against her, almost sending her to the ground. “Shit, was that my fault?” to stabilize herself, she reached for the person she had just collided with, eyes wide in surprise. She hadn’t heard him approaching at all. How was that possible? Before he could speak, she continued. “You see this… thing right? It’s not just me”

Just one night, that’s all he wanted. He wanted to sit peacefully in his cemetery and read his latest poetry book. Just for a moment, for peace and quiet and nothing nonsensical to occur. Of course, this wasn’t meant to be. So he got up and tucked the book into his satchel, then began to walk to where he thought his crypt was. But suddenly, Cassius wasn’t sure where he was. had been. He had been wandering around in aimless confusion for what felt like hours, but in reality had been minutes. He nearly fell over it relief when he ran into someone, quite literally. 

“Apologies, I didn’t see you!” He spoke at the same time she did. He could have sworn that in the thick of the grey fog, he saw blinking eyes. He nodded his head as the woman had asked if he saw it. “Yes, most definitely.” He agreed, blinking a few times, as if it would make it disappear. Of course, it didn’t. “I’m kind of getting tired of all the strangeness that happens in this town,” he growled to himself. He didn’t know what exactly was happening, but he knew this couldn’t just be regular fog. He looked around for anything familiar, but it was just gravestones. No familiar landmarks. 

“I’m going to be honest, I’m a bit lost.” He admitted to the woman, continuing to look around, becoming unsettled when he saw the eyes blink again. Not wanting to startle her any further, he decided to keep the fact that there were eyes in the fog to himself.

Nicole shrugged his apology quickly, realizing they had both missed each other. The fog’s fault, obviously. She regained her composure, nodding at his confirmation. Dread bloomed in her chest. Well, fuck. She wanted to laugh at his muted remark, but she couldn’t order her facial muscles to do it, worry sinking deeper between her brows instead. 

Paired with his admission that he was lost, the wheels in her brain began spinning, coming up with potential scenarios for their conundrum. Was it maybe a fae thing? Like that weird grass she had stepped on once? Or maybe a spectral thing? Ghosts liked this whole eerie aesthetic. Nicole might have to shift into jaguar vision to confirm that one (though she really wanted to avoid that in front of a stranger). But first, safety. “Okay, um” she licked her lips, hands on her hips while she looked around. Maybe it was a psychological thing, because at that moment, it became impossible for her to spot her car anymore. It had been right there, seconds before she ran into this man. “Shit. Ah—” she frowned, squinting as she looked farther into the cemetery. Wait. Had she been at a cemetery? The whole time?

“My car was… Fuck, I don’t— we might be lost. Kinda” definitely, her internal voice supplied unprompted. She resumed walking, expecting her companion to follow. “Can’t stay put though… maybe— maybe if… we keep moving this whole thing will clear out. Right?” it sounded logical in her head. “You know this place? Know what the exit looks like?” they were lost, and definitely under some sort of veil of confusion (could it be a spell?), but they still had eyes and worked well enough to look for things, she figured.   

Cassius frowned as he looked around, hoping that if he looked in a certain direction, there’d be a break in the fog. No such luck. He thought to his positioning in the cemetery. “If I remember correctly, we should be toward the front of the cemetery. He thought to where his crypt was, thinking that he could probably make it back, but then he would be leaving the poor woman in a thick fog which hid who knows what. All he wanted was one night where something didn’t go terribly wrong. The longer time went on, the more that seemed to be an impossibility. For a moment, his mind flitted to his sire who he knew was somewhere in the cemetery. Hopefully, he was safe and sound.

The idea of wandering around aimlessly in this fog worried him. He didn’t like the idea that this fog persisted, and they only wandered further into the cemetery and run into something more nefarious. Knowing where he lived, he knew they were out there. “If we walk this way, we’ll hit the fence eventually. Then we can follow it to an exit.” He spoke, beginning to walk in a straight line in front of him, looking down in front of him as not to trip over any tombstones on his way there.

He didn’t ask why she was out here, just as he hoped that she wouldn’t ask why he was out there. As he continued to walk, eventually, he came into contact with the wrought iron fence. “Finally,” he murmured to himself with a sigh. Alright, now all they needed to do was find an exit. There were three of them, on on each side and one in the front. From here, he could go left or right in hopes of finding an out. Holding onto the fence, he began to walk to his left. “From here, hopefully we can get ourselves out of here.” He spoke aloud, hoping that she had followed him.

Had she been a more effusive person, Nicole would’ve thought of hugging this man. Instead, she allowed a wave of relief and gratitude wash over her as he provided vital information to their safety. “Okay, good. That’s— you really know this place, do you?” It was a rhetorical question, because while his confusion and slight frustration was clear, he didn’t show any physical signs of distress. His heartbeat was barely there, if at all. (Funny… that). In comparison to hers, pounding quicker and quicker as they went on. Nicole had no time to think about the differences. 

The tables turned, and this time Nicole followed the man in his quest to find the fence. It was a silent walk, for the most part, which she didn’t mind. Maybe once they were out of this fog, unscathed, they could better acquaint with each other. (Maybe). His knowledge of the cemetery proved to be just what they needed, as they found themselves right by the fence, like he promised. “Great” she nodded, growing confident in their odds of making it out alive. One tiny worrying thing, however? The fog looked thicker as they moved, sinking into them. And there was that funny feeling in the back of her head, the one she got when she was being watched.

She should’ve known better by now to think anything would be simple. 

“Um,” Nicole frowned, placing a hand to his chest and stopping him. She had seen something from the corner of her eye. But as she turned to confirm her suspicions, she found nothing but fog and headstones. “What was that? Did you see it?” she whispered, in case whatever lurked in the cemetery had ears too.

As soon as the woman began to question her surroundings, Cassius heard a flapping noise. “Yes, I heard it.” He muttered, eyes narrowing as he turned around to look into the nothingness, he quickly let his hand drop to his pocket where he kept his switchblade. This town had strange creatures that left him feeling unsafe, and that knife had become more of a lifeline than he’d ever wanted it to be. He heard it again, this time closer. He had just finished recovering from his run-in with a hunter, the last thing he needed was to be attacked by something again. But of course, his bad luck streak would continue.

Before he had the chance to react, an avian-like creature descended on him as if he were prey, talons locked onto the top of his head as it began to peck incessantly at him. “Fuck!” He shouted as he dropped the knife he had in his hand and raised his hands up to his head to try and pull the thing off of him. No use. The creature’s talons only gripped further into his scalp, and all Cassius could feel was white hot pain as its teeth sunk into the back of his neck. “Dropped my knife!” He screamed out as he continued to try and pry the thing off of him. “Get off of me!” He yelled, shouting in pain as he realized that this bird or whatever it was matched his strength. He couldn’t pry it away no matter how hard he tried. 

The creature did not bother with the woman, it seemed to only have its sights locked on Cassius, lucky for him. Then, the creature swung out one of its limbs, slashing into the side of the woman’s arm. Blood. Cassius’s eyes immediately glowed red at the smell, but quickly squeezed them shut. “I need you to use the knife on the bird,” he instructed the woman, voice going up an octave as the bird bit at his flesh once more. “Please, help me!” He pleaded, red eyes locking onto hers. 

Among all the things Nicole could have anticipated disturbing her evening stroll, she had never considered a fucking murderous bird as an option. What the fuck? “Cover!” She tried to warn, but it was pointless. The creature was far too quick for them to seek shelter behind the headstones. She appeared to be invisible for the creature, who dove directly on her companion instead, gripping his head and pecking at him, not unlike a seagull trying to steal people’s food. She grimaced imagining the pain he must’ve been feeling, and then grimaced again when he made his pain known with a scream. This brought her out of the stupor she found herself in. She glanced down at the knife he had dropped, and considered picking it up, but first she had to try scaring the bird off. 

When Nicole reached out to shoo it off, the bird retaliated, sharp talons slicing her arm. She hissed, missing out on the way his eyes glowed red when her blood spilled, because she was too focused examining her cut. It didn’t look too deep, but fuck, it burned. The bird wasn’t deterred, and remained firmly on top of his head. In fact, it looked seconds away from gnawing at the skull. She had to act fast, do something.

And when she heard his cry for help and her eyes looked with his, the blood drained from her face. Stomach plummeted at the sight. Nicole knew what he was. She’d seen a similar gaze in the monster who fed off her not too long ago. Under a different fog. Fear swirled in her chest as this unraveled. Why should she help him? Wouldn’t he feed off her afterwards? Her arm was already bleeding. If anything, wasn’t this bird a better ally? It only touched her by accident, its murderous instincts locked elsewhere. What if—

She should let things unfold. The thought lodged in her brain and wouldn’t budge. There’d be one less monster to worry about, right? But when his pleading echoed in her head, Nicole felt herself take a step forward, despite what logic dictated. She’d have to get the bird off him and deal with the moral dilemmas later. She couldn’t plunge a knife into this animal, though. It was undeserved. So she approached again, as she had done before it sliced her arm and this time, she managed to get a hold of its wings, pulling with everything she had. It wasn’t easy. It was horrifying, actually. So much so, that Nicole ended up closing her eyes as she tightened her grip on the beast, who wouldn’t go without a fight. Until the struggle ended and the man was finally released, his unnatural blood spilling on the ground. Something told her they would only have few seconds of relief.

Cassius stood there in agony as his blood dripped on him from his head, knowing that the woman undoubtedly knew what he was by now if she had any clue of the supernatural. He looked toward her, shocked that she had done anything to help him. This was his monstrous side, the side he didn’t let anyone see. The part of him he controlled above all else. There was nothing glamorous about being a vampire, and now it was all laid bare for her to see. He stopped breathing, and with it, his eyes went back to normal as he could no longer smell the blood.

“You helped me.” He spoke, brows knitting together in pain and confusion. “Appreciated.” He then spoke as he rifled through his pockets for his handkerchief, something that would do him no good now that he stared down at it. What Cassius needed was a full on towel after this. The fog was still thick, and in the terror that was whatever that bird was, he had forgotten he was near the fence until he took a step back and bumped into it. He saw the fear in her eyes as she opened her eyes, her apprehension towards him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He spoke, his gaze turning serious. “I don’t… I refuse to hunt humans.” He explained. More blood dripped into his eyes. “But we should get out of here quickly,” he recommended. “Because after getting hurt like this, I don’t know what will happen.” He began to walk with a hand on the fence, not wanting to be too close to her anymore. “I am sorry that this has occurred.” 

As Cassius walked along the fence, only turning around once to see if she was following him, he found the exit with a sigh of relief. He felt his thirst rising. He needed to get out of here and find a food source. And clean himself up, now that he thought about it. He knew the woman would run as soon as she was near the safety of her car, and all he could do was hope that she wouldn’t share with anyone what had happened there, at least not the part about him. The last thing he wanted to do was move to a new city because every hunter had suddenly been dispatched after him. 

Nicole remained silent, offering a curt nod at his gratitude. Her eyes opened, widening in horror at his appearance. She wasn’t sure what was going on, if the vulture now circling above them would dive in again, maybe claim a different body part this time, but she knew they had to make their move fast. She reached down for the knife he had dropped, keeping it aimed at him. She wasn’t planning on attacking, she knew too well that this type of monster had more strength than she did, but… it couldn’t hurt to protect herself, just in case. He was already weakened, maybe she stood a chance. 

But then came his assurance that he didn't hunt humans. It didn’t appease Nicole, though somewhere in the back of her mind —Somewhere the memory of being fed off by one of these creatures couldn’t touch— It rang true.  He could still be lying, though. Just more convincingly. Still, she lowered the knife slightly, somewhat of a peace sign between the two, and agreed to follow toward the exit. If safety was past that fence, she’d team up with whoever could get her there. She pressed a palm against her sleeve, watching a dark patch appear on the fabric. At least it didn’t sting too bad anymore. Nothing that wouldn’t heal in a few days. 

She kept her distance, letting him walk ahead as the pair began chasing the exit. His switchblade, still in Nicole’s hands, now pointed to the sky where the bird appeared to be stalking them. They had to hurry before it descended on them again. She didn’t think this man’s head would withstand another attack. 

Despite the fog making it harder to see where they were heading, he eventually found the exit. Nicole allowed one tiny breath to escape in relief, turning around to check on the animal one last time. It seemed to have found others like it, now flying together, but it didn’t look like they were interested in them anymore. Maybe the next poor soul who walked into the fog wouldn’t have it as easy as them. She didn’t want to entertain that thought for too long. In the distance, Nicole spotted a colorful blur that resembled her Subaru. “Here” she called, the distance between them was drastic. When he turned, she threw the knife at him. She stood there, unsure of what would happen next. She could’ve said thank you, he did navigate them to safety after all, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words. Her head unwilling to forget —nor forgive— his nature. Instead, she settled for, “better go. Before it comes back”. Had he been human, she wouldn’t have hesitated to offer him a ride, hit the emergency room (before making sure Zane wasn’t on call). But clearly, that wasn’t something he could do. And driving with a vampire on the passenger’s seat wasn’t in her plans for the foreseeable future.

In the back of his mind, Cassius knew that this woman could expose his secret. He knew that this bird, wherever it was, could attack again. He knew he couldn’t stay in the cemetery any longer, no matter how many times he desperately tried to remain. It had been his home for so long, but lately it had been nothing more than a den of monsters and those that wished him harm. He thought to his sire, an elder vampire that was stuck somewhere within its walls. No longer could he call it home, as much as it hurt him to admit. Then, the woman stopped.

After reaching her car, Cassius knew he had to leave. As she spoke of getting away before the thing came back, Cassius nodded his head in agreement. “I apologize that you got caught up in that awful fog.” He spoke, eyes finally having gone back to normal. He took off the jacket he wore and put it over his head, not wanting anyone to see his appearance as he ran through town to get to Sofie’s apartment. “Be safe.” He then spoke, the knife now in his hands that she had thrown to him before taking off into the night, away from yet another horror that the cemetery had offered him. 

He would live another day, but he didn’t know for how long. That woman could do anything to him now, she knew his secret. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to bite him in the ass.

#w: through the fog #w #w: cassius #hell yeh hell yehh

[ghoul-haunted]

mortal. mortal kombat au. for the dead romans. throw those senators into an gladiatorial arena.

#sheurUGHSUDURHGH #i accidentally took a nap and woke up thinking about cassius grabbing antony by the ankle through the fog and saying #'GET OVER HERE' and you know what. if i cant stop thinking about it. might as well draw it!

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter eight.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: people i don't like - upsahl

author's note: moving it along. can't believe that there's only five more chapters left. this series has been my baby so i'm like in shambles as the end comes closer, but also excited.

The night of the dinner was finally upon you and the amalgamation of dread, trepidation, and wrath clouded over you like a malevolent fog. You weren’t looking forward to it, but you knew that Theo was right. If sitting through one lousy dinner secured a spot with the M.E.S.P, then you would begrudgingly grin and bear it. 

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to face it alone. As Luna promised, Harry was waiting for you outside of Professor Slughorn’s office. Harry was dressed in a button down and a dark blazer paired with freshly pressed trousers. Despite his smart attire, his signature messy, black hair and slightly skewed glasses softened his appearance. 

Harry smiled, raising his hand in a slight wave. “Hi, Y/N. You look lovely.” 

You smoothed the front of your dress, which Pansy had helped you pick out. The fabric was sleek and silky and as dark as night. The front was simple, but the back dipped low and revealed more skin than you were used to. It was completely out of your comfort zone, but Pansy had insisted that you were meant to wear the dress.

“Thanks, Harry. So do you.” You stood up straighter, balancing on your impossibly tall heels—another Parkinson addition, before rolling your shoulders back. “Shall we?” 

The inside of Professor Slughorn’s office had been transformed into an entirely different space. Velvet curtains hung from the ceiling and covered the marble columns like tapestry. A round mahogany table sat in the middle of the room and sat upon it were fresh fruits, expensive cheese, and cold cuts. The plates were set in a circular formation and each one contained a placard with a different student’s name. 

You took your place, quietly settling in between Harry and a Hufflepuff girl—Melissa? No, Melinda. You remembered that her family owned a large chain of apothecaries. 

As you glanced around the table, you realized that while there were at least two or three members from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, there was only one Slytherin in the midst. You weren’t that familiar with Cassius Warrington, but you knew that he was currently being pursued by the Chudley Cannons, which was plenty of incentive for Slughorn to invite him into the mix. 

You were well aware that the presence of each student was contingent on the benefits they could help provide Slughorn and vice versa. After all, that was the purpose of the slug club, but facing it head on still made your stomach roil. You barely touched the filet mignon and scalloped potatoes for fear of retching it all back up. The conversations happening around you made it impossible to eat.

It was just endless prattling and bragging on and on about connections and achievements, much to Slughorn’s delight. The superficiality of it all made you nauseous. When McLaggen name dropped his influential uncle for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you nearly pulled your hair out. You watched with a grimace as he lapped up his soup with tiny licks, sort of like a lizard toying with a fly. 

Out of instinct, you turned to your right to snicker with Theo only to remember that he wasn’t there, which put you in a foul mood all over again. 

“He does love to prattle on, doesn’t he?” Harry muttered in a low voice. 

You nodded. “I imagine he only speaks to hear the sound of his own voice.” 

“I take it that you’re enjoying this as much as I am.” 

“If by enjoying you mean considering pulling my eyelashes out one by one, then you would be correct, Potter.” 

“Forget the eyelashes. I might pluck my own eyes out all together if I hear McLaggen say my uncle Tiberius one more time.” 

You snorted. “If you’re as miserable as I am, then what are you doing here?” 

He shrugged. “People expect me to be here. To go on as normal. It’s important to have some semblance of that after last year, I suppose.” 

You nodded sympathetically. Everyone looked up to Harry. He was a hero, a practical living legend, the boy who lived not once but twice. You imagined carrying all of that pressure on his shoulders couldn’t have been easy. 

“What about you? You’re obviously not enjoying yourself, so why subject yourself to all of this?” 

“I want to become a potioneer after I graduate. Slughorn is an influential member of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, which means he’s my key to getting accepted so while this dinner is physically and mentally draining all of my energy, I don’t have much of a choice. Being the first muggleborn member of the society would be monumental. Not just for me, but for other witches in the future."

“I understand,” Harry said with a nod. “You know, Mione’s probably going to be the first muggleborn witch to become Minister of Magic.” 

You smiled. While you two weren’t close by any means, you have always admired Hermione. Her academic achievements were the cause of your envy for many years, but after all that she had gone through, you stopped feeling that stab of jealousy. 

“The wizarding world would be lucky to have Granger leading it,” you agreed. “Which reminds me, why isn’t she here tonight?” 

“She declined the invitation. As did Ron.” 

“I can’t blame them. I half expected you to do so as well. The three of you have done enough to last a lifetime.” 

“Yes, but like I said. It’s important for me to participate in these things. To boost morale, or so I’ve been told.” 

It was fascinating to you that Harry could joke about such things. If you had battled the darkest wizard of all time and lived to tell the tale, you would probably tell everyone to kindly fuck off forever, but you suppose that was the reason why Harry was the chosen one and not you. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re still fighting?” you asked. “Voldemort and his followers are either dead or imprisoned, yes. But we’re still rooting out their ideologies to this day and now there’s this new suspicion surrounding an entire house despite the fact the Death Eaters had members from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff too.” 

Harry nodded solemnly. “Everyone thinks that the war ended at the Battle of Hogwarts, but in reality, our work is barely beginning. The hardest part is healing. I’ll admit that sometimes it’s hard for me to separate the fact that Tom was a Slytherin with my own biases about the whole house itself, but unlearning all of those misconceptions is a process. It takes a lot to change a person’s perception. We can’t all be as smart and logical as you Ravenclaws.” 

“If only, right?” you said with a smile. 

“Well, we could always try it your way and threaten to push people off of the bleachers.” His green eyes crinkled with amusement. 

You groaned. “I can’t believe you heard about that.” 

“I must say, Ron and I had a proper laugh when we heard about it. He still hasn’t forgotten his stay in the hospital wing thanks to Romilda’s tainted chocolate cauldrons.” You grimaced, which made Harry chuckle. “I am sorry about what she said to Pansy though. We aren’t friends by any means, but I’d like to think that we’re at least on civil terms. Luna talks about her fondly and if Parkinson’s got your approval, then it’s safe to assume that she’s treating our friend well.” 

“She is,” you agreed. “They are nauseatingly perfect for each other.” 

“I’m glad to hear it. We all deserve a little happiness.” 

“Speaking of which, how’s Ginny doing?” 

The boy who lived blushed furiously. “She’s well. How’s Theo doing?” 

You smirked. “Touche, Potter. Touche.”

As the night droned on, you found excuses to visit the refreshment table just to get away from all the insufferable preening. While you fixed yourself a cup of tea, you sensed a presence to your right. Cassius surveyed the variety of teas on the table, but made no move to select any.

“Sorry, am I in your way?” 

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I just needed an excuse to get up.” 

You chuckled. “Join the club, Warrington.” He smiled a little as you dropped a sugar cube into your cup. “Congratulations on the recruitment by the way. Your teammates won’t shut up about it.” 

Cassius scratched the back of his head, looking a bit shy. “Thanks, Y/N. Everything is still in the negotiation stage, but after the last game, I think my chances are looking good. The boys said you were there for the match.” 

“Yeah, I was. This might not mean much since I haven’t watched a game since fourth year, but you guys were great out there. It was bloody brutal. I had a blast.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. We do our best to put on a show,” he said. Warrington toyed with his saucer. He looked around before clearing his throat and lowering his voice. “Listen, Y/N. I heard about what you did for Pansy.”

“You and the rest of the school, apparently.” 

“I just wanted to say thanks for sticking up for her. Pansy—she—helped me out a lot after my father was imprisoned and I probably wasn’t the only one. Everyone in Slytherin, especially those that were caught in the crossfire last year, owe a lot to her. She’s one of the good ones.”

You nodded, smiling. “I wouldn’t have let her date my best friend if I didn’t think that myself.” 

“Luna makes her really happy. I’m glad that they have each other. Pansy earned it.” 

“They both did.”

The conversation was cut short as Slughorn tapped his spoon against his goblet. The two of you reluctantly made your way back to the table.

“Thank you all for joining me tonight. It is a great privilege to be able to gather after all that passed last year. I urge you to look around at your fellow witches and wizards, remembering the fallen and celebrating the sacrifices that have all brought us back to this castle. As we commemorate this monumental moment, let us look not to the past but to the future.” 

You swirled the glass of sparkling non-alcoholic spritzer, only half listening to the generic drivel that you’ve heard a thousand times before. The more Slughorn talked, the more irritated you felt. There was all this talk of looking to the future, moving on, hoping for a better tomorrow, but what use was that if you couldn’t even fix the present?

Professor Slughorn raised his glass in the air. “A toast to the best of the best.” 

That one phrase was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You had no idea why, but those words finally made you crack.

“That’s not right though, is it professor?” The whole table fell silent as every head turned in your direction. “Sure we may be smart, accomplished, but not the best.” 

Slughorn reeled back in surprise. His expression faltered before he plastered on a false smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N. All of you worked hard to get here.” 

“None of us are even the top student in your class. That would be Theo.” You were vaguely aware that you were raising your voice, but once the words tumbled past your lips, you couldn’t reel them back in. “But he’s not here because surely we can’t invite your star pupil to a slug club dinner if his father is in Azkaban for being a death eater. That would be like inviting the Dark Lord to dinner, but wait. Didn’t you already do that, professor?”

A gasp came from your right. Melinda stared at you as though you’d grown an extra head. 

“That’s quite enough, Y/N.”

Your humorless laughter echoed in the cavernous office. “Oh, but I’m just getting started. What was it that you said in your welcoming speech at the beginning of the year? Unity and reconciliation? Surely ostracizing someone for his father’s deeds, which he had nothing to do with by the way, judged and ruled by the Ministry itself, directly contradicts that sentiment, does it not? Or are we all just supposed to ignore this blatant display of discrimination against a perfectly innocent student?”

“Perfectly innocent?” scoffed McLaggen. “Nott comes from a long line of dark wizards as do the rest of the Slytherins. They show you an ounce of kindness and suddenly you become their little muggleborn pet.” 

To your surprise, Cassius leapt to his feet. “Don’t call her that,” he nearly growled. “Y/N is just being a good friend. She stood up for Pansy when no one else would and now she’s doing it for Theo, too. You want to compare ledgers, McLaggen? Didn’t your father and uncle conspire to bring the Ministry under the Dark Lord’s control? They armed Voldemort and the Death Eaters then profited off of the war. They deserve to be in Azkaban just as much as my father does, but conveniently their records were wiped clean. Isn’t that why your family moved to France?” 

The room was utterly silent. McLaggen looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, but Cassius wasn’t done. He wheeled around to face the other attendees. “I’m not stupid. I know I was only invited because I’m being scouted by the Cannons, but I hoped that attending would make you see me as someone more than just a Death Eater’s son. I guess I was wrong and now I’m done with this farce. You’ll never stop seeing us as the villains.”

Without waiting for a response, Cassius stormed out of the room. He held his head up proudly, nodding to you and Harry as he made his graceful exit. 

“Cassius is right,” Harry declared. “So is Y/N. We can’t crucify every Slytherin for the mistakes of a few. That would make us no better than Voldemort himself.  The way I see it, the only way to get to the future we all fought for is to work with our fellow classmates, the Slytherins included. I hope you can learn to look past your biases and false perceptions, just as I’m learning how to.” 

Not a single person moved as Harry finished his speech. “Right, well that’s that then.” He turned over to you. “Shall we get going, Y/N?” 

“Gladly.” 

You pushed your chair back and paid no mind to the burning gazes seared upon your back. Before following Harry out of the office, you leaned in close to McLaggen and lowered your voice so only he could hear. “If you ever speak poorly of my friends again, I’ll dose you with a potion that makes your precious man parts shrivel.” 

Cormac paled several shades as you patted him on the shoulder. “Enjoy your dessert, McLaggen. I heard chocolate ganache pairs well with prejudice.” 

The castle was quiet at this time of night. You and Harry walked side by side through the dungeons in silence. For someone who just blew up her academic career, you felt fairly calm. You knew that speaking up for your friends was the right thing to do. 

“Thank you for speaking up back there,” you said. “You didn’t have to do that. You don’t owe anyone anything after all you’ve done, but I appreciate it nonetheless.” 

“I do though. Hearing Cassius in there, I realized that the Ministry has failed both sides in a lot of ways. I think we’re all so eager to go back to the way things were before that we’re willing to overlook a lot of things. I’ve never even thought about families like the McLaggens who aided the Dark Lord, but got off with a light sentence. Or people like Cassius and Pansy and Theo who face a lot of unfair judgment from the rest of the wizarding world.” 

“That’s the point, Harry. You shouldn’t have to think about it. None of us should. We’re all just children forced to grow up by the war because of the failure of those before us. It’s unfair to be burdened with a load so heavy.”

Harry sighed, nodding. “But if we don’t carry our load, we risk repeating the same mistakes and I won’t have that. We have to do better than the past generations.” 

“We will,” you declared. “We have to.” 

The torch lights drew shadows across the stone floors as you contemplated. 

“You really care about them, don’t you?” It was more a statement rather than a question. You nodded, which made Harry smile. “I can tell that they care about you, too. Especially Theo.” 

“We spent years in competition with one another, the classic bitter rivals. It’s kind of ironic that we became friends during our last year here.” 

Harry looked at you strangely. “Right, friends…”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at the green eyed wizard. “What’s that tone for, Potter?” 

His mouth quirked. “Nothing, it’s just—well, Theo looks at you like I used to look at Ginny. With pining and yearning, as Mione liked to say. And the way you defended him earlier, Ginny would’ve done the same for me.” You were silent for a moment as you absorbed his words. “A word of advice, Y/N. I know it’s against those Ravenclaw instincts, but sometimes it’s good to get out of your head and tune into your heart instead.” 

“Since when did the boy who lived become an expert on all things romance?” you teased. 

“A handful of near death experiences really helps put things into perspective.” 

You grinned. “I’ll take your word for it, Potter.” The two of you came to a stop at the base of the Ravenclaw Tower. “Well, this is me. Thank you for tonight. I genuinely hope to never do it again.” 

Harry laughed. “You and me both, Y/N.” 

You raised up on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek in thanks, feeling uncharacteristically chipper despite the disastrous dinner. “Good night, Harry.” 

He smiled, blushing slightly. “Good night, Y/N.” 

As you climbed up the spiraling staircase, you saw a glimpse of snow falling softly over the castle grounds. When you stopped and stared at the glittering landscape, you recalled the other night in Hogsmeade when Theo leaned in to brush the snowflakes off of your lips. 

There’s something that I’ve been meaning to tell you. 

You were certain that you already knew what Theo was about to say, because you’ve been meaning to tell him the same thing too. When you reached the fifth floor, your grin had grown so wide that your cheeks ached from smiling. As you slipped past the bronze eagle knocker, you caught a glimpse of a discarded bouquet of wisterias peeking out from a nearby trash bin. 

With a pause, you plucked a petal off of your favorite flower and tucked it into your braid. You went to sleep that night thinking that Harry was right. 

Maybe it was time to let your heart do the talking. 

Taglist: @annaisabookworm@marina468@yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe  @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup  @aliensknowmyillusions @cinderellawithashoe @starsval @kalulakunundrum @lucyysthings @siriuslysmoking @purplegirls-posts @unstablereader @lqclercs @whatsupb18 @rikirritated @psychedeliccc @jetblackpayne @clairesjointshurt @ama1a2 @omwtkydttfym @cinderellawithashoe @xeqr @txzii @goldenmagnolias @ilikefictionalmen @xxpeachyxo @dirt-cup-draco @willowecho25518 @shulipp @pompeygirl89 @lame-ferrum @dustbunniess @justdizzie @sopsopsopy @therealallisonspear @sweetwonieee @spacecadet16

Please let me know if you'd like to be added.

#uh oh spaghettio what does this mean gasp #theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theo nott smut #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine

[rabidbatboy]

♱ MURDEROUS VICTORIAN GENTLEMAN ID PACK . . .

NAMES ; charles , hyde , clarence , edward , benedict , amos , henry , ripper , silas , elias , oliver , theodore , vincent , ambrose , victor , adrian , virgil , sebastian , lukas , cassius

PRONOUNS ; fog / fogs , dark / darks , kill / kills , blood / bloods , stab / stabs , die / dies , night / nights , stalk / stalks , hunt / hunts , mist / mists , shadow / shadows , noir / noirs , charm / charms , death / deaths , fear / fears

TiTLES ; the ripper , the elegant murderer , the gentleman killer , the stalker in the shadows , [x] elegant murder , [x] who kills in the night , [x] who kills most elegantly , the charming killer , the gentleman of death , [x] deathly charm

iDENTiTiES ; victoriagothic , stalkerprettyboy , villaigender , weaponmurdic , bloodyweaponic , fantasmagore , dymalic , victorianboygender , fogcloudic , antagogender , bloformesimora , bloodcovic , elegantlaceskullic

🦇 ——— REQUESTED BY ; anon

[ PT: murderous victorian gentleman id pack

names;

prns;

titles;

identities; (links)

requested by; anon / END PT]

#— jacks inflamed sense of rejection #mogai #mogai flag #xenogender #mogai term #mogai gender #id pack #identity pack #victorian id pack #gentleman id pack #elegant id pack #murderer id pack #npt #npt list #npt suggestions #name ideas #name list #name suggestions #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #pronoun list #title ideas #title suggestions #title list

[thatliminal-wanderer]

Dissociation ID Pack

Requested by Anon

Names

Achlys, Aud, Babel, Babylon, Barren, Blanc, Cassian, Cassius, Darcy, Haze, Hmone, Hollis, Hun, Inara, Itzal, Izhi, Kasumi, Kasumu, Ka’awa, Kgodi, Kiri, Kohu, Kora, Lilione, Mazin, Meglena, Miglė, Mihika, Misty, Mok, Muggur, Nebula, Niara, Nihari, Nihilo, Nihira, Nirav, Nix, Oytuman, Pujoq, Raven, Rinan, Rinku, Rūkas, Sanoe, Senka, Shunya, Sierra, Sumu, Suong, Taktuq, Terhi, Thoka, Tomanbikä, Tuban, Usva, Vacara, Vacio, Xihir, Yogiri, Zero

Pronouns

**/**s, -/-s, 0/0s, ??/???, _/_s, blank/blanks, blur/blurs, daze/dazes, dizzy/dizzies, empty/emptys, float/floats, fog/fogs, forget/forgets, gone/gones, gray/grays, haze/hazes, hush/hushes, miss/missing/missings, o/os, shush/shushes, space/spacey/spaceys, static/statics, stuck/stucks, un/uns, vague/vagues, void/voids, zero/zeros, 0️⃣/0️⃣s, ⏺️/⏺️s, ☁️/☁️s, ⚪️/⚪️s, ⚫️/⚫️s, 🌁/🌁s, 🌫️/🌫️s, 👤/👤s, 💨/💨s, 💭/💭s, 🔇/🔇s, 🔲/🔲s, 🔳/🔳s, 🕳️/🕳️s, 😶‍🌫️/😶‍🌫️s, 🪶/🪶s, 🫥/🫥s

Titles

A Foggy Thought Process, The Dizzy Thinker, The Fogged Up Brain, The Foggy Thoughts, The Lost Soul, The Lost Soul In The Fog, The One Who Isn’t Here, The One Who’s Mind Is Foggy, The One With A Foggy Mind, The One With The Lost Mind, The Spaced Out (Person/Creature/Any Noun), [prn] Who Doesn’t Feel Right, [prn] Who Doesn’t Know What To Do

Genders

Arutido, Blurslightic, Brainfoggender, Croafogin, Dissocialunarocera, Dullained, Dyscognigender, Existinaught, Fogfluidflux, Foggender, Foggyagin, Foggyenigmatic, Foggyvoidflux, Galain, Genderfog, Genderhaze, Hazeneu, Identityfoggender, IDKgender, Mevirasic, Mistigender, Mystxfoggic, Nebbiagender, Noconfusic, Nothinggender, Vaguelexic, Vagusgirl/Vagusboy, Vastspaceic

Other mogai

Alderpitch, Emproque, Vesivague, Voistaldernic, ∅ Omninoun, ∅perspesque

#id pack #npt suggestions #name suggestions #name list #name ideas #npt #title ideas #title suggestions #pronoun suggestions #pronoun list #gender list #gender suggestions #mogai list #mogai suggestions #mogai blog #mogai #dissociation #brain fog #anon request

[singdreamchild]

The Banshee and the Goth || Cassius & Regan

TIMING: Pre-Goo LOCATION: Eluria Cemetery PARTIES: Cassius (@singdreamchild) & Regan (@kadavernagh) SUMMARY: Regan senses something off in a crypt and decides to investigate. Cassius has to devise a series of clever lies to keep his secret.

Of course, nearly as soon as Regan managed to fix her necklace, the nights started bringing in a chill and, just like that, she was back in the coat. She detested the thing and probably should have been inside right now anyway, but duty called. Eluria’s sprawling mist welcomed her, and even reminded her a little of the fog that had sometimes rolled in over the moors outside of Saol Eile. Ethereal, almost, and somehow more delicate than the flower arrangement in her hands – one of Conor’s, full of white carnations and orchids. 

Martha William’s autopsy had not gone as planned, and unfortunately, Eleanor had been there to witness that. But even if it had been unremarkable, not a single worm at all, Regan still would have had a reason to pay respects: the woman had died with no next of kin, and even her friends and neighbors had little to say about her. Regan tried not to attend funerals; people scarcely invited their deceased loved one’s forensic pathologist anyway. But every once in a while, she wanted to leave something for someone who would have had no one else to do. 

Finding the grave wasn’t challenging. The real issue was everything else, every other trace of death, vying for her attention. She was experienced at tuning out what she needed to, but it wasn’t only the buried she felt. There was something off. Death closed its fist around her and pulled her toward the ornate stone entrance of the crypt. Something about it felt different from all the old bones in these grounds. It was wrong, almost – twisted. Like what she felt around Metzli. Regan’s hair prickled at the thought but her feet commanded her forward, inside.

The damp smell of earth tickled her nose and she squinted into the darkness, using her phone to light the way. Oddly, there was a lit candle, too, like someone had just been here. “Hello?” Dead or alive, she expected a response.

A single candle lit the crypt that Cassius used to read with. He had been feeling the holiday spirit, and decided to re-read Dracula by Brahm Stoker. A bit on the nose, but what could he say? He was a sucker for the classics. The crypt itself was small. A simple one-room with the coffin in the middle of the room, and a little stone bench on the far side of the room. Cassius sat on the bench, candle on top of the headrest to his right. He had heard her before he’d seen her, the woman opened the crypt and shone a light directly at him, and Cassius found himself frozen in place. There was no getting out of this one, she caught him red-handed. Dammit, he really needed to get himself out of there.

He stared at Regan like a deer caught in headlights for a long moment, book in hand. “I, uh…” he frowned, realizing he didn’t have a good excuse at the ready for why he was there. “Was just reading with Linda, here.” He spoke, hoping his gothic attire would more than explain himself and why he was there. He pointed to the tomb in the center of the room, which bore the name ‘LINDA LORELEI LINDEMAN JUN 4 1908- AUG 26 1989. BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER’ on the placard before the stone tomb. “Do you know her?” He asked, raising a brow, curious as to why she decided to open a tomb that he had been careful to be silent around in the first place. 

None of his things were out save for the book in his hands and the candle burning behind him. A backpack was in the corner, the only sign that he was living out of the crypt. Luckily, he had put a lot of his things into storage the day before. Otherwise, she would have walked into what was clearly a man living in a crypt. He placed a bookmark in between the pages and closed the book, then looked toward the woman expectantly.

The light staring back at her had been unexpected, and as Regan’s eyes adjusted, the sharp contours of a person carved themselves out of the shadows. She was in the presence of more than the dead, and a stunned – but oddly delicate, well-mannered voice – made her straighten in surprise. She wasn’t sure which of the two of them found this to be more of an intrusion. The candlelight’s orange mixed with the bright light of her phone and she could see what appeared to be a book in his hand. Her eyes trailed down his arm and she realized, taking his whole body in, that he was clad entirely in black. Long, blond hair hung like curtains around his face and his eyes flickered with something. Embarrassment, maybe.

“Oh, um – I didn’t – I didn’t think – uh, you look comfortable. Or I suppose you were, before I showed up.” These were strange circumstances to have a conversation under, to be sure, but she wanted to understand his presence here. He may have been an odd man in a crypt at night, but he didn’t seem to be engaging in delinquent behavior; quite the opposite. And Regan was confident in her ability to handle almost anything, anyway. Humans could not harm her. He was stammering. Off guard. That would make him less likely to lie, she thought. “Do you read with the dead often?” Her eyes flicked to the plaque on the tomb, and she shook her head. “Not personally. Do you? Why her, and why here? Is she a relative of yours?” Maybe if she provided some information he’d be inclined to the same. “These flowers are for someone else, also buried here. I was, um, distracted, and came in. I can’t say I was expecting to see someone reading.” She tried to angle her head to see the spine of the book, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Given the choice of attire, poetry would have been apt. “Someone might think you were engaging in illegal activities, you know.”

Her light swept across the wall behind the man and something, like a big rock, became visible. No, not a rock. A backpack. Regan’s brow wrinkled, and she flashed her light back toward the man. Wait. Was he? “Is that a backpack? Did you take something from here? Are you robbing graves?” The word graves echoed through the crypt, dust raining from the corners of the stone ceiling, before the vibration ceased. Regan forced herself to clamp down, deny feeding her suspicions. They might not be correct. And even if they were, she couldn’t scream a graverobber to his own death, fitting though it would be. The flowers scrunched in her hand. Her eyes narrowed, trying to read intentions in the dark. “I am here for Linda, after all, actually.” 

Feeling rather uncomfortable under the woman’s gaze, Cassius shifted his weight on the bench. “Why yes, I was rather comfortable, thanks.” He responded, placing his book to the side. He frowned at her sudden line of questioning. He didn’t owe her any explanation, and yet he was suddenly compelled to do all in his power to keep her from discovering his secret. That he fucking lived in this crypt and had been for the past ten years. Of course he was embarrassed about it, he was a walking stereotype that deserved to be gawked and laughed at. A vampire. Living in a crypt. Of course he did, along with every other bloody stereotype that walked the planet about vampires. He sighed, closing his eyes for a comment as he realized she wasn’t going to go quietly, not until she was satisfied, anyway.

“I read with the dead often, yes. I find it quite calming.” He answered smoothly, recovering from any embarrassment he once had. If she was going to question him, then he would provide answers. “I don’t know Linda, no. I just find that she’s got a good crypt to read in. And everyone deserves company now and again, even in death. He points to the bouquet of flowers he left for her. Chrysanthemums, a flower that symbolized death. “No one ever suspects the goth in the graveyard, do they?” He quipped back, rolling his eyes. He looked to the flowers in her hands, suspecting she knew nothing about what they meant like he did. No one ever understood the language of flowers these days.

Then the accusations started. Of course, all goths were deliquents and up to something. God forbid he actually enjoy the peace and quiet of a graveyard that was being rather rudely interrupted. His eyes turned to narrowed slits as he slowly rose to his feet and walked over to the backpack. He knelt down and opened it, dumping its contents. A leatherbound journal, several pens, a folder full of homework, a folded up hat, sunglasses, a pair of black gloves, a laptop and its charger, all spilled out in front of her. “There. Satisfied?” Cassius rose back up to his feet, leaving the contents of his backpack out for her to see. “I’m something of an insomniac. When I can’t sleep, I come here to read or work on grading.” He realized he didn’t owe her any explanation, not after her accusing him of grave robbing. “Now if you have any other rude accusations you would like to throw my way, you have my wrapt attention.” 

Regan liked to think she was good at reading the intent of others. Whether it was true was a matter of debate. Despite his too-comfortable presence in a stranger’s mausoleum at night, and despite the sheer wrongness radiating from him in waves, he didn’t strike her as being guilty of any wrongdoing here. Other questions filled the gap left by suspicion. Could it really be as simple as him wanting to read in a crypt? Could those flowers truly be a kind offering to the dead? Regan scanned the emptied remains of his backpack, contents strewn out in the beam of her flashlight, and she found nothing objectionable. 

“I am rarely satisfied. Rude, though, perhaps. It’s bad for your eyes, you know, reading in the dark.” She gestured to the candle. “That’s not enough.” Something like amusement rose up inside of her when she saw the laptop and charger. “And I expect you weren’t planning on plugging that in anywhere in here.” Regan set her own flowers down for now, indicating that she was in no hurry. The mention of grading made something click in her skull. Goth, grading. There was someone in town who fit the bill, though for all she knew, maybe there were multiple. “You wouldn’t happen to be that teacher who I thought to be teaching classes on goth, are you? The one whose ankles I still have yet to see.” And as her eyes drifted down, she noted that pants currently covered them. Foiled again. 

“What, you want me to tell you that I’m a dead man walking? A zombie? A vampire? A ghost?” He finally put the book down, waving his hands in the air. “I’m a weirdo who likes reading in low light.” Cassius stared over at the candle, then shrugged. “Even if it hurts my eyes a little from straining to see. It’s part of the ambience.” She spoke, and he let out a huff. “Yeah, I can see that,” he muttered to himself as he all but let go of the idea of reading. “No, I wasn’t. I was grading until it died. Pulled the charger out with the laptop, was too lazy to put the cord away.” He answered simply, though began to realize that answering these questions was becoming more pain than they were worth. 

The vampire stared at the strange woman for a long moment, watching as her gaze flitted to his covered ankle. Cassius smirked at that, of course the woman from the internet was left wanting. He raised a brow at her, then quickly lifted his pant leg to reveal black socks covering his ankle. “It’s never that simple, I’m afraid. I still require money if you want to see my ankles.” He lowered his pant leg and stared at the woman with an icy gaze. “Why are you grilling me with so many questions, anyway? You are also in a graveyard after dark. You also look like you could belong to the living dead. I’m simply minding my own business. Something you could do yourself.”

“Well, are you?” Regan looked coolly at the man. Zombies were ridiculous. Ghosts were surely not what people believed them to be. But vampires… there were Metzli’s claims, Jade’s supposed duty, and she was willing to open her mind the tiniest bit more to consider that she might be in the presence of someone weird, who might at least call themselves a vampire. Or they were a goth tryhard. Goths liked vampires, didn’t they? The idea of them? Dark, brooding. It was clear he didn’t wish to answer any more questions though – he seemed to be attempting to get rid of her, which was fair enough if she had interrupted his work, or reading, or… something. She tilted her head as his hand reached down to his legs, his ankles, and – no, socks. Tall ones. Of course. She turned away like she didn’t care. “Your ankles probably aren’t good enough for my money. If I am paying to see ankles, they had better be exceptional.” He was tall, though – boney. The kind of man who, all things considered, was likely to have fine ankles. Was the reverse psychology working? (That was all psychology was good for, really, convincing strange men in crypts to bear their ankles for free.)

Oh, he was turning this back on her now? She gestured to the flowers, then decided to pick them back up a little defensively. “I told you, I brought them here for someone.” She fixed an errant petal back into place. Decided he could have a little more than that, a drip. “She does not have anyone to mourn her. And while I’m not exactly fit to do so, I think every decedent deserves some flowers on their grave, don’t you?” Her nose wrinkled at the term living dead. “Just say that I look dead. That, at least, would be a compliment and not a contradiction.” Regan still didn’t understand what this man was, exactly, why his presence felt warped, but she at least assessed that he wasn’t a threat to anyone buried here. He seemed surprisingly respectful, actually. Regan sighed, deliberating. She decided she trusted him enough to get back to what she was doing. “I will leave you be, only because I have my own matters to attend to. But don’t be surprised if I stop by again to check on you. And inform me if you decide to display your ankles for free. There’s an app for that, I think.” 

“If I was, what would you do?” Cassius asked the woman with a scrutinizing gaze. “We share the same goal, you and I. Respect and care for those who have passed on. I spend time among the graves here because I wouldn’t want to be alone in the dark. They deserve to be cared for, just like any others. I read here because I feel at home here.” Cassius gave the woman a curious once over. “Yes, I am a vampire.” He finally told her. Deciding she could do what she wanted with the information, it wasn’t like he’d be here again for her to find him. He was already working on finding a home.  “Everyone deserves flowers. They deserve to be read to, to spend time with. Just because they’re dead does not mean that their memories must be forgotten.” He let out an internal sigh of relief as she decided to leave him be. Finally, he could be left alone. “I will not, nor have I ever displayed my ankles for free.” Cassius decided, letting out an exasperated huff. “Have a good evening.” He called out to her as she turned to leave. “And don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” he mumbled as he turned the page of his book.

#The Banshee and the Goth #threads #kadavernagh

[thedarknesssings]

Prompt 13: Fury's Grace

Prompt 13:  Check  - FFXIV Write 2023 Characters:  Kyllian de Fosse; Amorius nan Cassius ; A shop clerk and mentions of Antoinaux de Sombret

Leaving his flat had became a challenge.  There was no choice but to do it.  Kyllian drew in a breath of cold, crisp air.  His gaze swept over the stone streets ahead of him, dipped over a shoulder to check behind him.  Barely two blocks and already the fine hairs at the back of his neck stood on end.  His gloved hand rubbed at them, trying to coax the feeling into going away.

Things had been like this daily over the last couple of weeks.  Ever since Antoinaux invited himself home with Kyllian.  His displeasure was made clear.  Kyllian bore the bruises for days after.  The wounds on his back where the edge of his belt had bit into his skin had finally healed over in the last couple of days.  Just in time for him to go back to work.

He couldn’t let it happen again.  The choice was simple.  Kyllian either managed to avoid Antoinaux or he catered to him to the point he’d not lift a hand toward him.  A soft snort of breath escaped Kyllian, a puff of fog appearing in the cold air.  That was unlikely.  On both fronts.  His gaze strayed around him once more, checking the nooks and crannies between the buildings he passed.

The Crozier brought with it more people to mind.  They jostled against him, making him wince away from the contact.  Fear crawled up his spine.  His arms ached like he could already feel the cruel grip of a hand that didn’t yet exist.  Kyllian shook himself like a sodden mongrel, the heavy cloak shivering around him.  Stop, just stop.  Being cautious was one thing, becoming paranoid wasn’t going to help him.

A bell chimed overhead when he pushed through the door into the apothecary’s shop.  The clerk at the counter greeted him brightly.  He returned it with a quick smile.  The aisles were neatly laid out, the various bottles well labeled as were the sections by ailment.  He plucked a handful of red vials off a shelf, tucking them into the crook of his arm, then moved down a bit to gather up a couple jars of salve.

The bell chimed near the door.  A blast of cold air accompanied the person that strode in.  Kyllian’s gaze strayed over the top of the shelves and caught a glimpse of blonde hair.  His breath lodged in his throat as if someone had cleanly punched him in the chest.  The colour in his skin fled, leaving him chalky looking.  

Oh, Fury, breathe, Kyllian.  He glanced again then ducked back into his aisle.  Even if Antoinaux tracked him here, maybe he could slip out before he caught him. Like dancing with a devil.  Kyllian moved to the far end of the aisle hugging his items to his chest.  A hand snuck out to grab a bar of the scented soap he liked, adding it to the heap of jars and bottles he carried.  

A glance back marked the bob of that blond head moving down a neighbouring aisle.  Good.  Good, just keep breathing.  He ducked around the corner and scurried down the empty aisle toward the clerk.  He breathed.  In and out and in and out.  Never realizing how fast or shallow the breaths were.  

Kyllian unloaded his armful of items onto the counter.  The sound of them clattering and clinking seemed distant, and yet the noise of the ocean howled in his ears like he was drowning in it.

“Sir?”  The clerk leaned over the counter, alarm in her wide eyes.  “Sir?  Oh dear.”

“Is he unwell?”  A baritone voice sounded behind him, concerned.

“I don’t–”  The clerk stopped and gasped.  “Oh, he’s going over.”

Hands caught him.  A sturdy arm around his waist slid into place and held him away from the hardness of the floor.  His vision swam, blackness prickling at the corners.  How had he gotten here?  Yet claws dragged at his chest, threatened to pry him open and leave him gutted.  His hand rested over his heart, his pulse flitting like an irate bat.  

“Think he’s having a panic attack.  Do you know him?’  The baritone spoke again.

“No, well, he comes in regularly. I recognize him, but I don’t know him well enough to say if this is normal.”  The clerk came around the counter, cracking open a small jar of salts.  She waved it under his nose.  

The scent made him cringe. His eyes cracked open and focused on the faces above him.  Blond hair, blue eyes.  The panic crawled up his throat again, and he choked.  His hand flailed into the hard chest of the hyur holding him.  He was solid, this hyur, and larger than he remembered most to be.  A detail swam into focus, a strange structure between his brows settled centrally.  A third eye.  The man that held him, the blond man, was garlean.

The relief that flooded through him was like being handed a boon.  The claws in his chest eased, giving him space to draw a deeper breath in.  Breathing cleared his mind and let him focus better on the faces.  The clerk was familiar.  She worked there often and her brown hair tied up in a neat bun with the owlish glasses he recognized.  He didn’t know her name.

“Y-you’re garlean?”  Kyllian murmured.  The hand still pressed to the hyur’s chest moved upward out of curiosity to stroke fingertips against a well-carved jaw.  

“Astute of you.”  The garlean smiled and brightened the entire shop.  “I’m Amorius, and I’ll be holding you up until you feel well enough to stand on your own, sir.”  His baritone took on a mirthful tone with ease.

“Oh,”  Kyllian blinked wide-eyed and struggled to move.  “Sorry, right.  Thank you for your excellent catch.  I do appreciate it.”  A wave of dizziness slowed his ascent to his own feet and warm hands helped him along the way, a firm grip on his elbow all that remained by the end.  “I’m Kyllian.”

The clerk screwed the lid back on the smelling salts and put them away behind the counter.  She gathered Kyllian’s items up and packed them into a box for him.  Amorius took the box from the counter while Kyllian paid.  She smiled as the pair stepped out of the shop.  Whatever Amorius had come in for was well forgotten at this point.

“I thank you again for your help,” Kyllian said and extended his hands for his box.  The colour had returned to his face, perhaps a bit more than was needed by the feel of the telltale warmth on his cheeks.  “I will let you get on with your day.”

Amorius shook his head and gestured down the road.  “The least I can do is see you to the end of the Crozier.”  He tucked the box securely under his arm.  In the sunlight, his hair shone golden and his eyes reflected the same blue as the cloudless sky.  “Please.  So I know you will get the rest of your way unscathed.”

The protest died on Kyllian’s lips.  He gave in with a small nod and a quick glance around them.  Amorius’s arched eyebrow caused him to blush when he caught sight of him noticing.  The two fell into step beside one another, maneuvering through the bustling shoppers.  

“What do you keep looking for?”  Amorius leaned his head in and murmured near Kyllian’s ear after the third glance around the elezen made.

Kyllian sucked in a sharp breath and lifted his stricken eyes up to meet his gaze.  “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”  Amorius sighed and handed the box over to Kyllian.  “But it is not my place to pry even if I am your saviour today.”

Kyllian puffed out a laugh.  “Mm, yes, my shining knight.  Do you–”

“Would you–”

They stopped at the end of the Crozier and stared at one another for a long moment, laughter dancing in their eyes.  Kyllian was the first to look away, stepping back to execute a proper bow in the Ishgardian fashion.  He straightened and flashed Amorius a warm smile.

“Yes,”  He answered, as if he had a clue what the question even was.  “Fury watch over you, Ser Amorius.”  

“And you, Kyllian.”  

The crowd was quick to part them.  Kyllian vanished down the road, shoppers arriving filling in the space in his wake.  Amorius turned back to finish the shopping he had come down there for, unaware of the shadow following in his footsteps.

#ffxiv write 2023 #prompt 13 #writers on tumblr #ffxiv writers #ishgard #kyllian de fosse #self-indulgent #Amorius #Antoinaux

[swingstep]

👑 the king of indigo! 👑

#forgotten indigo #stabbyness #cassius fog #drawn for fog's anniversary yesterday!! ^_^ iloveyou indigo yay indigo yaaaaayy!! #still alive btw !! just a long couple of months ^_^ we stay silly tho!!

[whumpiary]

Christopher is a cuck, pass it on.

Oh and anon he loves it

-

content warning: noncon/dubcon, implied drugging

He’s lying on his stomach on the bed. Christopher had pulled out a bottle of massage oil after breakfast and offered to give his aching body some attention. He likes to play the roll of doting lover now and then, working out the knots in his boy’s back, shoulders, hips, thighs.

Push and pull. Tension in, tension out. All at Christopher’s behest.

It’s with his eyes closed, inhaling the scent of coconut and vanilla that Cass can recall a few tiny flashes of the night before, like seeing silhouettes through fog. The glow of lamplight. Being rolled onto his stomach. Hips rocking into him. His head pulled back against someone’s shoulder. Murmured words. Kisses down his neck. And Christopher’s laugh. Christopher’s laugh but… from somewhere up near the bedhead. Not from behind him.

He takes a deep breath in, pain flaring under Christopher’s thumbs where his rib cage meets his spine.

“It wasn’t just you, was it? Last night.”

The silence from Christopher in the wake of the question answers it for him, really. His hands keep moving. Smooth circles. Kneading knuckles. Push and pull.

“No,” he says, finally, almost casual in the admittance of it. “It wasn’t.”

Cass feels a numb, electric buzz run from the soles of his feet and up his body. It dissipates in a chill somewhere in the middle of his chest. Christopher’s hands run lines up either side of his spine. Long, soothing strokes.

“Is that a problem?”

It’s his turn for silence, closing his eyes, tumbling the question over and over in his head until it’s a piece of glass turned smooth and featureless by the ocean. Christopher’s hands slow and then stop on Cassius’ back. He opens his eyes again.

“Darling?”

“Not a problem,” he murmurs, lips brushing against the pillow case. “Just wish you’d told me.”

Christopher hums like he’s considering that and his hands start moving again. As if they both don’t know that him not knowing was completely and utterly the whole fucking point.

“I like watching you, darling boy, you know that. You should see yourself.”

He leans forward, presses a kiss between his boy’s shoulder blades, hands starting up again in their adoring massage.

“How could I rob myself of a sight like you?”

And Cassius sighs so he doesn’t weep in utter fucking rage.

#this ask made me laugh out loud #and gave me an excuse to pull this one from the drafts pile! #thank you anon #noncon cw #drugging cw #cassius #christopher

[virtuacore]

Knock (노크) 못참겠네 (Moschamgess-ne; I Can't Stand It) (1997) periodical old kpop power hour of power (POKPHOP) 1집

what better way to start off this series than with my favorite song from this era ever. the obscurant one-and-done group Knock's "못참겠네" (Moschamgess-ne; I Can't Stand It) is a profoundly strange, groovy banger that's like... you ever hear something and then never stop thinking about it for like, two-plus years? yeah, this is that. it's riding a crazy, pointillistic disco-house flow somewhere between Deavid Soul and Akufen, Cassius trading their vinyl for ROMplers, maximalist microhouse: as skeletal as it is stuffed with little details, spangles and accents, filter sweeps and microsamples. it's things like the molecular reduction of "That's the Way (I Like It)" in the intro, the track snapping into a nocturnal, jazzy hustle, the thumping kick and its accompanying squirrely bassline bending itself into a möbius strip, multiple hard-panned samples jumping out of the mix at the same time, or the digi-horns, space drums, pulses, beeps, whirls, pagers and phones all going off in parallel, and god knows what else (there's a lot more!). and the trio dovetail with and riff on all this racket perfectly, ooh-la-la harmonies colliding with angular co-ed rap geometry, sweetened sing-song into a perfect hook as sassy as it is yearning. and the breakdown after the first chorus is pure madness, a couple bars at a jagged clip and then "it's about that time I put you back on track!" in the center channel and "it's disco time, baby!" out of the left before devolving into gang chants and scream-raps. then it gets itself together and locks back on to that hellacious groove. totally devious.

it's a small thing, too, but I greatly appreciate this song knowing how good its hook is and beating the hell out of it as such. so many hits (and not-hits) of the time just sorta end, you know? here they drop the drums a second, bring them back and then hammer the hook into your brain over and over, layering the intro rap and a bunch more of those laser pulses on top. anyway... this song fuckin' rules so hard. what also fuckin' rules? this song's video!

the MV is so, so, sooooo good. a low-budget urban daydream of 90s street scenes (shout out to Freetel!), passing trains, underpass dance rituals and rain-slicked parking lots, all lit by colorful strobes and fogged-out flood lights, absolutely killer fashion (and at least two killer wigs), crazy fresh dance moves, just a bunch of grooving and messing about with friends on the street corner with a tinge of X-Files and Jet Set Radio, all linked together by an unimpeachable sense of cool. the image of the group just vibing on top of those cars while shrouded in fog and light? simply iconic. the video's mysterious nocturnal energy and heady, kinetic rhythm is the perfect match for the music, and the combination is a revelation.

the rest of Knock's sole album also rules, even if none of the other songs quite rise to the level of revelation that the title track does. every song is a keeper, whether the off-axis G-funk of "YAMMA" and "Bad Girl", the cartoonish lilt of "오리", or the infectious duo of "Miss Miss" and "너 친구맞니?!", which both utilize the structure of a four-on-the-floor hook juxtaposed with a funky syncopated rhythm for the verses. "연습게임" is mystical and subterranean, and even the requisite album-closing ballad "I feel in your eyes" is a jammer: slow-and-low, spare yet lush, unpretentious and memorable. the whole record's united by the same off-kilter soundworld that animates the title track—the same ROMpler full of samples bouncing every which way, instruments all over the place, bits and pieces of voice and sound accenting everything, almost like a fourth vocalist. it's full of hooks, microhooks and grooves, all anchored to a mad sense of rhythm and space. all these joints have been stuck in my head for ages, basically! it's always it's the weirdest, galaxy-brain tunes that go nowhere and are doomed to obscurity, ain't it.

download in FLAC or V0 (ripped from my CD... scanned, too!)

bonus fun fact #1: the female rapper with the buzz-cut is named Z-E (지이)—after Knock fizzled out, she linked up with a rapper by the name of Turtleman to form the trio Turtles (거북이), who scored hit after hit until Turtleman's tragic passing in 2008. Turtles were a universally beloved trio, and deservedly so—they also absolutely rule.

bonus fun fact #2 and #3: "못참겠네" (plus "YAMMA" and "Bad Girl") was arranged by one Jegal Min (제갈민), one of the unsung heroes (see also: Shin Young-sub (신영섭)) of the original 1992-1994 "rap dance" craze that was dominated by Seo Taiji, Hyun Jin-young, DEUX and others. like many a failed pop star, he then found far more success in production and management. one of his backup dancers, Kim Jung-nam, later found stardom as half of the legendary Turbo (터보).

bonus fun fact #4: future entries in this series will absolutely not go on this long. i just really love this song, yeah?

tumblr exclusive bonus fun fact #5: periodical old kpop power hour of power (POKPHOP) is a series i've started on my cohost page but to a certain extent this tumblr has been on a POKPHOP for seven whole years now

hat tip: Old Kpop추억의뮤비 and 58RNA3QD

#old kpop #90s kpop #kpop #노크 #거북이 #periodical old kpop power hour of power #POKPHOP

[5yn]

I sometimes feel like compiling all the little moments of Estelle and Joshua (together and separate) in FC (specifically FC) that make me go "hmm" but Trails is kind of a weird/protective fandom about reading characters that way...

It's actually always been strangely memorable to me that Estelle doesn't have the highest opinion of her oh-so-amazing father (which isn't the case in her idyllic fog dream where Lena is also around BUT she already started being disillusioned towards him by the Moon Door after she's passed) when put together with how much it surprises her to hear NPCs start divulging about his exploits and explained that her mother dying shook him so hard he changed his entire life path... It serves as interesting foreshadowing to me of her sort of obliviousness and seeming inability to see things beyond the face value, and her professed lack of unease over it ("I don't know everything about Dad, but we're still family") that that imo allowed Joshua to legitimize his feelings for her by letting her rely on him and which both he and Cassius seemingly agreed behind her back was something she was better off not fighting or trying to grow past.

It's not really meant as a judgment or criticism on her or anything, it's just that she's usually a fairly transparent character due to being the POV protagonist and this is one of the few times she gets slightly opaque and I do genuinely wonder what was going on internally with her prior to Joshua splashing cold water on her face and the character development in SC where there are a few times where you can (uncharitably mind you) call her complacent or allowing herself to rely on Joshua too much because well, "he'll always be around" and he's always been there for her, she can afford not to push harder about his past or the troubling things he can sometimes say.

#Uh oh

[dmagedgoods]

Mistakes we make

An added scene a while after not-a-date during act III, not directly tied to an in-game event, but a lot to Daeran’s aversion against demons and my knight commander’s prideful conviction to be able to negotiate with anyone he encounters. Male Commander/Daeran, hurt/comfort, angst to part 1 to part 2 AO3 ~~~ Mistakes we make - Part 3 / 3 He had hoped there would never emerge a reason to come back to this place. The memories were far from pleasant, not to mention the weather, which only grew worse with every mile in the harsh mountains. The tight snowfall made it hard to keep track of his path and he was glad for Cassius’ guidance. – And for the coat he had put on while the soldiers had prepared the horse for him. He sank deeper into the soft material, gritting his teeth. The stoic cat seemed to know exactly where he was going and he felt a hint of relief for this little at least. What are you doing here, he asked him in his thoughts, why this one of all places?

The journey had only taken him four hours, but the last of them had felt like an eternity in the icy hell he travelled to reach their apparent destination. He knew it would be no less inhospitable than the surrounding area. With increasing frequency, he spotted pieces of armor and the frozen bodies and bits and pieces of soldiers underneath the snow, who had been killed during the fierce, desperate battle some months ago. Every time a part of him tensed in fear and he had to force himself to take a closer look to make sure it wasn’t him. Where are you … Cassius came to a halt and raised his head. Before he was able to figure out what had caught his attention, he suddenly shot forwards and disappeared into the murky grey of snow and fog. “Wait!” Daeran held back a curse, shifted his weight and applied pressure with his heel to make the horse follow the leopard, so he wouldn’t lose track of him. Luckily, the path only led straight ahead and the sharp outlines of the lost chapel appeared right in front of him, threatening and somber, a warning shadow of old glory. He made the horse slow down again and finally stop to jump off his back the moment he spotted the cat sitting next to a humanoid silhouette on the ground, leaning against one of the walls, sheltered from the snow only by a small stony ledge. “Salvadore!” Cassius put his head into his lap and let out a long mournful sound. He wasn’t moving. Gods no. No. The world stopped existing, just faded into the fog, every sensation, every impression, every smell and every sound, it left nothing behind but his own inner world of pain. He didn’t feel his steps when he ran closer, not the rigid chapel floor when he fell onto his knees next to his body, not the coldness of the snow when it seemed to grow heavy like a blanket of white silence. There was blood around him, dark red and terrible, soaking through his uniform from a deep wound in his abdomen. This was his doing. Everyone who ever dared to come close to him was condemned to die, with or without the help of the Other. Strangers, lovers, his own mother … and now … now … He had to try and use his magic. Everything in his power. Every spell, every scroll he had stuffed into the saddlebag. Too late, the voice in his mind whispered and he wasn’t sure if it was his own or the cruel, emotionless being watching through his eyes. Daeran reached out for him. No pulse. With shaking fingers, he stroked back some wet strands of black hair. Salvadore hated it when they fell into his face. Even out there in the worldwound he always tried to look flawless. He noticed his own tears when they fell onto his trembling hands. His skin felt numb to them. He would stay here and hold him, muttering spells and confessions, he would hold him, like he should have done the night before, when he had come to beg him for just the smallest of chance, when he himself had wanted nothing more than to give in and … His heart skipped a beat at a sudden movement. There was a little groan from the man in front of him, then his eyes opened. “You … are here?” Salvadore’s voice sounded strained from the effort of forming the words. “This … How?” This was impossible. He had felt so cold, so lifeless … the lack of pulse, and all the blood … He wasn’t able to process the sheer overwhelming relief, not the astonishment or the all-consuming joy flooding every fiber of his being. The damn tears didn’t stop running. “You … you are alive.” He sounded like an utter fool. “Of course, I’m alive. I’m invulnerable.” His tone was bitter, not playful, and every word seemed to cost him strength. He raised his hand just wide enough to let it wander through Cassius’ fur and pet his head in gentle affection. “Forgive me,” he apologized to the cat, “I didn’t mean to leave you behind.” Cassius grumbled and rubbed his face against his palm. Daeran wished it was as easy for him too. “Invulnerable while being badly wounded, clearly an extraordinary case of immortality,” he noted and wiped the wetness off his cheeks in an inconspicuous gesture while the commander was distracted by his pet. The answer sounded more scornful than he had meant to. “It’s only a scratch. And it seems my healer just arrived.” Salvadore’s eyes left the cat and met his instead and the affection froze to coldness. Even weak and injured his demeaner didn’t lack authority, especially since he seemed to have lost the special stand that had caused the commander to act lighthearted around him, with so much passion and tenderness, teasing and smug and warm. It hurt so much, he could barely hide it. “Although I don’t have the slightest idea what you are doing here. I didn’t order you to come.” “Then spare me the badly executed suicide attempt the next time you don’t want me to bother you,” he snapped. Salvadore tensed. “This was by no means a suicide attempt.” Something in his face grew softer and Daeran despised the way his pulse quickened. Could there still be hope? But now Salvadore’s eyes showed open pain again and this was even harder to bear. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like this. I slightly miscalculated when I encountered a group of Nabasus and tried to gather some strength to make it back after I …” “As your healer I advise you to stop talking,” Daeran interrupted him and pressed his hand to his wound, but his voice became gentler too and and he wasn't able to stop the concern from sneaking in. “At least for a moment. You’re losing blood. Let me just …” He focused and channeled the negative energy that would close the injury. It always had been more challenging to heal him than anyone else, and not only because he was a terrible patient. He had to pay attention to the special needs that came with his nature, to differences in body functions and reactions to the methods he picked. Over the years he had expanded and refined his healing qualities, but to treat a dhampir instead … Well, he had learned a lot during the last months. – Although apparently not enough to distinguish an injured and hypothermic one from a deceased specimen. Salvadore sighed quietly at his touch and the energy that passed his body and relaxed underneath his fingers. He longed to kiss him, to feel his heartbeat against his own and how it grew stronger again, but he restrained himself, didn’t have the permission anymore … “I’d call this quite irresponsible for someone who tries to gather all the responsibility in the world as if it was a contest.” “I came here to contemplate my mistakes. Put it on the list.” “So, another case of self-punishment?” Daeran couldn’t keep his tone from sounding accusing. He already knew he had the tendency to lose himself in his perfectionism and how destructive it got when he failed his own ridiculously high expectations. “Sitting here cold and in agony, because you what? Deserve it? For the Gargoyle attack months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to prevent?” “I should have established stronger safety measures … be more cautious. But no, that’s not the reason and has nothing to do with it. I deserve it for the one I hurt out of pride and because … as it turns out … I’m not as strong as I thought I’d be. I should be able to stand above my own feelings. I was taught so all my life. Ruling comes with a heavy burden. A small mistake I make will cost the lives of those who trust me. And here I am, unable to perform the simplest task, unable to do my duty …, because I lost you. Because I need you.” Daeran looked at him in deep surprise, a sudden lack of words and a clenching throb in his chest. In an exhausted gesture, Salvadore let his head sink back against the wall behind him. “I’m sorry,” he added more quietly. Suddenly he sounded more tired than he had every experienced him before. “I tried to separate a professional mission from our private life and failed to make you know … how important you are. In both.” “You didn’t.” He hated how vulnerable, how helpless he felt. “It may be of a certain importance in it that I was …” Afraid out of my mind at the thought to lose you too. “Unreasonable in my conclusions and behavior. But you didn’t fail. And you didn’t lose me. Not for a single second.” This time it was him who got to enjoy the astonished confusion on Salvadore’s features. At least the all-mighty commander didn’t look any less vulnerable and helpless than himself in this terribly honest situation. He didn’t give Salvadore time for an answer. Instead, he captured his lips in a tender kiss. Offended, Cassius left his place to not get caught between them when Sal’s fingers sunk into the fabric of his coat to pull him closer – the very coat he would put him in during their way back, probably against his complains, to make sure he’d warm up. Daeran was overwhelmed by the devotion with which he returned the kiss and a little shamefully revealing sound left his throat. If it wasn’t for the cold, he would sink into his embrace right here and now, relax into his body and refrain from leaving for some hours ... or maybe for some days. “Let me bring you back to Drezen,” he muttered after a while, still close to his lips while running his fingers through his hair in loving gentleness. “I’m afraid you have to join me on the horse.” No way in heaven or hell he would let go of him any time soon. “The path up to this unpleasant little spot has been bad enough already. You owe me some shared body heat.” “Luckily for you, I always pay my debts.” A self-assured smile played across Salvadore’s face and mixed with the soft affection in his eyes that made him dizzy with the pleasure of knowing that it was meant for him and him alone. “After all I can’t allow my right-hand-man and most capable healer to freeze to death. What a terrible waste that would be.”

#pathfinder wotr #pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #daeran #daeran arendae #commander x daeran #knight and dae #daeran x commander #wrath of the righteous #knight commander salvadore #oc: salvadore #dmagedtexts #my writing #mistakes we make