#i am a scholar enjoyer... unfortunately

[galacticsabc]

Scholar is a Job you can play in Final Fantasy Fourteen

#i am a scholar enjoyer... unfortunately #ffxiv scholar #ffxiv memes #ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #lustrate heals for like. nothing. in endgame content #final fantasy 14 #warrior of light #elezen #ffxiv elezen #art #my art #artwork #my artwork #digital art #doodle #dreamerx86

[gwen-writes]

The Fool

i was tagged by @purdledooturt to do WIP wednesday and here i am! i had the idea for a postgame ascended astarion fanfic, but with my own little twist, lol. here is the first chapter!

Summary: With no other options left to expend, Tav implemented a temporary solution. If the Vampire Lord could not be killed or saved, they would have to dull his strength - severely. And unfortunately, there is a ranger in Faerûn who is naive enough, kind enough, to feel bad for him.

Word count: 2.2k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Ranger!Female OC, but he's cursed to be a bat, because it's funny

-

The woods communicate, the soil must feel. Eyes etched into the bark of oaks, ears tucked into leaves. A hidden pact between the forest and wolves, roaches, beasts. It all sang to her, the tune that had been ingrained in her blood since birth. Pyryeva ran over her memories of lycanthropes in her head: the followers of Urdlen she had come across and slain, the petulant werecats clawing at her ankles in the defense of Shar, the wereboar who rammed into her tent and could not be convinced to just talk it out.

In fact, she often preferred to just convince creatures to leave - to stop harassing villages, or trampling beloved buildings. Other people found her a bit odd, something foreign and drifting behind her eyes that must have uneased acquaintances. But animals… understood. Scaled, hairy, or vicious, they paused to listen all the same. 

And so this troop of lycanthropes, she prayed to Ilmater, would stop their ravaging and just listen. Her passing through the Wood of Sharp Teeth was meant to be swift, just a stop on her journey toward the Reaching Woods. The shreds of the High Moor Heroes’ Guild summoned her back home to Elturel, tearing her away from the outskirts of Candlekeep.

Candlekeep, she had once dreamed, would be the city where she finally became an academic, a scholar. Instead, she was promptly declined from every formal institution for her… well, there was a running list. Lack of foresight, short-term memory failure, lack of perception, lack of artistic strength. It took her around thirty minutes to realize that these tests were not actually a qualifier for entry through the Emerald Door, and instead the guards’ cruel way of mocking her.

Her exit from Candlekeep was bittersweet, but she knew that it would lead nowhere. As had many of her ventures - a poor attempt to be anything but a ranger with impressive aim. Politics slipped from her fingers before she even grasped it, an incomprehensible block of information that she could not register, let alone wield. Then there was fiction, song, welding. Fiction felt as though it was holding her mind and wringing it of all its joy, so she quit. Song tumbled from her mouth like a dreary scratching. She actually quite liked that hobby, but that time it was the protesting of her peers that willed her to leave it behind. Weapons were too heavy and domineering in her thin hands, fingers too fitted for a sleek bow to keep something formidable in her hold. 

Embroidery stuck, her quick fingers weaving through fabric easily. That was enjoyable, for a while - the outstretched hands of Ilmater twined through her leather armor. And then, once her God had been preserved on all of her belongings, she was out of ideas. Nature was the next obvious option, but the badger she wanted for her gloves muddled into splotches in practice. The lovely frog for her blanket resembled more of wretched Grung. 

Thus, Eltruel called to her, and she harkened back. Only the Wood of Sharp Teeth bisected her path home, and when the renowned storyteller Pallidor pleaded for her help against the plague of lycanthropes - was she meant to decline?

Werewolves, Pallidor had described them, cunning and volatile. They were still reeling from their loss alongside Grand Duke Valarken, though that man was long dead. She would have loved to live to see that battle. Pyryeva found humanity one of her greatest pleasures: their intense emotions, vulnerability, and courage lended themselves well to sex and gluttony, two of her favorite pastimes. However, she felt torn over the human lifespan. It was 1500 DR, the dawn of a new generation, and nothing exciting was happening. The monsters had been slain, most notably The Absolute. She loathed having not been a part of the “Heroes” troop. But she assured herself that she was meant to be alone, and meant to like it, and meant to give and give as Ilmater commanded.

As ridiculous as it may seem, she wished that new monsters would rise up in the coming years to give her a title of her own. Good things come to those who wait, as her scripture alleged. She smiled, padding along the damp forest floor, imagining beasts scurrying away under her command in exchange for heaps of gold. 

Lycanthropes came in many forms: beautiful elven women or menacing orcs, their transformations ranging from a delicate swan to a dreadful wereserpent. Her awareness stirred, the woods calling out to her.

 Deep musk, wiry fur tickling her fingers as if she was touching it freely.

The sight of her targets were just as she had pictured - goring, rabid werewolves. Like gnolls, but hopefully receptive to a little charisma. Curiously, though, their focus was completely rapt on the trees overhead, paws swiping at the air with no success. Had they taken it upon themselves to hunt a squirrel? Or a bird?

“Going after a squirrel? They’re defenseless,” Pyryeva watched them, like puppies chasing a toy. The pack of three whirled on her, snarling. The tallest one of the group ducked to all fours, lunging at her. The ranger’s nails dug into tree bark, crumbling under her force, as she leveraged herself atop the oak.

“I don’t want to shoot you, but I could,” The bow was already in position, an arrow tipped with silver aimed for his yellow, feral eyes. “I’m good at this. It’s kind of my job.”

He only responded with a grunt, before clawing his way up the base. Fine.

Blood squirted from his right eye socket, a dog yelp escaping his snout as he loosened his grip on the tree. 

“Had enough?” She muttered, another arrow taut, suspended by her bow, immediately. The two lackeys in his wake deliberated amongst themselves, weighing the benefit of their previous prey with the supple-fleshed human hanging in a nearby tree. Apparently, Pyryeva was a better target.

“No way!” A huff escapes her as she hones her focus on one of her most consumptive spells, Speak with Plants. A waste in a battle so easily winnable such as this - as mother would scold - but Pyryeva was hired for her ability to win, not her ability to devise. The roots of the wide birch beneath the two lycanthropes rose from the dirt, entangling their massive paws.

“Your friends are trapped, and you’re about to be blind!” She called down to the leader. “Come out of your wolf forms, and talk to me!”

Instead, the werebeast opted to shake the oak with all his might, interrupting her balance. As a teenager, she despised when her instructors would force her to stand on one leg, books piled atop her head, for hours on end. Balance this, balance that. As if she had been training to join the circus, to tiptoe across rope. But it was as if novels depicting fairytales and wizard battles were resting on her skull, pressuring her to still. 

“I don’t have to spare you, you know! I’ve just been hired to get your group to go away, and I’m trying to be kind!”

This wolf was relentless, yanking the arrow from his eye with a deep grunt. 

“Damn you,” She hissed, her silver arrow heading for his throat, rather than another eye. The yellow of his iris was consumed by black, staring her down as he collapsed onto the leaves and soil. With a flick of her wrist, a swarm of pixies gathered around her frame, swirling down to the ground with her as she plummeted off of the tree.

The two final opponents stood, ankles beginning to look raw from the friction of their incessant wriggling.

“Will someone please just listen to me,” She panted. “I am Pyryeva. You are free to leave these woods -  I will not harm you. All I ask for is peace.”

“And if you don’t give me peace, I will stick my pixies on you, and leave you for dead.”

The green fairies around her cheered with fanatic anticipation. No peace! No peace! No peace! Shrill giggles fell flat around the three of them, lost to the dank vines and stumps.

A burst of energy from the left side, dissipating to reveal a thin elven man with black curls. Pyryeva sighed with relief, ready to start speaking instead of threatening, but he offered her no such grace.

“We, the true lycanthropes of this realm, will not be outcast to other planes for any longer!” He bellowed. “Vehlarr will be restored in Faerûn! It must be done!”

Foam spilled from the corners of the right’s muzzle, teeth bared. Pyryeva gave them a long stare, waiting for the dam to break, waiting for them to see sense and reason with her. But when she studied the elf’s dark eyes, she found no such thing.

“Kill them,” She murmured softly, and the pixies whirled ahead. The ranger shut her eyes tightly, rushing away from the sight, leaving the desperate yelping of dogs behind.

That was, until, her neck was alight again; senses tingling and buzzing with… with nothing at all. Not nothing - it was all consuming, gnawing and starved. Blood sapped over hundreds of years, icy flesh, and then pure depravity. Women and men scattered across the floor, necks torn through. Whips, scars. And a heartbeat pounding, so loud it takes all of Pyryeva’s constitution not to keel over and sob. 

Something rotten, something unholy and corrupt, something undead. Her instincts forced her to sprint, she was sure, to make quick work of the earth beneath her and vanish between the wood. And yet, when her eyes opened, that was not her view at all. A white bat was crumpled on the forest floor beneath her, and it reeked of undeath. But it was so… small. Fluffy. She knew that her senses had never been wrong, honed so particularly by her instructors that an error would never occur.

But she wasn’t in the habit of persecuting small creatures, no matter how undead they may be. A vampire bat, to be sure, but not one she couldn’t befriend. Pyryeva crouched, searching for visible wounds.

“You okay, little guy?” She cooed, and the white lids snapped open to reveal ruby eyes. In moments, it was latched onto her neck, stabbing through her flesh.

“Wha- Ow!” Pyryeva wrapped a fist around the little beast, ripping it from the wound. “You fucker! You fucking… fucker! Ow!”

It strained against her grasp, clawing at her thumb fiendishly.

“Let me go, you wench!” A deep voice emanated from the creature, so ironically demanding from such a cute face. Involuntarily, Pyryeva giggled.

“At least someone is talking to me today,” She flipped him upside down wordlessly, studying his form. “You’re so cute!”

“I will fucking destroy you, tear your muscle from bone!” His best attempt at a threat. She brought him a bit closer to her face, sniffing the air between them.

“You aren’t a normal bat,” She asserted.

“Well, aren’t you a scholar?” He spat, still wiggling in her hand. 

“Vampire bat,” She ignored his slight toward her. “Are you here with the lycanthropes? The werewolves?”

“Those miscreants?” He hissed, offended. “Absolutely not.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Just flying by, of course,” The bat hummed.

“Well, I hope your travels are safe, little guy,” She smiled earnestly, lowering him to the ground and loosening her grasp.

“You are so trusting, little human,” He purred. “Who taught you to be so… docile? It’s fascinating.”

Somehow, he was animated when he spoke, one wing covering his chest as if scandalized.

“It’s just… how I am,” Pyryeva replied softly. She felt an inkling in the back of her skull - a warning that despite this bat being adorable and small, something devoid of soul hid inside. “I really should be going now. More werewolves to catch, and all.”

“Ah ah,” He corrected her. “You will be going nowhere at all.”

“What?” She stared down at him, now standing five and half feet taller than his tiny stature. His wings flapped, and he buzzed up to her face, meeting her gaze.

“My name is Astarion, and I have endured a terrible affliction, you see,” Astarion began, clearly preparing to delve into a story.

“Astarion? Like, "Hero of Baldur’s Gate Astarion?” Her voice was shrill. “Like, Vampire Lord Astarion?”

A killer. A shameless, overgrown child in the form of a handsome, elven man who had gone sick with power. Infamous for his parties and their gore, the feasting on innocents that he indulged in, day or night. The fearsome Vampire Lord who could not be stopped, no matter how many high ranking officials came knocking at his door. Their remains scattered through the streets - a demonstration - and a subsequent silence from the public.

He was corruption born from flesh, a demonic bastard who emerged from the fantastic defeat of the Absolute a vile, psychopathic monster.

“You are a scholar!” His red eyes beamed.

“I want nothing to do with you,” Malice twisted in her words, unlike her usual cadence.

“Oh, my dear, you want everything to do with me, because your sappy, frivolous God says so,” Astarion crooned, glaring at the symbol of Ilmater on her chest. “And if you don’t help me, I will transform and devour you.”

That was a bold-faced lie, of course. The reason he so desperately required her assistance is because he could not transform at all, not since last Uktar. And poor Pyryeva, not studied in her Baldurian literature or news, completely unaware of that fact.

She stumbled back from him, “You wouldn’t.”

Astarion laughed in her face, “Oh, I would.”

“What do you want from me?” Pyryeva forced out the words.

“Walk with me, dearest, and I will tell you the whole sordid tale.”

-

i tag @tequilya and @syoish for next week! <3 :)

#fanfiction #ao3 author #astarion #ascended astarion #ascension #astarion fic #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 companions #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate #fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #wip wednesday

[resurrection-of-soul]

Flashback | PSYCHOBREAK 6

Writer: Akira (日日日)

Characters: Rei, Koga, Adonis, Kaoru

Rei: If indeed these are seeds sown by my own hands, I must now pluck them ere they deepen their roots. To ensure I never repeat this folly, and to ensure I do not lose anyone ever again.

[ For the best viewing experience, please read directly on my blog! ♪ ]

Time: That night. In a practice room inside the ES building.

Rei: Look here, Puppy ♪ What's this I have? A cute little ball~? You desire it, do you not? Go get it~! ☆

Koga II: [Wooooof! ★]

Adonis II: [...... (He's fidgeting like he wants to play too.)]

Rei: Kukuku. Despite their perfect resemblance to Koga and Adonis, these two are truthfully but newborn babes. How precious ♪

Kaoru: It's nice that the fakes are surprisingly easy to get along with, but, like… Are you really sure this is okay, Rei-kun?

Rei: Come now, 'tis Adonis-kun's turn next ♪ Wouldst thou not pull upon the other end of this rope I'm holding? It shall give thy muscles a workout, and, moreover, 'twould be a most enjoyable pastime. Delightful, is it not?

Adonis II: [……♪]

Kaoru: The fact you're besties now is cool and all, but are you, like, even listening? You wanna try not ignoring me?

Rei: But of course I am not ignoring you. Never again shall I avert my gaze from the beloved children who yearn for me.

Kaoru: Who the heck is yearning for you?

Rei: …I find myself pondering a few things.

Kaoru: Hm?

Rei: Naturally, even if others wish it of me, I am not an omniscient, omnipotent god; such a feat would be beyond me even if I, too, wished it so. My inability to predict this peculiar predicament attests to that truth. Nevertheless, I stand a tad older than the rest of you, and 'tis not as though I ventured overseas simply to seize a rare opportunity to engage in indolence. In comparison to you all, I am akin to an older brother with just a tad bit more life's experience.

Kaoru: So like, what's your point? Are you trying to brag about being older? Pushing people around cause they're younger than you is, like, seriously hateable y'know? It's, like, power harassment or whatever, okay?

Rei: Kukuku. How uncharacteristically agitated you are, Kaoru-kun. Well, 'tis inevitable in these circumstances. Keep thy heart calm as the surface of a still lake. Should the elder ones begin to sink, the younger ones shall be beset with unease.

Kaoru: I know, I know. Acting like a proper senpai is tough, huh? So? What was it you were thinking about?

Rei: Yes, well. Though I have no concrete evidence at this point, I have a general idea about what sequence of events which led to these peculiar circumstances. I have also gained a rough understanding of our current predicament. In other words, I suspect I've grasped the truth behind this mysterious situation we've found ourselves in.

Kaoru: Oooh, as expected! Amazing, guess the case is closed¹ ♪

Rei: 'Tis not so remarkable. Given enough time, you most probably could have pieced it together as well. You are the son of a wise scholar, after all. However, you are a pragmatic child. This case must present a bit of a challenge for you, given the unrealistic elements involved.

Kaoru: By unrealistic elements, you mean… Ahhh, so it really is like that after all, huh?

Rei: Indeed. The question now is, how may we extricate ourselves from this situation? You will surely understand this metaphor: we find ourselves in a locked room. There exists only one exit, and to open it, a special key is required. Yet this key lies hidden amongst countless objects strewn about the confines of the room.

Kaoru: It's like a high-difficulty escape room.

Rei: Aye, one with no hints provided. More unfortunate still, there is not time enough to scrutinize each object one by one in search of the key. Yet, somehow, we must escape before the reality we live in becomes distorted and collapses in on itself.

Kaoru: Well, since it's you we're talking about here, you've probably already come up with some way to get us out. That's totally just wishful thinking, though ♪

Rei: If someone makes a wish, then as Superstar Sakuma Rei-senpai, it is my job to fulfill it.

Rei: …There is one method I wish to try. However, it involves a rather risky gamble. I bear some concern about the great burden it might place upon the body, specifically the brain.

Kaoru: "That's why I, alone, shall do it." You weren't about to say some stand-offish thing like that, right? UNDEAD's problems are everyone's problems, so let's share the burden.

Rei: Kukuku. My, now there are words you never would have spoken in the past. Having so recently been reminded of our former selves, those words resonate with the weight of profound emotion. I am deeply touched.

Kaoru: Don't make fun of me. So? What is it you want to try? How are we going to get ourselves out of this crazy situation?

Rei: We dream. During my investigation of the AIIE Experimental Facility the other day, I thoroughly inspected the equipment we were connected to, the drugs we were prescribed, as well as the manuals on how to handle it all. As one might expect, 'twas so full of technical terms as to be quite difficult to parse, but with the help of someone in my clan who is good with such things, I was able to roughly understand its contents. Thus, should we desire it, we may once more return to the dream of those days long gone— To the memories of that time when DEADMANZ faded away, and we, UNDEAD, awoke. The answer most likely awaits us therein.

Kaoru: Back into that dream again, huh? It's, like, seriously embarrassing having to watch my past self act out like that, but if there's no other way then I guess that's that.

Rei: Your youthful aura in those days still bore an aspect of endearing charm. Meanwhile, I was naught but a bundle of shame.

Rei: Yet even the person I am now, who is ashamed of who he was in days past, may well be regarded as shameful by the person I become a decade hence. Thus, let us exert our efforts in the present to forestall any future regrets. Wouldst thou assist me in this endeavor, Kaoru-kun?

Kaoru: That goes without saying, doesn't it? I'll tell you this as many times as I have to: this isn't just your problem, it's ours too.

Rei: I wonder if that is truly the case… 'Tis still mere speculation, but I suspect I am to blame for this incident.

Rei: Seeds left unwatered in days past have sprouted malevolently in spite, afflicting us with their curse. If indeed these are seeds sown by my own hands, I must now pluck them ere they deepen their roots. To ensure I never repeat this folly, and to ensure I do not lose anyone ever again.

[ ☆ ]

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Literal tl for this line is "amazing, [you're a] great detective." But in JP, the series Detective Conan is "Great Detective Conan, and the phrase "great detective" is practically synonymous with it. I've thrown the reference in using the American title of the show instead, since there is absolutely no way to make "detective" an obvious reference to Conan.

#ensemble stars #enstars translation #rei sakuma #kaoru hakaze #koga oogami #adonis otogari #flashback #psychobreak

[laviedavantgarde]

Important Fanfiction Personal Update Below!

Putting this below a Read More because it is a but lengthy and I do not want people to scroll too much!

I haven’t updated my fanfictions in awhile, and there are two main reasons why:

I’ve tinkered and refined Julien behind the scenes.

I have major writer’s block.

Back when I began to write Grand Theft Immortal, I initially wrote this fanfiction to be a mostly original parody of the infamous My Immortal fanfic. I did not take it so seriously in the first few chapters. However, with the introduction of my OC Julien, that’s when it really took off.

I stopped where I did in GTI because I did not know how the second part of the fic would play out, and after some time, I was dissatisfied with Julien’s plot. I considered his feud with the publishing head to be way more ambitious than I thought it would be. Considering that My Immortal’s protagonist is a literal Mary Sue, I subconsciously made Julien into a Gary Stu to fit the parody. Am I re-writing his canonical situation to Julien’s mother’s death? Yes.

GTI was a real-time evolution to how I saw Julien and his character at the moment in writing. I put a lot of myself in Julien’s personality at the time, because I wanted to see someone like myself represented in a fic in terms of our trans and gay identities, as well as our love of academia. Julien and I are similar, but he has a more “serious” disposition. I also tried to fix My Immortal’s overused love triangle trope to a polyamorous one, as both Julien and I are polyamorous. Would Julien be involved with Michael? Sure, but he probably would stay far away from Trevor romantically. At the time, I was very invested in trying to write and explain how I saw Michael and Trevor’s relationship.

Now, I have very different feelings about GTI. It did serve its purpose in trying to find my identity as a young scholar and academic in Julien and cultivating and working hard at a polyamorous configuration. (In real life, I have had lackluster experiences with past partners and my ex metas- a poly term for my partner’s partner(s).) The fic served its purpose in working out the nuts and bolts for Julien as an OC. However, I think it is time to “abandon” the fic. This means while I will still have it for people to read, it is certainly not 100% canonical in terms of Julien’s events.

This is still canonical about/for Julien:

He is a professor at ULSA and has a PhD in English

He is a vigilante assassin who works behind the scenes (he rarely gets on the front lines)

His mother’s unfortunate demise

June Margot is his surrogate mother

He is trans/gay/poly

He’s a dual citizen of Canada and the US, but grew up in the US.

He speaks enough French to get by and have a conversation, but he is not 100% fluent. (His mom was French Canadian - Quebecois)

This is NOT canonical for Julien (as of 5/22/23):

His mother’s killer is the publishing head.

He is personally involved with the GTA V trinity and other characters.

He did not write a script for a movie.

You can say GTI is both a fever dream and a fanfic study. I am indebted to the readers and commenters, as well as the friendships I made with others over my fic. However, due to my feelings about where I see this fic now, it is time to shelve that away. Also, with My Immortal’s foundation in being a HP fanfiction and of its series’ author being a major bigot, it feels unethical for me to continue GTI.

That also means Blue Eyes and Homoerotic Vibes is a fever dream in itself, although I still find it quite enjoyable to read. (And downright sexy.)

In terms of my fic with Julien and Juan (Éxtasis en Aguamarina), that is another fanfic case study. Julien in a million years would never associate with Juan due to his own safety in mind. At the time, I was super simpy for Juan and I wanted to write more homoerotic fanfiction.

Fanfiction will always hold a special place in my heart, and I want these stories to still be accessible because I want the guys/masc folks in the GTA V/GTAO fandom to enjoy fanfiction written by someone like me and to see themselves being desired.

I still very much play GTAO, but I have so much development in terms of Julien’s character in the works behind the scenes. If I were to upload that content, it would technically not be fanfiction. It would be original writing. Let’s see where this goes, and I will find a place to house these original works of Julien.

Is this to say I will stop writing fanfiction for good? No. My fanfiction writing comes in waves. I just have to be really hyperfixated on a fandom and have a lot of ideas. Right now, I don’t. My priorities in how I engage in fandom morphed significantly these past couple or so years. I still very much love to discuss and analyze media! I’ve analyzed both as a student and as a young adjunct. I just enjoy the nonfiction parts too. I’m that guy with an iced coffee who will sit down with individuals who want to play Operation on media and discuss, analyze, and critique media in the lens of scholarly and informal inquiry. If that sounds like you, I would love for you to join me at this metaphorical table.

I still very much am invested in Julien, other OCs, and your fanfictions! I am just taking a step back from the fanfiction writing table to focus on Julien’s world buildings.

If you read this far, then you’re a champ. Here’s a gold star!

Much love,

Avant

#personal #update #gta v #gtao #fanfiction #remember kids just because you put yourself in an OC does not mean you agree with a character's actions #i.e. I wrote Julien with some of my personality in him but I do not do crimes obviously #anyway enjoy my blurb

[vivithefolle]

Do I like the idea of Romione, do I find the way they interact cute as long as JKR isn’t shoehorning drama to keep them apart til the series’ end, do I appreciate the fundamental dynamic they have going on (country boy/city girl, family man/working woman, knight/scholar)? Absolutely.

Am I nonetheless able to acknowledge how badly JKR screws the pooch with their relationship by using tired, overdone tropes that might have looked progressive in the 2000s but now just highlight how biased Rowling is towards her own characters? Absolutely².

Do I believe that JKR’s favouritism results in an unbalanced narrative in regards to Ron and Hermione, leaving Ron to suffer actual abuse at the hands of Hermione as she “whips him into shape #girlpower”, yet again, JKR’s own fantasies for a relationship? Yes.

Does that mean I think Hermione Granger is an abuser due to the unfortunate way JKR wrote her in Half-Blood Prince? Yes.

But in that case do I believe that Ron is a pure innocent lamb, that he has never acted petty or mean ever, that he never overreacted or worked off assumptions/prejudices, or never caused grief to the people in his life? Hell no. (I do believe that Harry takes both Ron and Hermione for granted and he’s damn lucky he’s got the Plot on his side to brainwash them into remaining his friends because HOT DAMN is this an all-take/no-give relationship.)

Yet do I believe the sheer hatred and contempt Ron seems to inspire in some very nice and totally non-judgemental folks is absolutely batshit overblown and that NONE of the stuff Ron did could ever warrant such hatred? By all that is good and right in this world DAMN YES.

Do I identify with Ron Weasley and sometimes find myself taking that hatred a bit personally, especially since it’s so widespread and propagates extremely harmful stereotypes concerning people who suffer from mental health issues (“Ron is lazy” = the Locket makes it pretty effing clear that he’s depressed as fuck; “Ron is jealous” = he seems to be more of a Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria guy to me; “Ron hit Malfoy so he would be violent and abusive” = fuck right off)? Yes, yes, yes.

Did some actions from those same very nice and totally non-judgemental folks have turned me wary, defensive, hateful even, because being called a Holocaust denier or being told to kill yourself over your enjoyment of a fictional character tends to do that to you? I believe so, yes.

Do I condone being upset/angered by these people’s behaviour and venting and calling out their hypocrisy when they whine we’re “bashing” or “being mean” but they get all offended the second we imply they’re being assholes? Oh hell yes.

Do I condone the harassment of those very nice and totally non-judgemental folks, telling them to commit suicide/down/maim themselves/etc? Fuck no, if you do that then fuck you thrice over with a chainsaw.

You know what I condone? Loving Ron Weasley, appreciating the literary value of Ron Weasley’s character, and if that don’t work out for you then doing folks like me a real solid and tagging your posts/fanfics with “Ron Weasley Bashing”. That’s a thing I condone very much. I really hope more people try it.

#vivi's post #ron weasley #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #Harry Potter #hermione granger #hp series #harry potter series #draco malfoy #severus snape #fanfic #hp fandom #luna lovegood #neville longbottom #golden trio #mental health #hermione critical #hermione granger critical #hp meta

[221bshrlocked]

Show Me Your True Colors

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader

Words: 14092 (I swear this was supposed to be a short oneshot but it got out of hand. I'm so so sorry.)

Warnings: 28% smut, 72% plot. Penetrative, unprotected sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong my dudes). Oral (male and female receiving). Fingering and Squirting due to overstimulation. Some dom/sub elements but not full-on. Creampie. Rough handling (e.g. hair-pulling, spanking, hand-binding, some more hair-pulling). I think that's all?!

Inspired by these posts [x] [x] and by this lovely artist. Thanks @danniburgh for humoring me with my thots.

A/N: I came back from my temporary hiatus to post this because I couldn't wait. And now I shall return to my little corner again. Sorry guys these school/administrative issues are taking longer to deal with so I'm for the most part still away. This is not beta'd. Let me know how I'm doing in the comments please and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy. And you can add yourself to the taglist here.

It’s such a different atmosphere, from what he remembers at least. It’s been so long since he stepped foot on a university campus, and he can’t help but smile at the spectrum of personalities all around him. While some students lounge underneath the trees and on the grass, others ran hastily to their courses. Those were probably freshmen.

As he makes his way through the campus, he has to look at his phone numerous times to figure out where exactly he was going. That’s definitely one thing he didn’t miss about being in school, the fact that he was shit in directions and how he almost always got lost during the beginning of each semester.

When he does finally find the art history department, he silences his phone and heads to the first office he can find.

“Good afternoon, my name is Nicola. How can I help you?”

“Hi Nicola, I’m here to see Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I was wondering if you could direct me to her office please?” Marcus smiles as he unbuttons his suit jacket, not realizing that his FBI tag was now visible to the world.

“She’s currently in one of her lectures, you could-” Marcus follows Nicola’s line of sight when she grows quiet and groans when he sees that she noticed his FBI tag.

“Please, she’s not in trouble. I am part of the FBI Art Crime Team, and I’m actually coming to ask if we could get her professional opinion on an artifact. Just need her to consult on something.” He smiles at Nicola and waits for her expression to relax before he continues.

“Do you mind telling me which lecture hall she’s in?”

“Y-yes, she’s in H140. Make a right at the door and it’s the hall all the way at the end.”

“Thank you Nicola, have a good day.” Marcus nods at her before he buttons his jacket again to avoid any suspicious, terrified looks as he makes his way to the lecture hall. He walks quietly, avoiding the students walking past him as they exit the rooms. When he reaches the door, he turns the knob slowly to not make any noise, hoping that he wasn’t being too disruptive once he walks in. As he shuts it behind him and looks around, his eyes almost fall out of their sockets.

There are at least 250, maybe 300 students filling the seats of the room. He awkwardly smiles when some students look to the side and see him standing at the foot of the door. He quickly takes a seat and says nothing as the students return their attention to the large projected screen. Marcus hears what he assumes is your voice through the large speakers but he can’t place your position. As he looks at the projected images, he finally catches you through his peripheral vision as you step off the railing near the exit doors at the front of the room.

“Because of this association with the gods, many amulets used to ward off the evil eye include depictions of mythological figures and deities who are almost, if not always, female. To the Greeks and Romans, the most common fascinations with an evil eye were women in any shape or form. They were thought to have the most powerful and harmful gaze that might kill if eye contact was established. That’s basically me telling you to never look me in the eye or else I will curse the cow of your second cousin twice removed.” Laughter reverberates off the walls at your joke and only grows louder when you whisper, “just kidding...or am I?” Marcus can’t help but smile at your jokes, watching with fascination as you move up and down the stairs of one side of the lecture hall once you continue to speak.

“Now, I know what some of you are thinking...isn’t that a bit sexist? Well, to the ancients, no. And to us, it’s kind of a meh thing. I know that doesn’t sound very feminist of me but it all comes down to the culture and the ancient practices that carried over. Just remember that it wasn’t because they were women, it was because they were thought to be powerful...a glass half-full kinda thing.” Marcus watches you closely as you maintain your focus on the students before you switch the slide and stand in the middle of the stairway with your back towards the projector.

“So, we find goddesses such as Erinnyes or the Furies associated with the evil eye because of their avenging nature. Their heads were covered in serpents and their eyes were always bloodshot and one of the Furies by the name of Megaera was considered in late antiquity as the personification of envy and whose eyes were the most envious and deadly of all the Furies. She was described by poets as baskanon omma pherousa...bearing the evil eye. Naturally, many children in late antiquity constantly wore amulets of stone galactite to protect them from the eyes of Megaera, and sometimes even wore necklaces with her face on it to counteract the evil eye of someone else and have her curse the ones who tried to harm them. Basically, the ancients were playing a game of tag with the evil eye.” You descend the stairs and walk to the other side of the hall, and Marcus feels his chest tighten with how much confidence you exude, not just through your words but with how you carry yourself as well.

“Perhaps the most famous of these dangerous women is Medusa who was one of the Gorgones in Greek mythology. The Gorgones were one of many female beings such as the Harpies, the Erinnyes, the Graiae, and the Keres, who were said to be grim-faced, and who held horrible looks. Briefly, the story tells of how she was one of the most beautiful women to ever walk the earth and later became hateful-looking by Athena as punishment for being raped by Poseidon in the middle of the huntress’ temple. Her hair became serpents and she was so furious that anyone who would look at her would turn into stone...at least that is the version you will hear from the “all-knowing” male scholars within this field. But, and I know I’m going on a rant here, if you’re like me, you’re more likely to argue that Athena pretended to hate Medusa. The serpents were no punishment! The goddess looked at the poor woman and gave her a weapon to use against men because unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything to avenge her...not only because she didn’t get along with Poseidon but also because he was a god as well. Anyway, back to Medusa’s amazing power which I would love to have so I could use it whenever I’m talking to some professors in this department...don’t quote me on that.” Again, Marcus chuckles at your side commentary and notices how calm and enjoyable the atmosphere of the lecture is. If only he had professors like you when he was in university.

“Even after she was decapitated by Perseus, her powers were very much alive and it is said that Athena placed Medusa’s image on her shield, once Perseus returned it, in order to use it when she hunted. This suggests that depictions of her severed head held apotropaic power and like earlier, one could use a creature who held the power of the evil eye against another being who is said to use the evil eye. Following this principle of similia similibus, it is not surprising that most of the amulets found in Greece and Rome contained illustrations of Medusa’s decapitated head on them. What was once the possessor of the evil eye became a protective symbol against the very same thing.” Just as you are about to continue with the next image, an alarm goes off and Marcus frowns in shock at how inconsiderate it was that phones weren’t silenced. But his surprise only heightens when he sees you running down the steps to your desk and picking up the phone sitting in the middle of the table.

“Ahhhh man, we were just about to get to the cavalier. That’s okay. Remember, the second response is due first thing on Friday. If you can’t turn it in during class, shoot me an email and we can work something out with my TAs. Go forth my clever spawns!” Marcus stands up and glues himself to the wall when he sees students emptying the lecture hall, his eyes on your form at the front of the class. He hopes you don’t leave out of the front exit and begins to make his way to you through the multitude of undergrads leaving. When he reaches your desk, he stands to the side until you finish chatting with one of the students and begins to collect your work.

“Dr. Y/L/N?”

“Please, it’s just Y/N. Who are you and how can I help you today?” You almost do a double take when you look up from your bag and see the man standing in front of you. To say that you were starstruck by the man in front of you would have been the understatement of the century.

“I’m Special Agent Marcus Pike,” he holds out his FBI tag for you and watches as you raise an eyebrow at him before you swing your bag across your shoulders and motion for him to follow you out of the hall.

“I would like to put it on record that I do not, in fact, wish to turn any of my colleagues to stone.” You joke, and Marcus senses that you are perhaps nervous at seeing his tag.

“Believe me, I would like to do that to some of mine as well...but no, not why I’m here.” Marcus clips the tag below his jacket as he walks with you.

“May I ask what I have done that caught the FBI’s attention?” You walk ahead of him, and ask him if it was okay for him to head over to your office with you.

“I’m with the FBI Art Crime Team and I’m here on a request. We would like to consult you on an open investigation and I came here to ask what your availability is.” Marcus follows you up the stairs, barely forcing his eyes to remain on your feet instead of elsewhere.

“Oh, me? That’s...wow. Of all the things I thought I would accomplish in my life, that’s definitely not one of them. May I ask what it is you need my opinion on?” You push open the doorway of the staircase and point at your office across the quiet hall.

“Unfortunately, there is a lot of paperwork you need to fill out before we get to work so I can’t disclose anything about the case until you sign in.” Marcus steps into the office behind you and watches as you set your things down before you move to your desk. He can’t help but feel his muscles loosen at the sight of the bookshelves across your room.

“This is probably the most exciting thing to happen to me all year long so yes, hundred percent. I’m available for the rest of the day today as well as tomorrow and Friday after lecture which ends at the same time as today’s.” You beam up at him as you take two books out of your bag and replace them with a folder that was sitting in the middle of your desk. Marcus looks at you quizzically, marveling at how much easier this was going. He genuinely thought he was going to meet with someone who was probably a bit proud and perhaps as much of an asshole as his previous professors but you were so much different than anyone he’s ever met within this field.

“Are you sure? I understand if you need to take a week or two-”

“No please, you’ll be saving me from faculty lunches and two seminars by colleagues that I genuinely cannot fucking stand- oh, sorry. Sorry, didn’t mean to-” You swing your leather bag around your shoulder again and shut the blinds of the windows before you walk to the door.

“Please, you don’t have to worry about that with me.” Marcus chuckles at the excitement rolling off of you and bites his lower lip when he watches you quickly fix your hair.

“I might need to have lunch on the way to your office though if that’s okay?” You take a plastic container out of your bag and smile sheepishly at him as you lock your door.

“Wow...is your bag bigger on the inside or something? And, yeah fine by me.” He pushes his hands into his pockets again and walks next to you, a little corner in his heart gradually filling with hope letting him know that he should be cautious. He didn’t want a repeat of last time.

You both chat briefly on your way to headquarters and Marcus apologizes every time he looks over and sees you struggling with your food. By the time you make it to the building, Marcus can tell you are a bit nervous and he assures you once more that this was merely a consultation.

“Wait how did you even find me?” You take your jacket off along with everything in your pockets, laying them down near your bag as they go through the scanner. Marcus passes through with his badge and waits for you on the other side, picking up your things as you put your jacket back on.

“I made some calls and a friend suggested to get in touch with you because of your expertise.”

“Oh now we’re getting somewhere. You have a Greek artifact don’t you?” Marcus halts in his steps and looks over to you as he shuts his eyes in irritation. He should have watched what he said.

“S-sorry I couldn’t help it. I’ll stop until I fill out whatever paperwork you have for me.” You take your things from him and walk quietly as he leads you to the elevators.

“I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s not personal, it’s just-”

“Business I know. I know. I’m so used to watching this kind of stuff in movies that I tend to forget it’s all fake and you’re...the real deal.” You hope he doesn’t see the way your eyes trail over his taller form, silently cursing yourself when you meet his eyes and notice how he’s already staring at you with a smile.

“Sorry.” You apologize again and look straight ahead, hands tightening around the leather strap when you realize that he’s still looking at you.

Marcus fists the hands in his pockets to prevent himself from saying anything else that might make you uncomfortable, and he looks at the increasing numbers as they reach his floor. A loud ring signals your arrival and Marcus stretches out his hand so you could walk ahead of him. You wait until he tells you where to go and say nothing when he stops for a second and whispers something to another agent.

When you arrive at his office, you stand to the side and wait for him to tell you what to do.

“What’re you doing all the way over there? Come here.” Marcus calls you over to his desk and smiles, hoping to put you a little at ease. You step towards him and set your stuff on the floor as you sit opposite him on one of the two chairs. He pulls out a couple of files and sets them in front of you in four different piles.

“That’s a lot of paperwork.” You chuckle nervously as you take out a pen from your bag.

“I know, I’m sorry. But that’s why I’m here. These are the building rules and your signature is basically you telling us you’ll abide by all of them.”

“I don’t know any of them.” You respond immediately, and rub harshly at the pen between your fingers.

“I’ll be with you at all times so you don’t have to worry about that.” His smile throws you off guard and you nod before you sign the highlighted areas.

“And these are you swearing that you will tell no one of whatever you see, hear, do, etc. within the building.” You nod and sign through the stapled paperwork before sliding them his way.

“We’re almost done. These two are like the second pile but they have to do with this case specifically. And they extend to outside the premises, meaning that if I or another agent on the case tells you anything that has to do with your work here today while we’re grabbing coffee from across the street, you can’t say it to a living soul.” Marcus points at the four highlighted boxes and tells you to sign the date next to them as well.

“So I can say it to my dead cousin?” You ask as you sign the two papers and hand them to him, unable to hold your laughter when he shakes his head as he pushes the last pile towards you.

“I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

“Can’t help it.”

“And finally, these are you swearing that whatever you tell us today, be it an opinion, a fact, or anything else, is the absolute truth. Basically, you’re not fucking with us.” You raise an eyebrow at his choice in words and he shrugs his shoulders as he motions for the empty spaces again. When you’re done, Marcus collects all the files and places them in a folder before he unlocks his desk and pushes them inside.

“I don’t ever want to see my signature again.” You whisper as he leads you out of the office towards a conference room. He holds the door for you and nods ahead, waiting for you to step in before he shuts the door behind him and turns around. You try to ignore the hand pushing on your lower back as you walk in and spot three gentlemen and one woman standing towards the end of the long table.

“Wow, that was quick.” The female agent is first to speak and you say nothing as Marcus introduces you to them.

“Thank you for coming on such a short notice.”

“Of course. This is very exciting for me so I’m happy to help in any way.” You shake her hand and stand to the side as Marcus motions for you to sit down.

“This is Lydia, Ethan, Henry, and Noah.” Marcus points to each member of his team as he pulls out a chair next to you and sits down.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You nod towards them and look at the folder that Lydia hands to you. Marcus says something as you flip open the folder but you can’t respond, eyes almost falling out of their sockets as you take in the large image on the page. You look up at Marcus and everyone else before you return your attention to the picture.

“You recognize what this is then?” Ethan breaks the silence and watches as you move through the pages quickly.

“Umm, that seems like an oversimplification but yes.” You continue to study the images in front of you for another few minutes before you set them down and look up at Marcus.

“Some explanation would really help me out right now.” You tap softly on the papers, and your mind conjures up the wildest possible stories behind the images currently displayed in front of you.

“Oh right yes. We received a tip from the Smithsonian’s acquisitions department about a man trying to sell them this artifact for three million dollars,” Marcus notices your eyes widen but he continues, “but they’re not sure if it’s stolen or not. And he refuses to cooperate.”

“Which is where you come in. Have you seen anything like this before and if so, where?” Lydia stares at you as you return your attention to the pictures again.

“And the Smithsonian can’t confirm this?”

“Far from it. Marcus here is just afraid they’ll eventually get greedy and do anything to get their hands on it.” You look next to you and watch a faint blush take over the agent’s handsome features.

“I mean I don’t blame you. There are a bunch of real assholes in this field.” You laugh when he gives Lydia a ‘told you’ look.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to help you if I don’t see the actual pendant.” You shut the folder and push it away from you.

“That might be a problem.” Henry takes his glasses off and proceeds to clean them as he looks at his co-workers.

“Why? Do you not have it anymore?” Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of the FBI losing such an object.

“Oh no we have it. Our guy is afraid we’ll switch it out with a fake so he refuses to hand it to us unless he’s in the same room.”

“That’s funny. Is there a rule that says I can’t look at it while this man is in the room?” You ask Marcus and he can’t help but notice how giddy you’re being all of a sudden. Your excitement is almost palpable and he wills himself to focus on the question and not how you bite your lower lip as you wait for him.

“I mean…”

“You’re all going to be in the room aren’t you?” You cut him off before he says anything and when they all nod, you turn to Marcus once more and wait for his response.

“I guess it’s fine.” Marcus reluctantly answers before he asks Ethan and Noah to bring the man from the interrogation room he’s been in for the past couple of hours. Lydia and Henry let you in on more details and Marcus watches as you furrow your eyebrows in focus, occasionally cutting them off to ask them a question.

Fifteen minutes later and a knock on the door breaks you out of your haze. You look up just as Ethan and Noah walk in with a man in front of them. You say nothing as they bring him to your side of the room and set him down across from you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I didn’t steal it. I found it!” Your ears perk at his comment but you say nothing as he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at you.

“May I see it?” You ask before anyone else says anything and the man continues to stare at you before he ignores your question.

“Please, I’m just here to confirm your story. I know for a fact there isn’t a museum out there that has this.” You notice the hardened expression on Henry’s face but he says nothing. A few long moments pass by and the man shifts to take something out of the inside his jacket. You inhale deeply and watch as he unwraps the cloth before he places the small pendant on the table in front of you.

“May I?” You ask again and if Marcus didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re just trying to put the man at ease. If you were nervous around five FBI agents and you did nothing wrong, then his little thief must have been scared shitless.

When the man nods, you bring out a pair of gloves from your handbag and put them on, forcing yourself to remain calm as you pick up the pendant.

“What a beautiful work of art you are baby. Red jasper, my favorite!” Your excited words break the silence and you look up at the man in front of you with a smile, feeling your hands sweat when he slowly returns the expression.

Got you.

“Greek is marvelous...crystal clear, grammatically correct, unique placement.” It’s as silent as a cemetery and Marcus watches you closely as you narrow your eyes and adjust the stone under the light. If he wasn’t dealing with a criminal and a potentially stolen artifact, he would have told you how beautiful you looked when you were deep in the middle of a task.

“Hmm, what is this 6th century-ish spell? Oh my bad, no no no, I tend to mix them up sometimes. It’s definitely a 7th century formula.” You make an awkward face and watch as Lydia shakes her head at your little mix up.

“Now, let’s see what you got on the other side sweetheart.” You carefully turn the amulet around in the palm of your hand and barely hold back from gasping dramatically.

“My god...what a goddamn sight...oh oops sorry, that was probably blasphemous. A perfectly etched crucifixion...cross with 4 sides, with a plaque at the top...and of course, can’t forget the clothed Christ. The detail on this is truly unlike anything I’ve ever seen, down to the ‘Iesous Xristos Theou Yios Sotare’ around the figure. Where did you say you found it again?” You casually ask as you continue to inspect the stone, almost laughing when the man responds immediately to your question.

“Mount Athos.” Marcus turns to his team in shock. You’d managed to get the information out of him so easily while they spent an entire day trying to get him to say anything. It was a little funny how at ease the man seemed now, leaning forward towards you as you flipped the stone around.

“Ohh the hub of Eastern monasteries. Boy is this the most valuable artifact I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at then.” You set it down on the cloth and wrap it up before taking your gloves off and leaning back on the chair.

“See, told you its one of a kind. No one’s ever found anything like it before.” The man beams at you before he takes the object and puts it back in his jacket.

“Oh yeah it’s one of a kind alright...because it’s the most fake amulet I’ve ever had the misfortune of examining. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this disappointed in my life. And here I thought another one of these was out there. Did you even bother to do any research on this?” You frown at him and cross your arms in irritation, completely missing Marcus’ reaction and how he turns to Lydia to confirm that yes, you just said that it was a fake artifact.

“W-what?”

“I’d love to know where you got the red jasper because you could have fooled me with that. Let’s break this down shall we? The Greek is perfect, too perfect if I’m being honest. You never have grammatically correct syntax etched on a magical amulet, let alone proper diction. Oh and you should have probably used Classical Greek instead of modern Greek, like were you even trying? Really bad move to use a 7th century formula with a non-altered 6th century spell. The formula didn’t even exist yet!” You tilt your head to the side and watch as the man in front of you begins to fidget. His smile is replaced with a shocked expression and you watch as it slowly becomes angry.

Marcus was speechless. He never saw this coming and was looking at you with a mixture of awe and surprise at the turn of events. He could only stare at you as he took in your energy, the same confidence and intelligence he saw earlier in the day when he walked into your lecture.

“As for the back, you never get 4-sided crosses with these, only three, and the head of Christ makes up the fourth which you don’t actually see because of his head. No plaque, too detailed and non-existent in protection spells. Christ is always nude on magical amulets by the way...yes it’s weird, but it’s a fucking amulet and he was just some extra deity. And finally, never, ever, write out ‘Iesous Xristos Theou Yios Sotare.’ You write the acronym IXOYE.” You flip open the folder that was in front of you and grab a sharpie from Marcus’ file, circling the first letter of each Greek word and holding it up as if he was one of your students and you were trying to lecture him.

“Don’t even get me started on your provenance. Mount Athos? I mean for fuck’s sake, Constanza would have been a better option. At least we actually found amulets out there. How much was he asking for this?” You turn to Marcus and completely miss the starstruck eyes he’s giving you. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he finally realizes that you asked him a question.

“Uhhh 3 mil.”

“Oh boy...yeah, this is worth jack shit. Wouldn’t even do it’s intended job if you actually wore it as a protection pendant.” You watch as the man’s expression changes from anger to outrage and you barely have any time to push away your chair and hide behind Marcus before the man tries to jump on top of the table towards you. It takes Ethan and Noah approximately five seconds to tackle him down before they take him out of the room. You watch as they reach for the amulet in his pocket and give it to Henry just as they push him out.

You’re still coming down from the adrenaline rush when Marcus turns around and asks you if you are alright. As soon as you see the gun in his hands, your hold on his jacket tightens and you gulp nervously when you meet his eyes. He apologizes quickly once he sees where you’re looking and quickly puts the gun back in its holster.

“You okay?” Marcus holds your wrist and rubs his thumb over your pulse point until you begin to relax. You fix your jacket and take a deep breath before you meet his eyes, almost gasping when you see how dark and oddly calming they are.

“Didn’t think a consultation would get this exciting but uhh, yeah I’m good. I think.” You try to laugh it off but looking at the object in Henry’s hand makes you realize that the last five minutes did really happen and you actually managed to piss off someone to the point where he tried to attack you.

“And we were worried it was stolen…” Lydia shakes her head when she takes the amulet and swirls it around in her hand.

“I might be wrong but I think you should try to find out who made it, especially because of the red jasper. This came real close to a fake. And you should also try to date it as well...there might be more of these out there.” You smile when Lydia agrees and collects the folders on the table, thanking you on her way out.

“My pleasure...apart from that last bit.” You laugh it off and watch as she exits the conference room with Henry.

“So…” You turn to Marcus and whisper a quick thank you when he hands you your bag.

“So, this definitely wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to consult on this case. I- I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that this happened. It’s not always like this, I promise. The exciting stuff usually happens when we find guys like him in abandoned warehouses.” Marcus continues to word vomit as he leads you back to his office.

“It’s okay really. My advisor always warned me about this.”

“About working with the FBI?”

“No no, about rambling so much that I piss off someone to the point where they try to kill me.” You’re taken aback by Marcus’ laugh and can’t help but giggle along with him as he leans back in his chair and continues to laugh.

“I hope that doesn’t mean you won’t work with us again?” There’s something in his voice that doesn’t ease the butterflies in your stomach and you place your hand on your chest dramatically as you bat your eyes at him.

“Why Agent Pike, are you trying to recruit me to the FBI?” You ask sarcastically and watch as he shrugs his shoulders before shutting off his computer and standing up.

“Just a consult here and there, should we meet another Greco-Roman artifact? Or...a fake one I guess.” You swallow the lump in your throat when you see the way he’s looking at you and hope that you’re not misreading any signs.

“Can I take you out to dinner? As a thank you and an apology for putting your life in danger?” Marcus is reluctant to ask but he takes the leap of faith and hopes that you wouldn’t reject him.

“I- actually...in all honesty, I don’t think I’ll do well in public after that whole thing.” You gesture towards the outside offices, and Marcus nods in disappointment and contemplates on whether he should ask you to dinner some other time. You never give him a chance to follow-up though.

“How about take-out at my place?” You stand up and smile when you see his eyes beam with excitement as he fixes his tie and motions towards the door.

“Lead the way doctor.” You flush under the title and walk ahead so he doesn’t notice the obvious effect he’s having on you. You glance at Marcus every now and then as you make your way out of the building and towards his car.

You chat about random things as he drives through the busy streets, and you feel your heart skip a beat when he says something scandalous about your favorite Impressionist artwork, not because of the comment but because of the way he winks at you as he slides his hand to your thighs and nudges them to let you know he was just joking. You hope that Marcus asks for your number by the end of the night, maybe even invite you to dinner again, because if you’re being honest, it’s been a while since you met a decent guy and he’s been checking all of your boxes all day long.

Kind. Intelligent. Hard-working. Funny. And of course, attractive. There was something about the way he smiles and you kept on replaying the moment he hid you behind him and continued to ask if you were alright.

“What do you mean you don’t like Bal du moulin de la Galette? It’s one of the most magnificent paintings out there. Best of Renoir’s if you ask me.” You unlock the door and switch on the lights, throwing your coat and bag on the wall before telling Marcus to make himself at him. He takes his jacket off and hangs it as well, turning around to continue his argument.

“Listen, I’m just not a crowd kind of guy. I’m more of a Paris Street, Rainy Day man okay so-”

“Why am I not surprised by that?” You laugh as you bring him a cup of water, hoping you were being subtle as you continued to check out the gun resting in his holster. Shaking your head, you take your phone out again and tell him that it’ll take you a few minutes to order pizza since neither of you can make up your mind.

Marcus looks around when you walk away to place the order, his eyes taking in the three bookshelves behind your couch. It’s almost as if the office space wasn’t enough so you had to make more room for all of your textbooks and novels. Maybe it was the other way around…

He takes a sip of water and glances to the side, instantly choking on the liquid when his eyes zero in on the three watercolor paintings hanging above your television. Marcus blinks rapidly and rubs his eyes to make sure that he wasn’t seeing things. He approaches the wall and looks between the three artworks, unable to tear his gaze away. He notices new details every time he focuses on a different corner of each painting, and his pants suddenly feel uncomfortable when he shifts closer.

“Pizza will be here in thirty-ish minutes and-” You almost drop the phone when Marcus jumps back and almost trips over his own feet. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” When you walk closer and see the blush creeping down his neck, you can’t help but giggle and glance at your paintings, almost as if you were taunting him into commenting on your choice in decoration.

“These are...interesting.” Marcus avoids looking at them when you stand next to him, merely pointing to the side as he looks at you.

“Oh no...here we go. I know what that means. You don’t like them?” You tilt your head to the side and hold back from smiling when he takes a long sip of water before he sets down the glass.

“N-no no, that’s not...I didn’t mean- I just...it’s a bold choice.” His stutter makes you laugh even harder and you apologize when his blush deepens. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. It’s always really funny when people come over because I get all kinds of reactions but you’re definitely the first guy that doesn’t call me a slut because I have pornographic paintings hanging in my living room.”

“Why not? The Dutch lords and the Italian merchants did it, why can’t you?” Marcus is almost offended by the remark and he forgets all about the awkwardness of the paintings when he sees you nod aggressively in agreement.

“Exactly!? Why is a guy allowed to hang an Odalisque in his home but I can’t hang some BDSM scenes?” You take the glass from the table and ask him if he wants more. Marcus shakes his head and quickly attempts to fix himself through his pants before you return.

“So you like them then?” You lounge on one chair and wait for Marcus to sit on the couch before you ask him.

“It’s a different aesthetic I think, and it somehow goes well with your bookshelves. Something about textbooks and nude paintings depicting sex just goes together...can’t explain how. And kudos to the artist too! The brushstrokes, the layering, the complementary colors...the scenes and positions are so natural. They’re perfect combinations. Did you pick them or did you commission them?”

“Oh I commissioned two of them. The third was just too good to not order. I’ll ask you this then, which ones do you think I commissioned?” Marcus glances to the canvases again and grows quiet for a few moments, his eyes switching from one painting to another before he meets your gaze.

“I think you commissioned the two on the left.”

“Why?” You try to hide how impressed you are by how he correctly figured you out, almost cringing when the question leaves your mouth before you could stop yourself. As much as you enjoy where this conversation was going, you really hope this wouldn’t lead to some misogynistic response on his part. Just as Marcus is about to respond, the doorbell rings and you tell him you’ll be right back.

Marcus thanks the heavens that the pizza arrives because he isn’t sure how he could respond to that question without accidentally giving his train of thoughts away. When you come back with plates and napkins, Marcus thanks you and proceeds to separate the pizza slices.

“It was the closest I could get to owning something that resembled the area I study.” You say through chewing and Marcus furrows his eyebrows, silently asking you to elaborate on your comment.

“Nudity I mean. I can’t afford sculptures so I settled with these.”

“They are beautiful. And the positions are-” Marcus stops abruptly when he realizes that his inner monologue just rolled off of his tongue.

“Go on, what were you going to say?”

“I- uh, I just think that the positions are intimate. And they become more intimate the longer you look at them.” He chews faster when you nod and take another slice of pizza.

“You have a favorite?” You ask and pretend you aren’t paying attention to every single word he says. You get the sense that he has a lot to say about the paintings but is choosing to hold back so you don’t get the wrong idea about why he is having dinner with you in your apartment after only knowing you for a few hours.

“Definitely the middle one.” His answer surprises you, especially because the one on the right has handcuffs and you genuinely thought he’d be into that because of his line of work.

“Really? Why?”

“Oh...I- this might sound weird but I think the scene is intense and- and close? Private? I’m not sure what it is I’m trying to say but the fact that she’s completely nude except for the panties around her thighs while he’s fully clothed and is focusing on her pleasure is- it’s intimate. And the hand on her back is a mixture of dominance and care, like he’s letting her know that she has his undivided attention but she has to behave for him.” You’re not sure when exactly you stopped eating and you clear your throat when you realize that Marcus was looking at you to gauge your reaction.

“Y-yeah that...ahuh.” Something about the way he says the word ‘behave’ twists your insides and you immediately stand up and head to the kitchen, whispering something about needing to wash down the food with something. Marcus eats quietly and hopes he hasn’t just made things even more awkward. When you come back and hand him a glass of red wine, Marcus relaxes and continues to eat.

“Have you ever drawn something like this?” You shake your head as you take a sip of the wine, laying against the back of the couch and crossing your legs.

“I wish. Human anatomy is so fascinating I think. I sometimes get this adrenaline rush when I look at the far right one and I tell myself that I’ll sketch all the risque and open positions I can think of but then I remember how long it would take me to finish one piece and I- I don’t have time for that sadly.”

“You can always start out with simpler ones? Maybe solo pieces, and move up from there.” Marcus mirrors you and sits back with the wine glass in his hand.

“Yeah, but I just love this kind of genre so much. It needs to be passionate, and sexy and out there you know.” Marcus smiles at the energetic response, feeling much more relaxed now that he’s had a cup of wine and found chatting about your choice in decoration less awkward.

“I get you. It’s why that lifestyle is interesting to so many people. The whole dynamic, whether we’re talking about the figures in the scene or actual partners, is based on that trust. You- you have to create that sense of trust and comfort for the scene to be enjoyable...pleasurable. It’s not as easy as some think it to be. As a Dom, you have to be aware of your partner at all times and the effect you have on them. And the same goes for a Sub too. You need to ensure that your Dom knows how much trust you put in them and the level of dedication that’s going into the scene. Both parties are depending on each other and it’s- it’s amazing.” Marcus smiles when he notices the intensity swimming in your eyes and he gives you a few seconds to collect your bearings before he asks his next question.

“Would you draw something as intimate as that?” He breaks the silence and watches your train of thought come and go.

“Would you?” You throw the question right back at him, holding in a breath when you see him lean forward with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I would...but only if I have the right model.” Marcus doesn’t know where all of this is coming from but he can’t find it in himself to break whatever bubble the two of you found yourselves in. You’re silent for a few moments, long enough for Marcus to think that maybe, just maybe, he’s crossed the line.

But then you’re smiling at him mischievously, chugging down the rest of the wine before standing up and heading towards the hallway.

“I have an easel and some 16x20 papers lying around...I hope you don’t mind working with chalk.” You throw back at him before you walk down the hallway and Marcus has to give himself a quick pep talk before he follows you. He slowly makes his way into your bedroom and stands at the doorstep until you allow him to come in.

“I think the lighting is best in this corner but you’ll be the one working so sit wherever you prefer.” You bring over a chair and set it in front of the easel before you grab the large box of supplies and pull out all the chalk sticks that you have. Marcus nods in silence as he pushes the easel closer to your bed and begins to choose which of the chalk sticks he wants. There is a variety of shapes and sizes, and he’s not sure if he should start out bold or if he should ease himself into this. It’s been a while since he’s drawn a model and he really doesn’t want to screw up, especially because it is you.

Marcus is so busy preparing his workstation that he doesn’t notice you stripping off your clothes. You keep your eyes on him and find the little scrunch he does with his eyebrows when he focuses on something endearing. Taking a deep breath, you take off your bra and panties before laying on the bed and getting in a comfortable position. Your movements are minimal, and you stretch out your legs in wait for him. You fight the part of you that’s yelling at you to cover yourself and keep your focus on him to gauge his reaction.

“Pose however you want and we can work on the postures once we-” The words die in his throat as soon as he looks up from the easel and sees your state of dress, or lack thereof. The thick chalk stick he’s holding between his fingers snaps in half and breaks the blanket of silence that fell on the room. He visibly gulps and doesn’t try to hide the way his eyes trail down your form slowly before they return to look into your dilated ones. Marcus knows for a fact that the image of your heaving chest and hardened nipples will forever be etched in his mind.

“I- uhh, are you...c-comfortable?” He hates how much he’s stuttering and you smile at him when you notice how he is focusing on the wall behind you and not you.

You look around for a few moments, grabbing a couple of pillows and placing them behind your back before you stretch out one leg and bend the other one to your chest. Marcus almost chokes on his breath when he sees how open you are being with him but he says nothing and turns his attention to the blank piece of paper underneath his hand.

“I’m ready.” Your voice brings him out of his stupor and he nods briefly as he tries to reason with himself. He cannot draw you unless he looks at you. But he is well aware of the hardening predicament he’s currently suffering from and he’s sure you probably noticed by now the effect you were having on him.

“I won’t tell you how to do your job Agent, but artists usually have to look at the models they’re drawing to...you know, draw them.” Marcus rolls his eyes at the teasing remark, briefly glancing at you with a raised eyebrow before he begins to softly outline the shape of your shoulders. His cock twitches in his pants and he tries his hardest to not squirm too much in his seat. But every time his eyes move towards your nude form laying not five feet away from him, he silently curses himself and pretends he’s fine and that he isn’t imagining pushing you down and shoving his tongue deep into your wet cunt.

“Are you usually this quiet when you’re sketching, Agent Pike?” Something about the way you’re addressing him makes him clench his jaw tightly and he unintentionally whispers a little louder than he intends in response.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Your giggles let him know that you heard his remark and he is sure his face is growing a deeper shade of red but he shrugs his shoulders and ignores your obvious amusement. Marcus swallows the lump in his throat as he shifts his focus below your neck, parting his lips when he notices the tilt of your head from his peripheral vision as he ceases all movement and continues to stare at your chest.

“Oh sorry, is my arm in the way,” you lower your arms and move them behind you to support your weight, never breaking eye contact with him as you rock your bent leg back and forth and give him a full view of your most intimate parts.

Marcus is almost shaking in his seat at the sight of your breasts, unaware that he’s harshly rubbing the chalk stick with his thumb the more your leg sways to the side and reveals the outer folds of your pussy.

“P-perfect, thank you.” He whispers and returns to the sheet in front of him, biting into his lower lip as he rolls the chalk across and sketches the curves of your breasts. For a moment, he forgets what he is doing and narrows his eyes at the shapes in front of him before he smudges the black material across to shade in the skin. He looks back and forth for a couple of minutes until he’s happy with the shading of your body.

You marvel at how he’s managing to keep it together for this long when all you can think about is begging for him to fuck you into the mattress. You thought it would be easy for him to break but ever the gentleman, he takes the task seriously and tries his hardest to not dwell on your skin for longer than necessary.

A thought comes through your mind and you smile to yourself as you shift your bent leg to the side and move the other one until it falls from the side of the bed. You stare at him and hope this is what finally does the trick. And you don’t have to wait for too long because the next time Marcus looks at you, he takes a double-take and doesn’t bother to hide how he’s only focusing on the skin between your thighs.

“I thought it would be easier for you, you know. Easier access and everything.” You’re not sure what you’re going on about but you can tell that it’s taking every ounce of control in his body to not pounce on you. You hold your breath when Marcus stands up and meets your eyes, and you think this is it. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

But then he’s freeing the paper from the easel and moving towards you, his expression never once giving his plan away. You gulp when he kneels at the foot of your bed and sets the paper between your thighs.

“You’re right, easier access,” Marcus says as he brings the chalk down on the paper and sketches your thighs, not bothering for propriety as his eyes zero in on your slit. You know you’re wet and you can feel slick easing down your folds but you don’t move a muscle, watching him as he expertly outlines your skin before he rubs the chalk with his thumb to shade the area again.

“It’s not quite how I want it…” His remark makes you shiver and you’re about to beg him to forgo the sketch when he leans forward and nudges your legs apart, perhaps a little carelessly, before he collects your arousal with his middle finger and swipes it across your folds. You’re shocked by the turn of events and barely hold back from moaning as he dips the clean finger into your pussy and rubs your walls for a few more seconds, his soft brown eyes turning dangerous as pushes his finger a little deeper and bites his lower lip when he feels you clenching around him. Marcus turns his attention back to you, his jaw tensing when he sees sheer bliss etched on your expression. Your little gasps are music to his ears and just as he feels your hips moving against him, he pulls his hand away.

You watch him like a hawk as he inspects his finger, gasping when he smudges at the chalk on the sketch to create darker shades around your center.

“Hmm, that’s more like it.” Marcus turns to you and smirks when he sees your parted lips turn into a frown.

“Do you not like it?” He feigns ignorance and raises an eyebrow when your frown deepens as you move back into your pillows. You lean back but continue to hold his gaze as you part your thighs and lazily stroke your cunt. Marcus slowly puts down the paper and chalk onto the floor and stands up just as you begin to pinch your nipples.

“Please…” Your whispered plea shoots straight to his cock and he laughs when it turns into a whine once he makes his way to the bathroom in your room. He says nothing as he quickly washes his hands and dries them before moving back and standing next to your bed.

You don’t stop touching yourself, hoping the needy sight of you is all the push he needs to take what he wants.

“What’s your safeword doctor?” Marcus keeps his hands in his pockets as he trails his eyes down your shivering body. He’s itching to touch you but he remains still and waits for confirmation that you do, in fact, want this as much as him. A part of him knows that the two of you should probably slow down and perhaps discuss whatever this is before you go any further. But it feels right being here with you. And he doesn’t want to give it up just yet.

“J-Jasper.” Your voice breaks when you see the hunger swimming in his eyes and you shift to the center of your bed as Marcus kicks off his shoes before taking off his socks.

“Hmm.” Marcus hums as he takes off the holster from his belt and quietly places the gun on your nightstand. When he turns back and sees you watching the gun and increasing your movements, he groans down at you before walking around the bed.

“Maybe another time baby...when you and I are a little more acquainted with each other.” You flush at the implications behind his words and nod at him. You watch as he begins to roll up his sleeves and your anticipation grows with each inch of skin he reveals.

“You look so pretty sweetheart, all needy and desperate for my touch. Do you want to cum baby?” Marcus asks teasingly and you nod frantically as you begin to push two fingers into your cunt.

“Nuh uh, use your words. I’ll let it go this time but from now on, you use your words if you want something from me.” His tone is less gentle and your inner walls spasm at the thought of hearing that same commanding voice telling you to get on your knees for him.

“S-sorry yes...yes please. I- I want to cum, please.” Marcus smiles in amusement as he steps closer to the bed until his knees touch the mattress.

“Good girl. Now, if you really want to cum, then you better come here and suck me off. Be a good girl for me and show me what that sweet fucking mouth of yours can do.” His chest puffs out proudly when he sees how quickly you’re moving to please him. You lay on your stomach and palm him through his pants, moaning along with him when you find him hard and ready for you.

“May I undress you?”

“Go on sweetheart, take what you want.” Marcus caresses your cheek as you excitedly unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He doesn’t dare look away as you shove his pants down his thighs before leaning forward and nuzzling your nose into the bulge of his boxer briefs.

“Fuck baby, are you trying to kill me?” You giggle and shake your head in response, purposely rubbing his length with your nose just before you feel his fingers combing through your hair and tugging on it.

“Remember sweetheart...bad girls don’t get to cum. Stop your teasing before I shove my cock down your throat.” Marcus pulls on your hair harshly and groans when he sees you smiling up at him.

“Is that a promise Agent Pike?” You know you’re pushing his buttons and don’t hold back from gasping his name as he rolls you onto your back and aggressively pushes his boxer briefs down far enough to free his cock. He’s not really a vain man but seeing you lick your lips and inch closer to him as you stare at his hard dick makes him just a little cocky.

“Go on baby, open your mouth. Part those pretty fucking lips for me.” Marcus pats your lips softly and shivers when you respond to him right before you shut your eyes and wait for him to give you his cock.

“Yes sir.”

His knees buckle for a second the moment you take his tip into your mouth and suck on it. Marcus is torn between throwing his head back to enjoy the softness of your mouth and keeping his eyes on you as you suck on his cock. He leans forward and bites his cheek when you relax your throat and take more of his cock down your throat.

“P-part your legs for me baby please. Let me- oh fuck, your mouth is made of magic sweetheart. Let me- let me see how wet that pretty cunt is.” Marcus is already breathing heavily and he furrows his eyebrows in focus, not wanting to end this night early. You swallow around him a few times and hum when you feel his hand cupping your breasts while the other rests around your throat.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you try to take him down as deep as possible just as you part your thighs and begin to play with your pussy. Marcus groans and swears above you as you work him expertly and he can’t hold back from pushing the palm of his hand a little harder on your throat. He can feel his cock passing across your pharynx and moans your name over and over again when he looks down and sees drool rolling down your cheeks.

“Ahh fuck oh god, s-sweetheart you’re a fucking dream. W-where have you been all my life?” Marcus continues to kneed at your tits, but when he gets a little irritated when he sees your fingers rubbing your clit. Without warning, he leans forward as far as he can and slaps your hand away, replacing it with his own and biting his cheek when he finds you soaking.

“Shit baby, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?” You hum around him and twitch in surprise when you feel two of his thick fingers pushing past your wet folds and into your cunt. You’re already so close to coming from his teasing and you whimper when he nudges your thighs apart aggressively.

“Keep those legs open for me baby. Shit, the smell of you is fucking intoxicating. Fuck, that it’s, get on your hands and knees for me.” Marcus moves away and silences you with one look when you start to whine and reach for his cock.

“Unless you want to call it a night, you’ll get on your fucking hands and knees for me. Shit baby I’ve wanted to shove my tongue in that pussy as soon as you stripped for me.” He never breaks eye contact as he kicks away his pants and briefs before he makes quick work of his shirt. You quickly turn around and bite into your wrist as you get on all fours and try to look at him through your elbow. You reach down and ease two fingers into your cunt as you take in his broad shoulders and lean form. You swear his muscles flex the longer you stare at him and when you finally look at him, you’re a little embarrassed at being caught openly ogling him.

“Look at you, like a bitch in heat.” Regret rolls off of him as soon as he registers what he just said. An apology is on the tip of his tongue but then you’re arching your back and shifting closer to him, giving him a show as you curve your knuckles to try and hit that sweet spot inside of you.

“Oh aren’t you the prettiest sweetheart in the world.” You moan his name when he caresses your back and kneels behind you, laying soft kisses across your back as he palms and lightly smacks your ass. Marcus removes your hand away slowly but not before licking your fingers and humming around them as the taste of you fills his mouth.

“Marcus please...I- I need you inside me.”

“What do you need from me? You want my tongue and fingers? Or do you think this cunt is ready to take my cock?” Marcus nips at your skin and pushes a hand on your lower back when you try and move away from him.

“W-whatever you want...just- need to feel you inside me. I don’t care, please. Oh fuck...please.” You squeal when Marcus spreads your cheeks apart and spits on your slit right before licking across your cunt. You fist your hands into the sheets and bite down on your wrist when you feel his nose nudge at your entrance as his tongue flicks your engorged clit.

“Good answer sweetheart,” you hear him whisper just as he kisses across your folds and dips his tongue into your core. You’re already shaking with need and rock back against him, hoping he’d end your agony and give you his fingers as well. Marcus is losing his mind and he tries his hardest to focus on pleasuring you. But it’s so hard to hold back when you’re whimpering at his touch and shoving your pussy in his face to get more friction.

“Stop moving,” Marcus growls against you, and you cry out his name when his palms land on your ass cheeks three consecutive times before he rubs the reddening skin.

“Oh god, your tongue feels so good Marcus. D-don’t stop, please. I want to cum, l-let me cum. You’re so fucking- ahh s-shit.” You think you feel him smile against you as he pushes two fingers into your pussy but you can’t be sure because you suddenly feel full. Fuck, and it’s only his fingers.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” He slowly parts you with his fingers and groans when he feels you squeezing his fingers. When you try to move against him again, Marcus slithers his hand across your back and grabs your neck, pushing your face into the bed as he leans over to whisper in your ears.

“You’re being such a bad girl tonight. I won’t give you another warning baby. Move again and I won’t fuck you.” You shiver when you hear his hoarse voice on your ears, grasping the pillows as hard as you can when he pushes his fingers as deep as possible and curls his knuckles.

“N-no please...I’m s-sorry- ahh gahd I’ll stop. I’ll stop.” Marcus is pleased with the effect he’s clearly having on you and almost gives in. But he wants you to cum before he takes you. From the looks of it, you aren’t looking for anything gentle, and with how hard he is, has been for the entire day, he doesn’t have the self-control to be anything but rough.

“Good girl...sweet fucking girl.” You force yourself to remain immobile as you feel him reaching deeper and applying more pressure on your spongy walls. The hand on your neck moves to your back and massages your heated skin. It takes you a while to realize that he’s reenacting the paintings in your living room and the thought shakes you to your core. Before you can even warn him, you feel a familiar pressure growing in the depths of your stomach and your heart hammers in your chest as you lose yourself to the sudden swelling sensation. You gasp his name over and over again as you cum around his fingers, and Marcus fists his hand in your hair when he feels you shuddering beneath him.

He’s shocked at how quickly you unravel at his ministrations and he doesn’t look away as he brushes his thumb against your clit and watches your body fight to not move away from him.

“M-Marcus wait- I...too much.” You can barely form a coherent sentence, let alone a thought, and you bite into the sheets when you feel his scruff scratch your skin deliciously as he licks off your juices.

“Use your safeword sweetheart and I’ll stop. But you came without asking so now I have to punish you...fuck, you taste as good as you smell baby, shit, maybe even better.” Marcus slows down but continues to move his digits across your tightening walls and when you say nothing, he sits up and twists his hand, waiting for your breathing to slow down before he begins to fuck you with his fingers.

“Oh oh f-fuck I- Marcus M-Marcus oh god...yes please fuck ahh I- I’m…” You try to warn him but he doesn’t slow down once, continuing his assault on your abused cunt until he feels you tightening around him again.

“Beg!”

“Can I- oh god, can I cum? Please fuck, I- I can’t s-stah ahh fuck.” You reach around and dig your nails into the hand fisting in your hair. You try to warn him again of what’s about to happen but he doesn’t give you a chance, picking up the pace just as he curves his digits and rubs at your sensitive spot.

“Drench me baby.” It’s all you need to fall over the edge again and your vision whites out as you convulse around him. Marcus smiles proudly when you listen to his command but his expression changes to one of awe when he feels you gush around his hand and wet his arm and thighs. He doesn’t stop once, completely captivated by the sight of your juices flowing around him so easily. When you try to move up the bed, Marcus lets go of your neck and pushes down on your lower back to keep you still. The damp spot beneath you is growing and something primal takes over Marcus. He wants nothing more than to soak the entire bed.

But he snaps out of his haze when you cry out his name and beg him to slow down. He looks at you as he gradually comes to a halt but keeps his fingers in your pussy. Marcus massages your muscles as he eases his wet fingers out of you and carefully maneuvers you until you’re laying on your back. You hiss at the sudden feeling of emptiness and almost jump away when you feel his tongue passing across the skin of your thighs. When you finally have enough mind to look at him, you’re taken aback by the sheer bliss written on his face as he closes his eyes and cleans you up. Your eyes widen in horror and embarrassment when you look at his glistening skin and you call for him shyly to grab his attention.

“I-I’m so sorry...I- I’ve never-”

“Don’t you dare apologize. That was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen and the fact that I’m the first to make you squirt...best feedback I’ve ever gotten.” Marcus cuts you off as he licks at his forearm and fingers before he sits up behind you. You find his gaze much more intense than before and you hide behind your arm to avoid it.

“Marcus, stop.” He laughs at your sudden shyness and leans over to pull your arms away from your face.

“Please baby, don’t hide from me. Please.” You feel exposed underneath him and it’s a stupid thought considering what the two of you have been doing so far. But something about the way he’s staring at you with those deep, brown, soulful eyes makes you want to hide under the sheets. But instead, you take his hand and pull him close until he’s flush against you.

“K-kiss me.” You watch as his expression intensifies just as he leans forward and molds his lips with yours. You expected him to be rough but the way he parts his lips and allows you access to his mouth leaves you breathless. His scruff and mustache heighten the sensation and you instantly shove your tongue in his mouth when he melts against you. You hum when you finally taste yourself on his tongue and Marcus growls as the kiss grows more desperate. Just as you run out of breath, Marcus pulls away and holds back from smiling when you chase after him.

“Sweetheart, c-can I have you?” You’re amazed by how he’s still asking you if you want to do this even after the events of the past hour or so.

“Yes, please.” You respond as you push him off to resume your previous position again. Marcus feels his cock harden at the sight of you on your knees for him. But the moment shatters into a million pieces when he looks down and realizes that he doesn’t have any condoms.

“Fuck.” He hisses and begins to move away when he feels your hands reach for his thighs to stop him.

“What? What is it?”

“I- I didn’t think this would...I don’t have any condoms baby.” You stare at him for a few seconds before you break the silence and hope he doesn’t think any less of you. “I was tested after the last time and I’m clear. A-are you?” Marcus pins you with his eyes as he nods along. “I’m clean too...and, it’s been a while.” He hates to admit that last bit but he wants you to know that this, whatever it is, is serious.

“Same.” Your answer surprises him and he’s about to ask how that’s possible but forgets the question when you shift closer to him and dig your nails into his thighs to grab his attention.

“Fuck me.” The vulgar request sounds so pure rolling off of your tongue and Marcus pushes your knees wide open and settles between them. You continue to stare at him with hunger in your eyes as he strokes his cock a few times before he slides it across your wet slit. You’re already so sensitive from earlier but you can’t care less because you’ve only wanted to feel him inside you for the better half of the day. Marcus bites his lower lip and grasps your hips with one hand as he positions himself against your entrance and slowly pushes past your wet folds. He feels your walls already clenching around him and he hesitates for a moment as he moves his hands across your back to try and get you to loosen up.

“F-fuck...relax sweetheart. Relax for me please. I- I don’t- oh god, h-how are you this tight?” Your walls flutter around him when his hoarse, almost pained voice sounds through the room. “You’re doing so good baby, taking my cock in that pretty little cunt. Fuck, that’s it. Let me in sweetheart...could make you feel so good. Shit, that’s it.” Marcus cooes above you as he feels you slowly sucking him in. You sigh heavily when he finally sheathes himself completely inside you and it’s not until a few moments later that you realize he hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Marcus, m-move. Fuck, just- move.” Your impatient groans make him twitch inside you and the two of you hiss when his hips jut forward at your gasped requests. His hands hold onto you a little harshly, squeezing the skin of your hips and making you giddy at the thought of seeing those bruises the following day.

“Just wait...please baby I- I don’t want to hurt you. You feel so fucking good around me and- and I...oh fuck, f-fuck...squeezing the shit out of me. Please I-”

“Fuck. Me.” You turn your head around enough to look at him and find the sight of his sweaty forehead and furrowed eyebrows intoxicating. He can sense your eyes on him and reluctantly looks down at you when you pronounce those two words, watching as you pierce him with a harsh gaze as you roll your hips against him.

“I- are you…”

“Fucking please...take what you want.” The desperate tone of your voice breaks him and he pulls away until the tip of his cock is nudged in between your folds before he snaps his hips forward aggressively.

You shut your eyes and cry into your pillows as Marcus lets go and pounds into you. He’s no longer trying to hold back and you feel proud of the effect you have on him. Thinking back to the past hour, you realize that Marcus was going out of his way to control himself and not hurt you. But with every brush of his cock against your inner walls, with every groaned swear word and whispered affirmation, you can’t help but beg for him to fuck you harder. To take you like a crazed man. Because now that you’ve had a taste of what he’s capable of, you don’t want him to ease up on you.

“Shit baby, you’re perfect. Fucking perfect. Your cunt is begging for my cock sweetheart. Can you feel how deep I am? How deep this tight pussy is sucking me in?” Marcus nudges your knees a little farther apart as he plunges into you over and over again. You’re a moaning mess beneath him and as you try to reach back to hold onto his hands, Marcus lets go of your hips and grabs your wrists, using them as leverage to fuck you deeper.

You scream his name as his thrusts become relentless, the resonating sound of skin against skin reminding you of how sore you were going to feel for the rest of the week. You can’t really pay attention to what he’s saying anymore, choosing to focus on the way his dick fills you up completely and hits your special spot with precision. The thought of knowing that you’re at this man’s mercy and that he’s using you like he owns you makes you shudder and Marcus doesn’t realize you’re coming around him until he feels a pressure push out of you. He looks down and watches your cunt gushes on his cock and thighs again, the sight somehow even prettier the second time than the first.

He waits until you’re no longer convulsing in his arms before he thrusts his cock back into your pussy. Marcus leans down and wraps his arms around your front to bring you flush against his chest. Marcus brushes your hair aside and nuzzles into your neck as he begins to roll his hips against your ass, trying to drive his cock into you even further without hurting you. You reach around and pull on his hair when he bites on the juncture of your neck.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart.” The confession feels more intimate than anything he’s said to you thus far and you throw your head back and smile when his hands roam your front and settle on your navel.

“Marcus...please.”

“What do you need, baby? I’ll give you anything. Tell me...oh god, I- I’m so close.” Marcus kisses across your shoulder as one hand cups your breasts while the other descends to your clit. He feels you convulse around him but he doesn’t move his hand away, wanting to feel you cum one last time around his cock.

“I- I need you to cum for me...cum inside me. Fill me up baby...wanna feel you so deep inside me. Make a mess of my cunt. Please.”

“C-can you give me another?” He’s breathless, his pace faltering when he feels your walls squeeze around him tightly with every pass of his cock against your heated core.

‘I- I don’t think I can...too much baby.”

“Please, for me. Cum for me o-one last time...oh god, I’m close sweetheart. B-but I wanna cum with you. Please oh fuck- oh god, I- I’m fucking coming.” He growls into the crook of your neck as he rubs at your clit harshly, crying your name like a prayer as he feels you milk him dry. His thrusts are desperate and you pull on his hair harder than you intend when you feel his cum fill you up. Marcus can barely breathe as he shoots his seed deep in your pussy and feels you pulse around him. He continues to buck against you, the caveman mindset telling him to breed you and fill you up until you can’t take it anymore.

He stays motionless for a few minutes before he finally registers that you probably need to rest. As carefully as possible, Marcus pulls out and cradles your body against him as he lays you on your back. He looks down at you and smiles when he sees the mess he’s made between your thighs. He tries to get off the bed to bring you a cup of water and grab a wet towel when you reach out and pull him by his wrist.

“I need to clean you up sweetheart.” He tries to reason with you but you shake your head and pull harder on his hand so he could sit next to you.

“No just- come here. I need you. Please.” Marcus doesn’t have to be told twice. He lays down next to you and kisses your forehead when you cuddle into his arms. He draws circles on your shoulder and back when he feels your fingers play with his chest hair.

“Are you alright baby?” Marcus asks and pulls his head back when you hum a soft ‘yes.’ He searches your expression for any sign of discomfort, and when he finds none, he rests his head back again and lets you explore his skin.

“Hmm...did you know that hair was used in some ancient spells to ensure that the desired outcome occurred?” You break the silence after a while and Marcus furrows his eyebrows at you when you look up from his chest and meet his face.

“Uhh should I be worried Y/N?” He asks almost immediately and laughs when you panic and try to retract what you just said.

“Oh god sorry that- I didn’t mean...Jesus, I still need to work on my bedside manner.”

“I was kidding sweetheart. I actually enjoy listening to people talking about their interests, it’s a little calming. And no, I didn’t know that. What kind of spells are we talking about here?” You’re surprised by his response but say nothing and continue to follow the soft trail of hairs down his chest.

“Well, there are lots of curses that didn’t need hair but it was better if they were added...for efficacy and such. But the most common spells that required little curls like these were love spells, which technically are also curses but it sounds better when you say that it’s just a spell.”

“Are you trying to tell me something doctor?” Marcus can’t help but tease you again and he snorts when you sit up on your elbow and try to justify what you just said. He pulls you back into his arms and brushes your hair aside to take a better look at you.

“Oh no no, I just- I tend to think about this stuff at random times. Sorry. I swear I’m too much of a wimp to actually try anything. You never know if the desired outcome has any side effects...”

“No need to apologize baby. Besides, I don’t think you’ll ever need love magic with me.” The admission is out before he can stop himself and he cringes at himself, hoping that you don’t misunderstand him.

“Oh yeah, and why is that Agent Pike?” The hint of amusement in your tone lets him know that you didn’t mind teasing him back and he blinks a few times at the ceiling before he turns to gaze into your eyes.

“Well, you’re doing fine on your own being this amazing human being. You’re mesmerizing when you’re lecturing, you’re confident in your skills and knowledge, your intelligence is- I’m sure I’ve only scratched the surface with the case today. And you’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen...we could work a bit on your art choices but-”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder and try to slither away from him but he’s too quick and wraps his arms around you before you can get off the bed.

“I’m kidding, I'm kidding...your art choices are the cherry on top.” Marcus nudges your nose with his and leans down to kiss you. He smiles when you moan beneath him. But the kiss is cut short when you push him away suddenly and narrow your eyes at him.

“You never told me how you knew which ones I commissioned.”

“Ugh no please, you’re going to think I’m a pervert.” Marcus falls back on the bed and tries to hide behind his arms.

“Oh yeah?” You slowly trail your hand down his stomach and wrap it around his cock. It’s all Marcus needs to lower his arm and look down to where you’re touching him. He shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back when you lean forward and nip at his jaw.

“B-baby fuck...oh god, please. I- I need a few more minutes and-”

“Tell me, please.” You cut him off with a bite to the shoulder, giggling when he thrusts up into your loose hold to get more friction.

“I- I was picturing the two of us...fuck, re-reenacting those scenes and those two jumped out more...more than the third.” He can barely speak through the haze you’ve put him in, and moans your name when you reach down and fondle his balls just as you whisper in his ears.

“How scandalous of you Agent Pike!”

“Sweetheart, please.” Marcus whines for you, the arm around your back pulling you flush to him and giving him perfect access to your breasts. He wraps his lips around one nipple and softly sucks on it as you continue to stroke his cock.

“Hmm, I like the sound of you begging...baby. Tell me, do you by any chance have your handcuffs on you?” The question catches him off guard, and he pulls away to look at you, finding a different kind of fire dancing behind your eyes.

“Fuck…I- uhh, they’re in the car. W-wait where are you going?” Marcus regrets his answer as soon as you let go of him and jump off of the bed. He watches as you run to the bathroom without answering him, only to return a few seconds later with bright red handcuffs clanking between your fingers.

“To get my own set Agent. Like you said, you and I need to get acquainted.” You unlock them as you walk back to the bed and straddle his thighs. Marcus looks at you with adoration and softly nods at you when you silently ask him if you could cuff him to the headboard of your bed.

“I’m yours sweetheart, take what you want.”

Taglist (some aren't working):

@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @vibin-hippie @marsplsstop @fan-of-encouragement @evelynseventyr

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike/reader #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal #yall don't understand how much I love this fucking character #he's literally the softest #and he deserves the world #ugh #anyway

[leristaccia]

The Epic of Zektbach Website - Nyoah Notes - Note 97

冒険者諸君、ごきげんよう。私の名前はニョアである。 実に久しぶりとなってしまったが、私は元気である！

Greetings, adventurers. My name is Nyoah.

It's been a long time since I've been here, but I'm fine!

ニッポンも色々な大変な事に見舞われて、冒険者諸君の中にも元気を失っている人も多いと思う。 しかし、最も大事なのは今。今現在の瞬間を自分に悔いなく生きる事である。 それは人間をはじめ生物の個体の未来は常に不確定であるからである。 不確定な要素に巻き込まれた後、後悔しない為には常に現在を自分なりに大切に生きるという意識が大切である。 過去や未来で無く、今にゃ。今現在を大事にして欲しいにゃ！

I know that many of you adventurers have lost your energy due to the many difficulties in Japan.

However, the most important thing is now. The most important thing is to live in the present moment without regret.

This is because the future of each individual creature, including human beings, is always uncertain.

In order not to have regrets after being caught up in uncertain factors, it is important to always be aware of living in the present in your own way.

Not in the past or the future, but in the present. I want you to cherish the present moment!

さて、『The Epic of Zektbach -Masinowa-』が君達の手に届いてから月日が経ったが 沢山の感想を頂いて、私は大満足だにゃ！ 繰り返しになるが、マシノワの話はゼクトバッハ叙事詩でも重要な部分であるので 諸君も考察を巡らし、アリア・テ・ラリアの謎を解き明かして欲しい。 マシノワには非常に重要な鍵が２つ存在しているが まだまだアリア・テ・ラリアには驚くべき謎がある。今後に注目にゃ。

Well, it's been a while since "The Epic of Zektbach -Masinowa-" reached your hands.

I've gotten a lot of feedback, and I'm very happy with it!

Again, the story of Masinowa is an important part of the Epic of Zektbach.

I hope you will consider it and solve the mystery of Aria Te'Laria.

There are two very important keys in Masinowé.

There are still more mysteries to be discovered in Aria Te'Laria. Stay tuned.

ところで、先日ある冒険者よりこんな書簡を頂いた。

By the way, I received this letter from an adventurer the other day.

こんにちわ インターネットという不思議な世界で「ツイッター」なる ものがはやっているそうですが、zektbach殿はやっていらっしゃるのでしょうか? 公開しているのならばぜひ教えていただきたいです。 (冒険者kirikoより)

Hello there.

In the mysterious world of the Internet

I've heard that "Twitter" is becoming popular in the mysterious world of the Internet, and I'd like to know if you are using it, Zektbach.

If you do, I'd love to know about it.

(From Kiriko, an adventurer)

私もその不思議な世界を知っている。 実は私もこの場所が不安定で非常に更新するのが難しいので ついったーにアリア・テ・ラリアから扉を開こうかと考えた事もあったが、 冒険者諸君はどう思うかにゃ？ その不思議な世界であれば、私はアリア・テ・ラリアの情報を君達にどんどん伝える事ができるかもしれない。 諸君の意見を聞いて決めようと思っているにゃ！

I know that strange world too.

As a matter of fact, I find this place unstable and very difficult to update.

I've been thinking about opening the door from Aria Te'Laria on Twitter.

What do you think, adventurers? In this mysterious world, I might be able to share more information about Aria Te'Laria with you.

I'm going to listen to your opinions and decide!

さて、今日は久しぶりに君達の便りに答えていくにゃ！

Well, today is the first time in a long time that I'm answering your letters!

我輩は猫なのにゃ！ ニョアとやら、我輩はいつも不思議に思っているのにゃ。 地図にはガルキア大陸とエジ―ク大陸があるにゃが、ガルキア大陸の南は何なのにゃ？ ファラリエンより南のあの、島というにはやや大きい島のことにゃ！ ニョア殿の手記には他の大陸や島のことは書かれているにゃがあの島の事はまだ何も書かれていないのにゃ……！ 我輩が考えたところによると、あそこにはきっと素晴らしいカルカンがあるのもへ！！　 たとえば……我輩の大好きな、ハトの丸焼き味とかにゃ……（ごくり というのは可愛いおふざけにゃ。 あの島にはきっと我輩どころか世界中の学者も知らぬようなヒミツがあるに違いないのにゃ。 知っているなら教えてほしいにゃ、お礼に我輩秘蔵のカルカンを幾つか進呈しようにゃ！　 味はそちらのご自由に、にゃ！ 教えてくれなかったら最高級カルカンをニョア殿の前で食い散らしてやるにゃ。 (猫の吾輩より)

I am a cat!

Nyoa, I've always wondered about you.

The map shows the continents of Galukia and Eijeek, but what is south of Galukia?

I'm talking about that rather large island south of Fallarian!

Lord Nyoah's journal mentions other continents and islands, but nothing about that island yet. ......!

I'm sure there are some great whiskas there, too!　

For example, ...... my favorite, roasted pigeon flavor. ...... (gulp)

This is just a cute joke.

I'm sure there are secrets on that island that I, as well as other scholars around the world, don't know about.

If you know of any, please let me know, and I'll give you some of my treasured whiskas in return!　

You can taste them all you want.

If you don't tell me, I'll eat up your finest whiskas in front of Nyoah.

(From me, the cat)

まず第一に、アリア・テ・ラリアの中でハトの丸焼き味などと軽率に発言するのは控えた方が良いにゃ。 アリア・テ・ラリアにはおそろしい地獄耳を持つおそろしい鳩が存在する事を忘れずに…。 と、時すでに遅く君はもうアリア・テ・ラリアに存在しないかもしれないが…。 質問の島の事だが、それはル・アビデの事かにゃ？ ル・アビデにはこういう古の神話がある。 種族を越えて仲むつまじかった２人の男女にある時妖精がささやき、 ２人は今までの仲の良さが嘘であったかのように豹変し、険悪な間柄になり それによって多くの悲劇が生まれた、と。 神話であるので、どこかのロマンチストが謎多きこの島に想いを馳せて創作した可能性が強いが 確かに以前私がこの島をベルナデットと訪れた時、争いに使われたと思わせる謎めいた建造物が数多くあった。 この神話の作者は恐らく、かつてこの島で２つの集団の対立があったことは確信していたのだろう。 その争いを叙情的に神話として表現したのではないだろうか。 しかし、残念ながらその争いが具体的にどういうものであったかは 今や誰も知らないし、私も本格的にル・アビデを調査してみないと分からないにゃ。

First of all, it's best to refrain from making rash comments about the taste of roasted pigeons in Aria Te'Laria.

Remember that there are horrible pigeons with horrible hell ears in Aria Te'Laria....

And it may be too late for you to exist in Aria Te'Laria...

As for the island in question, is it L''Avide?

There is an ancient myth about L'Avide.

A fairy whispered to two men and two women who were on good terms with each other.

But one day, a fairy whispered to them, and they turned into bitter enemies, as if their friendship had never existed.

This led to a lot of tragedies.

Since it is a myth, there is a strong possibility that some romantics have created this story with their thoughts on this mysterious island.

It is true that when I visited this island with Bernadette, there were many mysterious structures that seemed to have been used for fighting.

The author of this myth was probably convinced that there had once been a conflict between two groups on the island, and expressed that conflict lyrically in his myth.

But unfortunately, no one knows what exactly the conflict was, and I won't know until I do some serious research on L'Avide.

こんにちは、ニョアさん。 わたし、新たな世界を開拓したくて詩人になりましたの！ニョアさんにわたしの詩をきいてほしいの！ あなたの瞳は～　らら～ まるで石のように～　かったいわ～ それはとってもね～　らら～　かったいの～ あなたの唇は～　らら～ まるでヘドグロピンのように～　あっかいわ～ それはとってもね～　らら～　あっかいわ～ あなたの肌は～　らら～ まるで白樺の木の～　皮膚みたいね～ それはとってもね～　らら～　皮膚みたいね～ ……ふふ、どう？ 婚約者には『鳥が空からぼろぼろと気絶して落ちてくるような歌だね』って誉めてくれたの。 もう、とっても優しい人なのよ。　鳥も私の歌に聴き惚れ て空から落ちてくるようだなんて……嬉しいわ。 さ、本題なのよ。 婚約者はそれと同時に『もっと勉強したら良くなるよ』って言ってくれたの。 熱を出しながら言ってたのよ……心配だからたくさん歌ってきたわ！　 今度ニョアさんにも聞かせてあげるわね、遠慮しなくていいのよ。　 たっぷり歌ってあげるから。 それでね、私、たくさん歌の勉強がしたいから、まずこの国で流行りの歌劇や音楽を教えてほしいの。 (詩人リーゼロッテより)

Hello, Nyoah.

I became a poet to explore a new world! I want you to listen to my poems!

I want you to listen to my poems!

Your eyes are as tough as stone!

They're very, very tough.

Your lips are like...

They're as warm as hedgropin

It's very, very warm.

Your skin~ la la

It's like the skin of a birch tree

Your skin is like the skin of a birch tree.

...... What do you think?

My fiancé complimented me on the song, saying, "It's like a bird falling from the sky in a faint.

He's such a sweet guy.　He is a very kind man.

I'm so happy to hear that the birds are listening to my song and falling from the sky.

Now let's get down to business.

At the same time, my fiancé said to me, "You'll get better if you study harder.

He said it while running a fever. ...... I've been singing a lot because I'm worried about you!　

I'll play it for you next time, Nyoah, don't be shy.　

Don't be shy, I'll sing a lot.

And I want to learn a lot of singing, so I want you to teach me about the popular operas and music in this country.

(From the poet Lieselotte)

君からは個性的なオーラというかなかなか独特の感性を感じるにゃ。 もしかしたら将来アリア・テ・ラリアいちの詩人リーゼロッテと言われる日が来るかもしれない。 さて、歌はアリア・テ・ラリアでも人々の生活と密接である。 ノイグラード王国の多くの聖歌や労働から生まれる炭鉱歌や農業歌、酪農歌、町の人の生活の上で生まれた町人歌など 地域と密接な歌が多い。多くの流行り歌は生活を楽しくしたり物事を効率よりおぼえる為に生まれた事が多い。 それとは別に芸術都市のローゼンハイムでは若い音楽家が神話や伝説を題材とした叙情的な歌を数多く生み出している。 有能な若い音楽家は王宮で演奏を披露したり、国から多くの援助を受けたりもしている。 しかし、歌を人の心を扇動するという理由から国を乱すような曲を作る芸術家は厳しい処罰を受けているという暗部もある。 流行り歌というのと意味が違うが、誰もが知っている歌といえばやはり『浄化の祈り』だにゃ。

You have a unique aura, or rather a unique sensibility.

Perhaps one day in the future you will be called the best poet of Aria Te'Laria, Lieselotte.

Now, songs are closely related to people's lives in Aria Te'Laria as well.

There are many songs that are close to the local community, such as the chants of the Kingdom of Noigllado, mining songs, agricultural songs, dairy songs, and the songs of the townspeople, which are born from their labor.

There are many songs that are close to the local community. Many of the popular songs were created to make life more enjoyable and to learn things more efficiently.

On the other hand, in Rosenheim, the city of art, young musicians have created many lyrical songs based on myths and legends.

The most talented young musicians perform at the royal court and receive a lot of support from the government.

However, there is a dark side to this, as artists who compose songs that disturb the country are severely punished for using them to incite people's hearts.

Although the meaning of a popular song is different from that of a popular song, the song that everyone knows is "Purification Prayer".

俺はス……デイビット。　普通の人間だ。 猫にしては博識と名高いニョアに聞きたい事がある。 どうやらそちらには、俺と同じく「蛇」を彷彿させる人物および組織があるようだな。 俺の居た場所にも同じ「蛇」を名乗る者が俺を含め複数人居た。　 俺達の関係は……語ると長いが、要約して簡単に言ってしまえば親戚関係にある。 そちらの「蛇」達は関係性があるのだろ���か？ ついでにこれは未確認だが俺とよく似た声の者が居るという話を聞いたが……これは事実なのか。 ……ところで、そちらに段ボールはあるのだろうか？ (忍者デイビットより)

I'm Su ...... David.　I'm a normal human being.

I have a question for Nyoah, who is famously knowledgeable for a cat.

It seems that there is a person or organization out there who, like me, is reminiscent of the Snake.

There were several people who called themselves "snakes" where I was, including myself.　

Our relationship is a long story ......, but in a nutshell, we are related.

I wonder if the "snakes" over there are related?

In addition, I have heard that there is a person with a voice similar to mine, although this is unconfirmed. ...... Is this true?

...... By the way, do you have any cardboard over there?

(From Ninja David)

蛇は一匹でいい、ビックボスは一人で十分だ！ …とは言っても、蛇を彷彿させる者が多くいるのも事実にゃ。 蛇神人のギジリ、サザラギ団、アギオナ機関もそうだ。 空舟の遺跡にも蛇を彷彿させる紋章が存在するといわれる。 話が少しそれるが、人は何故昔から蛇を崇拝もしくは、邪悪の象徴とするのか。 蛇は西洋では主に諸悪の根源とされ、ニホンでは古代の女性蛇巫の存在が示すようにあらゆる祭事の根源となっている。 他の動物と明らかに違う形状を持つという事もあるが、面白い解釈を１つ紹介する。

One snake is enough, one big boss is enough!

...However, it is true that many people are reminiscent of snakes.

...But it is true that there are many people who remind me of snakes, such as the snake goddesses Gijiri, Sazaragi, and the Agiona Agency.

It is said that there are also emblems reminiscent of snakes in the ruins of the sky ship.

This is a bit of a digression, but why do people worship snakes or consider them to be a symbol of evil?

In the West, snakes are mainly regarded as the root of all evil, while in Japan, they are the source of all rituals, as shown by the existence of ancient female snake handlers.

The snake's shape is clearly different from that of other animals, but here is one interesting interpretation.

カール・セーガンという人物が著書の中で 『人類は生物進化の最終段階にいるが、そうした人間の脳の中には当然その進化途上の各段階の生物であった時の部分もくみ込まれている。 つまりR複合体とよばれる脳の一番奥の部分は恐竜の脳の働きをしている。 つまりそれは人間の脳の中には明らかに恐竜という古代生物が生きているという事である。』 と言っている。 もしかすると蛇その他の爬虫類に対して人類が懐き続けていた崇拝と嫌悪、あるいは畏怖は、 我々の脳の最奥部に潜む恐竜に由来するのだろうか。 それは人類の遠祖であると同時にもっとも恐ろしい敵でもあった。 蛇に対する感情は、一種の先天的反応とも考えられるかもしれない。

In his book, Carl Sagan writes, "Humans are in the final stage of biological evolution, but our brains naturally contain parts of the organisms that were present at each stage of evolution.

In other words, the deepest part of the brain, called the R-complex, functions like the brain of a dinosaur, which means that an ancient creature called a dinosaur is clearly alive in the human brain."

Perhaps the adoration, disgust, or awe that we have always felt for snakes and other reptiles may have been born in the deepest part of our brains.

They were not only our distant ancestors, but also our most fearsome enemies.

Our feelings toward snakes could be considered a kind of inborn reaction.

君がよく好んで使う段ボールは、アリア・テ・ラリアには存在しないが 何故かZektbachが数多く所有していたと思うにゃ。 以前、何に使うか問うたところ、一言 『ん、これか？見ての通り寝床じゃよ。』 と言っていたにゃ。

The cardboard you are so fond of using does not exist in Aria Te'Laria, though.

For some reason, I think Zektbach had a lot of it.

When I asked him once what he used it for, he said

"Hmm, this? As you can see, it's a bed.

As you can see, it's a bed.

ヨア・・・最近見かけませんね・・・。 この人は重要人物ですか？ 資料集にも載ってないものでよくわかりません・・・。 (詩人ぽっぽちゃんより)

Joah... I haven't seen him lately...

Is he an important person?

I don't know... I can't find him in any reference books.

(From Poet Poppo-chan)

重要人物であるがゆえ、なかなか姿を出さないのだ。 姿をあらわさないから、色々臆測によりいじられるのだ。 君達が思っているヨア像、きっとそれは間違っている。

Because he is an important person, he does not show himself easily.

Because he doesn't show himself, he is tormented by many speculations.

The image of Joah that you have in your mind is probably wrong.

ニョア殿！ 「オリエンタル樽味噌ロジー」とは一体何なのでしょう。 トンカツにかけると美味しいアレのことですか？気になって昼しか眠れません。 (猫のみっきぃより)

Mister Nyoah!

What exactly is "Oriental Barrel Miso Logistics"?

Is it the stuff that tastes good on pork cutlets? I'm so curious, I can only sleep in the afternoon.

(From Mikki the cat)

そんな味噌知らないし、いらないにゃ。 昼寝してないでちゃんと勉強するにゃ。

I don't know anything about miso, and I don't need it.

Don't take a nap, study properly.

自分は様々な世界を旅している者である。 アポカリプスと蛇神について質問したい。 上記の２つを直訳するとアポカリプスは「黙示録」蛇神は「ゾンビ」 ・・・・となるのだが Zektbach殿、このまま理解して良いのか？ (魔道士ゆさより)

I am a traveler of many worlds.

I have a question about Apocalypse and Snake God.

Apocalypse is "apocalypse" and snake god is "zombie".

It would be ・・・・.

Lord Zektbach, am I understanding you correctly?

(From Yusa the Mage)

だめにゃ。

No, no, no.

ニョアさんの尻尾を上、上、下、下、左、右、左、右の順で引っ張ったあと、 耳、ヒゲの順に引っ張ると、何か起きますか？ (元老院ゴランノス・ポンサーより)

If I pull Nyoa's tail in the following order: up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, then ears, then whiskers, will anything happen? (From Senate Goranos Ponsor)

ああ、起きるとも！！ 私の華麗なる剣舞により、君に身に大いなる危険がにゃッ！！！

Yes, you will!

You are in grave danger from my magnificent sword dance!

こんにちはゼクトバッハさんニョアさん。 ゼクトバッハさんの作り上げるこの幻想的で魅力的な世界にどっぷり嵌まり結構経ちました。 当初数学が大嫌いだった私ですが、2章の影響で数学を頑張って理解してみようと思い、 とりあえず数に心を開いてみたらとてつもなく面白い事に気づき、今では数学がすっかり大好きになりました。 他にも哲学や語学に歴史、神話などを勉強する度アリア・テ・ラリアとの共通点などを見出し、よりその世界に興味 がわき、考察に使うためにも知識が深まっていきました。 支離滅裂でまどろっこしい文になってしまいましたが、簡潔に言えば「知識を広めるきっかけを下さってありがとう ございました」です。これからも自由にちまちま勉強しながらも考察を続けていきたいと思います。 (冒険者いかより)

Hello Mr. Zektbach, Mr. Nyoah.

It's been quite a while since I was immersed in this fantastic and fascinating world that Mr. Zektbach has created.

At first, I hated mathematics, but under the influence of chapter 2, I decided to try my best to understand mathematics.

When I opened my mind to numbers, I realized that it was incredibly interesting, and now I love mathematics.

The more I studied philosophy, languages, history, mythology, etc., the more I found similarities with Aria Te Raria, and the more interested I became in the world.

This is an incoherent and muddled sentence, but to put it simply,

Thank you for the opportunity to expand my knowledge. I'd like to continue studying and thinking freely.

(From Ika the Adventurer)

非常に嬉しい言葉である。ありがたいにゃ。 Zektbachが何故吟遊しているか、それは君のように様々な物事に興味を持つきっかけでありたいと考えている事が大きいのである。 一見とっつきにくい難しい学問であっても、幻想的で魅力的に表現すれば興味を持てると私とZektbachは確信している。 だから、君が書いてくれたような書簡が届く事はとても嬉しい事にゃ！

I'm very happy to hear that. Thank you very much.

The reason why Zektbach is a bard is that he wants to be a catalyst for people like you to become interested in various things.

Zektbach and I are convinced that even seemingly difficult disciplines can be interesting if they are presented in a fantastic and appealing way.

So it is a great pleasure to receive a letter like the one you wrote!

はじめまして。踊り子のたけのです。以後、お見お知り を。単刀直入に聞きます。星の民は男ですか？女ですか？ それとも、男をも女をも超えた存在ですか？ (踊り子たけのより)

Nice to meet you. I'm Takeno, a dancer.

I'm going to ask you a straightforward question. Are the Star People male or female?

Or are they more than just men and women?

(From the dancer, Takeno)

意味合いが異なるが、チキュウの遺伝生物学の書物でこんな事が書かれている。

The meaning is different, but this is what is written in Chikyu's book on genetic biology.

ニゴロブナという魚はメスの個体しかおらず、オスの精子無しに卵がかえる。 生まれた幼魚はすべてメスとなり、世代が未来へ引き継がれてゆく事が確認されている。 哺乳類でさえ本当は性がなくても子孫が残せる。

The fish called Nigorobuna is only female, and its eggs are born without male sperm.

It has been confirmed that all larvae born are female, and the generation is passed on to the future.

Even mammals don't really need to have sex to have offspring.

さて、これは研究者つまり人類からの視点の文章である。 これは外側からの視点、メタ視点なわけである。 メスの個体しかいないニゴロブナの立場で考えると、 ニゴロブナは『我々に性別があるブナ！』と言うだろうか？ つまりそういうことにゃ。

Now, this is a text from the point of view of a researcher, or a human being.

This is a meta-perspective, a perspective from the outside.

If you think about it from the point of view of a nigorobuna, which only has female individuals.

Would they say, "We have sex, beech! Would they say, "We are genderless beech!"

That's what I'm talking about.

では、今回はこの辺でさらばにゃ！

Well, that's it for this time, goodbye!

ニョアの手記 97 - Nyoah's Notes 97

2011.06.17

#Zektbach #The Epic of Zektbach #Bernadette #L'avide #Purification prayer #Noigllado #Kingdom of Noigllado

[catcze]

Oh, Catte, my beloved... The bracelet is so beautiful. Goodness, did I cry when I took it out of the envelope. It's almost as beautiful as you are, I love it so much! I'm never ever taking this off. Oh starlight I'm so happy, you may as well have just proposed! I love you so so much, thank you💜💜💜

I'm glad Cyno is doing well for himself these days! It's not really that complex of a spell, simple transmutation really, but I'm sure he didn't want to overwhelm you. He may not talk a lot but trust me; he cares. I should write him sometime, if only so the next time an emergency arises he won't think I only remember he exists when I need his help, hehe... I'm joking of course, he's not the kind of person to care. I do still owe him a favor though. Two, now that he's gone out of his way to teach my girlfriend magic, and specifically for helping you make me this wonderful present. Send along my thanks please, but please don't mention that I said I'd write him, just in case I somehow forget to. You know me, heh..

Also I'm a little surprised to hear that name again! Collei was quite the visitor when she was here a few years ago, it's a long story, and one I doubt very much she'd want me to tell. Suffice to say she and Amber are good friends, but I'm sure she already asked you about her as soon as you mentioned Mondstadt. I'm so relieved to hear she's safe, and studying medicine no less! Tell her I'm proud of her. She'll do great things in her life.

I must admit I'm slightly bothered to hear that so many scholars accosted my poor babygirl to ask if I'd return, I'm so sorry darling. If they give you any more trouble, oh I'll come visit alright. To dispense punishment(although I'd definitely grab some food on the way as we left). Speaking of food, that's so sweet of you to offer to learn the local cuisine just for me~ you're so thoughtful, it's one of the many many things I love about you. My reputation around the school is honestly the only accomplishment you'll find though sweetheart. I wasn't really all that social there, aside from talking to the professors and scholars. I couldn't afford to procrastinate if I wanted to learn everything I could. Funny, that sounds completely unlike me, now doesn't it~ Those lectures can be tiresome at first, did they provide you with the appropriate reading materials, or are you only listening? I still have my copy of the first semester alchemy textbook--it's only about 800 pages, but they're packed to the brim with knowledge. I still reference it sometimes.

Like I mentioned though, most of my time in Sumeru was spent at the Academy or at the local restaurants. If you wanted food recommendations, those I can provide, but unfortunately I won't be of much use otherwise. Sorry cutie~

[the next page of the letter is a list of local restaurants, many with recommended dishes written next to them. There's also a fair number of heart shapes and "I love you"s doodled around the edges of the paper]

I hope you'll try at least some of those and tell me what you think. The more you talk about it honestly, the more it's beginning to grow on me. I do want to go back and visit with you, my love. I miss it, even if I don't want to admit that. It would be so much fun to sight see with you, being able to just meander aimlessly through the city, not a care in the world, and with you by my side... That sounds amazing. I'd want nothing more. Perhaps for our honeymoon~? [the last sentence of the paragraph is crossed out with a single streak of ink cutting through it]

Your photos are all amazing, darling. I just wish I had as many to send you in return, but unfortunately I don't own a camera, nor can I afford to leave the library long enough to travel to Liyue and buy one. That being said, Albedo does have one, and he already took that first photo. Darling, I'm curious, and please, *please* say no if it would bother you even slightly. If I... Perhaps wanted to take some... Pictures, just for your enjoyment~ ...would you mind if I had Albedo continue to serve as the photographer? I want my baby to be thinking of me, especially since I'm not there to pleasure you myself~💜 again, PLEASE say no if you'd have any problem with that. Or I could ask Jean if that would be better. I just want to treat my princess to some candy~

That line is going to have me up all night, I swear. I do wish I was there for you in every sense, but goodness does my heart ache for you. I miss the way you taste so much, my precious little munchkin~ you're not going to sleep at all the first night you're back in my arms, I hope you know that. I'm going to edge you so hard you'll cry for me, hehe~ I'm a little peeved you didn't take notice of my comment about punishing you! There will be ropes involved when you return to me. Just the way you always like it, cutie~ tell me, how bad do you miss me? Miss my tongue you love so much~? Don't worry baby--you'll get everything you could ever want for when you come home. I can't wait to taste you~ goodness, excuse me a moment baby... I need to scratch an itch before I finish writing this letter, hehe...~

Okay, I'm back. That was quite the itch, it just kept coming back~ that picture you sent with this letter may have helped with that... Celestia, you're so so beautiful, my rose..~ I love you so much.

Where was I... Ah yes. I'm very glad you've been eating and sleeping properly. Such a good girl you always are~💜 and don't worry; I'm taking care of myself as well. I've been becoming more adjusted to the late nights lately, since your letters often arrive around this hour(it's 11:30 right now, although up until a page ago it had been 10:15, hehe...). I don't mind it at all, since you know I love to sleep in anyway. I love reading your letters sweetheart. They truly do carry your love across the distance. I'm so happy that you're my partner. I love you so so much. I reread your letters every day, they put such a smile on my face.

Also, what's this about ideas you're having ever since I mentioned the uniform? Tell me!! Pretty please~? 💜

I'm going to call my letter to a close here, before I end up needing a bigger envelope, hehe~ I love you so much, starlight. Please take care, and I hope you're well rested when you read this. Hopefully I can put a smile on your beautiful face. I just wish I was there to see it. I love you so much, take care and write me back when you can, promise~?

Yours Always,

- Lisa 🌺💜

Milddd nsfw here muaH <33

Hi, love, I’m so happy that you like your gift! I love you very much as well— hopefully it can give you comfort on some particularly hard nights where I cannot be with you, dearest. Sort of like a reminder that although I cannot be there with you in person, you always carry a piece of my heart with you, you know?

I’ll be sure to relay your message to Cyno and Collei! They were rather surprised when they found out I was your girlfriend, haha! In a good way, of course— they’ve been great company so far.

And don’t worry about the other scholars, Lisa dear. I can handle them plenty fine. I’m sure they’ll go running if I even so much as imply that you wouldn’t be pleased with them for their behavior, my love. They wouldn’t want to mess with one of the best sorcerers to ever roam those halls, you know?

Regarding the lectures, they offered to loan me some textbooks actually, but I had to turn them down since, well, I am just an observer, and carrying so many books with me to and fro would weigh me down. Still, although I sometimes get confused while I observe, It’s such a fun and interesting experience! I can’t say I’m remembering every bit of knowledge I hear, but I’ve definitely learned at least a thing or two.

Just yesterday, there was a bit of a lull in lectures that I was attending— something about one of the scholars who had agreed to host me taking their class out to fieldwork, and I was unable to accompany them. So I took the time to check out some of the restaurants you listed for me! I went to just one of them for lunch, since I didn’t want to get too full throughout the day, and I enjoyed it very much!! I included a picture of one of the dishes you noted for me (a best seller of theirs, apparently) and I didn’t regret purchasing it at all. It was so good! In my free time, it’s one of the recipes that I hope to familiarize and bring back home to you— I think you’ll rather like it, especially since there’s no meat. Hopefully I’ll get good enough at making it that you’ll be able to savor the flavor too!

Though, I don’t mind either if you’d rather return with me next time, and we can have a dinner date here? I really like the ambiance of the place— its both romantic and private. And the view from the balcony here is absolutely magical. Or we can maybe visit a couple of the other restaurants you’ve recommended to me? I doubt that I’ll be able to try all of them this time, and being able to experience it with you would make the experience a million times better.

Also, regarding the photos you mentioned— well, I’m fine with it if you are. As long as you’re comfortable with whoever is photographing you love, then it’s perfectly alright with me. Besides, I know that we’re devoted to each other, so there’s no cause for me to be uncomfortable 💞 If you so wish to grant me such photos, I eagerly await them, love! They’re not the same as you being here, of course, but I’m sure they could help me with how much I miss you.

And ah, sending such things only makes me miss you more! Perhaps I should take a good, long rest before I come back to Mondstadt, if you plan to keep me up all night. And who says I didn’t notice your comment? Perhaps I was just teasing you by keeping quiet about it, especially if I know what’s awaiting me back home. And yes, I miss you so so much, I miss your tongue and you lips, your touch on my skin, the way you hold me and make me feel so good each and every time— Love, really, if your intention with that letter was to get me all worked up, then safe to say you’ve succeeded. My, I doubt I’m going to be getting any sleep tonight, thinking of you.

And regarding that bit about the Academy uniform… well, I might have found a local seamstress who was willing to make me a version of it, tailored to my measurements. It’s not ready quite yet, but hopefully I can send you some photographs soon 💞

By the way, love, there’s no need to have to wait up for my letters, not if you’re not getting enough sleep! I don’t mind waiting a bit for your reply as long as I know you’re sleeping on time. I worry about you as much as you worry about me, so for both your sake and mine, promise me you’ll get enough sleep? Either way, though, I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself, dearest. It makes me happy, knowing that you and the others are doing well. I love you very, very much you know? Please continue to stay safe, dearest, and know that I’m always missing you.

And, well, regarding a proper proposal, though I can’t say I haven’t thought of it before (how could I not? I can fully envision spending the rest of my life with you) I would much prefer if I were able to give you the ring and ask you in person, love. That being said, take the bracelet as a promise that I’ll return to you soon— and hopefully with a ring that I think you’ll like and a question that I plan to ask you.

All the best wishes, dearest. I love you very much 💞

—Catte 💞

#Character anon 💌 : Lisa #Kisses from Catte 🦩 #Catcze.Lingerie 💦 #liSA anon ily <333 please get enough rest babes!!! #muAH 💞💞 #ALSO have a nice day!!!! ILYSM <33 #Alsooo regarding your other ask I'm so glad you liked the bit about the bracelet aaAA 💞👉👈

[justheretobreakthings]

Kings Over Aces - Chapter 4

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Word Count: 5,778 (Total Word Count: 15,109) Read on AO3

Story Summary:

The Voltron Coalition has an alliance in the works with the resource-rich planet of Yuipra, and it’s the paladins’ job to keep on the king’s good side while the deal is made. That shouldn’t shouldn’t be too great a challenge; after all, they’ve courted plenty of planets before for the sake of alliances.

Unfortunately, things are made much more complicated when the king takes a special interest in Keith.

Chapter content warnings for non-consensual touching, threats of rape. Fic content warning for attempted rape.

Keith kept up his smile as best he could as Olren reached the bottom stair. It wasn’t easy; the closer Olren got, the more aware Keith felt of every sensation in his body - the sweat against the coarse fabric of his outfit; the nervous heartbeat that must have been so loud, and surely Olren could hear it and was going to misinterpret it; his posture, and where his feet were, and why did it feel like he was standing wrong, how did he normally stand, he couldn’t remember.

“You got this, Keith,” Pidge said. “We’re with you every step of the way.”

It wasn’t a huge reassurance, but it was just enough that Keith managed to swallow down some of the nerves by the time the king was standing before him.

“Paladin Keith,” Olren said, taking Keith’s hand in his. He lifted it to press a kiss to the back of the hand - a spot left vulnerable since Keith didn’t have his usual gloves on - before continuing, “You’re looking positively lovely this evening.”

“Um, thanks,” Keith mumbled. In his ear, Lance’s voice told him, “Don’t wipe your hand.”

“He wasn’t trying to wipe his hand,” Hunk’s voice said.

“It’s Keith, he’s one hundred percent the type of person who wipes off kisses.” Surely the point was moot anyway, Keith thought, as his hand was still trapped in Olren’s grasp, but he couldn’t say anything to the others without raising some brows.

“Return the compliment, Keith,” Allura’s voice piped up.

“You look lovely too,” Keith said.

“Well, use a different word, don’t just repeat his.”

Keith fought back an annoyed wince before amending, “I mean, you look, um… radiant.”

Lance barked out a laugh, but Keith was saved from having to figure out what was so funny about his word choice by the fact that Olren seemed to take the remark in stride, smiling brightly before adjusting his grip on Keith’s hand so that their arms were at their sides, fingers intertwined. Lance had been right - Keith did want to wipe his hand off. There was a cold stickiness left on the skin where Olren had kissed it, although he didn’t know whether the lips had actually left that much residue, or if it was just his imagination.

“Come along,” Olren said, giving Keith’s hand a little tug as he turned toward the hall leading away from the foyer. “I’ve had the staff cook up some personal favorite dishes of mine. I’m sure you’ll love them. I only wanted the very best for a paladin of Voltron.”

“Right,” Keith said. Shiro was making some sort of comment in his ear as Olren dragged him along, saying it was a good thing they’d practiced the hand-holding the day before. Really, Keith thought, the practice hadn’t done much. Holding hands with Olren was much weirder; at least he actually knew Coran.

But Olren seemed keen on it, so Keith tried to imagine that the hand in his was a friend’s, tried to picture it as Shiro’s or Pidge’s or Hunk’s, and it seemed he was successful enough at imagining that it managed to get him through the walk to the private dining room.

Again, the door was flanked by guards who opened the doors for them, and there were more stationed inside; Keith wondered idly if the dining room was guarded like that all the time, or if this was just for him. Either way, the omnipresent guards were a little unnerving, and Keith was glad that the golden visors on their helmets made it a bit easier to pretend they weren’t watching him the whole time.

A small circular table, big enough only for two, sat in the middle of the room, and one of the guards pulled Keith’s chair out for him as he and Olren approached. Keith took his seat, peering around the room. A chandelier to match the ones in the banquet hall hung over the table, and its light danced off the decorations on the walls, which mostly consisted of elaborate tapestries. The table itself was just as opulent despite its small size, its legs carved into intricate patterns and its surface polished to a sheen. Olren appeared to have brought out the Yuipran equivalent of fine china as well, since the crystal-like, jewel-edged tableware was much fancier than the ones that had been set out for the dinner they’d attended before.

Olren began launching into descriptions of the foods as Keith helped himself to small servings of each. Right now, his nerves being what they were, he couldn’t enjoy the flavor of any of them - they all might as well have been tasteless to him, like he was sitting here eating paper or cotton balls - but sampling them gave him an excuse to not talk for now, so he pressed on.

“Ohohoh, man, that looks good,” Hunk said as Keith started cutting into the main dish. “Does it taste as good as it looks?”

“This is very tasty, your majesty,” Keith said, interrupting Olren’s chatter about how well the beverage he’d picked complemented the vegetable dish. He couldn’t actually tell right now, but at least the food did smell good, so that hopefully translated to taste as well.

“Why, thank you,” Olren said, seeming unfazed by the interruption. “I’ll pass along the compliments to the kitchen staff.”

“Ask him if he can give you the recipe,” said Hunk.

Keith did so, and Olren laughed lightly. “Tell you what, I’ll go ahead and throw the recipe in as one of the perks of our upcoming alliance if this evening goes well.”

“Oh. Uh - ”

“So you enjoy cooking, Keith?”

Keith shrugged. “I mean, I cook, but more out of necessity than enjoyment. One of my teammates is more into cooking, though.”

“Careful not to mumble, Keith,” said Shiro. “Speak up.”

Keith cleared his throat before resuming in a louder voice. “Um, do you cook?”

“Don’t just repeat him,” Allura said.

“Oh, stars, no,” Olren said. “Haven’t the time to learn a chore of the sort. It isn’t a necessity for me, what with the chefs we keep in our employ. Some of the top cuisiniers in all of Yuipra can be found right in my palace’s kitchen, so no contribution I’d make to the meals would even be worth the time and effort. You could say I’m more a patron of the arts than an artist.”

“Ask him what his hobbies are,” Coran said. “You’ve got a good opening for that one.”

“So, uh, you don’t cook,” said Keith. “What do you do? In your spare time, I mean.”

“Ah, the list of what I don’t do would be shorter,” Olren replied. “I’ve trained in many athletic disciplines and I’ve always considered myself to be a lifelong scholar. The palace’s library contains quite the impressive collection, and it’s befitting of a king to be well-versed in as many fields as he is able, yes? So I am. In sciences, history, the arts. I travel extensively, of course, my rapport with my subjects and my allies is of great importance to me, and I have done quite well in that regard. My royal family line is long-beloved by the populace, and I strive to ensure the reverence is not misplaced.”

“This guy’s a real piece of work, isn’t he,” Pidge muttered.

“Now, now, Pidge,” said Coran. “Expounding on one’s positive qualities is hardly unusual behavior for a first date.”

“If you say so.”

“Still,” Olren continued, and Keith tried to block out the voices in his earpiece and return his attention to the one across the table. “I was perfectly serious when I said I was a patron of the arts. You will find no more ardent theater-goer in my domain than myself, and I really must show you my private art collection at some point. Or the palace gardens, it would be a lovely night for them.”

He leaned forward, bringing his eyes to level with Keith. “I am a great admirer of beauty, you see, and it is a passion of mine to find beauty in the world and make it my own. In all its many forms. Whether it be a painting on my wall or a flower in my garden. A jewel on my crown - “ He reached out suddenly, cold fingertips grazing Keith’s cheek as he tucked a lock of the latter’s hair behind his hair. “ - Or a companion at my side.”

“Christ, that’s a hell of a line,” said Lance. “You think he rehearsed that? I bet he rehearsed it.”

“Um,” said Keith. “That’s, uh - that’s - ”

“Say, erm, that you’re honored he sees you that way,” Allura said. “He was complimenting you.”

“Right,” Keith said. “I’m honored you, um, see me that way.”

“You should be,” Olren said. “That’s not something I’d say of just anyone.”

His stare was growing more intense by the second, and Keith could feel the sweat growing along his hairline. He coughed into his sleeve, using it as an excuse to lean away from him. “So,” he said loudly. “Um, Allura says Yuipra and Altea go way back, huh? What’s, uh - what’s - tell me about that.”

“Did we not go over segues and subject changes with him yesterday?” Shiro asked. “I thought we did.”

Keith repeated the ‘smile with your eyes’ mantra to himself to keep from scowling. Sure, that had been clumsy, but Olren didn’t seem to care. The king was already launching into a history lecture about Yuipra’s past alliances and the interplanetary relations forged by past kings and queens. It was all in one ear and out the other for Keith, but it was keeping Olren busy and had gotten him to cool it with that weird stare, so he was counting it as a win.

He managed to finish off the main course by the time Olren was winding down, having reached the most recent generation of rulers in his exhaustive recounting of the royal lineage. “Of course, the trade agreement with Thuabos is one that would doubtless be considered the most beneficial to our energy sector in all of Yuipran history. Still, King Arihan’s diplomacy and positive relations with their chancellor were instrumental in that deal, and I know that more than one advisor had been worried that it may falter after I took the throne.” He let out a long sigh, and brought a hand to his chest. “I’m sure your princess would more than understand - it’s not easy, losing a father and a king all at once. The burden placed upon my shoulders as ruler in these past decaphoebs is a heavy one.”

“Offer your condolences, Keith,” said Allura. “He’s pushing for sympathy.”

Well, obviously. Keith wasn’t the best at reading people, sure, but even he could pick up on melodrama. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Why would he bring that up in the middle of a first date?” said Pidge. “Is that normal?”

“Maybe he’s angling for, like, comfort cuddles or something,” said Hunk.

“Thank you,” Olren said. He dabbed lightly at his eyes with his fingertips before opening them again. “I apologize, if I get too personal too soon. But, to that end, I do believe that openness is a cornerstone of interpersonal relations. Our struggles, our strengths - they need not be kept secret.” He folded his hands on the table, tilting his chin toward Keith. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah,” Keith said. “Yeah, sure.”

Olren smiled. “I thought so. You’re a delightful confidante, Keith. A wonderful listener. That is something that you can consider a strength of yourself and Voltron - your willingness to let others place their burdens before you.”

“Uh-huh,” Keith said with a nod. “Yeah, we’re all - we’re very good listeners.”

“Are we including Lance in that assessment?” asked Pidge.

“What?” said Lance.

Shiro shushed him as Olren went on. “Of course, I do not want to give you an inaccurate impression of me and my capabilities. Yuipra is still a force to be reckoned with under my leadership. I see no reason why a soft heart and strong hand should be mutually exclusive. The same can be said of Voltron, can’t it? Its presence is a beacon of hope, but also a show of force. Of power.”

“That’s, um - yeah, I suppose so.”

Olren nodded. “Yuipra would fit well into your coalition. We do not possess the military strength of some of your allies, no, but we are powerful in other ways. We would not have lasted as long as we have otherwise. We’re resolute. I never yield, Keith, never waver. When there is something my kingdom needs, I go after it. I pull out all stops to get what I want, and I persevere no matter the resistance.” He paused to scoop a bite of food into his mouth, the last on his plate, and set his fork down. “Diligence is the precursor to endurance, Keith. Giving up is never an option.”

“I see,” Keith said slowly.

“Okay, come on,” Pidge said. “There’s no way this is normal first date conversation.”

“Well,” said Shiro, “A ‘date’ with a king and potential war ally is probably pretty different from a ‘normal’ first date.”

“Still,” said Hunk. “Just listening to him is exhausting.”

“Don’t pause so long, Keith,” said Allura. “Humor him, say you agree.”

“Right,” said Keith. “That - that makes sense. A good, uh, good way to look at things.”

“I had a feeling you’d agree,” Olren said.

“Uh-huh. Though, uh, you know, the coalition is more of - ”

He dropped his sentence and his fork at the same time, startling at the sudden sensation of a hand on his knee. Olren showed no change in his expression, still giving him that little sharp-eyed smile he’d held throughout the dinner, but his hands, no longer occupied with the food, were now out of sight, and even as their gazes met, Keith could feel the hand moving back and forth over his knee, as if Olren was petting it.

“Keith?” Hunk said. “Did our audio cut out?”

“The coalition is what?” Olren asked lightly.

“Um,” Keith said. He squirmed in his seat, moving against the back of the chair, but the hand followed, the thumb now rubbing little circles into his thigh. “It, uh, it’s more - it’s - you know, there’s um, it’s numbers, and, um - and resources for - for, uh - ”

“Keith, you oughtn’t fidget like that,” Allura’s voice chided in his ear. “What’s going on?”

“You okay, man?” Hunk asked.

Right. Of course, the others would have no way of knowing what was going on under the table, and he couldn’t very well explain it to them. He took a deep breath through his nose and tried to hold his leg still, gritting his teeth when Olren seemed to interpret this as an invitation to slide his hand even further up his thigh, his fingertips brushing against the fabric of the too-thin pants and feeling like insect legs crawling along his skin.

“Your coalition sounds like a perfect fit for Yuipra,” Olren said, replying as if Keith had given him a perfectly coherent answer. “And speaking of - ”

Fingers pinched the skin of his thigh, and without thinking Keith shot up out of his seat, gripping the edge of the table as firmly as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling into an abyss. Olren somehow appeared entirely unfazed by this, maintaining his little smile even now. “Is something wrong, Keith?”

“N-no,” Keith stuttered, even as the voices in his earpiece asked the same question. “No, I, uh - it’s getting cramped, in here. Just wanted to get up.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Er, perhaps suggest an alternate activity, Keith?” said Coran.

“You could, uh, show me that art collection or garden or something,” Keith said. That would be good. Something that involved standing and walking, something where the camera could catch it if Olren started getting handsy, and the others could tell him what to do about it.

“All right,” Olren said. “If you’d like. Are you sure you don’t want to wait for our dessert course? I’ve selected some sweets for the evening that are positively decadent.”

Keith shook his head. “No thanks, I’m - I’m full.”

“And eager, it seems,” Olren said with a smirk. “Very well, Keith. I’ll show you to the gardens; it’s a beautiful season for them, some lovely specimens blooming.” He rose from the table too, and as he did, the guards on standby opened the door to admit a group of servants who quickly swept in to clear the table. “Come,” he said, holding out the crook of his arm.

“Hold him by the arm, just above the elbow,” Shiro said. “Wrap the hand around, but keep the grip light.”

Keith obliged, and Olren led the way out of the dining room. Keith still would have preferred to not be holding onto Olren at all, but this beat holding his hand, so it wasn’t so bad to endure as they strode through the palace’s corridors and out into the courtyard.

“It’s not too chilly out for you, is it?” Olren asked.

“Huh?” Keith said. “Uh, no?”

“You can feel free to come closer, if you get cold.”

Someone, probably Lance, wolf-whistled into his earpiece, and Keith made a mental note to kick him in the shin when he got back to the Castle. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“If you’re sure.” They had reached a tall gate at the other end of the courtyard, one that was once again flanked by two of those ubiquitous guards who opened the gate and bowed them through. Keith made to drop his hand from the king’s arm, but just as he was about to, Olren brought his other hand up, lightly draping it over Keith’s as they walked. Looked like he was stuck for now.

The garden was nice, Keith supposed. The plants on display were lush and colorful, and they’d arrived during sunset, which left the sky on this planet - or at least in this area of it - a bold shade of violet that was warmed by the orange glow of the lamps placed at intervals throughout the stone walkways.

The structure reminded him a bit of the botanical gardens that his class had visited on a field trip back in middle school, with its stone pathways and the tidy arrangement of the plants, so perhaps he could pretend that this was just a school field trip rather than a date, and perhaps that would help with the mild nausea that had been plaguing him since entering the palace.

Of course, on that field trip, two of his classmates had tried to hold his head under the water in a fountain and gotten all three of them sent back to the bus for half the day, but there didn’t seem to be any fountains in this garden, so he was probably safe from that at least.

Olren had started talking without Keith realizing, so he hastened to try to focus. Fortunately Olren didn’t seem to realize that Keith had zoned out - he often didn’t, Keith was beginning to learn - and was totally preoccupied with pointing out his own favorite plants and describing whatever he knew about them.

“Participate in the conversation,” Allura said. “Find something you like, point it out.”

“You know, these lampposts are really pretty,” Keith said, gesturing to one that had been carved to look like an intricate series of stone vines was wrapped around it.

“Pick a plant, Keith, you’re in a garden,” Allura said, and Keith could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“Oh, and, uh, these - these flowers here,” Keith said, pointing toward a bed of red and orange flowers with particularly wide petals.

Olren grinned. “You like these?” He finally let go of Keith’s hand, and Keith, relieved, dropped his arm to the side as Olren bent down toward the flowers. He plucked one, and stood up again, and held it out to Keith. “Go ahead,” he said. Keith gingerly accepted the flower. “Smell it,” Olren added.

He brought the flower to the nose and gave it a sniff. It smelled vaguely like a mix of apples and laundry detergent. Nothing to write home about, but Olren was watching him eagerly, so Keith gave him a stiff smile and nod.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” said Olren.

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m glad you picked that one. Its pollen is an aphrodisiac, you know.”

Immediately Keith dropped the flower, while in his ear Pidge made a retching sound. “Ew, dude, what the fuck?” she said.

“You know, I believe we grow a variety of that flower in our herbatorium,” Coran said. “Its roots can soothe burns. I hadn’t been aware of this property, though.”

“Everything’s an aphrodisiac if you’re kinky enough,” said Lance.

Olren, meanwhile, was laughing as he leaned over to pick the flower back up. “Well,” he said, “It is to Yuiprans, anyway. I don’t know that the effect is universal.” Grinning, he reached up and put the flower under Keith’s nose again, tickling at it with the petals, and Keith couldn’t help but take a step back. The king just laughed again. “You oughtn’t be so nervous, paladin Keith,” he said, letting the flower fall back to the ground. “It’s probably so much harder to enjoy the evening that way.”

“I’m - I’m not nervous,” Keith stammered.

Olren clicked his tongue and shook his head, still smiling. “No need to try to pretend. I find it flattering, really. That you’re so anxious for things to go well between us. That I excite you, scare you. Take your breath away. Your hands are shaking, you know.” Suddenly his hand was laid flat against Keith’s chest. “Your heart’s pounding. You feel a flurry, don’t you? A spark?”

“Uh…” was the only sound Keith could manage.

The hand on his chest moved to his chin, tilting his head back slowly as Olren stared at his face, eyes like spears piercing his own. “You’re very beautiful, you know,” he said softly.

And before Keith could say a word in protest, Olren had moved in for a kiss.

He was too stunned to do anything but stand there and let it happen. In his earpiece he could hear his team, letting out a mix of congratulations that he was pulling this off, and disgusted groans. He wasn’t sure whose voice was whose, but he himself would be firmly in the latter category if he could. And with the camera’s positioning, the others didn’t have to watch the actual kiss go down.

There would probably be more sounds of disgust if they could, Keith figured as the kiss continued, Olren’s saliva feeling like slush against the skin around Keith’s lips. He tried to start pulling his face away, but Olren tightened his grip on his chin and held him in place, prying Keith’s lips apart as his tongue poked into his mouth. It was bizarrely cool and slick as it joined the kiss. Like there was a slug writhing around in his mouth. Olren began letting out little grunts of delight, while it was all Keith could do not to gag.

“Is he ever gonna stop for breath?” Pidge said.

“God, I did not sign up for listening to Keith have a makeout session,” said Lance. “There a fast-forward button on this thing?”

“Er, Keith?” Allura said. “You… you can pull away, if you need to…”

Gratefully Keith took her up on her offer, although it took a couple of tugs to get Olren to finally break the kiss and let Keith stumble back. Olren was quick to catch him with an arm on his back, and that sharp grin returned as he straightened Keith up. “Delectable,” he said. “Utterly delectable. You’re quite the treat, paladin Keith.”

“Yeah, okay,” Keith managed to grunt out. “So, um, how - how much longer do you, um, do you have planned? For tonight?”

“Keith, don’t ask that!” Shiro said. “Don’t make it obvious you want to leave!”

Olren raised a brow. “You’re so keen already to move on to the end of the evening?”

“Well, you know.” Keith shrugged, ignoring Shiro’s groan in his ear.

Thankfully, Olren didn’t seem offended. In fact, his smile seemed to widen as he nodded. “Certainly,” he said. “I admit, I do usually like a little more time with my companions first, but tonight has been… well, simply lovely, to say the least. I’m willing to make an exception.” He held out his arm. “Come along. We can adjourn to my private chambers ahead of schedule, and consummate our alliance now.”

Keith stood in shocked silence, not quite sure if he’d heard right. The same must have happened with his teammates back at the castle, since there was a pause before Lance hesitantly spoke. “I’m sorry, did he - did he just say - ?”

“Head out of the gutter, Lance,” said Shiro. “In business, ‘consummate’ just means to finalize something, make it official.”

“But why would they need to go to his ‘private chambers’ for that?”

“Maybe, er,” said Allura. “Maybe he meant a private office?”

Meanwhile Olren was still staring at Keith, his arm still held out invitingly. Cautiously, Keith took a step back before asking, “Um, when - when you say ‘consummate’, do - do you mean, um…?”

“Physically,” Olren said. “Of course.” He laughed lightly as the sounds of his teams’ indignation echoed in Keith’s earpiece. “You’re still a little nervous, aren’t you?” He stepped toward Keith, a hand coming up to take him by the shoulder. “There’s no need to be. I can be gentle. At first.” He winked, and Keith’s stomach clenched.

“Is he fucking serious?!” said Pidge. “What the hell?!”

“Shit, is he - he’s actually telling Keith to - ” Lance said.

“It doesn’t matter what he’s telling Keith to do, he’s not gonna fucking do it!” Pidge snapped.

She was right. Black Paladin or not, alliance or not, this was too much. This was a line he couldn’t cross. “Look, um,” Keith said, shrugging Olren’s hand off of his shoulder. “I’m, uh, I’m flattered and all, really, but - ”

“I’ve got ways we can settle those nervous of yours,” Olren said. “Aromatherapy is a wonder, you know. Lotions, candles.”

“Ew, ew, ew,” Hunk said. “That’s - this is so sleazy - ”

“Keith?” said Coran. “Keith, you don’t have to go that far.”

“Say you’re feeling ill,” said Allura.

“I’m actually feeling, um, kinda sick,” Keith said. “Probably shouldn’t, uh - ”

“So suddenly?” Olren asked. His hand was back, this time snaking around Keith’s back and pulling him close. “Mm, I think the only illness here is shyness. I happen to know a marvelous cure.”

“Look, I mean it, I - ”

“It’s necessary, you know, for a true alliance. That vulnerability, that trust. The closeness.”

“I don’t think - ”

“Say you’re engaged to another,” Allura suggested, her voice growing steadily more frantic. “Or, say that you’re - ”

“No, forget diplomacy,” Pidge said. “Tell him to fuck off, and RUN!”

Olren was leaning closer, his other hand coming up to card his fingers into Keith’s hair. Swallowing down his fear, Keith yanked away, his own hands up to push back from the king with a grunt of, “Get off me!”

Olren released him, frowning as Keith stumbled back. Keith tried his best to straighten on his gelatin-like legs, his heart beating like a sledgehammer against his throat. “I’m not - I don’t - no,” Keith panted. “No.”

His heart hammered in his throat as Olren stared at him, his perpetual smile gone for the first time all evening. “I see…” he said slowly. “Perhaps you can rejoin me tomorrow evening, then. It would give you some time to grow more… amenable, before we finalize our alliance.”

Keith shook his head. “I’m not going to ‘finalize’ anything with you. Not if that’s what you were aiming for.”

Something flashed across Olren’s face, something Keith couldn’t quite read, before the king said, “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand. Did you not enjoy our evening together? Do you find me so unappealing that partnering with me upsets you so? You’re shaking again, Keith.”

“Hey, I didn’t - it’s not about that. That isn’t something I do. Ever. With anyone.”

“No?” Olren said, quirking a brow.

“No,” Keith repeated.

“Mm.” Olren crossed his arms, and somehow he seemed to be taller than Keith had remembered him being, the shadow cast on the stone walkway from the nearest lamp looming over Keith like a storm cloud. “That does present a difficulty, doesn’t it? I don’t much like to ally with those I cannot fully trust to commit fully.”

“Oh god, this is creepy,” Pidge whispered. “This is so, so creepy.”

“We - we need to do something,” said Hunk. “Guys?”

“Is this how you guys made your old alliance with Yuipra way back when?” Lance asked.

“No, of course not,” Allura said. “This is - stars, he cannot possibly think - ”

“Keith,” said Shiro. “Get out of there. We don’t need an alliance that badly.”

Keith took a deep breath. “Okay, look, um, clearly - clearly there was a, um, a misunderstanding, here, about what tonight was about. So I’m - I’m gonna just - ”

Cautiously he made to step around him, but Olren slid effortlessly into his path, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him back to face him. Keith winced at the grip; it was harder than any other time Olren had put a hand on him this evening. “I can’t help but wonder, paladin,” Olren said, his voice chilly in its steadiness. “What were you expecting tonight to be about?”

“Um.” Keith blinked. “Um, the alliance. You joining the Coalition.”

“And you still thought that, right up until moments ago, when you decided that you did not wish to accompany me to bed. Is that correct?”

“Uh…”

“Was I unclear in my intentions, Keith? I specifically asked you here as my date. I laid out the best dinner at the finest table I had to offer so that I could court you. I brought you out here to be with me beneath the moonlight. I took your hand, and you did not pull away.” With his free hand, Olren took Keith’s hand, intertwining the fingers and giving it a squeeze. “I kissed you, and you kissed me back.” He leaned in, close enough that Keith could feel his breath on his skin as steely eyes bore into his own. “That was not about the coalition, Keith. That was about you, and about me.”

“Okay, yeah, but I - I didn’t think - ” He tried to pull his hand out of Olren’s grasp, but the king held firm. “I didn’t think you wanted to go that far.”

“Things always go that far, eventually,” Olren said. “Why did you think we wouldn’t, Keith? When you decided to accompany me tonight, did you not consider where we might take our affections?”

“Look, those are your affections, okay?!” Keith growled. “You’re the one who wanted to make this a date! All we wanted was an alliance!”

Olren froze, eyes widening, and Keith felt his nails start digging into his arm where he held him.

“Uh, Keith…” Shiro said uncertainly. “Maybe don’t - ”

“I think I understand now,” Olren said. “All this time, all evening, you’ve been making a fool of me.”

Keith shook his head hastily. “No, listen, it - ”

“You were here only for my resources, my services to Voltron. Were willing to take the offering from me and leave me in the dust.”

Keith managed to yank his arm free of Olren’s grip, and made to jump back, but Olren kept a hold of his hand and pulled him back in, his other hand grabbing the fabric of Keith’s collar instead. “I don’t like being used, Keith,” he snarled, and his voice had a raspiness, an iciness, that hadn’t been there before. “I don’t like people playing with my heart, toying with me, breaking my heart for their own gain.”

“It’s - it’s not like that!” Keith gasped out. He reached up a hand to claw at Olren’s where it grasped his collar, trying to loosen the hold that was starting to squeeze against his windpipe. “I only wanted - ”

“I know what you wanted!” Olren said, giving Keith a forceful shake. “You wanted to take Yuipra’s riches and my dignity with it, and leave nothing in return. Well, Keith, I wanted something too, tonight. And like I’ve told you: I always get what I want.”

Finally Keith gave up on trying to pry Olren’s hand loose. Instead, he balled his own into a fist, and with all the force he could muster, aimed a blow toward the king’s face. The punch landed with a sickening crack, and in his shock Olren released him.

The moment he turned around to run, though, he was grabbed again, both arms in bruising grips that didn’t belong to Olren. A glance down showed golden gauntlets wrapped around his triceps, and too late he remembered the guards that were stationed everywhere in this palace. Two were holding him, and he thought he could hear a third behind him.

His team was shouting something, but he couldn’t discern the words. It all became a buzz to him as he thrashed in the guards’ grips, trying to get away. He heard a grunt as he elbowed one, and he flailed his legs and managed to land a kick with his heel against the other’s greave, before something was slammed against the back of his knee and pain radiated up and down his leg. The other was hit right after, and he was forced to the ground on his knees, his arms wrenched up behind his back with nearly enough force to pull his shoulders out of their sockets, one hand digging into his scalp to grab him by the hair and pull his head back, stretching out his neck as he panted for breath.

Olren stood before him, regal as ever, dabbing the back of his hand against his face where deep green Yuipran blood was trickling from his nose. “Not a wise move,” he said. “Assaulting a king in his own palace. You can’t have thought I would give up that easily.”

He stepped forward, kneeling down to lean in toward Keith’s face, and stretched a hand out to brush the back of his fingers against his cheek. “Even in your rage, still so beautiful,” he said softly. “A pity you had to make things difficult like this.”

His hand moved to take Keith’s chin, squeezing his jaw in an iron grip. Keith could feel the sharp nails break the skin, warm blood droplets beginning to well beneath the claws. “We’re going to form that alliance, Keith,” Olren said. “And we’re going to do it my way.”

#aroace keith #keith kogane #keith #vld keith #vld fic #my writing #fic: kings over aces

[voronyaro]

Úveluie the Exile

Lothlorien, Caras Galadhon, T.A. 3011

The lilt of a gentle voice reciting sweet and chaste poetry filtered through the glade and harmonised with the sigh of wind passing through golden leaves. Istarien delighted to read her own work, even if the confidence to do so often eluded her. Still, Luidhros’ request for a performance was more than enough encouragement for such a kind afternoon.

Broad shoulders, a tall and powerful frame, dark hair, Luidhros was Noldo in all but personality. He had his eyes closed to better appreciate her verse, which allowed her to take a little guilty enjoyment in the sight he presented. Unfortunately, it was not to be for long.

“Good Eve Luidhros, ah! And Istarien! Well met.” Húrien strode over, all high bearing and knowing smiles, slotting seamlessly between them as Luidhros came out of his reverie.

“Well met, Húrien.” He hummed with a rye smile, “I would ask after you, but something tells me you have a tale you are eager to tell.” And by the way the Scholar’s eyes flashed in the starlight, Istarien had to agree. With a sense of finality, she tucked her poetry back into it’s pouch and settled in for what new piece of gossip their old friend had to offer, even though it may have cut her recital short. Húrien could always be relied upon for entertaining topics.

“Ah, bless you Luidhros, you know me so well. For, did you hear? Úveluie has returned to the Golden Wood!” Istarien wrinkled her nose at the cruel name but her head still tilted curiously. She had heard the name mentioned before but had never known whom it referred too. A glance to Luidhros told her he was also at a loss.

Húrien huffed, perhaps silently berating herself, “Oh, of course, our dear Istarien and well-mannered Luidhros would not know her as such. The ah-.” She pondered a moment, trying to recall the title, tutting at herself as it eluded her. “What a dreadful mark upon my scholarly art, but I have not spoken Quenya for a yeni and more… Mm… Arcaumaro! The Arcaumaro. You must know of her Luidhros?”

Her assumption certainly appeared correct, if the shift in the ellon’s expression was any judge. Istarien could not remember seeing the Noldo appear quite so… taken off guard. Curious, yet cautious. “I do. Though I cannot claim her acquaintance.”

“But you know enough, I deem, to understand why she is known as Úveluie best?” Húrien asked with a smirk. Luidhros apparently could not quite stall a small huff of amusement before nodding his head. Istarien was about to ask why, but she found herself interrupted a second time as the powerful voice of Pethbes entered the fray.

“Úveluie? Do my ears deceive me? She cannot be back.” The practical and tidy cook said as she approached them.

“And yet I swear upon my heart she is, dear Pethbes! I first heard it from Lathron yesterday, but this morning I recognised her myself!”

From the tone of her voice one could easily tell that Húrien was deeply enjoying herself. However, she was an excellent storyteller so it was easy to forgive her gossiping habits.

Pethbes, as usual, did not see much fun in the telling. Her expression was highly disapproving as she spoke. “Have the Marchwardens been informed? I cannot imagine Lord Celeborn would allow her to set foot upon even one Golden leaf, let alone roam the city unattended.”

Luidhros spoke up, “I was not made aware of her, but there have been no warnings of trespassing either. She must have been permitted entrance into Caras Galadhon.” His tone was gentle and deep as ever, but he held a curious expression

“Can we be in such need of martial might?” Húrien asked.

“Mirkwood grows darker every day. And Lord Celeborn is by far wise enough to forgive past transgressions for the sake of War.” Luidhros replied.

“How much worth can one Soldier have Luidhros? She cannot be that impressive, I did not even know her as a warrior.” Pethbes griped, waving her hand dismissively.

Luidhros’ reply was grave, “Then the tale has suffered in the telling. i arben na Aran, as you would call her, did not stand at the High-King’s side for nothing.”

Pethbes’ eyes widened a moment, before her scowl deepened once again. “You cannot mean to say Úveluie, with her infamous reputation, was once a member of High King Gil-Galad’s court.”

Luidhros could only nod, and this shocking revelation stunned Pethbes into silence. Finally, Istarien felt she had a moment for her question.

“What did this Úveluie do to garner such infamy?” The youngest there, Istarien was used to the slightly patronising glances that her question earned. But she knew her companions would answer her eventually and so bore them without comment.

“Ah, how rude of us, of course you do not know.” Húrien’s expression was apologetic enough to be sincere but Pethbes immediately took it upon herself to give an answer.

“Though there was a time when she was welcome in Lothlorien, Úveluie has never been kind or pleasant. Always loud, rude, never satisfied to let a disagreement rest and ungrateful for the hospitality she was shown here. She is ill made both inside and out! I do not know how the High-King can have stood for her disrespect.”

Seeing that Pethbes was about to slip off track, (and very eager to continue the tale herself), Húrien took over quickly. “Her banishment came after a dreadful audience with our Lord and Lady. No one knows for certain what was said, only that the Lady Galadriel suffered such a grievous insult that the Lord drew his sword before recovering his temper and ordering her gone!”

Istarien’s eyes were wide as the tale was told. Though she had no true personal experience, all knew the Lord Celeborn to be wise and thoughtful. Calm in the face of every storm. It was difficult to even imagine what mere words could have stirred his ire. “If that is so then how can the March Wardens have allowed her within?”

Luidhros, after being quiet for a moment, finally replied. “Now that I have given it more thought, it is possible- even likely- that many of our younger warriors would not know her face to refuse it. Her exile was not recent, after all. Not even by our reckoning.”

Húrien gasped in what might have been distress but was far more likely to be thrill. “Could that not mean the Lord and Lady are unaware of her presence here?”

With that, Luidhros rose from his seat, reaching his towering height over all of them. “If that is the case, it will not be for long. I fear I must excuse myself and see to this. Thank you again for your indulgence Istarien. I will have to beg you finish it for me another time.” Istarien could only blush and nod before the Noldo was up and gone away, leaving their little gathering quieter in thought.

“… If she can have been so cruel to someone as kind and beloved as the Lady Galadriel, I certainly am discomforted to think this Úveluie walks among us…” Istarien eventually murmured quietly. But Húrien was quick to comfort her. “Foul and loathsome she may be. But if you encountered her you would only be in danger of an unpleasant conversation, nothing more. We are as safe as always Istarien.” Her smile was confidence and brightness itself. But Pethbes was not convinced.

“To that, dear Húrien, I ask simply this. How could you know? When we do not even recall her true name?”

To her credit, Húrien did not pretend to have an answer.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Up upon her toes, fingers straining as high as they could go, the parchment still fluttered just out of Istarien’s reach. A little mischievous breeze plucked at it tauntingly, threatening to pull her poetry from the lamp it had been caught in if she did not act fast. Her brow was furrowed with the deepest concentration and she worried her bottom lip as the very tip of her nail grazed the edge of her quarry.

A sudden gust made her gasp and flail, accidentally batting the poem which broke free without warning. She gave a cry of frustration and spun to give desperate chase, but in blindly spinning she ran herself headfirst into a solid, immovable tree.

Well, she first assumed it to be a tree, the collision so jarring that it quite took her off her feet. She could have sworn a tree had not been there before! Not the most graceful of the Eldar beneath the eaves of Lothlorien, to be sure.

However, after giving a small whine of pain and gingerly searching her head for damage, she opened her eyes to look up at her obstacle.

The elf that looked down at her was possibly the tallest she had ever seen, even taller than Luidhros though Istarien had no notion of that being possible. Her nose would barely reach their chest! Their shoulders were so wide, features so sharp and graceless, that it took her a long moment to recognise them as an elleth at all. Indeed, if any elf could be called ill-made or unbeautiful, it would be this one. Istarien had to stifle an urge to shrink away when her gaze found the twisting scar that pulled gruesomely at their right eye. 

Still, all of that flew from her mind the moment she noticed the parchment this stranger had caught between their fingers.

Istarien flew to her feet with a small noise of delight and relief and her eyes were bright with gratitude as her poetry was handed back to her. “Ah, my sincerest thanks! I had thought to never see it again!” She exclaimed as she ensured none of the ink had run before glancing back to her saviour.

This quendi looked stranger and more unusual by the moment. Up on her feet, Istarien had a better view of the dull, rough-spun cloth and leather shirt she wore, the in-elegant pauldrons upon her corded shoulders. A far cry from the soft and virgin or gold linens and robes of Caras Galadhon. Her hair was a dull and uninspiring flaxen colour, braided resolutely away into a long rope behind her. And, oh, Istarien had not noticed the sheer musculature of her until now. The Stranger’s forearms were so thick it seemed she could have uprooted a mallorn with just her bare hands alone. Not an ounce of femininity to her, she looked utterly foreign.

The Stranger had a quirk to her lips as she silently dipped her head in acknowledgement of Istarien’s thanks, which was when the strangest and most unsettling part of her appearance was shown.

Soft lines spiderwebbed their way about her eyes, creased over her mouth and framed the sharp jut of her nose. Lines of age. That wasn’t right, that shouldn’t be. If not for her shear size, the touch of elegance to her frame and the long ears that tapered to an unmistakable point, Istarien would have easily mistaken her for one of the second born.

And yet, though she unsettled her deeply, there was some… strange pull to her. A heady throb to her presence, just noticeable at the edge of Istarien’s consciousness. It was wholly unlike the Lady Galadriel’s divine and otherworldly aura, this was primal and earthen and quiet. To a poet’s mind, it was like comparing the dreamy and powerful pull of moonlight to the thick yet subtle scent of a thunder storm.

She blushed when she realised she was staring.

The stranger only seemed to find this passingly amusing and was about to leave when Istarien stammered out, “A-ah, please! Allow me to thank you properly! You are a newcomer to Caras Galadhon yes? Let me…” 

And, all at once, the disparate deductions of her mind finally spooled all the pieces of this puzzle together. Her eyes widened, and she felt a second, more fearful thrill run up her spine.

“No need.” Úveluie said, her accent in sindarin so odd it was almost difficult to comprehend. “This is not my first visit to the Golden Wood.”

“Úveluie…” Istarien whispered, the ugly nickname leaving her lips before she could reclaim her composure. And yet the slip still confirmed her suspicion. Úveluie’s natural smile turned to a darker pall and her back straightened to her full, intimidating height. A peerless warrior, Luidhros had said. Cruel and ill-made inside and out, Pethbes had said.

“Rumor spreads even faster than I remember beneath the mallorn’s leaves.” Her words were bitter, though they held a hint of amusement, and the suddenly harsh edge made Istarien flinch.

“The March Wardens will be told!” She blurted out, without truly knowing why. An abrupt sense of vulnerability had stricken her, something about the eerie shift in this elleth’s manner giving Istarien fright.

Úveluie seemed unphased, though her head tilted with a predatory-like curiosity. “I should hope they already have been…” Her pause was small, but her eyes were so piercing it gave an unsettling sense of invasion. “Why do you tremble?” She asked finally. “Has my reputation grown so dreadful?”

Istarien hadn’t noticed the slight tremor in her fingers until this moment, the parchment in her hands gently fluttering in her grasp. Her grip tightened to still it, her pride demanding that she be brave.

“You do not belong here, you break our Lord’s law by crossing the border of Lothlorien.” She was grateful that her voice was stable, some well of strength giving her the courage she needed.

“I cannot be blamed if the sentries have short memories.” Úveluie replied dismissively. “And besides, I am only here for the sake of a friend.”

“Then they will soon miss you!” Istarien countered, “Captain Luidhros already pursues you, he will surely-“

“Who?”

Istarien stalled at the query. Her tone was so… bored. So dismissive. Luidhros was a Noldo, a war hero, an honoured Captain among the Galladhrim. The fact that someone who had spent time in Lothlorien did not possess even a passing memory of him, showed him such disrespect, Istarien was utterly thrown. Anger and insult boiled in her eyes but for once she was voiceless to express it.

Úveluie seemed to recognise her ire, though she did not appear regretful. “No matter. I am thoroughly discovered it seems. Thank you for the warning.”

She had the nerve to dip at the waist before she turned to leave, an insulting play at gratitude and farewell. Istarien found she could not restrain herself any longer. An ugly part of her rose to meet this challenge and she nearly spat her next words.

“I hope you rot in exile!”

There was a pregnant pause. Úveluie ground to a full stop, holding herself eerily still for a moment before slowly turning back. The look in her eyes was truly, deeply discomforting. As was the bitter and vile tone in her voice as she replied. “Verily! Whilst you seem content to rot here.”

“Excuse me?!” Istarien cried, outraged.

Suddenly, and in a motion that almost defied sight, yet also seemed no more than a casual reach, Úveluie plucked the page of poetry from Istarien’s hands. “This?” She scoffed as she glanced over her verses, the Poet still looking from her hand to the page in bewilderment. “Another wistful ballad of chaste love beneath yellow trees? How original.”

The sarcasm dripped from her tongue and Istarien uttered an indignant, “How dare-!” before she was interrupted.

“-Here you compare sweat on your brow to the morning dew, that must have pushed your literary talents.”

Istarien gritted her teeth and made to snatch the page back but Úveluie, in an act of utter pettiness, simply held it out of her reach. She flushed an angry red at being forced to play into such a childish act. Stars above, she could not remember ever being so furious. Úveluie just smirked.

“They were right about you,” Istarien declared, “you are cruel and ill-made, inside and out!”

Úveluie seemed to take wicked satisfaction in her fury. “Were they now?”

“Yes! Perhaps if you listened, you might learn to be less foul! Though I doubt you capable!”

“And perhaps if you set foot outside these borders you could write poetry with even a shred of originality. I know you are capable, but I still doubt you ever will.” And, with that, Úveluie released the page from her grip.

By the time Istarien had caught it out of the air her new and detestable acquaintance had left. As mortifying tears pricked at her eyes, she found she had no wish to follow her.

-----------------------

Translations;

i arben na Aran - (Sindarin) Knight of the King Arcaumaro - (Quenya) Protector of the King Úveluie - (Sindarin) Not amiable, an unloveable person.

#;;drabble #;;sartecanon #thought I'd add some drabbles I'd done in the past #this one was VERY funny to write

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review... Maria Hudgins, “Death in an Ivory Tower”

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: mystery

Part of a Series? Yes, #5 of 5 (so far)

Summary: It's a scholarly conference at Oxford and the subject is The Lingering Effects of the King Arthur Tales on Life in Elizabethan England, but two participants don t fit in. Dotsy Lamb, PhD candidate from Virginia, has inadvertently invited a couple of New Agers from Glastonbury. Their agenda is to prove to these arrogant academics that King Arthur and Guinevere were real people. As a big surprise, Bram Fitzwaring plans to produce their royal bones. Fitzwaring doesn't show up for his scheduled address because he s still in his room. Dead. An insulin-dependent diabetic, Fitzwaring appears to have died from hypoglycemia. But Dotsy, also diabetic, says his symptoms prior to his demise do not spell hypoglycemia. They spell murder.

***Full review under the cut.***

Overview: I need to tell you how I came across this book and why I decided to read it. A very close friend who is an Arthurian scholar took me to Half Price Books to buy me something for my birthday, and as we were browsing, she came across this book. Keep in mind, we’re BOTH medievalists, so when we saw the synopsis on the back, we immediately went “this is it... this is the birthday book.” And so I read it. And it was a wild ride, alternating between amusement and tedium. If you’re an academic, particularly one who studies medieval literature, you’ll need to just push past all the bizarre things that the author thinks a graduate student (of any age) does. Despite all that (or, perhaps, because of them), I was highly entertained for a good portion of the book while simultaneously being bored in parts where the plot dragged.

Writing: Hudgins’ writing isn’t very difficult to follow, so you can skim the book if you’re the type of reader that likes to finish books quickly. There were never any moments where I was confused as to what was going on, yet I also can’t say there was anything about the writing that stood out either. It was just kind of a middle-of-the-road, “popcorn” style. What was a bit more irritating for me was how the writing bogged down the plot. Because Dotsy takes the time to describe what she does in the order she does it, as well as drop in huge chunks of backstory or historical information when she feels like it’s warranted, the sense of urgency or suspense is absent. It rather feels more like “I did this. Then I did this. Here’s how this character’s past went. Then I did this.” For example, it takes 4 paragraphs for Dotsy to explain how she is able to decipher some of the murdered victim’s notes - and it could have been done in 1. As a result, there’s not really any clue as to what details from the text are significant for the mystery, nor am I interested to see how the plot unfolds.

Characters: Dotsy Lamb was actually a very enjoyable character for me. When I learned that she was a woman in her 60s pursuing a PhD, my first thought was “You go girl!” I also liked that she was diabetic - I can’t recall any other books I’ve read in which the main character is diabetic. It’s pretty great for representation, all around. Everyone else was just kind of incidental. Some of them had interesting quirks, but a lot of them just popped in and out at random. I guess they were distinct enough in personality and function that I could remember them and tell them apart, so that was good.

Plot: The idea that someone might have been murdered by academics in order to cover up the fact that Arthur was real was too good to pass up. But to be honest, I did find the pacing of the plot to be rather slow. Dotsy doesn’t make much headway on the case for the first few dozen pages, instead summarizing her experience to others. She doesn’t seem too determined to solve anything either, and while I know she’s no detective (professionally), I would have liked to see more drive from her. Personally, I found the mystery itself to be rather underwhelming, once it was unraveled. Due to the lack of suspense, it didn’t really feel like much was at stake, and the writing style made it difficult for me to feel invested in one theory or another. I think more careful, deliberate plotting would have helped in this regard.

Other Academics: As an academic myself, I was constantly going back and forth between “That’s ridiculous!” and “No, that’s legit” whenever Dotsy did anything related to her PhD. The fact that Dotsy is writing about Shakespeare, but teaches Classics and Medieval Literature without knowing any Latin (she says so explicitly) and goes to an elite conference on Arthurian Literature (which seems to only have 9 attendees) was wild. On the one hand, yeah, pre-modern studies people are expected to know everything about the world before 1800. On the other, why on earth is Dotsy going to this conference if she’s not writing about Arthuriana? The conference itself also seemed very surface-level, so it felt like a basic history course rather than a gathering of elites. No one would go to a prestigious academic conference to give a paper on the definition of courtly love nowadays, or a paper on the dissolution of the monasteries without a unique angle on it. Of course, most people don’t know how academics work, so I have to cut the author some slack. But it did make for some amusing reading. One thing that was accurate, unfortunately, was the relationship between Dotsy and her adviser. The adviser seemed to be puffed up by his own brilliance, but still relied on Dotsy’s labor to make himself look good. It’s not right, but it exists.

Continuing on with the series? No.

Recommendations: I would recommend this book if you’re interested in dark academia or mystery novels.

#book reviews

[queen-scribbles]

Like Mother, Like Daughter

For @pillarspromptsweekly fill 92: Mother. I was oh so very tempted by a variety of combos, but in the end went with Adi and her mama. Magda’s cool, and Adi takes after her a lot.

Adela loved her mother.

She really, truly did. Mama was the one who sparked her love for learning, fed her near-limitless curiosity, the one who listened the longest when Adela started rambling about some new discovery(even if their interests differed). They had a bond, a connection through their scholarly pursuits.

None of that made the words ‘Clean your room’ any more fun to hear.

“This place is a fire waiting to happen,” Mama said, with pointed glances at the books and scrolls piled on the floor, desk, shelves, even Adela’s bed. “One tipped candle and the whole house is in danger, dear,” she added with a gentle laugh. “Please try to wrangle your hoard into place on the bookshelves. Maybe a few on the desk.”

“Yes, Mama,” Adela nodded, swallowing a protest about how it was more comfortable reading in bed or the floor was best for spreading out large projects for comparison. She didn’t even know where she was going to start; the mess of reading materials had admittedly gotten out of hand.

Mama smiled and reached down to smooth back Adela’s hair before tipping her chin up. “I know exactly how overwhelming this sort of project can seem. Would you like some help?”

She nodded again, sighing with relief. “Yes, please.”

Mama chuckled. “Let me go check on the boys. If they’re both still napping, I’ll give you a hand. Start thinking about what you want to tackle first while you wait, hm?”

Adela did just that; deciding that getting the shelves organized was most important if that’s where everything was supposed to go. Once that was settled in her mind, she found herself too impatient to wait for Mama and set to work on her own. She did her work with such gusto, she was halfway through the first set of shelves before Mama made it back to her room. Unfortunately her plan meant making the room messier before she could make it neater; it would be much easier to get all the books in their proper place if she essentially started from scratch.

She saw the look in Mama’s eyes, the heartbeat where she almost commented on the increased disarray, before smiling in understanding of her daughter’s plan. “Good thinking, Adi. This way will save you from shifting shelves back and forth as you put things away.”

“Exactly!” Adela said cheerfully, hopping down from her step stool. “The stuff that’s out is so disparate, both alphabetically and topically, I figure it’s better to get it sorted out on the floor. Then I can put it all away in one go.”

“That’s my girl,” Mama said proudly. She pushed her spectacles up to rest atop her head. “How would you like me to help?”

“Um...” Adela bit her lip in thought a moment. “You can work on the scrolls.” They were the easiest part of this mess, and it wouldn’t have felt right to give Mama the harder job. Both because she was Mama and she spent so many nights up late, rocking Zac through another fit of colic. “Collect the ones you can find, organize them by... topic, I guess, is better for scrolls, then put them in the slots.” She gestured toward the standing rack on her desk/ She didn’t have nearly as many scrolls as books, and most of those were borrowed, so it was best to keep them apart, somewhat.

Mama nodded and started gathering scrolls. Most were already on the desk--or the floor nearby--just haphazardly piled, but a few had wound up part of her reading last night so were on the bed.

“What are you working on right now?” Mama asked as she gave each scroll a cursory glance to figure out how to sort it.

“Oh, the paper for Master Izel about the initial Aedyran expansion or colonization. I’m still trying to decide which sounds more neutral,” she admitted. “I don’t want to sound biased.”

“If that’s what you’re working on, then this is out of place,” Mama said, handing over a--frustratingly thin--book on the explorers of the Deadfire. “I haven’t seen that one before; is it another Lottie book?”

Adela nodded and scanned one of her book stacks to find where the slim volume belonged. “Yeah. She knows I’m trying to get my hands on anything that mentions Ilhana Guiserre, an’ she’s in this book..” She made a face. “Not nearly as much as I would like, but at least it was new information. Some more details about her attempt to find Ukaizo.”

“Mm...” The next scroll Mama found earned Adela a borderline reproachful look that would have been far more intimidating over the rims of her spectacles, but still did the trick. “Adela, what’s this?”

Oops. She’d forgotten she still had that one. “Just a short treatise on some... creative uses for a couple of Arkemyr’s spells.”

“Didn’t we agree you would wait until you were sixteen to learn any of Arkemyr’s contributions to the wizarding arts?” Mama’s tone was still lightly scolding, with a note of wry humor underneath. So she wasn’t in big trouble just yet.

“Yes, but I wasn’t trying to learn them, Mama, just curious how the author manipulated the existing spell energy for a different purpose than originally intended. ‘Specially with Arkemyr’s spells,” Adela explained, playing with her braid. “‘M actually done with it, just forgot to take it back.”

Mama chuckled as she started rolling up the scroll. “You are going to make an amazing wizard when you finish your studies, dove. And a top-notch scholar to boot. Do you really think you’ll remember these tricks when you start learning Arkemyr’s spells?” she asked, setting the scroll on the desk.

Adela squinted and bit her lip, wanting ti give an honest, thought-out answer.  “Probably? I still remember things from when I was ten an’ twelve. So it probably won’t get pushed out in just two years.” She shrugged. “And if it does, I’ll learn it again. If I want to. I’m not sure how many of Arkemyr’s spells I’ll actually care about; I just was curious and didn’t wanna wait to read that.”

Mama smiled as she looked through the tousled covers on Adela’s bed for any straggler scrolls. “I understand that urge all too well.” She laid the blanket back, mostly neat, when her search was done. “One of the texts I needed for my most recent study was out from the library and I nearly burst from impatience waiting for it to come back so I could have it. I just want to be sure you’re pacing yourself, Adi. Not reading anything you can’t handle.”

“I am,” Adela promised. “Pacing myself, I mean.” It was mostly--usually--true. But there was so much to learn. “What was this last study about? You seemed more invested than the few before it.”

The change of subject worked, and they spent the remainder of their time chatting about various research they’d done; whether for pleasure or purpose, and ranking the enjoyment of the latter. It made things go much faster, and before Adela knew it, they were halfway through shelving the freshly sorted books--aside from the volume on Readceran culture, that went by her bed--when Sirra poked her head in to let Mama know Zac was awake.

“I can finish by myself,” Adela piped up. “He’s probably real hungry by now, an’ it is my room. I should be the one doing most of the work, anyway.”

Mama smiled again and kissed the top of her head. “You’re a good girl, my dove. Once you’re done in here and I’ve settled your brother, perhaps we’ll have time to return that scroll and get you some new recreational reading, hm?”

She brightened and nodded. “That would be great, Mama. Thank you!” School reading on such an interesting topic as a another country’s culture was all well and good, but something new that was purely for fun would be fabulous. She hoped Zac calmed down fast, and Isi was in a good mood when he woke up. “Oh! And thank you, Sirra,” she amended, flashing a smile at her sister, who would likely wind up watching the boys(and Tia) if she and Mama did go to the library.

“Happy to help,” Sirra said with a cheerful shrug. “And Teinan was planning to visit after dinner, maybe I can rope him into helping if you two lose all track of time.”

“If he likes you much as I think he does, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Adela teased, batting her eyelashes playfully from halfway up the bookshelf.

Sirra rolled her eyes, but her ears twitched back in exasperation. “Adi....”

“Adela, don’t tease your sister. Especially since she’s helping,” Mama admonished.

“Sorry, Sir,” Adela said contritely as she climbed down.

“Eh.” Sirra smirked. “I’ll getcha back when you’re older and it’s your turn to have fellas calling on you.”

“Sounds fair.” Also, far enough off, Sirra would probably forget her threat long before it happened. “Now, lemme finish so Mama and I can go to the library.”

Sirra ducked out, and Mama was smiling as she followed. Of course she knew what a motivation ‘more books’ would be for her daughter. Adela was, after all, a lot like her mother.

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #adela tecali #magda tecali #pillars of eternity

[rosalind-of-arden]

as requested, Wolfe, YBDSM

Ok. Let’s see if we can make this as epic as your Dario one. This is going to be long. Click to continue reading at your own risk. There will be amateur psychology and sex below.

First of all, we are going to have to split most of this into pre-Rome Wolfe and post-Rome Wolfe, because Rome very, very thoroughly messed with his head.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): Before Rome, very high. He and Nic both were up for multiple times a day when circumstances allowed. It didn’t take much to get him thinking dirty thoughts either. Nic looks at him the right way and he’s looking for a place to sneak off to for a quickie.

After Rome, his sex drive is very unpredictable. Sometimes he’ll be as horny as he used to be. Sometimes he desperately wants their old sex life back, kinks and all, both because being able to do those things proves he’s ok, and because he misses the life he had before Rome. That yearning translates into the sexual kind. Depending on what he ends up craving, though, this can result in fights with Nic, who is wary of any activity he feels is too risky. Sometimes a need for reassuring touch also comes through as sexual desire, which he and Nic find mutually enjoyable because it can be satisfied with lots of sweet, cuddly sex.

But he can also go weeks without really wanting sex. This is, needless to say, very frustrating for both him and Santi. He also tends to get so far into his own head that he sometimes misses obvious flirting that before would have gotten him going. Much of this is because after Rome, he really doesn’t see himself as desirable. It doesn’t even occur to him that yes, Nic was giving him that look to suggest that they sneak off to the bedroom because why would Nic want to do that with broken, messed up Chris? He’ll second guess and self doubt himself right out of the mood.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): We’ve already been over Wolfe and his hair, I think. He is very vain about it. This applies both before and after Rome. He is not happy that he’s going gray, but he still loves the length of it, and the way it feels when Santi plays with it.

Before Rome, I’m not sure he would say he has a favorite body part. He liked the whole thing. He was hot, and he knew it. Santi also liked to show off his sexy Scholar, and made a point of telling Wolfe how much he liked taking him to formal events, or even just out on dates, because he wanted everyone to see how lucky he was to have such a gorgeous man. Unfortunately, Santi’s bragging about Wolfe also included the fact that even though they’d been through a lot of battles, Wolfe had very few scars. This was 100% a “I’m so good at my job, I never let my Scholar get hurt” thing, not a “he’s hot because he has no scars”, but I think you can see how that will become a problem...

After Rome, he flat out hates most of his body. He lost a lot of muscle from being starved, and while he’s gotten back in shape since then, it still isn’t the same. His body doesn’t feel the same as it used to, he has new aches, pains, and limitations that he didn’t have before, and he hates it.

He also has some significant scars from being tortured, and he finds them ugly to the point that he has a hard time believing that Santi is still attracted to him. (Santi, for his part, doesn’t think they make Wolfe less attractive. The scars bother him because he can very easily imagine the wounds that caused them. Needless to say, he has not told Wolfe this, so Wolfe badly misinterprets any apparent negative reaction to the sight of his scars.) This means that he isn’t always comfortable with being naked, and feels awkward when Nic complements him on his appearance.

He does, however, have some favorite places to be touched, which are not affected by Rome. He likes both kisses and bites on his neck. He also likes attention to his hands and wrists; Nic used to massage them for him after he spent all day writing and holding books, and starts doing it again when Wolfe takes the teaching job, even though he isn’t spending as much time writing as he used to. His back is also quite sensitive. Before Rome, he greatly enjoyed all the marks Nic could leave there when playing rough. He used to look in the mirror and admire patterns of bite marks, scratches, etc. After Rome, he’d still like that, but he also appreciates gentler massages, and, when his scars are bothering him, attention to his scars.

His favorite parts of Santi are his shoulders, arms, and hands. He greatly appreciate’s Nic’s strength and all the things he can do with that strength.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): We’ve already discussed his naughty habit of sneaking off for sex in inappropriate places. His other dirty secret is how much he likes taking the submissive role in BDSM play.  He and Santi generally split topping and bottoming, both in the vanilla and the kinky sense, as evenly as they can. But while Wolfe will gleefully tell Nic how much he enjoys dominating him, he will pout and pretend to be disappointed when it’s his turn to sub. He actually absolutely loves it. He has a bit of a kink for taking orders and being forced to behave (we don’t see this in the books so much, but it is 100% there in Stormcrow - Santi shows up and starts bossing him around, and he’s all for it). He also finds it extremely relaxing. Normally he is very much in control of himself and constantly thinking, so being able to let go of that and trust Nic to take care of him is a nice break for him. After Rome, being able to stop thinking for a while is even more important to him since so many of his thoughts are bad.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): Before Rome, he could go for multiple rounds. Santi lasted longer but could only come once before being done for a while; Wolfe came more often and was ready to go again quickly. They worked out plenty of ways to maximize both of their enjoyment once they figured this out.

After Rome, he doesn’t last as long and is rarely up for more than one round. It takes Nic real effort to get him hard again after he finishes. Does this play into his feelings of inadequacy? Yes, it does. Is this possibly caused by his feelings of inadequacy? Sure. It’s a vicious cycle. I am completely in agreement with what @blessedharlot has written about Wolfe having trouble keeping erections after Rome: intrusive thoughts, subtle triggers, and other trauma responses, along with his feelings of self-hatred, all can take him out of the mood.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):

Before Rome, being admired, whether for his looks, his intelligence, or his accomplishments, was a huge turn on. After Rome, admiration is generally a turn off. He just doesn’t believe it’s genuine, or that he deserves it, and depending on his mood, he may even interpret it as mockery. And needless to say, he does not appreciate being reminded of the accomplishments that were taken from him.

Both before and after Rome, he’s turned on by Santi’s skill, competence, and authority. He likes to watch Nic work, and greatly appreciates his skill not only at fighting, but at strategy. There is probably nothing more arousing than losing to Nic at chess, although he would absolutely never admit it. He’s embarrassed by that obedience kink of his, so he’ll downplay how aroused he is by having Nic put him in his place.

Both before and after Rome, he enjoys novelty. Doesn’t matter what it is: a new position, a new toy, a new place to have sex, anything he can experiment with is good. Luxury, also. He is a hedonist and likes having the mood set with things like good wine or nice silk sheets.

Also both before and after Rome, but more important after Rome, he likes sex as a way of getting his mind off things, so any activity that fully occupies his mind will get him going. Intense physical stimulation of any sort will do it for him, but Nic can also get him excited with challenging positions or power struggles that require him to think about what he’s doing in the moment and not the million other things going on in his brain.

Well, that was a lot. Hopefully a fair trade for all that lose lovely Dario ideas. I think all of this ought to answer the question posed by that particular combination of letters ;)

[emritcheson]

Is Mortimer Beckett and The Book of Gold Really That Bad?

(Full disclosure: this post contains mild spoilers for discussion’s sake.)

So I am a big fan of the Delicious series and the many spin-offs that have launched from its universe, now formally known as GameHouse Original Stories.  Yes, they sometimes seem like they’re hyper-marketed at that Hallmark Channel crowd, but they are the cream of the crop of modern casual games, I promise.  That said, not every game that comes out of GameHouse Studios is a masterpiece.  But just because it’s not a masterpiece doesn’t mean there isn’t good to be found or fun to be had.

Enter Mortimer Beckett and The Book of Gold, released in 2017.  For those unaware, Mortimer Beckett was not originally a GameHouse IP, instead starring in his own series of hidden object games developed by Paprikari from 2007 to 2012.  I played the first in the series, Secrets of Spooky Manor, and dabbled with others, but I am by no means an aficionado on Mortimer Beckett lore.  Actually, I’m not big into the hidden object genre period.  I can tell you, though, that this game feels very different to the traditional Mortimer Beckett series.  Paprikari still worked as the developer for Book of Gold, but the overall style and flavor is extremely influenced by GameHouse.

I can only assume GameHouse acquired permission to use Mortimer’s character around the same time they acquired Sally from GamesCafe’s Sally’s Salon series.  These were two fairly well-known faces in casual gaming for many years, and for those characters to suddenly be picked up by a new company and breathed new life was a strange move to witness.

Not to say it was a bad one.  I was an am a dedicated Sally fan and Sally’s Salon - Beauty Secrets blew my expectations out of the water.

Book of Gold on the other hand...well, that’s why we’re here.

Before I even played the game, the first things I noticed were the consistently negative ratings it received across distributing websites.  Now all things considered, I wasn’t expecting perfection, but these scores were abysmally low.  I thought, “it can’t be as bad as that, right?”

And after playing through the whole thing in one night, I will proudly go on record to say that this game does not deserve these low ratings.

Buuut it’s not perfect, either.

So let’s talk.

First, the elephant in the room - the gameplay itself.  As previously stated, Mortimer Beckett is a hidden object series.  GameHouse is best known for their time management games that occasionally have hidden object mini games sprinkled through the levels.  Mini games and main gameplay mechanics are two very different things, mind you.

That said, I think the translation of the gameplay went very well.  Better than I was expecting, at least.  You’re given a scene in which you must find pieces of different objects that will help you in your current situation.  Then, once those pieces are put together, you can use those objects in the scene to complete small puzzles.  Even with my limited hidden object experience, I can tell that this style of finding pieces of things is quite unique.  

In fact, this was my biggest complaint back in Secrets of Spooky Manor: the pieces that some objects broke into seemed arbitrary and unnatural, making it harder to find what I was looking for.  In Book of Gold, the objects are broken up where they naturally have different “sections” (for example, if you’re looking for a screwdriver, it would be in two separate pieces: the handle and the bit) and gameplay is smoother as a result.

There are also three different kinds of challenge levels throughout the game in which you have to complete certain tasks within a time limit.  These provide a nice sprinkle of adrenaline rush as the main levels have no time limit and you’re welcome to stare at and contemplate them as long as you wish.  So all in all, the gameplay is pretty solid.

Let’s discuss the plot.  Mortimer Beckett moves to Snuggford after inheriting a museum from his Uncle Jerome (a staple character of the series until now, I understand).  In his last letter, Uncle Jerome mentions something called the Book of Gold which apparently possesses mystical qualities, and warns Mortimer to keep it safe.

Even as someone with very little preexisting attachment to this character, I found Mortimer very charming and enjoyable, in that “I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m going to make the best of it anyway, and probably embarrass myself in the process” kind of way.  It was also refreshing simply to play as a guy, as GameHouse Original Stories pretty much exclusively feature women protagonists.

Speaking of which, while this is happening, Kate O’Malley (Delicious Emily’s sister-in-law) is having something of a life crisis and desperately looking for some kind of adventure to get her out of her “boring” hometown.

This is good for two reasons.  One: Kate is a character seen very little of in the Delicious series.  Other than she’s Patrick’s sister and she used to work as a perfume salesgirl, we didn’t know much about her until Book of Gold.  The writers really gave her some agency this time around, where previously she felt kind of cardboard.  And two: Snuggford is often viewed as a very idyllic small town with emphasis on supporting local businesses and fostering community with others.  It’s oddly refreshing to see a protagonist character have a negative view of this place.

Anyway, the two run into each other, shenanigans ensue, and an adventure does indeed begin.

Now if GameHouse is known for anything besides time management gameplay, it’s their heterosexual romantic subplots.  And as much as I was hoping for a platonic partnership this time around, I have to say I ended up liking Kate and Mortimer more than I expected.  It is a bit tropey and shoved down your throat at times, but I think their personalities play off each other quite nicely - Mortimer the somewhat bumbling scholar and Kate the confident risk-taker.  In the end I was genuinely rooting for them.

The story itself as a whole is...fine.  Not amazing, not terrible, but fine.  It has good intentions but, as I said, falls into tropes and shenanigans rather than raising the stakes.  And when the stakes are raised, it fails to explain why and generally lacks urgency.

The best parts of the story in my opinion are the more character-driven scenes.  Stemming from Kate’s desire for adventure, there is an underlying emotional theme about whether or not you’re satisfied with your life and where you are in it.  I think this is handled better than the immediate plot, but could still use some tweaks.  Overall, the writing has the same wonkiness I would expect from any story that hasn’t truly found its groove yet, but it does enough to keep you intrigued.

I absolutely cannot knock GameHouse for trying to do something new, especially in this cash cow of a universe they’ve built for themselves.  They’ve been using basically the same formula for the past ten years or so, and it makes sense that they would want to branch out into other things while still attracting their core audience.

Unfortunately, this game has some very apparent growing pains.

My biggest issue without a doubt is the art.  It’s inconsistent, there’s no other word for it.  Some sprites are completely 2-D, others are completely rendered in 3-D.  Sometimes it’s 2.5-D.  Sometimes it’s 2-D heads stitched onto 3-D bodies.  Some characters look very disproportionate when standing next to others.  Not to mention a lot of reused assets from other games.  I can’t show it for spoiler reasons, but there is a scene near the very end of the game where the character cutting-and-pasting is so painfully obvious and so sloppily done that I almost had to close my computer and take a lap around the house to compose myself.

Also, this game has far less music than I expected.  Despite a swingin’ noir-style theme song written by Adam Gubman, most cutscenes carry out with only generic background white noise for company.  And let me tell you, when a dramatic scene is going down and the only thing you can hear is the muffled voice of an airport intercom?  It feels wrong.  And also lends to that lack of urgency I mentioned earlier.

And as much as I hate to, we have to talk about the “exotic” themes.

For the most part, I would describe GameHouse as having “lukewarm sensitivity” to cultures that are not North American or European.  They have good intentions and for the most part their characters are pretty well rounded, but their research still leaves a little bit to be desired.  I think the Inuit tribe from Delicious - Emily’s Hopes and Fears is the best example of what I’m talking about.

However, I would not put Book of Gold in that same sensitivity tier.  During the third chapter, Mortimer and Kate travel to South America (it’s never specifically stated but since Machu Picchu is clearly visible in one of the scenes, it’s pretty safe to say they’re in Peru) and end up getting lost in the jungle.  Kate is more or less kidnapped by a group of natives, whose leader speaks what can only be described as “cave man English” and invites her to join his harem.  When she refuses, he threatens to kill her if she doesn’t complete the puzzles set before her.  Then, when Kate manages to escape, the tribe leader leans over to one of his guards and says, “Those tourists are so gullible,” indicated that it was all an act.  I still have no idea what to think about this entire section.

There’s also a great deal of Arabian influence in the second half of the game, as the main villain claims to be a sheikh, but I would say that it’s more there for visual interest than anything else.  The side characters you meet in this arc aren’t particularly memorable, and aside from avoiding a sandstorm and racing camels at one point, the desert setting is just kind of...there.  It’s not as bad as it could have been, but it certainly wasn’t doing the game as a whole many favors, either.

To wrap this up with a bow, if you disliked this game simply because it was different and not the “signature GameHouse experience” you’ve come to expect, I feel sorry for you.  If you disliked this game because it doesn’t feel as polished as it could have been and the graphics are a bit of a train wreck?  Yeah, I get you.  But I still found this game enjoyable despite its flaws.  And if you’ve been avoiding this game because the bad ratings scared you off, pull on your big girl panties and manage your expectations.

I really hope that GameHouse sees Book of Gold as a learning experience and not a failure, because I think there’s some genuine potential here.  With some tweaks and polish (and clearer art direction), I would happily accept another game like this.

#mortimer beckett #gamehouse #gamehouse original stories #hidden object games #game review #original article

[baldursgatekeeper]

Book Reflection | Dynasty

(Heads up: this review contains brief mentions of murder, sexual assault, sex work stigma, and other violence).

I’ve been continuing on my theme of reading about ancient Rome with Dynasty by Tom Holland (not that Tom Holland). While it continued the historical narrative where my last book, Caesar, left off, it was a complete departure in terms of style. Caesar was a rather dry and academic account and analysis of the life of Julius Caesar, while Dynasty was an entertaining if less academically sound read about his ruling descendants. I enjoyed reading it but am not entirely convinced of its historical credentials. In order to make things entertaining, Holland opted for a style where the historical events were presented in narrative form, which could probably be done in a more historically rigorous way, but Holland chose to take some artistic liberties with the ‘story’.

Everything is presented in lurid detail, from murder, massacres, sexual assault and what would now be considered domestic abuse, to orgies, sex work and countless scandals befalling the House of Caesar (often sexual in nature). While there’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that there was some pretty dodgy stuff going on in Casa del Caesar, a lot of what Holland describes is sensationalised and presented with a kind of morbid delight. Holland also speculates a lot as to the motives and inner feelings and thoughts of his ‘characters’, which would be fine, if a little spurious, if it was acknowledged as speculation, but Holland has a habit throughout the entire book of presenting his interpretation of events as the whole, objective truth, without acknowledging the lack of historical basis for many of his claims or the fact that there are differing interpretations by scholars.

Another thing that rankled me about the book was the fact that Holland didn’t separate his narrating voice from the motives and opinions of his subjects. While this may have been deliberately chosen to increase ‘immersion’ in the narrative, it rubbed me the wrong way as it often resulted in Holland making moral and/or judgemental statements about historical figures, trends and events from an antiquated perspective and without any examination or acknowledgement from a modern standpoint as to how Roman moral standards differ from our own. There’s a difference between a narrator acknowledging and discussing the fact that sex work and sex workers had a stigmatised position in the social hierarchy of ancient Rome, and a narrator calling sex workers ‘wh*res’ without any context or indication that this is an antiquated viewpoint.

This book was definitely entertaining and enjoyable to read, but that entertainment was unfortunately reached through sacrificing historical legitimacy and the offputting nature of keeping the narration ‘in character’ with the morals of the time. I’d recommend this book if you want a scandalous romp through the lineage of the Caesars, but if academic analysis and scholarly integrity are more to your taste, then perhaps give this one a miss.

What’s a book you’ve read that you’ve enjoyed, but had criticisms of?

#booklr #book photography #book talk #bookworm #bookstagram #original baldursgatecontent #my books #book reflection #book #reading #read #bookblr #book worm #book nerd #book lover #booklover #book blog #book blogger #bookish #bibliophile #book photo #book discussion #book question #reviving booklr

[belzinone]

Hello RPC! ♡

I redirect my peripheral blogs to these rules because I consider Bel my primary muse. If you came here from Eren, my sapphic multimuse hub, or Angel, thanks for taking the time to go through all my stuff. It means a lot to me ~ ♡

      ♡ Things you should know before becoming mutuals ♡

My name is Sal (they/them/theirs; 25+) & I write an OC blog because although I love SnK, I’m an original content creator at heart & blending my own ideas into an existing universe is a happy medium for me. I’m also a queer studies scholar, future paramedic, & C-PTSD / domestic violence survivor, so support, community, & freedom of expression is very important to me.

As a mod, I’ll do my best to encourage your creativity as well as be a supportive friend/writing partner on & off the dash. That being said, here’s a bit on how I like to roll. These guidelines are not only meant to steer my interactions, but also contain resources to potentially help you as well.

First off, here are my hard No’s: I don't tolerate severe ooc ignorance or bigotry. Minor offenses & honest mistakes I understand since we’re always learning, but severe & repeated instances warrant an unfollow &/or block from me. I don't have the energy to entertain these situations nor is it my sole responsibility to make every act of ignorance I come across a teaching moment. I strive to maintain an enriching environment here for myself & others in my orbit. It is also my right to do so as it is yours.

༺ I’m particularly intolerant of offenses towards my identities. These are sensitive issues I don’t appreciate taking lightly unless I’m comfortable with you enough as a person to know where your real sentiments lie. Furthermore, intersectionality’s a real important concept. If your instinct is to downplay the severity of these issues, take the time to learn about them instead of harassing people for the ways they respond to their abuse. It’s tiring & I don’t fuck with it. Neither should you.

༺ That being said, I understand  mun ≠ muse & author ≠ narrative. With sensitivity, communication, content warnings, & consent, these things can certainly coexist. I roleplay for community, enjoyment, & healing while also understanding that everyone processes things differently & silence is damaging.

༺ I ask that if you encounter content not to your taste, please don’t police the internet & instead respectfully ask op to tag, blacklist, block, or unfollow. I’ll extend this respect to you so we can all navigate the rpc safely, as uninformed content policing has serious legal consequences as well as interferes with real justice. 

Now that my hard No’s are out of the way, I’m very eager to fulfill wishlists. Please send as many inboxes, write as many starters, & start as many threads as you like. There’s no pressure to keep all the threads we start, so please feel free to follow your inspirational whims. I’m happy to follow them too if I can.

༺ I love interactions of all kinds & write threads of all lengths, but I enjoy writing multi-para/novella threads most & shippy/angsty/sapphic interactions are my favorite. Though Bel is on the asexual/aromantic spectrum (& is a dysphoric nonbinary woman) she is nonetheless eligible for shipping & sexual encounters with all genders under the right circumstances. However, I prefer our muses to be close in age & would rather not write heavy power dynamics without equally heavy plotting. A quick info post is here. 

༺ I enjoy & thrive on ooc communication. This doesn’t mean we have to be in contact all the time, but I do love getting to know you & your muse(s) because it makes interactions all the more personal and fulfilling. You can also check the status of our thread(s) whenever you like here, as my activity can be a bit capricious.

༺ Please cut your replies & include active responses in your writing. I will have trouble writing off of neutral &/or vague replies. I’d much rather we drop threads & start something new rather than continue writing one that no longer sparks joy.

༺ Please don’t godmod or excessively use me as a meme/musing source. This includes long / unplotted timeskips & practicing karma if we don’t have much development. If your muse is relating to our posts a lot, we should be able to make something out of it.

༺ Severe mischaracterization of my muse is a huge turnoff. Please don’t make assumptions. Please don’t fetishize her. Please don’t mistake her fanon for a hospital nurse. She’s a soldier. Please do gloss over her info (everything under central navigation) & ask me questions if you need to. I understand she’s an intensely developed character, but understanding the unique portrayal of your muse is important to me so please extend the same courtesy. I’m happy to learn as well as explain.

This is an explicit blog & triggers will be present (as well as tagged by request). Please don’t interact if you’re a minor & please ask for consent before writing sexually explicit content with me. More often than not it’ll be an enthusiastic YES, but please give me the heads up as well as your preferences so we can do the dirty in a way that’s fun for both of us. ♡

As a result of the 2018 purge, i’ll be circumventing this god awful policy using the following tags:

current nsfw tag: #FREE THE FEMALE PRESENTING NIPPLE . nsfvv

old nsfw tag: #FREE THE FPN . sfw // only it’s not

Unfortunately, what I cannot tag are spoilers, as many are key aspects of Bel’s character & plot devices in threads. If you’re an anime only fan of SnK, aren’t caught up with the manga, &/or aren’t familiar with other parts of the series (such as acwnr & smartpass releases), I’m sorry I won’t be able to keep spoilers out of Bel’s pages &/or off the dash.

The SnK universe is a playground & this is my sandbox. I’m not interested in seeing or engaging with any discourse or villainization of its existence & am simply here for my personal enjoyment of the series (as well as yours if you’d like to join me. ♡ )

Thanks for going through this! Please feel free to let me know if there’s any way I can help make roleplaying a better/easier experience for you, let it be accessibility &/or communication issues. I experience some forms of dyslexia & understand the struggle very much. I also apologize ahead of time for any misspellings or strange word replacements in my replies. I do my best to proofread, but things fall through the cracks sometimes. Finally, you can find a quick and easy guide to starting an interaction with us here. If you’d like to add me on discord, mine’s sal#2446. Please send yours so I can associate your blog/muse(s) with your name.

Thanks again, & I look forward to getting to know you & your muse(s)!

Love, Sal (they/them/theirs) ♡

community credits

dash icon art by laffi

rp icon frame by shane

dash icon frame by carti

ooc jensen gif icons by magenta

theme by evie

༺ theme background & makeover by sage

༺ theme header graphic by vee

༺ music player by glen

༺ about muse page by rowan

༺ ༺ cinemagraphs by daria

༺ ༺ moodboard by shuuhuu

༺ verse page by raven

༺ community relationships page by index47

༺ npc relationships page by julia

༺ rules page by rowan

other original artwork & edits by yours truly

- - - - - anything unlisted, please ask ♡

- - - - - - - - - - you can find other resources i love on @bzresources