#molan fic

[moiraineswife]

The Lies Our Broken Selves Tell Our Better Halves - A Siuaraine Fic

Title: The Lies Our Broken Selves Tell Our Better Halves

Warnings: Spoilers up to episode 3 of season 2. Safe for non-book readers. Trigger warnings: Mo's general mental state atm which is, as we know: Not Ideal. Mentions of rape/threatened rape in the context of forcing a bond.

Summary: Set/written after the first trio of episodes of season 2 to deal with Lan and Moiraine's dramatic bond-divorce via the power of Siuan Sanche, currently in possession of the only known braincell in Randland. AKA: Moiraine is making bad decisions, spiralling out of control, and smashing every 'self-destruct' button she comes across and she very badly needs Siuan to slam on the brakes before she yeets herself off a cliff. AKA: Moiraine needs a 'come to Jesus' talk so badly and who better to give it to her than the wizard pope/her wife?

Teaser:

'“Then Moiraine crumpled before her eyes. Her shoulders slumped, her mask fell away, revealing the agony and the empty exhaustion that lingered beneath. She covered her face with a shaking hand and moved blindly towards the bed, sinking down onto it as though she no longer had the strength left in her body to remain standing.

Siuan’s heart clenched painfully and the love in it for this woman caused a pang of regret to pulse through her. But she steeled herself and refused to give Moiraine an easy way out of this. It would be painful, but she needed it. Light but she needed it.'

Link: AO3 or Read Below:

“Where’s Lan?”

This simple, casual question instantly changed the atmosphere in the room the way a storm changed the feeling of the wind on the sea and instinctively made Siuan shiver.

Moiraine turned away, putting her back to Siuan, making a casual show of looking out of the window, the gesture effortlessly woven into the absent circles she was walking around the room anyway. But Siuan knew her too well for her to get away with that shit, and a flicker of anxiety immediately tightened in her stomach. She was far too calm for him to be ill or grievously injured, and if he was dead Siuan doubted she would even be upright, let alone coherent, but– 

“At the Tower, I expect,” Moiraine replied lightly, absently tracing the delicate petals of a rose in the vase on the window ledge.

“At the Tower?” Siuan repeated, bewildered, “Why in the name of the Light is he there?”

“I sent him there,” Moiraine said, moving away from the window to continue her lazy, seemingly mindless circle around the room. "He should have arrived by now. No doubt he's enjoying reuniting with Nynaeve. Likely as we speak,” with the suggestion of a little smirk on her lips and a faint laugh. It was as flat and empty as  her eyes, which remained cold and distant and sad throughout her little performance.

Enjoying reuniting with– Siuan opened her mouth to demand an answer to just such a question, but no. That was deliberate misdirection. Moiraine’s too casual air, that forced smile. She wanted her to focus on something, anything, other than what she should be focusing on. And that was an answer to the question of: what in the name of all that was bright had happened at Verin’s quaint little cottage? Clearly it’d grown more interesting since Siuan had last visited.

“What do you mean you ‘sent’ him?” Siuan asked, very quietly, and very intently, so Moiraine could not avoid the question unless she very obviously side-stepped it, thereby revealing it as a sore point.

Instead of further attempts at deflection, Moiraine returned with that false little smile that Siuan loathed. The one that held no humour at all and that she only used when she was trying to make light of a situation that could not have been darker if it was taking place within the Dark One’s own arsehole.

“I’m not really sure what’s causing you confusion,” Moiraine said with that mildly patronising inflection in her voice. “I sent him, that is to say I arranged for him to go from one place and to arrive in another of my choosing.” 

Siuan might have throttled her, but she needed her hands to massage her temples to try and stave off the headache she felt coming on. Light and she’d thought this would be a simple question. She had forgotten that, when talking to Moiraine bloody Sedai, there was no such thing as ‘simple’.

Moiriane, the Light blind her, had the gall to add blithely, “couriers do that sort of thing, you know. I was sure you’d be familiar with the concept.”

Siuan snapped her eyes up to meet Moiraine’s as she cut in sharply, with no trace of amusement or indulgence of the little farce she’d just been forced to witness, “your Warder is not a package.” 

The coldness in her voice brought Moiraine up short. Her false little smile faded as her expression hardened. Then she set her jaw in that way she’d picked up from Lan years ago, without either of them realising it and stared icily down at Siuan. As if that was going to put her off. 

“That man cannot just be ‘sent’ anywhere,” Siuan continued, utterly unphased by Moiraine’s glare, “anymore than you can send a hurricane to ‘a place of your choosing’,” she repeated sardonically, each word snapping out harsher and faster than the last, until she was practically spitting the last ones. “He has been more devoted to you than a sailor who hasn’t seen a tavern in a year is devoted to his first mug of ale." Her eyes bored into Moiraine’s, and she met the stare defiant and unflinching as ever, so Siuan pressed harder, "I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d died and his corpse just got right back up and refused to stop following your fool self around," she said bluntly.

Then she paused for a moment, letting the implications of that sink in properly, watching the subtle nuances of Moiraine’s expression shift. It was like reading the currents of an ocean, something anyone unfamiliar would miss entirely, but were as obvious as words on parchment to those that knew. Siuan caught the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth, the flickering blink, there for half a heartbeat then gone, the slight tightening of the skin around her eyes, and felt as wary as she would spotting a cleverly hidden riptide beneath the waves. 

“What happened, Moiraine?” she asked quietly, in the same stone voice, unbroken and unweathered by time or tide, every inch the one she used when she made a demand as the Amyrlin Seat. One that would be obeyed.

With a swirl of deep blue Cairhien skirts, Moiraine turned on her like a summer storm. Siuan held her ground, unmoved, even at the sight of the flare of anger that flashed in her partner's eyes. For a long, charged beat of tension they stared at each other, gazes locked, jaws clenched, heels dug in, both ready to go ‘til the last breath if needed.

Then Moiraine crumpled before her eyes. Her shoulders slumped, her mask fell away, revealing the agony and the empty exhaustion that lingered beneath. She covered her face with a shaking hand and moved blindly towards the bed, sinking down onto it as though she no longer had the strength left in her body to remain standing.

Siuan’s heart clenched painfully and the love in it for this woman caused a pang of regret to pulse through her. But she steeled herself and refused to give Moiraine an easy way out of this. It would be painful, but she needed it. Light but she needed it. 

Instead, Siuan crossed the room and knelt down on the floor at her side, staying close, while still giving her the space she needed. Reaching out and gently twining their fingers, stopping Moiraine from agitating the already red and ragged skin around her nails that she’d been worrying at in her agitation. Siuan waited, patient, thumb stroking over the back of her hand, giving Moiraine time to gather her thoughts.

Finally, without warning, like a horse suddenly bolting for no flaming reason at all, as they did, Moiraine launched abruptly into speech.

“I tried for months to make him leave me,” she began, with an obvious frustration in her voice, punctuated by her little huff, “to make him see reason.” She sighed heavily, shaking her head and looking exasperated and hopeless at once. “Nothing I did worked,” she muttered impatiently, “no matter what I said, or what I did, aloof, or indifferent, or even cruel I was to him: it never made any difference. He can be damned stubborn when he wants to be,” she grimaced.

Siuan decided it was not wise to interrupt Moiraine now she’d finally started talking, and clearly had a lot to get off her chest, to point out the frankly hysterical level of irony and lack of self-awareness in her calling any other person in any turning of the Wheel ‘damned stubborn’, but she had to bite her tongue to manage it.

“The more I tried to push him away the more insistent he seemed to become on staying,” she frowned, as though unable to even fathom a suggestion of why he’d acted that way.

Siuan bit her tongue harder still to save bursting out a deeply sarcastic suggestion of why it might be that the man who had been the other half of her bloody soul for decades, and who loved her more than all the stars loved their sky, became more reluctant to abandon her the more clearly unwell and irrational she acted.

Something shifted in Moiraine and Siuan snapped her focus sharply back to her. The atmosphere around her became suddenly very cold and still. As though a funeral shroud had slipped down behind her eyes, they darkened, and she had to swallow to clear her throat before she could continue. Siuan reached up and placed her other hand gently on Moiraine’s side, feeling a need to anchor her against whatever memory threatened to pull her away in its current.

“What?” Siuan prompted as gently as she could, but she still felt the bite to the word that snapped out before she could stop it as concern flared in the pit of her stomach.

“That night, after I found out about the breaking of Lanfear's seal," she clarified quickly, clearly struggling to wrangle her thoughts into some semblance of order, "I left to set out for Cairhien and I–" she paused, mouth tightening and Siuan frowned, sensing her change her mind about what she'd been about to say. Before she could comment, Moiraine blurted out abruptly, "we were attacked by three Fades.” 

Siuan swore she felt her soul attempt to leave her body for a moment at the horror of those words, but she wrestled it back down like a troublesome line. Though she knew that, clearly, they had both survived the ordeal, she couldn’t help herself gripping Moiraine’s hand with the fear that had gripped her.

“It was my fault.” Moiraine whispered unsteadily, that familiar shadow of self-loathing turning her sea blue eyes to chips of black ice, “entirely my fault.” 

The hand Siuan was not holding curled into a too-tight fist she knew would make the nails bite painfully into her palm. 

Mouth trembling, Moiraine went on with difficulty, “ “Lan was fighting, protecting me, but there were too many. It was too much,” she wiped away the tears that threatened in her eyes with a careless, impatient hand. “I was injured, just lying there on the ground like a discarded doll–” she choked on the word as disgust and frustration mingled and silenced her momentarily. “Pointless,” she spat out, words returning, along with her anger at herself. “I was useless, Siuan,” she breathed, shaking her head, “I was so useless. Like a frightened child in the middle of a warzone,” she shook her head again. Her voice was shaking so badly now that Siuan had to concentrate to make out her words. “They were going to kill him and I did nothing to save him, to help him, I– I couldn’t–” 

She was crying now, tears streaming from her eyes, her anguish ignoring the hand she used to try and brush them away. Siuan squeezed her hand as her heart tightened in sympathy with her. Moiraine tried to speak several times, her efforts largely incoherent, though Siuan thought she heard the words ‘I tried to channel’, but in the end Moiraine gave up. Swallowing hard she finally just shook her head to indicate that the power had not come when she had needed it. 

“I failed him,” she choked out bluntly, “utterly,” she added, ignoring Siuan shaking her head and opening her mouth to chastise her for that. She was still speaking, firm and matter-of-fact now, “I knew then that I had to get him away from me,” she whispered firmly, a new resolve giving her the strength to continue, though it shattered something within Siuan to hear her phrase it like that, as if she were a blight, infectious, corrupting, “whatever it took, I could no longer stand to keep him at my side, shackled to my danger, and my weakness.”

Siuan was quiet for a long moment, letting those words fade from ringing declarations of pain, to fading echoes, until they were mere memories of the agony they once held. Abruptly, Moiraine got to her feet, and moved away. Siuan made no move to stop her. She stayed quiet, watching Moiraine tremble herself to stillness again, the agitation slowly working its way out of her body as she hugged herself, pacing, before finally coming to a halt at the window again. One hand resting on the sil, she stared out of it with a posture and smoothness to her face that said she’d done this many times before, and took several slow, deep breaths, gradually regaining control. Her shoulders hunched slightly and her eyes seemed distant and exhausted again, as though this brief flicker of true emotion had drained her of what little strength she’d managed to cling to.

Finally, when she felt Moiraine was ready to hear it, Siuan broke the silence.

“Do you remember all those years ago,” she intoned softly, “when we agreed that you would search the world for the Dragon, and I would remain at the Tower to maintain our informant networks, and try and politic the bickering Ajahs into something that vaguely resembled a useful faction against the Dark One for when the time came?” 

Moiraine nodded, looking too exhausted to speak, but she turned her head over a shoulder, watching, waiting for more. 

“I told you that you needed a Warder,” Siuan went on calmly.

Moiraine nodded tiredly again, but with a slightly more impatient air, as though she felt an ‘I told you so’ twenty years after the fact was a little pointless. Siuan agreed, which was why that wasn’t at all what she was headed towards.

Unruffled, Siuan reminded, “you didn’t want one,” and heard a barely perceptible little sigh in response. “You told me that you didn’t want a Warder, didn’t want someone in your head, able to feel all of your fears, and your flaws, and your insecurities,” she went on doggedly, apparently oblivious to the disparaging little frown pinching Moiraine’s face. “You thought it would be invasive and unbearable, and that it wasn’t worth all that. But I insisted.”

‘Insisted’ was actually a very polite way of describing what she’d done. If memory served the conversation had been a lot closer to beating her over the head with a broom and demanding it than anything as polite or civilised as ‘insistence’. Moiraine looked too worn out to point this out, however. Siuan pushed through the worry she felt coiling in her stomach, determined to see this point through.

“So we observed, and we gathered information, and we made notes, and conducted thorough investigations into all of the Warders currently in training at the Tower to find someone who was suitable and competent,” she said, remembering their girlish excitement, their first spy mission undertaken together as budding Blues, “and, more to the point, someone that you might actually manage to stand without driving one or both of you to murder or suicide within a week,” she added wryly, a fondness now tugging at her heartstrings at the memory.

The corners of Moiraine’s mouth even dared to lift into something like a true smile, warm and real, her eyes softening, meeting Siuan’s gaze with such love at the recollection. Without seeming to consciously make a choice to do so, she crossed the room back towards Siuan and reached down twining their fingers together.

Siuan burst the romantic bubble blossoming between with customary brutality before Moiraine became concerned that such uncharacteristic behaviour meant her wife had been replaced by a Forsaken.

“Then you thoughtlessly toppled weeks of our hard work into a fire pit on your way out on that hairbrained scheme you had in mind when you left without so much as a ‘by your leave’,” Siuan grumbled, not missing the way Moiraine rolled her eyes. Undeterred, Siuan forged resolutely ahead. “One week later you waltzed back to the Tower with a man neither of us had ever met before in our lives and announced that you’d bloody gone and taken him as your Warder!” she concluded.

Siuan made sure that her words appropriately conveyed how distinctly incredulous, not to mean miffed, she’d felt at little Lady ‘no Warder is good enough for me’ Damodred pulling a stunt like that after rejecting every one of her carefully selected candidates.

Siuan shook her head in mock-disbelief, but couldn’t stop the smile that was starting to blossom on her lips, “I thought you were insane,” she said bluntly. “Couldn’t even have told me his favourite colour if I’d held a knife to your neck,” she snorted with derision, “but you’d gone and bonded the great stoic stone lump, eyes colder than a dead shark’s and all,” she muttered, fully smirking now.

In spite of the lightness of her tone, and the fact that Moiraine was well aware Siuan loved Lan in his own right after all these years, she did not miss the slight tension that flared for a moment at the insult to him, affectionate or otherwise. 

Stroking her thumb soothingly over the back of Moiraine’s hand to stop her spikes making an appearance, Siuan continued, “I was wrong,” she said softly, “and I’ve never been as happy to be so, either,” she added for good measure. Moiraine looked down, as she looked up, their eyes meeting. A faint glint of tears reflected in Moiraine’s again as Siuan murmured, “that man is the best thing that’s happened to you since, well, since I did,” she teased, and was rewarded by a feeble, wobbly little attempt at a smile from Moiraine for her efforts. “And he is, without a doubt, the only reason you didn’t starve to death two months in because you forgot to eat for three weeks straight,” she added mildly.

Moiraine’s weak little smile had the audacity to shift at once into a much stronger little scowl, as though Siuan had claimed something utterly unreasonable or false when they both knew it was true. 

“The day I met him, he didn’t know you from the next haughty little Aes Sedai,” Siuan continued, remembering this more clearly than what she’d eaten for breakfast that very morning, “but I knew that he would follow you wherever you led. I knew,” she insisted firmly, “that every step you took, he would be right there at your side, taking each one as you did.” A single tear slid down Moiraine’s cheek at those words, and she gave a tiny nod of affirmation. “I was right,” Siuan agreed, nodding herself, “that’s what he’s done every day for the last twenty years, Moiraine,” she reminded her pointedly, as though she had forgotten that she had lived them, or, perhaps, as though she had simply forgotten that she’d ever lived at all.

“Exactly,” Moiraine murmured and for a brief moment, if she hadn’t known her better, Siuan might have entertained the idea that the stubborn pain in her arse might have seen reason. Unfortunately, she knew her very well, and sensed this was too easy long before Moiraine proved it to her by insisting in a hollow, self-loathing little voice that didn’t suit her, “he has wasted enough of his life on me already.”

“I don’t think he sees it that way,” Siuan argued back, preparing herself for a long, agonising night of attempting to beat some sense into this woman.

Carefully worded logic rarely worked on her when she was like this. Typically she needed a good solid reality check with the approximate subtlety of a brick to the face. This sort of clobbering generally fell to Siuan since her Warder, for all his admirable qualities, was far too gentle with Moiraine for her own good sometimes.

“You can’t just ask someone like Lan, someone who lives and breathes for one single thing, one single goal, one single purpose,” she said, laying a steady emphasis on that final word, not missing the tightening around Moiraine’s eyes that said she knew very well what she was getting at, "to give all of that up and abandon you. He needs you, Moiraine,” she murmured quietly, “as surely as the stars need the sky.”

"He does not,” Moiraine half-growled and half- groaned back. She drew her hands from Siuan’s and took a few steps away from her, gazing unseeingly out of her window again at the night sky and the stars it held beyond. “He has never needed me,” she muttered, arms wrapping around herself, “except perhaps in needing me to stay away from him,” she added darkly.

"He would be dead without you,” Siuan countered bluntly. “If he'd never met you, and you'd never convinced him to trust you and become your Warder he would have died twenty years ago.” 

She saw the flash of pain in Moiraine’s eyes at whatever memory of Lan, broken and hopeless as he’d been, and knew she felt the truth of her words. So she kept going, the moment before a catch broke the surface of the water at last was no point to slacken your grip on the line.

“Without you there would be no Lan,” she stated, clear and precise, with all the conviction of a simple truth. “Even if, by some miracle, he survived that suicide mission he set out on, he wouldn’t be the man he is today without you.” She gave that a moment, a brief handful of heartbeats, for Moiraine to come to terms with, then pressed on relentlessly. “And I know you love and trust and respect the man that he’s become at your side more than almost anyone in this world,” she all but growled, “And you know that he has more earned the right to choose to stay with you until the end."

"Enough, Siuan,” Moiraine snapped finally, rubbing the spot between her eyes that marked where the sharpest pain of the migraines that had plagued her since they were novices tended to gather when she was stressed. “I have listened to him argue with me about this every day for the last five months,” she muttered wearily, “I am not going to endure the same from you,” she said with an irritated little jerk of her head, obvious frustration in her.

Well if she was finally frustrating her that meant at least they were starting to get somewhere.

"You listened, did you?” Siuan retorted sceptically, eyebrows raised. “Did you actually listen to him and what he said to you?" she demanded knowingly, “or did you just pretend to hear him the way you do when you know someone is making a reasonable point that you don’t want to acknowledge?” she pressed relentlessly. 

Moiraine turned and managed a scowl that looked positively like her old self as she said coldly, "I know what you're doing and it won't work. My mind is made up,” she bit out firmly, seeing Siuan open her mouth to reply. 

Then she turned away, her eyes again on the window, and the world beyond, as though she could see through the buildings, and the trees, and the hills as if they too were glass, to the man that she had not been parted from this way in twenty years. 

Lowering her head she added in an undertone, “even if you did it's too late now. It is done. It is broken. That is the end,” she concluded very softly, swallowing hard and looking down at her fingers, away from the window, cutting off the invisible thread Siuan had imagined joining her and Lan for a moment.

Siuan paused, pretending to actually deliberate and consider this idea, then she said evenly, “it could still be undone.” Moiraine took a very deep, very slow breath, lifting her chin very slightly towards the ceiling, as though silently begging the Light for patience. “It could be fixed, if you tried,” Siuan said, completely ignoring Moiraine’s reaction.

"Not everything that is broken can be fixed, Siuan," Moiraine replied, a new darkness gathering at the edges of her words, like night steadily swallowing the evening sun and all its warmth.

"No,” Siuan agreed, and she could not maintain her previous toneless, matter-of-fact even cadence now, not when she knew that Moiraine did not only mean to imply her fractured relationship with Lan, but also her fractured self. “Not perfectly or completely,” Siuan went on, made herself go on, made herself say those words, with the full force of the belief that lived behind them. “Maybe it can never be exactly as it once was. But it can always be better than it is now,” she said, and she felt her father’s voice echo in an unheard harmony alongside her own, his lessons, his wisdom, still a core of who she was and, more importantly, who she strived each day to be.

There's no such thing as perfection, so there's no excuse to ever stop trying to improve.

Her head and her heart were still full of his sayings. If they’d been rich, she’d often thought, he could have become one of the greatest philosophers of their age, quoted from Tear to the Two Rivers.

Usually Moiraine knew the feel and form of Berden’s little pearls of wisdom. Usually she would tease her and tell her that her accent became stronger, more Tairen, when she said them, as though her father truly was sharing his words with his daughter’s voice. Usually they coaxed a smile from her, and a pause to the ceaseless spinning of her mind. Usually they connected to her in the same place that she connected to Siuan, a tether to a welcome shore that promised a safe harbour.

This time nothing. No response. No acknowledgement at all. To the point that Siuan was sure she had barely even heard her speak, let alone what she’d said. She opened her mouth to say something more but Moiraine beat her to the catch,

“Not this,” she whispered, and she was staring at the window again, but this time she clearly didn’t see it, or anything at all for that matter, save whatever memory had gotten its hands about her throat and started to crush the breath from her. “Not after what I–” she began in a tremulous whisper.

Abruptly she broke off, as though remembering herself. Siuan watched as she reflexively corrected her posture, straightening her spine, standing tall and confident, the very image of a perfect Cairhien noblewoman. But though her face, as she turned back in Siuan’s direction, was perfectly calm and smooth, she would not meet her eyes.

Something went very cold and dark inside Siuan as she realised that she had made a damned rookie blunder and allowed Moiraine to distract her from the one key detail she clearly hadn’t wanted to discuss.

“How did you get him to agree to go to the Tower without you?” Siuan asked slowly, fear rising in her throat and choking the word near to silence. “You never answered me.”

She’d thought Moiraine had given Lan some false instruction asking him to fetch something for her that she could not, due to her exile. But no, Lan knew her far too well to fall for something like that. Especially after what Moiraine had done to him the night before she’d gone to the Eye of the World. And from the look in her eyes,, the hunch in her shoulders that all to clearly gave away her bone-deep guilt–

“Moiraine–” she began, unable to keep the warning from her voice.

Quiet engulfed them for a long, heavy moment, that seemed to press down with a greater weight than the world they’d carried between them all these years.

“I wrote to Alanna and asked her to meet me at the crossroads so that she might escort Lan to the Tower while I carried on alone to Cairhien” Moiraine answered at last, trying to speak stoutly and confidently, but Siuan could hear the tremors of the fracture lines she was close to breaking along, no matter how well she tried to hide them.

Narrowing her eyes, Siuan bit out, the words sharpened by the tension that was winding ever tighter in her, “it’s a good thing she has Ivhon and Maksim. I imagine that would make it much easier to bind and gag Lan and throw him over the back of his horse, which is the only bloody way I see him going to the Tower with Alanna while you ended up here.”

It could not have been clearer that Moiraine could not meet her eyes. She stared down at her clenched fingers, the skin of which was red raw from how she had agitated it during their conversation. All at once, it was as though she could not even stand to be in her own body, to be herself at all. So great was the guilt and pain and shame that seemed to physically press upon her as Siuan watched, that Siuan thought she might collapse between it. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, as they darted wildly about the room seeking another anchor point, and for that single beat of time, Siuan felt as though she glimpsed Moiraine’s true self, trapped and smothered within the cage of her bones, huddled and broken, given up on trying to break free.

“What the fuck did you do, Moiraine?” Siuan whispered, terrified, genuinely terrified, for the first time in years.

“I told him–” Moiraine began, then broke off, as if gagged by her oath, though Siuan knew there was a far simpler, far more human barrier between her and the words she struggled to speak this time. “I told him that if he refused to go willingly–” 

Again she stopped, this time needing to take down a gasp of air as her whole body shook. Even then she seemed to be struggling to breathe, as though something constricted her throat, each word needing to be forced out past an ever-tightening noose, and Siuan suddenly felt dread grip the very heart of her. All at once she did not want to cross this line. She did not want to know into what darkness this woman she loved had fallen.

“I told him that I would have Alanna take his bond by force if I had to,” she whispered in a strangled little voice.

Siuan recoiled. The movement was instinctive, and she couldn’t have stopped it if she’d wanted to. Nor was she sure that she did. Light– That was– Light. Forcing a bond with someone against their will was one of the most invasive and horrific things it was possible to do with their power. It was not only a violation of the body, but of the mind, the very soul itself. For Moiraine to have even threatened that– Threatened Lan with it–

“I thought that you loved him,” Siuan said, horror and disgust rising in her words as well as the back of her throat. “I thought that he was family to you,” she breathed, revulsion forcing her, for the first time that she could remember, to step away from this woman that she had spent most of her life waiting to run to. “How could you do that to him?”

“I didn’t!” Moiraine cried, stricken, a burst of emotion rising in her, stronger than anything else she’d been able to muster as she stared at Siuan with desperate urgency. “Of course I would never have allowed it to get that far, but–”

“You threatened him with it!” Siuan interrupted, a snap in her voice, words rising to a shout in her disbelief and her anger and her horror.

That she had done this in what Siuan assumed, what she begged the very Wheel itself, was in a wild moment of utter desperation was one thing. But to stand here now in the cold aftermath and defend the choice? 

Siuan felt as though she were looking into the eyes of a stranger, a nameless, unknown creature wearing her face. Because this could not be her Moiraine. The Eye of the World had taken that woman she had loved for decades, that woman she would have ripped the world apart seam by seam to protect, and spat out something else, something that looked like Moiraine, sounded like her, but could not be her in truth.

Still in disbelief, bile burning the back of her throat she went on, hoarse with shock and ever mounting rage, making her voice waver, “the fact that you actually managed to get those words out past the First Oath to spit in his face?” Her lip curled and she spared no effort at all to hide her disgust as she growled, “I think that’s far enough.”

“Why don’t you understand?” Moiraine whispered, staring at Siuan as though she barely recognised her either. As though they were two strangers seeing each other for the first time. "I was so sure that you would,” she murmured, her eyes going unfocused as she looked inward, seeing something that Siuan could neither see nor even fathom. “I was so sure that you–”

Flinching back with a sudden twist of contempt at that very suggestion, anger rose in her. “How could you ever think I would understand something like this?” she demanded, furious, “let alone accept it!”

“Because you know me!” Moiraine shouted a little wildly, her voice rising and wavering out of her control, like a loose sail stolen by a strong gust rippling and writhing as the rage of the ocean claimed it. “You know me, Siuan,” Moiraine whispered, thumping her palm flat against her chest, just over her heart in a broken display of utter desperation, “you know me better than anyone.”

“I thought I did,” Siuan breathed, her face still hard and cold as her heart had become, petrified and crumbling in the face of this unprecedented darkness in the woman she adored. “Before tonight I never would have believed you capable of this. Not for all the light in this world.”

Moiraine looked utterly broken for a moment, her face falling into lines of clear agony, her eyes closing against it. For a moment Siuan was sure that reason and sanity had returned, and it had hit her just how awful what she’d been suggesting was. 

“I swear to you,” she breathed softly, “I swear to you on my father’s name that I did this for the right reasons,” she all but begged, her eyes wide and shining with tears, “I didn’t do it to hurt him, Siuan–” she began.

But Siuan’s anger flared once more and she cut in, “then I’m sure it wouldn’t have,” she snapped with a furious spite twisting each word, “I’m sure he wouldn’t have felt any pain, or violation, or betrayal at all,” she spat, the words firing from her mouth like crashing hailstones, “not as long as you made sure you had him raped with good intentions–”

Moiraine flinched violently at that word as though it was a physical lash Siuan had branded her with. But Siuan couldn’t find any pity for her. She had blinded herself with willful ignorance and justified this to herself somehow, but Siuan would be burned to ashes before she let her ignore the harsh reality of what she had held over the head of a man who had trusted her enough to dedicate his life to hers for two decades.

“I would never allow Alanna, or anyone else, to hurt him like that,” Moiraine snarled, anger deepening her voice so that it almost seemed to echo up to her from the depths of the ocean itself. “If I could not channel I would put a blade through their heart before they even tried to do such a thing to him,” she went on, emotion burning so palpably from her now that for a moment Siuan felt as though she stood beside a raging sun, “And if I had no blade then I would tear them apart with my bare hands before they even thought of harming him.”

There she was. Yes. That was Moiraine, her Moiraine. Without question. There was no mistaking the blazing intensity in her eyes, the strength of will that seemed to rise from every taut muscle and sinew of her body like a heat haze as she set out her goal and swore every fibre of her soul to see it done, as no one Siuan had ever met could do.

But again, Siuan saw her in the slight tremble of her mouth, the brightness of her eyes, the frightened woman who lived beneath that raging force that at times felt as if she could halt the Wheel itself by virtue of the strength and stubbornness of her command alone. The woman you could almost forget was there, fragile and afraid as any other mortal creature made of flesh and blood and foolish, foolish love.

“But I will not apologise for trying to save a good man from an unjust fate,” Moiraine whispered, the near overwhelming fire of her earlier words suddenly ash, and though there was a crack to her voice there was no less conviction or intent because of that, as she now met and held Siuan’s gaze. 

Even now, after she had been emotionally beaten and branded for her choice, she maintained that, if it could not be called good, it could also never be called wrong. 

Siuan wanted to shake her. She wanted to shake her and ask how she could have endured what she had at the Eye, how she could have felt someone use their Power to strip away her own. How she could know as keenly as it was possible to know what it was to be left behind, vulnerable, and violated, and helpless– how she could feel that pain, and then threaten someone she loved with the same in the name of protecting them.

But she had spoken one truth, amidst the rest of this shadowspawned blight: Siuan did know her. She had known her, and loved her, since they’d been little more than children in the Tower together. So she had to believe, if she believed that there was any light left at all in this forsaken world, that Moiraine had meant well, and could still be made to see some bloody reason.

“Explain,” she murmured tautly, with every flaming bit of restraint that she was still just clinging to.

“There is no chance that either of us will live to see the world we hope to save,” Moiraine said with an honesty that was as casually brutal as it was familiar; and it was as familiar to both of them as cold beds and lonely hearts. “Not until the Wheel turns us out together again in another life. You know that,” she said very quietly, her eyes never leaving Siuan’s, never dropping, never even blinking as they confronted this truth, and this tragedy, of their life, and their love again. “We both made our peace with that years ago when we started all of this. We knew what the price would be if we were to take this path. And we both agreed to pay it."

Siuan nodded, but her brow creased in a slight frown as she said slowly, "Lan would give his life for this, for you, just as willingly, without even thinking about it."

"Of course he would!” Moiraine snapped, sounding almost insulted on her Warder’s behalf, as though Siuan had implied the opposite. 

Slamming her palm down against her thigh, frustration rankling through her, she lifted the same hand to press against her head, as though trying to help it resist some unendurable pain. Then she looked up at Siuan, her expression softening, the lines of tension and stress smoothed away, so she appeared half a child again, innocent, and naive, still able to find the hope they had begun this all with years ago. 

“But he doesn't have to,” she whispered, the words near a plea, to her, or the Wheel itself, Siuan didn’t know. But it was as honest and as raw a prayer as she had ever heard pass this woman’s lips. “He is not bound to that fate as we are. He would give his life for it, without hesitation, I know he would, I do not question that. But he does not have to die for this unless I drag him into the grave that has already been dug for me.” 

Light but there was still good in her, Siuan thought with gentle despair, her heart aching with it. Perhaps too much. 

“He can still have this life, a good life,” Moiraine insisted, the words apparently sounding reasonable and fair to her, when to Siuan they just sounded like the nonsensical plea of a loved one to save a fallen friend who’s heart had long since stopped beating, “a life that he deserves at last. That is all I wanted for him, and everything I have done has been for that. For him,” she implored.

Siuan believed her. Light but she believed her.

“You hurt him,” Siuan said quietly, still adamant that she would get an acknowledgement on this point, before they went any further. “No matter why you did it, or what you hoped to achieve, you still hurt him, Moiraine. More than anyone else ever could, and more than you ever should,” she added firmly, because she understood now, but that did not mean she accepted.

“I know,” Moiraine said, something darkening in her eyes. Shame, Siuan realised, shame for what she had done. 

All at once she seemed to fade before her, the ghost of the woman that had once stood in her place. She moved as though in a daze and sank down onto the edge of her bed again, head in her hands. Cautiously, Siuan moved to her side once more and sat down next to her.

Her presence seemed to give Moiraine the strength she needed to speak. Raising her head, she said softly, “I knew I was hurting him every day that I spoke to him so callously. Or looked at him as though he were a stranger I did not trust. I could see that pain in him, as clearly as I see you standing here before me. And it destroyed me, Siuan. You have to know that. But– He is no longer caught up within the threads of my Pattern, so he need not be hanged by them as I will be,” she said, her eyes wide, the words caught somewhere between a statement and a question; wanting it to be true, but needing Siuan to make it so.

“Moiraine,” Siuan said, achingly tender, the way she would have wrapped her last breath around her name before she rammed the dagger of mercy between her ribs to spare her a fate worse than death. 

Moiraine trembled to hear that, and all the gentle agony it promised.

“Nothing in our Oaths keeps us safe from lying to ourselves,” Siuan murmured, combing her fingers through Moiraine’s hair, smoothing it back from her face. “It’s time,” she said softly, “you can’t hide from yourself anymore, love. You know, you’ve always known, in your heart, that you can’t do this alone.” 

Moiraine’s face crumpled at those words, and she buried it against Siuan’s chest as she turned her face against her shoulder. Siuan cradled her, comforting her from the pain that she herself was inflicting with each word she spoke. Yet she spoke them still, feeling the weight of irony in each one, but knowing they were needed. 

“You and Lan are bound together with something far more powerful and lasting than any Warder bond,” Siuan told her, sharing a truth she had seen the moment she had met Lan, standing at Moiraine’s side, and feeling, for the first time since they’d heard the prophecy, and chosen their paths, that Moiraine might be safe on hers, with him beside her. “Your Patterns are intertwined, absolutely and inextricably, and always have been,” she murmured, achingly gentle. “Your fate is his; and his yours.” 

Moiraine’s whole body shook with the weight of the breaths that heaved through her chest as she struggled to bear yet another burden Siuan laid upon her back. 

“I told you that there would be no Lan without you,” Siuan said, still cradling Moiraine in close to her body, “but equally there is no you without Lan,” she murmured.

As she spoke she rubbed Moiraine’s back in broad, soothing circles, trying to convey without words that it was nearly over. A few more words, and Moiraine would have survived the harshest torture that any person could know. That of having the deepest fears that gave your soul its shadow to contrast its light laid bare before you with simple, merciless truth. 

“You need him, Moiraine,” she said, then again, one last time, to be sure, “you need him.”

Moiraine’s shoulders slumped, and she laid her head completely in Siuan’s lap, then shocked her by actually saying, very quietly, “I know.” 

A pause while she trembled, and wiped furiously at her eyes and mouth with the back of her hand, obviously trying to regain a grip on herself. For a moment, it seemed that she might succeed. Then she wavered, taking several breaths that palpably shuddered through her whole body as she tried to contain the heavy sobs that Siuan could almost feel weighing her down before she managed to get out, “I miss him. I miss him so much.”

The shock of that hit Siuan like a brick to the face. She had expected her to talk about the Pattern, about the future, about the impossibility of the task that had been demanded of them, of the cruelty of the world, and the indifference of the Wheel. She realised now that this had been the last bit of strain needed to snap the entire line, and that everything Moiraine had been holding in since Lan had left, likely since she’d started pushing him away at all, had finally become too much for even her to bear.

“Oh Moiraine–” Siuan breathed sadly.

“I look to my left to catch his eye and seek out his approval before I remember that he’s not there,” she said, the words flowing from her as thick and fast and uncontrollable as her tears. “I hear his voice each morning telling me that I need to eat something before I start my day,” she said, as Siuan stroked her hair and let her weep, “I find it strange when my plate doesn’t have a little more potato or an extra bit of bacon on it than it did a moment before, because he’s slipped me some of his without my noticing.” Siuan smiled at that, at how simple, and ridiculous, and utterly Lan such a gesture was, how it was always the smallest, stupidest things that said ‘I love you’ without ever needing to use the words. “I pour out two cups of tea without even thinking about it. When it all feels too much, and the weight of the world is crushing me, and I do not know what is right or if I can even trust myself to tie my own shoes, I wait for his reassurance, for his hand on my shoulder, or his steadfastness through the bond but– but I–”

Siuan sensed that there was more, so much more, a lifetime’s worth of tiny moments and instinctive acts that had become as thoughtless as breathing, not noticed until they were gone, and then their absence was an agony worse than dying. But there were no more words left to her to speak them. The mask she’d clutched to her face and hidden behind all these months was little more than ash snatched at by the wind. She was bare, and barren, with no more shields to crouch behind, and no more barriers to break her fall. All she could do now was feel, feel every ounce of grief and pain she’d been pushing aside and struggling to ignore for months.

Moiraine broke, utterly and completely, and Siuan held her as she did. She rocked her gently in her arms as she sobbed and screamed until her throat was raw. She stroked her hair as she gasped and heaved and struggled for each breath she sucked in past her grief. She rubbed her back as she convulsed and trembled until at last her exhausted body could give no more, and it lay still and silent in Siuan’s arms. 

Afterwards, Siuan remained quiet. Like the first breath the world took after the passing of a great storm, this was not for her to do, this was not her silence to break, only to keep watch over, until the time came. She knew that it would. Some things were inevitable that way, and she had learned patience as a babe strapped to her father’s back on his little fishing boat, waiting for the tides to carry them home. She had kept that patience for twenty long years, spending each day waiting for Moiraine’s return. She had patience now for this.

Wiping her eyes with that frustrated little gesture, sniffing repeatedly, Moiraine pushed herself tiredly into a sitting position, still leaning against Siuan’s shoulder to help keep her upright.

“I must sound so foolish,” she muttered, voice dulled by fatigue and exertion. Catching Siuan’s expression out of the corner of her eye, she seemed to realise that had not been entirely clear, for she clarified, “crying over cups of tea and potatoes when the Forsaken are stirring and the Dark One’s shadow spreads further each day across the entire world which may be lost if we cannot save it,” she said, with a truly admirable amount of dignity maintained between her hiccups.

Siuan smiled fondly, smoothing out Moiraine’s hair, “a bit,” she admitted, though she made it clear from her tone that it was meant to tease. Kissing the top of Moiraine’s head she sighed out a long resigned breath and said, “I think you need your cups of tea and potatoes and… whatever else,” she said, struggling to remember the precise details of Moiraine’s long, only mostly coherent list. Fortunately this lapse made Moiraine snort with suppressed laughter, knowing her far too well to feel aggrieved, so Siuan continued, “and that’s okay,” she murmured, giving Moiraine a bracing little squeeze. “It’s the same reason I still practise my nets and lures by hand every day,” she said, seeing the soft, fond smile and distant bob of Moiraine’s head in acknowledgement of this, “we need something to keep us sane while everything else goes mad around us.”

Moiraine considered that and then she said very quietly, “So many times, Lan has been the only thing protecting me from death, ever snapping at my heels. But he has also been my net,” she said with a watery smile, catching Siuan’s eyes, “keeping me from the insanity always clawing at the edges of my mind.” 

Siuan nodded as Moiraine’s mouth trembled with the burden of the realisation Siuan had just watched settle heavy upon her soul. She stroked her cheek, anchoring her, but did not interrupt or say the words for her. She needed this, needed to purge herself of this truth as surely as if it were trolloc poison.

“I was selfish,” Moiraine managed to whisper at last. Siuan closed her eyes, a tension she had carried since she had asked Moiraine where Lan was at last allowed to leave her. “I convinced myself that the pain I caused him was worth it, if it kept him safe but… nothing in our Oaths keeps us safe from lying to ourselves, does it?” she murmured, repeating the wisdom Siuan had given her earlier. She closed her eyes, her face a mask of pain, and Siuan felt such pride, and such love, swell within her as she found the strength to confront the person she had been, and hold her accountable for what she had done. “I sought to break him, to break the love, and the loyalty I did not feel I deserved because I knew that it would break me to lose him as well.” Silent tears escaped her, sliding down her cheeks as she whispered, “I was so selfish.”

“I know,” Siuan said, the harsh simplicity of that truth balanced by the soothing tone in which it was spoken.

“He must hate me,” she said, unable to entirely smother the small sob that choked from her as she spoke those words.

“Maybe he should, for what you did to him,” Siuan said, as softly and gently as she had spoken her last truth. 

She saw the reflexive flash of shock and betrayal in Moiraine’s eyes, before she blinked it away, along with the tears that had shone there, and nodded heavily.

"But I’d still stake my life on the bet that he doesn’t,” Siuan continued very quietly. Whether that made him a fool or a hero, she didn’t know, and perhaps it wasn’t her place to decide either way. “You know that’s not him. He will forgive you. Even for this. As long as you give him a reason to."

Moiraine looked up at her for a long moment then, finally, blessedly, she nodded. She looked utterly exhausted as she did so, but she did so, and that was enough for now. Siuan kissed her head. There was still more to say, on this, as well as the other events of the last six months, but Moiraine clearly wasn’t up to hearing so much as the day’s catch right now, let alone anything like that. So Siuan scooped her up and drew her down onto the bed beside her, stroking her hair and wiping away her latest tears.

“Rest now,” she told her softly. Moiraine started to open her mouth to protest, but Siuan just pressed a finger to her lips, “I will stay and shield your dreams,” she said quietly. It was a risk, she knew, not to return to the Palace, but Leane would make her excuses if that became necessary. Siuan judged that the hour-long grilling she would get from her Keeper about where she’d been and why was worth it to allow Moiraine to get a chance to actually recover some of her strength. “You need to sleep,” she insisted, in a tone that warned there would be no arguing of that point.

“You know so well what I need,” Moiraine growled huffily, the words barely distinguishable through the blanket Siuan was already pulling around her.

“I do,” Siuan agreed, as though Moiraine had spoken the words as a mere statement of fact, and not an obviously petulant complaint.

More grumpy sounds issued at this, though none were coherent enough to be made sense of, and were thus very easy to ignore, as Siuan bundled Moiraine up in the densest, heaviest blankets she could find, then wrapped her arms around her and held her close. She was asleep almost before Siuan had finished weaving the shield around her mind to protect her from Lanfear’s influence, at last safe enough to allow the sleep she so desperately needed to claim her.

There was still a ways to go, she knew, the shore was only just visible as a faint line upon the distant horizon, and their little boat still had a vast ocean to cross to reach it. But if things had not yet been fixed, they had been improved. Tomorrow they would improve again, and the day after, and the day after, and the day after. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Until the sand of the shore turned to earth, then to stone, and they reached a place where the turbulent sea was little more than myth, and the oar they carried was mistaken for a staff.

****

I'm friendly! In spite of the endless angsty content I produce! Please come talk to me!

#moiraine damodred #moiraine sedai #siuan sanche #siuanraine #molan #lan mandragoran #wheel of time #wot fic #siuaraine fic #molan fic #my fic #fic #long post #text post tag

[galaxygirl8880]

I don't want to get your hopes up, but I low-key miss posting? 👉👈

I have a lot of unfinished drafts, (like 72) and this one didn't make the cut because if I remember correctly, I thought it was too ooc or something lol.

Idk, maybe I'll get back to uploading again :>

---

Cale but his spice tolerance is fucking ridiculous

Beacrox is trying to perfect a spicy recipe and Cale wants to taste so he lets him with a warning that it's pretty spicy

Cale tries it anyway and doesn't make a face, doesn't to that breathing inwards thing or anything. He nonchalantly puts his spoon down and is like- "Pretty good, could use some more spice though."

And Beacrox, bless his heart, has to do a double take. Like- "?????"

He'd let others try samples and they were suffering for at least 30 minutes

His young master, who detests sour things and has a sweet tooth, said he wants more chili flakes???

Not what he was expecting but oh well-

So like those fics where the children want Beacrox and Cale to have a cook-off, Raon picks the spicy category

He hears Cale whispering to himself "okay mild spices" and thinks nothing of it.

Once they're done, Cale's dish is inedible to everyone but Choi han

It looks delicious and everyone wanted to try some but after bud tried it first and almost died they've been rightfully nervous-

(some wanted to take the risk- it's not every day you can taste something the young master cooked personally)

#cale henituse #beacrox molan #choi han #tcf hong #raon miru #tcf ohn #tcf #trash of the count's family #lout of the counts family #tcf fic idea #bud illis #galaxy's scrapped pile

[salaapaoo]

Do you think Cale would stand along the edges of the group when they're all happy and domestic sometimes...? Just feeling kind of disconnected and distant because this amount of happiness and this amount of closeness was just a distance dream when he was roksoo

Maybe he watches the children get praised and he's so proud of them, but can't help but feel the dull ache of jealousy. Of course, he would also add to the pile of praise and love, but deep inside his inner child just... Aches. Deep inside he just wishes he could've had this when he was younger. The praise, the love, the gentle touches full of warmth. Maybe he just can't help but feel so far away because it feels so.. unreal. He's never had the chance to properly grow up, so he definitely wishes for these kids to grow up happy, loved, cherished, and healthily. Hell, he will make sure they do.

Maybe he freezes when the kids first begin to hug him? The warmth is foreign, but not unwelcome... So he indulges them. Giving them the love and affection that he wishes he received as roksoo. Turns out he's also touch starved as well, so he grows to love these interactions with the children. Eventually he starts initiating them by himself, finding his hand gently carding through On or Hong's hair, or maybe his hand rubbing circles on the small of Rain's back? But only for the children. Children are honest, children are safe. He doesn't know how to tell his friends he wishes to be closer. So he keeps quiet, inner child longing and aching.

He watches the way Ron interacts with Beacrox. The way on the outside they're stoic and seemingly cold, almost like some sort of business exchange. He sees it though. The way Ron's eyes soften when he watches his son cook, the pride that swirls behind those eyes just for his son. He feels in an outsider. Sure, he has his family, but could he really be considered theirs? He feels like an imposter, coming into their home with their son's body and face, so he only watches as they bond. The warmth of just being within distance is both soothing and never enough. He distances himself in hopes of keeping these pesky feelings in check. He tells himself to be happy with what he has because it's already a blessing to have so many people who stay with him because they want to be with him.

Maybe he doesn't know how to interact with parental figures, feeling awkward when they welcome him. His mind convinces him that their welcome is just polite. When he agrees to act as Naru, he thinks of it as just a deal. Both parties benefit from it. As Fredo continues to shower him with gifts and love, he finds himself relaxing in the warmth. Just for a bit. Then he walls himself off again. He receives a toy as a gag gift one day. Some sort of play set that they (maybe Alberu and Rosalyn) think would make him give them a deadpan look in return. They're shocked as they silently watch Naru's eyes sparkle as he explores the set. His touch soft, so so soft, as if the toys were an illusion that would crumble away if he were to rough. They expect a sarcastic "thanks" with some sort of annoyed look paired with it. Instead they watch from behind their disguised friend, barely hearing the whispered "...thank you" because Naru's voice is just above a whisper. (His ears are red as he thanks them, he doesn't turn away from the set. Too happy to have received it because it resembles the one he had always longingly gazed at through the display windows. He couldn't ask for it, so he just looks on, smaller hands pressed against the cool glass in his memory).

He's on guard while he stays with Fredo, but his inner child can't help but cheer at the unlimited food and sweet. Happy to be able to just receive instead of all the give give give he's had to do growing up. He feels warm as he nibbles on a cookie, sitting on a plush couch.

Cale is too scared though. He doesn't reach out, bringing this love closer to him and claiming them as his. He just accepts the in the moment love that's directed towards him, grateful for what he can get.

And they slowly begin to notice the longing in his eyes. The way he attentively watches as the children are introduced to more games and experiences. (It hurts them more later on when they learn what kind of world he had grown up in as Roksoo).

Cale doesn't seem to notice the loving looks he receives from the people around him. He just assumes that it isn't for him. So when Eruhaben starts to press his cool hands against his forehead, gently grasping his face as the dragon checks him over for any more injuries... He finds himself overjoyed. Confused, but overjoyed.

Or when he finds himself noticing how Rosalyn and Choi han seem to sit ever so closer, with their legs pressed against his and their arms brushing against him. He finds himself relaxing, just appreciating the feeling of being close with them.

Cale treasures the people around him. They notice how Cale feeds the children before himself, watching them eat for a few minutes before he breaks out of some sort of train of thought. (He can't forget the days where food was limited. The cries of poor, innocent children when their stomachs felt like they would just collapse inwards and consume itself. He doesn't ever want to see the people he loves have to think before eating, rationing off some incase there isn't food next time). Alberu gifts him more snacks-- batches of cookies that are easily shared and plentiful enough that he doesn't hesitate before eating some himself. Beacrox cooking more and more, trying to show that if Cale asked, he will receive. How there's plenty of food to go around.

(he grew up in such an unstable environment that being this secure feels like a dream).

I wanna write a fic... But I'm not that confident in my writing sdjdjhff

#tcf fic #tcf fic idea #tcf #cale henituse #tcf cale #kim roksoo #ron molan #tcf on #tcf hong #raon miru #tcf raon #alberu crossman #tcf alberu #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #lcf #fic ideas #word vomit #salaapaoo fic ideas #salaapaoo

[valdeswan]

I think that KRS!Cale could be a great fanon Red Hood. Like a Crime Boss that controls the underground with the basic rules:

1) Don't deal with kids (or touch them in general)

2) Don't traffic people

3) Don't rape or abuse

Do it, and you will find out really fast

The difference is that he does not do all the hard work and uses his lieutenants, Choi Han, Ron, Beacrox, and Rosalyn, to apply all the rules while he takes care of the other boss criminals.

#alternate universe #choi han the executor #prob the one using the hood #bc cale never give up in making choi han the hero #Ron the informant #beacrox the torturer #and chef ofc #Rosalin the sniper because is the closest thing to magic tbh #the red hood is just cale's hair #alberu is there somewhere #like the city ​​mayor son #someone write a fic #cale henituse #choi han #tcf rosalyn #ron molan #beacrox molan #alberu crossman #tcf #lcf #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #red hood #cale henituse crime lord

[nishicchikouchi]

Re-reading lcf is not good for my mental health even though it satisfies me.

“…Young master-nim?” “Haaaaa. Life is so hard, Ron.”

Ron’s face that usually had a benign smile or a cold gaze had a new expression after seeing Cale sincerely looking tired.

—

Cale’s expression turned calm, almost as if he had never been frowning in the first place.

The corners of Ron’s wrinkled eyes started to shake after seeing the change in Cale’s expression. It was just the slightest of movements that nobody else would have noticed, but Ron was definitely agitated

“Little kid, don’t worry about Cale.” Eruhaben’s voice from outside the dream reached Raon’s ears. However, Raon Miru was not satisfied with such words. 1 minute, 2 minutes. Time continued to pass, but he could not feel the human’s aura at all. This was the first time something like this had happened. He had never experienced Cale being absent.

GUYS.

Ron: [Ron was definitely agitated]

Raon: [He had never experienced Cale being absent]

#screaming crying throwing up #this was in the arc where Cale took the water ap #this makes me not ok at all #ToT #I LOVE THE FOUND FAMILY TROOE IN THIS FIC SO MUCH #it makes me want to throw up for real #they give me headaches #ARGHHHHH #ron molan #raon miru #cale henituse

[murasaki-cha]

@fanfiction-artist-prototype You lying liar who lies

"ALL IS WELL IN THIS CHAPTER!!!!"

ALL IS WELL!?? REALLY!???!!!!

#issue found in translation #og!cale henituse #kim rok soo #tcf on #tcf hong #basen henituse #ron molan #jour thames #tcf #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of the count’s family #tcf fanfic #tcf fic

[demonscantgothere]

Writing Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern! Tagged by @iamstartraveller776! Thank you, dear!!! ❤️

As they drew closer to the fortress across the barren, rocky plains, Galadriel sensed the uneasiness in her horse. [Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den, RoP/Silm, Saurondriel]

The cell was cold and damp, even for an Elf, lit only with the soft glow of dying torches lined across the walls beyond the bars that trapped her within a familiar place of confinement she had found herself in a very long time ago, so long ago it seemed almost a life age had past since then. [Litost, RoP, Saurondriel]

Celebrían rested herself easily against Elrond’s back as she sat behind him on the horse, her arms wrapped loosely around his middle but her hands firm in place with their grip upon his chest. [Grew Together, Roots Entwined, RoP, Celrond]

The way the luminescent beams of light fell into the chamber from the open slots in the roof above created a fine haze over the workshop of the forge in Celebrimbor’s tower. [Let the Vultures In, Silm, Silvergifting]

When the chain clanged around his neck as it was thrown, looping itself around his throat and twisting tight before it was yanked forward, Fëanor fell to his knees, gasping for air. [Under the Stars, Above the Sun, Silm, Fëalkor]

Galadriel tightened her slender fingers around the hilt of her sword; its leather bands were smooth, but kept the blade in place where she needed it most. [Crown, and Caress Thee, and Chain, RoP, Saurondriel]

Mairon glanced over his shoulder as he reached the edges of the wood, listening for any who might be following his tracks. [(You and I) Drink the Poison from the Same Vine, Silm/LotR, Angbang]

Lan’s eyes trail down the length of the staff, his gaze catching on the cuts and dents and imperfections hammered into the wood—beaten into it with a fine precision of blood, sweat, and tears—his fingers enclosing one by one in a slow dance around the rough cord wrap of the handle in the center. [Feint, WoT, Molan]

Galadriel doesn’t see him coming around the corner of the pillar, and he uses the chance to walk up behind her soundlessly in order to inspect the details upon her dress with more care. [Abundance, RoP, Saurondriel]

He stares at the painting for the fifth time, hand clenched tight around a cold glass of draft beer, trying to ignore the obnoxiously adorable giggling of the blonde across the bar. [Symbiosis, RoP, Haladriel]

Clearly, I like to set the scene with descriptions. Dialogue smialogue. 🤣

Tagging @jhalya @coraleethroughthelookingglass @helenvader @somebirdortheother @maironite @cilil @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @90shaladriel @queenmeriadoc @lady-of-imladris @saintstars @klynnvakarian @theriverwild @yletylyf @niennawept @ichabodjane but no pressure! Have fun!

#tag games #first lines #haladriel #saurondriel #celrond #silvergifting #angbang #molan #my fic

[mypromptlair]

TCF Prompt 22

Crossover AU with Academy's Undercover Professor.

Kim Rok Soo's luck strikes him once again as he takes on the identity of one Cale Henituse as the newest professor at a prestigious magical academy. Aigoo...right when he finally got away from the Empire to try and finally live his slackers life.

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

Alberu is the Headmaster of the Academy, Ron is his butler with Tasha as a guard or receptionist along with Hans.

Eruhaben, Mila, Beacrox, Amiru, Eric, Gilbert, Taylor, Cage and Bud are all fellow coworkers.

Choi Han, Rosalyn, Lock, and the rest are all students.

The Molans never met the original Cale.

KRS disease: he has meds for it, but he does get dizzy and coughs up blood. Eventually he does it in front of the others and they freak.

His "new" elemental magic are his ancient powers(which are known to be "lost" form of magic) while his main magic is record, etc. too many magical abilities for his body.

The kids are saved and taken in of course!

ARM is the mysterious new organization causing problems with magic and science.

OG Cale was undercover in the organization, working for GoD. His family knows about KRS taking on his identity(and adopt KRS). OG!Cale's allies are Cage and Bud.

The original Cale makes an eventual return as a much needed ally. Along with LSH and CJS(perhaps these 3 are off together causing chaos somewhere).

Cale and KRS look very much alike and could be considered twins/related. They do get along quite well, causing a lil too much chaos for Headmaster Crossman.

And of course: lots of misunderstandings!

ah, no hunters in this AU nor extra time travel, etc. (except for KRS reincarnating)

#au #tcf #trash of the count's family #prompt #fic prompt #academy's undercover professor #crossover prompt #original cale henituse #kim rok soo #cale henituse #alberu crossman #ron molan #beacrox molan #eruhaben #hong #on #raon miru #choi han #tcf rosalyn #tcf lock #protective everyone #everyone really #oblivious cale henituse #sick cale #bud illis #tcf cage #lee soo hyuk #choi jung soo #tcf god of death #found family

[thehopelessslacker]

Hope you enjoy it.^^

#lout of the count’s family #lout of count’s family #trash of the counts family #trash of the count's family #lcf #tcf #cale henituse #choi han #dodam miru #alver crossman #alberu crossman #ron molan #original cale henituse #A fic that was eating dust in my drafts #I really wanted to write (and read) this #Ron needs more lemon #Cale is so done #Alver is- *smirks*

[morallygreyvillain]

TOTCF FIC (WIP) [Cale × Choi Han]

"Slacker Life. Right?"

———————————

×××××(Minor season 1 spoilers for totcf)××××

- Chapter 2 [Beta V.] -

****chapter one link [beta]****

Cale was on the top floor of the Great Rock Villa.

It was the room he had claimed for himself, the entire floor being a bedroom/office area with a large en suite complete with a large bath... since coming back from the Captial he hadn't left this room, (except to eat and watch over the kiddos).

Normally you could expect him to be lying in his bed or sprawled out on the chaise lounge eating snacks or fruits. But currently, he's seated at his expensive-looking gilded desk surrounded by bookshelves and other fancy gold and gem-encrusted knick-knacks and magical items.  His fingers laced together, brows knit and eyes closed in deep concentration.

Ron,

whom he had called for,

had been standing still and stoic as a capable butler should...

for 20 minutes...

He didn't show it, as it would be uncouth as a butler. But he'd been curious about what his puppy young master had been thinking so deeply about that he hadn't given him any acknowledgment since he bid him entry.

Ron began to worry, as it always seemed that if his young master was in deep thought, usually it followed with him being asked to call everyone together because some God or other annoying being sent a message to his poor young master begging him to save the world again...

He began to feel bloodthirsty just thinking about it.

"Ron..."

"oops"

Ron figured that he might've let some of his bloodlust escape and startle his young master.

In reality, Cale hadn't even noticed the strange atmosphere around Ron until after he called him, and by that point, Ron had already masked it again.

"Whoa scary... was he annoyed I accidentally ignored him..."

"You called for this Ron Young Master? You seemed quite concerned... is there something troubling you?"

Ron's eyes were serious, his voice flat and cold despite his caring tone. He seemed ready to kill even a God if he needed to.

A shiver ran through Cale's spine as he was now positive that Ron was annoyed at him for getting distracted after calling him.

"*Ahem*  no nothing like that"

Cale dismissed what he thought was Ron's usual "playful" threats and smirked to himself as he imagined once again what he had planned.

Ron seeing the young master's usual evil grin had the feeling that his young master was planning to screw somebody over.

"Please call Choi Han for me"

The young master finally said

Ron thought of sending an (insincere) prayer for the poor bastards that these two vicious punks were going to scam or beat up.

Maybe both...

"At once young master Cale, shall I tell him to come here at once?"

"hmm"

Cale hummed in affirmation, once again absorbed in his thoughts.

Just as Ron reached the door to fulfill his order, Cale called out again, remembering something else he needed to say...

"Oh and make sure to tell everyone to stay away from this floor for the next couple of hours..."

"Actually... for the rest of the day"

Ron froze

juttering the handle on the door making a loud sound as he nearly broke the knob. He held his suspicions but,

just to make sure...

"Would that also include the young cat-nims and Roan-nim?"

Cale shuddered, imagining the children bursting in while he was in the middle of his schemed *ahem*

long overdue... adult discussion, with Choi Han. The thought made him cringe, but he played it cool.

"Yes,  tell them they can go have a sleep-over at Sheritt-nim's house- Give them an allowance if they want to go anywhere else"

"Ah, it's finally happening"

Ron gasped internally as he confirmed his suspicion, careful not to show any change in expression. (Though the door handle probably would need replacing)

He very sharply turned around once again startling Cale as he bowed forward as insurance in case his face looked unnatural. He wasn't confident even his skillful butler, no

assassin's poker face wouldn't crumble at this moment. He couldn't decide whether to sneer, frown, or smirk.

"Certainly Master Cale, I will make sure no one disturbs you and that pun*(k), I mean Guardian Knight-nim, I'm sure everyone would enjoy a return to the Hentituse estate for a visit with Duke-Nim and the family, I'm quite sure the festivities since your victory are still ensuing!"

Ron exclaimed.  Uncharacteristically energetic, almost like Hans if not for the cold dead tone. An unsettling juxtaposition made Cale wonder if Ron was planning to kill someone (maybe him).

"There's no need to kick everyone out of the villa-"

Cale hastily corrected in a panic.

But the look on Ron's face quickly shut him up.

"-But if everyone wants to go they can do what they want, just make sure Captain-Hilsman doesn't go spouting nonsense again, I don't need him adding fuel to the massive fire about that savior nonsense "

-"Yes Master Cale, I shall convey your will at once - Please give me an hour.. no 20 minutes to organize and we shall be on our way!"

And just like that Ron sped away from the Cale's room, somehow at break-neck speed despite his posture being that of a calm and composed butler

"I mean, it's not like it's a bother...."

Cale sighed, the target had already left unable to hear.

"But I suppose Choi Han and I being the only people here would greatly reduce the chances of being interrupted at an awkward moment"

He continued to ponder

Cale had never seen Ron act that way... it was like he was Hans, but scary... as his enthusiasm didn't reach his voice or his face. He felt like he was halfway between wanting to curse and holding down a laugh. Which was frightening when it was Ron who did either.

Was he just looking for a chance to leave? Maybe it was an age thing... or did he see this as a chance to finally get a vacation? He should give him more time off in the future.

Cale smiled to himself thinking about Ron retiring and moving far away.

Deciding to ignore Ron's peculiarity, He stood up from his desk, taking his glass of expensive wine in his hand as he strode over to the large full glass windows overlooking the garden of the estate.

His eyes wandered to their usual place, a large open area with a fountain where a shirtless Choi-Han was training with Lock, his wolf siblings, and On and Hong; along with Raon encouraging and giving support with magic on the sidelines. In the beginning, the way they trained frightened Cale (it still does a little) but now he couldn't help but see it as Choi Han playing cutely with the kids and siblings.

Despite being far away his eyes focused on Choi-Han. The ripples of his back and the twist of his waist; the stretch of his arms as he swung his aura swords with care to not injure his students...he took another sip of his wine his throat suddenly feeling parched, eyes glazing as if he was staring at a painting in a gallery. But out of reach so as not to damage its quality...

But Cale doesn't give a shit about those rules anymore...

In fact, he planned on defacing Choi Han's canvas with his special paints of red. He couldn't wait to drag his hands across this priceless art...

He'll vandalize this sculpture as much as he pleased

___________________________________________

Okay that's the end for chapter 2

but I'm literally working of chapter 3 as you're reading this so keep an eye out if you want see Choi Han's POV

Once again I ask that if you want to leave a comment please try not spoil anything past The sealed gods test chapter 600!

**chapter 3 BETA LINK**

#cale henituse #tcf #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of the count’s family #cale #tcf cale #trash of the count family #totcf fic idea #tcf fanfiction #lcf fic #lout of count's family #lotcf #cale x choi han #ron molan #scary butler #pewpaw ron #tcf choi han #choi han #read on ao3 #ao3 works #ao3 wip #will be updated

[thepalaceofharuhime]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 백작가의 망나니가 되었다 - 유려한 | Lout of Count's Family | Trash of the Count's Family - Yulyeohan Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo/Beacrox Molan Characters: Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo, Beacrox Molan, Raon Miru Additional Tags: cale henituse can cook, Father & son bonding between Cale and Raon Miru, Choi Han consumed Cale's cooking, Beacrox is worried and sick and worried, did I mention that he's worried? Summary:

Found this in my drafts, forgot it existed, polished it up and thought I'd post it. This fandom is pretty much nonexistent but whatever someone might actually click on it. And if they do hi I posted this specifically for you.

#trash of the counts family #lout of the count’s family #cale henituse #kim rok soo #beacrox molan #cale henituse x beacrox molan #ao3 fanfic #my fic #trash of the count's family fanfic

[vveirdnobdy]

TCF Flame Types

I made The Trash of Counts Family x Katekyo Hitman reborn post, so now here are flame types (Feel free to debate cause I fucking love those and there could be a factor I'm not thinking of ya know)

Cale-Def has Sky flames like he hates it but he attracts people. But I would say he also has maybe a mixture of Lightning and Mist as well. Lighting cause the whole Lightning rod this, take damage so the great of the harmony can thrive. And Mist mostly cause I know for a fact He'd vibe with Viper, Mr. Scammer himself. (plus his constant urge to put himself in Denial, and the whole fact that in order to use the illusions factor of mist flames you have to believe it's true as well)

Raon- 100% Cloud flames but specifically Inverted Cloud Flames, It's one of the flame lore debates I love, but Inverted Clouds tend to claim people as their territory, and how if something happens to those people that's when they rage. And with Raon's tendency to sit by Cales bedside and count down the seconds until he destroys the world, I feel it matches a lot.

On-Mist Flames, the main reason is her fog, it gives me the whole 'hiding family from view idea. It just vibes with it. Plus she really takes after Cale's Analytical Side.

Hong- Storm Flames, I'm also kind of aligning it with his power of poison, since poison coincides with destruction aka the destruction of your insides. that's the main reason I'm not gonna lie. Though I will say Sun Flames is also a good fit.

Ron- Mist, Mr benign smile himself, I don't feel it needs to be elaborated on.

Beacrox- Cloud, He is a very aloof character, I'm mostly thinking about his sword art as well. (sorry it's not as detailed I have a lot of thoughts but I'm out here like how to phrase???) (I also think he could be a storm with the added angsty bonus of him and Ron matching with On and Hong)

Alberu- Sunny Sky- Mr Crown Prince has to be a sky in my professional opinion, it fits, Also the amount of amusement I get out of him being a sun is lovely. (I could also see him having lightning flames)

Choi Han- Cloud/Storm Choi Han also fits under the Inverted Cloud Scope, plus I can kind of compare his behavior towards Cale to that of Tsuna and Hayato. The whole 'they just act like puppies' thing. Plus Choi Han having the two most destructive flame types really hurts in the best way possible ya know?

Rosalyn- Mist/Rain Mist because it lines up with how she approaches her goals, and the constant reminder of how similar she and Cale are, really pushes it for me. Rain due to how she is a comforting figure for everyone really, At least a lot of the children find comfort from her and I like to kind of put it towards her Big Sister tendencies.

Eruhaben- Rain/Storm Rain because I'm not gonna lie it's the fact he's a parental figure for a Cale. give him a dad who he can just take comfort in please and thank you. Specifically an Inverted Storm due to the whole 'calm before the storm. Plus his attribute is Dust, he just is made for destruction.

Mary- Rain, She is 100% the most chill and most comforting out of all the characters. Plus the whole factor of Tranquility, and how there is Tranquility in Death.

Lock- Lightning, He is very proud to be learning the Shield to protect his family. His main motivation legit relies on Protecting, so lighting just fits.

That's all I'm doing, for now, feel free to debate or add more characters.

#trash of the count's family #trash of the counts family #katekyo hitman reborn #flame lore disscussion #cale henituse #raon miru #tcf on #tcf hong #alberu crossman #choi han #tcf rosalyn #ron molan #beacrox molan #eruhaben #tcf mary #tcf Lock #Next up is probably gonna be the fic crossover idea I have for the series lmao #dont know if ill write it tho

[galaxygirl8880]

I want to see an apocalyptic au where Cale gets to beat the shit out of some zombies with a bat.

Maybe it's set in the modern world. Single father Cale who's adopted a baby Raon after literally hearing him crying in a dumpster. He's In his apartment when the outbreak begins and it gets swarmed. He leaves with Raon in a front facing baby carrier through the fire escape.

With only a bat and a handgun to defend himself, it practically feels like Cale and Raon against the world.

Maybe it would be the smarter thing to leave Raon to ensure his own survival, maybe having two mouths to feed and protect could prove to be trouble in the long-run. Cale doesn't care. Raon miru is his son and there's no way in hell he's abandoning him.

Cale and Raon get stranded. Their city looks like a ghost town.

They find a survivor group camping out in a library. With a few days of quarantine to make sure they weren't infected, they're accepted with open arms.

And in that group, Cale meets someone named Choi han.

---

Over the years, Cale meets a lot of people. Not all of them are good people. He's had to do a few unfavorable things to guarantee his group and Raon's safety. Somewhere along the way, he begins to open up his heart and think of his group as family.

(Raon, Ohn, and Hong grow up thinking Cale is the coolest. person. ever. Actually, so does everyone else-)

---

I WANT CALE TO HAVE A BAT.

I like the idea of Cale meeting Beacrox and Ron, his old caretakers back when he still lived with his parents, and all of them being surprised that the other is still alive.

they meet at the halfway point between Cale's apartment and the mansion cale grew up in.

"Young Master did you have a child and not inform me?"

"... he's adopted?"

While they have their heartfelt reunion-

Choi han, Ohn, and Hong are in the corner being confused.

-----

I wrote this because I couldn't sleep :D

#cale henituse #raon miru #lcf #lout of the counts family #choi han #tcf ohn #tcf hong #ron molran #tcf ron #beacrox molan #tcf beacrox #tcf #tcf fic #tcf fic idea

[salaapaoo]

You know what??

De-aged Cale where its roksoo right??

He's sitting there anxiously as the adults discuss what the do with him. It's happening again. He knows they're going to get rid of him like some old, unwanted toy.

His stomach gurgles and growls. He keeps his eyes trained on the shoes everyone is wearing, ears burning. How embarrassing... He's usually better than this.

He jumps when a pair of shoes move in front of him. It's hard to hear what's going on when the cotton in your ears keep blooming. Suddenly, he's face to face with an old man... whose smile is.. pretty scary. Not that he'll say anything about it though. He can't figure out where to place his eyes. Adults don't like it when he looks at them in the eyes. They say he's being defiant, that they don't like the way he looks at them. But then they don't like it when he doesn't look them in the eye, something about finding the situation unimportant. He doesn't know what to do... So his eyes jump from meeting the old man's and back to things around the room. Back and forth, back and forth.

"young master," the man starts, "why don't you follow my son to the kitchen? My son, Beacrox, will get you something good to eat."

Oh! He can do that. He's been in kitchens before, so he willed himself to meet the man's gaze one last time before giving a small, but firm nod. Then, he hops off the plush couch and trails after the guy who must be Beacrox.

This man is stoic looking and not much of a talker. It's okay though, he isn't much of a talker either. They walk in silence to the kitchen, he tries to keep his breathing in check as he jogs to keep pace with the man. His steps must be too loud though since the man turns towards him and then slows his pace. So nice!!

Even when they get there, the man still hasn't said anything. He stands at the doorway, unsure of what he's needed for. The kitchen is clean... Extremely clean. How will he earn his food? What is he supposed to be doing here??

We makes his way up to the counter where he finds a rag. That'll do!! He takes it and wets it in the sink before making his way back to the sitting area. He drops to his hands and knees and begins to scrub at the already clean floor. The adults at home say that even if it looks clean, it's never clean enough! So surely this should be enough to earn his keep.

He hears a clatter and startles as the knife falls to the floor. The man's face isn't stoic anymore. The man is mad?? Is he cleaning wrong?? Roksoo is scared.

The man storms up to him and begins to reach out towards him. Roksoo fails to hold back a flinch. He's messed up, adults don't like it when he's scared. He squeezed his eyes shut, in hopes of hurting less.

Nothing comes. The pain never comes. Only a warm hand on his head?? He slowly opens his eyes and meets Beacrox 's. There's nothing, but hurt and anger swirling in the man's eyes. Why's he sad? Roksoo doesn't understand.

"young master..." Beacrox sounds strained. Again with that weird title.

Roksoo wordlessly watches the chef try to string together words. His own throat feeling too clogged up to ask what he did wrong.

He manages though.

"why.. why are you sad?" His words come out like small croaks. It's getting hard to speak again. Adults don't like it when he can't speak.

Beacrox's eyes just fill with more hurt, hurt, hurt as he opens and closes his mouth uselessly.

He seems to figure out what he wants to say though.

"young master, why are you on the ground?" Beacrox keeps his voice soft, keeps his tone open and forgiving.

"I didn't know what else I could do," he confesses like he's sinned. His eyes make their way back to anything other than the other's.

Beacrox brews silently, waiting for his master to finish his thoughts. Beacrox doesn't like where this is going.

"how else can I earn.." roksoo's palms feel sweaty where they're clenched at his sides.

"I don't deserve food yet," roksoo's words are firm and believing as he meets Beacrox's eyes.

The man's eyes seem to tremble as he processes what roksoo had said.

(Beacrox wants to skin whoever taught his young master this. He wants to make them beg for the sweet release of death as he slowly guides them towards it. Having them teeter on the edge of death and consciousness).

He snaps out of thought, saving them for later. The others will be hearing of this, they can all come up with the plans together.

"young master," Beacrox hopes his words will reach the boys heart, "you deserve everything."

He watches as the boy takes his bottom lip captive between his teeth. How the boy clenches at the hems of his shirt and tries to calm his breathing. How the boy is trying to blink away tears, but is failing.

"you are worthy" he whispers, removing a glove to pat roksoo's head. Beacrox looks seconds away from jumping back and escaping. Roksoo let's put a shaky laugh at the thought.

Right now it's hard to believe, but.. he wants to. He wants to believe that Beacrox is right. He'll try...

But he still follows Beacrox back to the counter and begs to help. He feels too antsy not doing anything.

All he's handed is a small bowl of snacks and he's told his job is to finish them by the time the meal is done cooking. He feels his heart swell. Roksoo feels like his heart is doing flips in his chest. He feels so safe.

-

Feeling like I probably post too much on this,, but I will.. continue. :)

#tcf cale #tcf fic idea #tcf fic #tcf #lcf cale #lcf fic #lout of the count’s family #trash of the count's family #cale henituse #kim roksoo #kim rok soo #kim roksu #fic ideas #word vomit #beacrox molan #tcf beacrox #salaapaoo fic ideas #ron molan #tcf ron

[drowninginworkbutstill]

ViCale fic

Title: changing the menu Ship: Vicross Molran/Cale Henituse   Summary:  “I told you,” Vicross said in a low and stern voice, “Every grain of rice you leave behind, you're getting spanked once.” Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43877064 Written for @camelli-ace​. Congratulations on winning the LCF fic giveaway! 

#lcf #Lout of Count’s Family #lout of the count’s family #TotCF #LOCF #tcf #trash of the count's family #trashofthecountsfamily #Cale Henituse #i ship cale with everyone #vicross molran #beacrox molan #my fics #fanfic

[peculiarphantomphoenix]

#found it in facebook #this makes me more convinced that someone should write a crossover fic #Of Ron Molan and Alfred #tcf #alfred pennyworth