ever since we met
guys we are SO BACK i bring gifts <3 didnt realize how much i would miss writing on here. currently working on rewriting old work and new stuff so i can get back to posting on a weekly basis. hope you have been well and enjoy!!
cw. sakusa kiyoomi eats pussy, what more could you need
wc. 1800
you met sakusa kiyoomi two years ago when he took over his father’s business. every monday and saturday at 4 pm, he knocked on the back door of your flower shop. big boxes filled with one the best flowers for you. it was also two years ago when you first opened the door for him that you realized you loved him. he was so sweet and kind, always taking time to ask about you and following up on events in your life. you figured he did this with everyone on his route. little did you know that your sweet kiyoomi did not ask questions about any of his other deliveries.
he was determined to get to know you, however long it took him. he knew the movies you saw, the terrible dates you went on, your favorite flowers and your least favorite customers. no detail was too small for him, because he did care about it all. he liked your passion for your work and your love for the people around you. ever since he knocked on that door monday at 4 pm two years ago he has loved you. he knows it crazy, and he can't rationalize it for the life of him but he knows it's the truth. he knows you probably don't reciprocate but god he can't help it.
“hey kiyoomi what did you bring for me today?” you say with a smiled as you prop open the door for him. the way you say his name makes him weak in the knees, he loves how comfortable you are around him. “besides my beautiful face, everything you had on your list and an extra case of snapdragons because i know you always run out by thursday.” he smiles at you and sets down the boxes. “you really are the best thank you” you say as you walk back over to the counter to continue cleaning roses. “how are you today my favorite florist?” he asks as he sets down the last three boxes in their designated spot. “busy and understaffed” you sigh. “glad to know things always stay the same around here” he smiles and hands you a clipboard for a signature.
he likes the way you sign your name, he can't explain it but it suits you. “you know you are the last delivery of the day, so is there anything i can do to help out?” he takes the clipboard back from you as you hold back from speaking for a moment. “i have so much to do are you sure?” you ask hoping it's not just pity. “i'm here for whatever you need” he says as he takes his hoodie off and sets his things down. you never realized how many tattoos he has, or how big his biceps were. maybe him staying was good for morale. “would mind cleaning some mums for me?” he nods and steps to the counter to start.
its quiet for a little, the silence isn't awkward though. you look over at him, he's so efficient. his hands are so perfect, how is he so perfect? his voice snaps you out of your trance. “how was that date you had last week?” he asks, not looking up from the flowers in his hands. “lets just say i won’t be seeing him again” you exhale softly, mentally pleading that the very attractive man across from you will not ask you to embarrass yourself further. kiyoomi laughs softly before speaking again, “i can't believe we have never hung out outside of work” he says as he continues to clean flowers. his heart was racing at this point, you made him so nervous he was hoping you couldn’t tell.
“i know it's so crazy! we have to do something soon” you say with a smile. “well what are you doing this weekend? there’s a new bar i want to check out and i’d love to take you.” “if i didn't know any better i would think you were asking me out on a date kiyoomi” you smile before looking up at him and making eye contact with him. “and what if i am?” he says still smiling, your cheeks were so hot, was he messing with you? “well i'd think you were joking” you say trying to control the tone of your voice. he sets his flowers down as he makes his way to the other side of the table where you stand with shaky hands.
“oh im dead serious pretty girl” he runs his hand along your jaw tilting your chin towards his face. he's smiling at you like you hung and the moon and stars just for him. hes so close all you can smell is his cologne, god did he always smell this good? you aren’t sure who leans in first but your lips touch and suddenly everything feels so right. hes holding your face in his hand but slowly becoming so desperate as he kisses you. the cold metal of his lip piercings feels so good against your lips. you can't seem to get enough of him and you wrap your arms around his neck. he taps your thighs as you wrap your legs around him, he gently sets you on the counter. he breaks away from the kiss breathless and rests his head against your shoulder “you're so perfect” he all but whimpers against the skin of your neck.
“i've wanted to kiss you for so long” you say as he kisses your neck, and you run your hands through his soft hair. he moans softly at the contact and lifts his head up to kiss you again. standing in between your thighs he wraps his hands around your waist, smiling into the kiss. he can't believe this moment is real, he can't believe he finally worked up the courage to to act on his feelings. the all too familiar jingle of the front door opening snaps the both of you out of your bliss. “fuck” you say as you hop off the counter, “hi ill be right there." you look back to kiyoomi “will you please stay i promise i'll be so quick”. he smiles “dont worry im not going anywhere sweetheart.” you smile and kiss him on the cheek before running off to the front.
this might be the happiest he’s ever been. you’re so soft and sweet and oh my god he loves how gentle you are with him. he loves the effect he has on you, in fact he may just never move from this spot in the hope that you kiss him like that again. “thank you have a great day” you chirp as your voice breaks him out of his trance. you appear into the doorway to the back of the door with a smile. “hi” you say as you make your way back over to him, “hi sweet girl” he wraps his arms around you again. “i close in about 30 minutes, will you come home with me?” you ask shocked by your own boldness. the way you are looking at him he thinks he might die. “god i'll be wherever you want me.” the effect you had on him was unreal. “let me drop off my truck and i'll be back in fifteen”, “be quick” you say as you twirl his hair with your fingers. have you always been this hot?
kiyoomi was convinced was losing his mind. he has never moved faster in his life. he doesn't even remember driving his motorcycle back to your shop. all he knew is that he was walking back into your shop with more determination than he's ever felt before. “hi handsome” you say as he drapes his body against yours. “almost done?” he asks as he kisses your cheek. “i have about fifteen minutes before i can go but i'm all done.” you turn to kiss him as he plays with the waistband of your jeans. the kiss is messy and hot, he felt weak in the knees. “i can think of a few things to pass the time” he says as he breaks away from the kiss.
you smile looking up at him, his face was flushed and you could help but be proud of the effect you had on him. “please let me eat you out” your jaw drops at his words. “here?” you ask and he grins “here” he says as he drops to his knees in front of you. you could finish from just looking at this beautiful large man on his knees in front of you. “god please” he's quick to unzip your pants and slide them down your legs. he places small kisses along your thighs as he moves to put your legs on his shoulders. he kisses you through your underwear and you whimper softly. sliding your underwear to the side he starts softly using his tongue, and puts a finger inside you as he continues.
you grip his hair and squeeze your thighs against his head as he quickened his pace. “harder” he whimpers into you and you squeeze harder. god his tongue piercing is incredible. you are getting close to finishing, and he can tell. he moans into you like this is pleasuring him just as much as it is you. “more kiyo” you moan out. he moves faster as he inserts another finger. the nickname could have made him cum in his pants. you are quickly approaching your high as you stutter out an “im close” he's moving faster than before, focused on you and only you. he's eating you out like a man starved, the cold metal of his piercing mixed with the warmth of his fingers had you seeing stars.
you moan his name as you finish and he cleans you up with his tongue. your legs were shaking as he stands up and licks the rest of you off of his slender fingers. “you're so incredible” you say as you wrap your arms around him and kiss him, the taste of you still on his tongue. “i've been dying to do that for two years” he says as he pulls away from you. “i love you kiyoomi” you say looking him in the eyes, "i've been dying to tell you that for two years" mustering the courage to confess everything to him. “god i love you” he says cupping your face in his hands as he kisses you again. “i love you i love you i love you” he says softly in between kisses. "ill spend forever making you feel it."
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Puck Slut .5 (Hayden x FemReader)
Summary: After meeting at a local sports bar, Hayden and you hit it off over your shared love of hockey. What starts off as an innocent friendship, soon progresses into a few casual dates. Which some, to no surprise, involve watching your teams face off against one another. Tonight’s date is a bit different. Even though your usual bet is in place, loser buys the winner dinner the next time you two go out. There’s a new, more interesting twist this time of… spice it up more. (The prequel to Puck Slut 1)
Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Hockey, couch sex, taring of one lucky shirt and, as always…Hayden’s big dick.
Notes: An origin story for what will now be known as the Puck Slut series! Yes, I will officially be doing one for every time the Pens and Leafs face off!
Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!
A little something for @myheartwillgoon2022! As soon as I read your request, I knew that I had to make it into the Puck Slut Origin story! I really enjoyed writing this, it was truly a pleasure! Hope you like it! And thank you for inspiring me to turn this into a series! ❤️
*Pregame*
- First of all, no hockey game would be complete without all sort of tasty snacks and a few ice-cold drinks. Especially ones that you may or may not have purposely picked, because they were someone’s faves.
- “Wow, you didn’t have to do all this; thanks.” Hay says so cutely, taking a sip from his bottle.
- You start to reply all sweetly. “Of course, it’s the least I could do; since you were nice enough to have me over.” Then teasingly add. “And you’re going to need some comfort food when the Leafs lose.”
- Gives your hip a playful pinch. “Oh, yeah? We’ll see who’s buying who dinner tomorrow night.”
- Squeaking a bit; you grab your own drink, along with a tasty treat. And plop ‘gracefully’ on the couch, somewhat close to him. “Which reminds me…I’d like to try that new burger joint.”
- You bet Hay’s going to pinch you again for that sassy, little remark. Snatching that goody from your hand, when you squeak and jump. What a butt.
- But he’s all adorable and smooth, wrapping an arm around you…pulling you right up beside him. “So, out of curiosity, would you want to make this game more interesting?”
- Besides getting to go out on another date with your ‘friend’… All right, you’ll take the bait. “Sure. What were you thinking?”
*Game Time*
- Normally you’d really be into the game. Cheering, hollering, cursing, the whole nine yards. But it’s kind of difficult to do so when your team hasn’t made a single goal and…you were sitting there completely, totally flustered.
- It was all because of the rules. Whenever your team scored a goal, you got a kiss from the other. Except…you had to "spice it up more" every time.
- The third period had just started with the Leafs up by three. And not even two minutes in…the siren went off. Seriously.
- A smug look crosses his face, and he looks down at you expectantly. “Well, angel; you know what to do.”
- Not really having any other ideas, you shyly climb into his lap. Resting your hands on his broad shoulders, pressing your lips softly against his. Little tongue slipping into his mouth; playing and wrestling with his. Just getting yourself more and more worked up.
- Before you’re able to crawl back out, Hay winds a strong arm around your waist. Holding you tightly against his chest. “Uh-uh, you’re not going anywhere. Leafs might score again.”
- Proceeds to make small talk about the game and feeding you snacks. Acting like this is the norm; like you’re not blushing mad crazy or wiggling from the growing bump pressing into your backside.
*Postgame*
- At last the final buzzer rang and the game ended, not before your team scored at the very last second.
- By then you’re so hot and bothered, that you’re sitting there impatiently. Hips shifting from side to side, pouting up at him. “Come on, Hay. My boys got one in. I want mine.”
- He flashes you that damn panty dropping smile. Big hands rubbing your arms soothingly, muttering in your ear. “You want a kiss, huh? All right, I’ll be sure to give you a real good one.”
- Lips crash together in a fiery kiss. Hands grabbing anything they could reach. Teeth nipping at one another hungerly. Hips bumping and grinding, passions just overboiling.
- Practically throwing you down onto the couch. He quickly removes his clothes before working on yours. Yanking them leggings and panties clean off, taring…taring your lucky team shirt. “What the-”
- “It’s fine, I’ll buy you a new one.” Tossing it aside like it was nothing, he lines himself up. Rubbing it up and down your wet slit, coating his fat head thoroughly. “Besides, you’d look better in blue and white anyway.”
- Plunging into your needy cunt, you two don’t waste a single minute. Your hips start rocking, his rolling back and forth. Massive cock stretching you; pulling out and thrusting so deep…you can’t help but whine each time he bottoms out.
- Hayden’s thick neck strains deliciously, slamming and hitting that lovely spot of yours repeatedly. Stealing your breath, making your whole body tense up. The dam inside you is about to break from all that pent up energy. “Gonna… Fuck…”
- “Yeah?” He grunts; pounding ruthlessly, tongue running across your collarbone. “Me too.”
- Biting harshly, you’re both sent spiraling. Gummy walls clenching around and clamping down on him. Dick twitching and filling you up with his hot cum. Moaning and groaning together.
- Taking a moment, the two of you try to catch your breath. Panting, grinning at each other like some love drunk fools. “See, told you I’d give you a real good one.”
- You bust out laughing, smacking him softly. “Shut up, Mountie Boy.” Before pulling him in for another ‘spicy’ kiss.
*Post Postgame*
- You don’t know how, but not only are you able to stand…you can also walk the next morning.
- So there you are, hovering over the stove. Busily making your new boyfriend’s 'mutually agreed upon' victory breakfast, wearing his very oversized Leafs shirt.
- Hay comes up behind, sporting only his extremely cheesy Leafs boxers. Pressing against you, one hand rests on your hip and the other snakes under your shirt…giving your breast a good squeeze. “I was right; you do look better in blue and white.”
- Shivering at his touch, a wicked grin spreads across your face. “Mmh, I don’t know…think you’d look better in mine…just saying.”
- You got a hard pinch for that…worth it.
Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen
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Another much overdue ask compilation!
Some short-ish lore asks (Gale, Gort, DU drow relationships and pet-companion preferences) and a couple of art/advice ones sprinkled in. THIS IS BY NO MEANS ALL OF MY ASKS so as usual I appreciate everyone's patience!
I actually think he'd give them a pass entirely as soon as he noticed. Correct me if I'm mistaken but half-drow get No love from underdark drow and are usually surface babies right? So that fruit is miles away from the tree lol.
I think he generally has a bit of a soft spot for mixed kinds since he himself feels like an amalgamation of sorts.
Thank you! They're kind of a pain in the ass to draw at times for that very reason but man I do like the look 😩if other people like it too then that makes it all worth it!
THAT'S TRICKY TO ANSWER BECAUSE OFTEN TIMES I'M NOT... REALLY TRYING. I've draw a ton of horror comics for mine and my partner's series' SAD SACK and SORTIE, so I think it just comes naturally to me 😅 also I do genuinely find expressive and, uh, rugged faces more attractive? (I think they look rugged, again that's what people tell me at least.)
I think the secret might be adding bits of realism in there. I get a lot of comments about the wrinkles and eyelashes I add to my art, as well as the way I draw individual teeth (though I've lately been making an effort to simplify my style in favor of drawing faster, so I haven't done that as much or in as much detail.)
Both symmetry and the lack of it can also add to that effect. I have employed both facial unevenness and almost point-perfect symmetry to achieve something a little frightening or otherworldly in my work.
[MORE UNDER THE CUT]
Thank you so much!!! The contrast is very much intentional, that's what DU drow's character is all about ;)
Hahah well I somewhat doubt Bhaal would care that his spawn gets named, but either way he stripped himself of his name as soon as he killed his foster parents and abandoned the Underdark. He had a drow name that I jotted down somewhere but it's completely irrelevant because nobody has used it since he was a child, and he doesn't remember it (even pre-tadpole/having his brain scrambled.)
Here's a little write up about his origins that might shed some more light on that:
https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739688837431836672/did-drow-ever-have-a-childhood-before-the-temple
And about his original drow-given name and the reason behind it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/741350986692591616/drow-had-to-have-been-given-a-name-by-his-adoptive
Everyone just referred to him as his supposed race, or as Bhaalspawn or Bhaal's child, and any other similar titles. Orin called him "kin" and "brother" and Gortash likely called him his associate. Post-tadpole the camp grows entirely used to calling him "the drow" and he has no desire to change that or to choose a proper name.
THANK YOU BOTH SO MUCH😭 no reason to be intimidated, I'm just some rando drawing BG3 fan art LOL
I've been drawing since I was a child, and started taking it semi-seriously when I was 16 years old, so twelve years ago! That's around the time where I got my first non-display tabled and used that well into my twenties, prior to that I only did stuff on paper and liked to do inks color with pencils. I never really ventured into traditional painting at all except for a little bit of water-coloring in college.
Traditional and Digital art are very much different beasts. Which one you want to start with is, in my opinion, just dependent on what you want to do. Digital art gives you a lot of tools that makes learning easier, but you might find yourself having much steeper of a learning curve if you ever decide to do traditional art instead. If you want to be good at both, you need to practice both, since the skill doesn't entirely translate from one medium to the other.
Naturally you will be able to draw well on either, it's just... Different. I will say though, that I think if you're still learning you should use whatever allows you to look directly at what your hand is doing, so either traditional or display tablet/Ipad. I have no idea what a non-display tablet would do to a beginner, but remembering my experience with it I feel like it might be a huge detriment to developing the skill (feel free to share your experiences in the replies if you disagree, as I would definitely be curious to read them!)
YOU KNOW ME BABY IT WAS MESSY AND COMPLICATED the tldr.: is that they were "buddies", absolutely no romance intended there on either mine or DU drow's part, but due to his nature the friendship was extremely weird.
Here's a couple of replies where I go into more detail about it:
https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739191190871818240/i-dont-have-a-particular-question-in-mind-sorry
https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/744952815768764416/so-not-sure-if-youve-covered-this-but-i-thought
That's definitely reserved for the vamp LOL DU drow very much enjoys when Astarion teases and fusses over him, and while Astarion probably got a kick out of acting that way around such a big and scary looking guy at first, I think by "now" (later and post-game) he's pretty much immune to DU drow's looks and just enjoys doing it in earnest.
He's not at all averse to being touched (even rather intimately) by close friends, but he wouldn't be quite THAT vulnerable with anyone else.
HE REALLY DISLIKED GALE... He irked him out by seemingly fostering a rather persistent romantic interest in him for at least half the time they spent together (very much based on my interpretation of their in-game interactions at the time, though my Gale might have been a little bugged.)
But also they had a... Fairly in depth relationship still? Gale was a staple in my party, and even though I antagonized him constantly by the end of the game it still felt like they had so much weight in each other's lives, if that makes sense. I might need to do a bit of an "update" on the DU Drow/Gale lore sometime, I feel like I've had some thoughts since that warrant more exploration of their dynamic (you can find a lot of old asks about it if you just search the Gale Dekarios tag in my blog though).
The gist of it is that DU drow found him arrogant and duplicitous, his constant optimist irritated him to no end and felt like it veiled a stream of self-pity (two things DU drow despises) Gale's attempts to get through to him only added insult to injury. By the end of the game he decided to pursue the crown of Karsus and this only lost him even more respect in Drow's eyes, seeing as he doesn't value godly power at all.
I was pretty overwhelmed by the game at the start so I actually missed a lot LOL including Scratch. I did get the owlbear cub though, which DU drow gladly welcomed into camp since it was injured - but I think he would have wished for it to remain a wild animal and to return back to it's home after it had grown up a bit. He didn't really make a "pet" out of it more than he just looked after the little guy in the way it's mother might have, probably with Shadowheart's help.
He wouldn't be opposed to proper pets though if one were to stumble into his life. He'd definitely be more of a cat guy because of their independence and strong little attitudes.
It is very hard to build proper rapport with him. He will be "friendly" to most people who have a good sense of humor about them, but friendSHIP is another thing entirely.
I think it's kind of circumstantial. He's very economical in his relationships and doesn't really seek them out at all - so a situation where he's forced to be in someone's company might be the only way to develop a bond with him, as he doesn't appreciate insistence either and that's more likely to push him away. He doesn't value status or titles either (kind of looks down on them really) so that won't help.
I think he just likes people who are true to themselves and their nature, sometimes even if the nature is one he disagrees with at it's core. This is why he liked Gortash, why he and Shadowheart got along so well, and why him and Astarion fit together so seamlessly despite seeming so different. Likewise I think it's why he didn't jive with people like Gale or Wyll, because they seemed to be rather... Dishonest with themselves and their own end-goals.
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"I want to watch you"
re2!Leon x fem!reader
notes: so like this is my first time ever writing a smut and actually posting it, I hope it's not too bad bare with me, I hope you like itt 🙏🙏
Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3
P1.
warnings: nsfw, smut w no plot, unprotected sex, hair pulling, praising, p in v, being watched while masturbating, not proof read, whimpering, blowjob, fingering, use of pet names, oral m!receiving, dirty talk
While she left the house to get some food, Leon is in his room touching himself again. suddenly he hears someone open the door, it's her. He quickly puts his precum-coated cock in his pants, the bulge noticeable in his sweatpants and a precum stain is forming on his pants. He desecretly puts his hand on his erection rubbing it and praying that she doesn't notice. But she does.
"W-what are you doing home so soon?" he says with a breathy voice trying to hide the fact he was just touching himself to her.
"I forgot my wallet..." She looks confused about why he's acting so weird.. but then she realizes.
"You couldn't wait for me to get home could you..." she says while locking the door behind her and slowly walking up to leon
Leon looks at her, his face full of shame and fear "No... I mean, I was just... It's not what you think..." He clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "I was just, you know, taking a break from studying."
"oh really? is that so? and you didn't think I would notice?" She looks at him with a questioned look on her face taking a few more steps to him before sitting down next to him, rubbing his groin area with a pouty look on her face.
Leon looks down, biting his lower lip nervously "I... I wasn't thinking straight, babe. Please forgive me. I promise it won't happen again." He looks up at her with pleading eyes, hoping she'll believe him
"oh but that's what you said last time, but you'll get lucky this time" she said while caressing his cheek.
His heart was pounding, no one could ever make him feel like his, except for her.
"You're lucky I want to watch you touch yourself to me" she said in a seductive tone while looking at his lips then eyes.
Leon's eyes widen in shock and disbelief, his heart racing with a mixture of fear and arousal "Wh-what? You... you want to watch me?"
"Mhm..." She loves the fact that she makes him so nervous, like she has some kind of power over him.
Leon swallows hard, still struggling to process your request "I... I don't know. Maybe... just this once." He nervously takes off his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his thick cock begging for attention
"do you think of me when you touch yourself, Leon?" She asked him with bedroom eyes, looking at his cock then looking back to his eyes. He nods and starts stroking it for her, knowing her eyes are on him makes him only hornier, but the only thing he really wants is to be inside of her. She cups his face and kisses his jawline while she watches his hand stroke his dick. she loves hearing him whimper even if just for a second.
And her watching him alone gives her a slick between her thighs. She slides her hand under his shirt tracing the lines of his abs, just the touch of her makes him let out a soft groan. Soon enough they smash their lips together fighting over who has dominance, Leon slips his free hand into her pants and circles her cilt through her panties while still jerking himself off. They both moan into each others mouths. she breaks the kiss to whimper under his touch.
"let me help you out Leon, hm?" She gave him a sly smirk and tucked her long black hair behind her ears and lowered her head down next to his throbbing erection with his sticky precum dripping along the side of it. She licks it off him while staring at him through her eyelashes, "oh f~fuck..."
she takes a hold of his thighs and starts swiftly bobbing her head up on down on his dick, feeling every vein along her tongue. Leon takes a tuff of her black hair and gently pulls on it, he could never hurt her even if he tried. He bucks his hips up to match the pace of her head, letting out whimpers and groans to every thrust hitting the back of her throat. With each gag and slurp he throws his head back as he gets closer to his climax, she knows Leon is close so she bottoms him out and wiggles her head on his cock as he shoots his warm white ropes coating down her throat, knowing she enjoyed every second of it just as much as Leon did.
With tears falling down her eyes from gagging, she looks up at him and kisses his jaw still with left over cum on her lips, licking it off of his jaw from where she kissed him.
"you think you can give me another? It's my turn you know..." She gave him a chuckle as she ran her finger down his chest. Before she could even say another word Leon swifts her up bridal style and takes her to their shared bedroom. He throws her on the white silk sheets that smell of coconut
"so I'll take that as a yes" she bites her lip excited for how Leon is gonna treat her. They both take off their shirts leaving Leon in his sweatpants and her in her bra and shorts. Leon bends down over her to whisper,
"it is your turn babe, you see that mirror right there? I want you to see what you look like while I make you come undone princess, how I make you fall apart underneath me" his new found use words only made her grow wetter, she likes this new side of him, she looked over at the mirror as he kissed her neck leaving a very visible mark.
He puts his legs on the bed spreading her legs out to make room for him with his knees as he unclips her bra with one hand. He helps her take her shorts off while she pulls down his sweat pants once again with his boxers soaked again with precum, revealing his still hard dick. He takes a look at her panties, "Already so soaked for me, good girl."
"this new side of you Leon, I like it" she lifted her hand up to cup his face while she was looking up at him. "Well you're about to like it even more my love" he lowered down and kissed her forehead as he slipped his two fingers in her panty line and pulled them down to her ankles, she kicked them off.
He dragged his pointer finger along her sensitive slick to the touch folds as he positioned his dick to her entrance. Leon wasn't one for foreplay, he likes to get straight to the point. "Are you ready princess?"
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A Brand New Journey:
Part Three
(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)
The screen of your phone is lit up with a cheerful blue, displaying a picture of a shipping container that’s been converted into a restaurant, decorated with images of stylized kittens and tea bags.
Swipe.
Glowing reviews from visitors, praising service and atmosphere. Even more praise for the tea. Overwhelming adulation for the felines present at the establishment. The only thing that’s lacking is information on the food.
Swipe.
Pictures of the menu, drawn on a standing chalkboard easel. The prices are fair and reasonable, each item having a printed photo pinned up near the flowery writing.
Swipe.
The most recent deal of the day- for mooncakes. Buy one box of six, get one box of six free. And for a slight upcharge to the original price of the first box, two bottled drinks.
Click.
That was… entirely unhelpful. You would have expected your mentor to comment on the picture you had sent, or maybe to be told what flavor they’d like you to pick up- but it seemed that he had either not seen it or simply thought you were giving him an update on your general status.
Also, you really had to get his information updated. Since no one else ever really touched your phone, you’d probably be safe putting his name and a photo- all you had to do was talk him into holding still for a picture.
Aside from all that…
The restaurant was close enough that you could walk to it on foot, so it’s not as though you’d be out so long that you’d miss training. The deal was incredibly good- and each customer could use it twice for a total of four boxes and four drinks, which meant that even after having a meal with your mentor there’d be leftovers to snack on after long training sessions.
All you had left in your fridge was… what was it? A jar of peanut butter, several bananas, some yogurt aaand… maybe a few protein bars? Oh, and several bags of mixed nuts.
You make a quick note to restock your post-workout snacks the next time you come into Megapolis. Concealer, too.
You plug in your headphones and turn on directions, then shove your phone into the pocket of your bag, heading towards the restaurant.
Although you don’t get to the city as often as you once did, it’s a sort of ‘second home’ to you. The air is fresh, the people are kind. The streets are clean. The food is very good.
You love it, a little bit.
Your thoughts soon turn away from the city and back towards your mentor, who you had never managed to talk into a visit, even for just an hour. Sure, he’d indulge in the snacks and drinks you brought around. And he seemed a little interested in the locations you offered to bring him to.
So much coaxing and reassuring, so many proffered hoodies and sunglasses to disguise his face- but he hadn’t ever accepted them.
You would get him out for a trip one of these days, you had sworn to yourself. Drag him out to the zoo or a museum. Maybe one of the public gardens.
But, until then…
You’d just have to enjoy the all the wonders of the city by yourself-
Like the converted shipping container that’s standing in front of you, labeled “Mo’s Cakes”, and painted blue. The “o” is a replica of the moon, painted so that the famous ‘bunny’ mark is actually a cat.
The craftsmanship is incredible, and it doesn’t look too crowded… so you hurry and go inside, peering at the menu.
…what would he like? With twenty-four mooncakes in total, you could introduce him to- no, it wouldn’t be introducing, really. He had probably had lots of these before. They’re a popular food throughout China, and tons of stores sell them in Megapolis. But with how far out you had to go to see him, it felt sometimes like he was an old hermit.
“Excuse me,” calls a gentle voice, standing at the counter. “Can you come over here?”
So not introducing, not really. Maybe there’d be a few new flavors in the mix somewhere he hadn’t tried yet, but it’s not like it’d be his first time eating mooncakes. Maybe a few of the more modern makes. Ice cream filled, perhaps? Or transparent crystal jelly?
“I just need you for a minute, please!”
And then maybe one of these days you could introduce him to several other treats that he might not have had access to. Cheese tea? White Rabbit Candy? Pineapple buns? Hell, there were a couple of “exotic snack” shops in Megapolis. Maybe you could bring a bag of konpeitō or a tin of florecitas for him to try.
“Mo? Could you…?”
Unbeknownst to you, a blue-furred cat sits on one of the many scratching board platforms nailed into the walls, peering down at the customers. He stretches out with a little ‘mrrow’, then leaps from his perch and lands on the space between your shoulder blades.
You’re pretty composed, most of the time.
But when an unseen and very fuzzy thing lands close to your neck and clings tight? It’d have been more of surprise if you hadn’t freaked out.
There’s a few embarrassing seconds spent squealing and flailing around, futilely trying to reach for the furred thing, only stopping when someone grabs your shoulders. Warmth and power in equal amounts enfold your upper arms, two hands lifting you off the ground, turning you around, and placing you in front of the checkout counter.
“You must be Y/N!” The man- not quite a human, now that you get a better look at him- says, hurrying back to his station. When he holds his arms out, the cat on your back leaps in them. “Pigsy’s been telling me about you!”
“…Mister Pigsy told you about me?”
The river demon smiles ear to ear, baring fangs that would be intimidating on anyone else. But with his pink apron and blue cat and white sweatpants, he’s actually really endearing.
“He did,” the demon confirms, one large hand reaching out to meet the one you tentatively offer. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N! I’m Sandy, and this is Mo!”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Mister Sandy. And you, Mo.”
“Aww, you’re so polite!” Sandy warmly praises, still grinning. “Thanks, little guy!”
His words might have been patronizing from another mouth. But there’s a genuine sincerity in them, a kindness blooming from every word that makes them feel truly flattering instead of condescending.
“Um, then… you must be one of Mister Pigsy’s friends, right?”
“That’s right! We’ve known each other for along time, actually! Now, what can I do you for?”
“Oh, um… is the buy one get one deal still… going on, like, currently? I wanted something to, uh… share with my mentor, and this seemed like a good deal, so I thought… to come check?”
Smooth, Y/N. Tell him you have a mentor and stumble over your words. Typical, really.
“That’s sweet of you,” he eagerly says, uncaring of your fumbling. “Two boxes or four, kiddo?”
“Four, please. I’m trying to introduce him to, uh, new things. He’s kinda, I guess… traditional with what he eats?”
“I can get you two of a few things so you can try them together!”
“Oh, um, please! And thank you, Mister Sandy!”
“Of course, of course! And what four teas?”
“Two green and two oolong, please!”
“Coming right up!”
———————————————————————
…today has been a good day. You got to see MK and Pigsy again, and made what you think is probably a new friend. And you’ve got twenty four mooncakes to share and good, healthy tea for workouts. And for such a good deal, too- Sandy had applied a “friend” discount almost without you realizing it, probably because you were dear to someone he cherished. You had slipped a tip under Mo’s collar before you left, under the guise of giving him scratches.
As you head back to your mentor’s house, the events play on repeat. Today was a really good day. And, as you look ahead of you, it only gets better.
The trees down the path are newly blooming, it seems. Each one branches proudly towards the sky, standing tall. Down the middle of the path is a neatly paved stream, full of aquatic flora blossoming in the crystal waters.
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New (not really) Murder Drones Au!
This AU is called the Mercy Drones AU, created by my lovely boyfriend who gave me permission to share this to Tumblr! I helped with some of the concepts and the name!
Basically, while the humans were testing stuff out with Solver, they also made the "Mercy" program, an anti-virus for Solver. With episode 7 and the introduction of the patch, we kind of made it one in the same. anyway
The Mercy program is the result of the patch warping the solver mutation's genes/coding and essentially "purifying" it. Instead of bat wings, Mercy Drones have moth-like wings made of solar panels that sprout from their backs. Instead of mouths at the end of their tails, they have a strange, claw-like hand at the end of their tail. Nothing they "gain" from this mutation is organic. When they go full-Mercy mode, their 'screens' turn purely the color of their LEDs. These drones thrive in the sunlight
Wing shapes aren't always the same and can be based off of any moth species.
Within this AU, Thad has the Mercy Mutation, along with Alice and Lizzy (though hers is Dormant and has remained dormant thus far.) Lizzy and Thad got it from their late mom Izzy, who was once a zombie drone alongside Nori, Yeva, and Alice. (Thad's wings are based off of Luna moth wings, Lizzy's would be based off of Maple (or pink lemonade) moth wings)
The thought of this AU came up because I was losing my fucking mind over how much wasted potential Thad had, mostly focusing on episode 2. He got grabbed by Solver, and while All of the other worker drones it grabbed died immediately, he didn't, and it even acted scared when he threatened it and I was screaming about how it made no sense and there had to be more to Thad because of this.
In the au, this interaction with Solver activated his Mercy programming, fighting off Solver's influence. Soon after this, he did the ol "transformation" thing (see image), and it was during Episode 4 that he finally learned how to use the abilities the Mercy programming used. He wasn't in the bus, bro had to cling to the top of it as they went home.
In this au, Solver not only sent the DD's to Copper-9 to kill the drones but also to hunt down any Mercy Drones who were left there to neutralize the only threat to it's ultimate goal
I never got around to fully coloring this, but the outer "rim" of the wings are silver, and the inside of the wings are dark green, which looks more like a bright mint green in the sun. The inside wing colors change depending on the drone (For example, it would be dark brown in the dark and orange in the light for Alice)
When Mercy Drones are depraved of exposure to sunlight for long (and I mean long) periods of time, they grow sluggish, tired, and weak. For this reason, when Alice realized she would never see the sun again, she permanently removed her wings.
Some abilities include-
- Drawing sun rays collected by their wings to create light daggers
- Magnetizing their fingertips
- Can create other things (from shields to drone repairs) out of their harvested energy
If you have any questions, my ask box is open!! (Extra doodles are under the cut)
The transformation is incredibly painful, hense the pool of oil in front of Thad here. He threw up because the pain was so agonizing.
The ending of Episode 4
Me? Planning on writing both of these and posting them on AO3? Noooo (yes. yes I am. stay tuned)
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@fireflywritesgt ok i read your tag on ch21 and i took that as a personal challenge (and then while I was writing this you dropped ch22 and THEN 23 and murdered me. but i'm back now. so)
HELLO Ok fuck yeah hold on everybody take my hand. We’re theorizing about this chapter 🙏 spoilers thru ch23 below
Re: the tag: dare I hope the next story will be set in a similar time/place… i MUST ADMIT despite the significant broader cultural stigma of such a thing. I have often contemplated. Harry and Joe helping with providing socialized miniature healthcare 😭 (maybe to wherever Lorraine lives[?] or knows of?) and when I heard mention of a Tiny Town Hospital… one must wonder how this compares to a Giant Hospital, or to the barber surgeon dens that Joe has presumably had some frostbitten toes cut off at.
OTHER THINGS I’M SPECULATING ABOUT: “certainly, bandits were a problem a borrower occasionally had to face” 🤔 damn that's rough. I do love the sense that there are few overarching cultural norms, whether it's around marriage or language or so on. Everybody is kinda doing their own thing (including robbing each other oof).
I am also VEEEERRY curious about the implications of WHATEVER the tinies that are working in Tiny Town are doing. What kind of mechanized thing could be profitable from a lot of little guys pressing buttons? Or is it maybe not something physical they’re producing? Is it instead a research project? Some attempt at “civilizing” the tiny society for giant colonialism reasons? There’s got to be some kind of output here that is valuable to some kind of giant, but I’m still mystified at what it will be. “Joe wanted to ask him about the four armed giants who stood outside of Tiny Town” YEAH MAN ME TOO‼️ <- secretly delighted this is still coming up because I want to know what it means QUITE BADLY
Joe lamenting that there don't seem to be any libraries, or restaurants, or speakeasies, or any mark of ... art or entertainment? In Tiny Town? I REALLY HOPE Joe and Harry get over themselves and kiss soon so they can TALK ABOUT HOW FUCKING WEIRD THIS PLACE IS???? It made me INSAAANE THAT JOE JUST BRUSHED OFF TALKING ABOUT IT AT ALL 😭 JOE TO HAVE THOSE THINGS. PEOPLE HAVE TO WORK AT THEM. ARE ALL THE PEOPLE IN TINY TOWN JUST WORKING ON PUSHING BUTTONS??? JOE PLS
“Expecting handouts from the bloody giants…” sooo fascinating to hear him voice this, since this whole project is a handout in the absolute best case scenario (given that scraps are worthless to giants), although likely closer to a prison, as Professor Hill called it. Still patiently waiting for his smart and cool wife to explain things to me <3
I hope Joe will deign to really talk about what happened to him… GURL go process it with ur beautiful best friend!! Let him hold you and comfort you and tell you you’re literally so smart and correct and everything you’re saying about ditching the buttons part entirely is literally so beautiful and true!!! Go rock his world with your insights king!!!
Also lmfao Joe is definitely not Irish bcuz his Irish Goodbyes need some SERIOUS work. King of just literally running off when he’s not feeling a conversation anymore.
Me 🤝Joe <- autistically just leaving
He does this so often and it makes me cackle every time. Wait hold on those great meme posts make me want to make a JUST WALK OUT! One.
Absolutely loving the tension of it all… the reveal that Joe was doing watchmaking when he was TWELVE, meaning (if I'm keeping track of time correctly) he got snatched right after he was ABANDONED BY HIS ONLY FAMILY IN THE WORLD, was so artfully done. I had to stop in my tracks and think at the “he’d known O’Grady longer in his life than he hadn’t” and do math and be like “oh fuck.” Maybe this was teased prior and I didn’t pick up on it, but it hit HARD. For some reason I hadn’t assumed he was a kid — but why wouldn’t he be? If little kids are already doing things like crawling into discarded beer bottles. Fuck, Warren, heartbreaking stuff. Bravo. Of course Joe would be as dedicated to going and seeing him as he was Harry in the hospital. He cares so deeply about everyone, but especially his friends. It’s too bad O’Grady is no longer in a place to reciprocate the love Joe gives !!! But of course Joe still would not be ready to throw away the boot knife O’Grady made for him… “a decision that would forever change Joe’s life” btw I can hear ur evil hehe from here. :)
Also btw THIS little detail is one of those things that makes rereading your story so delightful: “They invade our end of the city, take our jobs, show up at our bar… did we invite them? No.” O’Grady was practically ranting. “And when we politely tell them to leave, what do they do?” O’Grady pointed to his bandaged head. “Watch out for them once you get here. They’re not good Irishmen like you and me, Joe.” juxtaposed with the actual breaking news we heard from the radio ? "“AN IRISHMAN AND AN ITALIAN ARE IN THE HOSPITAL AFTER A MASS BRAWL OUTSIDE A BAR ENDED IN A CRACKED SKULL AND A STABBING. NEITHER OF ‘EM HAVE BEEN IDENTIFIED YET.”" a fucking STABBING = "politely tell them to leave"? What kinds of things has Joe's friend gotten used to excusing?
And of course I love the moments of solidarity within the tragedy of the newly realized (or at least newly stoked) xenophobia between borrowers. Joe being reminded of how his parents spoke, and how his brother shooed him off, in the gestures of a stranger… you really do a great job of evoking the ways we are all connected to each other. His family is gone, but he still sees them everywhere he looks. [pacing my enclosure and being sooo normal about how Joe has purposefully isolated for a decade and yet cannot help but see the beauty and humanity of his fellow man whether tiny or giant bcuz despite thinking he’s wired wrong, he’s actually wired like all of us who have felt that way for our unusual proclivities. He’s wired for connection with his fellow man. And he’s so wired for it u can feel how much it hurts his heart. Haha I’m sooooo .] The older guy was trying to warn him off crossing a white line into the “Irish ward”, too, right? The gesture was a kindness. And speaking of, does that mean the little tunnel somebody dug is to the Irish district? Or was I turned around and it was the Italian one? Either way — who would be trying to get in here, and why? Maybe it’s just a desperate person, but O’Grady talking about how bad it’d be if they saw Joe, and the need for an ID, makes me think it’s not someplace you can sneak into and integrate with. Just makes me curious as to whether it’ll come up again!!
THIS is also something I'm wondering about -- could the 'output' of Tiny Town maybe be researching, like... ethnonationalism? In the wake of WWI? Those drawn lines separating different 'wards'... do we think Tinies came up with this shit on their own? I doubt it, if someone like Dawson who is immediately assigning people nationalities that we know from Calloway's nobody "normal" in borrower society knows/cares about. HMMMmmmmMMMMM. I'm still reaaaaally curious how much Hill knows about this place and what hand, if any, he had in it. ONCE AGAIN, boys get kissing so you can also get TALKING. I think Harry would have much to say about how pointless it is to hate individuals from other nationalities after everything he saw during the war. Or so I assume, given he had no bad reaction to Joe being Italian.
AND WELL THIS IS LESS THEORYCRAFTING AND MORE “ME WANTING TO WRITE MORE FANFIC ABOUT THEM” BUT I WAS SOOO DELIGHTED THE CHAPTER DIDN’T END WITH HIM LEAVING TINY TOWN AND WE INSTEAD GOT DRESS REHEARSAL 2 OF HARRY AND JOE GETTING SO FUCKING DOWN BAD FOR EACH OTHER AT THE WINDOW & IN THE BEDROOM. YIPPEEEEE <- this was written before ch22 lol pictures taken moments before disaster
“Joe fidgeted for a moment as he fought with himself over whether or not to say what he really wanted to say.” … did you say what you really wanted to, there, pal? 🤨
I'm sooooo glad Joe's books are making more and more appearances... much like Harry I'm endlessly delighted by his culture. I wanna know what shaped his romantic fantasies!!
""Yeah, the ending on this one isn't great. They're cowards. Could've at least said they loved each other." Joe said.
He closed the book and snuggled into the crook of Harry's neck." <- Lmao @ these two guys so allergic to talking about their feelings shit-talking the romance book protagonists while they're literally cuddling in bed and not acknowledging it
Did he own these books when he was a kid? I imagine so, but on the other hand? HEY HOLY SHIT I REALIZED AFTER CH23 SOMETHING I SUSPECTED BUT COULDN'T CONFIRM: if homophobia isn't something borrowers have. Is one of these romance novels Joe owns going to be between two men? Harry is going to get his fuckin world rocked. Him and Georgie stole books from the library before, but I doubt they found any gay romance stuff (still impossible for baby-gay-Gnash to find that almost 100 years later in their rural libraries, lol.) Would this be Harry's first exposure to something like that? Wahhh... hurry up and open up to each other again you need to talk culture ASAP...
I'm also very curious if borrowers would have more taboo novels of their own, particularly giant/tiny stuff. And would Joe have come across any of it? I imagine it'd be extremely difficult to sell things like that without a beating, but maybe in bigger night markets -- and Joe said he's been in lots of very big cities... if his third novel is some really salacious g/t writing that would do numbers here on tumblr dot com I'm going to lose my god damn mind.
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Not sure if this is how I send you asks but could you do a König x male baker reader? Like a fluff story? Like at some point Konig realizes he's in love with the sweet baker? If not that's fine too 🫶🏾🫶🏾 please?
Sweet Tooth
König x Male!Baker!Reader
Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and König being clueless about his feelings (Tags apply differently. Jokes about suicide, meant to be read with a light heart)
Pronouns for reader: you, he/him, reader is implied male
A/N: I really appreciate this opportunity to write for a character I haven't really written for or considered writing for in the past. I’ve also never written for a male reader before, so thanks so much for this ask! I’m also a firm believer that König drinks an unhealthy amount of hot chocolate. We’re talking 4+ cups on a normal day. I was given the idea and it kind of spiraled. He’s also shy and very pookie-coded here, I think.
Let me know if any of the German is wrong, I relied heavily on Google Translate for this. Also if I missed anything. I’ve read this so many times that the words are melting together and I just needed to post it. Sorry this took so long, I’ve been sick and it’s kicked my ass.
It was a bit of a shock, the first time he walked into the bakery. At almost seven feet tall, how could he not be a shock?
Ding. The soft tinkle of the bell above the door alerts you to the presence of the morning’s first customer. You glance up, and the smile drops from your face, then immediately reappears.
“Good morning! Take your time with the menu, and let me know when you’re ready to order.” Your voice cuts through the silence. “I’m going to go take some muffins from the oven, but I'll be back soon. Let me know when you're ready, alright?”
“Ja.” A man’s deep rumble sounded from under his dark veil. You notice his head tip back up toward the chalkboard menu as you slip through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
When you return, holding a tray of still-warm muffins, he looks to you. “Bitte, ah, please, may I order?”
“Mhm,” you hum in response, your chest buzzing with the vibrato. “What would you like?” The air is filled for a moment with the quiet sound of each muffin tapping onto the glass display plate.
“May I have a- a blueberry scone, and a medium, ah, large, hot chocolate, please?” He asks. You notice him picking at his gloves and shrinking down as if trying to appear smaller than he is.
Maybe he’s shy. The thought makes you smile inwardly. “Yup. I’ll get those for you. Sorry for the wait, it’s just me this morning.”
“Die Stille [hush], it is- do not worry. It is no problem.”
Oh my god, he really is shy.
“For here, or to go?”
“To go. Danke.”
Several minutes later, you raise a hand in a slight wave as he leaves, paper bag and steaming cup clutched in one gargantuan mitt. “Have a good day.”
“Ja. You as well,” he replies.
It becomes routine, after a while. At first, it was about once a week. Then, it was a few times. Now, Monday through Saturday, he’s the first customer in the bakery, often causing the bell to ring as soon as you flip the sign.
It’s a typical Tuesday morning, about a month after he started coming in. You’ve already opened the door, he’s received his usual order, and you’re curious. “What’s your name?” You ask, the urge to inquire obscuring any boundaries you might cross.
He considers lying for a moment, but you’ve been kinder than most. Always assisting him whenever you could, treating him like a human, not like an apathetic war machine.
“König,” he answers.
“König,” you repeat. “Isn’t that German for ‘king’? Are you German?” You can’t keep the questions in. They fall from your lips before you recognize that what you’ve asked is invasive. He’s a customer. He’s here to get cocoa and a scone, not be bombarded by questions he might not even want to answer.
But the man seems unfazed. “Ja, it is German. However, I am from Austria, not Germany.”
Thank god for those Duolingo lessons, you think.
“Oh. I’m sorry for all the questions so suddenly, but what do you do for work? Do you work around here?” The embarrassment you felt at the barrage of questions leaving your lips ebbs, and you feel more comfortable asking them now.
“Ah, well,” he hesitated. “I am a Marine. I am a colonel. I work on the KorTac base, just outside of the city.” He checked his watch, then looked back up to you. “I’m sorry. I have to go, now. It was good speaking with you. Ah, goodbye.”
It seems rushed, but you think little of it. He’s just shy.
“Oh, yeah. Of course. See you tomorrow.”
“Ja, I will be here.”
Tomorrow comes and goes. As does the next day. And the next, and so on. You don’t ask any more questions, as he seemed to leave hastily the last time.
But he wishes you would. Why did I not ask one of him? I want to know more about the man, the little voice in the back of his head tells him.
Weeks pass. He returns again. And you’re feeling brave.
“König?” Your voice accompanies the sound of the paper bag as he grabs the top. “Would you, uh…” You trail off.
“Would I what, der Nachtisch [sweets, dessert]?”
“Would…” You had a hard time getting the words out. Your palms begin to sweat against the counter, and everything seems to be amplified tenfold. “Would you like to get dinner sometime?” You blurt.
König is silent for a moment. Then, “Dinner?”
“Uh- yeah. With me.” You wish you could see under the veil, as he doesn’t answer. It seems like hours before König’s head tilts back upward to you.
A small smile grows on his face, not that you can see it. He finally speaks, and his voice is soft. “Ja. I would like that, very much. Thank you.”
He doesn’t understand why his neck feels hot. His ears. His cheeks. His face is on fire and he doesn’t know why.
You breathe a sigh of relief. He didn’t reject me. He wants to go to dinner.
Shit. He wants to go to dinner.
“Cool, cool. What, uh, what kind of food do you like?” You ask casually, as if talking about the weather. As if you hadn’t just asked Colonel Colossus to grab a whole ass meal with you.
He thinks for a moment before responding. “I quite enjoy anything. I am in favor of the foods of my Austrian background, though I am sure you are much more accustomed to those of your home. The choice is yours, mein Täubchen [my dove].”
“Uh, well, it’s not Austrian, but there’s a little German restaurant a few blocks from here.”
Why did he ask me to choose? “If that’s okay.”
König smiles, though his glowing cheeks remain obscured by the veil. “That sounds perfect, Mein Schatz [my dear].”
Your face lights up. “Great. When are you free?”
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Get Souped!
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so it’s. it’s like. man this is so hard without my laptop.
alright so Crassus is a weird guy, existentially. There’s a tendency to speculate, assign, and insert him into whatever places are conspiratorial and shadowy because he fits into those narrative places with ease. My personal favorite (aside from all of it) is the idea that he may have pulled strings wrt to Sulla and Caesar’s conflict to help get Caesar out of it.
The Defeat of Rome: Crassus, Carrhae and the Invasion of the East, Gareth C. Sampson
In the universe that exists in my head, he definitely had a hand in it, but he didn’t really intend for Caesar to figure out he played a part in it, but Caesar’s good at puzzles, and noticing someone goes both ways. Binding someone to yourself goes both ways.
Crassus: The First Tycoon, Peter Stothard
This scene takes place sometime relatively soon after Sulla’s death. Crassus has complicated feelings about it, Caesar less so. Veni, vidi, vici, baby!
Here’s a bonus thing that I keep thinking about with them.
The Roman Revolution, Ronald Syme
like, utang na loob. and it is DEEP between them.
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Hi! I've just read 20/20 and it's so good👓
May I just say that I admire the way you write not only in general, but also that you write Pedro characters fanfiction without massive age gap? I like those too, but god, there are tons of it and it became sooo hard to find Joel (bc 80% of age gap fics is about Joel) being happy with a woman of his age.
I happen to think more and more lately that older women seem more real, thus more interesting to read - young girls are all pretty with their sexy young bodies, etc., and the older you get, the more insecurities you have, and you believe somebody like Joel or Ben has plenty of options when in fact they probably want somebody to feel comfortable with, somebody who they can laugh with *looks at Lydia*
I guess, sometimes young reader is too perfect. How could real person like me ever compete with that? Imperfect characters are comforting and real (they suffer to make us feel better, they're our heros) and they evoke real feelings, you care about them. That's why I love to read non-age gap work when I see one.
Anyway, sorry for rambling, thank you!!🤍
*throws hearts at you and running away*
First, thank you so much for the lovely words about my writing! Here are some hearts in return: 💜💜💜
Honestly, this kind of ask means the world. I’m so grateful and so honoured.
A warning: this will be a long answer. Sorry!
I genuinely felt emotional when I read your words about my decision to write in a way that is either no/minimal age gap or where the reader’s age isn’t specified (because this is possible, and is arguably far more inclusive for reader insert). I particularly like that you’ve chosen to focus on why older OFCs/reader characters are more interesting, rather than on the extreme age gap trope.
I can’t deny that the age gap trope is the dominant one in this fandom’s fic at the moment - most obviously for Joel, but also for other characters. And I sometimes wonder if Visiting would have more notes and engagement if Lydia was a student, not Ben’s contemporary and perfect equal - intellectually, emotionally, in every way.
But as you say: Lydia has a life, has lived, and is imperfect physically and emotionally, like us all. She’s interesting for all those reasons, and more. That’s why Ben is drawn to her, and she to him. (I sometimes wonder how people would feel if the age gap trope was reversed, with a much older OFC paired with a younger P boy…)
This is also why characters like @fuckyeahdindjarin’s Cee and Sugar, in Seams and Palomino respectively, or @lunapascal’s Andie in Curls, or @julesonrecord’s Eva in Shots, or @iamskyereads Beatrice in Compulsion, or the many other no age gap/no age specified characters and reader inserts in the fanfic are so gorgeously engaging. You get it - they’re real.
They’re not all thin, pert, visions of youth as beauty and beauty as youth. Ageing is a privilege, and it hurts me, really and truly, to see the implication that only youth is attractive in so much of the fanfic in a fandom dedicated to a man who has aged so beautifully.
I know people who have been subjected to anonymous abuse over this issue, which insists they’re just angry old women because “hot celebs won’t fuck you”.
I’m passionate about this for all sorts of reasons. I am more than a little unsettled by the vision of Joel, in particular, as exclusively attracted to much, much younger girls. I sometimes feel that some of the explanations for why age gap is good or better are somewhat problematic (that’s just my opinion, before anyone yells at me, but it’s rooted in experience and the fact that I work with many college-aged people and know the consequences of the age gap fantasy when it hits reality). And there are broader implications for the message being sent to younger readers about ageing, attraction, and female sexuality, which my feminist brain is furious about.
Finally, I am struck by the fact that we often see posts about how the fic world is a broad tent, and that there’s room for everything. Yet when people ask for more fic that doesn’t repeat the age gap trope, or some of us write fics that explicitly avoid that, there’s a reaction against that.
Sigh. You see why you didn’t need to apologise for rambling, for I am a rambling Rose, and endlessly grateful for your kind words and wonderful support. Here’s to a more diverse menu of fic on the dash - the tide does seem to be turning. You may have seen the post that’s been doing the rounds where @tessa-quayle has very helpfully compiled a list of fic that doesn’t involve an age gap or DBF/daddy thing - it’s really good on the need for more diverse reading.
PS: a more general query for the dash: is this such a massive trope in other 40-something male actor fandoms??
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I've been thinking a bit about how I would like to see a depiction of Sauron's time following the War of Wrath, in particular his potential for having, for a short while anyway, 'redeemed' himself before falling back into evil.
Now, I love a true (attempted?) redemption arc as much as the next pr department, but I'm not convinced that's quite what we'd be looking at here. As far as he was concerned, prior to the War of Wrath, he was serving the True King of Arda. (We're told he genuinely wanted Melkor to win the war and there are some elements that make me view him as a somewhat fanatical follower of his lord). He then witnesses their enemies brutally defeat Him, distroy the land that should have been His and then leave the mess behind them. I'm not sure he'd really go straight to "are we the baddies?" here*. If he belived in Melkor's cause, then I don't see why he wouldn't have thought of themselves as the good guys. And with the state that Middle Earth was left in after the Valar attacked, as well as their treatment of his lord, I don't think there's anything in front of him to tell him otherwise. In other words, there is nothing to be redeemed from. At least in his thoughts initially. And I think this is where we see the flaw that allows for him to slip back into evil. What we view as evil and what he views as evil aren't the same thing. His actions are a means to an end, and the end he has planned is so perfect that it'll justify any means. He genuinely wants to fix Middle Earth. Unfortunately for everyone involved though, his moral compas has never really had a good idea of where north actually is...
That isn't to say that I don't think he would learn nothing. That would be too static. I just think it means that there may not be any need for him to actively attempt to be a better person or to be actively trying to turn over a new leaf. I don't see that as something that should be focused on in a failed redemption story for him at this point in time. (I think that would suit post canon better, and perhaps even give it more weight because he can see his failure here and how close he could have been). I think he would eventually question at least some of his past actions. He would find things in his new life that he enjoys. Perhaps he's reminded of how much he loves creating instead of destroying? But I don't think he's setting out to do that. He's setting out to get involved and help restore Middle Earth because as far as he's concerned he's already one of the good guys. For me, this story would need way more layers to it than him simply saying "I'm good now. Actually, never mind, I'm evil again". I think it's far too black and white for how he sees himself. I don't think at any point does he truly think of himself as evil. He thinks of himself as right. He just has a very warped sense of right and wrong. His fall back into evil is inevitable, but he doesn't realise he's doing it because he never considered himself evil in the first place. This is why he fails.
[*I know he presents himself to Eonwe for pardon, but since he nopes out the second the Valar and Valinor are mentioned (and he suspects that he'll end up losing the status that he enjoys in Middle Earth), I don't really know how much of that came from a realisation that he had done wrong. It seems too quick for a realisation like that. So I'm taking it a bit more like either covering his ass or a moment of doubt in the face of utter defeat that then passes once he gets a little slap of reality.]
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wip whenever ♥
Thank you so much to @myreia for the tag!
It is once again time to bother you with original thing! Up til now I've been posting pretty much sequential pieces but I'm skipping ahead a lil bit this time bc I'm way too excited about the Lore TM.
part 1 || part 2 || part 3
It's been awhile since I bothered ppl so let's see I shall tag @eemamminy-art @delirious-comfort @quinnthebard @thepapernautilus @yourlocaldisneyvillain and anyone else who feels like sharing a wip!
===
At first glance, the town of Nodig does not appear so very different from Godsplace. It has the same small, crowded feeling and a similar sort of age-old architecture. But as they make their way into the little town, Tamsin quickly decides that two places could not be more different. There are streetlamps and shops, all of them well-lit and welcoming, and the streets are bustling with people even at this late hour. The people are happy, smiling and laughing and greeting one another as they pass, not huddled together with eyes downcast, afraid to be seen or heard.
The tavern, too, bears almost no resemblance to the one Tamsin knows. That place is well-known as the dominion of lechers and drunkards, not a place anyone who cares a whit for his reputation would like to be seen. This tavern is clean and well-tended, and there are a mix of men and women, most sat at tables and ensconced in their own private conversations. They barely take any notice when Althea and Tamsin enter. Nodig is used to travelers from all over the world.
The only person who takes any note of their arrival is the man standing behind the bar. He is grey-haired and nondescript, and he greets Althea with a curt nod of his head.
“I’ve brought an unexpected guest,” says Althea. “I hope it won’t be any trouble.”
“Of course not, Miss,” says the man with another nod. Then he disappears into the back room.
As the bartender leaves, a man sat at the far end of the bar turns on his stool to take a look at them. He speaks up in a clear, piercing voice.
“Unexpected guest?” he wonders. “Not a soon-to-be initiate?”
Although he is sitting down, he appears to be a slight man, and his sweater hangs loosely upon his shoulders. He has dark hair cut in a simple, clean style and wears thick, dark-rimmed glasses. He doesn’t look particularly young or old, but he lacks Althea’s gravitas.
Althea, for her part, seems markedly unimpressed. “Tamsin,” she says, her gaze fixed upon the wall somewhere behind the bar, “this is Vivius Moonbright.”
Tamsin looks from Althea back to the man, matching the name to the face.
“A pleasure, I’m sure,” says Vivius, extending his hand in greeting.
Tamsin takes his hand. “Moonbright?” she repeats curiously. “Forgive me, but I’ve never heard a name like that.”
Vivius laughs good-naturedly. “Yes, it does sound rather frivolous around these parts,” he says. “And in most parts of the world, if I’m being honest. But in my homeland of Almyst such names are quite common, I assure you. Moonbright, Silvermist, Windsong, and so forth.”
Tamsin smiles. “They sound like names out of a heroic tale. What is it like there, in Almyst? Do you miss it?”
Vivius hums. His thoughtfulness strikes Tamsin as markedly different from Althea’s. It is bright and animated, like the overture to an old, favorite song. “It is beautiful there,” he begins. He gestures that Tamsin should sit, and retakes his own barstool next to her. “And the people are largely…how shall I say this? Good-hearted, to be certain, but decidedly serious. The nation has a difficult past, and its people reflect that, in some ways.” With a wink, he adds, “And let me tell you, they would not take kindly to any comments on their peculiar naming conventions.”
“Oh,” Tamsin flusters. “Forgive me, I meant no offense.”
“None taken, I assure you,” says Vivius, waving a hand dismissively. “And you, Tamsin? Where did our Keeper Althea find you?”
Tamsin glances nervously over her shoulder toward Althea, hoping for some guidance, but Althea is still pointedly ignoring them both. After all she has been through in recent memory, Tamsin is not inclined to trust in someone Althea doesn’t seem to like very much, even if he seems perfectly friendly. But Althea does not acknowledge her, and so Tamsin is forced to make up her own mind. She reasons that whence she hails is no great secret.
“Godsplace,” says Tamsin at last. “Have you heard of it?”
“Heard of it, yes,” says Vivius. Even when he speaks severely, there is a certain lightness to his voice. “Not for the best reasons, though. I’m sure it possesses many charms that go unreported.”
“Maybe,” says Tamsin charitably, but she labors to think of any at the moment.
“Not too sad to be taking your leave, I see?” Vivius observes.
“No,” Tamsin agrees with a self-effacing smile. But it feels wrong to speak ill of her homeland without some further explanation, and so she amends, “There’s…not really much left for me in Godsplace.”
“Ah,” says Vivius knowingly. “And so very much to be found for you at the Academy.”
Again Tamsin glances uncomfortably in Althea’s direction. “You know much about it?” she presses hesitantly. “The Academy?”
Perhaps it is her imagination, but Tamsin is sure she hears Althea let out a quiet, derisive scoff.
“Actually,” says Vivius, with the air of barely-contained excitement, “I am nearly as new to the Academy as you.”
Tamsin whirls around to face him fully. “I beg your pardon?”
Vivius ducks his head and shrugs sheepishly, the kind of affected modesty borne of one who is in truth quite proud of his achievements. But before he can say anything else, Althea cuts in coldly. “Don’t bother demonstrating. She can’t see.”
Both Vivius and Tamsin look up, surprised by her sudden interjection. Althea is still looking away from them.
Tamsin’s mind is slow to catch up. New to the Academy, demonstrating, can’t see— “You have the Gift?” she turns back to Vivius.
Her tone is perhaps more openly incredulous than she had intended, but the idea is something of an absurdity. She’s never heard of a man with magic. Why, the people of Godsplace would be in an uproar. She tries to imagine one of those gruesome scenes in the Town Square with the roles reversed, nonmagical women in official uniform dragging unwitting young men up onto the stage to put them to the flame. It would never happen.
Again Vivius shrugs good-naturedly. Tamsin begins to feel acutely embarrassed by her inexperience. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I don’t mean to be rude, really, it’s just that…” It’s just that where Tamsin comes from, women are put to the flame for witchcraft, a fate even the most dreadful man, someone a thousand times worse than Teddy Page, need never fear.
“It’s all right, Tamsin, I’m quite accustomed to the shock,” says Vivius, holding up his hands in a show of surrender. “Men who possess the Gift are exceedingly rare, but we do exist. As I would gladly demonstrate, but the Keeper informs me such a show would be lost on you for the moment.”
“Yes, what a shame,” says Althea icily. “One wonders why you ever left the Academy at all, Vivius, if you’re so fond of impressing wide-eyed idiots with parlor tricks.”
Tamsin winces at Althea’s cruelty, but Vivius seems remarkably unfazed. “Don’t mind the Keeper,” he says to Tamsin. “She’ll be a different person once she gets her meal.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” says Althea.
As if on cue, the bartender emerges from the back room balancing three large plates on his arm, all filled to overflowing with foods that are unrecognizable to Tamsin. She’s been so preoccupied, she barely even noticed her own hunger, but now her mouth waters, and her stomach aches.
The food is rich and heavy, not at all what Tamsin is used to. She cannot identify a single thing on her plate—even the type of grain is unknown to her. The meat is cooked in a way Tamsin could never have imagined—it seems to her to be covered in some sort of bread crumbs and cooked in a heavy oil. When she wonders aloud at this ingenuity, she draws both Vivius and the bartender into conversation with her, and they happily explain the origin and preparation of each of the unfamiliar foods, and many others besides.
Althea continues to ignore them. She eats her food at the other end of the bar in self-contained silence.
In spite of Althea’s coldness, Tamsin finds herself warming to Vivius. He is friendly and forthcoming, and he doesn’t answer her questions with long, weighty pauses or meandering riddles that aren’t really answers at all.
“Keeper Althea mentioned that there aren’t very many new students at the moment,” Tamsin prompts him, attempting to sound casual. To her left, she would swear she can almost feel Althea bristling, but Althea doesn’t say anything.
“Yes, well, it’s to be expected,” says Vivius.
“Why is that?”
“Well, because of the prophecy,” says Vivius, as though this should be obvious. He takes a bite, evidently unaware that this warrants any further explanation.
“Prophecy?” Tamsin echoes.
Vivius looks up mid-bite, his eyes rendered somewhat comically wide by the thick lenses of his glasses. He finishes his food and sputters, “Oh, goodness, forgive me, I really thought even the nonmagical knew about that.”
“Not me,” says Tamsin simply.
“Oh, well, uh—“ Vivius glances somewhat nervously toward Althea. “I don’t know if I’m the best person to explain it.”
When Althea remains steadfastly silent, Vivius amends, “But I’ll do my best.”
He puts down his fork and steeples his fingers while he thinks. “So, how to put this? I think I ought to start by saying that the average person cannot actually confirm whether the prophecy really exists.”
“It does,” says Althea quietly.
“Right,” Vivius falters, “as I’ve said, the average person. It’s important because interpretations vary widely the world over. And of course, like all prophecies, the actual contents are extremely vague and open to interpretation.”
“What are the actual contents?” Tamsin asks.
Again Vivius glances hopefully toward Althea, but she keeps her counsel.
“The story goes,” Vivius continues cautiously, “that a child born at the crossroads of time will set the darkness free of its shackles.”
A moment’s silence follows. “That’s it?” asks Tamsin.
Vivius nods. “That’s it.”
In spite of her stony silence, Tamsin glances back toward Althea. “But that’s hardly anything! That doesn’t answer my question at all!”
Vivius chuckles. “Yes, it is infuriating, isn’t it?”
“Why does that amount to no new students at the Academy?” Tamsin presses, not a little exasperated.
“Well, let’s break it down, shall we?” says Vivius, in the manner of a kindly schoolteacher. “What do you suppose qualifies as a ‘crossroads of time?’”
Tamsin balks at him for a long moment before she even deigns to consider what he has said. Nameless nobodies do not get much education in Godsplace, and it has been a long while since she was a student of anything.
“All right,” she sighs at last. “I don’t know. The start of a new year? The changing of an Era?”
Vivius nods. “Excellent guesses. Also the most common interpretation. Most people believe that this fabled child was born at the changing of the Era, perhaps even at the very turning of the year, right as the clock struck midnight. If so, how old would that child be now?”
“Sixteen,” Tamsin answers easily. The child would have been born in the same year as she. “But then how—“
“And what sort of person do you imagine could manage a feat like breaking the darkness free from its shackles? Someone ordinary?”
Tamsin falters. “Well, no, I suppose not.”
“Almost certainly one of the Gifted, yes?” Vivius nods.
“Sure,” says Tamsin. “But what does that even mean? Setting the darkness free and all that?”
“Now that explanation I shall leave to your teachers at the Academy,” Vivius laughs. “Suffice to say, there is darkness in this world, in a very literal sense. It is a kind of magic not so very different from your own Gift. Very powerful. But dangerous. Unpredictable. It is said that once the darkness finds you, you can never truly be free of it, even if you manage to resist its whispers all the days of your life.”
Tamsin shivers involuntarily.
“No one knows exactly what it means, setting the darkness free of its shackles. How could we? Scholars may theorize, but they are going off of next to nothing, little more than stories almost as old as time itself. But a world plunged into darkness does not sound very appealing on its face, now, does it?”
“Well, no,” says Tamsin uncertainly.
“As I’ve said, interpretations abound the world over, most of them probably wildly inaccurate. But nearly everyone agrees on one thing: the prophecy cannot come to pass. It would destroy the world as we know it.”
Such heady concepts are, for the moment, wholly beyond Tamsin’s comprehension. She is more focused on one simple matter. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she points out.
Vivius laughs, abashed. “No, I suppose I haven’t. There may be many reasons that so few young ladies of your age have made their way to the Academy. Many have likely been hunted down and killed, as, I’m given to understand, is the practice in Godsplace. Many, I expect, are in hiding, hesitant to submit themselves to the Academy’s scrutiny.”
Tamsin considers this, her mind reeling. “Because, what? What would happen? To this…person the prophecy speaks of?”
“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” says Vivius with a shrug. “How can they know? Public opinion on the matter is not generous, to say the least.”
“Should I be worried, then?” Tamsin wonders. The idea had not occurred to her.
“Well, I don’t know,” says Vivius. “You were born at the changing of the Era, but when?”
Tamsin shrugs. “Sometime in the summer. I’m not sure exactly.”
Vivius nods, as if that is the end of it. “Well, then, it’s unlikely you’ll run into any problems at all. The prophecy is open to interpretation, of course, but these things tend toward the dramatic. To that end, perhaps we’ll start seeing more new students sooner than later, now that the timing is off.”
They fall into silence after that, Tamsin consumed by her thoughts, and the others concerned with their food. When they have all cleaned their plates, the bartender comes to collect them, and he tells Althea that he has prepared another room for Tamsin.
‘Wonderful,” says Althea, offering the bartender a smile and a nod as she accepts her keys. “Thank you.” For the first time since they arrived, she looks at Tamsin. “I’ll be turning in now. Shall I show you to your room?”
“All right,” says Tamsin, trying very hard not to scramble to her feet. “Good night, Vivius,” she says. “Will I see you again soon?”
“It’s been a pleasure, Tamsin,” says Vivius with a wave. “I’ll be heading out before dawn, but come and find me when you make your way to the Academy, won’t you?”
Tamsin nods, and she feels distinctly relieved to have at least one friend to look forward to at the mysterious Academy. She turns around to find that Althea has just barely waited for her, and quickly scrambles to follow Althea through a small doorway and up a narrow staircase. Outside, the moon is uncommonly bright, and it casts strange shadows through the open window. The stairs shift and creak ominously beneath her feet, and the banister feels ready to work itself loose.
When they reach the second floor, Tamsin dares to speak up. “May I ask you something?”
“You may,” says Althea.
“You don’t seem to like Vivius much,” says Tamsin.
Althea glances over her shoulder. “Is that a question?”
Tamsin averts her gaze, embarrassed. “Well, am I wrong?” she wonders self-consciously. “Why don’t you like him?”
Perhaps Tamsin could have anticipated the way Althea weighs her question with a heavy sigh. She stops in front of a door in the middle of the hallway and produces a key. She ushers Tamsin inside and closes the door behind them before she even begins to answer.
“It’s not exactly that I don’t like Vivius,” says Althea at last. “But have you ever in your life heard of a man with the Gift? Even in stories?”
“Well, no,” Tamsin admits. “It is strange to think of, but…”
“Strange, yes. Almost unheard of,” says Althea. “The thing that troubles me is that no one seems to know how it happens. I mentioned to you earlier that the Gift is hereditary? Not so with men, at least as far as anyone can tell. Which is not very far at all, since there are maybe a handful total, in all of history.”
“Even still,” says Tamsin hesitantly, “you make it sound like it’s his fault.”
“As I’ve said, I’ve nothing against Vivius specifically,” says Althea curtly. “But I do not trust his magic, nor do I support allowing a man into the Academy, no matter his talents. He could just as easily go across the water, where he would be welcomed.”
Tamsin considers this. “Do…others feel as you do?” she wonders. “Other Keepers, I mean?”
To her surprise, Althea chuckles. “You think my views are unusual?”
Tamsin averts her gaze. “Well, I wouldn’t know.”
“But you disagree.”
“Well.” Tamsin doesn’t know enough to agree or disagree. She likes Vivius, but she trusts Althea. She fiddles with the strap of her traveling bag.
“Opinions on the matter are mixed at the Academy,” Althea elaborates at last, with surprising good humor. “Which, as it happens, is another reason for my objection. Vivius’s mere presence at the Academy is the subject of endless debate, all of it a colossal waste of time. There are far more important matters.”
“Like the prophecy?” Tamsin wonders, before she has fully decided to speak.
Althea sighs. Again, she looks a little amused. “It’s not as though I’m keeping things from you on purpose, Tamsin,” she says. “There’s a lot to take in. And frankly, the prophecy is not the sort of thing a new initiate should be most worried about.”
Still, Tamsin cannot help but ask, “You said earlier that…that you know it’s real. You know it exists.”
“Yes, well,” Althea averts her gaze. “I am among the lucky few.” The light from the full moon catches in her eyes, and Tamsin is reminded of the way they glowed when she used her Gift.
Tamsin considers this. “Is that why you came to Godsplace?” she wonders.
Althea quirks a brow at her. “After a fashion,” she says.
“Is that why the burnings happen?” Tamsin presses. “Because of the prophecy?”
“Not exactly,” says Althea. “Godsplace has a long history of archaic practices. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the reason you’ve noticed them happening more frequently.”
“Then…” Again Tamsin fidgets uncomfortably with the strap of her bag. “Then there are people in Godsplace who know about it?” Could Bryce have known? Would he keep something like that from her?
“Perhaps. But this is all pure speculation, you understand. I came to Godsplace because I heard about the burnings and I had a feeling I should go and try to intervene. As it turned out, my feeling was about you.”
“Me?” Tamsin echoes, stunned.
“Well, yes,” says Althea, as though it were obvious. “Following my intuition led me right to you in your hour of need, after all. And I’d have allowed you to stay and say a proper farewell if I felt we had the time.”
“But…” Tamsin stammers. “But I thought you said you came to Godsplace because of the prophecy.”
“I did,” says Althea. “I’ve been traveling trying to find anyone who fits the description.”
“But I don’t fit the description,” says Tamsin.
Althea hums. “No, not exactly. Nevertheless, you are a Gifted who would likely have been put to the flame without my intervention. An equally worthy cause, I should think.”
Tamsin shivers. “But then…why are you looking for the prophecy?” she wonders. “What will you do?”
Althea considers this. “It’s more about what I will not do, if I’m being honest. Many would see the prophesied child dead, as if something so banal would put an end to all the world’s problems. If I can find her, I would spare her from that fate, and see that she is properly trained.”
“Why?” Tamsin asks. “Would it be better? Would that avert the prophecy?”
“I cannot know for certain,” says Althea. “In many ways I am as much in the dark as anyone else. But is it not better to try to avert such a prophecy with the power of reason? With information and preparation? Rather than expecting brute force to unmake the delicate weave of fate?”
Tamsin doesn’t know what to say to that.
“I would not see what is sure to be a talented young lady put to the flame before she can even realize her potential,” says Althea with a small smile. “And I mean that as much for you as I do for the prophesied child, whoever she may be. What happens after that is another matter, best left for when the time comes.”
Tamsin nods slowly. Perhaps Althea is right, after all, and she has asked for more knowledge than she is ready to handle. It is a lot to take in.
Althea pats her shoulder. “Get some rest, Tamsin.“
It is perhaps a mercy that Tamsin is so unfathomably tired. Her head is spinning, and on any other night, the brightness of the moon might have kept her awake thinking until her time for sleep had passed. But almost as soon as she lays down, she feels herself drifting off. In her dreams, she is being led into the Town Square all tied up with heavy rope, but she is not afraid. She knows the flame cannot touch her anymore.
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hi everyone! i was on a semi-hiatus but now it’s time for me to actually lock in LOL. i’ll be deleting tumblr for a short while & i’ll see you all in april!
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its about time hanniluvi flops
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