#//i'm so excited to meet her

[nataliealynlind]

Iris Apatow as Georgia

Unstable Season 2 Trailer

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: annnd we've made it to velaris ! yippee !! now it's time for all the introductions >:D i hope you enjoy pls let me know what you think angels <3 ok mwah bye

word count: 3.5k

synopsis: You wake up somewhere entirely new, a long, long way from your home.

CHAPTER EIGHT :: STRANGERS (AGAIN)

The air all around you is sickly sweet.

Maybe... sweet is the wrong word. The air is clean; perfumed with an allure of scents you've never smelt before, heady and swirling, sweet and sterile all in one.

But more importantly, it is utterly foreign.

You're in unknown territory. Age old instinct has you shifting the moment you wake, surging up in a rush before your memory can catch up and remind you why that's an terribly bad idea.

The sheets rustle as you push yourself up into a sitting position, a heavy dose of panic already poisoning your system. It doesn't take long for the pain to follow.

You falter in your movement as an aching agony ricochets through your body, forcing out a wince. Your eyes screw up in pain. Your entire body feels like a bruise, punishing you with every movement.

You allow yourself only a moment of pause before you force them back open to take on the new threat, every sense filtering in unknown information as they sluggishly come to life. You have to blink rapidly to clear your vision, light coming in from all angles.

Why does it feel as though you've been asleep for years?

Where are you?

A room. You're not outside which is where you memory places you last. The extent of the memory drifts back as you search the room, your eyes climbing the walls, ravenous for details. They're made of some kind of warm coloured stone that covers the whole ceiling, you realise, as you follow the line of it up.

You screw your eyes up again and blink hard when you open them again. Every sense keeps pinging for your attention, a thousand things unfamiliar. The bed beneath is too soft, the sound of the wind outside isn't a whistle, the clothes on your back...

You startle, stumbling off the bed you've awoken on as you peer down at yourself, eyes moving about wildly. You're wearing... something completely new.

Frowning down at your arm, you raise one of your hands and pinch at the new fabric that covers the expanse of your arms. It's soft. So soft.

You tentatively smooth your hands down the tunic you're clothed in, all the way down to your pants. Each thing is finely made, with details far smaller that you would ever consider, and soft. Warm but sturdy.

What the fuck? Your chest starts to heave as panic truly sets in, your breath just out of reach before you can catch it. You gasp, grasping at your chest tightly, the new clothes scrunching up beneath your fingers. Memories begin to trickle back in as your mind scours for any information about how you ended up here.

You had been... cold. It was raining.

And your wings had been—your wings—your brain trips over the thoughts as every detail bleeds back in, sudden and frightening.

Stakes driven through the flesh of them, your wings pulled taut, stretched out for lashings and prepped for removal. Your terror climbs, its cloying grip tightening around your sternum like a fist.

Eyes screwed closed, you pray to every deity you can imagine, begging the Mother for this one thing.

You twitch the familiar muscle and feel the weight of your wings as they respond. There's no describing the relief that bursts within you, overwhelming your panic in an instant, your knees nearly buckling beneath you. They're still moving, still stretching out as you command them, still yours.

You stand there and peer over your shoulder, stretching your wings out as far as you can—cringing when they stop before full extension, buckling and bunching up at the violent spike of pain that ripples through them. It echoes through your body, making you hunch forward and grit your teeth. Your left eardrum wails extra loud.

What had happened? What had changed?

You could recall the finality of being down on your knees in the pouring rain, your hands are bound as your fate. Endless agony. The secret you couldn't keep, despite all you had tried.

You had been resigned to it—to dying there amongst in the dirt from where you had come from.

So, what changed?

Behind you, there's an abrupt noise from behind a door in the room, a rustling that makes your head snap around to face it.

Someone’s coming.

You stumble back a couple steps, dread mounting in your chest and your panic returns in full-force. You don't know where you are, you don't know how you got here, you don't know who is coming through that door.

You know that you have a lot more foes than you do friends.

Eyes darting around the room frantically, you spot a balcony down a small hallway and don't waste a single second.

As you begin to stride, you realise faintly that you're without shoes, feet bare on the cool marble floor. It turns to carpet beneath you as your fast strides transforms to a run, hearing the door open somewhere behind you.

It feels like a trap. Not the nice clothes or the fancy room would be enough to fool you. You're caught in a sickly sweet trap of honey and the net is being reined in, the ropes closing up on every side of you. It feels like you're being chased.

Heart in your throat and pulse rabbiting wildly, you burst through the doors of the balcony, daring a glance behind you without thought—

—and you nearly plunge off the edge of a mountain.

The gasp that escapes your throat is entirely involuntary, your fingers gripping the edge of the stone railing the adorns the balcony.

Your balance tips momentarily, the momentum of your dash nearly pulling you over. Terror freezes you. You're fairly certain with the state of your wings, it would be a short flight and an almost guaranteed casualty.

But a wind blows gently against your face, as though helping push you back to safety.

When you're sure you're not going to topple over the edge, some of your crippling panic eases. Your breaths, short and fast, begin to slow.

Your eyes travel up from the daunting height of the mountain side and widen, all the air in your lungs stolen in pure surprise.

Because before you, stretching out across the land that meets the sea, is something you've never seen before.

It's... a city.

A city that sits amongst the rolling, steep hills of the terrain and curls around a meandering river that leads out to the ocean. Tall, jagged mountains surround it from all sides, their hills steep up the top until they give way to gentler slopes, eventually becoming paved roads and streets for magnificent buildings.

The structures gleam, even from afar, made with precision and beauty in mind. Some are white marble or warm sandstone, others the same red stone of the mountains beside the one you're standing on. Small, quaint houses with green copper roofs, their white chimneys smoking softly.

Your breath stutters out in an exhale and you don't dare blink.

A city—a sprawling, wondrous city that was bursting with people, with colour, with life. So utterly unlike the chilled gray-scale of the Illyrian Mountains.

In fact, you wonder briefly if this was even the Night Court at all. This— this incredible sight felt like something you'd imagined of Summer or Spring, imbued with warmth, a place where things could grow and thrive.

The Night Court was... foul. It was the biting frigid cold of the wintry mountains or the shudder-inducing darkness of the court that lay beneath the mountain. This... where is this?

As though you've spoken your thoughts aloud, a voice answers from behind you.

"Velaris."

You start, whipping around fast enough to reawaken all your wounds, forcing you to stifle a pained noise that leaps up your throat. Your heart thunders as your eyes lay upon an unfamiliar figure, stepping out from the empty hallway—a form cut from the very night itself.

Your hands grip the stone railing behind you and you're unsure whether it's to keep your knees from buckling in fear or from bolting off the edge, into uncertain skies.

He's unfamiliar to you, yes, but you have a feeling you know exactly who he is.

"You asked where this—" The male waves a casual hand to the city beyond the balcony before pocketing it, either unaware of your panic or uncaring. "—is. You're in Velaris."

He surveys you, his violet eyes glancing down at the strained way you clutch at the railing.

"I know you must have a thousand questions. We haven't been introduced. My name is Rhysand and I am—"

"I know who you are." You interrupt. There's a lilt of fear in your voice but you couldn't keep it out even if you tried. He's the fucking Highlord of the Night Court.

Which means—Azriel.

His name slams into you like a shooting star, glowing hotly and dripping through your ribcage with a fire warmer than you've ever known.

Azriel must be— he was the one- he's the reason you're still alive. It feels like you relive the relief of his appearance during the storm all over again, remembering that he came back for you.

You have no idea the cacophony of emotion you're giving off, shouting all your unguarded thoughts across the balcony.

Rhysand's cool expression doesn't falter at your disruption. He looks at ease, both hands in his pockets, like he's merely having a conversation with a friend.

"Then it's important for you to know," He continues. "that I mean you no harm."

Lying, lying, liar, LIAR—the thought festers from within you instinctively, only growing in its urgency. You and everyone else where you come from are well aware of the origins of your Highlord.

And while he's your ruler, he's first and foremost, an Illyrian male.

"Only half," Rhysand corrects.

You startle, sickly surprise at the fact he seems to be able to read your very thoughts.

Then he confirms it, by saying, "And I can."

"You can read my thoughts?" You echo, voice sounding so much meeker than you intend. You sound like a child—and you feel like one, feel like the same eight-year-old staring down at the scorched brown earth in Exordor. Old blood. The same dirt you had been forced to kneel upon that now makes you shudder at the fresh memory.

Rhysand's expression falters momentarily at your train of thought, a flash of hurt on his handsome face.

His eyebrows draw together, forming a sympathetic, troubled look. "I can teach you how to shield them, if you so wish."

You don't make a noise. You don't even dare to take a breath, your fingers still crushed around the railing.

Within you, some part of you knows what he's offering. What the very nature of his words implies. He voices it anyway.

"You're no prisoner here. You're free to—”

"Where's Azriel?" The question falls from your lips before you can even think to stop it. Fear hammers through your chest—Fae that make a habit of interrupting Highlord's often find their lives cut short.

But Rhysand gives no impression that he minds. All he does is step to the side, revealing the empty hallway out to the balcony.

Except it's not empty anymore.

There, standing back to hide in the shadows as he did best, is your Shadowsinger.

Reserved and holding back, clearly waiting for you to remember him, to make your call before he made himself known. Making sure you wanted to see him at all.

Azriel, all 6ft something of shadow and muscle, with his wings tucked politely behind him, takes one step out on to the balcony and towards you.

His hands stay at his sides and his hazel eyes watch you with a familiar intensity. Something deep within you unfurls at the sight of him.

It feels like the collision of a thousand stars rain down on you, their jagged, burning fragments pelting into your body.

It's as though the world had been falling out from underneath and then, seeing him before you—when Cauldron knows how long ago you had been resolutely convinced you were never ever going to see him again— suddenly your feet were grounded and the world was still.

You breathe out his name. Azriel sways forward, almost imperceptibly, as though the sound of his name on your lips was a siren call he was helpless to fight.

You don't know that you say it sweeter than he's ever heard it in all his centuries.

Like following an invisible tug, you don't even realise when you start moving, only that you're rushing towards him with an urgency you can't begin to comprehend. It's like he's calling to you and you can't bear to be this close to him and not press in closer.

His beautiful face, usually guarded, reveals a glimpse into his storm of emotions. Concern, care, and something that looks suspiciously like... longing.

Your brain catches up and your feet falter, bringing you to a stand still before him, chest heaving.

Reason starts to catch up to you, asking meanly about what exactly you meant to do, running up to him—you weren't raised with physical touch beyond violence. You and Azriel had barely touched beyond sparring and those quiet nights in your shelter, skin brushing as you passed something to the other.

In the end, it's not you that moves, it's Azriel.

He closes the distance between you with one single step and his strong arms sweep around your middle, pulling you into the tightest hug. Night-chilled mist and cedar swirl your senses.

Helpless to do anything else, with no desire to do anything but this, you melt.

Your weight slumps into Azriel and he takes it without question, your arms curling around his neck to hold him back just as tightly. The light around you shifts, his shadows frenzied as they kiss along your neck and arms, all checking for hurt they can ease. Your heart is torn between soaring and stopping altogether.

The world fades away as his head ducks down, pressing his face the crook of your neck. It's more touch than you've ever known. More safety, more kindness than you've ever dreamed of. You and Azriel seem to exist only in a cocoon of shadow and warmth, in each others arms.

"You're alright," Azriel murmurs, his breath against your neck. It sounds more like he's reassuring himself than telling you. He sounds devastatingly sincere when he says, "I'm so fucking glad you're alright."

"Thanks to you," You whisper back, not wanting to break the silence. "You—"

The words get caught in your throat and you know you need to see his face when you say this. Pulling back from the embrace, you clear your throat as Azriel straightens up. You miss the heat of his body almost instantly.

"I-I thought I was never going to see you again."

It looks as though your words pain Azriel, a flash of pain and shame crossing his expression. His voice, low and gravelly, holds a guilty tone you've never heard him use before.

"I never should have left."

You blink. That wasn't what you had expected him to say in the least. It was you who had lied, who had deceived him from the very beginning. He was— he had— this was what you got for letting anyone get close to you, you understood that.

You shake your head, pointedly ignoring how it makes your injuries throb. "I know why you did, Azriel. I can't imagine—"

Azriel's scarred hands clench into fists at his sides, anguish colouring his face.

"No." He shakes his head, his jaw clenched tightly. "You did nothing wrong. Nothing."

"Then why did you leave?" Your questions comes out with an edge this time, a biting fury as your emotions process what he's saying.

He says you did nothing wrong. He says he shouldn't have left you behind. It's a ugly mixture of hurt and anger that paints your insides as realisations churn to the surface.

Azriel steals a glance to the side, serving as a quick reminder that there was, indeed, someone else still out on the balcony with you. You glimpse at the Highlord as your anger begins to bubble but you can't bring yourself to care.

You had... trusted him— you had let him in, let him get closer to you than anyone ever had, and he had left. He left, he left, he left. He did exactly as you had feared and he was wrong for it.

The greatest secret of your life, exposed like a raw nerve, and he hadn't said a word as he deserted you.

Your heart warbles at the betrayal and you can't help but step back, putting distance between the two of you. It's such a far cry from the nearness of a moment ago.

And even though you know he wasn't responsible for the events that followed, in the haze of your upset, it's awfully easy to add it to his betrayal. As if in response, your wings flinch and shudder as a wave of agony passes through them. You wince, gritting your teeth and turning your gaze to the ground.

"I can leave to give you both some privacy," Rhysand cuts into the conversation, evidently answering Azriel's pointed glance in his direction. "However, I don't think it will be overtly helpful. She's shouting every thought so loudly, I think I'll be able to hear it from the other side of the house."

She. It's been so many years since anyone has used that in reference to you that it nearly winds you, your entire body giving a visible flinch.

It feels foreign. You can't quite tell how you feel about it; whether it's some lost part of yourself to reclaim or whether it's something you've outgrown altogether.

You don't get time to consider it further as, bustling as she walks, a fourth Fae steps out onto the balcony. She's an older female in appearance but certainly not in her sprightliness. Her eyes land on you and they lighten up, as though you're the one she's been searching for.

"You are supposed to be resting." She tsks, without much further explanation. Your heart sinks, already feeling as though you're in trouble. Rhysand, reading your abrupt switch from anger, jumps in to explain.

"Madja, here-" He gestures to the female with a polite smile- "is our resident healer. She's been taking care of you over these last couple days, helping to heal your wings."

A severe reminder of the sorry state that had been in not too long ago. Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes glaze over as they take in the dozens of scattered markings that litter your wings. Irreversible. Your glorious love, changed forever.

There's patches over the ends that you hadn't noticed before, covering where you know the stakes had been. You suddenly feel an immense rush of gratitude towards the stranger before you.

"Thank you," You say, your throat thick. You want to say it again, want to repeat it over and over til your lungs bleed because just once doesn't seem enough.

But Madja nods in a grave way, as though she knows your internal turmoil.

"You weren't supposed to be up and moving quite so soon," She says, this time with less disapproval in her voice.

She directs a more withering look towards Rhysand and Azriel, enough to surprise you. Perhaps, healers held a higher rank within the city than they did in the mountains? The whole scene looks like a mother scolding her naughty children, especially with how both males shrink beneath her glare.

"Anyhow, come now," She turns back to you and gives a gentle wave of her weathered hand, ushering you back inside. "You'll need at least a days rest before you should be back on your feet."

You amble in her direction, too fearful to glance back at the Highlord and too conflicted to turn back to Azriel. You had broken his trust with your deceit but... he had broken your trust back.

He had abandoned you when you needed him most. But he had also turned up during your darkest hour and saved your life.

You weren't sure what you wanted to do more; hug him once more or throw a shoe at his head. Probably both would make you feel better.

From behind you, you swear you hear a faint chuckle of amusement.

—

When it's just the two of them on the balcony, Rhys turns to Azriel, ignoring his brother's unsubtle sullen demeanor.

"So," He grins. "Mates, then?"

Azriel casts a glance across the balcony, still rigid and unmoving from his spot. His shadows perk up at the word but Azriel gives no reaction beyond a twitch in his jaw muscle. Debating whether to respond at all.

Finally, he mutters, "How could you tell?"

Rhys tilts his head back, chuckling quietly, his mind cast back to an old, fond memory. His violet eyes slice back to his Azriel and he gives a little shrug. "A hunch, really. I think I might have enough to start a theory actually."

He wanders over and nudges Azriel with his shoulder, breaking him from his frozen spot and nodding for them to both head indoors. Rather reluctantly, the Shadowsinger falls into step. Side by side, Rhys gives him only a moment of quiet to stew in before he pipes up once more.

"Say— how much do you remember Cassian and Nesta's first meeting? Any flying projectiles?"

[NEXT PART: FRIENDS (IN OTHER PLACES)]

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[marivanilla05]

Officially part of the cast for movie 27!

[renn-aissance]

Mom Plays BG3: Ep.2 - “Look at Him, He Wants It”

She’s getting better at moving around. It’s hard to explain but she doesn’t turn the camera to look around before she starts clicking around to move 😀

Mom: “I’m trying to go behind me.”

Me: “You should turn the camera so you can look behind you.”

Mom: “I’m worried I’ll get lost.”

Me: “I know a way to help you from getting lost.”

Both of us: *Silence.*

Me: “The map-“

Mom: “The map.”

Mom: *Slowly turns the camera - Not because she doesn’t know how, she just turns it very slowly for some reason.*

Mom: “I think… I need to walk that way…”

Mom: *Immediately starts clicking the opposite way she wants to go.*

Me: “You can… check the map.”

Mom: *Keeps clicking for a bit then stops.*

Mom: *Checks map.*

Mom: “Oh I’m way off.”

Me (softly): “yeah.”

*Both of us laugh.*

She’s definitely getting the hang of things. She successfully got to Zevlor’s office by herself using the map 🥲 They grow up so fast.

Rundown of what she has done this time:

While we were starting the game up she said “I kept thinking about what happened. It kept me up, I couldn’t sleep just thinking about him (Gale) getting mad. He really rubbed me the wrong way. I don’t know about this guy.”

Saved the kid from the Harpies. Actually, she did that yesterday, but I forgot to add it.

Saved Arabella but after failing two persuasion checks. She was stressed throughout that whole interaction. Before that, she had talked to Arabella’s parents but didn’t know what was going on and told them “thieves deserve to be punished.”

“I didn’t know what they were talking about! To be honest I have no idea what’s going on. Or what any of this means.”

Her first reload. Luckily I had her save before that. She then told them they had their work cut out for them lol.

She took the wyvern toxin from Nettie. (Afterwards I told her “Oh, she tried to kill me when I wouldn’t take it. We fought to the death.” My mom was just like “…Well. Doesn’t mean I have to drink it. I’ll just keep it. I wasn’t gonna take it, are you crazy?”)

We long rested and she talked to all of the companions. I think she really likes Wyll.

Told Zevlor she’d kill Kagha.

She stopped the Tieflings from killing Sazza, but failed a couple of persuasion checks. Left Sazza in the cage.

Sazza: “I don’t need you.”

Mom: “Well… that’s enough of that.”

Also accidentally clicked to search the body of that first Tiefling who died at the gate when the Goblins attacked, and right in front of the one mourning over his body 😬 Gets scolded.

Mom: “I didn’t mean it! Let me see if the other one wants to talk…”

Mom: *clicks on other mourning Tiefling.*

Tiefling: “Can’t you see we’re mourning!”

Mom: “I just came over to say sorry.” (Booked it after lol)

Killed the Bugbear assassin and saved the tiefling by the telescope.

Talked to the Tiefling and learned about soul coins.

When her TAV had the coin in her hand and was looking at it, Gale was in the background smiling.

Mom: *Points at Gale.*

Mom: “Hm. Look at him, he wants it. Uh-uh. This guy’s trouble.”

My mom is not afraid to use the illithid powers. If there’s an option to probe minds, she does it immediately lol.

She went to that area with the spider egg pouch and Raphael showed up there which confused me. (I’ve just always had him show up at the bridge. I had her save). Here’s the thing about my mom - she’s pretty religious and doesn’t like ‘devil’ stuff lol I collect tarot cards and she HATES it lol. It creeps her out. So Raphael shows up and transports her to the House of Hope with the feast on the table and the fireplace. My mom knows nothing about this guy. Her immediate reaction:

Mom: “Now this is more like it.”

I’m sitting behind her so she can’t see my reactions to what she’s doing and I’m losing my shit, wondering if she’ll make the deal or not. She’s been so unpredictable so far so I genuinely don’t know what she’s gonna choose.

Raphael: “What’s better than a devil you don’t know… A devil you do.”

Mom: *Silent.*

Raphael: *blah blah blah wants your soul.*

She doesn’t make the deal. Chooses the options that are like “I would never make a deal with a devil.”

Talks to the companions after and succeeds a check to probe Sharty Bae’s mind.

Talks to Gale last about Raphael.

Mom: “Okay now THIS guy.”

Gale: “Do you feel as flattered as I do? Invited to dine with the devil…”

Mom: “Of course you do.”

Mom: *Turns to me.*

Mom: “This guy.”

Gale made some valid points that she didn’t disagree with. I don’t think that Gale can say ANYTHING without her thinking he’s up to something. He did not make a great first impression lol She did slap his hand before she pulled him out of the portal.

Said he was addicted to magic but still agreed to give him magical items to consume, but she’s not thrilled about the whole thing.

OH YEAH SHE TOLD ROLAN AND THEM TO LEAVE THE GROVE. I’ve done two playthroughs and didn’t do that, so idk if that’s gonna change what happens to the tieflings at all 😬

She also takes time to read whatever notes or books I point out to her. I told her she didn’t have to, but she ignores me to read.

My mom @ Gale:

[knickety]

"a little mild" girl you're used to Jiaoqiu's cooking your sense of taste is skewed

[ofshivelight]

whats daunting isn't my mikvah appointment in a little over an hour, but rather making small talk throughout the hour-long car ride with my rabbi and his wife that we will be taking since the nearest mikvah is sixty miles away

[whatisgodtoanonbeliever]

I owe the writers my life for giving both Jiyun and Eunho time to process the new information and let Jiyun face her grief.

They then immediately said let's pick up the pace and raise the stakes for the corporate warfare plot. I'm glad we have 2 eps for a big blowout and then everyone getting to be happy (they WILL be happy 🔫)

[animezinglife]

"Do you like Elain?"

Honey.

I adore Elain.

I appreciate Elain.

I respect Elain.

I love Elain.

My tomboy self has recently been on a sundress and plant kick because of Elain's influence.

I wish I were more like Elain.

Does that answer this silly question?

I missed the "Eluciens, do you like Elain?" poll and I'm mad about it, so here's my answer.

Yes, there are things I wish she did differently just like every other character, but I'm excited to see where her story leads.

[silvermoon424]

I HAVE A THIRD NIECE Y'ALL!!!

[caluupin]

neuvi is meeting his peepaw rn

[lunaetis]

@enshijou asked :

‘ there must be so many things that you have seen on your journey. what is one thing that you dream of seeing with your own eyes ? what is it that keeps you moving forward ? ' ( for eden ! a pleasure to be writing with you at last ! )

inbox call. || always accepting

─「エデン」─  this world was peculiar, but what was even more peculiar than this world was the PERSON next to her. the stellaron was stirred the moment she laid eyes on the male. hair dark like the NIGHT itself, with eyes a shade of blue that reminded her of still water holding a depth so unknown with just one glance. just like how animals would recognize ones such as themselves, he wasn't human either, was he ? and eden felt as though he was well aware that she was FAR from one either, with THE CANCER OF ALL WORLDS resided deep within her.

                a different kind of power, one just as lethal, rested within him. perhaps, that was why she felt at ease in his presence despite their brief encounter.

                what she wanted to see ...

                " birth of a star ... " the words fell from her lips almost instinctively, as though it had been something that was rooted deep in her HEART all this time. it came easy, so easy that even the trailblazer was surprised at her own answer. had she longed to see that ? was that why she kept gazing upwards to the starry sky above them ? she, who harbored a SEED OF DESTRUCTION that one day she would most likely destroy a star despite wanting to save them.

                " if i don't go forward, i won't find any answers. " gloved hand reached upwards, mimicking a gesture to catch something. she had been to many worlds, yet ... she longed to see the BEGINNING of something. just like how she was awakened with little to no memories, she wanted to see a birth of a star that would become something more, to shine and give hope for someone far away, seeing that light.

                " who am i ? who was i ? why was i created ? why do i exist ? " the questions that she asked herself many times, yet the answers lied beyond her reach. " to be alive ... is to have a purpose, right ? then ... i wonder what's mine ... " the SCRIPT, the path that was laid down for her even though she was told to make her own choice. eden wondered why it was so easy to talk to him. because he was a STRANGER ? so he wouldn't judge her for it ?

                maybe ... but for some odd reasons, she felt as though he, out of all people, would be able to understand her.

                just a hunch.

                golden hues finally turned away from the stars to him, lowering her hand after making a grabbing motion around one of the brightest stars above. aureate orbs watched the slender figure of someone with eyes so ANCIENT as though he had seen fate of the world playing before his eyes.

                " what about you ? " she blinked, soft and quiet, letting the night wind blow past them. " what are your dreams ? "

[mymarifae]

yeah okhema was in danger of being completely destroyed but it was cipher's day off come on :/

[seagulley]

have you ever felt so shitty after a class that it made you consider just giving up and leaving the sport for good?

[essenceofarda]

Ive finally done it--i've been wanting to do this forever and I've finally created an oc to be Fingon's wife 🤩🤔

[softquietsteadylove]

[ice queen and tyrant king AU]

thena using Gil and his tattoos as a coloring book after she finds some skin safe markers. I feel like in this au thena would secretly really enjoy physical touch and she would really like when Gil holds her. I also feel like this is the first step for her becoming more vulnerable to Gil as a whole, kind of letting her guard down more that before ❤️ so can I request that this be part one and her admitting that she likes it when Gil holds her be part two?

lots of love! Your writing is truly amazing!

The Tyrant King never used to consider himself a heavy sleeper. A sleeper, sure, maybe even the occasional nap after watching the races and having a few beer. But he was never the type to have a nap just because.

But now...well, Thena's office couch was becoming awfully familiar to him.

They'd had one of their 'meetings'. He had come over to her office, gotten dropped off, waited for her to finish with a real meeting. Then they were on each other. She was bossy, as always (hot). She grabbed him, kissed him, climbed on top of him like he was her property (yes ma'am).

They had worn each other out, heavily sated after the fact. But she had more work to do while he had cleared his schedule for the afternoon. He had done so specifically in hopes that he might squeeze in some more time with her afterward.

Which he wasn't supposed to do.

He was well aware Thena looked at their arrangement with the sterile, clinical eye of a business woman. She fit him into her day the way she would fit in an appointment for a massage. And he was supposed to view it the same way. A situationship at best, as the kids would say--a bootycall, as he considered it.

And maybe it would be easier to think of it that way if she weren't so perfect for him. His heart leapt at the thought of her calling or texting him. Even a business email thinly veiling an invitation to come over. He was excited for it; everyday held new potential for her to call upon him again. Maybe he should feel used, he thought at one time.

But every time they were together, he knew she felt it too. She didn't want to, that was for damn sure. His Ice Queen approached her own feelings the same way she approached an overly friendly business arrangement; ignore it, and hope it just leaves of its own accord.

But when they kissed, he knew she reciprocated genuinely. His hands on her felt just as good to her--just as natural. He could just...tell. And when they made love, he knew she felt everything he was feeling. It was too good, too mind blowing, too addictive to not be true.

If only he could get her to see it that way.

His Ice Queen was a guarded woman. He couldn't begrudge her that. She had her reasons for keeping herself closely protected. He knew she kept a tight circle of friends in the Poison Princess and the Lightning Thief, she might have even been on friendly terms with Ajak. But she wasn't a social creature. Letting him into her world was a risk.

The squeak of a highlighter burrowed into his ear and he whined in complaint. He could hear her light, purring laughter (the vixen). He attempted to turn onto his side and bury his face in her dress, but she kept him on his back, his head in her lap.

If she didn't want him to fall in love with her, she could have just sent him away. But instead she let him sleep on her office couch after wearing himself out. Sometimes she would even pick up his head and let it rest in her lap while she was working. Like now.

He cracked an eye open, still feigning some sleep as he stole a peek. She was looking at some documents, highlighting on occasion, and then the highlighter would drift away as she continued reading.

There was a tickle on his skin, and he realised the highlighter was dotting and dragging against his arm. He could have thought it was something she was doing absentmindedly, her hand doing one thing while her mind focused on another.

But she was working on specific areas. She would highlight a line and then her right hand would drag the highlighter down the lines of one of the dragons slithering up his arm. She would highlight another number and then she would dot its eyes in with neon green.

Maybe he would tell her not to if it wasn't kinda cute.

He didn't always get to see his Ice Queen unguarded. It was a good sign that she was relaxed enough to let him lounge with her like this at all. And to see her working, going over her numbers, in her element--he wouldn't change it for anything in the world.

Thena examined another line on the page. She squinted at it a little. Maybe it was because of what it said. Or maybe she would need glasses. The thought of an older Thena, glasses and more-silver-than-blonde hair entered his mind and only made him more smitten. Not that she wouldn't fucking kill him for thinking such things.

Another line of colour got added to his dragon tattoo. And he really couldn't bring himself to mind it. She could scribble all over him if it meant he got to stay, got to gaze up at her adoringly, maybe even got to convince her to have dinner with him?

"I know you're awake, Gilgamesh."

He sighed, giving up on his charade but not moving from his spot. "I thought I was doing a pretty good job."

She glanced away from her work sparingly. But she had a faintly amused smile on those amazing lips. "It was truly awful, I'm afraid. Your breathing changes so steeply when you're awake."

He pouted faintly, but so long as he was poised the way he was, he was able to look up at Thena. The lights flush with her office ceiling were set low, shining down on them with mercy. They caught in the diamonds on her ear cuff and her other earrings, and in the comb securing some of her hair out of her face.

She sparkled, his Ice Queen.

Thena set aside the papers and really smiled at him. "Sleep well?"

He grinned up at her. Her hand was resisting the urge to trail over him affectionately, hovering over him but not making contact. "Damn well. You sure you don't wanna join me, Princess?"

She puffed out a laugh. "Some of us have businesses to run."

"Hey, I do great business," he protested, just to see her lips upturned in amusement. "And my very capable underlings are running it as we speak."

"Hm," she sufficed to say, looking at her figures again.

Gil shimmied on top of her thigh. She frowned down at him for jostling her but he dragged his other arm out from the crack of the couch to lie over his front. His shirt was still deeply unbuttoned from their earlier activities, and he had rolled his sleeves up before dozing off. "You should get this one, too."

Thena actually looked a little sheepish, her earlier idle activity being caught and reflected upon. But seeing his eagerness, she sighed. She obliged him, positioning his other arm for herself. "I would have thought colour of this degree didn't suit you, Tyrant."

He didn't care if she wanted to use a pink highlighter and colour in every tattoo on his body. Okay, maybe he was getting carried away. But that was just the effect this woman had on him.

Thena started with dotting in the eyes of his other dragon to match, then adding some scales to it. "You could always return to your own office."

Some might have taken that as an open invitation to leave. But he knew his Ice Queen better than that. She was asking if he wanted to go home rather than let her scribble on him. Her day demanded more of her, and maybe the prize of the end of the day with her wasn't enough for him to stick around for two more hours.

But he was happy as a clam. In truth, she could have called him over in the morning and ignored him for the rest of the day. He could chill in her office, play around on his phone, whatever. It would still be preferable to moping around in his own office daydreaming about her.

"I'm happy here," he told her with the utmost honesty. Thena valued honesty; some might say that was why she was always so direct herself.

Her smile softened and he caught that shy twinkle in her eye; the part of her that always seemed a little embarrassed at being caught feeling happiness. What a sin for his poor Ice Queen.

"Are you?" he dared to ask, even knowing it could get him in trouble. She finished the layer of cloud she was working on before looking at him again. She raised a brow. "Happy?"

Her mask was flawless, but he could see a little Thena behind it, battling it out with the Ice Queen's shield. "Do not ask me such things, Tyrant."

Says the woman with his head in her lap, he couldn't help but think. But the longer he waited, the less Thena could resist. She coloured in another twist of fog before setting her papers aside. His eyes slid closed as she leaned down, craning her neck to kiss him.

This was what he was talking about; when they kissed, he knew she was the woman for him. Like they were made for each other. If he died on the job the very next day he'd come back for her. Maybe as a ghost, maybe he'd get reincarnated into some other shmuck's body. Maybe he'd come back as a cat, or a stray dog she would take pity on.

And he would love her just as much - probably even more - in that life, and in any he had with her.

Okay, he was definitely letting himself get carried away.

He rose slightly, trying to follow her lips with his. But she pushed him back to lie down. He pouted at her. "Come on, Ice. Do you have more meetings?"

She shook her head at him, but her fingers slipped into the opening of his shirt, tapping over his heart. "No."

So...they could go another round...?

"Let me finish this, at least," she chided him. This was why she was the diamond Queen, Gil lamented.

He resigned himself to it, lying back down and closing his eyes again. "Fine, but think of what you want for dinner, since I'm gonna be here."

"Hm."

Yes!--mission succeeded, she would let him stay for dinner. His Ice Queen thought herself so frosty and hard to reach. But he could feel how warm her touch was, lingering on his skin. Her hand was always dancing that line, sometimes allowing her the luxury of touching him, sometimes resisting that closeness. But the desire she had to be close to him assured him that this wasn't so one-sided a love.

"I'll have it delivered, I suppose, since your driver went back to Koreatown."

He tried not to seem like he was grinning. "Guess so."

She poked him in the cheek; he was definitely smiling too much. "So, I will have to drive you home too, is what you're saying."

He didn't mind being transparent for her. He liked offering her that as a gesture of good will. The more easily she could read him, the more she would allow him the same (maybe).

She gifted him with another kiss as a reward, even if she didn't see it that way. "Insufferable man."

And yet she was still here, suffering him all the time. Everyday, at this point. And the only thing he was suffering was love (too much?).

[annyankers]

OKAY SO BASICALLY.

They had Riley doing his thing with the vampire girls, but... Them being vampires didn't actually add anything to the narrative? It was just a metaphor for infidelity that could have been done without making them vampires. Sure, it's dangerous, but nothing came of that danger.

But what if it did? What if one of them got too attached and Riley got turned?

Suddenly we see Buffy facing the choice of whether or not to kill someone she loves (who we've known for more than once episode), an opportunity that I feel canon WASTED by not having happen. There are also two paths to go down there. Either Riley goes full evil, becomes a villain (and more fleshed out character), and we get that conflict...

Or he doesn't. He's a soulless demon, but he still loves Buffy or values his old morals, given just how driven in they were, and doesn't want to run around killing and torturing people. Personally, I find the latter (or somewhere in between) to be more interesting. Buffy's normal life boyfriend is now yet another demon and he walked right into it on his own volition. But he also still loves her. Maybe he's even /better/ to her now, because he doesn't have a leg to stand on being bothered about her being the slayer now. Does being a demon mean that he's inherently not deserving of love the way he was as a human, even if he's not hurting anyone and is some ways behaving better than he was before, even if it's not out of the same human-style emotions and empathy? And even if she doesn't want to be with him anymore, does he deserve to die or spend the rest of his existence tormented by a soul curse? Because what Angel got was a /curse/, which I feel like a lot of stories forget in favor of making it an easy solution.

I just think it would have been a more interesting way to break them up /or/ revive their relationship in a way that could have gotten people invested in it.

this is FASCINATING.

I think literally my only issues with this as a possible Riley plotline are the usual issues related to Riley which all just stem from the writers kinda equating "normal" with "boring" and the season 4/Initiative plotline suffering from Walsh's actor wanting to leave early so it's less any issue with this idea and more pre-existing stuff.

Riley is absolutely one of those characters I see potential in that just wasn't utilized to their fullest/productively like Tara, Xander or Anya but tragically I never really have the same level of interest in trying to fix him because like... he's so boring lskdgjhsklgsd they did him so dirty by having a bunch of nerds of varying pettiness from likely the coasts write a handsome military jock from the Midwest. Like I'm from Pennsylvania and I can tell they did the most blah job of writing a Midwestern guy imaginable lol.

This is an objectively fascinating storyline and especially one for someone like Riley who'd been very anti-demon/iffy about that whole end of things. But when I try to extrapolate out what he'd look like a la vampire Willow and Xander I get either "still deeply boring" or "so unhinged about Buffy it makes Spike look normal". So I think for me at least I gotta work on a more fun version of Riley (at least for me, a guy who thinks vengeance demon Anya is a silly lil guy and loves that shit) than is currently extant and then I can better visualize how to put him in situations. Because man, this is a COMPELLING situation to put him in.

I do think it's really funny tho if they still break up and it's not even because he's a creature of the night now, it's still because he's somehow tragically mid or cringe lol.