#( face claim : astrid s. )

[novaursa]

I have way to many idea so sorry for everything I’m going to send you 👉🏼👈🏼

Aemond x Niece (maybe a Nyra x daemon before her wedding!?)

He’s obsessed with her, she represents everything he want, she’s a perfect Targaryen white hair, purple eyes, huge dragon vermithor or cannibal?

But she’s engaged to Jace and he hate the fact that she is “given” to a bastard. So he tried by all things to make her his, he wish so hard to be found with her in a bad position that they obliged them to get married.

He make sure that Larys Steong see them, he even say to the maester to give her moon tee or medicinal herb for morning sickness ?! Otto find that about the maester and decided to marry them ( daemon and nyra are not ok they say It not real) and aemond took that personally and decided that they will have a child right now 🫣

The Dragon's Mark

- Summary: When Aemond found out about your betrothal to Jacaerys, he knew how all seven hells could not hold him back from taking what was rightfully his.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: Reader is the firstborn child of Rhaenyra. She had a reader with Daemon before she involved herself with Harwin Strong. Daemon legitimized the reader. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've changed the thing with a Maester to make it more believable. I hope you don't mind.

Aemond sat across from his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, and his grandsire, Ser Otto Hightower, in the great hall of the Red Keep. The torchlight cast shadows over their faces, making their expressions harder to read, not that Aemond was paying much attention. Their voices drifted to him as if through a thick fog, muffled and distant. He stared at the tapestry on the wall opposite, its intricate designs of dragons entwined in battle barely registering in his mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, consumed by the image of you.

You, to him, were the embodiment of Valyrian perfection, a true daughter of Old Valyria. Your silver hair fell in soft waves, catching the light like molten silver, and your violet eyes held the depth of the ancient Targaryen bloodline. You are more than a princess; you are power personified, a dragonrider of Vermithor, the mighty bronze beast who had bonded with you when you were but a girl. Aemond could still remember the first time he had seen you astride Vermithor, your small form commanding the great dragon with ease, your expression fierce and unyielding.

Now, you are a woman grown, and in Aemond's eyes, you are perfect. You are the one he deserves, a match that would not only strengthen the bloodline but would also solidify his place in their shared history. He could see it so clearly in his mind: you by his side, the two of you ruling as a power unmatched, with dragons and fire at your command. 

The thought of you set a slow burn within him, a mix of admiration and desire. He had always been captivated by your strength, your beauty, and the fire in your spirit that matched his own. You are everything he had ever wanted, everything he needed. A true Targaryen, unmarred by the weaknesses of others. Aemond clenched his jaw, pushing down the surge of emotions that threatened to spill over.

His attention snapped back to the present as his mother's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and clear. 

"...Rhaenyra has decided to marry her daughter to Jacaerys," Alicent said, her tone carefully neutral, but there was a hint of distaste in her eyes. 

Aemond's world tilted on its axis, the words crashing over him like a wave. His blood ran cold as the realization settled in. Rhaenyra intended to wed her daughter, you, the one Aemond desired above all others, to that bastard Jacaerys. His hands curled into fists on the table, the knuckles white as the force of his anger rose within him, threatening to consume him whole.

"A match to solidify her claim, no doubt," Otto added, his voice dry and calculated as always. "She seeks to ensure her line continues to hold power, binding her daughter to her eldest son."

Aemond could barely hear them now over the roaring in his ears. The thought of you, bound to Jacaerys, of the union of your bloodlines through a marriage that had nothing to do with honor or strength but everything to do with Rhaenyra's desperate attempt to secure her position—it was unbearable. 

His mind raced with images of Jacaerys, the boy who had always stood in his way, who had always been favored despite the question of his parentage, despite his weaknesses. And now, to think that he would have you, the woman Aemond had longed for, the woman who should have been his—!

"Aemond." Alicent's voice broke through his fury, pulling his gaze to her. She looked at him with concern, as if sensing the turmoil within him. "What are you thinking?"

Aemond blinked, his breath coming in sharp, controlled breaths as he forced himself to calm. He could not reveal the depth of his feelings here, not now. He met his mother's gaze, his expression hardening into a mask of indifference.

"Nothing, mother," he said, his voice low and measured. "Only that Rhaenyra's choices will bring about her own downfall."

Alicent frowned slightly, but before she could press further, Otto interjected, his eyes narrowing as he studied his grandson. "This marriage will complicate things, Aemond. We must be cautious in how we respond. Rhaenyra seeks to bind the loyalty of her supporters through this match."

Aemond nodded stiffly, though his thoughts were still far from the politics of it all. He would not let this happen. He would not allow Jacaerys to take what should be his. 

"Perhaps," Aemond began slowly, "we should consider our own alliances more carefully. There are other ways to weaken Rhaenyra's position."

Otto raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in Aemond's tone. "What do you suggest?"

Aemond met his grandsire's gaze, a plan already forming in his mind, a way to ensure that you would not be lost to him, that Jacaerys would not win. His lips curled into a small, cold smile.

"There are always ways to turn the tide," he said softly. "We need only find the right pressure points."

Alicent looked between them, her unease growing, but Aemond paid her no mind. His thoughts were solely on you, on the woman who had unknowingly claimed his heart. He would have you, no matter the cost. You will be his, and nothing, not even Rhaenyra’s schemes, would stand in his way.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly as you sat at your vanity, the brush gliding through your long, silver hair. Each stroke was methodical, a ritual you found soothing as the day's events faded into the quiet of the evening. You took a deep breath, savoring the calm, but beneath the surface, your thoughts were a swirling current of unspoken feelings, thoughts that often turned to him—Aemond.

The quiet attraction you felt for him had always been there, lurking in the periphery of your mind, but never voiced, never acted upon. There was something in the way he carried himself, the intensity of his gaze, that made your heart quicken whenever he was near. Yet, the distance between you had always remained, unbridgeable, or so you had thought.

You placed the brush down, your hair now smooth and shining in the firelight, ready to retire for the night. But just as you were about to stand, a knock echoed through the chamber, pulling you from your reverie. You frowned, surprised by the interruption at this hour. Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and there he was, Aemond, standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Aemond," you whispered, your voice betraying a hint of the surprise you felt.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His presence filled the space, commanding yet silent, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. His eye, that piercing violet eye, locked onto yours, and you felt your breath catch. There was something different about him tonight, an intensity that set your heart racing.

"I... wasn't expecting you," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond moved closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "I needed to see you," he said quietly, his tone carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken. He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of leather and smoke clinging to his clothes.

You swallowed, your mind racing as he reached out, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in his eye, a hunger, a longing that mirrored the unspoken desires you had kept locked away for so long.

"I've thought about you," you admitted softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "But I never—"

He silenced you with a look, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before tilting your chin up, his gaze darkening. "No more words," he murmured, and then his lips were on yours, claiming them with a fervor that took your breath away.

The kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a rush of heat and need that left you dizzy. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his tunic. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, and you felt the world narrow down to just the two of you, the fire, and the beating of your hearts.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to steady yourself. But before you could speak, before you could mention the name that had been on your mind earlier, he shook his head.

"Don't," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't want to hear his name tonight."

You nodded, understanding the unspoken plea, and let the thought of Jacaerys fade away, replaced by the man before you, the man who had captured your heart without either of you realizing it.

Aemond's hands moved to the ties of your gown, his fingers deftly undoing the knots, and you felt your pulse quicken as the fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You shivered, not from the cold, but from the intensity of his gaze as he took in the sight of you, bared before him. There was a reverence in his eyes, a deep appreciation that made your cheeks flush with heat.

He shed his own tunic, revealing the lean, strong lines of his body, the scars that marked him only adding to the allure. You reached out, your fingers tracing the contours of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was all so surreal, so perfect, that you almost feared it was a dream.

Aemond's hands were gentle as he led you to the bed, laying you down with a care that made your heart ache. He moved over you, his gaze softening as he positioned himself between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that felt both new and familiar, as if you were made to fit together.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his eye searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the smooth skin just beneath his patch. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want this, Aemond. I want you."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he entered you slowly, the sensation both sharp and sweet, a mingling of pleasure and pain as he took your maidenhead. You gasped, clutching at his shoulders, but the discomfort quickly faded, replaced by a sense of fullness, of completeness, as he buried himself deep within you.

Aemond stilled for a moment, his breathing ragged as he took in the sight of you beneath him, your hair spread out like a silver halo on the pillow, your eyes wide with trust and desire. The knowledge that you were his, that you had given yourself to him, filled him with a satisfaction that went beyond mere conquest. It was everything he had ever imagined, and more.

Tomorrow, he knew, the servants who served Larys Strong would change the sheets, and the evidence of your union would be seen by those who needed to know. But for now, all that mattered was the here and now, the way you felt beneath him, the way your body responded to his.

You urged him to move, your hips shifting beneath him, and he obliged, setting a slow, steady rhythm that had you both gasping for breath. The pleasure built between you, a slow burn that grew hotter with every thrust, every kiss, until it was all-consuming.

Aemond was lost in the sensation, the feel of you, the sound of your breathless moans, the way your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. It was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever dreamed of, and more. He could feel the tension building, the pressure mounting as you both neared the edge.

As you reached the pinnacle, your release washing over you in a wave of pleasure, he buried his face in your neck, his voice rough with emotion as he urged you to call his name, to let the world know who you belonged to. "Say my name," he breathed, his words a plea and a command all at once.

"Aemond," you gasped, your voice breaking as you clung to him, your body trembling with the force of your release. "Aemond, please..."

And then he was there, the last threads of his control snapping as he spilled himself inside you, his own release ripping through him with a force that left him trembling. Your name was on his lips, a whispered prayer, a declaration of everything he felt, everything he could never put into words.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the warmth of your bodies pressed together, the lingering echoes of pleasure that pulsed through your veins. Aemond held you close, his forehead resting against yours as you both came down from the heights of your passion.

In that moment, there were no words, no need for them. Everything you had ever wanted, everything you had ever felt, was conveyed in the way you held each other, in the way your bodies fit together so perfectly, so naturally.

As you drifted into sleep, Aemond's arms wrapped around you, you knew that everything had changed, and there was no going back.

The morning arrived as Aemond moved with purposeful strides. His mind was sharp, focused, each step a calculated part of the plan he had set into motion. The events of the previous night played over in his mind, not with regret, but with satisfaction. Everything was unfolding exactly as he had intended.

He turned a corner and spotted Grand Maester Mellos in the distance, the elderly man’s stooped figure moving slowly down the hall. Aemond quickened his pace, his boots echoing against the stone floor, and within moments, he was at the Maester’s side.

“Grand Maester Mellos,” Aemond greeted, his voice measured and calm, though there was an undercurrent of urgency that could not be missed.

The Maester looked up, startled by the sudden appearance of the prince. “Prince Aemond,” he replied, bowing his head slightly in respect. “How may I assist you this morning?”

Aemond’s expression was inscrutable as he spoke, his voice low, as if to ensure their conversation remained private. “I require your expertise, Maester. There is a matter concerning Princess Y/N—my niece—that needs your immediate attention.”

Mellos frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. “Of course, Your Grace. What seems to be the issue? Is Princess Y/N unwell?”

Aemond shook his head, his gaze intense as he met the Maester’s eyes. “No, she is not unwell. However, I wish for her to be examined… to ensure that she has not been harmed.”

Mellos’ confusion deepened, and he tilted his head slightly, trying to understand. “Harmed, Your Grace? I do not follow. What examination, exactly, do you require?”

Aemond hesitated for only a fraction of a second before he continued, his voice steady and deliberate. “Last night, she and I... shared an intimate moment. I want to ensure that she was not hurt during our union, that she was not harmed in any way.”

The Maester’s face went pale, the full implication of Aemond’s words sinking in. His eyes widened slightly, and he took an involuntary step back, his hand trembling as he clutched the folds of his robes.

“Your Grace…” Mellos began, his voice shaky as he tried to comprehend the gravity of what had been revealed to him. “You… you wish for me to confirm that Princess Y/N was… that she…?”

Aemond’s gaze remained fixed on the Maester, his expression unwavering. “Yes,” he said simply, allowing the full weight of his words to settle between them. “I want you to ensure that she was not harmed. And if any trace of injury is found, I want you to inform me immediately.”

Mellos looked as though he might faint, the color draining from his face entirely. His mind raced, trying to grasp the enormity of what Aemond was asking, and the consequences that would follow. The bloodied sheets, the confirmation from the Grand Maester—these were not just symbols of a consummated union; they were a declaration of intent, a claim that could not be ignored by either Otto Hightower or Rhaenyra Targaryen.

“I… I understand, Your Grace,” Mellos stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But, Prince Aemond, surely you realize that such news… it will reach the ears of the Queen, and Prince Daemon…”

Aemond’s lips curled into a faint smile, though there was no warmth in it. “That is precisely what I intend, Maester. The sheets will speak for themselves, and your examination will confirm what is already known. My niece is now mine, and any plans to wed her to Jacaerys must be reconsidered.”

Mellos swallowed hard, the implications of Aemond’s words weighing heavily on him. The Prince’s plan was clear now, as was the role he had unwittingly been drawn into. The Maester nodded slowly, realizing that there was no turning back from what had been set in motion.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” Mellos finally said, his voice hoarse. “I shall see to it immediately.”

Aemond inclined his head, satisfied that his instructions would be carried out. He could see the fear in the Maester’s eyes, the way his hands shook ever so slightly as he turned to leave. But that fear was necessary, a tool to ensure that the plan would proceed without a hitch.

“Thank you, Grand Maester,” Aemond said, his voice as smooth as silk. “I trust that you will handle this matter with the utmost discretion.”

Mellos nodded quickly, his face still ashen as he hurried away, his steps faltering as though the weight of what he now carried was too much to bear.

Aemond watched him go, a sense of triumph settling over him. The seeds had been sown, and soon enough, they would bear the fruit he desired. His grandsire would be forced to recognize the union, and Rhaenyra would have no choice but to break the engagement to Jacaerys. There would be no way to deny him now.

As he turned and walked back down the corridor, a sense of satisfaction filled him. Everything was falling into place, just as he had envisioned. And as for the flushed and worried Grand Maester, he was merely the first to feel the ripple effects of the plan Aemond had so carefully crafted. Soon, everyone would understand that you belonged to him, and no one—not Jacaerys, not Rhaenyra, not even Daemon—could take you away from him now.

Aemond entered the chamber, summoned by his grandsire. The usual sense of foreboding that accompanied meetings in the Tower of the Hand was magnified tenfold by the figures waiting inside. Otto Hightower stood near the center of the room, his expression grave, while beside him stood Rhaenyra, her face a mask of barely concealed fury. But it was Daemon, pacing like a caged beast, whose presence dominated the space, his anger felt in the air.

Aemond, however, was unperturbed. He walked with measured steps, his posture erect, his face a picture of calm satisfaction. His eye met Daemon’s, and he could see the rage simmering there, a wildfire barely restrained. Aemond’s lips curled into a slight smile, knowing full well that it would only infuriate Daemon further.

“You summoned me, grandsire?” Aemond’s voice was even, respectful, but with an edge of smugness that did not go unnoticed.

Otto cleared his throat, his gaze flicking between the furious Targaryens and his grandson. “Aemond, it has come to my attention—” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It has come to my attention, through certain… whispers, that Grand Maester Orwyle was called upon this morning to examine Princess Y/N. An examination that has confirmed… certain truths.”

Rhaenyra’s fists clenched at her sides, her violet eyes blazing with a fury that matched the fire of the dragons themselves. “How dare you,” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “How dare you lay a hand on her!”

Before Aemond could respond, Daemon stepped forward, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword, Dark Sister. His face was a mask of barely restrained violence, and for a moment, it seemed he might strike Aemond down where he stood.

“Daemon,” Otto warned, his voice firm, though there was a thread of unease beneath it. “Violence will solve nothing here.”

“Violence is all I see fit to deal with this insolent whelp!” Daemon barked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “He dares to defile my daughter, and you expect me to stand idly by?”

Aemond, unflinching, met Daemon’s gaze head-on, his own expression hardening. “I have done what was necessary, uncle,” he said coolly. “She is mine now, and there is nothing you can do to change that.”

Rhaenyra’s voice broke through the tension, sharp and cold. “Her betrothal to Jacaerys has been agreed upon for years. You cannot simply cast that aside as if it means nothing.”

Otto interjected, his voice measured, though the urgency was clear. “In light of these recent events, the betrothal to Prince Jacaerys must be reconsidered. It is in the best interest of both houses that Princess Y/N and Prince Aemond are wed, to avoid any… further complications.”

Daemon’s eyes flashed with a deadly light as he turned on Otto. “You would sell my daughter to this boy after what he has done? You forget yourself, Hightower. She will not be tangled into your schemes!”

Aemond stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “This is not a matter of scheming, uncle. It is done. She is mine now, and there is nothing that can undo it. You cannot deny what has been consummated.”

Daemon’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it. Aemond’s words, as blunt and provocative as they were, held the weight of truth, and that was what infuriated Daemon most of all.

“The marriage must happen,” Otto pressed, sensing the shift in the room. “And it should happen soon, before word spreads and this matter becomes a scandal that neither house can afford.”

Aemond did not miss the opportunity to twist the knife deeper. “Indeed,” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with a satisfaction that only inflamed Daemon’s ire further. “The ceremony should be conducted in the traditions of old Valyria, where fire and blood bind us as one. And it should be done with haste.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the room before delivering the final blow. “For I hope that soon, another dragon will be born of our union.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, and Rhaenyra’s face turned ashen, her fury giving way to something colder, more calculating. Daemon, however, looked ready to strike again, his entire body tensed with the desire to lash out, to wipe that smug look off Aemond’s face.

But Aemond stood tall, his gaze steady, unflinching in the face of Daemon’s rage. He knew he had won. The plan had worked flawlessly. The whispers from Larys Strong, the bloodied sheets, the Maester’s examination—all had been carefully orchestrated to force this very outcome.

A tense silence stretched between them, thick and oppressive, until finally, it was Rhaenyra who spoke, her voice cold and sharp as a blade. “If this is to be done,” she said, “it will be done according to our customs, and with the respect due to our house. But know this, Aemond—should you ever bring harm to my daughter, not even your dragon will save you from my wrath.”

Aemond inclined his head slightly, accepting her warning with the same unyielding calm he had maintained throughout. “As you wish, sister. I will see to it that Y/N is treated with the honor she deserves.”

Daemon said nothing, but the look he leveled at Aemond spoke volumes. It was a promise, a vow that if Aemond ever crossed a line, there would be a reckoning, and it would be brutal.

But for now, Aemond had what he wanted. He had claimed you, and soon, the two of you will be bound in marriage. The thought of it sent a thrill of triumph through him, and though he kept his expression carefully neutral, inside, he reveled in his victory.

Otto, sensing that the matter was settled, nodded gravely. “Then it is decided. The preparations will begin at once.”

Without another word, Aemond turned and left the chamber, leaving behind a flushed, furious Daemon and a conflicted Rhaenyra. He knew that the days ahead would be tense, that there would be fallout from his actions, but none of it mattered now. You were his, and soon the world would see it, would understand that he was not to be trifled with.

And as he walked away, his thoughts were already on the future, on the life he would build with you, a future forged in fire and blood, just as the old ways dictated.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (32/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Some things are better left unsaid.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of previous smut), angst

Word Count: 2.7k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: sorry for making you wait for so long! please don't kill me. feedback is appreciated!

You feel Charles' fingers on the back of your neck as they press gently into your skin. Your forehead rests against his bare shoulder while your arms are wrapped loosely around his waist. You hold onto him, trying to get your breathing under control as your thoughts jump wildly through your head. 

In your entire life, nothing has ever felt as good as the last half hour. Like an echo, you can still feel the warmth coursing through your body as Charles helped you jump over the cliff. His hungry gaze is etched in your memory, as is the feel of his skin against yours. 

You breathe in and out deeply and Charles presses you closer to him, even though it's barely possible. As you remove your head from his shoulder, his hand slides from the nape of your neck down your back, where it joins his other hand resting slightly above your butt. 

As you look at him, he smiles lovingly. "Hi." 

There's a warm sparkle in his green eyes and you'd love to lose yourself in them and drown. He moves you a little on his leg to make it more comfortable for both of you, but you're a little sensitive between your legs so you close your eyes and scrunch up your face. 

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face before placing his hand on your cheek. You snuggle against it and enjoy the warmth. 

"Mh-hmm." 

Charles' hands lift you up a little so that you can wrap your legs around his hips. As you sit astride him and he pulls you close to him, you feel his hard-on pressing against your crotch. As if dazed by the sensation, you open your eyes and realize that your faces are so close that the tips of your noses are almost touching. 

"I'm sorry," he apologizes softly, a blush rising to his cheeks. "Just let me -" he begins the sentence and makes an effort to push you off him, but your hands, which were still on his hips a moment ago, settle on his shoulders and hold him tight. He looks at you, a little confused, but you can only smile. 

"It's okay," you answer him. The thought that you're the reason for his condition causes the warmth that has been running through your whole body to build up between your legs again. Ashamed that you would like to jump him, this time to do more than just rub yourself over his thigh, you hang your head so you don't have to look at him. 

Charles puts his lips to your forehead. "We should go to sleep," he murmurs against your skin. "It's getting late."

Sleeping is the last thing you want to do. You want to close the gap between you and kiss him until you can't breathe. You want to feel his hands moving between your legs, his fingers pushing your shorts aside and touching you where you pulse for him and you need him the most. You want his lips on your neck, his bare skin on yours. You want to lie under him, his whole weight on you, while he makes you his own and you burn for him like the sun. 

"We should," you reluctantly agree with him, but neither of you makes any effort to break away from the other. Instead, you stay in each other's embrace, enjoying the warmth and security you give each other. You rest your cheek against his shoulder so that the tip of your nose nudges his neck and inhale his scent, which you can't seem to get enough of. 

Charles nuzzles his cheek against yours. "Are you tired?" 

You shake your head slightly. "No. Are you?"

"No," he breathes. His fingertips slip tentatively under your shirt, where they gently draw small circles on your bare skin. They travel up your back, over your side, until they stop at the swell of your breast. "There are so many things I'd rather be doing." His confession makes your blood race and you move as close to him as you can, but as your lips graze the soft skin on his neck, he takes his hands off your ribs. "But we have big plans tomorrow. And we need to be fully rested for that." 

As he pulls his hands out from under your shirt and gently pushes you off his lap, you suddenly feel cold. "What do you have planned?" you ask him, a little crestfallen, as he creates some distance between you and lies down on his side of the bed. You silently spread the blanket over you and try to restore the warmth that had enveloped you until a moment ago. But nothing compares to Charles' warmth. 

"You'll see," he smiles, resting his head on his forearm behind him. "But I think you'll like it."

You raise your eyebrow but don't respond any further, lying down instead. The distance between you both bothers you - more than you'd like to admit - but after what just happened and the conversation this morning, you don't know where you both stand. 

"I shouldn't have let it get this far," Charles said in the morning. "We're friends and the last thing I want is to lose you over this."

"Nothing changes," he promised you in the night . "We'll stay friends. I promise."

So why can't you shake the feeling that there's this insurmountable distance between you? An ocean of unspoken things that no one dares to talk about. But even if you dared, you wouldn't know what to say. 

There's no denying that you two are friends. You've both proven that to each other more than once. And, like him, you don't want to lose him as a friend under any circumstances, you're too fond of his friendship for that. 

But you can't deny that there's something else between you. Something more. More than friendship, more than roommates. You seem to be completely at the mercy of the attraction he exudes. You are powerless when it comes to Charles. But you don't know what exactly it is that draws you to him like an invisible string. 

This feeling is new to you. Not once in your relationship with Raphael did you feel the same way about someone as you do now about the man with whom you share your bed and the depths of your soul. And although this new feeling scares you, you want more. More of the feeling. More of Charles. 

You want everything with him. 

"What are you thinking about?" Charles asks after you've snuggled up in your comforter and are now staring at it. 

You can't tell him exactly what's going on in your head. You can't tell him that you miss his lips on your neck, the way his fingertips dug into your ass when you came on his thigh. You can't tell him that you long to feel him between your legs and watch him let himself go. 

And you certainly can't tell him that you want more from him than the friendship he's offering you. Because that's all you're going to get from him. But that's okay - you'll take whatever he gives you. Even if the little spark of hope inside you craves more than nightly cuddles and gentle smiles exchanged across his mother's dining table.

Especially because what you just did is definitely not something normal friends do.

You shrug your shoulders. "Christmas."

Charles turns to you. "Christmas? Why Christmas?"

You curl your lips into a thin line. Why Christmas? "'Cause it's two days away and I haven't got you a present yet." 

Charles reaches out and grabs your hand and when you place it in his without thinking about it, as if it were instinct, he pulls you close without much effort. He rests your head on his chest and wraps one arm around your middle as his hand draws circles on your back again. "I don't want a gift from you."

His warmth, which you missed a moment ago, envelops you like a warm blanket and you press closer to him without another thought. "Why not? Friends give each other presents." You place your hand on his bare chest and feel his heartbeat under your fingertips. 

"Because I don't want to." His tone is warm but firm, as if he leaves no room for discussion. 

"Why not?" you ask him, wanting to look at him but leaving your head in place. "I'd like to give you a present. For everything you've done for me."

His grip on you tightens. "When will you understand that I don't want anything in return from you? That all I want from you is your friendship?"

His heartbeat under your hand feels strange as your own stands still. 

There's a huge difference between telling yourself something to protect yourself and hearing it spoken. And that the man whose thigh you just came on, who let you sleep on him, who reaches out to touch you at every opportunity, is saying what you fear - not even the warmth of his body can stop the cold shiver that runs down your spine. 

"Are you cold?" Charles asks, wrapping you tighter in the comforter. But that doesn't stop your body from shivering. 

"It's okay," you reply and move away from him to put some distance between you. All of a sudden, it doesn't feel right to snuggle up to him. It doesn't feel right to lie next to him and want him more than is good for you, knowing that he doesn't want anything more from you than friendship. "I'm not actually tired yet," you lie and open the comforter. "I'm going to stay in the living room and watch some Netflix so you can get some sleep."

As you get up from the bed, Charles sits up too. "You can watch TV here too. I don't mind." 

You reach for a sweater lying on the floor in front of the bed and pull it over your head. Charles's smell hits your nose and you briefly regret putting it on. "That's okay. You go to sleep. I'll join you later." 

As you reach for your cell phone, which is lying next to your pillow, Charles puts his hand on yours. "Mon amour, what -" 

"Good night, Charles," you interrupt him with a smile and withdraw your hand. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning." Without looking back, you leave the bedroom and pull the door shut behind you. 

As you sit on the couch in the living room, you don't quite know what to feel. 

From the beginning, there was this connection between you that you couldn't put your finger on until you called it friendship. And even that didn't do justice to how you felt about him. There was a reason why you wanted to build that wall around your heart, brick by brick. After Raphael, you wanted to protect yourself, and Charles had managed to bring the wall down again. 

And you allowed it to happen without putting up much of a fight. 

You didn't defend yourself against his "mon amour", against his closeness, his skin on yours. You didn't resist the feeling that spread through you thanks to him because you enjoyed it. 

This new feeling that you didn't know until you met Charles. This warmth that pulses through your veins when he touches you. This feeling of home that you feel when you are close to him.

Suddenly you understand what he meant by "being touched intimately". 

You miss his fingers on your ribs, his lips on your forehead, his hand on your thigh. You miss him in the places that are only visible to him and that are only meant for him. Your neck, your nape, the curve between your legs and the arch of your bottom. Your calf, the one he grabbed in the car when you met up with Kika and Pierre. 

It feels as if he's cut into your skin, invaded you and taken up residence in your soul, burned himself into it, and changed the chemistry inside you. As if you were only breathing for him and as if your heart was only beating for him. 

You lean your head back and cross your arms in front of your face.

Your head screams at you that this feeling is not right, that it is not reasonable to feel so strongly for someone. That it's not normal to long for someone so strongly that it burns through your veins like heat and sets your heart on fire. 

When you hear footsteps in the hallway, you take your arms away from your face. Your gaze lands on Charles, who is standing anxiously in the doorway, stepping from one foot to the other. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers barely audibly. His mouth curls into a thin line and he scratches the back of his neck. "I - I went too far. I thought you -" He takes a deep breath and exhales before looking at you. "Friends don't do things like that. I'll - you go back to bed. I'll sleep on the couch." 

No. No, no, no, no. 

As you open your mouth to stop him from talking, to stop him from going on and saying the thing you're most afraid of, he raises his hand. "Don't worry. The couch is much more comfortable than the one in the other apartment. I'll be fine for the few days until my new bed arrives. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me."

You almost jump up from the couch and want to push him against the wall and tell him that's the last of the feelings you'd want to feel around him, but as you stand in front of him, nothing comes out of your mouth. You feel tears in the corners of your eyes and hope he can't see them. 

But he does. Hesitantly, he lifts his hand and brings it to your cheek to wipe away the one tear rolling down your skin. His touch burns like fire and you have to hold yourself back from clinging to him. "I'm sorry you feel that way. That was never my intention. Please believe that." He swallows before removing his hand from your cheek. "All I wanted was your friendship. And that's where we should go back to. Shouldn't we, mon ami?"

Without waiting for your answer, he goes back into the bedroom and reappears a short time later with his bedding in his arms. He spreads his things out on the sofa while you can only watch him. When he seems satisfied with his work, he turns back to you. A broken smile adorns his face and there's a shine in his eyes that you can't put your finger on. 

"Good night, mon ami. I'll see you in the morning."

Without answering, you flee from the living room and close the bedroom door behind you. You quickly hide under the comforter, which smells of Charles, and feel a heavy pressure building up in your chest, taking your breath away. Tears stream down your cheeks, soaking your pillow, which is far too soft, and you just hope that this rotten feeling will finally end. 

All you can think about is Charles. 

Charles, who introduced you to his mother. Charles, who makes you laugh even when you don't feel like it. Charles, who would drop everything for you to make you feel better. Charles, who is your home. 

Even though you don't want to admit it, even though you fight it because it hurts too much to admit it, it's as clear as day and so obvious that you wonder how you could have been so blind until now. 

You never wanted just Charles' friendship. You wanted him from the very beginning. From the moment he suddenly appeared in your apartment and the moment you let him as a stranger sleep on your couch. Just like he sleeps on the couch in the living room now. But now he feels further away than he did back then, which breaks your heart even more.

You love him. And there's no going back.

[choicesbookclub]

Welcome to the Choices Book Club! We are currently reading Crimes of Passion II as a group. The book releases a new chapter every Wednesday on the Choices App.

This Week’s Chapter: Chapter Eight—Unite and Conquer

Question(s) of the Week: 

Do your detective and/or Trystan have any hobbies or special talents?

Pin the Crime on the Thorne Poll : Last week you voted for Astrid, who will you vote this week? [Vote Here]

What do you think about the new information gained from the twin's dossiers as well as the conversation with them?

Which Thorne sibling do you think Juli dated before Trystan? [Vote Here]

How do you rate this chapter? [Vote Here]

How else to Participate:

Post reactions, screenshots, videos, ramblings, theories,… whatever comes to you while playing

Create drawings, edits, moodboards, fics, headcanons, songs, poems, etc based on the chapters and/or characters

Create a profile page for your detective and/or royal and submit it for the Detectives’ and Royal’s Profile Page

Share your detective and Trystan choices (the pixel versions and/or face claim versions)

Catch up on any of the previous week's questions/prompts

Posts that tag @choicesbookclub and use “#choices book club” will be reblogged here

[Please read the full guide to the event and how to participate here]

[uchiwife]

Pairing : ItaSaku.🌸🍡 [ Modern AU.]

Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Itachi.

Category: fluff. Attempt at humor.

WARNING(S): None

Word count : 595

a/n : English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse me for any mistakes I might commit in it. ꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

—

[One kiss is all it takes fallin’ in love with me. Possibilities, I look like all you need. Let me take the night, I love real easy and I know that you’ll still wanna see me. On the Sunday morning, music real loud. Let me love you while the moon is still out.♡]

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

“I think we should stop.”

“I think you're hideous.”

She frowned.

“I'm serious.”

“Are you? I thought we were playing "who can say the most absurd thing?" ”

“Hmph. You have no idea how much harassment I get just by pretending to be your girlfriend. It's exhausting, you know? These crazy girls feel like I stole you. Like you're the last Twix I took out of the vending machine.”

“You should ignore them. The agreement clearly stated that I would make sure you were in no real danger. They'll get over it.”

“Itachi, you don't understand! You're not the one who has to put up with the murderous looks. Really, at first I agreed because I could see that these girls had absolutely no respect for your personal space and you were being groped without consent. And you were too polite to even get angry. I know it's not in your temperament to yell either, but still.”

“Is it that hard for you, Sakura?”

“Yes.”

“All right, we'll stop then.”

She was surprised at first, which is ridiculous since she was the one who asked to stop, then she felt a twinge in her heart that she couldn't explain, but she preferred not to be distracted by this feeling.

“Oh. Thanks, Itachi. You don't know what—”

“I'm not finished. We stop pretending. Be my girlfriend for real.”

“WHAT? But how will that help me? It'll be even worse if I kiss you openly in public.”

Itachi smirked.

“Am I to understand that you want to kiss me in public, Sakura?”

The young woman stammered, her face red with embarrassment.

“NO! I mean...maybe. Yes, well no. Ugh I don't know okay!” Sakura glared at him. “And wipe that smug look off your face!”

“How eloquent you are, Miss Student Council President.”

With a last glare, the pinkette jumped on the dark-haired man, the latter very amused by the young girl's outburst. They ended up on the grassy ground of the courtyard, Sakura astride Itachi whose hands came to rest on her hips.“

“I hate you.”

“Yes, I could see that when you were literally undressing me with your eyes in P.E.”

“I didn't do that!”

“You did.”

She huffed.

“If you think I didn't notice you checking me out too!”

He snorted.

“I never hid my interest in you, Sakura. You were just too busy pining after Neji to notice that we could be good together.”

Sakura blushed furiously.

“I never chased after Neji! I just thought he was pretty with his long hair is all.”

“Of course.”

“Hey, it's the truth!”

“Hn. I'm sure you were just dreaming of asking him about his hair care routine.”

“Shut up! That was before!”

“Before what?”

She looked away, mumbling shyly.

“Beforeyou.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

She glared at him.

“I SAID BEFORE YOU.”

Itachi grinned.

“I'm flattered.”

She scoffed

“You should.”

“I am. But mostly I'm glad you dropped your fantasies about the Hyuuga.”

Sakura raised her hand to slap him on the shoulder but was intercepted by Itachi's grip as he grabbed her hands to pull her forward and press his lips to hers.

Surprised, Sakura took a second or two to react before relaxing and kissing back his sinful lips. A small moan escaped her as Itachi bit her bottom lip, causing her hips to grind against his.

It was Itachi's turn to grunt. His grip on her hips tightening as his tongue invaded Sakura's mouth, making it official that their relationship had begun and the one they claimed to have ended.

[therealityhelix]

Shards of the Nexus: Talking to a Wall

Puzzles is often impulsive, and initially had some Ideas about the separation of masculine and feminine.

Song: 6 Underground-Sneaker Pimps

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions

He hunkered down behind his sturdy ancient couch as bullets and other objects whizzed by. Blood blossomed dark on the sleeve of his kelly green suit. It was only a flesh wound, only one bullet, it wasn't that deep. Sure, it seemed like a lot of blood, and it had to soak through his shirt, and the suit lining before showing up on the surface like that, so it was actually more blood than it seemed, but...

The stranger wailed in horror, firing again. The bullet tore a hole through a weak point in the couch, and he dropped down lower, phone pressed to his ear.

“Come on, pick up. Pick up you skinny lunatic!”

There was a soft click, then an exasperated voice.

“All right puzzle boy, you'd better have a damn good reason for waking me up at this hour...never mind. I can hear it. What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“I'll have you know I didn't instigate this at all.” he protested. “Some weirdo showed up and claimed to be me! Which is impossible because, number one: I'm me, and number two: he's wearing a dress! What kind of self-respecting man does that?”

“What, claim to be you, or wear a dress?”

“Jonathan! This is serious! I've been shot! This man is deranged!”

“Did you hit him with my fear toxin? Is that what's going on?”

He hesitated.

“Eddie? Did you-”

“He touched me!” Eddie snapped. Jonathan heaved a heavy sigh.

“Fool child. Wait it out. The stuff I sell you works fast, but it burns out fast too. It's meant for distraction and escape, not much more.”

“Did you miss the part where I've been shot? You know, with a bullet?”

“You dying?”

“I...don't know?”

“Then suck it up and-”

He missed the rest of what Jonathan said, his eye catching the flash of light off a thread-thin filament looping towards his face.

With a yelp, he threw himself flat on the floor, slipping away from the garrote before it could snare his neck.

“He's got razor floss!” he cried into the phone. “He's trying to take my head off!”

“It's coming! I will stop it!” The stranger yowled. “Sweet mother, I'll protect us this time!”

He braced his good shoulder against the couch, and toppled it over on top of the deranged stranger, diving behind a nearby recliner. He was beginning to get light headed. He couldn't have lost that much blood, could he? But his arm was soaked, and hard to move, cold but burning.

Cephalic vein. Trouble. Either that stranger had better aim than Robin Hood, or he was the luckiest bastard on the planet.

“You said he claimed to be you?” Jonathan asked.

“Ridiculous, I know-”

“No, the same thing happened to me. Some muppet-looking fellow with a burlap mask, but he had my fear toxin formula. He knew things I'd never told anyone. Pamela tells me that she also met such a being.”

“You're not being serious!”

“Don't you already know someone from another world?”

“He's not-”

The Monster wasn't from another world. He was merely...attached to a being that was. And that was only if the 'Hell' that being claimed to come from was an actual physical place somewhere other than this material reality. It was a whole complicated thing, and he hadn't winkled all of the information out of his acquaintance yet.

And this was not the time to think about it!

“Jonathan, I am actively dying as we speak!”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

He paused.

“Don't let them put the wrong name on my headstone.”

“Oh, come on now.”

The sound of a scuffle. Someone else was in his apartment now, wrestling with the homicidal stranger.

“Jonathan, someone new has shown up, I don't know how much longer-”

A figure vaulted the overstuffed recliner he was hiding behind, landing astride him. This new man glared down with dark brown eyes, and took a palm sized capsule from his belt, holding it threateningly in front of Eddie's face.

“Stay still.” the new man demanded, soft lisp slipping between a gap in his teeth. “What did you do to them?”

“I defended myself...” he began, faltering both when he noticed the mans expression harden, and when he noticed the question mark on the shoulder of the mans green jacket.

“It's fear toxin.” he said. Fine. If this really was another Riddler, he'd know what that meant.

The stranger climbed up on the chair, his bright orange hair a wild mess. The new man snatched another capsule from his belt and thrust it into the strangers face, pressing a small button.

A puff of aerosol surrounded the stranger's head, and he reeled back, coughing, collapsing into a moaning sprawl on the floor. Some kind of antidote to the toxin? The new man replaced the empty capsule on his belt.

“Why would you do this?” the brown-eyed man asked. “It's not very mannerly to poison a guest.”

“Some stranger showing up at my door with a cockamamie story and a questionable fashion sense is...not...pardon me...I think I'm...bleeding out...”

The brown-eyed man glanced down at the capsule still held threateningly in front of Eddie's face, and pushed the button.

A whiff of gas entered his lungs. His head spun into darkness, and he knew nothing more.

Unexpectedly, he woke up.

He felt awful, but he was very, extremely alive.

His apartment seemed to have been converted into an emergency medical center, just for him. The makeshift yet professional equipment had all the hallmarks of...

Jonathan. He could hear his deep voice murmuring. Jonathan and...another, smaller Jonathan?

He blinked, trying to clear his vision. No, there really were two of them.

The other men were there as well, the stranger having fixed his mussed hair and rumpled clothes. Aside from a bruise on his cheek, he looked as if there had been no altercation at all.

And that annoyed Eddie.

“You unbalanced, effeminate psycho!” he snapped. “You nearly killed me!”

The stranger drew himself up to his paltry height, hand over his heart like a scandalized matron.

“I?” he huffed in his fluting voice. “You hit me in the face and injected me with fear toxin, you young ruffian!”

“You showed up at my door dressed like a strumpet, with a story only an idiot would fall for-”

The brown-eyed man raised one thick eyebrow at him.

“-and expected anything from me?” He continued. “Anyone claiming to be me ought to at least know what basic caution is!”

“I was pleased to have found you.” the stranger said, turning his nose up. “If I've made any mistakes today, it is that!”

“Oh just that? Not shooting me, not trying to garrote me, not nearly murdering me? Just having an unpleasant time?”

“Unpleasant? Do you know what you made me experience? I would have done none of those things if you hadn't drugged me, scoundrel!”

“Sorry excuse for a drag queen!”

“Hooligan!”

“Come on everyone, let's not start another fight.” the brown-eyed man cajoled. Eddie tensed, but the stranger closed their eyes and sighed.

“I beg your pardon, dear one. That was all very undignified.”

The brown-eyed man patted the stranger's hand consolingly.

“You weren't exactly in your right mind. I've worked with Jonathan Crane on my world, and so I had a reason to have an antidote with me. After all, why would you expect to be drugged like that when talking to one of us?”

Again with that nonsense. The brown-eyed man at least seemed competent, but he was pushing that fairy tale too.

He struggled to sit up, but Jonathan placed a thin hand on his shoulder to hold him down. The smaller Jonathan looked him over impassively.

“Stay down, puzzle boy.” 'his' Jonathan said. “Good to see you've still got your fire, but that body needs rest.”

“I don't want them in my apartment!” he groused. “Going through my things.”

Offense sprouted across both mens faces.

“We're not thieves!” the brown-eyed man asserted.

“Oh?” Eddie drawled insolently. “Weren't you trying to tell me that you're the Riddler?”

Jonathan chuckled, but the stranger scowled.

“How shall we prove this to you?” he asked.

“How can you prove it?” Eddie countered. “It's a ridiculous story, pure imagination! You are untethered from reality, and I have no intentions of joining in on you and your friend's little folie à deux.”

“And what of me?” the smaller Jonathan asked.

He looked so much like 'his' Jonathan, a little shorter, perhaps a little older, but they could easily have been brothers. It proved nothing.

“Jonathan Crane is not unknown for his habit of mindfucking people.” Eddie pointed out. “Myself included.”

'His' Jonathan shrugged.

“S'not wrong.” he admitted. “But this guy is me. Somehow.”

“You experiment on your friends?” the stranger inquired.

“We're not friends.” Eddie said quickly.

“He's just a reliable customer.” Jonathan backed him up. “And this way, he knows for sure that my wares are reliable.”

“And that's good enough for me. I don't need friends.”

“Well, wait. What about that odd fellow from outside of town? The one with the weird eyes?”

“I...guess he counts? We're more like acquaintances.”

“What about Jervis?”

“Occasional partners in crime do not a friendship make.”

“Your standards are bullshit.” Jonathan sighed.

“I should like to meet your Jervis.” The stranger said. “I wonder if he is anything like my Jervis? We are partners, though not in crime~”

He said that last part with some defiance flavoring his sing-song voice. Eddie shrugged.

“Good for you? Is there a reason I should care about your home life, or do you just like to overshare?”

“Actually, given your incredibly negative reaction to my physical appearance, I expected you to have a thing or two to say about my romantic proclivities.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. I don't care. If you're gay, you're gay, but you don't need to pretend to be a woman because of it.”

The stranger blinked.

“Oh, I think there's been a miscommunication. I am not a man.”

Eddie looked the stranger carefully up and down. He-she?-was wearing a very elegant and classy dress that reached nearly to the ankles. It wasn't revealing, but it was perfectly tailored. Eddie could see the shape of the shoulders, the chest, the waist and hips. The jewelry didn't hide the adam's apple, the curve of the jaw. Still...it was possible wasn't it? That this was a woman? Eddie didn't really get along well with many women, and never cared to focus on the shapes and forms they could take.

“Ah, don't mistake me. I am not a woman either. I am...both. Upon occasion.”

“They're sort of in between.” the brown-eyed man offered.

Eddie's eyes narrowed. They. He'd heard of this before, but hadn't taken the concept seriously. Then again, he'd also never personally met such an individual, and rarely believed anything he was told without proof. But on the other hand, as a person of logic, he also could not refuse proof when it was presented to him. 'They' it was then. That was easy enough.

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” he complained.

“I'm afraid you didn't give me much time to explain before poisoning me with fear toxin.” the stranger said coldly.

“Again, you just showed up at my door out of the blue and began babbling about what seemed to be nonsense, and touching me. How could I have possibly known you weren't an enemy? Are you telling me that the Riddlers don't have enemies?” he scoffed.

The two looked at each other.

“Well...” the stranger said slowly. “I...don't really. Not anymore.”

“I have a lot of enemies.” the brown-eyed man admitted. “But none of them would just show up at my door to say hello!”

“Well mine do! Some of them think it's funny, some of them do it as some kind of domination tactic, whatever. I have to dodge death weekly, and that isn't even counting the Bat and the cops!”

“You seem a bit young to be facing so much danger.” the stranger said gently. Eddie bristled again, hating for the thousanth time how slowly he seemed to be maturing.

“I am an adult, and have been for years.” he grumbled. “That should be all that matters. And your opinion about it isn't going to change the minds of my enemies.”

The stranger had enough grace to look abashed.

“I suppose I did not give you enough time to explain either.” they conceded.

It would have to do.

[vulpes-fennec]

Once Upon a Dream 🧵 (Ch. 2)

Summary: This time, the girl saves the prince. For Feysand month 2022’s Fairy Tale AU.

Read: Ch. 1 | AO3

Sent away to train at Windhaven at the tender age of nine, Rhysand hadn’t felt like a proper crown prince of the Night Kingdom in years. But riding through the Velaris streets in an elaborate procession and waving to his future subjects…now that was a princely activity. 

Rhysand visited Velaris and his parents, King Cormac and Queen Orla, at least once a month. When he was younger, Rhysand used to complain about being stuck in Windhaven, about how he had to eat basic gruel and sleep on hard mats after bruising days. “Shouldn’t I be spending time learning how to be a ruler? Visiting other heirs and contributing to our alliances?” he had grumbled. 

“A King and Queen must serve their people,” his father had told him. “Being in the fresh air, growing strong and working with others is far more valuable than being cooped up indoors with books all day.” 

But his parents agreed to switch out some training sessions with royal academics and lessons to harness his daemati powers. No other warriors—save for Cassian and Azriel—knew he was the crown prince. Lord Devon knew, though, only so he could make allowances for Rhysand’s ever-changing schedule.

Which was a good thing, because it gave Rhysand plenty of time to spend with Feyre. If his parents found it strange that Rhysand had stopped pestering to leave Windhaven, they didn’t mention it. 

Rhysand’s delicate nose detected the residual scent of burnt material. “Was there a fire recently?” he asked his cousin, Morrigan. Morrigan, astride a magnificent white horse, gave him a secretive look. 

“They were burning all the spinning wheels in the city yesterday,” she whispered to him. 

Rhysand frowned. “Isn��t that what they use to make thread? Yarn?” His mother was a seamstress before she became Queen, but she seemed to have stopped her hobby once he was born. 

Morrigan shrugged. “Yes. They claimed that the spinning wheels were all cursed.” Interesting. Rhysand didn’t think his parents were that superstitious, but he did not inquire further. 

Rhysand settled in his room after the welcome parade, getting ready for his dinner banquet. He gazed out his window at the glittering city below. Velaris was a far cry from Feyre’s small village, but she would love the artists’ quarter. The Rainbow of Velaris. She would love visiting the markets and cafes, too. Velaris could be their home. 

Rhysand changed into a fitted black suit with silver thread accents for dinner. He took care to place Feyre’s painting in his inside pocket, right over his heart. Where she belonged.

Feyre was his lovely little secret. She understood him better than anyone else, even Cassian and Azriel. Her voice was like a familiar hymn, her face more beautiful than the night sky. And, she felt more like home than Velaris. 

Rhysand didn’t keep many secrets from Feyre, but the one secret (or category of secrets) he refused to divulge was his identity as crown prince. Feyre seeing him beat other Illyrian trainees to a pulp? No problem. Feyre seeing him with a silver crown on his head? Hell no. 

Every time Rhysand strategized breaking out of the friend zone or fantasized about Feyre saying yes to his marriage proposal, he ran into that damn dead end: he would have to tell her he was the prince. Reveal that he lived a double life from the Rhys she knew. 

The clock was ticking. How much longer did they have together? Rhysand’s parents had grown increasingly persistent about him getting married, or finding his mate. As if that was ever possible. Mates were rare and his parents’ bond was one in a million. 

Whenever Rhysand thought about his future as King, his mind also wandered towards Feyre’s future as…an artist? His Queen? Or…some other man’s wife? If Feyre chose to love another, Rhysand couldn’t—wouldn’t—do anything to stop her. He would simply have to be satisfied with the “friendship” they had.

A chilled draft seeping into his room made Rhysand shiver. “What the hell,” he grumbled, “why isn’t the hearth lit?” After spending several minutes rifling through the drawers, Rhysand came to the conclusion that there weren’t any matches in the room. 

Not a problem, he thought. Illyrian training had taught him how to survive in the woods with the barest of supplies. Using a handheld mirror, Rhysand focused the rays of the sun on a roll of parchment paper until it flickered into golden flame. He shoved the roll under the wooden logs in the hearth, feeling satisfied when flames leapt to life in the fireplace. 

Rhysand savored the warmth of the fire. Within a seconds, the small flames leapt into a fiery inferno. Rhysand’s jaw dropped. Several wooden logs couldn’t possibly sustain such a large blaze. 

And a pair of cruel, brown eyes stared at him.

Rhysand leapt to his feet, an Illyrian blade in hand. But his body suddenly seized up and stiffened, as if he had no control over it. His sword clattered to the ground as a malicious chuckle resonated through the air. 

“The daemati princeling gets a taste of his own medicine,” a cruel voice gloated. 

Who the hell was that? 

Rhysand’s blood ran cold as his limbs moved fluidly against his will. Was this what it was like to be on the receiving end of his mental manipulations? He reached for scraps of his power, something, anything to blast the spell binding his mind. 

More laughter echoed. “All the power in the world is no match for a blood curse, princeling,” the voice chided. 

Gods, Rhysand thought horrified as he moved closer and closer to the flame, I’m about to be burned alive! But to his surprise, the fire parted like a flaming curtain, and the flames brushing Rhysand’s skin were like tickling feathers. A portal had been created in his fireplace.

The flames vanished into a cold stone wall once he stepped across the threshold. Outside the large window was a sea of orange, reds, and yellows—the eternal foliage of the Autumn. And a curious contraption—no, a spinning wheel—stood in the center of the tower, with a tall, brown-haired man next to it. 

Rhysand recognized the same cruel brown eyes from the flame. 

“I believe we haven’t met before,” the man said, giving Rhysand a mocking bow. A circlet of golden leaves sat atop his head. “My name is Beron Vanserra. King of Autumn.” 

King Beron. Rhysand had heard many horrific stories about the Night Kingdom’s toughest adversary. And he was alone, bound, vulnerable, and royally fucked. 

Rhysand thrashed internally, refusing to give up. But no amount of physical strength, no amount of mental power could free him. Beron clasped his hands behind his back, watching gleefully as the prince moved closer to the spinning wheel. 

The spindle. Rhysand’s finger was headed directly for the spindle’s metal tip. No, no, no, he panicked as the tip of his finger neared the needle.  

A prick of pain lanced his index finger. With the release of the binding spell, Rhysand staggered backwards, staring at the crimson blooming from his finger in horror. 

“You, you bastard,” he tried to say, but his words were slurred, eyelids were growing heavier by the second. Rhysand lunged towards Beron, feet swaying like a drunken sailor. 

Stay awake, stay awake, Rhysand urged himself. But it was futile. Sleep sounded wonderful right now. Slipping into dreamland seemed just as irresistible. And as a darkness darker than night itself washed over him, Rhysand’s final thought was of Feyre’s shining face.

***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***🧵***

Read: Ch. 3

Notes: Yeah so Rhys is going to be OOC in this fic sorry about that...anyways let's keep the spotlight on FEYRE

[nxmuzluv]

“ let me be your butterfly ”

나빌레라 — NVILRA is a 6-member (fictional) girl group under JYP ENTERTAINMENT and SONY MUSIC JAPAN. formed through the survival show THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT, the group debuted on july 13th, 2018 with their debut single “ROLL” off their debut album, AGEHA. the group is comprised of members KRYSTAL, CHARLOTTE, EUNBYEOL, BONNIE, ARIYA, and SARANG. they’re is unique in the industry, as not only were all of the members born in the same year, but most of the members are japanese. they only have ONE korean member.

— BASICS !

NAME ! NVILRA

FANDOM ! NVIES

COLOR(S) ! #FAABA :: #5CB3FF

AGENCY ! JYP ENTERTAINMENT :: SONY MUSIC JAPAN

DEBUT ALBUM ! AGEHA

DEBUT SONG ! ROLL

GREETING ! “be our butterfly ! hello, we are NVILRA !”

— MEMBERS !

KRYSTAL !

BIRTH NAME ! TODOROKI YUKINA

ENGLISH NAME ! STELLA KRYSTAL TODOROKI

BIRTHDAY ! MARCH 1, 2000

ZODIAC ! PISCES

ETHNICITY ! JAPANESE

NATIONALITY ! JAPANESE

OCCUPATION ! IDOL, MODEL, RADIO SHOW HOST, CHOREOGRAPHER

POSITION ! LEADER, CENTER, MAIN RAPPER, MAIN DANCER, SUB-VOCALIST, OLDEST

FACE CLAIM ! KAZUHA (LE SSERAFIM)

VOICE CLAIM ! JENNIE (BLACKPINK), LIA (ITZY)

DANCE CLAIM ! LISA (BLACKPINK)

REPRESENTATIVE EMOJI ! ❄️

EUNBYEOL !

BIRTH NAME ! YOO EUN-BYEOL

ENGLISH NAME ! ESTELLE ASTRID YOO

BIRTHDAY ! MARCH 21, 2000

ZODIAC ! ARIES

ETHNICITY ! KOREAN

NATIONALITY ! KOREAN

OCCUPATION ! IDOL, ACTRESS, MC

POSITION ! LEAD VOCALIST, VISUAL, FACE OF THE GROUP

FACE CLAIM ! YOON (STAYC)

VOICE CLAIM ! MIYEON ((G)I-DLE)

DANCE CLAIM ! SHUHUA ((G)I-DLE)

REPRESENTATIVE EMOJI ! 🦢

SARANG !

BIRTH NAME ! AIKAWA CHOUKA

ENGLISH NAME ! LOVE ANTOINETTE AIKAWA

BIRTHDAY ! MARCH 14, 2000

ZODIAC ! PISCES

ETHNICITY ! JAPANESE

NATIONALITY ! JAPANESE-ITALIAN

OCCUPATION ! IDOL, ACTRESS, MODEL, MC

POSITION ! LEAD VOCALIST, VISUAL

FACE CLAIM ! SANA (TWICE)

VOICE CLAIM ! SEULGI (RED VELVET)

DANCE CLAIM ! LIA (ITZY)

REPRESENTATIVE EMOJI ! 🦋

ARIYA !

BIRTH NAME ! MARINA AZURES-WATANABE

JAPANESE NAME ! WATANABE KAIRI

BIRTHDAY ! JUNE 8, 2000

ZODIAC ! GEMINI

ETHNICITY ! JAPANESE-FILIPINA

NATIONALITY ! FILIPINA

OCCUPATION ! IDOL, ACTRESS, MODEL

POSITION ! MAIN VOCALIST, VISUAL

FACE CLAIM ! KAORI OINUMA (ACTRESS)

VOICE CLAIM ! LILY (NMIXX)

DANCE CLAIM ! MINA (TWICE)

REPRESENTATIVE EMOJI ! 🧜🏼‍♀️

BONNIE !

BIRTH NAME ! SASAKI AMAI

ENGLISH NAME ! AUDREY SASAKI

BIRTHDAY ! NOVEMBER 4, 2000

ZODIAC ! SCORPIO

ETHNICITY ! JAPANESE

NATIONALITY ! JAPANESE-AUSTRALIAN

OCCUPATION ! IDOL, MC, CHOREOGRAPHER

POSITION ! MAIN DANCER, LEAD RAPPER, SUB-VOCALIST, MAKNAE

FACE CLAIM ! JURIA (XG)

VOICE CLAIM ! RYUJIN (ITZY)

DANCE CLAIM ! MOMO (TWICE)

REPRESENTATIVE EMOJI ! 🦄

CHARLOTTE !

BIRTH NAME ! YUUSA CHIEMI

BIRTHDAY ! APRIL 7, 2000

ZODIAC ! ARIES

ETHNICITY ! JAPANESE

NATIONALITY ! JAPANESE

OCCUPATION ! IDOL, MC, RADIO SHOW HOST

POSITION ! LEAD RAPPER, LEAD DANCER, SUB-VOCALIST

FACE CLAIM ! NAKO (FMR. IZ*ONE)

VOICE CLAIM ! HARVEY (XG), SANA (TWICE)

DANCE CLAIM ! CHAERYEONG (ITZY)

REPRESENTATIVE EMOJI ! 🎀

[crimswords]

✧      ⸻      [    jonathan  daviss,    cis  male,    he/him    ]          ;          congratulations  on  surviving  the  parapet,  cadet  LUCIEN  NICHOLS,  and  welcome  to  the  rider’s  quadrant  !  at  TWENTY-THREE  years  old,  you  should  know  exactly  what  it  takes  to  make  it  to  graduation,  especially  being  so  RESILIENT  and  SELFLESS.  though,  i  do  suppose  your  tendencies  to  be  OVERANALYTICAL  and  DISTANT  may  make  it  hard  to  survive  until  threshing.  other  cadets  say  you  remind  them  of  your  heart  skipping  a  beat  when  you  miss  a  step,  talking  too  fast  when  you’re  excited,  and  love  persevering  through  grief,  but  we’ll  have  to  see  how  true  that  is.  remember:  if  you  want  a  dragon  —  earn  one.      ╱      

OVERVIEW  ;   full  name:  lucien  patrick  nichols nickname(s):  luc age:  twenty-three sexuality:  homosexual   family:  pierre  nichols  (  father  ),  evelyn  nichols  (  mother  ),  astride  nichols  (  sister  -  deceased  )occupation:  cadet,  first  year  wing:  fourth  wing,  flame  section,  first  squad signet:  unknown bonded  dragon:  unknown

PHYSICAL  ;   face  claim:  jonathan  daviss height:  5'10 eye  color:  brown hair  color:  dark  brown tattoos:  none

PERSONALITY  ;   positive  traits:  resilient,  selfless,  calculating negative  traits:  distant,  overanalytical,  doubtful character  parallels:  eddie  kaspbrak  (  it  ),  will  byers  (  stranger  things  ),  milo  thatch  (  atlantis:  the  lost  empire  )

BRIEF  HISTORY  ;  

lucien  is  the  youngest  of  two,  born  into  a  long  family  line  of  scribes.  their  family  has  always  valued  knowledge,  honesty,  and  determination.  

growing  up,  lucien  was  always  following  his  older  sister,  astride,  around.  being  only  a  year  and  some  change  apart,  they  were  inseparable  since  the  beginning.  

his  sister  was  always  the  outgoing  one,  pushing  them  both  to  the  limits  and  doing  things  that  would  have  given  their  parents  a  heart  attack

lucien  would  never  do  these  things  alone,  but  with  astride  by  his  side,  he  felt  invincible  

with  his  sister's  attitudes  and  overall  nature,  the  family  shouldn't  have  been  surprised  when  she  said  she  wouldn't  go  into  the  scribe  quadrant  and  instead  was  going  into  the  rider's  quadrant

it  was  nerve  wracking  to  say  the  least,  not  being  able  to  hear  from  the  person  he  thought  was  his  other  half.  she  even  almost  made  it  to  the  threshing.  but  the  day  before  her  name  was  called  as  they  all  mourned.  

none  of  the  family  knows  exactly  what  happened,  but  since  lucien  is  here  now,  he's  going  to  try  to  see  if  he  can  find  anyone  who  knows  what  exactly  happened.

now,  as  a  cadet,  lucien  has  no  idea  how  he  made  it.  he  almost  fell  off  the  parapet  so  many  times,  stumbled  to  the  ground  as  he  finished.

he's  also  a  staunch  rule  follower,  has  memorized  the  codex  word  for  word  at  this  point  and  is  working  on  the  types  of  dragons  next.  

he's  not  the  most  physically  fit,  nor  is  he  good  at  fighting,  but  his  intellect  is  most  likely  what's  going  to  help  him  get  farther  into  the  program.  

TLDR  ;  

a  ball  of  anxiety  who  only  joined  the  cadets  to  find  out  what  happened  to  his  sister.  he's  incredibly  intelligent  (  beetee  from  thg  tbh  )  but  he's  also  so  so  awkward.  doesn't  know  what  he  got  himself  into.  

WANTED  CONNECTIONS  ;  

friends  from  home:  maybe  these  people  were  also  around  scribes  a  lot  ?  lucien  spent  so  much  time  there,  people  probs  know  of  him

enemies:  people  in  his  squad  that  may  think  he's  the  weakest  link  !  give  me  the  pain  

allies:  they  don't  necessarily  have  to  be  in  the  same  squad/wing,  but  they  partially  feel  bad  for  lucien,  so  they're  going  to  help  him  out

crushes:  lucien  is  gay,  so  he'll  go  full  panic  mode  when  everyone's  sparring  and  they're  all  so  attractive.  (  he's  also  never  been  kissed  so  ...  marinate  on  that  ;)  )

[sassa-fiske]

{ ZENDAYA, 22, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER } Is that ASTRID “SASSA” FISKE? A JUNIOR originally from MANHATTAN, NY, they decided to come to Ogden College to study ACTING & PERFORMANCE STUDIES. They’re THE GO-GETTER GIRL on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

THE ESSENTIALS

Sassa has long since believed you shouldn't trust people, and she backs that up by being the absolute last person you should trust. Depending on who she is talking to, she has plenty of different personalities and motives to put out there, rarely acting like her true self or showing that she might not actually be quite the victim she paints herself out to be. She's manipulative and has perfected reading people, so she always presents herself as what they want to see her as. Long story short - she's insane.

CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS

Drea Torres (Do Revenge), Tashi Duncan (The Challengers), Alicent Hightower (House of the Dragon), Cassie Howard (Euphoria - specifically season 2), Vanessa Clark (One of Us Is Lying), Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia), Monet de Haan (Gossip Girl 2.0), Elide Lochan (Throne of Glass series), Misty Quigley (Yellowjackets), Quinn Fabray (Glee)

TV TROPES

THE GO-GETTER GIRL, Prima Donna, Drama Queen, Consummate Liar, Manipulative Bitch, Stepford Smiler, Becoming the Mask, Academic Alpha Bitch, Villain Has a Point, Moral Myopia, Never My Fault, Inferiority Superiority Complex

OGDEN COLLEGE 2022-2023

MAJOR:

Acting & Performance Studies

MINOR:

Film & Media Studies

EXTRACURRICULARS:

Cheerleading Squad (tumblr), Dance Team, Tennis (singles & doubles), Running Club School News Producer, Theatre Collective, Member of Tri Delt Sophomore Class Board

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Astrid Fiske 

NICKNAME(S): Sassa, Sass, Sassy (by her father, usually)

DATE OF BIRTH: november 13th, 2002

AGE: twenty two

ZODIAC CHART: scorpio sun, cancer moon, pisces rising, scorpio mercury, virgo venus, capricorn mars

OCCUPATION: student at ogden college

HOMETOWN: manhattan, NY

NATIONALITY: american

ETHNICITY: white (unspecified) & ugandan

LANGUAGE(S): english

GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis female, she/her

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: mostly straight but there's def some homoerotic sexual tension there with a few ppl

PHYSICAL INFORMATION

FACE CLAIM: Yara Shahidi Whitney Peak Yara Shahidi Zendaya

HEIGHT: 5′4″

EYE COLOR: dark brown

HAIR COLOR + STYLE: she switches it up A LOT, but i do imagine her in braids or locs a lot. but basically zoya's hair throughout season 2 of gg is all ic for sassa

ACCENT + INTENSITY: lowkey why can I see her putting on a very subtle transatlantic accent

TATTOO(S): none

SCAR(S): TBD

PIERCING(S): one hole in each earlobe, helix in her left ear

GLASSES: yes, but she NEVER wears them

CLOTHING STYLE: prissy - lots of chanel

PERSONALITY

MBTI TYPE: INFP

POSITIVE TRAITS: intuitive, creative, sensitive, observant, analytical, kind, patient, determined, confident, mysterious, perceptive, loyal, passionate

NEGATIVE TRAITS: ...sometimes over-sensitive, relies on escapism, reserved, critical, vigilante, wary, ruthless, intense, blunt, rude, manipulative, psychotic :)

SKILLS: reinventing herself at the drop of a hat, trusting her instincts, being patient enough to play the long game

GOALS/DESIRES: to get a documentary accepted into sundance, that’s really...the end-all be-all for Sassa

FEARS: TBD

HOBBIES: manipulation

HABITS: TBD

SMOKES? not usually bc she doesn't like the smell, but she will to fit in bc of course she will

DRINKS? yes

DRUGS? yes - typically coke. but she won't do anything too mind altering bc she's such a control freak. occasionally will use adderall or the likes.

HOW SHE EMBODIES HER CHARACTER TROPE: THE GO-GETTER GIRL

Sassa is The Go-Getter Girl because once she puts her mind to something, she does not rest until she gets it. She can be utterly single-minded when it comes to her pursuits, to the point of it becoming a detriment. Don’t tell her that though. She is all about discipline and exceeding expectations. This pressure is almost entirely self-inflicted, but she’s set on achieving her goals, and is dedicated to maintaining the image and work ethic to do so. …mostly. She does have moments where her put-together image cracks and she lets go of control, which is usually followed by a reinvention, a somewhat new Sassa coming out, though the one thing that all the versions of her have in common is that they're entirely focused on their goals.

EXPANDED PERSONALITY:

TBD

CONNECTIONS

some wanted dynamics -

exes ! always more exes - sassa is the type of girlie who simply needs a significant other, and would rather be dating someone she didn't actually like than be single long term so !! a million exes !!!

specifically would love someone she dated or could date to get more popular :) and into the greer crowd (now that greer is gone ofc)

people she's using in various ways actually. the more sinister or slimy the better :) let sassa be insane :)

someone who is suspicious of her? like she's crazy, someone has to see thru all the diff fronts she puts up

i would literally DIE FOR a russ to her drea (from do revenge)

other than that, the norm - friends, enemies, fwb, the more angst & drama the better

RELATIONSHIP TO GREER: 

Greer and Sassa went to high school together. While Sassa was a grade below Greer, and they didn’t run in the same circles (read: Greer was popular, Sassa was not), it was much like Ogden - you couldn’t go to their school without knowing who Greer Morrison was. Even those who stayed to the edges of the social scene, kept their heads down and focused on their school work were unable to miss the glow from THE GOLDEN GIRL.

ABOUT SASSA

FAMILY:

family page tbd

SOCIAL CLASS: upper class

FATHER: TBD

MOTHER: TBD

SIBLING(S)? none, Sassa is an only child (wdym you couldn't tell?)

BIOGRAPHY:

full biography tbd

sassa's parents and greer's parents were friends, but despite the forced proximity, greer and sassa never liked each other growing up

and it only got worse as they got older

(i'm not saying sassa deserved any of it but also ...... like, she do be unhinged)

as the only child of two first generation immigrants, she had a LOT of pressure on her at all times. she basically is all of her parents hopes and dreams and reasons for being in america so....yeah, she has a heavy weight on her shoulders

she went to private school from pre-k all the way to high school graduation. and other than the whole sorta being bullied thing, she very much liked it. the uniforms were totally her aesthetic.

SOME FUN FACTS

sassa is not above using whatever she has to to get ahead. she'll play the victim card, use people without a care for their feelings, hook up with someone, literally nothing is too low for her

she has an eidetic memory and uses it for evil !!

she was definitely a broadway kid when she was, like, younger than 10, and did a part time role in some show. which one i'm too lazy to figure out rn, but kids at school probs made fun of her for it

she's also tried pretty much every sport ever, and would give them up with a tantrum when she wasn't immediately the best at it

despite what sassa says, deep down ..... is she really any better than greer?

literally a huge film bro. gone girl is her fight club.

in general, is hugely into media

it probably comes from like, the deep unrelenting inability she had to feel like she was capable of fitting in and the desperation to find a way to relate to other people her own age. but anyways.

she's literally unhinged !! that's what's important here

her favorite drink is a french 75

FALL SEMESTER TOUCHBASE

MONTY had mentioned at casino night that he heard the cops suspected DIEGO - and since Sassa has caught him in several odd situations, including breaking into a professor's office, she is a bit suspicious of him being the one who originally stole the notes from the investigation (that being how he found out about Diego)

MILO had to deal with the downgrade of Sassa as his new doubles partner this year, and she is trying to lull him into trusting her so she can know secrets - his, Greer's, anyones that he is aware of, really.

At Greer's birthday party, Sassa and LINK struck a tentative truce to work together, but because they're both manipulative pieces of shit, it's really a competition to see who can use the other more affectively. With sexual tension.

Sassa had been dating THE NAIVE NEWCOMER before Greer swooped him up last year - this year, with Greer gone, she did make a move again, a fact she is utterly denying since his expulsion/arrest/perp walk

Sassa found a note in the haunted house that said "GREER TRUSTED SOMEONE SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE"

She also manipulated her way through her second sit down with the investigators and made them absolutely believe she was trustworthy

Apparently G agreed, because shortly after leaving, Sassa received a text that asked if she had ever heard about Greer going into the planned parenthood in town

[bladedwoe]

SHIPPING INFO! ♡

Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog. REPOST. Don’t reblog!

WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE? I don’t really have one. I like the idea of Astrid & Arnbjorn and I would love to explore their dynamic a little more with an Arnbjorn writer. I also am sorta into Vex/Astrid (they can both be mean to men together and Astrid would like to get under her skin). I have also wondered what Delvin & Astrid’s relationship was like, but I’m not a big shipper of them. I say let Astrid kiss all women and men as she wishes <3. 

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING? Anything, really. For toxic ships, I’m more selective and it depends on what it consists of, Hateships, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, arranged marriages and more are free game. For me, shipping isn’t always romantic, I’m into platonic, familial, and enemy dynamics as well. I’ve been leaning more towards the term “dynamic” because it seems more universal than shipping. Since shipping is usually equated with romantic pairings.

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE? As long as all characters are 21+, age gaps don’t matter to me at all.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING? I am, I suppose. I work off of chemistry and usually I like it when there’s progression. If there’s been previous interaction and instances that lead up to the romantic feelings because it makes it easier to write effectively with fluff. Like it’s more realistic to me since there’s reasons for why a character is into another, so chemistry is essential. Sometimes, though rarely, I can work with very little interaction but that’s usually in instances where I know and understand the others’ portrayal. I don’t ship based on face claims. All of my muses are into different traits and features. I think Astrid as a muse, despite being a big flirt, is generally selective with her feelings. She can get crushes easily and can be attracted to someone, but she honestly confuses me because she’ll be soft for someone in one moment and then change her tune in the next. I would love to deeply explore a slow burn dynamic with her. I’m still learning Astrid’s psyche and characterization as I go on, she’s a muse that doesn’t tell me much about herself and keeps a veil of mystery and unpredictableness about her, so I still have to understand her a bit more.

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NSFW? This is a little embarrassing to write out, but basically whenever the clothes come off or one muse or the other (or both) get “excited”. Basically when it gets really suggestive, I’ll throw it under a read more. It really depends on the predicament and my own comfort. I only write suggestive stuff like this on my other blog. I’m also more selective with smut writing than anything else.

WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH? I’m pretty much game for anyone if chemistry is there. I stated already the ships that interest me, but I’m open to mostly anything. I would like to explore a polyamorous relationship with her because so far, most ships have seemed to be monogamous. I’m still learning Astrid as I write her, so I’m eager to learn more about her in a romantic dynamic. I’m also open to non-romantic dynamics as well. I would love to see Astrid as a mentor figure to someone, maybe someone she can see herself in. I am... lowkey.... interested in seeing how a Cicero/Astrid dynamic would work out lmao. The pure chaos of that would be delicious.

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU? Preferably. Usually, I ask just in the instance of force shipping. I don’t want to do that with anyone and I want to make sure we’re on the right page. This also gives someone else the opportunity to deny a ship and we can speak of other dynamics to try with our muses. Sometimes it can be obvious that you and the other mun are into shipping your muses, but I usually prefer asking just in case. It’s just healthy communication behavior. So, I would say I would prefer if someone asks me to ship. Generally, I do want to see more lgbt+ ships with Astrid.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP? Anytime and this isn’t only for romantic shipping. I love to explore dynamics generally. I know shipping is the more popular term, but I love deepening dynamics and trying out different things! I do love a good ounce of fluff and angst and my most memorable times in rping is the ships/dynamics I have dabbled in.

ARE YOU MULTISHIP? Yes. All ships take place in their own verse. With canon relationships, I usually drift to one portrayal because that just makes it easier writing-wise, but I’m open to duplicates.

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS? I guess so? I love writing and talking about dynamics generally (not only in the romantic sense), so I suppose I am lmao.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM? I’m not sure lmao. I don’t really participate much in the skyrim ship sphere. 

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU? Basically, just interaction lmao. I don’t mind pre-establish relationships to get the first meeting awkwardness out of the way, but basically just ask me and I’ll give my answer. Once we start interacting more, we can see where things go! Don’t assume or force me into a ship.

TAGGED BY: stole it

TAGGING: steal it from me!

[circusclownsam]

how to train your dragon OC

general information

first name; min-ya

last name; choi

nicknames; minnie, prefers that name only

species; human

gender; female

born; 3 / 9

age; 18-20s

race; asian

ethnicity; korean / australian

voice/accent; mid pitch, noticeable australian accent, slight raspiness

tribe; hairy hooligans

occupation; dragon rider

scent; a soft, vanilla smell

physical appearance

height; 5’2 [158cm]

weight; light

skin tone; warm tan

eye colour; dark blue with specks of light blue around her pupils

hair colour; chocolate brown

hair length; roughly hip length

hair texture; 2c

body shape; hourglass, small waist, d cup, average thickness (idk how to describe bodies)

face claim; https://pin.it/4H7atqRle

scars; inner thighs, arms and back. prefers hiding them.

other features; freckled cheeks, nose and shoulders. dimpled smile

attire

main attire;

; https://pin.it/3YMvrSTeO

; https://pin.it/6beRu6f0W

; https://pin.it/6IJ1XoA35

; https://pin.it/5ymcAHdQf

; https://pin.it/IlDKMotwV

; https://pin.it/qFlhXkKAB

; https://pin.it/2xBbTnpqI [both wrists]

; https://pin.it/4RX6YtAnX

; https://pin.it/6VOB7ErOh

personality

described as by others; kept to herself, quiet

positive traits; caring, selfless, humorous, trustworthy, kind, protective, supportive, intelligent

negative traits; introverted, blunt, cold, sarcastic, judgmental [to an extent]

neutral traits; flirtatious, honest, playful

interests; mapping with hiccup, training with astrid, her dragon, reading in her alone time, defeating dragon hunters, her personal space [mood], speed stingers, sharpening her axe, gardening with fishlegs, spending time with the twins and snotlout, fortifying her hut, protecting the edge and berk, visiting heather and dagur on berserker island, sewing in her spare time

disinterests; dragon hunters, sudden physical contact, when things are messy, her parents, liars, being forced into things, when her things go missing, thunderstorms, getting lost, slimey textured food, alvin the treacherous, the cold [more to come, probably]

fears; deep water [to an extent], whispering deaths

habits; neatening things, scratching at her scars

hobbies; sewing, reading and drawing in her notebook

insecurities; her scars, mostly

stats [1-10]

physical strength; 8/10

mental strength; 6/10

confidence; 5/10

speed; 8/10

agility; 7/10

cooking; 9/10

balance; 8/10

sewing; 7/10

drawing; 9/10

intelligence; 8/10

offence; 8/10

defence; 7/10

hygiene; 10/10

dental care; 10/10

eyesight; 10/10

relations

father; robert choi, deceased, strained relationship due to abuse.

mother; lin choi, alive, strained relationship due to neglect.

sister; only child, though sees heather and astrid as her “sisters”

friends; astrid, hiccup, fishlegs, snotlout, ruffnut & tuffnut, heather, dagur, valka, eret, stoick

closer to; hiccup, astrid, heather

allies; mala and defenders of the wing tribe, atali and the wingmaidens

enemies; dragon hunters, mostly. drago bludvist, grimmel the grisly

pets; a three-legged terrible terror named smokey

dragon[s] she’s close to; her dragon, toothless

love interest[s]; hiccup haddock

dragon information [species, name etc][non-canon dragon][very long, sorry!]

dragon name; echo

dragon appearance; https://pin.it/2AUk8ueLF [cred to artist, ofc]

species; deadly nightmare

species description; a distant relative of the deadly nadder and monstrous nightmare

height; 11’6 [3.52m]

weight; 1,776 lbs [805.6 kg], far lighter than its relative; the deadly nadder

wingspan; 53 feet 11 inches (16.44 meters)

rarity; not very rare, though numbers are slimming due to poaching

diet; boar, fish, chicken, depending on nesting grounds

habitats; forests, volcanoes, caves and sandy beaches

abilities; spine shot [single and multiple], coat themselves in fire, enhanced speed and smell, use their tail to grab ahold of things

fire blast; similar to its cousin, the monstrous nightmare

dragon class; tracker and sharp class

personality traits; skittish, insanely loyal, protective of their rider

colouration; depends on their habitats, lush green [forest], an ashy grey and deep red [volcano], deep blue and black [cave] and a nice, yellow hue with white specks [beaches]

camouflage; depending on colouration, deadly nightmares are able to easily blend in with their habitats

trainable?; yes

success rate; 50 - 50

equipment

primary weapon; double-headed axe

located; a holster strapped to the back of her armour

appearance; https://pin.it/4gmzlxWpP

secondary weapon; a dagger

appearance; https://pin.it/2ifTfTeTd

located; a holster on the left side of her belt

notebook; https://pin.it/5X8IqM3KW

located in; a side-pouch on her belt

dragon saddle; https://pin.it/5MJjlvtY3

[novaursa]

A Flame Torn (broken)

- Summary: Your father breaks Aegon, to avenge your broken heart.

- Paring: cousin!reader/Aegon (The Uncrowned) Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: unworthy

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @callsignwidow

The air around the God’s Eye was thick with mist and tension, the sun a pale disk veiled behind gray clouds. On the shores of the great lake, two dragons faced each other, their wings spread wide, casting long shadows across the water. The sky above roiled with the promise of a storm, as if the gods themselves were watching the confrontation that would reshape the fate of House Targaryen.

Maegor the Cruel sat astride Balerion the Black Dread, his armor gleaming black as the shadow of his dragon. The sight of the monstrous dragon, its scales dark as night and its eyes like pools of hot coals, was enough to strike fear into the heart of any man. But across from him, mounted upon the smaller yet valiant Quicksilver, was Aegon the Uncrowned, his silver-gold hair caught in the wind, his expression resolute.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind and the distant cry of a lone bird. Then Aegon’s voice cut through the silence, carrying across the water with a desperate determination. “Uncle, listen to reason! We do not have to spill each other’s blood today. I offer you peace—an alliance that will strengthen our family and unite our claims. Marry me to Y/N. Let me be her husband, and I will support your reign.”

Maegor’s eyes, cold and unfeeling, narrowed at Aegon’s words. He had anticipated many things, but not this—a plea for peace from the nephew who had once sought his throne. “You think you can mend what you broke, boy?” he growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. “You think you can repair the heart you shattered with a few sweet words?”

Aegon’s grip tightened on Quicksilver’s reins, desperation flickering in his eyes. “I severed my betrothal to Rhaena when my father still lived! I did it for her, for Y/N, and for the hope that one day she might forgive me. I know I have done wrong, but this... this is a chance to make it right. Let me stand beside her. Let us unite our blood for the realm’s sake.”

Maegor’s expression twisted into a sneer. “You will never have her, Aegon. Not after what you did. And not after the way you grovel now, begging for scraps like a dog. My daughter deserves more than you—a weakling who hides behind words and hopes for mercy.”

Aegon’s face hardened, a steely resolve replacing the plea in his voice. “You claim to care for her, yet you refuse her happiness. I will not let you destroy all that is left of our family’s hope.”

Maegor’s laughter echoed across the lake, a dark, mocking sound that sent a shiver down Aegon’s spine. “You think yourself a hero, but you are a fool. You speak of family, yet you challenge me, the rightful king, for a throne you are too weak to hold.” He raised his hand, and Balerion bellowed, the sound reverberating like the roar of an erupting volcano. “Very well, then, boy. If you wish to play the hero, let us see how you fare in the flames.”

Without another word, Maegor spurred Balerion forward, the Black Dread surging into the sky with a terrifying speed. Aegon followed, Quicksilver’s wings beating rapidly as they ascended above the God’s Eye. The two dragons circled each other like dark stars, their riders grim and silent, preparing for the battle that could only end in blood.

Fire filled the air as Balerion unleashed a torrent of flame, the heat so intense that the waters of the lake below began to steam. Quicksilver darted through the air, smaller and faster, evading the worst of the flames, but the heat singed its silver wings. Aegon urged his dragon higher, guiding Quicksilver with precision, but each time he drew closer, Maegor drove them back with Balerion’s powerful dives and strikes.

“You were never meant for the throne, Aegon!” Maegor shouted, his voice carrying across the sky. “You do not have the strength to rule, nor the spine to keep it!”

“And you will never understand what it means to protect the realm!” Aegon shouted back, his voice hoarse with rage and pain. “All you know is blood and terror!”

Their dragons clashed, talons raking against scales, jaws snapping in a frenzy of rage. Quicksilver bit at Balerion’s neck, but the larger dragon swung its massive head, sending Quicksilver spiraling through the air. For a moment, it looked as if Aegon might recover, but Maegor directed Balerion down with a savage strike, and Balerion’s jaws closed around Quicksilver’s wing.

With a sickening crack, Quicksilver’s wing was torn apart. The smaller dragon’s roar of agony filled the air as it fell, its body twisting as it plummeted toward the lake below. Aegon’s grip on his saddle slipped, his face a mask of desperation as he struggled to regain control.

Balerion followed, a dark shadow against the stormy sky. With a final, vicious strike, Balerion’s massive maw closed around Quicksilver’s neck, ending the smaller dragon’s struggle in an instant. The two dragons, locked together in a deadly embrace, crashed into the waters of the God’s Eye, sending up a massive wave that rippled across the shore.

Aegon, mortally wounded, lay in the water, gasping as he tried to rise, blood pouring from the wounds inflicted by the fall and Balerion’s might. His eyes, filled with pain and a lingering hope, sought out Maegor as his uncle dismounted from Balerion’s back, the massive dragon looming behind him like the shadow of death.

Maegor stalked through the shallows, his expression cold as he looked down at the prince he had bested. “You speak of love, Aegon. Of peace. But you were always too weak to understand what it truly costs. You were never worthy of her.”

Aegon’s breath came in wet, shuddering gasps, his body trembling from the pain of his wounds. “And... you think... you know her heart?” he managed to choke out, his voice barely a whisper. “She... will never forgive you... for this.”

Maegor’s lips curled into a dark smile, his eyes glittering with cruel satisfaction. “She does not need to. She will understand, in time, that this is the only way. You were a lesson, Aegon. A lesson in what happens to those who overreach.”

With that, Maegor turned and walked away, leaving Aegon to his final breaths in the cold waters of the God’s Eye. The ripples of his passing spread out across the lake, mingling with the blood of the fallen dragon, a dark stain against the gray waters.

The healers who rushed to the shore found nothing but the broken body of a once-proud prince, his spirit fading with the last light of the dying sun. 

And somewhere in the distance, you feel a chill wind brush against your skin as you wait, knowing that your father will soon return with victory—but at the cost of something that was once precious, something you will never be able to reclaim.

[sweetbitterbitten]

🌿🍒 ( anne )

a year has flown since she was forced into unweddedship, her grip of crown and king wrung until sprung with blisters. she is allowed entrance, invited to festivity only for the sake of elizabeth. and henry's delight in driving home the dagger, his swagger ten times swole since seymour's lying in.

he basks in banquet halls, filled with faith and ale that a son - long awaited, heavily paid for - will come.

when it spreads as common sickness through the corridors that a white buck has been spotted on a snow capped hill - he trumpets a call to arms. all able bodied rider, hunter, archer must attend and follow as he mounts and makes merry for the chase.

fortune and favor are found in the skin of this furred creature - he deduces, determines it's appearance a sign, a token he will take to line the bed of his new bride. for signs must be pursued past all reason and sense.

anne joins astride her own animal, glance touched to secretary's seconding of the motion, bow latched and attached to his blackclad frame. with a click of tongue to teeth she spurs into motion, the master's shadow quick and competent on her heels.

the court carouses about them as carp caught in a net, some carrying spears and torches, others instruments, which incite the revelry to rejoin and carry the party onward to ever higher plains and pleasantries.

the hounds have at it, baying more to the moon than to any trail sufficiently tracked - and soon boots dismount, cloaks are clung to as forested paths part and put up white blanketed walls. the party spreads, separates; some still singing raucously as they ramble on.

the men have guts to guide them on, she allows herself a moment of lingering in the left over party - listening as if the wood itself would surrender some secret, unmarked sound.

she barely notes the whistle when it comes, the silent scream of something sharply spiraling through the air, before she is bodily thrust through thick foliage and cushioned fiercely to the trunk of a tree.

there is but a g a s p , and then a bevy of deep and heavy breath - frost air bathing back in the face of her rescuer. a scold set deep to his lips, dark eyes iron maidens withholding frustration, fury. 'how foolish and without foresight to wear nothing but white in a snowy wood when all manner of weapon would be in use'. though onyx locks should have assured safety, those bark black curls have only tumbled free because of his force.

eyes acquiesce for a heartsbeat to close, head tipped back, hair tangled lightly to the base of the tree - and upon opening, spot a season's sentinel - silent regarding.

her gaze returns, righted to his own. reply but wind itself, intoxicating and all but inaudible, as cloak is unclasped, removed (displaced snow scaling down her back and setting in a shiver) relegated about his own shoulders and held close at the throat.

"cover me, cromwell - and claim what nature states is your d u e . we've proven a cape is perfect camouflage. if thou art mistaken for a hotblooded creature...let you at least... e a r n your w o u n d ."

[choicesbookclub]

Welcome to the Choices Book Club! We are currently reading Crimes of Passion II as a group. The book releases a new chapter every Wednesday on the Choices App.

This Week’s Chapter: Chapter Sixteen—Heavy is the Crown

Question(s) of the Week: 

What do you WANT to see in tomorrow's book two finale? [Vote Now]

How do you rate this chapter? [Vote Here]

How do you rate Book 2 overall? [Vote Here]

What are your thoughts on the premium outfit? [Vote Here]

Reflection time: favorite moments in the chapter or book

Do you think PB intended Book 2 to be the series finale? [Vote Here]

What are your thoughts on the bonus scene? Was it worth it? Did it have a point?

Astrid's next in line!!! Thoughts?!

How did you feel about the love confessions? Was it worth the wait?

How did you spend Trystan's first moments of freedom? (Wax or massage)

Despite it's ups and downs, how satisfied are you with book 2's ending? [Vote Here]

Newly added questions in red

How else to Participate:

Post reactions, screenshots, videos, ramblings, theories,… whatever comes to you while playing

Create drawings, edits, moodboards, fics, headcanons, songs, poems, etc based on the chapters and/or characters

Create a profile page for your detective and/or royal and submit it for the Detectives’ and Royal’s Profile Page

Share your detective and Trystan choices (the pixel versions and/or face claim versions)

Catch up on any of the previous week's questions/prompts

Posts that tag @choicesbookclub and use “#choices book club” will be reblogged here

[Please read the full guide to the event and how to participate here]

[anneli-oldenburg]

b i o g r a p h y

↬ Full name ↫

Princess Anneli Astri Bjorgman Oldenburg of Arendelle

↬ Nickname ↫

El, Ellie

↬ Birthday ↫

Nov 30

↬ Birthplace ↫

Kingdom of Arendelle

↬ Zodiac ↫

Sagittarius

↬ Height ↫

5'7"

↬ Orientation ↫

Bisexual

↬ Social Class ↫

Upper-- she's a royal

↬ Wealth ↫

Extremely wealthy

a p p e a r a n c e

↬ Tattoos ↫

I don't know if she has any, or if they does they are in white ink

↬ Piercing ↫

Just ears

p e r s o n a l i t y 

↬ Normal mood ↫

El is normally in a good mood and is happy but because she's a princess she's also good at putting on a stone cold face and not showing emotions

↬ Temper ↫

She absolutely has a temper in some situations, she's very entitled

↬ Discipline ↫

She is very disciplined in the public eye and in her parents' eyes, but not at all in private

↬ Strengths ↫

Ellie is emotionally strong, not a lot phases her but sometimes that's to a fault

↬ Weaknesses ↫

Hurting the people that she loves and threatening her kingdom

↬ Drive/dreams ↫

To be Queen of Arendelle

↬ Fears ↫

Her kingdom falling or not being able to be Queen

↬ Likes ↫

She loves a good traditional homemade meal, not whatever fancy stuff is served at formal dinners. She loves to dance and go on fun trips while she can.

↬ Dislikes ↫

Being stuck in the palace

↬ Soft spot ↫

Her fam

↬ Depression ↫

Knowing that she'll be stuck in Arendelle forever once she's queen

↬ Inspiration ↫

Power?

↬ Role model ↫

Her ancestors who had great power

↬ Habits ↫

She's a hair twirler when she's bored

↬ Love Language ↫

acts of service and words of affirmation

r a t i n g s 

(5 Stars means very high strength, 1 star means very low strength aka weak)

↬ Psychological strength ↫

very?

↬ Physical strength ↫

she can kick some ass, she didn't want to be seen as weak

↬ Leadership ↫

natural born leader

↬ Wisdom ↫

it depends, for the kindom she thinks things through, but with personal choices they can be kind of rash

↬ Intelligence ↫

she's pretty intelligent, people are quick to underestimate her

↬ Confidence ↫

TOO CONFIDENT

↬ Endurance ↫

she is resistant to change but eventually learns to adapt

r e l a t i o n s h i p s

↬ Father ↫

King Erik of Arendelle. They have amicable relationship, but they were never close growing up.

↬ Mother ↫

Queen Astrid of Arendelle. They have a tumultuous relationship, really they never see eye to eye.

↬ Siblings ↫

She has a younger brother, Bodie, and younger sister, Halley

↬ Other relatives ↫

Anneli just found out that she has a cousin, Lyra, is and very suspicious of her and her motives.

↬ Enemies ↫

N/A

↬ Rivals ↫

Anyone who has a claim to the Arendellian throne

↬ Friends ↫

other royal girls who like to go out and party

↬ Best friend ↫

no idea

↬ Love interest ↫

not yet!!!

↬ Marital status ↫

single

↬ Children ↫

n/a

↬ Pets ↫

she probs has reindeer but maybe a pet cat, i feel like no one has any. Norwegian forest cat called Freya

p a s s - t i m e

↬ Hobbies ↫

travel and party

↬ Talents ↫

dancing, ice skating

↬ Sports ↫

see above

↬ Occupation ↫

princess

 h o m e   l i f e 

↬ Location ↫

Arendelle

↬ House size ↫

GIANT

↬ House type ↫

it's a castle

↬ Level of luxury ↫

100/10

↬ Bedroom description ↫

whites and pastels, v lush and cozy

L I F E    S T O R Y 

↬ Age 0-12 ↫

Anneli was v much brought up a princess. she was always in lessons, she was always present at events and on her best behavior even at a young age.

↬ Age 13-18 ↫

once she hit teen years she started to want to go out and see the world more, which her mother thought was pointless because her duty is to arendelle. Anneli agrees that her duty is to her kingdom, but once she was 15/16 she started to sneak out to go to parties/clubs. She continued to do so, but once she was 18 she told her mother she couldn't be held captive in the kingdom anymore and began to travel

↬ Age 19-30 (or 25) ↫

Anneli has managed to keep her private life separate from her life as a princess, and the public adores their sweet princess but has no idea what she does when it gets dark or while she's away from home

↬ Darkest secret ↫

when Anneli was 17, she shared a kiss with Ryker, a descendent of Briar Malin during a game at a party. He started to pursue her, but she rejected him. Ryker put a hex on Anneli where the next person she kisses on the lips will be cursed, and the only way to be rid of the hex is if she chooses to be with him. Since then, Anneli has never kissed another person on the lips out of fear of cursing them, as she doesn't know what the curse would entail.

[dzzydaydreams]

BASICS . full name . king sebastián vera . nickname ( s ) . seb ( not often used he's a man that likes his formalities ) . age & birthday . 650 . 08/01 . leo . gender & pronouns . cismale he / him . sexuality . demisexual . height . 5 ' 11 " . family . astrid vera ( first wife ) ( deceased ) , arturo vera ( younger brother ) ( deceased ) . residence . celestial zenith . faceclaim . pedro pascal .

PERSONALITY . ( + ) independent , resourceful . ( - ) aloof , secretive . there's no getting around the king is somewhat two-faced , outwardly welcoming and accommodating but in reality distrusting and cautious around outsiders . he's a man prideful and protective of his domain and will do anything to keep everything in an order of peace . he struggles to reach out for help and refuses to be seen as weak . he's not known for his humor nor his softness . there doesn't seem to be much to actually move him emotionally .

BIOGRAPHY . tw . death mention ( . ) firstborn son to the royal family and third in his line to have a gift such as solar manipulation, his brother was born fifty years after him but the pair were thick as thieves. he had no qualms with his destiny as a king, he spent most of his young life preparing for his father's death. he took a shine to painting and was proficient enough in combat. his brother took on more of a protector role early on as his life seemed to be mapped out for himself. ( . ) he met a girl a dutchess who he claimed actually bewitched him. he adored her as if she were the sun and did everything in his power to make her happy. ( . ) it was the matriarch of the vera family that passed first when sebastián was two hundred and his father followed his wife to the grave shortly after passing when the now king was two hundred and ten. shifting into his new role wasn't particularly challenging and he took the opportunity to marry the girl who had him wrapped around her little finger. ( . ) he started to stray from the traditional aspect of life and started to shape aerendel into what it is today. truly anything was possible with his wife, brother, and people by his side. arturo was the only one the king trusted when it came to the care and protection of his wife. sebastián lost both of them to blight reapers in one fatal blow shortly after turning four hundred. ( . ) he hasn't been quite the same after the loss but he pushes forward in ever-growing and improving his kingdom. will do anything to keep it the safe haven in the sky. ( . ) doesn't know what to make of the humans just yet with how he's seen them treated their own home with strife. they have yet to prove themselves in his eyes.

CONNECTIONS . ! i swear i'll add some later !

CREDIT . graphic template by glitchkingdesign