#Forge seriously put some clothes on

[stormandforge]

Daisy dukes and nothing else

Just found New Mutants #66 again:

The shorts situation is out of control. He usually wears a polo shirt with them at least, but not here, noo. Penciller Bret Levins decided that in the land of mutants, there is no need for clothing.

There is no conclusion to this post, except to say that the 80s were wild, and that Mr Blorbo over here continues to embarrass me on a regular basis.

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his petite gn s/o wearing his clothes?

absolutely, lovely! here you go:

Astarion

100% makes a comment about you looking “good enough to eat”

but, seriously. he jokes to cover up how delighted he is.

you’re wearing his usual casual campsite shirt, the open neck of it revealing a large portion of your chest - Astarion can’t help peppering the exposed skin with kisses 💕

wants to see you in more comfortable domestic situations with him. I think this is part of when he realises how utterly enamoured he is with you.

lets you sleep in it and watches you dream. can’t take his eyes off how lovely you are.

Gale

you’ve definitely stolen a robe of his, I think. probably wearing it because you can’t be bothered to get dressed properly lmao

he’s surprised when he spots you. takes a moment to just watch you being in his clothes. has a huge smile on his face when you turn around.

”apologies, you just look… radiant.”

you laugh - because let’s be honest, he’s compliment his own dress sense too - and pull him in for a kiss.

he runs his hands up and down your body to feel the shape of engulfed in his finery, smiles against your lips 💕

Wyll

so so so so pleased.

we know this lovely lad is a romantic. there’s something so soft and intimate about you wearing something of his.

”sorry I just needed a shirt while I tried to find—“ “keep it. it looks far better on you than it does on me.”

a grin crosses your face, you stalk across to him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“hmm, I don’t know if that’s true… it would look best on the tent floor.”

laugh when he widens his eyes in mock-surprise at the scandal of it all, and you use the opportunity to pull him into a loving kiss 💕

suddenly more of his shirts end up in your wardrobe. he likes knowing you have a part of him with you if you leave the camp without his company.

Halsin

the one most likely to have a visceral reaction.

his jaw tightens. he lets out the littlest growl.

silvanus preserve him, he feels so territorial over you… you’re wrapped in his shirt (he’s huge, you can probably wear it as a whole outfit lbr) and you look so warm and safe. protected. he wants to keep you that way forever - he vows he will.

when you tell him it smells of him and you find it comforting he swear his soul leaves his body

(NSFW) most likely to have you wear it while you ride him later 💕

Dammon

huge grin when he spots you pottering around the forge in one of his shirts.

”why are you in that old thing, love?” ”because it reminded me of you, and you’re my favourite thing in the entire world.”

he grins and puts down his work, wrapping you in his arms as well as his shirt, tail swishing in joy.

wears one of your shirts the next day and is so so happy when you burst out laughing before giving him a long kiss 💕

Rolan

pretends to be annoyed. “get your own clothes!”

secretly so thrilled lol. never had a serious significant other before, especially not one who’d wear his things.

loves how it looks on you. can’t stop stealing glances, appreciating the way it hangs on your body. brings out all the bits he most admires about you.

you catch him looking and wink. he goes a bright red… well, brighter.

Zevlor

“oh, do you need more clothes? I can get some for you.”

laugh good-naturedly at his concern and assure him it’s just because you like wearing something which reminds you of him. watch his eyes soften in adoration.

“ah, my love. you know how to stir this old warrior’s heart.”

holds you at arm’s length while you do a spin so he can properly admire you before pulling you to his chest for a deep kiss 💕

[lizhly-writes]

@enigma-the-mysterious @theembergazer @lonesome-greenery @somefishycat @kitten-kokomo AIGHT I figure I've written at least 15 sentences here. Welcome to some fake dating shenanigans. Sort of.

.

There was a hairpin, intricately forged and set with amber stones, rich brown and warm gold.

If Liu Qingge was a poetic man -- which he wasn't -- he would compare them to Shang Qinghua's eyes. The way they looked when they caught the setting sun, when Shang Qinghua had triumphantly stormed Bai Zhan, the head of a legendary beast in hand, the edge of a grin on his mouth. Look, I did it just like you wanted me to. I did it just like how you never expected. Isn't it impressive? Aren't I impressive?

Liu Qingge put the hairpin down and walked away.

Five minutes later, Liu Qingge came back and bought the stupid hairpin.

What am I even doing, he thought, even as he handed the money over and carefully tucked the hairpin away in his qiankun pouch. I don't even like Shang Qinghua.

Even if he did like Shang Qinghua -- not that he liked Shang Qinghua -- it... wasn't enough.

A hairpin was traditional in a way that was significantly less impressive than three weeks of paperwork. It was proper, but it wasn't proper. It was. Sentimental. Sweet. It wasn't making an effort, and An Ding demanded effort.

It was still something. Surely a gift had to be better than no gift at all?

.

Liu Qingge came to An Ding at sunset.

How romantic. Shang Qinghua wondered if Liu Qingge had timed it, just like Shang Qinghua had when he visited Bai Zhan -- but nah, probably not. Liu Qingge wasn't really good at figuring out optics. If he was, he would have made this nice and public, so they could flaunt how much time they were spending together because clearly they were in love. Something like that, anyway.

Oh well, it didn't really matter. Shang Qinghua could still spin a nice little story about it. Gush a bit about how Liu-shidi had come to see him. The brave warrior returning home, eagerly rushing to see his lover's face, the first thing he did above anything else. Very nice. Now, if Liu Qingge could give him a dramatic declaration of love, it would be perfect.

"Welcome back, Liu-shidi," Shang Qinghua said. "How was your mission?"

"Fine," Liu Qingge said, and then, in a more constipated-sounding voice, he said, "Shang Qinghua."

Shang Qinghua waited with bated breath. This would be the perfect time to say something sentimental like, "I missed you! My love, my life, our parting was a deep sorrow that condemned my heart to the deepest, darkest abyss. What joy seeing your countenance does me! Let us passionately celebrate our reunion with etc etc to be continued, please check under the biggest stone under the most interestingly-shaped tree between Xian Shu and An Ding if you want to continue reading, pay a fee of one spirit stone."

"Yes?" Shang Qinghua said leadingly. He smiled his best smile.

This somehow seemed to be too much for Liu Qingge. "Here," he said brusquely, shoving a little bundle of wrapped cloth into Shang Qinghua's arms. Then he stalked off without another word.

Rude???

Rude! Rude!! Incredibly fucking rude! Okay, it wasn't like Shang Qinghua was actually expecting some kind of romantic confession, especially when there was no audience here to pretend for besides Shang Qinghua himself, but come on! What was that? Not even a hi, good to see you? What was even the point visiting An Ding, then? Seriously, just package delivery?

Shang Qinghua looked down. The little of wrapped cloth was, in fact, a neatly-wrapped package, which he wouldn't have paid much mind to if it had not been a prettily-wrapped package. Less routine delivery and more gift.

He tilted this situation around a bit in his head to see if there was literally any other way he could interpret it, but no, it seemed Liu Qingge really had just gotten him a gift and ran off, sort of like a shy maiden deeply afraid of rejection.

Shang Qinghua was torn between laughing at this picture in his head (Liu Qinge, shy maiden?) or staring confusedly at it (shy maiden? Liu Qingge???). He could have spent some time overthinking it, but instead, he decided just to open the package.

"Huh," Shang Qinghua said aloud.

There was no one around to hear him. It was just him, and a very beautiful hairpin between his fingers. That Liu Qingge had apparently gotten him.

A hairpin. From Liu Qingge.

Was it possible Liu Qingge meant to give it to someone else? Like his sister? His sister would probably like a hairpin. Maybe Liu Qingge had meant to give something else to Shang Qinghua, and had mixed up the packages.

But the gemstones on it were in An Ding colors.

There was a weird, fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach.

...Indigestion, probably.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Trunk or Treat with The Yandere Student Council Pt. I

Based Off the OCs in this Post

“Alright everyone let’s start talking about ideas!” 

“Uhm do you mean ideas for what to do with Halloween coming?”

“Oh no darling, we always do a Trunk or Treat kind of thing.”

“We are talking about our costumes.”

As bizarre as it sounds the college’s students look forward to the costumes of the student council

Allowed to enjoy whatever festivity that comes with their choice

For reference they share that last year they had a ‘kiss–in–the–coffin’ booth for their shared vampire costumes

“J-j-just so you know the kisses were on the cheek only!”

“I didn’t ask but okay.”

It set the precedent for this year to be just amazing if not better

“Since we have you now (Y/n) we should have something special that welcomes you in!”

“I-i-i-i think that’s a great idea.”

“I’m all for it too!”

Despite your protests, in fear of being singled out by their fans your haters they forge on

“They won’t be bothering you. Not on my watch.”

“You say that but–”

“Seriously (Y/n) believe us! We’ll make sure there won’t be any problems.”

“And if there are we will kill them.”

“What?!”

“Joking. Joking.”

They’re not

Anyway it was decided on that the council will be Ghostly Royalty

Which makes costumes really easy or so you thought 

According to Min, quite a large part of the budget went into your costumes

“Pick your jaw up (Y/n)! This is the best part! You don’t think we get this big of a budget without showing off, do you?”

“Still…it feels a bit overkill…especially when I don’t have a fan base at all.”

“Ohhh that’s what you think–ow!” 

“Roman, always such an optimistic chatterbox. Always saying things that are not true.”

Lucoa takes the role of the king naturally

Spencer is forcefully given the role of the queen

Min takes the role of the dungeon master, despite his meek character

Roman takes the role of an advisor

Gil as a duke

June as a duchess

“Wait so what am I?”

“Our dragon.”

“What?!”

“We wanted to put a spin on the old system!”

“But that isn’t really accurate…nor does it really fit the ghost royalty theme.”

“.....”

“....”

“So? We’re doing fantasy ghosts then.”

In your opinion, it's just an excuse to make your costume as ridiculous as they please

“This is an early draft of your costume.”

“What!? Wait where are the actual clothes? I’m just seeing gold necklaces and bangles.”

“...That was the idea.”

“I’m not wearing that if there aren’t actual clothes underneath there.”

“...But it will ruin the integrity of the design and disrupt the choreography and–”

“Then hide it under the gold! I’m not going to be half-naked for the entire school.”

“...I will consult the President.”

You owed him a favor after that

Saying you agreed to this as an honorary member

But when you’re not having to fight Gill on your costume designs

You are helping the others

“June…this is just a dress.”

“Right, it’s a perfect occasion to wear it. And don’t my hips feel and look great.”

Adjusting the golden belt meant to hang off his waist you try to ignore how his poses requires that he touch you in some way shape or form

“Well yeah but don’t you feel like your fans would want you in something else?”

“Oh baby! You don’t have to worry, they love this sort of thing.”

And helping with their research

“Roman I know you never seem to run out of ideas to hang out but why a medieval diner?”

“It's for research! By the way, how do you like the food? I made sure the critiques were as positive as they could get.”

“Roman.”

“Yes?”

“Why did that waitress, compliment our relationship?”

“OMG they brought another plate of bread and for free? So cool.”

“Roman!”

Or helping organize their booths

“So Spencer what are you going for?”

“A kind of dunk tank except it drops on me.”

“Oh okay….this says that you’re not actually using water but…oil?”

“Yeah Lucoa suggested I show off my scars and muscles.”

“Wait you have those?”

“Hahaha very funny but seriously give me your opinion.”

“Oh wow….yeah, I think they’ll like it…no they’ll love it.”

“Oh really? Well, thanks!”

As if he didn’t already know

But eventually as the date comes closer it comes time to focus on your booth

But it seems that as an honorary member you don’t get to have much control over your own booth

Or any decision involving your event

“Hey Min what are you building over there?”

“Oh this is the art for your exhibit. Lucoa put me in charge of matching the gold from your costume to the setting around there.”

“Aw thanks can I help?”

“N-n-no!”

“Oh.”

“S-s-s-sorry the President gave us explicit instructions not to include you in the making of it. I’m r-r-r-r-really so sorry!”

“It’s fine Min, don’t worry about it.”

It’s just so apparent how little you would be included in your own activity no one really bothered to hide that fact from you

“Hey Gill this meeting on your calendar, I don’t remember getting your usual reminder for it.”

“That is because you are not invited to it.”

“Don’t be sad (Y/n)~Afterwards we can just come visit you after.”

“No no that’s okay I’ll just take the day off then. Catch up on homework.”

“Aw~ Don’t be like that we’ll come over to your house after.”

“No I’m not sad. I’m going to be happily doing my homework alone!”

“Putting that on our private calendar: Going to (Y/n)’s house an hour after the meeting.”

At the end of the day you’re just as surprised when the event begins and they shove you in the room under the stage with nothing but a warning not to move from the chair you’re in:

Part 2

[ididntknowwhattocallthis]

Ok I wanna talk about Ethari's clothing/design over all. His clothes and tattoos are different from every other Moonshadow elf we've seen, and he's one of the few that doesn't wear braids. Like:

The recurring elements are intricate patterning; over layers and under layers; multiple colors in the same garment (or at least same outfit); wraparound construction, color contrast between mediums, lights, and darks; and the dominant color is always the medium, never the lightest or darkest color (usually navy, true black is very rare outside of the assassins). Even arc 2 Rayla follows most of these rules and she's been away from her culture for two years!

But then we have Ethari:

He doesn't have an outer layer, he wears almost solid navy, none of those clothes are wraparound, he has no light color, there's not a lot of contrast, and his dark color is true black despite not being an assassin. He bends all the rules, though he only breaks one completely. He still has that patterning, but it's minimal compared to the others. He has plenty of accent colors, more than anyone else actually, but they show up on him far less. He does have light, medium, and dark colors, but his whole pallet is darker than everyone else's. The only rule he 100% breaks is the wraparound construction

A lot of this probably derives from the fact that he's a metalsmith:

For the most part his clothes quite are practical;

Black/navy hides coal dust/soot very well. It gets everywhere, on your pants and face especially, and is highly visible on just about every other color.

Forging is hot work & you do it next to a fire that needs to be at least 1000° celsius, I never wear more than one layer either.

those sleeves, while a bit looser than I'd be comfortable with, probably aren't going to get in the way. Plus I heard somewhere that they're spelled to repel heat (couldn't find if that's actually canon tho), so if that's true they're much better than my gloves.

The crop top isn't great but he's got that belt to stop most embers. Besides he's probably not the type to yelp every time one lands on him like I am.

if he pulls the scarf over his mouth & nose it'll help delay him getting lung cancer in the death trap of a smithy Wonderstorm designed for him (my problems with it are a post all on their own. I have nothing against the artists, its pretty, but by all rights he should be dead)

There might also be a cultural aspect to his clothing:

I think the navy blue, the arm bands, the boot decorations, and his belt & tabard could all be symbols that mean "I am a metalsmith" in Moonshadow culture. (Quick side note, he's not technically a blacksmith. historically blacksmith means specifically iron workers. If anything he's a whitesmith since he usually works with silver.) We see it with the assassins, why not metalsmiths too?

Plus if you take a look at his forge in the art book, there's a design carved on it that looks almost exactly like the one on his tabard. Elements of it also appear on other parts of his clothing:

I suspect that this is some sort of symbol for metal working or fire protection. If he's in a guild it could be their symbol, or it could just be a wider cultural symbol. Either way it has a meaning that relates to the forge specifically. I couldn't find it anywhere else in the room.

I just realized that I never even brought up the metal hems on his sleeves. Then again what is there to say? It's metal, he's a metalsmith. It's pretty, he likes pretty things.

But what about the rule he completely breaks?

As I said, every moonshadow garment has some sort of wrap-and-secure construction to it-- except Ethari's clothes. I seriously doubt this is a metalsmith thing. Basic garment construction isn't a sensible way to differentiate your group within one culture. I fully believe Ethari is doing this on purpose. But why? That why gets even bigger when you realize that no other moonshadow elves we've met have brown eyes or periwinkle blue tattoos.

Put a pin in all that, I need to explain my interpretation of Moonshadow culture for this to make sense.

"Moon Primal creatures can be private and secretive, and are keenly aware of the power of appearances." - from the official website

"Moonshadow Elves obey a rather rigid, honor-driven culture." - from the wiki

To me this paints a picture of a fairly collectivist culture. They place a heavy emphasis on community and duty, two things that are usually more peaceful/simpler when you have cohesion within the group. Cohesion creates less conflict, less conflict makes your community more peaceful and your duty to it easier to complete.

But they know that this cohesion is- to an extent- only an act, so each person has a sub community where they don't have to act. Your inner self is for family and friends close enough to be family. (I honestly think they might have some sort of ritual to formally adopt friends as family) To everyone else you're supposed to put up a front that makes you seem more like everyone else.

OK back to the pin

Even without his clothes, Ethari is already visually different from everyone else. No other Moonshadow elves we've seen have tattoos or eyes the same color as his. It's a subtle difference but it is noticeable, and in a culture so focused on appearances people would notice. Most people's instinct would be to try to hide or downplay it, to prop up that front as much as they can. Yet Ethari doesn't put up a front, not to the extent that most people seem to. He's even accentuating his differences by dressing in a different style than them- and he's respected.

In my comm class the other day we were talking about groups, and one of the things that came up was that cohesion fosters sameness and diversity fosters innovation. Ethari is an innovator, it's literally his job. He invents the wingalings in bloodmoon huntress, Runaan and Rayla's weapons, and probably a bunch more stuff we haven't seen. Maybe for all they value appearances and fitting in, moonshadow culture still recognizes that people like him are important and they aren't as effective when they have to fit in. They can't be too out there (remember, Ethari only bends the rules rather than breaking them) but as long as they stay within a certain radius of the norm they can gain a lot of respect. I think this is what Ethari has done. The fact that his family (Runaan, Tiadrin, Lain) are all pretty traditional probably helped a lot. They keep him from pushing too hard on the edge of the box and he keeps them flexible.

That they aren't there anymore has probably exacerbated the rift between him and the rest of the silvegrove caused by Rayla's ghosting and whatever news has reached them from the storm spire.

I am so excited to see him in S6. I thought about adding some speculation about what his new design might look like, but I honestly don't think he'll have changed that drastically aside from his hair. My biggest question is honestly whether or not he's still in The Silvergrove.

Bonus:

I bet that some of Ethari's relative weirdness rubbed off on Rayla. She didn't have many friends as a kid so, when she wasn't in school or with the assassins, it makes sense that hung out with Ethari a lot. Since he's less strict than Runaan she was probably only comfortable completely unmasking with him. He heard about all her crushes, fears, and insecurities that Runaan didn't. Which goes a long way to explaining why Ethari was the only one who could see she wouldn't be a good assassin; she was hiding those traits from everyone but him.

This also explains some of why he was so willing to believe that she ran away. Ethari saw all of her vulnerability, but he didn't see all of her strength. While she was out training and facing her fears with Runaan, Ethari was in the smithy and only heard about their exploits after the fact. Neither of them saw all of who Rayla is, but both of them thought they did and had to find out that they were wrong in just about the most heartbreaking way imaginable.

[scorpioriesling]

Once Upon A Dream

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: Azriel x reader

Warnings: Suspense, angst, light swearing, slight abuse

Summary: As the daughter of a malevolent king on the Continent, you were used to spending time alone. Sure, you had tasks to complete, but not much free-will was given under your father’s harsh rule. This wouldn’t stop your quest for something more; but for every good thing, a price must be paid. Would you allow yourself to be convinced -- by a fae of all beings -- that you're destined for more than a life within the castle?

SR’s Note: Guys… this idea had me itchingggg to start writing it, but I just get very very very busy and I procrastinate tbh. Seriously, I'm putting my whole ･ﾟ: *pusss･ﾟ: * into this one -- jokes aside, I’m just excited to share this idea and illustrate how I was piecing it together in my brain. I’m so excited for you guys to read it — maybe listen to Once Upon A Dream (this version, specifically) while reading it? We all love a good Lana moment. <3 Enjoy, my darlings. I apoligize in advance for any editing mistakes!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Good morning Mrs. Julie," you say kindly, voice as soft as the rays of sunlight streaming through the small windows.

"Oh, good morning, child!" The short, aging kitchen attendant clasps one of her worn hands in yours and offers you a warm smile, and you smile broadly back at her. "Always a delight to see you so early in the day," she continues, releasing your hand to turn her attention back to the mound of settling dough on the counter before her that is beginning to rest. "Say, what are you planning for today, hm?" She asks, picking the sticky, yeasty mound from the wooden board and expertly working it between her palms. It's as unbothered by her touch as she is by the hustle and bustle of other attendants working in preparation around her. "I hear the weather is to be kind today." She winks, and you consider.

"Well, I was planning to tend to the garden... again..." she gives you a knowing look, hearing no different any other morning.

"And I assume you will eat your breakfast and brush your hair too?" You narrow your eyes playfully at her, but can't help the grin tugging at your lips as a chuckle escapes her lips.

"Maybe I want to go for a more disheveled look today?" You say sassily, and she bumps her hip with yours. You loose a laugh.

"Go on, dear," She says.

"Well, I heard father was planning a meeting with Graysen of some sort, which means he won't be here..." You allude. Julie's brows raise, but she doesn't take her eyes off of the dough she is kneading.

"Oooooh, so you are thinking of forging plans while your father is away then, hmm?" She coos. You scoff, pushing off the counter you had braced upon to fold your arms across your chest.

"Julie! How could you accuse me of such a thing?" You throw her a playfully incredulous look, which she returns with a mischedious grin.

"Because, my dear," she picks the mass of dough up, tossing it into a nearby bowl with a heavy thwop. "You forget that I've known you for... well, let's see, twenty three years now?" She glances sidelong at you, and you drop your arms, gracing her with another soft smile.

"Which is precisely why you are absolutely right," you say, as she grabs a wet cloth and begins wiping the loose flour from the worktable. You find one on a table nearby, clutching it and working to help her clean up.

"Y/N, no no no, you'll only ruin your dress dear," she tuts. You roll your eyes, and she shakes her head, taking the rag from your hand.

"Just because I am technically a Princess, doesn't mean I can't or don't wan't to help," you say. She continues wiping, smiling gravely at you.

"I know dearie. If you didn't, you wouldn't come down here to say hello each morning." A sad smile takes over your lips, and just then, the clock chimes. Your head turns, and you notice that it is nine on the dot. You had better be getting to the dining room to meet your family.

"You'd better be going dear," Julie seems to echo your thoughts aloud. You nod, making way for the stairwell and muttering polite hellos to the other attendants as they pass.

"I'll see you later on Julie -- have a lovely day!" You call as you begin the climb. It only takes a few minutes to climb the few flights to the main floor of the castle from the service kitchen, but as you swing the heavy door open, your eyes are met with none other than your father's from the end of the long table.

He says nothing, he only seems to stare right through you as you swallow the breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and pull the oak door closed. Graysen lifts his gaze from the table, eyes narrowing on you slightly as he shifts his eyes from you, to the clock handing from the wall, and then back to you again.

"You're late, sister," he says. You huff, squaring your shoulders and walking swiftly to your unassigned-assigned seat at the much-too-large dining table. You father takes a deep breath, and you stare sidelong at him, the cascading sunlight framing his stature like flames around an ember in a firepit.

Graysen continues to stare expectantly at you, and you fold your hands in your lap, tilting your chin as high as you can and let out a soft groan.

"Ughhh okay! I'm sorry I am a couple of minutes late, okay? I apologize. Can we just eat?" You ask, eyes dancing between your brother and father in question. Your father sighs, still not speaking as he reaches for the plate of crepes in the middle of the breakfast spread. You dejectedly look at Greysen, who only shrugs and flicks a few sausages onto his own plate. It isn't until a few moments of eating in silence that your father finally speaks.

"The meeting... today... Gray... we need to ask the Queens about the border and what we need to be doing about the, well, the problem were having. The slippage, rather." He says, eyes still downcast toward his plate. Graysen nods, seeming to know exactly what your father is speaking of.

"Mhm, sounds about right." He says through a mouthful of sausage. You furrow your brows. What are they talking even talking about? It isn't like they ever tell you anything -- to them, you're good for flittering around the palace and adding to the aesthetic of the place. They've never dared say it, but they don't need to; their actions say enough. You fear the woman your brother courts would only end up down the same path you're currently on, seeing how the last few have turned out anyway.

"I need you to take this seriously," Your father says. Graysen swallows, clearing his throat and wipes his mouth with his napkin. His eyes meet yours swiftly before boring into your father.

"Father... when have I ever not taken something like this seriously?" He asks. Your father shrugs, but continues to eat, his plate nearly clean. You glance at your clean plate, contemplating the right time to ask if you can leave the grounds. Your father barely ever allows for your free-will; and you doubt he'd let you go today. After a few more beats of silence, you decide what better time than now to ask?

Clearing your throat, you sit up staight in your chair. "Father, I wanted to-"

"You have flour on your dress, Y/N."

✧･ﾟ: *

The soft pattering of soles on marble sounds beneath your pacing feet for as you angrily step back and forth across your room. You've been in here since breakfast, and though its only been but an hour, you feel as though half the day has gone by. You were so sick and tired of your father never paying you any mind -- he never seemed to care what you thought, or what you had to say. It almost seemed like he believed you to not posess a brain in your head, the way he disreguarded his only daughter.

You're sure you've walked a ring into the floor by now, but when you look down, it looks as pristine as it did when you'd returned from breakfast of course. You huff, almost hoping for some sort of penalty for your father's actions.

Oh, he'd be getting a penalty, all right.

You had a good idea how the rest of this fine day would go; first, you'd trot through the gardens, as you always did to show your father you were keeping busy. Then, when he took your brother for whatever meeting they had, you'd venture as you pleased -- a punishable, hainous crime, truly -- and then, you'd return by sundown, as to not raise suspicion.

Plain and simple.

This plan was perfect enough, you'd decided as you ended your pacing tyrade and instead padded over to your expansive closet to choose a lighter, cleaner dress for... "gardening". Settling on a pale blue sundress that ended just above the knees and fit just right, you fastened your sandals and tied your hair with a bow. A once over in your full-length mirror painted the portrait of a princess, one your father would be proud of.

Or, one he would believe, anyway.

As you decended the grand staircase, you overheard your brother's voice from the foyer, and you halted, pressing your body against the railing. Leaning over ever so slightly, you strained to hear what he could be saying.

"No father, I'm not saying that," he sounded exasperated. "I'm just saying that if we have faeries coming over the wall, we are the closest thing to it, and the first thing we should probably be doing is checking any surrounding areas, rather than sending troops to the wall itself." He argues. You hear a huff, and you know its none other than your father.

"Right, but the Queens are saying that if we guard the wall, we stop this spillage of faeries into our land all together, then we wouldn't have anything to worry about to begin with," your father retorts. You furrow your brow. There he goes, using that word again. Spillage. They're speaking as though faeries are on the continent, on our lands? But, that wouldn't make any sense. What's the point?

"Why even come over the wall in the first place?" Graysen asks. Huh, you think to yourself. I was thinking the same thing. Maybe I am just as smart as your son, maybe it could be me going to these meetings, Father. You hear footsteps, and your breath hitches as you glimpse them striding for the front doors. If they so much as turned around, looked up...

"What do you think this meeting is for today, my boy?" Your father claps Graysen on the shoulder, and you decide to make your entrance. Stepping loudly down the stairs, both of their heads turn to face you, the ghost of a smile falling from your father's face when he sees you. Graysen only cocks an eyebrow.

"Going somewhere?" He asks hautily. You plaster the most sickenly-sweet smile on your face as you step onto the landing, and clasp both hands behind your back.

"Only the gardens," you say, meeting your brother's stare. "The hedges are quite overgrown, and the rosebushes need tending. Lot of work to do today." He only hmmphs, and your father's stone-cold stare doesn't falter.

"The change of attire is... appreciated." He says dryly. You nod, and he blinks. "We have a meeting to be off to. We should return after sundown. You'll do well on your own for the evening?" He asks without an ounce of actual concern.

"Of course, father." You say. He nods, turning to Graysen.

"We should be off then." And with that, he is opening the door and heading out with your brother. Out to some secret meeting that you can't and shouldn't know about for Gods knows why.

Out and away for you to finally enjoy some well-deserved freedom.

You watch as the last horse in the group attending with your father today is far enough from the palace that you cannot make out the shape anymore, and then practically book it to the back of the palace. Throwing open the back doors, prancing down the marble stairs to the gardens, you dance and twirl past every bush and weed and stone bench that you definitely will not be paying any mind to today -- well, honestly, these rose bushes are looking a little rough. You pull dead petals and bulbs off as you go, which only brightens the path as you make your way towards...

Wherever your feet carry you, you suppose.

Not before long, you've passed every rose bush. Every weed. Every overgrown hedge. You slow your steps as you skip past the last stone bench, realizing you truly are at the edge of the grounds, the large iron fence drawing nearer and nearer. It's rusty as you finally get in front of the latch, running your fingers along it. You still try your luck nonetheless, doubting it would be unlocked. You unclip the hook, pushing the heavy metal bars tainted coppery red with age and-

It opens.

You almost can't believe it.

You gasp, stepping through the small opening and looking beyond. All that is really out there is dense forest, and to be honest, you don't have much interest or experience in going out in a place like that. However, when you ponder, you really don't have much experience in anything, so would it really hurt to try something new? What was the worst that could happen -- you could see a bunny?

You take a deep breath, and then begin walking. The sun was high in the sky, and the tendrils of light falling delicately through the trees was... lovely. Peaceful. Out here, it felt so free, like you could do or be whatever you pleased without confinement.

Another twig snapped in the distance, and you whipped your head in the direction. You hated the way your heartbeat sped up, over a simple forrest creature. Shaking your head, you continued on, looking quickly over your shoulder at the palace that was growing smaller with each step you took.

It wasn't much longer before you decided to stop and rest for a bit, the walk tiring you out more than you'd thought. Your half-lidded eyes began to glaze over when they caught on something just across the way. It was... out of place, it, didn't... belong there. You sat up straight, senses heightening when you saw the figure move, the paleness a stark contrast to the lush greenery around you.

That definitely doesn't belong here.

"You need not be afraid," a voice rang out. You were on your feet in an instant, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes darted between the trees. Where did it go?

"Behind you, dear." You jumped, adrenaline spiking as a rush of fear flooded your system. You fell flat on your rear, kicking backward with your hands and feet. You barely registered with stood before you, the smile like a cat staring down at a helpless mouse.

"Allow me to repeat myself; do. Not. Be. Afraid." Your breath came out in small pants, and you stared at the man with pure terror in your eyes. He was a few feet from you, merely standing calmly and looking at you as though waiting for you to stand up. You took just a moment to regain control of your thoughts, remembering you were in fact in a dress, on the ground, and there was a stranger in front of you. You scrambled to your feet, dusting off the back of your dress and glancing sidelong at the man. He smirked at you.

"Very well then. I don't have all day; I did come here with purpose." You look at him incredulously.

"Whatever are you talking about?" You ask. He folds his arms over his chest.

"A proposition, really." He states. "I've been... noticing... you might be interested in something I have to offer." He states. You raise an eyebrow.

"Do tell." You say flatly. You clasps his hands behind his back, beginning a slow circle around you.

"I have the ability to grant you something -- a power, of sorts -- that I cannot posess myself. It's a very special gift, child, one some would," he leans close, and you stiffen. The air around you even seems to drop in temperature. "...kill for." You shudder.

"What makes you think I want it? Why me? How do you have this?" You ask, and then it hits you -- he is a faerie. He is fae, and he came over the wall. You turn, staring at him as he laughs cruelly.

"Ahh, so you've put it together then." You glare at him.

"What is your kind even doing on this side of the wall, huh? Don't you understand people like my father would kill you?" You spat. The man only grins wickedly.

"Precisely, which is why I am offering this gift to you, Princess," you straighten.

"With this new strength, you will weild shadows of emerald; posess strength, at your will; have the ability to forge your own magic, transform your own reality, and manipulate what is real," he explains. Your eyes widen. Was all of this true?

"And... why give it to me?" You ask.

"Lets just say... I have a war, I am heading. I am a King too, after all." He lets out a dark chuckle. You look toward the ground, thinking for a moment. Apparently you think too long, because he starts talking again.

"You'll be a good asset to have when I need it, and I couldn't keep this gift even if I wanted to." He scoffs. "Like calls to like, some joke... by the Cauldron-"

"Okay. I accept."

He grins, all of his decaying teeth exposed and you grimace.

"Excellent."

Thunder cracks overhead, the sky exchanging the sun for an overcasted gray pantone. You look side to side, the leaves and twigs around you rising from the forrest floor in a dance on a phantom wind as the breeze tornadoes around you in waves. It increases speed, and the man cackles, the crown on his head glimmering with the movements.

You squeeze your eyes shut, the motions, the sounds -- its all too much. More thunder whips overhead, the wind picking up and you open your eyes to watch as the man beging to recede into the windstorm.

"Hey!" You call out, reaching out a lame hand in protest. "Wait! How am I supposed to-" Another flash of lightning strikes the ground, inches from your fingertips and you shriek, retracting your hand and shoving your palms into your eyes. You can't help but fall to your knees, the ground biting into your flesh as your dress blows and tugs with the whipping winds around you. Tears threaten to fall, and you curl into the soft Earth, wishing it would drag you under.

You almost confuse your hairbow for the sensation of the cool, silky caress against your cheek. You instinctively reach up to touch it, a tear slipping free as you cry out. Peering up, you see wisps of smoky black amid the everlasting windstorm, threading through your fingers and softly caressing your face. You sob, the lightning overhead only drawing closer. The coolness of the smoke around your cheek, over your shoulder, and through your fingers brings a little comfort to the scariest moment of your life.

It only continues to get scarier as lightning streaks across the sky once more. This time, however, it doesn't span the whole sky. It's aiming right at you. As if you're in slow motion, you don't react quick enough -- the lightning continues to move at, well, lightning speed, as it hits the mark it was aiming for.

✧･ﾟ: *

You awake with a jolt, thrashing against the cool silken sheets wrapped around you. You're back in your bed, the soft hues of the late afternoon sun basking your room in an amber glow. Your eyes dart around the room wildly; how did you end up in here? How much time had passed? The last thing you remembered were the cool caresses of those shadowy figures as the tornado-like winds whipped around you-

You leap from your bed, landing on the floor as soft as a feline and feeling... lighter. You furrow your brow, checking yourself over. Stepping in front of your mirror, you didn't look much different; sure, your hair could use a brush run through it, but not much else was amiss. You let out a sigh of relief, the sunlight catching in the flecks of your irises, highlighting the emerald specks hidden in them.

Oh. That was new.

Then, you remembered that tiny, new little change.

The.. what had he called it? The gift, that fae had given you.

The King, rather. Oh so he said.

You chewed on your bottom lip, beginning to pace around like you'd done this morning. You thought up what you should do about this... predicament, you were now in. You'd learned of the war that was happening, or so this "King", had told you. He also said you would be an asset to him, which you still couldn't understand or come up with any explaination as to why.

You halted your footsteps. You'd spent many days in this room, in this palace, pacing, doing absolutely nothing but wasting time -- and if the threat of war was real, if that faerie was telling the truth, then you needed to find out more for yourself. Gods be damned if your father would ever clue you in on such matters.

You made way for the stairs, practically taking them two at a time, nearly floating down the staircase it seemed with the pace you were going. You continued to make haste, bolting for your father's study. The sky was streaking with tinges of purple and crimson, sign that dinner would soon be ready and your father would be on his merry way home soon.

You didn't have much time.

Heaving the massive doors of his study, your breath caught when you finally saw the interior. Sure, you'd caught glances inside every now and again -- but you were forbidden in this room, as was any servant, any maiden, even Graysen wasn't allowed in here. You knew, whatever you needed to find had to be locked away in here. You could feel it, although it was calling out to you.

Stepping in, you made way for the rows of books along the far wall. It was only dimly lit inside the room, but you did not have a problem seeing the titles as clearly as if the sun shone from the ceiling of this very room. Was this another condition of the gift given to you?

Scanning the texts, most seemed rather useless. There were a few that pertained to faeries, but you'd already been educated on the history of their kind -- that wasn't what you were in here for. You turned, peering over your shoulder toward the windows. A massive trunk sat, and every nerve ending vibrated with the call of your power drawing you to it.

You rushed over, dropping to your knees and popping the locks. Shoving the lid open, you found a single map inside. You yanked it out, letting the lid slam shut as you unrolled it.

The map had a few areas on it -- ones you'd heard of, but couldn't understand why your father would be keeping under such protection. The scroll featured documentation of the Continent, and above it; Prythian. It was divided into smaller sections, and off to one side there was another small island with the title of Hybern, and you didn't miss a large, red X over the area scribbled in dark ink. You rolled it back up quickly, tucking it under your arm.

You figured would suffice, and you would be able to work off of this and gather more information from the library, but as you made way for the door...

His desk. It was practically screaming at you, begging to be rummaged through. It was clean, pristine, and calling so loudly that you stopped dead in your tracks. Turning slowly toward it, you confusedly stepped closer.

"What am I... looking for over here?" You wondered aloud. You looked all around -- he had no papers on it, no boxes or locks stored near the floor. You ran your hands along the sides of it even, but it wasn't until you sat in his chair that you felt the exhaustion hit you. Wave after wave of intensity coursed through you, as if alerting you to take take take what was needed. You threw your hands in the air.

"There's nothing here!" You shouted, nearing your witts end at the empty desk before you. Your veins flooded with electricity, and you hissed at the pain. Why wouldn't it stop? Why wouldn't it all just... go away?

"THERE IS NOTHING!" You repeat, yelling into the empty air. "I CAN'T FIND IT-" You bring both of your hands down on the desk, bright green flames bursting from your palms as they make contact with the wood. You gasped loudly, the flares dissipating into thin tendrils of emerald smoke, similar to those from the forest earlier in the day. You stared down at the backs of your hands, not sure if you wanted to move them and see the damage you'd done, or keep them there and enjoy your ignorance for a few moments longer.

You shakily remove them from their planted position, only growing more confused when the desk below remained pristine. "What... the... Hell..." you mutter. You glance toward the ground, noticing a small tray laying haphazardly below. A few papers and quills lay scattered about, and you brace the ground, craning your neck to look at the underside of the desk.

It was secured underneath, you see. The force must have knocked the hidden compartment off of its hinges.

You pick up the tray and the supplies, laying them out on your father's desk to examine. Nevermind that there is a keyhole in the front, and no key in sight -- you wouldn't have been able to get inside the compartment anyway. Amid the papers, there are many pertaining to past trips that are no longer relevant; but a few on top of the pile catch your eye. Other than Graysen's birth certificate, a few of the other pages feature words like "Queens", and "securing the Continental borders" and "aligning with Hybern for the war"-

Your pulled from your amazement when you hear the unmistakeable sound of hooves outside the front entrance. Your blood runs cold, and you quickly shove the discarded papers back in the tray and jam it back onto its hinges under your father's desk. It doesn't fit quite right -- but it will have to do for now. You'd be dead if he caught you poking around in here.

You quickly glance around the room as you swipe the rather important documents from his desk as well as the map, and assure the room looks just as you found it. You're pulling the door closed, waiting for the soft sound of the latch when you hear the grand doors opening. Shit. The only way to your room is the grand staircase, and going that way will only ensure that your father and brother see you, contraband in hand. How are you going to get out of this one?

Think think think, what other routes could you take? You rack your brain, but can't think of any. Taking the service stairs would draw attention as dinner is about to be served and the attendants are using those at the moment, oh Gods how you wish you could just be in your room right now...

And just like that, you were.

You look around incredulously, dropping the map and the papers in shock. One minute, you were outside your father's study. And the next...

You were here.

But, how?

You nearly double over, bracing a hand on your dresser as the realization hits you with full force. The wood brashes against the wall loudly, and you hear your name in the distance. You shake your head, slowly as the gravity of the situation sets in. You can't believe this. What you've done. What you have done. What have you done?

"No... no no no," you groan aloud. Heavy footsteps sound outside your room, and you go into panic mode, pushing yourself from the dresser and kicking the papers and map beneath your bed. You're just in time -- within seconds, a quick knock sounds at your door and your brother is inching it open.

"Y/N? Are you... alright? In here?" He asks cautiously.

You clear your throat, smoothing down your hair and taking a seat atop your bed. "Yes." He opens the door wider, peering inside and gives you a bored look.

"Father requests your presence. Dinner is to be served in five minutes." He says flatly. You nod, trying hard as you are willing to mask every emotion swirling inside. His brow furrows, and he gives you one last quizzical look.

"You sure nothing is going on up here?" He asks. You shake your head.

"Nope." You pop the P, smoothing your skirt and he looks you up and down with distaste as he begins shutting the door.

"Don't be late this time."

✧･ﾟ: *

You barely get any sleep, tossing and turning all night as thoughts of your new gifts and new... self plague you. All night, you continue to have haunting dreams, visions of yourself displaced in Prythian among the monsters that lurk the lands from the stories you'd always been told. The faeries that had once kept humans as slaves, faeries who have a thirst for human blood.

But now it was you. You who had been tricked. You who had been a fool, and accepted such a curse from a fae himself only to become what you feared most.

How would you ever be able to tell your family? Your father, aligning with Hybern to take out the fae-kind, preparing for war where he would not bat an eye slaughtering anything other than human. Your brother, who's last courted female left him, taking to Prythian herself instead. You knew where his loyalties lied, and they most certainly weren't with you.

This agony continued for days, not that your father caught on. He never paid you mind anyway, so keeping your inner turmoil from him wasn't very difficult. It was the restless nights, the nights that you'd awake in terror, and constant thoughts of what may happen to you here that plagued you the most.

You needed to find some way out.

A few weeks since being given your gift per se, you were headed down to the kitchen one morning after a particularly harrowing night to greet your favorite person on the Continent, the sweet smell of fresh biscuits bringing a seed of joy to your morning.

"Good morning Mrs. Julie," you stated. Mrs. Julie turned from her work station, greeting you with her signature smile -- only for it to turn into a frown moments later.

"My, dear child! Have you gotten no rest in days?" She asks, taking your cheeks in her hands. She turns your face side to side, and you let out a yawn in confirmation. She tsk tsk tsks, shaking her head and dropping her hands. She turns back to her station.

"What's been keeping you awake, hmm?" She asks. You take a seat on a stool near the end of her table, watching as she works on icing a tray of fruit tarts before her. You breathe deeply -- Julie is your favorite, most trusted person in the world. Since your mother died, she took you in of sorts, always caring for and giving you the love you lacked from your other family members. But this? This kind of secret... it just might be something that is too much for her to handle. Is she knew you were a faerie, she may see you differently. You didn't know if it was something you could stomach.

"Is it... a male, perhaps?" She asks. You scoff, nudging her with your arm. That wakes you right up.

"Oh please, Mrs. Julie -- if I had a lover, you'd be the first to know!" You say playfully. She chuckles, continuing to ice.

"Well, dearie I don't know what you tell me and what you decide to keep is all your business," she offers politely. You don't know how to respond, so you stay quiet. She sighs, setting down the icing bag and taking your hands in hers. Her soft eyes peer into yours and she leans close.

"Y/N, if there is something troubling you, you know you can always talk with me, right?" She says quietly. You nod wordlessly, tears prickling the back of your eyes. Her eyes search yours in silent question, and you loose a breath. You know she is trustworthy, no matter how she might look at you after this, you know you need to talk to someone about your situation.

"Maybe... maybe there is, something." You say. She nods, looking down at the table like she knew you'd say that.

"Well, how about after breakfast when I take my break, we can meet in the garden? Talk about it?" She offers. You nod, and she pulls you into a tight hug. You let a single tear slip free, swiping it away before letting go from her embrace.

"Alright then -- run along, child. You don't want to be late for breakfast, now."

✧･ﾟ: *

As it turns out -- you'd worried over nothing. Mrs. Julie had listened to every word you explained, only offering you her undivided attention and words of sorrow for what you endured. She also offered her promise that she would do whatever was needed to help you, especially when you explained how you'd gone into your father's study.

"Human, faerie, royal -- Hell, you could even be one of those pesky buzzards that ravish the crops in the springtime, and I would still love you just the same, my dear." Her words nearly brought you to tears, and that's when you knew you'd made the right choice in telling her.

That night as you laid down, your head felt clearer -- the grasp and acceptance on who and what you are that much stronger. You hoped that tonight, you would finally be able to enjoy the splendor of peaceful sleep, as your eyelids began to slide shut...

A willowy, chilled breeze slipped past your shoulders, and you instinctively tugged at your duvet, wrapping it around the exposed skin. Moments later, the breeze slid past again, tickling your neck and dragging past your nose. You scrunched it, flipping over on your pillow to face the other side and gripped your blankets tighter in your fist.

Then, the duvet was yanked from your bed altogether.

You shreiked, eyes flying open as you scrambled to a sitting position. You were far from the lamp that stood feet from your bed, but you didn't need it. Through the moonlight pooling in from your window, you were able to make out the immistakable shadow of a body, leaned against the frame. Your heart rate picked up, taking in the sharp-tipped wings draped behind him. You raised a hand on instinct; familiar flames of jade eliciting with the motion.

The man stands to his full height, taking a step toward the bed and you lunge forward, braced on your knees and one hand as the sparks in the other only grow.

"Don't you DARE take one more step!" You hiss, and he puts his hands up in defense, but continues to walk frward slowly.

"Listen, Princess, there's no need to get all-"

"I SAID, STOP." You fire a line of your power towards him, but to your dismay, he easily avoids it, sidestepping. It lands upon one of the paintings handing on your wall instead, cremating it to nothing but ash. He watches, turning to you and whistling lowly as he halts his movements.

"Wowwwww," He purrs. "Were you really going to... incinerate me?" His head turns to you, and you glare at him through the dark.

"I most certainly was." You hop from the bed, landing with lithe precision and slowly approach the intruder. Soft cobalt stones glimmer in the moonlight upon the male's shoulders, one on his chest as your eyes roam over him. It is easier to make out his defining features as you draw nearer, and...

Holy shit.

"Well, if you'd done that, you wouldn't be able to size me up like I'm your last meal; as you're doing now," he responds with a chuckle. You scoff, and fold your arms over your chest. A heat rises to your cheeks as you remember you are in only a nightgown, and this is, again, a stranger. In your home. The flecks of chartruese return to your irises, and the handsome, winged man puts is hands up once more.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry to have frightened you. But, it's not like I could've walked through your front door, you know, and I had to come during the night-" You shake your head, eyes dulling in color a shade.

"Who are you?" You demand.

"Azriel." He bends dramatically at the waist, and you roll your eyes. "Pleased to finally meet you, Princess Y/N."

"Uh huh. Why are you in my bed chambers?" You ask. He sighs, taking a step forward and beginning to pace. You fold your arms over your chest, sensing a long explaination coming with this one.

"Well, actually I came to talk with you. About... you." He says quietly. You raise an eyebrow, perching on the end of the bed.

"What about me?" You ask, feigning ignorance. You weren't stupid -- you were a human girl, given the powers of fae. Why wouldn't another of their kind come crawling in here to ask questions?

"You're... you've been changed. You've been given this power that you aren't experienced with, and-"

"And what? You came here to take it back?" You defend. Azriel looks at you, brows hung low as he frowns at you, annoyed.

"No, I came to help you navigate it." He states, fingertips pressed together. You sigh, leaning back on your hands. The action causes the thin nightgown to ride up on your thighs, and you don't miss Azriel's line of sight trailing along the hem of your dress.

"What makes you so sure I want your help?" You clip. Azriel clears his throat, looking down at the floor, then to the window he came through.

"You probably don't, and I get that, alright?" He sighs. Something in your heart strains a bit, and you feel a bit bad for being so rude with him. But... then you remember he came in through your window in the middle of the night. Unannounced. "But I am sure you've heard of what is to happen in merely a few days between the humans and fae alike, the war and... and you may very well get caught up in it."

His face softens as he takes a seat next to you on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight. It causes you to shift closer to him, and you nearly tumble right into him. Not that... you'd mind...

Focus.

"I... I've heard of the war..." You start. His hazel eyes gaze softly at you, and you continue. "When... when I was in the forest, and when I was, well, I don't know, when this "happened" to me," you gesture with your hands. "The male said I would be useful to him. But I don't know what he was on about. Or, why me? I don't understand. He kept saying like calls to like and he couldn't keep it himself -- whatever that means." A small smile graces Azriel's lips, and you realize how close in proximity you've scooted. You scootch back an inch, raising an eyebrow in question.

"What's so funny?" You ask. He turns fully to you, bending a knee to rest on the bed while his other leg remains draped over the side. The iridescent light of the moon is illuminating the planes of his face magnificently; the sharp curve of his jaw, the dark arch of his brow; those full, luscious lips...

"Allow me to show you." He holds out a hand, palm up, and you glance down at it. Dark, inky shadows curl around his arms and run down the tips of his fingers, swirling over his calloused skin. You can't help but lean close, so intrigued by his power so similar to yours.

"I've... I've seen these. Before, they were-"

"In the forest that day?" He finishes. Your eyes meet his, and the shadows extend, dancing up the soft skin of your forearms and twirling through the silky strands of your hair. You let out a small giggle as their featherlight touches retreat, slithering back to Azriel.

"You were there." You say quietly. He nods, a look of regret on his face.

"I'm sorry you have been put through... all of this." He says softly, his hand reaching to lightly cup your knee. Your eyebrows raise slightly at the touch, just a spark of what you felt that day in your father's office shooting through your veins at the contact. His eyes search yours, and you glance down at his hand, the burning inside only deepening when you notice the amount of scars atop it.

It doesn't matter who or what you are -- everyone has a past, you suppose. Your heart tugs on the fact that Azriel seems to have gone through quite a bit.

He notices your stare, and motions to move his hand back. You're quicker, grasping his fingers first, keeping his hand in place. The corner of his mouth tilts upward, and you can't help yourself from doing the same.

Ohh, what your father would do if he caught you like this.

Oh, what your father would. Do.

"Um," you say hastily, rising from the bed. "It is rather late -- and since you seem to be keeping tabs, you know I haven't been sleeping well," you say. Azriel stands, stepping close to you and you suck in a breath.

"Oh, I'll let you sleep Princess," he coos. "But we're pulling those documents out tomorrow night. We have to know what Hybern is planning, and if you want to save your father, and your people..." he saunters toward the window.

"How do you know that I..." You peek under the bed. Sure enough, the documents and the map are all there. Azriel chuckles.

"They like to call me a spymaster. A Shadowsinger," he says. You simply shrug.

"Okay. Whatever that means." He shakes his head, propping a boot on the windowsill and peering out.

"So... you'll be back tomorrow?" You ask wearily. Azriel's eyes meet yours once more, and he nods.

"I'll come earlier next time, if I can." You smile.

"Try not to rip my blankets off of me this time." You say with a chuckle. He shakes his head, ducking through the window and extending his enormous, night-black wings. You rush to the window, gazing out as you watch him disappear into the night.

✧･ﾟ: *

You awoke the next morning, practically floating out of bed and skipping from your dressing chambers to your vanity as you prepared for the day. You slept beautifully, you had to admit -- no nightmares, no tossing, or turning. You breathed a sigh of relief as you twirled in the prettiest yellow sundress you had, taking to the stairs for your usual routine.

"Well, someone is in a much better mood today," Mrs. Julie muses. You pluck a ripe raspberry from her fruit basket, popping it in her mouth as you twirl around the kitchen. With all the hustle and bustle from the other attendants before breakfast, your presence is hardly noticed.

"I slept well," you say. She shakes her head, tapping you on the nose.

"Mmm hmm," she humms. You talk for a few more moments, and then head upstairs for breakfast. You only feel a little guilty for not telling her about Azriel, but... it just seems too new. Too fresh. You decide to wait.

"Good morning, everyone!" You announce, approaching the table. Graysen's groggy morning stare meets yours, and your father sets down his mug to give you a once-over. Your brother only groans.

"What's with the Jolly Miss Sunshine, Y/N?" He grunts. You huff, taking a seat at the table as attendants bring out the food.

"Good morning." Your father responds, and you nod to him with a smile. There is not much warmth in those icey, dead eyes of his but... at least he's paying you mind today.

As you finish, Graysen is excusing himself to leave and you are about to do the same, readying to stand leave the room.

"Please, Y/N. Sit. We need to have a discussion." Your father's tone cuts through the silence of the room like a knife, and your hands begin to clam up as you sit back down at the table. He sets his utensils down on his plate, slowly draining the last of his coffee before looking at you, really looking you in the eyes for the first time in what feels like ages.

"Whatever is the-"

"I know you spend a great deal of time in the gardens." He cuts you off. You clamp your mouth shut, nodding at his statement. He nods with you, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"I know you spend a great deal of time... tending, to these gardens, hmm?" He says. You nod again, growing impatient and wondering what angle he's working.

"I'm just curious." He pauses, eyes fixating on the wall behind you. "I'm actually, rather curious. Why the hedges... are weeks, weeks overgrown, if you are out there... every day... "tending" to them." He says it more like a statement, and honestly, it is. You hadn't actually cut a bush or a hedge in months, truly. You'd been more focused on doing what you wanted, and since talk of the war began and you'd been given fae powers-

"M-my gloves," you stammer. His eyes slice to yours from the spot they'd fixated on, a quizzical look on his face.

"My gloves. They're... ruined." You say. He nods slowly.

"You need new ones." He asks dryly. You nod, and he sighs airily.

"New gloves it is, then."

✧･ﾟ: *

That night, after bidding everyone goodnight, you made sure to keep your dayclothes on. You wouldn't want another duvet-nightgown-midnight situation happening again...

You don't wait long for Azriel to appear, coming through your window with the stealthiness of a trained feline and silence of a snake. Your breath catches from your seat in the middle of your bed -- his outfit similar today, all leather, but his tank top showed off his bulking arms and the long, black tattoos that ran laterally along them.

"Hi," You whispered. He strided over, kicking off his boots and climbing onto your bed. He offered you a whisper of a smile.

"Hi." He said back. You gestured to the items laid before you.

"I... I got everything out that I had," You say. He nods, looking at every piece of parchment.

"Thank you," he mumbles. You smile, and he moves to pick up the map first.

"So," he begins, clearing his throat. "How much do you know about fae?"

✧･ﾟ: *

You hadn't realized how late it had gotten, the only indication was the ache in your back from leaning over the pages. Your mind was blown, but you only wanted to hear more; whether that was to hear Azriel keep talking, or for information. You didn't mind. Both were favorable.

He'd explained more in-depth about the history of Prythian, the Courts, and the politics of it all. His explaination was a little different than the one you'd always been offered; his seemed more fair and just, whereas yours always seemed more geared toward the hatred of the fae. He also explained more about Hybern, and how the King you met was likely using you as a way to get the humans into his hands for the taking.

"So... he gifted me these powers, thinking it would aid him in the war as my father is working with him, to fight against the rest of the courts? Why would the King, or any humans, want to fight the fae who are against keeping humans as slaves -- it was Hybern who were pro-human demise," you say. Azriel shrugs.

"They've got it backwards," he reasons. "And, the King saw an opportunity with you, vulnerable, and alone, and he took it. This ensures if things go sideways with your father, he has collateral. I told you Princess; you're more involved than you know." You sigh, the realization hitting you like a tidal wave. You close your eyes and rub your temples as you feel a gentle hand rub soothing circles over your back.

"The King is going to kill the humans anyway." You conclude. You don't need to look, but you know Azriel nods. "He's just using my father to lure them to Hybern to do it."

"Which is why you need to convince your father to do the right thing first," he says. Your eyes widen, and you look to him, a sarcastic laugh bubbling from your throat. He brings his hand to your mouth, covering it and leaning rather close to you.

"Shhh," he hushes. "Someone will hear you."

Your eyes level with his hand, and then meet his as he slowly retracts. He's inches from your face now, and you can feel your insides buzzing with delight.

"I know it isn't ideal, and it might not be easy, but it's our last option here." His fingers slowly trace along the side of your arm. "Look, if it were up to me," he whispers. His eyes stare intensely at your lips. "I'd get you out of this wretched place; I'd bring you back with me, where you could..." he inches closer, and your heartbeat quickens. "...be who you are... and, not have to hide it from anyone..." You gaze up at him, and he moves closer, quickly pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your face heats, the skin searing with utter delight at the point of contact. More more more your power thrums.

"Go... with you?" You ask quietly. "To... Prythian?" He nods slightly, downcast eyes raking over your form as his pointer finger and thumb catch a strand of your hair, rolling it between them.

"Azriel... I can't just-"

"Why not, Princess?" The way he says it sends virescent flames shooting through your every vein, and you feel rediculous for thinking this way over a male you've just met so soon. His fingers drop the twirl of hair, knuckles grazing over your jaw affectionately instead. You lean into the touch.

"We've... only just met..." You trail off. He tilts your chin to look at him, a small smirk forming on his perfect mouth.

"Allow some time to get to know me, then." He states, voice low and gravelly. Gods, the way you'd lean in and press your mouth to his right now...

"Think about it?" He asks, eyes pleading. You nod, and he smiles, a small glimpse at his perfectly white teeth peeking through. You gasp.

"Aww... Azriel, you have a nice smile, don't you?" You coo. He shakes his head, a small blush creeping up his neck as he slips from your bed, shucking on his boots. You pad over to him, your hand playfully resting on his arm.

"Azzzz... all night, and I didn't even get to see it once?" You whine in humor. He rolls his eyes, grinning at your words.

"I guess you'll just have to say something that would make me really, really happy," he says. You feel a gentle pull in your chest, and you practically leap toward him. You chuckle, shoving the feeling out of the way.

"Mhm, nice try." You say with a wink. He mounts the windowsill, his hand gripping the top as he stares out. Ughhh his arm is the size of your head against the moonlight painted sky-

"Tomorrow then, Princess?" He says.

"Tomorrow, Shadowsinger." He grins, leaping from the opening and flying into the night.

✧･ﾟ: *

Your days continue in the same pattern; your father and brother ignoring you for the most part, you filling Mrs. Julie in on the little that you know about what's going on (and continuing to feel bad about keeping Azriel a secret from her), and sneaking the Spymaster in at night to pore over your fathers documents and study his war plans with Hybern.

Though no moves have been made yet, Azriel keeps telling you to be on your defenses. You know you'll have to talk with your father soon, and time is running out, but with his daily meetings, you find less-than-opportune moments in each day.

Its been about two weeks now since Azriel first came around, and your day had been the same as usual. Your father had no meetings today, but Graysen was preoccupying him, which meant of course, no discussion. Nonetheless, you still found yourself being summoned after dinner.

That's odd. He never called for you.

As you arrived to the main floor, the attendant led you down the hallway, and your footsteps slowed as you approached none other than...

Your father's study. Your heart sank.

"I don't know what else you want me to say, father, I didn't do it!" The hard slam of what sounded like a fist on a table had you jumping, and the attendant left you at the doorway. You leaned in close, straining to hear the conversation inside.

"Well, someone was fucking in here because all of our plans and deals made with the Queens are missing, Graysen." Your father chides. His tone is angry, rising in octave. "I told you how serious this situation is-"

"I know its fucking serious!" Your brother yells. You raise your eyebrows. You've never heard him yell at your father before, and all be damned if you even considered-

A sharp slap of skin on skin cracks through the air, immediate silence following it. Your hand covers your mouth, eyes wide in shock. You try very hard to listen as the conversation continues.

"Don't you ever raise your voice at me like that again, boy." You father says, lethally calm. In an instant, you hear heavy footsteps and dart out of the way, the door being thrown open and Graysen running through it. His eyes meet yours only for an instant, his face the expression of only a trained killer — you shudder. There’s no way you’d ever be able to be honest with him about what you were. He wouldn’t hesitate to take you out, just as he planned to do aligning with that vile King beyond the wall-

“Y/N. In my study. Now.”

You hastily move inside, trying to remain calm as your father rounds his desk, pressing his fingertips to the surface. You’d expect him to sit, but he makes no move. Instead, he peers down at the wood as you stand motionless in the center of the room.

“I’ll get right to the point.” He grunts, and you chew the inside of your cheek nervously. “Did you enter this study at all within the last few days?”

His eyes detach from the desk, meeting yours before you shake your head, and his lips press into a thin line.

“I’ll only repeat myself once. Did. You. Enter-“

“NO, father, would you truly believe I’d deceive you?” You cut in. His eyes blaze with anger, only a flare, and you realize you’ve hit your mark. Definitely no talking him into changing course tonight.

“I believe you’d do what you need to in order to protect someone you love, or so you think.” He spats. You scowl.

“What are you-“

“Oh don’t paint me a fool, Y/N. I’m not so blind to notice my daughter spending more time in her room than out in the fresh air, out in the garden where you’ve spend it your entire life.” He reaches to the shelf behind him, chucking a pair of new gloves at you. You catch them, and flare at him.

“So what? I haven’t been gardening-“

“Because you stay awake at night. Talking to some male who you’ve been sneaking into my home, MY PALACE, THINKING I WOULDN’T NOTICE-“

Rage fills your every vein, and you unlock the tiny vault in the back of your mind that you promised not to; the most precious secret you’d only let out when the time was right.

Oh, Azriel would be so proud of you for this. Finally defending yourself against what you know is wrong.

“IT WON’T BE YOURS FOR MUCH LONGER IF YOU KEEP TREATING ME THIS WAY.” You bellow. Your chest rises and falls, and his eyes pierce your soul the way he’s glaring at you.

A few agonizingly slow beats of silence pass, your father's fury only intensifying in his stare. You brace for the impact of his words, but when he opens his mouth, the only tone that comes out is lethally calm.

"What. The Hell did you just say to me, girl?" He asks. You gulp, fear beginning to creep into your mind.

Stand your ground, you can practically hear Azriel's voice in your mind. A shadow outside your father's window passes, only catching you off-guard for a moment before you meet his eyes again. Your hands ball into fists, and you take a steadying breath.

"This palace... won't be yours. For much longer." You say, hating how unconfident you sound. His anger turns to confusion, and you continue. You choose this moment, right now, to try and convince your father of a new strategy. He's always more malleable when angry, anyway.

"If you align yourself with that King... you're only damning yourself father, damning us all, and you know it-" You start, and he barks out a cruel laugh, shaking his head and looking down at his desk.

"Please -- don't pretend you know anything about this war-"

"I might not," You bite out. "But I do know how to help the humans. And aligning with a fae King who only intends to use you as a slave seems..." You trail off. He cocks an eyebrow.

"Go on, since you're so full of ideas today, go on. Let's hear how you really feel about my choices in protecting our lands." He smirks cruelly. You glare at him.

"It's idiotic father! It's rediculous, it's... it's not well-thought out, I'm trying to explain that I have something that could truly help you-"

"I think I've heard enough of your play-pretend theories for today. This kingdom is mine, and anyone who intends to take it will have to kill me for it." As if on cue, a group of your father's knights from his finest cavalry storms the room, grabbing your arms and halting you to your position. You flail your arms wildly, kicking beneath the thin fabric of your skirts.

"Get the Hell off me! Father what are you-"

"I don't know how you managed to get in here, or what you thought you were going to do with whatever you found," he snarls, drawing closer to you. "But when I find out who you sent to do your dirty work and what exactly you stole; believe me, no debt goes unpaid, little girl." You bare your teeth, pupils flaring in rage against the cruel King before you. He staggers back a step, looking you up and down in slight horror.

"Take her down to the service cellars." He commands, and metal scrapes against its own as the soldiers hoist you up and lead you from the room. Through your thrashing and hollering, you hear one last order from your father before the heavy doors swing shut.

"Do NOT let her out!"

✧･ﾟ: *

You can't help but pace once more, only this time, you're in the dirty, dank cellar. The dirt walls feel suffocating around you -- the only source of light are the torches on the walls and a small, barred window on the wall near the ceiling. Night has fallen, and you continue to walk back and forth, thinking hard about everything that you read, everything your father said to you.

He knew you'd been sneaking someone in. Did he know it was a fae male? Probably not, or else Azriel would surely be dead by now. Although perhaps this was part of a bigger scheme, to continue to draw the Shadowsinger practically to his doorstep every night, while he lay in wait...

Stop. You shook your head, not wanting to think of the possibility of anything happening to Azriel.

Azriel.

Your thoughts are flooded with images of his mossy, hazel eyes peering into yours in the moonlight. The way his tan skin looked, decorated with those swirling tattoos all over his massive biceps. His silky black hair, how it would feel to run your hands through it as he finally pulled you in close for a kiss-

STOP. There are more imoportant matters at hand right now. And... you're in a cell. You had to find some way out.

What was it, that got your father so angry to throw you down here in the first place? To lock you up for Gods know how long? Was it your backtalking? Surely not -- though Graysen had done it, and earned himself a slap to the face. Was it... your "scheming"? He practically called that child's play.

Although he really didn't like when you talked about his crown not being his after the war.

Your mind went back to the other night -- you and Azriel sat on your bed, poring over the pages you'd taken and you had picked up Graysen's birth certificate. When you looked closer at it, really close; it turns out, he's not first in line for your father's crown like everyone believed him to be.

You are.

The revelation had you feeling sick, not that you even wanted to rule such a kingdom on your own, and you couldn't believe you and your brother had not shared the cruel father you were forced to grow up with. Even worse -- that man was your true father, and you hoped to be nothing like him. Did Graysen know? Surely not. Did your father?

He had to. That would explain his outburst from earlier.

Gods, how you wished Azriel were here. The longer your feet create a path in the dirt, the more and more you think about his offer to bring you with him to his own home -- how lovely it would be to escape this Hellhole, this life of nothing in general; to see him whenever you like, and never live in fear of being with him.

You're pulled from your thoughts when you hear a commotion from down the hallway, a clammoring of what sounded like heavy metals and rustling from down the corridor. You jump toward the bars of your enclosure, sticking a hand through and calling out.

"Please! Someone please!" You call. Tendrils of green seep from beneath your palms, and you place them against the bars; only to fly back a moment later in pain. The planes of your hands feel as though they've been burnt off as red-hot searing spikes shoot through your skin. You shakily stare at them, the red skin prickling with the injury. Tears line your waterline, and you fight to reign them in. Through your pain-induced haze, you hear the commotion continue -- shouting and metal colliding down the corridor.

Until it all goes quiet. You make to stand, noticing thte burning in your palms already beginning to lessen with each passing minute. Approaching the barred entrance wearily, you look out, but see nothing except empty, black, nothingness. You let out a sigh of defeat, and turn to make way back into your prison.

The soft jangling of keys turns your attention back to the gate, and your eyes widen as the door swings open.

"Miss Julie?" You whisper shout. She holds a finger to her lips, motioning you forward.

"Come child -- be hushed, there are guards still lingering," she says. You stare at her incredulously as she pulls you in for an embrace, and when she releases you, her eyes are lined with tears.

"I can't believe he'd truly lock you away," She mutters, and you shake your head.

"Miss Julie, I can't thank you enough for coming to get me out." You whisper, as she takes your hand and begins leading you toward the service stairs.

"Oh, don't thank me dear; you can thank that handsome male of yours, do tell me his name?" She asks, smirking sidelong at you. You shoot her an incredulous look.

"What are you talking abou-"

"Pshhh, please," She tutts. "You could've just told me you had a lover, Y/N. A handsome one, at that." She giggles. Your cheeks burn red.

"Miss Julie, I don't know who you're-"

"Y/N," Azriel pants breathlessly, and you whip around to watch as he appears on the other side of the kitchen. You gasp, quickly sidestepping the soldiers on the floor of the room to get to him. You paw at his chest, his jacket, even caressing his face.

"Azriel its-" He chuckles, still fighting to catch his breath.

"Yes, its really me, Princess." He says. You can't help the tears that begin to spill over, his hands braced on his knees as he works to stand up straight. You don't hesitate to jump into his arms once he's at his full height; and he lets out a sigh of relief as he holds you tight against him.

"Y/N, are you alright?" He asks, setting you down gently. When your feet hit the dirt, you turn your gaze to his, nodding slightly as tears continue to fall. You can't help but notice the blood staining his left ear and trailing down his jaw; splatters covering the leathers he's wearing. You pull back to give him a once-over, but he takes your hands in his and pulls you flush against him once more, his right hand cradling the back of your head to his chest as the other wraps around your waist.

"I'm so sorry... I came as soon as I could." You look up at him, and he looks down to you with sorrow in his eyes. You can't help but smile at him, thanking the Gods for sending the one person you needed right now. You notice his eyes looking beyond you, and you pull back to turn to Miss Julie once more.

"So... you've... met, huh?" Miss Julie giggles, and Azriel nods.

"Unfortunate circumstances, but... I'm glad he appeared when he did, or those fools would've been on me in an instant." She gestures to the countless soldiers on the floor. You can only look between the two of them.

"Azriel, how did you -- nevermind." You say, shaking your head. He raises an eyebrow, dipping low so his face is closer to yours. You grin wildly at the closeness, never feeling happier or more relieved in your life. Miss Julie makes a point to silently walk toward the stairs and out of sight of the two of you.

"Of course you'd know, Spymaster." He grins, and you let out a small laugh. His grin widens into a full on smile, and his arm around your waist tightens as he pulls you onto your tippy-toes to finally press his lips to yours. You seem to melt into him, feeling like jelly in his hands. His other hand caresses your jaw, and that lovely, familiar feeling inside of your chest burns brighter and brighter-

"Agh-" You pull back, putting your hand over your heart as you feel the tightness of a golden lasso clenching around it. You stare wildly at Azriel, and his eyes widen.

"Y/N you're... do you feel it?" He asks, his hand over yours tenderly. You look down, and warmth floods your veins at the realization of what is happening. You mentally give the rope a pull, and Azriel's eyes flick back up towards yours. He smiles again, and you slide your hand along his jaw, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"I'm just glad to finally see you smile, Shadowsinger." He kisses you with all the passion he has, hands roaming over your waist and playfully dipping lower to cup your ass in your large hands. You let out an involuntary groan, and he releases you, only to peer down at you with pure love and adoration.

The moment ends all too short, as a sharp cry rings out from your left. Moments later, you spot a crumpled mass on the floor at the bottom of the staircase.

"Miss Julie!" You shout, thundering over to her, eyes wide in horror as she clutches her side in agony. Two metal-clad knights descend the stairs, swords drawn as Azriel is at your side in an instant.

"Get behind me-" His arm his protectively in front of you, blue siphon ablaze as he yanks a blade from its sheath. All you want to do is fall to your knees and fix this; fix it all, save Miss Julie.

But you can't. Rage takes over your mind, more explosive than you've ever felt. More explosive than in the study. More explosive than when your father locked you in a cage. More explosive-

"NOT A CHANCE." Azriel has the good intention to get out of your way as you rear back, unleashing your pure, unfiltered power upon the soldier nearest you. It slamas into him in an instant, throwing him to the ground and paralyzing him all too quickly. Azriel takes his time, fighting with the other armed guard before plowing him to the floor, wings expertly tucked behind him to avoid taking any of the force.

Green flares erupt around you, growing in size with each passing minute. You look around, blinking and trying to clear your thoughts. You wanted to kill. Your father. His armies. That fae King for doing this to you. All of them should pay-

"Y/N." Azriel's sharp voice cuts through your thoughts like a knife, and you turn your attention to him. Miss Julie coughs, and you both rush to her.

"Y/N, we don't have a lot of time..."

"Can you fix this?" You ask, another tear streaming down your face as Miss Julie's eyes begin to darken. Azriel shakes his head gravely, and you heave before letting out a scream, shaking the walls and causing pans to hit the floor with the force. Miss Julie only takes your cheek in her hand softly.

"My sweet child," she whispers. You sob, tears falling onto her smock and staining it. "Don't cry-"

"Miss Julie you can't leave me!" You rasp, coughing as smoke begins to filter through the air. She gives you a small smile as her breathing begins to slow.

"I'll never leave you, my dear." She says. "But... you shouldn't leave him." Her eyes only widen an inch, and you glance to Azriel. You cry harder when you notice a tear falling from his face as well. He slips a hand over her heart, and she grasps it, smiling fondly.

"He is good, Y/N. He is a good... a good male..." she drifts off. You grit yoru teeth, grabbing her shoulders and throwing yourself onto her in a tight embrace. You continue to cry, and you feel Azriel's hand stroking your back comfortingly as he did those nights ago. You stay there for a few more minutes, the smoke burning your eyes as he tries his best to fan it away with his wings.

"Y/N... we have to go..." he says. You sniffle, allowing him to help you up as you press one last kiss to her cheek. He pulls you out the side door, flames nearing the spot you were just sitting. He continues to pull, hand in hand, through the chilly night air toward the thick forest at the back of your estate.

After a few long minutes of silence, he speaks first.

"Listen Princess... I know you have a kingdom here that you could have, but,"

"Take me with you." He stops, wide eyes blinking at you in shock.

"Are you sure?" He asks quietly. You look to him, nodding in confirmation and squeezing his hand tighter.

"Everything she said was right Azriel; I can't be who I am here, and I know you're a good male. You're..." you choke back another sob, and he slows his pace to wipe away a stray tear on your cheek. "You're a good male. I want to be somewhere I know I'll be safe. I know if I'm with you, I'm in good hands." He looks like he could fall to his knees at your words, and the corner of your lips tilts upward in a sad smile, shadows of smoke and emerald curling around the two of you.

Like calls to like, that's what they always say, right?

"Then allow me to show you the way to your new palace, Princess."

✧･ﾟ: *

[kikker-oma]

short fanfic? Yes!

Christmas theme? Yes!

“Wake your a**es up losers!” Wind’s voice rang through the ranch, “It’s Christmas!!”

Time rubbed his eyes and gazed at the clock. “4:00am? Seriously Wind?” He groaned and sat up. Even his wife, Malon, the strongest girl he could ever know, was still asleep.

“Wind, let’s settle down. It’s still early you know.” Warriors tried to coax the teen back to bed. Less for Wind but more for the ever waning patience.

“Nah, I want presents.”

“…Of course you do.”

Surprisingly, Four was the first one to open up his present. Beneath the red rapping paper, a beautifully crafted iron hammer, with faint beautiful markings throughout the tool, stood in his possession. “I needed a new one for quite some time… thanks guys!”

“that’s for work?? I thought it’s used to smash pots!”

“LEGEND.”

Wind was next. He basically stripped the present raw in… two seconds flat. “MONEH! I’M RICH!” The pirate yelled.

“But those are seashells?”

“I can sell seashells by the seashore.”

Twilight carefully unwrapped his gift. His fingers curled around a saddle, worn down and scratched on the edges, but filled with love.

“You know, it used to be our old girls,” Malon looked through the window to the barn ahead, “But it’s not much use to us now that she’s settling down, it’ll be much more use to you.”

That is when the couple learned great-great-great-great-great grandsons give the best hugs.

Hyrule gazed at the new pair of boots in his arms. “Woah… these are wonderful. Are you sure they are for me?”

“Knew a shoemaker once, trust me, they’ll make you run faster than ever before.” Four winked.

Hyrule gave at LEAST 20 continuous thank yous for the rest of the evening.

Legend tried to keep a stoic demeanor as he unwrapped his gift. “Romeo and Juliet? Isn’t that romance?”

“Come on, we all know you’re all for it.” Warriors smirked.

“Shut up… but thanks I guess.”

Wild ran his fingers through the embroidery scarf. “This looks stunning, who made this?”

“I did! Skyloft was pretty cold, from being in the sky and stuff, so I decided to pick one of our most famous fabrics. The embroidery was all mine though, and I’m sure it will help keep you warm for the winter months.” Sky smiled kindly.

“Will you fix it if I tear it?”

“Already have 17 backups.”

Warriors, surprisingly clad in actual clothes (not to mention his hair is perfectly brushed? Did he even go to bed?) unwrapped his gift with precision.

“A mirror? You know me so well!” He smiled, knowing the captain, this will sure come to great use.

“That’s not all,” Time smiled, “Crafted straight from the lava of Death Mountain, its sturdy for the road.”

“You really put in that much thought for me?”

“Of course son, you deserve it.”

“Careful, this one’s fragile.” Malon smiled as she handed Sky a gift wrapped in cloth.

Sky carefully unraveled the cloth to reveal a tiny, but familiar bird. He heard its name before. Clucko? No… right! It was a cucco.

“I love it! It’s so cute!”

“We are letting you keep it as long as it doesn’t come in contact with anybody in any way.” Legend grumbled.

“Darling, this one’s for you.” Malon handed Time a carefully wrapped present. Time’s fingers slowly pealed away the wrapping paper, and softness immediately enveloped his finger.

9 crochet squares, all sewn together.

A deception of a forge, intense yet pulling things together.

A vast ocean, and a red boat riding the waves.

A goat, with beautiful horns resembling Ordon.

A map, holding a sense of adventure.

A flower, holding a sort of dream like resemblance.

A sheikah crest, holding symbolism and order.

Swords and shields, crashing together yet have some sense of balance to them.

Islands floating in a vast open sky, with giant loft wings circling around.

In the middle of it all,

Home. The ranch. In the center stood a beautifully crocheted deception of Time and Malon, yet they weren’t the only people in this art. 8 other boys stood around, holding a resemblance of courage.

“Merry Christmas, old man!” The eight boys smiled in unison.

This would be a Christmas Time could never forget.

Yeah this didn’t turn out short LOL

🥹🥹🥹

Awwee this was so CUTE!!!

Each of those gifts is precious (even winds pun with the seashells lol) and Times blanket with all of the squares representing the boys is

Thank you for writing this and Merry Christmas!!!

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Trans Celegorm

Celegorm was born female. Strong-daughter hasty-riser, whose hair looks just like her grandmother. 

Celegorm at ten knowing she is different somehow from the other girls. It’s not just the privileges of rank, or her discomfort with the expectations of a princess of the Noldor. Something about the role in society that Celegorm is supposed to take up just sits wrong, as much as she tries to ignore it.

Celegorm’s period starts at 12 and she hates it, hates her body, hates knowing she’ll never grow as tall and as broad as her father or Maedhros. Her body is built for giving new life, so Celegorm learns how to take life instead. She asks to join Orome’s hunt and is told she’s too young. She does everything she can to practice the skills anyway.

Celegorm is accepted to join the hunt at 15, when she manages to sneak up on Tilion. Running with the maiar who view her as weak because she’s an incarnate who didn’t build her muscles from the atoms up to be the best at snapping a deer’s neck, not because she’s a girl. Celegorm not knowing why this feels better, but at least she can fight and track when her head gets too full of circling thoughts. Celegorm can sneak up on anything, and learns quickly enough how to avoid leaving a blood trail of her own whether it’s from a scrape on her arm or from her cunt.

Celegorm trying to feel good in her body, and succeeding in the moments when she’s clothed, or when she’s not being judged. But now her tits have grown and she hates them, hates how they get in the way of her bow unless she binds them down, how when she goes home Maedhros says it’s improper to wrestle with her (and maybe he’s just stuffy and formal now, but also Celegorm is a very hands on fighter.) Celegorm hates how everyone expects her to wear clothes that are wrong, tailored to emphasize the chest not the shoulders, flowing and getting in the way. Sure, everyone has to wear robes at court, but then Father can come home and just wear an apron and trousers in the forge while Celegorm can’t.

Celegorm at 17 realizing she wants to be a man.

Celegorm at 17 thinking no one will take her seriously, she’s not even of age, and has always been weird anyway. Everyone will say it’s just about not fitting in to normal society.

Celegorm realizing that even her parents don’t truly understand her – no, him. Not in this at least. Sure, Feanor bakes according to his mother’s recipe, and Nerdanel wrestles huge blocks of marble into place. But Feanor is a man and Nerdanel is a woman.

Celegorm figuring screw it, they can’t stop him.

Celegorm is skilled with a knife by now. If he cuts the lumps off his chest, no one will be able to tell he’s a girl from a distance. And if someone is close enough to see between his legs, they’re close enough for Celegorm to punch.

Celegorm will run away to the forest for a couple years and come back outside Alqualonde. Just another elf who had to take a break from cities to live in nature, it’s not that rare. Another wild man of the hills.

Nerdanel first realizes that Celegorm is trans when she opens her daughter’s room to find Celegorm about to conduct amateur surgery. Celegorm has put thought and preparation into this; he has a sharp knife and boiling water to clean it, and a pile of boiled rags (the remains of his bedsheet), and a chair set up in front of the mirror. The chair is draped in another sheet, and there’s a towel on the floor. Celegorm has a thoughtful look and is drawing on his breasts with charcoal, trying to plan the cuts. He needs to save some of the skin, can’t ruin his own hide, and he needs to avoid arteries though he’s never butchered anything with an elven shape…

Nerdanel panics and yells. After establishing that it’s not a suicide attempt (“If I wanted to die, I’d just go provoke a bear, Mom, it would be far less hassle!”), she’s still rather concerned. And Nerdanel knows that if she takes Celegorm’s knife, Celegorm will just find or make another. So even though this topic really out to be considered for longer in her opinion, Nerdanel doesn’t say that.

“Would you please get dressed and we can find a practiced surgeon in the city? You deserve the best care possible in changing your body.” Nerdanel compares it to how Celegorm had a personal trainer when building muscle as a child, to make sure he didn’t sprain anything. And does Celegorm really want to risk severing an artery, or cutting a tendon?

Celegorm agrees. Gender reassignment surgery isn’t actually a common thing in Tirion – most people who transition go for a years-long hormonal thing, or let the Valar build them a whole new body and move their spirit into it. But Celegorm knows this body, and he isn’t going to wait.

Specifically, by the time they go home they’ve talked to four different surgeons and found one with availability in the next week, assuming no one gets in an archery accident in the meantime.

Celegorm goes in. He gets his tits cut off. He sees no reason to get a cock – he’s already learned how to piss without getting it on his boots.

Celegorm eventually tries sex. He laughs at everyone who says you need a cock to be dominant. All you need is to be able to pin your partner to the bed and use them as a dildo.

Canon still happens. Celegorm still kidnaps Luthien and threatens her in an attempt to marry her. He’s not super invested in having kids, and if Luthien wants them he’s sure Melian can do some magic to make sure the babies share his blood. 

(Amras is also a transman. With experience, Nerdanel and Feanor notice early enough to get him puberty blockers.)

[cryptidsurveys]

Monday, December 16th, 2024.

What was the last game you played?: Lol, earlier today, I was putting together some PVC dog cots with Kristen, River, and Liv, and I was like, "It's Squid Game; the last person to finish…" (ominous hand gesture)

Is there anything going to get released soon that you're looking forward to?: I'd have to check with my mom, but if she's interested, then we might go see Mufasa: The Lion King.

Do you have a fan in the room you're in?: No.

How many candles do you own?: Three. Two in my room and one in a pinecone wreath centerpiece on the dining room table. There might be more "in storage," but I'm not going to bother trying to account for those.

What's something you wish you liked but you don't?: Seaweed. Rolled sushi and rice balls look so appetizing, but I just haaate the taste of seaweed.

Do you use a baby voice when talking to animals?: Sometimes I use a baby voice, but I also use a voice that isn't exactly babyish but is still pretty sappy. And sometimes I use my normal voice.

Would you say your parents put too much pressure on you?: No. Of course they had expectations, but they were never overbearing about them. Especially now that I'm older, they very much let me forge my own path in life.

What's for dinner today?: Probably a rice bowl of some sort.

Can you fall asleep easily or do you need something to help you sleep?: I need something to distract from my constantly buzzing thoughts. Last night, I rewatched a video by Natural World Facts called Into The Abyss: Creatures Of The Midwater. He has such a soothing voice. Really appreciate content creators who don't feel the need to YELL. You can't make a subject any more interesting by SCREAMING at me. :')

What do you do when you get bored of sitting in the car a long time while on trips?: There's not much I can do beyond listen to music or audiobooks, chat with whoever is with me, eat, or take a nap. I can't bring a laptop along because of motion sickness.

What game did you play most as a kid?: Games like tag and hide and seek. Pretend - basically made up scenarios / stories, either "LARPing" or using action figures or stuffed animals as characters. As far as video and computer games go, Mario Kart, Star Fox, Yoshi's Story, Roller Coaster Tycoon, Star Craft, and Moraff games (they had options such as Tetris, Mahjong, matching games, puzzles, pinball), etc.

What's the best thing that's happened today?: Nothing sticks out, but it's been a pretty decent day so far.

What about worst thing?: Nothing was all that bad either.

Do you like the scent of gasoline?: Ehhh. Not so much after accidentally getting it on my hands when pumping gas the other day.

What's an odd smell you find pleasing?: Maybe campfire smoke lingering on clothing. It's not necessarily pleasing by itself, but there's a nostalgic quality to it.

How often do you visit Bzoink?: I so wish Bzoink was still a thing. I wonder where all of the previous Bzoinkers migrated to after it closed down. :'(

Which cell phone network do you use?: Verizon.

What's something you've been made fun of for before?: I've never been seriously made fun of for anything. Not to my face, anyway.

What is something you need to work on?: Not allowing my fears and insecurities to get the best of me or make me resentful, envious, etc.

What movie or show has scared you the most?: As a child, Watership Down. I don't know why I kept renting that movie when it terrified me so much. Also, The Ring. Obviously less scary after I realized I wasn't actually going to die in seven days.

Would you rather have cake or ice cream? or ice cream cake?: Right now, probably cake. Love all of the options in general, though.

What is your style in clothing and would you like to change it?: So boring. I would like to change it, but it's going to have to be a process because I'm not going to overhaul my wardrobe all at once.

Do you like the color yellow?: Yeah.

Have you ever been to a drive in movie?: We went a few times when I was younger. Loved it then, but probably wouldn't enjoy it as much now.

When were you last in a body of water? (pools count): Years ago. Probably wading in Comanche Lake while on a backpacking trip.

What dead celebrity would you bring back if possible? why?: None.

Do you listen to gospel music?: Not really…? Not unless certain Christmas carols or classical religious choir music count.

What do you think of Harry Styles?: This was on a recent survey…and I still don't have any thoughts. I barely even know who that is, tbh.

Would you say your personality is naturally outgoing?: I would consider myself something of an ambivert. I'm not a social butterfly - I'm actually pretty shy, at least initially - but I do enjoy being around others. There are times when it's draining, but when the vibe is good, it can be very energizing.

Are you currently talking to anyone?: No.

What are you craving right now?:

What did you last order online?: I haven't ordered it yet, but I'm going to be purchasing an Ed Gorey calendar as a Christmas gift for my mom.

What's the weather like today?: Sunny and 41*F.

Do you know anyone in the military?: No.

Would you rather listen to rock or rap music?: Rock.

Have you told anyone you loved them today?: My dad, my kitties, and some of the kitties at the shelter.

Do you have any songs stuck in your head?: Not right this second.

What were you doing the last time 10am came around?: I think we were just finishing up cleaning in cattery.

What are you planning on doing a few hours from now?: Just my usual nighttime routines.

What's the best gift anyone could give you?: Love. Or something more materialistic - a job at the animal shelter.

Where did you get the top you're wearing?: The shirt is from the animal shelter and the hoodie is from Amazon.

What was the price of gasoline the last time you saw it?: I think it was $2.89.

What's something you have a strong opinion on?: I feel like an abyss of apathy.

Do you like watching scary movies?: Sometimes.

Which is closer.. your birthday or Christmas?: Christmas.

Do you keep your loose change in a piggy bank?: I keep it in a jar under the upstairs bathroom sink.

Are you planning on getting any tattoos or piercings soon?: No.

Do you like your middle name?: I just don't feel connected to it.

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

Not me out here liveblogging the process of ironing out Doe's vampire lore, but I'm sitting here like... 

Doe is incapable of making some of the sounds exclusive to human vocal cords; when she talks, there's a bit of that stutter still there, but how does it not become so glaringly obvious that there's something seriously off in a 'dog-wearing-human-clothes' sort of way and then I got it. 

Vampire mind fuckery. We know Doe has gotten strong enough since separating from Mapplethorpe, forging her path in blood and joining the Belles to almost freeze a whole hospital through suggestion and overwhelming presence alone. 

So, obviously, in one-on-one communication, it's not a stretch to imagine she'll try to reach out into her audience's minds to iron out her words and make them sound more human-passing, for lack of better terms! Not entirely, obviously. Doe isn't going to get rid of all her quirks when she doesn't feel they disable her ability to communicate, and likewise, she's not trying to CONTROL anyone. 

Vampire abilities are a slippery slope, and Doe doesn't want to press and violate the sanctity and privacy of a person's mind; she wants to be understood, so honestly, she limits herself to the bare essentials! She needs better diction, better separation in her letters, and the ability to put together 'hard sounds' on a level as placable as the sound she's trying to make.

It leaves her with her trademarked Dyspraxia and Stutter, of course, but would Doe be complete without that? Haha. Of course not!

I will say, though, Vampire!Doe still has to reteach herself to speak English entirely, no matter how broken and in need of tweaking in people's minds it requires. It's all a long process and one she chooses not to share unless you're close with her. This is somewhat hilarious, given Doe's concerns regarding not sharing her journey retreading her path to speaking is the hot, face-flushing shame of admitting that The Incident required her to have to walk back and relearn something she mastered at 9 when, frankly, her perseverance and strength in not abiding herself with her new capacity and clawing back control of her voice (literally) and anatomy is nothing less than admirable given her pain and the fact she was simultaneously learning Ancient Vampiric at the same time. BUT I DIGRESS!

BUT UNRELATED TO THIS, there's something I love about the mental image of a person going out of range for Doe and her ability, stripping her of her compulsion over them, so she's trying to talk to them or yell to them (completely forgetting her lack of ability to speak fully legible English in the process). They're left hearing WHATEVER VELOCIRAPTOR-ESC MIMICKING BIRD-BAT ENGLISH DOE CAN MUSTER!

[lokavisi]

This has been sitting in my drafts for a solid month now, so I figure now's as good a time as any to actually respond like I've been meaning to. I'm gonna put it all below a line because I have lots of things I'd like to share. (I've also talked about most of this on my blog before, so a lot of this might not be new to followers who have been with me a while.)

Tiny trigger warning: mention of a noose

Tiny DNI minors: some mentions of my sexuality (If you truly wish to read, I respectfully ask you skip the chunk of text that starts with "Ok now for some more lighthearted ones." You can pick back up with the last chunk of text starting with, "I could go on.")

I've been working with Loki for about 4.5 years now. I think we both have moments of, "Why are you still around?" every so often. Loki is fiery and airy energy to the max, and I'm so earthy I'm practically a rock. (If you're familiar with Astrology: my sun, moon, and Venus are in Virgo, and my rising is Capricorn. Earth, earth, and more earth.) but the answer is always, "Cause I like you," or, "You're family," or, "You're interesting to have around." Below are some moments of my time with Loki that I don't think I could ever forget, even if I tried.

When I first invited Loki into my home, I offered libations for who I'll call the "heavy hitters" of the Norse pantheon, which naturally included Loki. It was fascinating because the energy of our apartment that we lived in at the time shifted so dramatically. It felt like a party was happening when it was just my partner (now wife) and I physically in the space. But I felt one lone presence sitting at the altar table where I left the drinks. I recognized it as Loki only because he looked like Marvel's Loki. I found it incredibly odd. Later, I took the time to actually connect with them, and learned that they had been waiting to talk with me that night, and that they took on the Marvel guise so I would unquestionably know it was them (as I worried I wouldn't be able to recognize them as a shapeshifter). He kept that shape for a good few months before I started seeing red hair and generally less clothing. (Sometimes they'd just wear a loin cloth, and that was more for my sake than for theirs. I'd say about 50% of the time he's just shirtless, and the other 50% he's normally dressed for various seasons/weather conditions.)

Those first few months together we largely had a teacher/student relationship. It seemed like Loki's way of showing his value and building up trust between us. One night I was meditating out on our deck, and I believe I was burning some offerings and/or incense. I remember feeling his "monster" children around me. A young (or at least average dog sized) Fenrir nuzzling me, a baby Jormungandr wrapping himself around my arm, Hel sitting next to me to rub my back, and Loki saying, "You are family here among us." A relationship with Angrboda followed, as well. I do now have more of a relationship with Sigyn and have spent a little time with their children together, too, but I do feel most at home when I'm around Loki's Jotunn family. They all still feel like family, though.

Over the past year I've attended some guided journeys, rituals, and workshop run by a friend of mine who is a spiritworker. (They have a friendship with Loki, though I don't think they primarily work with them.) Loki has been my guide through all of them and there have been some seriously heavy moments. Here are a few:

- We were at a forge to create a weapon to help me break bonds. As it began to take shape, I could see it was a dagger. At that point, my friend (leading the journey/ritual) asked us to name this weapon. The first thing that popped into my head was the line from the Marvel Loki TV show, "Love is a dagger." I immediately shut that down. (I love Marvel Loki, too, but I make a point to distinguish the two of them.) But Loki was like, "No, that's it. What better weapon to free yourself with than Love?" I couldn't really argue with that. A little later in the journey when we were looking in a mirror at our bonds, one of mine manifested as a rope around my neck. For whatever reason, I just couldn't bring myself to cut it off. So Loki took the dagger and cut the rope for me. I was then able to grow to the size of a giant, and he was proud of me for embracing my giant (Jotunn) self.

- We were practicing past life healing. When we delved into a past situation, I was surprised to discover it was a moment of trauma in my actual current life. (I'm still sussing out why that is, but that's another story.) Needless to say it was difficult to look at that trauma happening to me, but it was necessary in order to heal it. Loki held me tightly, making sure I didn't avert my gaze (as much as I wanted to) while also being a source of comfort. The guide (my friend) then instructed us to practice various techniques we discussed, one of which was removal from the situation. I looked at my energy body in this past experience and felt unable to remove it, but Loki picked up my past energy body. He carried it out of that house, into my car, and drove us to the Starbucks down the street from where I currently live. It was nighttime, and he parked then handed me a warm drink. My wife and I will go through the drive thru at that Starbucks later in the evening/night, park, and then have conversation while we drink. So not only did Loki remove me from that traumatic situation, he brought me somewhere familiar and comforting to me to help me finish out the work during that particular journey.

I could go on and on, but I hope some of those stories gave you some insights into Loki's personality and what it's like working with them. Just remember that when things get heavy, they'll always lighten the mood. Anytime Loki makes a very serious, genuine point withe me, they always end on a joke. Joy is at the center of everything they do. All the shadow work they'll guide you through is to get you to a place where joy comes more easily. All the chaos, challenging the order of things, is to get you out of your comfort zone to live more freely and authentically. Being your true self and finding joy (and helping others do the same) is the core of Loki's teachings and being, in my experience. You will never be bored with them. Ever.

Ok now for some more lighthearted ones:

- One time I was offering sexual energy to Loki, so I put on my Loki playlist to signal, "This one's for you." Right as I'm about to cilmax, Spotify decided to add I Touch Myself by the Divinyls to the playlist. I had to laugh. Like, that seems a little too on the nose there, doesn't it, buddy? 🤣 I also remember after a job interview that I was really nervous about, he and blasted this song in the car and sang along. It was a great way to let the residual anxiety out.

- Once a friend and I were discussing our general frustration with pagan spaces focusing too much on sexuality to the point where those spaces are not safe for children/minors. I specifically spoke to how frustrating that is in regards to Loki because Loki is so great with kids. He has a lot of them! And that sense of play and imagination is just so Loki, so it's frustrating to me that a lot of spaces focus on sexualizing him and center godspousing because it limits people's ability to see and experience Loki in other ways, like in a more familial context. (This is when I got a push from Loki to start working with the kids in my UU community.) So after this conversation with my friend I feel Loki getting a little pissy. They were apparently upset I was trying to desexualize them. I explained that I want no such thing, but to rather remind people that there is more to him than just that. He agreed that that's important. I was like, "Yeah, I want to help kids connect with you," and for some reason I still felt that pissy energy. I was like, "What, you don't want me working with kids so you can connect with them?" Loki was like, "No, of course I want you to do that!"

Me: So why are you mad?

Loki: Because you didn't ask me if that's what I want.

Me: But it is what you want, right?

Loki: Of course!

Me: So why are you mad?!?

🤦 The lesson here is to double check that the Work Loki wants you to do is actually the Work Loki wants you to do. I guess. They can be ornery sometimes lol.

- One time my wife went to get some pieces of chocolate to offer to Athena and Freya (two of the deities she works with), and she felt like Loki being like, "Hey, I'm here, too! I'd like chocolate, please!" And my wife was like, "No, you fucked my wife today," and that apparently shut him the fuck up and he noped right out of there. 🤣 Loki has such a bizarre relationship with my wife. It's a hoot.

Dear Lokeans and Norse Pagans,

I just want to hear your experiences with Loki.

I've been 3 years now into Norse Paganism and Loki...But it still feels like too short time and that I still have to learn so much. He has guided me to a great transformation of myself through this time....yet I think the snake has more skin to shed. I just need to hear more opinions and experiences.

Also he is such a hard deity to get over. I don't know if it's him who doesn't let go or me...But I like it...I really like working with him...

[nightcall99]

Dreams from 5.10.23

Dream 1: I showed up at a clothing shop because the owner of the shop, who I knew, called me and told me to visit because he had some newly arrived styles that I might be interested in. When I got there, he showed me a clothing rack of Mickey Mouse merchandise. The words and icon were stylised and printed onto shirts and other types of tops. I didn't think it was that impressive but I pretended that I was. It looked like cheap fast fashion, a copy of a copy. I realised that AT was there with her mother and that we had both approached the same rack of clothing. She hadn't noticed me yet and I didn't want to alert her to my presence as I'd been avoiding her for months. However, it didn't seem to matter because I was walking circles around her inside the shop and she didn't register that I was there at all. There was no energy coming from her.

Dream 2: I was at a street festival and browsing at a stall that sold clothing. I was half-heartedly looking at some dresses and other pieces and the owner of the stall approached me and tried to convince me to try them on. I didn't want to try anything on at all, but I did it anyway to make the guy shut up. This stall also randomly had trays/foil-wrapped bits of food so I grabbed a few samples on my way to finding the change room. I looked in the area immediately surrounding the stall to try and figure out where the change rooms were but I couldn't see any nearby. All I could see was an obnoxiously-decorated hot pink caravan, complete with silvery glittery streamers flapping in the wind. I scoffed at it, and the owner saw me and smirked saying, 'Yes, that is in fact the change room.'

The entry point into the caravan was really high off the ground, maybe a couple of metres, and I had to hoist myself up. It was also a quite a tight squeeze in general for trying on clothes since there was furniture inside. I figured I would just sit here and pretend I was trying the clothes on and come out after an appropriate amount of time. I didn't mind helping myself to the food though and used a fork to shovel it into my mouth. As I sat in the darkness of the caravan, it felt like I was higher up than I really was and from my vantage point, I was able to observe the sea of festival-goers walking up and down the street like ants. I spotted AF making his way through the crowd, alone, and for a second I thought I might call out to him. But as I continued to watch him I thought better of it, as I felt nothing coming from him.

Then I appeared at work and AL and VN were working with me. Then I got seriously confused like my brain was playing tricks on me. I had misinterpreted the man from the stall before and thought that instead of offering me the clothes and food like he had, that he had actually given me 3 prescriptions for medication and I needed to dispense them for myself now. I don't remember being handed the prescriptions but here they were, for some anti-anxiety and anti-depressant meds. I put the prescriptions, along with the medicines, in a tray and set it by VN for her to process on the computer. Then the energy in the room completely changed. VN who was looking at the scripts, said in a very patronizing tone, 'Uh... you have no history of ever taking these'. AL caught onto the situation within a heartbeat and murmured from her computer, 'Ok... then..', in a very disapproving tone.

It turns out they weren't real prescriptions at all, and were actually just pieces of paper made to look as such. It basically looked like I was forging/self-prescribing. It got really awkward very quickly because I could tell that AL and VN thought that I was trying to manipulate them into doing my illegal bidding. But that hadn't been my intention. I was just really confused with what took place at the stall earlier. But it was too late to defend myself, I could feel their silent but crushing judgement on me. I felt highly embarrassed because I had just ruined my own reputation somehow, and now I was going to be perceived as perpetually shady. Then the truth hit me and I really wanted to cry because I suddenly realised that the only reason I thought I needed these meds is because I was going to use them to help me cope with the fact that everyone is an NPC now.

[roguerambles]

Golden Threads

Blood of Zeus - Hermes x Female Reader

Warnings - Adult situations.

Sort of a continuation of “Tasting Lightning”. Again, I thoroughly blame @icy-spicy​ for their (very sweet!) words for encouraging me haha :D You joked about Hermes joining in and that led to this haha.

-

Hermes held up a little gold box, giving it a small shake. “This one?”

“Doubtful.” You shook your head and glanced around the cluttered room. “How can Hephaestus call this a storeroom?”

The God of the Forge had been thoroughly uninterested when You and Hermes had approached him for assistance. Hera was holding Games this year, and almost everyone knew Ares would dominate the arena, and Hermes wanted to “borrow” the Golden Net Hephaestus had infamously used to trap Ares and Aphrodite one time to “even the playing field.”

“So your brilliant plan is to trap Ares in a net?” Hephaestus scoffed, not even pausing in his work as You and Hermes pleaded your case. “Nobody tell Athena, you two are putting her out the job.”

“Apollo will be the one fighting, and equipment is allowed!” Hermes protested, while you gave Hephaestus the brightest smile you could. “Pretty please?”

“I don’t even know where I put that thing.” Hephaestus waved his hand dismissively. “Maybe I threw it into storage somewhere, but if you want it, you’ll have to find it on your own. Now if you don’t mind, Apollo has some work for me on his chariot.”

“Storage” turned out to be an old bedroom – Hephaestus normally slept in his forge, so it seemed his bedroom was where his old creations stayed, and You and Hermes were having no luck.

You stepped over what looked like a smaller version of the automaton, looking around with a sigh. “You wouldn’t think a giant net would be so hard to find-“

Hermes shook the box again. “What is this thing anyway-?”

“Hermes, I don’t think-“

The Trickster God shook the box again, a little more firmly, and it popped open. In a sharp burst, golden thread erupted and coiled suddenly around his wrists. You startled, leaping back as Hermes jumped back, stumbling as the threads snared around his ankles like serpents.

“What in the underworld-“

“Hermes!” You watched in shock as he thrashed, the threads yanking with strength their delicate appearance didn’t suggest, dragging him down onto the old bed. In moments, the threads coiled around the edges, pulling his limbs and spreading him out across the sheets.

You both remained in stunned silence as the box perched above the bed, until Hermes finally gave an experimental tug with one arm. “…I don’t think this is the net.”

You cautiously approached, stretching your arm to gently tap the box. Nothing happened and you gave a sigh of relief that at least it didn’t seem dangerous. “What in the Heavens is it?”

“A trap, I assume?” Hermes squirmed around, but the threads remained snug around his limbs. When he tried to get up they slowly tightened, holding him down. “I can’t move. Can you remove them?”

You paused, your eyes sliding over Hermes’s form. The Messenger God’s arms were pulled over his head, highlighting his muscular body, his clothes lifted slightly to show off his strong, toned legs, the muscles flexed in his position. “I don’t know…” You leaned against the side of the bed, flashing a playful grin. “…you look pretty all tied up in gold.”

“Why thank you.” Hermes fluttered his eyelashes dramatically, making you laugh as he lay back against the bed. “Seriously, get me out before Hephaestus comes looking for us.”

“Okay, okay…” You tapped the box again. The threads tugged sharply, yanking Hermes’s wrists higher over his head, making him start and gasp suddenly. “Sorry!” You jumped back from the box, worried you’d hurt him.

“No, no, it’s…fine.” Hermes cleared his throat, sounding….unusually flustered. “It…it didn’t hurt.”

You stared in confusion, your eyes drifting back to the threads. Curious, you reached out and softly plucked one. It seemed to vibrate with power, and Hermes bit his lip, humming loudly and squirming slightly in the bed.

“…I don’t believe it.” You shook your head, laughter escaping you. “Hephaestus, that scoundrel! He’s been holding out on us!”

“This is priceless.” Hermes looked up at you urgently. “Bring him here at once to untie me, I am going to hold this over him forever.”

Giggling, you moved around the bed, heading for the door. Hermes called out. “Don’t take too long! I know you like to get distracted and lose track of time.”

Speaking of holding things over heads…

You huffed, turning around to face him again, marching back over to the bed where he grinned up at you sweetly. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Why would I?” He smiled a little smugly. “When teasing you about it is so fun?”

He hadn’t told anyone what he’d found you and Zeus doing in Apollo’s villa weeks ago, nor any indication that he’d even found you both together at all, which you did appreciate. Alas, that meant he simply held it as something to tease you relentlessly with in private.

“We didn’t realise it had been days!” You waved your hands slightly. “Blame Olympian stamina.” You shrugged, before grinning impishly. “…and really good sex.”

Hermes laughed, his head flopping back down on the pillow. “Yes, well, some Gods have all the luck, I suppose.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, and the faintest flush came to Hermes’s cheeks – you got the sense he hadn’t meant to say that. “Why Hermes….” It was your turn to tease now. “I had no idea.”

“Oh please.” He rolled his eyes, smirking slightly. “You’re beautiful and well aware of it.”

“Maybe.” You moved onto the bed, leaning over him. Hermes’s eyes widened. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it from your lips.”

Hermes laughed, uncharacteristically nervous. He looked as though he were desperately searching for words as you slowly trailed your palm up his chest, feeling his muscles quiver in response to your touch.

“Hermes…” You leaned down slightly, voice low. “…what were you thinking? When you heard me and Zeus together?”

“I…I…er…I…was…” You had never seen Hermes at a loss for words before – it was cuter than you’d imagined. You slung your thigh over his waist, moving to perch on his hips. He groaned softly, staring up at you, looking half-stunned, half-delighted.

“I was thinking….” Hermes bit his lower lip, eyes trailing up to meet yours. “…I wanted to hear you moaning my name instead.”

You felt a flush on your cheeks, lowering your head slightly under the intensity of his gaze. “Is that so?” You moved your hands to graze over his waist, feeling him stiffen in response. “…is that something you want still…?”

He moved towards you, before hissing through his teeth. The threads pulled around his wrists, and his hips bucked in response. “I want you to take these cursed things off.”

“I rather like them.” Slowly, you lifted your hands to the top of your dress, pulling the fabric down to fall around your hips, leaving your breasts exposed to his gaze. Hermes’s eyes followed your hands as you slowly caressed your breasts and stroked down your body. He swallowed thickly. “Do you want to touch me, Hermes?”

He tugged against the threads, a little harder this time, groaning as their magic hummed against his skin. “…now you are just being vindictive.” He croaked, squirming beneath you, eager to brush as much bare skin against yours as possible.

“Hermes…” Your fingertips grazed lightly over his taut abdomen, making him groan and shift beneath. “…do you want to be inside me?”

Hermes hissed through his teeth, hips stuttering beneath you. “Yes, by the Fates, yes-“

You angled your hips, bracing yourself against his firm chest as you began to lower your body, his hips bucking eagerly beneath yours-

A low whistle came from the door behind you, causing your head to whip around. Under you, Hermes groaned.

Apollo leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his smirk wide. “Hephaestus said you were looking for some of his old tools to help me.” His eyebrows quirked in amusement. “I am so moved to see you both so hard at work.”

“We found a tool.” You shifted slightly as you perched on Hermes hips, making him groan in frustration. “We were just testing to make sure it worked.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Apollo laughed, shaking his golden head. “And?”

You shrugged, a playful smile on your lips. “…remind me to thank Hephaestus for his genius later.”

“Apollo….” Hermes interrupted exasperatedly, squirming beneath you as he angled his hips, arching upwards to push further between your thighs, making you gasp at the sudden heat aiming straight for your core. “…either close the door and come back later, or get in here already.”

Apollo blinked, his gaze flickering to yours. You grinned slowly, turning to look at Hermes slightly flushed expression, his lips parted as he softly panted beneath you. “You heard him.”

Apollo reached for the clasp of his cape, letting it fall to the floor as he stepped towards the bed, practically purring. “I suppose since you both asked so nicely-“

Hephaestus’ voice boomed from somewhere outside. “I swear on the River Styx if I find you three fucking in my storeroom-“

You stifled a laugh as Apollo gave a disappointed sigh, while Hermes flopped back onto the bed, groaning. The box glowed briefly, the threads suddenly beginning to retract.

“…later?” You asked, as Hermes sat up, rubbing his wrists with a downright pouty expression.

“…I’d like that.” He said, lips tugging upwards in a small smile. Apollo leaned over your shoulder, gesturing the rope coiling back into the little box.

“Bring that as well, would you?” He smirked. “I don’t know what it is exactly, but it’s peaked my curiosity.”

You caught Hermes eye, already the wheels in his head spinning as you both glanced at Apollo then back at the box, then at each other. Hermes’s eyes lit up with mischief as You flashed Apollo a smile.

“Certainly.”

[likecastle]

Ronance Femslash February - the makeover scene we didn't see

OK, here’s my second pass at the prompt @allnewtpir sent me! It’s still not quite what you were looking for, I think, but much closer to actually covering “the makeover scene we didn't see.” It’s also a continuation of yesterday’s ficlet, but from Nancy’s perspective this time.

I’m accepting Ronance prompts all month for Femslash February. Anon asks  are totally fine, and you’re welcome to send more than one prompt. Don’t be shy! Please, keep them coming! You can find previous prompts I’ve filled here.

Robin pauses before she can take the bra from Nancy’s hand. “What now?” Nancy asks, trying and failing to temper the annoyance in her voice.

Robin winces. “Uh, if I get changed now,” she says, sounding almost apologetic for the first time since they started getting ready, “I’m going to get nail polish all over your clothes.”

Nancy lets her arm drop. Robin’s right, of course. Nancy should have considered this order of operations earlier, but Robin had come out of the bathroom, her legs looking a million miles long in Nancy’s too-short bathrobe, and Nancy had sort of forged ahead to the next task she that occurred to her without thinking things through.

“All right,” Nancy says with a sigh, “come here.”

Robin closes the distance between them, shoulders slumped. She doesn’t exactly look thrilled at the prospect of letting Nancy undress her—and why would she be? Nancy flushes hot as she unties the belt of the robe, and she tells herself it’s just embarrassment—for not having had the forethought to allow Robin to do this herself.

“Arms out,” Nancy directs, and Robin puts her arms out like a paper doll.

Nancy manages to get the robe down Robin’s shoulder easily enough, and carefully bunches the terry cloth up to ease it around Robin’s hand. Up close, Nancy can’t help noticing how good Robin smells, almost spicy like incense—not an ostentatious scent, but something that clings close to her skin even after her shower. It makes Nancy want to lean in closer, but she tries to focus on the task at hand. They repeat the same awkward maneuver to get the other arm of the robe off, and Nancy scrupulously averts her eyes until Robin’s turned around, her pulse hammering hard in her throat. Robin obligingly slips her arms through the straps of the bra and lets Nancy fasten it for her. As her fingers brush the smooth skin of Robin’s back, she wonders if anyone else has ever touched Robin here. And then she finds herself thinking about what it would be like to run her hands up Robin’s back—how for a boy who was used to encountering recalcitrant hooks and eyes, the uninterrupted expanse of Robin’s back under his hands would feel like an unexpected luxury.

“You seriously wear one of these every day?” Robin asks, and the sound of her voice startles Nancy out of her thoughts. “No wonder you’re always so pissed off.

“I’m not—” Nancy starts to say, but it’s pointless trying to argue with Robin. “Slip next.”

Robin has to bend low so that Nancy can get the lace-trimmed slip over her head, and Nancy tries not to let her hands linger as she tugs the slippery white fabric down Robin’s sides. She’s just glad Robin had the foresight to put on her underwear and pantyhose in the bathroom, because helping Robin into a pair of stockings really would have been humiliating for both of them.

The blouse goes on easily enough, though she has to stand uncomfortably close to Robin to do up the little pearl buttons, and the feeling of Robin’s chest rising and falling under her fingers makes something move, tidelike, in Nancy’s own chest. It almost makes her want to cry for some reason, which is just ridiculous.

“What is this made out of?” Robin asks, squirming unhappily in a way that brings her even closer to Nancy. “70% polyester, 30% repression?” When Nancy glances up, Robin looks miserable as a wet cat, and Nancy tells herself to get a grip.

She has to lean down to help Robin step into the skirt, and she holds her breath the whole time, afraid of catching another breath of that delicious spicy scent—or worse, finding out what it smells like mingled with the creamy vanilla of her shaving cream. At one point, Robin loses her balance and has to put a hand on the top of Nancy’s head, and it almost makes Nancy weak in the knees—or maybe she’s just been holding her breath for too long. They really don’t have time for this, she reminds herself firmly, and straightens up to put Robin’s cardigan on, tugging a little harder than is strictly necessary.

“There,” she says finally, breathing out at long last. “All done.”

Robin turns to examine herself in the mirror. “It’s . . . horrible,” she breathes, as if she’s in awe of how much she hates it.

As much as she wants to, Nancy can’t really argue with this assessment. The pale colors don’t suit Robin at all, and Nancy has to admit that the frilly collar doesn’t flatter her long neck as well as the looser tops Robin usually wears. “You look—fine,” she says, and she can hear how shrill the lie sounds.

Robin shoots her a baleful look. “You’re usually a better liar than that, Wheeler.”

“You need shoes,” Nancy says, and turns away to hide her blush.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

This is my gift I made for @toasterpapa​ for @gatesofsummerexchange​. This was my first time participating, and I really enjoyed it. 😁 Fi asked for some Fili and Kili shenanigan's, and me being me, I had to add some feelings to it as well. 🤣 In all seriousness, I do hope you enjoy your gift!!

Rating: G

Characters/Pairings: Fili & Kili, Fili & Bilbo, Fili & Thorin, minor established Bagginshield

Summary: Fili and Kili have been a little much lately. Their latest escapade: damaging the newly rebuilt Upper Markets that were scheduled to be unveiled to the public that night. However, uncovering Mahal’s Anvil seems to be the answer to all their problems...until it turns their hobbit uncle to stone.

Words: 6930

Feel free to read this story on AO3 using this link.

It had taken some time for the hobbit to adjust to life inside the mountain. Living out of the reach of the sun amongst carven stone. Each day dedicated to getting the broken kingdom back towards the glowing gem it once was. However, Bilbo really felt he had come to flourish in his role as Consort, which came with the best perk of being married to the love of his life. Thorin seemed to be more at ease letting Bilbo handle the public relations aspect of his job while he focused on the more physical tasks. Many of their newly returned citizens were immediately shocked by their King dressed in a simple tunic and trousers, digging out tunnels and toiling away in the forges for the necessary building materials. It had done well to win Thorin the public’s opinion.

On the flip side, any that had a single reservation about a non-dwarven Consort were immediately silenced or had changed their opinions after Bilbo took it upon himself to see every dwarf fed, clothed, housed, and needs completely met upon arrival. His strength lay in talking to people, hearing their concerns, and meeting with dwarves in higher positions to do something about it. 

Favor for royals had never been higher. Princess Dis even stepped into the role of Master of the Council which saved her brother a lot of headaches. Other members of the Company had also seamlessly assumed jobs and responsibilities that earned them respect and prestige. And then there were the princes.

Bilbo had thought they would have grown out of a lot of their shenanigans by now. Especially after that horrid battle before the mountain where he feared he was going to lose them all. However, almost as if the need to rebel now outweighed their common sense, Fili and Kili were more childish than ever.

There was the “werewolf hunting” incident that Tauriel assured them was nothing more than a lone, rather large warg. Still put the entire kingdom on edge for weeks. The time they managed to almost put out the fires in the great forges when they caused an overflow in the river dam. And Bilbo wasn’t even going to get into the stampede of rams through the Great Hall. He loved his nephews to death. But he had almost come to dread them coming around with sheepish grins and their innocent…

“Say, Uncle Bilbo?”

The hobbit just barely resisted the urge to bang his head into his planner.

“What have you two done now?” He groaned.

“I take offense at that. We don’t always bother you just because we’ve managed to get ourselves into a…predicament.” Fili said.

“Yeah, sometimes we just want to visit our favorite hobbity uncle.” Kili agreed with a much too wide grin.

“Really, because the last time you visited, I had to help you clear rats out of the pantries. Or would you rather me go back all the way to the troll incident?”

“You really ought to give that one a rest. It all worked out fine in the end.” Fili scoffed.

“We were almost eaten and I was covered in troll snot.”

“Almost being the key word.” Kili pointed out.

Bilbo did hit his hands to his face that time as he slowly rubbed circles around his eyes.

“You two are grown dwarves, when are you going to act like it?” Bilbo complained.

He almost missed the sour and bitter looks that stole across the princes’ faces at that. However, it was gone far before Bilbo even had a chance to comment. The sheepish and mischievous smirks the duo were known for returning in full force. Bilbo made a mental note that they all, Thorin and Dis included, needed to have a sitdown soon.

“Fine, I’ll play along. Why are you here?”

“Well you know how Uncle Thorin gave us that super important job of decorating the Upper Markets for the grand opening tonight?” Fili asked, his words dripping in honey.

“We may have encountered a slight problem.” Kili hissed in false sympathy.

Words Bilbo was uncomfortably familiar with at this point.

“Lead the way.” He ordered with a sigh.

Thorin seemed to think Bilbo was too soft on them. Allowing them to use Bilbo to help clean up their messes. Bilbo just saw it as an opportunity to make them do the job themselves instead of another poor dwarf. However, he did have to admit. It wasn’t quite the determinant he had hoped it would be, but Thorin’s idea of giving them stupid tasks so they couldn’t mess anything major up wasn’t exactly helping either.

Until this point they had only been making use of the Lower Markets. Back in the day the Lower Markets were for foreign trade where the men of Dale and elves of Mirkwood would bring and sell their wares. The Upper Markets were set up with personal forges and gem cutting stations. Bilbo had learned that the entire metal and gem making process was something of a spectacle to dwarves, and finally having it cleaned up enough to open it up would go a long way to getting their culture back in Erebor. Plus, Bilbo was looking forward to watching his husband shape melt with the sleeves rolled up over his stout forearms, and the heat causing sweat to glean on his skin…

“Here we are!” Fili announced, shaking Bilbo from his daydream.

Bilbo looked up only to cry out in aghast. There were loose rocks everywhere. And the nice, new marbled floor was cracked in places where some of the larger stones hit. Banners haphazardly held to the columns by arrows and knives painted a clear picture of what happened. Bilbo’s idiotic nephews were messing around in their task and caused a rock slide. 

“You just…I can’t…what were you even thinking?!” He swore.

Kili opened his mouth to answer, and Bilbo held up his hand.

“Nope!” He denied, not wanting to hear excuses.

“In our defense, it was an ingenious idea on our part…until we hit an unstable mark.” Fili went ahead and argued.

Bilbo whirled around on them, blood pounding in his ears, making it hard for him to hold back this time.

“LOOK AT THIS!” He demanded. “And I’m not even talking about the rocks right now. Look at the banners! Is that something you think the people of Erebor can be proud of?!”

Fili and Kili both looked up and stared at their sloppy work even as one string of flags began to droop. The expression in their eyes was guarded and unreadable which was unusual for them. Eventually they gave half-hearted shrugs.

“We’re sorry, Uncle Bilbo.” They declared in unison with the most monotone voice Bilbo had ever heard.

The hobbit resisted heaving a large sigh. He merely shook his head.

“I just don’t understand this selfish behavior of late. I really don’t.” He murmured.

Kili immediately dropped his head like a kicked puppy, but Fili bristled at the insult.

“I don’t think the hobbit that only holds power from marrying our uncle gets to pass that kind of judgment.” He spat.

Kili flinched, his eyes wide at Fili’s biting remark. And even the golden prince himself looked shocked at the bitter words spoken. Something sharp lodged itself in his heart, and Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to say anything for a long moment.

“Bilbo, I’m…” Fili attempted to apologize, but Bilbo wasn’t having it.

“You two start piling the bigger pieces over there. I’ll find a broom.” He declared before he marched back down the hall. 

Just in time before the first tear slipped down his cheek.

***

“That was…unnecessary.” Kili admitted as he and Fili worked.

“I don’t like when people talk down to me.” Fili tried to defend with no bite. “I get enough of it from Thorin. I don’t need it from his Consort.”

“Bilbo.” Kili corrected with a hard look. “Bilbo, our friend and also our uncle. You hurt his feelings, Fi.”

“I’ll…make it up to him later.” He grumbled.

Kili shook his head, grateful not for the first time, that Tauriel was visiting Legolas this week. Fili had been in a funk for awhile now. He had tried to help distract his brother in the best way he knew how, but even he could see that there was a line that they seemed to be flirting with lately. Bilbo has always been their friend even before he was their uncle, and probably one of their last true allies. He didn’t deserve Fili’s ire. 

Kili went to grab another rock to add to the growing pile when he spied something metallic below. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary. After all, Erebor was the city where gold ran like veins through the stone. However, this was iron. Shaped iron to be precise. He grabbed another medium sized boulder and another as he worked to unveil the object. When it finally started to take shape in his mind was when he decided to call his brother over. 

“Fi! What do you think this is?”

Fili let the rock he was carrying drop as he slowly moved closer, a furrow between his brow. He was standing beside Kili now, helping to shift more rock out of the way when at last, they could identify it.

“An anvil?” Kili questioned.

Fili shrugged. “Not that unusual for the Upper Markets at least.” 

“Yeah, but clear over here?” Kili scoffed. “Besides, Smaug wouldn’t have buried it in this pillar like this. No, this was built around it.”

“What are you saying?” Fili raised an eyebrow. “That some dwarf hid an anvil like it’s…”

Fili and Kili’s eyebrows rose skyward at the same time before they declared in unison:

“IT’S MAHAL’S ANVIL!”

Legend had it that when Mahal sent his first creations out into the world, he left them his hammer and anvil. The hammer, supposedly lost amongst the other treasures of Khazad-dûm, was said to have the power to level mountains with a single strike. It was without a doubt the most destructive force in their world. In contrast, the anvil was supposed to heal any ailment, any structure, and any stone with a single strike. However, only the most worthy of dwarves could hear its powerful ring. It had long been the brothers’ dream to go out on their own someday and find both. Honestly, it was almost a little disappointing how easy finding the anvil was. Discounting the fact that they first had to get Erebor back from a dragon, it was a bit underwhelming to have it just randomly buried in the walls of the Upper Market.

“Do you know what this means?” Fili exclaimed.

“We can rub in Thorin’s smug face all the times he teased us for still believing in fairy stories.” Kili smirked.

“Well that goes without saying.” Fili grinned. “But more specifically, he can’t get mad at us about this any longer.”

Fili gestured around the still ruined room around them. Kili fought to hide his grimace, wanting to remain upbeat for his brother. His eyes slid over to the hobbit who was slowly sweeping away debris with his back to them.

“I don’t know. It still looks pretty bad, and I don’t think Bilbo’s going to let us off easy this time.”

“Don’t you remember the stories though? Mahal’s anvil can heal any structure…We can use the anvil to fix it! What if we can use it to fix all of Erebor?!”

Any reservations Kili had were wiped away in his budding enthusiasm. 

“We can most ASSUREDLY use the anvil to fix everything! After all, who’s more worthy than a son of Durin?”

“Exactly, Nadad (brother)!” Fili encouraged. “Quick! Do you have a hammer?”

Kili felt around on his person, but came up empty. Fili also was patting himself down in all his knife hiding places, but the younger could tell from his frustrated expression that he wasn’t finding one. That’s when it hit him. They were in the Upper Markets. There were forge stands all around them. Surely one of them had to have a hammer. 

“Be right back.” He mumbled as he already started to walk away.

Kili tried to keep his steps light and even despite knowing their hobbity uncle would surely catch him with his ears. However, he never once turned, even as Kili snuck a hammer out of one of the drawers lining the stand. It was as he turned back to Fili that he heard the sniffle, and he knew why Bilbo didn’t notice him. Kili stopped in his tracks as he looked over his shoulder at his uncle with a frown. The hobbit’s shoulders were drawn tight, but he could see the subtle shaking that came with silent sobs. 

He opened his mouth to call out to him when Fili gave a low whistle. He looked over to see his brother animatedly waving him back over. Kili could feel his heart ripping in two as he tried to decide on what to do before eventually releasing a soft sigh and running back over to Fili’s side. They would fix things with Bilbo as soon as they used the magic anvil to fix their first mess. With great reluctance, Kili passed the hammer over to Fili, and the excitement radiating from his face made it all worth it.

“Go on then.” Kili cheered, almost bouncing in his excitement.

“Alright.” Fili chuckled. “Give me a moment here. It’s almost a little disappointing to not have a warhammer. It feels wrong to hit it with this little forge hammer.”

“It’s a forge anvil.” Kili pointed out, shrugging.

Fili shrugged back as he raised his arm ready to bring it down on the solid iron surface. However, just before he could, Kili held up both his hands.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“It’s still in the pillar. So when it starts to heal itself back…”

“Good call.”

Fili set the hammer in his belt as they each took an end and carried the anvil out into the open a bit more. Satisfied, Fili took position once again.

“Alright. Now. Let it ring!”

The hammer collided with the anvil sending a shockwave that sent Fili and Kili flying backwards. Kili landed in their pile of rocks, and Fili landed against the pillar where they unearthed the anvil to begin with.

“Did you hear a ring?” Kili coughed as he slowly righted himself.

“I think my ears are ringing, but no I didn’t hear anything.” Fili groaned his response, rubbing the back of his neck.

They both looked around the space only to fall in disappointment. Nothing had been fixed. It was still the same after the rockslide. 

“Maybe we were wrong.” Kili finally admitted. “Maybe it wasn’t Mahal’s anvil.”

“Yeah, because normal anvils send us flying after a single strike.” Fili pointed out, staring at it bitterly. “Clearly we weren’t worthy.”

“Well…let’s not give up.” Kili smiled weakly. “We could have Thorin try…”

A scowl formed on Fili’s face at their uncle’s name, and Kili quickly felt the need to backtrack.

“Or Bilbo! Who’s more worthy than our little hobbit?” Kili gasped.

It was the perfect opportunity to heal the rift anyways. 

“Hey Bilbo…!” He called out.

However, as he turned around, he noticed Bilbo was standing there awfully stiff. Kili winced. Or maybe they were in more trouble. 

“Bilbo, we’re sorry.” Fili hummed half-heartedly. “We won’t mess with it anymore.”

Still, the little hobbit refused to turn or even acknowledge them. Kili raised an eyebrow at Fili who shrugged. Dusting themselves off, they decided to make their way over to him. Bilbo was notorious for his silent moods after all, but who could resist Fili and Kili? Especially when they turned on the pouting faces.

The closer they got though, the more they realized something was truly wrong. Closing in on the last few feet in a run, Kili almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He stood there, blinking and blinking again as the blood drained away from his face. However, no matter how many times he tried to will the image away, it never changed. Bilbo. Their friend, their uncle, had been turned to stone.

***

Fili was doing his best not to panic even as a vice squeezed around his heart. By Mahal, what had he done? His fingers lightly traced the tear tracks that had been solidified as well, making him feel that much worse. What had he done?! 

“Thorin’s going to actually murder us this time.” Kili gaped, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Fili hadn’t even thought that far, but Kili was right. This wasn’t just their usual pranks and mischief. They turned his husband to stone. 

I just don’t understand this selfish behavior of late.

I don’t think the hobbit that only holds power from marrying our uncle gets to pass that kind of judgment.

Fili’s breathing quickened as the grip on his heart tightened. What if what he said was the last thing he would ever get to say to Bilbo?! He didn’t mean it! Honestly, he didn’t! There was a roaring coming from somewhere! WHY COULDN’T EVERYONE BE QUIET AND LET HIM THINK?!!

“Fili? FILI!”

“WHAT?”

Kili flinched at his harsh tone, and Fili immediately came back to himself.

“What do we do, Fili?” He asked quietly.

Fili ran his hands down his face, pulling on his mustache slightly. Right. They needed a plan, and that was his job. He came up with the plans. But how did you bring someone back from stone?!

“We…need advice.” He finally admitted. “But discreetly. We don’t need to alert anyone else just yet. You take Balin, and I’ll ask Ori.” 

Kili nodded enthusiastically. “And what about Bilbo?”

Fili looked back at the stone hobbit with his hunched shoulders and pinched expression. Fili closed his eyes against the image.

“He should be fine. But we’ll stop by his rooms and pick up a cloak to cover him up. The important thing is no one else has to know about this. We’ll figure out how to fix it, and everything will be fine. Okay?”

“Okay.” Kili nodded.

“Okay.” A third voice agreed breathlessly.

Fili and Kili whipped their heads around to see Gimli standing there, pale as a ghost. Not that either of them had much room to talk. Fili wasn’t really thinking as he sprinted over to the younger dwarf, shoving him up against the wall behind him. Gimli hardly reacted, his wide eyes still glued to Bilbo.

“What are you doing here?” Fili hissed. 

“Your mom sent me to remind you that they plan to open the markets in two hours. Why is the Consort stone?!”

“We found Mahal’s anvil.” Kili piped up from behind him.

Fili didn’t think it was possible for Gimli’s jaw to drop any lower, but he was somehow proven wrong.

“That’s so cool! Did you strike it?! What was it like?”

“Yes, we struck it and it TURNED BILBO TO STONE!” Fili screamed, shaking Gimli in the process.

“Okay, okay.” Kili interjected, stepping between the two. “This will be good. Gimli can keep a lookout while we go find a cure.”

Fili looked back at his brother before looking over at the ginger dwarf who was nodding enthusiastically. It wasn’t a terrible suggestion, but Fili would feel better about it if Gimli didn’t keep trying to sneak awed looks at the anvil and Bilbo. Fili looked back at Kili, who was now nodding as well.

“Fine!” Fili growled. “Keep Bilbo safe, and don’t let anyone but us back in here. Also don’t you dare touch that anvil. We don’t need anyone else turning to stone around here.”

Gimli slapped his fist against his heart. “You can count on me!”

Fili had to accept that as good enough. “We have less than two hours. Learn what you can and meet back here. We can’t let Uncle come down here and see Bilbo like this.”

Gimli whistled. “I didn’t even think about that. You two are dead where you stand if the King finds out about this.”

“Thanks Gimli.” Kili grumbled. 

Fili could feel the beginning of a rather large headache taking shape at this point. He could only hope Ori would actually provide him some useful information, and he knew exactly where the former scribe would be. 

***

“Sorry, can’t help you.” Ori shrugged as he continued to stack his books on the shelf.

Fili felt like white hot metal about to explode at any second.

“What do you mean you can’t help me?” He demanded, trying to hide his aggravation. “You’re the HEAD LIBRARIAN! You’re the only person who could possibly know about Mahal’s Anvil.”

Ori stopped just long enough to fix Fili with a raised eyebrow and a twisted scowl.

“You’re talking about an object that most dwarves don’t even believe exist!” He complained. “Of the maybe five books in here even on that subject, I doubt even one of them goes in detail about the powers or the anvil or how did you phrase it again? How to ‘undo an act made by someone unworthy’? What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Well…” Fili fidgeted. “What if someone hit the anvil and it didn’t ring and it didn’t heal? What if it did something else?”

“Like what…?” Ori questioned slowly in the same suspicious voice that Fili knew he had to have learned from Dori. 

This was where Fili was hitting some dangerous territory. If he was too specific, Ori would know something was up. Not that he wasn’t already cluing in on that as it was.

“Well, I just mean, the Hammer had the ability to crush stone with a single swing, correct? Isn’t it possible the Anvil could…turn people to stone?”

Ori put a finger to his chin, his need to debate a hypothetical issue stronger than his suspicions.

“I suppose.” He finally shrugged. “After all, Mahal was said to have crafted his children from stone. It’s entirely possible that part of the ‘healing’ of the anvil would be to return dwarves back to the stone they came from.”

“So they wouldn’t be dead?” Fili sighed, the relief almost physically bringing him to his knees.

“No…I wouldn’t say so. Probably just a comatose state.”

“And how would such a process be reversed?”

“I don’t know, Fili. Do I look like Mahal to you?! Why are we playing hypothetical about a magic anvil anyways?”

“Just…curious I suppose.” Fili sighed. “Do you mind if I look through those books you were talking about anyways?”

“In the mythology section.” Ori sighed, pointing to the left as he went back to his task. “You’re not going to find anything though.”

Fili rolled his eyes as moved in that direction, pulling said books off the shelf. However, after forty stressful minutes of skimming the old legends, he had to admit defeat. Ori was right. There was nothing there even remotely useful. It was time for him to go back and hope Kili got something more from Balin. 

His hopes were dashed as he saw Kili and Gimli using a green shawl to try and hide as much of Bilbo’s stony vestige as possible. 

“Gimli! You’re supposed to be keeping watch!” Fili complained.

“I was!” He defended. “And then Kili asked me to hide Bilbo as much as we can.”

“No luck?” Fili asked grimly.

“No…” Kili admitted, still engrossed in his task. “I had to ask Balin what would happen if a non-dwarf was turned to stone by Mahal’s Anvil, and he got pretty suspicious after that. Higher, Gimli! I can still see his ear!”

“That’s just great!” Fili complained. “Now what are we going to do?”

“Gimli and I figured, if we cover Bilbo up, everyone will just think he’s feeling under the weather.”

Fili sputtered trying to find words for how ridiculously idiotic an idea that was. For one thing, that wouldn’t explain his inability to talk or move! Never mind when Thorin, sop that he was, decided to pick Bilbo up and carry him back to their rooms…actually, how heavy was Bilbo now that he was stone? Nevermind, it wasn’t important. What was important was they had just under an hour to figure out a way to fix this, and they were no closer to an answer than they were earlier. 

“There, what do you think?” Kili asked as he and Gimli stood back.

The shawl just barely covered Bilbo’s head and face before falling down to lay on his arms still holding the broom. Otherwise, from the waist down, he was still very clearly and obviously stone.

“I think we’re so dead.” Fili grimaced.

“THERE YOU TWO ARE!”

The three of them jumped with a small squeak as Kili quickly moved to stand in front of Bilbo, blocking him from Dwalin’s view. Fili shot Gimli a look that the younger could only return helplessly. Nervously, he spun around to face the guards’ Captain as he stormed in with his usual fierce scowl. 

“Are you knuckleheads done yet? Thorin’s ready to have people start streaming in here…”

Fili really had to fight hard not to hang his head like a misbehaving pebble as Dwalin trailed off, his eyes moving to the mess behind them.

“He’s going to kill you.” He assessed. “This wasn’t even a hard task! How could you have possibly messed this one up?”

Fili frowned. “It was drudge work. It wasn’t even a real task!”

“Yeah! And look what you did!” Dwalin continued, confirming Fili’s suspicions. “Do you know how long it took the masons to replace the marble on this floor the first time? And just what are you two hiding over there?!”

Gimli and Kili both flinched as they tried even harder to hide Bilbo from Dwalin’s line of sight which only seemed to make him more suspicious. 

“It’s…um…it’s…” 

Words would not come forth no matter how much he tried to summon them, not that they seemed like they were going to stop Dwalin in the slightest.

“Bilbo is sick!” Kili interjected, giving one last ditch effort.

Dwalin blinked over at him before he looked down at the clearly stone hobbit feet. Fili could feel his stomach plummeting as Dwalin’s jaw dropped, ripping the shawl away. Curses and prayers fell from his lips with ease, growing more heated the longer he looked upon Bilbo.

“What in Mahal’s Great Forge did you do?” He demanded, his eyes still glued to the frozen hobbit.

“I-It was an accident…” Fili tried to explain.

“What. Did. You. ACTUALLY JUST DO?!” Dwalin roared, finally turning around on the three of them, fire burning in his eyes.

“They did.” Gimli immediately denied, pointing at Fili and Kili.

Fili shot the younger dwarf a glare before turning back to Dwalin who seemed to be only a couple of seconds from decking them and then dragging them back to Thorin by their bootstraps. A vivid threat he had used on them many times before. 

“So…it all started when Fili bet me I couldn’t hit that pillar…” Kili began.

It didn’t take long after that for Fili to cave, and both were explaining in great detail how they caused the rockslide and went to go find Bilbo. How when they were cleaning up, they happened upon Mahal’s Anvil and decided to try and make it ring. Kili had stared at Fili when he glossed over his fight with Bilbo, but didn’t speak a word about it. Dwalin remained unnaturally quiet through the whole story, even as they finished with trying to find out how to change him back with no results. Dwalin turned back to Bilbo, his eyes softening as he took in the hobbit’s miserable expression.

“Do you think it pained him?” He asked softly.

Fili flinched, but he didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to even begin thinking about that. 

“What should we do?” Kili asked tentatively. “To fix him, I mean.”

Dwalin closed his eyes, his chin dropped to his chest, and his arms crossed tight. Even though it held the baring of annoyance, it was a sight that filled Fili with hope. This was his ‘commander poise’ and the tactical brilliance to follow would surely reveal a path he had previously overlooked. After a few more seconds, Dwalin looked up and squared his shoulders determinedly. 

“Maybe you just didn’t hit it hard enough.”

Fili’s jaw dropped as Dwalin started to make his way over to the anvil, pulling out his warhammer in the process.

“Just didn’t hit it hard enough?” Fili questioned, over Gimli’s excited cheering. “That’s your solution?! Last time, we turned our uncle to stone. Do you really want to try this?”

“You said it’s supposed to ring right? How are you supposed to get a good ring using a dinky forge hammer anyways?”

“It’s a forge anvil.” Kili defended once again.

“Might as well give it a shot. What’s the worst that can happen?” Dwalin demanded.

“WE COULD ALL TURN TO STONE!” 

The older dwarf shrugged as he hefted his hammer high. “Worth a try.”

In one fluid motion, he brought the hammer down hard on the iron surface creating a faint, flat ‘clang’. Fili’s hopes rose thinking he might have actually done it. Not even a second had passed before Dwalin went flying clear across the room, and the wave of pressure hit into the rest of them as well. 

“BILBO!” Kili gasped.

Fili pushed himself up far enough to see the stone structure rock back and forth before tipping backwards. Horror kept him frozen and mute. Luckily, Gimli dove under the falling statue just in time. Fili rose to his feet ready to congratulate his friend on his quick thinking, when there was a loud ‘crack’.

“No. No, no, no, no, no!” He started chanting as he ran over to Bilbo’s side.

“It’s alright.” Gimli grunted. “It was just the broom.”

Sure enough the wooden handle was splintered in two. Fili was not satisfied until he and Kili had Bilbo standing upright and inspecting every surface inch on the hobbit. Once it was clear there was no danger, did he release a sigh of relief.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Dwalin wheezed as he slowly got to his feet again. 

“I tried to warn you.” Fili pointed out.

“Hey! You did heal the floor though…sort of.” 

Everyone looked over where Kili was standing to see that the marble had pieced itself back together leaving only the spiderweb effect from where it was impacted. The brothers shared a look at this.

“Maybe all we need to do IS hit it harder!” Kili gasped.

“If we go get one of the really large forge hammers…” Fili agreed.

“Nope. Not doing that again.” Dwalin grunted as he limped over to them. “Besides, your uncle will be here shortly. He can decide what’s to be done about this.”

Fili couldn’t even believe what he was hearing.

“Tell Thorin?! NO! That should be the absolute last thing we do. In fact, Gimli, since you’re supposed to be keeping. Watch. You should distract Thorin to buy us some time if he gets too close. It won’t be any hardship for us to loosen a few bolts, and then we can…”

“And then you can what?”

And just like that…Fili was dead. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn around even as Kili and Gimli straightened up a bit further.

“King Thorin is here.” Gimli announced.

“Keep watch. That’s all I asked. What was so hard about that?” Fili moaned before deciding it was time to face the executioner’s block.

Thorin had a face when he was truly mad. Bilbo hadn’t believed Fili and Kili at first thinking he had seen the worst Thorin Oakenshield could bear on the quest. Then he had tried to throw the hobbit from the ramparts under the influence of the gold sickness, and Bilbo never doubted them again. His eyes went wide making the white all the more prominent, and a little half-smirk formed from the twitch in his jaw muscle from where it was straining. It was a look Fili had only seen twice before, and even then this was the first time it had ever been aimed solely at him. It succeeded in immediately making Fili feel half his age as his eyes dropped in deference.

“You know, when I heard reports of a rock slide in this general area, I thought surely not. Surely, my nephew, my supposed heir, had more common sense than that.” Thorin began, his voice tight in the effort to remain calm.

“Thorin…” Kili attempted to defend. 

“Atkât (Silence).” He spat. “Then, rather than coming to me, your King, about what I hoped to be incidental and in no way directly your fault. I hear that you went to anyone BUT me. To my Consort, to Balin, to Ori, spouting off about Mahal’s Anvil of all things! And you wonder why I can’t trust you with more responsibilities. Why I give you tasks below your station and below your abilities. If I CAN’T TRUST YOU TO…”

There was no sound beyond the heavy pounding of his heart for several seconds, and Fili didn’t understand right away what had stopped Thorin in mid-sentence. But the uncertainty was short lived, and the moment Fili realized what happened, his eyes were up and locking desperately on his uncle’s who just realized there was a member of the group frozen in stone. Thorin’s eyebrows pulled together as his lips twisted around the word ‘no’ soundlessly. His steps slow as if he could prolong the truth before him. 

“What is this?” Thorin whispered, the vulnerable edge to his voice threatening to undo Fili completely.

His hand shook as it reached out to caress Bilbo’s cold cheek, jarring him completely.

“I ASKED WHAT IS THIS?!” Thorin roared.

They all flinched back a step. Even Dwalin watched grimly, unable to utter a word as a sob seemed to choke out of Thorin. A sound so heartbreaking and raw that Fili knew he would rather endure Thorin’s rage a hundred times over than have to hear that sound ever again.

“Kili and I found Mahal’s Anvil.” Fili began, his voice somehow so loud and not loud enough.

Thorin’s back was to Fili, so he had no idea if his uncle even heard him as he continued.

“We thought if we struck it…it would fix things from before the rockslide. But then…”

“You turned him to stone.” Thorin accused, his voice cold. 

“It wasn’t on purpose…”

“You turned Bilbo TO STONE!” Thorin snapped, pinning Fili under a hate filled gaze. “My Consort…my markhel (shield of all shields), amrâlimê (my love)...”

There was a dam burst inside Fili, and he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer as a lone tear tracked its way completely to his mustache before it was joined by more.

“I don’t know what to do.” He admitted, brokenly.

Thorin only stood there, staring back wide eyed, and the flood took control.

“I don’t know what you want me TO DO!”

Fili let his breathing ground him knowing if he was going to say this, he wanted to be heard.

“When we talked of taking back Erebor, years ago back in Ered Luin…I was supposed to be ruling at your side. I knew what you wanted of me, what you expected of me as a Crown Prince. Then you married Bilbo, and honestly I couldn’t be happier for you, Uncle. I truly couldn’t. But he slipped into my place. Do you understand? Everyone else has a place. Amad, Dwalin, even Kili heads the hunters so he can spend more time with his elf.”

Fili could see his brother flinch, but he didn’t move his gaze away from Thorin. Who seemed to have fallen into a neutral expression to keep Fili from reading his emotions. 

“I don’t know what to do.” He repeated again with a helpless shrug. “Just like I don’t know how to fix Bilbo. But…I know a good place to start.”

Fili pulled out a knife, and before anyone could stop him, he cut the braid declaring him a prince of Erebor. Kili released a whine, but Fili ignored it as he stepped forward to press it into Thorin’s hand.

“My behavior today was dishonorable. Those tears on your Consort’s face? They are because of me. I spoke words to hurt him out of anger. I don’t deserve to be a prince anymore.”

Thorin was staring down at the blonde braid in his hand when Kili stepped forward. With one swift movement, he cut his braid as well and placed it on top of Fili’s. Fili looked at him askance as Kili leveled Thorin with a straight face.

“I could have done something. I could have alerted Bilbo. I came close, but in the end, I did nothing. If Fili doesn’t deserve his title, neither do I.”

Thorin looked down at the braids, lost to his thoughts. Fili noticed Gimli starting to step forward, but Dwalin’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from interrupting. When he turned his attention back to Thorin, his uncle was piercing him with an icy glare. The braids clutched tightly in his fist.

“If I made you feel like your place in Erebor had to be earned, either of you, then I have failed as your uncle and king and it is no one’s but my own braid I should hold.”

That was all the warning they had before Fili and Kili were wrapped up in a massive bear hug. Fili didn’t even hesitate as he buried his head into Thorin’s shoulder, gripping him back just as tight. The dwarf that helped raise him alongside his Amad, and he was crying into his surcoat like he was twenty again. Assurances and apologies were mumbled in his ear, and Fili held them close, letting them burrow into his heart. It was at that moment, the sharp perfect ‘ting’ of metal striking an anvil sounded, and a gasp was released from behind them.

All at once, they spun around to see Bilbo, wonderful, perfectly hobbity Bilbo, looking around in confusion with tears still tracking down his face.

“Thorin?” He sniffed. “What’s going on…?”

Fili didn’t give his uncle the chance as he launched himself at the hobbit with a cry, pulling the smaller male into a bone crushing hug.

“I’m sorry, Bilbo. I’m so sorry.” He mumbled.

“Fili? Oh my dear boy, it’s okay. There’s nothing to forgive. Don’t cry.” 

Fili wanted to laugh at Bilbo’s kind words if for nothing else than it was so Bilbo to be crying himself and trying to soothe him.

“I knew you were too soft on them.” Thorin laughed as well before pulling Bilbo just far enough out of Fili’s reach to plant a firm kiss on his lips.

After that, the four of them moved into one giant group hug that they ended up pulling Dwalin and Gimli into as well, laughing all the way.

“My word! I’m not quite sure what it is that I missed, but I can’t say I’m displeased with the result.” Bilbo remarked with a grin.

“Fi! Do you know what this means?” Kili asked, almost bouncing in excitement.

He raised an eyebrow waiting for Kili to enlighten him.

“You must be worthy now!”

Fili’s jaw dropped. That was right! No one had struck the anvil so it must have accepted Fili’s first swing as worthy after he fixed things with Thorin.

“We should try it again.” He stated, wanting to see the miracle of Mahal’s Anvil firsthand.

Before he or Kili could race over there, Thorin stopped them both by latching onto the collars of their tunics.

“Perhaps…that’s enough for today?” He pleaded. “I still don’t know how I feel about this magic anvil business without you two bringing the mountain down around our ears with it.”

“But Fili’s worthy now.” Kili tried to argue.

It was Thorin’s pained expression that had Fili taking pity on him. 

“Come on, Kili, Gimli. Let’s get this thing down to the treasury. We can decide what to do with it afterwards.”

“You know it’s not Mahal’s Anvil, right?” Gimli asked as they hoisted it up.

“What?!” Kili demanded.

“It’s says ‘Property of Narvi’ right there on the side of it.” 

“Wait. The Narvi of Khazad-dûm. How do you think it got here?” 

“Why is it magic?” Fili questioned.

“What else do you think it can do?” Kili continued to list.

Dwalin, Thorin, and Bilbo could only shake their heads as they watched them carry the anvil off. 

“They’re your heirs.” Bilbo reminded.

Thorin’s hand tightened on the braids still in his hand, his other slung around Bilbo’s waist.

“I know.” He sighed. “And I’m going to do better about making sure they realize it too. I need to stop treating them like children, and let them grow into the princes I know they can be.”

Bilbo looked up at Thorin sharply. “Seriously? What did I miss?”

Thorin shrugged helplessly. “I don’t even know if I can explain it myself.”

“I don’t know what they were going on about.” Dwalin complained. “It was clearly my swing that finally got the stupid thing working again.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Well whatever it was,” Bilbo sighed. “If it keeps me from having to hear ‘say, Uncle Bilbo’ again, then I dare say the worst is behind us.”

Thorin and Dwalin had just enough time to give the hobbit an unimpressed, flat look. And trio of ‘WE’RE SORRY’ was issued right before hundreds of angry screeching bats filled the chamber.

[rightpastnowhere]

A: Alleviate - How do they go about relieving persistent physical pain? - Percy

alphabet hurt/comfort asks

ohhh boy. my poor baby

percy, i think, has a high pain tolerance. as a kid he was always “building” little things and getting into the tools and such that he really shouldn’t have. and then, growing up using that forge, he’s used to little nicks and burns, or larger injuries (mostly dropping shit on his feet when he gets too excited, the dummy). and then, ripley. so he’s got a high pain tolerance

in battle, i think he deals with pain by just… gritting his teeth and bearing it, until the battle’s over. as long as it’s not lethal, which he takes careful index of himself for, healing can wait. get to the others first, the ones who aren’t as used to pain (especially keyleth), the ones who are worse off than him. he’ll accept healing, of course - he’s not stupid, and he knows that his health helps keep the party alive - but he’s lower on the list of urgency.

when it’s just him in his workshop, again, i think it’s a matter of priorities. if he nicks his finger, just some pressure from a rag or loose bandage (clean, of course) is enough for now, just until it stops bleeding. he might bandage it more permanently, later, if he thinks of it. if it’s a burn or something more seriously, then he has salves and medicines and bandages for that. maybe resting it a little bit, but still working if he can, the shortest break possible if he can’t. he’s not going to waste a healing potion on this, those are for battle and life-threatening wounds. he’s definitely not going to ask for a healing spell. he’s got it covered. priorities.

as for persistent pain - because i realize i’ve gotten very sidetracked in the course of answering this ask - i think of some of his older scars, which pull tight sometimes and ache at others. i think maybe he has some salves, some pain-killing teas he’s had recommended from keyleth, if it gets really bad. again, high pain tolerance. again, priorities. if he can deal with it, grit his teeth and bear it, he will. he doesn’t want a fuss made over him, and more than that, he doesn’t want to explain, doesn’t want to have to show anyone those scars. if he has to, he’ll lay down and try to sleep off the ache, but mostly he’ll work through it as a distraction.

it gets easier, when he’s with vex, if only because she forces him to take care of himself. if he doesn’t want to use potions or spells, that’s fine, she understands - but she’ll help him put on the salves he has. she’ll get him to change into comfier clothes, try to massage the area if it helps, get him to stop working and slow down. she’ll try and distract him, talking about her day or talking nonsense, brewing his favorite tea with little herbs in it she knows will help alleviate the pain a little and calm him down. after a while of knowing him, of learning through watching, she knows what to do without him having to ask. and he appreciates not having to ask