#Glimmer is her protective older(by a day) sister

[gexfan32]

xenoblade fanfic idea

what if, Xenoblade 3 post canon fic, by half of it is about how different major players from Aionios are in their home worlds, and the other half is a Nopon spy thriller

[suuuupernovaaa]

nìfnu

nìfnu [nɪ.ˈfnu] adv. silently

Anonymous Request: Can I have a story where it’s Ao’nung x Metkayina Reader who’s deaf and a sweetheart. When the Sullys arrive she doesn’t really interact with them so when they see Ao’nung being kind and protective towards her it they feel confused? Just pure fluff.

Lo'ak leans over and nudges his older sister, Kiri, forcefully on the arm.

"Ouch!" she yelps. "What, Lo'ak?"

He points, and she follows the line from his finger. It leads her eyes to Ao'nung, just a few paces down the beach from them, and he's with a Metkayina girl that Kiri doesn't recognize. She's tall, nearly as tall as Ao'nung, with her long hair pulled back into one large, thick braid. She wears a thin, shiny net over her shoulders, and Kiri notes how pretty it is. It glimmers in the sun. Kiri also notes how, even though Ao'nung and this girl are above walker, they are using the hand-speak to communicate.

"That girl. Neteyam tried to talk to her earlier, but she ignored him. And there she is, being so nice to Ao'nung. Who's an asshole."

Kiri elbows her sibling. "To you, he is. He looks like he's being perfectly friendly to that girl. And, I mean, she's very pretty."

"Why are they using the hand speak? They're not in the water."

Kiri shrugs. "How should I know? Stop elbowing me when you want something, Lo'ak. It hurts."

He groans and rolls his eyes, and turns his attention back to Ao'nung and the girl who rejected Neteyam.

--

"How are they adjusting?" I sign to Ao'nung, who shrugs and rolls his eyes. It's no secret that he resents having to teach the newcomers their ways, but I think it's nice. Ao'nung needs to humble himself sometimes, be more like his kind little sister.

"They are slow," Ao'nung signs in return. "I don't want to teach them. It's a waste of my time."

I reach out, pushing on his arm a little. "They seem sweet to me, especially the little one. Try to have patience with them. I would offer to help, but they don't know how to talk to me."

"Yet," he replies, and I smile.

"Yet."

--

Neteyam asks Tsireya about the girl, Y/N, the next day. He's noticed that she only uses hand-speak as well, and wonders.

"She can't hear," Tsireya says. "She's only spoken that way her whole life."

Neteyam could smack himself. He'd taken her silence as harsh rejection, when really, she just wasn't able to respond to him.

"Oh!" he exclaims. "She's, uh, really beautiful."

Tsireya laughs and smiles. "She is, but I wouldn't trouble yourself. Ao'nung has been in love with her for years." She throws a glance to her brother over her shoulder, but he's too busy making fun of Lo'ak to hear.

"Ao'nung?" Neteyam replies hardly, and Tsireya laughs even harder.

"I know. He has a soft spot for her, and her for him. If you want to compete, you'll have to learn hand-speak."

Neteyam shakes his head. She's beautiful, but not worth getting in a fight with the chief's son over. He'll just have to admire her from afar.

--

Though I can't speak, I am very proficient in reading lips. This helps me observe conversations from far away; as long as I have a clear view of someone's face, I can usually figure out what they're saying.

"Ao'nung has been in love with her for years."

That's what Tsireya said, and though she was smiling, it didn't seem as if she was joking. I dropped the plate of fruit I was carrying when she said it.

Is it true? Has Ao'nung been in love with me, and I haven't noticed?

Fruit is scattered all around my feet, and I bend over to begin gathering it again, every interaction I've had with Ao'nung recently playing over in my mind. If Tsireya is right, maybe I have been blind.

Ao'nung has always been kind, and patient and gentle with me. I knew he wasn't like that with many people, but I thought it was most likely out of pity for my condition - not out of love of affection.

A hand reaches out, picking up fruit and dropping it into my basket, and I look up to see Ao'nung himself.

Feeling flustered, I stand up, kicking the fruit basket once again, undoing all my work.

"Are you okay?" Ao'nung signs. I tuck my hair behind my ears, feeling a little speechless. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"Tsireya," I sign, "she told the new boy, the oldest one, that you are in love with me. Is she just teasing him, because he thinks I'm pretty?"

"He said he thinks you're pretty?" Ao'nung signs back, quickly and furiously, glancing over his shoulder at where his sister still sits with the newcomers.

I shove his shoulder. "Yes! Answer my question."

"Well... come with me." Ao'nung reaches out, grabbing my hand and therefore silencing me, and pulls me away from the beach. We move through many huts, past the fires, and to the edge of the beach, where the sparse forest and rocks begin. Here, we are alone.

"Ao'nung!" I exclaim, breathless. "What's going on?"

He rubs his forehead. "I had a plan, to tell you. It wasn't going to be like this. I'm going to kill Tsireya."

I stand, silent, waiting for him to finish. My heart is beating out of my chest, and my palms are shaking; I'm not sure I could speak, even if I wanted to.

"For a long time, I have loved you, Y/N. I have tried to be more... understanding, and gentle, the way you deserve. But it's hard for me. I wanted to be better, before I told you. Before I asked you to be my mate."

Unable to control myself, I gasp, and bring my hands up to my mouth.

Me, the mate to the next Olo'eyktan? It's unimaginable.

"Your parents approve the match?" I ask.

Ao'nung smiles at me softly. "Of course. When I told them how much I love you, they couldn't object. They believe you will make a wonderful Tsahik, because you are so kind and understanding. My mother will teach you everything you need to know - if you want."

That thought alone is a little overwhelming, since Ronal can be so intimidating, but I also imagine she can be a good teacher.

And really, that doesn't matter. What matters is the way I feel when I'm with Ao'nung; special, adored, loved, doted upon. I feel safe with Ao'nung. I feel seen and most importantly, heard.

"I would be proud to be your mate, Ao'nung. So proud. Of course, I love you."

The smile that spreads across his face transforms Ao'nung from the sullen, anxious, grouchy man most have come to know him as. It turns him into the carefree, light and happy man he is when the two of us are together.

I am proud to make him smile like that. I promise myself then, to make him smile like that every day, for the rest of our lives.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Inconceivable (Princess Bride AU)

Part I: A Kissing Story

Westeros has been at peace for nearly a year, and a wedding has been planned to celebrate the anniversary. King Jacaerys will marry his aunt, the only surviving child of the Greens, and unite both Targaryen bloodlines at last. It is a fairy tale ending, but this is no ordinary fairy tale...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x sister!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Jacaerys x reader

Warnings: Angst, grief, forced marriage

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: Nothing like watching an old classic movie to revive the writing inspiration, huh?

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Part I: A Kissing Story

“The princess was raised in a great castle along the coast of a glimmering sea. Her favorite pastimes were riding her dragon and tormenting her older brother. His name was…” Aemond. His name was Aemond, but she couldn’t say that. She had not said it in what felt like a lifetime. Not even to their mother.

His name was Aerion. But she never called him that. Nothing gave the princess as much pleasure as ordering Aerion around. ‘Lēkia, help me brush my hair!’ she would say.

Aerion would reply, “as you wish.’ It was all he ever said to her.

One day, the princess called him into her chambers before they were to attend a ball. When he entered, she was sitting at her vanity, a necklace of sapphires set in gold laid before her. ‘Lēkia, help me with my necklace. The clasp is quite tricky.’

The clasp was not tricky, but he put it around her neck anyway, his hands lingering on her neck as they gazed into each other’s eyes through the mirror. ‘As you wish,’ Aerion said.

That day, the princess was amazed to discover that when her brother said ‘As you wish,’ what he meant was this: ‘I love you.’ And even more amazing was that night when she realized she truly loved him back.”

“Is this a kissing story?” Young Aegon’s voice shattered the spell she’d been under like a pane of glass. The young prince – her nephew – was tucked into his bed as he recovered from a mild fever.

She laughed. The boy was becoming a man now if he no longer had a taste for ‘kissing stories.’ Once, he had loved them. “I’m sorry, Aegon. I can tell another if you would prefer?”

Aegon sighed. ���No, I think I just want to sleep, muña.”

“Then I shall let you sleep, trēsy.” She did not let her disappointment show until she had left her nephew’s bedchamber. She needed to tell the story, for it was the only way she could keep it alive, the only way she could remember.

So, as she returned to her rooms and was readied for bed by servants she did not trust, she silently told the story to herself.

“Aerion asked the crown for permission to marry his sister, but before they could say their vows, war befell the kingdom, and he was sent away to battle to protect their family.

‘I fear I’ll never see you again,’ the princess cried as they said their farewells.

‘Of course you will,’ he assured.

‘But what if something happens to you?’

‘Hear this now: I will always come for you.’

Through her tears, the princess asked, ‘How can you be sure?’

Aerion smiled, ‘This is true love; you think it happens every day?’

His assurance gave the princess enough bravery to watch him mount his dragon and fly away. But Aerion did not return from battle. His dragon was attacked in the Gullet by his enemies and felled. When the princess got the news that he was murdered, she went into her rooms and shut the door and for days she neither slept nor ate, swearing she would never love again.

Two years later, King’s Landing was filled as never before to hear the announcement of the great King Jacaerys’ bride-to-be.

‘My people,’ Jacaerys said, ‘three months from now, our realm will celebrate a year since peace was at last declared. On that sundown, I shall marry my dear aunt, our princess, to reunite our family and signal an end to the strife that threatened to consume us.’

The people cheered so loudly that the princess thought she might be struck deaf. But she was not, forcing her to hear every moment of their adoration. Her emptiness consumed her.

Although the law of the land gave Jacaerys the right to choose his bride, the princess did not love him. He had fought in the battle where her true love had been killed, and every time she looked at him, all she could see was a vision of her brother as he and his dragon fell into the sea.

Despite Jacaerys’ reassurance that she would grow to love him, the only joy she found was in telling her story to her little niece and nephews – the only other remaining members of her family and the only ones who would not glean the longing in her voice. For if the king or his council ever learned that she still loved her brother…”

The door thumped shut as the last of the servants left. She let out a heavy sigh, at last feeling as though she could breathe again as she finished her story, whispered into her pillow.

“She would never be allowed to tell the story again.”

-

Hundreds of miles away, a weather-worn ship rocked lazily in the docks of Lys. Its crew was scattered within the city, enjoying its many pleasures.

All but the captain.

The man known and feared throughout the world as the Dread Pirate Symeon sat alone in his quarters, silent as death. He pored over a map of the Narrow Sea, but his eye was drawn again and again to a single mark – the small three-headed dragon along the coast of Westeros—King’s Landing.

He ran a finger gloved in black leather over the mark, tapping it twice as he again pondered the words that had echoed in his mind since he heard them.

“King Jacaerys has announced his intention to marry his aunt upon the anniversary of his taking the throne and restoring peace to Westeros.”

Symeon stood so quickly that his chair toppled over, one leg splintering on impact. He did not give it a second glance before strapping a sackful of gold to his belt and storming off the ship.

One of his sailors had the misfortune to be making his way drunkenly back to the ship when the captain pulled him aside. “The ship is Marlow’s now,” he said, naming his first mate. “You will tell no one that you have seen me, or I will return and slit your throat. Understood?”

The sailor nodded, his blood sluggish with drink and fear. The captain released him, and he nearly stumbled into the sea.

When he regained his balance and looked back down the dock, the Dread Pirate Symeon was gone.

[spxllcxstxr]

Protected • R.S

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi!! Can I request a angst/fluff with robb stark & the prompt: I’m going to protect you. Thank you so much :))) — anon

Summary: The aftermath of Ned Stark’s death

Warnings: canon character death sprinkled with a wee bit of canon divergence?, grieving, reader wears a dress and is referred to as wife (no pronouns used)

Word Count: 769 (i'm so sorry for the short length lmao)

A.N: first time writing Robb! i actually really like this ngl, hope you enjoy!

•

“That boy is going to ruin his sword.” Lady Catelyn mutters from beside you, her eyes trained on her eldest son on the edge of the tree line. Her hands fidget with the end of her braid.

Your own eyes gaze out to see your betrothed, hacking away at a tree stump, his grunts echoing throughout the silent camp.

News of Ned Stark’s horrid death spread through the camp quickly only hours prior, and the men had hid in their tents to mourn the Lord of Winterfell. It was a gloomy day, appropriately reflecting the mood of the solemn North. The clouds were heavy and grey, the air still smelling of the earlier rain.

Sighing, you watch Robb hit anything within arms reach. His moves are erratic, it's obvious even from this distance. Your teeth tease your bottom lip uneasily.

“I should go to him…” Lady Catelyn sighs, her lips tilted down into a frown.

Your hand rests on her shoulder, stopping the older woman from moving. “My Lady, you just lost your husband…go grieve. I will talk to Robb.”

Lady Catelyn nods, her eyes vacant as she turns towards her own tent. You watch her leave, making sure she gets to her destination safely before trudging through the mud to your betrothed.

The mud clings to your nice shoes, and at this point you don’t bother hiking your skirts up to avoid the filth below you. Your eyes stay trained on Robb, his forceful movement never ceasing.

A few feet away from him, you hear his grunts of anguish and frustration, his tunic dotted with sweat. You let his take one more swing at the rotting stump before you cough to gain his attention.

“Robb, I think that is enough…”

Robb freezes before slowly turning to face you. His auburn curls untamed and his blue eyes burning brighter with rage. You’ve never seen him like this at all, not when he first heard his father was taken prisoner in King’s Landing, nor when he discovered that someone had sent assassins to kill Bran. Your eyes widen at the state of your betrothed, fidgeting in place. He pants heavily as he looks at you.

“I’ll kill them! I swear to every god out there, I will kill the Lannisters for what they have done!” Robb seethes, his face red with anger. “It is only what those murderous pricks deserve.”

He flings his sword down, taking deep ragged breaths. You don’t flinch at his uncharacteristic anger, instead you inch closer to your betrothed.

All at once, as if the adrenaline drains out of him, Robb falls to his knees, his blue eyes trained on the mud beneath your feet as they glimmer with tears.

You drop down with him, taking his head in your hands, leaning your forehead against your lover’s.

“Oh darling…” You whisper, watching the grief take over his features. Your heart breaks seeing him so vulnerable.

“My father is dead,” He sobs, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. “They have to pay for what they have done.”

“They will, Robb, they will suffer for their cruelty towards the North," You tell him softly, lifting your head to place a delicate kiss on his forehead.

Robb glances up as well, his tears subsiding. “And I will protect you, my dearest. No Lannister will ever harm you,” There is a quick burst of fire behind those usually cool eyes. “they would not dare.”

“Robb—“ Your fingertips brush over his stubble.

“They have taken my sisters hostage and they have killed my father, but they will not take my wife from me.”

Heat creeps up your neck at his passionate words. You and Robb had not yet been wed but hearing his call you his wife causes you to shiver.

“I swear it to you, my love,” Robb continues, taking your hands in his rough hands, squeezing them tightly between your two closely crouched bodies. “They will not touch you.”

“I believe you, darling, I do.” You reply lightly, squeezing back, attempting to convey how much trust and love you’re filled with for him.

The sky seems to lighten, clouds parting ever so slightly to let the sun peek through enough to shine down on your camp. The moist air of the Riverlands clings onto your skin as the few rays of sun beats down on your exposed skin making your position unbearable.

Wordlessly, you and Robb rise, chins up despite the situation that just occurred. Your hands hold onto his arm as the two of you, side by side, walk back into the center of camp, ready for war.

•

[tsunami-of-tears]

Iris

Azriel x Rhys’s Sister Reader

Summary: Reader has been struggling with her inner demons ever since her brother went Under The Mountain.

A/N: This is really dark. Please, please read the warnings before clicking read more.

To preface: I’m okay, just tired and was pre-menstrual when I started this. I haven’t been in this dark of a place in a very long time, but I wanted to write this for 15-year-old Shelby who thought no one saw her. I haven’t talked about my history of self-harm much and it’s hard to reopen those wounds, but it’s therapeutic. 

If anyone is struggling, my inbox is always open. I’ve also included a few resources at the end of this fic.

Wordcount: 1.2K

Warnings: ANGST!!; major depression; disordered eating (binging); graphic self-harm; Rhys UTM

Reader

Things were bad. 

Really bad.

You had completely withdrawn from your family in the months since Rhys had gone Under The Mountain. 

Rhys - your idiot older brother - had sacrificed himself to protect you and your people; leaving you in charge of his court. 

Ruling had always come easy to him, he was born to do it whereas you struggled to switch between the required masks.

These days, the only mask you wore was one of cold indifference. 

As the shield fell into place around Velaris, trapping you inside, a wall of adamant rose around you, keeping everyone around from seeing the war raging inside your mind. 

Most of your time was spent in your bedroom with the curtains drawn, unable to look at the sleeping city below your window. 

Velaris, the city of Starlight, had lost its sparkle. 

The first week after Rhys left, not a single light could be seen. The once lustrous city had gone into mourning. The Sidra, usually glimmering like liquid night, now reflected only the deepest black. 

You only dared to leave your room during the night when you were less likely to be spotted, not wanting anyone to see the ghost you’d become.

You float down the stone hallway, robes billowing as you walk to the kitchen. 

You’d taken to eating late at night. Food, usually sweets, was the only comfort you could find.

You’re rummaging in the larder when you feel a familiar sensation around your bare ankles, the cold shadow wisping over your skin.

“Y/N,” you hear a deep voice say behind you. 

You turn, blocks of chocolate in hand, to face the one person you love more than your brother. 

“Azriel,” you reply, taking in his appearance. 

He looked terrible.

His hair was dishevelled, his jet-black curls in dire need of a comb, and his once warm hazel eyes were dull and bloodshot. Beneath them were deep violet bruises, clearly he wasn’t sleeping much. 

You can feel his gaze on you, and wonder what he thought of the shadow of life you’d become. 

You watch his nostrils flare. “Y/N, are you hurt? I can smell blood.”

You feign a laugh, “I’m on my cycle.” You hold up the chocolate as evidence. “Cravings.” 

Azriel narrows his eyes but doesn’t push you. “I… We miss you,” he says.

You turn away from him, unable to voice how broken you feel. 

“Please, I can’t lose you too,” he pleads. 

“Goodnight Azriel,” you whisper, slipping out the door into the dark hallway. 

Neither Azriel nor his shadows follow you. 

————

You step out of the shower and stand in front of the bathroom mirror, scrutinising your reflection. 

You pinch at the skin on your hips and stomach, scowling at the growing curves, before turning to the side to inspect your full breasts and butt. 

Facing forward again, your eyes fall upon the ladders of scars across your thighs and forearms. 

Angry red and purple lines jutting between faint silver. 

You started again after losing Rhys. You hadn’t done it since losing your mother. It was the only way you knew to reflect your inner turmoil. 

The day your mother was killed, you were meant to be with her. You should’ve been taken too. 

Rhys had helped you out of the pit of despair that time, but he was no longer here. Once again, you were saved while your loved ones were not. 

You towel off your skin before sitting down at your vanity. You pull out an ornate jewellery box and retrieve the ash dagger stashed inside. 

You weren’t sure why you harmed yourself. There was a part of you that felt you deserved it, that thought you were a wretch for allowing your brother to endure all that torment for you. Then there was a part that just wanted to feel something other than the numbness that ached to your core. 

You press the dagger against your skin. Not even the sting of the blade made you cry anymore. Your tears had long since dried up. 

With each slice, your self-hatred rings in your ears. 

Stupid – cut. 

Useless – cut. 

Waste of space – cut. 

You set the bloodied dagger down on the counter, feeling nothing but apathy. 

Morning starts to creep in when you finally make it to bed. As you lay there, staring at the ceiling, the little voice inside your head sneers at you. 

This was the life your brother sacrificed his for? Pathetic. 

————

Azriel

If Velaris has become a ghost town, the House of Wind was its crypt – haunted by devastation and grief.

Azriel leaned against the balcony railing, looking out on the once-shining city. 

How did it all go so wrong?

Not a day had gone by where he didn’t blame himself for everything. For Rhys. For Y/N.

Y/N. He could see the pain in her eyes. She tried to hide it, but Azriel knew better. He’d always been the one who could see through her masks. 

Azriel is pulled from his thoughts by his shadows, swarming around him in distress. 

“Y/N. Kitchen. Now.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Azriel tells them. 

“She’s hurt.”

Azriel winnows into the hallway, allowing his footsteps to be heard outside the door. He turns into the room and spots Y/N searching through the freezer. 

She slams it shut, jumping as she turns towards Azriel. 

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here,” she says. “We’re out of ice cream.” Y/N tries to step around Azriel but he blocks her path with his wing. He looks her over, not able to see anything visibly wrong. 

“I’ll get you some more, just please come to dinner,” Azriel pleads. “Or we can go flying together, anything you want. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

Y/N shakes her head, looking at the floor.  

“He wouldn’t want you hiding away like this,” Azriel says.

“I don’t care what he would want. He obviously can’t think clearly or else he wouldn’t have left,” she seethes, pushing past Azriel. 

Azriel grabs her by the wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “Please Y/N, you’ve…” he trails off, feeling something lumpy under her sleeve. “What is that?” 

Y/N tries to yank her arm back but Azriel’s grip is firm. 

“Let me see,” Azriel says quietly. Tears start to fall from her eyes as he gently lifts her sleeve, revealing the bloodied bandages. “Oh darling, what happened?” 

Y/N just shakes her head.

“Can I have a look?” he asks.

She bites down on her trembling lip, tears flowing freely

Azriel carefully unwinds the bandages revealing the stark, straight lines. His chest aches for her; as if the scars were etched into his heart.

Azriel always cared deeply for Y/N, offering her a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on whenever she needed it. A small part of him felt hurt that she hadn’t confided in him. 

He swallowed his pain, it didn’t matter. He was here now.

“Come here,” Azriel wraps his arms around her, stroking Y/N’s hair softly as she sobs in his arms. 

Azriel knew she was struggling, everyone could see it. But no one realised just how much losing Rhys broke her.

Azriel curses himself. 

He should’ve known. After her parents, Rhys was all she had. 

No that’s not true - she had Cassian. And Mor. And Amren… 

And him. 

And he wasn’t letting her go.

Mental Health Resources*:  If you’re in immediate danger please call your country’s emergency number. Australia: Beyond Blue: https://www.beyondblue.org.au/ Mental Health Hotline: 1800 011 511 Lifeline: 13 11 14 USA:  Crisis Line (call or text): 988 UK:  Lifeline: 0808 808 8000 *If I have gotten anything wrong or if you have other resources to add, please let me know

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (V)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 2,323

CW: maniplation and bullying, toxic relationships, stalking, obssession, not beta read

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

a/n we get to see some of aemonds perspective and lets jsut say hes a 'little' mad and obssessed with Aemma

“My Lady strong” Aemond mumbled, taking her hand in his arm as they walked into the great hall. It had been four years since the event of her ninth name day, and since then her and Aemonds relationship had become more and more turbulent. 

“Aemond!” she grumbled, walking forward, a smile plastered on her face as they entered the feast held to celebrate their bethrothal. 

She had officially become a woman in the eyes of the court and the gods. Her moons blood having arived four moons prior, allowing plenty of time for Alicent to prepare her for her wedding to Aemond, a duty her mother should have performed. But her mother scarcely came to red keep, her favorite child and only daughter had quickly become forgotten over the five years since driftmark. 

Though the past four years had been spent with sneers and loathing glares, atleast on Aemmas end, between her and Aemond. These past four years had been some of her favoruite. 

She had quickly become a favoruite at court, with lords and ladies throwing themselves (literally in some cases) at her, to get a glimmer of her attention. It seemed that the second her and Aemonds obsession with eachother ended (as far as Aemma was concerned, though Aemond still stalked her and obsessed over every detail of her, just now in secret). 

She had her beloved ladies. Girls from throughout westros, handpicked by Alicent and her mother (a very rare event and scary event, that she knew they both had loathed, and she loathed the thought of the two people that hate eachother to such a large event that the court had even taken sides, just to find her freinds) to be her closest friends and her confidant. 

There was five of them in total, Cassandra Baratheon, her dearest friend and fellow hater of Aemond, Rosia Tyrell, the youngest of them at ten and one namedays,  having replaced Yara Reed, after she was sent to bear island for her marriage to lord Rickon Mormont, then there was Cerelle Lannister, Jason lannister. Maergret Fossway, and Cersci Costayne. 

They had been her ladies for four years now, though she knew soon enough they would all have to leave, they would be married off and scattered throught westoros, and she would have new handpicked friends coming and going every few years. But she still adored them, though her and Cersci had a turbulent relationship, these girls were her sisters and she dreaded to think of life without them. Life without their daily tea and gossip, or their walks through the gardens, their days without tormenting Aemond with petty pranks. Yara had been older than them all, being seven and ten namedays already, and she being three and ten would be the youngest, and once wed would arrange all their marriages herself and be able to let them go when she felt they were ready, and not as soon as possible to help appease a waring family.

“Aemma!” Aemond sneered, they had reached the high table already, “stop daydreaming!” gods, he was annoying.

Patting down her dress and they moved to sit, she spoke “can you for once not be so cruel, we are too wed in seven days, lest us be civil” she spoke, her smile still pastered, a fasle calm to all onlookers.

But to Aemond he could tell she was worried, the pranks she would play on him had stopped, the teas and walks with her annoying ladies had halted, and she now spent most of her time in her room or the library.

Since her moon's blood, She was scared, and he had been making her scared, for years, and now they were actually getting married he could tell she was scared, of what, he wasnt sure.

He had been cruel and taken his pain out on her when she was innocent. A mistake he can never take back. And yet he had no remorse for it, as he would torment her, calling her lady strong, whispering bastard in her ear in the guise of sweet nothings. He would deliver dead pink Hydrid tea flowers (also known as Aemmas Rose), with their heads cut off in her room. Shredding what was once their favorite books, and leaving the remanst scattered in her spot in the library. He had taken over every corner she had once seen as hers.

“Hmm” he sighed “fine, prephas…on one condition” he spoke, seeing the fake loathing she loved to look at him with turn to…hope?

“What? You get to pluck out one of my eyes? Or no, I must pluck out my little brother's eye? Oh wait that is your right, an eye for an eye, something i agreed with in case you have forgotten, which if the last five years have been worth anything then you have-”

“Aemma” he shushed her, “gods, i do not want your eye, and yes i may have forgotten that you had taken my side once you found out what had happened, but that does not change that you” he whispered the next part, moving closer “are your whore of a mothers bastrad”

She flinched “that is not somehthing i can control, and you know that, so you can't fault me or hate me for it, espcially when in seven short days i will be your wife”

“Gods, I know that, I do, but everytime i look at you and i see your wretched brothers.”

“You think i dont know that, me and my brothers never gor along, do you not remember their ‘pranks’, such as the black cells? You remeber that don’t you? Rememebr how you wouldn’t rest until i was found, and when you did you were the only one who could sooth me, you were the only one who could get me to sleep. What happen to us Aemond, why did you turn to hate, when all i hver gave you was love. I understand we had somesort of obsession with one another but if it was really that bad then why did you not tell me, instead of hiding behind your pitiful excuses. We could have had a great love Aemond, and instead you made me hate you, so what what is this one conditon you desire, because i can assure you i'll do it, but it does not mean i will stop hating you, and i doubt it will stop you from hating me” she spoke these words, with a cold smile, looking out onto the feast, a fake look of happiness, as if they were the perfect couple, the couple she knew they could have been.

He remained silent, looking down at the table before standing and rezching his hand out “would you like to dance?”

She was shocked, not once in his life had Aemond asked her to dance, he despised it, would do everything to avoid the act, so the shock on her face wqas hard to disguise, as she nodded her head and accepted the outstretched hand. 

“You hate dancing” she mubled, as his hand descended to her waist, their hands outstretched.

“ i do” he nodded, before pulling her closes, and sniffing her hair. 

Gods if only she knew, knew that he only did those things so that he was always on her mind, as she was on his. “ and yet its the only way i can get this lcose to you before we are wed.”

She jolted back, not enough to worry onlookers, but enough to cause Aemond huff, and pull her even closer.

“What?!” she hissed “ you hate me?!”

“I never said that” he spoke truthfully.

She huffed “no, but it was heavily inplised” she sneered, “what were all of those-thoose…you were a bully for all thoose years, you ignroed, me berated me… called me” she looked around before whispering “my lady strong-”

“That's because you are, my..lady..strong, you are a strong and you are mine. Your mother made you a bastard but she also made you mine.” 

“YOU-” she said, a little too loudly, “you are mad”

“The best targeryens are” he replied, “i want you, i need you, i always have and always will. I just liked to play with you a little” he msiked, “ and in seven days i get to play with you even more” 

The song ended, and Aemond went to sit down. Leaving Aemma all the more confused. Just how he liked it.

Later that night Aemma sat alone in her chambers, her ladies having just left to retrie. Her conversatiuon with Aemond replaying over and over in her head.

She had always been a little slow, always compared to her great grandmother Daella. She was always called naive and had things dumbed down. And Aemond had always liked that she supposed. When they were younger he had always liked to dumb things down for her, even if she understood, making her reliant on him. She would stop thinking, stop wanting to understand things for herselves, because Aemond had made her believe he would do it for her. But she didn't know that, she overtime just started to think perhaps everyone was right, she was slow and needed the extra help. The help Aemond always amde surehe was giving her, even when she thought he hated her, he still did it. He had made her entirely reliant on him, and she would never know. 

“Aemma?” she heard someone whisper, unsure of where it was coming from.

“My lady strong?” the voice almost taunted.

“Hello?” she called out, standing up to look around “who's there?”. Aemond stepped out of the shadwos, causing her to jump “Aemond? What are you doing her” she asked, hand on her heart, and taking a deep breath.

“Too see you, my bethrothed.”

“We-we can..cannot be alone together until the wedding night..you should go” reaching for her seven pointed star pendant.

“I should, but we should also talk.” she sat down on her bed, reaching for her and pulling her down next to him.

“yes, yes i suppose so” she agreed, nodding her head, hand still wrapped around the pendant.

He smiled, not the cold one she was used to, but a warm one, one she had longed to see again (not that she would admit it) “good” he moved closer, his hand reaching to stroke her cheek.

That night they talked, it felt liek the old days, when they were the closest of friends. When they were envied by all for how close they were. It was like they were children again, and it made Aemmas heart skip a beat. 

The next day at breakfast, her ladies were told what had happen, with Cassandra shaking her head, “no! We hate him, hes a bully,” 

“Yes but he is also to be her husband, they should be close” said Cersci.

Clapping her hands, Cerelle agreed “oh its perfect, hes obsessed with you! After this we should go to his chambers and you two can go on a walk through the gardens, and have a picnic” she gusehd, grasping Aemmas hand.

Cassandra huffed “he has been nothing but cruel to her, and all of a sudden we love him? No its one of his games, hes taunting you”

“No” Aemma shook her, “no, hes changed, last night it was like we were the old Aemond and Aemma, before driftamark. He cant be-he-” she shook her head, her head dropping. “ its too cruel, even for Aemond. Why would he wish to strat a marriage based on a cruel game?”

“Beacuse hes mad!”

The ladies at the table all gasped at cassandra.

“What? He is, everyone can see that! He lost his sanity alongside his eye-”

Aemma slapped her arm “ Cassie! Dont say that, you werent there, that night was horrible!” she sighed, “ all know is that this is the start of something, we could be civil. Our marriage was meant to ease the conflict in our familes, and we agreed to try, and just let me be a little delcusional please” she laughed, “you all are!” causing the ladies to huff, “i mean it, like Maergret batting here eyes at Daeron verytime he visits and he doesnt even glance your way and he calls you Mary! And Rosia, Cregan Stark? We met him once and you have not stopped obsessing over him, not to mention he had a wife when we met him. And Cassie, lord Redwyne?” she gave her a look, “and dont get my started on you Cerelle and Cersci, i may be slow but dont think i havnet noticed to two of you!” she taunted, “let me think there might be a chance, please, and who knows you may be right, but either way in a week i will married, and he will be my husband. Whether we like him or not!”

Aemond thought she mad, not as mad as he, but as he watched her, sat in the gardens, as he hid behind a rose bush. One night of his undivided attention on her and she, well it was playing out perfectly. The games he had been playing fro years. The constant thought of eachtother on the others mind, the way he taunted her, made her beg fro his attention. Allowing one night of undivided attention to make her think they would be them old selves again. The old Aemma and Aemond. The Aemond who would slaughter the whole of Westros for her, the Aemma who believed very word he said and relied on him to do everything for her. The Aemma who when it came to the inevitable war would believe her mother had hated her, forgotten her, and that he was the only one who loved her. 

It was fun to taunt her, yes. But he loves her, always has, but he supposes the rumors at court were right, perphas all his sanity was in the eye stolen from him.

Next part

Taglist (bold means could not tag)

My lady strong: @aemondssiut@idonotknowenglish @sydneyyyya @wondergal2001 @whitejuliana1204 @meowtastick @bellaisasleep @tinykryptonitewerewolf @sarahkimtae @winchesterfamiliebusiness @iiamthehybrid @zzz000eee @spookydaddy01 @melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @aelora-a @aleemendoza2425-blog @chittakii @gghoulzz @ryiana @duckworthbean @cynic-spirit @may-machin @Gianinaa19 @wolfiealina @unique7676 @yentroucnagol @loserwithnofriends @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @urmomsbananabread @azaleapotterblack @delaynew

Hotd: @targaryenmoony @theanxietyqueen17 @flrboyd @zillahvathek @dark-night-sky-99 @apollonshootafar

Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter

[mywifealhaitham]

Love your post, you’re my idol now.

I want to request Sunday with Jean! reader.

You just like him, both hold a big responsibility to city, you are the Acting Grand Master and he’s the representative of the Family.

Also both have sister that is a famous single. (Barbara and Robin)

Image proud older sibling to their lovely younger sibling.

instead of an acting grand master I'm going with an acting leader of one of the other families! anyway he sees himself alot in you. with you're hardworking behavior that sometimes can be so much to the protective nature you have over the people in the family your temporary leading. he admires that so much and adores you for it however it does kinda wake him up.

he always stops by your workplace and shoos you away from your work and makes you take a break but often times he just runs back to his office. one day you confronted him about this because his own workaholic behavior concerned you and frankly this woke him up.

now you two go on dates during the breaks you take. he likes to take you around golden hour and other dreamscapes he had a part in making and whenever you're eyes glimmer at a magnificent sight he gets all giddy inside, it makes him feel awfully proud.

as for the sister Sunday definitely set up a meeting between her and Robin. when you first introduced him to her his first thought was how lovely they are and how her and Robin would be along! once they did a collaboration on a song and both you and sunday where in the front seats with tears in your eyes like the proud siblings you are!!!!

[ennoshitas-princess]

Winning My Heart

Kenma Kozume x chubby fem! reader Warnings: fluff, slight bullying (not from Kenma), Kuroo setting the two of you up, slight subducting (comments), swearing Synopsis: you are the younger sister of a professional gamer and he takes you to a convention, even though you wanted to spend your weekend at home Word Count: 772 So, I hope you love this, bc I found the idea super cute.

Being dragged by your older brother to any place where he had to be was something you were already used to, but never quite enjoyed. In your honest opinion you found video games fine, but never enjoyed playing them. Just the thought of you being here made your anxiety skyrocket to a whole new other level.

“Look, y/n. Your older brother is cool, isn't he?” Your brother bragged about his success, even though he just gained fame because of you.

The real reason why he became famous rather quickly happened one fateful day, the day you decided to enter his room while he streamed himself playing Minecraft. You entered to check up on him, and only in seconds when the comment section of his stream started to go nuts over you.

One comment read: “Damn, I wish I could date her~”

Another read: “Is that your girlfriend??”

Another one: “I bet her pussy tastes so good~”

Just seeing those comments made you ick in disgust. Mainly, these were guys right around your brother's age, about in their twenties. You were just in your second year in high school. Just thinking about them made you want to leave, but you just stood there, rolling your eyes.

He kept on shooting each opponent down, each smearing in red as they fell onto the ground. You stood there with eyes opened up widely, shaking in place, wanting to leave and not see the bloody horror on the screen.

He eventually got shot, but never made it to the top of the rest. The highest score right when your brother died was about twenty thousand points, while he only got to like a thousand or so. You stood there wondering who was the one with all these points?

You walk away from the pouting of your brother, not wanting to deal with the big baby he is. You found yourself venturing off to anywhere to maybe find an exit, but a part of you just wandered around to check the place out.

From pro gamers, to noobs, to the in-betweens, your eyes glimmered under the lights hung right above your head. The time and dedication put into being here made you want to congratulate every single one of them, except your brother.

You eventually see a stand with a faux blond playing Mario Kart, trying to beat a rooster head right beside him.

Fascinated, you stop to check out who is going to win. A group of tall guys stand in front of you, snickering to each other.

“What is a fat ass like you doing here? Only guys are allowed. Not a girl like her.” One of them said.

“Yeah, like what the fuck is wrong with her? She should go to the restaurant right around the corner.” Another snickered.

The faux blond got distracted with the comments and turned around to glare at them.

“What is wrong with you guys?!? Anyone can be here and have fun. You guys are just jealous that she might be better than you.” His golden eyes pierced their souls.

With that, they scurried off to hide.He turned back to his game, only to lose. His eyes popped out with frustration, wanting to kick anything and everything. He lost because of those dumb guys. You weren't a problem, they were.

“Hey, you protected that girl even at the cost of you losing Kenma. Why?” Kuroo teased the guy.

“Because people like them are just dumb and don't deserve to even exist, like they are just wasting our oxygen.” Kenma shrugged it off.

Kuroo being himself, he knew there was something more with him and you.

“Hey, Chibi-chan. Who are you and do you have a boyfriend?” Kuroo called out to you.

Your face scrunched up with a hint of blush. A random hot guy is asking you if you have a boyfriend. How could this be happening?

“Umm… no, I don't.” You glance down to the floor.

“Great! Hey Kenma, why don't you go out with her?” He teased him.

His head turned around to where you stood. His face turned into a tomato seeing your cute chubby cheeks. Your outfit too made you even more adorable.

“What is your name?” The rooster head asked.

“L/n y/n.” You replied to him.

Cute, I guess. The faux blond thought.

He reminds me of my kitten. You thought.

“Do you play video games?” Kenma approached you with a hint of hesitation.

“No, but my brother does.” You point to where your brother sat.

“Oh. I thought we could play together. I could always teach you some time.” He suggested.

“Sure!” You smile happily.

A/n: hello, the post I promised of Kenma!! I will post the winner of the poll soon!! Hopefully you enjoyed reading this!!

Thanks for stopping by!!

∘•······································•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•·······································•∘

All rights reserved copyright ©

ennoshitas-princess

Please DO NOT repost on any other platform!!

Reblogs are acceptable

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

biker!Eddie x fem!reader Part 2.5 🚨18+Only, smut, angst, sex with someone other than reader, penetrative sex (protected), maybe also fuckboy!eddie? But he doesn’t want to be. 90's music & nostalgia, insomnia, smoking, mention of cheating (not on reader), Eddie is having a hard time, but I promise it will get better.

wc: 1.7k

Series Masterlist

🔸To the handful of cherished readers on this ride with me: this is a 2.5, a little bitty part, because I posted Part 2 yesterday early and realized I wanted to add more. Chapter 3 will be done by this weekend xoxo

ALSO, the Erika mentioned in this chapter will be introduced more later, but it's NOT Erica Sinclair, my god I would never.

This was not the night Eddie had in mind for a first time hanging out with you. There was admittedly a long list of regrets in his life thus far, but deciding to invite you to the Hideout of all places was now up there somewhere at the top. That dive never used to be like that. Back when he was a teenager, it wasn’t so rough or so full of angry burnouts ready to rage. The only drunks who used to frequent it were sad and polite, and almost half dead.

You handed him and Steve a few tissues from the front seat because Steve’s nose was dripping blood and Eddie’s lip was split. Neither one of them felt a thing, though, not in that moment---the adrenaline was still pumping hot.

Eddie didn’t say much for the rest of the drive, except to ask Katie to take them back to Munson’s Garage so they could take a truck over and pick up their bikes once the chaos died down.

This whole connection he thought maybe the two of you had was not a good idea. For fucks sake, you had been a hair away from getting a secondary blow from the brawl---he couldn’t handle the thought, it made him sick to his stomach. He got the feeling that you were bothered by his silence on the ride back, but there was nothing he could do about it at that point: he was shutting down. He was hammering nails in the boards over the windows inside of him where people (you) could peak in. It was a survival technique he’d been forced to learn when he was a kid.

Katie reminded him that she was Danny Clayton’s older sister, and he had been one of his old D&D buddies—reminding him of a time in his life that he missed. He barely had time to practice his guitar these days, let alone fuck around as Dungeon Master in a role-playing game.

In a haze, he remembered thanking you, but then you said something else to him as he was bent over lighting a smoke, headed toward the garage, and he just kept walking, pretending not to hear you. Once he shut the door, he regretted it with a curse, and went back out to see if he could catch you, but there was nothing but brake lights in the distance.

“You wanna talk about it?” Steve asked Eddie once they were in the transport truck on the way back to the Hideout.

Eddie had a cigarette pinched between his lips and he looked offended. “What is there to talk about?”

“Listen, man,” Steve adjusted his vest and sat back in the passenger seat. “You might not want to give me credit for knowing you as well as I do, but I can tell when you’re slipping over into the dark side.”

Nothing but silence from Eddie.

“You like that girl, or what?” Steve kept talking, because much like you, he wanted the old Eddie back.

“What’s not to like?” Eddie responded under his breath, flicking his cigarette out the window. “I’m sure I’ll never see her again. It’s for the best.”

“Oh, I doubt that man---look what I got,” and then Steve stuck his tongue out and held up the Wrigley’s gum wrapper with Katie’s phone number on it. “You said they’re roommates right?”

Eddie looked over at the number, and then he looked up at Steve’s excited face, and he shook his head, but there was the glimmer of a smile there.

After they brought the bikes back, Steve took off to take care of some family stuff, and Eddie sat on the old couch up in his apartment above the garage, staring out the window with nothing but snow static on the TV. He’d been watching the Dave Attell show Insomniac with a frozen bag of peas on his punching hand, but it ended, and now he was in his head again, a place that he dreaded lately. He knew he wouldn’t get more than 2 or 3 hours of sleep again that night, he could feel it in his bones, and it didn’t matter how exhausted he was.

So, in order to keep himself from thinking about you, he called up one of his faithful booty calls: her name was Erika.

She’d been a long time groupie of his band and she had a kink for guys on motorcycles. He always treated her good and made her cum, but he never let her sleep over.

He never let anyone sleep over.

And he was always gone by daybreak if he happened to pass out in someone else’s bed.

He had this way of going out of his body, so to speak, when he had intercourse with these women he didn’t love. It was like he hollowed himself out and became someone else. He became exactly what they all wanted; this dominant force who choked them a little and fucked them rough and made them beg for more.

That night, with Erika, he kept thinking of you, and it made him stop a few times to blink and catch his breath. “What’s wrong, baby?” She’d ask, just as she was on all fours and his cock was inside of her, the condom straining at the size of his girth.

He shook his head and kept going, but at one point, he was doing her missionary, and in the dark of the room, with his eyes closed and his forehead pressed against hers—he could pretend it really was you.

He went slow, he kissed your face, your eyelids, and down your neck. He imagined that it was you with your hands in his hair, telling him how good it felt, how close you were to cumming. That it was your voice that said, “don’t stop, baby, you feel so good,” and he kissed your mouth, tongues searching deep, as he buried himself inside you with a strangled cry. He imagined that he didn’t have the condom on and you wanted him like that; to pour his seed into you and make you his.

He trembled as his orgasm overtook him, and he came so hard that time, he worried that he forgot to put the condom on.

When it was over and he opened his eyes, all of his intrusive thoughts came rushing back and the light behind his eyes was all but snuffed out.

------

“That was amazing!” You shouted at Katie, rubbing her shoulder, thanking her for the stealthy getaway while Cryin’ by Aerosmith played on the radio.

You turned around in your seat to say something to the guys, and then immediately started pulling tissues out of the Kleenex box in the middle console.

“Aw shucks, it’s just a flesh wound,” Steve joked, quoting Monty Python as he gargled blood in his throat.

Eddie was directly behind you, and when you twisted your body to hand him some tissues, he took them and looked down, not wanting to meet your eyes.

“Well, that was...intense,” Katie said from behind the wheel, slowing down for a stop light after checking in the rear view mirror to make sure there were no cops behind her.

“Just another day for us,” Steve chuckled, and then he pulled up close behind her seat to compliment her getaway. Katie didn’t say anything back, but you could see her blush. Katie had been a bit of a wild child back in her day, but adulthood had changed her, as it did most people.

From behind you, Eddie mumbled, “god, I hate this town.”

For the most part, Eddie was abnormally quiet in the back seat, and so you tried cracking some jokes, but Steve was the only one who engaged with you.

“Who was that guy?” You asked Steve, because you couldn’t bear the silence.

“Just some douche bag,” Steve responded, a piece of tissue stuffed up one nostril. “I accidentally had an affair with his wife almost a decade ago, and I guess he never forgot about it.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. “How does something like that happen accidentally?”

“Well, for one,” Steve sat forward in his seat and clamped one hand on the back of Katie’s chair. “She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. And two, I’m not sure I would’ve cared at the time, even if she had.”

That response elicited a bit of a scoff-chuckle from Eddie.

Munson’s Garage wasn’t too far from where you’d just been, and Steve jumped out to open the security gate before climbing back into his seat.

As the car idled in front of the main entrance to the building, white exhaust filling up the darkness, you heard Eddie get out, and then you waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. He shut the door, and then you felt him hover there.

He leaned down into your open window, his head to the side and his hair hanging down. He met your eyes for a flash, but then he was trying to hand you something, and you opened your fingers so he could press something cool and tiny into your palm. “Hey, I’m really sorry about tonight. I think you dropped this the other day.”

You were too busy watching his face, the curve of his lips, the dark moon of his cuticles from residual grease stains, but when you realized he had just slipped you your missing earring, it caught you by surprise.

You could barely get out the words “wait...thank you,” before he turned on his heel and slipped a smoke between his lips, head down as he pulled his keys out to unlock the door.

“It was good to see you,” you called after him, but he was already inside the building and the door shut with a thud and a clack behind him.

Steve had been over at Katie’s window talking to her, but once he straitened up and came around to your side, he looked confused. “Where the fuck is Eddie? Did he go inside already?”

You didn’t answer him, you just waved goodbye as you rolled your window up.

“See you around, girls!” Steve called out from the center of the driveway, holding the hand in the air that had the gum wrapper number in it.

“Boys,” Katie said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as she exited the complex and turned to head home. “They’ll be the death of me.”

-------

Part 3

____

[oneshotnewbie]

how are you??

i was looking at your list and saw that you write for the walking dead and was wondering if you’d be willing to do a request on it for me? thank you!!

so it’s basically maggie greene (rhee) x teen!reader where reader is like a daughter or a younger sister to her. it’s nothing special or major, but maybe just a cute little story where reader gets sick or hurt and maggie takes care of her and is all motherly/big sister-like with reader?

also reader’s carl’s age, so i think about fourteen then? again, you can change the age if you need to, i don’t mind!

- 🍄 anon

Authors note: Hey, sweet mushroom. I am doing okay so far, I hope you are doing great! At the same time, I hope you like this little story ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

The world was a shadowy landscape of ruined buildings, deserted streets and the faint echoes of past civilization. The earth, once vibrant with life, now lay in the grip of a post-apocalyptic silence.

In the middle of this desolate scenario, between rusty walls, lived Maggie with her small "family" - a group of survivors who had come together to survive in this unnatural world. Among them you, whose real name had long been lost in the turmoil of time.

It was the icy wind of a wintry morning that intensified the already bitter cold of the Forsaken Land as an ominous cough snaked its way through the silence of the house. Maggie sensed the icy breath of sickness beginning to spread through the ranks of the community. You, who had previously been a steadfast and indestructible pillar of the group, were among those affected and woke up with a feverish chill.

The symptoms appeared quickly: fever, chills and an exhausted look that bore the marks of suffering. But Maggie, a woman with an aura of determination and keen eye for your needs, recognized the gravity of your situation. Your body heavy, limbs aching, and eyes bloodshot from the fever that burned within you like a raging fire. "Hey, how are you feeling today kiddo?"

"Mags, I feel like I've been torn apart by a pack of wild dogs," you whispered, every movement making your body tremble as the older one approached your bed. Your voice, a faint breath in the gloomy silence, betrayed the exhaustion and weakness that the illness brought with it.

She sat down in an empty spot on your bed and gently placed a hand on your forehead. "You're literally burning. I have to see what I can find to help you. Otherwise the fever will kill you," she spoke with a look that told stories of loss and will to survive as her inner turmoil filled the air. "You want to leave me?"

"Just to get you and the others medicine,“ The group had hardly any remedies left to fight the disease. Medicines were in short supply, and the improvised teas offered no protection against the creeping germs. The post-apocalyptic world was not forgiving, and illnesses often became inescapable judgments. But the woman in front of you refused to just abandon you to your fate. Her connection to you was deeper than anyone else's. You had become like a little sister to her, someone she wanted and even needed to protect and support. "Carol will stay with you for the time I'm gone and take care of you. I'll get back to you as soon as possible. I promise."

With one last goodbye kiss, she left you in bed and set off with Daryl to do everything they could to bring you relief while, without her, time blurred into an endless succession of feverish hours and cough-ragged days.

The sun had long since hidden behind the toxic clouds in the sky when the search for medicine became a fight for survival in the shattered ruins of the buildings. The footsteps on broken glass and the constant gusts of wind blowing through the dilapidated shutters seemed to underscore the urgency of the mission.

She searched for medication in numerous abandoned pharmacies and barricaded doctor's offices. Her hands, battered by the cold and the endless digging through rubble, searched for the glimmer of hope amid the devastation until she finally came across locked cupboards, the only contents of which were a few bottles, expired medication and a few blankets. Maggie wasn't discouraged and took everything she could find. With a tenacity driven by her love for you, she returned to make use of what little she had found.

"Here, take this, sweetheart," she said, handing you a handful of expired medication. "It's not much, but it should at least bring down the fever a little." You smiled weakly and accepted the pills gratefully, barely getting into a sitting position. "Thanks. I don't know how I would do this without you."

She waved it off as if it were obvious. "In these times, we need to stick together. No one should wander alone in the dark. Especially not you," she helped you take the pills and then spread an extra blanket over you. "You're like my little sister, y/n. If something happened to you- I would never be happy again."

Over the next few days, your bedroom became a kind of makeshift hospital room and she began to care for you with a mix of old survival instincts and an unwavering caring nature. Blankets and hot water bottles became weapons in her fight against the invisible threat that took over your body.

The wind howled around the corners and an icy storm raged outside as the brunette spent the next few days cooking soups that she laced with fever-reducing drugs. She woke up by your side nightly, placing wet towels on your hot forehead and whispering soothing words into the darkness while you slept. The nights were long and quiet, interrupted only by the patients' wheezing and the crackling of their movements.

The group watched as the woman, who otherwise seemed so stoic and aloof, cared for you tenderly and self-sacrificingly. The others, who otherwise only knew the harsh reality of everyday life, witnessed a love between strangers that became family and that was more precious than any resource in these times.

Time crawled by and the disease tried to tighten its ugly claws. But Maggie's care and love proved to be powerful weapons. You fought against the disease, strengthened by their tireless help and solidarity support.

You lay weak, but your eyes still sparkled with life. In the quiet moments between feverish bouts, you and Maggie found time to talk quietly. "You have to stay strong, y/n. The world may have fallen apart, but we can't let it break us," she spoke as she cooled your forehead.

You smiled weakly, your eyes glassy with tiredness. "You're like a mother to me, Mags. I really can't imagine what it would be like without you."

Maggie just sighed quietly. "You are my family. I can't imagine what it would be like without you either."

The days passed and the illness slowly faded away like the side after a storm. You struggled back to your feet, strengthened by her unwavering belief in survival. The post-apocalyptic world may have been one of destruction and loss, but in this small corner of reality, humanity shone in its purest form, igniting a flame of hope for every survivor who walked the streets of Alexandria.

[yellowcry]

Isabela headcanons

 

Isabela Belén Rojas Madrigal. Born 7th of August 1928

 

Childhood

Was the golden child since her birth. Obviously, she wasn't forced into perfection since day one, but still was favourised for being the first grandchild.

Isabela said her first word when being babysat by Pepa and Bruno. Pepa called her brother "dumb". Isabela had repeated. (Can you tell me Pepa wasn't crying from how proud she was?)

Extremely stubborn. You couldn't make her stop if she wanted to do something. No matter how many candy you'd give her.

Used "I'm older so you should listen to me" card all the time. Especially when it came to her sisters.

Friendly teased Luisa for being younger. It didn't happen with Mirabel much because Isabela was busy exploring her cool new gift when she was born.

Was fascinated with flowers. Enjoyed making flower crowns even before getting her gift.

She was slowly rising in perfection even before Mirabel's ceremony. But it wasn't very obvious. Failed ceremony just made the process way faster.

 

Adult years (pre-movie)

 

Enjoyed reading about various plants. Could easily give advice about any plant. Did anyone used it? No

Actually pretty good in sport. Had won several award in school, mostly for gymnastics. Probably the second most sportive Madrigal after Luisa.

Made flower crowns manually in her room as a way to distract herself and calm down when she was overwhelmed.

Started to date Mariano because she didn't want to upset him or Abuela. Mariamo was the one to confess his feelings (ableit to his Abuela), Alma didn't set them up.

Had thoughts of running away several times to escape perfectionism and always felt guilty for it.

Started to have gray hair at the age of seventeen. Always styled her hair the way when it would be hidden. As Isabela thought it wasn't perfect

If she has to go on a date with Mariano, she'll try to get them to the meadow. There Isabela could at least withness a beautiful nature.

Disliked Mirabel because felt that her sister wad getting everything without an effort. And was jealous of the fact that their parents were closer to Mirabel. Isabela didn't realize the full extent of how her actions hurt Mirabel too.

Had nearly no relationship with Luisa, taking how busy they both were.

If anyone dared to misgender Dolores, even prior WECID, they would wake to see their house wrapped in roses. Thorns work just as good as cacti.

Post-movie

Changes her dress every odd day. Coloring it, cutting, whatever she can think off. Girl knows no consistence. Her favourite colour also changes constantly. Today it's sky blue, tomorrow will be green and yesterday it was gray.

Same goes for her hair. She regularly paints it. And don't forget glimmering silver! She doesn't hide it anymore.

Julieta cried when she saw Isabela having gray hair. Because it made her realize just how much she had grown up

Experiments with herself all the time. How else should she find herself?

It took her a while to get comfortable with showing her true self to people outside of the family. Sometimes she still wonders if others actually like her.

Grows avocado around just to add it to her food. She's allergic to avocado.

Adds milk to people's coffee just for the sake of it. Only drinks café con leche with an extreme amount of sugar.

The biggest drama queen you could meet.

The favourite niece to both Bruno and Pepa.

The most talkative and outgoing out of her sisters, won't shut up if you say a word about plants and will spend hours talking on it.

Protective. Will join Luisa on fighting whoever had insulted their sister/cousins. If not fight all by herself of course. 

Relationship.

Alma: Has a bit hard time with her post-movie. Doesn't hate her grandmother and probably still close to her, but does have troubles with expressing herself to her for the first few years. Eventually gets over it and starts to show her messy side in all its beauty.

Pepa: They are very similar. Isabela adores her Tía. Pepa probably often joins to gossip with Isabela and Dolores. Both are emotional and very dramatic. Pepa also helps Isabela with expressing her emotions via plants with her gift. Same way the weather express her emotions. .

Bruno: Isabela likes her Tío. But feels awkward around him for the time being. The last time she saw him was when she was eleven. And he was barely socialising even back then.. She likes him. And Bruno seems to understand her pretty well, as he was the favourite back in his youth too. She probably the first one ut of grandkids to be comfortable around him.

Julieta: Likes her mother, but they aren't overall close. Isabela is an adult, and way more active and crazy than calm and responsible Julieta.

Agustín: Closer to her dad, expessially as she doesn't smell like flowers all the time anymore. But the thing of being an adult is still in work. It's easier to open up to her Tíos rather than to her parents.

Félix: Cool but pretty distant. 

Dolores: Best friend since childhood™, gossip about everything. Isabela was the first person Dolores had confessed her feelings for Mariano after the engagement failed. Attached to the hip and together almost all the time. They were close even when both still were involved into the whole thing with Mariano.

Luisa: Grew closer as both became free from expectations. They like to tease eachother and playfully fight (which is usually Isabela trying to hit Luisa and Luisa blocking her). Isabela uses her muscles as a pillow whenever she wants. Luisa pays the favour by using Isabela as an armrest.

Camilo: Arguing and competitive relationship. Both are active for the sake of being messy. Probably will fight eachother just for the sake of it. Isabela was very jealous of Camilo and found him annoying pre-movie (even more than Mirabel). She still thinks Camilo is annoying but enjoys messing with him.

Mirabel: Now both are pretty cool. They still argue from time to time, but it's never even half as bad as it used to be. Mirabel encourages Isabela from time to time, and Isabela looks after her sister especially when Luisa's not around. Both try to make it up for all the problems in their relationship

Antonío: Wasn't close to him before, giving an age gap. Now adore spending time together as two the most passionate about nature. Isabela often takes Antonío out to show him wild outskirts where he can see many animals

Nicknames:

Isa (by Mirabel, Luisa, Dolores, Agustín and Felíx)

Bela (By Dolores, Luisa, Camilo, Julieta, Pepa, Alma and Bruno)

Hermanita (By Luisa when Isabela annoys her. Or when she wants to annoy Isabela)

Señorita Perfecta. (Mirabel when Isabela annoys her. Other grandkids as a joke. Isabela herself when she refers to her old self)

Mi Flor (Alma, rarely her parents)

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Oooo, Isabela is about to go feral! (Silenced au)

Dolores would be lying if she said this wasn’t a surprise. Not that she believes Isabela wouldn’t defend Luisa - of course not, who do you think inspired Luisa to be such a protective older sister when Mirabel came along? But they had been so close, best friends since they were babies. More like sisters than cousins. All that aside, nobody had actually attempted to attack her yet.

The first attack is a singular vine, coming at her from the front. She hears it bursting from the ground first, which may be the only reason she managed to dodge it. Stepping aside and tearing it from the ground, killing it, before it can curl back at her.

A vine grasps her left wrist from behind and yanking her, the thorns digging into her skin would have made a sane person stop lest they get injured further. She just pulls harder against it, not caring for the skin that’s being shredded along her lower arm in the process. She catches a few faces in the crowd looking at her in disgust and horror.

With her momentarily distracted, the next vines sprout beside her feet. She stomps on that one quickly, dragging it across the stones until it rips. Finally, managing to yank her hand free. Isabela may be stronger, but at the end of the day, these are just plants.

If she could still make noise, Isabela would have growled. Any hint of mercy is dead in her eyes.

She forces her hand up and with it ten claw-like vines lunge at Dolores from all directions. Fear creeps into her a little because there is nothing she can do and nobody, not even Mariano or Mirabel, attempts to come to her aid. She still tries to fight her older cousin anyways.

The vines form a cage around her, just in case she tries to run. Not that she can. She’s restrained by a vine keeping her hands together, outstretched, while two others curl against each ankle, locking her in place.

She’s sweaty, scratched, bloody and very dishevelled.

There’s a couple of slashes through her skirt, scraps of red and gold fabric billowing in the breeze. One of the butterflies must have fallen out at some stage because she can only hear the one earring dangling by her cheek. She lost her turban too in the attempt to get away, it hangs torn and snagged on one of the thornier edges. Leaving her coils all messy and loose, sticking to her sweaty skin.

Panting, she looks up to see Tío Agustín and Tía Julieta helping Luisa back onto her feet. Tío Bruno and Abuela have their backs to her, unable to even look at her. Camilo is staring at her, not knowing what to do or say, with Antonio gripping onto the bottom of his ruana, watching her with fearful eyes. Her mother is turned to her father, weeping as he tries to soothe her, the clouds begin to grey in Encanto, gently pattering them in rain.

Mariano, like most of the crowd of townspeople, has disappeared. Or at least backed off enough down neighbouring streets, now that the show’s over. Him leaving, however, means that Mirabel is now unattended and she’s… well, she’s a bit of a mess currently. Dolores couldn’t say for sure what exactly happened, she hadn’t been focused on her youngest cousin in the last few minutes.

Regardless, Mirabel approach her thorn-covered cell. She doesn’t get the chance to say anything as Isabela is already taking her hand and pulling her over to Luisa, with the silent instruction for her (alongside Camilo and Antonio) to be taken home. Ironically, it’s Mirabel who complains and refuses to go - Luisa simply picks her up and walks - while Camilo and Antonio both look secretly relieved and overjoyed to have an excuse to not stay and watch the state their sister is in.

As her eyes following their figures disappearing, she catches Mariano in the distance. He is leading his grandmother back home. He happens to glance back at her in the moment, eyes glimmering a little when they meet.

She only smirks back at him, promising this isn’t over. She’ll rule the quiet, if it’s the last thing she does.

[hotdwriter]

Our beloved Targaryen - Aegon III x Ofc

Pairing: Aegon III Targaryen x Velaryon ofc

It was mere months ago when it happened. When Daeron Velaryon drowned in the Stepstones, leaving two orphans behind. The two girls have already lost their mother Hazel, who died due to the winterfever. When Alyn Velaryon attacked at the daughters´ war in 133 ac, his cousin, Daeron, died and left his two young daughters behind.

Alyn didn´t hesitate when he proposed the idea of taking his nieces as their ward to his lady-wife Baela Targaryen. The two were still young and Baela wasn´t happy with his opposition, knowing she´d have to look after the sisters on her own while her lord-husband would continue to sail to the sea, just like their grandfather -mayhaps father, no one knew of Alyns true parentage- Corlys Velaryon, named the sea snake.

Baela relucted but gave in nonetheless. She grew to be fond of the two girls, for they were well-mannered and respected their elders. Daenaera, the younger one, was a happy child. She didn´t understand the concept of death yet and was therefore not inconsolable, unlike her older sister, Vaelys. The girl of thirteen was no fool, she knew of her current position as an orphan and was aware that she couldn´t behave badly when her kin fostered her and her little sister.

Therefore she always put on a smile, despite her inner turmoil. And her sweet sister always made Vaelys feel at ease, which made it easier for her to act happy. She vowed herself to protect little Daenaera, she couldn´t loose her babysister , after the passing of her parents, for which she would truly and utterly be alone.

When the realm received the news of queen Jaehaeras passing, everything suddenly changed. The hand of the king, Unwin Peake, along with the rest of the kings regents, declared for a ball to be held, where the king would choose his second wife and new queen. The people called it the Maidens´ ball day

The restriction of the ball were clear; only maidens of high nobility and under the age of thirty were allowed to attend the feast.

When house Velaryon heard of the news, they inclined to attend the feast themselves, to which they didn’t exactly get an invitation. But it was an open invite, right?

Unwin Peake wasn’t exactly fond of the rogue princes daughter, who was as reckless as her father. Aegon III didn’t have any heirs, his previous marriage remained fruitless, to which Lady Baela was now second in line to the iron throne. The hand of the king couldn’t stand that fact, he’d rather be hanged than watch the wild girl sitting in the iron throne.

Which was why he was so adamant on wedding the king to a new maid, preferably his own daughter. Many even speculated that he had a ‘hand’ in the death and many disappearances of the girls which were to attend the ball.

Those were still only rumors, and even if they did have some truth in it, no one could exactly prove it.

Nevertheless, lots of maidens around Westeros traveled to Westeros, including Vaelys.

When Baela and Alyn spoke to her about their idea, she couldn’t exactly deny them. They gave her and her little sister a home at a much needed time and they were well fed.

Vaelys knew that with her becoming consort, the Velaryons would hold more power over the realm than before and she was keen on returning a favor, especially when it meant that Daenaera could stay on Driftmark.

She would simply do anything for the well-being of her sister, after all.

Vaelys was still young though and didn’t wish to be married so soon, especially because she already had already blossomed which meant she was ready to be bedded, despite her young age.

The idea of it scared her senseless, she was mature for her age but she heard enough tales to know the risks of bedding girls too early, miscarriages, death on the birth bed and much more.

Baela assured her she wouldn’t be bedded until she was four and ten, where the risks wouldn’t be as high.

A glimmer of hope believed her kins words, but it wouldn’t even be sure if the king would choose Vaelys as her second wife, especially when over a thousand other maiden were presented in front of him?

Baela and Rhaena decided to have a dramatic arrival, riding into the great hall on horseback. Vaelys was behind them on a separate horse. She felt anxious when she noticed hundreds of people staring at her. Before departing for kings‘ landing, Rhaena made sure to dress Vaelys in a beautiful light blue gown, a necklace of sapphires was around her neck as her hair was braided into a halo, her white braid was decorated golden clips and she wore earrings that matched her necklace.

Vaelys worried about her sister, Daenaera who was left at Driftmark, together with Lord Alyn Velaryon. She missed her little sister dearly and worried if Daenaera was misbehaving or any of the sort, scared of her sister losing her place in the lords‘ castle.

She held her head high nonetheless, and kept her posture up while she rode behind her kin. When the lord commander demanded Baela to step off the horse, she replied with:“ His Grace my brother can command me. You cannot.“ Baela then shifted her attention to the king and Rhaena smiled fondly at him.

„Your grace, we’ve brought you the queen you want“, Baela spoke before Vaelys gracefully stepped off her horse, holding up the skirt of her dress while she walked towards the throne.

Vaelys then curtsied, gifting him a charming smile of hers. As she stood in front of him, she now could see him clearly. He was the same age as her, and had the same color of hair, which he kept to his shoulders long. He had a bored look on his face before she arrived, his fingers impatiently tapping against the side of a sword.

His eye color was the one of dark purple, it looked almost black. His eyes reminded her of the ones of a doe, while Vaelys herself had eyes of violet, like the flower viola.

„I am Lady Vaelys of house Velaryon, your grace“, she elaborated while raising her head.

The weary boy mirrored her expression, gifting her a smile of his own, much to the surprise of the people around them.

„You are very pretty, Vaelys“, he complimented. She was the first to be showered with affection by the king, much to the disdain of the lord hand.

Vaelys flushed at his words, feeling her cheeks redden by the sudden show of affection. She had heard of the boys’ attitude and was surprised being granted with his newfound attention.

“I am flattered, your grace”, she bowed once again and couldn’t control her lips from grinning widely at him. Her happiness somewhat affected the king, who was now also feeling more positive than before.

After Aegon nodded, Vaelys found her place next to Baela and Rhaena and the three of them waited for the rest of the maiden to be presented to him. Aegon only gave each of them a quick nod and his gaze sometimes switched to Vaelys.

After the everyone was finished, the king brought Gaemon to his side and whispered his decision into the boys’ ear.

Gaemon grinned at his friend and loudly declared his choice.

“The king will wed Vaelys Velaryon”, he smiled happily while Aegon sheepishly avoided the girls gaze.

Vaelys’ blood ran cold at the mention of her name.

Sure, Aegon was a beautiful boy and it would be an honor to be his queen but she didn’t really expect him to choose her.

Her eyes widened at the mention of her name and quickly looked to the two women at her side, who nodded in approval to her. They knew they made the right decision when bringing Vaelys to court with them

Unsure of what to do, Vaelys bowed her head out of respect and forced a smile of her own. The maidens were sobbing in the hall when they heard Gaemons words. Unwin was practically fuming at the boys‘ choice and was certainly not content with him.

When the guests were dismissed and left the hall afterward, Baela and Rhaena stayed with Vaelys. She bit her lip and felt her anxiety rise when the king arose from his throne. He dismissed himself rather quickly and wandered off to his chambers.

A servant then walked toward her and curtsied before asking her if she’d wish to be shown her new chambers.

Vaelys bid Baela and Rhaena a quick goodbye before she followed the older woman into the halls of the red keep. When they arrived, Vaelys unsurely looked around to take her new surroundings in. The servant quickly left her alone after she told her she’d then call her for a shared supper with the king himself.

Vaelys gulped at the mention of him, the reality slowly setting in. She was just a young girl without parents, thrown into a huge responsibility. Perhaps she’d find common ground with the king, but she did not know, yet.

The girl walked toward the window and held up her skirt before sitting on the window sill, watching outside the castle. She’d have to mentally prepare herself before being able to stepp foot outside her chamber.

It did not take long to wait until being called by the servant, since it was already late. Vaelys quickly stood up and smoothened out the wrinkles of her gown, making herself look presentable before following the maid toward the hall where the dinner was served.

When the guards declared her presence, Aegon looked up at her from his seat. She held his gaze for a short moment before he averted his gaze to his plate. Gaemon sat on one end of the table while mushroom, the jester, was on the other side. Vaelys then took her seat opposite from the king and a servant quickly filled her goblet of wine.

„your grace“, she acknowledged his presence and lowered her head before plucking a grape and eating it.

Aegon nodded at her and a hint of a smile was noticeable on his face. It was enough to make the girl flush once again, like in the great hall before.

Mushroom made one of his jests to which Gaemon giggled and Vaelys failed at hiding her chuckle. Mushroom was aware that he could never make the king laugh, but atleast his company seemed to be delighted by his humor.

Aegon kept quiet most of the time, but a rare smile graced his lips as he watched the two others enjoy themselves with mushrooms jests.

After their shared meal was finished, Aegon was going to dismiss himself to go to his chambers before Vaelys stopped him.

“Could you show me where the library is?”, she girl asked shyly. She could have asked any other servant to show her the hall, but she instead wants his presence near her.

She noticed that Aegon was a passive boy who would not make the first move, so Vaelys tried to spend time with him so they could warm up to one another. They were to be wed after all.

A servant came in between, offering the girl to show her the library themselve, before Aegon quickly interrupted them.

„I will do it“, he spoke lowly and motioned for Vaelys to follow him, which she gladly did.

The two dismissed themselves and walked down the hall, a sworn protector following in their heels. When they made halt in front of the library, extended his hand for hers which Vaelys gladly took.

The knight stayed outside the door, giving the two of them privacy.

„Do you often spend time here?“, she asked while her eyes trailed along the tall bookshelves. She let go of his hand as she walked toward a small shrine that caught her eye.

Aegon *almost* wounded at the sudden loss of contact, for he felt comfort from her warm touch.

“No, I’m not very fond of reading”, he replied monotone. His eyes followed her silhouette while she looked for a book, before she grabbed one from the shelve and sat on the comforter.

“Do you wish for me to read to you?”, she asked him while she made enough space for him to join her.

When he hesitated, she added:” My parents used to read to me when I was younger. When I’m in need of comfort or miss them, I read to someone. It reminds me of the affection they gave me.”

Aegon nodded and took a seat next to her on the cushion, leaning back. He was hopeful it would also help him with the loss of his own parents, which he missed dearly.

“Place your head on my lap, it soothes one”, she said. Aegon gulped, knowing it would be an intimate position for the two of them. He wasn’t ready to let his guard down around her so soon, but he was desperate to try and forget his loss fore one second.

He then did as he was told, slowly nestling himself in her lap. Her gown was surprisingly comfortable, he thought.

Vaelys opened the book and began to read to him; the story was about the failed of the sea snake. His adventures on sea and the things he encountered.

Vaelys had a soothing voice, it was soft and warm. It reminded him of his own mother. The candles gave the girl enough light to read the words on the pages, and when she felt him begin to shift more comfortably on her lap, she began to play with his hair.

The motion of her fingers on his scalp in combination with her soothing words made the boy fall asleep quickly. Vaelys didn’t notice and instead grew tired herself rather quickly. Before she realized, she fell asleep, the book was placed on the table next to her before she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

It was a long time ago when Aegon had a sleep this deep and comfortable. When the hour grew too late, the knight slowly entered the library to check up on them when he saw the two entangled with each other.

He was unsure whether to wake them or not, he knew it wasn’t a very compromising position they were in. But he was aware of the kings demeanor and it was a rare sight to see him so at ease.

The king had trouble sleeping most nights, only sleeping a few hours before he stood up and watched the stars in the night sky.

The knight decided not to interrupt but to wait until morning where he’d quickly wake the two up before the servants could see them in the position they currently were in.

Aegon was sleeping peacefully in her lap as Vaelys was had him in an embrace. When the morning arrived, the guard quickly entered the library and ushered for them to wake up. Aegon slightly stirred in his sleep before he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the resting face of Vaelys.

He blushed as he remembered the previous night, quickly sitting back up before he gently shook her. “Mhm..?”, she bounced a couple of time and realized their closeness afterward.

“Oh”, her cheeks reddened and she quickly stood up, still rubbing her sleepy eyes. The guard then spoke:” Mylady, you should go to your chambers before the maids find you.”

She nodded and quickly bowed before Aegon and then walked out of the library where a different guard showed her the way.

“You won’t tell any one of this”, Aegon declared to the knight who then also bowed. “Of course, your grace.”

Aegon then hesitated before he also left the hall. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of the previous night. Vaelys was right when she said that reading to someone would help. He hadn’t slept like that in a long time, especially in one’s embrace. Aegon felt warm inside when he thought of her and he was eager to see her again.

He wasn’t used to this feeling, especially from a girl. It would take some time until he finally felt comfortable enough around her but he knew they both had the same trauma and could help each other.

He knew he made the right decision, to wed Vaelys Velaryon.

_____

(The text is weirdly formatted, idk why tho)

[mania-sama]

rule #22 - if trees could talk

Rule #22 - If Trees Could Talk - Fish in a Birdcage

➼ information ❧ Bungou Stray Dogs ❧ Pairing: Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Nakajima Atsushi ❧ Additional Character: Beast Beneath the Moonlight (Byakko) ❧ Tags: ambiguous relationships, human sacrifice, japanese mythology & folklore, no ability users au, historical au, bittersweet, angst, blood, temporary character death ❧ Summary: Every ten years, a young boy no older than a day over thirteen must be sacrificed to Byakko, the deity that protects the small settlement called "The Village of the White Tiger". Akutagawa Ryuunosuke is a boy born out of luck, and he knows that one day he will be sacrificed to keep the compact made a thousand years ago between the villagers and the tiger. When he is laid to die at the feet at the White Tiger's shrine, he finds himself enraptured in the strange presence of a young boy instead of the guardian deity he's supposed to be eaten by. ❧ Word Count: 2,945 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 12 October 2023

➼ whumptober 2023 ❧ Day 12: Sacrifice | Character Death ❧ Previous Day ❧ Next Day ❧ Masterlist

A small village resides at the bottom of a valley. A gushing, torrential river marks its western boundary, and an expansive forest on the north and south border keeps the villagers tucked safely inside. A winding dirt path in the northside wilderness is the only safe way for people to come in and out of the village.

There is no way through the village, at least not by a carved trail. On the south side, a short, stone-paved path will only bring travelers to a massive, well-kept shrine. The tall white walls glimmer only in the moonlight, making the painted wood appear striped and alive. At night, the villagers can hear the call of a tiger as it roams it stalks the wilderness, hunting down prey and watching the villagers as they sleep.

Byakko protects the Village of the White Tiger. Not once has it ever fallen to outside forces, and its people never jeopardized to the steel of a blade nor the crack of a whip. The natural boundaries of the village are a shield of sorts, designating where the harmful world ends and the sanctuary of the White Tiger begins.

Long ago, a band of wandering travelers wanted to finally settle down and start their families. They found the perfect area — a clearing with enough space to build houses and fires, expansive wilderness to hunt live game, a river for washing and fishing, and a mountain to shield them from the worst of the wind currents. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to them, then, that the area was already occupied.

On a bright full moon, these travelers struck a deal with the White Tiger. If he would share his land and offer his protection, they would feed him in turn. Once every ten years, when the moon is yellow and his constellation prowls the sky, a boy not a day over thirteen will be sacrificed. They will bind him by his hands and feet, and they will leave him in a gleaming white shrine.

He will taste like the Heaven and the Earth, and he will be enough to satiate the White Tiger’s hunger until the next decade.

Byakko agreed to these terms, and every decade since then the village has sacrificed a young boy without fail. The boy has never come back, never escaped his bonds, and the village, in turn, has never been harmed by outside forces.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke is a twelve-year-old orphan boy born with an incurable cough and parents who died at his birth.

He is a boy born to die.

Murderer is attached to his name before he can let out his second scream as a newborn baby. He roams the dirt paths of the streets and steals where he won’t be caught, works where he is allowed, and sleeps where the dogs can’t sniff out his urchin stench. His sister drew the luckier end of the deal; being born mere minutes before him, she kept her babe hands clean of blood and death. Gin was adopted into a family unable to conceive a child of their own.

She doesn’t abandon him, though. When she can, she waits in his favorite hideout spot; a small cove on the side of the mountain. Made of stone, he can fit little bits of carefully packaged food that can be eaten on a day when his poor health doesn’t allow him to be out for long. It lets in enough air to be ventilated while also enclosed to trap a comfortable amount of heat. The only downside is its vulnerability to flooding, so he has to wait days after a storm for the water to recede before he can return to it once more.

Gin will sometimes bring food, other times entertainment that he can’t find elsewhere. She teaches him how to knit, mend his clothes, and read his own name. It’s the best part of his week, usually, to see her in his cove. She’s the only person who has ever greeted him with a genuine smile on her face, and a gentle hug to cure the scrapes and bruises of a cursed life.

But he knows they run on burrowed time. It’s his fate; he’s reminded every time he works an odd job, when he looks to the sky and sees the White Tiger prowl for his unfortunate prey when he side-steps the jaws of a snapping hound. He was born to be a sacrifice, and nothing will change that.

For some reason, when he steps into his cove in the middle of the day after a particularly bad coughing fit left him crippled and heaving, he’s still stupefied to be greeted with tears streaming down Gin’s face.

Her hug is as gentle as ever, and she whispers broken apologies in his ear like it’s somehow her fault. She warns him that they will seize him the next time he’s in the village, but that they still don’t know where he returns to sleep at night.

“You still have time,” she says, shaking against his weak body, “you could still run.”

His cove floods in a storm that afternoon, and the villagers find him hidden away and asleep under a shop’s overhang to escape the cold. Ryuunosuke wonders if Gin would be disappointed in the fight that follows — if it can even be called that. It more consists of desperate thrashing of punches and kicks until one man grabs his arms, and another his legs, and they pin him to the ground after just thirty seconds of resistance.

He’s stretched on the ground like yarn being woven to cloth, and a third man binds his legs and arms with two segments of horse-hair rope that rubs the skin of his ankles and wrists raw. He is taken away without fanfare or allowing him to say goodbye to his sister. The wind whips through the darkness of the night, making his hair stick to his mouth. The white tips turn red as he coughs onto them.

One man carries him on his shoulder down the stone-paved path, and the other two hold flickering torches to light the way. The moon provides nearly enough light by itself, but he supposes they don’t want to risk losing their sacrifice. They don’t know what will happen if Ryuunosuke doesn’t make it to the shrine in time. Even he is not keen to find out.

The shrine doors open easily under the push of the leading man, and they set Ryuunosuke at the base of the statue of the White Tiger. It’s made of marble, and the way the moon shines through the open window slots brings it to life more than the walls ever could. Ryuunosuke only ever took a peak once, when stars aligned to allow Byakko to hunt the sky, and he’ll never forget the way the shrine seemed to leap out at him. The ornaments dangling off the overhang made it look like the jaws of a roaring beast.

Now, he sits in front of the white marble statue, closer than he ever was before to the deity destined to devour him. His bound hands rest in his lap, and his back presses uncomfortably against the hard edges of the base of the tiger. The men have long left, and with them, they took the heat of the torches. There is nothing to protect him from the cold wind rustling the rags he wore for clothes and the straggling strands of hair that hang from his head.

It’s quiet. Much quieter than he expected it to be. He closes his eyes and wills his heartbeat to slow down. Perhaps he doesn’t want to see the jaws of the real beast close over his head.

“It’s been ten years already?”

Ryuunosuke’s eyes snap open. It doesn’t take him long to find the source of the voice, for a boy stands in front of him. In his deathly tight grip is a broom, and he looks as though he’s just seen a ghost. The only response Ryuunosuke can give him initially is a fit of coughs that he can’t muffle in his arm. It sprays blood all over his lap and the ground in front of the marble statue.

The boy makes an odd, startled noise. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re sick!”

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Ryuunosuke replies, licking his lips of any blood he can stuff back into his body. It’s best he saves the most he can for the White Tiger to consume. “Who are you, and why are you here? You’re not the sacrifice.”

A clattering sound resonates in the near-empty shrine, and the boy rushes over to crouch in front of Ryuunosuke. Up close, he can see clearly what he thought he might have been imagining before: the glow emitting from his eyes. The upper halves are colored purple, but the one that truly shines through is the yellow lower half. His black pupils are narrow despite the darkness shrouding them, and Akutagawa wonders who this boy really is.

Despite the shrine’s persistent cleanliness, no villager actually attends the shrine. There have been many legends passed on to explain the phenomena, but no one truly stuck with Ryuunosuke. He’d blamed it in part on his lack of parentage. Now, he sees the truth with his own eyes; a truth that will stick with him until the White Tiger takes its meal.

The person who upkeeps the shrine is just a boy.

“My name is Atsushi. I clean up around here,” he says, and he reaches out to touch Akutagawa’s unkempt hair. His sharp fingernails tug at the knots. “What’s your name?”

“Ryuunosuke,” he introduces, albeit hesitantly. He’s gotten into the habit of introducing himself by his first name in order to avoid affiliation with his sister. He does it for her sake, not his. The fewer foreign travelers spread the word of the Akutagawa family name, the easier it would be for her if she were to ever want to marry outside of the village.

A single strip of hair indicates that Atsushi once had bangs, but for some reason cut them into the hideous part he has now. A black streak cuts the monotony of his white hair.

Ryuunosuke narrows his eyes, and a coiling snake constricts his gut. “The White Tiger is meant to eat me,” he says, pulling away from Atsushi’s fingernail-claws ever so slightly. It’s enough to get him to retract his hand, and the boy has the audacity to turn pink in bashfulness.

“I don’t know about that. Byakko is…” Atsushi sits down fully on the ground, drawing his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on top of his knees. His skin is pale in the moonlight, illuminated in a way not so dissimilar to the marble statue. He doesn’t finish his statement. Instead, he focuses his glowing yellow eyes up at the statue, regarding it with a thoughtful gaze.

Ryuunosuke asks, for the second time in the few minutes they’ve spoken to each other: “Who are you?”

Atsushi returns his gaze back to him, and his lips stretch into something that’s supposed to be a smile but doesn’t quite hit the mark. “I was the first boy ‘sacrificed’ to Byakko.”

It makes sense. Ryuunsouke recalls the first thing the boy said to him. It's been ten years already? Only someone who has seen a hundred boys be torn apart can really say something like that.

“Are you alive?”

“Maybe,” he says. “Maybe not. It depends on what you would call alive.”

Ryuunosuke doesn’t know what to make of that answer. From the outside, Atsushi looks as alive as any of the other villagers do. His breaths crystallize in the cold air, his hair moves with the wind flowing from the open windows, and the fingers that carded through Ryuunosuke’s hair feel real.

Yet Atsushi has been present for a hundred meals, making him a thousand years old. No human has ever been recorded as living that long. Only deities and powerful kitsunes — who may as well be deities themselves — can dream of having such a long life. Though, if every day is spent cleaning a shrine for a tiger that ate them is that life, Ryuunosuke can’t imagine it as much of a dream rather than a nightmare.

“Is it hard,” Ryuunosuke starts after an awkward silence, “to watch boys die every ten years?”

Atsushi seems to struggle with that answer. His gaze flits left and right, he bites his lip, and he pulls his legs to be under him rather than in front. He sits on top of his calves now, and he scratches at his arms with his long fingernail-claws. 

When he finally meets Ryuunosuke’s gaze again, he sighs. “I don’t know how to answer that. Nobody has ever asked me before and I…I’ve never seen one die.”

“What do you mean?”

Before he can try to hold stifle it, his next coughing fight wracks his body. It’s the worst he’s had all week, and it leaves him breathless even from where he’s sitting. Clotted blood dots on the floor, and they land all over Atsushi’s skin since he moved in to support Ryuunosuke’s collapsing body. However, they don’t quite stain his white shirt or black pants.

Once Ryuunosuke recovers, albeit slowly, from the attack, Atsushi answers his question. “I’ve talked to the boys before, but they’ve all been too scared to hold a conversation with me. And then I’ll close my eyes for only a second, and they’ll be gone.”

“Then don’t close your eyes,” Ryuunosuke responds without thinking. His entire village is on the line. What will happen if Atsushi doesn’t allow the White Tiger to eat him?

Atsushi stares at him owlishly, and Ryuunosuke realizes the boy hasn’t once blinked. Has that been what he’s trying to do all this time? Is that millisecond of time enough for the White Tiger to silently take away the boy Atsushi talks to?

Ryuunosuke doesn’t know what to make of the situation. He doesn’t know what to make of Atsushi, who blurs the line between the living and the dead, the human and the deity. All he knows for certain is what he did before a boy is sent to the shrine every ten years to be eaten by the White Tiger that protects the wilderness.

But so far, all Ryuunosuke has been met with is a boy who has lived for longer than he should’ve. He wonders just how true that ancient legend of the founding of the Village of the White Tiger is. Nobody currently living in the village had been alive back then, and no boy had ever returned to the village to tell the story of Atsushi and the cared-for shrine.

Then the wind whistles a dreadful tune, and a white tiger phases through the closed doors of the shrine.

Byakko is huge. His head nearly knocks against the high ceiling, and just one paw takes up the same amount of space as Atsushi does while sitting. The enormous size of the shrine clicks to Ryuunosuke in a way that it hasn’t before. A deity this big needed a large place to rest and eat its human meals.

And a deity he is. His white fur is lined with a glow that can only be described as otherworldly, like the night sky itself has attached itself to outline his body. His black stripes stick out against the pure white, and it reminds Ryuunosuke of the single strand of black hair in Atsushi’s bang. Byakko inclines his head down, and he does not look at Ryuunosuke.

His piercing yellow gaze is on the boy now standing in front of him, his back turned and his arms out to hold the cheeks of the White Tiger.

Suddenly, the world narrows around Akutagawa, and he gets it. Atsushi, Byakko, and the shrine. They are all different, but they are all one and the same. They operate together to protect the villagers, even if it means sacrificing a boy every ten years.

Even if it's the same boy that has been sacrificed for a thousand years, a hundred times over. Even if it’s just to protect one life.

Somewhere in between Byakko’s arrival and the gaping jaws leaning in to devour the white-haired boy, Atsushi had cut the rope in two. It has to have been his fingernails that weren’t really nails at all, but claws he’d gained after a thousand years of being devoured. His eyes weren’t narrow from being acclimated to cleaning the shrine in the dark, and they didn’t glow from simply being the most colorful being in the room.

Ryuunosuke escapes through an open window, and he feels the hands of a hundred boys before him climbing out of the same sill. They don’t return to the village. They run around the sacred forest and find their way to the dirt path, and they leave using the only safe path available. They don’t look back, and they don’t ever return.

And Ryuunosuke gets it. He preserves Atsushi’s sacrifice just as the boys from a thousand years before him. He feels their hearts pounding just as his beats, and their feet walk on the same roots he trips over now.

Byakko protects the people in the village, following the promise he made with the travelers long ago. He protects the old and the young, the weak and the strong, and the boys outcast from the village — the ones born to die. Ryuunosuke understands that now. He and the boys before him understand it better than anyone in the village ever will.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

”opium”

The night that Abby had broken her arm was also the night that we had stumbled upon something new with the vampires, and I knew that from thence forth I had to protect her to keep the smell of her blood from wafting out lest they pick up on her. She had been the strong one this whole entire time, the one who could pick me and her teammates up while she ran from the baseball diamond without any regrets whatsoever. But when Mark helped us take her to the hospital, I knew that I had to be the older sister from that point onward.

It was that one night there in the Iverson estate when I had woken up to the feel of something cold and smooth right next to me there in bed, and there was a part of me that believed that it came from a gap in the window and the top of the sill. This was interrupted by the swipe of fingers over the crest of my hipbone, as well as a touch of lips on the side of my neck.

I rolled over onto my back so I could see him right before my face. The darkness had enshrouded the sides of his face, but I recognized his neck, the feeling of his skin and the pheromones that wafted off him. The kiss of death and the rush of the blood that beckoned the feeling of murderous lust within him, and the feeling of actual lust between the two of us.

“Hello, you,” I whispered to him, and I stroked the side of his face with the tips of my fingers. Loose tendrils of his curled black hair dangled down onto the crest of my shoulder; through the shadows, I could see the glimmer of his eyes. I lifted a hand and lightly ran my fingers down his exposed chest and onto his soft smooth belly: I was always going to love how soft he was there, even if he never fully grew a belly. He lowered his hips down towards mine, and the softest part of his belly pressed against my own. A gentle little pillow even on the body of a cold-blooded killer, and I wanted to feel him forever.

“How long have you been awake?” he whispered into my lips.

“Just long enough to see you here with me,” I whispered back to him. His lips caressed on my own again, and then he moved his head down onto the side of my neck. I closed my eyes and let my tongue hang out from the feeling.

His body, so slender and as cold as a wintry day in the thick of the mountains, lay down upon me, and he put his hand on the back of my thigh. It didn’t take long for me to feel what resided between his legs, in all his cold disposition. He slithered over me like a serpent, and his knee rested against the crest of my hip. He cradled me with his body, with his knees on either side of me. He wanted me and I could feel it in my bones.

Alex lifted my shirt for a feel of my body: his icy fingers sent a wave of shivers all up and down my torso. I tried to hold still but alas, I could not: between the feeling he bestowed onto me and the icy sensation of his skin, the feeling of undeath atop me, I struggled to lie still underneath him.

But before I could surrender to the feeling, he stopped all of a sudden, and he lifted his head for a glance back at the window.

“What’s happening?” I choked out: the back of my throat was parched from my own thirst as well as my thirst for him, and thus, the words struggled to leave my lips. I swallowed, and I wished for a drink of water right then. “Alex?”

“I thought I heard something,” he told me in a hushed voice, and then he returned to me; the darkness still remained a delicate veil over his face. “Come with me.”

He took me by the hand, and he led me away from the bed towards the window. I thought about Abby and the fact that she would have to return home to an empty bedroom, and I could only hope that Mark and Rob would bring her home and take care of her for the time being. Alex nudged open the window, and he peeked out to see what was out there.

“What do you see?”

“There’s something downstairs,” he told me, and then he gestured for me to follow him out the window.

“Alex, I don’t think this is a good idea,” I confessed.

“I will never let you fall, my love,” he vowed to me. With a sigh through my nose, I grasped onto his wrist and wrapped my fingers around his arm. He guided me out the window and helped me out onto the ledge. Not once did he let me go as he crept down the side of the house like a long and lanky spider, a big black widow with me hoisted upon his back.

I kept my arms around his slender but soft waist and my knees pinned onto either side of his hips. He never flinched one bit as he descended along the outside lattice of the house all the way down to the cold ground below.

“I had no idea that you could climb like this,” I confessed once he reached the bottom and I was able to climb off onto the ground.

“All the eating of flesh and blood will do so much more than meets the eye,” he told me; in the dim light, I could see him flash me a wink. I took him by the hand right then, and he led me towards the edge of the grass to the street. Indeed, there was a basket placed right in the middle of the sidewalk, and he took off the lid for us to see: with the light from the street lamp down the block, we were able to see what was in there.

“Ah, all the times I would eat apples and honey at Rosh Hashanah,” he remarked as he showed me a few plump, ripe apples.

“And there’s some honey in here, too!” I declared, and I showed him the jar of raw, wild honey at the very bottom of the basket. Alex nudged something out of the way and showed me a small orb about the size of a tennis ball: it took me a second to see the smooth rich deep purple outer skin as well as the little point on top.

“Fig?” he offered me.

“Ooh, yes please,” I said, and I took the fig for myself and I took a small bite right out of the side. The juices rode about my tongue like the juice from him, but before I did anything else, I spat out the rind. I peeled off a little bit of the extra rind before I indulged in another small bite. I watched him pick out a bunch of olives, as well as some oranges and avocados.

“Got some cracked wheat, some barley, dates, grapes—ooh, pomegranate!” he declared; he took out a small glass bottle from the very back corner of the basket.

“What’s that?” I asked him.

“Looks like some kind of wine?” he replied. “There’s no label but there’s a cork on the top and it sounds liquid inside.”

“Who would leave all this produce out here on the street like this?” I wondered aloud as I took another bite of fig.

“I have no clue,” he confessed as he picked out a small handful of pomegranate seeds; he then closed the lid of the basket, and he hoisted the basket over his shoulder.

“Vampires can eat fruit?” I asked him as I took another bite of fig.

“Yes, but not often,” he replied. “Remember, a little bit of indulgence is a part of who we are.” And he popped a glossy bright red seed into his mouth. We were about to walk back to the house when he held onto my shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him in a hushed voice.

“Shh, shhh…” We both froze by the edge of the lawn. I glanced around, but I couldn’t hear anything or see anything around us.

“What’s going on?” I asked him again, that time in a near whisper. In the dim light, I saw him run his tongue along his lips, and then he handed me the basket.

“Hang onto this for a second, please, Lilian, darling,” he said to me, to which I much obliged with my free hand, albeit with a bit of confusion.

“What do you think is happening?” I asked him in a soft whisper, and I held the fig close to my chest.

“I think the basket was actually some bait,” he told me, to which I gasped.

“What do you think we should do?” I could imagine all the things that had happened to us before 

“Keep it,” he told me. “Perfectly good produce in there, we can’t ever let it go to waste.” Alex gestured for me to follow him around the side of the house towards the street, and all the way to the very back of the property to the gate. I watched his silhouette grip onto something long and thin leaned up against the edge of the house, and I wondered where Abby had gone because she had left behind her baseball bat.

“I’m gonna need you to step back,” he warned me. Indeed, I held back with the basket over my shoulder as Alex raised the bat toward the gate as if he was about to bash the head in of whoever wanted to break into the yard right then. The sound of the bushes rustling caught my attention, and I hunkered down.

He and I both held still as the figure emerged from the bushes, and Alex lunged back away from it.

“Whoa, jeez,” he groaned out, and then he lowered the top of the bat from the side of his head. The figure stood up straight but had a bit of a hunch to its posture. He towered over me but he looked on at Alex right in the eye: even though there was no moon out that night, I could make out his long smooth blond hair and the smooth caress of shadows over his squarish face. It took me a second to realize that he wore war paint, and he reeked of some kind of musk as well as blood, as if he had just come from battle. It also took me a second to realize that he had a tail out of his back and long claws jutted out from his fingertips.

“Fucking werewolves,” Alex groaned with a run of his fingers through his black curls.

“Hey, sexy,” the werewolf greeted him.

“Hey, sexy? Greywolf, what do you think you’re doing?”

“What, I can’t have some fun with my favorite vampire?” he teased him; he spoke with the lightest German accent, such that I wound up hanging onto his every word that emerged from his lips.

I gaped at him with that, and I raised an eyebrow as well.

“Not when my girlfriend is here,” he scoffed with a gesture to me.

“Well, you know how we roll, though,” said the werewolf as he reached out and stroked the side of Alex’s head, and he nudged a lock of hair back behind his ear. “I see you got our gift.”

“What, the basket?” I asked him.

“All of that fruit—it’s delicious, is it not?”

“It is!” I wanted to laugh, but I wanted to know what was happening here.

“A werewolf who offers gifts, and you must join us,” he explained. “A werewolf in heat who offers gifts? It is life or death that you must join us.”

Alex sighed through his nose, and he turned to me.

“I hate to do this to you,” he told me. “But apparently, we’re officially invited to a little party with a bunch of werewolves.”

“Alex…” I held the fig closer to my mouth as if I wanted it to protect me. “…what’s going on here?”

“Werewolves in heat,” he said in a low flat tone of voice. “One of the few creatures where we can’t attack them or drink their blood, hence the baseball bat. I knew it was a wolf, but I didn’t know who, though.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he talked to you in the way he did, though,” I pointed out, and he fetched up a sigh.

“I’ll tell you later,” he promised me, and he held onto my shoulder once again. “And again, I’m gonna need you to stand back for the most part—”

[ohheyitsjustbear]

K, no one asked but here's the backstory I guess

Renari Brightveil grew up in the cozy yet bustling inn known as The Silver Wave, nestled at the edge of a mountain town where steep cliffs kissed a tranquil sea. Adopted by his parents, loving worshippers of Selûne, Renari's home was always filled with warmth and laughter, especially shared with his older sister Lirael, a wizard in training, and two younger brothers, Edrin and Thorne. The soothing light of Selûne’s influence infused their lives; stories were spun about her celestial moonlit guidance that seemed to whisper hope into every corner of their lives. Together they navigated both ordinary childhood battles against rival clans in improvised games, as well as deeper struggles entwined with prejudice against Renari's heritage, while working to help their parents manage the tavern. However, life wasn’t without its challenges—Renari bore the burden of being different as a tiefling in this small town.

As an adolescent yearning for acceptance amidst teasing jests from local children, he found himself fiercely protective of his brothers when they faced bullies one fateful day. It was there that fate turned cruel; while defending them from harsh words that cut deeper than steel—or so it felt—his left horn shattered against the stone wall during a scuffle. Pain lingered but was eclipsed by deep familial loyalty—a bond forged stronger with each challenge overcome together. Years later brought new darkness upon The Silver Wave—a terrifying night when goliaths descended upon their townsfolk under the direction of their savage leader, Grithar Bloodfist, whose madness twisted them into insatiable beasts bent on destruction. Fuelled by righteous fury for justice and protection over his family, Renari wielded divine power to repel these marauding giants using light-infused strikes from above while tending to his wounded kin below. Renari fought bravely alongside his siblings using both magic-imbued faith and whatever makeshift weaponry they could grasp to protect those dear to them, but their resistance ultimately fell before overwhelming might.

In those desperate moments thick with fear and chaos, Renari received unexpected solace in the form of Rowena—a sleek grey cat sent by Selûne herself to guide him through shadowy paths ahead. After two days wreathed in bloodshed followed by liberation courtesy of nearby warriors answering distress calls—his home reduced to hollow echoes and ashes—Renari made solemn vows to Selûne, taking the first steps in becoming a cleric of The Moonmaiden. With Rowena at his side, an unwavering determination ignited within him: he vowed not only to hunt down these goliath marauders but also to protect those whom fate deemed weak or helpless like himself years ago. As moonlight cast glimmers on distant horizons filled with threats unknown yet calling forth adventure's promise, Renari stepped beyond the boundaries of home toward an uncertain destiny waiting beneath celestial veils—a warrior at last forged by shadows and light alike ready to claim justice for those silenced too long under tyranny's grasp.