#Lord Star Sparkle

[thestarandheartsisters]

The Star and Heart Sisters Harmony AU

Gift for: @aminatvdemon666 and @yourfriendbodoque

[rupertholmes]

$10+ Bust:

$18+ Doodle Page:

$23+ Fullbody:

[astarjelly]

Screamer!! I wanna squeeze him like a fuckin stressball oml <333

[my-little-pony-theories]

MLP:FIM Theory: Green Element of Harmony

A theory created by DRWolf001, suggesting that there is a hidden 7th Element of Harmony that is Scorpan/Spike's.

Watch his videos before reading this.

~~~

Scorpan's Past

Canon: Tirek and his younger brother Scorpan first traveled to Equestria in the hopes of conquering it. Scorpan fell in love with the ponies and they're way of life, and became friends with Star Swirl swirl the Bearded.

Speculation: Scorpan finds Spike's dragon egg by itself just on the outskirts of the pony nation, and he decides to keep it.

Reasoning: Scorpan finding Spike and bringing him to the ponies is a reference to their G1 counterparts, where a similar thing took place.

Canon: In Princess Celestia's narration, she says Scorpan went back to his homeland after Tirek's imprisonment.

Speculation: Instead of him immediately leaving after Tirek's imprisonment, in actuality he stayed in Equestria for some years.

After Stygian brought the Pillars together to defeat the Sirens, Scorpan became friends with them too.

Canon: When Stygian turned into the Pony of Shadows, the Pillars create the seed that would grow into the Tree of Harmony by fusing their magic into it.

Speculation: Scorpan was the one who inspired Star Swirl the Bearded to create the Seed. During the spell, Scorpan was in the room with the Pillars, so his magic unintentionally was added to the spell.

After the Pillars sacrifice themselves to defeat the Pony of Shadows, Scorpan decides to go back home.

Where did his element go?

Speculation: Before Celestia and Luna used the Elements to defeat Discord, Scorpan had returned to Equestria to see if the Tree had grown. He finds the Elements and removes the branch containing his Element. The branch he took is turned into the Staff of Sacanas after he removed the gem within it.

Reasoning: This is based on an unused concept for the movie, which would've shown that Scorpan was the original owner of the Staff of Sacanas before the Storm King stole it from him, and that the Staff was made from a branch of the Tree of Harmony.

Because his Element wasn't originally a part of the spell, the other 6 Elements work completely fine without it. However, with the combined power of all 7 Elements, they can do much more.

Scorpan and Spike

The Mane Six each share elements with the Pillars of Equestria. Spike and Scorpan are not only connected by the past, but share similarities with each other as well:

Scorpan was Star Swirl's first and closest friend, and Spike is Twilight's first and closest (non-blood related) friend.

Scorpan is the only non-pony member of his group of friends, and Spike is the same.

Scorpan is friendly to ponies, appreciates their way of life, and enjoys living with them, just like Spike.

Castle of Friendship

The Castle of Friendship was formed from the Chest of Harmony, which served as the seed that planted it. The Chest itself was a sprout from the Tree of Harmony.

When the Castle formed, it created a 7th chair for Spike, which it technically didn't need to do if he wasn't connected to the Tree of Harmony in the same way the Mane 6 ponies were. Spike's chair is closer to Twilight's.

Although, it's possible that since the Tree is somewhat self aware, it knew Spike was Twilight's assistant/best friend, and lived in the Castle as well, so that's why it created a 7th chair for him, closer to Twilight's.

Unknown Green Element of Harmony

Throughout the franchise, when images of the Elements of Harmony are shown both within the show or other material, sometimes a green element is shown, usually in the place of a different Element:

It could simply be an error.

However, there are some cases where the green element is shown with the other 6 Elements:

Each Element's color represents a part of the character's design that shares the same color:

Magenta: Twilight's cutie mark color

Orange: Applejack's coat color

Red: Part of Rainbow's mane and cutie mark color

Purple: Rarity's mane color

Pink: Fluttershy's mane and cutie mark color

Blue: Pinkie's eye and cutie mark color

Green: Spike's eye and spine color

Element Chart

Star Swirl the Bearded = Sorcery | Twilight Sparkle = Magic

Rockhoof = Strength | Applejack = Honesty

Flash Magnus = Bravery | Rainbow Dash = Loyalty

Mistmane = Beauty | Rarity = Generosity

Mage Meadowbrooke = Healing | Fluttershy = Kindness

Somnambula = Hope | Pinkie Pie = Laughter

Scorpan = Respect | Spike = Acceptance

BTW, Sunset Shimmer's Element is Empathy!

? = ? | Sunset Shimmer = Empathy

Stygian is meant to be Starlight Glimmer's parallel, so those two aren't Elements.

~~~

There is a lot of glaring evidence here to suggest that this theory could be true. So much so, it makes me wonder if it's actually what they were foreshadowing and building up to... until Hasbro had them do the School of Friendship storyline instead.

The storyline for Season 8 would've been completely different, it instead being a continuation of setting up the Pillars in Season 7.

[lanitashiddencrackstash]

[arianna-creates]

Fun fact! I actually turned these in to my art teacher because one of our assignments was to do something artistic every single day! This included painting mugs, drawing pictures, and creating collages on our walls at home...

Merlin with a beard had a GRIP on me back when I made these (a year or two ago I believe?)

Curly hair also has had a grip on me :)

[witchofthesouls]

https://www.tumblr.com/witchofthesouls/728309614022623232/guys-let-me-talk-about-this-new-au-in-the

Could we possibly get a expansion on this post please? Before we got isekaied, what was our relationship with Sentinel? I’d imagine if we had a newborn and he chased us down it would be something like conjux? It also seems he is very possessive if he launches a whole manhunt, but I guess that could be a normal reaction to seeing a carrier fling themselves out of the balcony.

There's a reason why it's called Fight-or-Flight, and apparently even Cybertronians have it.

One moment you're staring into Sentinel Prime's face, then the next you're falling.

The wind whips, and you can't even see the ground from this high up. The skyscraper is a height beyond what humans were/are/will be (?) capable of as you fall through the hazy smog and see the horizon of metal, gleaming and reflective with rainbow hues.

The movies didn't do the planet justice. None at all.

Something clicks in your new head and body, and you twist over to fall parallel to the building. Hands, large and thick and so unlike your own with unfeeling segmented armored plating, dig into the building. You feel nothing, even as you jerk; feet doing the same, digging hard enough to start a trail of sparks.

You feel rather than see a change in your hands and feet, your body thrums as well, and in the corner of your high definition vision, there's an overlay of your frame with various highlights. Metal screams as you leave jagged scars, and you slowly decelerate enough to land hard on a ledge.

Apparently, Cybertronians do have their own architectural designs, like gargoyles.

And you now sport a set of thick talons on each metal finger and blades at the tip of your nonexistent toes like an assassin or a spy from a movie.

There's no other chance to think what kind of body you're currently inhabiting as your new ears prick and shift over. You can't help but swivel in the very direction, and your vision zooms in. In the distance, a few jets are speeding their way.

A strange wave of calmness settles over you, and, once more, your body just moves without your input.

You move behind the metal guardian, palm flat on the empty wall, and your hand sends out a pulse. A map suddenly appears, confirming no immediate biosignatures. Those newfound talons then thrum and superheats into a harsh white to dig deep into the metal, cutting into it with no resistant, smooth like butter, to make a hole large enough to shimmer through it.

In a strange, hysterical note, you place back the wall piece. Careful to realign it, and the cuts simply disappear as if never made.

Whatever came over you, then leaves, and you sag down. The adrenaline (do these metal people even such a thing?) suddenly bleeds out of your entire frame, plating clicking shut as you press into a corner because what the hell!?

And you have no idea what else to do when the map pulses and flares as a pathway is marked out.

It's a persistent prod, tapping in your mind in various pop-ups that easily flow into it. You have no choice at this point. Either wait for another mecha to find you or follow the map.

You take the second option, hoping to find a way out without tipping off more people.

Terrified as doors slide open to reveal empty hallways of nothing. Not even decor or signage. You realize the blades retracted as you try to keep the noise minimal as you pass by entryways.

If it isn't for the active map and its directions, you would take your chances with the jets rather than stay in these never-ending bland halls of a liminal space. There's no noise but a constant low hum. Not even vaulted cameras, but maybe the security tech is a whole other beast.

The alien version of a Google maps guides you to a fucking wall of all things. You try to walk further, just to have the damn thing blare a huge warning that makes your transferred soul make a mean attempt trying to escape its newest home.

Of course, you back track, feeling up the black expanse of the wall, searching for a clue or a hidden mechanism, trying and failing to trigger that pulsing search.

You give into the frustration and kick the wall, and your damn foot sends out that pulse.

There's a room.

You find that it's easier to access your superheated talons and make quick work in creating a new door.

It's a spacious room with no windows and many weird pod-like structures dotting the area. Dark and empty.

You carefully pick your way, mindful of the automation on the floor as you go to the corner, led by the map and instinct.

There, in an active pod of shimmering bioluminescent lights, is something squirming behind the opaque cover. You have no idea what prompted to poke the sac, but you did.

It disintegrates in a curtain of faerie light.

Whatever vague hope you had about an item for an escape is immediately dashed by the sight of two tiny things inside the space-crib-pod-thing.

The room is a nursery. A space nursery.

They're nothing like the supposed baby robots in the movies. These two are reminiscent of a human infant. Rounded, short limbs with a large torso and head. Their bodies are far simpler than all of the adults, and even their faces lack complex overlapping plates and indentations and crests. Soft. They look so soft and malleable compared to everything on the planet.

Colorless in a dull, matte grey with thick, milky optics. One starts warbling like a bird, blindly reaching out, and you can't help but lean forward as the small face ripples, like a pebble in a lake, it vibrates across their body before shifting back to a pristine state. The other is whistling air, optics shut, audials flicking, and Jesus Christ, that's ridiculously cute!

You crouch down, reaching out to help the other flip over to their belly, and you have no idea what happened because a sharp pain erupts in your chest.

A ghostly hand had reached inside and ripped out all your circuitry to replace the hollow space with molten lava. You're burning from the inside, and you can't escape the scorching heat that grabbed your new heart in an agonizing fist.

You're vaguely aware of slamming into the ground, weighed down, and hands? A lot of hands, but the floor is blessedly cold enough to give a moment of relief.

There's crying, and you're being pried open like a cheap 90s toy, but instead of switching out dying batteries, something gets jacked into you. Your side cramps hard, and you try to roll, but you're being crushed and held. There's a strange sensation of something injected, crawling across your physical frame and flowing into your head. A cascade of pop-ups overtake the warnings across your vision, faster and faster until it pixelates and completely shatters into prismacolor blackout.

You're gone.

_______

Ratchet curses as he forces open a sparking chassis with a travel bar and brute force, rerouting coolant lines and pulling out blackened circuitry as he delves into the burning out spark.

Sentinel relaxes. When that medic swears, it's okay. When he's quiet and focused, then...

The Prime stares at you. Even in forced stasis, there's a grimace on your now visible features. You're young as well. Between mechling and adult with the relatively few overlapping plates of your face.

For a half-starved, near-death Wilder, you're beyond lively.

Sentinel was upstairs to give your last rights. No matter Star Saber's misgivings, it's the proper thing to do, especially those that are Primal-descent.

And what a discovery that was! One of the newsparks with a mark of Prima, found nearby you, weakly crying under the meager protection of rockshade and a tattered cloak. And your glyphs of Vector and another Prime. Unknown or forgotten carved neatly in the high arches of your cheeks.

(He isn't alone now.)

Either you have incredible mods, unique sigma abilities, or no sense of preservation. Perhaps a combination because you managed to escape to get to this hidden NICRU without miminal detection, but collapsed by the combined backlash between your abilities and (re?)claiming the foundlings.

You're an idiot, he thinks fondly because he remembers the makeshift fuel-split directing Energon into the newsparks. A skilled idiot.

Then, he becomes aware of Ratchet's commands to transfer out to a critical care center clashing with High Brow's orders to stabilize and take to stockades.

"No." He cuts firmly, letting Ratchet’s apprentice tap into physically restraining your frame.

An immediate flow of counterpoints met his comms as Sentinel carefully puts the howling foundlings by your side. He knows Ratchet will have words, but the two hiccup down to fretting chirps and whistles.

Those options will take you out of his direct purview, and Sentinel intimately knows that many will directly oppose a Wilder walking free in the city-state. You would disappear quietly and easily, especially if word of your lineage spreads.

Sentinel will kill several steel-flizzers with one detonator.

He produces the visor, cracks fixed, and slots it gently back onto your face. The fewer that know your face, the better.

"This is my Intended." He announces, and Sentinel savors the sudden stillness from everyone before the tsunami of action swept everything away.

He can almost hear the screams of the Council and his own High Protector from the distance.

[shrub-rose]

Mr. Pizzapasta

ref pic under the cut

[stormofdefiance]

Penacony 2.2 theories!!!!!

- Peppy is Asta’s Gallagher OR Peppy is a direct descendent of Gallagher who was Mikhail’s Peppy

- Aventurine’s boss form shows up and reveals that underneath the mask - it’s Firefly!!!

- Boothill will teach Robin to sing again and Robin will teach Boothill to curse like a sailor 🥲

- SAM and Blade wrestling match!!!!!!!

- Sparkle reveals herself to be an emanator of Geo

- Sampo inherits Aventurine’s luck and discoveries the ennui of all his schemes working out exactly as planned

- Clockie merged with the Astral Express in a Totoro-Esque manner to produce a Totoro-Esque transportation companion

- Welt is bamboozled by the gravity wall puzzles, he is left behind

- Sunday awakens to discover himself a miniature denizen of his own model city - he looks up to see a huge other self gazing back

- Aventurine’s boss form shows up and reveals that underneath the mask - it’s Misha!!!!

- Black Swan will end the patch by witnessing a horror incomprehensible (Jade) and will begin crying and shaking - Furina singing causes her brother to repent

- Aventurine will cockblock Acheron and Black Swan from kissing by holding up a straight pride flag

- Dan Heng is gonna one shot Sunday and then make out with Boothill on his grave

- Gallagher will receive a boss form (even less clean shaven)

- Firefly reveals SAM’s evolved form - The Lightning Lord (that’s why Jing Yuan’s here)

- Upon meeting Firefly, March 7th obtains a new form (also a robot)

- Himeko ceases to be a functioning alcoholic

- Welt finally reveals the shotgun (in his cane) and shoots Sunday

- Robin is Siobhan - Everyone is saved as Dr Ratio cracks the dream formula and faces off against Silver Wolf to hack (calculate) reality - Woolsey gets a shirtless alt - Trailblazer acquires a new form - the path of Harmony, in which their weapon is a giant tuning fork (like N-Tropy from crash bandicoot) - Charlie Chaplin esque car chase scene !!!

[cassmouse]

THE RICKROLLING?? THE NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP REFERENCE?? HELP??????

[tainted-sweet-meats]

bring it back to 2005 :’) the sparkle, gloom, and scene dog era was a trip the blue oc dont belong to me(belongs to an old bud) I own Marsh the scene fox and Aiden the gloom dog. old RP doodles LULZ for cringe lyrics...its the way I listened to these songs in high school unironically and was like yeah that's some good music LMFAOO **throws up**

enjoy these rp meme edits i made too I still find em funny

[bloodmoon24]

Scene shows Moonlight (my very first OC for MLP/EG, so this is me being younger) and Alastor walking and talking to each other with Twilight, until Leo goes up to her as he places his hand on Moon’s shoulder

Leo: Hey, Moon? Can I have a word with you? *glares at Alastor* Alone?

Alastor narrows his eyes at him

Moonlight: Oh. Yeah, sure

They walked away to a different room while Alastor glares back at Leo

Moonlight: What’s up?

Leo: *sighs* Ok, look, I’m just go out and say it, but this Alastor guy, I don’t trust him. Not one bit. That smile of his looks like he’s either hiding something or planning to do something dangerously drastic. Like Mikey when he thinks he can surf on Leatherhead’s back to look cool

Moonlight: Did not go the way he hoped. But, yeah, Alastor may seemed creepy, but he looks like a harmless guy

Leo: He may look harmless, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t. I just don’t want this guy to hurt you, ok?

Moonlight: And I appreciate your concern for me, but don’t worry, Leo. If he does anything, I can handle it. I mean, you’ve guys dealt with demons before, right? So you can trust me on this. I’ve dealt with Bill Cipher, Toffee, Lord Dominator, and the other villains in Equestria, so what makes Alastor any different?

Leo: Moon, I trust you, but there’s no way I can trust him. Like one small push, and he may go out targeting people

Moonlight: *getting a little annoyed* Leo, he hasn’t done anything but being friendly to everyone. He hasn’t destroyed anything but any phone that was recording him

Leo: Which is probably a sign that you can’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth

Moonlight: … Are you saying that you can’t trust me? Like I can’t take care of myself?

Leo: !! Well, I mean-

Moonlight: I maybe young, but I’ve traveled through multiple dimensions in the universe, gaining knowledge, powers, and new forms for me to use in case I needed them. And yet, you still treat me like I’m just a powerless child *turns away from him with her arms crossed* I don’t even know if I could even trust you now since you obviously don’t trust me

Leo: Ó_Ò…Moon-

Alastor: *appears in between them* Sorry to interrupt

Both: Gah!

Alastor: *at Moonlight* But I’ve been noticing that you started to look upset, my dear. I’m guessing you and your conversation with your *at Leo with a small sneer* companion *back at Moonlight in a nice tone* isn’t going very nicely

Leo glares at him and clenches his fists

Moonlight: O-Oh, *waves her hand* it’s fine, Alastor. We were just having a little…disagreement

Alastor: I see. Well, then! *puts a hand on Moonlight’s back and guides her into a walk* If you’re done with your talk, let’s continue ours, shall we?

Moonlight: Oh, of course

Leo watches them leave as his glare turns into a worry face

[stormyrainyday]

Jingliu Damage Test (2.9 mil)

Buffs below :)

Buffs

[caffeinewitchcraft]

You are a Blacksmith

Set in the universe where your destiny is written on your arm

(The Hero and Hope) (Being Villagers) (You are the Demon King)

You are a Blacksmith.

That’s why the dragon’s fire doesn’t burn you.

“Pretty sure dragon fire is hotter than a forge,” your party’s leader pants. Kent is a veteran adventurer of twenty years to your two years and he’s seen his fair share of dragon fire before today. There are curling scars dragging the corner of his mouth down into a permanent scowl that pairs oddly with how high he has his salt-and-pepper eyebrows. He exhales noisily. “I think you’re just a freak, actually.”

“Not nice,” Sella says. The archer is your age with twice your experience. Her leather armor is well-beaten by four years running around with Kent and getting far closer to battle than an archer should. Her red hair is tied with golden thread that matches the golden charms dangling from her necklace. She adds a new one with every successful monster kill. It’s lucky she’s so stealthy or else she’d be jingling with every step. “Mande is an exception, not a freak.”

You’re a party of exceptions. Most adventurers are Villagers or Guards, common destinies that don’t always find a place within a town or village that have so many of each already. There are days you report for a mission, and you’re offered a blacksmith’s job on the spot just because of the mark on your arm.

Kent is a landless Lord. There’s a story there, you know, but it’s not one he’s ever volunteered. You can see his destiny pull at him in the remote reaches of the Kingdom, where no Lord has laid roots and the monsters run roughshod across the barren soil. Nights where you’re too far from civilization find him gazing up into the stars, his fingers curled like claws into the earth. The look on his face then is so hungry that the first time you saw it, you offered him provisions from your own pack. He’d shaken his head wryly, his scarred frown twisting, and walked off into the night by himself, only returning in the morning light.

Sella is a Guardian without anyone to look after. You knew her story before she told it to you, whispering it like a bedtime story before the end of the world. She was part of a traveling theater group. She looked after them, feeding them and retrieving those with wanderlust from their journeys before curtain call. When a monster siege led by a Demon King fell upon the city they were performing in, the Lord called his people into his castle and locked the doors.

The troupe were not his people. But they were Sella’s.

Until they weren’t.

You drag your battle hammer up and over your shoulder. Conveniently, the dragon fire has burned away the wet viscera that had been clinging to it. The metal is dark with soot, but undamaged.

The things you smith can’t be melted by any fire except your own.

The skeletal trees make the scene of this final battle oddly silent. Ash drifts from the sky, carried by a wind too high to feel. You can hear your party sniping at each other behind you and the gentle gurgle of the beast’s body settling comfortably into death.

The red dragon is beautiful. Its scales gleam and sparkle like rubies in the late afternoon sun and its talons shine like obsidian. Each part of the creature could make an average family rich for a month. You consider it from an arm’s reach away. You chew your bottom lip as you think. Your adventures have taken you across the continent from the southern coast you call your home, to the western land of rivers, to the northern desert and then here, to the eastern dry lands. After all your travels, you find yourself still thinking of home often. Crab is a delicacy where you’re from despite being so close to the water. The preparation can be tedious which makes it a dish reserved from significant occasions. Cracking the shell was always your job…

“Oh,” Sella says faintly. She makes an attempt to rise and nearly tips over in the process. If it weren’t for her bow, she’d be on the ground. Her knees shake as she uses a combination of a tree and her bow to pull herself up. “Mande, rest first! In an hour I can help you—”

You bring your hammer down on the jaw of the dragon. The bone shatters after just two blows. It’s best not to think about how beautiful it looked flying overhead or the intelligence in its eyes. You’ve always had a single-minded focus and you rely on that now.

“Leave her to her dismantling,” Kent grumbles. He’s now curled up on the ground is if in his sleeping roll, hands tucked neatly under his chin. It can’t be a comfortable position given his full suit of armor no matter how peaceful his expression. “If she’s got the energy for it, who are we to argue? Just keep the ribs intact. That’s what the client wants.”

Smash!

“It’s our turn to do the dismantling,” Sella says. She glares down at Kent. “Mande already did last week’s gryphon and the hydra. Get up!”

Smash!

“I’m an old man who needs his nap time.”

“You’re an irresponsible leader who needs to do his part.”

Smash!

“Once Mande stops swinging that thing around, I will.”

“She won’t hit you—”

“She hit me last week!”

“And I apologized for that,” you say through gritted teeth. You let your hammer fall by your feet. Your last blow sent tremors through your arms. The dragon’s jaw is like glass compared to its skull. “Sincerely.”

Sella makes a gagging sound when you fall to your knees next to the cracked skull. “Mande, don’t put your hand in there, that’s – oh, that’s so gross.”

“The book I read said it’d be…aha!” Your fingers graze something cool and metallic. You abruptly feel like crying. It’s been seven months. Seven long months of endless missions and danger and being away from home. This entire dragon is priceless, but you’ve forfeited your share for this. You blink rapidly to keep your tears at bay. You aren’t going to cry. Not until you’re sure that you’ve really found it. “Quick, hand me my waterskin.”

Your urgency gets even Kent up and bustling towards the dragon’s corpse. With trembling fingers you accept the water from Stella, pulling out your prize. It’s smaller than you thought, only about the length of your arm or a third the length of the dragon’s skull.

With bated breath, you gently trickle water over the length of it. Your party kneels beside you, watching just as raptly.

“What is it?” Sella breathes.

Kent is wide-eyed as, inch by inch, your treasure reveals itself.

“A dragon’s silver wit,” you say. The silver is mottled by the dragon’s black blood and grey brain matter. “The last ingredient I need for a Hero’s Sword.”

-----.

“You can’t just make a Hero’s Sword,” Kent is still saying a week later. He throws his hands up to the sky. “Heroes make them from air and magic and righteousness. Blacksmiths just repair them!”

You didn’t ask for Sella or Kent to follow you home. In fact, you assumed they wouldn’t. The slaying of the red dragon marked the end of your time in the Adventurer’s Guild. Now you’re ready to return to your position as the southern port’s best blacksmith and you thought they’d be ready to return to the best two adventurers the Capital Guild had.

“I’ve heard legends about it,” Sella says. She’s walking backward. You’ve already warned her that the roads this far away from Capital aren’t as smooth, but she’d scoffed at your concern. Now it’s pure stubbornness to prove you wrong that has her continuing to walk backwards despite nearly tripping twice already. “Excalibur was manmade.”

“The legend of Hero Arthur is manmade,” Kent retorts.

“If you believe that,” you say, “you really don’t need to come home with me.”

Kent blinks. “Well,” he says slowly, “on the off chance it’s not a fairytale, I desperately want to see it.”

“Then shut up and follow Mande,” Sella says. She elbows him and mutters under her breath. “Or else she might not let us stay at her house.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure the dragon fetched enough coin for the both of you to get your own rooms at the inn.”

“Sure,” Kent agrees. He grins wickedly and the expression makes him look ten years younger. “But we’re not going to do that, are we Sella?”

“Nope,” Sella chirps. She loops an arm through yours before you can protest and squints at the horizon. “Is that your hometown over there?”

A hazy line of blue and white roofs is barely distinguishable in the fading light of day. Sella has better vision than you. You’re sure she can see the masts of ships in port, the green and yellow flag waving over the chief’s house, maybe even the orchard that creeps right up to the edge of the bluffs.

You can’t wait to see it yourself.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been smiling, but your face hurts by the time you find your voice. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

----------.

Mom hurls a loaf of bread at your head when you walk through the front door, Kent and Sella in tow.

Kent catches it an inch from your face. “Whoa, whoa!” He waves the bread as if unsure whether he should drop it or throw it back. “It’s your daughter! Mande! Put down the bread basket!”

“Mande and friends,” Sella says cheerfully. She waves at your Mom, Dad, and little brother. “Hello! I’m Sella.”

“I threw it because I know who it is,” your mom says. The grey streaks on either side of her temple are wider. Her round, kind face is pale with anger. “We thought you were dead.”

“We got your letters,” your dad says before you can ask. His hair hasn’t changed; he’s bald. He’s wearing his leather apron from the forge at the table. He takes a bite of soup. “All three of them.”

“Not nearly enough,” Mom snaps. Then, “And they could have been forgeries.”

“Who would forge a blacksmith’s letters home?” you ask in exasperation. Is that why she never replied? “Mom, please.”

“Don’t giveme that when you’ve been dead for seven months,” she says. She stands abruptly. “Three of you? Sit down. I don’t have enough soup, but bread will fill anyone’s stomach.”

“I’m Kent,” Kent blurts out before Sella can push him into a chair. He sits with a thud. “Sella, it’s rude to sit before introducing yourself!”

“Ruder than not knocking or coming for dinner without an invitation?” Sella hisses at him. She turns a charming smile on your little brother. “Sorry to intrude. You must be Axton. A pleasure to meet you.”

Axton doesn’t return her greetings. His eyes are fixed to the package strapped to your back. “Is that…?”

You swallow hard as your family’s eyes turn to you. You carefully pull the cloth-wrapped rod from your back. Your little brother isn’t so little anymore. You can see he’s taller than you as he stands in unison with Dad to clear a spot on the table. His long, thin hands make quick work of the ties.

There’s complete silence as the burlap falls away to reveal gleaming silver.

Axton’s throat bobs. He’s barely eighteen with the soft look of a fawn hovering around the edges of his jaw and cheekbones. Mom and Dad have done a good job feeding him while you’ve been gone. Seven months ago your brother looked like a wraith, all the light taken from him as if it all came from his hero’s sword.

“You’re going to make me a sword,” Axton says at last.

You’ve thought about this moment for seven months. You imagined you would say something like it’s okay now or maybe big sister fixed it. When his hero’s sword was taken from him, you thought about all sorts of things. It took a month for you to set out on this quest rather than one of revenge. It wouldn’t have helped Axton if you’d forged a hundred weapons of war to punish those who’d hurt him. It wouldn’t help Axton to pretend you fixed anything.

So instead you tell the truth.

“It won’t be the same,” you say. “It won’t work the way you want it to. Not right away. You’ll need to train with it and learn it as you would any other weapon. Your instincts won’t help you. But…it won’t break when I’m done. It won’t bend or chip. It won’t melt. It will serve you, Axton, until the exact moment you don’t need it anymore.”

Axton flies around the table to throw his arms around you. It’s amazing you came from the same parents. Where you are short and stocky, he’s really like a deer. His long arms could encircle you twice as he lifts you with a hero’s strength. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

And then you’re being hugged all around. Your dad’s strong, Blacksmith arms are crushing you to your brother, your mother’s soft cheek is against your shoulder, and there’s plate mail digging into your spleen while a sharp elbow digs into your spine.

You manage to turn your head just enough to see Kent hugging your from behind and Sella hugging him from behind. It’s her elbow that’s jabbing you.

“This is sweet,” she says. Her voice is a little muffled from how her face is pressed against Kent’s back. “We should hug more.”

“Does this make your brother a Hero?” Kent asks.

“This is a family hug,” you say.

“Duh,” Sella says. “That’s why we joined.”

You really can’t argue with that.

-

(Patreon)

Next week's story: Everyone in LA has two job. You've got a big smile and a talent for seeing ghosts. It's no surprise what your jobs are.

[skyrigel]

Tell me again [ AB ]

Pairing ~ Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Plot ~ after a long day at work, Anthony tells you how much he missed his wife <3

Warning: pregnant!reader, little teasing, shy!reader

Words : 0.8k

My other fic

Anthony bridgerton angst

" I thought you would be asleep..." Anthony murmured, words soft as melody spelled in the dark, hands crossed around his chest, his cuffs rolled up like usual after every tired night in his office, he smiled at you, a glint in his eyes.

" Why would I ? " I would wait for you at the worlds end, You turned to look at your husband, after a hard day, his eyes looked so tired and yet, they were sparkling, always when it was you.

" Oh my dearest wife." He moaned as he crossed the distance in two long strides, wrapping his hands around your waist all the while dropping to his knees,

"I missed you so much baby." He said, kissing your baby bump gently as he looked up with stars in his eyes.

" You didn't miss me Anthony ?! " You fake gasped, watching the slow chuckle make its way through the rings of his cartilage as he plucked the book you were holding.

" Oh you have no idea ! " He growled, taking both your hands in his and guiding them to his face, his eyes shutting as your fingers traced the face you adored so much, he hummed in response, kissing the soft skin of your wrist as watched you, one knuckle at a time, eyes never leaving yours.

" you think I haven't missed you ? " His asked, almost blazing, " you? " He said again, " There wasn't a moment when my soul didn't want to crawl and come to you, not a moment when i wanted to be anywhere but in your arms love." He squeezed your hand gently as you smiled, because you knew, knew how much he loved you.

" Have i told you how much I love your hands ? " He traced the lightening like green nerves that made it ways across your skin, he loved every bit of you, body, soul, mind and heart.

" You haven't," you replied, feeling your breath knocked out, heart punching against your ribs.

Anthony's lip quirked at your dazed eyes, he loved every and each version of you but he so much adored when you made your needs known, how much Anthony loved giving you what you wanted, you just have to say it for me, my sweet love, he had told you.

" This," Anthony said, his lips grazing at the slight raise of vein of your wrist, following it upto the crook of your arm, smiling in triumph as a strangled noise made it's way out of your throat.

" You like it ? " He tilted his head, brows raised in question, " mmm" you hummed softly but being the Viscount and smug bastard lord bridgerton was, he smirked.

" Say it in words my lady." He gazed up, you gave him one eye roll but opened your mouth anyway, " I do." You said ans Anthony resumed his venturing.

" And I have told you how much I love your collarbones ? " He hummed, planting open mouthed kisses all way to to dip of your neck, his breath lingered like a tattooed kiss, you dropped your head back on the couch as Anthony nipped at the raw skin of your neck.

You felt his smile the way his teeth tore into your flesh, his hand soothing your belly in circular patterns, the other cupping your breast and kneading it with all the time in the world, " You aren't telling me." He complaint, mouth fixed several inches away from yours as he looked deeply into yours eyes, your breath were uneven as you whined at the lack of lips on you, he understood and caressed your cheeks, leaning until a thread of wind was between you, you waited for touch to burn you, waited for his lips to crash into yours but alas!

" An..thony " you whimpered and he shaked his head, mouthing a small, No.

" You haven't " you whispered, closing the inches as his mouth pressed against yours in warm fuzzy music, like everything the poets talked about, Anthony smiled as pulled for a second away, his eyes peicring yours, mischief dangling through the corners and oh, how much you loved this man.

" I think I have..." He trailed, nose nuzzling at the dark reds and blues of your neck, he loved his little vicious games, loved to tease you, loved to drive you crazy.

" You have." You told him, " Tell me again."

That was all Anthony needed to you tell you again, and again and again, how much he loved you.

Rigel's note🪩: This has been in my drafts for so long<3

[daycourtofficial]

I got cursed like Eve got bitten

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 1.2k | warnings: none

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

Next part | Masterlist

Velaris was beautiful tonight. Like most nights, the stars shone over the small city, their incandescent light bouncing off the Sidra, making the surface of the water sparkle as the current rippled. The frigid water looked so dark beneath that light, its depths unknown to those who walk across the bridge. 

Rhyasnd watched the stars from his balcony, the violet in his eyes catching a glint under their shine, glass of whiskey in his hand. Feyre and Nyx were spending the evening at an art class across town, a class for children to “paint the stars” as Feyre had said. They would be spending the evening with a dozen or so other small children, his mate and their child on a blanket gazing up at the stars and trying to recreate what they saw onto a tiny canvas, no doubt splattering paint everywhere in the process. He had debated going - he loved the night sky, a fondness he’d had since childhood that carried well into his adult life. He would spend the night telling Nyx about the various constellations, what they mean, and how their planet spins in orbit around a star.

He had, instead, decided to spend his evening in his office, a note on his desk urging him to spend the evening alone until the one person who would understand arrived. He stood on the balcony waiting, his skin growing colder as the night settled in. His eyes traced the patterns of the constellations - the patterns of stars he spent many decades devoting himself to in private. The same stars he prayed to most nights, the changing of the constellations doing little to deter his devotion.

Tonight he needed their guidance, needed their all-seeing gaze once more. He felt his stomach churn as his thoughts whirled, wanting to hurl abuses at the stars above him. He knew they had all the answers, but unwilling or unable to answer his questions, he wasn’t sure which.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and memories, too preoccupied to notice the soft flap of wings nearby or Azriel’s soft descent on the balcony next to him. 

Azriel took in his brother’s appearance as Rhys failed to notice him - the High Lord seemed off in some way. Rhys was the harder of his two brothers to pinpoint. Cassian wore his heart on his sleeve, Azriel hardly had to look into Cassian’s big, puppy dog eyes before he knew exactly what troubled him. Rhys was harder - the youngest of all three of them, carrying the weight of everyone’s pleas for help and guidance, one that has led Rhysand to shoulder more than his fair share of burdens. His shoulders sagged as he leant over the balcony, as if he wanted to curl in on himself-

“Stop.”

Azriel blinked once. Twice. 

“Stop what?”

Rhys rolled his eyes, “stupid was never a good look for you.”

Azriel’s hummed as a soft breeze blew by, ruffling the skin of his wings. He moved his eyes away from Rhys, looking toward the Sidra instead. He could hear it from here - the water moving downstream, soft splashes as the current met the bank. He spent most of his nights gazing out over the river, hoping to see anything within its icy depths. 

“Rivers keep going, and we keep going.”

That soft voice echoed in his mind, the memory feeling all at once like several lifetimes ago and only a handful of moments prior. 

“Az.”

Rhys’s voice pulled him from a life so far away, it felt like he traveled galaxies to come back to the present. Rhys’s voice was soft as his violet eyes took in his brother. “There’s a report on my desk.”

Rhys paused, the shadowsinger unable to figure out what could be in this report that had his High Lord so rattled that he had asked him to come as quickly as possible. His shadows moved toward the desk, the black wisps moved across the page before Azriel had even moved, reading the contents of it for themselves but not moving back to Azriel.

That put Azriel on edge.

Rhys nodded his head towards the desk, prompting Azriel to move towards the large oak furniture. Scarred fingers picked up the parchment, reading the report from an Illyrian outpost. All the details from the report went hazy in his mind as his eyes kept moving toward the same word over and over again.

Empath.

The room felt like it had tilted beneath Azriel, something caught in his throat unable to let him get the words out. His eyes scanned the page again, but now the document looked like it only said ‘empath’ over and over again. His shadows were frantically moving about the room, bouncing off the walls, desperate to escape their enclosure of the office. His tight grip on the paper caused some of them to come towards him, affectionately weaving through his fingers as if they were perfectly fitted gloves.

“Rhys, that’s not possible. There hasn’t been a known empath since-“

“I know.”

Rhys’s voice was sharp and clipped, the unspoken words hanging in the air. He took a sip of his whiskey, finishing off the glass before meeting with Azriel behind his desk, putting the glass down where the paper had lain. The paper in Azriel’s hands was shaking now as Rhys lifted one of his own to push the paper down back onto the desk.

“I know.”

His voice was much softer this time, the words coming out not much more than a whisper. 

-

The next morning the two of them left for the village mentioned in the intel, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as they took off from the balcony, neither male looking rested. The flight was silent as they passed over the terrain of the Night Court, the long flight offering the both of them ample time to think.

They landed sometime in the mid-afternoon after having stopped for food along the way, the meal one of silence and heavy atmosphere, not lingering for a second once they finished eating. Upon arriving, the two walked around the Illyrian village, having impromptu meetings with several of the males underneath Cassian’s command. When the sun began setting, their feet led them toward the only tavern in the village, a small, pathetic looking building that reeked of alcohol and vomit.

Rhys adjusted his jacket before he pushed open the door to the tavern, but he barely made it through the threshold before stopping. Azriel ran straight into Rhys’s back as the male in front of him stopped completely, blocking the entrance.

Rhys was frozen in place, his spine ramrod straight. Azriel immediately reached toward his belt, wanting a hand on Truth-Teller to offer some reassurance of whatever could make his High Lord still on sight. Azriel prepared himself and looked over Rhys’s shoulder at whatever caught his eye. His eyes immediately stopped where Rhys’ had - behind the worn down bar top, the wood old but sturdy, stood someone Azriel thought had died long ago.

You shined even brighter in person than you did in his memories, almost as if you casted a light glow over everyone around you, and Azriel’s grip on Truth-Teller faltered as your eyes met his across the room.

Author’s note: eeeek so excited!! Been working on this behind the scenes a bit!!! Dedicating this to my girl @milswrites the ultimate hype woman for this!!!

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage