#Nyx has been on my mind for DAYS and I cannot seem to find a way to transform these thoughts into an artwork or something

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

SPOILER AHEAD

Honestly, Long-Haired Solas is giving Nyx Ulric

AND HONESTLY?

I DIG IT.

[emeritus-fuckers]

Hihi, what are you thoughts on the papas' s/o saying "let's get matching tattoos" and it being one of their lyrics? I didn't find if this had been done before so sorry if it has

Hope you like this :) I love this idea and it just makes me want to get a tattoo more (but I'm not at all good with needles lol) so I am gonna live vicariously through this :D - Nyx

Papas reacting to s/o wanting to get matching tattoos of their lyrics

Primo

As you ask him he pauses mid sip of tea and places his cup down. "Interesting idea amore."

"I havn't had a tattoo in years" he says with a wistful smile. "Why not! Lets show them I'm not too old for something new!"

He is flattered when you explain you want one of his lyrics even after all the music that has gone after him. He thinks you have very good taste to prefer his songs best.

All in all he thinks its an excellent idea he has a skip in his step on the way to get the tattoo and even more so on the way back.

He insists on opening a really special old bottle of wine he'd been saving to celebrate.

Secondo

You expected him to be slightly more enthusiastic but he just grunts his agreement.

That is until he gets drunk at a party later and then he is wrapping you in his arms and placing kisses all over you. He tells you it's a brilliant idea and he can't wait to share this bond with you!

He is not at all shocked or surprised you wanted his lyric. Well of course you did.

He is very supportive of you as you get the tattoos. He is also really good with the aftercare post tattoo.

He makes sure to look after you first then himself.

Terzo

He squeals at the idea and then hugs you tightly.

"Yes amore, a thousand times yes! I eh cannot think of anything better no? Everyone will see how much their Papa adores you and how much you love me!!"

He is also delighted you chose one of his lyrics (had you not he might have turned into a little bit of a diva).

He holds your hand tightly while you get the tattoos done. "It's looking really good amore, not as good as you though." he grins and kisses the back of your hand. He's hoping to kiss the pain away and take your mind off things.

He then goes back to the ministry and insists on showing everyone. He also runs to his brothers saying "Hey stronzo look how much my beloved loves me!! They have one too!!" he then drags you over and asks you show them your tattoo. He is very happy.

Copia

He makes happy rat noises "I would be honoured cara, I think its an excellent idea. Sì, its perfect"

He finds it hard to believe you want to use a lyric from his song, to have it permantly on your amazing body.

His whole face lights up when he finally does believe it. "I am the luckiest man alive to have you" he says with a grin leaning in to kiss you.

He makes sure to check all the reviews and find the best tattoo parlour. He is really supportive during it, he talks you through it and holds your hand.

He then spends the night afterwards lying with you and gazing at the matching ink. He kisses you softly and strokes your hair telling you how amazing you did today.

Old Nihil

He doesn't always hear what you say but at the mention of his song he suddenly sits a little straighter and his eyes almost seem to clear.

It brings back a glimpse of the man he used to be.

"Ooooh sibling, this is perfect" He full on grins and pulls you into his lap. "I am so glad to have found you. Now I am old enough to not mess this up."

He kisses you and tells you how happy he is to make his love for you permanent like this.

The entire time he's getting the tattoo he is just gazing lovingly at you and smiling. You are his whole world.

Young Nihil

This is the best day ever, I mean ever. He is so happy about this, his lyric, on your body forever!!

A way to remember the romance you two shared for the rest of your lives. A tattoo is forever, but you worry sometimes about Nihil, after the whispers you heard.

"Babe" he cups your face in his hand seemingly reading your thoughts. "I will never make that mistake again and this can be my way of showing you that." It's true you do see a different side of him, the man completely fell for you and shows you a depth to him that no one else gets to see.

He is a bit of a baby when they do the tattoo, it's more you supporting him through it.

But he is so happy when it's done and he insists on going out and drinking to celebrate. Also in his mind to help the pain "Honey come on it will help, I'm sore and you must be too"

~

Written by Nyx

Taglist: @ivyanddaisies @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @lunarsromantichomicide @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @nuntia @dio-niisio @mamacarlyle @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @sirlsplayland @ouijaboardemo @lightbluuestars @igodownjustlikeholymary @thatoddboy @strawberriiblossoms @dark-angel-is-back @randominstake

[stargazingfordreams]

The Star that missed The Sun

Nyx x Reader

Warning- arrange marriage, cute stuff.

A/N- Soo you guys are fantastic I really didn't expect anyone to like part one so much; I really just thought that maybe it was going to be a one-shot but you guys seemed to have loved it, so here is a part two

Word Count- 2.1K

Part One

My eyes fluttered open at the sound of birds chirping outside of my room. The morning sun crept in, shining on my face. I sighed deeply and lifted myself off my bed, blinking a few times while waiting for my eyes to adjust. I threw myself back down on my bed, hoping to resume my sleep. Until I heard a slight knock at my door

"My lady? I came in to give you a wake-up call," a handmaiden came in. I recognized her as one of the ones who helped me get ready for my wedding. It was hard to forget how she looked with her short blonde hair, tan skin, and blue eyes. She looked like she would have loved being back home.

"Yes, thank you."

She smiled and entered and began to run a bath for me and unload my luggage to find a dress for the day. I went into the bathroom and sunk into the tub, adding some floral scents to the water. I allowed the warm water to ease my mussels.

After a while, I left the tub and re-entered my room, where the handmaiden stood waiting and helped me get ready.

"How do I get to the garden?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, my lady, but Lord Nyx had an emergency this morning and cannot join you for breakfast. He extends his apologies." I felt disappointed, snuggling its way into my body. But should I have gotten my hopes up? My father did his best to be present, and he was, but that doesn't mean that he was always there, and I shouldn't expect that of my husband either.

"Oh, I see. Well, I suppose I can explore Velaris," I told her. She bowed

"I'll go and grab your cloak, my lady."

"I didn't catch your name?" I called out to her

"It's Althaia."

"It's good to meet you" I smiled as she handed me my white cloak, and I went out the door. The street is bright and filled with bustling shops. Everything was so different. In Day court, the road was paved with white gold brick that matched the building, and the sun always hung high on the most beautiful days, but here everything was different. The buildings were lined in all different colors, with the streets black and brown cobblestone. Until I walked to a bridge, shops looked like they were setting up for lunch. Then, I looked at one shop that caught my eye, Eleftheria Saoirse, in bold letters. I was greeted by a woman who looked a few years older than me.

"My name is Abrial. Thank you for coming in." I smiled at her enthusiasm when I entered. I introduce myself.

"Oh yes, your lord Nyx's new bride!" she exclaimed

"Your shop is lovely" I gazed over the dresses and fabric.

"Oh, thank you, dear. Do you sew?" she asked.

"Me? Oh no, my mother did, but she never taught me" she looked at me, a little sad.

"What a shame, well what can I do for you?" it dawned on me at this moment that I didn't have any money.

"Oh, thank you, but I wouldn't be able-"

"Don't worry, truly I don't mind," she interrupted. She must have seen that I was going to protest again, so she continued before I could.

"At least let me give you a cloak; it will help you blend in better" I looked down at my attire.

"Nothing is wrong with it, but it makes it obvious that you are not from here. Anyway, Lord Nyx has a credit line that you can use" I didn't like the idea of me just using Nyx's credit line. I'll pay him back when he gets home.

"Okay, a cloak then." She lit up and went to get a plain night court blue cloak. I reached out to take it, but she moved to her sewing machine.

"I have this wonderful idea for a design; it would be lovely."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to, plus I've been doing this forever, so it won't take me long! I made a dress that would look great with the design I was thinking about. So maybe you can try it on, and don't worry, it's just a try on" she gave me a wink and pushed me into a dressing room with the dress in my hand.

I slipped the dress on, and she was right. The fabric was night court blue and had golden swirls embroidered at the bottom that rose to my knee, and in between the wheels were little gold stars and suns; I looked at myself in the mirror though I frowned a little. I studied my arms. I wasn't happy with it. I know I shouldn't think about these things, but sometimes I couldn't help. I began to pick apart everything that was wrong with me.

You look Beautiful

The thought crept into my head.

"Abrial? Did you say something" I ask

"No, dear, I didn't. Did you try the dress? I must see how it looks" I looked once again at myself for some reason feeling just a little more confident. I stepped out of the dressing room and gave her a twirl.

"Just as I thought, it's a great fit." She walked up with the cloak and placed it on me. The cloak matches perfectly with the gold thread that made a design on the back.

Half a sun and half a moon meet together to create one. The symbol of both courts.

"It's perfect." I breathed out in disbelief at how beautiful they looked together. She packed up my old clothes and put them in a bag. I gave her a look.

"The dress was made for you consider it a wedding gift."

"I don't know how to thank you."

"I wouldn't mind the company every once and a while. Maybe I can even teach you to sew." She handed me the shopping bag.

"I can definitely do that, thank you. "I gave her a respectful bow before heading towards the door. I opened it and had one foot out when I stopped.

"How did you know that I was from day court?" I asked her.

"What?"

"The sun and the moon is the design that you did, but I didn't tell you I was from day court"

"You clothes, dear, I have been sewing for a long time, and I recognized the clothes and cloak from day court," she said, giving me a wave and cleaning up her station.

"Right, of course, you did say I looked like an outsider" I chuckled at her, simply nodding. I must be losing it. I first heard voices and now questioning people who had been kind to me.

"Have a good evening, My lady."

"You too, Abrial. See you soon!" I walked out of the shop and continued walking around Velaris, visiting many shops just to look. It wasn't until I was tired and starving that I realized I had no idea how to return to the townhouse. Oh no, this is great, just great.

I walked around trying to stop people, but everyone was either going home in a rush or getting restaurants ready for dinner and had no time to stop what they were doing. I sighed in defeat. I looked up at the sky and saw the sun setting. It will be dark soon. I almost gave up when I ran into Lord Cassian and Lady Nesta. But, no actually ran into them. Lord Cassian had to steady me to stop me from falling over.

"Whoa, there little spell-cleaver are you okay" once I was upright, he let go.

"I'm sorry, Lord Cassian, I'm a little turned around, actually lost." Cassian laughed at me. My cheeks heated. Did I say something wrong? Nesta lightly hit his stomach.

"It's hard to believe that you are Helion's daughter. You're far too polite to be related, little fawn," he said in between fits of laughter.

"Calling us Nesta and Cassian is just fine, love; we can help you get back home" Nesta shook her head at Cassian but gave me a smirk. He threw his arm around us, tucking me in between him and Nesta.

"Cassian, you're scaring the poor girl, and she's not a little doll, you know," she said, seeing amusement on his face.

"I can't be excited for our new niece Nes" his smile beamed at me.

"Ignore him; he lacks manners. I've tried to teach him, but I've been failing since we've been mated." Her face was serious, but I couldn't help but giggle. I looked down and noticed the book she had tucked under her arm.

"If you like that series, try the one her brother wrote. It gives a unique look at a romance book from a male's perspective."

"Do you like romance books?" Nesta asked, her face lighting up since the first time I met her at my wedding

"Yes, of course, you should have seen our library back home; my father gave me my section when he learned I liked to read books for fun," I told her.

"Oh no, not you too! You enjoy those smutty books that Nes can't seem to put down." she rolled her eyes at him but still held such a strong sense of love behind them.

"Please come by the house of wind. My friends and I like to meet up occasionally to discuss what we are reading, and we have a library underground that I wouldn't mind showing you." I don't know how long we were walking back, but before I knew it, here we were.

"I'll take you up on that, Nesta, and thank you for helping me find my way back," I said my goodbyes and went to the townhouse. I took off my cloak and set down my bag before the aroma of food flooded my senses. I followed it to the back of the house and into the garden. There I found a table for two with mountains of food and lights that hung in the sky. Nyx was fixing the table. When I came in, he turned to me.

"You have perfect timing," he said proudly, looking at his work.

"What is this?" I said in complete shock at the masterpiece before me

"Well, I really wanted to have breakfast with you this morning, but something came up that I couldn't ignore, but I made a promise to you, and well, I'm sorry that I couldn't keep it." he held out his hand seating me in the chair and pushing it in.

"Oh, I understand, really. You didn't have to go through all of this."

"It's okay, I wanted to," he sat across from me.

We had spent the night eating and talking, and I opened up to him. I told him about my childhood and how much trouble I got into with my two sisters. I told him about the pegasus that I had back home and the first flying lesson that I ever had. Some of the adventures that I had in the summer court with Cordelia, Cressida's daughter. And, of course, some of my safer experiences. Nyx had opened up to me too, telling me how close his family is, and not just with him and his siblings but also with his cousins, his one big happy family. I enjoyed it even if it made me sad to think about my brother, who hardly acknowledged us, or my absent mother. His family seems inseparable from my messy dysfunctional one.

"So, how did you like Velaris? I heard you went out and explored."

'It's different."

"A good different?"

"It's beautiful, truly it is. I found a dress shop, and the owner was so nice."

"I should have told you when you walked in that you look beautiful; that dress really does look amazing on you," he said.

You look beautiful. That voice.

"It was you? Were you in my head" I half believed it myself?

"Oh yes, I'm sorry, must have forgotten that detail," he smirked, holding his wine glass to his lips.

"May I?" he asked. I nodded my head, and then this familiar presence pulled over me.

I wouldn't do it not without your permission, but I felt your thoughts, and they were racing. I thought that you might be in trouble.

And you can do this whenever you want

Only if you allow me

I paused momentarily, unsure how to process it, but then I remembered the dress shop and how it made me feel better after hearing him.

I wouldn't mind.

[ruindunburnit]

[WARNING: LONG POST.]

Okay @cuttoncandyhair, it took me a little while to get to this because I read this reblog and couldn't help but chew on it. At the end of the day, the question very much comes to this singular question:

Why did Nyx choose Zoey?

That is, as you say, we can say Zoey is special because she's the first known fledgling to be gifted with affinities for all five elements like the goddamned Avatar (see: ATLA/TLoK). We can say she's special because she's the first known fledgling to be so extensively tattooed before making the Change that she might as well be a goddamned Avatar (see: James Cameron's Avatar). The problem with that is that it's a circular argument: she is special because Nyx chose to make her special, therefore she is special.

Which is when we find ourselves wondering, say Nyx wanted to give her affinities and tattoos, which all make her special, but why her? Why not Aphrodite? Why not Zoey's older sister (who apparently is called Barbara according to the sequel series, but I've been calling Miranda)? We know Nyx decides in her infinite, omniscient omnipotence which soul reincarnates in which vessel, so why this vessel?

As you said, Zoey doesn't seem to have very many positive qualities that would make her especially qualified for leadership or power. In fact, she has a lot of the qualities that make one completely unsuited to them. Forgiving her for just a moment for being immature (she's 16/17 years old), she's petty, vapid and judgemental to an absurd degree that dips into bigotry, along which lines she withholds compassion; she in particular judges people's inner qualities based solely on their looks (which she never overcomes throughout the whole series, btw), all while overlooking her friends' very worst actions and qualities -- including Stark (who sexually assaulted someone) and Kalona (who tortured her ancestors for centuries ( including raping and impregnating them with immortal birdpeople) and somehow feels entitled to having the hump about being imprisoned undergroup for a millennium); she's not so much partial as utterly enamoured with cronyism, giving important positions away to her friends even though there may be kids more qualified for them; she has so little expertise in the field she needs to specialise in (specifically the various Nyxist practices and history and culture of vampyres) that she always needs her hand held and cannot make an autonomous decision; and frankly, as much as some of this is to do with how she's been given a leadership position far before she's ready for it, she just does not do her job. As you said, everyone else is carrying her weight, and when it's time to give out medals, she gets the credit. All her friends get are a token "I couldn't do it without my friends" and to begin with a few more spoils handed down by cronyism. (Meanwhile, she and her friends have the most toxic friendship group going since the study group (see: Community), but that's a different matter).

At this point, I'll be honest: I would not mind in the slightest if we opened bk 1 and she was exactly the same as she is now in bk 1. Sometimes you need a terrible, insufferable, unsuitable protagonist who is objectively a bad person. It is sometimes a requirement for the story you're telling for them to be a bad person who stays bad, or even gets worse.

The problem here, is that House of Night is not that story. A story like this, where a protagonist is thrust into a power to change a terrible status quo despite being currently unsuited to her charge, is that there's a narrative expectation for her to be changed by it, for better or worse.

(I would say, "and the issue is that the authors want me to think she didn't need to change, that she just needed to rise to the challenge, and that's why she isn't changed by her journey, hence why her journey is so narratively unsatisfying", but that's not the point... yet. I'll come back to this).

One of the reasons why I took a little while to come to this reblog and why I had to chew on it a little is because it reminded me of a Biblical example. Now, not to call myself a Biblical scholar (I'm more what you might call a "Masterclass amateur"), but I did 11 years of Methodist scripture study as a child, and so when I saw your reblog, I couldn't help but remember the Conversion of Saul of Tarsus.

For those who have never read the Book of Acts in the New Testament, I'll give a quick rundown. (Again, I am not an expert and I will be missing out details). Once there was a man named Saul of Tarsus, whose greatest purpose in life was hunting down and persecuting the early Christians. He was the best at it. However, it is as he is travelling to Damascus that he is struck with a revelation: Jesus appears to him and charges him with witnessing for Christ as a new prophet of the early Church. As a result, he is struck blind with scales over his eyes, and taken to the home of Ananais. It is after a few days that the scales fall from his eyes and he takes up his new purpose: not persecuting Christians but witnessing for Christ, converting new followers, and growing the Church. He converted to Christianity, taking on the name "Paul", and going down in history as the St. Paul.

St. Paul can be divisive depending on what you think to the content of his many letters, but I bring him up because I also found myself asking, well, what qualities did he have that made God choose him? Why was he chosen? What I can conclude from what I know is simply this: he was a world-class bigot, but he had a militant zeal and can-do attitude that you just cannot buy anywhere -- all he needed was a new purpose.

So, we come back to Zoey, and again I ask, why did Nyx choose her? Did she have any positive aspects to her many negative qualities? Anything that could be put to use for a new purpose? No. In fact, when Nyx Marked her, she called her to "be my eyes and ears at the House of Night".

All I can really say, from what I know, is that Zoey was chosen to have A-ya's soul for the same reason she herself was chosen: to be a vessel. To have Nyx see through her, hear through her, and speak through her on occasion. She has Nyx's powers (all five elements) because that allows Nyx to use her most efficiently. Nyx cannot, due to giving all beings Free Will, interfere, by which we're supposed to take it that she cannot act. Her lot is to watch, with vampyres having the responsibility of using their gifts to act out her will to the best of their ability. She cannot interfere and fix what her children do, but if she has a vessel lying around who will do her will without question, who doesn't need to even take initiative and think when she will do and say what Nyx wants her to anyway... what do you know, but the Goddess has plausible deniability! Zoey is a terrible person, but she doesn't need to be anything else, and she doesn't need to change to do her job more effectively. She has the powers and the Marks of the Goddess because the Goddess wants to act through her, and what she wants for her vessel, she gets.

Which is to say, Zoey is an avatar -- as in, James Cameron's Avatar -- but only in the sense that Nyx is Jake Sully. And Zoey doesn't even seem to realise it.

Can you imagine what it might take for someone like Zoey Redbird to take that leap from selfish, immature, self-involved brat to a maturing young adult capable of shouldering the incredible responsibility she has been given and more than equal to the task, who cares deeply for her friends as well as all her classmates, and who is worthy of training to become a high priestess one day?

I can't either -- I'm just wondering if you can.

[gwynrielsupremacist]

A COURT OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS

Chapter 2: Reason

Read it at AO3

Masterlist

If it were up to Azriel, right now he would rather be juggling burning knives.

Blindfolded.

And in a dark room.

They were in the huge alcove of the High Lord of the Night Court, as Rhysand removed shirts and jackets from his dressing room that he claimed were appropriate for Cassian's attire at his ceremony.

Although Azriel, sitting in one of the chairs that were nearby, watching the scene with his chin on his hands, he was rethinking why he thought this would be a good idea.

After the 'incident' with Elain and Rhys, he had made up his mind that he would never think of Elain that way again.

Of course, that was rather difficult when she was always where the Spymaster passed.

Was he going to the kitchen? Elain would be there with Nuala and Cerridwen.

Was he going to the living room? Elain would be there with Feyre and Nyx.

Possibly one day he would find her in his bed, wearing lingerie, as a gift just for hia enjoyment, tearing off the tiny pieces of undergarments and-

"Azriel?" The sound of his name brought him out of his trance. "Have you been paying attention to something I've said in the last 20 minutes?" 

He knew that his shadows, moving slowly over his neck, covered any variation of his arousal but, just in case, he watched Rhysand's reaction, knowing if he knew the reason for his daydreaming, he would be enraged.

However, Rhys's face revealed absolutely nothing, only joy for his brother and bewilderment on the part of the Shadowsinger.

Usually Azriel was the one who had to warn his brothers to pay attention to him, not the other way around.

He shook his head to Cassian's question, to which he sighed, visibly tired and irritated: "I was wondering if navy would look better than black, but I have no idea what Nesta would like." He muttered. Apparently having a mating ceremony wasn't all the color of roses. "I'll stick with the black one, I  don't think the suit will last long after we go to that cabin." He announced as he and Rhys gave each other knowing glances, grinning mischievously.

That was another arrow to his badly wounded heart.

He was happy for his brothers, of course he was.  There was no other male who deserved a mate as much as Rhys and Cassian, but ...

What about him?

Azriel stopped intervening in the conversation at that moment. He usually did not want to participate in those conversations, but it seemed that that day he was the worst of all.

"The worst day will be the mating ceremony, Shadowsinger. You must prepare for that day if you do not want to fall from grace" Recommended their shadows.

It was true. There would be no worse day than the ceremony.

With Rhys's ceremony it had been the same. As soon as the ceremony was over, he had to go to a Sex club to get rid of the arousal and despair that he felt throughout his body.

It was not fair. Was the Cauldron so macabre?

Had he done so much harm to the world that they deprived him of the experience of having a mate?

He swallowed silently, keeping his face mask neutral, no emotion leaving his face.

He thanked whoever had given him that ability, it was fucking useful at times like these.

Three hours later, Cassian ended up deciding what costume to wear, the black one, and the conversation between the commander and the High Lord died as well.

Cassian left, muttering that he had forgotten something in the House of Wind, although it was possibly an excuse.

The atmosphere in the room had quickly become charged, before the challenging stares of those two.

Although Azriel supposed that he should stay away from the House as well, since he did not need his shadows to tell him that it had served him with a double purpose, he was probably going to fuck Nesta until they both could not hold on foot.

Azriel started to get up, but was prevented by a force in his chest from Rhysand.

"Maybe he had found out about my scent change, after all." He guessed, preparing his best poker face for the onslaught the High Lord was going to bring him.

They stared at each other, studying possible reactions, waiting for who was the first to speak.  Things had gotten tense on their part since Solstice.

Azriel knew, as did Rhysand, that no matter how much he wanted to possess Elain's body, he would never betray Rhysand. Punch him, maybe.  But he will never betray his High Lord.

"I notice you are somewhat distracted, Azriel."  The High Lord commented, sitting down on a chair and intertwining his fingers, dropping them into his lap. "I hope there were no overnight escapades on either side." Rhysand knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

Like Azriel.

"None. I did what you asked." He secured, leaning back, with the advantage that the High Lord didn't know that in reality, his thoughts were a hell of 'wills and cannot'.

Rhysand nodded slightly, rising from his chair, to which Azriel copied the movement.

Azriel knew he shouldn't be fooling around when Rhysand was in that mode, but he couldn't help but feel like a hypocrite.

"You took Feyre away from Tamlin when she still thought she loved him. Elain doesn't love Lucien, yet you separate her from me." Azriel thought. He knew those thoughts didn't make any sense, but right now he was the only thing he could think about.

His shadows were scattered around the room, ready to attack if something happened to his master, while some were on his shoulders, caressing the area in tension.

"I want to keep it that way." Rhysand emphasized, walking ahead of him, silently asking him to follow. He did it. "Things are going bad, Azriel, I don't need any more trouble than is inevitable."

"What problems?" This one answered. "According to my spies, Koschei hasn't shown any signs of life, so I don't see what a problem there could be."

"That Koschei is not showing signs of life does not mean that he is not operating in secret." He suggested, walking into the nursery, with Nyx in the crib, sleeping peacefully.

The High Lord's face changed dramatically.

It was no longer the face of the most powerful High Lord in history. It was the face of a father watching a son, with awe and love in it.

"I can't bear that my son has to spend his early years with that bastard of Koschei in the middle."

"We will protect it." Azriel confirmed, also looking at the small bundle wrapped in sheets. "I will protect him with my own life, if necessary."

Rhysand looked into his eyes, and in a pleading voice, he said:

"Do you understand then? Why I ask you to separate from Elain?" As much as he hated doing that, he nodded. "I cannot allow jealousy and desires to be put through the protection of the court. Things are bad enough to make them worse."

As much as it was hard to keep his gaze neutral, he continued to nod, but anger crept through his mind, clouding his reason.

"And how much trouble would Elain and I have?"

Rhysand was silent for a moment. Azriel guessed

he was steadying himself so as not to punch him in front of his son's bed. Instead of doing so, he asked:

"I don't want you to avoid the question. You are not going to avoid the question." The High Lord manifested. "What the hell happened with Mor, Az?

That theme again.

"Why whenever we talk about Elain, do you end up talking about Mor?" The Spymaster snarled, the shadows preparing to attack, noting the tension in the environment.

"I do it because you have completely forgotten Mor, Azriel. You have been in love with her for over 500 years." He remembered. "I can't believe you traded Mor for Elain in so little time."

"And why do you fucking care?" He growled again, backing away from the room for fear of waking the boy.

"Mor is my cousin, Azriel, and I think I deserve an explanation. Have you given up? And now I suppose Elain will be the consolation prize, right?

It took Azriel more of the self-control he possessed not to slam his fist into the High Lord's nose. If he hadn't been his superior, Rhysand would be bleeding badly right now.

"Elain will never be a consolation prize." He barked, leaving the house and spreading his wings to fly up, but was interrupted by Rhys's hand on his arm, an anchor holding him to the ground.

"Give me a reason."  He started to say. "Tell me one fucking reason why Elain deserves to be your mate, and not Lucien's."

"Are you comparing me to… to that one?" He murmured in a voice icy and deadly, the voice that sent chills to the poor people who had to listen to it. Rhysand didn't even flinch.

"You are both different and equal at the same time." He evaded, then returning to the initial question. "Give me a logical reason, and I will allow Elain to stay with you."

Baring his teeth at him, Azriel leapt, taking flight and away from those feelings, roaring with rage when he realized that he had not a single reason to be worthy of Elain.

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[mmvalentine]

Would you mind doing random fluff oneshots for feysand, with like tonnes of fluff in them? 🥺 Just them being together and happy and maybe some with Nyx too?

Haha fluff... without smut?! What is this you speak of??? Okay let me see. Did I ever tell you about... 

1. The time they finally took a weekend (baby Nyx) Feyre wakes up alone and can’t believe how much she’s slept in. She goes out to the kitchen and for a moment just stands there, watching Rhys potter around, singing softly in a language she doesn’t recognise. She didn’t know he sang, before Nyx. She steps forward and as her bare feet hit the floorboards he says without turning, “Morning, Feyre darling.”

“Morning,” she says. “Where’s-” And then Rhys turns around, spatula in one hand, and there’s Nyx bundled and bound across Rhys’ chest in a swath of soft grey fabric. “Happy day off,” he croons, and kisses her on the forehead. “How did you get him to sleep so long?” she asks, stroking her son’s little head. “I’m making him dreams of flying, so he doesn’t have to wake up and do it.” “And that’s keeping him asleep?!” Feyre asks in disbelief. “And also dinosaurs,” Rhys adds. “He’s dreaming of flying with dinosaurs.” Feyre laughs, and half way through she is interrupted by Rhys’ mouth on hers. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you laugh,” he murmurs, and kisses her again. At that moment, a letter appears on the kitchen table, and Rhys groans. “That’ll be Helion,” he says. “He’s been on my back about getting a meeting together to discuss-” “Nothing,” Feyre interjects, eyebrows raised. “You’ll be discussing nothing because today is our day off.” “I’m sorry my love,” he says, handing Nyx to her. “Just give me five minutes.” But Feyre knows what five minutes is when the high lords get going. She puts Nyx on her hip and draws herself to full height. She snatches the paper up and dictates, words appearing as she speaks. “The High Lady of the Night Court declines your invitation,” she states clearly. “The Night Court will be unavailable for the next two days, as stipulated in the previous meeting of the courts.” She fixes Rhys with a steely gaze, and the letter disappears. “Mmm,” Rhys purrs. “You’ve no idea how much I enjoy it when you take charge, High Lady.” He bends his head to run his nose along her jaw. But Feyre steps back. “Good,” she says in a clipped voice. “Then take this,” she plops Nyx back into his arms, “and this,” she conjures two already packed backs and slings them over Rhys’ shoulders like a pack mule, “and close your eyes.” Then she wraps her arms around the two of them, and winnows.  They appear in the cabin in the mountains, and in Spring the whole place smells like pine and honeysuckle. Feyre has already set up the place for the perfect weekend- Rhys’ favourite books stacked next to the arm chair, Nyx’s toys in a basket on the floor, paints on the table, and best of all, wards that redirected any business letters from arriving at all.

2. The time Amren babysat (2yo Nyx) Nyx has learned to fly and has been getting into unimaginable amounts of trouble. Nothing can be placed out of reach anymore, there is no place safe from his grabbing hands and sucking mouth and tiny, sharp little teeth. So Feyre and Rhys have been chasing him around the house for a week now, trying to get work done at the same time as not letting him throw books down from the top shelf or put his mouth over candles in the chandelier or push over Rhys’ crystal decanters. They can’t even sleep- now instead of crying when he wakes up in the middle of the night, Nyx just floats into their room and drops whatever he finds onto their bed. From a height. At their faces.  By the end of the week, they both look so ridiculously tired, that Amren caves. She isn’t usually one to spend one-on-one time with the baby, but everyone else is off on business and she honestly isn’t doing anything else. So she shoos them off to bed and takes the little squaller in her arms. Feyre and Rhys are too tired to even argue, they just smile gratefully and walk up the stairs like zombies. When they fall into bed, Feyre is asleep almost immediately. But Rhys curls himself around her, tucking his chin into her neck and tangling his knees with hers. He inhales at the top of her spine, and places kisses over her shoulder. Feyre doesn’t stir at all. And Rhys wants to fall asleep too, he does, gods know he needs it. But he also needs to hold Feyre for a minute and know that she isn’t going to bolt away at any second because Nyx has his fingers in the light fixtures. So he lies there, for as long as he can keep his eyes open, and trails his fingers down the cello curves of her. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Rhys will wake up and wonder whether this is all real. Even now, he thinks that it is possible that he has gone mad, and he is actually still trapped under the mountain and his mind has created a paradise for him because he cannot endure it any longer. When he can’t see his way out, he usually buries himself in Feyre’s body, and it’s the only thing that can convince him this is real. But for now, there’s just bone-deep tiredness, and peace. So he fights his eyelids, and touches his mate’s skin, and he does not know when he falls asleep but he wakes up when Feyre is tugging out of his arms. He frowns with his eyes closed, and tightens his arms so she can’t get up. Feyre chuckles, and lets him keep her, at least for another few minutes.  When they make their way downstairs, they find Amren and Nyx in the living room. Amren is poring over an ancient text with laser focus. And Nyx floats above her, with a string that has one end tied around his waist and the other tied around Amren’s wrist like a balloon. “Amren,” Feyre says in disapproval. She looks up, with no embarrassment in her silver eyes. “What?” she said. “It works.” Indeed Nyx seems perfectly happy, flying in little circles but unable to get far enough to touch anything. Rhys tips his head back, and laughs.

3. The time Rhys and Nyx made pancakes (4yo Nyx) Feyre doesn’t often get breakfast in bed, but this time was actually Nyx’s idea. He wakes Rhys up early, and the two of them steal down to the kitchen. Rhys tries to help, but Nyx wants to do everything by himself, and as a result makes an enormous mess. Rhys manages to clean most of it up by magic, but Nyx has recently decided he doesn’t like the way magic feels on his skin, so he remains covered in flour and blueberry juice.  Eventually though, they make a proud albeit wonky stack of pancakes, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and a cup of tea. Nyx wants to carry the whole thing up the stairs, and Rhys balances the tray with magic and prays Nyx doesn’t notice.  When Feyre sees them, she smiles so beautifully Rhys’ heart stops for several beats. Her face is pink and her lips are swollen from sleeping, the honey tangle of her hair tumbles over her shoulder, and the left strap of her nightgown is falling down. He wonders if he will ever get over the perfection of her.  “Mommy we made you pancakes!” Nyx announces, and she takes the tray from him before he can spill it over the bed. “You did?!” she asks, pulling the child into her lap. “We did and daddy didn’t help me at all.” Feyre laughs, and wipes the flour from his face with her thumbs. “Well that’s good,” she says, “because daddy has no idea how to make pancakes.” Rhys looks offended. “I do too,” he says. “Cassian taught me.” Feyre’s eyes twinkle at him, and he sits on the foot of the bed. Watches as she puts the first bite into her mouth. “Mmmm,” she hums, eyes closing in pleasure. “These are the best pancakes I have ever eaten in my entire life.” She takes another bite, and moans again, and the sound of it tugs something in deep in Rhys. “Okay I’m gonna eat the rest of the blueberries!” Nyx says, and then runs off down the stairs. The sounds of his little footsteps thundering away fade, and Rhys pounces.  In one fluid motion he rises from the end of the bed and has her pinned on her back, the tray forgotten.  “Do you know what I think is delicious?” he purrs. “Tell me,” Feyre answers, eyes dancing.  “You are,” he says, and puts his mouth on her neck. At that moment, Nyx bursts back into the room.  “Daaad I spilled them!” he wails, and Rhys drops his head on Feyre’s chest with a growl. Next thing he knows, little Nyx is climbing up onto his back. He keeps the weight off Feyre as Nyx’s wings are getting heavy, but she reaches up for him and drags him between the two of them. “Nyx sandwich!!” she says. Rhys flares his wings out, wraps them all up and rolls onto his back taking them with him. “Nyx burrito!” he says, and Nyx’s peals of laughter are worth the tea and orange juice that is spilled all over the bed.

*****

Thank you anon for this lovely prompt, I hope this is fluff enough for you!! Are there burritos in Prythian? I don’t know but there are now...

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MASTERLIST

[ask-the-riders]

The Princess and The Imp

Lady Night might've banished a demon from her kingdom quite some time ago, but she has nothing against demons in general. In fact, she even hired one to work for her

He's the demon of janitorial negligence, and he takes his job very seriously

((I realize this doesn't give much insight to things, but I was dying to introduce him somehow, so here we are))

“Um, excuse me, Your Highness. You seem to have forgotten that I’m not like your other staff. Allow me to remind you again that I am a DEMON.” Nyx let out a sigh, unable to help the amused grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth, “An imp, Custodius. You’re an imp. I haven’t forgotten.” The imp made a face, his wide, yellow eyes narrowing in a mix of suspicion and petulance, “…Good, I’m glad.” He paused, letting out a deep sigh of his own as he tried to calm his nerves, “How can I help you, Highness? Have I missed something during my usual shift?” The skeleton shook her head, “No, no, it’s not that. The castle is as pristine as ever, I assure you. If anything, this is because I have a new assignment for you.”

The imp seemed to hesitate for a moment, “Ok?… How can I be of service to you?” Nyx offered him a piece of paper, waiting for him to accept it before she spoke, “From what I understand, you demons cannot touch anything that bears the sigil of another demon. If a person or item has a sigil on it, it acts as an indicator that a demon’s claimed whatever that sigil’s on as their property.” Custodius furrowed his brows, visibly confused as he glanced over the paper he’d been handed. Easily sensing his confusion, the princess hummed, “On that paper is an address. I need you to go there and place your sigil around the premises, just like I had you do with my castle. You may place your sigil there as many times as you’d like, and I’ll give you 2,500G for each of them. All I ask is that you do your best to make sure the area is secure. You’ll find the sigils of another demon already there, and you are to leave them be.”

Custodius was momentarily taken aback, his brows still furrowed as he tried to process what he was just told, “Wait, wait, wait. You’re paying me 2,500G for every sigil I place down? Do the people living at this address know already? I can’t do anything with my sigil unless a deal’s made or I receive their consent first.” Nyx nodded, producing another piece of paper. Carefully unfolding it, lines of fine print text were revealed, along with a single signature at the bottom that read, “Chimera.” Seeing the look of disbelief on the imp’s face, the skeleton tilted her head, “The consent has already been given. I went over the details with her already, and she knows what to expect.” Custodius blinked in surprise, realization slowly beginning to dawn on him, “That’s why you asked me to write up a contract the other day, wasn’t it?” Nyx offered him a small smile, accompanied by a sound in confirmation as she lifted a hand to ruffle the dark hair atop his head, “Of course.”

She was tempted to tug on one of his horns, but as she recalled the way she’d seen the imp just about lose his mind over one of her father’s staff doing just that, she decided against it. Custodius was all but glaring at her, his yellow eyes narrowed again, “…Highness. Again, I’m a demon. Please refrain from petting me like I’m some kind of dog.” Nyx arched a brow bone, humming again in consideration as she withdrew her hand, “Apologies. I’ll try to refrain from petting you, I suppose. That choker you’re wearing looks an awful lot like a collar to me though, so it’s not my fault that you remind me of a puppy.” His already scarlet face flushed a brighter shade of red and he scoffed, “You’re the one who made me wear it, Highness! I’d say it’s entirely your fault!” The princess feigned ignorance, “Oh, was it? I don’t recall such things.”

The imp felt one of his eyes twitch and he took a step back away from her, wanting to create some distance between them. It was odd that the princess was in such a good mood, and even if it was a little aggravating, it was better than that cold, emotionless stare she usually wore. With a very obvious look of reluctant acceptance, Custodius glanced away from her and made a sound in acknowledgment, “Fine, fine. I’ll do the job. I’ll wait for everyone to be in bed first before I actually do anything though, since I have no idea if she told anyone else that I’d be showing up.” Nyx nodded, seeming indifferent to his decision, “Alright. I don’t care what you do or how long it takes, just as long as the job gets done. There are some spirits in the house, all of which are benevolent in nature, and as of this moment, another demon is there as well. For your sake, Custodius, do not engage with him.” 

Custodius nodded back, giving a small bow, “Understood, Your Highness. I will place my sigil until the location is secure, and if I encounter this other demon, I will not engage in battle with him. If attacked, I’ll retreat immediately.” The princess seemed to relax a bit at his words, offering the imp another tiny smile, “Good. I’ll have a new batch of cleaning supplies, Cheetos, and onion dip ready for you when you return. Document the number of sigils you place, and the money will be waiting for you, as well.” Custodius offered her a slight smile in return, “Will do, Your Highness. I’ll be heading out now, I guess.” Remembering the envelope tucked into one of her sleeves, the princess gestured for him to wait a moment. Withdrawing the envelope, she offered it to the imp and cleared her throat, “Here. When you reach the house, please deliver this to Retribution.” He gingerly accepted it from her and made a sound in understanding, “Yes, Highness. I will.” 

[whumperscorner]

Hello! I've just discovered your whumpy FFXV fanfics and oh my gosh I absolutely adore your writing and ideas! I love a whumpy Prompto story! I've looked over the whump bingo and I think Prompto and "Strapped to a bomb" would be a really interesting/whumpy story! Of course please don't feel pressured to write this if you don't want to and I'm so sorry if this comes across as rude. I hope you have a lovely day!

Ah thank you anon! Don’t worry it definitely doesn’t come off as rude :3 I’m really happy you’ve enjoyed my writing!

Decided to try someone kinda new with this, going with Cor’s pov for the first time, so hopefully that will still be somewhat enjoyable eheh

BTHB #6- Strapped to a Bomb

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Prompto Argentum, Cor Leonis, Nyx Ulric (a little bit)

Whumpee: Prompto Argentum

Word count: 2568

Warnings: none

This work can also be found on ao3 :3

Cor lets his eyes finish skimming through the document in his hand. Then he throws it onto his desk along with all the other documents he’s read through and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s been a very long, very uneventful day. Glancing at his watch, Cor is relieved to find there’s now only a little over an hour until he can leave. Though of course then he has to make his way through the traffic of the streets surrounding the Citadel, which is always a nightmare at this time of day. Now with the furrow between his brows made even deeper than usual, Cor returns to the paperwork. He’s moving on to what he thinks should be the last document in the pile when heavy breathing and rushed footsteps sound through the otherwise empty corridor.

"Marshal-"

"What." Cor's voice is tinged with irritation. This better be damn important for someone to barge in right at the tail end of his workday.

"You’ve been summoned at the entrance," says the breathless recruit. "it’s something about your son."

It doesn’t even take a full second for Cor to react and be up on his feet. He grabs his jacket and phone and hurries out of the office along with the recruit. Not that it’s out of the ordinary for Prompto to come to the Citadel, whether it’s Cor he’s coming to see or Prince Noctis whenever he’s around. Normally he would just let himself in though, and that along with the frantic look on the recruit’s face - no, something has to be wrong.

"What’s the situation?" Cor asks, not bothering to look back and just assuming the recruit is following him as he strides down the hall.

"I don’t know, I was just told to get a hold of you quickly." Comes the answer from behind. Cor almost has time to get annoyed at the lack of information, but the recruit keeps going. "Glaive Ulric and Glaive Altius are there already, and when I left they'd started working to evacuate employees outside of the Glaive."

Cor curses under his breath. Evacuation of the other employees? He trusts Nyx and Crowe enough to make that call, but since they have it has to be something serious. Cor enters the elevator and taps his foot impatiently on the floor, infuriated by how slow the descent is seemingly going. His mind races through all the different possibilities for what could be going on, and how Prompto could be involved in it.

The familiar dingand the sound of elevator doors opening cannot come soon enough, and the second it does he's on the move again. It takes him almost no time at all, though still too long in Cor's mind, to make his way to the doors at the main entrance. From the vantage point there he can already see parts of what's going on. Further down the staircase are multiple glaives already at work. Cor recognises Crowe where she stands at the side, gesturing to the people around and obviously in the midst of the evacuation work. He spares a short moment to send the recruit, who is still following behind him, over in her direction with orders to assist in the evacuation work. Then he sees Nyx, standing a bit further down, and then finally he sees a familiar tuft of blond hair. Prompto is talking to Nyx. Cor can't hear what they're saying as he makes his way towards them, but he can tell from meters away that something is wrong with Prompto. It's the way he's holding himself, tense and unnaturally stiff in his movements.

When Cor is close enough, he sees Prompto’s eyes widen, and his mouth opens in a silent plea. Cor lets his own expression soften some and sends him a reassuring nod. It’s at least intended as one, but he’s not sure it helps. Prompto still looks so very scared, and it pricks Cor’s heart painfully. He's about to turn to Nyx, to demand an explanation as to what's going on, but his attention is caught by something else. Peeking through behind the half-open zipper on Prompto's hoodie is some foreign object.

"Open your hoodie Prom, let me see that." Cor says. His mouth feels too dry all of a sudden, but he keeps his voice low and calm despite it. Prompto shifts uneasily but complies. With two shaky hands he fumbles a bit with the zipper, eventually getting it up. What reveals itself is a jumbled mess of wires and various cylindrical objects in black and grey, all fastened together with tape and zip-ties, strapped around Prompto's stomach like a horrid belt. It's most definitely home made, but there's no mistaking it. Cor recognizes explosives when he sees them.

"The hell-" Cor hisses. Though he immediately regrets that and cuts himself off when Prompto shrinks in on himself as if the curse is directed at him. Worry and disbelief swirl around in Cor's stomach. He turns his head to Nyx so fast his neck nearly twists. "What's going on here?"

The look on Nyx's face mirrors Cor's own emotions, and the crease to his brows deepens as he answers in a hushed voice. "Crowe and I found him standing here just earlier, says someone put that," and he motions with his head towards the device. "on him and dropped him off here with orders to go inside. He didn't see their faces."

Now anger flares up in Cor along with all the other conflicting emotions. Someone had dared to put a godsdamn bomb on his son. Cor feels his body tense up, and his hands balling into tight fists. He wants his hands on them, to make them regret ever thinking they could touch Prompto. But that will have to wait, Cor knows it. The top priority has to be getting that thing off of Prompto safely. He bites back another curse by pressing his lips into a thin line and wills himself to loosen the fists, though the tension still lingers in them.

"Bomb squad?" He asks.

"Already called, should be here any minute." Comes Nyx's answer, and Cor nods. He'd rather they were there already, but pushes that thought aside, they'll just have to wait. He then turns his attention back to Prompto. His son's eyes are wide and fearful, darting in between Nyx and Cor. His hands clutch the ends of the hoodie hard but even then, Cor can see them trembling faintly. Now that nobody's talking anymore, he suddenly becomes aware of Prompto's breathing. How strained it is, coming in short, shallow gasps. As if he's trying not to breathe at all.

Now every part of Cor's body urges him to rush to Prompto's side. To reassure him and tell him that everything will be alright. He knows he can't do that but takes one calm step forwards regardless. "Prompto-"

"No!" Prompto gasps, jerking back a step and stumbling slightly. It catches Cor completely off guard, and he stops dead in his tracks. Lifting his hands in a placating manner.

"Wha-"

"Don't come closer, please." Prompto's voice is barely more than a whisper, but to Cor it seems he might as well have been shouting. "If- if it blows, I don't want to hurt you."

Cor feels like he's just been hit in the chest with something hard. This isn't how things are supposed to be. Prompto, his sunshine, should not have to be this scared- for himself or for Cor. Cor sucks in a sharp breath, and despite what his brain is screaming at him to do he takes a step back to where Nyx is standing. It takes considerable effort to keep his voice calm when Cor speaks up again. "Okay, okay. Prompto look at me," he urges, trying to hold his son's gaze intently with his own. "I'm going to be fine, and you're going to be fine. Do you understand?"

After another moment Prompto nods weakly, even as his eyes glaze over with unshed tears. Cor sighs, and wonders what on earth is taking the damn bomb squad so long. He's about to turn to Nyx with this same question when, as if on cue, Prompto's breath hitches and his eyes fixate on something over Cor's shoulder. He turns around and there, finally, he sees a group of about seven or so men and women prepped with armoured suits making their way down the staircase. It draws some stares and gasps from the few not in the Glaive who are still there, but thankfully the evacuation work has come so far that there aren't many around.

Cor lets his shoulders sag ever so slightly in relief as the woman who seems to be in charge of the group comes over to him and Nyx. They exchange a few words and what little information they have on the situation, and she nods in affirmation and begins her work. Ordering three of her people to secure the streets and immediate surroundings to the bottom of the staircase, and the rest to come with her as she movies calmly towards Prompto. Cor tries to send him another encouraging nod, but he looks possibly even more terrified than before. The wide, unsure eyes and trembling lips are not something Cor wants to see on his son's face ever again if he can avoid it.

"They," Prompto tries, but it comes out more a choked gasp than anything else, and he hurries to try again. "they said not to touch it." The words almost trip over themselves in the rush to get out, and Prompto sends Cor a pleading look. Almost desperate as members of the bomb squad are getting closer to him.

"These people know what they're doing, kid." Cor urges on, thankful that his voice carries such authority and doesn't betray any underlying worries. "Let them help. I promise it will all be fine." Anything else is out of the question, he thinks, but he doesn't say that. Instead opting to take on as soothing and confident an expression as possible.

Prompto nods again, but doesn't look any more convinced, letting slip a tiny whine when the approaching bomb technicians are close enough to touch. The woman orders the hoodie to be removed, and her associates make quick work of it. It's close to torture, Cor finds, having to stay where he is and only watch. Prompto stays stiff and unmoving as the hoodie is removed and thrown to the side, where Nyx goes to pick it up. In the clutter of people now around him, Prompto looks like a forlorn kitten, fixed to the ground and scared to move in any significant way.

"Timer?" asks the woman loudly.

"None ma'am." comes the answer.

At this the woman turns her attention back to Nyx and Cor. "We're sure it's timed?" She asks. "No chance it could be remote controlled?"

Cor opens his mouth to answer but to his great surprise, and the woman's too it seems, Prompto beats him to it. "It's timed," his voice shakes slightly as he speaks. "they said so when they dropped me off… f-fifty minutes." he stammers, then his voice dies down again.

A moment of stunned silence goes by, then the woman curses loudly. "You should have said so sooner!" She snaps. Cor sees how it makes Prompto shrink in on himself and hears his stuttered apologies. They need to figure out how much time they have left, and the last thing he wants is for Prompto to panic now. So he takes a careful step forward, intent on getting Prompto's attention away from the lady.

"Prompto look at me!" He implores loudly, cutting Prompto off in the midst of his train of apologies. "Just look at me. I need you to tell me how long you stood here before anyone arrived, can you do that?"

"I- 6 maybe 7 minutes, I think." He answers, swallowing hard. Cor nods at him again then hastily checks the time on his phone. It's been almost 30 minutes since he left his office, though to him it feels like much longer than that. Still, that doesn't leave them with much time, only a little under 20 minutes. Cor relays the information out loud, to which the woman nods and goes back to her work, not wasting another second on talking.

Through all this Prompto has been keeping his eyes locked on Cor, exactly as told. So Cor sees it the second he returns his attention to his son. That now with the working hands of multiple people back around his waist, and the knowledge of just how long he has left until an eventual untimely death- a little under 20 minutes, it's all too much. Cor can see it all swirling around in his head, can read it in his face. It's one of the effects of having cared for someone from when they were a small child, Cor knows his son, and he knows the breaking point is coming.

"Prompto," he begins softly, "keep your eyes focused on me, okay? Only on me, ignore anything else." Prompto nods, chokes out a sob, and lets the first few tears come. Cor sees them rolling down unhindered, and the wet streaks they leave on freckled skin. "It's okay," he hushes, barely even noticing that he's taken a few more steps towards Prompto. "you've been brave today. Now just let us fix the rest, okay? It'll be alright."

Cor keeps speaking softly like that for what somehow feels simultaneously like an eternity and no time at all. The tears are still running down Prompto's face, but he's managing to keep his attention mostly on Cor and not on the rest of the situation. It's working exactly how Cor was hoping it would. When, after some time, the bomb loosens from around Prompto's waist and movement surges all around it catches Prompto entirely off-guard. But not Cor. Cor rushes forward the second he sees that the explosives are removed and Prompto is being shoved away from them for the bomb squad to finish their work, and when Prompto stumbles Cor catches him. Relief floods through Cor's body like a breath of fresh air, and he wastes no time before dragging Prompto a few secure steps back. He's holding his son, and it's okay now.

Prompto cries for another while, not at all surprising given the rush and tension from the day, but he's at least safe. In a move uncharacteristically tender for Cor when they're anywhere other than the privacy of their home, he runs his hand through his son's soft hair and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. "You're okay Prom, you're okay."

The two are awarded some peace and quiet before Nyx comes to check on the two of them and provide them with the news that the bomb has been properly taken care of. When he does Cor gives him a grateful nod. He knows it's time for him to take Prompto home, but before that there's one last thing he needs to do.

"Make sure the security footage from today is thoroughly checked." Says Cor, his voice every bit as serious as the situation calls for. And now it's Nyx's turn to nod, knowing without needing to be told what he's on the lookout for. "I want them found and identified."

[maaaddiexo]

The Within Series | Legolas Greenleaf

Book 1: The Devil Within - 1.5

Mainlist | Serieslist

Nyx of Tyndall does not know love or kindness. Cursed at a young age by a jealous witch, Nyx has lived a life of solitude and death.

Until Gandalf the Grey requests her presence and uncontrollable skill in assisting a young Hobbit across Middle-Earth with nine others to destroy a ring so powerful all fall victim to its evil.

Not only must Nyx face Orcs, demons, and creatures she’s never seen before, but also the devil inside. Controlling the devil is the key to finding freedom in a spell that can’t be broken. But it will not be so easy for Nyx when every obstacle she faces pushes her to an edge she cannot return from.

Chapter Five

The next day was just as overcast but the air a little warmer. They made good time over the flatter and dryer lands. The ground beneath them didn’t crumble or shift and they came across no marshes. Nyx led the horse for a while at the back while Strider led the group like usual. They stopped at an abandoned and overgrown watchtower, agreeing to settle in for the night there, finding comfort in knowing they had their backs protected.

Once their sleeping rolls were set up and the horse had been tied at the edge of the woods, Strider began to unpack his things. He revealed four swords. “These are for you. I’m going to look around. Stay here with Nyx.”

Strider still had not returned when Frodo decided to go to bed.

“Go to sleep, Miss Nyx,” Sam said. “We’ll stay awake while you two sleep.”

Nyx didn’t like the idea of three innocent Hobbits taking watch, but she was more than tired and couldn’t help but agree. She lay next to Frodo, her hand resting over the handle of her scythe, and fell asleep almost instantly. When she woke up a few hours later, Frodo was screaming.

“Put it out, you fools!” The three boys had lit a fire, letting their hunger get the best of them. Nyx stood up, looking around but Strider still had not returned. She began to worry.

Something screeched in the distance.

“Grab your swords,” Nyx instructed urgently. “They found us.”

“But we don’t even know how to use them!” Pippin argued.

Nyx moved to the edge of the watchtower. At the bottom of the watchtower, figures moved through the thick fog. “You’re about to. Did you put the Ring on, Frodo?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t. And don’t give it to them either. They will deliver it directly to Sauron.”

Frodo unsheathed his sword and they climbed to the very top of the watchtower. In a circle they stood, waiting, until the first one came from the east. The temperature seemed to drop 10 degrees when it approached, and Nyx felt her blood run cold. Could these creatures even die?

Eight more came from the shadows and with every step they took, thunder rumbled in the air. They held their swords against their chests, the sharp tips raised towards the sky as they approached together and, slowly, the group of five retreated. Sam rashly jumped forward.

“Back, you devils!” His sword clashed against a Ringwraith’s twice before he was tossed aside. Merry and Pippin moved to be the next line of defense, but they too were tossed aside like they weighed nothing. Nyx and Frodo gasped in fear and surprise at their strength and as they continued to back up, Nyx felt it deep in her bones.

Anger.

That dreaded, cursed anger.

Most of the time, Nyx tried to fight it. Ignore it. For when she got angry, people died. But, this time, she knew she needed it. She needed the strength it brought her. “Frodo,” she said, trying to relax her muscles. Stay in control just enough. “Whatever you do, do not get in my way.”

“What?”

Nyx lunged forward and pushed back two of the Ringwraiths, dodging their swings and jabs. One hit her in the side with his elbow, but Nyx made sure to hit him twice as hard with her boot. When she spun to see how Frodo was faring, she caught a glimpse of orange. Nyx wasn’t surprised. For when she got angry, she had the nasty habit of catching fire.

It was why they called her the Dragon.

The fire lit inside her as well, fueling her rage as she swung her scythe time after time at the Ringwraiths. And with every swing, she felt herself lose to the devil within her. She couldn’t tell what she was angry about. Perhaps it was the treatment of such innocent boys who had never left home before. Or maybe it was the fact that she could never get some God damned peace.

The rest of the Ringwraiths were advancing on Frodo, who had dropped his sword and was backing away on his hands and bum. “Frodo!” she screamed only to be thrown aside. She rolled until she hit what was left of a wall. She shook her head and stood up on wobbly legs, yelling when she saw Frodo pull out the Ring. Something in her shook free from the evil.

“Don’t, Frodo! It makes them stronger!”

Frodo didn’t hear Nyx’s words. All he could hear was the Ring whispering at him, tempting him to put it on. And he did. Nyx cried out as he put the Ring on and disappeared. The Ring would not save him from the Nazgûl. No. But it would make them stronger.

Something came at Nyx from behind and she swung her scythe, hitting the flat side of Strider’s sword. She growled and pushed harder against Strider, but her improved strength was still no match for Strider’s. In the back of her mind, she thought it odd.

The Ranger ground his teeth together for he knew what lurked within her. “Fight it, Nyx.”

Nyx growled again. “You’re just like the rest of them. You’ll kill me when I’m not looking. You’ll trade my life for yours.”

“Like you haven’t done that all your life.”

Nyx faltered, the words ringing painfully true. Strider took advantage of Nyx’s slip and slammed the handle of his sword against the side of her head. Nyx stumbled to the ground, dropping her scythe with a resounding clatter as the evil’s grip on her mind slipped as well. She saw darkness for only a moment before her eyes fluttered open. She looked up and Strider looked down cautiously.

“Are you back to your normal self, Miss Nyx>”

Nervously, she nodded, grabbing her weapon. “I think so.”

“Good.” Strider reached down to help Nyx up, but she pulled away. She still did not entirely trust herself. She stood up by herself.

“Frodo put on the Ring,” she said simply. Timidly.

There was a scream of pain and the two humans turned to see a Ringwraith pull their sword from a body they could not see. Strider grabbed a loose thick stick with dried leaves and touched it to the bottom of Nyx’s cloak that was still on fire. He swung it at the Ringwraiths and they screeched as the light combated their darkness. The two humans spared a glance at each other and lit two more branches on Nyx’s cloak before running for the Ringwraiths.

From the corner of her eye, Nyx saw Frodo reappear, screaming in agony. But she couldn’t reach him. She waved the burning branch in her, chasing away the Nazgûl. Fire touched the black cloak of one and it screeched, disappearing off the edge of the watchtower. Somehow, Nyx knew it would not be the last time she saw it. Strider struck the last one in the face with his branch and it disappeared with its brethren, its screeches echoing in the night.

“Strider! Nyx!”

The two dropped their weapons and rushed to the Hobbits. Frodo was still writhing in pain.

“Can you help him?”

Strider picked up the discarded blade, examining it. “He’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade.” The blade turned to ash in his hands and he dropped it in disgust, moving to pick up Frodo. “This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine.”

“Nyx?” Sam pleaded. Nyx only shook her head sadly.

“Strider is right. The Elves are the only people who can save Frodo.”

Part 1.6 ➺

[daughterofhel]

.

My icon died last night.

The little black and white cat, Auk (or-ick). A silly name from a badly remembered name from my childhood.

He was pretty much deaf; car got him.

I haven’t seen him since I left Texas, as I moved for a year to VA before finally moving to be with my wife in Vento. One of my guy friends family took him in on their ranch.

It was fitting; I did get Auk from a ranch. He was used to it, loved it even. And this was without the competition of an unhealthy amount of breeding stays like the ones I grabbed him and Ivy up from. I could only take two, my friend the same.

Funny. I had originally gone there to see the birth of a colt only to leave with a cat. Return the next day and get one more, a friend for my tiny runt of a thing.

And who should but all demand it be him to leave with me but Auk? The friendliest of cats that I’ve ever had the pleasure to be around. He also thwarted my attempts at having two girl cats. He was insistent to leave with me and you don’t argue when you’re chosen you know?

I won’t detail the tears following or the rough road and chaos that went on, but many double shifts back to back to back endlessly, a medicated clumsy grandmother with rapidly failing health, and complex roommate situations, I just wasn’t able to provide the needed time and care for my cats.

I cried the entire 45 minute drive to my buddys property when he said he could take them in. I had to pull over twice. They also cried the entire time, being afraid of the car, which made it harder. My buddy, He was the same guy who rescued a big pup clearly abandoned some years back. I had helped train him to not jump on people and other stuff. His folks also owned a longhorn ranch, lots and lots of space.

Those cats deserved better and this was a familiar element, now neutered, vaccinated, and with no stray competition and the dog was so careful. But god. I never wanted to say goodbye to my cats. It didn’t matter though, what I wanted; they needed care and time I wasn’t able to keep providing.

So I dropped them off. As expected, Ivy kept close but never got too close to the family. She simply doesn’t trust; I’ve no idea why such a little thing bonded instantly with me and remained quite the fixed cuddle bug. But she had. I felt worse about it with her than Auk if I’m to be honest.

Auk loved attention. Loved fetch. Belly rubs. This cat was a classic dog and a huge whore for attention. XD He essentially made himself at home and lavished any and all attention, to which my buddies mother instantly fell for this fuzzy dorks charms. He has been well cared for.

I know younger me could’ve and should’ve done better when I got these cats. Mind you, I’ve been gone for over 10 years now, so it has been quite some time. I’m doing what I wish I could have done for my cats then with the two rescues we got last year here.

I was young and working so many hours for nearly no profit after stuff was paid, even living at home and with roommates. I couldn’t afford the extra vet fees I needed or the fanciest of foods or any of that. I loved them, and I felt them being with me instead of the half starving state they were in from constantly competing with so many other cats, was still a better option for them. I still was at least able to do some of the important visits for them.

I cleared their fleas and earmites. I never did get rid of Ivys worms, though I desperately tried. I tried so many ways to get this pill into that cat. Even crushed into wet food. Friends helping to wrap and hold her to make her swallow. All the tricks we found, failed. She just. She wouldn’t take it. And I didn’t have the cash to go every single day and time she needed a dose to a pet clinic. I had checked more than once. It was so much money.

Older, better situated now.. I’ve been able to do right by the cats, Nyx and Tivali, that I have now.

We even saved Nyx’s eye. We have a system to give her her seizure medicine every 12 hours. They’re both fully up to date with their shots and are fixed. Ears totally clean. Monthly newly added anti flea tick collars.

The best food we can reasonably find at the local pet shop; their pelts are beautiful, soft, shiny, and they never smell.

We’ve even found a biodegradable corn based litter we can flush which has been the greatest find.

We get semi regular check ups on our girls and they’re doing just fine now. I’m still proud about saving Nyx’s eye. It was a tedious ordeal. 3-4 times a day we had to clean and medicate a cats eye. We got good at it even if she wasn’t fond of it. Thankfully the vitamins they required were like treats. Even the antibiotics from the colds they had from the shelter.

I miss Auk. And Ivy. And I wish I could’ve not only given them the life I’ve given my current cats now, (I’ve constructed basket beds, hammocks, a whole canopy jungle gym and rope bridge to boot for them with my wife!), but I wish I could have been the one to have them in my life still. I know it was not possible. It wouldn’t have been possible.

But I think of them. A lot. And I knew it was inevitable. Auk would’ve been well over 13 or so years by now. A little old but could’ve lived longer yet for sure. My buddy didn’t mention he has gone deaf. Of course he rarely goes home himself; I don’t blame him. Life’s complicated.

I have mourned these two cats multiple times now. So I’m not thrown into tears upon this news, I’ve cried plenty over the years already. But I’m still sad to hear that fuzzy delight has passed on. I won’t ask, but I hope, and believe, the accident was a quick end for such a friendly guy.

I’ll mourn him eventually in full. I know I will. But considering this is the fourth major bad news I’ve gotten in less than a month and most of it a week, I thought to write about it. If only to keep sane.

May I not receive the same news of my grandmother or my sister who both remain in the hospital.

And god. May my mother stop forcing me to recall and talk about our shared trauma under my father and just keep me up to date on my families health. I don’t want to be crushed under this suffocating vice on my neck that makes me hesitate to call and see my family. I know she needs to vent. And god. I try to let her. I do. I try to be kind; she needs it.

But it isn’t the time and place when I’m trying to figure out if my grandmother is dying or getting better. I shouldn’t have to receive that confirmation, be granted a brief video called hello and check in, with the price of an hour long dredge through a past I personally have gone to two different types of therapy through to try and cope with. Which, only to some degree, have helped.

One of the last longer calls we had she all but said she hoped her theories on my father possible molesting me were true, so, you know, that would be one more trauma we had in common. She went on and on, even trying to provide loose evidence to her theory. Troubling sentences I would say in my rare visits. Etc. She just. Wouldn’t. Stop. And that was after an hour of recalling how terrible her life was with my father and the abuse, the screaming, the terror, the hiding, the injuries, all of it. As if I wasn’t left to live my life with this very man she said her three years with ruined her more than all her past shit combined.

She assured me she was a good mother who tried. And honestly. No. But I do believe she tried. But she was already weak emotionally and mentally and my father wrecked what was left. She left me sometimes for a couple days lock in that house when I was in diapers. You don’t forget that shit. I’m still scared of the dark. I can’t reason with myself on it. But being mad about all of it doesn’t change anything and would hurt a woman already broken. Why would I do that.

Still. It bothers me. So fucking much. But she’s such a fragile person in a fragile emotional state with everything else on top. She’s been heavily depressed for many many years and it’s a bunch of other stuff that spirals and honestly, at this point, she’s toxic even to herself. I’ve tried working on it with her but it matters not if she’s not willing to work on it too. I don’t know my mother besides her many traumas. We’ve been separated and estranged for most of my life. Unless I was physically able to actually be there and provide a use.

But that’s par for the course; no one will have you around if you’re unable to provide something for it. My wife’s the first person who genuinely seems to enjoy having me around just because and wants nothing more. I do stuff of course; but with her I am not afraid a slip up could mean everything it taken away and lost. I can forget the dishes once or had a bad mental health day and stay in bed without it having catastrophic consequences. She’s such a wonderful kind woman; I cannot help stressing over how to repay her.

I try and I’ve expressed my distraught on the topic and though she always seems baffled and confused about my insistence that I should be doing far more, that lass doesn’t agree at all. It’s her parents home so I am not able to freely run the house as I would on our own, as I’m able and have in many places, so I’m often less useful with the restrictions. She’s also use to the flow and swing of things and has things half done before it’s being asked.

Our own place will make life smoother and calmer for both of us; most importantly her. I’ve watched this family, sweet, but absolutely tone deaf to how many and often their demands are tossed to her. All the other kids moved out with partners. Hell, the oldest s child basically lives here. Our own hurdle with raising a kid who we don’t have the final say on any single thing. His grandparents are enablers cuz they don’t want to hear any loud noises, no matter what. And that causes strain when the kid can and does get anything and everything as long as he kicks up a fit. And he sure as hell does. There are days it’s so bad my wife’s in tears. And that pisses me off. The kids a good person, but the fact no one will actually parent and draw definite lines and be firm with No’s can also make him horrible too.

I’ve to deal with the chess match that is my father. I often call him my own personal Devil. He kind of is. But one I’m familiar enough with at this point in my life. I know where and when to cut my losses, where to step around, when I need to swallow my pride or the easily seen through lies, and nod my head. If he was all terrible, I could have cut him from my life. But no one ever really is. And I do know I owe it to the man; he has helped tremendously in my life as much as he’s been a big problem of it. I know his biggest fear is to be alone and forgotten. I wouldn’t do that, not even to the devil.

I need some bland news. Not thrilling. Not depressing. Just some ‘hey that happened’ ‘oh cool.’ Kind of news. Just a small reprieve.

Im. Scared. Of what’s next.

I. Know that things are teetering dangerously into a very very tragic terrible story on my mothers end. I know her husbands already super suicidal. My half brothers severely autistic, non verbal, among a few other things and will require his whole life to have someone be there for him. He’s not stupid, and I hate when people treat him as so, but he is absolutely unable to care for himself. He doesn’t have the right motorskills even, though we’ve gone to many different places to try and help him find ways to do actions in his own way that still get the same result. I admire how he’s such a positive little man, generally not just happy, but delighted. I aspire to look at the world like he does. He reminds me to try. I do love that about him.

He is, however, a Big boy, 15 now, and growing. He’s also very strong now. My mother is getting to an age where his, as well call em happy slaps, are really hurting her. He is generally good about slapping your hands and not your back if you provide them. But when he is upset he is a shover; one bad fall could really cause a lot of chaos for my mother with her health. The husband spends most of his time locked in his room.

My half sister is epileptic. They have done tests for years and can’t figure out all her triggers or the whys. They just sometimes stop for a long time then suddenly happen. She’s 16, turning 17 soon. And I don’t even know if she’s going to be, since my mother won’t let me know. And there are large gaps from my sister being on tech due to concerns of what triggered her seizure this time so she’s often removed from electronic devices for a time.

When I had turned 21, my mother and her husband tried to have me sign a paper to become legal guardian of my half siblings, should something happen to them, so the kids didn’t get separated.

At that time, I was still taking care of my fathers mother along with working at a shit job, and had a house full of temporary roommates who I had offered rooms to as a sort of safe house for them. I have a knack for finding people from broken homes, what can I say? With the house my father and I built, we had space, so I used it. I was able to help the girls get out of toxic places, get on their feet, and move on. Not all of them always. But it did generally work out. One has a boyfriend who was growing worse to her on top of getting more and more into hard drugs while also she dealing with an abusive aunt who got worse once her mother died of cancer. So she was stuck with the terrible boyfriend. I had her stay with me as soon as I heard.

Another was complicated, but generally revolved around the alcoholic mother and the many, shady, men in and out of the house. The dangers of that alone were.. problematic without the friend also being suicidal and not taken seriously. I’ve stayed many times with her to just hang out, clean, cook, or even read a book cuz she just wanted to hear someone talking and such. You know? Until eventually I had her move in with me too.

Another’s mothers died of a cancer and dad an alcoholic; not abusive, he just became childlike and super forgetful. To a hurtful degree in his totally dependent state, whenever he was home. Plus their whole little trailer smelled of piss. And her boyfriend (they’re married with kids and happy now) was in jail. He had a bad past but had cleaned up his act quite well, but. Well that’s complicated. We all know that the police don’t squint at details of any issue if the accused has a problematic past.

I had two different girls with trouble at home who were being used by their family to constantly work, clean, and pay for everything.

I had an ex and her girlfriend with problematic homophobic parents who were terrible and semi violent so I had them stay with us so they could be together somewhere safer.

I did not. At all. Have the assured means to also be a parent of ten children with very different needs nor any medical benefits to help out with.

I also knew, that, with how my mothers husband was, if he had some guarantees for his children’s safety, he would likely end his life if he could. He’s been so close so many times. If signed this paper, he would have the last big most important concern that’s kept him from.. I just. I didn’t want him to do it. I selfishly didn’t want to be responsible for my siblings that would take away any bit of time I had for myself away. If anything happened, I would not abandon and forget my siblings. That’s absurd. But my mother implied heavily she wanted to be sure of that. And thus this paper.

I was struggling to find aid for college so I could go to school (never got to, by the way. Minus two classes in total. Aced them both, but it doesn’t matter. Credits in the wind). I was already dealing with my grandmother. The girls I chose to help. My shit job. My fathers temper and his horrible horrible ‘on again off again’ girlfriend. The chaos that alone committed.

I was busy providing a safe space in my home and making sure it stayed that way for the rare times trouble makers made the mistake of stepping up to my door to try and harass my girls.

I often worked 10 days in a row before a day off. Many of those days often had double shifts which were 16 hours. Sometimes I got an hour nap on the double shifts.

I just couldn’t do it.

And now. I remember something that came to mind back then that comes back to mind now. My moms husband adores my grandma. She’s been better to him than his own mother. She’s dying. He’s not taking it well and his mental health has always been pretty low and in the last couple years, already dangerously rock bottom. I’ll admit, same.

His daughter is now in the hospital. My brother is smart but there are some things we can’t really explain for him to get. He understands something is wrong but not sure what and it upsets him. He doesn’t like change and gets super fussy for it. Which can be taxing and hours and days and weeks of it. Grandmas been in the hospital for a couple more or more now. She coded a few days ago but they got her back.

If grandma dies. If something happens to my sister…

God. I don’t see that man sticking around.

And with my mom isolated. A lot of it her doing with her own family but also a good part of it being dumb petty bs of other folks that have no reason to behave like that (a whole drama I don’t have the energy to keep up with..). I just.

I see it as a domino effect of terrible terrible events I don’t want to write.

My mothers side im not very close to. I don’t blame my cousins, we were kids ajd our meetings were brief as they were. But the adults kept their distance with me. No one expected me to survive and decided it was easier to not get attached. To not get involved with me, and by extension, the devil himself, my father. So I never got the chance to know that family. Even when I tried.

So the only family I do have some ties to ajd know, is in a hospital bed, or on my dads side, and they’re dying to. And I get it… that at a certain age in life, many of the people around you start to. It’s just life. Ajd it sucks. And I miss having a best friend. I miss having friends who just seem to like to have me around. Want to have me around.

And I wonder if the friends I thought I made with my roommates were just because I provided something for them. Sure we laughed a lot, we cried over shared traumas, celebrated holidays together so as to not be alone.

But not a one speaks to me now. And hey. That’s also life. But it makes me feel pretty shitty; every where I look in the past, I can’t see any relationship, family, partner, friendship, that ever had me around unless I was providing services they wanted and needed. And I don’t mean the natural give and take.

I’m aware that I’m not the friend folks have around. I’m a fun distraction at best and have been told and reminded as such. I feel like shit cuz my wife’s wonderful and the best person in my life, and yet I still mourn having close friends to hang with. I miss gaming together the most. Or the bullshitting. Sharing food.

I’m not a nice person. I’m working on it. I am. I’ve also, for years, been working on my own personal problems so as to not bring them into even conversations. I don’t know what I am doing wrong but I just.. can’t seem to keep anyone around. And frankly.

I find myself crying about it a lot with no idea what to do.

And. I’m burnt out.

I don’t want to make friends anymore. And yet I still crave it. Which sucks. I can’t stop seeming to want that. And I keep trying. And trying.

I’m trying to accept and be happy with any bit of time I get from the few friends who talk to me. I try to take my chances where I can to hang out (online, as they’re all distance by now), cuz I know it’s a short window and I’ll be lucky to get a next time in the near future.

Online is harder to provide a use, and once the ‘honeymoon phase’ of the friendship winds down, some drop off the map entirely. A few abruptly. And I just. That’s fucked me ho a ton. I can’t even express how many hours I stay sitting. Thinking. Unable to understand what I am not doing or what I am.

It’s a pity party. I know. But it’s fine. I’m still the only one at it and though I’m quite forward even with nerves eating away at me, I still just don’t know how to keep anyone in my life.

It’s taken almost 6 years for me to relax enough to believe my wife will, in fact, stick around.

But at this point in time, I’ve realized, on a note I just keep getting really sad over, that the bits of friendship I’ll get to experience with people, will be brief, snippets, and frankly, only if I am providing something they’re not getting.

I’m essentially the magazine next to the toilet when you have a bad bad stomach bug and your phones dead.

Man’s that’s.. probably my own doing. I know I’m a lot of woe is me in here. And it’s a post talking to me, so I’m indulging in it. I absolutely can’t out loud or in life. I’m working on just.. trying to feel instead of ignoring it. Per my therapists suggestions. So I feel fucking overwhelmed, sad, and alone. Isolated. Heavily.

Ignorance is bliss for real. I wish I wasn’t so aware that I was the friend you go to when all options are down and you’re bored. When you are in a bind and need a safe spot (I don’t mind that one but it does suck that it’s the only time some folks pop back in or up). That if I’m not working then no one even has a small little want to just say hi. I wish I had people who just wanted to say hi because they just.. missed me? I gues?

I wish I knew how to be better as a person and a friend. I thought I was making strides on that. I really had. And yet.

Here I am. Just.

Bitching to the void. Becuase my wife doesn’t need me to add more to her life with her father (finally back from the hospital after surgery) and his health concerned along with everyone else’s and the own sets of ordeals here. I don’t need her to fret over me.

She’s needed distraction and I’ve left her alone for a couple weeks now to her drawing. Probably one of the best things I did do for her was clean up a space for a literal drawing room for her. She’s happier for it. People compliment her art and she rather enjoys the well deserved attention.

I personally would love to have her around more. But I’m having a lot of bad shit days. Weeks at this point. And I’m using my energy to be useful in setting the table or doing the dishes, the cats, playing with the nephew, etc.

All I want to do is sleep.

Frankly. I’m tired of waking up.

But for her. I will.

[houseofhurricane]

Bloom & Bone (1/32) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: I haven't written fanfiction in a decade, but this idea wouldn't let me go, especially once I got to thinking about Elain. And Tamlin. And then I fell in love with Lucien and Vassa. This is a long ride but everything's outlined, and I hope you'll join me on this journey. You can find all chapters here. You can also read this chapter on AO3.

Elain cannot look at her sister when she describes the vision: the spark in Tamlin’s green eyes, Feyre’s anguish, the press of his fingers into her wrist. The Crown on his head and his talons hovering just above the blue veins that are so stark against her younger sister’s milk-pale skin, a sickly shade that Elain has never actually seen on Feyre in life, not even in the cottage, in the dead of winter.

Instead, while she addresses the Court of Dreams, Elain makes herself look at Rhys, his rage-dulled eyes, at Mor, who moves toward Feyre as if magnetized, wanting to protect her friend. Even Amren is easier to watch, her face revealing no emotion but a certainty bordering on arrogance. Elain glances only occasionally at Azriel, the force of his glance a blow in her gut. Though the pain, in its own way, is useful, giving her voice a wobble that could be understood as horror or incomprehension. Mostly Elain angles her head so that she studies the swirls of marble on the floor. They are used to believing she is diffident, cowed, and honestly she often feels this way, in spite of her Fae body and her powers, no matter what new rancor stirs in her lately.

She recounts the vision’s grand finale: Tamlin and Feyre on the thrones in the ruined Spring Court, the Crown the only spark of light in the gloom, the room empty and covered in thorns.

“Azriel told me once,” she says, once the words have had sufficient time to settle, “that he thought my powers were not the visions alone, but the ability to change them.” 

Elain allows herself, then, to turn from the floor to Cassian, the first person she’d saved knowingly, applying her fingers to Truth Teller, the knife to the king of Hybern’s throat. She’d seen his death in a vision, but not her father’s, and a kernel of her hates him for this, all those easy smiles. She had only ever told Azriel the details of the vision. At the time he was the only one who’d believed what she was seeing, who thought she might have the power to change things. The one who’d put the knife in her hands. Now she does not look at him.

Instead, she keeps her eyes on Cassian. Not because she needs to read the expression on his face. His reactions to her vision would have been audible even to her human ears, the horror at the mere possibility of a future for his High Lady. Cassian, who she knows will relay the story directly to Nesta, the sister who grew up entwined around her and can read the nuances behind each of Elain’s gestures, the timbre of her voice, and instantly detect a lie. She’d bided her time until Nesta was occupied with the Valkyries, a training exercise that could not be rescheduled, occupying her sister and also Gwyn, of whom Elain prefers not to think.

From the heavy silence in the room, she knows they all believe her. 

“Then what should we do?” Feyre says, finally, her High Lady voice its own armor. She looks toward her mate, not even glancing at Elain. Her job, it seems, is to supply the visions, then return to her garden. For once in her gods-damned life, this is not Elain Archeron’s plan. 

“I would like to go to the Spring Court,” she says, working her hands into fists. She waits for Azriel’s growl, but there’s only silence, Feyre’s mouth working silently, trying to determine the right words. As if her sister has suspected that something vile is brewing inside Elain, acrid and corrosive, that now she wonders why, unlike the other times, Elain could so calmly recount the details of her vision, a power mastered seemingly without training.

Instead her sister says, “There is no chance I’m letting you within Tamlin’s borders. Do you remember how you ended up in the Cauldron?” The words spit themselves from her lips.

“Who else do you suggest we send?”

It surprises them, the steel in her voice. For a moment, they are all silent, trying to determine what it means, Elain snapping at her sister. She watches as Rhys reaches out for Feyre, and the weariness overcomes her, the weight of the lie suddenly laid on her. That she could become a creature against whom her sister needs protection. 

She clenches her fists tighter. Her fingernails dig into the callouses left by her gardening tools.

“Nesta could--” Feyre begins.

“Nesta could summon the Crown right to Tamlin,” Amren cuts in, before Elain can get the words out herself. Amren, who knows Nesta’s powers better than any of them.

“Nesta would never do that,” Cassian growls, and Elain bites her lip to keep from smiling. Of the entire Night Court, she can always predict Cassian’s responses most easily.

“If you were threatened?” Elain says, her voice low, concerned. “Nesta has her own duties. I can detect the Trove but not summon it. I couldn’t be used so easily as bait.”

“You are still--” Rhys starts, but Elain cuts him off, continuing as though she does not hear him, you are still one of the Cauldron-blessed Archeron sisters, the words a curse that will not leave her, the facts of her existence that have taken everything away from her, every choice she’d once thought to be her own. Hoping he’ll forget that until now she always has been bait, the soft and useless sister who could best be used to harm the others, the ones with real value in and of themselves.

“Send Lucien with me, if you like,” she says. Feyre’s eyebrow’s raise, and Mor’s, and though Elain is afraid she’s said too much, she allows the blush to rise to her cheeks. Let them think, now that Azriel’s found his mate, that she’s considering Lucien with renewed interest. 

“I’ll go with them,” Mor cuts in.

“You’re needed in Valhallan,” Rhys says, fingers splayed under his chin. He’s all languorous consideration and sparkling violet eyes but Elain knows his mind is whirling, that the pleasant veneer is mostly for her benefit. After three years in the Court of Dreams, everyone still thinks she’s going to shatter. Even if they’ve given her ample reason to fall apart. “Would Vassa join your merry band, do you think? I’d like to keep an eye on her, given what we’ve learned about Koschei.” Thanks to Azriel and Gwyn, Elain knows, but Rhysand does not say.

“We shouldn’t leave Jurian unattended.” Cassian cracks his knuckles, his armor shifting.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Azriel says.

“Then it’s settled. Elain will act as our emissary in the Spring Court,” Rhys says, and when Elain finally does look into Feyre’s eyes, she doesn’t want to read her sister’s expression, only knows it’s one she’s never seen before.

Then again, Elain has never told such an incredible lie in her life. She’s not entirely sure what kind of creature that makes her.

“You don’t have to try and save me,” Feyre says later, standing on the threshold of Elain’s room with Nyx on her shoulder. The baby is almost asleep, his wings making languid circles that catch Feyre’s cheek in a sigh. Nyx is nearly too big to need holding, but Feyre is holding on to these last moments before he’ll be off and running or flying, a brilliant and holy terror.

“I know you can fight against Tamlin. But I’d like to see if that can be avoided. And... I’d like to have something to do. To be useful.” Elain busies herself with her dresses, selecting those which most resemble her favorite blooms, the pale azures and pinks that herald spring and the rich yellow that shows that fall is on the horizon.

“Is it Azriel?”

For a while now, Feyre has been dancing around this question with a poise that reminds Elain of Nesta’s skill in a ballroom. She invited Elain to sit for a portrait last month and began a hundred soft questions that Elain demurely did not answer.

Elain continues sorting through her dresses. This orange makes her look sickly, and of course the black gowns have no place in the Spring Court, would only serve to advertise her status as an outsider.

“I know that he and Gwyn were unexpected,” Feyre begins again, in a voice that she must use when meeting with her public, a voice that’s low and soothing and guaranteed to make them proud of their High Lady, “but I did not realize that you were so attached to him.”

Elain has turned, now, to her jewels. She grits her teeth against the scream that curdles inside her. You did not see Rhysand at the top of the staircase at the Solstice party the year before last, she does not say, because the words are too ridiculous for all that’s inside her. Azriel could have kissed her anyway. She could have reached for him. Instead they gazed at each other across rooms, let their fingers brush, until he stopped meeting her gaze. Two weeks later, Gwyn showed up at the house on the river, a faint blush on her cheeks, standing too close to Azriel for there to be any question as to the reason for her visit. And there was Nesta, taking a fighting stance at her friend’s side, the expression on her face so familiar to Elain that she could practically feel the grime of their old cottage on her skin. Between the two of them, Elain could hardly have approached Gwyn if she’d wanted to, if she’d had anything inside her head but roaring and emptiness. When she’d spotted the rose necklace Azriel had fastened to her own neck on Gwyn’s throat, Elain had excused herself from dinner before dessert. 

That had only been the first dinner, the first hint of a smile she’d never seen before on Azriel’s face. Soon Gwyn appeared at all kinds of court affairs and family gatherings, and Elain has found herself seeking corners, wanting quiet. The roiling inside her grew stronger, a twist in her stomach and acid in her muscles, so that even a small group could feel overwhelming. Her gardens have never been more beautiful, or her hemlines so streaked with dirt. Nuala and Cerridwen sometimes tease her, wondering if she has found a lover in the gardens, and Elain laughs to keep them from asking questions. She schools her expression to be pleasant, never demanding, never petulant, never angry.

When she was human, which seems so long ago already, Elain had been the beautiful sister, the one her parents anticipated would marry well, enrich their family or establish them as aristocracy. They had told her always to be sweet and gentle, never creating a reason for a man to fall out of love with her. The instructions were not a burden for Elain, not the way they would have been to her sisters. But now, her character finely honed, she would never have expected to be without a husband, without the love and affection she sees between her sisters and their mates. She’d worked too hard on being loveable to be forced to end up with a mate for whom she has no regard.

Now, Feyre sets Nyx down on Elain’s bed and comes over to the jewelry box, untangling the pearls from the emeralds and rubies. Elain has always favored delicate jewels, nothing too large or ornate, and the golden chains seem to catch no matter how carefully they’re arranged. 

“I always thought you were better suited to the Spring Court than I ever was,” she says, picking up a diamond earring and clasping it to its mate. “I wish you could have seen the gardens the way I first did. Though I think they would have a hard time competing with any of your gardens.”

Elain breathes a laugh through her nose. “You always try too hard to flatter me.”

“Only because you can never take a compliment.”

For a moment, they are girls again, in a funhouse mirror of what their adolescence could have looked like: Feyre always more self-assured than anyone would expect for a girl her age, Elain seemingly serene, allowing herself to be led down pleasant paths. 

“You know that the Spring Court is dangerous.”

“I’ve been to the Court of Nightmares and lived to tell the tale.”

“The Court of Nightmares has a ruler.”

“Tamlin knows what would happen if he harmed me.” Elain runs her fingers over a set of combs shaped like branches that know winter is ending, emerald leaves unfurling. She will have to pack these in her trunks.

“Not according to your vision,” Feyre murmurs, and though the tone is pitched to be soothing, an acid knot forms in Elain’s stomach. “I know that Rhys will make things clear to him, but you can’t let Tamlin walk all over you.”

“He needs to trust me somehow.”

Feyre puts down the bottle of perfume she’s been toying with, releasing a puff of peony and rose. She pulls on the end of her plaited hair, not so much thinking as gnawing on her memories.

“I used to think that Tamlin only told his secrets to Lucien, or perhaps Ianthe, but now I don’t think… I think he is very alone. And he never trusted me with very much of anything.”

“He was wrong about you, Feyre.”

“I only mean, I think that a beautiful maiden would not necessarily inspire Tamlin to confess anything of interest. He will only trust, and grudgingly, the people he sees as his equals.”

“I am not some damsel, sister.”

It’s only when she catches Feyre’s wide-eyed look that Elain realizes the sharpness in her tone. The kind of tone her sisters both wield so well, but which no one expects to emerge from between her own lips.

But Elain does not want to ruin the moment, maybe the last in which she and Feyre will be so close, so she takes her sister’s hand and listens to her sister’s stories of the Spring Court, drying the occasional tear, until neither of them can talk for yawning. Before Feyre goes to her own bedroom with Nyx, Elain pulls her into a close embrace, taking in her sister’s scent of lilac and pear, until she’s sure that nothing could pull these memories out of her mind.

Alone in her darkened room, though she’s exhausted and worn, Elain does not sleep. This is a common side effect of her visions, she would say if anybody asked her. The futures she sees always haunt her to a certain extent, their texture real and yet unhinged, the world mostly nightmarish.

Elain has never seen herself in her visions, though. Not before this last one. Because she had lied to the Court of Dreams. She herself has been the Archeron sister sitting next to Tamlin in that ruined court. And she, not that High Lord, had been wearing the Crown.

Even more than that vision of herself, the haughty set of her chin and a glint in her eye that matched this newfound roiling inside her, the expression on Tamlin’s face drove away all possibility of sleep. His eyes were not alive, the green gone cold and deep, like the dying moss on an overturned stone, but the features of his face were calm, and, even unpracticed as she is in the analysis of her own visions, Elain could swear that she’d seen the hint of a smile on his lips, that in spite of the compulsion of the Crown, the joy was real.

She hates that she would be so desperate, even in the small room of her own mind, that she would look so closely at a prisoner’s face to find this kind of affection. Already, in the two days that passed while she tried to figure out how best to resolve this situation, she’s wondered if she could simply claw out the part of her brain that generates these nightmares. She would scoop out the part of herself that is evil, too, if only she could identify these horrible parts. 

Elain isn’t sure if it’s the Night Court that is making her a monster, or if it was a gift from the Cauldron. Perhaps the Spring Court will change her, or maybe it was losing, twice already, the possibility of love. 

All she knows is that she needs to leave before her sisters witness the transformation. She will die before she sees her monstrous self reflected in their eyes.

[icariahq]

     It was such a perfect night, the music was pumping, drinks were flowing, everyone was having a grand old time laughing and dancing. Romance swirled around and happiness seemed to finally rule over Icaria -- even if it was just for one night. We should have known better. We should have known that happiness and peace cannot last when your parents are gods who have forsaken the land and the people they once ruled over.

    People carried on through the night but something was brewing, had been brewing for five years and it would come to a head in the midst of all this happiness. Some felt the darkness creeping in but they kept smiles on their faces, some knew what was brewing but pretended that this was just another party… another event to distract themselves from the loss of their friends. Hell, some were walking around recording the whole thing in hopes that they could break the case; find the missing and bring them home. Of course, no one, not even those involved in the kidnappings were expecting what was about to come. No one expected tonight to be the spark that lit the world on fire.

    The isle hasn’t known peace for five years and it won’t be getting any better tonight despite what some may have hoped. As the night roars on and the party grows older the lights slowly start to dim. Is it time for the announcement of winners? That’s the murmur spreading through the crowd as Ivy takes the stage. She smiles, waves; everyone is clapping and in her hand are envelopes. A small speech of thanks, a remarkable amount of money was donated and raised to help find the missing, more clapping and then she waves the envelopes around and starts to open them one by one.

    “The Best Dressed winner is Caroline!”     “Best Nice is Lyra!”     “Oh looks like Eveleen has been naughty and won an award for it!”     “Aww -- Cutest couple is Weston and Viv! How precious!”     “And last but certainly not least -- best mask ---”      Except we’ll never know the Best Mask, for in that moment a flash of lightning blinds the party goers as a crack of thunder is heard even 100s of miles away. The Greek media off Isle would comment that the latest lightning strike was about 100 miles short of the largest mega strike, but that either way it was well over 300 miles long. Screams and murmurs of I can’t see! and It must be Zeus! Quickly swell through the party as everyone’s eyes adjust. And there -- on the stage, just mere feet from Ivy in all his glory is Zeus king of the gods. More murmurs, hands covering mouths, wide-eyed stares, and questions. So many questions -- but he holds up a hand, the room goes quiet as a stern look spreads over his face. A vengeful god.

    “Best mask goes to none other than Weston Bennett.” He claps. The only one to do so. 

    There are murmurs as Weston steps up. Behind him, his siblings are held back by friends. Whatever is happening... it seems all know better than to step in the middle of this. All who saw would comment later on Weston’s smirk; the smirk of a man who knew what was coming and was unafraid even of the king of gods. 

    “To what do we owe this honor, King Zeus?” Oh the tone, the snide comment, the smirk. Defiance in every syllable. There was no honor here. Not from a child of Nyx. 

    “You won best mask my boy. I figured you deserve a reward. You tricked everyone here, save for your siblings, that you were an honorable, kind man who only wanted the best for them” A beat. “Yet you stole their lovers, their friends, their siblings -- and my child.” 

    Gasps, whispers, turning heads as murmurs grew louder. Zeus seemed to revel in the chaos that his words brought but he held up his hand once more and they all fell silent. Weston could be heard laughing.

    “I didn’t know you had just one child!” Static filled the air making hair stand on end, and made every breath or movement pinch the skin. Zeus’ face grew more red. Behind Weston, Deacon stepped forward but a hand rested on his shoulder. And there stood Nyx, she appeared as silently as the darkness rose each night and shook her head, tears in her eyes. There would be no stopping this. The bolt of lightning that shot from Zeus was there and gone in a blink. But its aim was true. 

    A cry ripped through the air as Vivenne rushed to where Weston laid. Dead but with that defiant smirk still plastered on his lips. She cradled his head and sobbed into his chest. 

    Nyx stepped forward, the static in the air instantly soothing to nothing. Looking at her felt like looking into a black hole. Darkness swirled at her feet and her fingertips. Her hair itself looked like the night sky, where twinkles of stars danced along with all the answers one could ever want. It seemed that a confrontation was about to happen and that -- well, that drew a crowd. Especially when it was Zeus vs the one person in this universe he actually feared. Gasps echoed around the room as one by one every god, goddess and muse seemed to appear. Nyx stopped at her son’s body, brushing a strand of hair from Viv’s face as she looked up. “Take care of his body for me.”  she said before she took to the stage in the blink of an eye. She stepped out of the darkness of Zeus’ own shadow. 

    “You killed my son.” It was a quiet cold accusation.

    “You have more,”  He said, tossing his hand towards Deacon, Remi and Ezra who now stood protectively over their brother’s body. “And your son kidnapped my son.”

    “While that may be true, your children” she emphasized the word, “are totally safe and quite comfortable. Anything they could ever want is at their fingertips so long as they think it.”

    “So you know where they are!” Came a voice from the crowd.

    “I orchestrated it.” Nyx said. It was followed by cries of outrage, of relief and gasps. “You’re asking yourself why would Nyx do such a thing?” She turned to face the crowd. “And I turn that question towards Zeus. Why would I do this Zeus?” 

    The king of the gods stared at her, he did not move, he did not even open his mouth in an attempt to speak.

    “What have I been asking for for over half a millennia now Zeus?” She turned to him, “An audience, a moment of your time for you to listen to my ideas.” She said slowly, moving to circle the god. “Yet you refused over and over and over again. You pushed off my request for meetings, you shoved me aside, you let your head get too big and you let us” her back was to the crowd and she threw her hands out to her sides “fade into non belief, into mythology.”

    There were murmurs of agreement, of dissent among the gods. 

    “We are not worshiped, we are not feared. We are a shell of what we once were both in the minds of the humans and in power. We are thought to be myth, legends, stories to amuse human children. We have lost our foothold in the world, Zeus. You have not even allowed the gods to do their work as they saw fit. You allowed us to become memories.” She was still slowly circling him as she spoke. “All you’ve ever cared about is yourself; about going to earth and laying with as many women as you desired despite -- having a wife.” she tossed in glancing at Hera who stood next to her daughter Nelly. “Despite having children” her attention shifted to Noelle and Noel. “Grandchildren and nieces and nephews who looked to you for guidance and leadership. You have failed as a ruler Zeus.”

    She then stopped moving and turned to fully face the crowd. 

    “Your children, your friends, and lovers are safe, they have been well cared for in the meadows and I am more than happy to let them return to you” Nyx said, “I apologize for what has happened, but there was no other way to prove to you,” She glanced first to each god then allowed her eyes to sweep over the crowd. “That Zeus cared so little about anything other than himself that he would allow demi-god children to be taken. That despite all your desperate pleas and prayers he would not answer them, he would not care.” She sighed, shaking her head. 

    “He had the power to bring them back at any moment. He clearly knew who was doing this since he targeted my son mere days after his own was taken. I’m assuming he would have even done it earlier if this party had been the same day. But he just likes to be overdramatic.” There were a couple of snickers there from other gods while Zeus averted his gaze, “Zeus only focuses on himself and the one child he favored. Damn be the rest.” She frowned, glancing over her shoulder at him.

    “You allowed this to happen under your watch, Zeus. What if I had been Erebus or an escaped Titan? Have you even checked on them?” She asked with raised eyebrows. She saw his face pale at the idea that the titans were out of their prison. “The children would most likely be dead, not in a lavish space that gives them their every desire.” 

    Nyx stepped off of the stage and moved into the crowd, it parted as she walked but she smiled. “Your children are safe. Your friends and lovers are safe.” She repeated locking eyes with each person she came across. “They’re watching this right now.” She said there was a moment of joy in her voice, knowing that they were all safe and watching.  “I’m sorry to all of you for doing this but -- Zeus has offered no other choice in gaining his attention and proving to you all that he does not deserve the power and status he has.” She was slowly making her way back to the stage. 

    “I do not expect forgiveness, I do not even expect you all to understand what has transpired tonight other than the fact that Weston Benett is dead” Her voice cracks “and your friends are returned to you. But, I do ask that over the next few weeks as you hug your loved ones and catch up, that you think about what I’ve said, about what I’ve shown you. I ask that if you have questions to pray to me and I will come to answer them the best I can. I ask for your minds to be open to changing the status quo of the Greek Pantheon. That we turn it on its head and regain our foothold in the world. I want us to work together to form a new pantheon where we come together as gods, as demi-gods… and we change the world for the better. For us, for the humans and for the creatures that have been in hiding for so many centuries.” 

    “Zeus will not change it. He will not listen. But we can. We are many and we are powerful too. He is not the only one who can influence the world.” She said taking a step into the shadows and appearing back on stage. “Your friends --” she smiled now “They’re back where they were when they were picked up.” All over the town portals of pure darkness opened up setting each demi-god back where they were the moment they were taken. “Again, I’m sorry but I do hope you will all understand and forgive me and my children for what we had to do.” She then turned to Zeus with a small smile on her face.

     “Shall we all convene? Or are you going to blow off my request for a meeting once again?” He slowly nodded his head and every god, goddess and muse disappeared in an instant leaving the masquerade party to deal with the fallout.  ____________________________________________________________________________ Whether your character was there or not when the truth came out and when Weston died they would still know it happened. Word travels fast on an isle so small. You now know why this all has been going on and what it means. But what will you do? How do you feel? Do you side with Zeus or Nyx? Are you angry with Nyx’s children? We figured we’d end this event with a bang... or well really, a death and introduce choice to you all. Feel free to continue with your masquerade posts or even allow for your character to react of the gruesome event that unfolded at the end of the ball. 

[ofillyria]

I have been toying around with A LOT of WIP ideas recently and I’m not really sure where I want to focus my energy or which ones I want to add to my WIP list or make intros for. So I figured I’d make a masterlist of all of my ideas that I have a rough plot and character list for so y’all can peruse! If there’s one that jumps our at you, a few you like, or any that you have questions on please please flood my inbox! There’s no better way to get me jazzed about a WIP than to send me asks! I’m putting them under the cut since there’s so many!

NIGHT TWELVE: Vi crashes into enemy territory and is taken in by the army. She's given an assignment: win the heart of the wealthiest woman on the planet to procure war funding. But she's already fallen in love with her superior officer.

DAVID’S PEAK: In the small, Oregon town of David’s Peak people are being mysteriously abducted, and blame is placed on possessed park ranger Diane Atwood. She has a choice: prove herself innocent by finding the real culprit, or say goodbye to the friendly voice in her head.

YOUNG DEMONS: After failing her first spell Cecily Young swore off magic. Her power is building, brewing. The repressed magic is manifesting as a hurricane set to destroy Louisiana in a month's time. She must find a way to expel the magic in time, without tearing herself apart in the process.

THE GODLING TRILOGY: Lea is the firstborn child of Morpheus, making her the most powerful godling in a millennium. Which means she’s the perfect scapegoat for Zeus to send to do his dirty work. Including murdering the ancient being known as Nyx, who’s determined to plunge the modern world into eternal night.

BERSERKERS: Gal pals turned fearsome warriors. When the clique dons their fur coats they gain the strength of the animals they wear. It’s time for revenge on selfish exs, bigoted teachers, and abusive parents,. That is, if the consequences don’t catch up to them first.

THE BLITZKRIEG BREAKER: When Teddy’s clock repair shop becomes both the epicenter of a magical war and the London blitz, he is tasked with keeping a strange device out of the wrong hands. In a world filled with demon dogs, falling bombs, and a mysterious shapeshifting witch it’s hard to know which threat to focus on.

HELL’S EMPTY: Sometimes, the dead get restless. There are a few who manage to slip through the cracks and back into the world of the living. On autopilot, the soul takes the first available body and become a zombie. Over time the body, incompatible with its new soul, will begin to decay. Desperate to live, but falling apart, these creatures seek new fresh bodies to enter, even it means killing to get them. Luckily, hell, like any good business, has a lost prevention specialist. And she’s ready to go hunting.

WASTELANDERS: In a post apocalyptic wasteland, a team of two girls band together to fight to survive. When crossing the desert from ration station to ration station they encounter a man on the side of the road, he claims that his car was stolen with his young daughter inside. The two girls venture to find the lost girl in a no holds barred rescue mission through deadly dive bars, life or death road races, and russian roulette tournaments.

TRAGEDY ANNE: Anne,  a bandit known for terrorizing the rich folks of Round Rock, caught wind of the local mine owner’s plan to blow out the dam. Even if it means washing out Round Rock in the process. Anne wants to save her hometown but no one will listen to a lying, cheating thief.

SOUL: SOLD: Six years ago Jac sold her soul to a demon so that she could say goodbye to her mother. But now her contract is up and she only has a week before she becomes a demon herself. The plan: find the family heirloom, use it to barter with the crossroads demon, and avoid damnation at all costs.

AMELIA BRIGHT PETSITTER TO THE ABSURDLY RICH: Amy loves her job: nice houses, free food, and cute puppies. But when she’s accused of stealing jewelry from a rich client everything falls apart and her reputation is destroyed. She has to prove her innocence. Hopefully, before the super hot CEO she’s dogsitting for returns from a business trip.

THE TEMPEST PROTOCOL: Mira’s mission is to study the defunct pleasure planet which orbits a black hole. But the mission is overturned when the owner of the planet returns and kidnaps Mira’s team. Mira has to rescue her crew before they are all swallowed by the looming void or murdered by the psychopathic resort owner.

THE ELECTRIC PIGHT - Winona is an archaeologist that studies the fallen society of the 21st century. When her brother returns home severely injured, she’s determined to use old world medicine to save his life even if she has to travel for days to find it. But the way to the city of old is guarded by militiamen, cannibals, and rabid dogs. Winona’s attempt to save her brother and prove her theories right might kill her first.

WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD - Bee has been demon of the month over nineteen thousand times. She’s assigned a meager corruption mission and saddled with a newbie demon. Now, she’s determined to prove to Satan that she doesn’t need a partner. She has to find a way to kill her ‘husband’ without it looking suspicious. All while corrupting the perfect 1950s suburbia around her.

HELL FIRED - When one of the groundskeepers for the underworld goes on maternity leave her coworker has to find a suitable replacement. So they set up a reality show competition and the last person standing wins the role of right hand man to Hades’ right hand man. Which is sort of an honor.  

ARTEMIS AND APOLLO - Agent’s Artemis and Apollo have been working together for nearly twelve years. He’s the impulsive rogue and she’s the one who actually gets the job done. But now that she’s getting married he’s worried the agency will realize his incompetence. Instead of fighting it, he’s determined to make their final mission together the wildest ride possible.

FUN FUN AT THE BOARDWALK - Daniel works at the Santa Cruz boardwalk and knows for a fact it’s haunted. The giant stuffed animals have started to roam at night and recently, one tried to kill him. He has to round up a team to help him fight back but first, he has to make people believe him.

VIENNA - After being exposed to radiation from the sun an astronaut returns to earth to find that she is imbued with starlight. She’s recruited into an organization of mutants and tasked with rounding up others like her. But the more she uses her powers to render outside threats inert the more she risks burning out and turning herself into a black hole.

10 PERFECT DATES - Katherine Day’s website claims she can set up the most romantic date possible just for a small fee of $200. Rory, an investigative journalist, is determined to prove this offer a scam. So they buy 10 and ask Katherine to be the one to join them on these so-called ‘perfect’ dates. Rory thought this would be a disaster worth writing about, but the only problem is Katherine herself seems like the perfect person for Rory.

SOUL SEARCHING - A witch and her disembodied wife search for a body that can house the wife’s soul. The witch becomes a spiritual guide to people in comas, entering their minds and helping them through to the other side to open a space for the wife to have a body again.

CRITICALLY MISSED. After the death of David’s father he invites all of his childhood friends back to his childhood home for a reunion game of dungeons and dragons. When they start to fight they are interrupted as they are pulled into the game. The old friends are forced to fight off giant spiders, ogres, and long buried resentment. If they die in the game do they die in real life? And is an epic takedown worth risking your brother’s neck?

These ones don’t have titles yet so I’m just gonna give some comps so you get the vibe:

WES ANDERSON x THE HALF OF IT - Mindy’s life is going exactly how she wants. She has perfected her waffle recipe, a successful b&b, and no friends. But when her mom decides to get remarried Mindy is faced with the reality that the world goes on without her even when she constructs an eden for herself. So she enlists the help of a childhood friend to teach her how to deal with change.

STRANGER THINGS x PARANORMAN - Ryann drowned, and was resuscitated minutes after being declared dead. Now the kid sees ghosts: unmoving, unblinking figures staring at a singular location.  Ryann must discover why the spirits are back and what it is they want that’s in the Courthouse.

TOMB RAIDER x UNCHARTED - The Bloodright Chalice is the last unrecovered piece of known treasure, and Kel is determined to find it. With the help of a tagalong history nerd, she must fight off mercenaries, navigate perilous terrain, and withstand the draw of a magical artifact.

KICKASS x DAREDEVIL - Kimberly Price is trying to be the hero her powers deserve, but her moral ambiguity keeps leading her off track. Upon discovering an underground crime ring, Kim discovers her big break and that the mob boss, a mutant like her, can break any bone in her body with his mind.

INCEPTION x ARRIVAL - Dr. Parson has been having dreams recently of waking up next to a woman who he doesn’t know and she claims to be his wife. His new research partner on the particle accelerator is revealed to be the very same woman he’s been dreaming of since the beginning of the project.  He knows more about her than he should and it feels like an abuse of power, but he cannot help but fall in love, or rather stay in love. But how can he be honest when it would paint him as insane and ruin both his relationship with her and his plans for the project?

[hunnybadgerv]

Writer Ask Meme 3. What is your favorite/least favorite part about writing? 10. Pick an author (or writing friend) to co-write a book with 12. Which story (or: stories) of yours do you like best? why? 17. What things (scenes/topics/character types) are you most comfortable writing? 29. Is writing more of a hobby or do you write with the intention of getting published? 36. Post a snippet 49. Favorite fictional world?

Behind the Scenes of Fic Writing: 30 Questions for Authors

3. What is your favorite/least favorite part about writing?  Getting started. Once I’m writing, I can usually find the zone. But it’s getting started that is always the hardest for me. Like this morning, I didn’t know where to even start. So, I opted to edit, since it is something I wanted to accomplish this week. And I know that in the revision process I also tend to refine my prose, i.e., write, so my editing and writing work today coincided. 

I have, however, written every day this month and I’m hoping to continue that trend. But regardless of the time of day, getting started tends to be my biggest obstacle overall. 

10. Pick an author (or writing friend) to co-write a book with. Must it only be one? Gosh. 

There are so many great writers I know, more than I could ever even try to consider for this.  

I’ve always admired @theoriginalladya for the uniqueness of her ideas and character development are second to none; I equally love and hate when she and I talk about her characters because I get super excited about them because of how amazing they are. Then I quickly become obsessed, which may or may not be the only “bad” thing. @painterofhorizons has angst super powers; even in a snippet of text she can rip your soul clean from your body. Her writing is so evocative and emotionally striking. Then there is @chyrstis, whose ability to seamlessly weave humor into her fics sparks more than envy. She manages to put characters into such believable, yet laughable situations that it only serves to endear them to readers. 

I’m not sure I could ever co-write a piece, but I would count myself lucky to write with any of the writers I regularly associate with, especially one of these three. Apologies to all the amazing writers I know who I did not mention by name, but I already didn’t follow the question in the first place by mentioning three rather than a single one. 

12. Which story (or: stories) of yours do you like best? why?  Oh gosh. This is so cruel. One story! Really? That’s all. Honestly, First Watch of the Night (Guardians in the Darkness Series) is one of my favorite. I think that might be in part because of nostalgia--it is Nyx Shepard’s WIP. I actually have it planned all the way through ME3, though I’ve currently stalled in the revision process in the ME1 timeline. I’m not sure why either. 

I find myself wondering if the reason I have not finished it is because once I know what happens, maybe I won’t have the drive to finish writing it. Maybe I can’t get past the block because I’m worried that finishing their story will vacate those muses from my mind, which I kind of don’t want. I really have grown quite attached to Nyx, Kaidan, and her crew. 

Honestly, I think that might be the struggle I end up in with all my longer fics. Short fics in collection are so much easier because the story never has to end. A long fic follows a certain line and has a definite conclusion, which I think worries me.

17. What things (scenes/topics/character types) are you most comfortable writing?  Umm, If you were to look at characters like Tayen Quick, Nyx and Feign Shepard, Furia, Remy McGinnis, Mari Ryder, Cyna Mahariel, and Laerke, you’d see a common thread connecting them. I tend enjoy writing strong female characters, especially those that are flawed or broken in some way. Honestly, Nyx and Furia, also to some extent Leah Rook, all share imposter syndrome to one degree or another--so does Mari. I always tend to have one or two characters that share a flaw. I have Mari, Laerke, and Furia who have all lost their entire families. Characters that come from big families. But I tend to write female protagonists more so than males. 

29. Is writing more of a hobby or do you write with the intention of getting published?  I published a short story in college. And I really would like to be published some day. Right now, I am mostly writing for me. I’ve got original fiction ideas, but I don’t work on them currently. I focus on my fandom work in order to practice and hone the skills and plans I have for future pieces.

I want to write something in the mix of fantasy/sci-fi. But I also have a strong sense of realism. I still hold tight to Mark Twain’s statement that the difference between real life and fiction is that fiction has to make sense. Things have to stem logically from one another in a story, and I always try to ground my writing in experience--sights, smells, sounds, textures that my readers can be familiar with--in order to add some sense of connection. I try to make my characters flawed in ways that feel accurate to them. 

A part of me screams in the back of my head that I am a writer. I can be an author, but a part of me worries that perhaps it may not happen. I keep writing. And I keep trying new things. I’ll always be a storyteller. I will keep writing and falling in love with fictional beings and places that I cannot resist exploring.

36. Post a snippet  This is from First Watch of the Night. I really love the characters and depth I managed to capture in this piece. Honestly, it’s one of the pieces of my own writing that intimidates me ... a lot. I don’t write the same way anymore. I feel like my writing lacks the same emotional depth right now. And I’m not sure why. It might have to do with how disconnected from other humans I have been in the last decade.

The scene here is Nyx Shepard and her father from Chapter 18:

The two Shepards watched one another for a long moment, before Taranis returned his attention to one of the soft cherries. The commander sighed, sipping her tea quietly while the captain waited. It was his usual tactic. He knew there was more and he could always wait her out. Nyx would talk to him in her own time, even if it had to be in carefully crafted abstractions. His daughter knew the drill. Taranis' methods were nothing new to her. He would take long pauses, allowing her to consider all the things she was not telling him. Then he would ask careful questions in case it was actually related to her current or a classified assignment--since need to know could interfere with her desire to disclose and his fatherly curiosity.

Whatever it was, Nyx held onto it much longer than usual, which told him she really did not want to bring it up. Despite this, Taranis knew she would relent because she kept glancing over at him with a look that suggested she was merely trying to find the way to bring it up. Nyx always came first for him; he redirected his career to give her the life she had, a life where there was always one parent there to hold her tight when things weren't just so. He knew it was not perfect, but he did everything he could to be there for her.

Nyx sighed as she set the tea cup on the table between them. "Fine," she breathed heavily.

It took another few moments for her to look up at him. Then she scooted a little closer, lowering her voice in discretion. Watching her carefully Taranis could not quite be sure what she was going to say, but she bit her lip and winced a little when she finally asked a question he never expected to hear.

"What did you do when you met Mom?"

Everything froze for a second or two as he stared at her. The little blush on her cheeks threw her father for a loop, but made him smile. "Well, damn."

The commander shook her head at him, trying to discourage him from thinking too hard about what she had just asked.

"Answer the question, please."

Captain Taranis Shepard rubbed his hand through the short stubble on the back of his head as he stared at his daughter in stunned silence. "I avoided her. Tried to just keep my distance. I even put in for a transfer," he admitted with a wry smile. "It got denied because I did not put in what command thought was a valid reason. Then, on leave, I talked to your Grandpa Shepard about it."

Nyx smiled and laughed. "And what did the old devil dog have to say about that?"

Her voice held a note of disbelief that her father was not surprised to hear. Taranis' father was a stickler for rules, regulations, expectations. He was strict and set high expectations. The captain could tell by the way his daughter eyed the dregs in her tea cup that she was as completely unprepared for what her father was about to say as Taranis had been when he heard it.

"He told me it was not a weakness to want someone to be part of your life."

Nyx's eyes darted to his. She was easily as shocked as he had been. Moving the tea cup, Taranis laid her hand out in his and covered it with the other.

"I told him all the things, I'm pretty sure you're telling yourself right now. All the excuses about regs, concerns, and bad experiences and stories you've heard," Taranis said quietly as he stroked the back of her hand lightly.

She leaned toward him. Her voice was tight with emotion. "And?"

Holding her hand tightly, her father smiled at her softly. "He told me that there are some things that outweigh the regs."

They were both quiet for a moment as Nyx let herself fall back in the chair. Her mind was clearly racing. Kirk Shepard had always stern, at best; he still was totally by the book in everything except when he met his wife. That was the only rule Taranis could think of his father ever even bending, let alone breaking out right. Nyx had been very close with both her grandfathers; she respected them as men and as marines. For her they were role models, people she that influenced her greatly.

"I'm going to tell you something you probably don't know. My parents met in the service, too. We Shepards seem to fall for our brethren," he said playfully. Nyx did not look relieved in the slightest. "He almost lost her on a mission. Even in love, your grandfather was still the same man. He couldn't justify risking the primary objective. The mission at all costs, you know?"

Taranis knew she understood it. Hell, he knew she lived that decree just as solidly as his father.

"She made it out alive, barely. Your grandfather, sentimental bastard, proposed to her when she woke up from surgery. Grandma Amelie was just as stoic as he was. Told him she would consider it, but only if he promised to do always put the mission first, even if she was in his command. She believed him when he said he would. Even lived up to it. Had to put her at risk once more in the field before they got married."

"And he told you this when you asked him about Mom?"

"Yep," Taranis said, nodding as he studied his daughter's reaction. "I was rather hoping I wouldn't have to tell it to you, but I guess it was too much to hope you'd break the trend of falling for servicemen."

She shrugged and looked at their hands for a long moment. "Seemed to be going well for a while," Nyx said quietly.

"Just tell me it's not the Zingel kid."

Her laugh made him smile, and brightened her eyes. "No, it's not Caz."

Taranis leaned back in his chair, fidgeting with his uniform for a moment. "So, tell me something about this fella."

The way she tilted her head at him suggested that the question might have been her maximum.

"At least tell me his name so I can start checking up and get a little peace."

"Da."

"Fine." Taranis let his hands fall on the arms of his chair. "Don't relieve your old father of the undue stress he is now placed under worrying about what kind of man his plucking his daughter's heart strings."

"Seriously?" she replied with a doubtful look.

They both knew she did not see herself as the type of woman who was plucked, but Taranis had a long and vivid memory and he could still recall the girl with the romantic sensibilities.

"What? I remember the shelves of Austen, Gaskell, and the Brontes. Then there were the sonnets your grandmother always sent you. And if I recall you were planning on marrying Captain Wentworth." He tilted his head at her slightly. "Perhaps I should have seen this coming after all."

They both laughed. Then Nyx sprang forward and hugged her father around the neck. "I've missed you, Da."

"I love you, Nyxy-girl."

Her lips were warm on his cheek. "Love you, too," she repeated before she stood. "I should probably go."

"We should do this again," her father offered, as he stood and proffered his arm. "Soon."

His daughter smiled and looked away for a moment. "Sure. As soon as I can."

Once they exited the little shop, they stopped and he touched her cheek before he bent and kissed her forehead again. He did not like her chosen phrase. Taranis knew she meant it, but he also knew the schedule she had kept for the past several years and there was little hope of relief given the most recent change.

"I'd prefer sooner," he noted.

It always killed him to say what he said next, the phrase was tradition, but always made his heart ache because he knew there was always a chance that he could lose his girl in the line of duty. He had been in her boots and hung them up for her. She had taken them up with fervor and so much more skill and determination than Taranis ever possessed.

"Good hunting, Commander," he said, a waver in his voice, as he saluted her sharply.

Nyx returned it as smartly as she would to an admiral. "Thank you Captain."

Taranis watched the girl with her mother's hair and his eyes weave through the crowds in the wards. He remembered meeting a boy once, at her basic graduation. Keith or Kyle or something that started with a K. He managed to stick around until a few months after her graduation from Exeter. Somehow the kid had stuck it out through three mission deployments before the relationship ended without so much as a whimper. The captain could not remember his name or much else about him. Even after a few years together, his daughter never hinted at the question she just asked. It elated and scared the hell out of him.

49. Favorite fictional world?  I really enjoy writing ME and in SWTOR. They are amazing worlds full of science, magic, adventure, and drama. Though I’m also drawn to fantasy for the same reasons. But I think futuristic worlds and space are some of my favorites.

[biancatransmakeup]

Bare minimum!

If you go to the drugstore and wander in the cosmetics section, you can be completely overwhelmed by the quantity of products and brands you will find. If you don’t know what you are looking for, it will be even worse.

So I decided to put together a little cheat sheet of what you should have in your makeup bag to cover all your needs. Keep in mind that I’m always trying to achieve a natural look, so I really go minimal here, but it’s a good base to build upon.

Skin preparation

Before we do anything on our face, it is important we prepare it properly. Here is what you will need:

Facial scrub: you know these facial soaps that used to have micro-beads and that got banned almost everywhere? Well now they make mother-earth friendly products! These will clear your pores from dirt and clear your face from all the dead skin. It’s important to have a clean face or else your makeup can look cakey and won’t stick as well.

Day cream: a good day cream and/or serum. Nivea does some very good stuff at decent prices. Usually a little goes a long way, so even the small pots give you a good run for the money. If you shop at Costco, they have very good products for very decent prices in their home brand too. Apply after cleaning your face.

Makeup base/primer: some daycream can double up as makeup bases. You can also use BB cream or primer to get some light coverage or color correction before you apply your makeup. There are lots of options here and you will learn what you need over time. For example, I use a yellow base to cancel some of the redness of my skin (I have rosacea) on top of an anti-redness face cream.

You can stick to a face scrub and a day cream, but the makeup base is a good extra to help your makeup stick better. I found a few amazing products that I will list in another post.

Tools, etc.

Before applying your makeup you will need tools to apply it, etc. I will break it down into a few categories:

Consumables: this is the part where you will spend a few bucks every now and then. Makeup sponges (the small disposable wedges), makeup remover pads, Q-Tips, facial tissues, etc.

Face tools: Blender sponges (the big egg shaped sponges), face brushes, etc. The blender sponges are kind of a must have, but I don’t use them that much. A good brush set should at least include: a foundation brush, a blending brush, a concealer/contour brush and a powder brush.

Eyes tools: forget about all the gadgets for now! You need 3 brushes to get started with your eyes: a blending brush, a flat shadow brush and a liner brush.

If you watch videos on youtube with 20 years old girl advertising big brands and you look up the price, be ready to cry. Brushes can cost a LOT! But I managed to find a few good deals on big brands at Winners and Marshall’s and also stumbled on some surprising brands that are really affordable. One of my best find so far is ecotools. I’m not affiliated with them in any way, but I got their « Daily Defined Eye Kit » at Winners the other day and the brushes are awesome and they sell for really cheap. I haven’t tried their face brushes, but I will definitely give them a run in the future. From what I can see on their website, their « Airbrush Complexion Kit » looks really good for the price.

Eventually we will get to the eyebrows and lashes and the tools that go with them, but that is for another day. Now it’s time to grt down to business.

Makeup

Now to the good part! Let’s keep it to the minimum because you could buy things forever. If you want to look more feminine, there is only a few things you need to do to. The main one is to erase the beard shadow. The second one is to make your skin look more feminine. I know some girls are happy with just some eyeliner and lipstick, but this is not the case for me. If, like me, you have to change that face of yours to feel good in your skin, then the following is for you.

Beard cover: this is not an official product name, because girls do not have beard. What you will be looking for is a product that will be either pink or orange and that will stain your skin. Usually you can find those shades in the color correctors. I tried many things and for my skintone, orange is what works best. You will also have the choice between liquid or cream. My personal choice there is cream because I find it sets better on my skin, and also because I find liquid ones tend to mess my foundation color after. NYX is making excellent full coverage concealers in peach and orange. But if you are in a pickle, a cheap lipstick of the appropriate color can do as well.

Loose powder: pick a pot of loose powder that roughly matches your skin tone. If you have redness problems, you can also go with a yellow powder. This powder is multi-use, but the main one is to set your makeup in place and bake the areas that are the most at risk of rubbing off, etc.

Setting spray: it’s like glue for your makeup. Not much to add there: spray it on your face to set your makeup. Some people also use it as a skin primer. It usually works both ways.

Matched concealer: a concealer that matches your skin tone. I like a liquid concealer for that application. You will put that in the T zone and in the under eye area. Some people also use a concealer as an eyeshadow base, but I personally don’t like it.

Foundation: your color matched foundation. As I always say, better go with something that has buildable coverage as it is more versatile.

Eye shadow base: makeup companies now make specialized products to prime your eye lids. I prefer those a lot as they can help the colors pop and keep your eye shadow from creasing much better than any concealer would. My absolute favorite is the MAC Painterly base, but it doesnt work well with everyone. My girlfriend, for example, cannot use it because it drags the skin of her eyelids. She needs something more liquid. There are a few good liquid and cream eyeshadow bases in the drugstores. Revlon makes a decent one that really helps with creasing.

Eye shadow palette: if you are not certain what to pick, I suggest you go with a « quad » or something similar. Quads are those small palettes that have 4 colors that go together. They are basically a look in a box. If you are not sure which colors to pick, nude shades are pretty much universal. Otherwise, stay tuned and I’ll cover eyeshadow in another post.

Contour/Highlight/Blush palette: you might not find it all in one palette. I try to avoid highlighters that have too much glitter (it’s a trend to look shiny it seems) but sometimes it does look good.

Mascara: everybody knows what that is. Maybelline’s Great Lash has been a reference in the drugstore brands for years. Cheap and effective!

Eyeliner: you need two black eyeliners. A black liquid liner pen and a black kajal liner pencil. NYX make some really good liner pens and pencils. Maybelline also has amazing liquid liners and pencils. Experiment with different products because most of the fun is in the eyes!

Lipstick: pick your color! I really love Maybelline’s matte lip ink. It’s a liquid lipstick with a built it applicator that lets you draw on your lips with precision and that turns, once set, practically indestructible.

Conclusion

This is what I put in my makeup bag. The full makeup routine take time to do and time to master. Your first attempts will be disappointing if not frustrating. Don’t worry: it’s part of the process! Before I end that post, a quick reminder: get some makeup remover. Fractionated coconut oil also works wonders!

[prettywordsyouleft]

Different Kisses with Kyungsoo

Thank you @vnrgaard​ and @nyx-goddess-of-choas​ (requested privately) for requesting Kyungsoo’s kisses! I figured since today is his birthday, it would make complete sense to fulfil this request now – not only do we get some stellar kissing with Soo today, but it means I’ve ticked off another request on my list so it’s a win/win! I feel like I went really in-depth in some points because Kyungsoo is my ultimate bias and I have no chill, but I hope you enjoy the extra content all the same! I didn’t do the conclusion like I usually do as this is already longer than usual!

(I’m sorry I couldn’t help but use this gif even though it’s missing his face >_>)

When Kyungsoo kisses you it’s as if nothing else matters in the world anymore.

First kiss:

Your first kiss with Kyungsoo was a long time coming and yet still blind-sighted you. He was a regular at the boutique movie theatre and café your family ran, appearing at least three times a month to watch old films at the last viewing time of the night. He’d always come to that last viewing, and in the beginning, it used to irk you as hardly anyone would come that late at night and you could close up if no tickets were bought. Soon, you knew his order well, smiling at him happily when you saw him. At first, he wasn’t one to talk after asking for a ticket and his snacks, his eyes darting away whenever you caught his gaze. After a couple of months though, he started asking about your day, shyly making basic conversation with you until it didn’t feel awkward any more. You would laugh with him, he would tell you about some of the things he had been up to or about his dogs. You loved animals and this was where your conversation really deepened, once you had an established common ground, you discovered more about each other as you got his snacks ready each time.

Sometimes you would sneak into the theatre with the guise of quietly cleaning up the aisles behind him, and you would find yourself more entranced by the man who appeared for the late night session and had the most beautiful round eyes that looked out at you warmly from behind thick-rimmed glasses.

“Why don’t you just sit down and watch it with me?” he said one time when you were cleaning, not looking over his shoulder at you, but all too aware of how close you were. You had sat behind him and watched on, but not at the movie. From that moment on, you started coming in to watch with him. You’d sit in the same row and then finally next to him, analysing the movies together and discussing your thoughts when it ended. You highly anticipated Kyungsoo’s appearances and the feeling that would overwhelm you every time his hand would brush against yours in the popcorn he shared with you or if his knee hit yours. You were falling for the dark-haired man, and you didn’t know what to do about it.

The feeling was mutual for Kyungsoo. Even as someone who was an avid movie enthusiast, he had blurred the lines of why he came to this theatre over time. Initially, he liked the feeling of being in the older styled theatre to watch the classics in. The atmosphere was enticing, but your smile was better. He felt juvenile whenever he approached you; wanting to tell you how beautiful you were but not wanting to scare you off either. The growth of your relationship made him more frustrated, you could discuss everything together except the obvious feelings you both held. He wanted to make you his, to tell you that he dreamt of you and how your smile was embedded in his mind. But every time he’d think of how to tell you this, to utter the words he had practised so many times aloud at home as if lines for his own acting, he’d feel as if the words got lodged in this throat and wouldn’t come out. He’d simply stare at your smiling face dumbly until you finally got up out of your chair and gestured that the session was over. Another wasted chance.

After seven months of visiting the theatre, the sessions were no longer enjoyable. It was heightened, the tension thick as each slightest movement caused friction. He couldn’t concentrate on the movie and when you moved your leg it made him groan. You asked if he was okay and he stood up immediately, preparing to leave. You got up as well and grabbed his arm, looking at him with concern. None of the words wanted to work, but his lips knew what needed to happen, finding yours and kissing you with demand. He had hoped for a soft, tender moment for the first kiss, but he was desperate to let the feelings that had been pressing against his ribcage all night long out. It surprised him when you kissed him back with just as much energy, holding onto his shirt to ground you in the moment.

When you both pulled away breathlessly, there were still no words shared, but the smiles you gave each other – mixed with sheer happiness and relief – made you both realise how much the other had wanted this for a long time.

Public kisses:

Kyungsoo is the king of fleeting subtle touches when in public. He’s not going to outwardly show any PDA towards you except holding your hand, but he’s definitely still active in expressing his affection for you. His most common move is brushing his hand against the small of your back unexpectedly as he walks by you, looking discreetly over his shoulder to see your reaction. He likes playing with how much pressure he holds your hand with as well, to let you know he’s thinking about more than just walking at your side pleasantly. These unexpected (even after all this time they still surprise you even though you anticipate it) gestures make your heart beat faster and you smile up at him warmly, Kyungsoo knowing just how much you love when he does this to you. Sometimes you try to give him little messages back and watch as his cheeks flush as he tries to keep his expression nonchalant. You know all too well that he’s dying on the inside as you do and the look he gives you makes you very aware that when at home he’s going to hold you to him for some time so you best forget about any plans you had.

Despite not really showing your relationship off with PDA, you’re not a stay-at-home couple either. You go out when you can, mostly to try new restaurants that Kyungsoo is too excited over or to watch movies at theatres other than your own – of course, you still go there too for special occasions. A lot of your dates occur at night time which seems to suit Kyungsoo, as if the darkened atmosphere brings less attention to him and allows him more chances to touch, smile and gaze at you adoringly.

And if you can’t get out properly, night drives are definitely a thing. With the tinted glass on his car, he has no worries about placing his hand on your thigh or encasing your hand in his, lots of light conversation and sweet gazes or gestures occupying the space as you travel around mindlessly. You have to admit, you love nothing more than watching him drive and snuggling up into the passenger chair with some part of you touching him, sometimes allowing things to grow to an insatiable level, with a strong desire to get back home and make sure your love is heard all around the bedroom.

Private kisses:

Being together at home is one of Kyungsoo’s favourite things. He loves all the time he gets to spend with you, but there’s nothing more that speaks to him than doing the most mundane domestic things together. For him, it shows promise for your future together as a married couple, and he takes great pride in establishing good routines now as you are dating. He is methodical and diligent, and your home shows this whenever he is not away. You admit that you’re not nearly as onto things cleaning wise as he is, but he’s definitely improved your attempts with how easily he can get you enthused to help him with tasks around the house. The kitchen is his baby though, and cooking together is the highlight of most days. Sometimes he allows you to assist him, teaching you recipes so you can make them when he’s away, and others you merely assist by watching him in his element and handing him the seasoning or something. Either way, the kitchen makes Kyungsoo’s pride shine and it’s so attractive that you cannot help but move to give him a  back hug and kiss him when he turns around, telling him how attractive Chef Soo really is. It makes him beam shyly but he continues with more vigour, satisfied he makes meals that touch you with his efforts and for their impeccable taste.

He is a hopeless romantic and a bit of a love-fool when it comes to you. Whilst out in public he barely touches you, at home cuddles are a big thing. He loves holding you to him, even going as far as making you sit between his legs as you both read your own books/scriptures to feel connected to you at all times. Kisses to the top of your head are mindlessly placed upon you, and you angle your head to peck his neck in response, sometimes stopping for a deeper kiss and then smiling at each other. He’s not super clingy though and can allow you to do your own thing without disrupting you, knowing how important it is to have your own individual time too. All the same, if you’re in the same space, his eyes often trail off his own task and over to you, random compliments being delivered to you when you least expect it. He is gentlemanly, and takes really good care of you, ensuring all your needs are met and cares a great deal for your health too. He still courts you to this day, pressing the doorbell some nights instead of coming inside and thrusts your favourite flowers at you with a knowing smile on his face. Even after all this time, you can excite each other well, the romance between you only growing in its flames, not dying off.

Making out:

Kyungsoo worships you physically and making out sessions are passionate and sensual. They aren’t planned, there’s no obvious one size fits all trigger like with some idols I’ve written for, it could be as simple as seeing you in his favourite colour on you, or watching you do something mindlessly that makes his heart beat faster and he has to grab you. Likewise, you have your own weaknesses for Kyungsoo and will be unable to resist kissing him yourself in those moments too. Admittedly, you do spend a lot of time on the sofa, so it seems like this is the most obvious location for make-out sessions. All the same, when a making out session is initiated there is a need to establish it, your lips entangling as quickly as your hands are fumbling for more of each other. Touching heightens the experience and Kyungsoo loves nothing more than playing with the tempo. clearly he doesn’t mind messing up his own tempo omg I am so lame. Slow and sensual means he can drag out each kiss he places upon your body as his hands run over you slowly, excruciatingly so. Then when he has you begging for more, he’ll oblige in picking it back up, crashing his mouth against yours whilst your bodies grind, press and grip at each other in response. There is no way things are cooling down any time soon, and even if there isn’t a lot of time between whatever is scheduled next, he’ll make sure the ultimate high is reached. Granted, most of the time there’s nothing on and Kyungsoo can take charge of that tempo all day and night long if he wants to.

I have a subheader for you all too:

Stressed kisses: When stressed, the need for physical connection to ground him sometimes outweighs the usual sensual desire that comes with making out. Movements are harder, rougher, Kyungsoo’s hands feel as if they’re gripping right inside of you. It’s never cruel, and whilst a lot of people enjoy writing Kyungsoo as a dom, this is as far as I see it going. His need for you is evident with the demand of his lips on yours, bruising you and biting at your bottom lip to hear you moan. Travelling your body and leaving several love bites on you and feeling your own desperation for more will turn his mood softer, now anchored in the realm of pleasure and not so much on why he had needed you in the first place. His fast-paced and hard actions decrease and you know you’ve helped him overcome some of his frustrations, now needing to deal with the ones you share from the sexual tension.

Morning kisses:

Since Kyungsoo’s favourite way to fall asleep is with you spooned against him and an arm draped over your waist, it makes sense you generally wake up in this position too, squinting when you feel the sun filtering through the gap in the curtains. He often stirs around the same time as you do, planting a kiss on the top of your head and tightening his grip around your waist. You love the mornings with Kyungsoo, his voice is huskier and lower than usual which you still can’t get used to, a giddy smile crossing your lips as he greets you quietly. There is no immediate move from either of you to face one another, content in the way you can reach his shoulder and upper arm if you angle your head to kiss him, and his own lips find their way to the nape of your neck, kissing the soft skin near your ear. Sometimes he’ll playfully chuckle or talk when he’s this close, knowing that you’ll shudder in delight at the heaviness of his voice there as you sleepily chat with each other. Eventually, you’ll turn around in his arms and be greeted with those heart-shaped lips spreading into a lazy grin before he reaches forward to kiss you tenderly, playing with your hair until the alarm goes off. And as much as you want to remain entangled in each other for the rest of the morning, you’re both pretty good at getting up and organising each other for the day, lots of gentle caresses and endless smiles shared over breakfast.

I will say that since there is a sensual way to how your mornings start, especially since Kyungsoo is always enamoured with how beautiful you are first thing when you wake up, there is a definite chance of forgoing the morning pillow-talk for morning sex. He can’t help himself, he’s so in love with you and having you in his arms is already so intimate for him. You both love starting the morning out with your bodies connected in intricate pleasure.

Making up:

Due to the mutual belief that communication makes a relationship stronger, you don’t fight often. This doesn’t make you entirely immune to arguments, but you definitely don’t have as many as some couples I’ve written for due to the prompt approach of dealing with things. Kyungsoo’s biggest “fault” would be that he’s a workaholic and takes on a lot of side projects that keep him away from home most of the time. Much like in Hanbin’s kisses – another workaholic – this does sometimes cause insecurities in the relationship. There is no doubt that you both love each other but the lack of time you have sometimes for your relationship strains it and this is where the majority of your fights stem from. You want more of his time and to not feel second place to his job. Of course, he understands you but it frustrates him all the same as he does the best he can by you. You knew when you started dating what you were getting into, and being the honest type, he is as transparent as he can be with his schedule so you know what’s going on in his world all the time. But that’s the problem, you know about him but you feel like he doesn’t know what’s happening in yours enough. He’s not there when you got a promotion in your new job to celebrate it with you, or when you’ve had a hard day and you could really appreciate more than a five-minute phone call with him to calm you. You try to understand it because he’s been like this from the start and is really attentive to you, but some days your insecurities get the best of you.

Fighting with Kyungsoo is logical even with his temper attached; he knows how to throw it all back at you with little room to argue it rationally. You get defensive and say petty things back until you’re both too overwhelmed to continue and silence fills the room. You’ll generally escape to cry and he’ll sit and brood over it for some time, wondering where he went wrong. How he can make you feel as important to him as he thought you already knew. Being the perfectionist he is, Kyungsoo will see it as he’s failed you despite it just being the situation’s stressors. Eventually, he’ll come and find you in the darkened bedroom or bathroom, silently pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly as you whisper how sorry you are for being insecure. He’ll tell you not to do that right then and wait until you’re both calm to approach new tactics to help your relationship, but until then, you’re both entangled in each other. Kisses are sporadic but deeper than most, your still heightened emotions being the reason for the needy tone in the way you’re kissing one another in apology.

Practice kisses:

I love writing this for idols that act because it’s always a fun section. A great way to involve you in his projects is by practising lines with you from his drama or movie work, helping Kyungsoo perfect his delivery with someone he feels at ease with. Since you have a similar appreciation for the visual arts, you also like going through his lines with him. Kyungsoo puts his all into it even when it’s just you two and it’s like you’re getting a premiere of what you’ll see displayed on a screen in the near future. You don’t just love all the romantic parts, but the drama and the way he can naturally make you shed tears as if you were the main character yourself that you’re speaking for.

Kyungsoo finds it adorable how invested you get in the storyline too, and it’s him who breaks character first, grinning at you as you wipe your tears aside or get really frustrated by what is happening in the scene. “God, you’re so cute,” he mutters and you whine that he’s interrupted your best work yet, his smile growing as he takes you in his arms. He apologises with his lips, kissing you softly and stealing your breath much like he does your heart whenever he acts with you. You have to admit, you aren’t as upset from him breaking from the script and sometimes it encourages you to forgo the fictional world you’ve been steadily involved in for some time, focusing on your own with Kyungsoo instead.

Demanding kisses:

Since a lot of your time together is still movie/drama related, it’s not uncommon for you to watch a lot of things together at night. The difference from when you binge on k-dramas by yourself and when you watch with Kyungsoo is how he critics the acting. It’s a never-ending learning session for him on how he can improve as an actor, and like how we mentioned it in his making up section, this workaholic uses all the tools he can to analyse his own performance. But you just want to enjoy the time together, to snuggle up and not see the mental notes he’s taking from the serious expression on his face. He gets so wrapped up in watching that he sometimes isn’t as aware of you at his side as he should be. Irritated, you let out a heavy sigh before demanding his attention, curling up further into his side and reaching to place your lips on his neck. You’ll hardly receive a reaction out of him sometimes, but with your hand now over his waist and kisses being pressed up to his jawline, his attention shifts to you. The hard gaze he gives you makes you send him a challenging one back and he smirks, grabbing your face and holding you there as he kisses you passionately. Somehow you’ve ended up in his lap and this has a high probability of heading towards a make-out session – not that either of you really mind. But he’ll pull back and give you a look which makes you sheepishly shrug at him before he takes your mouth hostage again, the analysing all forgotten about, unless it’s over how well you’re kissing now. Way to make him stop, and reap the rewards too!

Jealous kisses:

Kyungsoo is naturally protective of you, and it can sometimes come across as a little possessive. He’s not going to control you or prevent you from living your own life, but you are his significant other in his eyes and if someone so much and tries to make a move on you or is overly friendly in front of him, they’re going to feel the intensity of his death glare even from across the room. Depending on the situation, he’ll act accordingly to social protocol but once he’s got you away from the situation he’ll kiss you hard, to settle his heightened emotions down. Half the time you’re not sure why he gets so jealous when he knows just how much you love him, but secretly you kind of like when he kisses you like this, as if he’s claiming your lips and soul as his. Like they aren’t already.

Small note – you get along really well with his EXO members but if one of them gets too much and makes him jealous of the attention you’re giving them, he’ll smack them down, no questions asked.

Scolding/nagging kisses:

Kyungsoo is a bit of a nagger. He likes things done a specific way and you’re not always going to match that. If you’re clumsy or get sick after his strict instructions to always wear a scarf when it’s cold out, he’s naturally going to scold you for it. He’s not overly rude about it but he can irritate you and make you feel like you can’t do anything for yourself when you have bouts of clumsiness and he’s treating your wounds whilst telling you off for not thinking it through. You pout heavily and mutter that we can’t all be perfect like him, which annoys him and you know it. Kyungsoo is self-critical and sees himself as far from perfect, so using that word rubs him the wrong way, especially when the person he loves the most in this world is hurt and he’s worried for you.

But most of the time, you can handle his scolding ways with a kiss, as if you’re healing his worries about you. Whilst he’s tending to your sprained ankle and telling you off for the umpteenth time for not looking where you walk or something of the like, you reach over for his face, stopping the nagging midway and kiss him firmly. He’s rather surprised and his lips only half pucker up into the kiss, blinking at you in confusion when you pull away. “I know you mean well, Soo, but can you just let me bask in your affections and not be scolded for being clumsy yet again?” He’ll sheepishly bite back any remaining words he has, nodding at you as a small smile played on his lips. You are too charming at times for him.

Exhausted or reassuring kisses:

Naturally, Kyungsoo exudes manliness and mannerisms that are suited to leading you within the relationship. And whilst you’re capable of being bold and a go-getter yourself, you don’t actually mind Kyungsoo’s protective approach to your relationship. But it isn’t unbalanced at all. Whilst he’s not always going to have long conversations about his feelings with you, and chooses to show his love as opposed to uttering it to you all the time, he doesn’t hesitate to know when he needs to rely on you. He has no shame in openly showing his weaknesses to you and letting you take control too. It’s rather exuberant to be the person who can hold Do Kyungsoo up when he is exhausted or needing reassurance.

You can tell when he needs you as soon as he’s walked through the door, the way his movements are different from usual. There’s no ease to even the smallest task and you’re already waiting for him when he finally comes up into the apartment, diving into your waiting arms and holding you tightly to him. There’s an added weight as he leans against you for support and your hands gently rub over his back to comfort him. He doesn’t always explain why he’s tired; most of it’s self-explanatory from his work. He definitely doesn’t need you to point that out and you never do, instead, you lead him down to your bedroom slowly, helping him out of his excess layers and into bed. When he wakes up next, he’s so thankful for the care you showed him, staring at you sleeping beside him quietly and reaches over to brush your hair away from your face so he can gaze at you further. Sometimes you stir and he’s instantly apologetic but you don’t mind, smiling gently at him as you move your hand to cup his cheek lovingly. Soft and gentle kisses are delivered in short bursts, Kyungsoo feeling so encased in your love that he’s rather speechless. You smile and tell him no words are needed, that you’re always going to be here for him and nuzzle him gently, telling him to rest up and let the worry and weariness of the day go.

Night kisses:

I just mentioned how he’s not so forthcoming with love confessions all the time, but the one place you can expect them is in bed at night time. Much like your dates being in the dark, it seems like when the lights are out he can openly discuss all the thoughts within his head with you. He has never shied away from telling you about the future he hopes to have with you, getting married and having children are often discussed during these sessions. But he doesn’t stop just there, telling you of how much he needs you and relies on you at his side. How much he’s dreamed of you and him, of times when you’re old and grey together, and as soon as what he wants to achieve with you in the next six months too. Kyungsoo is incredibly thoughtful and affected by your place in his world. All of these words seem more intricate than if they were to be mentioned during the day and you appreciate night time pillow-talk like this with Kyungsoo, mentioning your own dreams you have for your future together. It’s so intense that the words will peter out and instead be replaced with sensual touching and kisses; drinking up each other’s desires for all that you had just envisioned together and becoming completely intoxicated. This is definitely going to end in a night full of lovemaking, and bringing you one day closer to everything you both dream of.

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Other EXO members: Suho // Yixing // Chen // Chanyeol // Kyungsoo // Sehun

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