#That’s All She Wrote ;; Summer Solstice

[lanitalay]

At sea 

Rhysand x reader

a/n: Hi my loves!!!! I wrote this to break the ice after winter break. It will likely have one or two more parts. Wanted to write some Rhysand fluff after destroying his character in Before I say goodnight lol.

word count: 1k

warnings: none

Summary: reader returns home after months at sea.

Part 2

Salt coated the railings you clung to while walking down the stairs to the main deck. The summer sun had dried up the water that had crashed against the ship all night long. Now small crystals blanket every surface on board. You make it down the wonky steps, map rolled and tucked under your arm. It had been a rough passage last night, the shaking had kept most of the crew on board hugging buckets, unable to control the bile. It was the most dangerous part of the voyage, the captain had to watch out for jagged rocks that were mostly covered by water or mist, towering waves and fog overhead that prevented the guiding stars to be visible. 

It would be a matter of days now. If you squinted you could swear the shoreline of Velaris was on the horizon. This time it had been an entire season. The trek had started the day after the last of the snow melted and you would be back just shy of the summer solstice. You had never been gone this long from your home. The salt air was starting to stink, you yearned for green fields and pine scented breezes. 

You had collected more samples than ever before. The botany in the foreign lands you visited was truly magnificent and different to what you were accustomed to in the Night Court. In your private quarter you had managed to fit around one thousand dried samples of leaves, roots, flowers and a few insects along with some living plants, placed carefully near the port hole and a plethora of seeds. Your favorite treasure was an exceptional plant that you had meticulously looked after because the bright violet color of the flowers reminded you of a pair of matching eyes back home. Rhysand. You tried not to think of him. You really really did. But in the flowers you saw his eyes. In the stars you saw his smile. In dark waters you saw his fury. In the sea shanties you heard his drunken laugh. A sigh escapes your frowning mouth. 

He might have married or mated by the time you return. Not that anything romantic existed outside of your wildest dreams. But he was your friend. You had known him since the head researcher of the priestesses had sent for a field researcher, since she did not feel ready to be outside of the sacred library walls. You had been recruited because your father was a renowned explorer and you had grown up by his side. Every shore in Prythian and the Continent was familiar to your family. Every shore unknown called your name. 

Rhysand was the one who brought you to the library the first time. He had wanted to be present and even gave you a tour himself of the massive sanctuary. Since then, each time you return he flies you to the library and you tell him an abridged version of what you saw on your travels. Sometimes you think that he holds you a little tighter than the last time he saw you and you stop yourself before even thinking that there is a glint in his eyes that indicates something more than polite interest. 

The days pass slowly. Eventually, the familiar cliff sides and hilly landscape come into view. Relief floods your chest. You would be staying a while this time. Cataloging all of the new materials would take at least until the end of summer. Flapping sounds from above and you look up expecting to see the mast ripped but instead a gliding shadow figure high above. An inevitable smile forms on your face. 

It feels like docking the boat took forever. But once all the ropes are tied and the masts lowered, the bridge gets lowered and you all but leap to the wooden platform and to the young High Lord that’s waiting for you. Sprinting you pounce on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and relishing the feeling of being on solid ground. “Welcome home, explorer” his smooth voice soothes your racing heart. Seconds pass before you let go and look at him. He’s beaming, his hair has gotten longer since you’d gone,  his face is clean shaven and he smells of home. You open your mouth to speak but his smile- his smile is making it impossible for you to concentrate on anything other than his mouth. So you stall. Your hands ruffle his hair in the way you knew would annoy him and he laughs. 

“I’m so glad to be back” you finally say. 

Flying to the House of Wind was routine at this point in your career. You would land and immediately go debrief with your head researcher. But today Rhys had asked you if you were hungry. The grumble in your stomach told him you were. So now you were eating a lovely lunch prepared by the house. It felt decadent to eat anything other than fish and potatoes. You moan as you bite and the High Lord in front of you chuckles. 

“What else did you find?” 

“Besides the plants there were incredible creatures there. Some had fur and some had scales. I drew them in my books” you point towards the bag you had brought with you most precious items. He reaches for it and begins to flip through the pages of your findings. 

“This is fascinating” he breathes. 

“What about you? Is there anything new in the Court?” You notice his jaw clench for a fraction of a second.  “Is something wrong?” 

He shakes his head and closes the book “there are whispers of war”. Your blood drains from your face. “What do you mean?” 

His face is now the face of a High Lord, relaying important information to a court member “Hybern has been making some advances, Prythian is too fragmented to stand a chance”. The war that had put the wall between the human realm and the seven courts had ended not one hundred years ago. Villages were still recovering. The Courts were still shifting in new power dynamics. 

“What can I do?” You were no warrior. The amount of times you’d trained with the Inner Circle you could count on one hand and it had always been to appease Cassian. Rhys looks away “nothing, we are trying our best to unify and organize our armies”. Something akin to a thorn nestles itself in your heart “and how are you going to do that?” 

He swallows and looks straight through your eyes “I’m marrying the Princess of Autumn”. 

[adarkrainbow]

So a long, llloooonnnggg time ago, back when this blog was a slightly more chaotic mess than it is now, I talked about the huge wave of "mythical" interpretations of fairytales in the 19th century. It was THE big thing back then to read fairytales as being translations or evolution of ancestral myth, or legends tied to the weather or the cycle of the year, or even as tales of cosmic events becoming tales of regular characters. I talked before of Anatole France - he had a LOT of fun mocking this in his texts about the symbols and analysis of fairytales, and when reading his texts there is a certain work that pops up: a book claiming that... Napoleon was never real, and is an astral myth.

This book was written as a satire by Jean-Baptiste Pérès, a fervent defender of the Catholic faith, in 1835. Pérès was very, VERY offended by how the boom of comparative mythology, analysis of legends and attempts at explaining the folklore ended up to people talking of Jesus-Christ as "merely" a myth or even presenting the Christ as being simply an alternate manifestation of a universal myth. For example there was this one text, by Charles Dupuis published in 1794, called "L'origine de tous les cultes, ou religion universelle" (The origin of all worships, or the universal religion). In it, Dupuis literaly wrote that when you looked at it enough, Christianity was simply "the religion of Nature and the Sun", describing the Gospels as mere legends whose hero (Jesus-Christ) was basically the same character as Bacchus, Osiris, Hercules or Adonis. It is the tale of a god born from a virgin woman on the winter solstice, who dies, goes to the Underworld, and ressurects at Easter - the Spring Equinox ; a god escorted by his twelve apostles whose leader is strongly similar to the god Janus, a god who vanquishes the Prince of Darkness to repair the evils of nature - in the end, for Dupuis, it was all a "solar fable". Dupuis concluded that it was useless to consider if there was a real man named Christ, as it was to wonder if there was a real prince named Hercules, because for him "Christ" was just a religious name for the sun, and Christians just were followers of the Sun.

It is to answer these types of claims that Pérès wrote his famous work today, "Grand Erratum, source d'un nombre infini d'errata", (Great Erratum, source of an infinite number of errata), which was a take-down of this "solar analysis" by pointing out how, by the same logic of finding analogies with myths of other cultures or natural phenomenon, you could end up proving Napoleone was a mere myth of the Sun.

In twelve points he proved it. I won't list them all but here are some points listed. Napoleon is similar to "Apollon" (Napoléon - Apoléon, Apolluo, Apolleo) and Bonaparte is the reverse of "mala parte", "in the wrong part" - so Napoleon Bonaparte means "Apollon in the right place", aka in its ascension. Apollo was born on the Delos island south of Greece from Leto, the same way Napoleon was born on Corsica south of France from Loetitia. Napoleon had three sisters: they are obviously the three Graces. He had four brothers, with only three of them becoming king - it depicts the four seasons, with the three king brothers representing the sun-driven seasons (Summer, Spring, Autumn) and the fourth brother being the sunless season (Winter).

Napoleon had two wives. The first one, who was sterile and he rejected, represents how the Greeks saw the Moon and the Sun as a couple. The second wife gave him a son: she represents how the Egyptian couple the Sun with the Earth and their son, who was born on the 20th of March, the Spring Equinox, represents the fruits of an Earth fecundated by the Sun. Napoleone beating up, "smothering", "killing" the French Revolution, which was often compared to an hydra, is equated with Apollo slaying Python, down to the pointing out that "Revolution" is linked to "revolvo", reflecting the snake rolling upon itself. Napoleon had twelve marechals in activity and four inactive: they were the 12 constellations, and the four cardinal points. He only had successful victories when conquering Southern lands, but he was defeated when he went too much North - again, solar symbol. Napoleone ruled twelve years: it reflects the twelve hours of the day. Etc, etc, etc...

Pérès' work was done to encourage Christianity, but in the greater scope of things it was remembered and heralded as an EXCELLENT way to highlight the flaws of such an excessive "symbolic reading" or "mythical analysis": still today it is used to reflect how, if people start reading WAY too much into folktales, fairytales and legends, they can basically come up with everything and anything, and come to conclusions that are objectively wrong once you pull your head outside of what you focus upon. Aka: if you are down to find an universal solar myth everywhere, you can claim that Napoleon never existed and was just a god of the sun for modern France.

[lipslikethegardensofbabylon]

I have such a hard time choosing the best taylor swift album bc like… reputation is for the girlies who got hurt and don’t want to let anyone in and everyone sees them as a bitch but they’re really very soft and sentimental and misunderstood and then red has arguably some of the best songwriting in her entire discography like listening to it is a visceral experience and then she dropped the vault like what but then speak now was her fuck you to everyone saying you’re not good enough and she was only 19!!! and it was a fuck you wrapped up in sparkles and purple tulle and we love to see it and then there’s 1989 which was a standstill moment where she decided to 100% chop off her hair, move to the city, and fully go with her heart and you can hear it in the silence etc and then we have lover where she wrote a whole album about a love she wanted so badly to find and then it was cut short by covid only to have cruel summer as a top ranking track FOUR, i repeat FOUR years later and there’s fearless which was what arguably put her on the map and remains so iconic with banger after banger and lest we forget debut where everyone can relate to falling in love with ideas when you’re 14 and having your heart absolutely shattered and she captured it so timelessly but then we have folklore which was a total 180 from anything she’s ever done and she absolutely KILLED IT and she did it so well that she was like lol we couldn’t stop writing so here’s evermore, the sweet solstice album to close up all the ends of wondering what if and then she was like surprise bitch here’s midnights which is somehow 100% about my life like this woman is performing witchcraft and i am forever under her spell

[dottielovegood]

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Since yesterday was Summer Solstice and Midsummer is tomorrow, I thought that it would be fitting to write a little fic about human Elain during her first summer solstice/midsummer without Feyre. 

It is said that if you pick seven different flowers and put them under your pillow on midsummer, you will dream of the man you are going to marry. Who is the man visiting Elain’s dreams? 

Set during ACOTAR

Pairing: Elriel Words: 2581 Content warnings: none

Elain was standing in her garden, eyes closed and face turned toward the sky. Summer had finally reached their little village and she had almost forgotten how good the sun felt on her skin. Just like she had forgotten what it felt like not to worry about money and food. 

It had been months since she had seen her younger sister, Feyre. She had left so suddenly to go and take care of their old aunt Ripleigh who had fallen ill. In all honesty, Elain could barely even remember an aunt Ripleigh, and she could barely remember the night when Feyre left. Thinking back on it only made her head hurt and the memory was blurry - as if there was something wrong with it. It was like remembering a dream just after waking up and then forgetting it the very next second. It was there, yet it wasn’t. Elain couldn’t explain it, nor could she talk about it with Nesta. She would surely think her mad if she uttered a word about it, so she kept her mouth shut. It’s not like they didn’t have enough on their plate. 

A few weeks after Feyre’s departure, another peculiar thing happened. Somehow, their father, who had been nothing but a broken shell of the man he once was, had been able to get enough money to pay their debts, and then some. Elain didn’t think about this too much, either, because every time she did, she realized how incredulous it was. Things didn’t add up, and she was wary of things being too good, too fast. Shortly thereafter, they moved into a chateau of white marble with emerald roofs. She wrote to Feyre about their new house, about the servants they now employed, about the garden she wanted to grow, yet she received no reply. Her father’s spirit had lifted and Elain did everything in her power to seem happy even though there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something was wrong. She didn’t want to be a bother, so she put on a brave face. Sometimes, she envied Nesta. Nesta, who had turned inwards even more since Feyre left them. Nesta, who ground her teeth every time Elain talked about balls and suitors. Maybe she found Elain trite for caring about such things, but she didn’t understand that Elain had to care. She had to keep up appearances. Yes, they had gotten their old lives back in a way, but Elain knew how fragile it all was. She still remembered how it all had been taken away once, which meant that it could happen again. Elain vowed to herself that she would never let that happen. So she put on a smile and did whatever she could in order to secure a good future for herself and her family. She went to the balls, she accepted suitors into their home during the socialite season, she listened to the gossips that gathered in the town square every day just to find out who the most eligible bachelor was. And then she made up a plan on how to get him to ask for her hand. 

She pretended as if it didn’t bother her that the people who had turned their backs on their family for years now welcomed her with open arms. She pretended to actually care about the mindless conversations she was forced to endure while drinking tea with the other ladies in town. She needed everyone to like her. Her mother had once said that she would marry for beauty and love, but Elain wasn’t sure that was true anymore. Now, she thought that she might marry for security. If something were to happen to their father, she needed to be able to take care of her sisters. She was not going to let Feyre do it all by herself again. When Feyre returned, she was going to make sure that she knew that Elain wasn’t taking her for granted anymore. And with Nesta refusing to meet any suitors, Elain knew that she was their only hope. As a woman, there was only one way to secure a good future - by finding a good husband, and Elain was going to do just that. Just a few days ago, she had received a letter from the son of Lord Nolan, asking her to join him for tea in a week's time. Elain had almost started jumping with glee when she read the note. This was what she had been striving for. Graysen Nolan was one of the wealthiest bachelors in the village and he would surely make a good match. If she could charm him, she would never have to worry about going hungry again, nor would her sisters. They would be taken care of. So she accepted his offer and prayed to the gods that he would find her charming. From the way he had looked at her during the latest ball she attended, she knew that he already found her attractive. Knew that there was something that drew him to her. Now she just needed him to see beyond her exterior. Beauty was a short-lived currency, this she knew, so she needed to show him that she would be a good wife, mother and homemaker if he was going to choose her. 

It might not sound like much work, but Elain was exhausted. Always keeping up appearances and pretending as if the last few years never happened was tiresome, and she needed a rest. From her garden, she could hear music and laughter from where the townsfolk had gathered in the square. It was midsummer eve, the longest day of the year, and they were all celebrating the arrival of summer. Elain could almost imagine them all dancing around the maypole, singing silly songs and drinking a bit too much wine. The children would make flower crowns and eat too many sweets, just like every other year. It was a lovely tradition, but she couldn’t muster up the energy to attend. She had already gotten what she needed - the invite from Graysen Nolan. She could afford to not be social, if only for a day. 

Elain dug her toes into the soft grass underneath her bare feet and took a deep breath. She had given the servants the day off so they could all attend the midsummer celebrations, and so that she could enjoy some peace and quiet. Their father was away on business which meant that she and Nesta had the house to themselves - a rare occurrence these days. Although, she might have been here all on her own since Nesta was nowhere to be seen. She often kept to her room when she was home. Elain wondered why Nesta seemed even angrier now than when they were living in the cottage. They had gotten it all back - a beautiful house, more money than they needed and a good reputation. Elain couldn’t understand why Nesta seemed to hate everything they had been given. Sure, Elain didn’t understand their sudden fortune, but she was thankful nonetheless. She knew that she should talk to her sister, but every time she brought it up, Nesta just sighed and muttered something about Elain not being able to understand. Elan wanted to understand, and she hoped that Nesta would come around eventually. 

Elain let out a breath and opened her eyes, squinting from the bright sunshine. In her hand, she held a small bouquet of six flowers. She bent down to pick one last flower, a bluebell. Midsummer was said to be a magical day. There were all kinds of mystical stories and fairytales surrounding midsummer, and even though Elain hadn’t believed in those stories since she was a child, there was still one tradition that she enjoyed. It was probably silly, but it was said that if you picked seven different kinds of flowers and put them under your pillow, you would dream of the man you would someday marry. When they lived in the cottage, Elain had kept up this tradition even though Nesta laughed at her and told her that no one would want them now. They were destitute, fated to become spinsters, if they didn’t die first. Elain couldn’t let Nesta’s words into her heart. Hope was all she had back then, so she picked the flowers and prayed that she would see the man of her dreams. But every year, she awoke from a dreamless sleep. She was certain that this year wouldn’t be any different, but she was not going to lose hope. Hope is, after all, the last thing that abandons you. If you lose hope, you have nothing left to fight for. For years, she had lived on hope alone. And if this year had shown her anything, it was that dreams could come true. She thought that if she just hoped a little bit more, then maybe she would have everything she could ever dream of. 

So Elain held the flowers tight in her hand and returned to her bedroom. Maybe, just maybe, fate would be on her side this year. 

Later that night, she fell asleep with hope in her heart and seven flowers hidden under her pillow. 

Jasmine flowers grew out of dark shadows. They shone like small beacons of light in the darkness. Like stars in the night sky. Elain could hear her own heartbeat, or maybe it wasn’t hers? Something told her that she should be afraid, yet she found comfort in the darkness. Found comfort in the shadows that wound themselves around her body like ivy. She stretched out her hand to touch one of the white flowers. The soft petals tickled her fingertips before her hand was enveloped in darkness. A moment later, the world was bathed in a dim blue light. It seemed to be pulsing, following the same rhythm as her heartbeat. In the distance, she could see the shape of a man among the shadows. She couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but she knew that the light was coming from him. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she knew she should go to him. Knew that all the answers to her questions could be found there, with him. Whoever he was, wherever he had come from. He was the answer. 

She stepped closer, careful not to scare him away. Her nightgown clung to her legs and she could almost feel his eyes on her - assessing her. Silently asking her questions she didn’t know the answers to. She tried to speak, yet no words would leave her mouth. As she got closer, she could make out his dark messy hair. Could see that he was wearing black leather, an obsidian blade strapped to his thigh. He looked strong, stronger than any man she had ever seen before. Lethal, even. Dangerous. But she was not afraid. She lifted her gaze to his face and found two hazel eyes staring back at her through the darkness. 

“Who are you?” Elain managed to ask, her voice steadier than she felt. 

There was no answer. His eyes swept down over her body and Elain felt herself shiver. She could almost feel those eyes as if they were hands running down her body. She wanted his hands running down her body. Wanted so many things she shouldn’t want. She didn’t understand. Why was she here? 

She was close to him now - not close enough to touch, but close enough to finally make out all his features. Elain searched her brain for words to describe him, yet the only word that seemed fitting was ‘beautiful’. She had never seen such a beautiful man. His skin was dark, though it seemed to glow in a magical sort of way. His eyes were warm, and maybe she only imagined it, but she thought that she could see small flecks of gold there. He seemed like something out of this world. Surely, something so beautiful couldn’t be human. 

“Hello, little fawn,” he drawled, his voice smooth like velvet and shadows. He was darkness incarnate, yet the bright blue light emanating from him never seemed to dim. The shadows surrounding him seemed to be a part of him - an extension of his very being. As if he was wearing his soul outside his body. 

She didn’t understand the nickname and she was just about to ask him why he called her such a thing when she saw them. The wings. What she had thought was a cluster of shadows above him was actually two taloned wings. They had no feathers, no. The smooth surface reminded Elain of the bats that lived in her garden - creatures of the night, just like him. She stopped breathing for just a moment - from fear or shock or something else entirely, she didn’t know. She only knew that she had been right - this man was not human. She wasn’t even sure he was a man. He was something otherworldly, something dangerous, something to be afraid of. She knew that she should be afraid - yet, there was no fear to be found. She searched within herself but found nothing but curiosity and awe. He had come for her, though she didn’t understand why. 

“Who are you?” she asked again, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“You’ll find out when you need to know.”

Elain felt her heart race, her breathing quicken. She knew that she didn’t have much time, though she couldn’t remember why. Why was time running out? Why was he here? Where was here? Was she supposed to know? 

There were so many questions on the tip of her tongue, though the only words her mouth would form were, “You came for me.” 

The creature's face relaxed and he looked at her with such warmth that Elain had to suck in a breath. He looked at her as if she was something precious, something to take care of and treasure. No one had ever looked at her like that before. A small smile formed on his lips, and Elain thought that she had never seen something so beautiful in her entire life. “I will always come for you,” he said, and Elain knew that he was telling the truth. She didn’t know him, didn’t even know what he was, but she somehow knew that he could be trusted. She wanted to go to him, but her feet seemed rooted to the ground. She looked down just to see that her feet were covered in ivy, and when she looked up again, he seemed far away once more. She opened her mouth to call for him but yet again, no words came. She could feel herself panic. She didn’t want him to leave. She needed to know who he was. She needed to know his name. Needed the answer to her question, though she had forgotten what she needed to ask. 

She blinked, just once, and the world became blurry, something bright breaking through the darkness. Elain reached out a hand, hoping that he would grab it and hold onto her but she was met with nothing but smoke and shadows. She blinked again, and he was gone, replaced by something too bright, too…wrong. 

“Please,” she whispered as the last of his shadow disappeared only to be replaced by a blinding light. A heady scent of night-chilled mist and cedar lingered as she slowly returned to reality. 

[mumms-the-word]

A Room in Redcliffe

Part 2

Characters: Warden Alistair x Warden Amell (Lucy) Summary: It's 9:42 Dragon and Lucy Amell has finally returned from her quest out west to search for a cure to the Calling. In the last letter she wrote to her husband, Alistair, she asked him to meet her at Redcliffe at the start of summer. She's just arrived to get a room in Redcliffe for the two of them...and hope that he shows up. A/N: A (late-posted) gift for the AWESOME AND TALENTED @elspethdekarios! Glad you've joined me in my DA obsession and that you love Alistair as much as I do! This fic is a continuation of sorts of these Love Letters. Part 1 is here!

Promises, promises. Dangerous currency for a Grey Warden. She’d learned to live with so many little broken promises, they no longer hurt her. How could they, when it was no one person’s fault that the world kept churning out new problems to deal with, new evils to fight, new distractions to keep her and her husband busy?

Sleep finally overtook her sometime in the early hours of the morning, but it was the sleep of muted darkness and little rest. There were no dreams—no more dreams of darkspawn whispers and the song-like call of Old Gods deep below the surface, a blissful difference from the last decade—but neither were there pleasant dreams of home, of houses, of husbands. There was only a strange kind of suspension, until in a blink the night was over.

She awoke when the first stripes of hazy morning light filtered over her face through the shutters, but she kept her eyes shut. If she didn’t open her eyes, perhaps she could imagine his fingers brushing her hair from her face, his lips on her cheek, his voice in her ear, his warmth nearby. If she couldn’t have him in dreams, perhaps she could make-believe he was here now.

Good morning, my love. Ready for another Blight-free day?

Today. They would be back together again today.

The thought snapped her eyes open and set her heart racing. In the morning light, all the dread and anxiety had faded away, leaving only anticipation gripping her chest, a mixture of excitement and nervous energy that was a little like being a child again on a solstice morning. All of a sudden she was a bride again, waking up on the morning of her wedding, anxious to get things over with but eager, excited, giddy at the thought of seeing her love later in the day.

Her love. Alistair. Her husband. The love of her life.

At some point today, he would be waiting at the base of the griffon statue, the one commemorating their deeds in Ferelden. That was where they usually met up, on the rare occasions they were separated for Warden business and reunited here in Redcliffe. She’d counted the steps from the statue to the entrance of the Gull and Lantern yesterday on her way over. 97 steps. If he was there, if he was waiting for her, it would only take 97 steps to reach him again.

That decided it. She tossed the quilt aside and reached for her bag, her mind already three steps ahead as she pulled out her clean clothes and began to get dressed.

Whether he was there bright and early or not, waiting here in this room wasn’t an option.

———

By the time the sun was at its highest point in the sky, Lucy had walked every path in Redcliffe at least twice. Up the grassy hills and rocky slopes toward the old windmill, down toward the water and out along the docks, even up to the doors of the Chantry, though she didn’t go inside. She simply walked, because she knew if she sat at the base of the griffon statue, time would slow to a crawl. So she walked. And she watched.

If she kept moving, the villagers took no notice of her, and she was able to watch them as they went about their everyday lives. Fishermen hauling in their latest catch. Old men and women mending nets by the dockside. Mothers chasing down rambunctious children, or carrying them on their hips as they perused the vegetables and goods on display in the market stalls. Gangly apprentices trailing after their masters and mentors, heading into their shops or smithies or fields for the day.

Just normal people going about their normal lives. No obvious anxious expressions, no thoughts of darkspawn or demons or impending armies. Not since Redcliffe was claimed under the protection of the Inquisition. The village had finally settled into a kind of peaceful, everyday bustle.

She remembered when this place was little more than dusty roads and half-solid barricades, when the people cowered in the Chantry, their faces wan and gaunt after days of being attacked by the undead corpses of their friends, their families, the soldiers that were meant to be protecting them. Now those survivors had lived on. Some of them had married and had children.

She watched as a man paused his work mending a fence to accept a mug of water from his son, a child young enough to have no memories of the Blight at all. The man ruffled his son’s sandy hair affectionately and the child complained through smiles about his father messing up his hair.

So life spun on. As if the Fifth Blight were little more than a small boulder in a river, left behind as life and time flowed unerringly forward around it.

She used to envy people like this, so much. These people and their normal lives. These people and their idle worries.

Now…now maybe she could become like them. With the Calling no longer ringing in her skull, maybe she could have something normal now. Or something close.

She glanced at the sky, noting the position of the sun. She’d spent enough time wandering this part of Redcliffe. Time to return to the statue.

And hope that this time, he would be waiting for her.

———

He was here.

He was here.

Alistair.

His name stuck in her throat as she stood rooted to her place at the bottom of a grassy slope, the statue only twenty or so steps away, scarcely daring to believe her eyes. In the dozens of times she had experienced this moment in her dreams, in the hundreds of times she’d daydreamed their reunion, she never pictured herself frozen to the spot while her mind struggled to comprehend that this was reality, this was real, this was him.

But it was.

He stood facing the griffon statue, arms loosely crossed, his face tilted up toward the statue’s carved beak. He wore no cloak or hood nor any Warden armor, but there was no mistaking him, even in simple traveler’s clothing. Even the townspeople glanced and whispered, hovering to get a better look at him, but Lucy barely noticed them.

Move, Lucy. Move! You know it’s him, so go!

She couldn’t. What if this was a dream again? What if she—

Then he turned his head, bringing his profile into view, and all the doubts and second-guesses that had crowded her mind in those brief fifteen seconds suddenly crumbled into dust.

“Alistair,” she gasped. Suddenly she found her voice again as she rushed forward, nearly flying up the slope. “Alistair!”

He turned at her shout, his face lighting up immediately at the sight of her. “Lucy!”

“You’re here!”

He laughed and flung out his arms to catch her as she launched herself into his embrace, lifting her off the ground as she wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

This was real. He was real. There in her arms, his nose in her hair, his laughter in her ear.

All at once everything clicked into place again. That the sense of wrong that had followed her ever since she left him behind to journey out west was no longer wrapped around her like a second cloak. Even with him squeezing her so tightly he threatened to force the air from her lungs, she felt as though she could breathe again at last.

“You’re here,” she gasped, tears stinging her eyes and clogging her throat now. “Thank the Maker.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t make it back?” he asked, lowering her back to the ground but not yet letting go. He brushed his lips against her ear in a little kiss. “After all the effort you took to send me that last letter?”

She shook her head, still clinging to him. She didn’t know what she thought. It didn’t matter now.

She pulled away to cradle his face in her hands, searching for hints of what he must have gone through in the last several months away from her. But all she saw looking back at her was her husband, with unshed tears misting over his beautiful brown eyes, the dimple that deepened in his cheek as he smiled down at her, the freckles that dotted his nose, darker than normal. He must have been somewhere with plenty of sun these last few weeks. 

There would be time to ask. There would be all the time in the world to catch up.

She opened her mouth to tell him her news, that she had found it, the cure that would mean no more Calling for him, no more blighted magic in his blood, the thing that spelled out hope and futures and time for the two of them, as much as they dared to make use of. But before she could say any of it, he reached up, brushing his fingers against her cheek.

“Maker’s breath,” he breathed. “You’re even more beautiful than when I last saw you.”

Her lips quivered with barely contained sobs, a torrent of tears that she could scarcely hold back, and then his lips were on hers. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing into him, opening her mouth to his as he kissed her like a man desperate for air.

She had missed this, desperately.

In the back of her mind, she knew they were making a scene. People would talk. People were already talking. But she didn’t care. She’d gone without his lips, his hands, his heart for over a year now, and nothing was going to stop her from savoring this moment.

“I found it, Alistair,” she wept, her mouth against his. “We don’t ever have to be separated again.”

———

“Alistair,” Lucy said quietly, her head on her husband’s shoulder. “Do you remember the first time we were in this room?”

They lay together again at last, their arms around each other, watching the evening sky quickly darkening from shades of deep orange and red to twilight purple, the shutters wide open in hopes of another breeze to cool their heated skin. Outside, the branches of the tree that grew beneath their window swayed gently, the rustling of its summer green leaves almost lost beneath the murmur of conversation one floor below them.

They’d already shared so much in the hours since they’d reunited at the statue, and yet so much was still left unsaid between them. There were scars on his body she still wanted to ask about, questions she had, desires she wanted him to sate. They’d stumbled blindly into this room within an hour of reuniting and lost themselves in the act of relearning each other’s bodies, burning touches meeting new marks and scars, tracing familiar paths, fingers curling into flesh that hadn’t been touched in months. And when they’d reached their limits, sweat-slicked and gasping, hungry for more yet needing to catch their breaths, they talked, filling the silence with everything they couldn’t write in letters.

She told him of the cure she’d found. He told her of the Elder One. They briefly discussed the future of the Wardens, musings that grew heavy with uncertainty until at last they both decided to leave it for later. There would be time to figure out the next big problem. This day was meant for them.

Which was what brought her question, quietly spoken in the lull of silence that followed another worshipful hour of heady pleasure.

“Do you remember the first time we were in this room?”

He tilted his head, resting his cheek on the top of her head where it lay on his shoulder. “Mm…right after the Blight?”

“Mhm.” She settled more comfortably against his side, in the curve of his arm around her, and whispered, “I’m still thinking about that house we talked about.”

He didn’t say anything at first. She listened to him breathe and tried to picture the pattern he was tracing along her arm as he thought.

This was what she had been missing all those months apart from him. His humor, his light, yes, but also these quiet moments that she could only find with him. Soft breaths and idle touches, the beating of his heart beneath her palm, his body firm and real against hers. If she could trade away everything she owned, everything she could lay claim to, for a guarantee that she would never have to leave his side again, she would.

At last he turned his face and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “A house in Redcliffe, you mean?”

She shrugged. “A house anywhere. Just…” She trailed off and turned to lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, picturing the vision in her mind. “Just you and me and a house of our own. Somewhere quiet and pleasant. Somewhere safe. It doesn’t have to be here. It can be anywhere. Ferelden. The Free Marches.”

“Even Orlais?” he asked, a grin in his voice.

She chuckled. “Okay, maybe not Orlais. I know how you feel about the cheese there.”

He chuckled too and she turned her head to smile up at him. He met her gaze fondly, reaching over to trace the line of her jaw with the back of his fingers. Maker’s breath, she loved him.

“A house in Ferelden or the Free Marches, huh?” he asked softly. “Is that all you want?”

She nodded. “So long as it’s the two of us and a place we can finally call home, I think I could be content.”

“Home,” he repeated in a whisper, playing with her hair. Then he sat up, leaning on one hand and looking down at her. “Just the two of us?”

She bit her lip, fingers picking at the hem of the sheets that lay crumpled over their legs. “Well…maybe the three of us. You know, eventually.”

He arched an eyebrow, grinning slightly. “Just the three of us?”

“The…four of us?” she asked, a little bit of playful hope creeping into her voice.

His grin turned mischievous as he leaned in, dropping his voice with a suggestive, “Hmm, just the four of us?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, propping herself up on one elbow. “How much higher do you want me to count, my love?”

He smirked and shrugged one shoulder. “Well, that depends. Are we counting any dogs? Any stray cats? Do the horses count? I hear breeding mabari is a lucrative trade these days—if we dabble in that, would we count every new litter of puppies?”

She grabbed one of the pillows and smacked him with it. “I’m not talking about animals, Alistair. You know what I mean.”

“Whoa, hey, fine, fine, I know what you mean,” he said, laughing and trying to block her next pillow strike. He managed to wrest the pillow from her grip and tossed it behind him, onto the floor. She went back to resting on her elbow, shaking her head with amused affection.

“So, any preferences?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, reaching out and pulling some of her hair over her shoulder, playing lightly with the ends. “Is it terrible if I say I’d be okay with leaving that number up to chance? Just see what the future holds?”

Maybe it was the soothing way he played with her hair, a habit he’d had since their earliest days, but she couldn’t find any reason to find fault with his answer. “Not terrible at all,” she murmured.

“Then we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

He combed his fingers gently through her hair, looping thick locks around his first finger the way he had done that first morning they’d shared this room. Her hair had been glossy, thick, and dark back then. Now there were strands of gray mixed in, souvenirs of the last ten years as a Warden, of the last year more directly. She watched him capture a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger, watched as he fanned out the strands with his thumb, letting the light catch two stray threads of silver there amidst the dark brown. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned in and kissed the lock of hair before shifting his gaze to meet her own, his expression so painfully full of love and longing that it threatened to bring her to tears.

“Maker’s breath, but you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I am a lucky man.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Alistair, I—”

“I love you,” he said. “I know I don’t have all the answers, and I can’t predict anything that will happen to us next, but I do know that much.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered. “Whatever the future holds, I know we can get through it, now that we’re together again.”

“The future.” He smiled then, crooked, affectionate, and shook his head as if in awe. “We have one of those now, thanks to you. You’re amazing, do you know that?”

“Alistair—”

“I mean it.” He kissed her, stopping her protests, letting his lips linger and steal any words she might try to say to prove him otherwise. And when he finally pulled away, cradling her cheek, the love and tenderness in his expression was so deep that any further words died on her tongue.

“I love you,” he said again. “More than I ever thought possible. I love you no matter what happens next. I love you whatever the future holds. I love you, and that will never, ever change. I’m yours forever, my love.”

She nodded, unable to speak all the words she wanted to say out loud, not with more tears constricting her throat and threatening to spill from her eyes. She swallowed, reaching for his hand where it cradled her cheek, and gave his fingers a tight squeeze until at last she was able to say once more the words that mattered the most.

“I love you too, Alistair.”

[wizarding-fanfic-13]

This is my first fanfic, just a cute little snapshot into my faery/eladrin Tav and Gale. It’s just a comfort piece for myself, that I wrote after years of not writing for any fandom.

Gale could hear jingling from downstairs, the soft tinkle of Tav’s bells as she moved around the tower, before he heard what sounded like coughing. Gale paused in his studies, looking up from his books and parchment as he listened intently. There was the sound of bells as she moved again, and another round of coughs. He placed his quill down, pushing back from the desk. He had been there a few hours, judging by the weak afternoon sun streaming through the windows of the library.

Making his way downstairs Gale smiled as he came across the start of the winter decorations, winter plants twisting themselves up the bannister, hanging from photos and magical items hung on the walls, bells hanging from the ceiling. As he made his way into the living room he spotted his Tav, fluttering around with the sofa covered in a million different decorations.

Gale leant against the doorway, ankles crossed as he watched his tiny fae fly around, decorating not only with winter decor, but a heavy helping of fairy dust. The fire was blaring, providing heat that emanate throughout the downstairs, and she had charmed the piano to play solstice music. She paused, picking up another sprig of holly, before letting out a tinkling cough again. Frowning he walked up behind his much smaller partner, placing gentle fingers on her tiny back.

“Are you feeling alright, my love?” He asked softly, as she spun around mid flight, turning to face him. Her face was too pale, a deep red hue glowing across her cheeks, as small beads of sweat clung to his forehead.

“Just a little under the weather. Nothing to worry about.” Tav coughed again, her voice hoarse as she tried to speak. Gale sighed softly, holding out his hand. Tav sat down on it, and he took the ivy from her, rubbing her body softly with his thumb as she clutched onto him.

“While I am not unduly concerned, why don’t we pause the festivities while I make you some honey and lemon tea? You could take a potion, and we could continue the decorating together, if that sounds at all pleasing to you?” He watched as she snuggled against his hold, her normally cool body feeling like a small furnace. He used his other hand to stroke back the hair that had slipped loose from her plait, before lifting her up to place a kiss to her head as he heard her sniffle.

“Okay… Could we maybe have some raspberry jam and bread too?” She looked up at him, her eyes large and round, reminding him of a cat. He held her closer to his chest, carrying her through to the kitchen, and glancing around at all the decorations she had placed up.

“Of course we can love, I made some fresh bread this morning before I went to study. It seems you’ve been quite busy yourself. It looks beautiful, Tav.” He looked down at his tiny partner, who pressed herself against his chest and thumb, shivering slightly. As was the case for most fae, she had quite the sweet tooth. And as was the case for the winter fae, she liked to celebrate the colder half of the year quite spectacularly, before she had to suffer through another spring and summer.

He placed her down on her pillow on the counter, before gathering the ingredients together to make the tea. She laid down, curling up to watch him through tired eyes.

“Can we nap on the sofa before we decorate, please?” She rubbed tired, red eyes, and he stepped back over to her, saucepan in hand.

“We can nap once you’ve had some tea, and a potion. We can leave the yule music playing, and snuggle up until you feel like moving again, okay?” He softly stroked down Tav’s side, before placing another kiss to her forehead as she nodded assent, quickly drifting off to sleep.

[blazescompendium]

Tlalocmon a new Digimon based on Tlaloc, Aztec god of rains and water: How does it stand up?

You need very little checking to know that Tlaloc is one of the most important and popular Aztec gods. Presiding over Rain and water, Tlaloc held significance to the lives and beliefs of those who worshiped him.

Recently, the Digimon franchise introduced us to a new monster, due to feature in their newest virtual pet device release. This creature is Tlalocmon, and is based on the same Tlaloc from Aztec mythology. It is not the first time Digimon deals with Mythology, Religion and Folklore. Actually, it is rooted in this franchise's core. And i honestly think they do a way greater job into understanding cultures, depicting and adapting it to their themes, then Megami Tensei, which... Is a discussion y'all are not yet ready for!

But, let's analyze Tlalocmon, and see how it holds up to his non-digital inspiration, here on Earth. As always, sources will be in the end of the post, which is just a crop, really. I encourage you guys to dive in the sources if the topic interests you! I will keep it simple, thought, because this was not meant to be a giant post.

For a very brief introduction Tlaloc (pronounced: Tlá-lok) is a central Mexican deity of waters and storms, that was mainly worshiped by the Aztecs. Although he is much spoken of, and very popular, he was not alone in his tasks, often accompanied by the goddess Chalchiuhtlicue, his current wife. They lived in the underworld called Tlalocan, where they kept the waters of all 4 quarters of our universe. There were other beings residing in Tlalocan, called Tlaloques, that also helped on those tasks. [1] Talk about a healthy and productive work environment!

Mortal souls could go to Tlalocan, according to Aztecs beliefs, if you died from the following causes: Drowning, lightning strike, dropsy, gout, leprosy, scabies, aches and pains, etc... People with certain traits as the physically disabled and with stunted growth would also be destined to meet Tlalocan, once they became a shirt of forever missed.

The author Kay Read, which wrote several books on Aztec Mythology theorizes in her book ''Handbook of Mesoamerican mythology'' that Tlaloc's importance and influence was a result of the Nahua civilizations inhabiting a very hostile and semiarid environment. Which makes a lot of sense. It was also said Tlaloc kept the waters of the universe in giant mountains, like pots. When the time came, Tlaloc would release these waters upon the Earth. [1]

Still according to Read [1] Tlaloc image remained very consistent as years came by. The key features were his ''goggled eyes''', fangs in his mouth were its key features. Some times it was depicted in pottery with lightning. Tlaloc had a temple mayor in the Aztec Capital of Tenochtitlan, which showed his importance. Tlaloc also was related to summer solstice, wet agricultural season. [3]

Tlaloc was born, according to the Nahua/Aztec, created by Huitzilopochtli and Quetzalcoatl. His wife was also created by the duo, the after mentioned: Chalchiuhtlicue. (Although he was once married to Xochiquetzal, she was stolen by Tezcatlipoca, ending their union.) Tlaloc name could be translated as something as ''Inside the Earth'' [1]. Just before the rainy season, Nahua took part in Human sacrifices at Mount Tlaloc, t nourish Tlaloc and his peers to have the strength to break the pots of the waters in our universe. [3]

Another very important feat of the God, according to Aztec mythology is that Tlaloc consumed one of the four suns, raining down into this age. If the current fifth age would like to be continued, the Aztec should keep the god well nourished. [1] Also according to myths [1] Tlaloc helped the Mexica to defeat the Toltecs, previous people in power, bringing fresh rains to the Mexica while starving the Toltecs in droughts. So important was Tlaloc, that when the invaders from Spain arrived, Motecuhzoma II made a gift of a garb of Tlaloc to give it to Cortés. Cortés, being the stupid asshole he was, of course did not liked it. [1]

Tlaloc was also associated to jaguars [1], [3]. He would be often depicted with it, or wearing something resembling a jaguar. There is also evidence that Tlaloc was being worshiped in Central America even before the Aztecs were present. [3]

At first glance, Tlalocmon matches this profile quite well! I love the artistic freedom the designer had, by converting its eyes from the goggled ones, to the characteristic Digimon eyes, that artist Kenji Watanabe popularized by his designs. It also has the notorious fangs of the non-digital counterpart. The blue color of the skin is another trait correctly borrowed from our world's Tlaloc, while not all of his depictions were blue, most of the surviving artifacts we have are in fact colored blueish. You can see it from pottery, to illustrations and other works of art from the Mexica. [1], [3]

Where the designer really went crazy is Tlalocmon's fit. First, the entirety of the Digimon ''Armor'' seems to be made of stone, and almost (or should i say, tries a lot to) share some architectonic resemblances to Aztec style. I say ''resemblances'' because it is mostly, generic architect gibberish. Not to say they did not try to stay true to their sources, the sides of the helm seems to be two columns that, although share some greco-roman traits, are trying to emulate Mexica architecture. I searched some books, and articles about Aztec architecture, and i could not find any matches to what they were trying to portray [2], while i had seen it in more generic drawn Aztech constructions. But this does not mean Tlalocmon's armor is lame, actually you will see soon enough it shines pretty bright under the certain lights...

The entirety of its armor, and plates is depicted with moss and plants growing over, and it seems dilapidated. Maybe trying to portray the abandoned ruins of temples in Mesoamerica. Personally, i am not a big fan of it, because it suffers from a problem that usually media depicting the Mesoamerican cultures have: Their culture, lives and construction were full of color! You can see it even by the Spanish Invaders illustrations. The dilapidated aesthetic associated with those cultures are a relatively new movement. You can easily trace it back to the early 20th century, when the ruins of those civilizations were being re-discovered, already in a decadent state, after centuries of abandonment. That, however was not their real state. But i will consider that Digimon usually tries to amalgamate pop culture into its designs, so we let this pass.

The feathers in his helmet are a directly reference to illustrations of Tlaloc, even the colors are very close. These same feathers are repeated through the design, which are also accurate as far as my research goes. The horns are something the designers got a bit of freedom with, since there's almost no evidence of horns in any Tlaloc imagery i could find, except of course for this one.

The lush greens growing out of Tlalocmon can be 3 things: First, a necessary nod to its product, Tlalocmon is being marketed as a new Digimon of the ''Nature Spirits'' archetype, so its design needs to have nature inspired themes. It also can be related to the ''old ruins'' aesthetic, but i believe it fits well with Tlaloc relationship with wet agricultural seasons, and plants thriving under wet climates. Maybe a mix of all of the above? Most notable, Tlaloc was known by having a cape as a feature,[3] which can be kinda of seen by the plants growing in the back of Tlalocmon, when seen from afar they instantly looks like a cape.

Tlalocmon's main body structure is a bit childish and small in stature. Those features were associated with this deity as well, it often requiring children sacrifices [3], [4]. Also the Tlaloque from Tlalocan, and even Tlaloc itself were often depicted as small in stature! [3], [4] I personally like the childish appearance of this design, because of that.

But for me the real genius of Tlalocmon helmet and armor, can only be seen when you remove a bit of detail, and the own Digimon from the picture. Using my poor Photoshop skills, i ilustrated how Tlalocmon's helmet is in fact... The real Tlaloc's head! Or at least, is referencing it:

This is simply genius!

The blue color of Tlalocmon is also referencing the constant imagery Tlaloc had. Of course, he was not always blue, but most of the time it was depicted as such. [3]

The last bit of the design i would like to comment is the staffs Tlalocmon holds. They are clear nods to the origin of this Digital Monster, this being Tlaloc domains: Water, storms, and lightnings. There is duality here: The rain that gives life to the land, but also can destroy it with storms. This was also associated to Tlaloc. Remember he destroyed one of the last eras?

At first, i did not think much of those staffs, but diving into the sources that 'Arqueo e Espírito' sent me, it suddenly clicked to me that they are referencing Aztec digging sticks, a type of tool the Aztec used to sowed the crops! This is another genius touch to this design, because not only Tlaloc was associated with this tool [3], [4] but also with crops growth. Having it as the main weapons of this Digimon, wielding both water and lightining are an amazing touch. Of course, it was heavily stylized to match the franchise. But it still there!

Tlalocmon's dig stick seems not too usable to sow the crops, but at least is a cool magic staff...of sorts (?) There's also no instances i could find of those sticks being ornamented with feathers, but still...

And those were my thoughts on Tlalocmon's design. This Digital Monster was brought to my attention by good friend, @atmaflare. As he guessed, i really liked the design. They took some liberties with it, but Digimon aesthetic often needs this treatment, as for the reasons i already stated.

As i said before, Digimon is a franchise that makes good points on Folklore, Mythology and Religion. Many of their medias are centered around it, such as the last game released: Digimon Survive. For me it was kinda refreshing to see a take in Tlaloc that does not involve pottery of any sorts, but still tries to remain faithful to the source material. The designer clearly did their homework here!

I wait to see Tlalocmon's official profile when it releases with the product it is advertised for, the Pendulum Color Virtual pet. I can only hope he dwells in caves and mountains through the vast plains of the Digital World!

Please, note that i am not a Mesoamerica specialist. That was not my exact area of study, but i do research mythology in general as a part of my Religious Sciences degree's curriculum. So, if you notice any mistake or misinterpretation of my part, please reach me and i will absolutely correct it given the soures and context! And yeah, i plan to take some classes and courses on Mesoamerican culture soon enough, there is so much stuff to study about it!

Sources:

-1: 'Handbook of Mesoamerican mythology' - Key Read

-2: 'StudiesinAncient Mesoamerican Art andArchitecture Selected Works byKarlAndreas Taube'

-3 https://www.mexicolore.co.uk/acrobats/319_1.pdf (This amazing article was sent to me by the great ''Arqueo e Espírito'' They study mesoamerican culture and publish about it on the internet, and are to this date one of the best sites on my country about the matter! This material has other good sources, since im doing just a crop, i highly encourage you to deep dive into it.

4- Mexicolore: Studying the Digging Stick

Hey, Tlalocmon's sprite is so cute... oh and if you like Tlaloc, why not remember that time when Taylor swift fans offered him friendship bracelets, so the rain wouldnt ruin their event, lol.

[dutifullylazybread]

Thank you so much for the tag @darkurgetrash. This was so much fun!

────── ⟡ ──────

(Tav, during the events of BG3 (minus the armor)

NAME: Tav of the Dock Ward

NICKNAME: Soldier (Karlach), Love (Gale), Cub (Jaheira), Dear (Rolan)

GENDER: Cis!female (she/her)

STAR SIGN: I am trying to remember the birthday I gave Tav! I either wrote that she was born on the winter or the summer solstice. I'm also having a hard time finding D&D zodiacs. So probably a Cancer?

HEIGHT: Hmm... I always want to make my characters my height, but I don't think Tav is as short as I am. Hrm. 5 ft (she's an inch taller! :D)

ORIENTATION: Bisexual

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Illuskan Human from Faerûn

FAVOURITE FRUIT: strawberries

FAVOURITE SEASON: Autumn

FAVOURITE FLOWER: Sunflowers

FAVOURITE SCENT/S: Rosemary, lavender, cypress, cloves, old paper, river water

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Tea all the way. She definitely took advantage of Waterdeep's trade connections and tried teas from all over

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Prior to game events, if she was deep in a commission, she might get anywhere from 4-6 hours a night. During the events of BG3, she likely got about four hours a night. After the events, she starts by getting about 4 hours and gradually worked her way to 8.

DOGS OR CATS: Dogs. Scratch was her baby. And then the Owlbear Cub (who she named Widdershins) made her realize how much she loved owlbears. Though she would have adopted Myshka in a heartbeat (and, like, there might be a fluff one-shot where she does, because why not?).

DREAM TRIP: She'd love to visit the Sea of Fallen Stars (both the one aboveground and in the Underdark). There is something very appealing about it being where The Pirate Wars took place.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: How many can she reasonably fit on the bed? Add ten.

RANDOM FACT/S: She worked as a glassblower and a stained glass-artist for the artisans' guild in Baldur's Gate, and while she worked there, she wanted to expand the guild's focus out to enchanting/artificing items. She had no luck in this pursuit.

NO PRESSURE TAGS:

@drizztdohurtin, @voloslobotomyservice

[drenchedfireworks]

Wrote a little imagine based on this post for my Elucien lovelies.

Word Count: 1.3K

Elain loved flowers.

Any kind, every kind. The pretty, bright colored ones and the not so pretty, faded ones. She believed each held their own beauty- like people.

As she bent forward to inspect another species of flowers she had never laid eyes on, she heard laughter and paused in the act.

Feyre had brought the entire Inner Circle (Cassian included) to the Summer Court for summer solstice on Tarquin's invitation. While the sea was stunning and the view just as spectacular, Elain was more taken by the flowerbeds existing on the surface of the sea by the shore. Species of flowers she'd never heard of, thriving on the water, undisturbed. And so, she had waded into the shallow waters with her shoes removed and her stockings soaking wet to inspect them more closely.

Her actions would have come across as surprising if any one was paying attention to begin with. Mor was sunbathing with Amren sitting under an umbrella next to her, reading. Nesta was busy making sand castles with Nyx and Gwyn, Emerie and Feyre were busy trying to balance on a surfboard before going out to try it on the waves and all the males were playing some kind of beach sport.

Rhysand, Azriel and Varian were on the same team and playing against Cassian, Tarquin and Lucien.

If Elain had known Feyre had extended the invitation to her mate, she would have found a way to get out of it. Pretended to be sick, faked an injury or even offered to stay back in Velaris in case an emergency occurred. But she hadn't known and from the way her mate had looked at Feyre accusingly when he saw Elain walking down the hallway when they arrived, neither had he.

Having two sisters who were happily mated made her so lonely she wished she was human, wearing her iron ring and presiding over Graysen's household instead. Some days she felt that loneliness with double the power and she could do nothing but feel helpless.

Shaking her head, Elain cleared her mind of such thoughts before they took hold and dragged her down with them. Gently removing a flower stuck between the shadows of two others, Elain held it up to the bright sun to better look at the array of colors splashed across the petals. She noticed the blue, clear sky with white, fluffy clouds and it immediately made her feel better. Lifted her spirits, eased the weight off her chest. Holding her hand above her eyes for shade, Elain turned back to look at the flowers but loud laughter made her turn around again.

Surprisingly, or not so much considering she lied to herself pretty often, the first person she laid eyes on was her own mate. He threw his head back in laughter, golden skin glinting with sweat under the sun showing off his rippling muscles, broad back and abs that led to a v-line on his waist. Lucien had tied his hair back but strands- oh so sinfully escaped the ponytail and fell across his forehead and Elain's hand flexed suddenly with the urge to push those locks out of his face. The copper of his hair shone in the light and she swore she could tell every strand apart from each other. Lucien was laughing heartily, hands on hips, head thrown back, half naked like the rest of the men who had ditched their shirts under the blaze of the heat.

The lines around his eyes crinkled as he laughed harder at whatever they had been talking about. It transformed his whole face in a way that drew her in and held her captive. The lack of inhibition mixed with unadulterated joy lifted her own lips at the corners and before she knew it, she was smiling.

Cassian was laughing next to him but Elain didn't notice anything. Didn't notice anything except him. Didn't notice anything except how his own aura rivaled the sunrays. Like they didn't affect him. Like they were only present to surround him and bask in his light. Enthralled, she watched, her own smile growing when she saw him rapidly say something to the General of the Night Court before they both dissolved into laughter again, Cassian doubling over on the sand.

"Cut it out, Cass" She heard Azriel say but Cassian was shaking on the ground like a flapping fish out of water except his size was more like a shark.

Lucien was wiping a tear that had escaped from the corner of his eye, sobering up before Cassian as he looked around to see how much ruckus the two of them had been causing but instead caught Elain's eye, surprised to see her expression.

She was standing inside the water, flowers in hand with a smile that wasn't reserved, one that reached her eyes and lit up her face in a way Lucien had never been on the receiving end of. The sudden gust of wind made her hair flow wildly which she tried to tame with her fingers, her dress rustling and the flowers in her arms fluttering with it. It was so picturesque that it took Lucien's breath away, his throat feeling scratchy and blocked. He had never yearned for his mate more, the fleeting moment passing through his fingers like sand no matter how long he tried to prolong it.

Lucien's stunned expression made the smile on her face drop, his melancholic expression making her wonder if she had anything to do with it.

They stood there for another moment, staring at each other, flowers forgotten until she felt a small school of fishes scurry past her making her yelp and thus, breaking her out of her trance.

Instinctively, she looked up to see if anyone had noticed her try to waddle her way through the water to get away until she caught Lucien's eye again, his entire face displaying how hard he was trying to hold his laughter in.

"You can laugh," She told him.

Lucien’s face crumpled immediately at her permission, the sound unreserved and crisp as he laughed and made his way toward her to help her out “I apologize, M’lady” He told her as he held a hand out for her to take.

“You don’t look apologetic” Elain reprimanded, taking his hand before she could have second thoughts about it and stepping out of the water.

“And you don’t look put off either” He noted, watching the corner of her lips trying to turn down.

"I can't believe it was that amusing"

"You have to be on the receiving side of it"

"Which side is that?" She quipped and his smirk rendered her speechless at her own sass.

For a long moment, they stood there smiling at one another, hands clasped in each other’s before Lucien cleared his throat “I should get back”

Elain, who had been ignoring the goosebumps across her skin and the strange sensation in her chest at his touch and closeness, nodded “Ah yes. I should also…get back”

Despite what they had said, neither made a move to take their hand back and Elain felt Lucien lightly rub her knuckles with his thumb in an unconscious manner. Like he hadn’t even realized he had done it. Like it came naturally to him.

In that moment, she knew she didn’t particularly want to let go of his hand. Or him. She wanted to bask in the heat of his joy for a long time. Wanted to see where it would take her. And so, everyone heard her gently thank him as she took her hand back but her next words, spoken softly and spoken only for his ears made the red-headed fox grin before she stepped away.

Elain heard Lucien turn toward the others waiting for him and barking “What?” in an irritated manner at all those watching, but she knew their minds were in that same place where they were still holding hands and beaming at one another.

Lucien spared one last glance over his shoulder at his mate's retreating back, trying hard to suppress his smile at the first invitation he had received from her in 4 years of being around his mate.

"Considering you didn't answer my previous question, would you like to do so over dinner?"

[diviningtime]

@billyktothemax sent ; 🎁 You got a folk song. The Scarecrow Knows. I played it a lot around the Summer Solstice. Oh the sun shines bright And the corn grows high And the crows are gathering in the sky And the scarecrow sees and the scarecrow knows How the seasons change and the seasons roll Oh scaren, scaren, don't you know? The scarecrow sees and the scarecrow knows

Billy had his little notebook, he did his research, asked questions and wrote things down, read books, looked on the internet. And that was all great, but none of it was a substitute for actual witchcraft, for learning things that were usually inherent in a coven, passed on through actual experience.

She had asked him to meet her at a particular spot-- she hadn't met his parents yet and she wasn't keen on explaining just why a teenager was hanging out with an old lady or how they'd come to know each other-- and led him from there, telling him she would answer his questions once they'd arrived. Leading him into the woods, there were several items laid out in a clearing; a collection of corn dolls, wheat strands, as well as different fruits and breads. The warm yet setting sun streaked through the trees, glistening off the items, making them sparkle.

"Here," she told him with a smile, gesturing with a hand for him to step forward, to take a look at the objects for himself. "We're going to have a lesson," she explained, feeling more excited than she expected to show him all this. "As well as a celebration."

[lydiastormborn]

“Everything’s ready,” Irina whispers, breathless and eager as she slides into the pew next to Fia. Just in time, as her father's evening sermon is about to start; Fia looks his way first, but he's still flipping through a thick book on the lectern, momentarily oblivious to the gathering of townspeople. Just then she risks a glance at Irina.

Her friend’s face is turned towards her, so Fia easily sees the telltale signs of Irina’s latest wanderings: cheeks flushed rosy red from exhaustion and running, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, her silver hair, which Fia so attentively braided this morning, all in disarray, loose strands falling around her face. There's a small twig stuck in Irina's hair, just behind her ear, and Fia almost reaches to pick it out, but then she remembers herself, and only points to the same spot on her head to indicate it to Irina.

“No one saw where you were coming from?” Fia asks under her breath as Irina hastily brushes the twig out of her hair.

“I’m quite sure,” Irina replies with a glimmer in her eye. Fia’s father clears his throat in front of the congregation, but before he starts speaking, she manages to add, “Well, Miss Vera looked at me funny when I ran past her house, but I saw she stuck some fern and basil into the corner of her window frame, so I think we’re fine.”

...

hi, @kyberbonsai! i was your gift-giver in @naddpodgifting. i also love eldermourne & fiairina, so, to bring back some literal warmth, i wrote about them celebrating summer solstice in slavic folk fashion. hope you enjoy, happy new year!

[iona-tully]

LITHA, THE SUMMER SOLSTICE — Plot drop 2: The sun wheels

Sun wheels crafted out of twigs and flowers have been crafted, ready to be released into the river. For an hour or so, people gather and write down wishes, or even secrets. They set on parchment whatever they wish to see accomplished soon, secrets or guilty feelings they hope might not haunt them anymore. As it is custom, those pieces of paper are released with the sun wheels to float away in the Tumblestone River. Whispers begin soon after. Messages that were not meant to be known by others, have been revealed...

Some people have begun spreading the word on what they have heard, thus beginning a chain of potential misinformation. There have also been torn pieces of parchment found, scattered in different areas: near the archery field, inside the ballroom, in tents. It is unknown if these parchments are original messages written by guests, or if some prankster has planted them to cause a little chaos. Either, way, gossip is spreading.

Here are some of the pieces of parchment that were found, causing speculation as to who wrote them:

[torn parchment] Blackwood is to blame for such an atrocity. Only that cunt could do such [torn parchment]

[torn parchment] if Lady Brianna could only grant me one dance without mockery.

Let Harrenhal be the prize I gain for everything I have [torn parchment]

[torn parchment] to have a family of my own. I hope the gods can grant me that wish after [torn parchment]

[torn parchment] to find a husband who will be worthy of all I have to offer.

[torn parchment] what is just, and I can be reunited with my [torn parchment]

There have also been some whispers that have been going around, after the parchments were written:

Princess Mellara's bastard is in reality the son of someone who is in attendance at the Litha festival.

Prince Casimir's peaceful demeanor is a ruse, he intends to take over the Riverlands throne when the time is right.

Lady Ayca Mallister's bad temper has scared off a recent suitor, bringing some shame to her house.

Lady Brianna Bracken is the source of much temptation amongst many a lord, not only in the Riverlands, but beyond the realm.

King Cedric's mistress has an unnatural influence over him, some claim, perhaps due to her Targaryen blood

Prince Rhys Arryn only bothered to attend because he's desperately seeking a royal match and hopes to find it in one of the Tully sisters

Lord Lysano Roote aspires to remain close to Queen Iona only for personal gain, perhaps even to be considered a worthy match for the queen.

Lady Emira Mallister has a secret admirer who has been doting her with attention and gifts, all of which she gladly accepts, content that it was her and not her sister who caught the man's attention.

Some doubt, some are quick to believe. Some, even spread more words to defend themselves, to throw blame elsewhere, or for the mere fun of the chaos that has ensued.

OOC Note:

Feel free to play around with whether or not your muse believes these whispers/parchments to be real, or just something fabricated to cause a little chaos.

You can add more parchments or whispers, only write them in the comments of this post.

[curiouselleth]

Of Elured, Elurin, and Gil-Galad

I started writing this intending to share my theories on the matter of Elured, Elurin, and Gil-galad, but it got long and very detailed. This is NOT edited at all, I just wrote most of this in one sitting... but I think it came out really good! (2,218 words?!?!?!?! HOW?!?!)

Most of this is my personal cannon, but it would fit within the story. Some of it has no clear basis in Tolkien, I originally made this theory for a fic I'm working on and needed to invent some things to make other ideas work. Mostly in how Maiar, Valar, and their powers can mess with time. (I am also kinda-maybe-just a little disregarding bit with Gil-galad being sent to the Falas in 455.)

Elured and Elurin survive being abandoned in the woods, and they are led to food and shelter by nightingales, and are eventually led south into the forests of Ossiriand.

While Melian had returned to Valinor after Thingol's death, and despite that the Girdle of Melian fell and she seemingly abandoned them when she left, she actually sent the nightingales to guide Elured and Elurin to safety. Her last act to help those in Middle Earth for a long time. (continued under the cut)

Maiar, Valar, or large concentrations of their powers can do weird things to time and aging. Whether making time pass faster or slower for those in their immediate vicinity, so one year would feel like months, or several years could pass in their vicinity while only one year may seem to pass away from them. With practice and skill their effect on time around them can be minimized, as pretty much all the valar and maiar do. This can cause aging to be faster or slower, or decay to slow down.

Elured and Elurin were too young to be taught of this, so barely more than 4 years after the Second Kinslaying (506), they have aged around 15 years in that time, and are about 21. As Elwing had Elrond and Elros at 22, I am assuming that since she was considered an adult then that they are at that age too.

Over the years they also slowly built up walls, hiding their true identities with magic, eventually so that none could recognize them, so they wouldn't be reminded or found again by the Feanorians. Part of it is that people will see what they expect, and who would expect to the see the twin sons of Dior, believed to be dead?

Now it is year 510, and Gondolin falls that summer. (I would guess it is around the solstice, in late June.)

Gwingloth is the daughter of Lalwen (daughter of Finwe), and was born a few years after Lalwen arrived Gondolin after its completion. She is a little young for a elf but well of age. Tolkien gateway says that is about 100 years old, I don't want to get a headache checking the Nature of Middle Earth right now 😅.

Gwingloth had never been fond of festivals, she often found the noise and the chaos overwhelming, so she had snuck outside the city, thinking to visit the gates, and to check on the guards who she had heard expressing sadness to be missing the festival.

She had been about to leave, but then the attack started. The guards had defended her with their lives, and when she was knocked unconscious they defended her until they fell, and in a strange bit of luck she was hidden in the bodies and presumed dead. When she came to she was once again lucky, and most of the fighting had moved on to the city. She managed to sneak out, and down the Dry River to Sirion. She did not know much of Beleriand, but she knew the south in Ossiriand to be safe, and she made a makeshift boat and sailed down Sirion until she reached the Fens of Sirion, where she left the river and ventured east until she met Elured and Elurin.

Elured and Elurin had been living semi-nomadically in Ossiriand in this time, with some help and guidance from the green elves there. Before they were of age, they lived with a small group of green elves in a hidden village of flets. They were not taken in my one specific family, but the whole village helped in their upbringing. They were taught to survive, fight, and to be able to sneak through the trees and hills with skill no other elves had. Once they were of age they began to live more nomadically, scouting or hunting to help that village.

The year they came of age the green elves gave them a gift that had been found near the River Ascar, the northernmost river in Ossiriand. It was two fine twin swords Thingol had crafted for the twins when he heard of their birth. (there was a small inscription) They had been taken in the sack by the dwarves and almost were cast into the river with the rest of the treasure, but they were found by one of the green elves, and kept. The twins each got a sword, as Thingol had first intended for them, his first great-grandchildren.

Shortly before Gwingloth arrived, the village made the decision to move further south, fearing the growing reports of orcs Elured and Elurin brought. The twins decided to remain while they figured out what they wanted to do. Do they seek out survivors from Doriath or other Sindar? Do they forsake their heritage and remain with the green elves who raised them and taught them?

Gwingloth and Elurin quickly fell in love, but Elured and Elurin found the word of Gondolin's fall to be the last straw in their decision to pursue the rumors they had heard of Elwing in the Havens of Sirion. Elured wished to go alone, as they had been planning to stealthily go to gather information, not to enter the city, so both of them did not need to go, and one of them needed to stay with Gwingloth as she recovered from the shock of Gondolin's fall and the battle, and her long, hungry journey south. Elured also... hinted... to Elurin that perhaps he should be trying to research Noldor and Sindar marriage traditions wink wink.

Elured traveled extremely light, nearly nothing with him but some basics he gathered and supplies and tools he made. He did bring his twin sword, as it was the finest weapon he had and he did not wish to be about without it, but he put a small enchantment on the inscription, hiding it. He first traveled north-west, in the direction of Nargothrond, to see if any survivors of Gondolin passed through the west part of the region. He was hoping inconspicuously to join a group of survivors heading to Sirion, and to tell them the story that he had been living in the wilderness ever since his city fell.

This worked a little too well, and he encountered the main group of survivors from Gondolin sheltering in Taur-en-Faroth, the forests on the west and south sides of Nargothrond. He called himself Ereinion, which had been Beren's nickname for him, as he was descended from Kings of Elves and Men. Perhaps he should've thought his story through more, with him being found outside a fallen city of the Noldor, and having darker hair, like most of the Noldor, with highlights that shone like gold in the sunlight, because rumors begin to fly that he is Finrod's, Orodreth's, or, somehow, Fingon's son. He tried to deflect, saying his appearance took more after his mother. The enchantment that both he and Elurin wove around themselves was still in effect, and made people see what they expected when they were looked upon. So the survivors expected to see the son of a noldor king? Well, that is what they saw.

He thought that quelled the rumors, so he continued travelling with them for some months, because it was safer. When they arrive in the Havens in the late winter (march???) of 511, he hears that it is true, Elwing is alive, but is almost immediately brought to the Isle of Sirion, for they started to believe him to be the rightful king of the Noldor.

It is on the Isle of Balar where he finally has to confront the fact that they think him to be their rightful king. He feared what would happen should the truth come out, and panics (privately), but ends up going along with it, planning to use it just until he can see Elwing, then... well he wasn't sure yet.

It takes months for the opportunity for him to return to the Havens of Sirion, and by then he was crowned as Gil-galad, King of the Noldor... and discovered just how busy that title makes you (karma?). By then it is late summer of 511, almost a year after he left Elurin and Gwingloth on a journey they expected to take only a few months. He had tried to covertly send messenger birds, but most returned with their messages unopened, if they returned at all.

Once he arrives in Sirion, he once again has a stoke of bad luck. Not only is Elwing considered just a little too young* to meet him, the King, he is too busy with politics and meetings to be able to sneak away to see her.

*I also have Elwing aging at an accelerated rate as well, she is almost 18, but is incorrectly considered too immature by a few of the other rulers of the Havens (who have sticks up their buts), so she is kept away.

Elured has to return to Balar, but the next year he is finally allowed to meet Elwing, for she finally set those other rulers straight, and is taking her place as leader of the Havens. The ceremony was small, but in the following days Elured was invited to meet her, not on strictly official business, but so the two of them could simply meet as people and leaders.

Elured is guided to her lovely home in the Havens, and when he knocks, he hears a call to enter, and he steps inside and into the living space. It's well decorated, cozy and lived it, and there's a vase of lily of the valley and cyclamen on a mantel above the hearth.

It had been so, so long since he had seen his little sister. And his breath caught for a moment when he saw her. She's so grown up. Without us. Elured thought, tears starting to form in his eyes.

"Ah you must be King Gil-galad! Suilad! It is so wonderful to finally meet you!"

"Ahm," he cleared his throat, "yes, it is wonderful to, meet you, too. I'm so glad we finally got the chance..." he trailed off.

"How goes matters on the Isle? Good? Well..." she continued talking but Elured was barely listening.

He worked rapidly to drop the enchantment disguising his identity, in denial, No, it must be the enchantment, that must be why she... why she doesn't he thought frantically as it finally came down.

But she didn't react. She kept on speaking about how things were in the Havens, until she notices his lack of response, she pauses, and looks closer at him. "Are... are you part maia as I am?" She haltingly asks.

"I. I am, yes, as you are." Elured hesitantly answers. Is this it? Is she starting to recognize me?

But she takes his hesitant response as him not wishing to speak of it, and says "I'm sorry, I did not mean to pry, and you need not answer. I too understand having a past too painful to speak of."

Elured nods, shocked and despairing. She didn't know him. His sister didn't know him anymore.

Elured is devastated that his sister does not know him, and perhaps it is cowardice, or perhaps he does not wish to bring her more pain by showing up in this life she's worked hard to make for herself and telling her that he is her brother, that both of her brothers were alive... and they shared the same past she called too painful to speak of.

Upon his return to Balar that day, he throws himself into work as High King of the Noldor, just a little longer, he tells himself. Then I'll go home. Just a little longer.

But days turn to months, and months into two years, and it is 514 when he can finally return to Ossiriand, for he did not want to forsake the people who had come to rely on him. He is only able to go back under the guise of seeking a stronger alliance with the green elves, but one night, when he is not so far from his home, he is able to slip away from his guards.

He travels light, only his one twin sword with him, speeding through the treetops until he reaches the edge of the empty village where they had lived. But all is silent.

As he steps into the flet he shared with his brother, there is not a sound, and it is empty. Gwingloth and his brother are gone.

There was no note, no message anywhere in the village, nor the trees. He is so desperate he checks the ground, for when the village was occupied none were allowed to go on the ground under the village to help keep it more hidden, not a trace of them or tracks.

All was silent and empty. His twin is gone. He unsheathes his twin sword, which now truly missing it's partner, it's other half, as he is. He drives it into the ground in the middle of the village, standing alone as a memorial... or as a grave, and he rips off a bit of his robe, with his new sigil of silver stars on a blue field.

Gil-galad turns and walks back to his camp, and his people. Once again devastated.

[ladyamanda123]

The REAL track 5?

Okay, this Gracie Abrams stuff is blowing my mind over here!!!

Gracie is dropping her album The Secret of Us on June 21.

Track 5 is called us. featuring Taylor Swift!

The story of US book at the library installation!

The US book in the fortnight music video!

The 13 in the Risk music video.

The fact it’s track 5!!!

In lower case (inside a vault???)!!!!

Coming out in the summer solstice!!!! Which is also National Daylight Appreciation Day!

🎶Step into the Daylight…..

And she goes on Fallon and talks about opening for Taylor, they share a journal entry she wrote on Dec 13 in 5th grade!!!

She also talks about being with Taylor on stage is like a masterclass education. Refers to this album as her thesis. Talks about Taylor being on Mars and being in her orbit (Hello Down Bad reference!) and even drops “The Alchemy” into the interview!!!!!

I don’t even know how to process all this information!!!

I’ve talked before about how I don’t think So Long London is the real track 5. She’s literally handing us ANOTHER track 5…..in lower case inside another artists album!

Yet another possible ✌️ connection…..double album and now 2 track 5s. What will this song reveal!????? We know her lowercase songs always hit! What are these women about do to us!?!?

[micheal-w-afton]

My answers to those!

😅 Any of my old, badly written "spicy stuff". Also, any of my old fics in general.

🥺 What kind of feels? Well, I like fluff. Anything that consists a character getting attention from a good father figure, because well.. Yea.. That's with fluff, but angst has to be deep and slowly appearing. Like in "Flowers from 1970".

🤡Any random, cheezy pick-up line. Or some joke of an incorrect quote.

😈 Killing off characters and angst is very amazing. I enjoy that a lot.

✍️ Someone that get's to read my stories before they're published? No, not always. I do give spoilers tho.

🛒 I like to write in Pick-up lines, angst, a little bit of fluff + comfort.

🎢 My 4k word one. It had angst, slightly suggestive stuff, tension, comforting moments, flirting and jokes. All in one, I think.

✨️ No, I won't. It's interesting that I read my fanfics when I'm bored, updating them if needed.

💋 They're great.

🎶 Yes. I do listen to music when writing. I can't pick which one I have on repeat the most. I guess the most recent one was "Radio Play" by Silva Hound and one other guy.

🛠 I use my notes, Google, some books, Wattpad & Ao3.

⛔️ I've scrapped a few ideas. No guarantee that they won't come back. They are scrapped, so yea, no spoilers for those, unless I decide to actually write them.

🙋‍♀️ Yes, my ex best friend knows. Even my mother knows.

🍦 The 1st one to come to my mind, was the one with young Morrigan AU, where she got comfort from Squall, so he was like the better father figure, but he still had to leave. Yea. That one still floats around my mind.

🍷 Yes. I drink water.

🍆 As I mentioned, my old stuff is pretty shit. I prefer "slightly suggestive" then smut. "Crow Crow" chapter of Oneshot's book 2, was great. Also, the 4k word one.

🌞 I like writing from 9pm to 3am. Creativity and ideas go wild at that time. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen every day, and I have to go to sleep at 11pm, otherwise I'll fall asleep during the next day, and that's a problem.

💖 I started writing inspired by a guy who was stalking me and my classmates. I took the fic down. Other reason for me writing my own stuff, was because my requests on someone else writing them were never really accepted, and I wanted my ideas to be actual content.

💌 Please do. I love comments and having random conversations inspired by something I wrote.

❌️ I will never write adult character x not adult character, and probably won't write about the popular movie trope stuff. Actually, there are many more things, but I just don't know how to describe them.

💲 Money is fun, but I believe that my art or writing isn't that good to be payed for. Plus, my friend's would be confused about why I get random money. One last thing: Money can take away my inspiration. I prefer to just take free requests.

🧐 I research only a little bit. Mainly writing on my own knowledge.

🏆My most popular writing themes (Not fics, just themes, because... idk.), are fluff, comfort and world building.

🎃 Yes. I've written some for Hallowmas. Also, I plan on writing something for Summer solstice.

🎯 I've inspired by comments before. Some of them have guessed plot points.

🎨 Yes! I love that! Even tho I mostly create my own fanart for my fanfics.

📈 I have 2 Nevermoor oneshot's books that will stay up. There's also "The one who betrayed".

🦅What does that mean?

👀 Well, original character, Morrigan, inspired by real life story. Low chance of ever being finished. Also, summer solstice in a few months.

🤗 Go for it. Someone will enjoy it.

💞 Silas (Graveyard Book), Ezra Squall & Jupiter North (Nevermoor), Stolas (Helluva Boss), Wilbur Soot, Kenny & Butters (South Park).

🧠 Ezra Squall 🖤

🤩 Ezra Squall and Henry Mildmay. Squall gives me Alastor vibes, but Mildmay gives me Angeldust vibes.

🤲 it has been sitting in my started drawings for like a week, because in trying to understand how to finish it.

😬 The torture one and anything with gay stuff in it.

🎉 Success = At least 2 people voting, maybe commenting.

✅️ Ezra Squall. And some repeating words. Repeating words in sentences and paragraphs. I always worry about completely repeating the same scenario.

📚 That would meant that I'm talking the same path as my grandmother. A lot of pressure.. Yes, book writing would be interesting. I prefer fanfics tho. Or fandom mixups. 🤫🤔

⏳️ At least an hour, sometimes even 2 days to fully think it out. Questions

🤯 I struggle with writing with more than 5 characters in action. Probably a lot of more stuff.

💔 anything with angst, because most of my angst is inspired by thing's I've experienced.

💥 Criticism can be harsh, but sometimes helpful.

🤭 Of course, the character's used in the fic, and a small spoiler for what will be in it, like angst, fluff or slightly suggestive.

🥰 I'm very open to people interacting with my content. Questions are always welcome, no guarantee that I'll have a smart answer.

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

🍷 Do you drink and write?

🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💖 What made you start writing?

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

📈 How many fics do you have?

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

[biinkspacewp]

II. Welcome to Cabin Chaos

PAIRING: Percy Jackson x Fem!OC

SUMMARY: Percy fades in and out of consciousness. Amara and Annabeth begin his introduction to Camp Half-Blood.

WARNINGS: none

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The last thing Percy remembered was collapsing on a wooden porch, a ceiling fan circling above him with a dull hum from the yellowed light, and the faces of a familiar-looking bearded man and two pretty girls with dark hair, one with braids and the other with loose curls.

The two girls spoke nearly at the same time, the one with curls barely beating the other.

“The boy.”

“He’s the one. He must be.”

“Silence, Annabeth,” the man shushed one of them. “He’s still conscious. Bring him inside.”

He must have passed out then because the next thing he remembered was laying in a soft bed with the same girls from outside hovering over him. They were whispering loudly as one spoon-fed him something that looked like pudding and tasted like buttered popcorn.

“Go back outside. I swear to the gods, if you—oh.” The one with curly hair quickly pulled back the spoon and sat it in a bowl on the table beside him when she noticed his eyes were open.

Percy didn’t have time to say anything before the other girl pushed herself almost completely in front of him.

“What will happen at the summer solstice?”

“Stop it!” The first girl yelled, ducking her head and quickly looking around as if she was making sure no one heard her. “Let him sleep.”

All Percy managed to get out was a weak, “What?”

“What’s going on? What was stolen?,” The girl continued, now fighting to stay leaned over him as the other tried to push her off the edge of the bed. “ We’ve only got a few weeks!”

The curly haired girl finally shoved her off the bed, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the room. She came back in mumbling something about manners under her breath.

“I’m sorry,” Percy croaked. He didn’t know exactly why he was apologizing. “I don’t know—“

“You’re fine,” she shushed him. “Go back to sleep.”

The next time he woke up he was greeted by the sight of a husky blond man, standing in the corner watching over him. He looked completely normal, like a surfer, if Percy ignored the dozens of blue eyes that covered his face and hands.

When he finally came around, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. He was lounging on a deck chair, pillow behind his head and a blanket thrown over his legs, on a porch that overlooked a meadow. Further away there were strawberry fields that went on for ages bordered by a winding stream with a grove of trees behind it.

He thought that maybe everything had just been a weird nightmare, his mom was really fine and this was just somewhere they’d stopped on vacation, until he saw the girl sitting next to him.

It was the same one that fed him the pudding. She was hunched over a book, flipping through it furiously as she wrote on sticky notes and stuck them to different pages.

Percy watched her for a few minutes, her eyebrows scrunched together as she’d turn back a page or two, check her notes, and then move on.

When he realized he was staring, he immediately looked away from her, heat rushing to his cheeks.

His eyes landed on a drink on the table next to him. It looked like iced tea or apple juice, with a green straw and a pink paper parasol sticking out of a maraschino cherry. Percy hadn’t realized how dry his mouth was until the option of soothing it was in front of him.

It was his hand moving for the drink that finally caught her attention. She practically jumped out of the chair, haphazardly setting the book in her seat.

“You’re awake!” She grinned. “I’ll go get Grover.”

She was gone before he had a chance to stop her, disappearing around the side of the farmhouse.

Amara found Grover on the corner of the front porch with Annabeth, Chiron, and Mr. D. Grover was pacing anxiously around Annabeth chewing on an aluminum can as she leaned again the porch rail. Chiron and Mr. D were sitting around the table, setting up cards for pinochle.

She told them that Percy was finally awake, Grover consuming the last of his can before he grabbed a shoebox off one of the chairs and left to go talk to him. They decided that once he fully regained consciousness that it would probably be best for Grover to ease him into camp. After all, he was Percy’s best friend.

Amara relaxed next to Annabeth against the porch rail. They’d taken turns the last two days watching over Percy so they hadn’t had much time to spend with each other.

While Amara sat with Percy, Annabeth had went out and helped pick strawberries that morning, the scent of the fruit stuck to her skin. Amara thought the smell was intoxicating.

“How is he?” Annabeth asked.

“I’m not sure,” Amara admitted sheepishly, just now realizing that she practically ran away from the boy to get Grover the second he was conscious. “He seems fine. He wasn’t like crying or anything so that’s a good sign.”

Annabeth pulled her lips between her teeth, eyes going to the ceiling as she tried not to laugh. Amara had cried when she first came to camp, the nine year old upset that she had to leave her dad for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t funny, a child crying for their father, but Amara using herself as a metric for a bad first day at camp was hilarious.

“Does he still have droll rolling down his chin?”

“Of course.”

Amara’s laugh sent Annabeth over the edge, the two girls giggling as Chiron sent them a sharp look.

The two finally straightened up when they saw Grover and Percy making their way around the porch. Percy looked unsteady, his knuckles white as he gripped the Minotaur horn too tight. In his other hand, Amara recognized the Greek sculpture book she’d left behind.

Her face felt like it was on fire.

Percy was looking over the camp, taking in everything he could see before he noticed the four of them at the end of the porch. Amara heard Grover trying to whisper to Percy who everyone was.

“That’s Mr. D. He’s the camp director. Be polite. The girl on the left, that’s Annabeth Chase. She’s just a camper, but she’s been here longer than just about anybody. That’s Amara Bishop next to her. Also just a camper. She’s undetermined so I’m sure you’ll see her a lot. Probably see Annabeth a lot too since they’re practically inseparable. And you already know about Chiron…”

“Mr. Brunner!” Percy cried out.

Somehow Amara hadn't thought about the fact that Percy knew Chiron, their activities director pretending to be Percy’s teacher for the better half of the school year.

“Ah, good, Percy,” he elated, offering him the chair to his left. “Now we have four for pinochle.”

Amara despised pinochle. She loved card games, but there was something about playing with Chiron and Mr. D that took all the fun out of it. Probably the hundreds of years of practice if she had to guess. Annabeth didn’t like playing with them either, but that was just because she had an aggressive need to always win.

Mr. D gave his predictably lackluster introduction to camp, Percy slowly moving his chair closer to Chiron when he finished.

“Annabeth? Amara?” Chiron called to the two girls. They came forward, filling in the empty space around the table across from Percy.

Chiron continued, officially introducing them. “These young ladies nursed you back to health, Percy. Amara, see if you can gather up some supplies for him. And Annabeth, why don’t you go check on Percy’s bunk? We’ll be putting him in cabin eleven for now.”

“Sure, Chiron,” Annabeth said, Amara nodding her head in agreement.

Percy just glanced back and forth between the two girls. They both looked to be his age. Amara stood a bit taller than Annabeth, but Annabeth appeared more athletic, a whole lot more than he did. Amara looked more carefree, with deep tan skin covered in freckles and frizzy, curly brown hair, while Annabeth looked more serious, with warm brown skin and dark hair done in braids that were pulled back into a ponytail, but some of their perceived personalities could be attributed to their eyes.

While both had startling gray eyes, Amara’s were softer, almost like she was admiring him, while Annabeth’s seemed to be analyzing the best way to destroy him in a fight.

“You drool when you sleep,” Annabeth said abruptly, Amara staring down her friend in disbelief as she left across the lawn towards the cabins. She huffed, going to chase after her.

“Oh, Amara,” Percy called out. She turned back toward him to see him holding out her book. “You left it on the chair. Figured you might want it back.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed it from him, cheeks turning pink, and quickly resumed her chase after Annabeth.

Chiron had asked that they gather up Percy supplies and make sure his bunk was situated, but they had spent the last two days making sure everything was ready to go when he woke up.

Percy’s bunk, or rather sleeping bag, was laying on the ground between Amara and Chris, another unclaimed, since it was one of the few empty spaces of floor left in cabin eleven. Plus it meant that Amara could keep her eyes on him and report back to Annabeth on whether he had potential to be a child of one of the big three.

They’d gotten him a duffle bag stuffed with a few changes of clothes and some toiletries. Amara had also thrown in an orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD hoodie since she liked hers so much.

It was more than they’d done in the past for newcomers, but since Annabeth had a feeling and Amara was pretty sure after the dream she had that Percy was the one, they tried a little harder.

She found Annabeth sitting on the steps in front of cabin eleven. She had her elbows resting on her knees, her face in her hands as she stared absentmindedly.

“I see you got your book back,” Annabeth commented. “Did you turn into a tomato again when he gave it to you?”

Amara narrowed her eyes at her, stopping a few paces from the girl.

“Oh, what’s that? Hi Luke!” Amara looked behind Annabeth at the closed door, waving at no one.

The girl whipped her head around, hand going to one of her loose braids. When she realized Luke wasn’t there, she turned back around, glaring at Amara.

“You are evil. Child of Hades,” Annabeth spouted. “Maybe you’re the one the prophecy spoke about and we just haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Gods, I hope not. I don’t want a prophecy weighing on my shoulders,” Amara laughed.

She sat on the steps next to Annabeth, opening her book and searching for the page she left off on. She no longer had her pen and sticky notes, the stationary probably still laying in the chair she was hunched over in, but she could still get Annabeth’s thoughts on what she’d covered so far.

Amara was ranting about the Colossus of Rhodes when Chiron and Percy finally made it to the cabins. Percy only caught the tail end of it, Amara explaining something about reinforcements and the longevity of world wonders.

Percy wasn’t expecting Annabeth’s eyes to snap to him, looking over him critically like she was still examining all his flaws. Amara just smiled again, giving him and Chiron a hello as she closed her book.

“Annabeth. Amara,” Chiron said, “I have masters’ archery class at noon. Would you take Percy from here?”

“Yes, sir,” the girls responded, standing from the steps.

“Cabin eleven. Make yourself at home.”

Chiron gestured to the doors, Amara and Annabeth each grabbing one of the handles and swinging them open. The noise from the inside of cabin eleven was now bleeding out into the courtyard.

People filled the cabin, both boys and girl, taking up most of the floor space. There were sleeping bags and bunks everywhere. What probably started as a well organized cabin had fallen into chaos.

In the center of the right wall, there were three bunks pushed snuggly against one another, a giant patchwork quilt thrown over the top, making a fort out of the bottom. A lantern hung from the middle of the center bunk, lighting it just enough for the kids piled inside to play cards.

In one of the back corners there was a nest of sleeping bags, campers lounging on them while they talked. A boy with brown hair was hanging upside down from one of the ceiling beams, carrying on a conversation with two others who were standing in front of him.

Everywhere Percy looked there seemed to be something going on. The commotion paused momentarily when the campers noticed Chiron. Everyone stood and bowed excluding the boy hanging from the ceiling who gave a salute. Kids were still pouring from the fort to acknowledge Chiron when he turned toward Percy.

“Well, then,” Chiron remarked. “Good luck, Percy. I’ll see you at dinner.”

With that, Chiron galloped off toward the archery range.

Annabeth only gave Percy a few seconds to stand in the doorway looking lost before she checked him with her shoulder. The blond just gave her a look that screamed what?

“Well?” Annabeth promoted. “Go on.”

He tripped the moment he moved, Amara’s hand immediately scrunching the back of his shirt just in case he actually fell.

Gods, this boy is a walking train wreck.

She let him go once he regained his footing, not wanting to make the snickering from the campers any worse. Annabeth glanced over at Amara, tilting her head to the crowd.

Amara sighed. “Percy Jackson, welcome to cabin eleven.”

“Regular or undetermined?” Someone from the back asked.

“Undetermined,” Annabeth responded.

Everyone groaned. Amara wouldn’t say she was exactly thrilled about having to share her space with yet another person, but some of them acted like it was the end of the world when undetermined newbies arrived. Half of the campers in cabin eleven were still undetermined, so they had no room to talk.

Finally, one of the older campers managed to push his way to the front of the cabin. He was dressed in regular camp attire, orange t-shirt and cutoffs with his leather necklace, and his caramel hair stuck up in a few spots, like he’d tried to fix it without a mirror.

“Now, now, campers. That’s what we’re here for. Welcome, Percy. Amara set you up a spot on the floor, right over there.”

Percy looked at the tiny section of floor that he’d been given between two bunks in the back corner. There was a sleeping bag splayed out as big as it would go and a large orange duffle bag sitting just under the pillow. It wasn’t much, but he guessed he couldn’t complain. It’s not like he had anything more than the Minotaur horn in his hand to his name.

“This is Luke,” Annabeth said, her voice pitching up. Amara nearly laughed when she noticed Annabeth’s hand twitching at her side, playing with the hem of her shirt so she didn’t reach for her hair. Amara bet if she felt Annabeth’s face she’d be on fire, her cheeks looking a little warmer than they normally did. “He’s your councilor for now.”

“For now?” Percy questioned.

“You’re undetermined,” Luke explained. “They don’t know what cabin to put you in, so you’re here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers.”

“And thieves, so mind your stuff,” Amara added, staring down the cabin in search of the Stoll brothers. In her first year here they hid her blue windbreaker that her dad gave her, one that he wore growing up, from her. The joke only lasted three days before Travis woke up to Amara sitting on top of him, razor in her hand as she threatened to shave off his eyebrows unless he gave back her jacket. He gave her back her jacket.

It was probably unfair to introduce the whole cabin as thieves, especially since it was normally just Connor and Travis playing pranks, but she wasn’t lying either. Don’t get her wrong, she loved spending time with the Stolls, but she still wasn’t completely over her jacket.

“And thieves,” Luke admitted.

“So how long will I be here?” Percy asked, looking around the cabin.

“Good question. Until you’re determined.”

“And how long will that take?”

The million dollar question, Amara thought bitterly as the rest of the campers laughed.

“Come on,” Annabeth said, grabbing Percy’s wrist and turning to the door. “We’ll show you the volleyball court.”

“I’ve already seen it.”

“Go,” Amara directed, following the pair outside. She turned back to scold the laughing campers of cabin eleven before she shut the door. “Be nice! Or so help me gods.”

She didn’t know what she’d do exactly or why she cared so much that they laughed at Percy. Maybe it was because she knew what it was like to be in his shoes. Maybe it was because she felt a weird need to defend him after her dream. Either way, she’d still went against her cabin so hopefully it was worth it and she didn’t end up with shaving cream under her blankets.

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