#Thresh Replies

[hook-and-chains]

.... The longer it takes for Thresh to attack Seraph, the more paranoid he gets. :p

"Don't worry your head, mutt. You will be put down when I feel you and your family are deemed tormented enough by this fact. It's as if you are wanting to speed it up... patience... all in due time."

[picklesaremyenemies]

The Hunger Games

[demacianhcart]

2 more replies and I'll be caught up! WHOOORAY!

[hook-and-chains]

The Spirit of Obsession simply lowers his gaze at that statement to the Spirit of Love. Of course he would lead his children to their rightful place by his side. That was his purpose! "I am doing what must be done, Evelynn... that little fox has been at all her tricks lately to free them. They need their proper care instead of wandering lost." Thresh coaxed the demon lantern forward as it swayed in agreement. "They may resist for a time but soon they realize they are in a family of spirits their worries are at rest. I have many for you to feast on. The painful memories that my children have... I think they would be at ease without any more worries." His smile grows in a tender manner before he produces a few blossomed souls from the Lantern as it obliges and floats about. It seems to appear as if it is laughing with how it bobbed up and down gleefully.

"What tale do you wish to hear first? One of sorrow or of greed?"

@hook-and-chains asked “I took their smiles and I made them mine.“ (Spirit Blossom Verse <3)

Evelynn scoffs, fondly and with no malice at the other's statement as she idly wafts her fingers through the stream beside them. "Don't take them all for yourself, now."

Not that she has been rather abundant in her thrills, lately. Perhaps it is the chill in the air, how the seasons begin to change that leaves that sense of bitterness once more that she has yet to shake. Facial features crumble up, showing a brief display of disgust that is quick to disperse as it came to be.

"Surely their pleas were wonderous, share a tale with me?" she asks, hand lifting from the water to cast stray hairs back into place. "Your claimings are always to die for."

[brookesophelias]

peeta and the rebellion, with even more nuance (:

post continued from @posthungergamessyndrome; their post here

In The Games training , Peeta preferred to hang around the Camouflage, & it ultimately became his saving grace in Book I. Creativity, to most tributes, doesn't compare higher than physical prowess in significance. In Catching Fire, we see the D6 Morplings go to Camo first.

Peeta Mellark allows himself to be known as Loverboy to almost everyone in the 74th arena, which is him defining himself by emotion. Mostly because that’s what Careers, who D12 tributes hardly ever team up with, called him

Peeta decided to kill himself, even before the Nightlock idea, because he refuses to die at the hands of the Capitol. He seriously felt remorse after killing Foxface & had Katniss explain it to him. Killing others wasn't supposed to be something these tributes felt accountability & care about. "...wanted to hold them accountable, if only for a moment... For killing that little girl. (CF; 238)

Yes, Katniss says to eat the berries on 3, though it's Peeta Mellark who tells her to out-stretch her hands so "...everyone can see." (THG; pg. 338).

Peeta refuses to hold a knife when he could hold a paintbrush. (Katniss replies to Haymitch that 'if he wanted babying, then should've asked Peeta.' His fellow Games Victor called him soft & he just offers her bread [again]). Even in the actual war, he felt so hurt when he killed others.

He has a vivid memory for the horrors of The 74th Hunger Games, to the point where Katniss says she "hates" his paintings. He’s not even offended he just lets her hate on them because they are gruesome.

He always looks out of windows at other people [Katniss on the bakery lawn], places {districts while on tour] as well as the Capitol. He also takes people's baked goods home to evaluate. And doesn't stop.

He also sees the elder from D11 get shot in the head & doesn’t let himself be touched by Peacekeepers after he said he & Katniss would feed Rue & Thresh's families.

Peeta refuses—so vehemently—to drink the beverage to purge his meals. He tells Katniss that maybe they shouldn't squash the Rebellion.

He is the second person to volunteer in years in D12, & at all & he, too earns the highest rating in the Quarter Quell. Before the Mockingjay ever existed, the mockingbird & Jabberjay had to meet. If Katniss is the Mockingjay, Peeta embodies both qualities of both birds individually. Peeta is wholly himself, at his best. When the Panem screams conformity, Peeta doubles on individualism.

[hook-and-chains]

🐸

your muse has put a spell on mine ! 

🐸  ─  turn into a frog

-

Again with the strange body and turning small he changes into something that truly is not him. He feels his limbs change and feel more... slimy.

He stares out at Robin croaking and unable to speak to his own horror. He makes a hissing noise as he uses all of his lungs to tell him how this is not possible.

Though it is simply a frustrated hiss of displeasure. How DARE this mortal turn him into this and how was it even possible?!

You have an angered Frog Warden in your possession.

[callsign-rogueone]

alone with you - l.m.

Liam Mairi x reader part two of Liam and Spark's story. words: 3.0k 🏷: Fourth Wing spoilers (spark knows things that Violet doesn't lmao), sparring and a tiny bit of blood, reader gets injured but not to worry, someone takes care of you. no pronouns used for reader but Liam does call you a girl. Tuile being a bitch (wbk) and perhaps some answers about what happened in spark's first year at basgiath... I'm still not good at writing fight scenes, sorry lol

Another year, another round of challenges. Another opportunity to show the entire quadrant that you’re not here to fuck around, nor to make friends.

You loosen your muscles as Emeterrio discusses the rules of engagement, cracking your neck and stretching out your arms, taking mental inventory of all the weapons on your body -- even though it’s frowned upon to use them in these fights, you keep the array of knives at the ready.

“I see the general’s girl has survived the week,” Tuile muses. “I’m almost impressed.”

You cast a glance across the room, seeing her standing next to the cadet who was in front of her in line for Parapet, the one she’d traded boots with.

“It’s only a matter of time,” you mutter back. 

Even though Xaden had convinced the two dozen of you to leave her alone, it’s likely that somebody else is going to see how fragile she is and walk right up and snap her in two, to thin the herd -- not that she has a real chance of making it to threshing anyway, not without some divine intervention.

But she’s a perfect little Navarrian citizen, so she must pray to their gods every night before bed. Maybe they’ll help her, because you sure as hell won’t; you have a reputation to maintain, and there’s no rational explanation you could give her for why you would want to help her at all, not without jeopardizing the entire revolution -- she might not take after her traitorous older brother, who as far as she and everyone else in this death trap of a college is aware, is dead.

She seems to notice you watching her, locking eyes with you for a split second and quickly averting her gaze. She’s afraid of you and all of your friends, unaware that your respect for Brennan is what’s keeping her alive right now.

Fear is a requirement for survival here. Maybe she’ll make it longer than you’d thought.

It’s not a surprise to you at all that your name is called first, nor that you’re matched with the largest cadet in the class. It became clear to you last year that the professors aren’t making these assignments randomly. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they keep pairing you with the best fighters -- but never with another marked one, even though you’re all at the top of the class.

No, they’re probably entertained by all of this, betting on you like racehorses or wild dogs, placing wagers on who would come out on top. If anyone’s putting money on you, you’ve made them a killing -- you’re undefeated. 

But that would require someone else to bet against you, and while you may not respect all of the professors and leadership, or any of them, really, you don’t think they’re dumb enough to throw their money away like that.

“We meet again,” he says with a sick grin that makes the scar below his eye stretch and contort.

You don’t respond, taking one last survey of the seven blades on your body, but you’re not dumb enough to touch them, lest he see where they are and try to take them himself, like he did earlier this year.

He’d wrapped his fingers around the wooden hilt of the blade that Liam had given you before you left for Basgiath, intent on putting it through your heart, and you’d seen red.

“You should have taken his eye out.”

“I gave him that scar as a warning,” you reply evenly. “It’s up to him if he’s going to heed it or not.”

You’re at it as soon as Emeterrio says go, taking turns lunging at each other and blocking attacks.

You’re evenly matched, despite the size he has on you. He may be stronger, more intimidating, but you’re faster, and you know what you’re doing. You know where to hit and when, your strikes much more precise than his.

Still, Liam’s heart races.

It was one thing watching you mess around with Bodhi in the courtyard, but it’s another thing entirely seeing you fight as if your life depends on it -- and it does. There’s a very real possibility that one of you is going to be spending the evening in the infirmary, or the morgue, after this ends. 

You fight like Xaden, like himself and Bodhi and Imogen and everyone else his brother had a hand in training, but with an edge he’s never seen from you before.

He hesitates to put a name to it, but there’s something in your eyes akin to a wild animal’s as the pair of you stalk circles around each other, planning your next attack.

“It’s not polite to play with your food,” Tuile chides.

Fine. You’ll finish this, if only so she’ll shut up and leave you alone.

The other cadet has the same idea. 

You charge at the same time as he hurls a dagger in your direction, and you hit the ground at the last second to avoid being skewered. You start to press up to your feet, but he stomps a boot into your back, pain ripping down your spine. You swallow a scream, digging your nails into the sticky foam beneath you.

The mental wall separating you from Tuile crumbles, that familiar white-hot anger flowing through you. “Do something.”

You unsheath a dagger, reaching up and swiping it across his calf, and he hisses in pain, releasing you and taking a stumbling step back.

It’s easy enough for you to knock him off balance, landing three consecutive blows to his ribs and a swift kick to his stomach that sends him to the floor.

You’re tired of this already. It’s lost its novelty, and you really need to sit down -- there’s black spots clouding your vision, and the pain in your back has gotten impossibly worse.

“Do I have to kill you in front of the kids, or do you yield?” 

“I yield,” he rasps, still clutching his leg.

You lean down, wiping each side of the blade on his shirt before you sheath it.

“Sloppy, but satisfactory,” Tuile comments — that’s high praise from her. Maybe she’ll give you the evening off from her snide remarks.

You slot yourself between Liam and Bodhi, leaning against the wall as casually as you can; every movement has pain spreading across your lower back and shooting down your spine. 

You try to focus on rebuilding the wall she’d knocked down, brick by brick, taking deep breaths and forcing the anger out of your body.

Liam reaches for you, looking worried.

You speak under your breath, not moving your lips. “Not here. Not in front of everyone.” 

He pulls back without protest, understanding why you don’t want him helping you where the rest of the quadrant can see you, don’t want them to see the look of concern on his face and his hand on your arm and identify him as your weakness.

You may very well be the most hated person in the quadrant, being marked, bonded to one of Navarre’s nastiest dragons, and unafraid to draw blood in challenges. There are several cadets in this room who wouldn’t hesitate to go after Liam if they thought it would hurt you -- and it would. 

You don’t care what they do to you, what pain they inflict or what scars they leave on your body, but if anyone so much as touches Liam, they’ll lose the use of their hands. 

You breathe through the pain and keep your eyes on the fights unfolding in front of you; making note of who favors what side of their body, who gets sloppy after more than a minute, who yields because they don’t have the stomach to take things further.

Most of the cadets think this is the one class you don’t have to study for, but they’d be wrong -- there’s a reason you always come out on top, and this is it.

The class ends without Liam’s name being called, which is a relief, even though you don’t doubt his skill on the mat — it’s off the mat that you’re worried about. 

Almost everyone heads straight to dinner, but Liam hangs back, getting your attention with a barely-there touch to your elbow. You look over at him, and he nods in the other direction, toward the dorms. 

Of course he’s going to insist on checking your injuries himself, as he always did in the years you trained with him and Xaden. He doesn’t seem to think anything has changed between you in the year you’ve been away.

Sooner or later, he’ll realize he’s wrong.

You wait for nearly everyone to be out of the gym before you leave, leading him up to the second floor in silence and unlocking your door with a wave of your hand, gesturing him inside -- thankfully there’s nobody in the hallway to see you.

You haven’t been alone with him in a full year. A year and two weeks, if you want to be precise. The day you’d said goodbye, and nothing else.

You busy yourself with digging through your desk drawer to find the nearly-empty tin of healing balm, handing it to him before you turn away, gritting your teeth as you pull the shirt up over your head. 

If you weren’t pouring every ounce of energy you have left into keeping yourself upright, you might have it in you to be embarrassed about the amount of skin you’re exposing to him, the history of your first year at Basgiath on full display. But it’s Liam. Liam isn’t going to judge you, isn’t going to pry; he’ll just keep giving you that soft, concerned look -- which is somehow almost worse.

There’s a moment of quiet as he takes it in; the dark blue, nearly-black silhouette of Tuile that spans your shoulder blades and continues down your back, disappearing into the layers of thick linen wrapped over your chest, the full extent of your rebellion relic, winding down your arm to your wrist… 

Then he sees it, the nasty bruise starting to form on your back, below the hem of your bindings. The other cadet had hit you square in the spine, a blow that could very well have been paralyzing had it been delivered at a slightly different angle with slightly more force. That’s probably what he’d intended.

Liam isn’t particularly religious -- none of you are, which was a major reason why your parents had wanted to secede from Navarre -- but he still sends up a silent thank you to the powers that be that you’re okay, standing in front of him mostly unharmed.

You grit your teeth, keeping your eyes shut and gripping the shirt tightly as Liam’s hand rubs over your back, working in the healing balm. 

There’s something about the feeling of his skin on yours that is more uncomfortable than the aching bruise or any of the other injuries you’d sustained in that fight. 

You can handle the brush of your hands, a touch through layers of clothing and armor, eye contact and whispered words and smiles — all things that are acceptable behavior between friends — but the tenderness of this whole thing is overwhelming; being alone with Liam in your room, his bookbag on the floor, standing behind you rubbing a hand over your back, the other on your waist to hold you steady because you’re fucking trembling.

Maybe you are a little embarrassed after all.

The skin feels warm and tingly, a sign that whatever healing herbs within the sticky paste are working, soothing the aching muscle. Your entire body feels warm. It’s unbearably hot in this room, but Liam doesn’t seem to mind, still dressed in his flight jacket and full uniform. 

He moves his attention from your back to your side, murmuring a soft apology when you startle at the feeling of his hand smoothing over your ribs.

You take a breath, letting him work more of the balm into the spot where the other cadet’s fist had landed.

He finally pulls back, letting his hand linger on your waist until he’s convinced you won’t fall over. “Anything else hurting?” he asks gently.

“My head,” you admit to the wall. “But that never goes away.”

You pull the shirt back on as quickly as you can, done feeling exposed, and fight to maintain an unaffected expression as you turn back to face him.

He looks at you for a few seconds before it dawns on him -- the persistent headache, the flatness of your skin and your constantly racing heart, the way you’re bracing yourself with a hand on the desk, how tired you look and feel… “Spark, when was the last time you had water? Or anything to drink at all?”

Liam has always been too observant for his own good. 

You take a moment to think about it, another definite indicator that something is wrong. “Yesterday,” you answer quietly. “At dinner.” 

His eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It’s been a full twenty-four hours -- you’re supposed to be at dinner right now. It’s a miracle that you hadn’t passed out on the mat this afternoon.

He doesn’t scold you, doesn’t tell you how bad that is; he just squeezes your hand gently, taking the water bottle out of his bag and uncapping it. He can see you hesitating, knows something is wrong --  it takes a lot to rattle you, but you’re looking at the thing like it’s going to bite you.

“Three sips?” he asks softly.

That seems doable.

You take the bottle from him, holding it for a moment, feeling the weight of the metal and the energy flowing through the water inside it. It’s clean, calm, not murky and angry like the river water that Carr had made you practice with last year, but that doesn’t matter; in your hands, it’s the most dangerous substance on the planet.

And as fate would have it, it’s necessary for your survival.

You’re just grateful Tuile is off doing gods-know-what and not making her usual smug commentary -- she’d left after you’d won that challenge match, but she’ll be back soon enough. 

You raise it to your lips and drink, wanting to get it over with. The water is cool and crisp, breathing life back into your mouth and soothing your throat as you swallow, your body singing in relief as you give it what it’s been deprived of for months now. 

You take a moment to breathe, comforted by the air that continues to flow into your lungs and back out. Liam is standing in front of you. You’re okay. Two more. You can do this.

You bring it back up for another sip. You hadn’t realized how much you needed this, how much better it would make you feel. You take the next one in quick succession — that’s three. You’re done. 

You hate to admit it, but you feel better already.

Liam is still watching you with that soft, worried expression, though it’s less severe now than it had been earlier. You can see the gears turning, knowing he’s wondering why this was such a big deal for you; but there’s no judgment there, just genuine concern for your well-being.

You decide to tell him the truth, or part of it.

“I almost drowned when I channeled for the first time,” you say quietly, gazing back down at the half-empty bottle. “It was fucking terrifying. I couldn’t shower alone for a week. I needed one of the girls to come into the bathroom with me and face the wall, just talking to me the whole time. Then we realized Bo can counter signets. He’s been helping me control it, but…”

So that’s what Xaden had meant when he said that Bodhi was helping you deal with things. He wonders if there’s anything else his brother hadn’t told him, anything you aren’t telling him, but he won’t demand an answer from you -- he knows how difficult it must have been for you to tell him what you did, and he won’t push you further.

He takes the bottle back and caps it, gathering you into his arms silently, the way he’d wanted to back in the gym. He’s careful not to put any pressure on the injury, keeping his hands well above the bruise -- one between your shoulder blades and one on your ribs, on the side that you hadn’t been hit.

You rest your head on his shoulder, speaking in a whisper. “Thank you, Li.”

His lips brush over your hairline, where the ache is the worst. “Of course, sweet girl.”

You don’t want to let go of him yet, but you’ve already been holding each other longer than is appropriate for friends -- and that’s all you are, for the time being. 

He finally pulls away, and you could nearly cry at the loss of contact. 

“I need a minute,” you manage. “You should head down.”

You’re reminded again of why you love him so much as he nods in understanding, shouldering his bag and giving you a soft smile before he heads out your door.

All good things must come to an end. 

“Sweet? He must not know you at all.” 

“He knows me better than you ever will,” you snap back. 

At least she waited for him to leave, for you to be done with the water, or you would have some serious explaining to do.

You build up the wall again before she replies, and though it isn’t strong enough to block her out completely, she doesn’t push against it or knock it down -- she must not feel like getting into a pissing match with you right now. 

Good. You don’t either.

You notice he left the bottle on your desk. You manage another three sips before you finally head down to dinner, where you slide into the open seat beside Liam, silently pushing the empty bottle toward him. 

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, not wanting to draw any attention from the group around you, who are all immersed in hearty conversation.

You haven’t heard those words from anyone in a long time. They mean more to you than he could ever imagine.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 16. Mares In His Stable

With Threshing over for another year, it's time for everyone to celebrate.

Set Pre Fourth Wing/Books

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

The dining hall is loud as everyone celebrates. Well those of us now classified as riders celebrate. As I scan the room, those who did not manage to bond a dragon today are absent. And I don’t blame them. This was essentially rubbing in their face that they weren’t worthy of being a rider.

As my eyes continue to scan the room I note how many of us new riders had forgone our jackets, many showing off their new relics. I was one of the few who had not opted to show off my new relic. Especially not while my brother was around.

When we’d been gifted our dragon relics in the flight field, I had to fight back a smirk as the heat that engulfed me wrapped around my right arm. The blue and black relic wrapping around my arm and shoulder. Reminding me very much of the relics the marked ones bared. I’d angered my father enough for one day, so I’d decided to keep it hidden for another time My brother no doubt delivering the news himself once he saw the marking for himself. As if sensing my gaze Dain turns, our eyes meeting across the room.

“I can’t tell if he wants to kill you or fuck you with how he’s staring at you right now,” Imogen says loudly as she takes the empty seat across from me.

I choke on the drink I’d been taking, Bodhi quick to start thumping me on the back to help the coughing fit I’m caught in by Imogen’s words as I tear my gaze from Dain’s.

”P-please tell me you are not talking about my brother.” I say once my coughing fit has passed, the rest of our group bursting into laughter at my words as I gasp for air.

Imogen smirks and shakes her head while laughing at me, “Fuck no. Though if incest is your thing-”

”Fuck no. Now please tell me who the hell you’re talking about.”

Bodhi turns his head, scanning the room as we wait for Imogen to reply. He must find the person in question, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk that reminds me too much of his older cousin. “Definitely the second one,” He teases as Imogen nods in agreement.

I turn my head as I follow Bodhi’s gaze, my eyes landing on Garrick as he leans up against a wall on the other side of the room. Our eyes lock for a brief second before he averts his gaze to another rider who starts walking up to him. The way she sways her hips as she walks up to me tells me exactly what she wants. As she steps into his reach, he grasps her by the waist and pulls her against him before leaning down and pulling her into a kiss. A kiss that quickly turns heated, and there's no doubt in my mind at what those two will be doing tonight.

”Hate to burst your bubble, but looks like you’re wrong Bodhi,” I say as I pat him on the back sympathetically. “Looks like he just wants to murder me and the feeling is mutual.”

”He’s really not-”

”I swear to the gods if you say he’s really not that bad I will pour this entire drink over your head.” I warn him, holding my drink above his head.

Bodhi looks between me and the drink, debating if to finish his sentence. After a few seconds his shoulders sagas he sighs in defeat. Clearly deciding it was not worth having a drink poured over his head for.

”Do I want to know why you’re holding a drink over my cousins head like that?” Xaden drawls from next to me, his voice startling me causing the drink to slosh over the edge of the cup and a few drops landing on Bodhi’s head.

”Your cousin thought it would be a good idea to try tell her Garrick isn’t that bad.” Austin chimes in.

I turn and narrow my gaze at her, and all she does is smile sweetly at me. She was no longer affected by any glares I sent her way. Always seeing past them now she knew me too well. I hear her giggle as I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to Xaden.

”Which I might believe if he didn’t act like I was the worse thing to happen in his life.” I say venomously, earning a few chuckles from our group.

”At the risk of getting a drink poured over my own head. He might surprise you Aetos.” He drawls, my eyes narrowing as he uses my last name.

”I highly doubt that given how he’s treated me so far.” I snap back, Xaden’s brow furrowing at my words. “And on that note I will see you all tomorrow as I’ve had enough of this Garrick talk.”

After months of sleeping in the crowded barracks, I’d had the best nights sleep since I’d gotten here. It felt weird to have my own space again, no Austin and Liz to talk with before bed. But I had missed my alone time. Missed having my own space. Though somehow I knew with having my own room now, I still wouldn’t get as much alone time as I would like. I could already imagine Bodhi knocking on my door and barging in whenever he got the chance. I was going to have to learn to ward my door as soon as I could, even if it wasn’t something I would learn for a while, I would find a way.

I grab my jacket from the back of the chair where I had thrown it last night before walking into the hallway and closing the door. I hear the sound of a door opening behind me, and I turn to see Garrick walking out of the room across from mine. He goes to walk off, but as I lean against the doorway and cross my arms cross my chest, his head turns to look at me as he stops.

For the first time since I’d gotten here, he doesn't glare at me when our eyes meet. And I hated to say it was a nice change to not see his face in a glare at the sight of me. His gaze travels over me before snagging on the relic that now adorned my arm and was on full display due to not putting my jacket on yet. His eyes go wide as he takes it in, clearly having the same thoughts I did when I’d looked at it after Threshing.

”For someone that hates me so much, you sure seem to like starting at me. Maybe I should paint you a picture.” My words snapping him out of whatever trance he was in, his hazel eyes meeting mine again.

”Thanks, but I politely decline that offer.” He huffs at me, folding his own arms over his chest.

”You, do something politely? That would be a first.” I snap back as I smirk at him, his brow furrowing slightly, but not into its usual glare.

”I can do many things politely.” He says with a smirk, slowly walking over to me. “Maybe if you didn’t act they way you do, you might get some of the benefits like your fellow rider did last night.”

My laughter echoes off the walls of the empty hall, Garrick’s smirk dropping at my reaction as he stops in front of me, having to crane my neck to look up at him. “If there was anyone I want to reap those benefits from, you would be the last one on my list. Don’t want to catch a disease from one of the many mares you keep in your stable on rotation.”

I expected his usual glare to return, but it doesn’t. The lumbering oaf just smirks down at me as he leans closer. My heart rate picks up at the close proximity, a slight heat rising up my neck. Shit. I was not reacting to this bastard.

”Oh don’t worry little Aetos, I keep the mares in my stable quite clean if you ever change your mind.” His voice dropping to an octave which does not help the way my body was reacting. I might find him attractive, but that was it.

I open my mouth to reply before a door bangs open next to us, Bodhi bounding out into the hallway before coming to a halt as he notices Garrick and I. Garrick is quick to respond, turning my head to watch as he storms out of the hallway towards the stairs. A chuckle draws my attention back to Bodhi, still standing where he had halted in the hallway with a wide grin on his face.

”Not a fucking word. I do not want to hear it.” I snap at him before shrugging my jacket on and storming off.

”I wasn’t going to say anything!”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands

[scrumptiouskoalahottub]

☁️Matchmaker| George Clarke

[You're part of the production team for the sidemen, you're shooting on set with multiple guests where the sidemen open a restaurant for a day and have to invite their friends to test/try the food they prepare, one of them being George Clarke. You've never met him before but you seem to hit it off pretty quickly and get along great, which your coworkers pick up on]

It's 8am and you're just getting ready to set off to set to prepare the equipment for the day, you opt for avocado on toast as a quick breakfast snack before you catch the tube into central London, arriving for 9am you're greeted by All the boys and the rest of your production team. "Morning guys!" You say all cheery, as you waltz in, "do we know the initial set up for today?" You ask. "Yeah we've got 3 on kitchen, 1 on bar 2 serving and 1 front or house" Kon explains, you have a look at the guest list for the shoot to see if there's anyone you know.

Guest list:

Table 1 : George Clarkey, Arthurtv, Arthur hill 12pm-2pm

Table 2: Danny Aarons, Tennessee Thresh, AngryGinge 1pm-4pm

Table 3: Random Extras (table of 6 hen party) 3pm-6pm

Table 4: WillNE, James Marriott 3pm-6pm

You finishing looking at the guest list and prepare your camera for your station, you're in front of house & Guest interviewing, which means you'll record entrances or the guests and ask them how their experiences was/their expectations of the evening. The time is now 11am and you've just finished setting up the cameras for the day, you quickly take promo shots of the boys in their outfits for the intro and set the tables ready for the first guests to arrive. You were told the dress agenda was casual so you wear your flared mom jeans with a white bodysuit and your hair in a claw clip. The time is now 11:45 and the first guests have started to arrive in time for their first interviews. The first up is George Clarkey, Arthurtv and Arthur hill.

You meet them outside to record their intros, "hi guys, I'm y/n I'm part of the production team, I'm just going to film your intros before we let you in. Just a brief description on what you expect from today's experience and how you expect it to go" you explain to them and they all nod. "so which one of you is George?" You ask reading from the sheet, a tall, brown haired boy holds his hand up "that's me" he smiles at you, "nice to finally put a face to the name" you smile as you chuckle "Arthurtv?" Another, tall brown haired boy holds his hand up as you smile at him "and I assume you're Arthur Hill right?" You smile at the last boy remaining "yeah I am, how did you guess?" He laughs

You film their intro infront of the doors and ask them some questions, you couldn't help but feel a warm gaze heading in your direction, it was George. You kept catching him looking through the camera towards you as you were filming, you shrug it off and wrap up their intros and walk them inside, you film their entrance as they're met by Ethan in front of house, they head over to the bar to collect their drinks from JJ as they are shown to their table. Your part of filming was done for the most part so you take a seat as JJ makes you one of his "special" cocktails. "What have you put in this" you look at him concerned "nothing crazy don't worry" he laughs "so that means there's something crazy in it then" you let out a loud laugh as you take a sip of the cocktail, you set it down and look up to find George still catching your gaze. You set your drink down and make your way to the table to check in on them.

"Hey guys is everything okay?" You ask them with a warm smile "y-yeah fine thanks" George says stuttering his face turning red, tv&hill look at him and laugh "bro just tell her" TV says "tell me what?" You ask curiously "he thinks you're really pretty" Hill replies, George buries his head into his hands from the second hand embarrassment "aw thanks George, you're not so bad yourself" you smile at him as he emerges from his hands "right I best get back, I'll catch up with you guys soon, enjoy your food" you wave and walk away, you hear George faintly say "why the fuck did you do that" as he laughed with them both. "He seemed friendly" Kon mentions as you walked back "yeah he said I was pretty" you laugh as you, greet the other guests for their seats, you film their intros and set them down.

You've got 2 hours to kill before the next batch of people arrive, George and his friends were set to leave in around 20 minutes so you collect your camera ready to film their outros "ready boys?" You ask them as they emerge from their seats, you walk them over to the corner of the bar to film their ratings before the other guests arrive. You place your camera down and thank them for coming, they all leave when George stops in his tracks and turns to you "I know this is weird because we've just met but I couldn't get your number could I?" He asks, the boys smirk as they leave you to it "that's not weird, sure pass me your phone" you say as he hands you his phone, you enter your number and hand the phone back to him "it's been nice to meet you, I'll text you yeah?" He says "you too! I look forward to it" you reply with a warm smile, you give him a hug as he waves you goodbye and leaves. Suddenly you hear an abundance of clapping from behind you as all the boys cheer

"We knew that was going to happen!" JJ shouts "oh yeah and whys that?" You reply laughing "y/n we could feel the tension like an electric fence, he was digging you from the start!" Tobi chimed in "oh stop it" you laugh as you sit yourself down and prepare for the next guests

-

Part 2?

[hook-and-chains]

“Helia was the least of your worries. I had always wondered if you made it off of that isle or became one with it. This explains... everything. I don’t forget your last words to me. You were always apart of what happened. You had a hand to play in the downfall of the Blessed Isles. For that, I have to thank you. You were the key to everything, Rune Mage.”

His gait predatory as he approached though simply loomed around him as if a ghost of his past.

​“I do wonder what Tyrus taught you... and where he is nowadays.”

"It's been so long, Little Rune mage... who knew you even made it out alive."

Ryze stops in his tracks the moment that he hears that voice. The runes on his arms flicker, and when he whips around, his gaze is burning with the mana he's taken into his body.

"My past loves to come back and haunt me... But I had hoped you hadn't come back as some twisted abomination when I watched that magic destroy Hylia."

Despite his snarled response, the rune mage felt one emotion that rarely ever surfaced these days...

Fear.

[crisalidaseason]

From Parapet to Threshing - Tairn's POV

Summary: In which we see Tairn's thoughts as he chaperones Andarna and ends up gaining a rider in the process (from Parapet to Threshing) CW: Tairn being a girl dad, Andarna being an iconic feathertail, Spoilers for Fourth wing, Set in book 1, Sgaeyl is mother, one suggestive line (mdni), also this is a bit more than 4k words

A grumble was his only response to the hatchling beside him.

“I sense your impatience” Sgaeyl’s low voice echoed in Tairn’s head, managing to inflame his growing irritation.

“How am I supposed to be patient when the Golden one will not cease her pestering!”

“She is young, you were her age once” his mate countered.

“I do not recall being this insolent”

The sound of Sgaeyl’s amusement rumbled in his head, still low considering the distance between the two mates.

“Then your memory is finally catching up to your age” Sgaeyl teased “what is it that she wants?”

Train chuffed at her response.

“I want to fly outside the vale” the younger voice intruded in the conversation.

Train huffed once more, leaving his mate to deal with the antics of the hatchling. He had heard enough of her incessant demands to leave safety.

“You will not do such thing!” his mate commanded “you are not to leave the Vale”

“I could go with you” Andarna’s voice was small “Your rider needs your presence today, let me join”

“I will not repeat myself, you will not fly above the Vale!” Sgaeyl's impatience was evident.

There was a reason for Tairn being the one to deal with the hatchling’s tantrums more often, Sgaeyl had a temper unmatched.

“I have said so for the past hour” Tairn complained “She does not listen, as per usual”

Andarna’s upset growl was the last thing she spoke before closing herself for communication.

“Watch over her” Sgaeyl muttered “knowing this little one, she will attempt to fly on her own”

“Of course, I shall happily chaperone the hatchling as if that was my greatest duty” Tairn’s voice dripped in sarcasm.

Sgaeyl did nothing but huff at him, but mind at rest knowing Tairn would watch over Andarna either way since - as a bonded dragon - his mate often did not have time to teach and care for the young dragon. Tairn watched as the golden scales disappeared inside the cave guarding the other hatchlings and decided to rest near the entrance, waiting for the chance Andarna decided to test him yet again. He watched with familiarity as the morning shine disappeared and storm clouds formed in the sky, the droplets of water hitting his scales, not a good omen for the humans crossing the death bridge.

“Was it raining that day?” Andarna’s voice was quiet.

“I’ve lived many days” he replied, already sure of her meaning.

“The day your last rider crossed the bridge”

Tairn let a puff of steam out of his lungs.

“I do not wish to speak of him” he warned.

“Just this question, please” she pleaded “I will not bother you after”

He highly doubted it, but decided to indulge just this once.

“If I answer, you shall not ask more about it”

“I will not” the hatchling promised.

“It was raining, but not as much as this morning. Question answered, now rest!”

She remained silent, but Tairn could sense worry before her communication severed. Her behavior was new - it had been strange lately. She was insistent to explore outside the Vale, restless, asking about Sgaeyl’s bond with her rider with insistence.

“I am returning” Sgaeyl’s voice echoed a few hours later “the humans are done with their ritualistic death bridge”

Her navy scales soon emerged from the still storm filled sky, landing soundly beside Tairn and encouraging other dragons to keep their distance.

“Torched any frail human out of amusement today?” he asked.

“I have not” she replied, taking offense “I have restraint”

Tairn let out a huff of laughter. She had as much restraint as Andarna.

“Yes, do insult me” she hissed “I’ll have you take Andarna hunting for the entire waning moon”

The black dragon quickly let go of his courageous teasing, Sgaeyl was a dragon of honor and words. His mate soon joined their resting place, the black dragon lifting one of his massive wings to fit her frame under. He laid his head over her neck, chest rumbling with her proximity.

“There are many strong humans this year” she said after a moment of silence.

The black dragon let a puff of steam into the air, the heat mixing with the cold droplets of water.

“I will not bond Sgaeyl” his tone was firm “he was my last”

“The war is near, you are a war dragon” Sgaeyl snarls.

Tairn saw no point to that discussion - a conversation both of them repeatedly had over the last years. He knew how it would end and decided that sharing bitter words was not something he wanted that day, the rain brought too many unpleasant memories. His massive frame carefully moved around Sgaeyl’s, untangling himself from her and preparing to fly.

“You will fly away again”

“You know my decision better than any other” he said “It was my choice then and it remains my choice now. I will not take another rider”

With that, Tairn stood to his full height and spread his wings, flying away to the mountains. A common behavior whenever the subject was brought up yet again by elders and his mate. He had taken a last chance, a choice that left him scarred and almost took his last breath. He would fight when the time came, but he would never relive the pain of losing another rider ever again.

______

“Speak some sense into her mind!” Sgaeyl’s voice was loud, commanding.

“You think I have not tried?” he replied “not only has she forsaken my words, but successfully managed to have the elders allow her to see the humans”

Andarna’s latest victory still rattled in Tairn’s mind. He did not know what possessed the young dragon to wish to be near the unbonded humans, curiosity certainly not being the sole reason. All he could do was accept once the elders allowed her to participate in the presentation. He had asked the golden dragon about her reasoning for such recklessness countless times before, but none of her answers were satisfactory.

“The little one is naive if she thinks she can bond at that age” Sgaeyl worry flew through their bond “she cannot possibly plan to do so”

Tairn would not put past Andarna to disobey the rules, the dread settled in his gut thinking about it. A hatchling with her abilities bonding with a greedy human would be destructive to her and all feathertails.

“I will watch over her, to be certain she won’t approach the humans” Sgaeyl’s verdict seemed certain enough “my rider will not need me”

“I will be minutes away” he guaranteed.

Later that afternoon, he saw through his mate’s eyes as the small feathertail kept her distance while the humans walked. The golden dragon seemed disinterested, resting on the ground. Tairn wondered if she was only curious after all, if seeing the humans proved to be below her expectations and soon her desire to explore would subside…until she perked up and stood in complete attention. Her tail moved from side to side, her head lowered near the ground - following the humans intently with her eyes.

“What is it?” Tairn demanded “Andarna!”

But the feathertail did not reply, nor did she pay Sgaeyl any attention either.

“She is watching the smaller female” his mate replied instead “the one who smells of blood”

He could not smell the blood from the distance, but Sgaeyl provided him with the perfect view of the woman. She was smaller than her other peers, hands covered in dark cloth, an unusual silver color in her hair. The small human took notice of Andarna with as much intensity as the feathertail. Andarna’s interest was evident as she followed the human with her golden gaze, taking a small step towards the human.

“Golden one!” Train’s voice was louder and authoritative “do not approach!”

“Who the hell would bond that thing?” a human male said, pointing at Andarna.

Tairn’s chest grumbled a threat. Insolent human.

“They can hear you” the silver woman warned.

The humans kept speaking about the feathertail, trying to understand her presence. Two of the humans were more than deserving of scorching.

“I shall have the pleasure” Sgaeyl growls.

“You should totally bond it, Sorrengail. You’re both freakishly weak. It’s a match made in heaven” the man taunted the silver one.

“Burn him first” Andarna’s voice was full of fury “She is not weak”

Her words rattled in his head, proving the suspicion that her interest was not on the humans, but one human only. He would have to discuss it with Sgaeyl later.

“It looks powerful enough to burn you to death” the silver woman answered the man’s words.

Another man rushed to the insolent one, wisely and aggressively warning him of the dragons nearby. They all began discussing, attentive of the danger surrounding them. Tairn was not one to bother listening to humans, but the insolent one had his full attention with the next words.

“Someone should kill it before it bonds. It’s just going to get its rider killed, and it’s not like we get a choice if it wants to bond us”

Sgaeyl and Tairn growled at the same time. This human would not bond and neither live, the black dragon would see that it happened. He wondered for a few seconds if he should fly to the canyon and scorch the human himself.

“You know what it means if you come here” Sgaeyl said, her attention mostly on her mate at that moment.

Train grumbled, knowing well what his presence in front of the humans would mean for the elders. He would not bond, nor give them reasons to believe so.

“I can have others burn him” he simply grumbled.

“Sgaeyl could” Andarna replied.

“I might, though my rider would suffer the consequences” the navy dragon murmured.

Sgaeyl hid her disappointment fast enough not to subdue their attention to the humans. They returned to their stroll after the tense moment. Train watched attentively as the silver human spoke with her comrades, mostly chattering until her next words.

“I mean, it could be worse. We could be walking past a line of wyvern, right?”

Tairn went rigid and he felt Sgaeyl’s mutual feelings settling in their bond.

“Could she know?” Andarna whispered, but none of the adult dragons replied.

“Oh please, Violet, do give us one of your nervous-babble story times” another woman scorns “Let me guess. Wyvern are some elite squad of gryphon riders created because of something we did at a battle only you can manage to remember with your scribe brain”

“You don’t know what a wyvern is?” another asked “Didn’t your parents tell you bedtime stories, Luca?”

“Do enlighten me”

“They’re folklore” the silver one answered “Kind of like dragons but bigger, with two feet instead of four, a mane of razor-sharp feathers streaking down their necks, and a taste for humans. Unlike dragons, who think we’re a little gamey”

“She does not” Tairn confirmed.

Her description was accurate for someone who believed it to be bedtime stories. Suddenly, he shared a small part of Andarna’s interest in the small human.

“I can feel your interest” his mate commented, but he remained silent.

The silver human reminisced in a childhood tale, one full of the said folklore. Andarna was unusually quiet, only observing the her as much as Tairn was.

“Yegdra” Sgaeyl quickly warned.

Tairn could see as the red swordtail stepped out of the dragon line and approached the humans.

“No!” Andarna screamed “Do not hurt her”

“Andarna, do not interfere!” Tairn warned.

Yegdra was quick to breathe fire into a weakling man within the group. The black dragon tried his best to conceal his relief that the silver one still stood - alive. Andarna would have been devastated otherwise, he convinced himself.

Though the feeling was short lived.

Two green dragons walked towards the small woman, who was recklessly distracted by another human. As soon as she turned, the fear in her eyes was evident - though she masked it well. They breathed steam onto her, and Tairn could feel the apprehension in Andarna’s non-coherent words. The dragons quickly assessed the silver one’s hands.

“I cut my hands climbing the obstacle course” her tone was nervous, but clear.

They continued their assessment, smelling her midsection attentively. Tairn silently urged the woman to continue her speech, indulge the dragons.

“You smell Teine, don’t you?” her voice was firmer than before “I’m Mira’s sister, Violet. She collected Teine’s scales after he shed them last year and had them shrunk down so she could sew them into the vest to help keep me safe”

She spoke to them, whispering a few more sentences before they let her return to her stroll. He listened as she laughed a few times while assuring her companions, but her laughter held no arrogance.

“Have you quenched your curiosity, little one?” Sgaeyl asked.

Andarna’s excitement was all the answer she gave and he now was certain of her attachment to the silver woman.

“Andarnaurram” his voice was gentle, yet firm “you shall not bond, you know it”

Her shimmering golden frame sunk. He felt no pleasure in her sorrow, but he could not allow the hatchling to bond, even if the woman was seemingly honorable enough, the dangers were too much of a risk to take. The turbulent irritation coming from the other side of his bond assured him Sgaeyl shared his despair.

______

“What do you know of the woman?” Train asked.

Sgaeyl’s left eye opened, staring into his, the dark moonless night doing nothing to dull their shimmer. Her tail slowly stroked his left hind leg, careful not to harm his scales.

“I know enough. Against my will, of course ” she replied “my rider has an invested interest in her despite their family matters”

Tairn huffed at her answer.

“Spare me of your rider’s lust-tainted opinions, what do you see?”

“A fragile body, she is easily breakable. Though I must admit she is intelligent, observant, courageous albeit naive and reckless as you have noticed today” she replied “also trustworthy in keeping my rider’s secrets”

He felt as his mate sent him images of her, blurry considering it was her rider’s inferior sight that composed most of the memories. One of them caught his attention, pale eyes locking briefly with Sgaeyl’s as his mate assessed her from the roof of a courtyard. Sgaeyl shared with him the smell of fear and determination, the steadiness despite the intimidating actions of the navy blue dragon. Not many stood still under his mate’s gaze.

“Many share the woman’s qualities and flaws” Tairn spoke “there must be another reason for Andarna’s interest”

“Indeed, but we will not know because the little one will not bond” Sgaeyl’s gave her ultimatum “I might not sense greed or cruelty on the woman, but I will not trust her with Andarna’s bond”

__________

“I will watch over her” Sgaeyl said to him as she prepared to fly to her rider.

Andarna exhaled happiness that morning. Tairn noticed as she ate carelessly, too ecstatic to focus on her sustenance in a proper way. The black dragon remained silent, still livid at the elders who allowed her to watch the humans in their hunt for a dragon. Despite his and Sgaeyl’s attempts at warning the elders, the result was far from satisfactory.

“She shall not bond now, she will be of no use for her rider until fully grown” their words were nothing but mere advice.

“I still wish you rethink your decisions, Golden one” the black dragon said as they flew from the vale.

“I just want to see her” she replied with her softest voice “I will behave”

Tairn grumbled. Andarna and behavior were only similar if there was mischief involved.

“You must listen to Sgaeyl, if she orders you to leave, do so” he warned “I will be near should you not obey her”

She huffed at Tairn as a reply.

“I will be minutes away” he sent to his mate “do not hesitate to call me”

He accompanied Andarna half of the way as she flew to the forest below, he landed behind the cover of the mountains, expectant to any danger or disobeyment from the young dragon.

“Remember what I said, Golden one” he grumbled one last time “observe only, do not draw attention”

“I know” she replied, unfocused on his words as the humans began their race.

The sun moved slowly in the sky, with every passing hour feeding into Tairn’s impatience. He called Sgaeyl through his bond, feeling her growing irritation.

“She exposes herself!” her words were menacing.

Through her eyes, Tairn saw as Andarna caught the sunshine with her golden scales, becoming a beacon of light to whomever noticed.

“As if she would listen to a word I say” Tairn growled.

“Tairn! My rider says three humans wish to harm herl” His mate’s panic swim through the bond, fueling the black dragon’s fury.

“Andarna, enough!” He growled “return with me to the vale this instant!”

The golden dragon refused to comply, laying on the grass with her head attentive to the treeline.

“I will end this” Sgaeyl snarls “we should have forbidden her, the elders could rot in their verdict”

He sensed as Sgaeyl flew closer to him, sharing her sight as she landed behind a treeline encasing the clearing in which the hatchling sunbathed.

“Andarna, I will not repeat myself. Fly to Tairn!” his mate’s voice was stern, but Andarna did not move.

Movement from the opposite side of the treeline captured the blue dragon’s attention. The silver one hid within the trees.

“You have to get out of here!” her voice is low, but enough for Sgaeyl and Andarna to hear “They’re going to kill you if you don’t leave!”

Tairn watched attentively through Sgaeyl. Maybe the stubborn hatchling would actually listen-

Of course not. Andarna remained seated, her head tilting as she watched the woman curiously.

“Yes! You! Goldie!” the woman insisted.

“Golden one, return! Other humans wish to hurt you” Tairn warned again, preparing to fly.

“They are already here” Sgaeyl growled, but desperation painted her words “I cannot interfere, Tairn, my rider is bound by the human laws”

Three men broke through the treeline, armed with blades. Andarna had at least the sane mind to growl at them, assuming a defensive position.

“We’ll make it painless” one of the men spoke.

“Tairn!”

He began his ascent through the mountains, rocks crumbling under his talons as he gradually gained momentum to fly as fast as possible. Another growl from Sgaeyl caught his attention.

“Reckless woman!” his mate snarled.

Tairn focused on his mate’s sight for a brief moment, seeing as the silver haired woman stood in front of Andarna with small blades in hand. Her steps carefully measured, but clearly strained in his advanced sight.

“You’re going to have to get through me, then” the woman’s voice echoed through their bond.

“The silver one is injured” Tairn warned “put your rider to use within his limits until I arrive!”

He finally flew over the mountain, his wings wildly beating as he seeked the gold color amongst the sea of green. With the clearing in sight, he watched from above as the three men ran to attack, which impulsed the dragon to fly even faster. The small silver woman returned the aggression viciously, quick and calculated movements despite the injury.

“One of them fled, but she cannot hold much longer” Sgaeyl said “fly faster!”

He would deal with the insult at his speed on a later occasion. Tairn dived to the clearing, in time to see one of the attackers unconscious and the other wounded. The silver woman’s scarlet blood painted her side but he noticed that Andarna seemed unharmed. His rage boiled inside his guts, seeing as the coward man intended to strike the unarmed woman for protecting one of his kin. He recognized the man as the one who threatened Andarna’s life before. He growled in pleasure. He would burn the insolent low life himself.

“I knew you would come” the hatchling’s voice was ringing with joy “she intends to die for me, do not let it happen!”

Tairn was right above them as the man cowardly prepared to strike. The black dragon landed, the ground trembling under his weight and the wind disorienting everyone in the clearing. Tairn did not hesitate as he reached for the woman’s mind, the silver strands of her mind quickly entangling with his as if expecting it since the beginning of times.

“Tairn!” Sgaeyl’s tone was unmistakably surprised.

“Not now” he replied.

“Step aside, Silver One” he spoke sternly in the woman’s mind, eyes on the despicable man in front of his massive form.

Did he just speak to me? Her voice echoed in his head in return. He almost sighed in frustration, who else would he speak with?

“Yes. You. Move” he ordered.

The silver woman stumbled away and he did not hesitate to open his maw and breathe the most searing fire he could muster upon the running man. When the threat was burnt out of existence, he turned his golden eyes to the small woman below him - now his rider. She was bleeding profusely from her arms, her weight focused on her uninjured foot. In her face, disbelief was evident. Tairn noticed the unconscious man on the ground, still breathing.

“You should end the enemy at your feet” he advised.

“I can’t kill an unconscious man” she shouted, shaking her head.

“He would kill you if given the same chance”

She studied the man, hesitant.

“Well, that’s a statement on his character. Not mine”

Tairn blinked at her. Courageous and fierce enough to defend a dragon - who was safe from harm considering Sgaeyl and Tairn were near - but naive to let an enemy live to see another sunrise. He would have to deal with her naivety later, for now her intelligence and bravery would be more than enough.

“You bonded the woman” Sgaeyl spoke again.

“I am aware” he replied “I made my choice”

His mate flew past them, leaving him and his rider to complete the human ritual. The amount of blood pooling around her feet was alarming, he would not have an unconscious rider.

“You’re bleeding. Stop it” he warned.

“It’s not that simple when you’ve been run through with a—” she began arguing “You know what? That’s a great idea”

She wrapped her arm with torn cloth, a practiced motion. He noticed her hands were still bound.

“There. Better?” she said, looking at him almost defiantly. He understood the recklessness.

“It will do” he replied “Your hands are bound, too. Do you bleed often?”

The woman looked at her wrapped hands, bittersweet features on her exhausted face.

“I try not to” she answered.

Tairn let out a dissatisfied sound. Reckless woman, indeed. He would have to build her self-preservation.

“Let’s go, Violet Sorrengail” He simply said, ready to be done with the theatrics of human events. Andarna - who was safely shielding under his wing finally left her hiding spot, her joy barely contained as she watched the scene unfold.

“How do you know my name?” she asked in surprise.

Tairn sighed in annoyance and frustration, disturbing the trees in the process.

“And to think, I’d almost forgotten just how loquacious humans are. Get on my back”

“Get on your back? Have you seen you? Do you have any idea how huge you are?”

“Be patient!” Andarna’s voice was pleading “she is new to this!”

Tairn grumbled and narrowed his eyes in annoyance to the human girl.

“One does not live a century without being well aware of the space one takes up. Now get on” he wanted this to be over, and soon!

Unfortunately, his new rider seemed to test him just as much as the hatchling he took under his care.

“I can’t just leave it. What if Oren wakes up or Jack comes back?” she argued once more, pointing at Andarna.

“Will you fly so the silver one and I can be done with this?” he warned the smaller dragon.

Andarna quickly took flight, to the surprise of his rider.

“Get. On” he growled, patience already running thin.

“You don’t want me” she spoke once more “I’m—”

“I’m not going to tell you again” his voice is a command.

At least that time she did listen. Though he knew that would be a rare occasion.

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 17

Hi, guys. Enjoy the new chapter :)

It is therefore only natural that the more powerful the dragon, the more powerful the signet its rider manifests. One should beware of a strong rider who bonds a smaller dragon, but even warier of the unbonded cadet, who will stop at nothing to seize a chance to bond.

—Major Afendra’s Guide to the Riders Quadrant

(Unauthorized Edition)

After sleeping in the crowded barracks for the last two months, it’s weird, and oddly decadent, to have my own room. I’ll never take the luxury of privacy for granted again.

I close my door behind me as I step into the hallway.

Violet’s door is to the right of mine and I see her limping towards me.

“Hi, there rider.” I greet her with a smile. “How is your leg?”

“Hi, Aelin.” She smiles back. “It’s not that bad. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

“Good morning, neighbours.” I feel an arm around my shoulder.

“Hi, Liam.” I look up at him. His room is the one left of mine, and Ethan’s next to him. We are the only first-years who survived Threshing in our squad.

“Hi.” I hear Vi whispers and I can see a small blush? on her face.

Oh, my god. I love it!

“Are you okay, Vi? You’re face is a little red.” I say with a sly smile.

“Yes.” She glares at me and turns around when Rhiannon’s door, across the small hall from us, opens and we see Sawyer’s tall, lean frame come out. He runs his fingers through his hair, and when he sees us, his eyebrows rise and he freezes—his cheeks almost as red as his freckles.

“Good morning.” I grin.

“Guys.” He forces an awkward smile and walks off, headed toward the main hallway of the first-year dormitory.

Rhiannon walks out of her room and smiles as soon as she sees us. “No more breakfast duty?” She turns to Violet.

“I was told last night that all the less desirable duties were being handed off to the unbonded so our energy can be redirected for flight lessons.”

„One more reason for the unbonded to hate us,” Rhiannon mutters.

“It doesn’t matter. I think our dragons existence are already pisses them off.” I shrug.

„So, Sawyer, huh, Rhi?” Vi asks as we start down our hallway, passing a few other rooms before meeting up with the main corridor that leads to the rotunda. Have to say, the first-year rooms aren’t as spacious as the second-years’, but at least we all got ones with windows.

A grin curves her lips. “I felt like celebrating.” She darts a quick side-eye at her. “And why have I not heard of you celebrating?”

We melt into the crowd moving toward the gathering hall. “Haven’t found anyone I want to celebrate with.”

“Really? Because I heard that you and a certain squad leader had a moment last night.”

She nearly stumbles over her feet.

“Come on, Vi. The entire quadrant was out there, and you don’t think someone saw you?” I roll my eyes.

„Who gives a shit if it’s frowned upon to be in a relationship with a superior officer? There’s no regulation, and it’s not like any of us is guaranteed to live through the day.” Rhiannon says.

“Solid points,” she admit. “But it’s…” she shakes her head, searching for the right words. “It’s not like that with us. I’d always hoped it would be, but when he kissed me—there was nothing there. Like. Nothing.”

“Well, that’s shitty to hear.” She hooks her arm through hers. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” She sighs.

“I’m not.” I glance at them. “I never liked him. And he doesn’t support you, Vi. You deserve someone who sees you. Because you’re awesome.” I squeeze Vi’s hand.

“Thanks, I think.” She smiles at me with gratitude.

„Good morning, ladies. And Liam.” Ridoc forces his way through the crowd and slings an arm around Rhiannon and Vi’s shoulders as we enter the rotunda. “Or should I say, riders?”

“I like the sound of riders,” Rhiannon replies, shooting a smile in his direction.

“It has a certain ring to it,” Ridoc agrees.

“It’s definitely better than dead. Where’s your relic?” Vi asks Ridoc as we pass through the columns of carved dragons and take the steps into commons.

“Right here.” His arm falls off her shoulders, and he shoves the sleeve of his tunic up to reveal the brown mark of a dragon silhouette on his upper arm. “You?”

“Can’t see it. It’s on my back.”

“That will keep you safer if you’re ever separated from that massive dragon of yours.” His eyes dance. “I swear, I thought I was going to shit myself when I saw him on the field. What about yours, Rhi?”

“Somewhere you’ll never see,” she responds.

“You wound me.” He slaps his hand over his heart.

“I highly doubt that,” she retorts, but there’s a smile on her face.

“And you Aelin? If it’s somewhere private than I’d like to volunteer to check it out. Just you, and me.” He winks at me.

“Nice try.” I laugh at him. “But I’ll pass.”

“Are you waiting for someone else?” Liam whispers in my ear.

“Shut up.” I elbow him in the ribs while I feel myself flush.

Before anyone can ask another question we move through commons and into the gathering hall, then make our way through the line for breakfast.

“Asshole,” Ridoc mutters in front of  me. “I still can’t believe they tried to kill you.” He says to Violet.

“Who?” I ask and look toward the counter. There’s a man behind it and he glares at Violet with hatred in his eyes. “Oh wow. What did you do to him?”

“I beat him during the challanges.” Vi turns to me. „And before Threshing he said that I better watch my back.”

“Hm. He really holds a grudge.” I say while we collect our breakfast. „But don’t worry, now you’re a rider with a badass dragon. Still… I can’t believe he’s this petty.”

„I’m the weakest link, right? Unfortunately for me, that means people are bound to try and take me out for the good of the wing.” Vi says.

“You’re not!” I say firmly.

We head toward the Fourth Wing section and find a table with extra seats.

“Mind if we—” Ridoc starts.

“Absolutely! It’s yours!” A couple of guys from Tail Section scurry off the bench.

“Sorry, Sorrengail!” the other says over his shoulder as they find another table, leaving this one empty.

What the hell?

“Well, that was really fucking weird.” I say as Rhiannon rounds the other side of the table, and I follow, putting our backs to the wall as we step over the bench and sit, setting our trays in front of us.

“Even weirder?” Liam remarks, gesturing across the hall toward First Wing.

Following his line of sight, my eyebrows lift. Jack Barlowe is being squeezed out of his table. He’s forced to stand as others take his seat.

“What the hell is going on?” Rhiannon bites into a pear and chews.

Jack moves to another table—whose occupants won’t make room for him—and then finds a place two tables down.

“How the mighty have fallen, Ridoc notes, watching the same show I am, but there’s no satisfaction in watching Jack struggle. Feral dogs bite harder when they’re cornered.

“Hey, Sorrengail,” the stocky girl from First Wing says with a tight smile as she walks past our table.

“Hi.” She wave awkwardly as she walks away, then turn to whisper to us. “She hasn’t spoken to me since I took one of her daggers in that challenge.”

“It’s because you bonded Tairn.” Imogen blows her pink hair out of her face and throws her leg over the bench across from us to sit, pushing up the sleeves of her tunic and revealing her rebellion relic. “The morning after Threshing is always a clusterfuck. Power balance shifts, and you, little Sorrengail, are now about to be the most powerful rider in the quadrant. Anyone with common sense is going to be scared of you.”

I blink, is that what’s going on? I look around the hall and take note. Social groups have split up, and some of the cadets I would have considered threats are no longer sitting where they usually do.

“Which is why you’re now sitting with us?” Rhiannon arches a brow at the second-year. “Because I can count on one hand the number of nice words you’ve said to any of us.” She holds up a fist with zero fingers raised.

Quinn—the tall second-year—takes a seat next to Imogen, and Sawyer arrives, sitting on Rhiannon’s other side. Quinn tucks her blond curls behind her ears and brushes her bangs out of her eyes, her round cheeks rising as she smiles at something Imogen says. Have to admit, the hooped piercings that line the shells of both her ears are pretty awesome, and among her half dozen patches, it’s the dark-green one—the same color as her eyes—with two silhouettes that’s most intriguing. I should have studied up on what all the patches mean, but according to what I’ve heard, they change every year.

I’m personally a fan of the first ones we’ve been given. I had to sew the tail-shaped patch with the emblem for Fourth Wing and the centered number two with great care, being sure to only stitch the fabric of my corseted armor, since it’s not like any needle is going to penetrate the scales.

„You weren’t interesting enough to sit with before,” Imogen responds, then bites into a muffin.

“I usually sit with my girlfriend in Claw Section. Besides, no use getting to know you when most of you die,” Quinn adds, tucking her curls away again, just to have them spring forward. “No offense.”

“None taken?” Vi says.

Then Heaton and Emery, the only third-years in their squad, flank Imogen and Quinn on the bench across from us.

“Wow. Is it a squad meeting?” I ask while munching on an apple. “Liam, I think we stand out too much.”

“You’re right. Why don’t you sit with your own squad?” Imogen asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Because they like us more than you. Even though you are their squadmate.” I smile at her coldly. “We have every right to be here. If you have a problem with it then the challanges we’ll start over soon.”

She swallows and looks at her plate.

“Is it just me or is anyone else surprised that Barlowe bonded?” Ridoc questions. “Though from what I’ve heard, his Orange Scorpiontail is on the smaller side.”

“She is,” Quinn confirms. “Which is why he’s struggling this morning.”

“Don’t worry—I’m sure he’ll make up for his lack of social standing in other ways,” Rhiannon mutters, her gaze narrowing. “You have to have some protein, Vi. You can’t just survive on fruit.”

“It’s the only food I can be sure isn’t tampered with, especially with that guy behind the counter.” she peels an orange.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Imogen scrapes three pieces of sausage onto her plate. “She’s right. You’re going to need all your strength to ride, especially with a dragon as big as Tairn.”

I stare at the sausage. Imogen hates her just as much as me. Hell, she’s the one who broke her arm and ripped out her shoulder on assessment day.

“You can trust her,” Aon says, and I startle, almost dropping the apple.

“She hates us.”

“But she has changed.” He says and I can feel him pulling back.

No other explanation? Fine.

Vi starts to eat, and I focus on the conversation at the table again.

“What’s your signet?” Rhiannon asks Emery.

Air rushes down the table, rattling the glasses. Air manipulation. Got it.

“That’s epic.” Ridoc’s eyes widen. “How much air can you move?”

“None of your business.” He barely spares him a glance.

“Sorrengail, after class is out today, you’re mine,” Imogen says.

“I’m sorry?” She asks in surprise.

Her pale green eyes lock on her. “Meet me in the sparring gym.”

“I’m already working with her on sparring—” Rhiannon starts.

“Good. We can’t afford her to lose any challenges,” Imogen retorts. “But I’m going to help you with weights. We need to strengthen the muscles around your joints before challenges resume. That’s the only way you’ll survive.”

The hairs rise on the back of my neck. “And since when do you care about her survival?” This isn’t a squad thing. It can’t be. Not when she didn’t give a shit before.

“Since now,” she says, gripping her fork in her fist, but it’s the lightning-fast glance toward the dais at the end of the hall that gives her away. Her concern isn’t coming from the goodness of her heart. Something tells me it’s an order. “Squads are about to be condensed at morning formation. We’ll be down to two in every section,” she continues. “Aetos kept the highest number of his first-years alive—hence the patch—so he’ll be allowed to retain his squad, but we’ll probably gain a few when they strip the squads from those who weren’t as successful.” She glances at Liam and I.

As discreetly as I can, I look to my right, past the other Fourth Wing tables and to the dais where Xaden sits with his executive officer and the section leaders, including Garrick, whose shoulders look like they should take up at least two seats. It’s Garrick who looks my way first, his forehead lining with… What is that? Worry? Then he looks away. The only reason he’d be remotely worried—he knows something.

Imogen helping Violet. Violet bonded to Tairn. Ohh shit.

“Aon? Is Tairn and Sgaeyl are mates?”

“Yes. They have a bond.” He answers.

“Then Violet and Xaden are somehow connected too?” I have my suspicions.

“Yes. They have a bond through their dragons.” He answers. “But it’s not an emotional one, little one.” He adds silently.

Then it means Garrick knows Violet’s fate is tethered to Xaden’s.

My gaze snaps to Xaden, and my chest tightens. So. Freaking. Beautiful. Apparently my body doesn’t care that he’s as dangerous as they come in the quadrant, because heat rushes through my veins, flushing my skin.

He’s using a dagger to peel an apple, removing the rind in one long curl, and the blade continues its path as his eyes lift, locking with mine.

My whole head tingles.

Gods, is there any part of my body that doesn’t physically react to the sight of him?

He glances toward Imogen and back to me, and that’s all it takes for me to know for certain. He’s ordered her to help train Violet. Xaden Riorson is now in the business of keeping his mortal enemy alive.

…

A few hours later, after the squads are rearranged and the death roll is read, all the first-year riders in Fourth Wing stand in our newly issued flight leathers, waiting in front of our dragons on the flight field.

We were the smallest squad, it was logical to disband us. I don’t know why, but fortunately Liam, Ethan and I was assigned to Fourth Wing, Flame Section, Second squad. It’s Violet’s squad. Our squad’s second- and third-years went into the same squad too. I don’t complain. I’m glad that we’re still together. So now it’s our first flight lesson as a member of a new squad.

The uniform is thicker than our usual one, with a full jacket I’ve buttoned over my dragon-scale armor. And unlike our regular uniforms, whatever we choose them to be, flight leathers bear no insignia besides our rank at our shoulder and any leadership designation. No names. No patches. Nothing that could give us away if we’re separated from our dragons behind enemy lines. Just a lot of sheaths for weapons.

I try not to think about possibly fighting in the war effort one day and focus on the organized chaos evolving on the flight field this morning. I can’t miss the way the other cadets look at Tairn or the wide berth the other dragons give him. Honestly, if I had those teeth bared at me, I’d back away, too.

„No you wouldn’t, because you didn’t. You stayed and defended your friend.” Aon’s voice fills my head as he stands next to Tairn, and I can tell from his tone there are places he’d rather be.

“Only because there was a lot going on at the moment,” I respond.

“I don’t think so. Now pay attention!” He ends the discussion.

I roll my eyes but focus on what Kaori is saying from the center of the field. His hand is up, using common lesser magic to project his voice so we can all hear.

God help us when Ridoc figures out how to do that. I bite back a smile, knowing he’ll find some way to annoy the shit out of every rider in the quadrant, not just his squad.

“…and at only ninety-two riders, you are our smallest class to date.”

My shoulders dip. “I thought a hundred and one were willing to bond, plus you and Tairn?”

“Willing doesn’t mean they found worthy riders,” Aon answers. “You’re worthy. At least I think you are, but you apparently don’t pay attention in class.” He chuffs and a warm puff of steam blasts the back of my neck.

“There are forty-one unbonded riders who would kill to be standing where you are,” Kaori continues. “And your dragons know that your bond is at its weakest point right now, so if you fall, if you fail, there’s a good chance your dragon might let you if it thinks the unbonded will be a better choice.”

“Comforting,” I mutter.

Aon makes a noise that reminds me of a scoff.

“Now, we’re going to mount, then follow a series of specific maneuvers your dragons already know. Your orders are simple today. Stay in your seat,” Kaori finishes. Then he turns and breaks into a sprint, racing the dozen feet toward his dragon’s foreleg and making the vertical climb to mount.

Just like the last obstacle on the Gauntlet.

I sprint up the same way and I navigate Aon’s spikes to find the seat. My tighs ache a little from yesterday, but it’s bearable. I grip the pommel. Okay, I’m ready.

Kaori’s dragon launches into the sky.

“Hold tight.”

I feel as Aon crouches a millisecond before he hurls us skyward. The wind tears at my eyes as my stomach falls away, and I risk holding on with one hand to lower my flight goggles. Immediate relief.

“We had to go third?” I ask Aon as we fly out of the canyon and higher into the mountain range. I get it now, why I didn’t see the dragons training often even though I’ve basically grown up at Basgiath. The only people around us are other riders.

“I only agreed to follow Smachd because his rider is your instructor. Tairn should be the first.”

“So you’re an in-front kind of guy. Good to know. Remind me to spend some time at temple so I can make multiple appeals to Dunne.” I keep my focus on Kaori, watching for when the maneuvers will start.

“The goddess of strength and war?” Aon clearly scoffs this time.

“What, dragons don’t think we need the gods on our side?” Shit, it’s cold up here. My gloved hands tighten on the pommel.

“Dragons pay no heed to your puny gods.”

Kaori banks right, and Aon follows suit, leading us into a steep dive down the face of one of the peaks. I clench with my legs to remain in the seat.

We go into another climb and even a near-spiral of a turn, and I can’t help but notice that he’s taking everything Kaori is doing and making it harder. The same as Tairn.

“Why did you make it harder?” I ask. “It’s our first flight lesson, I don’t want to fall off.”

“You won’t. I chose you, now trust me. Unless you’d rather be scraped off the glacier below like Gleann’s rider back there?”

I whip my head around to look, but all I see is Aon’s tail swinging, his massive spikes blocking the view.

“Don’t look.”

“We already lost a rider?” My throat knots.

“Gleann chose poorly. He never bonds strongly anyway.”

At least I can hold my seat. It’s not that bad.

As soon as I think this, I see Violet as he falls off from Tairn.

“Violet!” I shout without thinking.

“Don’t worry. Tairn will catch her.” Aon says.

“What? But I thought the dragons never catch the newly bonded riders.”

Then I see Tairn’s claws catch her. He climbs high, then tosses her again, his back rises to meet her falling bottom. I sigh with relief as she takes her seat. She’s safe.

“Worry about yourself, little one. You have a lot to learn. Leave your friend to Tairn.”

I try to concentrate, but I can’t help and notice as Violet falls again.

And again.

And again.

Shit. We have to figure something out.

[notsocooljess]

dreaming of conversations we'll have tomorrow

hi there! i have finally finished this one-shot i've been working on for way too many months it's inspired by apartment by modern baseball (you can listen before without spoilers!) i hope you like it! :)

“Dude! Are you almost ready or what?” Finnick yelled up the stairs of their shared house.

“Just putting my shoes on,” Peeta mumbled in response.

Peeta wasn’t really in the mood to go out. He had a hellish week: a twenty-page midterm paper, a three-hour exam, and a painting for his art elective (which his professor swore wouldn’t take him more than three hours to complete, but his perfectionist tendencies made it take closer to ten) all due within a span of two days. Peeta would’ve preferred to just crash on the couch and catch up on the last few weeks of Abbott Elementary episodes he’d missed, but Finnick was invited to a party at Annie’s apartment. Finnick had gone on a handful of dates with Annie, and he wanted to impress her, so he insisted Peeta and their friends come to help him do so.

“And who else are you forcing to come?” Peeta asked Finnick when he was first told of his new Friday night plans.

“Thresh and Marvel,” Finnick replied, mentioning two of their roommates, “Thresh is the brauns, Marvel’s the brains, and you’re the funny guy. A perfect group to show me off.”

“So what are you?”

“The triple threat, obviously. Throw in a dash of charm and a whole lotta good looks and here I am,” Finnick finished with his award-winning smile.

“Interesting. Sounds to me like you don’t really need us then.”

“And I’m buying all of your guys’ beer, so you can’t complain.” Peeta let out a relenting sigh, and Finnick responded with a triumphant slap on the back.

Now, with exhaustion looming over him, Peeta really wished he had the personality of a dead slug. Then, maybe, he’d get to stay home like their roommate Cato, who couldn’t be trusted to help anyone make any sort of positive introduction.

Despite Peeta’s need for sleep, the walk to the party wasn’t too brutal. The crisp autumn air felt nice on his skin, and the sky was so clear that the stars helped illuminate their path. 

“Look alive, boys,” Finnick jeered as they approached the apartment, the top floor of a run-down duplex. He shot Peeta a quick look that indicated he was doing anything but. Peeta scrubbed his hand down his face to wipe away the tiredness etched into his features. 

Keep reading here :)

[writergirl35]

Whatever You Want Part 1

Liam Mairi X Female Reader

I found the lack of Liam Mairi content on this platform disturbing so I made one myself.

Summary: You and Liam have a friends with benefits thing going. But will your fear or falling for him split you up?

Warning(s): Illusions to smut, minor angst, female reader, use of y/n, y/l/n

You awoke to the rhythmic thumping of his heart, the warm skin beneath your cheek. Soft. Steady. Comforting. You inhale, allowing his scent to wash over you, and wrap you in complete serenity. The fresh, sharp, slightly minty smell of pine engulfs you. You smirk as you shift your gaze over to the carving Liam made of your green scorpiontail, Sorcha. He smells like the wood he uses to carve his figures. He smells like safety, like home. Liam shifts slightly, pulling you closer to him. You chuckle as he presses his lips to the exposed skin of your neck. “Morning gorgeous.” He mumbles against you, causing you to shiver with delight and anticipation. “Morning,” you reply as you angle your lips to meet his in a sweet and gentle kiss. Liam pulls away with a grin. “I guess our first sleepover was a success.” He teases, as he begins to trail kisses down your neck. You smile before you reply, lacing your fingers through his blond hair. Like silk. “I’d say so.” Liam’s kisses begin to travel lower, across your collarbone, between your breasts. “Round…” Liam quirks a suggestive eyebrow. ‘What would it be? 5? Or 6?” He grins as his blue eyes meet yours with an intensity that simultaneously heats you while goosebumps erupt across your body. You and Liam have been sleeping together for a few weeks now. It started simple enough. You were attracted to each other, and in the rider’s quadrant, you never know which day will be your last. After surviving Threshing and bonding with your dragons you and Liam chose to celebrate…with each other. You began to celebrate more and more. Your nights together began to blur into the day. Eating together, sparring together, studying together. Spending time with Liam was slowly becoming one of the best parts of your day. And your friends have noticed. Between the dirty jokes from Ridoc and the endless questions from Violet and Rhiannon, you and Liam constantly have to explain your relationship. “No, it’s not like that. We’re just sleeping together.” has been a sentence that you’ve repeated so many times. And now he’s here. In your bedroom. You’ve never spent the night in each other’s rooms. You both agreed that it was too intimate. But after last night’s… activities, he was too tired and too comfortable to even think about leaving your bed. Leaving you. “I wish.” you groan, caressing his cheek, enjoying the way his skin colored beneath your touch. “We have to get to breakfast before anyone notices we’re missing.” Liam huffs as he rolls away from you. Oh Gods. The blanket that kept you both warm last night is draped across his hips, exposing every delicious inch of his toned, muscular chest. Liam leans against the pillows, stretching his arms up and over his head before interlocking his fingers and resting his head back against them. The muscles in his abdomen tighten and flex. “That is not fair.” You groan as you pull a shirt over your head. “What?” He asks, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips. “I really hate you Liam Mairi,” you reply as you toss his shirt to him. You tug your pants up. Acutely aware of Liam’s eyes on you. Tracking your movements. “No, you don’t.” Liam’s grin turns into a genuine smile. Everything in you is telling you to give in. Allow yourself to be lost in him. Consumed in him. Like you were last night. No. You shake the thought away. You will not allow yourself to fall for him. To fall for him, and lose him… you couldn’t bear it. “Liam,” you turn to him as he gets dressed. “You have to go.” Liam’s brow furrows in confusion. “Before our friends see us together.” You clarify as you finish weaving the strands of your hair into a French braid.

[artandthebible]

The Angel and Gideon

Artist: Gerbrand van den Eeckhout (Dutch, 1621–1674)

Date: 1640

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Collection: Nationalmuseum, Stockholm, Sweden

The Angel of the Lord Visits Gideon | Judges 6:-11-16

The angel of the Lord came and sat down under the oak in Ophrah that belonged to Joash the Abiezrite, where his son Gideon was threshing wheat in a winepress to keep it from the Midianites. When the angel of the Lord appeared to Gideon, he said, “The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.”

“Pardon me, my lord,” Gideon replied, “but if the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us? Where are all his wonders that our ancestors told us about when they said, ‘Did not the Lord bring us up out of Egypt?’ But now the Lord has abandoned us and given us into the hand of Midian.”

The Lord turned to him and said, “Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian’s hand. Am I not sending you?”

“Pardon me, my lord,” Gideon replied, “but how can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family.”

The Lord answered, “I will be with you, and you will strike down all the Midianites, leaving none alive.”

[hook-and-chains]

You need a change of fashion, DESPERATELY. -weavesouls.

"Oh but I have, Queen of Ruin."

The ghostly facade coalesces into his new form as the fire reveals flesh above the skeletal visage. His grin tightens into a rictus still getting used to the feeling of it after a millennium without it.

"It's so much more freeing this way I think. To go back to the root of everything that Erlok Grael was. To think I missed this. Though I guess it is fitting to be king now that your beloved has disappeared. Aren't you glad I kept a piece of you within my lantern for so long?"

@weavesouls