#ancient wip alert

[bluecoffeebeanz]

modern au where Aki’s swords are just wall decor 🥲

[reireichu]

If your OC was canon, how would the fandom treat it? - For Sophie

So, I basically had to wait to finish writing Part VI before I could actually answer this question.

Welcome to the giant essay on the Honourable Miss Sophia Catherine Devereaux that absolutely no one wants.

Up until Part V, I would say that fandom's opinion and treatment of Sophia wouldn't be great. Sophie is exactly who she appears to be; beautiful, rich, inaccessible, perfect. She keeps it that way, she likes it that way, she puts on the mask and keeps it on for as long as she can. The little slivers of Sophie, who she is, it starts slipping out all the way through Part I to V. But most of fandom for Part I to V would find her incessantly frustrating, good, and empty and unapproachable--which is, you know, a very deliberate writing choice.

There might be a good amount of Sophie apologists, especially as parts of her get revealed. The hints of her eating disorder, the ambiguous reference to something that happened in her childhood, the slow revelation that she either has been pushed into being exactly like her mother or the opposite of her mother. I think there's a good amount of fandom who would be on the Sophia Devereaux Deserves Better train, because Sophie is very much, deep down, a broken, traumatised girl who has spent her life being repressed and manipulated by every single person around her.

Aegon and Sophie's relationship is probably polarising, because it's a slow burn that isn't very exciting, and the moment they fuck, she pushes him right away. She incites his jealousy by flirting with Rhaenyra. She basically activates Daemon's Creepy Batman mode. Why does she need all this when she has Aegon? This would probably be one of the most frustrating things for fandom, either the people who WANT her with Aegon, or the ones who want 'better' for Aegon. Honestly, it's easy to paint Sophie as a bit of a bisexual bicycle slut, considering that it's hinted that she and Cassandra Baratheon had also been a thing.

Sophie's beauty is something that would also have this great discourse in fandom--is Sophie more than her physical asset, which is her beauty, or is she just this shallow vessel that people project their desires onto? Who the fuck is Sophie fucking Devereaux and why does everyone want to fuck this girl who doesn't give anything away except a witty remark and a dry laugh. She's a projection of ideal feminine beauty, with modern career drive. She's nice and compassionate, she can be a judgement upper class bitch--she's been raised that way, she's a sheltered and manipulated trauma victim--she would inflame a lot of hatred and love. I also think that for some people, she's boring or she's annoying. And then for others, they might identify in her traits about themselves that is a reaction to trauma in their own lives, or a projection of how they react to society--some of this might or might not be writer projection, la la la.........

Fandom's favourite thing for Sophie would basically with a generational comparison to Alicent. Deliberately set up, Alicent and Sophia--two white, wealthy, well bred girls who are being hunted by Targs left and right. Alicent and Rhaenyra in their girlhood versus Sophia and Cassie in theirs. Rhaenyra and Alicent versus Rhaenyra and Sophie. Alicent's distance to Aegon versus Alicent's distance to Sophie. Their physical appearance--although, Alicent has distinctly auburn hair, she and Sophie both have very big big eyes that emote their every thought. It's revealed that Dalton's nickname for Sophia is 'puppy' and her eyes are the reason for that. Those big big eyes, which actually was one thing that Aegon subconsciously draws comparison to his own mother about. The parallels are all there, setting up Sophia to be preyed upon and targetted and ruined by a Targaryen man (or woman), and then...

HELLO THE GHOST OF HAMLET'S FATHER IS HERE TO SUE ME FOR CREATIVE LICENCE.

Enter, Cathy fucking Devereaux.

The ghost of Cathy Devereaux running around like a demented version of Hamlet's dead dad is the best thing about this fic, and I won't hear otherwise because Cathy brings me too much joy as she has singlehandedly devastated every man I put in her fucking path.

The parallels of Sophie and Cathy take over slowly, the shift around Part IV. There's a lot of Cathy in Sophie's memory, even though Sophie stated in Part I that Cathy died when she was ten years old from a sailing accident. It's a throwaway line, drawing this comparison of her and Aegon's relationships with their mothers that then does this face turn, and that's when I think fandom gets really either frustrated as fuck with Sophie or actually want to just put her into therapy. Cathy is this phantom looming over Sophie's shoulder. The beautiful dead girl, the one and only late Catherine Devereaux who Sophie bears a strong resemblance to--I would live for the fucking gif comparison for these two. But to basically be a projection of her mother's memory, I think that's where there's this concern for Sophie. It's taken a toll on her mentally for her whole life--she's described herself as having 'battled nature in my own heart', which is a key thing: is she battling being like Cathy or being the opposite of Cathy? Which is it? How confusing would that be? Who the fuck wants to spend their entire life being compared to the one who came before? I think that's where the fandom view of Sophie slowly slips a bit, they'd honestly either love or hate the amount of influence Cathy has over Sophie even though she's been absent for most of Sophie's life.

Part V, aka the Daemon interlude because how the FUCK did Daemon get his own fucking chapter (I cannot even, I still cannot even--you know what, fandom can either be outraged or happy, I don't fucking know. Daemon's fucking interlude exists bc Hamlet's father deemed it worthy); you start seeing hints of Sophie from a lens that isn't Aegon's or her own. Albeit a Cathy fogged lens, but you still Sophie and Daemon talking, you see how she pushes and pulls a person away with such nonchalance, but you also see that Sophie deliberately plays with fire.

There's going to be one small part of fandom that would gif the fuck out of 'Sophie's staring at someone' to discern whether she's thinking of ruining their whole career. I would again live for these gifs. I will also live for the comparison of them to Alicent and Cathy.

Fandom would also have a blast discussing the Sophie - Alicent - Rhaenyra - Cathy - Laena soft power versus hard power. I wish I could touch more on Laena's divorce, but that's not happening due to the narrative (or for now, because let's face it, I want to see her obliterate Daemon and call him out for being a crappy dad). It adds into the viewpoint of how women either have to push or manipulate and the way they do it. IDK, to me, I would be fascinated over that sort of thing.

Okay, so all of this builds until Part VI where for one gloriously horrid scene that had so much fucking dialogue I wanted to punch every single man in the room (hey Larry!), Sophie's attractiveness, her charm, her appeal, her standoffishness ruins her in the eyes of the viewers and in the eyes of Aegon. A man killed himself over her! She fucked her teacher! She broke up a marriage! She's had an abortion! She's done this to so many people, she's fucking Rhaenyra, she saw you and put you in her crosshairs.

Sophie is a wicked bitch.

She's her mother's daughter.

Beautiful, selfish, wicked.

She's slept around on them, she'll sleep around on you, Aegon. She's the cold perfect bitch you knew she was, and you fell into that trap anyways. Fuck her.

Why is it that Aegon can't have nice things. Did he do this, does he just keep choosing shitty people? He did coke off his brother's fiance's D cups, he drives his lambo into hospitals. Aegon isn't a saint, he's down in hell, but she fucking knew he was damaged and she still decided to toy with him.

And then well.

It makes you wonder, how many people forget the thing that made Rhaenyra worthy of protection, how many people forget that just like her, Sophie was just a girl as well. Alicent was just a girl. They were just young girls in a world where the wolves feast on girls lost in the forest of old country estates.

Fandom, I think, would have no idea what to fucking do about Sophie at this point, because dear readers, no one ever really knew Cathy. She was a beautiful ghost.

Her daughter is exactly the same.

.

.

.

Okay fine, I was being dramatic as fuck.

I think by the end of Part VI, fandom will erupt into two camps where you will either love her or hate her. You can believe what was said at the intervention, or you can question it. How much of it was true? How much of it was real? What part of her 'relationship' with Aegon so far has been real? And then, and be united in the question of "what the fuck happened and what truth are they hiding?" and also united in the camp of "alicent's marriage makes me want to commit violence" and many other things. I'm firmly in the "raise your hand if you've been personally victimised by Cathy Devereaux" camp because I'm writing the whole fucking thing.

Some of the things they said about Sophie at the intervention was true. I won't tell you what was true, you can work it out yourself.

Yes, Sophie has been seeing Rhaenyra since the benefit, one and off.

Aegon, the inflamed little hypocrite, has been fucking Cassandra. I like to think that this is equal opportunity sluttiness for them both.

But, there is something that I think fandom can appreciate about Sophie in a way. I think that Aegon's compassion towards Alicent, how he says to her what Sophie said to him, seeing him lost and broken, the first compassion he's shown to his mother in a long time, I think that some of fandom will appreciate the fact that this was something Sophie has influenced. She's never tried to fix Aegon, but there is an influence there. She's not going to tell him to stop being a trainwreck--she's a bit busy, being haunted by ghosts, being a doctor, telling Jace and Hannah off for being so cute together--but she has gotten through to him without forcing it onto him. It's a rare thing, but it's one of the parts of the story that I've been trying to build towards.

Also, in other breaking news, I now have to write the rest of this fucking melodrama, so excuse me as I go fling myself into the lake with the exiled Russian prince's drowned wife.

Stay tuned for another episode of meta and insight no one asked for, next week featuring the rom-com known as Jace Velaryon and Hannah Kim and how Jace mispronounced bulgogi!

[keen2meecha]

Instead of writing like I'm supposed to I just created a fantasy alphabet 🧍

[domesticandlovingmonsters]

Guard Captain Aram (M) x F!Reader (wip)

Because I feel bad with how long this is taking to come out, and I am currently stuck on how to proceed, I'm posting this as is.

I intend to complete it annd post it as a whole, but since I'm stuck, you got this. Consider this as a type of two-parter until I can work out how to write someone having a date and how conversations work. I swear I'm a good writer, guys!!! I know how sentences and dialogue works.

Words: 9.9k

Theme/Plot:  (Fantasy/Medieval)  You're a merchant, new to the city looking to start a business from the ground up. Having purchased a cheap, run-down building as your starting point, you work hard to make something of the little things you have. But after a string of robberies, you find yourself as the centre of the Guard Captain's attention.

The rain came down in pouring sheets. Deafening you inside your own dwelling as a year's worth of rain pummeled the tiled roof.

Thunder clapped overhead so close to the city roofs that the window panels shook in their frames.

It was a gloomy day. One that made the hours in the shop drag by at a snail's pace. Not a soul was out today. For good reason, or else they’d risk being washed away by the water flowing down the street drains. Thankfully, there was alot of old stock you needed to organize and catalog to keep you busy.

The storm was a blessing in disguise. Despite the chilly weather.

With the lack of customers to keep an eye on and take commissions for, it allowed you to tune up the shop within your actual work hours. And not drip over into the late afternoon like you dreaded.

And with the ample amount of downtime came the close inspection of how your little, ancient store held up in such a harsh rainstorm.

The last of your money had gone into buying this place. It was a cheap sale and the reasons for it were obvious. A small shop with a small dwelling connected to the back of it for residential purposes.

The paint on the front was peeling and much of the wooden beams needed some love and care. The windows had needed to be removed and replaced; they had been so grimey and cracked that it made the store look sickly from the outside. And dark and gloomy within.

Not to mention the rot within the wood in some places. Which had soaked up that lingering few coins you had after the sale. But it was better than leaving the place smelling like decaying wood and having openings for rats.

The roof seemed fine, the tiles were covered in moss and some were cracked, but you didn’t see any damage other than age.

It has been months since you bought it and this had been the first real change in sunny weather, so you were walking around the place constantly looking for leaks.

So far, nothing splashed against the wooden floor. Your little shack was holding up nicely under the rain, even if the walls groaned rather worryingly whenever the wind rushed through the city streets.

The shop was nothing spectacular, you knew that. But it was yours. And it was a much nicer place than the roadside stall you used to man while you traveled.

You glanced out the window as a flash of white light illuminated the dreary street outside. And winced at the image of you and your old horse and wagon in such weather.

Many times you had been caught out in storms like this. Losing stock to the water or your wagon’s wheels getting sucked into the muddy roads.

Looking back into your warm, dry shop; a new type of appreciation came to you with your decision to settle down. And you took a deep breath of dusty, humid air and smiled.

Your shop.

It still felt weird to say. But it was still just as exciting.

Over the thunder and tumbling rain, your shop-door’s bell chimed. Alerting you to two customers that all but barrelled into the dry space.

They were soaking. But smiled cheerfully as you greeted them. One had an umbrella that looked like the wind had torn it asunder and both their hoods were raised low over their faces. Leaving only their wide smiles for you to see.

“We are so sorry for dragging water in here.” One said, a woman. Rubbing her arms to retain some heat beneath the thick cloak. “But we’re in need of some alchemy ingredients, if you have any. You’re the closest store to ours and we’re low on some things to make cold remedies.”

The other customer, with the torn umbrella, looked around your small store with a grin. “You’ve really spruced this place up. It’s so much nicer here than what I last remember. The last owner did not care for this building at all.”

You smiled as their hoods were lowered. You recognized them as the potions store owners down the street. You spoke briefly once. They were nice people. But very busy. And their names eluded you, unfortunately.

“Welcome! And don’t worry about the water, it’s unavoidable at the moment. I think I tracked in half the realm’s mud this morning. Please, come in. What did you need exactly? I have a few stocks that might be what you need.”

The woman huffed with visible relief and hurried forward to your counter. Where you withdrew some small boxes of bottled ingredients and jars of various substances.

You didn’t sell anything but the basic materials. Your shop was more a general store than a particular theme. You still weren’t sure what you wanted to be in the city.

You’ve only ever known what you could carry. On the road, certain ingredients didn’t travel well. And jewelry or fine goods made you a target for bandits.

Here, within the safety of the city, you could be any type of trader you wanted. You just still weren’t sure what niche you wanted to be.

But your general goods were exactly what these two were looking for. And your eyes widened in surprise when they asked to buy your entire stock of your basic ingredients.

“I know it’ll put you out, but we’ll pay you an extra sum on top of the sale. Our next shipment of this isn’t for another week, and we have so many commissions coming in for cold remedies.” The man said. Already pulling out a large coin purse from his belt. “And you’ll be doing us a huge favor. If you need anything-”

“It’s a deal.” You said, waving away the man’s pleading stare. “We’ve got to look after each other after all. I was going to offer a discount since you’re buying such a large amount.”

The bell over your door chimed and you shifted behind your counter so you could see around the couple. A young woman shuffled into the store. Her eyes looked around the shelves with interest and a thin cloak was wrapped around her shoulders.

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” You called out to the woman. Seeming to startle her. But she smiled, it felt a little forced, and moved deeper into your store. Her eyes darted around and then back to you.

You were about to say something else when the potion’s woman handed you a sum of coins. “I insist. I know how frustrating it can be to be out of stock. Particularly ingredients like this. Please, take the extra sum. You’re doing us a huge favor with-”

The woman’s partner glanced over his shoulder as the woman at the back moved quickly towards the door. Her shoulders were hunched as she braced for the cold water to hit her as she opened the door.

“Hey! You, wait!” He shouted but the woman was already sprinting out the door. Almost slipping on the wet pavement outside. The potion’s man swore and handed his partner the purse. “That girl is the one who stole from us last week. Get the guards!”

Before you could react, the man was barreling out of your store and charging out into the rain. His partner seemed just as surprised as you but quickly pocketed the purse and looked at you.

“Do you have a way to summon the guards directly here?” You shook your head. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “I have one in my store. I’ll go call them. See if you can find out if that woman stole anything from you. I’ll be right back.”

The woman left her crate of goods behind as she hurried out of your shop. You were quick to follow, but went to where you last saw the woman browsing.

Your eyes flew from object to object. Taking note of any spots that seemed to have shifted or had missing stock.

Everything seemed fine. Until you noticed your small display of wands had been touched. These weren’t like the wands that witches and warlocks used. But temporary magical items that did various things depending on their make.

You had ordered these as a step into selling magical merchandise. To see how well they sold here. Kids adored the ones that created bubbles of light. And a few people purchased the design that acted as a quill that would write for you without you touching it.

You had recently restocked the display with other types. And there were two that were missing.

One was a water-make. Which either made water or removed it. Not enough to drain a lake or a pool, but a few buckets could be filled or emptied if needed.

And the second was a fire starter. Which spat sparks that would harmlessly bounce off of skin or clothes, but would light a small fire on even the most water-bogged logs or extinguish it.

You sighed. Already understanding why these particular items were stolen.

You’ve dealt with enough desperate people to know when it was necessity and not greed that pushed a person to steal.

You bit your lip. These wands weren’t expensive and were cheap stock to order.

Maybe if I’m quick I can stop the potions woman from calling the guards. You thought. But then you reminded yourself that the woman who stole from you, had also stolen from them. And over the first few months of owning and stocking this store, you’ve had more than your fair share of robberies and stolen items. If word got out that you let a person steal from you, this could spiral into something worse.

The best you could do for them was not press charges if the person is found.

You sighed again. Heavier than the last and moved through your store to get your cloak.

But on your way to the back, past a small lock-box display of jewelry, you noticed the glass lid had been pried open. The magical seal had been expertly dispelled and one of your silver rings, one that created a bubble of small protection, was missing.

You swore under your breath. Disappointment flooding through you.

Now you had to continue with the guards and hope they found the person.

That ring was an expensive item. The enchantment was a common one, but the ring amplified the bubble to be the size of a house. Something that was incredibly hard to do and would have taken alot of material to make such an enchantment safe and usable.

Hence why it was in a lock-box, under magical protection, and worth a decent sum of coins. Another one of your stretches into unknown territory with sales and items.

It was nothing so expensive that it would put a target on your store. But it was one of your pricier items, one that a customer had been eyeing off last time they passed through.

“They just had to steal that.” You grumbled. Slapping the lid back down on the lock-box. The seal buzzed as the box was closed again, letting you know the magic was once again activated. You gave it an experimental tug on the lid and when it didn’t open, without your key, you were happy enough to leave it.

You retrieved your cloak from the back of the shop and exited your store. Making sure the door was locked and hurried down the street to the potions store.

You were near drenched when you slipped into the two story building. But the moment your foot stepped over the threshold, you were flooded with warmth and your clothes tickled with magic that left you dry and comfortable.

You definitely needed that enchantment on your front door.

From behind the many shelves, the potions woman appeared, looking flustered as she hurried towards you. “The guards are on their way. Did that wretched thing take anything?”

“Some low magic wands and an enchanted ring.” You grimaced. “I don’t care for the wands, so much. But that ring is expensive. As long as I get that back, I’ll let it slide.”

The woman scoffed and gestured for you to follow her, leading you to the back of the store where a pot of tea and some small biscuits were waiting. “That woman stole two potions of healing and an iron-bark elixir from us. I know times are tough. And the potions were only small portions, not worth alot. But the iron-bark elixir is a very slow and ingredient heavy process. We can only make so many a month and they're in high demand with the guards and travelers. If she only stole the potions, we wouldn’t have pushed so hard to find her. But the elixir alone can fix us up for an entire month.”

Your eyes widened. “Those elixirs are that expensive?”

“Ours are, yes.” The woman said, a little proudly, as she poured you a cup of tea. “Ours doesn’t just give you thick skin and more strength, we’ve perfected a way that the aftereffect of the elixir doesn’t put you in a bed for a day. It’ll affect you for a few hours at best after you use the elixir but unlike our competitors iron-bark, you can get up and get ready for the day after a good night’s sleep.”

You whistled in appreciation for such craftsmanship. “That’s incredible. I can understand why she would try to take it then. Sell it off for some quick coin.”

The woman nodded. Sipping her tea after putting some honey in it and stirring. “I grew up very poor. I used to steal bread and clothes to get by. But stealing potions like ours? You put yourself at such risk for it. Even your ring! The wands can be overlooked. But something like that is just…silly.”

You stirred some honey into your own cup and allowed the conversation to fall away as you sipped. Thankfully, the potions man appeared in the doorway. Looking winded and red faced. “I couldn’t find her. The damn woman gave me the slip.”

“Better you don’t approach her, love.” The woman said, with a soft smile. “Let the guards deal with her. They’re on their way.”

The man nodded. Taking a deep breath that his body obviously needed. He looked at you and offered a smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t catch her. Did she steal anything?”

You explained the stolen stock and the man tsked. Muttering about the lack of respect for shopkeepers; “Especially one such as yourself. You’re just starting out! I recall my first few years as a storekeeper, my Gods, the ledger was never full enough. And every piece of missing stock was precious.”

You nodded, chuckling along with the man as he shook his head. “Well, at least our sale will help me out until I can get a replacement or the ring is found. I’ll bring the stock over once we’ve spoken with the guards. I didn’t think to bring it over just now.”

The two waved you off. Saying they trust you enough to not skip their deal because of a distraction like this.

The three of you chatted idly while you waited for the guards to arrive.

And when they did, you immediately recognized three amongst them.

One was a tall elf woman by the name of Yesrie. Dark hair with sharp eyes but a warm smile.

The second was a human man named Smith. You never got his first name because everyone called him by his second. He had been in his first year in the Guard when you arrived; eager to help and prove himself, he had taken your reports on missing items like a personal attack. And hunted them down like he was the one who owned them.

Then the third, the Guard Captain’s right hand, Briar. A green lizardman built like a stone barn. They were a stoic type of individual. Had a sharp tongue when it came to humbling their guards but professional when it came to their work.

They all greeted you a little more warmly than they did with the pair beside you.

Your first few months here allowed you to become quite friendly with the Guard. Not by any intent of your own, but your new store in town got more attention than you bargained for. And not in a good way. Stolen merchandise meant the Guard got involved. And it happened so often within a few weeks that the Guard Captain had stepped in.

And with that sort of attention watching your store, the thieves dissipated quickly.

“(Y/N), why am I not surprised your shop was involved?” Briar asked, crossing their arms over their armor plated chest. Their iron gauntlets clinked against the metal. “I had hoped that the call meant a different store.”

You shrugged, sighing dramatically. “It wouldn’t be a Thursday without something of mine going missing.”

Smith and Yesrie laughed. Briar’s reptilian face rarely showed much emotion other than a hard stare. But you glimpsed their scaly lips twitch in amusement.

“Indeed. You know the drill, then. What happened? Every little detail, as you know, helps us out.”

You explained the events that transpired within your store. Explaining why the potion-store owners were involved, which gave them a chance to explain how they recognized the person who stole from you.

Briar nodded along, taking in everything you said. Yesrie commented they were the guard that took the potion store’s report and that this thief was targeting many stores in the district, not just a few.

Smith was writing down notes in a small notebook that was the size of his palm. Asking the usual questions like the woman’s hair color or description. Which you had to let the potion shop owners answer, because you didn’t really take notice of the woman.

Then when you got to the descriptions of the stolen items, Briar’s tail twitched in irritation. Nothing directed at you, you found out. “Well, that complicates things. Stolen magical items of significant power require a formal report issued by the owner. Meaning, (y/n), you’re gonna have to go to the Guard House and fill one out.”

You groaned in annoyance. You had to fill out a report once before. It took forever. And you really didn’t feel like going across the district to the Guard House in this weather.

But if you want that ring back, or at least be compensated for its loss, you’ll need to go.

“I’m guessing I’ll need the paperwork I received for purchasing the item to sell?” You asked and Briar nodded.

“Proof of purchase or the license which came with the item. Anything that has the item’s description and magic detailed alongside your ownership. And it’s something you need to do at the House, too. We can’t issue you one, since you need a scribe to sign off on it and witness you filling it out.”

“All that for a magical item?” The potions woman scoffed. “Damn, I’m happy we never got into that side of the business.”

You wish you could agree with her. But you were definitely going to make an adjustment to your stock and protection so you didn’t have to go through this again.

“Alright. Thank you for your time. Sorry you had to march through this weather for my store again.” You said. And Yesrie shrugged, glancing out the window as another flash of lightning lit up the dim street outside.

“The weather makes you appreciate the sunny days more. We’ll see you at the House, (y/n).” Yesrie replied. And the guards took their leave.

You soon followed suit. Promising the potion owners you would bring their merchandise around soon. But they waved you off. Telling you to deal with the reports and the guards first before worrying about them.

You were beginning to really appreciate them. And made sure to lower the price on anything the two needed in any later deals.

Back inside your shop you made quick work of finding the needed documents that involved any transaction or information of the ring.

Which you then wrapped up in a leather satchel that was worn and aged from many years on the road. An old trusty item you’ve carried with you everywhere before placing it in the drawer of your new work desk.

It would protect the documents from the rain and keep them nice and flat while you trekked the stormy streets.

You wrapped yourself up in as much water-proof clothing as you could. Your cloak was your best chance at keeping yourself dry but watching the sky still bucket down torrents of water, you doubted you’d stay warm for long.

As long as the documents were safe, you could endure the rain.

And walking through the streets was just about as miserable as you expected. You stuck to any type of cover you could as you walked. Storefront canopies or trees that were planted along the paths. The thunder felt like it was roaring directly in your ear as you braced against the chilling wind.

You wrapped your cloak tightly around you and pulled your hood down so low over your face you could only see the pavement in front of you.

Every glance up at where you were going was a risk of cold water trickling down your neck and into your warm clothes.

You zigged and zagged through the district until you came upon the large stone steps of the Guard House. The House itself was huge! Meant to house many of the district's officers and their cadets. This one also doubled as a school for fresh-faced persons looking to become a guard.

As you climbed the steps to the door, you could hear someone yelling at said cadets beyond the stone wall that secluded the training yards from the streets.

You grimaced at the thought of training in such weather.

As you stepped through the doors, the same magic from the potion shop passed over your clothes. However, this enchantment felt like it was spluttering. Parts of you were left dry while other sections were left merely damp.

You were warmer than before you stepped inside but your fingers still felt icy as you approached the receptionist at the desk.

You greeted them warmly and explained what you needed to fill out. And the receptionist motioned for you to walk down a hallway and then turn right, which would lead you to the scribes that would help you out.

You thanked her and headed in your pointed direction.

The House was bustling with activity. You passed many guards through the halls, swathed in armor and weapons. A few scribes hurried by and you even made room for a woman with a mean looking hound to pass you in the hall.

She thanked you as she kept the beast on a short leash. The hound didn’t pay you any mind so you knew it was more for your sense of space than the dog’s.

But you found the scribe room easily enough and the man behind the desk went through the process of the report.

It was a long document too. With a handful of pages that you needed to fill out and agree too. The scribe looked equally annoyed with the prospect, apparently he needed to go over it and sign off as you went. It would take time out of both of your afternoon’s. But he took you to the side to a desk so you could sit comfortably and fill it out.

Excusing himself and asking you to call him over when you got to a particular section before moving on through the document.

You hoped the scribe didn’t think your agitation was directed at him as you sighed and sat down. But you got to work, reading over the lengthy questions and paragraphs with a quill in your hand.

A few minutes later, Briar entered the room and went to the scribe desk, speaking softly. When the scribe nodded and disappeared through a door, their eyes passed over you once before snapping back as they spotted you. They came over to greet you. Their tail dripped a little with rainwater. “Ah, it’s good to see someone with initiative. You got here quickly.” Briar said, leaning against another desk to your left.

“Better to get it out of the way now than later.” You shrugged. “You wouldn’t have happened to stumble across my thief with my ring by chance? So I don’t have to do this?” You asked, hopefully. But Briar shook their head.

That twitch pulled at their scaly lips again as a hissing chuckle whistled through their sharp teeth.

“If only we were that lucky. I have to do my own paperwork about it, as well. I envy you. I’d rather do your documents than my own.” Like the scribe was summoned, he appeared and placed a thick folder of paper on the front desk. Briar thanked him gruffly and went over to scoop it up. Grumbling as he showed you the thickness of the folder. “See. No complaining from you about lengthy reports. I will probably beat you on every account.”

You laughed and nodded. “I do feel a little better about my report now. Thanks.”

“Here to help. Enjoy.” Briar said with a curt nod before leaving the room.

You refocused your attention on the documents in front of you. Calling over the scribe when he didn’t look too busy once you got up to the section he requested.

And while he looked over what you wrote and ensured everything was in order, you let your gaze wander. The scribe hall looked like a bustling library. Desks and chairs were scattered about the room. And behind the front desk were many, many towering shelves of books and scrolls.

Scribes appeared and disappeared behind each corridor of paper. Some carried in armfuls of paper or were discussing something with a guard.

It was all very busy here. But the chatter was rather quiet. You wondered if there was some sort of magic that kept the sound of the hustle and bustle at a low range.

“Scribe Harry, I was told that- Oh, (y/n), what are you doing here?” Your attention snapped to the door of the hall as your name was voiced.

Guard Captain Aram strolled over to where you were sitting. Making your heart skip a beat when he leaned over the back of your chair to inspect the report.

Aram was an orc with a heavy green complexion that contrasted the pale patches of skin on his body caused by vitiligo. His blonde hair was tied back in uniform to the neat standards of the Guard.

His tusks curved out from his lower lip, decorated by silver caps on the blunt tips. His thick arms were wrapped in thick leather that slid under a heavy metal chest piece with the Guard’s symbol carved into the steel. The patches on his shoulders displayed his rank, if the better armor and air of authority didn’t already display it.

“I was robbed again.” You sighed. Pushing down the sudden rush of nervousness as you turned your attention to the captain. “A magical item this time. Briar came and sorted it out and told me to come here.”

Aram’s brows knitted together and you could have sworn you saw a spark of amusement light in those beautiful emerald eyes. Before the stoic expression of a guard captain fell back into place. “Ah, yes, the grand paperwork involved with magic. I thought you said you wanted to keep simple stock for a time.”

You nodded. Having to pause your answer to thank the scribe as he pushed the report back to you to continue writing. “Yes. But a friend of mine had some stock they couldn’t move in the settlement nearby. So, I took it off their hands.”

“And then someone decided to take it from yours.” Aram said. He glanced over at the scribe as he moved some dropped off paperwork into the shelves behind him. “Hmm, this will go quicker if I take over for the scribes. The poor bastards have had their hands full recently.” Then Aram called out to the scribe nearby, Harry, who looked relieved when Aram explained he’d be taking over witnessing you finish the report.

“Do you mind if we do this in my office? The magic in here makes my ears ache.” Aram asked. And when you nodded, Aram escorted you through the building to his office. Which you had been in once before when Aram had taken over the investigation of why your store was being targeted so frequently.

He closed the door behind you and you took the offered seat in front of his desk. Which he then slid your seat closer to the desk and made space on the surface for you to start the next section of the report.

He moved your chair so effortlessly with you in it that it made your stomach flip a little giddily. But you hid your smile as you busied yourself with reading over the next section.

“I was recently thinking about you. And, uh, the reports you had to make on your store.” Aram said rather quickly, fiddling with some papers on his desk. “It’s been a while since your last break in. I thought my trick did the job, to be honest.”

“For a while it did.” You agreed. Pausing to write down the description of the ring. “The extra patrols you had around the place seemed to scare them off. And gave me enough time to better the security of my shop. I still spot Smith on occasion in the area. But he always seems busy. I hope you’re not working him too hard.”

Aram chuckled. Picking up a quill of his own and scribbling over some papers on his desk. “The boy is fine. He’s eager for the work. But, uh…” You tore your eyes off the paperwork long enough to see why Aram didn’t finish his sentence.

His eyes were narrowed and his lips were pursed in a poor attempt at looking angry, looking over your head to the windows behind you.

You turned your head. And you caught a glimpse of something quickly darting out of view of the office. The room was enclosed but anyone in the hallways had a clear view of you sitting at Aram’s desk. The Guard Captain grumbled and stood, clearing his throat as he flicked a small switch and curtains fell down over the windows leading to the corridor outside.

“Nosy bastards.” You heard Aram mutter. But you pretended not to hear him as he returned to his seat and continued working on whatever was in front of him. “I was going to say he wanted to be set in that district. Apparently, his aunt lives around there.”

“Aww, that’s sweet of him. I’ll be sure to annoy him any chance I get when I see him.” You said, refocusing on the paper in front of you. You reached the next spot the scribe had told you to call for him and offered the papers to Aram.

Who went over the report swiftly and then handed it back to you after he signed off on the part he needed too.

“A ring of protection, huh? That didn’t move at your friend's establishment?” Aram asked, surprised. And you shook your head, writing as you responded.

“Their town was going through a drought. Which is probably being washed downriver right now with this rain. But no one had the money to purchase a ring like that. I offered to buy it off them and then give them a percentage if I manage to sell it. We used to travel together before they bought their store. They helped me get my place. Since I had no idea how to purchase property.”

Aram made a thoughtful noise, watching you as you worked. “Why didn’t you buy a place outside the city? Probably would have been cheaper. And also get you a better place than that splinter shack.”

“Hey, that’s my splinter shack you’re insulting.” You playfully snapped. Which made the Guard Captain laugh. “But I wanted to try the city. I’ve never stayed in one for long. And I thought a change of lifestyle would be refreshing.”

“And is it refreshing?” Aram asked.

You paused to look up at him, smiling. “Well, the people are much more interesting.” You let the sentence hang in the air for a touch longer before continuing. “And there’s always something happening here. And the food! Oh my Lords, I’ve never had such a wide variety of food always available. Every morning I get a fresh coffee with a freshly baked bun. A much better change than living off of dried meats and stale bread with cheese.”

Aram grinned at that. His eyes seemed to sparkle in the candlelight. “So, you think you’ll stay here for good then. This string of robberies hasn’t scared you off?”

You scoffed lightly and shook your head. “I’ve fought off armed bandits and kobolds from my goods before. A few hooded figures isn’t going to scare me off. I’ve gotten too comfortable sleeping in an actual bed now to give it up.”

Your words seemed to widen Aram’s smile. “Well, good to hear. The city always needs more good people like you in it. It would be a shame to see you go.”

Something in the way Aram spoke made your pulse quicken. Or maybe how his fingers brushed over your hand as you handed him the documents again for him to look over.

Either way, you were suddenly very aware of how little room there was between the two of you. Even if the desk was large enough to sit such a big man behind it, it felt like Aram was close enough to touch.

And as you took back the paperwork, you thought it was silly of you to think that he was putting his hand directly so that your fingers brushed over his.

It didn’t stop you from feeling how warm his hand was. Nor notice how much larger his hand was compared to yours.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat and you tried very hard to concentrate on the papers in front of you.

It still took an hour to go over everything, but you managed to finish the documents required. Aram took it upon himself to file it away as soon as possible. And asked you a few more questions about the robbery before opening the door of his office for you.

“I’ll be in touch in a few days.” Aram said, leaning against the doorframe. “If we find anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thank you for your time, Captain Aram.” You said and then added jokingly. “And I’ll be sure to let you know if something else goes missing from my store.”

Aram laughed. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.” Then he glanced to one of the nearby windows as a crash of thunder sounded overhead “Have you got a way of getting back to your store? It’s still pouring outside.”

You grimaced and a shiver ran over you at the thought of the walk back. It was later in the afternoon now. The sun wouldn’t be set yet, but with the dark clouds overhead and closing to sunset, it was already pretty dark outside.

“No. It’s not that far of a walk, though. I’ll be fine.” You lied. And knew Aram would know this was your attempt at being polite and not complaining.

Aram’s warm smile dimmed and he shook his head. “I’m not having you walk home in this. I’ll get someone to drive you back.”

Your eyes widened and you tried to make an excuse that would justify not needing a driver. But Aram caught sight of Smith walking past and called him over.

“Yes, Captain?” Smith said as he approached. Looking between you and Aram worriedly.

“Get a carriage and drive (y/n) back to her store. And no side stops on your way back, got it.” Aram said, his voice harsh with authority as Smith’s confusion turned into something close to amused glee. He nodded and then looked at you.

“Your chariot is this way, ma’am.” He said with a little more bravado than needed. And you looked at Aram with a joking glare.

“You’re really going to subject me to this?” You asked. And Aram’s stern facade broke with a smile.

“I’d rather not hear that you got washed away by a river on your way home. Get her home safe, Smith.” Aram said before closing the door and leaving you to a beaming Smith as you followed him through the House.

“So, what did you and the Captain talk about in there?” Smith asked. Wiggling his shoulders in a teasing manner as he led you out into an enclosed barn connected to the Guard House. Where a carriage was currently being connected to two brown horses.

“He was overseeing the report I needed to fill out about the ring.” You explained. Ignoring the tiny flush of embarrassment that crawled up your neck. “The scribes were busy and he had time.”

Smith blew a harsh breath out of his lips. “Puh-lease, the Captain never has time.” And then so quietly you almost missed it. “But that seems to change for you.”

You chose to ignore him and wait by the House doors while Smith spoke with the person hooking the animals up. He then waved you over and opened the carriage door for you.

“My Lady.” He bowed his head and you tsked playfully at him.

“Stop that. It’s embarrassing enough as it is. Being escorted back home by a guard.” You mumbled as you climbed inside. Which got you a laugh from Smith.

“Come on, enjoy it! How many times have you been safely escorted home like the rich folk? Beat on the roof if you need me to stop for anything, alright?”

Smith closed the door once you were comfortably seated and you heard him clamber onto the front of the carriage.

The carriage itself wasn’t anything extravagant. The seats were plush enough to stop you from sitting on hard wood and there was enough space to fit four people.

It still felt a bit excessive for only you to be in here. But at least you weren’t going to be walking in the rain.

Your body lurched a little as Smith urged the horses into moving. And soon enough the carriage was filled with the deafening roar of rain pelting the roof above you.

You felt bad for Smith sitting up front. You had glimpsed a small canopy over the driver's seat. But that would be very little protection against the storm as it whipped around him outside.

You sighed. Relaxing against the seat as you glanced through the fogged window to the passing streets.

They were mostly empty. Apart from a few store fronts preparing to close for the afternoon. And some carriages that trotted past.

You haven’t gotten to experience a carriage ride in the city yet. You’ve been so busy with the store that any luxuries you usually would have gotten with your money were forgotten. Or spent on the store itself.

It was kind of peaceful watching the city pass you by.

You would definitely be sending another bakery basket to Aram for this. He had enjoyed the first one you sent after he helped keep your store safe last time.

I’m not having you walk home in this.

His words bounced around in your head like an endless echo. And you found yourself smiling.

And the way he had put his hand in the path of yours? It made your heart skip just thinking about it.

You shook your head. Trying to scatter the thoughts that were attempting to wriggle into your mind.

“Oh, stop it.” You sighed to yourself. “He’s just making sure you’re safe. That’s his job after all.”

You knew you wanted it to be a lie the moment you said it.

But you refused to think of any other reason that Aram would be doing this. You didn’t need something like that in your life just yet. You were busy as it was.

But…A small voice whispered. You definitely need something like him. Even only for a night or two.

Your cheeks burned as the thoughts spiraled and you shook your head again. Refusing to let those thoughts get any more traction than they already have.

It…has been a long time. But you were a business woman now. You had more important things at this moment than scratching that itch. Once the store was a little more organized and things calmed down, then maybe, maybe, you’d think about it.

You sat in your hurricane of a mind as Smith drove through your district and finally came to a stop just outside your store.

You went to open the door but Smith was already there. Drenched from head to toe but all smiles, bowing his head dramatically.

“My Lady! A pleasant ride, I hope.”

“Oh my Gods, you poor thing. Get back as quickly as you can before you catch a cold.” You gasped as you slipped out of the carriage. Hurrying to the safety of your store front.

“I’m fine. Get inside! I’ll let the Captain know you’re safely at your castle.” Smith called over the rain. And you didn’t even bother retorting, merely stuck out your tongue at him as you waved him off.

You heard him laugh and watched through your store windows as the carriage pulled away and disappeared into the heavy sheets of rain.

~*~

A few days later, the bell over your door chimed as someone entered. You called out to the customer that you’d be with them shortly and finished what you were doing in the back before greeting them behind your counter.

“Aram!” You beamed as the Guard Captain approached you. “What a surprise! Good news? Or bad news?”

Aram made a face like he was deciding, jokingly clicking his tongue as he leaned his arms on your counter. Crossing them over each other and coming down to your eye height.

“Which do you want first?” He asked.

You pursed your lips, hopelessly ignoring how Aram’s gaze flicked to your mouth before returning to your eyes as you said, “Good news first.”

“We found the woman who stole your items. Your ring is being processed and looked over to ensure it hasn’t been tampered with. It’ll take a few days to get back to you.”

You sighed with relief. “That’s good. But…the bad news?”

Aram’s grin made his eyes crinkle adorably as he shuffled his weight on his feet. He cleared his throat and it felt like he was forcing his gaze to stay on you. “The bad news is that I lost a bet involving the case. And you unfortunately will be put on the spot as I ask you out to dinner.” He cleared his throat again and stood at attention in front of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as he swallowed hard and said. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

It was almost adorable at how worried Aram looked as you stared up at him. And it was even more so when relief washed over his expression as you nodded.

Before you realized you were even replying, you had said yes. You laughed sheepishly, shaking your head. “You lost a bet and you were forced to ask me out to dinner?”

“I wouldn’t say forced. That makes it sound like I didn't want to.” Aram replied. Scratching the back of his neck, under the thick braid of blonde hair. “I want to take you to dinner. I have for a bit now. I just…things got in the way and I wasn’t sure if you would be interested in me and…I’m sorry. I’m rambling.” He cleared his throat again. “This is me asking you to dinner, sincerely.”

“What would have happened if you didn’t?” You asked.

“Probably be called a coward by my men.” Aram replied. “Or someone would have done it for me, I’m sure. Or somehow talked you into asking me out. I don’t know. They’re very nosy. Very much like a bunch of highschoolers.”

“But they gave you an opening to ask me out to dinner. So, I would forgive them.” You said with a chuckle. And Aram visibly relaxed with the sound. “When would you like to set this dinner? I’m free most afternoons. I’m sure it’s your schedule we have to work around.” You said teasingly. And Aram nodded.

“I’ll free up my night next Friday, if that’s ok with you? I know it’s a while away but this week is choked up with work already.” When you nodded, Aram’s smile broadened and your body became heated under his sparkling gaze. You both discussed a place to eat, but since you rarely went out other than cafes and small take-away establishments, Aram promised he’d surprise you with a brilliant place to dine. “I’ll pick you up around seven? If the rain hasn’t stopped by then, I’ll bring a carriage around for us to use.”

You sarcastically rolled your eyes, “Please do not make Smith drive us. That was torture last time.”

Aram laughed but shook his head. “No, no. I won’t be letting those vultures anywhere near our dinner. I promise.”

Once you confirmed again the time and date, Aram excused himself, having to continue his patrol around the district. And the moment he left, your heart soared with excitement at the thought of dinner with Aram.

~*~

Friday couldn’t come any quicker.

The rest of the week fell into a snail like pace, dragging day and night until the morning of your dinner date with Aram.

The rain didn’t subside. Most of the city was now flooded or close to it.

You had braced your store for the worst. Purchasing new tables with waterproofing and protective surfaces, so if the water started to rise and your store was flooded, at least some of your merchandise would be saved.

Coincidentally, as you were unloading the transport carriage that had said furniture, three city guards came over to help unload them.

You didn’t know any of them, but you thought it was sweet that some passing guards saw you and the transport man struggling to move a table, and decided to help.

But that seemed to become a pattern over the course of the week leading to Friday.

You saw more guards than usual in the district and some greeted you as if you knew them. Smith came over to you whenever you were out. Conversing until he needed to leave for his patrol and you needed to return to the shop.

Briar dropped by and returned the ring to you. They was a lot more friendly than the prior meetings you had with them. They actually cracked a few jokes with you.

You finally caved when Yesrie just happened to be in the area on Friday morning. Popping by with a coffee for you. “Are all of you around here because I’m going out with Aram?” You asked. And Yesrie was terrible at feigning ignorance, even if she was joking the entire time she replied.

“You’re going out with my captain? That’s amazing! I didn’t know at all.”

You rolled your eyes and shooed her out of your store. Thanking her for the coffee and company before you needed to get to work.

But finally, the time came to close the store and begin getting ready for your date.

You chose something simple to wear but something to also make you look downright gorgeous. Being in the city had its perks and the ample amount of shops around allowed you to browse and pick something amazing for yourself.

You had half the thought it could be a touch overdressed, but you weren’t sure where Aram was taking you. And you did look good in it! So you wrestled down the nerves and waited for Aram to arrive.

You kept your hands busy with small things in your shop before a heavy knock sounded on your front door.

You quickly opened the door for Aram and he stepped inside wrapped in a thick cloak and hood sprinkled by the rain.

“Damn, look at you, (y/n).” Aram beamed. His eyes didn’t seem to know where to look. They definitely lingered along your chest and hips, but respectfully flicked up to hold your gaze very quickly when he caught himself staring. “I feel a little underdressed now.”

You glimpsed his attire beneath the cloak. Dark dress pants with a deep brown shirt that hugged his large frame snugly. He had decorative leather bracers along his wrists and his hair was neatly bundled up in a collection of braids. Each had small trinkets adorning the strands.

“Nonsense,” You said a little breathlessly. Have you ever seen this man out of uniform? “You look very dashing.”

Your words made his smile crinkle his eyes and he opened his cloak up to you. Nodding to the carriage waiting outside. “I forgot to bring you an umbrella.”

“Ah, yes. I also don’t own one.” You said, hoping the way you moved up beside him didn’t seem too eager.

And you absolutely had an umbrella. But you were not going to miss an opportunity to snugly press yourself against Aram.

Once you were standing against his side, Aram lowered his arm enough that the cloak surrounded you almost entirely. A sweet scent wafted off of him to you and you shivered as your arm brushed against his side.

He was so warm!

Together you exited the store, halting long enough to lock the front and then quickly dash to the carriage. Where a driver was waiting in the rain to open the door for the two of you.

You felt utterly terrible for the man. But as you clambered into the carriage, you caught a glimpse of your driver.

An automaton. A being made of metal and mechanical parts bowed their head as you greeted them. Their clothes were drenched but they didn’t seem to mind as Aram joined you in the carriage, taking the seat next to you, and the automaton closed the door behind him.

“Did you hire a driver for tonight?” You asked. Baffled by the beautiful interior of the carriage. It was much fancier than the one Smith drove you in. And the rain didn’t thunder the roof in this one. You could barely hear it as Aram responded.

“No. This is my carriage. Anthony out there works for me.” Aram said this as if it was a normal occurrence for someone to have an automaton driver. Or their own fancy carriage.

You tried not to balk at his words. Instead made room for him to remove the damp cloak and fold it on the seat across from the both of you.

“I didn’t know being a Guard Captain paid so well.” You teased. Watching Aram as he adjusted his shirt and ensured his bracers were still correctly placed on his wrists. There was a slight scruff along his cheeks and he had replaced the silver caps on his tusks with gold ones.

Damn, he dressed up nice.

Aram smiled and your heart shuddered when he winked at you. “It also pays to have been a successful adventurer beforehand.”

Your eyes widened and Aram laughed as you said, “Wait, you haven’t been a stuck up captain all your life?” Though your words were sarcastic, you couldn’t help but be impressed. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have guessed that was your past. Maybe a soldier of some kind? But not an adventurer.”

“You’d be amazed at how many guards of mine are retired adventurers or travelers looking to settle down. I knew the old captain before he retired. It sped up my promotions, I’ll admit, but I proved myself just like everyone else.” Aram admitted. Relaxing against the plush back seat of the carriage. “Chasing down burglars and walking the streets at night is a much better alternative to dungeon crawling.”

You hummed in agreement. “I do not miss the cold nights or falling asleep hungry. But there was definitely a charm to traveling that the city doesn’t have.”

It was Aram’s turn to agree with a grunt. “I do occasionally miss having the time and freedom to do whatever I want. But I wouldn’t give up my position for anything. Least of all, leave my Guards behind just to go treasure hunting.”

You caught a light twinkling in Aram’s eyes as he spoke. And his smile curled warmly at the corners. It was no secret that Aram was as loyal as any to the Guard, but there was definitely a type of kinship between them all as well.

“That does remind me,” You said, tilting your head teasingly at Aram. “Did you order more guards to patrol my district? I keep tripping over them everytime I leave the shop.”

Aram didn’t look surprised, but he didn’t look pleased about what you said either. “Ah, I was wondering why some of them took longer to return after their patrols.” You waited for Aram to say something else. And when he didn’t, you set a pointed stare on him, urging him to continue whatever thought was bouncing around in his head. Aram chuckled with a half roll of his eyes. “Alright, alright. This is a little embarrassing, but I believe they’re keeping an eye on you for me. On their own accord. I haven’t ordered anymore than the usual patrols in your district. But since…well, they’re a loyal lot and they want to make sure you’re safe.”

You laughed. It made sense why you saw Smith and Yesrie more than anyone else on your streets. “All because you asked me out to dinner?”

“Well…not just because of dinner. But that’s a conversation for later.” Aram said sheepishly. And he expertly changed the subject to your store and how it was faring in the weather. You let the conversation be swept into other topics, but you definitely would hold onto that little kernel of a question for later.

The ride through the city took a little longer than you expected. But soon, the streets outside transformed into a string of establishments on the docks. And the carriage was taken through a route that ran along the rough, crashing oceanside.

The beach looked absolutely ruined from the harsh tides. And the dark gloomy horizon was nothing more than a black screen of storm clouds.

Despite the rain, the street itself was bustling with activity. Lights illuminated the roads brilliantly in warm orange. And all along the sidewalk were canopies and large overhanging roofs to give shelter to the patrons that walked by.

Your carriage was taken to a restaurant that had a grand glass ceiling and a large balcony with many tables seated beneath it. Your table was directly next to the balcony edge, where a shield of magic protected you and Aram from the torrent of rain slashing down from above.

And you found yourself pleasantly warm as Aram pushed in your chair as you took your seat. The business must have heating enchantments placed around to keep their patrons comfortable.

“This place is lovely.” You said as your waiter passed you both a menu. Excusing themselves to give you time to look over their drink choice.

“It’s one of my favorite spots in the city. The ocean view usually is better, but I can at least trust the food will be good.” Aram explained, glancing over the railing to the harsh waves and dark waters. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” You quickly reassured him. “I’m just happy to have an excuse to go out. I’ve been putting off going out for dinner for a while. I don’t know alot of people here yet. I wouldn’t know where to start.``

“Well, I hope my choice becomes one of your favorites.” Aram smiled.

The conversation fell into a simple one of work. Aram asked more questions about your store while you prodded about his life in the Guard.

“Things have gotten better over the past few months.” Aram admitted, drawing idle circles on the condensation of his cup of mead. “But I’m sure…activities will pick up closer to the holiday season. I dread to think about that time of year. But it is at least never lacking on slow days.”

“I used to avoid cities during their festival seasons. As backwards as that is for a traveling merchant.” You said in return. “It always caused me more grief than coins. But I guess it’s unavoidable now that I have a permanent spot here.”

                ~~~~To Be Continued Because my brain is stuck~~~~~~

As always, feedback or suggestions are welcome!! 

[dereliction-if]

DERELICTION - One empire. Three kingdoms. Four races. A fate so fragile, and yet the celestial spirits decided to put it in the hands of their own potential deicide.

In a fractured realm plagued by ancient animosities, where empires clash and races vie for their own goal, their own dominance, a haunting destiny hangs over an unlikely figure. A pariah, an outcast, and perhaps the only hope - You.

You bear the weight of a dark lineage and the remnants of a once-powerful origin - now shunned by all races. While shadows of your tragic past loom large, a seemingly chance encounter thrusts you into a perilous journey. The path ahead is cloaked in uncertainty, an abyss that beckons you to confront your deepest fears, your deepest desires - a choice that may tip the scales toward salvation or everlasting despair.

It’s upon you to decide: Can you outrun your fate, or will you succumb to the very darkness you seek to defy?

/// FEATURES:

Customize the Main Character (MC) and hereby influence your path in the world:

• Name (including Nickname & Alias)

• Pronouns (choose preset or set your own)

• Gender (male, female & non-binary options)

• Appearance (hair, eye colour, size, body type, scars & more)

• Race: Thao‘Raq

• Personality (influencing events, attitudes & behaviour towards you)

• Vices (choose your poison)

• An inner power yet to identify What else? Different POVs (incl. your ROs POVs)

/// HOW IT ALL BEGAN - YOUR STORY:

/// THE WORLD (MAP WIP)

/// CHARACTERS:

For thy company makes thy destiny:

Several characters that highly influence your path, depending on your relationship and choices. Some of them you‘ll encounter just once, whilst others will be your companions for a long while. But relationships might change, due to events in the past, decisions you made. Beware, character deaths are happening and some consequences will only show in the long run.

Important characters to be announced soon

/// ROMANTIC OPTIONS:

Overall there will be 5 ROs and plenty of short term encounters - see below (Spoiler alert)

RO#1: The royal heir

Princess Sonea - she/her, 1,76m (5'9") Prince Solas - he/him, 1,94m (6'4") - 22yo, straight or gay; race: Human

Appearance: tba

Personality: tba

The first time your eyes locked, both your fates were decided. Yet, nobody could have known what consequence just one destined moment would mean for both of you and, further, the whole realm. Will you be each other’s key or knife?

RO#2: The sovereign

Amara Dougal - she/her, 1,81m (5'11") - 31yo, straight or gay, race: Human x Thao‘Raq

Appearance: tba

Personality: tba

You were never meant to be more than a tool for them - an interchangeable toy to kill boredom, play a little game of strength, willpower and dominance. Then you managed to surprise them. Was that your plan all along?

Mood Board: here

RO#3: The mage

Jia - she/her, 1,65m (5'5"); he/him, 1,79m (5'10"); they/them, 1,73m (5'8") - 21yo, demi, race: Eirdimon

Appearance: tba

Personality: tba

You stumbled into their life, being the first light in a long while. They are grateful for the new perspectives you bring into their life, even though you turn their whole world upside down. Still, they decided to never let you go again.

RO#4: The mercenary

Havu Guillame - she/her, 1,73m (5'8"); he/him 1,87m (6'2") - 26yo, pan, race: Sertynan

Appearance: tba

Personality: tba

A rusty knife, straight between their shoulder blades sounded like a much more enjoyable scenario than having to spend time with you. Not because you are exceptionally annoying, which you can be, but because bearing anybody else’s burden is nothing more than a waste of time to them.

RO#5: The knight

Daria Baran - she/her, 1,97m (6'6") Darius Baran - he/him, 2,03m (6'8") - 38yo, straight (?), race: Human

Appearance: tba

Personality: tba

Their oath is the reason why they are stuck with you. If it were possible, they would‘ve avoided it as a whole, but it seems carrying your ass around, reminding you of your manners, duties and cleaning the mess you leave behind you, is their painful responsibility now.

/// RACES: Click on each race to find out more

Sertynan (Original purpose: Diplomacy & Peace)

Eirdimon (Original purpose: Creation & Wisdom)

Human soon

Thao‘Raq (Original purpose: Protection & Defense)

>>> physical appearances - race specific: here

/// FLORA & FAUNA:

Buorshik (Lizard)

/// CONTENT WARNING: 🔞 Dark adult fiction

contains mentions of violence, bullying, racism, body horror, torture, gore, medical procedures, death, alcohol, drugs, addiction, abuse, self harm, optional sexual content incl. prostitution.

Full content warning here.

/// LAST UPDATE: 08.04.2024

In early development. DEMO: t.b.a.

Note: Each chapter will be published once it is finished.

[llazyneiph]

Dive into the world of Ancient Greece with the latest teaser trailer for the upcoming Royalty Mod update. 🏛️✨

Discover the heart of the Hellenic Empire, embrace the divine blessings of the gods, manage your royal treasury, embark on noble careers, and master the art of oratory. This update is packed with features that will transport you to a time of legends and myths!

🔔 Don't forget to like, share, and let us know your thoughts in the comments. Your feedback is invaluable to us!

Special Giveaway Alert! 🎁 To celebrate the teaser release, we're giving away a month of Discord Nitro to two lucky members! Stay tuned for details on how to enter and get a chance to win.

Let the journey to Ancient Greece begin! 🌿🔱

[marigold-hills]

Haven’t done a recommendation in a little while but this WIP definitely deserves dusting off the tag:

instance of happenstance By @magicbeings

It’s funny, it’s clever, it tugs on all my heartstrings. There are three chapters out of what is expected to be seven and frankly don’t wait, read it now, give the author all the encouragement. It’s so good.

Wolfstar with a background jily and bartylus

Summary:

Sirius Black has everything in his life sorted—except for one small detail: he’s yet to find true love. Since his usual methods (aka dating apps) don’t seem to be working, he decides to leave it to the hands of fate. He’ll let an ancient deck of Tarot Cards guide his every move and hope that this will lead him to the arms of his true soulmate.

Spoiler alert: it does work, of course—but not without a few unexpected twists and turns along the way.

[boyneptunee]

Phoenix!Harry who accidentally (not) saves Tom from impending death. There's also a Magical Alley.

2500 words

Time Travel! Short wip.

Tom Riddle walked through the narrow streets of Calea Vrăjitorului, the magical alley somewhere deep in the city of Sighișoara, Romania.

It was absolutely bursting with people coming to and from, both local and tourists preparing for the Samhain festival. The excitement was palpable through the air, and magic lingered like a heavy blanket above the streets of the medieval city.

The citadel sat upon a hill, surrounded by mountains and stretches of land on every side. The forest surrounding the city seemed to have prepared themselves for the occasion, painted in oranges and yellows and deep set greens, blending into one another in one big sea of colours.

Tom Riddle however had no time for festivities. He was on a hunt for Vlad The Impaler, the infamous son of the Vampire that inspired the tales of Count Dracula.

The Vampire had something Tom wanted. It was not an object, or a person. It was not even Vlad himself. It was knowledge.

Somewhere along the line, decades, perhaps even centuries ago, the arrogant creature had let slip one little, insignificant secret. Insignificant of course, for those that didn't value the information brought upon them.

Vlad knew (or perhaps it was more correct to say, had known) the only Wizard who had been capable of producing a Horcrux successfully in all known history.

And Tom craved for the information with a hunger only few men had the opportunity to have ever experienced. It was all encompassing, bleeding his vision black around the edges and making his heart beat insistently strong, excited.

So far, the Vampire had alluded Tom successfully.

But no longer.

Tom had been able to pick a trail of Death that could only come from a living being no longer alive somewhere near the entrance of the magical alley. It seemed the Vampire had gone out to hunt for muggles, sometime recent.

His percepcion of the world was wrapped in colours and shapes, in magic and dust residue, bright everywhere he looked in the magical world, and terribly dull and boring in the muggle world. Every person that carried magic in their body shone a different light, some dim and pale and others as bright as the moon. None shone like a star.

None shone like Tom.

Muggles, in comparison, where all gray and dull, devoid of light and colours to accompany their lack of magic. In Tom's experience, he often wondered if the lack of magic made them more violent. If perhaps they knew they were missing something important, something vital that pulsed through the very veins of the earth. They were creatures living on borrowed land.

They destroyed everything they touched.

As it was, his Magic was able to pick a trail from the deserted street just outside the Alley like it was a beacon calling home. Even Vampires carried their own, unique magic, and surrounded by the grey world of Muggles it was a child's play to grasp the thread and memorize the feeling of it, the cold residue, the edges of death and bloodcurling hunger.

If it was not Vlad then he was following another Ancient Vampire around like a fool. The odds were on his favour.

Tom stepped around people and carts, through archways and up the hill. Tables had been set for a night market, trinkets and crafts and talismans on display and blocking the already narrow road.

He was annoyed to no end.

He had been chasing the thread of magic for no less than five hours, ever since the moment the sun had dipped beneath the mountains and the feeling of the Vampire moving had finally alerted Tom of his location.

He couldn't seem to catch up to him.

Just when he thought he was just ahead of him, on the bend of an alley or a side street, hiding behind curtains hung around stalls or walking up the stairs to a crowded bar, he seemed to be playing Tom.

He was annoyed, now.

The goose chade counting for another hour, before the scenery around Tom started to change.

He was at the very edge of the Magical Alley, where the cobblestone road had given away to a dirt path that ended on a wooden bridge crossing over a small stream. An arc made of tangled vines with a crooked sign at the very top indicated the end of the Alley, and the entrence to the forest surrounding the city.

Tom sighed. He was being lured into a trap, he knew.

Going into an unknown forest at night while chasing a vampire would be a terrible decision, no matter the gain.

He would try again, tomorrow. After all, ge already had the unmistakable feel of the foul Vampiric Magic imprinted on his mind.

Tom chose early midday to explore the forest.

If the creature wanted him here, then he would investigate his surroundings first before deciding the next course of action.

However, he was unaware of a small, tiny, truly insignificant flaw on his rather simple but logical plan. He hadn't thought to ask the locals.

Had he been more aware, better prepared, he wouldn't have walked into the dense tree line with the confidence of someone who was sure a Vampire would not hunt while the sun was out.

However.

The sun dissapeared not ten steps in.

Tom spun on his heel, almost blinded by the lack of light, but it was too late.

The path he had just been following had dissapeared into the shadows. The trees had grown crooked all of a sudden, reaching in his direction with no leaves on sight. It was a stark difference to the pretty oranges and yellows that had swayed on the breeze not a moment ago.

He stood still and stretched his senses.

He could not feel any magic distorting his vision. It was not an illusion.

And if it was, it had been placed around every single inch of the forest, every single tree and branch had to have been drenched in magic so subtle, so powerful it made his senses miss it completely.

It was illogical.

It was the only explanation.

He walked.

He walked with no direction for what felt like hours. He passed by the same trees at least ten times, gritting his teeth at being turned around without rhyme or reason.

It was a nightmare come true.

Finally, it seemed the Vampire had tired of watching him make a fool of himself.

He appeared out of no where and blended right out of the shadows.

He wore old fashioned clothes, was the first thing Tom noted.

His red eyes were wide and deep set, an insane and gone glint on them that warned Tom more than the long fangs or the bloodied lips ever could.

"Vlad the Impaler." He said, back straight. He was confident he would be able to fend him off, if push came to shove. He was not there for chatter after all, and ripping into the mind of the undead was unpleasant but not impossible. The long stretches of their minds sometimes made Tom's own head pound for days in response to the centuries of information crammed into one being, but he had enough practice to know it was a necessary evil. Vampires didn't mix with Wizards, after all. They kept their best secrets tucked deep into their hollow chests.

The creature only smiled in answer, showing off his crooked fangs. His teeth were yellowing, and his once pristine and fine clothes had turned to rags. Covered in maroon splotches that could only be dried blood in some places, broken off in others, as if they had caught onto the low hanging branches of the trees surrounding them and had simply decided their fate was best served by the trees.

"Wizard." The creature uttered with disgust. His red eyes kept looking Tom up and down, assessing him. Possibly sizing him up as a snack.

"I have a few questions for you, and then I'll be on my way." On my way with your head on a spike, Tom didn't say. But he didn't plan the Vampire surviving past his need. It was necessary. No one could know where he had been snooping.

The creature tilted his head, matted brown hair haging off a shoulder.

"I guess I could feed." And that was that.

The Vampire attacked with impressive speed despite the clear state of decay about him. Feeding on Muggles surely didn't compare to the magical blood. It was outlawed to feed on humans without explicit consent, however, and no respectable Witch or Wizard wanted their blood drawn by a bloodsucker, no matter how ancient.

Vampires could not survive only on pig blood.

Hence the hunger.

He was no match for Tom Riddle.

The man had no trouble pinning him to the ground with a wave of his hand, roots ripping from the dirt to wrap around the body. No matter how much he struggled, how much superhuman strength he had, he was no match for the raw magic that made the makeup of Tom.

All that was needed was a moment, a fragment of a second for red incredulous eyes to lock onto stormy blue ones and he was in.

Tom lost himself on the memories, disjointed and unorganized, much of them covered in bloodlust and dark shadows so dark it was impossible to discern their contents.

He was not there for those, however.

He delved deeper, onto almost forgotten territory.

He found what he was looking for.

Triumph tasted sweet on his tongue, and he viewed each precious memory of Herpo the Foul with greedy eyes.

He was so deep into the creatures mind, he didn't pick on the feeling of alarm rising through the back of his neck, down to his arms and to the very tips of his fingers.

The creature attacked while Tom still had his back turned, deeply concentrated on the man tied on the floor.

He was slammed against a tree trunk far from where he had stood, and he grunted in pain.

It was not the hit that had him the most hurt. It was the sudden severed connection from another mind that made his head ache impossibly bad and blood drip down his nose like an open fountain.

When he tried to move, he discovered one of his arms had been broken.

He snarled and looked through the haze of pain and tethered memories at the creature trying to rip the roots off the vampire. It was another one, impossibly older.

It would pay, too.

He tightened his hold on the wood surrounding the fallen man and with a burst of magic impaled his body full of wooden stakes. He struggled no further.

It wood wouldn't kill him, Tom had brought plenty of other methods to end his miserable eternal life.

The other man turned on him with an inhuman screech and– Tom miscalculated.

This man, impossibly older than Vlad the impaler and remarkably similiar to the now dead man– he could be no other than his father.

His vast, or rather– hollow feel to him felt impossibly old, eternally big.

He was on top of him before he could even blink or orient himself.

A slash on his neck was all he needed to be reminded of his mortality, of the reason why he had sought out Vlad the Impaler on the first place.

He had no Horcrux to fall back on, not yet.

He would die here, of blood loss and possibly mutilated by a creature centuries his senior, with hatred and the same insanity that had been on his son's eyes. He would die alone, as he had always been, somewhere deep in a magical forest and would be remembered by no one.

He would not even have an unmarked grave.

He would not be granted such clemency.

Tom struggled to breath, to move his Magic to the source of his pain, but it was like trying to hold onto water, it just kept slipping through his fingers.

His pulse slowed.

He watched with narrowed eyes as the creature kneeled by his son and caressed his matted hair with stilted motions, as if he didn't remember how to do it properly.

Tom struggled to breath.

His vision was turning dark around the edges, his fingers were growing cold and his eyes were closing on their own volition.

Minutes passed like this.

He didn't want to die.

He didn't want to die alone in some fucking forest forgotten by the rest of the world.

He didn't want to be cold.

The creature approach him. Had he been able to, Tom was sure the man would have been crying.

As it was, a stone hard face greeted him on his final moments.

And, just then– a ball of flame slammed onto the creature.

The man promptly set on fire.

But Tom could not hear the screams of agony, see the twitching limps trying to rip it's own flesh apart to save whatever it could–

He had closed his eyes, and his breathing had slowed.

He was cold.

A warm weight dropped on his chest, making it even more impossible to breath. It was a losing battle. At least the ball of fire was chasing off the cold.

He supposed he didn't mind.

Then, the most extraordinary thing happened.

His body was enveloped in a gentle sheet of magic, so thin it was almost unperceptive save for the warmth it gave off.

A warm liquid wrapped around his torn throat and willed his own magic to cooperate.

His skin closed slowly, reluctantly, and his blood started pumping more fiercely.

His breathing deepened and his headache receded just the tiniest of stretches to the back of his mind.

His bones mended back together. The bruises remained. The creature seemed to deem those unimportant.

The warmth stayed for what felt like hours, while Tom tried and failed to regain consciousness.

Finally, an eternity later, he was able to open his eyes without pins and needles stabbing straight through his eyeballs.

He was back at the entrence of the forest, where the light shone through the dense canopy of trees and struggled to make it's way down to the ground.

A bird was sat on his chest.

It's red head was tilted, ginormous green eyes staring down at him with curiosity. Some of it's feathers were ruffled, and the small ones around it's black peak looked silvery wet. The creature was impossibly warm.

It was a phoenix, no doubt.

It had cried on him.

It had also set fire to the Vampire trying to kill him.

It was warm.

The Phoenix on his chest thrilled a gentle song, making his attention snap back like a rubber band. His head still throbbed faintly.

He was– terribly confused.

How in the seven hells had he stumbled upon a Phoenix? Why was the bird still here? Why had it cried–?

His head threatened to split open.

He would wonder another time, then.

Now– now, he needed proper rest. He had what he had come looking for, after all.

And– maybe more.

[prythianpages]

WIP Wednesday

here's a little sneak peak Maneater, an Az fic, since I'm feeling 😈:

Azriel pauses at the base of the Prison’s slope, gazing upward at the daunting climb ahead. Streams of water gurgle through the moss-and-grass ground, their cold spray dampening his boots and the hem of his cloak. The wind howls past, sending a shiver down Azriel's spine. It was as if the very mountain was mourning, its sorrowful wail blending with the distant cries of the tormented souls trapped within.

“Do not underestimate her, Az.” Rhysand’s voice from earlier echoes through his mind. He had scoffed at that. Centuries of successful missions and orders and Rhysand dares to doubt him now? 

Azriel knew better, though. This was not just a mission but a test—a test of his self-control. After his secret endeavor—or what might have been—with Elain, Rhysand had kept a close eye on him. Doubt had started to grow like a weed in the field of their friendship, and Azriel was determined to root it out. He needed to prove to Rhysand that he was still the male he had grown up alongside. His friend. His brother.

He’s fought in wars. He’s killed powerful creatures. He’s captured dangerous creatures. Why should you be any problem?

You’re just a silly little demon, after all.

Taking a deep breath, he carries forward. The blue siphons adorning his leathers flickering, their glow a stark contrast to the dreary surroundings. As he finally enters the treacherous prison, the air becomes heavy, laden with the scent of damp stone and ancient despair. His footsteps are quiet, courtesy of his shadows, as he makes his way through the labyrinth. It grows dark the further he goes but to Azriel, darkness is a familiar friend.

His shadows can hear the whispers of the guardians and he can feel their presence, like a prickling along his skin, as they watch him with unseen eyes. Shadows coil around his fingers, eager and restless, sensing the challenge ahead. He knew he was close when he spotted the Bone Carver’s cell—or at least, what used to be. Now it stood vacant. It didn’t matter, anyway. The cell that mattered to him at this moment was yours, conveniently the one right next to it.

He can feel your presence then–a flicker of unnatural heat in the icy blackness. His fingers clenched tightly around the vial in his hand.  “Give her your blood and she will be compelled to you,” Amren had said. As a former prisoner, she had heard a rumor or two about you.  “But do not let her sink her claws into your heart, boy. Or it’s over for you.”

But you will be no problem at all, Azriel thinks, gaze flickering down to the vial filled with his blood briefly.

He’s going to get you to comply with his orders, proving that he is worthy of the trust Rhysand had placed in him. Proving that he is more than his mistakes, more than his desires.

spoiler alert but not since it’s in the summary: he underestimates her 🤭

[magicbeings]

instance of happenstance wolfstar. muggle au. soulmates au (if you squint)

romantic comedy. fluff. eventual smut. WIP, will be ~40k

Summary:

Sirius Black has everything in his life sorted—except for one small detail: he’s yet to find true love. Since his usual methods (aka dating apps) don’t seem to be working, he decides to leave it to the hands of fate. He’ll let an ancient deck of Tarot Cards guide his every move and hope that this will lead him to the arms of his true soulmate.

Spoiler alert: it does work, of course—but not without a few unexpected twists and turns along the way.

WIP - chapter 1 on ao3

[ficsbyuzi]

Omen

Characters- Alys Rivers, Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen (?)

Words- 1550

Note- My brain came up with whatever this is about six months ago. And I wrote it because I couldn't contain it in my head any longer. I have been vibrating with excitement since yesterday after hearing Gayle Rankin talk about Alys Rivers, so I thought of reposting it from my old account.

I based this ficlet on this leak and some parts of the canon. Alys is a captive of Sabitha Frey as she experiences this prophetic dream. I often think of doing parts for it, but I know I wont because I am horrible at updating my WIPs :)

Alys was dreaming.

Her mind was weaving a gossamer tapestry from the threads of her memories. 

How else could she possibly be strolling nonchalantly through the corridors of that decaying fortress if she weren't in a dream?

What she was experiencing was unreal. 

In her tangible reality, she would not be walking through the cavernous hall of hundred hearths freely.

As she emerged from the massive hall, a wispy dreamscape of the Godswood unfolded before her. She stopped for a moment to observe it and looked toward the heavens.

It had been a long time since her moss-green eyes had drunk in the tender sunlight filtering through the leaden mist enshrouding the colossal, weathered Harrenhal castle.

Her home.

Alone, she ambled along the water stream meandering through the woods, a certainty settling upon her that she was in a dream. Visiting the Godswood within the recesses of her subconscious mind, she echoed the routine she had followed since beginning to dabble in herblore.

Even in the dream, her heart brimmed with familiar peace at the sight of the centuries-old trees adorning the sacred precinct of the Godswood. Those twisted birches, aromatic pines, towering oaks, and vigilant sentinels were more than mere foliage to her; they were her kindred spirits. In the rustle of their leaves and the sturdy embrace of their branches, she had found acceptance deeper than any kin had ever offered her.

As she continued to relive a memory of her routine - gathering the herbs to brew her potions and grind her poultices - the weirwood heart-tree revealed itself in the distance.

Conspicuously standing at the emergence of the stream, it marked the point where the waters of the Trident entered the forest. A silvery-white, robust trunk cradled a sparse canopy of blood-red leaves above. The rustle of the five-pointed leaves in the breeze resembled countless blood-stained hands, beckoning her forth.

Red leaves on a silver tree. Red and silver. The two colors had often filled her visions since the doomed war for the Iron Throne began.

Realizing it had been a while since she sought solace beneath the ancient weirwood heart tree, she advanced toward it. 

But her effortless, airy steps began to turn unexpectedly heavy. An unseen force seemed to grip her feet.

As she struggled to move forward, the muffled crunching of leaves and twigs at a distance alerted her of someone’s presence. Her dreamscape wasn't the solitary realm she'd believed it to be. 

A phantasmal figure, a man, emerged from thin air and approached the heart tree wielding  either an ax or a sword - its exact form eluded her perception. The pale color of his hair - silent testament to his identity - matched the trunk of the heart-tree

She watched as the indistinct figure coalesced into the unmistakable form of Daemon Targaryen. He, on the other hand, seemed unaware of her presence. 

She knew he couldn't possibly be near her in reality. However, the smirk on his face and the hubris he exuded seemed too vivid to be a mere figment of her dream.

Perplexed by his amusement, she wondered whether he mocked the grotesque, angry face carved eons ago by the Children of the Forest on the heart tree. It was a face she had prayed to throughout her life, gazing into its hollow eyes that perpetually wept crimson tears, staining its silvery-white trunk.

As she observed Daemon gripping and lifting the blade in the air, her ethereal dreamscape began to turn red with streaks of pearly silver shining through. The pigments of the heart tree began to bleed into her surroundings. 

A reverberating sound of steel meeting the wood, echoed in the air. 

THUD

Alys gathered every ounce of her being to free herself from the invisible ensnarement that entrapped her feet. An urgency to stop him propelled her forward. But, oblivious to her presence, he struck the trunk again,

THUD

“It is blasphemous to fell a heart tree,” she said, suppressing the disdain in her voice so as to not offend a prince of the realm.

THUD

Ignoring her, as he always did, Daemon continued to batter the tree, with what she could now see clearly - an ax.

THUD

Battling the weight that seemed to anchor her feet to the ground, Alys stepped closer in an attempt to draw his attention. Speaking louder this time, she implored, "Please don't."

“You will address me as My Prince, or my blade will meet your tongue next, witch,” he ordered, still facing the tree and ignoring her plea.

THUD

“My Prince,” she said, masking the exasperation with a neutral tone of her voice, “Why chop the sacred tree when there are plenty others that could be put to use.”

THUD

“You have some nerve to question my actions,” Daemon said, finally facing her. 

“Merely trying to save you from committing a sin, my prince. The tree is…” Her words faltered when he hit the trunk again, not heeding her. A grimace surfaced at her face at the sound of the wood splintering. 

THUD

“Your forest is creeping into my castle. It needs to be controlled, as does your tongue.”

  THUD

“Your castle? Or your queen’s?” She asked, striking his Achilles’ heel, as the word ‘queen’s’ elicited two enraged, successive-

THUD

THUD

He halted, groaning and drawing a breath before turning to meet her mocking gaze. The words whirled in his mind like a tempest, displeasure flickering across his countenance. Yet, he opted not to respond to her impudent remark. 

“A thousand men are going to join the army at Harrenhal soon. The war has begun," he replied evasively as the tension seemed to seep into his grip on the ax. His fingers tightened around its helm, ready to strike again. 

Before he could hit, she took a jab at him again, “You Targaryens think of yourselves as Gods, don’t you? Only one God can reside where you are.”

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she found herself taken aback by her own brazen remark, fearing the consequence of her audacity.

THUD

“How did you come out of your confines?” He asked, ignoring her question which had only fueled his pride. He smirked at the crunching sound of the wood tearing apart, while hers faded away in response. The smugness on his face deepened as he noticed her visibly blanched face.

His endeavors were coming to fruition.

THUD

She could not forge a coherent answer to his question. She wanted to tell him that she was indeed physically imprisoned as she traversed the realm of her dreams. But words eluded her, and despite her effort, she could not utter anything. As if the weight that anchored her feet was now extending its influence on her tongue, rendering her speechless. She was still struggling to respond when another rending blow landed on the trunk.

THUD

The ground beneath trembled with a mighty impact. Her heart sank when a cascade of leaves and twigs showered down like a gentle rain.

"No!" Alys yelled, and just then, a distant shriek from Daemon’s mount, Caraxes, reverberated through the air, piercing her ears. 

Her feet now felt as if melded with the ground, ensnared in the expansive roots of the heart tree. Mustering every ounce of strength, she moved towards him again, in a daring attempt to seize his ax. 

However, the blade in his grip was slowly morphing into a Valyrian steel sword; its pommel embellished with two silver, miniature dragon wings.

“You are coming in my way, ilībōños!” Daemon growled, raising the Dark Sister sword and shoving her to the ground. [Bastard] 

Her eyes fell upon the face carved into the heart tree, as she struggled to rise. It wasn't the face she grew up worshiping, but she recognised it nonetheless.

Somber features had replaced the terrible ones she had always known. One eye was open—hollow and weeping crimson tears; the other eye, closed and sapless.

Before she could act or stop him, Daemon, gathering all his strength, impaled the closed eye on the trunk with his Valyrian steel sword piercing it all the way through. Caraxes roared again, subduing her scream and his rider’s sinister, jubilant laugh.

Still as a stone, she watched helplessly as the heart tree fell to the ground. Blood-red leaves, torn from its branches, transformed into droplets of blood as they brushed against her.

A horrified scream escaped her lips again at the sight of blood staining her, prompting frantic attempts to rub and wipe it away, but to no avail. The stains stubbornly clung to her skin. She shut her eyes tightly, seeking refuge from the unsettling awareness.

An agonising shriek pierced the air, and she couldn't discern if it came from her or his dragon. But the sound jolted her awake, bringing her back to her reality. 

She lay sprawled on the damp floor of a dimly lit cell, imprisoned in the Tower of Widows. 

Still panting and drenched in sweat, she wrapped her arms protectively around her scantily covered midriff, where the promise of a new life burgeoned beneath her skin.

"Aemond, where are you?" she whispered, trembling, posing the question to the desolation enveloping her. The image of the somber face carved on the heart tree from her dream remained vivid in her mind.

A dream that was far more lucid than her evanescent visions in the flames.

[theskeletonprior]

The First: Introductions

This is a casual little writing challenge to get myself into a habit, perhaps, or if not, to get some words from the meat of my brain to the pulp of the page. I chose four prompts for myself, and I'll be producing what I hope are four short works of about 5k words (although each one I expect to expand far beyond that limit). I think that I might post daily updates on the process, what I'm doing, how I'm feeling and whatnot, but we'll see if I keep that up or not.

All of my stories are set in the world of RAVENOT, and if you're curious, you can take a look at my WIP intro right here. And if you're really keen, you can read the first chapter (sort of a pilot as I toil) right here! But to save you all that clicking, here's the pitch:

After a near-death experience which leaves her able to speak the language of the Dead, Senai joins the Order of Balances, an ancient organization that preserves the peace between the living and the (un)dead. There she meets RAVENOT, an immortal skeleton knight who travels the realm to ensure that Life and Death remain in balance, that those subjected to necromancy are willingly exposed, and that no violent or mindless undead ravage the lands unchecked. For a year and a day, Senai will travel with Ravenot as their witness, and learn what it means to walk the path alongside the Unmade.

The pieces I'm working on will follow Ravenot specifically, as I'm considering a collection of novellas about their adventures in the style of Vampire Hunter D. I've been reading them in preparation for this work. The books certainly aren't perfect, but there's been quite a lot to learn from the way that they're structured, and from the things that its more successful adaptations chose to omit. I don't feel very motivated today, but I'm hopeful that with some self-care, I'll feel more alert. I rested quite determinedly yesterday in preparation but I seem to have been thwarted toward that end. I suppose I'll also keep a taglist, so do let me know if you'd like to be on it. That's all for now!

[suna1suna1]

Woohoo! It's WIP Wednesday again!

I've been working on the Magical Girl AU for the past week, since that's the one that was requested last time, so I've taken it off (but attached some progress ;)) Sweets and Secrets is back this week!

Go ahead and reply, reblog, or send an ask with the numbers or titles of the fics you want me to work on and I'll set a 25-minute timer, meaning I get about 500 words written in that time frame. Then I'll share my progress at the end of the sprint(s). You can select up to 3 titles/numbers! ^^

Sonadowtober 2022 one-shots | Sonic, Sonadow (Published)

Sonadow bounty hunter AU | Sonic, Sonadow (Unpublished)

Boom Sonadow Dark Gaia fic | Sonic, Sonadow (Unpublished)

Hades and Persephone AU | Sonic, Shadamy (Unpublished)

Shadamytober 2023 one-shots | Sonic, Shadamy (Published)

The Heart of the Ark | Sonic, Shadamy (Published)

Sweets and Secrets | Sonic, Shadamy (Published)

Angels and Demons (H&P sequel) | Sonic, Sonamyshad (Published)

All Our Love one-shot collection | Sonic, Sonamyshad (Published)

L'histoire d'une Ladybug a Paris | Miraculous Ladybug (Published)

Speculative Murder Drones fic | Murder Drones, Nuzi (Unpublished)

Magical Girl progress and notes under the cut

Concept and plot notes/rambles:

Amy looks through newsfeeds and notices a figure with a mask over their muzzle and quills shaped kinda like Shadow’s (thinking kinda like Mephiles). They look enough like the purple smoke (and like Sonic’s werehog form) that she takes a screencap and saves it in a note on her phone. If she can find him, maybe they can figure out what’s going on. She also notices Eggman’s name in the newsfeeds as it talks about him getting fired. She clicks the interview video, and it shows him raving about his success. He’d intentionally gone that deep into the ground to see if there was any way life could live within the earth’s crust. Unfortunately now there’s a new volcano in the laboratory, and it had to be completely evacuated. That whole town is in the process of being evacuated. 

She sends the video to Nicky, then falls asleep. She dreams of the earth shattering into pieces, and shadows of faces appear. At the forefront is the face of the shady guy she noticed in the newsfeeds. 

Later, she’s woken up by a text alert from Nicky that tells her he found something. She hurries over to his house only to find Chip cowering behind a trashed couch. Nicky has evidently transformed again with the loss of the day’s light. Chip tells her he left the house, and Amy transforms and hurries after him. Amy asks Chip what Nicky found, but he doesn’t know either. Something about an ancient god. He was too busy raiding the pantry for sweets.

Comic script page:

Nicky: “Hey, it’s my favorite! Plus it’s got my favorite character from (insert other manga name here) on it.”

Emi steps up onto the hardwood floor, carrying her bag with her. 

Emi: “Okay, okay, I’ll give it back at lunch.”

Nicky: “You’d better!” 

~~end scene~~

Emi is in science class. 

Emi is doodling little drawings of Nicky with hearts with her pencil. 

Emi’s inner monologue: “Not that I really mind it though… being in love…”

The teacher is up near the blackboard. 

Teacher: “Did everyone get their permission slips for the field trip this afternoon?”

The students mostly answer yes.

Emi frowns and starts rooting through her backpack. 

Emi: “Did I…?”

Emi starts looking more panicked. 

Emi: “I know Mom signed it! Where is it?”

A student taps her on the shoulder. 

Student: “Psst.”

The student is holding a piece of paper. 

Student: (mouthing) “From Nicky.” 

Emi takes the paper.

Emi unfolds it and sighs with relief.

[blarrghe]

been tagged in a couple WIP Wednesdays! Close enough. Thanks @transfenris-truther for this week's tag and tagging on @cleverblackcat @rosella-writes @melisusthewee @plisuu and @sulky-valkyrie

I've been really into writing the big WIP Enemies-to-Lovers fic that still won't be out for a while. Here's something from it anyway. Promise I'll have real content I can actually post.... soon.

---

The temple’s entrance emerged from the forest all at once. One moment, they were pushing past tree branches and stepping over thick roots, the next, Dorian was face-to-face with a huge and unforeseen slab of rock, a smooth, grey outcropping of ancient stone which pressed itself out of a high hill of forest covered earth. A rusting metal fixture bolted into the stone was all that alerted the spot from being anything other than another bit of rocky cliff. The fixture held a torch which looked old and decrepit enough to crumble in his hands. 

The First stepped forward. He pushed away some growth of vines and tapped his staff over the creeping moss which packed itself into the cracks of the rock and grew as a soft fur coat up its shadowed lower half. The moss crumbled away, revealing rows and rows of intricate runic carvings. 

Then the First said something, a muttered string of Elvhen words accompanied by another couple taps of his staff. The carvings alighted, and the rock split open. 

Dorian watched as the stone revealed a doorway into pitch darkness. He plucked the torch from the wall, glad to find it felt sturdy enough in his hand, and lit it with a spark of magic. The flame took to the wrappings in a gust of energy, flame-like but not. Whisps of greenish flame stuck to its top, but looking closely, the torch didn’t even really seem to burn. The eerie veil-tinted flame was steady, unaffected by Dorian’s motion or any passing breeze. 

Dorian gestured with his torch towards the dark entryway which the elf had revealed. “After you,” he offered. 

Without concern nor hesitation, in marched the First. 

[ell-vellan]

❄️🌤️ for the wip asks :3

Thank youuu for letting me share <3

WIP asks

Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

Now, finally, they stood in front of a large circular pool of still water beneath a huge mirror of equally rippling reflections that somehow gave Bull the most massive case of the creeps, guarded by an eerie elf who was like no elf he'd met before.  This was what Corypheus wanted so badly. This was what they’d come all this way to steal out from under him. And seeing the Well of Sorrows now – just a low pool of water at their feet – Bull believed it earned its name, somehow. Bull had stayed out of it, the whole thing. Their whole discussion about the Well with its creepy pale guardian elf, the arguments between him and Morrigan and Solas. This was El’s domain, her people’s culture, and he could tell just from the glances he’d gotten of her face that she was overwhelmed. Reverent, curious, amped up, but entirely focused. She didn’t need his input here, and it’s not like he had anything useful to say. So he kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he observed. He saw the way El received the revelations from Abelas; saw the way she flinched when Abelas called the Dalish “shadows wearing vallaslin.” Saw the way she rallied, arguing that they had respected the sacred grounds and done his rituals, that Corypheus was here to steal whatever the Well offered, and that she had come to stop him. “I believe you,” Abelas said, without emotion. Like it didn’t truly matter why she came, or how Abelas felt about it.  Iron Bull stared at the Inquisitor’s back. Her armor gleamed eerily in the flickering light of the temple’s torches and shifting sunlight through the canopy of broken roofs. Solas stood beside her, tension in every muscle of his body. They’d been two of a kind here, buddy-buddy the whole trek through the jungle and the temple, talking in hushed whispers like they were afraid the temple’s sentinels could hear. El hadn't glanced Bull's way, too focused on taking in every single detail of Mythal's temple. Bull watched it all go down with the curious detachment of a guy with no real skin in the game. But El did, and she was the one he was concerned about.  The scantily-clad witch glared at them. She was the odd one out, the one who’d told them about this place, but not enough, definitely not all that she knew. Bull didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, and he was pretty sure he could throw her a long way. Whatever she had come for, it wasn’t proving as easy as she’d thought it would be, that much was for sure. She was the human arguing with the elves, in the middle of the elfiest place Bull had ever set foot. And that was saying something. The oddest one of all, that long-limbed, pale elf in golden armor who wore vallaslin and yet was nothing like any elf Bull had ever met. Unlike any other elf alive. He was taller, for one. And he had this air about him that made the back of Bull’s neck prickle. There was a power to him that was ancient; all Bull's instincts clamored that this guy felt like no foe he’d ever faced, that appearances were dangerously deceiving. Abelas carried himself with quiet arrogance that he’d only seen in a very few. Bull’d learned through experience that people with this kind of confidence, this lack of fear, meant they either didn’t give a fuck whether they lived or died, or knew you were nothing, and both options were bad news. The put him on alert, a deep instinctual fear that he’d met a rare foe who might actually be better than him. Bull very much did not want to fight Abelas. Not even four-on-one, with three experienced mages and a spirit-boy who could disappear and reappear and was really, really good with knives.

Share a favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

“It's not like I haven't seen the guy naked before.”

El startled. “You told me you met them when they saved your life.”

“I did. I had stepped on the toes of somebody important in Antiva, I guess – maybe I killed his friend or banged his sister, I never did learn which – and the Crows had a contract out on me. And look, I'm good, but the Crows don't fucking stop, and even I have to sleep sometimes. Anyway I was on my way outta town, not that it matters much, the Crows are everywhere, but I figured maybe they'd calm down. Nope. Anyway, just so happens around that time Zevran was working through the Crows on his own, knocking ‘em out one by one, and our goals aligned in a pretty lucky way for me. Long story short, they saved my life, I thanked them, we got to talking and…”

Bull was waiting deliberately, gauging her reaction, but she was calmer than he’d expected. Aghast, maybe, but not exactly surprised, and not really jealous, either.

“And you thanked him further by… sleeping with him. Because of of course you did.”

“Both of them, actually.” Bull smiled crookedly and took her hand when her eyes went wide, squeezing in reassurance. Or maybe to keep her from running like the skittish thing she was. 

“You slept with both of them at the same time?”

“Aw, kadan,” He grinned at her with affection. “Didn't know I could still shock you with stuff like that.”

[izzystizzys]

can you share something about "winter is here" for the wip game?

yes of course! this is exciting because it’s a little out of the usual programming, but something i’ve been working on for like two years on and off since the idea just will not let go of me - now i’ve finally decided to sit down, write it out, and just do it :3

“winter is here” is the follow-up to “an eye for an eye”, and the basic premise of the series is this: instead of a son, jacaerys velaryon is born a girl. much proceeds as in canon. except for this: now there is an additional targaryen around of marriageable age, and no one except for viserys is excited about this grand idea, especially not aemond or jace. jace goes on a continent-wide tour (thinly veiled bid for fealty) to hand out personal invitations to the royal wedding, and lands on the last stop of her roadtrip - winterfell. it ends up being neither a quick nor simple visit, and upends more than it clarifies. for jace, at least. for the cause it’s kind of great.

honestly this is a big spoiler but also like the singular scene i have written for this, and i don’t know if any of you read hotd stuff anyways, so here you go!

It was a chaste, close-lipped press of mouths - nothing spectacular, truly. Jace had seen more heated kisses described by her childhood Septa over needle-work. It should have been entirely, utterly unspectacular. She was a dragonrider who chased her brothers through the sky, a Targaryen heiress to the Iron Throne, doubly descended from two ancient families of Old Valyria both amongst the richest on the continent, and yet-

And yet, when Cregan drew back, Jace immediately found herself chasing after the warmth of his lips, stopped only by the gentle press of his palm against her cheek. It felt like it spanned the whole of her face, swallowed her up entirely, wrapped her in this enchanting man and his enchanting being which had fascinated her from the first instant - and in that moment, she knew that there was now a before and an after in her life; an early Jacaerys who had not known what it felt like to kiss this impossible, incredible man, and then found death and rebirth on his lips.

There was no trace of duty on her mind, to the realm or her mother or even her betrothed, who could not have been paid to care if she threw herself on a blade right this instant.

“I love you”, the Lord of Winterfell whispered, voice uncharacteristically shaky, after a moment’s hesitation. Jace drew a sharp breath, clammy fingers tightening around his strong wrist, eyes burning as she gazed up at him. “I am sorry for saying it - it would have been easier, I think, if I had not. But it is true, and I am weak. I am sorry for that, Princess.”

And Jacaerys began to weep silently, because she loved him too, but if she said it aloud she risked losing everything dear to her.

yay! wasn’t that cheerful! spoiler alert they do not get their grand happy ending, because the targaryen dynasty is a messy clusterfuck of toxicity and intermarrying is the only thing that keeps them from nuking each other into oblivion (textually, this is the whole point: the targaryen paradox, if you will). i mostly find it interesting to ponder how i can make these people not blood-feud eachother into non-existence, and also to slowly make them understand that it will happen anyways. not in this one, maybe, but someday. sisyphus and all that.