#and for making grammar and spelling mistakes

[eliasmelody]

Love Beneath the Depths

(part 2)

Zayne x f!reader

Sequel to: Love Beyond the Surface (part 1), Love Beneath the Depths (part 1)

Words: 3529 Warning: depressed reader, slow burn, reader is not MC, parallel universe(isekai), grammar & spelling

INTRO: The warmth of the café never quite reaches you. Not when your hands sting, not when his voice cuts through the air, sharp and cold. Please, let yourself accept his help and the heart he silently offers with it.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Poverty was a curse.

People liked to dress it up with words like "temporary struggle" or "just keep pushing forward." but you knew better. It clung to you like a stain, a constant reminder that no matter how hard you tried, you were always one step away from sinking even deeper.

If you were lucky, you’d find a job in a week.

If not… ah, well.

That’s why you came here, to the dingy little cafe with its late-night discounts and free refills. It was cheap, quiet, and most importantly, no one bothered you.

No one but one of the sources of your trouble, of course.

You glance at Zayne, sitting at the corner like he belongs here.

How the hell did he even find this place?

It wasn’t exactly well known. Half the reason you started coming here was because it was tucked away, practically invisible to anyone who wasn’t specifically looking for it. A perfect hiding spot.

Now, you had to run from not one, but two.

At least with your previous job, quitting has been an easy option and you can stay away. The pay wasn’t worth it anyway. But this place…

You glance down at your near-empty wallet, lips pressing into a thin line.

…I’m hungry…

And the croissants here were so good. The kind you shouldn't be thinking about when your next meal was never a guarantee. But damn it, you were already here, and what was the point of saving a few miserable coins if you were starving?

Your stomach twisted in protest, and you clenched your jaw.

You did everything in your power to ignore him. To act like he wasn’t there.

At least he doesn’t approach.

… Or glance at you.

That would be worse. That would mean you’d have to acknowledge him, and the last thing you wanted was to get tangled up with yet another problem.

Shoving another bite into your mouth, you make the mistake of glancing up. And at that exact moment, he suddenly looks up too.

Your eyes meet.

Your stomach twists with something unpleasant, like being caught in the act of something you weren’t even doing. His gaze is sharp, piercing in a way that makes you feel seen, and not in the way you’re used to. Not like the occasional wary glances from strangers who size you up and move on. No, this is different.

You look away immediately.

────── ♡ ──────

The night was supposed to be quiet. You glance at Zayne's usual spot in the corner, tapping something on his computer. Wish you can be as relaxed as him.

You didn’t ask for much, just a cheap drink, a full stomach, and maybe a few minutes of peace before dragging yourself back to whatever hole you called home.

But peace, apparently, was too much to ask for.

You knew trouble the second she walked in. The woman was already irritated when she stepped up to the counter, her posture stiff, voice sharp as she scanned the near-empty shelves. The cafe had already started winding down for the night, and most of the good stuff was gone.

When the barista told her that the last drink had already been sold, she turned, her glare landing directly on you.

"Are you serious?" She snapped. "You took the last one?"

Barely glancing up. "I ordered it before you got here." You said flatly, already exhausted by whatever this was about to turn into.

The woman scoffed, folding her arms. "So what? I have-"

"Miss, if you’d like, we have other options-" The barista tried, but she wasn’t listening.

She was looking at you.

And you were already done with this conversation.

You weren’t some rich, pampered brat who threw money at whatever you wanted. And yet here she was, acting like you owed her something just because she was too late. Her face twisted, nostrils flaring. A vein at her temple pulsed. She looked like a ticking bomb, seconds away from detonating.

So you narrowed your eyes and deadpanned. "Too bad then."

That did it.

There was a sharp intake of breath. A flicker of rage in her expression. And then-

Crash.

The next thing you knew, heat.

Scalding, searing pain splashed across your hand and wrist, soaking into your sleeve.

The cafe fell silent.

You stared at the overturned cup, at the dark liquid dripping onto the floor. Then at your own hand, burning bright red beneath the dim lights. But you just… watched.

Watched as the angry woman froze, her expression shifting from fury to something more uncertain.

Watched as the barista’s eyes widened, hands flying to their mouth in horror.

Watched as Zayne suddenly stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor.

Nothing.

Not the pain. Not the heat. Not even the weight of their stares as you simply sat there, watching the way the coffee clung to your skin, the way your nerves should be screaming.

A second passed. Then another.

And then…

"Are you out of your mind?!" Zayne’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold.

The woman flinched as his gaze locked onto her, no trace of warmth in his expression. 

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice was calm, but there was something dangerous in the way he spoke, in the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

"It was an accident!" She snapped, defensive now.

"An accident?" Zayne cut her off, his tone razor-sharp. "You threw boiling coffee at someone. That’s not an accident, that’s assault."

Your eyes widened slightly before you could stop yourself. That was new. Even in the games, you rarely heard him raise his voice.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her eyes flickered at your hand, at your complete lack of reaction.

The cafe was silent, save for the barista’s frantic movements as they rushed forward, napkins in hand, fumbling for words. "We should–we should cool it down, we need-"

Before they could reach you, you jerked away. "No need." You said to the barista.

His sharp gaze flickered just for a second.

The air around you changed. A sharp chill, unnatural and biting, crackled against your burned skin, numbing the pain a bit. 

He hadn’t moved, but the slight tension in his fingers told you enough. And then he spoke, voice quiet but firm. "You need to treat that properly."

You swallowed, glancing at your hand, then back at him. And for the first time tonight, you weren’t sure what to say.

Something flickered in his expression. Not pity. Not shock. Something else. 

Zayne’s gaze lingered on your burned hand, then flickered back to the woman. When he spoke again, his voice was cool, measured like he was stating a fact rather than making a threat.

"Second-degree burns can cause nerve damage, infection… in some cases, permanent scarring." His tone was casual, but the weight behind it wasn’t.

The woman swallowed hard.

"If left untreated, it could lead to serious complications. Pain management alone can be costly, not to mention any long-term effects that could require physical therapy. But of course" He exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "That’s if the victim chooses not to press charges."

You knew exactly what he was doing.

And the worst part? It was working.

The woman paled, her fingers curling tightly around the strap of her purse.

Zayne turned to you then, his gaze expectant. "Do you want to sue?"

You stiffened.

He was giving you the choice. Letting you decide. But there was an edge to his voice, a pointedness in the way he asked.

You swallowed, looking away. "No."

Zayne’s expression didn’t change, but you could feel the displeasure rolling off him. He sighed through his nose, then turned back to the woman.

"Then you’ll pay for the treatment."

The woman bristled. "What?! I "

"Unless you’d rather we get lawyers involved?" His voice was soft, polite even. But his cold, unwavering made it clear there was only one right answer.

She hesitated. Then, with a sharp exhale, she pulled out her wallet.

Zayne barely glanced at the money the woman pulled out, his jaw tightening. It wasn’t enough, not even close to what proper treatment would cost. He knew it. She knew it. And judging by the way your fingers curled slightly when you took the cash, you knew it too.

His eyes flickered to you. "That’s not "

"It’s fine." You cut him off, shoving the money into your pocket. You weren’t about to push your luck. You didn’t have the luxury to.

For a second, you thought he might argue. His fingers twitched at his side, and there was a tension in his posture that hadn’t been there before. But then, after a long pause, he sighed.

The woman, sensing her moment to escape, muttered something under her breath and hurried out of the cafe.

Zayne didn’t waste a second. The moment the woman disappeared, his focus snapped back to you, sharp and unwavering. There was no hesitation, no room for argument in his voice as he said, "Let me see."

Instinctively, you took a step back.

"Cold water first." He said, already reaching for your wrist. His grip was firm but careful as he guided you toward the barista’s station, where a sink stood just within reach.

You jerked it away. The movement sent a fresh jolt of pain up your arm, sharp and searing. You sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, fingers twitching. Ah. There it was. The sting you should’ve felt the moment the coffee hit your skin.

Zayne’s expression darkened.

"You’re shaking." He noted.

You opened your mouth to snap something back, but the words got caught somewhere in your throat. Because now that the initial shock was wearing off, now that the heat had fully settled in your skin, the pain wasn’t something you could ignore anymore.

Zayne must’ve noticed the way your fingers curled inward, the tension in your shoulders. His grip softened slightly, thumb barely brushing over unburnt skin.

After a few moments, he glanced over his shoulder. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

The barista, still shaken, fumbled before nodding quickly. "Y-Yeah! One second." They disappeared into the back, leaving you alone with him.

────── ♡ ──────

You sat back in your chair, staring down at your wrapped hand, fingers flexing slightly. testing the discomfort. It stung. More than you expected. The cafe was quieter now, the initial chaos of the incident having faded, but you could still feel Zayne’s presence beside you.

Zayne’s gaze flickered to the movement, unimpressed.

You exhaled, pressing your thumb against the edge of the table. Then, without looking at him, you muttered, "Thanks."

Zayne didn’t react right away. Just a small shift, the weight of his gaze pressing against you.

Then, finally, he spoke. "You don’t have to thank me."

You hesitated, glancing down at your bandaged hand. Then, before you could overthink it, the words slipped out.

"How do I pay you back?"

That got a reaction. His brows pulled together slightly, a faint crease forming between them. "You don’t."

You frowned. "That’s not–"

"You don’t owe me anything." He repeated, firmly this time. Like he knew exactly where your mind was going and wanted to shut it down before it could start.

But that didn’t sit right with you. You didn’t like owing people, especially not people like him. 

Zayne watched you for a moment longer, then exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He turned toward the menu, scanning it with an unreadable expression. "Coffee, then."

You blinked. "What?"

"For payment." His tone was flat, like he was already resigning himself to the idea. "Buy me a coffee sometime."

You stared at him, unsure whether he was being serious or just trying to get you to stop thinking so hard about it.

"…That’s it?"

He shot you a look. "Would you rather I charge you hospital fees?"

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you glanced toward the menu, considering. "What drink do you like?"

Zayne opened his mouth, probably to say none, but then his gaze flickered toward your cup, still half-full, steam curling faintly from the surface.

"…That one ." He said finally, nodding toward your drink.

You raised an eyebrow. "You don’t even know what it is."

He huffed. "Then surprise me."

You clicked your tongue but didn’t argue. He was giving you an easy way out, and you weren’t about to make this harder than it had to be.

────── ♡ ──────

You weren’t sure why you were doing this. It wasn’t like Zayne needed you to buy him coffee, he had more than enough money to afford it himself. And yet, here you were, standing in line, staring at the menu as if debating your choices when, in reality, your decision had already been made.

What am I doing?

You let out a quiet sigh, shaking your head at yourself. Maybe you should just turn around and pretend you never came.

But before you can decide, movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. A girl, rushing past in a hurry, missteps. Her foot skids against the smooth floor, and with a sharp gasp, she loses her balance.

Without thinking, you move. Your hands reach out instinctively, catching her just before she hits the ground. 

"Ah- I'm so sorry"

You steady her back on her feet, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, unconscious action. "No problem. Be careful, okay?"

She blinks at you, her cheeks flushing slightly before she nods. "R-Right! I will!"

You observe her for a moment, noticing the way she fidgets with the hem of her sweater. She looks like she wants to say something but hesitates.

"You in a hurry?" You ask casually, tilting your head.

She shakes her head quickly. "Not really. I just…" She bites her lip, stealing a glance at the cafe counter before looking back at you.

Your eyes catch a small stain on her white shirt. It’s faint, like a coffee spill that was hurriedly dabbed away.

You gesture lightly, "Your shirt…there’s a little stain here."

Her eyes widen in mild horror, and she looks down immediately. "Oh no, really? I thought I got all of it!"

"Here." Without thinking, you reach into your pocket and pull out a napkin, handing it to her.

She takes it gratefully, dabbing at the stain with a small pout. "Thanks… You’re really nice."

You tilt your head, confusion flickering across your face. "Just… being decent?"

You notice the way her shoulders relax, a bit of tension melting away as she brightens. "Still. People don’t always do that. Hey, what’s your name?"

Without missing a beat, you offer a fake name, letting it roll off your tongue smoothly. It’s just another layer of distance, another precaution. You pair it with an easy, practiced smile.

She seems pleased, her own smile widening. "Nice to meet you."

There’s something familiar about her, like a memory just out of reach. You can’t quite place it, but the feeling lingers. At least she seems harmless. No suspicion, no hostility, just friendly curiosity.

You nod occasionally as she chatters away. She talks a lot, filling the silence effortlessly. It’s not unpleasant, but that nagging feeling in your gut doesn’t fade. At the counter, you exhale softly, shifting your focus to the menu. Might as well get this over with.

"You come here often?" She asks, leaning in slightly, curiosity shining in her eyes.

Your fingers curl around the change in your palm. "Sometimes."

She tilts her head. "Haven’t seen you before."

Your fingers drum against the counter. "I don’t stay long."

The barista calls your order, and you grab the cup, grateful for the excuse to end the conversation.

She flashes another friendly smile. "Maybe we could hang out sometime?"

You meet her gaze, forcing another polite, noncommittal smile. "Maybe."

It’s vague enough to avoid commitment but not outright rejection. She seems satisfied, laughing lightly before giving a small wave and disappearing around the corner.

You watch her go, the strange familiarity still tugging at you, then shake it off and take a sip of your drink. Rolling your shoulders, trying to shake off the lingering unease. 

Zayne always said you were too tense. Relax a little, he’d say, you’re going to end up with permanent back problems.

You never listened.

A presence settles beside you before you even bother to look up. You don’t need to. You already know who it is.

Without a word, you slide the extra cup toward him. "Here."

There’s a brief pause before Zayne takes it, his fingers brushing against yours for half a second fleeting, barely there. He studies the drink, then you. 

"You’re in a decent mood." His voice is casual, but you can hear it the way his words are slower "What’s the occasion?"

You hesitate. The words sit heavy on your tongue, reluctant. You exhale quietly and just say it. "I’m moving."

The shift in his demeanor is immediate.

The usual sharp, effortless response doesn’t come. Instead, he just stares at you, brows drawing together in a way that makes something inside you twist uncomfortably.

"…What?" His voice is quieter than before, but it carries weight. Something unsteady.

You shift your grip on your cup, suddenly feeling awkward. "I don’t know. Just figured I should tell you."

Zayne’s hand tightens around his cup, the tension in his shoulders more pronounced now. "Why?"

You don’t answer right away.

Because it feels wrong to leave without a word? Because despite everything you told yourself you’d never be like the people who vanished without warning, leaving nothing but empty space where they used to be? Because, once upon a time, Zayne had shared something with you and you had ignored it. And now, for reasons you don’t want to unpack, you feel bad.

But you don’t say any of that.

Instead, you just shrug. "I don’t know."

His jaw clenches slightly, like he doesn’t believe you. "Where?"

You hesitate. You don’t want to answer. So you don’t. "Somewhere else."

His lips press into a thin line. "Why do I get the feeling you’re running?"

Your grip tightens around your cup, fingers going white against the paper sleeve.

He notices. He always does.

His voice is lower now, steady but sharp, like he’s already preparing for a fight. "Who’s making you leave?"

You shake your head, trying to brush it off. "No one."

Zayne doesn’t believe you. It’s in the way his posture stiffens, in the way his breathing slows like he’s trying to keep himself in check. He’s not just questioning you he’s assessing, calculating, turning the possibilities over in his mind.

Then, wordlessly, he reaches into his coat the same one he once tried to give you, the one you firmly declined and pulls out a small card. It lingers between his fingers for a second before he holds it out to you.

You glance at it warily. "What’s this?"

"A contact." His voice is firm, unwavering. "In case you need something."

You hesitate, but take it. The cardstock is thick, expensive. A name you don’t recognize is printed in neat, bold letters alongside a number.

"…I don’t need help" You mutter, but the words feel weak.

Zayne exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair before looking at you again. His eyes flicker with something unreadable. "Maybe not now." He pauses, studying you carefully. "But things don’t always go as planned."

Your fingers curl around the card. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t force anything on you. He just watches, waiting, like he knows you well enough to understand that pressure won’t work.

You roll your eyes but pocket the card anyway. Maybe you’ll never use it. Maybe you will.

Either way, it’s yours now.

────── ♡ ──────

"You noticed him lately?"

"Yeah, he’s so handsome, isn’t he?"

A judgmental stare followed.

"I mean, he seems off."

"Oh. Yeah."

The barista leaned against the counter, pretending to clean a spot that wasn’t really there while sneaking another glance at Zayne. He was in his usual spot, but something about him felt different. The way he sat, the way he stared at his coffee like it was just a prop in front of him.

"He’s been coming in a lot more, hasn’t he?"

"More than usual," her coworker said, following her gaze. "And he barely drinks his coffee now."

They both watched as Zayne stirred his drink absently, never actually taking a sip. His shoulders were tense, his usual sharp presence dimmed.

"You think something happened?"

"Well…" She lowered her voice, leaning in slightly. "He used to always meet someone here, right?"

Her coworker frowned in thought. "Now that you mention it, yeah. Haven’t seen her in a while."

"Exactly."

They exchanged a knowing look.

Zayne exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the cup in a restless rhythm. He lifted his head just once, scanning the cafe like he expected to see someone. His gaze lingered for a second, then dropped again, jaw tightening.

The barista sighed, shaking her head. "Whatever happened, he looks miserable."

"Yeah." Her coworker muttered, watching as Zayne finally stood, pushing his barely touched coffee aside. "Poor guy."

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦ Art work and characters: belong to Infold Game ✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

[emmyspov]

Prioritise yourself (Thranduil x Reader)

author's note: happy easter to everyone who celebrates it and a happy weekend to all either way🪻this is honestly one of the most scary things i've posted because it's something so personal that i relate to a lot, but i thought maybe someone else might need it, too🥺 please always remember that nothing will ever be more important than your health and well-being 🩷

warnings: symptoms of burnout, lack of sleep, exhaustion, negative self-talk, skipping meals, mentions of food, nudity (for taking a bath together) - please please please let me know if I forgot something! 🩷

word count: 1.9k

edit is mine, all pics are from pinterest :)

It had seemed like a smart idea when you offered Thranduil to help him with all the paperwork.

His days were filled with meetings and more often than not he only returned to your chambers once it was dark already.

So, for the past few months, you had been - more or less secretly - helping him with whatever you could: sending out invitations to other royals, filing away documents, re-writing contracts so all that would be left to do was sign them.

You were the king's partner after all and you wanted to help him as much as possible. This was your kingdom, your home, as much as it was his, as he regularly reminded you.

Thranduil noticed, obviously. The hours in his study were reduced since most things were taken care of in a perfect way already - he could return to your private rooms right after dinner and spend time with you instead which the Elvenking appreciated immensely.

However, over the past few weeks, things have taken a turn. And Thranduil noticed that, too.

How, on some days, you would get up earlier than him, how you would skip lunch and dinner with him - although it was one of your favorite things since you got to spend it with one another during your otherwise busy schedules - and instead eat by yourself, hunched over some papers. He noticed your tired eyes and dull skin and- lack happiness, to cut it short.

Worry didn't even remotely describe what he was feeling. He felt sick to his stomach when he thought about you being unhappy.

Today was no different.

You had gotten up before sunrise, leaving your husband a little love letter, before entering your own study to take care of all official things.

There was a lot to do. Other elves as much as people from Laketown and even dwarves were sending letters, hoping to schedule a meeting with the king himself to talk over whatever was bothering them.

You made it your mission to answer every single one of them, noting down appointments and also sending out excuses if Thranduil wasn't the right one to talk to when it came to certain matters.

By the end of the day, your head was pounding. You let out a yawn and rubbed your eyes, hoping to relieve some of the pressure behind them, but to no use.

Closing them for only a minute wouldn't hurt. You could still look for your husband afterwards.

A line had been crossed for the Elvenking.

It was the second day in a row that you skipped your shared meals and from what he just learned, you weren't eating them at all.

He needed to talk to you. He wouldn’t - and couldn’t - let you destroy yourself over some work. Your happiness and well being came first and he would make you realise that, no matter the cost.

After reaching your study and receiving no answer to his knocks, he let himself in with determined steps, only to stop abruptly as soon as he saw your sleeping figure. His eyes softened immediately.

"Oh, meleth."

With two big steps, he was by your side, crouching down until he was on eye level with you. Even in your sleep, you looked stressed, your eyebrows scrunched up, reminding him of the times you woke up from a bad dream.

"What are you doing to yourself, hm?"

Gentle, as if you would break like glass if he touched you with too much force, he picked you up and carried you out of the room and into your shared bed chamber where he set you down on the soft mattress and covered you with a fluffy blanket.

Thranduil left the room again for only a few moments so he could blow out the candle in your study and put everything where it belonged. He himself hated to work at a messy desk and didn't want you to deal with the same thing once you would return to work, although he didn't want to think about that yet. For now, you needed rest and all the love and care you could get.

He returned to your bedroom after he spoke to some of his subordinates to let them know neither he nor you would be available in the next three days.

You were still fast asleep, curled up into the blanket. The king walked over to you and slowly began to remove all your uncomfortable clothing before he himself put on a night gown.

Only then did he lay down next to you, carefully maneuvering your body into his arms, your head on his chest. Even in your sleep you wrapped your arm around his waist and entangled your legs, letting out a small sigh.

"Sleep, meleth, you've been working too hard", your husband whispered and brought his delicate fingertips up to brush some hair out of your face before letting them trail down to your back, rubbing some calming circles into your shoulder. "I'll watch over you, I promise."

And Thranduil kept his word.

He stayed up to make sure you slept through the night, occasionally pressing a kiss to your temple or the top of your head while his fingers were always touching you in some way.

It was nearly lunch time when you woke up the next day.

After noticing you were still cuddled up with your husband although the sun was already shining into the room, you immediately sat up.

"I- I overslept, oh Varda, there is so much to do. Why didn’t you wake me, my love?"

With a gentle force, Thranduil pressed you back onto the mattress.

"You've been overworking yourself for weeks and your health and happiness are suffering in return. I told everyone we wouldn't be available for the next few days. For the foreseeable future, we'll only take care of you."

You didn't want to cry. And you tried really hard to keep the tears at bay, but when the Elvenking looked at you with so much love in his eyes, you couldn’t stop them.

"I'm sorry for failing you, my king."

The elf wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. "Oh meleth, no. No, you didn't fail me, you never have. And you never will."

"I can't even take care of myself", you hiccuped, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "It's like the work and the pressure never stop and I'll never be good enough and now I am sitting here, crying to you, a literal king who has way more responsibility than me. I am so sorry to burden you with this."

Thranduil's heart was breaking. He couldn't believe this was how you saw yourself when, to him, you were the most beautiful being in all of Middle Earth.

"You are never a burden to me. Do you hear me? Never. We can fix this. You have to learn how to prioritise yourself. I can teach you. I will teach you. And we will start right now. You must be hungry, what do you want to eat?"

You fumbled around with your hands before looking up at the Elvenking. "Could I have some pancakes?"

Thranduil leaned forward to press a kiss against your nose. "Whatever you want, meleth nîn."

With one swift motion, he got up, put on one of his majestic robes and made his way to the kitchen to order your beloved pancakes and some additional treats as well as some hot and cold beverages.

He returned to your chambers with a first tray of food, watching your face lit up with delight at the sweet smell.

"Here you go, my love. Eat as much as you want and take all the time you need. There are no other things that need to get done today or the next few days."

You nodded and grabbed a plate, happily munching on the food the servants were bringing in over time.

The king was watching you carefully while he himself ate something. It was more than obvious that all the food was good for your mind, body and soul.

You let yourself fall back against the sheets when you were done, letting out a satisfied sigh. "That was good."

"It is about to get better. What do you think of a bath?"

Your eyes lit up. "Right now?"

The elf couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Is that what you want?"

You sat up, enthusiastically bouncing on the mattress and nodding your head. "Yes, please!"

Thranduil stood up again and walked into the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water and your favourite bath salts and flower petals before coming back to you.

With ease, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the bed, carrying you into the bathroom.

"Arms up", he ordered gently and removed your clothing, doing the same to himself afterwards.

"You're so handsome", you breathed out as you softly pressed your hand against his chest, right above his heart. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Thranduil's heart started to beat faster under your touch and praise and you smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach at the fact that you still had this effect on him.

He lifted you into the tub, setting you down and lowering himself behind you, pulling your body flush against his chest.

"I'm the lucky one."

You shook your head before letting it fall back against his shoulder. "You take care of me when I can't do it myself."

The king's deft fingers brushed through your hair, letting them trail down your arm. "We take care of each other. You are the one who decreased my work load so I'd have more time."

You intertwined your hands. "Well, of course. I want you to be well."

A kiss was pressed against the top of your head. "Do you see my point?"

You nodded. "I think I do."

Thranduil let his thumb brush over the back of your hand. "Tomorrow, we can take a walk in the garden and look at all the blossoming flowers. Or we can do whatever else will make you happy."

A smile graced your lips. "Just being with you makes me happy."

Gently, the ellon grabbed your chin and turned your head around so he could kiss you. You melted into his embrace, smiling against his lips.

"Gi melin", he whispered after you two had parted for air and you replied with the same sentiment.

Once you two had soaked in the water for a while, the Elvenking grabbed your shampoo and lathered up his hands before bringing them up to your scalp to work in the product.

The more time you spend like this with your husband - in your little bubble of happiness and safety - the lighter your heart felt.

And it only got better when Thranduil's hands wandered down your head to your neck and shoulders, massaging your tense muscles to help you relax even further.

You shuddered and the king grinned to himself. He was just as pleased as you were earlier that his touch could, still, make you weak in the knees.

"Rest, meleth", he whispered as he continued to work on your upper back. "There will be time to talk about long-term adjustments and solutions, but for now, you can let yourself fall. I'll be there to catch you."

Everything-Taglist: @shadowhuntyi @asgardianhobbit98 @fizzyxcustard

-> if you want to be added or removed from my taglist, just shoot me a message or an ask 🩷

[identitty-dickruption]

every single person without dyslexia needs to answer for their crimes immediately

[severuwus]

Snape was definetely a bitch to his students, but at least he was a somewhat responsible teacher. He'd make his students scrub cauldrons or clean nasty potion ingredients for detention, but it wasn't him who sent 1st year students over to Hagrid's to wander around the Forbidden Forest at night ON THEIR OWN with only a dog at their side, while something unknown is attacking other creatures.

Y'all call Snape a terrible teacher for being scary and mean and abusing a toad, but I don't see anyone uttering a word about Hagrid and McGonagall literally endangering children's lives: McGonagall for thinking that sending 1st year students who had 0 experience in defense and fighting to accompany Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest at night was a reasonable detention (note: students had been warned multiple times to not enter it as it was a very dangerous place). And Hagrid. He deserves his own post on that scene alone.

Bro would have been dead furious if 11 year old Malfoy had told him about Hagrid separating him and Neville in the Forbidden Forest at night with only a dog as "protection" while some creature was actively hunting.

[lycheeloving]

ANOTHER MULTIVERSE FIC because I can't stop myself, apparently. An injustice!Superman one, this time. I imagine you were a small-time hero/vigilante in this one, so Superman knew (and liked) you before he turned bad, but you weren't super close, before.

-You wake up in an unfamiliar room, tied to a chair, not knowing how you got there. Kal doesn't ever let you leave the fortress. But you don't know how anyone else could have gotten in to take you here, wherever here is. Maybe it was Kal? But why would he do that?

-You spot a woman tied up in another chair next to you, it seems like she also just woke up. She reminds you of someone, but you can't remember who exactly... You want to ask her if she knows more about what's going on, when you realize you're both gagged. Shit. You can't even communicate with her!

-A man comes in, rambling something about how he's glad you're finally awake and about his plan finally taking shape. You feel like you should know this guy, but can't quite put a finger on it...

-Being unsure if you know who he is, as you're "not from here", he introduces himself. He's Lex Luthor.

-Wait. Lex Luthor? The Lex Luthor? The dead one, who was killed by Superman? Is this a prank? Because if so, it isn't funny at all. And quite dangerous for everyone involved.

-Luthor (if that is his real name) then focuses on the woman next to you. He addresses her as "Mrs. Lane".

-Lane as in Lois Lane? Like, Lois Lane from the Daily Planet? Clark Kent's, Superman's wife? Now you know something is extremely wrong. She's dead, too, and everyone knows not to mention her name unless they want to face Superman's wrath... You make a few muffled sounds beneath your gag, itching to ask about just what is going on here.

-Luthor says he's going to explain everything, don't be so impatient! He has a machine that can open portals to parallel universes, which is how he got you here. His plan includes kidnapping the person that is most important to Superman in his own universe (Lois Lane), the person most important to Superman in a second universe (You!) and then making the Supermen fight each other by threatening your lives. The only way to save you is if one Superman dies. This room is Superman proof, he can't hear or see anything that's happening in here, so they can't just swoop in and save you. After the fight, he's going to let the winning Superman enter this room, promising him that he can rescue Lois or you. Except not really, because he's going to try to kill the winner too, because that should be easier after he just fought another Superman, right? He hasn't opened a portal to let the Superman from your universe know about how he can save you, yet. He closed the portal he got you through immediately after kidnapping you, so he had more time to prepare everything. How he found you? Something about being able to detect kryptonian dna residue on you. And you were in Superman's fortress. Easy to combine that you must be important to him.

-That's... actually not a terrible plan! Sure, it might not work out exactly the way that Luthor is planning, but beating Superman with Superman is a great idea! Actually it'd be great if Luthor got a third one here. Two Supermen should definitely be able to defeat one Superman, right? Unfortunately you can't communicate any of this through your gag. Damn, you'd love to help him improve his plan...

-You wonder if he chose your universe completely randomly, or if he chose an evil Superman on purpose. You don't think he did, he didn't mention the regime with one word, and if it existed in this universe he wouldn't be working on this stupid plan. And Lois wouldn't be alive, probably.

-Before you can let your thoughts spiral even more, Luthor falls over. Huh? Is he unconscious? You spot Batman coming towards you. Ah. That explains that, then. Man, you haven't seen Batman in such a long time...

-"Are you two alright?" He quickly cuts through the ropes tying you to the chairs, freeing you. "Good thing you used your bat emergency-signal, Lois. I was able to get to you before Superman could fall for Luthor's trap." Wait, why would Lois contact Batman? Oh, right, sometimes you forget that he and Superman used to be friends, so obviously his wife would trust him too.

-He takes off both of your gags and then turns to you. "We figured out you're from a parallel universe, but don't worry, Nightwing is currently working on a way to get in contact with the Superman from your dimension, so-"

-"NO!", you scream, making Batman look at you in confusion. You quickly tell him to contact Nightwing, to make him stop trying to open a portal or god forbid, contact Kal!! Noticing the urgency in your voice, Batman quickly complies and lets Nightwing know to stop what he's doing, before asking you to elaborate. Phew! The last thing you need is an angry Superman wreaking havoc in a second universe.

-You start explaining to Batman about how your Superman started changing for the worse after Lois died (sparing the details, as she's kind of sitting right next to you), started to get darker, kill villains, everyone who did something bad, people who disagreed with him. Other heroes, even. People he used to be friends with. How everyone who didn't agree with him and join his regime, including you and Batman, had to go into hiding, trying to find a way to stop him. Clark, no KAL-EL found you at some point, but instead of killing you, he unexpectedly took you, basically imprisoned you. Kept you like a pet who's not smart enough to make their own decisions. (You never even knew he liked you like that at all, before that. Sure, he was always nice to you, but he had Lois!)

-Lois seems visibly shocked, whereas Batman just listens to you stoically. "All this to say, it's good to see you alive, Lois!" You smile weakly. She tries to smile back, but before she can respond, Batman cuts her off. "We should leave this place. I doubt it's very safe here. We should return to the Batcave, think of a plan." You spare one last glance at Luthor, who's still lying on the floor (Are we just going to leave him here? Huh. Ok.), then follow Batman outside.

-As soon as you're out of the building, something rushes past you. "Lois! Are you ok? Did he hurt you?" Not something. Someone. You try not to flinch as he fusses over her, while she reassures him that she's fine multiple times.

-After he's convinced she's not hurt, he turns to you with a gentle smile. "Hello! So you're close to the Superman in another dimension, then?" As he takes a step towards you, you instinctively take a step back towards Batman. Clark frowns at him quizzically. It's funny, he almost looks like a confused puppy. You would smile if you didn't know that this is all a facade to distract from his god-like, destructive powers.

-"Turns out the other version of you is some kind of evil dictator." Well, leave it to Batman to get straight to the point. Clark opens and closes his mouth a few times, thinking about what to say. "Well, I can assure you that I'm not like the Superman you know. I promise you, I'm a good person! At least I try my best to be one. You don't have to be scared." His voice is getting increasingly gentle, trying to reassure you.

-"Oh yeah? That's exactly what the Superman from my dimension would have said, before..." You don't mention his wife's death, not wanting to anger him. "The same thing could happen to you. You might be nice now, but who knows what the future holds?" As you're saying this, you slowly move slightly behind Batman. Just in case. He should have some kryptonite on him, right?

-Superman just frowns harder, then turns to Lois. "We should go home." He picks her up and turns to Batman. "Contact me as soon as you have plans for... handling the other me." With that, he takes off.

-Batman ushers you into the Batmobile, where Nightwing (another ghost, to you) is already waiting. You keep turning to look at him during the drive to the Batcave, while Bruce explains the situation to him. If they notice your weird looks, they don't mention it.

-You allow yourself to feel some hope. Maybe you can contact your Bruce? Help him out! Send a few still good Supermen! Your head is spinning with ideas, and you're sure Batman can come up with even better ones. You can't help but smile, your nightmare might finally be over...

[buff-muffin]

There’s a pretty common ASL brothers headcanon that Sabo teaches his brothers things like reading and writing among other things and I do think this is true to a degree. Like of course the bandits taught Ace the basics but you know little Ace and his whole “raaaa don’t tell me what to do. If I stay out of the house I can’t be a bother to you” mindset. And I certainly think Makino and the Mayor TRIED to teach Luffy but he only has a grip on bare basics. So Sabo had to teach more complicated things like grammar, multiplication, division and other things.

And honestly I could see him being a pretty good teacher. He knows how his brothers brains work and how to phrase questions for them so that they would understand. And considering Ace and Sabo had known each other for years by this point I could imagine Ace is use to Sabo being a teacher.

But Sabo as Luffy’s teacher is a little different. Because Sabo watches Luffy struggle with so many things he did when he was little. Phonetic spelling, contractions, fractions even simple things like buttoning up his own shirt are hard for Luffy. And while Ace is quick to call him stupid because it’s easy don’t be a baby. Sabo is patient with him because his own parents never were. He buttons Luffy’s shirts in the winter when he struggles, he sounds out store signs for him and break down maths questions to the point of rocks for Luffy to count. While I doubt Luffy was ever fond of class time, he was almost always met with patience helping him to learn

When Sabo left, Ace would not coddle him the same Sabo did even if he tried to and that Winter after Sabo’s death Luffy learned to button his own shirt and was so proud. He chose to leave Dawn in a button up vest as if to prove to Sabo he was grown enough to survive on his own and he didn’t need to worry.

[tsukis-marauders-microfics]

microfic biased off this post by @we-were-starss because why not

It had been a brilliant idea.

After all, they’d already planned to brew Polyjuice, and what else to use to for other than pranks?

Right before class, James had put his glasses on Sirius’s face, and then James had pulled off a strand of Sirius’s hair, and Sirius to James. They put it in their cups and drunk the whole bottle, causing both of them to crumple in pain.

When they arose from their fetal positions on the floor in their dorm, Sirius looked up, shocked to be met with his own face.

“Bloody hell, Potter. This brilliant!” Sirius said, examining his arms his arms, and flexing.

“Merlin, Sirius, how do you deal with your hair this long?” James brushed his fingers through his (Sirius’s) hair.

“How do you deal with glasses?” Sirius asked, taking off James’s glasses and squinting across the room. “Your eyesight is fucked, mate.”

“Are you two ready to go to class?” Remus asked, coming out of the bathroom and straightening his tie. Peter had music blasting in his ears as he attempted to put his shoes on. Remus walked over to “Sirius” and was about to kiss his cheek before James jumped back, and Remus looked at “Sirius” confused.

“It’s me. James. I’m James.” James said frantically “He’s Sirius” Remus’s brow furrowed before a wave of realization flooded his face.

“Polyjuice.” he muttered, as Peter pulled out his earbuds.

“Polyjuice?” Peter asked, standing up.

“Those two idiots took Polyjuice.” Remus sighed waving his hand between James and Sirius. Peter stared at both of them shocked.

“Smart as ever, Moony.” Sirius winked at Remus.

“I am not kissing you until this wears off” Remus called over his shoulder, walking out of the dorm. Sirius sighed lovingly, before continuing to examine his body and Peter bombarded them with questions.

☆☼☆☼☆☼☆☼☆☼☆☼☆☼☆☼☆☼☆☼☆☼

Sirius and James had decided to just go to the others classes to draw less attention to themselves. They enjoyed walking around Hogwarts, nobody else knowing that they weren’t who they were supposed to be. They agreed to continue to take it throughout the day, but to have it end before quidditch practice (Sirius drew the line at him and James’s swapping positions).

The day started to get interesting after Potions, when Sirius said that he had to go grab something he forgot from his dorm. The others waved him goodbye and headed off to lunch, while he made the trek back to the Gryffindor common room.

Nothing interesting had happened, until he suddenly felt someone pull his robes. He yelped out of surprise, which was only heightened when he was shoved into a broom closet. Once in, the person moved their lips closer to his, but he was able to push the person off him with little effort. His eyes widened as he looked at the person in front of him.

“What the hell Reggie??” Sirius shouted. Regulus shushed him, and was beetroot red.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“Sorry??? Why did you do that?” Sirius recoiled, very confused.

“You said I could.” Regulus seemed to be making himself smaller as he adjusted his clothes.

“Why in the name of merlin would I say that? You’re my bloody brother!”

“What?” Regulus’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

“I’m your brother! Why would you try to snog me?” Sirius repeated himself.

“You’re not my brother. You’re James.” Regulus tilted his head to the side, just as confused as Sirius. Suddenly, Sirius’s mouth dropped open.

“Fuck. Regulus, have you been dating James?” Sirius asked.

“James? Yes. You are James. Stop playing with me, Potter.”

“Regulus, I’m Sirius. Me and James took Polyjuice.” Regulus’s eyes widened in horror.

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.” Sirius grumbled, his mind still spinning from the realization.

“I’m sorry. Actually, no. I’m not sorry. Me and James are together and if you don’t like it then that’s your problem.” Regulus snapped, his eyes aflame.

“I never said I had a problem with it, Jesus. Give me a second.” Sirius adjusted his (James’s) glasses. “I’m going to go talk to James.” Without another word, Sirius fled from the broom closet and ran all the way down to the great hall.

Once he was there, he scanned the hall, and then ran up to the table where the other three marauders sat. Once he got there, he stood over himself (James) and crossed his arms.

“Hello pads-prongs.” James corrected himself. “Care to join us?” Sirius stayed where he was and narrowed his eyes at James before shaking his head fondly.

“You brother-fucker.”

[bonicedemandarina]

Click for better quality!

Hey guys I'm still into wha btw, here's my art for the deciduous spells zine, just wanted to draw my favorite guys being happy for once.

I feel like my art always ends up being in a modern au idk how, it just keeps happening

[bludhavens-finest]

“Nightwing doesn’t know to from too” “Nightwing doesn’t know you’re from your”

Nightwing has dyslexia.

[churrobird]

short mini-fic inspired by this post by @magnecalliope and tags by @femboyclownpierce

pangi enjoyers i dont know what inspired me to write this from pangi's POV because i dont really watch him outside of ros.... if i got his mannerisms wrong, im sorry

The tiled floor and wooden cabinets of the castle's kitchen were cold against Pangi's scales. The cold was really the only thing keeping him present, and a deep part of him despised it.

He dragged his eyes up from where he had been staring at a red stain (it wasn't blood, blood dried brown, but his heart thudded in his chest all the same) to look at Ros, desperately trying to ignore the red figure right behind her.

Pangi had found Ros in the kitchen, having tracked her down after noticing the absence of purple. She was leaning heavily against the counter, not quite falling over, with an open bottle of fruity wine in her hand. She wasn't absolutely wasted, not yet, but she was certainly on her way there.

She had looked at Pangi, her eyes wet, and asked him if she could complain to him.

Pangi was... trying, at this whole "being genuine friends with Ros" thing. It was hard, after Pili had burnt him so deeply; he didn't really remember how to be a friend.

But what he was good at was listening in on gossip, and if his love of messy chisme helped Ros get out all her woes, then no one could fault him for it.

And, Void, he knew Ros had issues, with all her violent and sacrificial tendencies and what he had heard Pili yell at her about her self-worth issues, but...

She went on, and on, and on. How she tried to make everyone happy, and how it never seemed to make her happy. Everything with Owen, which he had to shove down his old feelings of triumph about, which now felt sickening. Being Queen while Foolish was dead, and how Red and Green had hunted her every day, and how she didn't fault Pangi for it anymore, but it still scared her, even now.

It was when she finally started talking about Pili and everything he did, did Pangi ask for the half-empty bottle, and joined her in her drowning.

Halfway through whatever this was, with Pangi sobbing over his dead best friend who came back but didn't truly, and Ros sobbing over her twice-over murderer who made her angry and scared and confused, did Clown walk in.

It was an interesting experience, for Pangi's heart and soul, to be near-yelling about how Pili had died, and then for Pili's murderer to walk in the room.

All at once, he was slammed with this nauseous feeling of rage-terror-grief, spurred on by dulled memories of past lives and the haze of alcohol. For a moment, his mind screamed to just attack Clown right then and there, but the last remaining vestiges of his preservation instinct held him back.

That and... it would probably upset Ros. It was strange, how something like that mattered to him now.

Clown had just stared back at Pangi and, to his surprise, silently walked over to where Ros sat on the floor, and dropped down behind her, leaning against her back.

That's where they were now. With Ros still on a mad rant about Pili, and Pangi was trying to pay attention, trying to be a good friend, but it was getting harder and harder with a certain jester in the room.

Clown was entirely still. This alone set off every alarm bell in his head. A still, dead-silent Clown was a Clown that was planning to strike when you least expected it, and it nearly made Pangi ready his end crystals in his hotbar.

But the longer he sat here, the more he realized that wasn't all. Clown was still and silent, but he was relaxed. His posture loose, all of his weight supported against Ros. The archmage had an arm wrapped around the architect, something that normally would send the shocking fear of being grappled into anyone, but Ros had simply gotten hold of Clown's other arm, the grip being reciprocated.

For that matter, Ros was confusing too. Her hold on Clown tightened as she got more and more emotional in her ranting, until her knuckles turned white and her nails dug into the dark fabric of Clown's sleeve, like Lifesteal's deadliest player was just her emotional support stressball.

He would've expected Clown to protest in any way, but the only acknowledgment the jester gave was a soft, mumbled hum and his head lolling against Ros' shoulder, and that's the moment Pangi finally realizes,

Wait, is he also wasted?

He really didn't expect Clown to lower his guard at an event like this enough to get drunk, even if it was hosted by Ros. He also didn't expect Clown to be okay with showing off this much softness in the presence of someone like Pangi. He knew Ros and Clown were friends, by Ros' own admission, but he didn't know...

(It reminds him of Pili, and his gut churns. Days and nights spent deep underground, laying against each other and the potion machine. The sound of turtle eggs hatching and the feeling of Pili's soft fur against his scales. Sometimes, only when he's just moments from sleep, he would feel a soft, wispy caress on his head, and he felt safe.) (He felt safe with his best friend by his side, and a dark specter keeping watch over them.) (He wonders how Ros feels about getting both in just one person.)

He reaches for the bottle between him and Ros again. There's smudged purple lipstick on the rim. He doesn't care, hasn't cared about anything since Pili died, and takes another swig.

[raindropren]

I love DL!Pearl because She's Sad. Because nobody in the situation that caused her Loneliness was completely in the wrong. Scott and Cleo had their Reasons for not wanting to be with their soulbound/mates and while I would personally disagree with those reasons, that's not my choice to make, y'know? and to me, Pearl understands that in a way, but She's still sad, maybe alittle mad but more at the situation then truly at them. She plays up the anger slightly cause it's more fun to jokingly be angry and unhinged then just actually be sad.

Pearl was never in the wrong at first she was Sad, less-so angry at them, even if she had a right to be.

She's Sad, She's Lonely.

I love DL!Tilly(DL! instead of just Tilly cause my AU has her being a bigger part of everything) because to me, Tilly is the Mad one. They're Loyal. She's Loyal to Pearl and doesn't exactly like how Not-Angry Pearl is at the people causing her sadness, and Thus, is Angry for her. To me Tilly considers What Scott did as Pearls Soulbound to be a betrayal, and as an inherently loyal creature, That's maddening to them already.

[theoldkyokodied]

hi idk if you talk about these kinds of things on here but… how did you learn to color so well/what is your process for choosing a palette when you’re painting? every time i see your work the colors are just absolutely scrumptious and seem so meticulously planned out. thank you for reading and i love your art!

That... is actually not that easy to answer, since i mostly just rely on intuition when it comes to colors :') but i can give you these images from when i tried to explain a few things i do without thinking to a friend, who wanted some advice on a piece they were working on (with their art cropped out).

mind you, these are about 2 years old by now, but my "process" hasn't changed much, the best thing to do is still to look at images that you like and figure out what you like about them and how to translate that to your art! anyway, thank you for your kind words and I hope this helps somewhat haha

[weepingfishturtledragon]

I love the idea of Billy and Cap being autistic! I think they would have trouble with eye contact, take things too literally, have almost zero social skills (exaggerated by being homeless and not in school), as well as vocal and movement stimming. Like Rosa or Victor asking Billy to "wash the pan in the sink" which is exactly what he does. He washes the pans but they actually wanted him to do all the dishes, Billy is just so confused!

Or Captain Marvel going to a Justice League meeting and needing to talk with Batman who is also autistic but he has hyper eye contact making it very awkward. A stressed Captain Marvel thinks he's in serious trouble and Batman is over analyzing which makes him think Cap is hiding something. (he is but Batman doesn't need to know that)

[atopvisenyashill]

Bran The Time Traveling Toddler

Yes that IS a reference to the Tyrion the time traveling fetus theory. The thing about MY insane theories is that they actually make sense and I’m right. Follow me please down the worm hole!!

There’s very clearly Someone Influencing things when it comes to the Starklings and even the overreaching plot in general - there’s enough weird magic surrounding them, whispering in the wind, that it’s a no brainer they’re being watched over. The question is WHO and WHEN. For me, personally, I think it’s Bran, and I think it’s an older Bran from the future (whether it be Bran In TWOW and ADOS or Bran post canon) trying to lead his siblings to safety.

Now, like my Harrenhal meta, I don’t think I’m saying anything new so much as compiling what people have said scattered across the interwebs. There’s a lot of theories about whether Bran can time travel, time travel in general in the series, how george has dealt with time travel before, and about the three eyed crow’s identity and I agree with bits and pieces of what other people have said - preston jacobs is a more famous example of this theory for example. But I don't want to get caught up on things like time travel paradoxes because, like, i don’t care about that, and george has talked about how time travel is more fantasy than scifi bc it’s just not really scientifically possible. do you know what that means? it means there’s no weird physical paradoxes because it’s ✨magic✨ and Bran isn't literally going through space and time. It's as Jojen says-

With two eyes you see my face. With three you could see my heart. With two you can see that oak tree there. With three you could see the acorn the oak grew from and the stump that it will one day become. With two you see no farther than your walls. With three you would gaze south to the Summer Sea and north beyond the Wall

Through his greenseeing abilities, Bran can see the whole of a lifespan, from conception to burial, and can pop out at any point in that lifespan, because a span of 100, 1000, or 1,000,000 years is all the same to the weirwood. So I don't think it's in the realm of Crazy Ass Theories to say that Bran is capable of a more magic based form of time travel. That he can whisper in people's dreams, on the wind, taking on the voice of the old gods themselves and doing his best to nudge things the way he needs them to be in order to keep the people he loves safe.

I also don't think Bloodraven is Three Eyed Crow (though I do think he also uses this metaphor of "flying" wrt magic, and that's why Euron also has a comment about flying in his dreams - I just don't believe that metaphor originates with Brynden himself. Rather, I think he picked it up from somewhere else), but instead, it's Bran, using the weirwood network to get all the pieces on the board he needs where he needs them to be for the endgame. Notice that Brynden doesn't seem to know what Bran is talking about when he mentions the Three Eyed Crow-

"Are you the three-eyed crow?" Bran heard himself say. A three-eyed crow should have three eyes. He has only one, and that one red. Bran could feel the eye staring at him, shining like a pool of blood in the torchlight. Where his other eye should have been, a thin white root grew from an empty socket, down his cheek, and into his neck. "A … crow?" The pale lord's voice was dry. His lips moved slowly, as if they had forgotten how to form words. "Once, aye. Black of garb and black of blood." 

Brynden mentions the watch, but doesn't mention the three eyed crow. Everyone simply refers to Brynden as the greenseer, not the three eyed crow, except for Bran himself, who simply assumes Brynden is the three eyed crow (and we know magical assumptions in this series are generally wrong!).

What’s double interesting to me about this “bloodraven is the three eyed crow” assumption is brynden himself makes his “a thousand eyes and one” comment - but doesn’t mention a third eye. Meanwhile, Bran’s narrative is obviously filled with bird references and the opening of his third eye from Bran feeding the crows on the towers before he falls then longing to go back to the crows afterwards, of a crow sending Jojen to “the winged wolf,” of his dreams of living as a bird in maester luwin’s rookery with his siblings - Jon Snow even compares him to a bird in their final scene face to face when he thinks bran has “fingers like the bones of birds.”

And notable that though both Rickon and Bran have a greendream where they talk to Ned in the crypts of Winterfell just before Ned is executed, Rickon makes no mention of a three eyed crow, but Bran explicitly sees him-

The mention of dreams reminded him. "I dreamed about the crow again last night. The one with three eyes. He flew into my bedchamber and told me to come with him, so I did. We went down to the crypts. Father was there, and we talked. He was sad."

"Shaggy," a small voice called. When Bran looked up, his little brother was standing in the mouth of Father's tomb. With one final snap at Summer's face, Shaggydog broke off and bounded to Rickon's side. "You let my father be," Rickon warned Luwin. "You let him be." "Rickon," Bran said softly. "Father's not here." "Yes he is. I saw him." Tears glistened on Rickon's face. "I saw him last night."

What that says to me is that the Three Eyed Crow has the ability to speak directly to only Bran and can only otherwise appear in a more ephemeral way to others. With the established rules about not being able to communicate properly with the past, I think this makes sense - being able to use the weirwood hivemind/greenseeing powers to appear in a different form to yourself but unable to appear in a concrete form to anyone else.

I think it's even likely we'll see Bran doing some of this nudging and whispering on page in ADOS or maybe as early as TWOW, but it won't be the exact same sort of "Bran can literally reach out and touch someone in a weirwood dream" that they had in the show with the later scenes. It'll be more like that very first scene in the show where we see Bran influence the past slightly - you know, when he calls out "father!" and young Ned turns around, having heard a voice on the wind-

And there's a direct parallel to ADWD here, where Bran is certain Ned heard him speaking in the godswood but Brynden says it's not possible (not possible for Brynden perhaps!)-

Lord Eddard Stark sat upon a rock beside the deep black pool in the godswood, the pale roots of the heart tree twisting around him like an old man's gnarled arms. The greatsword Ice lay across Lord Eddard's lap, and he was cleaning the blade with an oilcloth. "Winterfell," Bran whispered. His father looked up. "Who's there?" he asked, turning … … and Bran, frightened, pulled away. His father and the black pool and the godswood faded and were gone and he was back in the cavern, the pale thick roots of his weirwood throne cradling his limbs as a mother does a child.

It's not quite time travel. It's like the acorn and stump metaphor - Bran can't appear in his physical body in the past but he can make a bit of noise, perhaps even be mistaken for one of the old gods.

As TWOW and ADOS go on, I think we'll see Bran's powers grow (likely in ways that frighten him and horrify the reader), and we'll see the very beginnings of him influencing the plot that happens during the previous books, showing up in scenes we've already experienced, similar to the Ned scene above. I think this because, well...he's already done it!

Now, as for What Time Traveling Bran Has Already Done - it’s tricky because we have a LOT of magic users waking and shaking. I’m not including every single instance of weird whispering or funny birds here, just the moments I think are more likely to be Bran than anyone else because I think Bran mostly deals with his siblings. I imagine they're easiest to reach out to magically because they already have the ability to access magic, and they're also the people he cares most about. The most obvious to me is in A Clash of Kings, when Jon hears a voice on the wind, very similar to the young Ned scene in the show-

Jon VII in A Clash of Kings

The call came from behind him, softer than a whisper, but strong too. Can a shout be silent? He turned his head, searching for his brother, for a glimpse of a lean grey shape moving beneath the trees, but there was nothing, only … A weirwood. It seemed to sprout from solid rock, its pale roots twisting up from a myriad of fissures and hairline cracks. The tree was slender compared to other weirwoods he had seen, no more than a sapling, yet it was growing as he watched, its limbs thickening as they reached for the sky. Wary, he circled the smooth white trunk until he came to the face. Red eyes looked at him. Fierce eyes they were, yet glad to see him. The weirwood had his brother’s face. Had his brother always had three eyes?

Not always, came the silent shout. Not before the crow. He sniffed at the bark, smelled wolf and tree and boy, but behind that there were other scents, the rich brown smell of warm earth and the hard grey smell of stone and something else, something terrible. Death, he knew. He was smelling death. He cringed back, his hair bristling, and bared his fangs.

Don’t be afraid, I like it in the dark. No one can see you, but you can see them. But first you have to open your eyes. See? Like this. And the tree reached down and touched him.

This moment was when I really started paying attention to Weird Shit Bran Might Be Doing because of that line "not before the crow." Now, we know Bran mentions talking with Jon later on, in the very last chapter of the book, here-

 He could reach Summer whenever he wanted, and once he had even touched Ghost and talked to Jon. Though maybe he had only dreamed that.

But I think it's both Bran in the present and Bran in ADOS speaking here - brothers reaching out to each other in their fear, and future Bran piggybacking off that connection to send a warning (this is back in Jon VII, during the shared Jon-Bran dream as before)-

Then he realized he was looking at a river of ice several thousand feet high. Under that glittering cold cliff was a great lake, its deep cobalt waters reflecting the snowcapped peaks that ringed it. There were men down in the valley, he saw now; many men, thousands, a huge host. Some were tearing great holes in the half-frozen ground, while others trained for war...This is no army, no more than it is a town. This is a whole people come together.

Bran warns Jon of the wildling army headed their way because he needs the Night’s Watch to stop fighting the wildlings, get them safely out of the True North (so they can’t be reanimated as wights), and focus on the Long Night. When you read the passage, it seems as if Bran is trying to awaken Jon’s third eye - something present baby Bran isn’t concerned with, because he barely understands his own third eye awakening. But a Bran in ADOS or beyond would know exactly what to say and do to get Jon and himself to wake up! Not just because of the paradox, but because of his connection to his brother and his vast understanding of his own magic. Similar to the idea that “who would know how to motivate Bran better than Bran himself” who would know how to motivate Jon better than one of his beloved siblings?

Arya X in A Clash of Kings

In the godswood she found her broomstick sword where she had left it, and carried it to the heart tree. There she knelt. Red leaves rustled. Red eyes peered inside her. The eyes of the gods. "Tell me what to do, you gods," she prayed.

For a long moment there was no sound but the wind and the water and the creak of leaf and limb. And then, far far off, beyond the godswood and the haunted towers and the immense stone walls of Harrenhal, from somewhere out in the world, came the long lonely howl of a wolf. Gooseprickles rose on Arya's skin, and for an instant she felt dizzy. Then, so faintly, it seemed as if she heard her father's voice. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," he said.

“But there is no pack," she whispered to the weirwood. Bran and Rickon were dead, the Lannisters had Sansa, Jon had gone to the Wall. "I'm not even me now, I'm Nan."

"You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the north. You told me you could be strong. You have the wolf blood in you."

"The wolf blood." Arya remembered now. "I'll be as strong as Robb. I said I would." She took a deep breath, then lifted the broomstick in both hands and brought it down across her knee. It broke with a loud crack, and she threw the pieces aside. I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth.

Once again, we have a voice - it seemed as if it was her father's voice - telling a Starkling to do something specific, reminding that Starkling of their ties to Winterfell, the north, and home. The voice she hears, speaking her true name, is the kick in the pants Arya needs to grab Gendry and Hot Pie and get out of Harrenhal. There's something interesting, engaging, heartbreaking, that when Arya is at one of her lowest points, lamenting the loss of her pack, and out comes the voice of one of her pack urging her to keep faith, and helping to inspire one of her best moments - I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth. Again, we have a voice trying to get the Starklings to wake up and face their reality!

Sansa in A Storm of Swords

That night Sansa scarcely slept at all, but tossed and turned just as she had aboard the Merling King. She dreamt of Joffrey dying, but as he clawed at his throat and the blood ran down across his fingers she saw with horror that it was her brother Robb. And she dreamed of her wedding night too, of Tyrion's eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. "I'll have a song from you," he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. "I wish that you were Lady," she said.

To be clear I think there’s a large change this is nothing. BUT. Considering Bran seems to be reaching out to his siblings, I like the idea that Bran, and magic in general, is trying to talk to Sansa but she can’t quite hear it. Winterfell and it’s magic and it’s family is calling it’s daughter home, even torn from her magical guide as she is, still trying to reach out through her dreams and through the animals around her. I’m desperately hoping that at some point in Sansa’s early TWOW chapters, we’ll start to see birds acting and speaking funny around her as Bran tries harder to reach his lost sister.

Theon Greyjoy in A Dance With Dragons

BUT. I don't think it's just the Starklings that get these messages from Bran - it's everyone he cares about, everyone he loves or will love. One of the other more obvious examples of this is Theon Greyjoy, himself clearly capable of some degree of magic, just like the Starklings-

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. “Theon,” they seemed to whisper, “Theon.” The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. “Please.” He fell to his knees. “A sword, that’s all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek.” Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. “I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands.” A leaf drifted down from above, brushed his brow, and landed in the pool. It floated on the water, red, five-fingered, like a bloody hand. “… Bran,” the tree murmured. They know. The gods know. They saw what I did. And for one strange moment it seemed as if it were Bran’s face carved into the pale trunk of the weirwood, staring down at him with eyes red and wise and sad. Bran’s ghost, he thought, but that was madness. Why should Bran want to haunt him? He had been fond of the boy, had never done him any harm. It was not Bran we killed. It was not Rickon. They were only miller’s sons, from the mill by the Acorn Water.

“he had been fond of the boy” please allow me this moment to contemplate killing myself thanks.

okay back on track but this is very self explanatory - we know Theon has some sort of capacity for magic because he had a vision of the Red Wedding in ACOK and unlike Jaime who just fell asleep on a weirweed tree, Theon was just up in bed. We see it again here, where Theon can hear a voice on the wind and then seems to see Bran’s own face in the face of the weirwood tree. Once again, the voice on the wind is trying to help a loved one of Bran’s find their way back to themselves, back to home. And Theon, for all the harm he has done, is still so so loved by Bran, and loves Bran in return.

Samwell Tarly III in A Storm of Swords

Sam made a whimpery sound. “It’s not fair …” “Fair.” The raven landed on his shoulder. “Fair, far, fear.” It flapped its wings, and screamed along with Gilly. The wights were almost on her. He heard the dark red leaves of the weirwood rustling, whispering to one another in a tongue he did not know. The starlight itself seemed to stir, and all around them the trees groaned and creaked. Sam Tarly turned the color of curdled milk, and his eyes went wide as plates. Ravens! They were in the weirwood, hundreds of them, thousands, perched on the bone-white branches, peering between the leaves. He saw their beaks open as they screamed, saw them spread their black wings. Shrieking, flapping, they descended on the wights in angry clouds. They swarmed round Chett’s face and pecked at his blue eyes, they covered the Sisterman like flies, they plucked gobbets from inside Hake’s shattered head. There were so many that when Sam looked up, he could not see the moon. “Go,” said the bird on his shoulder. “Go, go, go.”

Whoever this is - it's Bran!!!! - helps to save Sam and Gilly's lives, actively tells them to run for it, and just a little bit later, Sam is around to help save Bran in turn. I think there's also something to be said for the brotherhood connection here. They refer to each other as brothers in the book because of their connection to Jon; that connection to Jon, and therefore each other, means a lot to both Sam and Bran. There's a practical reason for saving Sam here in that he can help Bran in the "present" timeline, will likely help in the future, but more than that there's an emotional bond here and it seems to me that magic runs off emotions just as assuredly as it runs off of other important stuff like blood and and sacrifice and weirwoods.

Jon Snow XII in A Storm of Swords

With a raucous scream and a clap of wings, a huge raven burst out of the kettle. It flapped upward, seeking the rafters perhaps, or a window to make its escape, but there were no rafters in the vault, nor windows either. The raven was trapped. Cawing loudly, it circled the hall, once, twice, three times. And Jon heard Samwell Tarly shout, “I know that bird! That’s Lord Mormont’s raven!” The raven landed on the table nearest Jon. “Snow,” it cawed. It was an old bird, dirty and bedraggled. “Snow,” it said again, “Snow, snow, snow.” It walked to the end of the table, spread its wings again, and flew to Jon’s shoulder. Lord Janos Slynt sat down so heavily he made a thump, but Ser Alliser filled the vault with mocking laughter. “Ser Piggy thinks we’re all fools, brothers,” he said. “He’s taught the bird this little trick. They all say snow, go up to the rookery and hear for yourselves. Mormont’s bird had more words than that.” The raven cocked its head and looked at Jon. “Corn?” it said hopefully. When it got neither corn nor answer, it quorked and muttered, “Kettle? Kettle? Kettle?” The rest was arrowheads, a torrent of arrowheads, a flood of arrowheads, arrowheads enough to drown the last few stones and shells, and all the copper pennies too.

The Night's Watch seem to take this as some sort of divine sign, and Jon's friends take it as an excellent ploy from Samwell Tarly. But when Pyp confronts Sam over it a page later, Sam completely denies it -

“I had nothing to do with the bird,” Sam insisted. “When it flew out of the kettle I almost wet myself.”

Everyone has their theories about people warging Mormont's crow of course. I think what's interesting to me here is that Jon is really wrestling with the idea of leaving the Watch for Winterfell, in which case Janos Slynt was likely to take over command. Someone like Slynt being in charge when the Long Night is coming is a bad idea, and here, Mormont's bird directly contributes to Jon staying where he needs to be - watching over the wildlings and making sure they aren't turning into Wights.

(And this is getting into my other theories here, but IF Sansa as the Girl In Grey is true, I think this is a neat sort of timeline fixing - almost as if Bran is saying “no, not yet, the pieces aren’t aligned, Jon can’t leave yet, Brienne isn’t at the Vale to get Sansa, I haven’t trained enough, Jon still keeps slapping his hands over his third eye so he can’t see, I need to give myself more time here.”)

Bran II in A Game of Thrones

But...it's not just his family and friends that I think Bran is trying to help here, and of course, if he IS the Three-Eyed Crow, he isn’t YET. What I think is going to be a big climactic part of Bran's story is self sacrifice, giving up some of his own power, his own happiness, to save others. Yes, part of this is my absolute refusal to accept Borg Hivemind Fantasy Police State King Bran in that he will say NO to the hivemind, but I think there's something magical here as well!

I think in order to access great power you need to be willing to put your own body on the line.

Jojen mentions having gotten sick with "greywater fever" shortly before his greendreams started

Dany experiences a miscarriage then literally walks into fire in order to hatch her dragons

both Beric and Catelyn have to quite literally be gruesomely murdered in order for Thoros' fire magic to work to bring them back to life

Melisandre has to physically give birth in order for her shadow assassination to work

on and on it goes. In order to be capable of great power, you can’t just have a willingness to throw someone ELSE onto the pyre but yourself as well. But Bran is pushed out of the window instead of willingly jumping. Or...

The wolfling was smarter than any of the hounds in his father’s kennel and Bran would have sworn he understood every word that was said to him, but he showed very little interest in chasing sticks…Finally he got tired of the stick game and decided to go climbing….

The wolf did as he was told. Bran scratched him behind the ears, then turned away, jumped, grabbed a low branch, and pulled himself up. He was halfway up the tree, moving easily from limb to limb, when the wolf got to his feet and began to howl.

Bran looked back down. His wolf fell silent, staring up at him through slitted yellow eyes. A strange chill went through him. He began to climb again. Once more the wolf howled. “Quiet,” he yelled. “Sit down. Stay. You’re worse than Mother.” The howling chased him all the way up the tree, until finally he jumped off onto the armory roof and out of sight.

I think this is future Bran, finally becoming the Three Eyed Crow, inside Summer. Summer shows no interest in the game and it’s only then that Bran decides to go climbing. Future Bran is sacrificing himself for the greater good - but can’t stop his mournful cry of the fate that awaits his own young self.

[buff-muffin]

I always personally thought that Sabo was a child that was actually rather academically gifted, he had a thirst for knowledge and was a genius at retaining information. The problem was he was never allowed to explore topics of his own interest, so when he ran away and started living on his own he started reading any and all books on whatever topic he could find in the Grey Terminal. And when he, Ace and Luffy teamed up they would steal from bookstores. (idk I feel like Goa wouldn't have libraries. I mean free knowledge?? in GOA??? nahh)

Of course this was a lot of books on sailing, making boats, wilderness survival in the Grandline and the sorts of things they would need to know as pirates. But he would also try snag books Ace and Luffy would love.

Getting Luffy to actually read a book willingly was impossible but Luffy being a bug boy, would point to every bug he finds and looked at Sabo like "WHATS THAT ONE!?" And Sabo having stolen a huge book of East Blue bugs will flip through and read to Luffy facts about the bug. and its the most excited they have ever seen him about a book. When Sabo got all his memories back he became a walking bug encyclopaedia. I think Ace would be against reading no matter how hard Sabo tried to pitch the stories to him. But Once Sabo was gone and there was a pile of books left in the treehouse to rot, he picked them up as a way of staying connected to his brother.

I think Ace would read a lot of fiction books but keep it rather secret, reading in the evening when Luffy already fell asleep. He wasn't at all very fast at reading at first having to sound out words like he was six, but as he finished one book, a favourite of Sabo's, he read another and another. He got better at spelling, grammar even his handwriting got a little neater. He grew out of fiction when he got older. but leaving reality for a moment to be someone else was something he really savoured when he was a teen. This also ended up saving him as a commander considering all the paperwork he would have to do and thank god his handwriting was at least legible.

[callmesel]

I'm trying to write down the Racer AU idea but it like, I can't 😭

I have written 5 different versions and I don't know what I like best

The first one would be that Percy is some how force to go to an illegal race competition (maybe by the twins or something like that) and Oliver is there and is like "wow, he is hot" and they start from that and Marcus is just like "wow, he is good and pretty" and he wants to start something with Percy. And Percy is just like, "wow, two hot men that probably won't talk to me ever in my life"

The second idea (the one I like the most) is that Oliver is the one racing and Percy is there to cheer him, even though he knows is super dangerous but he likes to see Oliver happy. And they are like best friends that both have a crush on each other but they don't want to admit it.

Marcus is just there to be Oliver's rival in the track and as a love interest for Percy and they are like super competitive with each other but in a chill way?? And then he sees Percy and he's interested in him and flirts with him. Oliver doesn't like that and so he is jealous so he has a fight with Percy and they end up confessing their feelings and starts dating.

But what happens with Marcus? Percy kinds of have a crush on him and Oliver is like, okay, he is hot and attractive and they both discover that they have a crush on Marcus and don't now what to do.

They then go out on a club as a couple and see Marcus alone. They are all super drunk and they end up in someone's place and have like fucked and the next day they decide what they want to do with their love live and just decide to be a polyamorous couple and they live happily ever after.

Other version of this idea is that Percy starts dating Marcus first and Oliver is like super depressed and confronts Marcus after a bad race and they get into a heated argument and they kiss.

Oliver feels super bad because, he hasn't just lost his best friend but he has also made his new boyfriend cheat with him so he is not talking to Percy and distancing himself from him so he doesn't hurt him anymore. While Marcus is at home and is like, damn, they are both hot, I want to date them both, nerd x bad boy, rivals to lovers, best friends to lovers, best tropes.

Percy hasn't get over Oliver so he is like, I have to tell Marcus that I'm not ready. And they talk and is like:

Marcus: You are in love with your bf, right?

Percy: How did you know?

Marcus: Me too, bro

And they are like, what do we do now? Marcus had told him about the kiss

They decide to go and tell Oliver, while the man is using his pets as a therapist (probably a cat or dog) and Percy go to his house and tells him that they have to talk. Oliver Stars to apologise bit Percy shuts hem and he tells him that he is in love with him but he understands that if he doesn’t feel the same, they could forget that any thing happened or they could even stop talking. That if he wants to go for Marcus he can and all that stuff. But Oliver is like, “no, no no, is not that, but like, I do like Marcus but I like you too and arghh” she just kisses Percy and they make out and now they have to sort their feelings. The. Marcus walks up to Oliver and tells him that he finds him attractive and would like to try something (at this point Percy has already told him about being a poly couple but he has to talk to Marcus and stuff) So they all go to a cafe together at sorts it all and now they are all dating each other.

There is a third version and is like the second one, but still illegal and involves Marcus going to jail and stuff but that is a story for another day.