#and when he draws the picture of ruby!!

[sweetreveriee]

on my knees for james beaufort

[lalunanymph]

THE MAKING OF A MRS.

🗝️ LESSON 1: BECOMING MRS. QIN

shackled to sylus and stuck in the N109 zone and with no way of leaving until you figure out how to remove the aether core bond between the two of you, you take up his offer (and begrudging help) to try and blend in with his high-stakes, high-rewards life. how? by learning struggling to be his wife

ᥫ᭡ fem!reader, arranged marriage, slow burn, contract marriage, fluff, crack, we stress sylus out so badly....

ᥫ᭡ dawn says: hehe im so EXCITED to share this like u have no idea </3 fluff/crack for arranged marriage is something i've always wanted to explore and this idea is perfect to take a dive in 🥹 i hope u all loved this as much as i had fun writing it <3 ps: no steamy parts... yet 🫣

⇢ ˗ˏˋ main directory | lesson 2

“What do you mean I should chop off my hand?” 

Your seething and refusal to submit to his suggestion draws the first pulse of a migraine in Sylus’ right temple. 

Taking refuge back in his mansion after the Salon Hotel explosion, his face is pale amidst the black upholstery, though his grimace never falters. The air is ripe with tension, and you try for the umpteenth time to free your wrist from the morose reality of being shackled to one dangerous and trigger happy Onychinus leader.

You can tell he isn’t exactly thrilled by this new development as well, his jaw tight and ruby eyes flickering to your face, simmering with irritation.

But, he tempers down his vexation, preferring to think forward.

As a marked man since time immemorial, he’s never had the privilege to sit around and revel in misery; always working one step forward on the chess board while he peels his glinting eyes towards the bigger picture.

And right now, there is only one variable he can foresee until this little mess gets sorted.

Sylus’ lips curl into a smirk, and you can tell he has a potentially life threatening idea brewing in that sick mind of his. As much as you try to figure it out, predicting his behavior is out of your reach. One could never tell where a flame was going to fall and explode into a blaze.

“We will stay here and figure it out,” he promises. “In the meantime, I want to strike a deal.”

Your scowl is adorable, if a little uncalled for in a moment like this. When Sylus told you the both of you were more alike than you would think, he never anticipated actually having to be in your vicinity 24/7. 

“Do not show your claws to me like that, kitten,” he mutters curtly. “It was not I who was hellbent on locating the Aether core.”

Your glare gives way to confusion when he stands, tugging you along for the ride.

“Hey—where are we going?”

You huff and try to keep up with him, your right hand dangling limply in front of you as you struggle to match his longer strides.

Sylus doesn’t reply, his gaze locked in the front, mind a million miles away.

You don’t open your mouth again, not sure what to expect when he leads you right into his office. There, on his desk, is a stack of papers, and you have no choice but to hover beside him as he takes out what looks like a declaration form.

Squinting, you try to make out the words, but from your vantage point that’s blocked by the back of his head leaning absurdly close to the document, you can hardly tell what he’s scribbling.

“As it is, the N109 Zone is already a dangerous place for its civilians and made even worse for a Linkon citizen to be caught here.” He stands, tucking the paper into his coat pocket. The sudden movement inadvertently tugs you forward so your chest brushes against his sternum. Locks of frosty white hair fall into his face, tips brushing the highest points of his cheekbones.

You tear your eyes away, clearing your throat. “And?”

You wait for him to continue. Sylus doesn’t.

Instead, he heaves in a deep breath, and you raise your head, thrown off guard by the sheen of pain in his eyes. They waver upon you with such a lonesome, tragic veneer you think he’s about to announce his departure from this world.

Not—

“In order to keep you and my interests safe, we have to concoct a plausible story for everyone to believe. Having you constantly around me is not only a liability, but people will start to conspire.” He exhales a deep sigh. “Which is why I have drafted a document to bind us together in marriage for the remainder of your... unfortunate stay here in the N109 Zone.”

His words trickle with condescension, though you’re completely hung up on the singular one which makes you pause and double back.

“What?” You’re all but shrieking. “Sylus, are you saying you’re going to make me marry you?”

He winces slightly at the sharpness of your trill. Sighing, he brushes an invisible piece of lint from his shoulder, looking unimpressed.

“What I am saying, little hunter,” his lips curl into a sardonic smirk. “Is that until we figure out how to overcome this minor inconvenience together—” Sylus lifts his left hand, purposely dangling your right hand in his face much to your squawk of dismay that barely fazes him. “We have to prove our marriage is believable. Or else, you and I will suffer the consequences.”

He mutters those words with such finality, it’s hard not to envision guns hidden right in the shadows, their barrels trained right on your susceptible foreheads.

You shiver and don’t speak for a moment. Sylus drops his hand, stepping back until the invisible shackle can’t allow anymore give, gracefully providing you some personal space to work through this grave solution.

“Say I agree—”

“There is no room for objection,” he interjects firmly. “We have no other choice, kitten.”

Your mouth thins, a line of discomposure that he doesn’t miss. It’s not that you don’t agree with his idea, it’s just the execution would possibly squeeze all the sanity out of you.

You don’t know Sylus. You can’t trust yourself to handle such a dangerous man. Perhaps, death would be a kinder alternative than navigating such baffling terrains with a man who for all intents and purposes, has just tried to blow you up a few hours ago. 

He sighs, as if reading your mind. “Such an arrangement is unconventional. But, in order to make this work, we would need a few ground rules here.” 

Sylus starts before you can interrupt him.

“We will have a safeword to signal when either of us—most likely you—is in danger. I vouch for ‘bullet’.”

Despite the horrors of this situation, you manage a snort. “I can’t take that word seriously—knowing you, a gun will always be in the picture.”

His expression twists with something akin to humor. Sylus arranges it back into neutral waters, gazing at you with a look of veiled curiosity. “Alright then, you smart little cookie. What would you suggest?”

You tap on the tip of your nose to think, going back and forth until you settle on something innocuous yet also obvious.

“‘Guts’,” you finally murmur. He raises a brow. 

“So, ‘bullets’ is out of the question, but somehow, ‘guts’ make perfect sense? Are you desperately pinning all your hopes on me to never mutilate a body?”

The mental image of Sylus covered in gore up to his arms while you’re still cuffed helplessly next to him, makes you shiver.

“Then, have you ever considered not mutilating someone while I’m shackled to you?” 

He pauses for a moment longer than necessary. “Fine,” the white-haired devil finally agrees. “You're dreadfully boring, kitten. But, I concede. No mutilating people while we're shackled together. Next.” Sylus clears his throat, and makes to cross his arms, but that just draws you closer to him, your feet stumbling forward.

Frowning, he drops them, tilting his head back with a godawful deep sigh.

“Bed,” he says past gritted teeth. “And bathroom requirements. I would personally prefer for us not to be within an arms’ reach while we’re doing our business.”

The mental image of him hunched over the toilet bowl, face all scrunched up as he’s suffering from morning bowel movements while you’re there, uncomfortably in the background, makes it impossible to stifle a giggle. 

“Oh, so you think that is funny?” He arches his brow again. “What if you had an emergency, hmm? Would you still be this mirthful if you knew that I know what your… excretions… sound like?”

The fact that a foreboding, tall and dangerous man like Sylus Qin has just uttered the word ‘excretions’ in a sentence makes it impossible for you to contain your laughter. You double over, wiping tears from your eyes; he probably thinks you’ve already lost it.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly repressing the trauma such a mental image branded into him, and forces himself to move on. 

“When we pretend to be husband and wife, our proximity would make sense. We could go into bathrooms together—sleep together. No one will know the—”

“Wait,” your composure returns after being doused with that shocking cold news. “A-are you saying we have to sleep on the same bed?” 

Sylus looks at you like you're a toddler who was asked to stop chewing dirt. “Unless you have a cheap parlour trick to physically regenerate your hand after chopping it off, then, yes,” he answers curtly. “We have to share a bed—isn't it wonderful?"

The bathroom is one thing—such gross indecencies barely phase you after months of being forced to sleep in a cramped dorm room with over 20 other female Hunter trainees. It’s the idea of your bed—your oasis—being tainted by his presence that pushes your nerves into overdrive.

You can hardly trust a knife to him without imagining it stuck somewhere in someone’s ribs, much less your vulnerable state while you were asleep.

The energy chain hums between you two, seeming to pick up on your despair.

Sylus purses his lips. “Look, kitten. I myself am hardly a fan of this arrangement. However, certain measures need to be taken to make things easy and as pain-free as possible for the both of us. We have to accept that we’re no longer individuals, but a team.” 

He steamrolls past your protests, shushing you with his next words. “An unconventional team of four feet, four limbs, two brains. Four eyes. We are not two people—but one. The sooner you accept it, sweetie, the faster we can resolve this problem. Do you understand me?”

There’s nothing else you can add or subtract without taking away the shittiness of this situation—you’re locked in with him, for better or for worse.

“Okay,” you muster enough courage to mutter. “Four feet, four limbs, two brains, four eyes. Got it.”

Sylus gives a nod, moving briskly into business.

“The first thing we shall do is this—” 

He removes the earlier document from his coat pocket, smoothing it out onto the large blackwood desk so you can read it. “These are the terms and conditions of a standard N109 Zone wedding. Unlike the tedious traditions of Linkon, there are no witnesses needed here. No tea ceremony, either. In fact, as proof of how easy it is, we can commence to be wedded right here and now. All you need to do is sign here and here, and we’re done.”

Sylus has already scrawled his signature under the agreement, and right underneath it, an empty dotted line yawns, waiting for your consent.

A pen materializes right by your hand. The dark mist of his Evol is cold when it brushes against your skin, retreating after procuring your one-way ticket to hell.

You pick it up, pulling back on the energy bond so you can use your dominant hand to sign this damning agreement. 

One loop. A scratch.

And it’s done.

It's a mockery of your wildest imagination. 

You're now a married woman, and next to you, looking forlorn and cross, is your brand new husband.

— reblogs and feedback is appreciated <33 i appreciate all ur support <3

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, take elements of my story and claim it as yours. i strictly do not allow translations of my works across other platforms.

[k4marina]

— Prologue: Dragonstone|| Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a trip to Dragonstone goes a little wrong, or does it?

game of thrones x modern!reader

4.5k+ word count

sereis masterlist || next part

"Why are we doing this during the hottest day of the year, again?" Daeron mutters, using the brochure that was given to us at the beginning of the tour as a fan.

If I could, I would've replied, but the heat was also getting to me, draining away my energy. And, on top of the scorching heat, I'd just finished the last of my water. I pursed my lips together, the line wasn’t that long and I’m sure I can buy another overpriced water bottle after we visited the caves.

The group tour guide turned back to us, just as exhausted, and somewhat bashful. He said something, but I couldn't be bothered with it as I was too focused to not tip over from the heat. It was probably something like “only a few more minutes and we’ll be outta the heat, folks,” with an awkward smile or something.

The line to the caves under the castles was stupidly long, but it's no surprise. So much history was in those caves and so many mysteries had come full circle there. And, the deeper they dug, the more they uncovered the history of the Targaryens that lived there from when Aenar Targaryen moved his entire family to Dragonstone after his daughter, Daenys “the Dreamer” dreamed of the Doom of Valyria. 

"Who's idea was it to come here for our research trip?" I didn't bother looking over at him, knowing that I'd be blinded by the sun that shone directly behind his big head.

“Shut up. Your voice is giving me a headache.” I quipped. “Besides, almost everything on this island is connected to the Targaryens. It might come useful when we have to write our research paper.”

The line moved up until our group was at the front of the line. A small group of students, along with Daeron and I, were on Dragonstone for our research projects. Some of the other students had decided to stay in Kings Landing or go to other parts of Westeros for their research.

Everyone was to spend a week in their respective areas and gather all the information they needed before heading back to Kings Landing to write and then later present their topics. Some chose to do it themselves whilst others, like us, decided to go with someone else.

Today was the first day of our stay on Dragonstone. Daeron and I had decided to check out the caves and the island's beaches before we would explore the labyrinth-like castle.

I rubbed the side of my head, feeling a headache approaching. My hand reached up to my necklace that rested on my chest. The chain was long enough for it to hang in the dip of my breast.

Not only did I come here for my project, but also for me. The necklace around my neck has been in my family for generations, but no one knows from where. It’s made entirely of Valyrian Steel, which was rare back in the day, and even rarer now.

As a child, I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until I grew older and more curious that I started asking questions. First to my family, but all I got was even more confusing answers that led me nowhere. Then I turned towards the internet, scouring for hours until I had found it.

On the official Dragonstone website, I found pictures of the caves under the castle and possibly under the entire island. On one of the walls was a crude hand drawing of my necklace. Two dragons around a sword with a ruby in the middle –though, the ruby was replaced with a red dot. Regardless, the cave painting matched. 

The line moved up and Daeron gently pushed me up while I was lost in my thoughts. “You good?” He asks. I nod, “Yeah. The heat’s just a lot.” He gives an understanding look. Once the tour guide is given the green light, he begins to lead up to the entrance of the cave.

"Ready?" Daeron asks. I nodded and we begin walking. Once we entered the cave, my jaw was on the floor. I had seen pictures of the caves, but seeing it in real life was far more beautiful.

The deeper we got we could see the cave paintings done by the Children of the Forest which Daenerys and Jon had found. As the guide droned on about the cave paintings, I could feel my headache intensify. Why was it so hot in here? 

The deeper and deeper we went into the caves, the worse it got. My chest started to feel heavy. I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The back of my throat burned and I felt like throwing up, but I pushed forward. 

My eyes raked the the cave walls, Where was it? Finally, I was able to see it. The markings were next to a few unknown ones. A sign with some information was hung up next to it. Despite my head pounding I was still able to read the bold words. 

Unknown markings made by who researchers believe are the Targaryens. The paint used seemed to be as old as when Aenar Targaryen moved his family to Dragonstone.

By the time I finished reading, I could feel my head pounding so loudly in my ear. It felt like an ice pick was being hammered into the side of my head. I could hear muffled voices call out, but to who I didn’t know. The room started to spin and a ringing sound filled my ears.

A hand, most likely Derons, reached out and turned me around. I could see his mouth moving, but no words coming out. My chest felt like it was overheating while my head continued to throb. Everything turned blurry and then it went black.

When I woke up, I was still in the cave. The cold stone floor had helped with bringing my body temperature down. And, my head didn't hurt anymore. After getting up, I looked around the cave. It was darker, and quiet.

Where was everyone?

Carefully, I made my way out of the cave. It was harder to walk out of the cave and the spotlights that were on the walls weren’t on. Once I was outside I was met with the night sky.

All the tents and other buildings around the beach were gone, as if they'd never been there.

Okay, this is weird.

"Hello?" My voice came out horse like I hadn’t spoken in a long time. "Hello? Is anyone there? Daeron?" 

My feet moved on their own and I tried to find someone, anyone. But there was no one. How could a populated area with tents and buildings disappear within hours?

Retracing my steps, I found the stairs that would lead me back to the Help Center that were posted around for lost tourists, but like the beach, there was nothing. Matter a fact, even the lamppost that were posted into the ground, the banners, the signs –everything was gone.

"What the actual fuck?" Panic creeped up and I could feel my heart thumping in my ears. "Gods, If this is some kinda sick fucking joke..."

At this point, I was running towards the castle. For what? I didn't know, but surely there had to be something there. The grand doors seemed to be closed so I tried to find another way in. I guess you could say I found something like a side door that took a little force to open. 

The inside of the castle was grand. High walls, banners held high, candles and lamps lit all around. Truly, it was amazing. As I was gawking at the architecture I failed to notice unknown voices walking towards me. 

“Halt!” Two unknown men dressed in what looked like armor cornered me, pointing their spears at me. “State your name! Who are you?” 

I stuttered out my name, raising my hands up so they could see I wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to do anything, I swear.” 

The two men shared a look and a few hushed words before one of them walked over to me, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me along. 

“Ow!” I tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong. “What the fuck dude. I said I wasn’t a threat.”

“Khaleesi will decide if you are or are not a threat.” The man who wasn’t holding onto me said. 

Khaleesi? What Khaleesi?

“Oh please don’t tell me I just walked into those real-life roleplaying things.” I groaned, earning side eyes from both of the men. 

They led me down a series of hall ways, each one intricate as the other until we stood outside of a set of polished stone double doors. Another pair of men dressed just like the cosplayers that brought me here stood in front of the doors. Without having to say any words they opened the grand doors. 

Slowly, I could see the inside being revealed. 

There, on the elevated platform stood the Throne of Dragonstone, where all the Targaryen heirs of the Iron Throne sat as they took the title “Prince of Dragonstone.” A light push brought me back as I was dragged closer to the throne. 

“Khaleesi,” the guard called out. Before I could ask who they were speaking to, an unknown voice answered. 

“What is it?” 

Light footsteps were heard from behind a wall and a woman emerged from behind it. Except it wasn’t just any woman. Even a child would know who she was. Everyone around the world knows her. 

She was Daenerys Targaryen. 

Mother of Dragons. 

The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.

The Unburnt.

The Breaker of Chains. 

I could feel time slow down as I watched her walk over to the throne and sit down. My blood turned cold as she sat in front of me. 

No.

No.

She’s dead.

This can’t be happening.

It’s not possible.

It’s not. I have better chances of reviving dragons than traveling back in time-

“What is this?” Daenerys eyed me, confused at my appearance and why I was even here before looking at the two men. 

“We found this unknown woman wandering around the castle, Your Grace.” 

She eyed me, as if wanting me to plead my case, but the words died in my throat. Why wouldn’t they when Daenerys fucking Targaryen was right in front of me. A million thoughts ran through my head, but I couldn’t rack my brain to find one answer. 

Daenerys squinted before speaking again, this time directly towards me. “Who are you?” The High Valyrian rolled easily off of her tongue like a true Targaryen. Those three words held so much power and conviction, like a true Queen.

“Y/n Vellarys!…” I rushed to reply in Valyrian. 

“You speak good Valyrian.” She praises, but it's quickly pushed away. “But that doesn’t explain what you are doing here.”

What should I do? I bit my bottom lip as nervousness filled my body. 

Knowing that if I lie, I’ll be fileted, I took a deep breath before responding. “I don't know. I.. I,” I paused, not knowing if I should continue. If this was real then I only wanted her to know, “Can we be alone.. please?” 

The two men besides me visibly tense up, but don’t speak up. Daenerys looks down at us, seemingly in thought before she nodded. The two men bow before turning around to leave. The double doors closed with a loud thud. 

“We’re alone now, you may continue.” 

I nervously swallowed. Here we go. “This might sound weird, but.. I don’t know how I got here. I.. I woke up in the caves under the castle… alone.”

Daenerys’ face stayed neutral as I relayed the information. She seemed to take some time to process what I had just said. “Do you think I’m a fool?” 

I could feel my heart fall all the way down. Fuck.

“You woke up in the caves alone?” She repeats. “Not even a child would come up with such a stupid story like this.”

“N-n-no, Daener- I mean, Your Grace. I swear to the Gods that I’m telling the truth. I have no reason to lie to you. Especially when you could get rid of me with your dragons in a second.”

She seemed to mull over my words, as if weighing her options. “Alright, let's say you’re telling the truth. Your story still doesn’t make sense. How do you just “wake up” in a cave?” 

Now or never, I guess. 

“Actually,” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not from here. I come from-” The future. Fucking hell, how cliché. “-I come from a different… time.” 

Daenerys squinted and I could see the clogs in her brain moving. “You mean you’re from the future?” 

Jeez. Ripped the bandage right off. 

“Well –uh, yes,” I say. “I was touring the caves and then I –I fell unconscious or something, I still don’t know, I just know that when I woke up I ended up here.” 

I let out a frustrated sigh. What if this was just a dream and that all of this is just my imagination running wild. 

“That necklace.” 

Huh? What is she talking about? 

 I looked up, confused. “What?” 

She pointed towards my chest. I looked down and I could see my necklace was out. “What about it?” I asked.

“Where did you get it?” 

“It’s mine.” I replied. “It’s been in my family for generations. Why?” 

Now it was Daenerys’ turn to look a little nervous. 

“I’ve seen it in my dream.”

“Your dream? Like, one of those Dragon Dreams?” I ask. She gives a nod, “While we were sailing to Dragonstone I had a dream of a woman with silver hair and that necklace. Because I couldn’t see her face, I thought it was me. I’ve turned the treasury over looking for them; however, it seems that I dreamt of you.”

Ho-ly Fuck. Daenerys’ dreamt about me. What the hell. I’m about to throw up. 

“What?” Now it was my time to be skeptical of what was being said. “You dreamt about me and my necklace?”

She nodded. “It seems odd, but a Dragon Dream has never been wrong.”

“Ture, but that still leaves a lot of blanks.” My hand subconsciously went up to hold my necklace while I tried to think back. 

The deeper I walked into the cave the more my head started to hurt, but that was most likely because of dehydration… probably. But then there was a burning feeling on my chest when I looked at the symbol on the wall that matched my necklace and the burning feeling got even more intense and it felt like it was about to burn my skin-

“Fuck.” I groaned, letting go of the necklace. The outburst made Daenerys frown, “Are you alright?”

I looked down at my hands and at my necklace before looking into her eyes. “I think my necklace tried to burn me, like last time.” 

“Last time?” She frowned. “How can a necklace burn someone?”

“I don’t know. It happened before I passed out in the cave.” I let out a sigh. “Gods, what is going on.” 

“It seems that this was the God's doing,” Daenerys says, as if it was a fact. “They’ve brought you here.” 

“The Gods?” I repeat. Sure, in some sense they did bring me here. “But why?” 

“That may be something for you to find out.” Daenerys stood from the throne, walking down the steps until she was right in front of me. “I was lost once, but then the Gods gifted me my children to show me my true purpose.” 

“The Iron Throne.” I thought back to my history classes where I learned that for the fight for the Iron Throne, Daenerys lost her life as she fell into what historians said was “Targaryen Madness,” but I’ve always felt that there’s more to it. 

“It’s late, I’ll have the servants bring you to a spare room for you to rest in for the night.” As if on cue, the guards from before stepped up to us. “We can talk further tomorrow morning.”

Daenerys turned to leave from where she came from. The guards bowed as she left. Once she was gone they brought me to a spare room somewhere in the castle, this time without having to pull me around. 

The hallways were nearly empty, meaning there weren’t a lot of people living here or servants working in the castle. The most I’d seen was guards posted around. Once we were in front of two thick double doors the guards stepped back waiting for me to open them. 

It took a little force to open the door, but once I was inside, my jaw was on the floor. Despite everything being made of stone, the walls were covered in rich tapestry. There was a giant bed with lavish looking furs laid atop the bed and maroon bed sheets. 

Behind me, a servant walked in with a few sets of clothes and laid them on the bed. “We’ve prepared you some clothes,” she said. “Would you like to change now or take a bath?” 

As if on cue, I could feel how dirty I was since I was practically on the cave floors for Gods knows how long. 

“A bath would be fine, thank you,” I replied. It honestly felt weird watching servants work. Not that it was bad, just the fact that in the modern day you don’t have them. Sure maybe someone who cleans your home or makes you food, but servants?

Once they had pulled out the massive tub and manually poured in the hot water they led me to the tub. One of their hands went up to my shirt's edge and the other to my pants. 

“W-wait!” They all looked at me confused. 

“Is everything alright, My Lady?” One of the servants asked. 

No it’s not. You’re taking my clothes off. And sure, it’s your job to do practically everything for a highborn, but that ain’t me. 

“Uh, there’s no need for… all of this. I can do it myself.” 

“Are you sure?” Another girl asked. “It’s our duty to serve you.” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” I replied awkwardly. “Just not really used to all of… this. Um, anyways I can take it from here. You guys can go…” 

I internally cringed at my words. Gods, I sounded like an idiot, but could you blame me? 

The girls reluctantly agreed, leaving me alone in the room. Once they were gone I let out a sigh and began to undress myself. The water was hot, but it was fine since I practically liked showering in lava every morning. 

Settling into the tub I finally relaxed. This entire thing was just so… bizarre. At first, I thought it was some sort of dream, but that searing pain I felt wasn’t something I could just imagine. 

My necklace burned me. 

And it burned me when I first saw the markings on the cave walls. I looked down at my chest and hand, but saw nothing. 

Okay, weird. 

That aside, why was I even brought here? Why me? What do I have that made me so special that I had to be flung into this era of time?

“Think, y/n, think,” I muttered to myself. The dream. Daenerys’ dream about the necklace. But wait, no history books said anything about her having a dragon dream. Could this maybe be connected?  

For the next hour, I mulled over my options while I soaked in the tub that had turned lukewarm. Having enough, I got up and grabbed the towels that the servants had thankfully set close for me. 

The clothes that they had laid out for me were a bunch of nightgowns. Thankfully, they were my size. I decided to wear a simple white nightgown. 

Laying under the mountain of covers and blankets, I finally let myself completely relax, falling asleep. Hopefully tomorrow’s discussions can help this situation get better or at least easier. 

I woke up to the sun glaring down into my face. Groaning, I turned to my side, hoping to get some more sleep. But the damage was done. 

I could hear light shuffling in the room and things being moved around. When I opened my eyes, I was nearly flash-banged. All the windows (that are floor to ceiling length) were opened and the curtains were drawn back. 

A few servants from last night and a few new faces worked around the room. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, catching the attention of one of the girls. 

“Good morning, My Lady. Did you sleep well?” 

“Morning,” my voice came out a little low and rough. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re getting you ready for the day,” the girl replies, matter of factly. “You will be having your morning meal with the Queen. We’ve already drawn you a fresh new bath and arranged a new set of clothes.” 

I looked at where the tub was last night, nothing that was gone, along with my clothes. 

“Where are my clothes?” I asked. 

“We’ve sent them to get washed,” the servant replied. “My Lady, if i may…” 

I nodded for her to go on. “We’ve never seen such clothes like yours before. They remind us of what the men wear however, yours are a bit more.. different.” 

“Oh, that. They’re just something that I made.” I lied. Thinking back to last night, I’m confused I didn’t get as many weird looks as I should have wearing my jeans and shirt. It's not really the typical Westerosi fashion for this time. 

“The bath is ready.” Another girl says. 

Reluctantly, I got out of bed, following them to another room adjacent to this one. The room was a massive bathroom that could function as a bathhouse. 

There was a massive tub nestled into the floor. The windows were also huge but a little higher up, letting in some natural light. I could tell the water was hot just by how much it was steaming. 

Carefully, the servants began to undress me. They led me into the water and began adding what I can only assume are oils and salts. Truthfully, it felt like I was at some fancy spa with how they washed my body and hair. 

Once that was done, they helped me into a beautiful white dress with a dark teal and gold design. I felt like a model wearing such a beautiful dress. I let my hair down, not wanting it in any style (or knowing any styles of this period). 

A servant walked me to the dining room where Daenerys was waiting for me. She wore a light blue dress with her hair braided and her three headed dragon pin.  

“Good Morning,” she greeted. 

“Morning uh, Your grace.”  I replied. “Sorry, I’ve never called anyone “your grace” before.” 

She brushed it off, motioning for me to take a seat next to her at the table where the food was already prepared. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, beginning to eat. 

“Fine, surprisingly.” I reached down to grab a fork for my food. “How about you?” 

Was I really making small talk with Daenerys Targaryen? 

“Mine as well,” she smiled. “I was hoping we could talk a little before I had to go meet my small council.” 

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” I wanted to smack myself. Every time I spoke it was full of nerves and anxiety. 

“Let’s start with you. Your name and where you’re from.” Daenerys says confidently. “Judging by your looks, you’re of Valyrian descent.” She says, eyeing my silver hair. 

“Yes,” I nodded. “My family moved from Volantis to the Eyrie. My family is known to be of the Old Blood in Volantis.” 

“The Old Blood?” Daenerys says, surprised. 

The Old Blood are a group of people in Volantis that have proven to be the last remaining families of Valyria. They live in a perched area of the city that only they can walk. All the families in that area still continue their Valyrian traditions and practices, just minus the dragons. 

I nodded, “My father is the youngest of four sons, so he thought ‘why not move to westeros and start something there?’ knowing that he wouldn’t have to really carry on the family name.” 

“And your family name is Vellarys?” She recalled from last night. 

“Yes. We’re known for our jewelry making in Volantis. That’s why my father moved to Westeros, to open a shop there without having to take over the business and stress like his older brother.

“As for myself, I have two older brothers. One is working to be a doctor,” Daenerys frowned at that, confused, “uh, it’s like a Maester. The other is helping my father run the shop.” 

“And what about yourself?” 

“I’m in school. I go to the University of Kings Landing.” 

“The.. University of… Kings Landing?” 

“Well, after the monarchy was sorta let go, they turned certain parts of the Red Keep and other castles into Universites -places to go for higher studies, like the.. Citadel for example.” 

Daenerys nods, understanding some of it. 

“I study the era of The Game of Thrones as well as Targaryen History.” 

“The Game of Thrones?” She repeats. “What is that?” 

“It’s, uh, what we call this time period. It ranged from the death of King Robert to,” the death of Daenerys Targaryen, “to now, and a little later. We look into how the events after Robert’s death played out and how people fought for the Iron Throne.” 

“Like a game.” She says. 

I nodded. “Yes, like a game. There’s this quote that Cersie Lannister said to Ned Stark that summed it up, “When you play the game of thrones, You win or you die,”.”

“I see,” Daenerys looks down at her plate in thought. “And what about me?” 

Oh fuck. 

“What about you?” I say, acting innocent. 

“What happened to me?” 

I purse my lips together. Should I say it? I mean, it’s a good segway to what I want to really say��� if this part goes well. 

“You…” I nervously swallowed. “You die… before you could even claim the throne.” 

The fork in her hand hits the ceramic plate with a loud clunk. 

“What?” 

Nervously, I looked into her. “You were killed… after you burned Kings Landing to ashes.” 

She frowned. “You're lying. I would never do such a thing. Me? Burning down Kings Landing? 

And the Red Keep, but I’ll keep that to myself. 

“I’m not lying, Daenerys. After you died, Drogon picked you up and flew you away. We still haven’t found your or his body.” 

Daenerys' hands started to shake at the information I had just thrown at her. Carefully, I placed mine over hers. 

“Daenerys,” I said softly. “Breath. You’re fine, nothing has happened so far.” 

Slowly, I could feel her hands stop shaking and her breathing seemed to steady. 

“What do you mean so far?” 

I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze although, I can’t tell if it was for me or her. 

“Meaning, I can help you.” 

She looks at me, puzzled. 

“Daenerys, I can help you take the Iron Throne.” 

okayyyy so it's finally here after many rewrites. let me know if you guys liked the first person POV. its my first time writing it like this, typically i do second POV. more to come in later chapters. also, i will be changing a few things, nothing major. one personal head cannon that i have is that jon isn't really named aegon, but jaehaerys. makes a lil more sense in my brain. also, i'll maybe be using some info from the books. and if you guys have any suggestions with y/n's character and other stuff please feel free to let me know. don't worry there will be more story and character development in the coming chapters.

[starkwlkr]

hii! maybe it's y/n's birthday charles and their kids are having an argument about who will get the best gift

a rock? thanks! | charles leclerc

yes, it’s another vine reference but instead of an avocado it’s a rock 🙃

Y/n’s birthday was coming up and everyone in the Leclerc household was each getting her something. Ruby had asked her grand-mère to take her to a store to buy her maman a gift. Charles had been planning his gift to his wife for weeks. He was convinced Y/n would love this year’s gift.

While his sister and father did their own thing, little Mathéo Leclerc thought that his mother would like something handmade so he wandered around the house looking for supplies to make his gift. He settled on making her a picture of her.

He kept his gift a secret until a day before his mother’s birthday. It was dinner time and Mathéo was trying to find his mother’s drawing, but it was no where to be found. He lost the most important gift. But he wasn’t going to end up being the only one without a gift. He didn’t want to be embarrassed.

One thing Charles never thought would happen was that he would argue with his children about who had the better gift. It was there next day and Charles got up early to make his wife her birthday breakfast. When he got to the kitchen he was surprised to see his mother and daughter already making waffles and freshly squeezed orange juice.

Ruby had on a little smirk on her face, sitting on the counter with her legs crossed one over the other. “Hi papa.” She knew that her papa would make her maman a special birthday breakfast each year and this year, she had asked her grand-mère to help.

“I never thought that my own daughter would betray me.” Charles walked towards his mother.

“You’re so dramatic, hand me the plate.” Pascale rolled her eyes.

“Just letting my wife know that this was my idea since we’ve met.” Charles stated as he walked to the cabinet to get a plate thrown handed it to his mother.

“You were snoring really loud like I think uncle pierre heard you and he lives in italy so grand-mère and i made maman’s special birthday breakfast.” Ruby said with a smile.

“Yeah, well when your maman sees my gift, she’s going to forget about her special birthday breakfast.” Charles ruffled Ruby’s hair since he knew how much she hated her hair being messed up.

“She better not! Ruby called me at five in the morning to make sure I didn’t forget!” Pascale said.

“Wait, you never got up that early to make me a birthday breakfast.” Charles suddenly remembered.

“That’s because grand-mère loves me and maman more.” Ruby teased.

“Stop it, you two! Now, Ruby, my little beautiful girl, you take this and give it to your maman, okay?” Pascale gave Ruby a small gift bag that contained Ruby’s present to Y/n. “And don’t forget to show your lovely smile, oh! You look so pretty!” Pascale placed a kiss on the girl’s cheek.

She then turned to Charles, who was more than ready to receive compliments from his mother. “Here.” She handed him the tray that had the special birthday breakfast.

“I have a lovely smile too. Ruby got it from me, aren’t you going to compliment my smile?”

“You have a nice smile.” Pascale said and practically shoved him out the kitchen so they could surprise Y/n.

On the way to the bedroom, Ruby giggled. “See? Grand-mère looooooovessss me.”

When the father and daughter got to the already opened door, they heard Y/n talking with Mathéo.

“Happy birthday maman!” Ruby ran to her mother’s side and gave her a hug. “Look! I bought you something!” She gave Y/n the gift bag.

“Aw, you didn’t have to get me anything because you and Théo are my greatest gifts.”

“Say that again, I don’t think papa heard you.” Ruby continued her teasing.

“Okay, okay, you win Ruby Jules,” Charles rolled his eyes. He then placed the special birthday breakfast infront of Y/n and gave her a kiss. “Happy birthday, Mon amour.”

“Thank you, all of you.” Y/n smiled.

“Maman, open my gift!” Ruby exclaimed.

So Y/n did and when she opened the bag, she found a teddy bear with a smaller teddy bear attached to it. “This is adorable! Thank you, Ruby.” Y/n hugged her daughter.

“Yeah, well this is from me and no one else,”Charles continued with his teasing. He handed her a small box that contained a ring. “It’s those rings that have the picture inside when you look. It’s a picture of all of us.”

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” Y/n gave him a kiss.

“Maman, I got you something too.” Little Mathéo shyly spoke.

“You do, my beautiful boy? Let’s see what it is,”Y/n sat up. From behind his back, Mathéo brought out a rock that was just the same size as his hand.

“I named it rock.” Mathéo smiled proudly.

“Rock the rock?” Ruby wondered. “I like Steve better. Steve the rock is better.”

“This is a wonderful rock, Théo. I love it.” Y/n placed a kiss on her son’s forehead.

“It’s a rock?”

“And I love it.”

[tanoraqui]

obviously the Historical Figure Episode(TM) of Doctor Who that I’d write would of the Noted Author subset endemic to the RTD Era; it’d be called “Spiders in the Trenches” and be set in the middle of World War One ft. one Lt. John Tolkien.

idk if the main aliens are spiders or if they're just using giant robotic spiders as soldier-minions. Either way, Tolkien is a little too defensive when he says he's not afraid of spiders.

The alien invaders want some sort of shiny mcguffin, maybe as a power source for their ship? Or for a mega-weapon? We do not want them to get it, at any rate. Race to find the Shiny Power Jewel-Thing which has been lost somewhere in this like 20-mile radius of the Western Front.

When our heroes narrowly beat the spiders to the SPJT, Tolkien realizes that the spiders only ever attack at night because light hurts them somehow, so he holds the SPJT up as it flares and shouts, "Get back, foul creatures! Back into the shadows from whence you came!"

(They're from the dark side of a tidally locked planet, and made for extremely low-light conditions? The SPJT flares because it's controlled telepathically and it connected to Tolkien's mind when he touched it?)

Ideally Tolkien's first encounter with the Doctor is that he wakes up in the trench one day (after losing some men to a mysterious monster in the darkness a couple nights ago?), and there's 2 random strangers in weird clothes idly singing and playing an instrument which they stole from someone a couple bedrolls down. (This works well with Fifteen & Ruby's established inclination to music!)

We do need an Eowyn Moment, because that's iconic, but I'd split it: for dialogue, at one point the head boss evil alien boasts, "No human can defeat the Tenebrarachnid Empire!" and the Doctor replies, "Good thing they've got me, then."...

[I don't know if this is a Fifteen line yet. I know it's a very Eleven line]

...and there's a soldier in Tolkien's unit who is revealed to be secretly a woman! Who disguised herself as a man in order to enlist for ??? reasons, and who dramatically pulls off her hat to reveal her long hair.

The third notable local character is the sort who inspired Sam Gamgee, "...the English soldier, [like] the privates and batmen I knew in the 1914 war, and recognized as so far superior to myself.”

^those two can have a romantic subplot if it fits (comrades-in-arms is also extremely good). Tolkien, however, at some point shows Ruby the picture of his wife Edith which he carries at all times, she of the black hair and bright grey eyes, and is obviously ready to monologue about how wonderful she is.

In the same scene(?), Tolkien looks up at the stars and says their brightness shining afar, clear of all the horrors on the ground, is always a source of hope and strength to him.

Maybe also in the same scene? Tolkien is shown to make up stories for fun, or to read them in his little spare time - fairy tales and mythological epics. Maybe he tells them to the men around the fire, maybe he keeps a little notebook, maybe he just admits to daydreaming... When asked why, he paraphrases his quote from later life, " Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?"

At some point (Star-watching scene? when the Doctor inevitably has to explain that aliens exist? when they're all saying goodbye in the end?) there's a line drawing attention to the Doctor's parallels with Eärendil - eternally wandering figure of hope, sailing the stars in a ship with a light on top, not quite mortal...

Tolkien DEFINITELY tries to figure out the alien language, in writing or speech.

Something the aliens are doing is making people sick. Maybe the attacking robo-spiders are venomous, maybe there's a toxic byproduct of the alien ship, maybe it's a deliberate first assault of the planned invasion... By the end of the episode, Tolkien is very ill. The Doctor has figured out an antidote and given it, but Tolkien says goodbye to him and Ruby only to stumble to a medical outpost - from where, the Doctor explains to Ruby, he'll be sent home with this bad case of what's assumed to be trench fever. Between the fever and the brief psychic entanglement, and unentanglement, with the SPJT, he won't even remember most of this, and what he does remember, he'll put down to fever dreams amidst the horrors of war.

But he'll remember some things! He'll remember an eternal wanderer of the stars, unaging and undying and ever-hopeful, heralded by light (and a vworrrp vrorrrp noise).

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

RWBY Beyond Journal Jaune

(Potential Spoilers Warning)

Won't say I agree with everything they stated here, like Jaune not identifying himself as the Rusted Knight at all. I do think he views himself as said person, I just don't think he views said time as something of worthy note.

I'd argue he'd view it no differently then how viewed himself during Beacon. As in he saw it as a span of time where he failed.

I do like that Nora basically proclaims Jaune as the Rusted Knight all the time.

Now unto the real points of note to me... Alyx and Lewis, okay, so I figured Jaune was close to them, but DAMN! He legitimately cared about them, like to the point where he felt like they were as important as him teammates.

Which goes on to show why Alyx's betrayal hurt all the more and now makes me really like that at the end Alyx couldn't leave because of the guilt she felt.

Also we got confirmation that Jaune was in the Ever After for well over 80 Years! as Alyx and Lewis came from before the Great War! Which was 80 years ago (Vytal festival taken place 40 time and is held every 2 years to celebrate the end of the great war)

Which Whoa! That sorta all but confirms what I thought about aura and Jaune's semblance effect of someone's body. Definitely reduced the effects of aging since Jaune is at Minimum 99 by this logic.

Which is fucking insane, and definitely another plothole but one I would rather use as it's fucking awesome!

my favorite blonde looks good for someone pushing 100! Like Fuck!

Also the fact that Lewis and Alyx are Vacuian is a nice detail, also how they came from a time before Huntsman... Like What!? Hunters are only a recent thing that've existed within the last century!?

I love the little bit we can draw from the pictures, realizing that Alyx wasn't just a mean little girl. in fact she was really more like Ruby or Yang, excitable, curious and a bit pushy with her shyer brother Lewis. Jaune wasn't kidding when she said she changed...

[anthurak]

So I think we all understand at this point that much of the Fairy Tales of Remnant and various other in-universe folktales and legends that have been told or otherwise mentioned up to now are IMPORTANT. That these stories, particularly the ones that are given some kind of focus, are meant to relate to specific events or characters and generally foreshadow things that will happen or be revealed in the show. Whether in the direct sense of ‘this story is actually relating real events that are significant to characters’ like The Story of the Seasons to the Maidens and Oz, or in more indirect, symbolic fashion like Oscar and Ozpin idly discussing The Girl Who Fell Through the World in Volume 8.

Suffice to say, fairy tales in RWBY clearly MEAN something. Especially if a fairy tale is clearly being connected to a character or characters.

To that end, going forward I think we should really be looking at The Warrior in the Woods, and in-particular the animated short, as being narratively tied to Summer, Raven and Taiyang. And specifically meant to foreshadow what Taiyang’s relationship with Summer and Raven was REALLY like.

For one, the connection the animated short draws is not exactly subtle. The short is flat out framed as Tai reading the story to Ruby and Yang for bedtime, with the boy in the story looking like a young version of Tai while the titular Warrior looks literally like a combination of Summer and Raven. And to top it all off, the story even broadly reflects what we already know about the relationships of the three; with the young man losing the woman he so admired and loved just like Tai lost Summer and Raven. Again, the connections are not in ANY way subtle here.

So with that base established, what more can we potentially glean as foreshadowing here?

Well, as I’ve stated in previous posts, I think it is telling that while the Boy in the story did love the Warrior, it is ultimately a tragic, doomed love that was never meant to be.

And more than that, the story notably only gives us the perspective of the boy, and never the Warrior. And likewise, we never learn how the Warrior truly felt about the boy. She clearly cared about him, enough to consider him something of a friend, but did she feel about him like he felt about her? The story never makes this clear, and I think that in and of itself is rather telling: Despite the boy’s attempts to reach out to her, the Warrior maintains her distance. Whatever growing care or affection she might have felt for the boy, it clearly wasn’t nearly enough to get her to break her isolation or duty to safeguard the village in secret. While the boy may have loved the Warrior, it was a love that in all likelihood, could not and was not returned.

So when we apply this to Taiyang, Summer and Raven, a rather bleak picture emerges: That Tai’s relationships with Raven or Summer were NEVER going to work out. Or that neither Summer NOR Raven actually loved Tai in the same way he loved either of them.

And the thing is, this IS supported even by what little we have seen of Tai, Summer and Raven. Just like in the story, we have been told of Tai’s love for Summer and Raven, yet told precious little of how either of THEM felt about Tai. And what little we HAVE been told or shown has left it rather questionable how either of them cared for Tai.

Raven has made it clear that she cares little for Taiyang in the present, which really raises the question of how or if the two were ever in a relationship in the past. And while the existence of Yang might imply some kind of relationship, let’s also consider the possibility that Yang was actually an unplanned pregnancy. The result of a possible drunken, one-night-stand between Raven and Tai. Which would certainly put Raven’s reluctance to be a mother in a VERY different context.

Then we have Summer, and thanks to Ruby’s tree-vision, I think we can count her feelings for Taiyang as being at best ‘ambiguous’.

For one, as I’ve stated elsewhere, Summer’s scene with Taiyang is curiously lacking in especially overt romantic gestures. A lack of noticeable flirting or particularly romantic physical acts like a kiss. They do hug, but as I’ve said before, RWBY has used these close, intimate hugs just as much if not more often to convey platonic or familial affection. Note also that Taiyang is the one to clearly initiate the hug, not Summer

More than any of that, it’s clear that Summer is putting on an act for Tai in this scene. In the scene she is clearly pensive and uncertain and maybe even afraid, but the moment Tai walks in, Summer immediately adopts a mask of ‘everything is normal, don’t worry about anything’. Which calls into question how much of anything Summer does/says in this exchange is truly genuine, and how much is simply an act for Tai’s benefit.

Summer clearly does not trust Taiyang with the truth of what she is ACTUALLY doing. And the clear ease with which Summer assumes this mask implies that this is likely far from the first time Summer has done this.

Just compare Summer’s scene with Tai to both her previous scene with the sleeping Ruby and Yang, and her following scene with Raven; both showing Summer not putting on any kind of act for anyone else.

Most notably, despite whatever resentment she might feel towards Raven for leaving them (or perhaps just leaving her), Summer clearly trusts Raven, more than ANYONE, with helping her on this mission she considered so vitally important.

Summer certainly cared for Taiyang, that much is clear. Otherwise she wouldn’t put so much effort into reassuring him that everything was fine.

But did she love Tai in way that he loved her? Or was it simply a role she went along with for his, and possibly more-so Ruby’s and Yang’s benefit? Given the clear emotional mask and barrier we see her put up when around Tai, I would call the answer, at BEST, ambiguous.

Which all ties perfectly into what we see in The Warrior in the Woods.

The boy in the story, who is presented as looking just like Tai, loved a mysterious but noble warrior, who is presented as looking like Raven AND Summer. But the love the boy felt could not or was not returned and the warrior would instead vanish into the night. Just like Summer and Raven did.

Oh, and the ending of the story match-cutting a shot of the ‘cross between Summer and Raven’ Warrior to a shot of Ruby who likewise has a lot of visual similarities to Raven as well as Summer MIGHT be hinting at something too…

[anarchiii]

Worlds apart-13 —ACOTAR x TOG AU

Part Thirteen | warnings: angst, blood, violence, | Azriel x Celaena Sardothien

Summary; pain and sorrow one after the other, Azriel decides that maybe he isn’t meant for this world, but maybe for another…

Note: this is an AU it’s not in the books.

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Azriel’s POV

“What’s wrong with you, boy?” Amren snapped, clearly having enough of his tensed body and impatience, everything, he almost wanted to say, everything was wrong, it had started an hour ago when he woke up to a nightmare where he watched as Celaena choked to death on her own blood right infront of a door, a human man simply watching her die, he stood there and could no nothing. It had felt so real. So real in fact that his love seemed to watch him as she lay there, tears falling from her beautiful eyes.

“She’s in danger,” he finally said, whispering more like it, what if she was dying right now, dead even? “Who?” He could barely think straight, she could be suffering right now and he wasn’t doing anything, “Celaena, I can feel it, I need to help her.” She looked up at him. Her eyes a blazing silver, she nodded once, eyes landing back on the book she was reading, after a few more minutes she said, startling him, “I’ve got it,” he immediately got up. A small spark of hope filling his chest but he ignored it.

“Let’s do it,” he said, before she could say anything, “right now, this very moment,” this was the first time he had seen the Firedrake look concerned but she didn’t disagree, besides, if it didn’t work, Rhysand and the inner circle would never know, they didn’t have much time if what he suspected was true, his family would understand, they had to.

She nodded again, running out of the Day Court library and down a long winding staircase, he didn’t ask where she was going, just followed, by the time they were reaching the bottom, he was out of breath, the exhaustion of running and barely sleeping for weeks could come later, love first.

“Grab Truth-teller and make a semi-deep cut along your forearm, don’t ask questions just do,” Amren snapped, dropping to the cold stone floor and flipping through the book violently, he indeed didn’t ask questions, just did, he made the cut, his blood flowing quickly. The ruby liquid like a river. Amren grabbed his harm harshly before dipping her child-sized fingers into the liquid and drawing marks on the ground, the same marks Celaena had drawn, though there was a difference between then and now, he was not afraid, he would not be afraid.

-

He forgot how terrifying it was, standing infront of the sickly green portal that would lead him—hopefully—to his darling, if he could even call her that, perhaps he would come all this way and show himself fully to her just for her to send him back home, when she didn’t realise that she was his love, was this all for nothing? Was he so pathetic that the first person that had shown him a love that wasn’t platonic made him think and act like this? No, this couldn’t all be for nothing.

He shook his head, trying to disperse those thoughts, Amren was eyeing him but said nothing, she had been incredibly patient, it was almost like she knew something he didn’t, there was no other reason for her to act in such a manner, she started tapping her foot on the floor impatiently, but still stayed silent, everything was so odd— right. He had to go now. If it was anything like last time then the portal would not be here much longer.

Breathing in deeply and exhaling, he went through it, picturing nothing but her lovely face, that pure smile that made her look goddess-like, the strawberry blush that covered her cheeks when he said something about her, the way she put her hands on her hips to prove a point not realising that she was like a beautiful siren to his sailor, the beautiful maiden seducing the unprepared guard, she was his temptress without even trying. Lovely.

-

He landed face-first on a marble checkered floor, the first thing he noticed was the haughty laughter and clinking of glasses all around him, he got up, groaning as the pain retested in his nose, he ignored it, everyone around him was in dresses and suits, except him. People around him were eyeing him and some blushing as they took in his body but relatively ignored him, Azriel bestowed the same upon them.

He also noticed a mousy-brown haired man watching him from a wall, in the same moment, another plain looking man appeared and instead walked up to him and offered a glass of champagne, he refused a couple of times but the man didn’t stop insisting so he grabbed the glass but didn’t drink it, he keep surveying his surroundings but there was no sign of Celaena anywhere, but if his dream was right, then she was near a wooden door. And she looked like she was in a hallway. The servants quarters, kitchens, or even power-rooms were his guesses.

He didn’t think to hard on it as he started running down halls and rooms, his surroundings seemed to become more familiar from the dream so he kept going, he was nearly there to where I knew Celaena was when something hard hit his head, he slammed into a wall but got up instantly and drew Truth-teller—the blade mercifully staying with him this time—he turned and faced the wait from before. He drew a simple long dagger and threw it—aiming for his head. Thankfully, he missed, moving to the side before welding his blade and slicing along his neck, the man bled out instantly and fell to the floor, not even a worthy opponent.

He didn’t linger long, wiping the blood off of his blade quickly and breaking out into a run as he raced to find his love, small puddles of blood lay on the floor, the further he went the larger they became, what the Hell? Bodies started appearing, the inflicted wounds janky and uneven, their eyes still open. Gazing to the covered sky. No matter what they had done—he still sent a silent prayer for them to whatever Gods inhabited this world, the Mother was not here to save him, she never had. Anyway.

He slowed down as to not slip and stopped, listening for anything, anything that could help, he heard gurgling, choking even, he turned another corner and beheld the sight in front of him, there she was, her sweat-covered forehead leaning against the doorframe of that oak door. Blood spilling out from her wicked mouth. Her lovely skin covered in old—and new—blood, blood, there was so much of it.

He slammed to his knees and came before his lovely Fire, her eyes flicked to his but held no emotion, the golden ring in them gone dull, she was dying, the woman he had dreamed about every second he had been away from, dying—suffering, he didn’t know what to do. Azriel had planned everything he was going to do and say to her when he was here but now. . . Now he was here. He was completely lost.

Her expression grew pained as time went on and he got enough sense to act, he took off his shirt and ripped it up into strips, wiping away all the blood to see what he was working with, she bore many wounds but he knew those were not the main cause, it was invisible, poison. He looked to the oak door and, before he could think straight, put his whole body weight into it and started shoving into it, it didn’t take long for the door to snap off its hinges and bang open, he rushed to the sink and started collecting water. Washing Celaena’s wounds and making her drink the liquid. He didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t very familiar with poison, only using it a handful of times, and the Cauldron knew what poisons people used in this world, Azriel had no antidote. He was useless.

He started crying then, utterly useless, perhaps this was his punishment for all the horrible things he’d done in his lifetime, forced to watch his heart stop in front of him, he didn’t stop the tears, didn’t stop them as they fell onto her pretty face, she was crying as well, neither could tell which tears were their own. He rested his brow on hers, closing his eyes and wishing to anyone that would listen to save her.

He heard the panting of breath first, he turned his head slightly to see Dorian rushing their way, covered head to toe in blood, a dagger hanging from his grip, his face laced with anguish as he took in his friend—friends, Celaena made a small whimpering sound as she spotted him, the Prince got on his knees as grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb across the scarred-skin, “I’m sorry,” he breathed, “I’m so damn sorry. Cel. I left you for five minutes and they attacked me, I fought them off the best I could—I see you did aswell,” a soft laugh accompanied by a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “it was my Father that sent the men, he tried to take us both out, I should’ve known this would happen, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. . .” The Crown-prince was shaking with barely contained tears.

This was all his fault, it was his fault Celaena Sardothien and Dorian Havillard were suffering, being punished for being good, being fare, these humans were infinitely better than him and yet they were suffering, it was cruel, it was torture. It was injustice.

He distantly heard panicked yelling—for the Champion and her friend, not him,—the stomping of feet and clashing of swords against swords, yet no one moved, there was no point, not when time was running out, her heart would only beat so long. A person could only be so strong for so long.

He heard a shocked gasp as those loud footsteps stopped, he didn’t turn around this time, though, he did react when a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, he just kept staring at those lovely eyes, the dulled blue that had once been brighter than the sky, she was the light he had been searching for-for centuries. And now that light was going out. The fire in her was getting smothered.

“Azriel!” He heard someone yell in his ear, he came to, realising it was Chaol, he turned his head, looking into the man’s eyes, he didn’t move, just met eyes with her again, watching as her breathing turned slower, how she closed her eyes and didn’t open them for longer periods of time, he heard the Captain swear—a colourful combination—he pushed him aside and ran to his friend, holding her face in his hands. Azriel just watched. He watched as Chaol yelled for the antidote, watched as Dorian was dragged away by struggling guards, their expressions apologetic.

He watched, just as he had done his whole life, the only thing he had ever been good at—apart from killing and torturing, but that was and never would be something he was proud of,—he watched as one of Chaol’s men shoved a strange liquid down Celaena’s throat. Blood kept flowing from out her mouth but she swallowed. Nothing happened, it was too late, it would never work, he saw the truth in her eyes, she knew this was the end.

He crawled over the blood to her, putting his scarred hands that were so beautiful to her on her face, the marks looked so strange on her un-marred skin, beauty and the beast, he kissed her lightly, his lips staining with the scarlet liquid, he looked deep into her eyes. Hazel orbs meeting those of cerulean. Water and earth. The perfect clash.

In that moment, he used all the power he had to beg to the Gods, to anything, that he would do anything to let her live, even if that meant the end of him, he used everything he had to ask for mercy, he felt a strange thing flow through him, like a curious cat rubbing against his legs. Though its voice was older than the obsidian blade that lay discarded mere-meters away, “and what would you give me in return?” It purred. “Anything” he whispered, anything.

“Your soul, even?” Curious, to see what he would do for love, “my soul, yes,” it made a humming noise, like it was contemplating its options, if it could even do that, “your love will live, but you will not be standing by her side while she does, that is your price, if you visit this world again I will see to it that your Fae girl will perish.” It said. It’s voice cold and cruel, and—Fae girl? Celaena was fae, well, that wasn’t much of a shock but. . . Why didn’t she tell him? It made so much sense now, that un-earthly grace she held, the beauty she possessed that no human should have. Fae. He would’ve laughed in any other circumstances. But not this one.

“Okay, yes, i agree, but give me at least ten minutes with her,” he said at last, Chaol and Dorian were giving eachother wary glances as they watched Azriel talk to himself, he didn’t care, though, not when he felt the thing nod its head and watched in wonder as Celaena’s face brightened ever so slightly, her breathe evening out, it had worked, it had damn worked!

He kissed her again and again, he knew his time was running out now but he had enough time to kiss her, everyone else excused themselves, their faces full of shock and amazement at Celaena Sardothien’s recovery, but he didn’t care. He looked at the assassin again. Fearful for their time to end.

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, brushing his fingers down her cheek, his beautiful, wicked thing, the woman with a heart of fire, his Fireheart, he had to leave her and yet he had never loved her more, the lady who walked with death by her side, the girl that smiled at the sun that rose and frowned at the sun that set, the female that kissed the scars on his hands and called them beautiful, she would make a great queen. And an even better lover.

He kissed her once more, the last time before grabbing a folded up piece of paper from his pocket and placing it in her hands gently, she didn’t move to pick it up or read it but that was fine, she didn’t have to, he didn’t cry this time, no, he smiled. Smiled as he looked deep into her eyes and said, no pain in his voice, “I have loved you from the very first moment I saw you, you were—and are, incredible. Never in my five hundred years of existence have I met someone like you. And I damn well hope the person that steals your heart realises that, you and I both knew this wouldn’t last, no matter how hard we wished it otherwise, there is a female in my world who is just as amazing, and I think you would love her, she’s not you—and never will be. But I think it would be easy for me to love her. As easy as it was to love you.” She nodded her head slowly, still dazed but seemed to understand what he was getting at.

“What is her name?” She got out, her eyes held no agony or jealousy, just pure, unfiltered love, he smiled, showing all his teeth, “her name is Gwyneth Berdara,” she smiled at that, copying his, she hit his shoulder in a playful way before saying, “very well, send me a solstice card,” he laughed, it wasn’t loud but it was full. Gods he adored this woman.

“You can count on it,” he said, she laughed softly at that, he kissed her head in goodbye before getting up, Azriel Shadowsinger was still smiling as he grabbed Truth-teller and made a return portal, and he was still smiling when he arrived back in the Day Court library, he was moving instantly, hugging Amren quickly before flying back home to Velaris.

-

He landed hard on the main balcony of the House of Wind but shook it off and made his way to the library, Clotho letting him in with a wink and a smirk, he ran through stacks and stacks of books and papers, the Priestesses curious but didn’t stop him, he kept running. And then he saw her—

He pulled to a stop right in front of her, her copper hair shining in the light of the candles, she didn’t reject him when he put his hands on her face, warm skin meeting that of cold, nor did she pull away when he put his lips against hers, no, Gwyn just kissed him back.

Yes, both Azriel and Celaena had a lot of healing to do but that would come with time, he knew the assassin was strong and would survive and not only that but flourish, but him on the other hand? He wanted this incredible Valkyrie by his side as he did, he wanted to wake up to her teal eyes sparkling and know she wasn’t going anywhere, to know she saw all of him and embraced it.

Celaena Sardothien and Gwyneth Berdara were similar in a lot of ways, but also so, so different, and he loved that, Azriel would never stop loving the haughty female that shone like the sun but he also had a lot more love to give, love that was reserved for the sassy red head and her only. His Oristian.

-

Celaena’s POV (bonus)

Everything hurt, and not just physically, not as Azriel said what he had said and handed her a piece of paper and simply left, she knew things would end badly but like this? Celaena had no idea what or who he had been whispering to before—because she’d slipped in and out consciousness many times—but all she did know was that whatever he had done, had worked. And she was so, so grateful, but. . . Now he was gone, she was alone again. Well, not really.

Dorian sat next to her, his eyes vacant as a few Royal healers patched him up, said Healers did the same to her, working quickly and quietly, no more than ghosts, she had stopped crying some time ago but her eyes still burned, her body still shook. She had nearly died. That wasn’t something someone got over instantly, Celaena had a feeling it would be a while of healing. Especially with the news.

It had gotten out that the King had attempted to assassinate his Champion and Son and the public had been outraged, revolting against him and seemingly snapping, it seemed all the citizens had gotten sick of the Rules he’d in-forced, and, rightfully so. Many people had-had enough of their family members being sent to Endovier or its sister camp, Caculla, the Assassin couldn’t help but agree with them.

But what had shocked her the most was that one of the King of Ardalan’s court members had gone rouge and killed the man, stabbing him right through the heart with his Rapier, she had been incredibly amused to hear that, apparently the old bastard was right, there were a lot of traitors working for him. Though, Dorian hadn’t found it amusing, simply nodding and staring at nothing, like he had been doing for two hours now.

She couldn’t find it in her cold heart to feel sorry for him. No, not as she remembered how much the man had made her and her family suffer for so many years, he deserved it, everyone in Erelia could breathe.

Sighing, she finally decided to open the folded paper the Shadowsinger had given her, it was relatively new but still had a few ink stains on it and lots of folded marks, as if he had opened and closed it many times before giving it to her. She breathed in—this was the only thing she could ever remember him by, faintly, she could smell the night-chilled mist and leather of his sent, and if she tried hard enough. She could almost imagine that lovely smile of his that she adored so well, her Azriel—closing her eyes for a second, she exhaled and began reading. . .

‘Celaena Sardothien-

I write you this to tell you all the things I could not voice out loud, if you are reading this then we did indeed not last, it pains me that we did not get to see how far our love went for one another but I think, even with the short amount of time we had together, that it was one of the happiest few weeks of my life, I have lived a long life but experiencing such a short amount with you has made me realise how unfulfilling it was without you in it, you made me feel alive.

I hope this letter finds you well and I hope that you are happier now or are getting there, you deserve all the joyous moments that you will have, I have never meant anything more than that—except for when I told you I loved you, perhaps I love another person when you’re reading this but you will always hold a special place in my heart, I hope the man that steals your fiery heart is worthy of it. And I hope he knows how damn lucky he is. A piece of my heart will forever belong to you, even when we both are nothing more than dust, I am yours and you are mine, just in a different world. Star-crossed lovers, remember?

—Azriel Shadowsinger’

The End. (Actually)

Note: this series is finished, I know it might not seem like much to some but this series kept me going when I was having a rough time and that is why I want to say a special thank you to these people;

-A big thank you to @cynthiesjmxazrielslover for supporting me through this all, I know we are only mutuals but you are a great friend to me and I couldn’t have done this without you, you’re my motivator and my inspiration, I love you girl, stay amazing. 🫶

-A big thank you to @azrielslittleslut for liking and believing In this series from the start, your stories are a huge inspiration and I aspire to one day write as beautifully as you do, Mwah. ❤️

-A big thank you to @shadowsingercassia for loving all of the chapters and making me want to keep going, you appeared halfway through the series but you might as well have been here since I started writing, your love for what I do has helped me more than you could’ve imagined, I know I am not a very big or popular writer but the one little like you give me amounts to hundreds others could give. I love you so, so much. Keep being the person you are. 🫶

-some thank you’s to @aelincaddel, @yashiw, and @snoopyspace for loving this series so much that you asked to be on the taglist, that little thing has meant so much to me. Thank you, lovelies. ❤️

Thank you once again everyone, even if you just liked one of the chapters from this series and no other, or rebloged one or even commented, thank you, that small gesture of appreciation made my day. The epilogue for this series is already written and I hope you all like it. I know some people wanted Celaena and Azriel to end up together but—sadly—that didn’t happen, but I hope the ending was still good. If anyone has any questions about something in the series. Please do ask.

I love you all so much and I hope to make more stories that are just as entertaining. ❤️❤️

-

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 8-Mori/Reader with prompts Fingering and Doctor Kink

Notes: Mori was getting dangerously attractive in that Yosano flashback…and obviously your ob-gyn should absolutely never do anything our doctor Mori is gonna do, this is a fanfiction, so, fiction. Anyway, enjoy(also im totally glossing over some of the less sexy bits of a normal appointment lol)

The familiar tickle of the bell welcomes you as you enter the familiar lobby of your Gynecologists. You check your watch, noting that you're a little early, so you set your purse on the coffee table and scroll through your phone absentmindedly. The office is surprisingly empty, only one other person sits in the lobby, a middle aged woman who smiles kindly in your direction, before Anne, the receptionist, calls her over with a wave. She’s definitely not new, you’ve known Anne since she started working here, and she’s still as pretty as ever, with long red hair and green eyes. She sends you a wink and a smile, and you smile back. 

You fiddle a bit with your necklace, bored. It's a new one, a classy thin gold chain with a single, red ruby. It winks prettily between your collarbones, drawing all eyes. You paired it with a white blouse, and a dark red skirt, as flashy as you could get away with at work, anyway. Your boss liked it when her employees quote unquote, ‘expressed themselves’, although you still got written up occasionally. Although it was probably Brad, your boyfriend, still salty about the shopping spree you had gone on when you found he cheated on you.

You're so bored you find yourself staring around at the familiar decorations for the thousandth time. The familiar fake flowers on the table, the tabloid and other magazines, the chairs around the front office, the pictures on all the walls. Your favorite one is a watercolor painting, naked fairies and female elves dancing around an enchanted forest. It was just so whimsical and pretty it had always fascinated you. 

“Miss Name Last-Name?” The receptionist smiles when you look up, gesturing at a pretty blond Nurse with a clipboard. She’s also young, maybe early thirties and she smiles as she leads you back into the room. Janet, the Nurse’s name she had informed you, quickly and efficiently takes care of the weight and height measurements, before she gives you a small smile and nod, and leaves the room. It's the same room you’ve been to before, ever since you were sixteen.

It's embarrassing but you've lived in the same town for most of your life. Your parents had moved you and your siblings here when you were seven years old, because your mom wanted to be by the sea and your father loved your mother a bit too much perhaps. But they were your parents and you loved them, no matter how embarrassingly lovey dovey they insisted on being. 

But anyway, this was your hometown. You had gone to school here, made lifelong friends here, and all of your doctors appointments had been in this town, including the Gynecologists. Your ob-gyn, Maya, had known you since you were young, and was a kindly middle aged woman, an old friend of your moms. It would be nice to see her again. You're sitting on the chair, legs not hooked but swinging in front of you when a knock on the door sounds and Nurse Janet peaks her head in. 

“I'm sorry miss Name, but Maya, your usual isn't available.” You frown in concern. “Is she ok?” The nurse steps in completely, her clipboard clutched to her chest. “Yes, she just has a cold. I can either reschedule your appointment or assign you another doctor temporarily. What would you prefer?” The way the nurse speaks is a little peculiar, but you just brush it off. A new doctor, temporarily at least. You're tempted, just out of comfort to reschedule, but , and you've already driven here and gas prices are so high nowadays, it just feels like such a waste. You nod, coming to your decision. “I'll proceed with the appointment.” Janet nods, checking her clipboard. “Alright then, Doctor Mori will see you in about ten minutes.” The door closes and she’s gone.

Doctor Mori. You’ve heard the name, Maya has mentioned him in passing. And if Maya recommends him he has to be good, you have a lot of faith in your old friend. Your phone rings, loudly and with tha familiar ringtone that signifies your sister's calling. You check the clock on the wall, you have about even minutes, and quickly answer the phone. 

“Leila, i'm in the doctor's office.”

Your sister giggles. “I know.” She says, yelling over the chaos you can hear faintly in the background. “I'm calling because mom told me to tell you that Maya is out with a cold. So you should reschedule your appointment for next week or something.”

You sigh, as usual your mothers a little too late. “Um, it's too late for that. Couldn't you have told me like yesterday or something?” 

 “It's not my fault, blame mom.” Your sister scoffs.“So did you reschedule?”

“No, I decided to see another doctor, at least temporarily.” You pick your nails, checking the clock. Five minutes. “The new nurse called her Doctor Mori? You know, the other doctor that shares the building with Maya.”

“Oh yeah, I always remember Maya talking about him.” You can faintly hear your mother yelling in the background, and then your sister yells back, pulling the phone from her ear. “What mom? He? What? Just come here and tell her yourself!”

“Honey? That you?” Your mom’s voice interrupts your sister. “How are you honey?”

“I'm great mom.” You sigh. “Why didn't you tell me about Maya earlier.”

“Oh you know, i forgot.” Your mom giggles, shouting over the Bob Marley playing in the background. “Anyway honey, your sister told me you decided to see Doctor Mori?”

You check the clock. “Yeah, it seemed like a waste to just leave. And you gotta hurry mom, I'm almost out of time.”

“I see, I see.” Your mother makes no attempt to hurry, but then again she never does. “Well, Maya introduced me to Doctor Mori one time, and honey, he’s very handsome!”

“Yeah, yeah ok.” You check the clock one more time, you need to go. “Well I gotta go mom, i'll see you later then.” 

“Yeah, see you later Honey. Say hi to Anne for me. Oh, and tell her congratulations on her marriage.” And with a click, she’s gone. You sink back into your seat with a sigh, and then, something your mother said finally clicks. He. you shoot up in your seat, just as the door creaks open, and sure enough and man makes his way into the room. 

Your mother was right, he is handsome. His hair is slightly long and slightly messy with loose strands falling around his face. The dark strands tickle his neck, just barely brushing his shoulders. He’s clothed in a lab coat for some reason, underneath which is a gray purple button down and a slightly loose black tie. His eyes are dark, and slight wrinkles at the corner betray his age. He has a pair of small, rimless glasses hooked on his collar. 

“Miss Name? I'm Dr. Mori, I'll be filling in for Dr. Henderson today.” He blinks at you with a slightly absent smile. It feels unreal honestly, of course your replacement is a handsome older man who, in a few minutes, is going to have his hands all over your pussy. You curse every evil god who put you in this situation. And you hope, pray or anything else you can do that you won’t get wet. You sigh.

“It’s nice to meet you Dr, Ma-er, Dr Henderson has mentioned you before.” You smile, wishing that you weren’t currently at a gynecologist appointment with a man who was probably married who you were definitely thirsting over. “Although I thought…never mind.”

“You thought I was a woman?” You nod and the doctor laughs a little. “Yes, I’m not surprised. I’m actually partially retired, I just do Maya the occasional favor now and then.” Mori puts on his glasses, squinting at a clipboard. You try to subtly look at his hands, checking for a wedding ring.

“It looks like Maya took care of most of your checkups a few weeks ago?” He says. You nod. “Yes, we just ran out of time for the last few. She was going to do them today but…” The doctor nods, confirming your thought. He flips through the papers on the clipboard, before setting it down on the small desk next to a picture of a pretty blond girl with blue eyes, the doctor next to her in the picture. “Dr. Henderson already did most of the necessary tests. Looks like you guys didn't quite get around to the physical?” You give him a nod in responds and he smiles. “Alright, well I'll step out for a moment, can you please take off your underwear and hook your legs up in those—well you know what to do. I'll be back in a few minutes.” You give him a nervous little nod and laugh combo, and he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. You sigh, standing and rolling up your tight office skirt, and ridding yourself of your boring white panties. This is going to be so embarrassing, because you just know you're going to get at least a little damp. It's very different to have a fifty ish woman who you’ve known for years poking around your vagina, versus a finely aged dilf, with no wedding ring to speak of. You sigh again, climbing up into the strange reclining chair and hooking your knees in the stirrups. With your skirt rolled up like this, you can feel the cool air brushing your bare pussy, and you shiver a little. 

The door opens and Mori steps back in, noting your position on the chair with a nod. “I see you're ready to begin?” The doctor has a pair of plastic gloves on and he’s hooked his reading glasses back on his collar, the tie somehow slipping even more. You give him an affirmative, doing your best to nip any problems in the bud by focussing your thoughts squarely on your pet Cat. And it works too, as the doctor's gloved hands begin to feel surely on your pelvic bone, dancing around the lips of your pussy. Then, he starts to talk, distracting you from the cat.

“So, Miss Name, seems like you’ve known Maya for a while, huh.” He says. “Yep,” You reply, still trying to think of your cat. “I've had her since I was about seventeen. I assume you guys are old friends as well?”  

“Yes, we used to work together.” The doctores sure fingers pull at the lips of your pussy, and he squints. “That was until my ex-wife decided she didn't want me touching other women all day long, even if it was my job.” Your ears catch on ‘ex-wife’ and all thoughts of your cute pet cat fly from your mind. Your thighs twitch slightly, and you change the subject quickly. “That must be your daughter then, in the picture? Sorry if I snooped.” You bite your lip and avoid eye contact, it makes it all worse when you watch him prod at your pussy. Thankfully, for now at least, his fingers have left the more sensitive areas and are now poking at your pelvic bone again. 

“Yes, my little girl Elise. She’s pretty isn't she?” You nod, and he continues. “What about you? Any kids?” 

You shake your head with a laugh. “No, not quite yet anyway. I just broke up with my boyfriend actually.” Your tone turns a little resentful, you can't help yourself. “He cheated on me.” Mori makes a noise of surprise, cocking his head up to meet your eyes. “He cheated on a girl as pretty as you, huh. Spread your legs a bit for me darlin.” You almost choke, ninety nine percent sure you misheard. That damn pet name, Darlin’, and the complement? God you're doomed. The doctor chuckles at your silence, his dark eyes leaving your own as they dart back to your pussy. One hand spread your pussy lips apart, and two gloved fingers poke at your hole, pushing in slowly. You bit your lip, hard. You can hear the slight squelching his fingers make, and you literally want to die. Maybe if you pretend nothing is wrong, he will spare you the humiliation. 

“So, do you miss your job?” You clear your throat as his fingers reach deeper, pressing around looking for something. 

“Oh, a little.” The doctor's other hand goes higher, pressing down slightly on your lower stomach, feeling around. “Although, I usually don't get such pretty patients to work with. You're making this old man blush.” Oh, he knows, he’s definitely noticed how wet you are and he’s teasing you. You still can't quite tell if he’s flirting or not. He can't be, right? He’s a really handsome man, he must have a girlfriend or something. 

He withdraws his fingers from inside you, and you sigh with relief. But all your embarrassment comes rushing back as he reaches for the familiar speculum, slowly inserting it into your pussy with a squelch. You blush at the sound, but the doctor doesn't bat an eye as he ever so slowly opens it, peering inside for a few long, agonizing seconds. And then, he’s pulling it out with an embarrassing sound and placing it on a tray beside him. 

“Well, looks like we have no problems.” He takes off his gloves, balling them together and placing them on the tray beside the Speculum. “Everything looks good and you're plenty…” He pauses. “…Sensitive.” You blush, way too embarrassed to even complain. He clears his throat a little, dark eyes still darting back and forth between your pussy and your face. His eyes are dark, and they have a strange shine as they meet your own again. With a leap of faith, you decide to throw caution to the winds.

“I don't know doctor, you might need to check a little more thoroughly.” He eyes you for a moment, and an embarrassing silence fills the room for a moment. And just as you're about to backpedal, Mori stands, and with a click, locks the door. “You know…” He says, a new kind of gleam in his eye. “Maybe I should. Do you have any particular concerns?” This is absolutely crazy, and you love every minute of it. 

“Oh, I don't know, Doctor.” You shoot him a flirty little wink. “Maybe you should feel around in there some more, check for any irregularities?” 

“That's a good idea Darlin.” He pulls a stool over, and hangs his coat over a nearby chair, rolling up his shirtsleeves. “Well, I'll start with an oral check up, then maybe use something a little longer to really check you out, that sound good?” You nod, your reply dissolving into a moan as he leans closer, the flattened length of his tongue coming in contact with your clit. He starts out slow, flattening his tongue against your clit, dancing around the edges of your hole, teasing you with his little smirks. He looks way too hot like that, face buried in your pussy, your hands tugging at his hair. 

“You know Doctor,” You choke out, as the naughty slurping sounds fill the room. “My insides feel a little tight, maybe you should check those out.” Mori pulls away from your pussy, shooting you a spit slicked feral grin. “I was just thinking the same thing.” And then, he slips two fingers inside. Your head falls back against the chair, as his head disappears again, tongue licking your clit. He had his fingers inside you before, but it feels different now that he’s really trying to make you lose it. He scissors his fingers open, prying your hole open for future activities and your going to lose it. You need him inside you, right now.

“Doctor.” He looks up at you, fingers pausing inside of you. “I need you inside of me. Now.” 

Mori chuckles at your enthusiasm, withdrawing his fingers from inside you with a squelch, and moving to the cabinet. He pulls a foiled package out, and waves it in your direction. You giggle, playing with your tits through your shirt. “My my doctor, do you always fuck your patients?” 

“Nope, you're this old man’s first in a while.” He offers as a reply, unbuckling his pants. “We give free condoms to teens, to encourage safe sex.” He doesn't even pull down his pants, just pulls his erect cock out and strokes it a few times. You watch, licking your lips as he slides the condom down it. It's big, and you know he’ll stretch you out nicely. Maybe another time you would like to have it down your throat. But for today, you need him inside you.

Mori seems to share your enthusiasm, as he hurriedly lines his dick up with your hole, and with one last look of assurance, starts to slowly push in. The stretch is a lot, but with all that preparation it just barely stings. It also helps that he goes slowly, allowing for you to fully adjust to his hardness. He grips your thighs with his big hands as he fully shields himself inside of you, pulling out and using your thighs to pull you right back onto his dick. Your voice comes out in little pants and moans, joined by his grunts. 

“So doctor, everything alright?” Your voice is far from steady, but you can't really bring yourself to care. ��How does it feel?” 

“Heavenly darling.” Mori’s mouth crashes onto yours, practically inhaling your face. He kisses with a wild kind of desperation, so different from the unhurried tone of voice he had taken up before. It's hot, the juxtaposition. And you can feel the coil of an orgasm curling in your stomach. “I'm close.” You pant out, as Mori nuzzles your jaw, his hair tangling with your own. “Same.” The doctor pants out, his steady rhythm speeding up a little, and you moan out especially loud as his calloused thumb works at your clit, rubbing little circles into it. 

The tangle of orgasm is building now, and then, the tip of his dick hits that spot, the spot that makes pleasure explode though your body. You shudder, and cum around his dick, gripping his shoulders and moaning out a garbled mix of his name and some moans. He continues thrusting, working you through your orgasm and just as you're about to come down he thrusts one more time, and with a small little moan in your ear, he withdraws. 

“So doctor.” You pant, leaning back against the chair. “Everything healthy?” 

“Very.” Mori says, disposing of the condom in the garbage and doing up his clothes. He scratches his neck awkwardly, watching you put on your underwear and roll down your skirt. “So, Miss Name? Do you maybe want to get coffee together or something?” 

You grab your purse, and turn, planting a bold little kiss on his lips, and pressing your business card into his hands. “I’d love to.” And with a ‘call me’ you close the door behind you.

End Notes: It's been a long time since i had an appointment lol, the details are hazy at best. Also barely got this one done in time

Taglist:@mulit05ho3st4n

[ohdorothea]

This tournament is being run by and for queer fans so please keep that in mind! Homophobes will be blocked on sight <3 More polls here and more info here! Lyrics for the songs and FAQ under the cut!

Maroon lyrics

When the morning came, we

Were cleaning incense off your

Vinyl shelf 'cause we lost track of time again

Laughing with my feet in your lap

Like you were my closest friend

"How'd we end up on the floor anyway?"

You say

"Your roommate's cheap-ass screw top rosé

That's how"

I see you every day now

And I chose you

The one I was dancing with in New York

No shoes

Looked up at the sky and it was

The burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

When the silence came, we

Were shaking blind and hazy

How the hell did we lose sight of us again?

Sobbing with your head in your hands

Ain't that the way shit always ends

You were standing hollow-eyed in the hallway

Carnations you had thought were roses

That's us

I feel you, no matter what

The rubies that I gave up

And I lost you

The one I was dancing with in New York

No shoes

Looked up at the sky and it was maroon

The burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fuckin' legacy, legacy

(It was maroon)

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fuckin' legacy to leave

The burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet

It was maroon

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

It was maroon

It was maroon

🫶🫶🫶

Vigilante Shit lyrics

Draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man

You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie

They say looks can kill and I might try

I don't dress for women

I don't dress for men

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

I don't start shit, but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

She needed cold hard proof so I gave her some

She had the envelope, where you think she got it from?

Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife

And she looks so pretty

Driving in your Benz

Lately she's been dressing for revenge

She don't start shit, but she can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

She don't dress for friends

Lately she's been dressing for revenge

Ladies always rise above

Ladies know what people want

Someone sweet and kind and fun

The lady simply had enough

While he was doing lines

And crossing all of mine

Someone told his white collar crimes to the FBI

And I don't dress for villains

Or for innocents

I'm on my vigilante shit again

I don't start shit, but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

🫶🫶🫶

The question is which song is queerer to you! Queerer can mean whatever you want it to mean; you might consider a song queer because you think it was written that way, or because of Swiftian lore. It might be queer to you because of how you relate it to your own life. Maybe you think from a purely literary standpoint the lyrics have queer themes; maybe you're just thinking about vibes!!!

If you’d like to send in interpretations or propaganda for a specific song you can send them to my inbox! All interpretations are welcome and let’s be open and kind in response to all interpretations <3

[loonmartell]

✽ Ruby mound ✽

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

Summary : A snapshot of a moment of peace in the park with Frankie.

Rating : T (just kissing in here, I had fun with it though hehe).

Word count : 1,154

Warnings : Established relationship, fluff, kissing, fluff, naps in a park, did I mention fluff?

A/N : Hiya there! So I found the picture in the center of my moodboard on Pinterest and naturally i went “FRANKIE!”, then twelve hours later I couldn’t get it out of my head so I wrote this! Also, this is my first time sharing anything I’ve ever written so just know that I’m very nervous but I’m open to all kinds of criticism as long as it’s not rude, or else I 150% WILL cry.

You felt the sweet spring breeze flowing against your skin.

Infused with the scent of blooming flowers and fresh, bright, green grass; the draught sends goosebumps rising in your arms.

The sound of leaves rustling and dancing to the rhythm of the air reached your ears and as you raised your head to look up at them. You find the rays of sunlight filtering through the leaves and branches of the tree you settled under the shadows of.

You looked back down at your lap, the soft snores of your Frankie grounding you to safety and calmness. And the feel of his soft, brown locks between your fingers giving you a sense of serenity and peace.

With a particularly strong gust of wind, a beautiful Ruby mound drifted through the air to fall next to you.

You stretch your arms a little uncomfortably to reach for the discarded flower without disturbing Frankie’s catnap.

You brought the flower closer to your face to inspect it, the long petals vibrant with a ruby red colour, and they twirl in response to you twisting the stem between your fingers.

You glanced back down at your boyfriend, the tension lines on his face vanishing with no trace. The steady cadence of his chest rising and falling with his breath making your heart swoon.

As you gaze upon his peaceful, vulnerable form, you feel a strong wave of affection and warmth stirring deep inside you.

You love him so deeply.

You love him with an overwhelming intensity that makes your heart almost burst with it.

And you know he feels the same way about you.

In the way he looks at you with an adoring gaze that makes you feel like you’re the only person that matters in a room full of people.

In the way he ever so gently brushes your hair to tuck the escaping strands behind your ear, just to place his hand in the nape of your neck to tenderly place a kiss on your forehead that lingers further than a casual kiss would.

In the way he never misses a chance to have you in his arms. Whether it’s a lazy movie night where he doesn’t watch the movie because he can’t help but wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face in your chest, feeling your soft skin against his cheek. Or if it’s a fancy night out where he’ll keep a hand on you at all times because it grounds him when he gets a strong surge of emotions on date nights.

You both know that this is it for you.

You are each other’s present, future and eternity.

Looking lovingly at him, you gently insert the Ruby mound behind his ear. His thick hair masking the stem and making the flower appear as if it’s magically grown from his curls.

You smiled at the beautiful sight. Thinking about the similarities between the flower and your Frankie.

The Ruby mound endured the wind that plucked it from its own home, travelled an unknown distance until it found its way to you. Yet it never lost the delicacy and fragility that it possessed. Indicating the resilience that never wavered in the face of adversities.

Despite the atrocities he faced in his years of serving. Your Frankie still preserves his genuine features.

His compassion is evident when he comforts you after a long stressful day, listening attentively to your concerns while he draws shapes on the shins of your sprawled legs on his lap.

You're always left at awe at his thoughtfulness when he shows up at your work with your favourite food during his lunch break. Because he knows you were running late that morning and you didn’t get to have breakfast.

You’d think after three years of this constant, unwavering care you’d get used to it. But in all honesty, you’re enamoured with everything that Frankie does. And you think you’ll continue to do so for the longest time.

As much as you dread extracting Frankie from his cocoon of tranquillity, by now the sun is about to set and this moment of serenity has to come to an end like it was bound to. And you have to wake him up.

You slowly run your hand on his scruff, feeling the rough texture under your fingertip.

He hums softly in his sleep when he feels your touch back on him again.

“Frankie?” You whisper gently to not startle him.

When he doesn’t even stir, you lower your head enough to kiss his temple, calling his name again.

When that doesn’t work either, you pepper feather light kisses all over his face. Making sure to cover his eyelids, nose and chin.

His lips quirk up at the corners as he begins to wake up. You don’t stop landing the kisses until he starts to chuckle and his hands raise to your chin to guide your lips to his where you kiss him as tender as you can in that awkward angle.

When you pull away, he opens his eyes with a groggy smile; “Hi”.

“Good morning sleepyhead.” You said through your smile while still caressing his scruff “how do you feel?”

“Like I’m in a dream with an angel above my head” he rasped while leaning into your touch.

“Mmm, such a flatterer” you playfully pinched his cheek, earning a chuckle from him “do you want to take a stroll before we lose light?”

He sat up and stretched his arms above his head. And turned to look at you when you started giggling to yourself.

“What?” He said with a quizzical smile on his handsome face “what’s so funny?”

“Nothing, you just look so pretty like this” you said with an adoring gaze.

“Like what?” He turned to face you entirely.

You wordlessly picked up your phone, opened your camera app and pinched his chin to turn his head to the side. You took a picture of the Ruby mound tucked into his hair and showed it to him.

He chuckled as realisation dawned on him “yeah you’re right, it suits me”

“You look like a charming flower prince!” You said excitedly.

“Does that make you my gorgeous flower princess?” He said with a wink.

“Hmm I suppose it would” you said slyly, your gaze flitting down to his lips.

He leaned closer to you and placed his hand on your jaw “you definitely are” he whispered against your lips before your lips melted against each other with an intimate rhythm that sent a rush of warmth coursing through your bodies.

As you walked with your hands clasped together under the pink and orange hues of the sunset, you were sure that you’re not afraid of the uncertainties of the future anymore. You found solace and strength in your Frankie and you couldn’t ask for more than that.

Your charming flower prince that you will cherish always and forever.

A/N : If you stuck around until you reached me here; THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH & you made my day <33 please share your thoughts with me here or on Twitter (X 🙄) @/Loon_martell 🤍.

[wraithsoutlaws]

This is not a suicide letter I just want to get a real close look at death Touch his matted hair as I pass him by

this was inspired by a ficlet that was inspired by a song. i already talked about the way dagger is a coping mechanism for me, so i won't go into it again, but i thought i'd share the words i wrote for it.

cw: self harm, gorey images, drug mention, sexual innuendo

Blood spills down his chest as he flicks his wrist seamlessly across his heart. He’s made of scar tissue. He can hardly feel the pleasant sting of the symphony beneath his skin. The pain is cold when it reaches him and he tries again, harder this time, digging like a child for treasure in the sun bleached dirt.  He’s numb, and it’s been this way for a lifetime. It isn’t the empty inhaler at his feet, discarded on the floor between half a pack of cigarettes and the corpse of a nameless drifter. And it’s not the barbiturates seeping into his guts. Its this broken thing, sitting bitterly ‘neath his bloody sternum.  He watched a heart stop beating once. Opened a man up and saw it whither right there in his ribs, ‘ganic as they come. He drove his knife through the left atrium and plucked it like a ripened apple. But it beat, for a half a breath, it beat defiant–too stubborn to die. It glittered and glistened ruby red as he spun it in his fingers to see it sparkle. He digs the razor deeper. Now he can make pictures in the ribbons of his sliced flesh. When he wipes away the blood there’s the rigid frame of the first car he ever owned, and it’s busted bumper after he drove a man down. Beside it, the barren arms of a joshua tree. He curves the next slash and draws the sun above it, a red-tinted dawn hanging over the desert that reminds him of the day that a weak boy died and the heart in his chest beat for the last time.  He tries to remember what it felt like, but it burns like nitrate film and blood eclipses the image.  The razor slips between slick fingers and he grabs for his knife instead. He catches the faint glow of his optics in the blade, and the man behind them spares a familiar smile in the shadows. Cold metal swipes over skin. Muscle memory drives it in.  He hisses as the blade sinks into his flesh, between the shell of bone and deep into the empty cavern of his chest. He pushes it in until the hilt is flush and he can feel the tip at his spine and only then does the feeling come back to him. Warm, angry sparks of it cascading down his body, lighting every nerve with napalm and tnt. Pounding, pounding. So loud his ears deafen to his own  manic laugh. He pulls up the knife for a moment only to thrust it back inside. Blood fountains, spilling over his grin as the beat runs thorough his veins, alive again. He’s breathless. Floating. His eyes are wide, burning the room bright and sending shadows dancing above his head.  Oh, how they dance to that tune.

[bestworstcase]

Took a look at the image organizer you linked the other day, and MY OH MY is there so much to unpack there. While I think I understand most of it, there's still some stuff I'm unclear about. What are those quotations from? What's Jaune doing here (and I think I remember you mentioning him as the Oz stand-in for the Ever After)? What about those scattered extra panels in the Jaune column, like Bumbleby-Adam and the maple leaf? What're the entire bottom three rows doing, what is the truth, and who is the "she" who knows it? I really need to do a rewatch...

By all means, go as overboard as you want to (or not), I just love hearing what you have to say.

the quotations are all heraclitus (there’s a link to the fragments at the bottom – the Bn tag on each quote is the fragment number) – heraclitus being a pre-socratic philosopher who had a significant influence on plato, and rwby being a story that draws heavily from plato (see also: atlas/atlantis). the philosophical ideas articulated in v9 regarding balance and creation/destruction get at concepts like flux (everything rests by changing; equilibrium is a state of constant motion and transformation, like a top which stays upright only while it spins) and strife (not conflict, but the push-and-pull between opposite forces, like the tension on a string which creates music).

i get very exited about this because it is the basis for rwby’s destruction-is-not-bad thesis; true equilibrium cannot be found without destruction because creation must have its counterweight. conflict is antithetical to balance specifically because it is a rejection of strife—it’s, to continue the metaphors, creation smashing the top because it doesn’t like that destruction causes it to spin instead of standing perfectly upright, or destruction cutting the string to free itself from destruction.

the OP specifically is about my thesis that rwby’s narrative is fractal—reflected aspects of the ozlem story repeating over and over again as this shattered fairytale strives to get it right this time. jaune (like cinder, like ruby) is a mirror held up to salem—the girl in the tower refracted in the “lovable idiot stuck in the tree”—but he’s a funhouse mirror. he’s a salem without her faith in humanity; a salem who is fundamentally cynical (he cheats his way into beacon, he wanted to be the hero to prove himself worthy to his family, he is ultimately corrupted by his rejection of change—which twists him into a reflection of ozpin instead) and thus repeatedly puts himself in the tower. and the point of him with respect to the fractal narrative is that being Good and Kind did not save him from his cynicism, and that the essential difference between salem and ozma is that she truly believes in her cause (that the gods are unjust and humanity must live free) whereas his commitment is hollow and borne of fear.

(likewise cinder is a salem whose tower is her faith, because what cinder believes in is the innate cruelty and injustice of the world and her destiny to be crushed beneath it, and she is in want of something true to believe instead; and ruby is… more or less literally who salem was when she was young)

jaune is also specifically paralleled with cinder in this regard – his time in the ever after mirrors her exile after haven, and both reflect salem’s isolation after the moonfall; he gives into despair and stagnates (like oz), cinder angrily drags herself out of the pit and keeps clawing her way forward (like salem).

(yang and blake killing adam are just there because i didn’t have a better place to note the echoed framing when cinder kills rhodes – different camera angle, but there is a striking visual comparison drawn here. the narrative does not smile on rhodes)

and then the last three rows are my unhinged mumbling about salem having met the blacksmith before in picture form. Ma’am Why Is Your Illustration Of The Human Soul A Blacksmith. What Do You Know.

like the thing is. heraclitus again: fire is arche. it is the beginning. the transformations of fire, first into sea, and of the sea half becomes earth, half whirlwind. from the outside, the tree is earth and air (the holes in the ground, the leaves on the wind) – on the inside, it’s an ethereal cosmic ‘river’ of souls flowing to their next life; and in the center, it is a forge. and this rhymes also with ‘for it is death to souls to become water, and death to water to become earth, but water comes from earth, and from water, souls’ – like

???

before she’s drowned in the fountain, salem is engulfed in dark’s flame – the flame he once used to restore jabber to life. and then she drowns and returns, with aura, now immortal. salem leaps into the pool of grimm seeking change and is transformed – the faunus in the myth she quotes immerse themselves in magical waters and are transformed. and then we have this recurring motif of a character (or symbol thereof) engulfed by flame, trees, katabasis, drownings, spiritual or physical rebirth. and salem waving the blacksmith under our noses since 2014. maple leaf carved into the frame of her family portrait – maple leafs shed by the tree – the maple leaf guiding jaune to pyrrha’s statue. it’s very

it sure is pointing in a direction!

[starlingflight]

Ginniversary Drabble 6

Prompt - N42 - it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife

AO3 or read below:

Is The Chosen One Choosing Marriage? 

As famous witch and occasional novelist Jane Austen said, ‘it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife’, and today it appears even the Wizarding World’s most eligible saviour is not exempt from the basic laws of nature as Ginny Weasley, Holyhead Harpies star Chaser, and long-time girlfriend of Harry Potter, Auror and defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, steps out bearing a new, and rather eye-catching piece of jewellery. 

Weasley, 20, set tongues wagging as she left the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade late last night accompanied by longtime friends, esteemed Auror, Neville Longbottom, and lauded Magizoologist, Luna Lovegood; sporting a ruby and diamond ring which could be seen from across the street, and left none but the most oblivious in any doubt as to the size of Potter’s fortune [pictures page 4]. 

Sources from within the Hogsmeade establishment say that Weasley and friends were seen enjoying a round of drinks, over which she flaunted the ring for the admiration of her companions, accepting enthusiastic congratulations, and a hug from Longbottom that some suggest may have been too familiar. 

There was no sign of the illustrious Mr Potter in attendance, but this can come as no surprise as sightings of the couple together outside of Weasley’s matches are rare, leading many rather optimistic readers, to speculate on several occasions previously that the pair had parted ways.  

In an interview with popular wireless host, Lee Jordan, last year Weasley stated, “we’re not concerned with the headlines. As I’ve said to my brothers on many occasions, mine and Harry’s relationship is between us, and it’s no one else’s business… Now, let’s talk about Quidditch.”

Potter and Weasley were first officially spotted together in the Summer of 1998 [pictures page 5], though sources from their Hogwarts days advise the relationship has been going much longer than that [full relationship timeline, page 6]. 

“Weasley got her claws in him back in our fifth year,” said Romilda Vane, former classmate of Ginny Weasley. “She still had a boyfriend when she snogged Potter in front of the whole common room. It was quite pathetic actually.” 

Other sources have debunked the suggestion that there was overlap between the beginning of Potter and Weasley’s relationship, and any of her previous romantic partners, of which there were apparently many. 

Dean Thomas, up-and-coming artist, and one such conquest, has stated, “I’m only going to answer this once, Ginny and I were over before anything happened with her and Harry. We weren’t right for each other, we both knew it, and we’re both now with the people we’re meant to be with. We remain good friends, and, for the love of Merlin, I would like to be excluded from this narrative.” 

We will, of course, let our readers draw their own conclusions. 

Despite the rumours that abound about the couple's sordid past, the future apparently looks bright for Potter and Weasley, though no official statement has been forthcoming from the supposedly happy couple. When asked for comment, both Weasley’s and Potter’s representation declined to give one, leaving us here at Witch Weekly no choice but to speculate on if, and when, the pair will make it down the aisle. 

[faresong]

eve of the sun.

(spoiler) musings on my design choices below <3

✦ CLAIRE ELFORD —

Oh, my girl... I love her so much. I changed up her design slightly to draw in a gold tone due to my adjustment of her neck accessory: instead, it is part of a earring she was gifted by her grandmother that then broke. Though she doesn't remember why she had it, nor why it was only one of a set, she still holds a lot of sentimental value to it and couldn't bear to throw it out or sell its pieces, instead transforming it into a necklace.

I also gave her boots which, despite their look, are customized to better track up the mountain. These are her personal hiking boots! Additionally, since she lives up there, she has gotten into a few scuffles. While she's learned to hold herself well, there have been times she gets a bit overzealous—and the scar on her face is one of those cases. A nasty rock she was trying to remove had split her lip open and completely dragged down her shoulder before she could hit the floor and regain her standing. Nothing too dramatic, she'd say, but it reminds her to be careful... sometimes :P

Of course, because she's canonically the strongest of the group, I gave her more obvious muscles and fat to pad it out. As I've stated before with her living situation, eating is important to help her keep her strength up—and is also just something she enjoys! There are so many lovely recipes to try out, and before they died, she had loved bringing down ingredients of something new for her adoptive parents to try. They were all fresh, too, from her garden.

Here, despite the timeline regarding typical real-life immigration, I've portrayed her as mixed Indian/Portuguese. Her mother and grandmother were simply Indian immigrants, with Claire as the fourth-generation (Lady Dorothy had taught her Hindi, but with years without practice... she's lost much of it). Unfortunately for them, this was an additional motivator in the main town to persecute them sooner rather than later despite their people settling on the outskirts of Levine's ruling.

✦ SIRIUS GIBSON —

Onto Mr. "Bah!" now... As I've already mentioned, his moon earring is part of a set with Claire as a gift from Lady Dorothy. It was a gift in her hopes of bringing the two closer together.

Now, whether or not that worked out fully, Sirius feels he owes nearly everything to Lady Dorothy. Not only to provide him housing after his parents' demise, but tend to his leg injury wrought from when he'd been nearly crushed in the crowd. Everyone had pushed forward to see the alleged witches' deaths and hadn't cared when he'd fallen—Dorothy was there just in time to act as a barrier of sorts before they'd broken his ankle... but she still ended up crafting a small cane for his use.

As he grew up, however... the cane became more difficult to use. He was taller, and thus he began using Lady Dorothy'd old cane for himself. Whereas she had only needed it for balance, Sirius uses it to offset the pain/pressure on his left leg. Neither cane is pictured here, but it is still a crucial part of how his past pains continue to affect his present life—in a very literal way, albeit.

Due to how cold he tends to run within the mansion, he wears many layers. I've simplified his outfit to simply be: dress shirt, vest, pelerine. The last one is cut from the same cloth as Lady Dorothy's cloak (hence the slight star motif shared in both of their cloaks) and was initially a proper 'cloak' tailored for his younger self, though he still cannot let go of it.

I've added more prominent red to his design to tie in the ruby crest, as well as represent his resentment toward most others. In a literal sense, 'seeing red'—the reasons behind him becoming a demon clear. Unlike Claire who stands for nobility, Sirius cannot allow himself or Lady Dorothy that disgrace of leniency.

One last note: Sirius is portrayed as mixed Bengali/Portuguese. His great-grandparents had been one of the first Portuguese immigrants, with his grandfather brought over as a contracted engineer to figure out the water supply line for this area. He had never been given the chance to learn Bangla, as his mother didn't speak it... but Lady Dorothy had taken time to teach both Sirius and Claire Hindi, and he still reads some of the few books the Elfords had brought over. It's made him feel closer to the family, and he takes great care in trying to refine his language... even if it's difficult without another to practice with. (...I like to imagine, post-Sirius Conclusion, he teaches Claire again. It's only right.)

[demaparbat-hp]

I was the original Kintsugi anon! I love the lore you built around it. I love the idea that the origin of Kintsugi is hard to pin down given that before Sozin there was a lot of travelers and nomads who freely traveled all over, so it would have spread a long time ago. I think the original people who practiced it were actually the Sun Warriors (So kind of the fire nation but not quite) but they used red instead of gold. From there it traveled all over.

I definitely think the earth kingdom has mixed feelings on the practice give the Fire Nation is so proud of it. Perhaps those that live in areas like the colonies see the practice as more welcomed than those that live in areas that are holding strong against the FN. Also interesting to think about how in the colonies, especially newer ones, the bronze and gold difference causes a lot of butting of heads at best. Perhaps after the war people from both cultures like those from Yu Dao(Ignoring the hot mess that is the comics) end up mixing the two in a way that creates a marbleized pattern. The main reason I like the idea of it being something that started with the sun warriors is that it creates an interesting moment for Zuko to learn about the practice from a fire based culture but one that thinks differently than the FN. I also think this would let Aang and Zuko have a conversation after about Zuko's natural scar which is something that is super normal to Aang. I also love that the silver scar that Zuko has is one that was healed by Katara, a show of acceptance of him as her family whether that be romantic or platonic. I also love the idea of Katara having a moment when she healed Aang where she had to decide to seal the scar. She didn't in the end because of how he talked about the air nomad philosophy, but similar to Zuko she considered him family and someone who got injured in a way she was taught to honor and respect.

Hello you lovely, lovely person!!! You have literally no idea of just how happy receiving your ask has made me!!! I love every single one of these ideas, and have been working on a little something for them since I first read them (though it will take a while until anything is done, so don't get high hopes yet!).

The Sun Warriors being the first to ever develop Kintsugi as a practice, and doing so with a substance resembling rubies, is amazing! I love the parallels it draws with firebending itself, and I think it's a wonderful way to further explore the Fire Nation's corruption of their own beliefs, history, and culture.

It can be used to enhance the themes of the og show and this AU, and add a new layer of understanding between Aang and Zuko. The conversation they would have regarding the nature of scars... That scene... I can already picture it.

Can you see Zuko getting a small wound during the Firebending Masters episode and sealing it as the Sun Warriors do? Nothing too drastic, perhaps a scratch, or a mark inflicted by Druk's egg... A single ruby-like scar, so he may always remember.

Fire is life and scars are beautiful.

I could also see it the other way around. Perhaps the Sun Warriors did seal their scars with ruby in the past, but their land has long-died, and the substance has not been available for centuries. All they have left of the beginnings of their practice is a memory.

Their time was of glory and pride and wonder, but it is over now. Yet they survive. Yet they thrive in secret. Yet they remember. And maybe, just maybe, that glory and pride and wonder can grow out of the ashes of the world and begin anew. But it doesn't change the fact that their time is over. And over it must remain.

There's something poetic about both paths, I believe. Resistance or remembrance. Rebirth or peaceful rest. Which option do you think would work best? Why?

Zuko's silver scar means so much to me. Some parts of it heal naturally, like his first Agni Kai scar, while others are decorated in wave-like patterns of the brightest silver. And right in the center, a small golden (or red?) sun.

This mix of Kintsugi styles slowly becoming commonplace after the War (starting with Zuko himself, and within the colonies) is so dear to me. I love the entire progression of Kintsugi you have mapped here—it is truly amazing.

Using Kintsugi as a way to mark someone as part of your clan in the SWT is such an interesting concept! As is the idea of Katara struggling during Aang's healing process and choosing to respect his beliefs and traditions. I love them all so dearly.

All in all: your ideas have taken over my brain and they are now canon in my heart. I cannot thank you enough for sharing them with us! All the best ❤️