#but its here!

[darel3ne]

Summer? Vacay?

WE’RE SO BACK‼️

@thecryptidart1st @thegraveyardsh1ft

[undermine-the-instinct]

[ IF NO ONE HAS EVER TOLD YOU ABOUT YOUR FATE, I WILL BE THE FIRST | pathologic ]

Dansleif x Reader

This is my entry in the Seraphiism '23 event! By of course, the lovely @seraphiism . I'm trying out a new format/writing style, so lemme know what you think <3

WARNINGS: A little blood, nothing graphic WORD COUNT: 3.2K (This got away from me)

{ I.THE BOUGH KEEPER IS SACRIFICE FIRST, SOLDIER SECOND, AND LAST OF ALL MAN}

And least of all, yours. The weight of eternity weighs heavily on his shoulders, but he presses on, and you mourn him for it. He pays the price of honor enacted by a far lesser man of his past, takes up arms and spills blood in the scorn of the divine. Because of Destiny’s decree.

You try to imagine it–eternal penance for a crime you could hardly remember. You imagine bearing a sword and a curse, one and the same, for hundreds of years, and your heart recoils at the misery that wraps around it. You can hardly believe that that is to be his fate-you refuse to. It cannot truly be his choice, not one made in any good faith at least. Or perhaps any faith at all.

You suspect he lost it ages ago.

“Do you ever think…” You begin hesitantly. “That you could leave it behind? All of it?”

Dainsleif, your lover, sets down his book. It's one of the ones you’ve kept around, and it seems he finally has time to peruse them, however borrowed that time it is.

“All of it?”

��...Yeah.” 

“No. No.” He reiterates. And he smiles for you, because he knows how much it makes your heart warm. 

“I can't abandon my duty, neither can I abandon you. They are one and the same.  You are…woven into me. Cutting you off from my life would be cutting away the fabric of my soul. I could never.”

“...Why do you feel they’re one and the same?” A weight on his heart. Perhaps.

He fingers the worn pages of the book, his eyes dark in thought.

“I have a responsibility to the world, and you are a part of the world.”

“Those two sound so very far removed. I'm just one person, but if I could decide, my sole desire would be just to rest with you.”

He chuckles, good naturedly, like always. “If the world was ruled by our desires, I'd have been forever and solely yours already. And there would be no gods, but you.” For a man who rages and detests the divine, you’re not sure how to feel about that.

“But alas, the world often ignores our most fervent desires, unless we force it to acknowledge us that is.” A weight tugs his brow down, and his features buckle under it. Something like grief. “And that…is a very hard thing to do.”

“Alas.” 

You nod, and return to your wayward gaze out the window. You imagine a life where he lives for you, and nothing else. You try to deny in your mind that he would want anything else. What could he find out in the world that he cannot find in your arms? A cursed man, believing himself content in penance and self flagellation, of service to the world at large.

But he is yours. You deny the world in his place.

{II.THERE IS A ROT THAT REPLACES THE MARROW OF HIS BONES}

It is woven into him, and he cannot escape it. He has long stopped trying.

It wears and tears at his soul, and marks his skin in scars, and he continues on.  Fate has decreed that he will do so forevermore, until the day the abyss drags him down into its depths, its spindly fingers already grasping at him in twisting, molted blues. But he tries, because when you kiss the expanse of cursed flesh, a blissful smile on your face, a sudden rush of heat makes his skin prickle. It’s not love, though he loves you. It's rage.

Its disgust, and sick vitriol. You deserve better, you deserve more. You don't need this broken tapestry of pieces clinging onto some semblance of humanity. You don't need your nights interrupted by his nightmares, or his form clinging to your doorway, bloodied and offering the only tribute he knows to your altar.

He does not worship the Gods, but he knows something more divine, having long since slipped into the pews of your chapel.

“...I’m sorry.” You rush towards him, and he leans into the shoulder you offer him, letting you pull him into your bathroom where he stains the white porcelain.

“If you were sorry–” you huff as you set him down. “You wouldn’t get hurt so often.”

You pull out the first aid kit, and set to patching him up, removing layers of clothing to see the hurt beneath. He hardly winces, but his heart tugs.

“...You know I can't help myself.”

“You’re just one man, Dainsleif, there's too much for you to do on your own. And we both know this is about more than just your honor, or duty.”

“...Yet I am beginning to wonder,” he mumbles as you wipe away the blood. “Whether it has always been my fate to deny Fate.”

“What do you mean.”

You sound too upset for it to sound anything like a question. A demand, perhaps. He sighs. He is tired. So tired. He’s always been.

“Whether Fate is truly something we can overcome, or whether my rage is just a by-product of providence. If it was all preordained.” He shuts his eyes.

“The Gods that cursed us, the people and the nation I failed, my curse, my duty and obligation; I wonder if you too are foredoomed, just another predilection.”

“Is that why you do all this? To prove, what? Fate wrong?”

He doesn't answer, but he does open his eyes to see your mouth flatten. You continue patching him up, taking care of him, but he sees the way your eyes tremble.

“...Or perhaps just self-actualization?”  

“...I have an obligation to the world, and to you–”

“Don’t say that, don’t pretend that this is for me, this is not for me. You’ve been doing this long before I was a thought on the breeze.” Centuries wear down his memory, but the tug of your mouth and brow pulls at him like a drawn bow, piercing through the fog of his fatigue.

Your shoulders shake next. “So if I asked you to stop, would you?”

He doesn't answer, even when the tears spill from your eyes.

“I don't care for fate, destiny or whatever. I care about you. Keep your honor, keep your anger, but stay with me. Is that not enough?”

“....It’s for you, too.”

“...I don't appreciate being your excuse, Bough Keeper.”

Celestia always watches, but even he cannot help but utter a prayer to some unknown god, that their eyes do not fall on this wayward moment.

He is fine with cursing the stars, his fate, with breaking body; he is fine with letting the heavens bear witness to his rage.

But not his grief.

It settles, thick and cloying on his tongue. The sour tang drowns out everything else.

{III.HE WILL NOT CHOOSE YOU. WHEN DESTINY TUGS AT HIS CLOAK AND BIDS HIM LOOK, HE WILL TURN FROM YOU}

You know he wishes he never met you. That he never fell in love with you. You try to take it as a compliment.

You would give anything to remove the burden on his shoulders, if only he were not so adamant on carrying it. You do not see the reason why–you would rather love a coward than mourn a legend. You would rather he stays home with you, in your arms, than leave and come back, over and over and over and over again.

You know he wishes he never knew you.

Dainsleif, he holds you, works in the garden with you, bathes with you, loves you–but his hands are tense, and his eyes stray to the world outside your window. You at least know that when he is gone, that he leaves because he is thinking of you, that he cannot handle being perceived by you for too long; It renders him asunder.

“Like a predator, staring at the open carcass of my soul,” he once said. “You just make me feel so…”

‘So what?’ You had wanted to ask, but you had known better, didn't he just tell you? So you acquiesce, but on the inside you ache. You plead and you beg, and you don't let the words spill past your lips; You hold them in your chest and your eyes and watch him leave.

You trade chaste kisses for letters in your mailbox, blissful sighs for dandelion fluff on the wind. Your love is like a hot air balloon, you cannot keep him close but you can keep him tethered even as the rope frays and tears at your hands.

Welcome him back with them open, and settle for apologetic kisses on your knuckles, from your knight, for a ring on your finger. No god would hold your marriage sacred, anyways, despite your tears.

“And what knowledge have you gleaned from your travels this time, my love?” You smile. Please don’t leave me again.

“Nothing that I don’t already know dearest.” I’ll do anything. Just give me the word. Just give me the knife.

“Which is?” Why don't you ever ask me? You know I'll do it.

His eyes, so deep and somber. They know, but they don't answer. “Fate has foretold that I will return here, as always.”

“Of course.” And he will always leave. 

{IV. WHAT IS IT LIKE TO LOVE SOMEONE WHO IS ALWAYS RUNNING, ONE FOOT OUT THE DOOR? TIME DOES NOT SIT STILL, FOR NO ONE.}

Celestia is always watching.

Even here in this quiet moment, where the night holds vigil to the stars' homily, as they drag their forms past that pale corpse of a moon.

It's a still moment. He has removed you from his arms and you continue to sleep peacefully, your chest rising and falling, your heart the drum that starts off all his nights and days.

He is going to lose you, but before that he will lose himself.

Even now, he could feel the curse, like an ever burrowing parasIte, slowly consuming him. It replaces him. Eats away at him, fills him with rot, and he has the audacity to find solace in  your garden. You dig out the rot and replace it with something far kinder, but that doesn't stop the curse from growing.

He is like an inteyvat flower. Hardened and unable to wilt unless placed back in the soil of his home. You’ve decided to love a dying man, and stand vigil, always, at his never ending wake.

Sunshine from a past life. Peers who trusted him and stood at his side and back, carrying the weight of honor. He doesn't remember them, but he remembers the sunshine. He remembers how he failed them. He remembers only what he can and only knows what he should. And he knows this tale like the back of his hand, the curve of your cheek.

This was fated to end in tragedy.

You move in your sleep and he startles. You roll over, and Dainsleif waits until you settle, to breathe easy again.

He can not reconcile who he is with the man he was before he met you. He doesn’t wish to go back, but he muses on how much easier it would be. He could deny the Gods, defy Celestia, the Archons, even Heavenly principles, even Destiny. But he cannot choose to remain alongside you as well.

He mourns this indecisive fool you turned him into. He will not survive without you, but that is alright because it has to be. Not every story has a happy ending, but every story needs a narrator. He'll re-read your scripture and memorize your chapters for as long as you remain, and even after.

And he will remain long after you are gone.

{V. IF NO ONE HAS EVER TOLD YOU ABOUT YOUR FATE, I WILL BE THE FIRST}

The sunlight paints the fields honey and gold, and soon it will be time to return to your little cottage. There will be cherry wine waiting on the table, and some mending you still need to finish, but beyond that you take in this moment, drink it down greedily; an open bud unfurling like a fist to an open palm, demanding the world its due.

Your lover on the other hand does not share the same attitude. His head rests in your lap, but you feel the restless energy in him, and stay still in the hopes of encouraging him to do the same. It doesn’t work.

“Settle down, Dain.”

“I am calm.”

“No you’re not. You’re fidgeting.”

“...I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave soon.” Ah. As always.

“Then all the more reason to relax now, while we have the time.” He scoffs at that word, time. He rises to meet your eyes, and you smile at his mussed hair.

“I might be away longer than I usually am. I’m not sure how long I'll be away for.”

You crack a knuckle in anxiety. “But you’ll be back, of course?”

He only pauses for the slightest of breaths. “Of course. Will you still want me back?” Your face takes on an exasperated look, but he waves it away.

“Do you not get tired of waiting, always? Are you not tired of constantly grieving, of having to love this broken piece of tapestry?” You are shaking your head before he's finished.

“No. If you are torn I will mend you. If you’re just a piece of tapestry then I’ll stitch you onto something better.”

“Leave behind these metaphors and poetry. I would rather believe you pity me rather than actually love me.”

The words hit a chord deep inside you. It carves a gorge, and anger rushes in to fill it.

“So what? You would rather me love a stranger? Someone who would understand me less than you do?“ You stare him down.

“..If I must–”

“‘Must’? Well you don’t. And by whose order? Whose words? Is that truly something you would allow, or what you tell yourself you should let happen?” His face doesnt twist, but you know the tint of misery that spreads under his skin. It's blue-black, like a bruise, like the stretch of his right arm.

“No. You will truly be damned thrice over if you allow that. You are so content to let the world, to let fate, decide how things are and should be–I don't believe in that. My fate will be what I say it is, and I say you will be with me forevermore. If you must leave, then leave, but come back to me, don’t let go of me!”

“I am ruined,” A wave rustles the grass, like a crowd gone silent. “I am ruined, cursed, damned as you say. You do not want this. You should not want this.”

“I don't believe that, and you shouldn’t either. Who has told you this, has Celestia personally decreed your fate? Or do you continue to let tragedy be the narrator of your life?” You grasp his face, pull him closer to your eyes.

“I have you. I want you. And it is reciprocated, As long as that is, things will not change. I refuse anything else.”

His eyes go back and forth between yours, and he sighs.

“As long as I breathe, I will return to you. But that does not change the fact that this was never supposed to be. If not by destiny’s nature than my own; It is only a matter of time before this too, ends.” 

“Then forget what fate or destiny has told you. I am your fate, I am both your penance and redemption. If no one has ever told you about your fate then I shall be the first.”

Ans he is drawn, he listens like your words are rapture, like the first believer in the front pew of a sermon. So you smooth back his hair, and speak a prophecy.

“We will go home, and pick the tomatoes in the garden. They’re ripe now, and we’ll use them in our dinner. We’ll wash the dishes, unwind. Bathe. I’ll wash your hair and you’ll scrub my back. The sun should have set by then, so we can go to bed. As it gets darker I could read to you by candlelight, or, we could make love.”

“We’d need another bath, and to change the sheets then,” he mumbles, the slight pink hue high over his cheekbones.

“So would you rather we make love earlier? Or in the bath to save time?” You grin, and it draws soft breaths of laughter from your lover. You go on with your spiel.

“We’ll go to sleep together as always, and in the morning you’ll be baptised by the morning dew and the fresh brewed coffee. Much like today, you’ll laze in the fields with me, and when the time comes for you to leave, I'll give you my blessing, and my hopes as always, for you to come back to me.”

“So forget duty, when you are with me. If you are cursed I will be your balm. If there is rot in you I will scrape it out, and use it as fertilizer for my garden.“ He scoffs under his breath.

“You think this is a burden easy to unlade.”

“Yes, if you would only just let it. For by my decree, the Twilight sword shall be laid to rest in my presence, for I will be it's sheathe.” You only half jest and he looks at you quizzically.

“Did you just make an innuendo–”

“--And your words shall always be sweet, for my kisses shall honey your breath.” You kiss him to emphasize, or to quiet him, and he leans into you with a shudder, like a cat seeking affection, only something more desperate.

“If you care not for starlight, I will fasten you a crown of dandelions,” you continue. “And garb you in silks and sighs.”

“Fanciful daydreams,” He mutters, eyes closed. You trace the faint veins on his eyelids , violet blue in the dappled sunlight. 'Like crocuses.'

“Not when I’m with you,” you shake your head. “I’ll make them a reality, I swear. On all the love I have for you.”

He shakes his head in answer, a denial ready on his lips.

“The Twilight sword––”

“As I said– Shall be laid to rest in my presence.” You look at him as if to dare him to refute. He doesn’t.

You turn tender. You scot closer, practically in his lap now, if only to see his lashes flutter, pupils dilating.

“If you do not worship a god you may worship me, as I do you. That is your fate.”

“...Alright.” He sighs then, shakes his head, as to rid himself of the trance you put him under. He stands, and offers a hand to you.

“Alright then. Let your words be what I live by–I am yours, if you so say.”

You take his hand and head home.

[championofravens]

WE ARE SO BACK

[thevillagegay]

Because Of Course

Apologies for the very very late present @lavellenchanted, this is your Steggy Secret Santa speaking! Managed to completely be unable to write until this past week(finals took over) and have been out of town for most of it but I hope you enjoy! Also note that I did very little research for this, any and all things are my own imagination because who needs facts??

Peggy Carter almost always delivered successful reports back to Phillips. This very well might be the only exception. 

Steve Rogers almost always disobeyed orders and survived to report back to Phillips. This might also be the one exception.

Phillips and anyone with eyes could see the two previously mentioned carried flames for each other and was always trying to either strangle them himself because they were idiots or keep them well away from each other whenever the higher ups came along. On this rare occasion, he wanted to strangle himself. 

It was unavoidable.

Completely and utterly.

Regrettably it was.

Terrible, really. Terrible

Phillips had to send those two blushing idiots into the field together. Alright, fine.

But as an undercover married couple and sell it without them screwing it up exponentially? Fuck.

Phillips would much rather take a day of meetings 

The objective was to go to a dinner disguised as a married couple to avoid suspicion and find information on the German’s advances into allied territory. 

Remember this all had to be smooth and unnoticeable or the both wouldn’t walk out of there since security was extremely tight since all the old rich military men were in attendance and whatever side piece they managed to pick up.

Steve took the news by turning into a tomato. Peggy sent daggers in Phillips direction and was a millisecond away from gutting him when she read the partner she was being sent with. On a good note, Steve wouldn’t try anything untoward.

Inevitably, when the time came, and Peggy and Steve were driven to the hotel and venue. After being escorted to their room, it became very clear that there would be some difficulties. First off, the sleeping situation. They were to be there for 3 days. 

And only one bed. 

Of course it was. Of course. What else would it be?

To be very fair, it would be extremely suspicious for a happily married couple to sleep in two completely separate beds for a week while they were at such a nice and promising venue. And it could be avoided with a couch or chair but the idiots were always a step away from bedroom eyes across the table in the map room. The absolute last thing that Phillips needed was a mix between Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers. That adorablehell child would give both of them a run for their money.

Anywho, the day comes. Peggy gets all packed up and commandeers the gold glittery dress that Howard had(why, everyone knows and no one wants to) and Steve had managed to steal a Nazi officers uniform and credentials on a previous mission. With a good fake mustache and a decent enough accent, Steve was set for some subterfuge. Peggy had stashed a few weapons on her person, as per the usual, and the rest of their arsenal was kept hidden in their overnight bag.

With the party getting set up for the following day, the only thing the blushing pair had to do was check in and freshen up before tucking in for the night. And with Peggy walking into their hotel room first came a barely restrained scoff that meant she was ready to throw down with the multiple poor idiots that got her into this. Steve again, turned into a tomato(or a much better Red Skull, whichever tickles your fancy) once he saw what caused her reaction. His face managed to match the dark hue of the long drapes on the balcony windows.

“Well, we have quite the predicament." Peggy huffed to her partner behind her. "Here, I'll take the chair and you take the bed."

A splutter could be heard from behind the dressed up woman, and the culprit in question looked at her incredulously.

"No, no, no, no. You take the bed and I'll take the chair. You're going to be doing the heavy lifting on this one. You need the rest." Steve said in a very matter of fact way.

Oh boy.

Peggy whipped around so fast that it was a surprise she didn't give herself whiplash. "I beg your pardon? You are sorely mistaken if you think I am going to be going at it alone on this mission. You get to pull your weight too, Captain Rogers." Her emphasis on his rank made the man in question go even redder, his blush threatening to challenge Peggy's signature lipstick in a battle of reds. The only thing he managed to do was suck in a very small amount of breath as she pushed him farther against the patterned wallpaper.

Only after Steve choked out a very squeaky okay did Agent Carter finally realise the proximity in which the two were. Her carefully coifed hair was almost in his eyes and with a small reach on her part of a bend on his, their lips would be met perfectly.

So of course the radio in their bag had to go off as their eyes met and it was Peggy's turn to go beet red.

The radio crackled into life as Steve hastily retrieved it from the concealed pocket in their bag. It was honestly a surprise that Phillips hadn't come to call earlier and interupted their little lovers quarrelspat.

An hour later, the pair had gathered extra intel on guests and layouts, planted a few listening devices for Howard to check, and finally started to get ready for bed. Both pretending to dread it and neither going to acknowledge the fact that they would both end up in the bed.

It didn't take long for Steve to get out of the bathroom after having changed and brushed his teeth, but Peggy was taking an eternity it seemed like.

Not that Steve cared or was keeping track.

No. That would be completely correctoutrageous.

Peggy, not wanting to face reality at the moment, and Steve, had taken much longer in her routine than she normally would have before turning in. To be very fair, a good excuse would always be that she was merely taking advantage of the amenities and luxuries she didn't have on the field. Who could blame her?

Either way, she eventually had to get out and get some sleep. Being exhausted would make her job nigh impossible if she wanted to stab someone for taking her biscuits at the dinner.

As it turned out, Steve had fallen asleep on the bed waiting for Peggy. And if anyone said she tucked him in before stealing a blanket and laying in the chair, no you didn't.

And if anyone brought up the fact that they had ended up in the bed together(totally not because Steve moved her in the middle of the night because she was freezing), well, it was your nose and not anyone else's problem. And Peggy would later thank her lucky stars that Steve had turned around before she broke out into a little smile after he moved her, scooting closer to him under the blankets to soak up the heat he radiated.

[bedofthistles]

Matches

There, nothing else to be done

“Princess, what are you going to do now?”

This is the part of the story where all the dust settles, when the battles come to an end, and the war is finally won. Supposedly. 

One marriage is hardly enough to put to rest all the hundreds of years of hatred. No, there were plenty of little things to fight over.

The official border of where Merryweather property ended and the De Noir line began, whether or not they could reach an agreement on sharing the seaport, starting a reasonable trade between the two families, and, of course, the future of both families. 

Sir Benjamin was not going to be given a bad deal on anything, and the Coeur De Noir was still inclined to more dishonourable business practices. 

In the month since the curse, and the lead in to the long anticipated wedding, the two Lords of Moonacre were usually found in each other’s studies. 

And neither could stop their families from tagging along. 

The Coeur De Noir arrived at Moonacre Manor with daughter and son in tow. Likewise, Sir Benjamin dismounted his steed in Castle Black's courtyard the same moment Maria did. 

Let’s go by one, shall we?

While Maria Merryweather had become an honourary part of the De Noir family, the Coeur De Noir still had to face the backlash of his Clan. 

The Curse had not come to pass and the Valley would remain divided. Many of the De Noirs were disappointed, some ready to arm themselves and go to Moonacre Manor and conquer it for themselves! They had yet to realise that their two families would forever be tied. 

Likewise, Sir Benjamin had to go to his tenants and announce his engagement, and it went something like this.

“The people of Silverydew!” From atop his steed, because he knew the minute he was on his two feet, he would buckle and far into the mud. He was nervous, what can he say? “I would like to cordially invite you all to-”

“Ah, we’ve heard this before!” An old crone shouted, waving him off before returning to whatever work she was doing. 

“Let me guess, another De Noir?” A man crossed his arms, and the people around him guffawed. 

“Well-”

“What did she say her name was this time! Mair?” And they laughed together. “Better double check that this time!” 

“Oi, what’re you doing getting married as old as ya are? Let us young boys marry some of the girls!” 

“I am not that old!” Sir Benjamin snapped out, despite the many things he could, and should have said. “Would you listen? Before I disinvite you!” 

Which, of course, earned some sarcastic ‘oohs!’ from the crowd. 

“I am marrying Loveday De Noir, to unite our two families and end the turmoil of the valley!” 

They quieted. 

“What?” 

And then they rioted. 

All they knew about the De Noirs was every despicable rumour that had reached their ears. Not that they had ever faced the De Noirs, as none ever ventured into the forest, but they still had their opinions. 

They, of course, had all met Loveday years before, either seeing her walk in the streets with their Lord, or in person when she came up to them, striking up a lovely conversation, and buying some thing or another, even if she didn’t truly need it. But, just as any De Noir, she had been a liar, hadn’t she?

“I heard the reason her hair is so floofy is to hide the horns!” 

“Don’t be ridiculous! Although, I heard the Coeur De Noir was hiding a tail!” 

“They can fly! I’ve seen them in the skies! With wings like bats!” 

And suddenly, the people of Silverydew got away from themselves, describing monsters instead of people. If the Coeur De Noir had heard he, of course, would have smiled. He was always fond of his own mythology, and a terrifying beast was sure to precede any truth about him in the history books! 

Sir Benjamin, despite having just caused a riot, forced Atlas to turn back around and return to the Manor. 

Ms. Heliotrope fainted at the sight of Maria on the night of the 5,000th full moon, and immediately began to fuss over her as soon as she came to. She wanted Maria to return to her studies as soon as possible, and make up for the lost time, but Maria had gotten used to her freedom, and more often than not, snuck out before Ms. Heliotrope could find her. 

Digweed and Marmaduke were finally able to introduce themselves to her formally, both reminiscing about the months before her birth, when they were deciding which foods the little babe would take to. They, of course, never found out, but they were eager to get to know as much about her as possible. 

Wrolf remained in his lion form, and while it took some time for them to figure out the large black lion was indeed Wrolf, and he had not eaten the hound, he was welcomed into the Manor and into the family as if he were that same dog. And, while he kept to his own devices, he could be found by Maria’s side most of the time. 

Then of course were the De Noirs. Each had gotten used to the Moon Princess’ presence. The cook had to scold himself for picking strawberries, the maids stopped themselves short of returning to Maria’s room to change the bedding, and the boys mindlessly strolled into the family wing as if to take their shift in watching over her. 

Richard himself had been whistling, tossing an apple into the air, a hand in his pocket, as he turned down the hall and ran straight into the Coeur De Noir. 

“Ah.” He said. “You.” The Coeur patted himself on the back for not outwardly calling him the annoying one. 

“Sir.” Richard said, as he took a bite of his apple. 

“Just where are you going?” The Coeur, with that deliciously evil voice of his, leaned down into he was eye level with the boy.  

“It’s four, sir, I was-”

The Coeur quirked a brow.

“Oh.”

“Boy, I would suggest running off and fulfilling some other duty, rather than standing in an empty room.”

Richard gulped, before nodding and running off. 

Which leads to Robin De Noir. 

One might have said he no longer resided at Castle Black, save for crawling back in the kitchen door late at night, or the days when the Merryweather’s were already at the Castle. 

When asked, David, Henry, and Richard lied, and told the Coeur Robin was hunting in the forest. Though they all knew no one believed that. 

How could they? 

No, what Robin was doing was stalking Moonacre Manor. 

As he was now. 

Robin smirked as he crossed his arms, neck craned as he watched Maria climb further up a large oak tree. 

In the early morning light, when mist still clung to the ground, Robin had been a few paces away from the Manor, covered by the trees, as he bemusedly watched Maria tear out of the Manor and, more or less, launched herself into the oak. 

Robin chuckled, about to walk up to her, when he saw the old governess pop her head out of the door. 

“Maria! Maria!” She called, and even headed in the opposite direction to look for the Moon Princess. 

Maria scurried further up the tree and settled onto a high branch, and Robin was sure she was waiting for her governess to give up before she came down. 

So, why not make her a little anxious? 

“Princess,” He called, his lips flickering into a grin when she startled. “What are you going to do now?” 

One hand tethered to the branch, the other pressing to her heart, Maria urged her heart to stop galloping, before she glared down at him. “Shh!”

“Oh, but Maria!” He called loudly. “What are you doing up in that tree!” 

“Robin, I swear-” Maria quieted, and Robin turned his head just in time to see the Governess rounding the other side of the Manor. 

She smiled at Robin and waved - despite the fact he had kidnapped her pupil, she had grown fond of him over the weeks, and found him to be a polite young man, despite Maria’s arguments that he was anything but - before hiking up her skirt and making her way to him. 

“Woohoo! Mr. De Noir! Tell me, I was just looking for Maria, you didn’t happen to see her, did you?”

Robin straightened his spine, and held his hands behind his back, like a proper gentleman. “No, ma’am, I can’t say that I have. I was just on my way to the Manor to speak with her.”

“Ah.” Ms. Heliotrope sighed in defeat, before patting his cheek. “Such a nice young man! Well, if you do see her, please come find me! She has been putting off her studies almost as soon as she returned to me! I can’t have her mind becoming dull, hmm? How would she find a suitable husband then?”

Maria rubbed her forehead in irritation, and Robin did his best not to burst out laughing. 

As soon as Ms. Heliotrope turned her back, Robin began to climb into the branches of the tree, so soundlessly, Ms. Heliotrope did not seem to register the action. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” Maria whispered to herself, as she too began to climb the branches. But, they became too thin, and her dress and boots were too difficult to climb in. Robin gained on her, and before she could get any farther, he grabbed her ankle. 

Maria bit her tongue to stifle her scream, but it gave Robin just enough head way to climb up next to her on the other side of the trunk.

She glared, and he smiled. 

“So, what’s this I hear about you skipping lessons?”

“I’m still smarter than you.”

“No doubt about that, but not for long.” 

Maria rolled her eyes. 

“And how are you to find a husband if you’re-”

“Watch your tongue!” Maria snapped, as she kicked his boot, displacing it from its position on the branch. It was not enough to make him fall, but he did lose a bit of balance. 

“Manors!” He scolded, clicking his tongue. “And I thought it was a lady I kidnapped.”

“Well you thought wrong.”

Robin raised his brows.

“You kidnapped a princess.” 

“The true Moon Princess. Do you finally believe us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Of course not, but I do rather like being a princess.” 

“Your refusal astounds me.” Robin shook his head. “You saw the Castle after we returned! I was dead!”

Maria huffed. “Don’t joke about that. You did not die, you- you were just-”

“Well, maybe I’ll only call you Princess, once you believe it.” He said. 

“How can I!” Maria laughed. “You’re all insane.”

“Well, come on then, my lady, unless you want to spend all day in this tree.”

Maria rolled her eyes, but let him help her down, and soon, they were off, running into the forest. 

From her spot in the Manor, Loveday smiled. 

To her knowledge, Maria had not been a prisoner at Castle Black, as much as she had become their dictator. Even her father acknowledged that he let Maria do things no one else was allowed to do.

She never would have believed that peace between the two families would be achievable, and yet it had come to pass. 

More importantly, however, was what Loveday saw in her younger brother. 

Soft eyes, easy smiles, and a blooming love. 

Her father and betrothed were in the room across the hall, going over some final details about the division of the sea port, but she was thinking well beyond that. After all, what better way to inscribe peace? And perhaps, they could unite the land, and it would not be Merryweather and De Noir, but one family. 

Of course, she was getting ahead of herself, uniting Moonacre under one family would surely be an issue for the next generation. 

Still, as the door to the Sir Benjamin's study opened and her father stepped out with her betrothed, Loveday bounced out of her seat. 

“Good morning, Father, Benjamin.” She grinned, and both men sighed. “I couldn’t help but notice that neither Maira nor Robin are present.”

“Maria is in her lessons, with Ms Heliotrope.” Sir Benjamin said, a slight warning in his tone.

“Oh? Ms. Heliotrope couldn’t find her this morning, and asked to find her should I see Maria.” Loveday bit her lip. “And I believe, Father, that Robin came with you, did he not?” 

“Yes, I think he did.” The Coeur, too used to his daughter’s schemes, smiled, and let it pass without argument. 

“And, as I was sitting at the window, I could have sworn I just saw them leaving into the woods. Together.” Loveday bit her lip to contain her grin, but it was monstrous at this point.

She had come to love Maria dearly as a daughter. She was kind, funny, she rolled her eyes when she thought no one was looking, and as much as Ms. Heliotrope instilled in her proper etiquette, Loveday could see a headstrong and independent young woman behind the veneer. 

She also spent some time getting to know the man her baby brother had become. 

Somehow, even without her presence, he had become the soft-hearted man she had been attempting to raise. She may have only been his older sister, but without mother, and she in her early twenties, she had dismissed the idea of a nanny, picked him up from his cradle, and claimed him as her own. 

Loveday had been too afraid to return to Castle Black, and so returning to Robin was out of the question. 

Loveday watched as Sir Benjamin’s face twitched. 

“Alone? Without a chaperone?” 

Loveday nodded. “Yes, although you have nothing to worry about!” 

“Yes, my son will protect your niece.” The Coeur said.

“Protec- that is hardly my concern! Someone needs to protect my niece from him!” 

Loveday rolled her eyes. “Oh, what do you think is going to happen? Maria is very responsible.” 

“Respon- what of that boy? Hmm? He’s a De- I mean.”

Sir Benjamin’s eyes flashed between the two De Noirs, and he clamped his mouth shut. 

“My son is a gentleman!” The Coeur gave a wolfish grin. “Nothing will happen, you have my word.”

“Yes, although-”

“Although?” Sir Benjamin crossed his arms at his lovely bride to be.

“Although.” The Coeur De Noir nodded his head. 

“They are quite the stunning match, do you think not?” Loveday’s face was sure to split with how wide her grinning had become. 

Sir Benjamin fumed. “She’s a child! I- I will not even be considering matches until- later! Much later!” 

“Sometimes,” The Coeur began. “Betrothal contracts can take some time.”

“Years.” Loveday said, 

“Hammering out every little detail. It would be… prudent to get an early start.”

“Such wise words, Father!” Loveday nodded. 

Sir Benjamin glared at them both. “You would plan a marriage contract between- those two without even consulting Maria?” 

“Sir Benjamin, how modern of you.” The Coeur praised. 

“Actually, I think just by looking at her it becomes apparent her mind on the matter.” Loveday said. 

“She’s not- she’s-” Sir Benjamin huffed. “No! My Maria- will not be married. Ever! She will stay right here. With me.”

Loveday rolled her eyes, as the Coeur did his best to hold in his laughter. 

“You would prevent a happy union? Just because you don’t want her wed?” Loveday raised a single brow at him.

Sir Benjamin pursed his lips. “Yes.” 

And the Coeur could not hold back his laughter any longer. 

☾

Loveday and Sir Benjamin’s wedding was beautiful.

They had agreed to marry in the amphitheatre, to bring to completion the happy ending, and it seemed the most neutral of territory for both families. 

Maria watched it all quite happily. Sir Benjamin had kissed her cheek before meeting his bride at the stair steps, and together they walked to the cliff’s edge.

With De Noir’s on one side, and Merryweahter’s on the other, it did not feel like a battlefield, as she half expected, but like a proper wedding. 

The sun began to set behind the trees, and the moon rose out of the sea just as the ceremony began and Maria sighed happily at the romance her Uncle had been blessed with. 

“Don’t they seem happy.”

Maria did not jump, not anymore. She was too used to Robin trying to scare her, she had almost adapted a sixth sense whenever he was near. 

He appeared like he had for her birthday. Groomed and dressed up, as handsome as it made him, Maria couldn’t help but prefer the worn jerkin. 

Maria rose up on her toes to ruffle his hair. Smiling when she disarmed his confident look. Curls fell over his brow, and he looked closer to himself. 

“Yes, now, be quiet. It’s rude to talk.” Maria settled back into place, her hands clasped in front of her. She smiled, and kept her eyes forward, even as she felt his eyes burn into her. 

There was a rambunctious cheer as Sir Benjamin and Loveday kissed. 

Perhaps not an end to the bitterness, but certainly the start of a new chapter. 

The party dispersed back to Moonacre Manor to take part in the first celebration. 

The Merryweather portion. 

As neither Sir Benjamin or the Coeur De Noir could agree on which traditions should take place, Loveday settled the argument. Two parties. 

This of course led to the need to show each other up. 

Moonacre Manor had been decorated as it never had been before, Sir Benjamin spared no expense on musicians, floral arrangements, and had even hired a whole team for food preparation. Much to Marmaduke’s opposition.  

Likewise, the Coeur De Noir outdid himself. Course after course, the finest spirits he could afford, and entertainment that amused them all. Fire Breathers, ribbon dancers, even a jester that wasn’t half bad. 

For the wedding, Loveday had worn a white gown, and had not changed out of it for the Merryweather ball. However, the next day she had worn a proper De Noir bridal gown, made from velvet and dyed a brilliant red close to the colour of blood. 

Maria herself wore her blue dress to the ball, and, at Loveday’s suggestion, a red dress that belonged to the Moon Princess herself. 

Or, in Maria’s mind, a distant ancestor of the De Noirs. 

Sir Benjamin and Loveday danced nearly every dance together, their eyes hardly parted, and their hands always touched. 

Maria herself danced with any and all who asked, but usually it was Robin.

The first dance she had, she shared with a young merchant’s son from Silverydew. After that, however, she did not dance with any one from the Merryweather side. 

David, Henry, and Richard were allowed, of course, but if anyone, with the slightest look of intent, tried to walk up to Maria, Robin appeared before her and took her off to the dancefloor before they got too close. 

“You know, this is hardly appropriate!” She said, at the Merryweather ball. “I can’t dance with you all night, it's rude to all the other gentlemen here.”

Robin picked up his head and looked around. “Where? I don’t see any gentlemen. Besides, you just danced with Richard.” 

Maria rolled her eyes. “Yes, you however are taking up my entire dance card!”

“You don’t have a dance card, therefore, I can disregard that.” 

“My metaphorical dance card.” She amended. “Besides Mr. Smith-”

“Was that his name?”

“I haven’t danced with anyone! David, Henry, and Richard do not count.” Maria lifted her chin. “You have been stealing all of my time! And I would like to dance with someone else.”

Robin tightened his grip on her waist and hand, not hard enough to hurt of course, but just enough so she could not slip out of his grasp. “Am I not a good enough dancer?”

“You’re a fine dancer, but I would like to have more than four partners.” 

“Really? That’s rather promiscuous of you.” 

Maria scoffed, though she did not make any move to step away from him, or even stop dancing. “It is a ball and party, I am allowed.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you attend anymore balls then.”

Maria narrowed her eyes, “Oh? I didn’t realise you got any say in what I do or not do.” 

“I am your keeper, Princess.” 

“Keeper? And I thought you weren’t calling me princess anymore?”

Robin shrugged. “It suits you.”

Maria smiled, though she was not done with him yet. “Thank you for the dance, but this will be your last.”

“Oh I think not. I’ll keep you right here all night if I must.” 

“And how are you going to do that?”

“I could tie you up again, it worked well for me before.”

Maria smiled at his insolence, “Would you like to take a walk in the gardens?” 

“Of course, Princess.” 

And don’t worry about what happened between them in the garden, it was nothing too substantial. Just know that no one saw neither of them return until well after the party had ended.

The next night, Maria did her best to dance with all the young De Noir gentlemen she could. (The term gentlemen is applied very loosely, here. Maria could not help but find him in the crowd after each one had taken up her hand, and sent him a victorious smirk. 

She had only succeeded because she kept her eyes on him, her new found Robin-sixth-sense never allowed him to slip out of her sights. But when her partner had been switched with Richard, Maria knew she was in danger. 

Richard spun her around and round in circles until the Castle hall became a blur of black and red and white. When he finally stopped, she was so disoriented, she had no way of telling of what was up or down. 

As Maria whipped her head around, Robin was no one to be seen. 

“Richard, what-?”

“Princess, I have to ask, is it true that you threw the pearls away?” He asked.

Maria rolled her eyes, as she had already told him this and he was clearly distracting her. “Yes, Richard, right into the sea!” 

“And when you came out of the sea you were on top of a white horse with a horn on its forehead? A Unicorn, one might say?”

Maria sighed, yes, she had woken up on the back of a horse with a horn on its forehead, but she was unconscious! Anyone could have pulled her out, and tied what was obviously a fake horn to its head. Strange, but that did not mean it was magic.  

“And yet, you still don’t believe there was a curse?”

“Richard, if I ever believe in curses, call a doctor, because I will have lost my mind.” 

“Sure, Princess.”

Maria rolled her eyes, but her head had stopped feeling so dizzy, so she chanced a look around. Only, Robin was nowhere to be found. Where on earth had he gone? 

“May I cut in?”

Richard giggled, and Maria sighed as she was passed off to David. 

“David, where is he?” Maria asked, with a single brow raised. 

David shrugged, but led her through the steps.

What she had not realised was that Richard had led her to the very edge of the grand hall, and David was carrying her the rest of the way. When he let go of her hand, she was at the door, with Henry waiting on the threshold, his arm extended to her. 

She looked back over her shoulder, finding her Uncle and Loveday engrossed in themselves at the head table. She smiled, her absence would not be noticed. 

Henry led her out into the darkened hall, but she did not have to guess where they were going, as she and the Coeur had gone down this hall many times before.

Maria thanked Henry when they reached the door, and when she opened it, the greenhouse was lit up with moonlight. 

Maria found her way to the stone bench where Robin sat.

“The party is inside.” She said, her smile meeting his own when he turned towards her.

“Yes, but I’m still debating whether or not you should be there.”

“Oh?” Maria crossed her arms. “Because I’m promiscuous?”

“Yes, and I much prefer having you to myself.”

Maria shook her head. “And yet you have not. I’ve danced with at least ten others. Your awful friends not included. I’m rather thinking of going back now, and having some more partners-”

But before she could say another word, Robin leaped up, and took hold of her. His hand around her waist, his other unbound her arm from their crossed position and he led her into a new dance. 

Maria jolted, her free hand clasping his shoulder as she turned her eyes to their feet. 

“It's a De Noir dance, you won’t know it.” Robin tapped her chin, encouraging her to look up. “Let me lead.”

And she did. 

There was no music, and the steps were rather complicated. At one point they separated and returned, Maria spun into his chest and looked sheepishly up into his eyes. He did not laugh, or tease her in any way, but simply smiled. 

They stopped, and Maria felt her heart begin to pound in her chest. 

“Princess, I-”

But she stopped him, pushed to the tips of her toes, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. 

In both their opinions, the De Noirs threw a much better party. 

☾

Maria used to be a sheltered London Lady, born and raised for polite society, proper and rather unfit for the countryside. She grew up in the month from her father’s death leading up to the breaking of the curse, not that she would ever believe she had broken any curses. She had found freedom in the forests of Moonacre, a more attentive father in Sir Benjamin, and a rather odd extended family in the De Noirs. 

She fell in love with Moonacre Valley, no matter which side of the border she was on, in Castle Black halls, or sleeping in Moonacre Manor’s tower, Maria found a home and a family. 

As the years passed, she became a fierce advocate for both sides. She helped the tenants of Silverydew come to terms with the fact that the De Noirs were not devils - devilish as they may be - and the De Noirs found new purpose in guarding the forest rather than frightening everyone away. 

She was beloved by both families, and no one could deny that she was Princess over all of Moonacre. 

Talk of magic made her roll her eyes, the mention of curses made her scoff, and if anyone asked about pearls, she laughed them off. 

Unless, of course, it was Robin. 

Though he only broached the topic of pearls once, many years later. 

He handed Maria a long, black box, and while he tended to bring her presents like a faithful crow, she was used to them being unwrapped and small. 

“What's this?” She smiled fondly. 

“Open it, Princess, and find out.”

Maria wasted no time in releasing the bow and pulling off the lid. She gasped, as inside was an exact replica of the pearls she cast into the sea. 

“Oh Robin, I completely forgot about the pearls!” Then, she moved her hair over her shoulder, and he clasped them around her neck, kissing her shoulder as he did.

“Only you would completely disregard magic pearls.” He said, and she laughed, before saying there were never magic pearls. 

Of course, what no one realised over the course of hundreds of years, was that the Merryweathers and De Noirs were not born enemies. They were made. And, if anyone had taken the time, they would have seen how well matched the De Noirs were for the Merryweathers. 

As Family, as friends, and as lovers. 

And yes, Sir Benjamin did eventually give in and allowed the marriage contracts to be drawn up between his daugh- niece and the Coeur De Noir’s son. But only after Maria herself had stormed into his office, crossed her arms and glared at him so furiously he was terrified she herself would cast a curse over him. Pearls or not. 

[pizza-nun]

ASK BLOG IS OPEN

Still need to put finishing touches on here but asks for Pizza nun are open!

So feel free to send whatever you want!

[thewistlingbadger]

Never thought I'd get gender dysphoria bc i look TOO masculine ngl

[gargelyfloof118]

Today!!! It's today!!!

Our barn is here!!!

Wahoo!!!

Bonus picture of the material for our chicken coop! Things are happening on the farm, y'all!

[loveaankilaq]

People online (white) will create so many conspiracy theories that just boil down to "Asians aren't complete human beings with their own thoughts and autonomy" like maybe Chinese people are just going about their day to day life. Maybe a video of a North Korean person like chilling is just a person chilling, who isn't going to power down like a robot once the video is over. Stop being a fucking creep.

[1000fingers]

Bitches will find a fictional man attractive and then immediately imagine him in situations where he is losing alarming amounts of blood

[littlelightfish]

Funny things I found out playing with language setting in Netflix while looking episode 15:

Chilchuck's scream sounds HAUNTED in brazilian portuguese. Give it a try if you can.

(You can hear it here)

In spanish dub, Senshi says: "tocó mis senos de hombre", which means "he touched my man boobs" in Spanish. And I think that's the best dub line one so far.

[reblogforsamplesize]

🐛 caterpillar - the returning champion of the 2023 race at 41.6% of the votes

🐌 snail - runner up of the 2023 race at 38.3%, only 3.3% behind the caterpillar.

🪱 worm - placed last in 2023, with only 20.1% of votes

🪲 beetle, 🐞 ladybug, and 🐝 bee are new competitors!

[leafie-draws]

I think the biggest downside to having animal ears and a tail would be trying to mask your discomfort in public like imagine trying to play it cool in customer service but your tail keeps bristling

[euniexenoblade]

Honestly, it can stand as it's own post. The tobacco industry is evil they want to get you smoking yadda yadda you've heard it a million times and like. I think we hear it so much but that a lot of the younger generations in the us dont really get why there's such an aggressive anti smoking campaign, I think people buy into the narrative South Park has spun about it "the cigarette companies are all upfront about it and people still chose their service and everyone against smoking are just obsessive fascists" and it's like. Genuinely, the cigarette companies are some of the most evil entities this world has ever seen. From knowing cigarettes caused cancer before anyone else and lying about it, to being the reason the majority of 50s television existed (shows like I Love Lucy existed to sell you cigarettes) to specifically making flavors of cigarettes and cartoon mascots to sell to kids. And I'm not saying that if you smoke cigarettes you're bad but I do really want the tobacco industry abolished and have it's wealth distributed to the society it controlled for so fucking long.

Seriously, go read about it. They did shit that manipulated the country, politics, and the lives of your parents and their parents, and likely their influence is affecting your life in this day and age still.

[willgrahamscock]