#butterflies-and-fishermen

[thelordofgifs]

Sending an ask rather than using the tags, due to length!

High-Kingship really hasn’t let Fingon shine—he’s a champion! Point him at a monster, he’ll slay it; show him someone in distress, he’ll save them; tell him about hidden treasure, he’ll even make a good effort at retrieving it. But he can’t go about as freely as he had as Crown Prince, he’s got too many responsibilities! And he can’t be everywhere at once, so he has to run around putting out fires, setting aside tomorrow’s problems for the more immediate ones of today.

Then M&M: Shall we ever save each other?

You previously posted about not being sure what the themes of TFS are, and I think I have identified one: inevitability, the sense that even knowing things is not enough, like how Namo had already revealed the Doom of the Noldor to them even on the eve of their exile, and even with such foreknowledge they could not defy their fate, and in some ways how their reactions to it only turned it into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Curufin can recognize that he’s making terrible decisions, but he can’t stop. Maglor knows the metanarrative of him and Maedhros, and he tries and tries but still can’t succeed. And on the flip side, you have also shown that it makes a difference how you face inevitability, from Celegorm’s redemption to Maglor’s desperate hope to Curufin’s ends justifying the means/sunk cost fallacy behaviour. And maybe also Maedhros’s future deliberate consideration of death, from the sneak peak into your future writing?

And to tell the truth, I actually feel as if Calaquendi developing execution as a final solution to problems actually makes sense? Like a sort of you’re beyond our ability to reintegrate into society, off to Mandos with you, let Namo sort you out?

I think that Thingol might see Fingon’s offer as a trap though, a sort of guilt by association thing, and if the Eöl incident comes out, then it’ll really look like a trap by tricking him into acknowledging the validity of the death penalty.

Firstly this made my day, thank you so much for this incredible detailed ask!!

Fingon’s characterisation was something that stumped me for a while, and even now my view on him is evolving as I write. When I introduced him into tfs it was more for what he symbolised than for how he might move the plot forward as a character in his own right: “hope beyond hope, music in the world’s endless discord, warmth unlooked-for in its frozen wastes”, which is a line as much about Maedhros’ feelings for Fingon as it is about Fingon himself. (Still one of my favourite lines in the fic, I’m very proud of it.) But the fact that Leithian takes place during Fingon’s brief reign is so fascinating to me: how did he react to it all? What was Fingon like, as a High King?

The early Quenta Silmarillion says:

"Of all the children of Finwë he is justly most renowned: for his valour was as a fire and yet as steadfast as the hills of stone; wise he was and skilled in voice and hand; truth and justice he loved and bore good will to all, both Elves and Men, hating Morgoth only; he sought not his own, neither power nor glory, and death was his reward."

Which, valid. (Also ouch.) Fingon’s great! Everyone loves Fingon! But is there scope, within this effusive praise of him, to give Fingon a slightly darker streak? I go back and forth on this – I am not trying to rewrite the silm as a modern grimdark fantasy, and the point here is not to give unambiguously heroic characters Moral Greyness. But, yknow. Fingon’s a Kinslayer. He isn’t as morally upstanding as his father. And you can’t really write honestly about him without acknowledging that.

Anyway, I tagged a post yesterday as “make Fingon fucked up 2023” and I think I was actually so right for that? By the time he’s become the High King, Fingon is amazingly lonely. All his immediate family is gone: Turgon and Aredhel vanished to Gondolin (and Aredhel is dead, though he doesn’t know that), Argon dead for centuries, and of course his father dead after suicidally challenging Morgoth to a duel.

In tfs I write Fingon as very angry about this. Why did his father leave him, after everyone else had already done the same? Why did he despair and throw his life away for nothing like that? (Fingon is always the antithesis of despair; his own death is not a futile one, he dies trying to do the right thing – and it’s only after his death that hope leaves Beleriand.) So then comes the idea that Kingship doesn’t come that naturally to Fingon – he’s a hero, a warrior prince, not a High King.

(I absolutely cannot take credit for this idea; there are many, many excellent fics that also take this tack with Fingon. I should probably make a separate post about the fics that inspired various parts of tfs at some point.)

Which isn’t to say that Fingon is a bad High King! He’s mostly sorted out Curufin’s mess quite effectively, after all. But he doesn’t enjoy any of it – he wants to be a fearless adventurer, a rescuer, a dragon-slayer, not a politician. And he has been trying, very hard, to put his duty above his personal desires: but the decision to execute Curufin is ultimately a failure to do that. (Does Curufin deserve it? Maybe. Would Fingon have made that decision if not for his anger on Maedhros’ behalf? Unlikely. Fingon is more willing than he should be to do terrible things for Maedhros’ sake. I drew the parallel with Eöl’s execution explicitly, because although I absolutely loathe and detest Eöl, I think Turgon’s decision to execute him was personal, motivated by the fact that Eöl had murdered Turgon’s sister and not some random citizen of Gondolin. Given the canonical taboo around Kinslaying, I don’t think elven realms executed people as a matter of course. Although that’s an intriguing point about how the Calaquendi might see it!)

This is already ridiculously long: putting the rest under a cut now.

M&M! My favourite tragic darling boys!! I’m so normal about them. Your points on inevitability are absolutely INCREDIBLE, you have somehow understood my fic better than I do myself so thank you so much! Although I will add that there are two vitally important characters you missed in your musings on doom: Fingon, who walked up to Angband with a bow and a song and a prayer and won back his beloved, who tells Melian that he is good at hope and tells Maglor that he is going to change the genre of story he is in (Fingon who canonically fails tragically at this and is beaten into the mire of his blood agdhsjdj); and Lúthien, who asks Maglor whether people have the power to rewrite their own dooms and asks Finrod how tight the strings of fate are after all, who rescues Beren from Sauron’s clutches and then wins the right to give up her immortality for him, whose story is titled Release from Bondage.

Anyway, I’m very glad you picked up on the line Shall we ever save each other? because what happened was I was staring at the screen going “say something cool and meaningful Maglor” and then he absolutely delivered. Maglor in tfs – well, my interpretation of Maglor generally, but I really lean into this in tfs – is absolutely defined by his failure to rescue Maedhros from Angband. It informs every single decision he makes. And so he knows that he is not good at saving Maedhros, that there is no particular reason why he should be able to pull Maedhros out of his delusion, but he tries anyway. And expends every single drop of strength he has left on it, and succeeds.

(A detail I’m proud of: the scene between them in part 15 is a deliberate mirror of the last time they met, back in part 3. There are a lot of small repeated phrases: fingers “idly combing” through hair, musings on that one particular line from the Doom of Mandos, the final significant decision to give the Silmaril away.)

But there is still so much mutual trauma in their relationship: the fact that Maglor didn’t rescue Maedhros and the fact that Maedhros went to the parley in the first place (“I dreamed you left me, or else I you”), that Maglor was injured trying to save Maedhros from Carcharoth and then Maedhros left him in Menegroth, that Maedhros has just spent several days thinking Maglor was dead and that he did actually stab him. They love each other a lot, but that isn’t necessarily enough. (It might be! Maglor successfully resisted the Oath for Maedhros’ sake, after all. But also: Maedhros couldn’t take Thingol up on his “the Silmaril or Maglor” offer.)

ok I’ve spent well over an hour on this jumbled mess of thoughts I’ll stop here. Thank you so much for this amazing thought-provoking ask! And I am always more than delighted to get tfs asks, so feel free to send more in! ❤️

[dosbysilverqueen]

butterflies-and-fishermen asked: I think the art in this tumblr post has particular combination of Hot Springs/Garden of Life from Death vibes.

After the world went silent, the ones still roaming its desolate lands started to change. Among the ashes of yesterday, quiet life flickers.

[pawpiefawn]

𝓪 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓪 𝓸𝓯 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

❤︎ wriothesley x gn!reader 0.7k words farmer's market day with wriothesley. reader gets a necklace, but this is gn.

market days with wriothesley were a highly anticipated day within the household – they were sunny days spent at bustling stalls, whenc shopkeepers haggled their prices at haughty customers who walked away with their smiles until they got the price they wanted, their grocery lists scratched out.

you loved the sights of it all, too – cats nipping at fishermen’s boots for sardines, and pigeons longing for their chance at some breadcrumbs from a clumsy child chasing after mama.

stalls stretched out in rows to the end of the market. they were full of the freshest vegetables, stacked full with rows of yellow corn and the brightest of carrots. even the locals beekeepers brought their stocks of the sweetest, golden honey – which were rare to find nowadays.

and of course, you took great pleasure in teaching wriothesley how to choose the best of the best; he adored simply listening to you ramble on and on about recipes you wanted to make that week; it just made market days even more exciting.

“keep up, sweetheart!” you squeal, ducking behind a grocery-seller’s stall – while raking your gaze over the assortment of sweet potatoes and broccoli for the week. you gave one a poke of good luck.

“you are cheeky today, aren’t you?” wriothesley catches your sides, panting quietly and catching his breath. you could only giggle in response and press an apologetic kiss to his cheek. apology kisses, of course, were always forgiven.

alright, market days were great and all, but what you could truly spend all your afternoons doing was walking up and down the aisles of the next lane’s craft market. hundreds of artists and creators flocking to tents to share their handcrafted goodness with the city – what was there not to like? some days there were adorable prints, other days beaded jewellery and bags and everything under the sun you could possibly think of.

perhaps a resplendent trinket from one of the jewellers would catch your eye, making you stop in your tracks.

well, maybe not yours this time – but it certainly caught wriothesley’s attention.

“love, look at this,” he holds up a necklace with all the care he could muster – oh, how beautiful. it was a simple necklace; translucent string with three white pearls and a small black bead between each one. every pearl reminded you of him ; a beautiful opalescent cream, bearing a gift from the sea and a homage to the ruler of the waters.

“that’s beautiful, wriothesley.” you hear yourself gasp softly, your hands reaching out to cradle the pearls. it was stunning, truly. you find yourself offering the crafter a small smile in gratitude.

“it is, isn’t it?” wriothesley smiles and beckons you over with a simple gesture; you find yourself standing in front of him.

“turn around,” he instructs – you follow suit. there was something so lovely about the shared proximity in public; even after all these years, your lover still never failed to tease the butterflies that nestled in your tummy.

you feel wriothesley touch the back of your neck as he brings the necklace up ; you instinctively freeze up, a soft giggle escaping your lips.

“i’m sorry, dearest.” wriothesley chuckles, fastening the clasp behind your neck. you feel the weight of the necklace press against your skin comfortably – it was perfect. almost as if it was carved and put together just for you.

the man presses a soft and gentle kiss to your nape for good measure. it felt warm and supple – oh, the butterflies were certainly awake now.

“it’s beautiful.” you touch the pearls once more, staring at yourself in the mirror with a smirking wriothesley behind it.

“my taste never lies.”

“it truly doesn’t. impeccable taste, my love.” you thumb his lips and pull him closer for a quick kiss, feeling a warmth between your ribs.

“i think we’ll take this one.” wriothesley pulls apart, slightly delirious with a grin and giving the jeweller a small nod.

you laugh and bury your head into his chest, leaning against his frame. oh, how warm and lovely market days were. you would spend every day in this little bubble of yours, this sweet marginalia of love in a footnote of your adoration for him.

“i think i like this one very much.” a soft giggle slips past your lips. wriothesley pokes your chest gently, smoothing your hair back to kiss your forehead.

“i think i like this one very much, too.”

[hollysoda]

Dragon of Time - one of the largest dragons to be seen in the skies. It is said to be the oldest of its brothers, having been reported to exist in many eras, and was therefore named after its timelessness. Though some doubt whether it truly is a good dragon, for the sharp markings on its face and whitened eyes give off the impression of something dangerous

Wolf Dragon - named for its furry wolf-like appearance. It only breaks the cloud barrier at dusk and roams the night, it’s somber howl becoming a folklore for travellers in forests. Legends say that it was once a friend of the Twili, and it circles around the Arbiter’s Grounds every night

Warrior Dragon - named for the metal plating that covers its back, and for how it only seems to appear before soldiers of pure heart/soldiers down on their luck. It is said that seeing the Warrior Dragon will bless the person with strength and courage, and if a feather from one of its blue whiskers were to fall before a captain they would be ensured victory

Winged Dragon - the rarest of the dragons, for it favours staying above the clouds and roaming the islands in the sky. Unlike most other dragons, it is more bird like, being covered in crimson feathers and sprouting large wings. It’s red feathers sometimes fall to the surface, and if spotted by a romantic couple they are blessed with eternal love. Some researchers argue that the Winged Dragon is even older than the Dragon of Time

Fairy Dragon - this dragon is often seen floating above Fairy Fountains, and it is said that new fairies are born from this dragon’s scales. It too has wings, but these ones are shaped like a butterflies. Some ancient texts read that parts of fairy dragon can heal even the most fatal injury or sickness, and a great evil once sort out the dragon in order to revive their leader

Long-Eared Dragon - an unusually pink dragon, adorned with golden horns and claws and most notably long rabbit-like ears. It soars around the entirety of Hyrule, but more sightings of it have been recorded around Eventide Island than anywhere else. If you are lucky enough to get close to this dragon, there is a sense of great calm in the air around it, as if the spirit within once fought many hard battles and now roams the sky in peace

Wind Dragon - a brilliant blue dragon that is a popular legend amongst seafarers and fishermen. It roams the coastlines, and is even said to sometimes dwell under water as there are stories of large draconic shadows being spotted beneath boats. If you ever feel a sharp breeze steering your sail away from your destination, it is most likely the Wind Dragon warning you of danger. However, the Wind Dragon is also often blamed for dangerous storms

Rainbow Dragon - a remarkably smaller and yet colourful dragon with iridescent scales. It is said to harness the powers of wind, fire, water and the earth combined, making it quite difficult to approach. Legends spread amongst blacksmiths say that if one were to meld one of its scales to a weapon the weapon would become unbreakable, and in an age where smithing is becoming a lost art many pray that they’re lucky enough to see the dragon

Dragon of the Wild - perhaps the most commonly reported dragon, for some claim to have known the spirit that resides within. It flies low around the entirety of Hyrule, but will then also return to the skies to fly with the Light Dragon. Over recent years it has become a staple sight in Hyrule and stories of the dragons origins have been passed down from generation to generation. It has become a commonly worshipped symbol for adventurers and soldiers alike

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Andrew | In-Laws To Be | Romantic

Your sweet and shy nature keeps you from wearing your heart on your sleeve. Your older sister Eden decides to help you out a little.

Requested by Louisa

There is a certain nip in the winter air that doesn’t often occur in the usually warm lands of Judea, so you make sure to dig out the woollen cloak from your wardrobe before heading out to the market in order to prepare for Shabbat. Armed with a large bag that fits around your shoulder as well as Eden’s lengthy shopping list, you make your way to the business of Capernaum, where dozens of people are traversing the wares on display, merchants yelling their prices and discounts alike. 

You hug your cloak a little tighter around your shoulders as you walk past the stalls, making sure to only purchase the items Eden had requested no matter how tempting some of the sweeter goods seem to be, even if they are practically calling out your name. You eye a specific box of honey buns as you browse the baker’s wares, and it must have been so obvious that you were eyeing them that the merchant oddly frowns at you when you only ask for some yeast and flour. 

Up next are the wine skins — three of them this time, due to the size of the company — which proves less difficult to resist. The leather containers of wine still prove quite the weight inside your bag. Perhaps you should have waited to get these for last, but the woman behind the stall has already pocketed your money.

Afterwards, you find the stand selling fish. Ever since Simon and Andrew left the fishing industry to pursue the Messiah instead, you have been actually having to buy it from other merchants instead of getting a few of them for free, fresh from the Sea of Galilee after a good night on the water. Not that you mind it. You’d gladly buy all the fish in the world with your own money now that they are followers of Jesus Himself. 

Your mind lingers on Andrew for a bit and you can’t help a smile from forming over your lips. He’s going to attend the celebration as well and frankly, you can hardly wait to see him. Whereas you’d often see the younger sibling of your brother-in-law every other day when they were still fishermen, you now consider yourself lucky if you get to briefly pass by him about four, five times a month. To your relief, you still have your sister Eden to keep your mind occupied with your other duties. Keeping yourself busy by helping her out around the house and making a living out of sewing clothes, you remain as productive as you can be.

It feels almost inappropriate to want to doll up a little for tonight. You are positively thrilled to get to speak to Andrew again, your tummy already swirling with butterflies at the notion. For a moment, you picture yourself more confident than you are, wearing something nicer than usual, making Andrew do a double take… Not that you expect him to. Whereas Eden is more easy-going, you’re usually the more quiet type, hanging around in the background. It is a miracle if you even dare to say a few words to the curly-haired man in question. And honestly, perhaps that Shabbat itself is not the best moment to try and impress someone. 

“—Did you hear what I said, miss?” 

The merchant behind the fish stall pulls you from your own mind by giving you a strange look. You rapidly blink and clear your throat. “Uh, I’m sorry, I was lost in thought for a moment.” 

The woman huffs. “I asked if I could help you with something. You’ve been staring at my fish for a good minute now.”  

You flush a little. “Ah. Yes, I… Uh, I’d like some… Some tilapia.” 

“How much?” 

You count in your head and on your fingers for a moment. “Seven… Seven will work.” 

The merchant packs up your order whilst you get the right amount of money from your satchel. It concludes your shopping trip as you tuck the fish into your bag. “Shabbat shalom.” you tell her, and she nods, forcing a smile on her lips. “Shabbat shalom.” 

Knowing Capernaum like the back of your hand — you’ve grown up in the village after all — you head back to the house of Simon and Eden, where your older sister is waiting for you to arrive with all the fresh produce she had asked you to bring. You step over the threshold to find Eden laying the table, the vegetables already cut and drizzled with lemon to keep them fresh. She smiles and brushes over quickly to help you out with the heavy bag. 

“Ah, (Y/n), you’re the best!” You hand her the satchel of money you had received from her and she puts it aside. You instantly start rummaging around your recently acquired groceries to take out the fish lest they start leaking liquid — you’ve learnt that the hard way — as well as the wine for your sister to put into a cool room. 

“Let me prepare the fish,” Eden suggests, knowing that you aren’t necessarily fond of the slippery task of cleaning them and removing the bones. Being a fisherman’s wife, your older sister has become quite skilled at turning them into tasty fillets, so you don’t complain when you are thus presented with the job to prepare the bread dough instead. 

Your challah is often favoured whenever you’re around at Shabbat dinners. Eden says you’ve got magic hands which causes the dough to proof to perfection, but you are personally more convinced it’s the little dash of cinnamon you sneak into there for a hint of sweetness; the spice itself is far from sweet but it still works, somehow. You know the recipe by heart, adding the right amounts of water and flour to the countertop to knead together into a stretchy mass between your hands. With a little oil, a pinch of salt as well as a bit of yeast, the dough is done for its first rising process by the time Eden has cleaned the third fish.

Upon cleaning your hands and covering the bread dough, you assist Eden by grilling the fish for her over the fire in her kitchen. Under the pleasant smell of fresh food, you have a moment to yourselves before the business of the evening begins.

“So, who will be joining us again?” you ask your sister, who looks at you for a second before turning back to her fourth fish to prepare. 

“Simon, of course, and Jesus, Mary, Thaddeus and Andrew.” On the last name, you barely manage to keep your face under control, feeling your face heat up. Still, you manage to not let Eden catch you blushing. You flip the fish being heated on the stone one last time before checking on your bread, finding that it needs a little more time to rise.

“You know,” Eden pipes up all of a sudden, as if it is written all over your face, “You are still unmarried.” 

Your eyes widen as you clear your throat. “That’s correct, thank you for the reminder.” 

Eden breathes something akin to amusement. “That’s not what I tried to say. What I mean is that I’m curious to see if there is anyone of Jesus’ followers whom you’d like as a potential future husband.”

Had she seen you flush anyways? Your heart rears inside your chest as you feel like a child caught doing something they weren’t allowed to. The expression on your face is so mortified that your sister gives you a reassuring look and exhales.

“There’s no rush, really. But I mean, we’ve met a lot of nice bachelors whom I wouldn’t mind as my brother-in-law. Take Thaddeus, for example, he’s really sweet. I think Little James would also be a good match for you, since you both have a soft and gentle nature.” 

Your throat runs dry — she hasn’t realised that you’d rather be with someone who is already her brother in law — and you take moment to collect your thoughts. “Thad or Little James?” you squeak, thrown off-guard by her sudden suggestions. Eden nods, smiling softly at your shy response. “I… I don’t know, Eden. Sure, they’re sweet and all, but I’m not sure if they’d be meant for me.” 

“Well, then I’m not really sure who would be a good fit for you.” 

You avert your gaze, feeling a little embarrassed that the thought hasn’t even crossed her mind. Is she right? Would Andrew not be a good match? 

“Maybe Philip?” she then recommends, “Yeah, he’s a Godly man, too. Someone who would be really gentle for you. He is the kind of man you’d like to come home to, I’m sure.” 

“Look, Eden, I…” You let out a slightly antsy sound, “I just don’t think that… That Philip would like me in that way, and honestly I wouldn’t really care, because as kind and wise as he may be, I just see him as a very dear friend.” 

Eden hums and gives you a curious look. “There is something on your mind.” she states. “I can see it in your eyes. Do you have a suggestion for any eligible bachelors around, (Y/n)? Do you have your eye on someone? Oh no, don’t think I don’t see that blush!” You gasp and quickly pad your cheeks to feel them hot to the touch, “You’ve got a crush, don’t you?” 

Letting out a shaky breath of defeat, you give the fish one last flip before they are all ready to go. 

“Come on, who is it? You’re my sister, you can tell me!” 

She almost girlishly grabs your arm, urging you on to reveal your secret. 

You laugh lightly, a little shyly, tucking some loose hair back under your veil. “I don’t think I should, I know he wouldn’t feel the same, and—” 

“Please, (Y/n), maybe I can help! And I’m sure Simon and Andrew can put in a good word for you.” 

Your face twists into uncertainty. “Well, look… That might be kind of the issue.” 

Eden frowns a bit. “What do you mean?” 

“Ah… The person I would potentially really like as my husband is… Hm…” you hardly dare to let the name cross your lips, knowing that she’d be the first one to ever know about your longtime crush on the curly-haired fisherman in question, “…Andrew.” 

Her mouth falls open as she gawks at you, nearly dropping her knife to the ground. Eden puts it on the counter quickly and steps closer to you. “Really? Andrew? Are you serious, (Y/n)?” You nod and she lets out a breath of disbelief. “For how long? I never knew that you—” 

“—Ever since our early teens.” 

The revelation hits her hard as she puts a hand on her chest, letting out a small laugh of slight shock. “How did I never… Never find out that you… For so long? And you never even considered telling me? Or asking me about it? I could have gotten Simon to urge him in your direction, you know, I could have helped out and—” 

“—Its’ fine, Eden.” you whisper, “It’s alright. I… I’ve been in love with him for quite some time, and if he felt the same I feel like he would have asked by now.” 

“(Y/n)…” Eden reassures, “You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much. You see, I bet that Andrew would be thrilled to know that a woman as sweet and kind as you is into him. I think you and him would be a very good match, I just… I didn’t necessarily expect it to happen, you know? I never would have guessed that you were sweet on him, so I never suggested it. After all, we’ve all practically grown up together, have been friends for so long. It’s the same reason I didn’t suggest John, by the way. It just didn’t cross my mind in the first place.”

“Well, you were acquainted with Simon too long before you liked him in that way, no? And yet, you married him.” 

Eden thinks for a moment. “I… Guess there is no arguing that.” she muses. “But would you like a word of advice, (Y/n)?” 

You perk up your head in question. “Yes?” 

“They will be here in a few hours. And… Once they are here, go talk to him. Trust me. Just be yourself, show him you are still that same sweet, kind girl from back in the day and interested to converse with him. If he doesn’t see you for what you are worth, he isn’t deserving of you, anyways.” 

“Talk to him? But I can’t— What could I talk about, then? I’m just going to make a fool of myself, be a stuttering mess, stumble over my words—” 

“—(Y/n). Don’t be so hard on yourself. You are a beautiful, wonderful woman who loves God. You are one of the most honest, genuine people I know. He’d be lucky to have you by his side, and who knows, you might be pleasantly surprised on what he feels for you.” 

You purse your lips, fiddling with your sleeve for a moment as you contemplate her words. 

“Give it some thought, okay? I’m sure that Andrew would love to speak to you more often, and perhaps something beautiful will bloom from it.” 

As you walk over to the counter again to continue on the challah, you ponder the words of your sister. 

“I’ll think about it.” you tell her. 

Eden smiles.  

“Good. You’ve got until tonight.” 

—

The home of Simon and Eden is a little cramped by the time all the invitees have showed up, but it doesn’t deter you nor your sister from serving the guests. You’ve been nervous ever since Andrew has crossed the threshold. In the end, you had decided to just wear what you were already wearing, not fond on drawing attention to yourself to begin with. 

You place a cup of wine in front of Jesus, Who kindly smiles at you. “Thank you, (Y/n). Are you alright? You look a little flushed.” 

Since you don’t want to lie to Jesus, you leave the answer in the middle. “I’ll be fine.” you mutter, which isn’t entirely untrue. Regardless of how the evening goes, you will be just that— fine. Your gaze flickers to the curly-haired former fisherman currently in conversation with Thaddeus. Jesus hums as He follows your eyes, smiling a little. 

“You know, I didn’t take that other seat next to Andrew for a reason. Eden was very adamant about it.” 

You gulp — look back at Eden, who is speaking to Simon at the kitchen counter — then back at Jesus.

“Do you know what she means by that?” You are fully aware that Jesus knows exactly what this is about.

“I… Have an inkling.” 

“An inkling?” Jesus smirks and nods towards the empty seat. “Go. Eden will take over the hosting duties for a moment, and if she needs an extra pair of hands, she knows where to find Me.” 

Who are you to say no to Jesus’ instructions? Eden likely told Him on purpose. You find her gaze across the table whilst you take off your apron, and she winks. As you sit down next to Andrew with bucking knees, he looks up with a kind, almost surprised smile.

“Oh, shalom (Y/n)! How nice to see you again. I have to compliment you on your challah once again. I know I keep saying it, but wow, you never cease to amaze me.” Andrew’s eyes widen as he sees the blush on your face, then realises how he worded his praise, “I—I mean with your bread— Of—Of course you are a great person, too. I— I think— I think you’re great.” 

You smile softly at him, butterflies raging around in your stomach as you gaze upon his genuine expression. “Thank you for your sweet words, Andrew.” 

He gives you an almost giddy look before he snaps out of it, clearing his throat.

“Would you like a drink? Bread? Grapes?” 

“Please.” you softly murmur. He gives you a sweet look.

As he reaches for said items of food scattered around the table, Simon leans towards his wife, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s up with them, huh?” 

“They’re totally into each other.” Eden whispers back. 

Simon nearly chokes on his own saliva. “What? (Y/n) is into Andrew? How is it, that I only find this out now? Did you know about this? For how long has this been going on?” 

“I found out this afternoon while we were preparing Shabbat dinner. It turns out that she has managed to keep her feelings hidden for over a decade.” 

“Over a decade? Are you telling me that I could have been saved from Andrew talking my ear off by pining over her constantly for a whole decade? (Y/n) this, (Y/n) that… I mean, I wouldn’t mind her as my sister-in-law, she’s a very nice person and I think they’d be a good match. But he could have been with her all this time and still he decided to constantly speak to me about it.” 

Eden hums and raises an eyebrow at him, turning to the counter to get the guests a refill of wine. 

“She’s already you sister-in-law, Simon.” she reminds him.

Simon frowns at that, thinking for a moment before his face falls into realisation. “Oh, yeah, that’s true… Anyways, let’s hope and pray that they will finally set things in motion now. It’s been ten long years overdue.” 

“I hope so, too.” Eden replies.

She smiles, pivots to the dinner table with a certain flair, and momentarily meets Jesus’ gaze. He nods towards you and Andrew, then winks at her. She returns it before tending to her guests again.

[poligraf]

artist’s website : kushfineart.com

Vladimir Kush (Russian, b.1965) 

Fisherman for the souls

Oil on canvas

[st0rmyskies]

dude you’re literally the only person who I can ramble to about this so please hear me out.

So i’m a (super senior) marine biology major and i’m at a field station for class/research. During my free time i’ve been going out fishing with my two friends on the daily. It’s worth noting too that we all are very, very outwardly queer in a seaside town that is filled to the brim with trump flags on boats. We also barely know how to fish, as in we know how to cast it. But also we couldn’t even get the one pole to cast yesterday so that statement is even on thin ice. But in our fishing endeavors, there have been a handful of time where straight up dads have watched us get our asses handed to us and they will offer their advice/help. And when I say ‘dad’ I deadass mean 9/10 there son is awkwardly standing behind him and begging them to stop talking to us after it’s been 15 minutes. Once again, we’re queer and we have daddy issues, so we absolutely are eating up these conversations. It’s honestly the most heartwarming, fucking funniest interactions to me. Especially when you get the visual imagery of us getting tangled in fishing line because we can’t get the one reel to cooperate; one of us has a youtube video pulled up while the other is reading the manual. BOOM- a dad appears.

With that, I cannot stop thinking about Time approaching the most queer ass group of college students (who are visibly struggling to even cast out the fucking line) to offer the most dad advice on fishing. Bonus if one of the boys are there begging for him to leave them alone. Extra bonus if it’s Twilight or Wind. Or even Time taking the boys fishing and all of them, but Twilight, is going through it. Someone’s managed to wrap the line around their neck, another got too excited and yanked their hook out of the water and now it’s free flying (with no fish), Four is attaching weed whacker motor onto the pole because “it’ll reel the fish in quicker”, someone wasn’t paying attention and almost stepped backwards off the dock, and another boy discovered that the spiny rays are sharp motherfuckers. If this continues to live in my head rent free, I even might write this.

That it. Just Time being a dad in public is absolutely sending me.

Also we only caught an atlantic croaker after being at the dock for 5 hours.

Time isn't the most social of butterflies, but he's also ABSOLUTELY the guy who can't ignore fellow fishermen having A Struggle. Especially when said struggle is so... blatant. If strangers, yes Twi would give it 15-20 minutes before he's awkwardly trying the polite interventions of "Okay, well, you guys have a great day.... Okay, well, we should get on our way..." and either just gives up or goes back to doing his own thing until Time is finished. If Wind, the interventions are likely more physical, moving their belongings farther and farther away until Time has no choice but to retreat if he wants more bait.

If Time ever deigned to take the boys on a fishing trip, he'd regret it within 30 minutes.

Most likely to get stabbed by a fish and need more than a few bandaids: Sky.

Most likely to get tangled up and string together a novel expletive phrase that enters the household vernacular permanently: Legend.

Most likely to take a tumble off the dock: Hyrule.

Most likely to injure an innocent bystander with that weed whacker motor: Four.

Most likely to get a fish hook in his arm while he's sitting on the shore sunning himself because he will not partake in this barbaric pastime: Warriors.

Most likely to be pretty successful at fishing but still drops his phone off the dock: Wind.

Most likely to resort to throwing These Hands at the fish instead of using the ancient technology of fishing poles: Champion.

Most likely to space out talking the entire time and be the one to actually hook The Big One but fail to reel it in: Wild.

Most likely to not catch a damn thing because he's busy running interference: Twilight.

Maybe next time, Time will just take them to the pet store to buy goldfish.

I am endlessly amused by the fact that as a marine bio majors you have such a time fishing. I'm sure you've made at least one surrogate dad proud. Also, for the uninitiated:

Anon's Moby Dick.

[k-marzolf]

Blood and Butterflies.

Warnings; canon typical violence, blood, stabbing with a pen, language, fluff kinda? Possessive behavior, thieving, fem!reader.

Words; 289.

Authors Note; I’m not sure if I’ll continue this, but I really like this reader character, so I might.

Tagging; @e-dubbc11 @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

&&&&

The first time you’d met, you were being beaten up by some local thugs after refusing to give the leader your number.

You’d stabbed one of them in the eye with your pen, over and over making him scream, holding his face as blood gushed.

But they came at you even stronger, even as you stabbed another in the neck. “Fuckin’ bitch.” The leader snarled.

Billy had found you in the alleyway coming home from a trip to the grocery store, and he practically crushed the leader's skull in with the force of him slamming the guy's head into the wall, and the rest dispersed.

You’d blinked holding your pen, seeing the blood on Billy’s face. He wondered if he’d frightened you. “You’re like a god of war. Like Ares, violent and graceful.” You said, as he helped you up.

“Billy Russo.” He said drawn in by your own bloody appearance, attracted by how you’d blinded the one guy with a pen. A fierce little butterfly, beautiful and fragile.

“Can I take you out for coffee, Mister Russo? My treat for saving me.” You said, not bothering to wipe the dirt off you from the alleyway.

Billy was amused, women never took him out. He was wealthy, so they assumed he would. God, he liked you.

“Sure, sweetheart.” He said.

And when the day came, you had brought some fish you’d kept in a Tupperware container. “I stole some from some fishermen. For Lucy.” You said softly, the only hint you were poor. “My cat. I found her in my neighborhood, she’s black. I like her because she’s bad luck.”

God, he wanted you for his own. A pretty butterfly to display.

He decided then, he’d clip your wings.

[katzkinder]

Taking notes about Pisces and its association with the birth of Christ and lily’s regression into a baby and St Peter’s cross and how Peter was a fisherman and patron saint of net making (rope tying) shipbuilders and fishermen and how knots are often used as symbolic imagery for marriage and—DEEP BREATH

There’s just a lot here folks there’s SO MUCH and it’s so super cool how Strike takes these symbols and kind of. Inverts them. How they use them and also their diametric opposite, because Lily is a character cloaked in contradictions.

He carries both symbols of life and death, of rebirth and permanent end.

With his Scythe he is the grim reaper, with his name he heralds the coming of spring, an image of lilies pushing through snowy mounds to greet the sun. A butterfly is a symbol of rebirth but also a guide to the underworld. His favorite colors are pink and white and yet he dresses in black. His earrings are both flower petals and bloody hearts. He’s a gentle angel repenting by caring for others and a ruthless traitor who orchestrated the deaths of at least two women.

He wants to be saved and yet he tries to make himself irredeemable in the eyes of those he loves. He is both a child an adult, the demon within in a woman where he is a man. He is vain yet self hating. He is playful but brutal.

He is the Servamp of Lust yet his Name speaks of love.

Life starts with Lust but it Ends With Love

Happy Birthday Lily

[cryingmeganekko]

Chihayafuru Hitomebore/ Love at First Sight symbolism

I know this is already a reddit post but I wanted to delve into it a little more so you might be familiar with what I'm going to say for Chihaya, but the rest have more symbolism than what the reddit post said. I'm going to credit it just in case I get anything wrong. This is a whole Taichi fest, the song lyrics, the symbolism, everything mwuah chef's kiss plus it made me a Taichihaya stan. Btw this is one of if not my favorite series

https://www.reddit.com/r/chihayafuru/comments/fnpn6q/chihayafuru_3_companion_guide_s3e23/

Wataya's Wisteria symbolize love, support ( his team ), Our expanding consciousness ( y'know after his grandpa died, his depression, and learning from Chihaya) , Tenderness, Bliss, Wisdom, Immortality, Nobility ( his grandpa being the past meijin ), and Sensitivity

Chihaya's Cosmos symbolize Purity, Harmony, Humility, Autumn cherry blossom, Chastity, Delicate aspects of love, Mother's love, Femininity, Deep romance, Maiden Japanese heart, Love, and Cleanliness

Taichi's higanbana/red spider lilies and butterfly are so great together let me tell you

Ok so basically the higanbana symbolizes Never to meet again with lovers ( him and Chihaya?, have not read the manga yet because I'm poor and I also need, high emphasis on *need* to learn Japanese ), Abandonment ( You know the deal with him Chihaya and Arata ), Hell ( I mean his whole not being able to see the cards thing and his pining for Chihaya ), Afterlife, Equinox which in itself symbolizes let go of your past, and Reincarnation ( moving on maybe, manga readers tell me I'm wrong, Taichihaya stans tell me so too, please yell at me in the comment section), and immortality

Then the swallowtail butterfly, Ageha 揚羽 omg you can't tell me I'm wrong about these butterflies. The f-ing autumn butterfly and Chihaya with the other autumn flower/tree I can't take it anymore. They symbolize Metamorphosis, Love ( Taichihaya ), Womanhood, Grace, Free nature, Departed spirits, Hope, Endurance ( his life ), Change ( maybe moving on again, but feel free to attack me ), Life, and It's Raised Wings have too much symbolism for being free ( but of what )

Ok then we have Yuki Suetsugu herself subtly saying that she loves Taichi but wants him to be free of something even if it's Chihaya. With both poems 43 and 46 which is Taichi's

46 means

Crossing the Bay of Yura

the boatman loses the rudder.

The boat is adrift,

not knowing where it goes.

Is the course of love like this?

Suou says this for card 43 S3E19 08:22 - Suou: "Senpai, that poem... is a poem about knowledge that can fill you with either light or darkness."

https://karice.wordpress.com/2016/02/29/p493/

Q: In the manga, in conjunction with the feelings and situations that the characters face, you turn the spotlight on poems that deal with a whole range of emotions, including (romantic) love. May I ask, which of the 100 poems is your favorite?

My favorite in terms of meaning is “When compared to / the feelings in my heart / after we'd met and loved, / I realize that in the past / I had no cares at all” (Poem 43, translation by Moscow). Having been ignorant, once you know of it, you feel like all the cells in your body have been reborn. I think that everyone will undergo that experience several times in their lives, but there are few poems that express this feeling in words.

Then we have the poems relevance in the endings

I know the significance of the the three main ones

Poem 17 Chihaya's is on top of both 11 Wataya's and 46 ( the topic of the day ) Taichi's

I'll quote the reddit person on the significance of them all being like that

"And finally, we can come back to the three poems that are in the front and center at the start of the ED. Here, we can see #17 is on top of #11 and #46. Topically, both #11 and #46 (our Poem of the Day) cards are about being exiled on boats:

Card #11 - My only thought as I am put out to sea is to ask the fishermen to tell the people in the capital that I make for the islands.

Card #46 - Like a boatsman adrift at the mouth of the Yura, I do not know where this love will take me.

It goes without saying that the card on top, #17, is Chihaya, who is the love interest of both #11 for Arata and #46 for Taichi. #11 is a "Wata" card, which shares Arata Wataya's name. The poem was written by Sangi Ono no Takamura, who was exiled to Oki Island after refusing to participate in an embassy assignment to China. Although the poem speaks of being exiled and away from "her", Takamura was ultimately allowed to return home after being pardoned a year later. On the other hand, in our Poem of the Day above, we can see that #46 is Taichi's card, who was stranded adrift because his "oar-string snapped" -- a far more distressing and harsh reality than Arata's."

Please tell me the significance of all them as I have the ogura hyakunin isshu penguin classics translated.

There are also two maps in the back of the ogura hyakunin isshu to know where all the poems came from

Guys I'm f-ing singing this for a Talent show too

[shiny-jr]

hi! i was looking at your twst mythical creatures au(?) and i'm really thinking abt nøkken/ningyo octavinelle atm

– Warning: Slightly yandere? Not really though. Gender-neutral reader. Mention of a lot of death though.

– Character: Azul Ashengrotto.

– Note: I actually preferred the Nixie/Näcken for Azul, since I plan for each dorm to be loosely based off mythical creatures and stories from the region where they might be located. Again though, did not think I would actually write anything for this au, but I just got an idea when I saw this so I had to. Also, not everyone in the dorm will be the same. There may be some similarities, like in the larger dorms like Heartslabyul with Ace + Cater being the same and Trey + Deuce being the same creature, or in the case of brothers like Jade + Floyd or Idia + Ortho. Anyways, continuing.

All the locals knew that these creeks and rivers and lakes all led back to one source, the ocean. It wasn't too far away, if you just followed the direction in which the river flowed, you would get there. However, no one ventured out into the wilderness as often as they used to. Rumors spoke of an increase in beasts in the area, especially in the waters, inhuman creatures that would prey upon any helpless victim that neared.

Sometimes, especially those close to the deep unknowns of the ocean, bodies were discovered, torn and ripped apart like a half-eaten meal from whatever fearsome beasts lay out there. Most of the time, only severed appendages were discovered when washed up on shore, like a leg or an arm. Perhaps that's why many fisherman moved from the sea to the rivers, but it wasn't as if that stopped the casualties from rising. Yet to those poor men and women that depended on fishing for their way of living, the rivers were preferable. At least if they died there, it might be peaceful. When a corpse was discovered in the rivers of the woods, they were usually fully intact and they had a smile on their face and closed eyes as their bodies floated down the river, as if they experienced a peaceful sleeping death. It brought a strange sort of comfort to the fishermen, because if they died in these woods, at least it wouldn't be torture. The only odd thing about the bodies discovered in the rivers, were that valuables such as jewelry, coins, and other sparkling treasures were usually taken.

Personally, you weren't too keen on even going near the beaches due to the reports and stories. However, the woods was another thing. In the woods, there was plenty of land, it wasn't entirely water, so you felt a bit safer there. But you weren't foolish enough to willingly go towards the river, especially by yourself. So you merely kept away from any water source bigger than a puddle whenever you would go forage for berries and wild garlic.

The grass was wet with fresh dew, patches of trees and barren dirt ground were coated with a soft layer of moss. It smelt of pine and rain, the gray clouds a good distance away over the hills and mountains signaled that a light rain might be arriving later. The sun shining through the branches provided a pleasant warmth over your skin. In your basket you carried berries and mushrooms you forged already, making sure to leave just enough for next time. As you walked, avoiding the increasing number of puddles and trying not to step on the pretty white flowers growing among the clovers, you admired the flowing creek just down the sloping hill you were on. Everything was going so well, you felt as if you could admire the butterflies floating about and birds twittering for hours. It was perfect, until it wasn't––

You detected notes from an instrument, that played a curious tune and instantly caused you to stop in your tracks and raise your head. It sounded like... a piano? What was a piano doing in the middle of the woods? Almost instantly, as soon as you processed the first notes, the noise made your head pound, its enchanting melody throbbing in your skull. Your vision became distorted and you were moving–– not by your own free will. You felt your legs moving, and so were your arms, you were inching forward on your toes, as if being dragged forward in a trance and awkward dance. The notes of the piano became so loud that it was drowning out your thoughts of panic and confusion, even as you attempted to cover your ears, your feet still marched forward on their own and the notes echoed within the confines of your mind no matter how hard you tried to block it out. You couldn't even think straight.

You had no choice when you were sent toppling down the grassy slope, the berries and mushrooms you worked so hard to forge falling out of the basket you carried as you fell into the river with a loud splash! Thankfully, the music stopped, you could finally hear your own thoughts again, and you were able to regain control of your limbs to swim back to the surface of the water. You clung to the closest stone, eyes wide and now soaked to the bone. Your eyes landed on a pair of legs, feet bare and dipped into the water. Slowly your eyes travelled upwards, surprised to see a man seated on the very rock in the middle of the river you were now clinging to dear life for.

The young man smiled down at you softly, although you didn't like the strange glint in his eyes. His hair–– his hair was an odd white, wavy yet soft looking, not to mention dry looking too. Which was strange considering he was literally in the middle of a river, but to be fair he was seated on a dry rock. However, what caused you to freeze, was what was at his fingertips. Light, a soft purple light that formed the shape of the keys of a piano, like odd magic. Upon removing his hand from it, the lights disappeared, leaving you stunned. What was that...?

"Ah, that didn't take very long. Certainly much longer than last time to find a patron!" He spoke extravagantly, reminding you a lot of the smooth fast-talking merchants back in town. Was he some sort of magic user...?

Your eyes landed on his clothing, finding it somewhat familiar. A black tunic with long sleeves and a matching pair of pants, the second layer was a purple vest sewn with little patterns of golden seashells, a thick gray coat that reached to his thighs with golden patterns on the edges and white fur on its hood. Not to mention, lots of shining accessories. A ring, bracelets, earrings, necklaces of gold and silver, he even wore silver glasses and had a pouch fat with coins tied to his hip. Then it came to you. Those were all stolen.

When a body was found by the river, people assumed it was a simple murder when the person's black clothing was missing. When a victim was found without their beloved gray coat, everyone guessed that the victim had lost it. Then there was the fact that bodies found floating down the river were all missing valuables, shiny valuables, and this man had so many... Without even thinking, you blurted out, "If you're looking for shiny stuff, you're wasting your time."

"I realize that." The young man said while doing a once over of you, looking particularly unimpressed since you looked like a cat that fell in a tub of water. Slowly he shrugged, averting his gaze away, "Well, since you have no use to me––"

"Wait!" He stopped, listening to your words as you proceeded carefully. "I might have more to offer than gold and silver if you let me live."

At that, he raised an eyebrow, a sly smile appearing on his face as he glanced back at you. "Oh? Are you proposing a deal? That's brave of you, it's amusing! Alright, I'm listening. First, the formalities. Every proper business deal must have the formalities first. My name is Azul, and as your astute observations have picked up by now, I am not like you. So, what is your name and what will you bargain to me?"

[thelordofgifs]

Celegorm! I fell in love with tfs with your depiction of the Second-Worst Feanorian (I still owe you an ask for the most recent part, btw), and I'd love to hear how you are constructing his character!

(character ask game!)

Oooh thank you so much!! He's a character I'm still developing my thoughts on - he's very fun to write in tfs though, so I'm so glad you like him there! and of course you don't owe me an ask - although I always love hearing your incredible thoughts ❤️

one aspect about them I love:

Love his feral energy. He's so unpredictable. He reminds me of a lion somehow: golden and majestic and with this very restrained, very dangerous energy. At some point I need to work that comparison into some Maglor-POV fic (it sounds like a simile Maglor would come up with).

one aspect I wish more people understood about them

He. is. not. a. dumb. jock.

one (or more) headcanon(s) I have about this character

It was Celegorm who went after Maedhros' ill-fated parley when it failed to return, and Celegorm who brought back the news of Maedhros' disappearance and (potential) death to his brothers. Part of the reason why he was so vicious to Maglor about the decision not to rescue him (which he was. SO vicious) was because he blamed himself for not chasing after the Balrogs who had attacked Maedhros immediately.

one character I love seeing them interact with

Celebrimbor!! They had such a sweet and also complicated uncle-nephew relationship, I just know it.

one character I wish they would interact with/interact with more

as above - I am OBSESSED with the Celegorm-Maglor relationship. I headcanon that they were never very close (too different) but the way they might have tussled for power during Maedhros' captivity makes my brain burr. Intra-Feanorian politics are SO delicious to me. They aren't the united front they're sometimes portrayed as!

one (or more) headcanon(s) I have that involve them and one other character

hmm I don't think I ship him with Aredhel exactly but there was Something Intense going on there. I generally favour a qpr interpretation but whatever it was it was messy and fierce and they loved each other deeply and hated each other passionately and were the two people who understood each other best in the world. And they make such fun parallels!!

[candlemouse]

Meeting the Parents

Alex Cloudmill/Maya Dew

Ao3 Link <- Consider leaving comments/kudos here!

Butterflies brawled in Alex’s stomach, and she wiped her hands on her pants again. For like the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

No, it wasn’t Garnok rising or Sabine or Katja or—

“They’re going to love you, Alex.” Maya smiled and interlocked her fingers with Alex. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Alex shifted in the dining booth and nodded with false bravado. “I’m not nervous.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Maya said. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

Their booth in the Coffe Pot Café overlooked the Dundull bay and in the early morning, Alex could watch the fishermen set up their sails for the day.

“Okay,” Alex said. She smiled at Maya. Her warmth was so infectious, and Alex never wanted to be without it. “I’m nervous. But not as nervous as I was a few minutes ago.”

“Good,” Maya said. “Now, imagine how I felt when I had to meet the Mayor of one of the biggest and busiest cities in Jorvik because he was my girlfriend’s brother!”

It still made Alex giddy when she heard Maya call her her girlfriend. It was a novelty, okay? And even if it became habitual, Alex didn’t think her happiness at that name would fade, anyway.

“Technically, Mayor Peanut is Fort Pinta’s mayor. You just met his assistant.” Alex brought their entwined hands up and kissed Maya’s. “Besides, James is all bark and no bite.”

“To you! He immediately started quizzing me on every detail of my stay in Fort Pinta until he found another opportunity to make money.”

“He is nothing if not dedicated.”

“I think that runs in the family.”

Alex laughed.

“Maya!”

Alex straightened. Maya’s parents had arrived. They shared Maya’s green eyes, but not her red hair. As they exchanged hugs and hellos, Alex stood to the side glancing anywhere but at the family. She wasn’t used to such overt familial affection, and the brawling butterflies in her stomach had graduated to a full on fight ring.

“Ma, Pa.” Maya took Alex’s hand and smiled at her. “This is Alex.”

Alex inclined her head with an awkward smile. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Us too!” Mrs. Dew beamed.

They all sat down in the booth and continued their conversation.

“Your mother was so excited, I don’t think she spoke a single word about anything else the whole bus ride,” Mr. Dew complained.

“Well, Maya had told me so much about you, Alex, that it was hard to wait!” Her mother began to scan the menu. “Though, you must forgive me, but it’s slipped my mind what you do for a living.”

“Oh, well, I’m in druidic training at the moment,” Alex replied. She was sure it was not what her girlfriend’s parents wanted to hear—that she was joining a secretive religious sect, but there wasn’t much truth Alex was able to tell Maya’s parents. So, she was trying not to lie when she could. If everyone knew about the true danger and magic of the world…maybe it would be better. But, alas, Fripp would have her head. Not that he doesn’t already have a million reasons to be mad at her, anyway. “But, I help my brother out at Fort Pinta sometimes, too.”

“Druidic training?” Mr. Dew asked. “That’s…”

“Remember our blacksmith back in the day, honey? He was a druid.” Mrs. Dew pointed out.

“Alex is great at it, too, guys,” Maya said. “She’s even on this task force that helps out across Jorvik.”

“Oh! Didn’t you say you had picnics with…oh, what was their name? One of Alex’s colleagues.” Mrs. Dew said.

“Yeah, we have picnics with one of my, um, co-workers in the Forgotten Fields,” Alex said.

“That’s so darling,” Mrs. Dew said. “Do you like it in Jarlaheim?”

“Oh, Jarlaheim’s a beautiful city, but I don’t actually live there,” Alex said.

“Oh, I must have heard Maya wrong, then,” Mrs. Dew said. “Where do you live?”

“I have a house in Valedale, but I do often stay with Maya in the Harvest Counties. It’s easier that way.” Alex fiddled with the napkin in her lap. “Plus, I have a good friend in Jarlaheim that will let me crash if need be.”

“Oh good, good,” Mrs. Dew said.

The waitress came to take their drink orders and then was off.

“This Dundull weather is beautiful, isn’t it, Ma?”

“Oh, yes. I love the sea breeze,” Mrs. Dew said. She folded her napkin in her lap. “Alex, do you like Fort Pinta, Jarlaheim, or Valedale best?”

“There’s great things about all of Jorvik, of course. But, I do really like living in Jarlaheim. It reminds me of home. The music scene is really great.”

“What kind of music are you into?”

“Hip-hop. Some rock. What about you?”

“Ooh, I like Jazz,” Mrs. Dew said. “The blues.”

“She plays it non-stop,” Mr. Dew added. “Where did you say your hometown was?”

“Jorvik City.”

“We live there now! Which part?” Mrs. Dew asked.

“Governor’s Fall. I really did love it, but at some point, my family just couldn’t afford to live there anymore,” Alex said. It was bittersweet but Alex was glad for the memories she made there.

“You both will have to visit us next time in Jorvik City,” Mrs. Dew said.

“Ma, I don’t like the city. I can’t bring Elli with me.” Maya pouted. It was funny. Maya was completely at ease, as she should be with her parents, but Alex felt like she was currently acting the most professional and polite she ever has.

“I’m sure your horse will be okay for a few days alone.”

“No, she won’t.”

The conversation devolved into a light-hearted argument about Elli being able to handle some alone time that was interrupted by their waiter taking their drink orders. The dinner continued in a similar banter, and the tension that Alex had held slowly dissipated.

By the time they were exchanging goodbyes, Alex really felt close to them.

Once they were gone, Alex and Maya started walking to the Dundull stable.

“They really like you a lot, you know,” Maya said. She squeezed Alex’s hand.

Alex knew she had issues with parental figures. It was an obvious consequence of her childhood that manifested in both avoidance and over-attachment to her older mentors. Especially with Elizabeth gone, Alex felt like she had to re-confront all her mental struggles all over again.

She was glad to have Maya by her side, and a small part of her hoped that one day, just maybe, she could call Maya’s parents her own.

Ao3 Link <- Consider leaving comments/kudos here!

[somethingclevermahogony]

ROY G. BIV Tag

Thanks for the tag @winterandwords!

📝 Search your story for the colours of the rainbow and post the excerpts.

Red

At the centre of the room, sat a wonder of craftsmanship, a great throne of black marble and gold all bedecked in the furs of exotic beasts and monsters. Something or someone was crouched behind it, shuffling amongst the hanging pelts. Narul caught a glimpse of red silk and the glimmer of a golden circlet. The king’s youngest daughter, Ninma, had snuck away from her tutors yet again.

Orange

The pots, jugs, and jars were adorned with intricate designs, some depicting scenes of daily life, others abstract patterns that seemed to dance around the curves of the vessels, still others were unglazed, fiery orange or ashy grey.

Yellow

The excitable men hefted baskets filled with furs, berries, fish, oysters, and jars of oil. The more valiant and presumptuous of their lot climbed up onto the ship itself and waved around necklaces of brightly coloured stones and bowls of some mysterious yellow substance that Narul could not immediately identify (Butter).

Green

Two spirits blinked at him with luminous yellow eyes, like those of an owl. Their skin was the same color as the oak leaves which surrounded them, though interrupted in places by vibrant splotches of red and metallic gold, In form and size they were like children, no older than Ninma. As his eyes met theirs they smiled and gestured with their pudgy green fingers, bidding that he follow.

Blue

The creature raised both blue tinted eyebrows. “Me? What would I do with a whole village, much less a village of smelly fishermen? To be perfectly honest with you my friend I don’t have a clue what happened. The day that it happened I was taking a lovely nap on that rock which you have been sitting on, and when I awoke for my daily walk I found the village empty, not a man, woman, child, or animal to be seen. There was no flood water, no blood. I must say I was truly baffled and a bit upset.” It lifted a paw to inspect it with mild curiosity.

Indigo

Tizanush bent to retrieve his belt, the silk was a shade of indigo which could only be achieved through expensive Jezaaic dyes. The cost of those dyes alone could have fed a commoner family for a year. The lordling carelessly tied it over his naked waist, and hung his sword from it.

Violet

Flowers were hung from the branches which framed the village edge, draped over the houses, and woven into hair and clothes. Cranebills, anemones, chamomile, and orchids, had been gathered from amongst the trees and in nearby clearings and meadows, while dried hasir petals kept for medicine and good luck from the previous autumn were sprinkled sparingly on the ground. Jani stood on his toes to reach the highest branches. Violets, blues, and whites, hung in curtains around the clearing, drawing forth red winged butterflies that flapped lazily in the light of late afternoon.

Tagging @willtheweaver, @leahnardo-da-veggie, @abalonetea, @pluttskutt, @diabolical-blue

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

Finnick’s thrashing woke you. Blinking up at the ceiling for a second, you gathered your thoughts before you turned to your husband. Thrashing might have been an overstatement — Finnick’s nightmares tended to leave him quietly wounded and your shared years in the Capital had taught you the power and protection of silence, so the two of you had a tendency to cry without sound or much movement.

But for your husband? The small aborted movements would be a full on seizure on anyone else.

Sighing deeply, you moved to the floor next to his side of the bed. You had been helping him wake from nightmares for years now, the two of you were each other's pillars of strength in the vipers den, and neither of you were comfortable with someone looming over them when awakening from a nightmare.

Reaching up from your spot, you slowly grabbed Finnick’s hand in yours. It was a light hold, easily broken but also easily felt. Then you started to hum and sing. It was just little tunes — lullabies you remembered your mother singing to you as you were growing up, sea ditties that the fishermen of District Four had taught you, some pretty perverted bar songs you’d picked up in your ‘rebellious’ years. Anything that would bring Finnick away from the nightmares and to a better time.

When it looked like he was calming down, you leaned closer to him, still on the ground. “Can you hear me? Can you wake up, my Finnick?”

It took a few more rounds of singing and asking him to wake before you caught sight of his beautiful green eyes, still hazy with sleep and shining with tears. When he finally focused them on you, you brought his hand to your lips — gently placing butterfly soft kisses on the tips of his fingers.

“Back with me?” Your tone was pure questioning, not accusatory. Everyone had nightmares.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Finnick’s voice was gravely but his words were kind as was his pull on your hand. He used his tightening grip to heave you up from the ground and back into his arms, rolling the two of you over until he was perched above you.

The moon was full and provided enough light that you could see each other perfectly well, so you saw when Finnick allowed his walls to crack again. He buried his face in your neck, laying out across you. You just restarted singing a slow song, running your fingers through his hair, and did your best to ignore the wet spot that was growing on your shoulder.

Everyone breaks at one point but you loved Finnick enough to be his shelter from the storm, the rock to hold him down from his spiraling thoughts, and the arms he could cry in without judgement.

@febuwhump

A/N — any blank blogs that follow me are going to be reported then blocked. Pick a different profile pic and get a witty header or something.

[just-a-gamer-daydeamer-girl]

More Rayman head cannons now starring his friends!

Rayman is unable to stretch, but is curious about it because he hears it feels good, if he somehow gets arms and legs he probably try stretching to see how it feels

Ly, murffy and Betilla are all different species of fairy. Betilla’s kind is more of a typical fairy with wings while Ly’s kind is humanoid with animal and insect traits, such as tails, claws or butterfly wings. Murffy’s kind has the traditional wings but are pretty small.

Ly can only ‘fly’ when channeling her magic, and runs on all fours

Globox has an incredible memory, he remembers ALL of his children’s names and distinct features and personality traits.

Barbara was saved by Rayman out of her imprisonment from her tower, but this happened differently then the tropes, after all it was a self imprisonment, Rayman convinced her to step out and save her kingdom (after the two of them brawled)

Voodoo mama is an expert of transformation magic, it’s why her wings are bat wings, she liked the look and feel of them better then the typical fairy wings.

Betilla used to have limbs, however due to creating Rayman and giving him powers, she ended up losing them becoming limbless. Her magic is in Rayman and Rayman’s power is in her.

Rayman real size is in fact around 5ft(including the space where his ‘legs’ should be), but he actually changes his size depending on his mood. He has the power to change size remember? He can’t get super tiny with out the help of a funnel or a flying blue elf, but he can shrink down a good few feet. He can’t do it instantly though and he likes to be on the smaller size.

Barbara’s favorite food is chocolate

The magician is the one who made the end goal signs in Rayman 1,

Betilla has a pretty grey moral compass but it’s a lot more functional then other magic users.

Raymesis has a soft spot for music boxes

Clark likes having tea, but it’s difficult for him to find cups that he can’t accidentally break. He also like flavorful drinks.

Dolph Laserhawk has quite a serious hair care routine (before he got caught became a GHOST) I mean have you seen his hair in the series? It’s beautiful.

Bullfrog never got a proper name, (I mean his name is kinda the equivalent of a man being named Homo sapien or Human). This is due to the life he lived before becoming an assassin, honestly hybrid seem to be so abused that it wouldn’t be surprising to me if some of them weren’t given names cuz why bother. After becoming an assassin he had the chance of getting a proper name but he refused sticking with the name Bullfrog.

Ramon may not be aware of this but he’s got control over his hair and can glide just like Rayman. He did slick his hair back no problem.

Rayman helped the space opera network so much that it’s practically another studio compared to when the Phantom ran it. It’s now got quality and passionate programs that are encouraged to be as creative as possible, not to mention the amazing employee benefits and the fact no one judges you because of your specices.

Ly like learning about magic and has definitely messed with cursed artifacts and tried to learn more about Rayman biology (he did not make it easy for her).

The space opera network most popular show was ment to be a prank. It was just video footage of Rayman sleeping, but it was wildly popular. (Rayman has no idea about this)

Tilly wants to become a hero and fighter just like Rayman and is doing her best to try and become his apprentice by impressing him. She just has really odd ideas on how to impress…

Most of the princesses in Rayman legends are related to each other.

Beeb-o is Jeanie’s father. Their relationship is weird cuz there robots, but over the course of sparks of hope Jeanie ‘grows up’ from just an ai ment to help to truly her own being.

Rabbid Mario does a lot of unboxing videos, Rabbid peach always butts in.

The four kings in Rayman origins were monster because they were inflicted with darktoons, if the fishermen/monks had the darktoons stuck on their head too long they would turn into monsters as well.

Rayman has a really soft and squishy torso, he pretty much has no bones in there. He makes squeaky toy noises if he is squeezed hard enough.

Elysia doesn’t actually have a scar or a missing tooth, he actually puts on makeup to match her sister, everything else she just goes goth.

Rayman had a special vault installed in the space opera network, it keeps the more dangerous props from causing damage, such as weapons, explosives and darkmess that the prop department tried to use, only Rayman knows how to open the vault, no one gets to use the dangerous stuff without his knowledge or permission.

Finally:

Rayman’s existence cannot be erased by anything. No god, infinity gauntlet or whatever can make him fade away.