#doomed from the start girlie

[greenqueenhightower]

To those who say Alicent wasn’t supposed to be enjoying herself by having sex with Criston when she’s found out Lucerys had died and the blacks would be coming after her and her family I have to say: Alicent was never supposed to be enjoying anything, and that’s the point. The moment she does it, all hell breaks loose and she reverts to hating herself for seeking personal enjoyment.

[pinkwinesupernovas]

change the fucking prophecy damnit

[aguagua]

no but i like wanna talk about vandermatthews and hosea specifically,, but also I’m literally incoherent so it’s just gonna live in my tags

[nightly-ruse]

A sketchy watercolor doodle of the cats of all time. Moth is so happy and Leaf loves seeing her happy. Specifically drew this with “Comfort Me” by Sparklehorse on loop very good song esp in the idea of them.

[lockedtowers]

‘would cassie have been better off if her family was in her life’ her dads the j/abberwock and the one who took her her conscious to physically kill her to unlock her powers its hard to say if she’s have the same level of trauma or worse trauma but she would have had a father who loved her. in his way. which is still kinda shit.

[lightsoutletsgo]

I’m such an angst girly omg how about lando’s phone not working and reader gets sad he’s not replying or answering her calls for a few days🤨

pairing: lando norris x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, allusions to a panic attack, reader is v emotional, lando is an idiot ahhhh tysm for sending this in! It was fun to write but ofc I had to make it fluffy to end bc I didn't wanna make myself too sad happy reading! love mimi 🤍

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

Long distance relationships were hard, you knew that before you’d even started dating Lando. You’d heard all of the stories before but like the many innocent others who had yet to experience their partner being on the other side of the world, you were determined that everything would be okay. 

Now, as you thought back to how naive you’d been, you scoffed, how could you have thought it would be so simple? If you weren’t battling with time zones, you were battling to find free time, and if you found free time, it was never quiet and peaceful and it never lasted more than a few minutes. You knew you should have been satisfied with those snatched moments you did get, but you missed your boyfriend. 

You missed him even more when he got another podium and you weren’t there to celebrate with him. You’d stayed up until stupid o’clock to watch the race live and you’d cheered and jumped as your boyfriend performed overtake after overtake to move up the grid to claim second place. You knew that once he had done his post-race interviews and meetings he would call you. You sighed as once more Lando’s contact picture flashed up with ‘facetime unavailable’. You’d scheduled this call the night before but he was only a few minutes late. You shook your head as you took a deep breath, he was probably just finishing up in meetings. Half an hour went by and your stomach twisted with worry as you still hadn’t heard from him. You checked your phone but there were no new notifications - not from him at least anyway. 

You curled up on the couch, noticing Lando’s hoodie still resting over the arm of the couch. Pulling it towards you, you nuzzled your face into it and inhaled, the smell of his cologne washing over you. You felt tears well up in your eyes. No matter how busy or tired he was, he had never once missed your call. You grew angry, not with Lando, never with Lando, but just at the situation. 

You huffed and grabbed your phone once more, deciding to doom scroll through instagram until Lando finally called. You noticed that a few people had posted new stories and so you pressed on the first one, absentmindedly tapping your screen until you paused, sitting up quickly as you realised the story you were looking at was Max Fewtrell’s. He’d posted a video in the club at a post-race party. You normally wouldn’t have batted an eyelid, but you could have sworn in the back corner of the dimly-lit club video was a figure that looked suspiciously like Lando. Going back to the start of his story and scrolling through again you realised it was Lando, wearing the black shirt you��d given him for his birthday the previous year. 

Turns out you could be mad at Lando. Something uncomfortable and hot flashed in your stomach as nausea hit you. Anger curled its way up your spine and through your chest, tightening around your lungs and making it hard to breathe. He was out at a club? And that’s why he hadn’t called you? You growled and glared at your screen, thumbs jabbing into the keyboard as you furiously typed a message to Max. He was online, you noted, as you hit ‘send’ and waited for him to read it. You barely had to wait five minutes before Max was apologising profusely and sending you a long paragraph about how he was sure Lando had texted you and would be letting him know straight away. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on the couch next to you with a ‘hmmph’. You sat in silence for a while, your emotions slowly welling up as tears gathered on your lash line. Was this how your relationship was going to end? Long nights alone while Lando partied it up on the other side of the world? Surrounded by scores of choices of pretty women and an endless supply of alcohol? You couldn’t help the way you sobbed as you grabbed his hoodie once more, desperately trying to catch your breath. You were crying so hard you almost didn’t hear the way your phone vibrated on the cushion. You gasped for air as you picked it up and turned it over, Max’s name flashing on the screen. You snatched your phone up and pressed the green button to accept, not even registering that it was a facetime call and he was going to see you crying.

You inhaled sharply as it was Lando’s worried face that appeared on the screen, he looked panicked and you could hear the music thumping in the background although slightly muffled. Despite the fluorescent lights he was standing under, he still looked good, “Baby? Oh my god…” He took in your tear stained cheeks and the way your eyes were red. He noted your sniffling noises and the way your bottom lip trembled, “Love I’m so so sorry!” You let out a laugh and rolled your eyes, trying to not let him see the next wave of tears that were threatening to fall, “Sure.” He sighed, “Honey, I promise you, I didn't mean it. I did text you! I didn’t realise it didn’t go through because I was in the post-race meeting!” “I wanted to celebrate your win with you!” Lando gently shushed you as he saw your chest heave, your breathing quickening once more, “Baby, baby, shh sh sh it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here.” He looked off screen for a moment to a person you assumed to be Max before the music got louder again and then quiet, as if Max had left Lando alone. You followed along with his breathing as he over exaggerated for you to copy.

“Love I promise you it was just an accident okay? I texted you to ask if you were ready to call but when there was no reply I assumed you’d fallen asleep so then I texted you to ask if you could be at the airport for 4am…” He winced, “I decided to fly home early and have a few days with you before the next race.” You melted back against the couch, hugging his hoodie to your chest as you tucked your knees up under your chin and rested your phone there, “4am?” You sniffled with a giggle, “Is that my hoodie?” He said, doing his best to distract you and you let out a proper giggle this time, “Lando! 4am is so early!” He laughed, relieved to see you feeling better, “I figured we could go for a super early breakfast and then go home and fall asleep together, in our bed, in our apartment which is my favourite place to be, with my love. Your bottom lip wobbled once more, “You promise?” He nodded to assure you, “I promise.” You inhaled deeply and let out an exhale with a sigh, “I can’t wait to see you,” your thumb gently rubbed across his cheek even through the screen. “I can’t wait to see you either love, can’t wait to be home”

[angelshadowsinger]

Scarlet-Tipped Secrets; Peonies, for You

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐖):

hanahaki!au, TW gore/vomiting (mildly descriptive— it’s bloody petals), unrequited love, themes of depression and lack of self worth, pining (so much pining), & dramaaaaa

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 

When you develop feelings for your best friend, you delude yourself into believing you can ignore them for the rest of your life, if it means you can stay by his side. But once he starts seeing someone else, you discover that if you continue keeping your secret… your time on earth may be cut short. You find yourself with an impossible choice— remove all attachments to the shadowsinger and live, or hold out hope and suffer the consequences. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 

This one goes out to all my angst girlies. My ladies who like the feeling of tears crawling onto your pillow, of hurt balling up in your stomach as you wander through a fic. I see you and I feel you, and I cooked this one up special just for you. 

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Mates do not exist in the universe that this fic is set in, meaning Elain is not “off limits” to Az, and Cass is single. Additionally, since mates aren’t a thing, marriage/weddings are! 

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The first time it had happened, you had been more confused than anything. 

Azriel had just given Elain a gift for Starfall; a pair of earrings that would glow a warm pink when kissed by the sun’s rays. Her cheeks turned the same color as she admired them, as did the tips of the shadowsinger’s ears. 

Just one smooth petal rested in your palm as you brought your hand back from covering a cough, pink and delicate and beautiful. You thought that maybe it had landed in your palm before you coughed— even if there were no peonies in the vicinity and you hadn’t even seen one in months. Because there was no way that it had come… out of you. 

The second time it happened, confusion became fear and it swiftly took root deep in your stomach. This time, it was a couple of petals, dewey in your hand as you turned away from your friends, shock running through you. 

Azriel and Elain were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the love seat in the living room of the House of Wind, spirits being passed around by everyone and laughter filling the air. They had just shared a look you could infer was meant to be a secret between only them, but you had unfortunately witnessed the action. You could hardly breathe as you quickly hid the evidence of your newfound predicament, dumping the petals into a potted plant beside the mantle. You hoped that you were slick; taking a slow sip from your glass in an attempt to rid your throat of that tight, scratchy feeling even though your body was screaming for you to gulp it down. 

In that moment, you realized that something was wrong with you. It would only take a few more petal-filled fits and two trips to the grand library of Velaris to discover that you were— to put it simply— completely, wholly, and undeniably doomed. It was there, during the early hours of morn and the empty, candle-lit corridors that you learned three things;

You were in love with your best friend, Azriel. 

He was in love with someone else.

And you were going to die. 

— 

Things between you and the shadowsinger hadn’t always been so difficult. 

Your relationship was, for many years, easy and left you feeling light; every conversation and interaction cherished. Initially, the pair of you had become fast friends; the other members of the Inner Circle even remarking on how he was usually a little slower to build relations. Perhaps something of your sense of self, intelligence, and silver-thorned wit had something to do with his initial intrigue. That was the guess Feyre ventured, anyway. 

Once your friendship with the elusive male had blossomed, it was easy to maintain. Though you didn’t see him every day, when he did pay you a visit, the two of you made the most of it. The Inner Circle liked to poke at the pair of you, even going so far as to joke about your relationship that was not a relationship. And you and Azriel took it like champs; never wavering, always keeping it light in good fun. 

But at night when you would crawl into your sheets and close your eyes, sometimes thoughts of him would find you. It was wrong to be thinking of your best friend like this when he so obviously would never feel that way for you, and yet… you pondered how his fingers would feel tracing across your naked back. You wondered what it would be like to melt into his arms at the end of the day, how his heartbeat would sound if it was just inches away from your ear, if you could lay your head on his chest. 

You tried, you really did try to stop the thoughts from coming. But they quickly became more vivid, and more frequent than before. You couldn’t rid him from your mind— couldn’t focus when he came near, couldn’t hold up your end of the witty volley you usually shared because you’d get flustered if you stared at him for too long. Slowly, you had come to realize that the jokes your friends loved to make weren’t just conjecture— they knew all along that something was there. 

It made you wonder if Azriel knew, too. 

He was undeniably one of the smartest males you had come to know— your appraisal of him was sparkling, stellar. But when it came to things regarding emotion— specifically, his own emotions… he tended not to be quite as adept. So you had now landed in this confusion-fogged purgatory. Either your best friend knew you harbored feelings for him and he did not return them whatsoever— acting ignorant of your emotions. Or he didn’t know you were in love with him, didn’t even see a romantic relationship with you as a possibility, and maybe… if he were enlightened, he would realize that he… loved you too. 

It was that very hope that had you holding out for so long. You so desperately wanted to believe that he just wasn’t aware of your feelings— of his— that you smushed your dignity down and continued to uphold your friendship, never revealing that you felt romantically attracted to him. 

But the waiting game, of course, came back to bite you in the ass. Because the moment you realized he had started to see someone else… you knew that you had deluded yourself for months. All those nights that you laid awake, fantasizing about him and how he would proclaim his love to you… they were just fantasies. Nothing of the sort would ever happen. 

Because now, he had Elain. 

Her— the Archeron sister known for her gentle spirit and her striking face. She was quiet, and sweet, and goddamn breathtaking. Of course it had to be her; it couldn’t have been some bitch that would actually be deserving of your hatred. Because he was perfect, why would his choice of life partner be anything but? You couldn’t think of a bad word to say about the woman. 

Elain had always treated you with polite kindness, a sense of regality emanating from her and her ethereal beauty. Though she wasn’t by any means your favorite female, there was nothing she had ever done to justify even a grain of dislike. You couldn’t say your few conversations had been riveting, nor her presence been warm and inviting… but they hadn’t been the opposite either. Your opinion on her was removed, but pleasant. Hell, if you could stand a blow to the ego, you might even admit you were jealous of the looks almost every male gave her when she entered the room. 

The jealousy certainly ramped up once you realized that your beloved shadowsinger was one of those males… and actually, he was the only one she seemed to return interest toward, which of course… was salt in the wound. 

As the weeks dragged on, their supposedly-secret affair began picking up speed. The sight of Azriel’s warm hazel gaze pinned to her made your stomach churn with unease, the petals itching up your throat more and more often. It became easier to just avoid the both of them in general, and with the absence of their presences, it was easier for you to pretend that everything was fine, and that you could handle your worsening condition on your own. 

But of course, that was not the case. 

Because after a few months, the Inner Circle gathered in private quarters above the Night Court Annual Starfall Ball. Thousands celebrated and swirled below you in the ballroom and yet you could only focus on one. It was then that the man who haunted your thoughts stood before the rest of you, pretty Elain tucked under his arm all giddy and shy, and announced they were engaged to be wed.

—

Warm liquid trickled out from the corner of your mouth, your ears ringing as your vision blurred in two, wide waves cleaving and then melting together again. 

The crisp air felt welcome on your flushed cheeks, cool on your inflamed, ragged lungs. Stars danced above you as they pelted across the sky, and in your haggard state, they seemed to smear into a disorienting and beautiful masterpiece. 

Someone was kneeling in front of you, large wings casting shadows around broad shoulders as they yelled something you couldn’t quite understand. The warm smell of them was comforting and you relaxed slightly, recognizing it was Cassian and slumping as his calloused hands came to hold your biceps.  

The spliced image of him made it too hard to read the words on his lips. You tried to sit up but your body was drained, making it impossible to move. The Illyrian gathered your limp form into his arms and your head lolled to face the ground, finally piecing together what had happened. 

A pile of pink, lush petals glistened up at you against the dark stone of the balcony floor, the light from the full moon sparkling off droplets of deep scarlet. It had happened again… and this time, it was even worse than before. You had had another episode— the evidence of it glaring even in your semi-conscious state. 

“You’re in love with him…,” Cassian said slowly, barely even audible. 

But you heard it— your body trembling with some sick concoction of shame and relief. For so long you had not uttered a whisper of your feelings, never daring to take ownership of them, let alone share them. There were no words that you could muster, nothing sharp or bright for you to make a response. You were just tired. Indescribably tired. Gods, you were so tired, your limbs felt as if they had turned to stone, and you could slumber for a thousand years. 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” the male growled, squeezing your limp form closer to his firm chest. “I swear, he… Gods, this is fucked.” 

You closed your eyes and allowed his body heat to seep into you, finding a small bit of comfort there. Cassian didn’t choose to say anything else as the waves of sickness gradually dissipated, leaving you weak and numb.

“Cass,” you rasped, barely able to get enough air to speak. “I’m scared.” Your head felt as if it was filled with a thick smog— struggling to get enough oxygen as you slowly recovered. 

The General’s brow furrowed in pain at your pitiful confession, gathering you closer to his chest and tucking your head in tight beneath his chin. “I know, sweetheart. But you’re not alone. You don’t have to do this by yourself, not anymore. I’m here.” Cassian held you so delicately you wanted to cry, guilt pulsing through you as you realized he must have been terrified to have found you in such a sorry state. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, woe taking root deep in your chest. Now that you had seen Azriel with her— like that, so clearly in love with her, parading their affections out in the open, for anyone and everyone to see as he twirled her around the ballroom earlier… It was too much. Every part of you throbbed in agony, and you were consumed in fresh throes of self-pity. It was completely humiliating to be this debilitated. All because you were in love with your best friend, and he was in love with someone else. 

Cassian scrunched his brow, the planes of his chiseled face settling into solid lines as you regained your bearings. “There’s no need to apologize, Y/n. You didn’t ask for this— how you feel is not your fault. Your body is already punishing you for simply having feelings— don’t let your mind join in on the beating too.”

You nodded, tucking your hands into your chest as he sighed and stood, taking you with him. He lifted you into his embrace with the utmost ease, as though you weighed nothing more than a sheet of paper. Your evening dress fluttered with the movement. If anyone caught sight of you two from far away, perhaps it could be construed as romantic, the way he now held you in his strong arms, strolling away from the party.

“You don’t seem as… freaked out as I thought you would,” you whispered as he walked with lethal quiet. Shadows stood tall above you as you approached the hedged boundary of the estate gardens, cutting into the overwhelming display the falling stars continued to put on. 

Cassian was quiet. 

You took a minute to study his somber expression, trying to read what he was feeling in this moment of recollection. Clearly, he had some experience with this disease before. Otherwise, he would’ve ran you right inside the ball, or to the nearest healer. But he didn’t— instead, he’d wandered into the dark hedges of the grounds, concealing you from prying eyes and ears. As if he understood what you would want most in this moment of shattering vulnerability. 

“I’m not sure why you expect so little of me, little one,” he eventually replied, coming to the center of the area. He perched you beside him on a wrought-iron bench, facing a small fountain whose gentle gurgle drowned out the last hints of the celebration you’d left behind. 

You frowned. Your lungs felt looser— distracted by whatever it was that provided Cassian with experience regarding your dreadful illness. It was nearly enough to forget the bomb that had been dropped on you upstairs just twenty minutes ago. “It’s not that, it’s just—“ you began. Cass shot you a playful look and you sighed, a smile daring at your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Okay I just meant that before this, I’d never heard of this kind of thing…” Your voice trailed off, hand reaching to rest on his before you murmured, “I’m sorry you have.” 

The Illyrian raised a brow and let out a short, hollow laugh. “Oh no— It wasn’t me, I don’t… Well, never that bad anyway. I’ve just seen… how bad it can get. An old friend of mine once had the unfortunate experience of falling ill to this plague centuries ago.”

You nodded and put your hands in your lap, digging a thumb into your palm. “What… happened to them?” 

Cassian closed his lips and sighed, hands bracing his knees. Silence drew out for a long beat before he finally spoke. “He told the one he loved about his ailment. And they told him..,” he trailed off, gaze darting sideways to land on you. You gestured for him to continue, and he did so after a brief pause. “They told him they would never have romantic feelings for him. They asked him to have the procedure. They wanted him to live, and if they couldn’t love him… then that was the only way.”

You shuddered. The very notion of the procedure made your bones ache and your shoulders sag.

“So he did,” Cassian went on, undeterred. “And he survived.” 

Quiet invaded the still air, otherwise only interrupted by the low chirps of crickets in the grass and the muffled party. Cassian decided not to speak any further on the subject, instead content to let a calm silence settle between the pair of you. But somehow, you found yourself talking— despite never having voiced aloud any of these feelings, any of these thoughts. 

“Cass, do you think… I should have the procedure, too?” 

It was a question that was fully weighted— heavy, you already knew, but by the way the Illyrian’s shoulders sagged, the gravity of it all seemed more drastic than before. 

Cassian took his time to form a reply, but when he finally did, it was in a soft and hushed voice. “I am not the one that should be making such calls, Y/n. But I will tell you that my friend… he was never quite the same.” 

You shared a look of understanding with him— he was your friend, and the male you were in love with was his brother. Freshly engaged brother, at that. The consequences of the procedure would certainly crack a deep fracture in the dynamic of your group. If anything, you would probably fade away from everyone, seeing as every one of your memories that the Shadowsinger dwelled in would be tainted— his absence removed entirely. He would not exist to you anymore, and even if that wouldn’t necessarily affect you, oblivious to his existence, everyone around you would not share that same luxury. 

And Azriel would be there, too. He would have to see you and know that you had loved him so intensely, that those feelings were so wholly one-sided, that you had to physically remove him from your mind. All so that your heart could forget him and start anew. Would that bother him? Knowing that you had suffered because you had fallen in love with him, while he would never possibly feel that way for you? Surely that would make him uncomfortable, to be in your presence after that. So ultimately, it would be best to just move away, and start somewhere else— clean slate. Would he even miss you? 

“Sometimes I think about it— the procedure. This disease, it’s a wretched way to live, Cass. It hurts,” you said, voice cracking as emotion welled up in your eyes and throat. “It hurts so fucking bad, I can’t even be around him anymore. Especially not now. Now that he’s…” You trained off, unable to say the words. 

Cassian slid to your side, tucking you underneath a strong arm. The shadow of his wing furled around you from behind, encasing you in a warm, safe space. Tears began to race down your cheeks, gathering at your chin and splattering onto the silken fabric on your lap. You couldn’t stop them— still too drained from the fit from before. All you could do was cry as your friend gathered you closer to him, patting the top of your head with careful strokes, trying his best to comfort you. 

Only once your crying seemed to subside did Cassian offer another solution. “Maybe… you could talk to him.” 

You laughed— a hollow, broken sound. Cassian lips curved up at the sound nonetheless. “I’m simply nowhere near as brave as you, Cass.”  Shaking your head, your gaze focused on the bubbling fountain before you. “Even if I could manage to face him, and confess to him… If he rejected me… I think I’d die on the spot.” 

“Don’t say that,” he said, voice low. 

You bit your lip. “And why not, Cass? There’s a good chance that I could drop dead any time I have one of these fits. That’s just reality.”

“Well fuck that reality,” Cassian spat, wings ruffling.  “I don’t want to live in a world without you, and I sure as hell know Azriel wouldn’t either.”

“Well maybe I don’t wanna live without him!” you yelled. After holding back your emotions for so long, they just kept flooding out after the hole Cassian had punched into the dam that had kept them at bay. “Maybe I’d rather die than lose even one memory with him, maybe I’ll just hold out for as long as I can because I’m too fucking scared to lose him!”

Cassian’s face twisted into agony. “And what of those who love you?” he challenged, voice shaking slightly with emotion. “What about us, what happens when you die, and when the last memories we will have of you were you withering away before our very eyes?! You love him? Do you know what world of pain he will be in when he finds out what happened to you? And then to discover your absolute complacency in the matter?”

A sob escaped you as you felt every word of truth pierce the feeble veil you had called a shield in your attempt at denial. Your friend was right— you couldn’t allow this disease to win, not if that meant hurting everyone you loved in the process. And now that you thought about it— even if you chose to remember him, and let the sickness take its course… what good would those memories do you, when you’d be dead? 

Cassian seemed to realize you had accepted defeat, because he tightened his hold on you and stroked your hair as you cried into his chest. The sadness you felt unfortunately was not alleviated by your tears, but at least… you had come to see that there was only one option forward. 

You had to go through with the procedure.

You had to forget Azriel.

𝘩𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴!! 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 <3 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘪𝘤, 𝘚𝘛𝘚𝘗𝘍𝘠~ 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦! 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘻𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯~

𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 2 & 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯!!

⤷ masterlist

[jinnie-ret]

perfect night

poly!stray kids x idol!reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: none

word count: 1k

requested: @whoswony

summary: in which stray kids are watching the opening show of their girlfriend's tour, sonder, and they come to realise a song is dedicated purely to them

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Oh how smug you felt, that a song you had written that was purely dedicated to your boys, could still be released and put onto your latest album, Sonder. Truth be told, it was masked as a song to all your 'girls' out there, about spending time with them being your most favourite thing in the world, and not needing anything else. That was how it actually made it onto the album. But you knew who you really wrote it for.

You wrote the song for Chan, who dedicated his life to protecting each of his partners and prioritising them over himself.

For Minho, who willingly let you read him like a book and get to know him because he wasn't scared of opening up to you.

For Changbin, who often indulged in late night deep conversations with you, whether they were trivial matters that you spiraled deeply into, or more serious ones that helped each of you lift the weight off of your shoulders.

For Hyunjin, whose dramatic antics yet romantic attitude always made you swoon, no matter how goofy he would suddenly become.

You wrote it for Jisung, who always managed to keep you on your toes, whether it be from him bursting into song, his sleep clinginess or his rambles about his new favourite anime that inspired him to write a song or two.

For Felix, who was your constant source of happiness, smiles radiating sunshine and reflecting his light across your shadows, forever brightening your day.

For Seungmin, your cheeky yet very emotionally intelligent partner in crime who helped you stay rational in times when all you could see was doom and gloom.

And finally for Jeongin, who always insisted his admiration for you, was levels above your own for him, because he couldn't believe that it was possible for anyone to be more adored in this world than you.

They were all you needed. And you couldn't wait to show them that, and finally be able to express that to them through the other thing you all loved - music.

-★-★-★-★-★-

Gorgeous yet eery piano notes echoed across the walls of the stadium as you made your entrance, like you were a mystical being that your fans laid their eyes upon.

"She's so hot," Jeongin sighed as he leant across the railings.

"Real," Hyunjin nodded, tongue grazing his upper lip.

"Stop perving on our girlfriend," Seungmin sighed and whacked them on the backs of their heads.

Your boyfriends were sat on an upper tier of the seating in the stadium, safely away from fans and any possible suspicions to why they were there. Luckily, if that case was ever made, fans would be sure to defend you, knowing that you and Jeongin were friends at SOPA.

If only they knew that the two of you were way more than friends. As well as his seven other band members.

Suddenly a new track they hadn't heard started playing, some calming guitar sounding out before a drum track starting kicking in and their girlfriend's poppy voice blended perfectly with the music.

"Come and take a ride with me, I got a credit card and some good company..."

"Wait, that's about us, right?" Chan's eyes widened and a big grin appeared on his face.

"She literally said her girlies," Minho said bluntly, making Chan laugh.

"We're sort of the girlies," Han shrugged.

"Yeah Jisung you do give baby girl energy to be fair," Felix laughed.

"So does Binnie," Jisung added on, smiling as their girl performed.

The fun, light-hearted choreography made you shine with your bright energy.

"I feel so proud, wahhh," Changbin held his hand over his heart, bopping along to the music much like his other boyfriends.

"Quick, let's head backstage!" Felix pushed his other boyfriends forwards down the stairs in pure excitement as the concert came to an end.

-★-★-★-★-★-

Stretched out on the sofa in your dressing room, sipping from some water, you nearly choked on your mouthful as the door burst open with eight men pouring through.

"You were so good!"

"That song was about us right?!"

"Right?!"

You giggled as you were quite literally smothered in their love, kisses being peppered across your face, your neck, your hands, swallowed up in the arms of your boyfriends.

"Yah! What if I was getting changed?" you gasped playfully as you pushed them all away.

"I wouldn't be complaining," Hyunjin smirked before getting a neck slap from Minho.

"Hey!"

And on they went playfully fighting as Chan gave you one of his hoodies he brought with him, just for you.

"Thanks love," you smiled fondly, pulling the fluffy black hoodie over your head as Jeongin tugged you into his arms.

"You really wrote a song about us?" Felix grabbed your hands to gain your attention.

"How could you tell?" you pushed your lips together, trying not to let any words spill out straight away. You'd keep them guessing just that bit longer, that was your game.

"Credit card and some good company? You literally said that to us one time," Seungmin shrugged knowingly, with shake of his head to get the hair out of his face. He had been growing it longer recently - no objections from you.

"That could just be about my friends," you feigned ignorance.

"Nah!"

"No way!"

"Hey I have friends!" you stood up, folding your arms and detesting their claims.

"We know you do, we know love," Changbin back hugged you tightly.

"But you also have us, hmm?" Minho smirked, tickling under your chin like you were one of his cats.

"And we're way better company!" Han declared, from his spot sat on top of Jeongin as he teased the younger and cooed like you all normally did with the maknae.

"I think Jeongin would disagree," you said dryly.

"I would!" the fox boy choked out, nearly sounding suffocated with distraught as he wrestled the older boy off of him.

"But you wouldn't, would you? Don't deny it, that song was for us," Seungmin pointed out.

"Mmm, sure, whatever you want to believe," you looked down at your feet shyly, knowing there was no turning back from here. They had caught you out. But you didn't mind anymore, you were happy because they were too.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @j-one25

[mickandmusings]

back at the bunker

pairing: castiel x f!reader

word count: 5.1k (i got carried away sry)

summary: when y/n stays behind on a hunt, the brothers and cas figure she's safe back at the bunker, likely enjoying having a day free of her overbearing childhood friends and guardian angel boyfriend. when a phone call to dean tips them off to y/n’s kidnapping, castiel leads a ruthless hunt for the ones who took her.

based off this request! (i saw your request and ran with it.)

warnings: angsty to fluff, refusing to shorten castiel to 'cass', depictions of violence (nothing too gory), descriptions of blood and injury, angry cas, probably spn inaccuracies, unedited writing (oops)

-

"Relax, Cas, I'm gonna get you back to the bunker and to your girl quick enough. She's fine, probably took over the TV in my room to watch those girly movies she and Sam love."

Sam cuts his sharp look over to his brother, rolling his eyes as Dean tries to quell their friend's worry for his girlfriend back at the bunker. Castiel had been on edge since they began their trek back to the bunker. He had a lingering sense of doom he couldn't shake, not even after the success of their latest hunt. Cas knew he should trust Sam and Dean, and their judgement, they had known Y/N decades before she and Cas had met. They knew her well enough to know that she’d be fine alone in the well-guarded bunker. Taking out his phone, Cas pulled up her contact, smiling at the photo of them together attached to her profile. He started a new message to her:

Finished up the hunt. We’re all okay. Headed back to the bunker now.

Cas watched as the cursor waited for his next set of words. He hesitated briefly, trying to decide if he would say what he wanted. He and Y/N had been ‘dating’ (a word Cas hated, it didn’t accurately express their relationship in his eyes) for a little over a year, but he still hesitated when it came to expressing his emotions openly. His blue eyes read over the message again. Cas sighed, deleted the message completely, and started a new one:

We finished the hunt, we’re all unharmed. We’re headed home now. I miss you. I love you. Let me know you’re okay, Dean says I’m ‘panicking’ and being ‘dramatic.’

Cas sent the message without overthinking it this time, placing his phone back into his pocket and staring out the window again. Back at the bunker, Y/N looked up from the scene unfolding on (Dean’s) TV, turning to her phone that had just lit up with a new message. She smiled as she saw Cas’ contact, noted by the heart written behind his name. She read his message with a smile, his blunt but heartfelt sentences warming her chest in a sort of girlish glow. Her cheeks flushed pink as she began to type back. She was about to send her response to Cas when she heard the crashing noise downstairs. Her heart raced, hitting mute on the TV remote and reaching for the gun shoved in Dean’s nightstand. With silence filling the air now, she heard the talking of someone in what seemed to be the library. Her chest felt tight-they were close. The voices were unfamiliar-not Dean’s rasp, or Cas’ deep tone. How had anyone infiltrated? She’d made sure all the locks were secure, and the bunker was always under a supernatural lock. She calmed her racing breathing in a hope to hear the intruders conversation. The voices seemed masculine, rummaging about the library as if they were searching for something. Y/N peered over the side of the doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of them without being seen. Two figures entered her eyesight-a tall, burly brunette, with biceps the size of melons. His sidekick was a scrawnier blonde who brandished an angel blade. Y/N shuddered-angels. She’d never had anything positive to say about most of them, always out to get her and the brothers. Castiel had always been an exception in her rules about angels.

Y/N diverted her attention to her phone as her shaky hands scrolled for Sam, Dean, or Cas’ contact. She heard a deep voice pipe up.

“You think she’s here still? Castiel could’ve tuned into angel radio, picked up some suspicion, moved her last minute.”

Y/N halted, her eyes widening. Her? Surely they weren’t talking about her. She feverishly opened her phone again, clicking Dean’s contact and letting it ring, praying he would answer. The other angel responded with a chuckle:

“No, she hasn’t moved. I have a feeling she’s about to be right in our grasp.”

Y/N didn’t even have time to gasp as the two angels appeared behind her, her entire sight fading to black in an instant.

-

In the Impala, Dean heard his ringtone sound, and he huffed as he drove with one hand and fished the device out with the other. His eyebrows raised as he looked at the name flashed across the screen.

“It’s ya girl, Cas.” Dean chuckled as he answered the phone with a snarky remark. “Alright Cinderella we’re getting your Charming there quick as poss-Y/N/N? Y/N?! HEY!”

Dean’s voice raised, concern slipping through his tone. Cas was instantly on high alert as Dean hung up the phone and stepped on the gas, making Baby push speeds far faster than the speed limit.

“Dean, what’s going on?! What did she say?!”Castiel’s voice was dangerously low, trying not to allow his nervousness seep into his words. Sam turns to his brother with a worried look painted on his face.

“She didn’t say anything, all I heard was her grunting and the sound of fighting. Someone’s attacked her. She’s in trouble, and I think I heard wings, it’s your kind, Cas.”

Cas felt anger overtake him, his protective instincts kicking in. He began dwelling on the situation at hand, mentally cursing himself. He should’ve stayed behind with her at the bunker, he could’ve protected her. What did angels want with Y/N anyway? It wasn’t like she had any information for them, Cas tried to keep her out of the angel realm as much as possible, to avoid getting her into situations like these. Perhaps he should’ve told her more, maybe she could’ve escaped.

“Cas,” Sam’s voice cut through his thoughts. “What would angels want with Y/N? She's not even on the ground with us most of the time. She doesn’t have anything for them to use.”

Castiel’s sapphire gaze was locked on the scenery passing by, speaking after Sam finished.

“She has everything. They can torture me, exile me, all but kill me and I will not fall to their whims. She is my weak spot, I would sacrifice all of man for her safety. They know that, and they’re using her to get what they want from me. What that is, I don’t know. But we will find her, and I will get her back, no matter the sacrifice.”

-

When Y/N came to, she quickly noted pain radiating everywhere. Her head pounded, arms aching from where she was tied to a chair in a dimly lit room. The flickering overhead light made her head spin, and she could feel the blood coming from her nose, the stinging of open cuts littering her face and body. She was dizzy and disoriented, but her adrenaline kept her awake. She was running through the mental checklist of her hunter training from years of running with the Winchester’s-be aware of all of your surroundings, don’t let your opponent catch you off guard, when in a fight, protect the head and vital organs as much as possible-she could practically hear Dean’s raspy drone rattling off the bullet points. Y/N didn’t know who had brought her here, or why, but she had every bet on Castiel’s feathered friends.

Her eyes scoured every inch of the grimy, abandoned room she was being held in. The roof leaked, the metal fixtures were creaky and rusted, likely due to years of just sitting empty. Y/N knew they had taken the gun she was holding back at the bunker, but they had most likely hadn’t stripped her of the knife in her pocket. It wouldn’t do much to protect her from angels, but it would get her out of these restraints. Through her clouded mind, she tried to think of a way to reach her pocket with tied hands, an intricate way to shuffle just enough to slip loose. Her thoughts halted when the metal door creaked open, her heart starting to hammer in her chest. It was the blonde angel, significantly more slimy-appearing than his brawny counterpart, and his shit-eating grin spread from one side of his face to the other.

“Ah, hello dear, seems you’ve finally waken!” His accent was thick, a Southern drawl that was sticky sweet despite his menacing gaze. “Sorry about all the roughhousin', but, well, you’re quite the sought after prize. Had to make sure we secured you without you slippin' from under us.” His mouth dropped from a wide grin to a slimy smirk, now far too close to Y/N for her liking.

“Now, I’ve got questions and you’ve got answers. It’s in your best interest to cooperate, sweet thing. Our little Castiel will come lookin' for you eventually, and I’m not too worried about returning his toys in proper condition.”

Y/N gulped but didn’t back down.

“What do you want?”

The blonde plasters on another slick smile.

“Castiel has wronged me, and now it’s time for his consequences. See, in the past, we could pick and prod at Castiel himself, or even one of those pesky Winchester brothers, and they’d take it, but give up nothing for us, no matter the torture. But you, oh darling, Castiel would burn the world to the ground to save little ole you. Let’s see just how much it takes for him to come runnin', shall we?”

Y/N had no time to protest before a sharp blade had sliced against the side of her face, causing her to yell out. In her hazy brain, she used her last ounce of energy to pray out to Cas, hoping he heard, and begging the universe to send Sam and Dean with him. After another blunt hit to the head, her world was black again.

-

Dean hardly put the Impala in park as they arrived at the abandoned warehouse they'd tracked Y/N to, gun brandished with Sam trailing behind him. Castiel had taken off on his own, angel blade and an incomprehensible fury as weapons. Dean and Sam were close on his tail, the brothers both a small bit concerned-they had never seen Castiel this angry.

The wind whipped through Castiel's coat as he all but ran through the abandoned warehouse and straight into the room where the two angels stood, Castiel's eyes blurring with anger. Dean's hand slapped his shoulder, Dean's green eyes still focused on the angels, Sam's locked on the same creatures.

"You go find her," Dean's deep timbre came to Castiel's ears. "Me and Sammy can handle these dicks."

Usually, Cas would argue, always staying behind to help Sam and Dean fight any creature, but with Y/N still hidden from him, Cas left without any remarks. Cas grew angry, his legs not carrying him through hallways of abandoned rooms fast enough.

"Y/N?!" His voice echoed off the metal fixtures, and Cas hoped it would reach the ears of the one person he was trying to find. "Y/N/N!"

"C-Cas?"

Cas could have sworn his heart stopped. His brain had stopped working as he shoved a large metal door open with all of his force, his chest nearly collapsing at the sight he found behind it: Y/N, tied to a metal chair, her face swollen, one of her eyes black. Blood was dried on her temple, and blood stained the sweatshirt she was wearing. She looked exhausted, and Cas knew she probably felt worse than she looked.

"Y/N-," Cas' voice was soft and quiet, his hands coming to both sides of her face. "You're okay, I'm here, Sam and Dean are taking those angels out. We're going to get you out of here."

Cas' hands worked quickly, unwrapping the ropes tied around her arms and legs, hoping to cause her as little pain as possible. His brain was working overtime, his eyes scanning her entire frame as he worked.

"I-I'm okay, Cas. A little banged up, but I'm fine. I-I'll be okay."

"You're not okay, honey," Cas' pet names were few and far between, but always soft and meaningful, making Y/N's heart soar. "You've taken a beating, these ropes have scarred your ankles and wrists. I'm going to get you out of here."

Cas released the ropes and picked Y/N up under her arms, feeling her body weight fall on him.

"I-I'm sorry, Cas. I don't-don't think I can walk."

Cas shook his head, lifting her into his arms bridal style and pushing the door with his feet, rushing her through the building as quickly as possible.

"None of that, you're going to be fine. We're getting out of here, back to the Impala."

By the time Cas made it back to the center room, the angels had been slaughtered-their bodies lying on the floor. Dean and Sam stood in front of them, now looking at Cas.

"Is she alright?" Sam's voice echoes through the room.

"She'll be alright," Cas' voice replied. "We need to get out of here."

Dean nodded in agreement, leading the group back out to the Impala. Sam quickly swung open the back door of the car as Dean moved to start it, hoping to make a quick getaway. The Impala was silent-Y/N's head resting peacefully on Cas' chest, her eyes drooping in exhaustion. Cas' hand moved to her forehead, his grace lighting up the dark car as her cuts and bruises began to disappear. The light caught both Sam and Dean's attention as Y/N looked up at Cas and gave him a small smile before resting back into his chest.

"You alright back there, Y/N/N?" Dean's voice filled the silent car.

"Fine. Thank you, Dean. You too, Sam. I never would've made it out of there without you coming after me."

"You're family, Y/N," came Sam's voice. "We'd never leave you like that."

Y/N smiled against Cas' chest, slowly closing her eyes and falling asleep as his hand ran through her hair.

-

Back at the bunker, Sam and Dean worked together to put back all of the furniture that had been thrown about, putting books back into place before retiring to their own bedrooms.

Cas sat quietly on Y/N's bed, borrowing some of Sam and Dean's clothes as his coat and usual wear were in the wash. Moments later, Y/N returned, hair wet from the shower as she smiled at Cas, sitting on the bed next to him. She slid under the covers, sliding into his open arms. Y/N relaxed into Cas' embrace, kissing the underside of his jaw before falling asleep with her head tucked under his chin.

Cas' had no need for sleep, so he spent the entire night looking after her, making sure she slept soundly. Halfway through the night, he felt her begin to toss and turn, her breathing quickening, signaling as signs of a nightmare. Cas wakes her softly, shaking her shoulders as her eyes popped open, staring up at him. She said nothing before her bottom lip wobbled, fear grasping her every sense.

"Hey, hey," Cas' voice was a quiet whisper, his arms enveloping Y/N completely as her tears stained his shirt. "You're at the bunker, I'm here, Sam and Dean are down the hall. You're safe."

Y/N felt herself relax in his hold, grasping the fabric of his shirt, just to remind herself he was real, that nothing would touch her as long as he was here. Y/N felt her eyes start to close again, the emotional exhaustion of the day weighing on her. Just as she slips into a dream state, she feels Cas' faint kiss on her forehead, another act of warmth to make her comfortable. She slept soundly through the night, knowing her guardian angel was watching over her.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Saving Grace | Rhysand x Reader

Summary: The war between humans and Fae is about to happen, and you, desperate to save Autumn Court, your home, from the destruction to come, are going to attempt a political alliance with the current High Lord of Night Court’s son, Rhysand.

Word Count: ~ 2k

Warnings: toxic family, political marriage, Beron being annoying, nothing too bad

A/N: the notes you see in the beginning are from another outside character you will meet more later, not me. im trying out something new for this series, so lmk what you think and how you’d want it to go in the future (FOR ALL THE RHYS GIRLIES I SEE YOU) hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It starts anew, as any other tale would.

It is only fair for me to warn you now, that even as I write to you from the box of my new home, the solitary walls pushing in on me until I turn into something else, something new and changing, that you should not proceed.

Our doom was set into place the moment we opened that letter, and so I’ll give you another warning, my dear reader.

You have more power than you think. Be careful how you use it.

~

“I believe you’ll enjoy the letter on your desk, sister.”

Eris spoke in a dry tone, only a hint of his hidden flamboyance underneath the snake's skin he wore most of the time. He had just passed by you in the hallway of the grand palace we called our home in the Autumn Court, something most of the royal family took for granted, even I did to an extent.

Even makeup and magic couldn’t hide the effects that the looming war had on him, the bags under his eyes slightly visible, and the usual cunning spark in his fiery gaze dimmed to some degree. All of your brothers had experienced the same thing to some point, even Lucien.

The rumors were getting worse, and word breaking free everywhere if the human slave revolts. You saw the glimmer in the eyes of the humans that your father enslaved and forced to work here, and even though you could never say it, lest you be beheaded or worse, you thought it was about time their species stood up. You couldn’t imagine being forced into such cruel conditions and not doing anything about it.

Submission never came easily to you, though.

It still doesn’t.

You tried to smile up at Eris, even as he strode past without another word. Relationships in this family were rough, considering how the males just tried to take each other out with every given opportunity. Had you not been born a female, you might’ve suffered the same fate.

You couldn’t help but wonder what the letter on my desk could be, even as you walked to my room. It could be anything, from lunch with a friend, to an opening for a job opportunity anywhere you could help. You wanted to help people, help your struggling Court pull itself together with war on the horizon. Rumor had it that the mortal king, Hybern, was gathering his forces still and that he wouldn’t let go of any of his slaves. Not even one.

Pushing open your already ajar room door, you strode quickly over to the desk, still a bit cluttered from all the different things our mind was trying to think about at the same time while working and writing letters to friends and allies in neighboring courts.

A letter lay on your desk, and not just any letter, but a valuable one, based on the stamp and rich, violet wax that shimmered slightly.

A Night Court stamp.

Considering Night Court wasn’t the closest ally, if an ally at all with Autumn Court, you weren't exactly sure what it meant at the time, or why Eris thought you might be excited about it. How would he even know what was in it, now that you thought of it?

You grabbed the cold metal letter opener, sliding it neatly under the wax, and popping it off satisfyingly. Sliding the warm parchment from its sheath, you unfolded the letter, the details of it surprising you.

The High Lord of Night Court had delivered a letter personally to you, and the contents of it? Nothing but strange.

In short, it was a formal invitation to a Solstice Party, a night where you’d heard that supposedly other spirits would cross over the night sky, making a beautiful scene for all those able to witness it. However, the true reason became apparent at the bottom, where a single sentence blasted holes through all of the male’s fake formality and politeness in the previous statements.

“I’m certain that you and my son would get along quite well.”

An alliance. A political marriage.

That was what he wanted.

To strengthen his alliances while he could before the war began, and to blast away any humans standing in their path. His son might as well have been in on it for all you knew, probably willing to marry you and produce an heir, treating you like breeding cattle. You’d heard rumors of Illyrians before, and they weren’t pretty. Especially not the ones who lived in the mountains.

But the real question was, why would he send it to you, and not your father?

Was it a test? A way to test the boundaries and see if you would go tattle to your father at the littlest prod? Or maybe a way to see how far you were willing to go to ensure the safety of your court during this war.

You didn’t believe in slavery. You never had. But for your court, your home, and all the other courts as well to possibly be destroyed by unruly humans? That would be disastrous. Their species didn’t stand a chance, anyway. Not when they had inferior strength, weapons, and not a lick of magic.

But still…in the case that they did manage something, the reassurance of an alliance between your courts could help.

The only question was whether to involve your father or not. If you did, he would probably refuse to trade you away for an alliance with Night Court, waiting for a better deal from a people that had more items to trade or land to offer. Sure, Night Court had the most land and soldiers, but there were little to no trade routes running openly through the area, leaving little economic profit other than what they earned on their own. The Illyrian Steppes were too harsh for anyone to handle, and Hewn City could barely be counted as an economy it was so small.

In that small moment, you made a decision that would change both of our existences, the decision to hide it. Your father wouldn’t understand, and you were doing this for the better of your court. You were doing it to help him, to save your people from what you suspected to be carnage ahead.

You didn’t realize you’d been staring at the letter for so long until you heard your door creak a bit wider open, and you immediately whirled, putting the letter face down onto your desk. Lucien cocked a brow, his hazel eyes immediately going to the letter in what looked like suspicion.

“Hiding something?”

He asked, and you rolled your eyes, biting your lip slightly in what looked to be an expression of a flustered female.

“I don’t think you’d like to read the letters of my most recent lover, Luci.”

His expression immediately changed, going to being a bit caught off guard himself, before he shook his head. He gestured for you to follow him, and before you did, you slipped the letter between the small crack of the shelf and the desk itself. He only gave you a withering glance at that, and you glared back.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else finding it. Imagine if Beron found it.”

You said in a wry tone, and Lucien let out an undignified snort at that while he led you down to the dining hall, the first bit of laughter you’d managed to coax out of him in a while. You must’ve lost track of time while thinking, a common habit of yours.

“Yes, I don’t think he’d appreciate a letter from one of your notorious lovers.”

He said in a quieter tone, probably not wanting anyone else to overhear. Rumors of the royal family spread too quickly for their good, especially when the human servants were paid by others, sometimes journalists, to spill the drama.

Most of it, of course, was made up simply to get money, but sometimes…the rumors were true enough to make you be a lot more secretive with what you did and displayed in public, and even behind closed doors. Eyes and ears were everywhere, after all.

“Notorious is a strong word.”

You mumbled in an amused tone, right as you entered the dining room, your father at the head of the table, your mother to his left, Eris to his right, and all your other brothers seated miscellaneously. Lucien sat down in his spot, and you sat in yours that was beside his, your other brother to your right.

“I’m glad you finally decided to join us, Y/N.”

Your father’s monotonous but still annoyed voice rang out from the head of the table as he began to eat, signaling everyone else could as well. You stabbed a potato with your fork, taking a small bite to give yourself time to formulate a coherent response to it, something that you could use to distract from the letter you’d gotten. Unless…

Swallowing your food, you spoke.

“I received a letter.”

The sentence alone was a challenge. The normal response would be a formal apology for your tardiness to dinner, which was more like an event you had to attend than any family activity. You didn’t go on, another challenge. Making him wait for you to speak.

The silence grew oppressive, and you continued eating. Your brothers watched, some openly staring in confusion, Eris only glancing once with something of a warning in his eyes, and Lucien stared down at his plate, probably already having figured out that the letter he’d seen you hide hadn’t been one from a lover.

Your mother then pinned you with her sharp gaze, the intelligence behind her submissive figure clear in the moment. Even if your father wasn’t smart enough to see it like you did.

“What did it contain?”

She asked, intervening between you and your father. Your father didn’t so much as glance at her, now scowling and staring at you. You put your fork down on your napkin, swallowing a mouthful of delicious food before speaking again.

“I’ve been invited to Night Court.”

You spoke, looking up to meet your father’s gaze, unwavering. He seemed to tense at that, and the news you’d shared with him.

“Why.”

He demanded, his eyes narrowing.

“For the prospect of seeking out an alliance in your stead. Though with the coming war, it might be my last chance to see Night Court at all.”

Everyone tensed at that, your casual but realistic words hitting right where they should’ve. Reminding everyone of the insecurity in the court, that the coming war could kill you, or take out Night Court. The latter Beron wouldn’t mind, but the former…you were a valuable trading piece for him, one that he didn’t want to dispose of through your possibly untimely demise.

Beron swallowed, sighing through his nose as he broke his stare to glance down at his plate, clearly considering it. Eris then spoke up.

“If I may, she has a point, father. An alliance with the Night Court and their considerable armies could prove useful during the battle to come.”

He spoke, glancing over at you with a clear look of “You had better know what you’re doing.” You didn’t know why he was helping you, considering he’d probably looked inside the letter. His words to you, that you would enjoy the letter, only supported that theory. For whatever reason he wanted you to go into Night Court wasn’t clear, but he was helping you nonetheless.

Beron finally spoke, everyone holding their breath.

“Very well. You will remain there 2 months at most, but at any hint of attack, you will return here immediately.”

You gave a dip of your head in obedience and appreciation, before going back to your dinner as the tension remained in the room. You had told your father of the alliance prospect, but nothing of a political marriage. A half-truth at best.

You were going to Night Court, to woo the heir to the throne and convince him to marry you for an alliance, all in time to save your Court before the first attack came.

The real question was, would you be quick enough?

We’ll see.

[babyangelsky]

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 9

Holy shit I don't think I have ever felt more relieved watching the penultimate episode of a Thai BL than I did this week. I was expecting doom, I was expecting gloom, and while both were absolutely present, we did not linger there.

This is just my opinion but to me that alone is proof of how much Mame has grown as a writer because for a second there I was fearing another Don't Say No situation.

BUT THIS AIN'T ABOUT THAT LET'S YAP ABOUT MICROEXPRESSIONS

I need to start with my baby because after the horrors last week, seeing her smile means everything to me. Gotta hold onto it as long as I can because we all know what's coming.

And speaking of smiles, this situation is TERRIBLE there are delinquents coming at my man with 2x4's but this feral smile from Mahasamut?

This one is purely for Meena's benefit, to comfort and reassure her but it is genuine, Fort's eyes are very sparkly. He switches gears very quickly when the getaway bike arrives for the thugs though so however chill he seems, he absolutely isn't. He just wants to keep the baby (and Vivi and her friend) calm.

It's very disconcerting to see Vivi this serious.

We're 2/2 on smiles for other people's benefit. My poor girly.

*stares at Viviana* You did this.

This look of pure murderous intent may be one of my favorite expressions Mut has had over this whole show, especially because it's paired with that clenched fist. And I'm going to give extra praise to Fort for it because he doesn't clench his fist until after Tongrak apologizes for what happened and he doesn't open his eyes until his hand is practically trembling from holding it so tightly.

This response doesn't come when Rak tries to blame himself for the beating; it happens when he apologizes for it. Mut isn't angry in the abstract and he isn't angry at Rak, he's angry for him.

I don't like this face, Khun Tongrak. I actually had a moment where I thought to myself, "why can't I read your face right now?" and of course it's deliberate on Peat's part. Even without knowing what we know from the preview, this face would have told us that Something was about to happen.

Or maybe that's just me, I don't know. I've been staring very hard at Peat's face for the past two months.

Watching Tongrak desperately try to steel his nerve after entering the snake pit that is his sperm donor's house is heartbreaking.

As much as I hate to subject you (and myself) to more of Jak's face, I'd like to point out that like last week, his face is in shadow while the face of the person he's speaking to, in this case Tongrak, is catching the light. Also worth noting that Rak's back is quite literally against the wall in this scene.

We see this play with light/shadow again when Rak has a flashback of him from his childhood. Jak has always been a vile, psychopathic snake and his true feelings and intentions have always been hidden behind shadow.

It's horrible to say because there's so much anguish behind it but this is such a beautiful expression. There's a split second where he tries to look angry but it just doesn't work.

I think there's a tiny part of Tongrak that truly believed that tearing up the contract would be what made Mahasamut leave and on the flip side of that, a part that was afraid that the contract was truly the only thing making Mut stay.

GODDAMN THIS IS THE SEXIEST THING MAHASAMUT HAS EVER SAID ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

For people like Tongrak and for people who can relate to Tongrak in the sense that one or more of the parents we pulled in the great gacha of life are horrible and shitty, there comes a moment where you realize that they aren't actually these huge indestructible monsters. They're human.

And when you realize that and look at them, it's like you're seeing for the first time. There's a weird sort of pity and whatever the opposite of awe is that you feel that's hard to describe. It's a feeling of "...Is that really it? Is that all there is to you?"

That is what Peat is portraying so incredibly in this scene.

BLINDING LIGHT OF LOVE LET'S GOOOOOOO

WILD HORSES, YA'LL! WILD FUCKING HORSES!

Pouty Tongrak face, as a treat.

Mook and Mahasamut were talking about Tongrak and what Mut would do if he got rejected when all was said and done, but Mook's face when Mut says he would accept the rejection tells me she's also thinking about herself and Vivi.

I actually really wish she would've talked to Mut about it directly because god knows girly pop needs to talk to someone about Vivi. Or better yet, Vivi herself.

As for the preview next week, do not even sweat it babes because you know what?

THERE ARE COLORFUL PATTERNS ON TONGRAK'S BODY!

I LOVE GETTING EVERYTHING I WANT!

[idliketobeatree]

dead boy detectives characters as art objects and sculptures; extended ---

hello, i remembered i made some subjective explanations and notes on few of my choices for this post, and i thought some folks might enjoy it. soo let's get into it.

1.

monty finch

author: anders krisár

pretty self-explanatory; it's a moulded male torso with visible inprints on its skin.

anders krisár’ artistry explores the themes of loss, separation, and the condition of the psyche through the lens of a human body in duality: perfectionism meets unsettlement, skin meets marble and bronze and polyester, to create sculptures spanning geological time far beyond the living's capabilities.

monty's creation by esther was already stripped of any human agency. "he was made a boy, not a person", small, almost doll-sized, with a singular purpose: to seduce and entice the chosen dead boy into their doom. the naked skin and specifically the position of its arms are mildly erotic, but in a way that makes your skin crawl. the imprints are intimate, placed possesive; notice the thumbs digging close to especially sensitive areas like nipples and the belly button.

the latter seems to connect the "creator" to the subject, the navel here as a symbol of cruel, invasive motherhood. the fact that the torso is cut off in the middle and at the neck furthers the uncanny valley feeling of a young male body, but then again. this is a realistic portrayal. so was it ever a person? what does it have inside to make dents so profound? how deep you can press until it breaks?

--- i'm leaving out crystal and edwin (for now?), but @nicheoverhere brilliantly noticed that it was the same author for both. that was intentional! because glen martin taylor is all about taking kintsugi, which is a beautiful art form of repairing fine china and generally delicate things with veins of precious metals, but with materials like— nails. scissors. barbed wire. all ugly. the repair after a great shattering is seldom pretty after all, they really are similar in this regard. ---

2.

charles rowland

author: robert hudson

okay, strap in. this funky dreamy world belongs to robert hudson, and i picked it for charles rowland because it's all first impressions. the colours? the composition? they give you the 80s vibes, almost; like something a kid would design if you asked them what a time machine would look like. it could probably move in several ways. the pieces seem mismatched, but hold themselves together surprisingly well. or maybe you underestimate it?

it's neither big nor small. you can't tell its size at all. it's a bit overwhelming to look at, at first, and at second, and after a while, but it carries that comfortable familiarity and nostalgia for— well, nothing in particular, because the longer you look, the sadder its past seems. the bold pops of contrasting colour are fighting for your attention. they want you to like it! and yet, the major material seems to be just. rusted steel. made from tools.

and look at that botched up sphere, it wants so badly to be a perfect sphere and it knows it'll never be one. fine!! perhaps it could be a football ball instead! or maybe a head. if you close your eyes, that is. and this facing-up horseshoe? a lucky charm, made to collect good luck and keep it from falling out cause god, it needs it.

---

3.

niko sasaki

author: justin cloud

---

niko sasaki, now how do i describe her? let's start by saying— she's cleary a her. this one is a she. and there's something to be said about blooming, and femininity, and delicacy, because pink is a hopeful girly colour and a surprise and a delight.

what are you doing in a gallery, little flower, shouldn't you be at home? in a field? look how pretty you are! mind you, of course there's something wrong with her as well, but you're not sure if that is because someone messed it up, or because of a different entity alltogether. was it always half-electric? its elegance seems purposeful— the iridescent metal fits all too well with the white-pink petals— but also uncanny. and oh suddenly you can't stop looking at the stigma from which a pollen should release aaany time now.

when i look at her, at her black artificial stem and the small leaves imitating the real ones, i wonder if she doesn't want to lure me into a trap. is it her fault?

the beautiful petals seem like the only thing left real of the flower. whichever way she turns, it will probably mean— death. and flowers are ephemeral. what is a flower mounted to a wall, fortified with steel, connected with cables and enfused with electrical energy, then?

i think she's a self-preserving survivor. ---

4.

the night nurse

author: elizabeth turk

---

now. the night nurse.

of course it's the only piece in the collection where the background needed to be dark. no one here is older than her. there is no inoffensive, fading-into-background white for this absolute pillar of truth. or maybe something like a totem, quite protective in nature. and it's terrifying, 'cause you're immediately hit with the feeling that you're looking at something out of this realm, something you're not supposed to witness. the perspective is all wrong. is it downwards or upwards? why does it seem unstable when the pieces are so perfectly centered and seemingly well-balanced? child, you should calm down, it's not like you will destroy it with a stronger puff of air. will you?

this sculpture is called "tipping point — echoes of extinction", and it's actually a mix of technology and sculpture and sound, with elegant visualizations of the lost voices of birds and sea mammals. the author said it "was conceived in reverence to the astounding lives the species which envelop humans have lived and the mysterious ways they have contributed to our well-being. the shadows of their memory, whether a shape or a sound, have inspired this project." so the piece deals with death. moreover, it deals with murder. it records the harsh reality and makes sure the ones that suffered horribly at the hands of humans are, in a way, celebrated. but also— categorised. like epitaphs. the birdsong, once a living sign, is only visually represented by the lines of varying lenghts in 3D, and you can do nothing about it anymore, right, you can't bring back the dead, you can't help the innocent dying in any way other than— stacking them on top of each other and moving on.

---

so that's for now, i might someday write more if anyone's curious. :")

[drenched-in-sunlight]

"Marika becomes the sum of all the Fromsoft girlies" is nice but you forgot Nashandra who actually has parallels with Marika! Recommending to check it out, she's cool!

let’s get this out of the way now… I love DS2, I think the vibe and gameplay is immaculate and I’ll defend it as a whimsical and enjoyable videogame experience till the end of time.

But my god, I hate how they handle female characters in that one 💀

In fact, I don’t like how they handle female characters in DS franchise in general. It got a bit better in Bloodborne and Sekiro and especially AC6, but overall ever since I started playing Fromsoft game in 2020, my main gripe with them is they only have 2 tropes to shoehorn their female character into: helpless victim of a system that would mangle and exploit them OR serious sword lady. And if I’m being real, it’s the main gripe I have with Elden Ring base game too?

I didn’t discuss it on tumblr because back then I were still trying to keep this blog art-focused, but when the game came out in 2022, I did express my concern on twitter that I found the female characters cast… strangely lacking. Because I went into the game expecting Ema-level of writing (literally Sekiro’s Ema is one of the best female characters Fromsoft has ever written to this day I could and have talked ppl’s ears off about her. And I’m glad she on her own is very different from Marika. That means they could at least write 2 more types of female characters now the bar is on the floor but I’ll take it and cherish what I have), but it felt like they got reset back to DS franchise with ER base game.

(This has an added layer of me being a girl born, raised and lived in a Sinosphere country that is entrenched in Confucius values just like Japan, so yes I do understand and experience firsthand the underlying culture values that shapes their writing. Hell, I live and study postgraduate in Japan for 2 years too).

But we are going off track, this is about DS2. Now, my problem with DS2 is, see, with 1 or 3, the female characters either have very little agency or no agency at all. And it just…. be like that. The male characters are somewhat the same, so it really doesn’t bother me that much. The cool, unique, not sexualized design is enough. But 2?

2 has a lot of female characters…. who either play no role in the world setting or sinister figures that charm men and bring ruins to kingdoms? What?

(Before anyone says “but Lucatiel—” Lucatiel is the beacon of light in that game, yes, but at the same time her purpose centering around her brother is… also a problem I have with the way they handle Malenia’s story. My Fromsoft experience has lore to it as well jfc)

Like, it’s just ??? to me half of those women have no agency or backstory whatsoever apart from being the Dark’s daughters that would bring doom everywhere they go??? You can say everything wrong in DS2 world is their fault and I actually wouldn’t have much to argue. Actually, it’s interesting you bring up Nashandra because I do think Nashandra has parallel in Elden Ring. But not to Marika.

Nanaya.

That’s who reminds me of Nashandra in Elden Ring. Literally the mysterious, lowkey nefarious lady and her old man husband with questionable dynamic DS2 trope 🧍‍♀️ you can actually see that in their name too.

If I have to pick a character in DS franchise specifically to make parallel to Marika, it’ll always be Gwynevere. Because I honestly think it’s amazing they took a character that has the least amount of agency they’ve ever created, and turned the core concept of her (warmth, healing spells, sunlight, mother, daughter, queen, faith) into another character with actual good writing.

That’s why I didn’t include Nashandra in my previous post. Not because I don’t know about her. It’s because I know.

[tourettesdog]

I am having extremely specific and niche ideas I must share. Specifically headcanons for Danny Phantom characters playing World of Warcraft

I feel like Sam would have been the first of them to get into WoW. Something other to play than Doomed, with a heavier focus on questing. She'd play on a PVP server and would be something of a legend on her realm.

She'd pretty much do everything, from hardcore raiding, to achievement hunting, to a little roleplaying on the side with friends.

She'd have two characters she swaps between, a troll warlock and an undead rogue, and would have the most min-maxed gear she can possibly get at all times. A "for the Horde!" girlie all the way. The warlock has tailoring/enchanting for professions, and the rogue mining/jewelcrafting, and she's got every recipe she can get her hands on for both.

I could see Sam trying to get Tucker and Danny into WoW, only to be wildly disappointed with their character decisions as both of them cozy up Alliance-side on a roleplaying realm.

-

Tucker takes one glance at worgen and goes "I'm gonna be a fucking werewolf" and it's all over from there. His main would be a guardian/feral druid (tank and melee dps) with the corniest RP name you've ever seen, and he loves them dearly. He's always looking for new transmog to dress up with, and he takes his mining/engineering professions a little too seriously. He mostly plays with Danny, but probably has a horde alt Sam forced him to make so they could actually play together before cross-faction became a thing (I am being intentionally Vague about what expansions they'd be playing in).

Tucker's horde alt would be a tauren druid that ALSO runs engineering. Pretty much the same character, especially considering he spends 90% of his time in animal forms.

-

Danny would start off playing a night elf monk and would get more into the RP of it than he ever wants to openly admit. He loves all of the flips and shit the monks do, and he's all in on the night elf aesthetic. He swaps between mistweaver and windwalker (healer and DPS), depending on what him and Tucker need to get shit done. He doesn't really focus a lot on the professions, instead going for dual gathering with mining and herbalism so he just has a lot of rocks and plants to throw at Tucker or onto the auction house.

After the accident though, Danny takes a long, staring look at death knights and decides he needs to play one-- for the memes. He's dogshit at it after playing monk for so long, but you can pry his frost (dps) death knight from his cold, half-dead hands.

The DK is just another night elf and when he's RPing, Danny likes to say it's the same character as the monk.

(Also I specifically think that Danny would play a nelf instead of a draenei because, as a trans Danny truther, I feel like the too-buff male draeneis would be a little Much for him, and the femme ones would be too dysphoric.)

-

Val would very begrudgingly start playing WoW with them once she joins Team Phantom. She'd go Horde-side with Sam, with a tauren warrior decked head to toe in red. She quickly gets sucked into the game, and gets a little intense with farming for all of the things she wants-- mounts, cool transmog, some battle pets. She likes to do a lot of content alone, finding it fun to just go off questing, but she'll let herself be dragged into dungeons ever now and then. She just doesn't have the time or energy for raiding consistently.

Val winds up making a bunch of different alts eventually to keep collecting shit, and she gets scary good at gold farming so she can pay for her subscription with in-game currency. She's got a bunch of different professions she runs on her various alts, but the warrior's got mining/blacksmithing since the idea of making her own armor won her out.

-

Dani plays on a laptop bought with Vlad's money, on a subscription also bought with Vlad's money. She takes one look at Val and Sam playing Horde-side and decides there is no other side to play.

She mains a vulpera hunter and is a troll through and through. She lives up to the hunter stereotype of accidentally pulling everything, but makes up for it by being scary good at DPS and PVP. Her and Val do a lot of mog and mount farming together, and some of her favorite things to collect are the battle pets and toys. She's got Meerah's Jukebox (a toy that plays a song about alpacas before exploding) hotkeyed to drop at a moment's notice.

She winds up getting a little too invested in alchemy, insisting she needs to be good at making goop.

-

Wes would not play WoW, and would instead play FFXIV and would never shut up about how much better it is than WoW.

Bonus:

Lancer plays a lot of WoW during the summer when school is out. He's got a human mage who looks a bit like a buff version of him that he's been playing since the game released, and he's got all sorts of achievements and collectibles held onto from that era. He runs herbalism/inscription as a profession, and has every recipe for it under the sun. He still insists on riding his first horse mount that he ever got, and it has a Shakespearean name.

[vinvantae]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write something about Guanyu x curvy short reader, I think he’ll be very supportive of his partner…

I love your work!

Okay, so I am a short girly but not a curvy one so I tried my best, hope it's what you were after! It was nice to write for Guanyu, I have a big soft spot for him!

************************************

Guanyu simply loved the way you felt in his arms - the way your skin was always warm beneath his touch. You were addictive, and he wasn’t ashamed to show everyone just how you made him feel - always having to playfully smack his hands away when he started getting a little handsy throughout the paddock. 

The best part of your relationship was truly that you never doubted how he felt about you, even when others tried to plant those seeds of doubt in your mind, he’d always be there to brush those feelings away. As a shorter, curvier person, not the slender-model type like the rest of the drivers’ WAGs, people would always have something to say that you didn’t fit into the mould they had in their minds. But Guanyu? He paid them no mind. 

It was almost as if he’d known you’d been lurking online again - doom scrolling until you had to throw your phone across the room.

“Smells delicious, Tùzǐ**.” He hummed softly, coming up behind you - wrapping his arms around your middle as you cooked. “You spoil me.”

You smiled softly in response, turning just enough to hold a spoonful of sauce towards him. “You haven’t even tried it yet! Now, open up.”

His eyes sparkled as he took the spoon into his mouth, a deep groan escaping him. “That’s amazing… Do you have anything else to do or is it just cooking away?”

“Just cooking away, why?”

He removed the spoon from your hand, placing it gently on the counter before fully turning you around - taking your waist in his hands, gently squeezing. You couldn’t help the giggles he tore from you as he began tracing his fingers under your shirt. “Baby, please… I’m cooking!”

“I just can't get enough of you… is it not a recipe that’ll taste better if you just let it cook for a while?” He questioned, raising a brow. 

You playfully shoved him away and turned back to your sauce - biting your lip to stop your lips curving into a smile as he whined behind you, his arms wrapping around you once again, pressing kisses along your shoulders. He leant in close, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You’ve been online again, haven’t you?”

“...How could you tell?” You whispered back, using a fork to pull a piece of spaghetti out of the neighbouring pan, placing it between your lips. 

“Your shoulders…” He ran his hands across your shoulders, gently cascading them down your forearms. “They tense right up when you’ve been reading all of that nonsense… you do know it’s nonsense, right?”

You allowed him to turn you in his arms again, his dark brown flickering across your face - imploring you to be honest with him. He caught your face in his hands as you tried to look away, cupping your cheeks - brushing his thumb across your skin. “It’s nonsense, Tùzǐ**... you’re gorgeous, beautiful, sexy. None of what those online trolls think matter okay..? Just me and you.”

He rested his forehead against yours, you smiled at him softly. 

“...just me and you.”

********

**Romanised Chinese for Rabbit/Bunny (according to google lol) thank u @danielfuckingricciardo for helping me angel, mwah x

Sorry for the delay!!

[martellspear]

People (rhaelya fans, lbr) keep talking about how physically weak asf Elia was, that she couldn't walk two steps without assistance, that she would've died early anyway due to being "sickly" so what happened to her isn't that tragic, and she totally approved Rhaegar getting a new wife cause she didn't want him to be a widower when she died... But for a "sickly" girly... Elia sure survived a lot of shit and travelled a lot.

She survived to adulthood and only died due to being murdered despite being a prematurely born baby in a dark ages fantasy setting. She travelled on her searching-for-suitors tour, going from Sunspear to Starfall to Oldtown to Casterly Rock and back (and who knew what other places in between?). She travelled from Dorne to Kings Landing to marry the crown prince, then travelled to live at Dragonstone with him. Then after giving birth to her first child and being on half a year of mandated bedrest, she travelled to Dorne with her baby (Arianne remembers having met her cousin Rhaenys) then back to Dragonstone. Then, having been impregnated by that odious beast Rhaegar while on bedrest, she got up and travelled to Harrenhal for the great tourney. Then back to Dragonstone. Then she survived birthing her second child. And Rhaegar abandoned her and their babies. And Aerys demanded she answer for her husband's misdeeds, so she travelled from Dragonstone to Kings Landing.

And before Steffon Baratheon went to Essos to find a Valyrian bride for Rhaegar, a tourney was held at Storm's End, and Oberyn participated in it. We have no reason to believe Elia didn't go to this event to watch her brother and mingle. Sooo....

For a sickly weak person Elia Martell sure did A LOT of physically taxing work, and she survived it all. The only thing she didn't survived was being murdered in the most brutal and chilling manner possible with a sword by a giant of a man that her saint of a husband knighted.

There's something so chilling about Rhaegar being the one who knighted Gregor and we often forget that fact. It started and ended with Rhaegar dooming his family.

While I don't doubt that Elia had a fragile health, I think her mother sheltered and overprotected her a lot. Which is normal, that's her only daughter and the first baby to survive after so many lost children.

Elia is a captivating, underestimated and lovely character who's been running from death since she was born. Unfortunately, it seized her and there was nothing she could have done.

I'm so sure she went to that Storm's End tourney, there's literally no reason for her not to be present.

It's amazing how despite everything she went through, she remained kind and sweet. Not many characters endure and resist the temptation to succumb in their misery.

Elia survived a lot and would have been the best queen Westeros has ever had, argue with the wall. The dornish have a small sense of social equality, which is enough for her to push for some change imo. Flea Bottom would definitely go through some reforms.

Anyway, Elia was perfect, I hope rhaelya rabid stans lose their access to internet and Arianne Martell should rule an independent Dorne